THE UNDERGROUND pokémon fanzine
fanfiction • fanart • reviews issue #7 • oct 2019
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Contents
FANFICTION 4
Coltar the Prophecy
38
Dramatic Melody
Cavespider_17
16
Sunyshore Nights
46
Dtmahanen
22
The Golden Age, and all the other times too
Step 6: Publish Your Results Minty
50
Black Magic Woman girl-like-substance
Human Soul Engineer
32
Fame
The Snow I Miss Vray
REVIEWS
FANART 15
James, Age 14 Cavespider_17
71
Teenage Wasteland jeffexcellence (girl-like-substance)
-03
FANFICTION & FANART
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COLTAR THE PROPHECY by
Cavespider_17
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Chapter 3 – Hero in Akrat
Part 1 Date: 16th June 1989 The morning rolled around quicker than James had planned. James tossed and turned in his bed. He was dreaming about flying high above the clouds on the back of a Salamence he had named Gabbia. The clouds felt soft in his hands as he soared. Kitiku lay still dreaming of the latest book he had been reading. He imagined himself as one of the side characters, no one important who had to face the hideous monsters the main character did. Doing so would turn the dream into a nightmare. Friday was by far the worst day of the week. It was the day of fasting for those who believed in Cresselia. It wasn’t the empty stomach that bothered James, but the lack of energy. His body would feel like it had been chained to the floor. A few moments later Oosho suckered his way into the room with his long orange tentacles. Oosho was Tak’s Octillery and a hero as such. Oosho
didn’t like anyone in the household very much. He even appeared to have a grudge against Tak, probably due to being summoned during a nap, or perhaps Tak selected one of his other team members instead of him. Tak’s team was a secret, even to Kitiku. Tak was very reclusive about his former life as a Lord. Oosho looked into the room. His eyes were fixated. His gleaming yellow eyes with their small pupils were enough to scare anyone. Slowly Oosho suckered his way up to James’s bedside wall. The puckering sounded like the pops on an air tight container. James and Kitiku were so focused on their dreams they didn’t hear him as he squelched his way along the wall. Oosho waited for them to move, when he was sure they were unaware of his presence he slowly continued his trek along the wall. Suckering. Suckering. Suckering. He then slid down the wall onto James’s bed, slowly, slithering his way onto James’s side. He waited a moment and then pushed his face into
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James’s, resting his big eyes against James’s. He then snorted. James could feel the warm air against his face. He opened his eyes and saw a hideous dot in a sea of yellow. He yelled in panic and squirmed out of bed. He hit the floor with a thud. Kitiku hearing the scream and the thud jumped up in complete panic. “I hate that Octillery,” James hissed. Kitiku picked up his watch that had been resting on the end of his bed. He was alarmed. “James... It is 9:35! If we want to make it we need to go now. Before my mother gets back or worse, my father. What are we going to do about Oosho? He will no doubt tell my father in some obscure way.” The boys scrambled to get ready. “When I come back a man, your father may actually be okay about the whole thing. Trust me Kitiku, I will win the festival,” James said, hopeful. Kitiku pulled on a plain white t-shirt over his head. He buttoned up the top button and brushed himself down. James on the other hand put his arms through the unbuttoned white shirt. He carefully buttoned up all but the top button. Kitiku, hurriedly pulled up his black trousers. He wobbled for a moment but survived his minor dressing ordeal without falling over. James sat down rather than try
and make a fool of himself putting on his black trousers standing up. He then slowly and carefully brushed his shoulder-length hair. Much to the disgruntled look of Kitiku. Both boys grabbed their single Pokémon and ran down the rickety wooden stair case which led to a small corridor towards the front door. The walls of the house were not heavily decorated but there were a few items of interest. There were three pictures of Pierre, Tak and Nashe together, but none of Kitiku. Pierre’s sword and knife hung alongside his shield by the front door. The main blade was a shiny silver colour. The helm was golden and the handle itself was bone. One thing Tak was proud of was his deceased son. James and Kitiku both knew if Tak could he would trade Kitiku for Pierre. The boys flung open the door as they charged to escape the house. As the boys attempted to squeeze through the door at the same time they became somewhat wedged. Sutton walked past. “James...” nervously.
Kitiku
whispered
Sutton stared at the boys who were wedged. It took him a moment to realise they were stuck. He burst into a roar of laughter. “Would you like some help?” Sutton laughed so hard his speech appeared to be a sludge of accent and laughter. “Or would that be a knife to your ego?”
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James rolled his eyes in an irritated manner. “Shut up Sutton. It isn’t funny,” James replied, “Just help us and go back to being the local pain in the....”
“Why would you do something that could make yourself collapse or faint or be ill?” Sutton smirked. He believed he had managed to outsmart James. He then sighed, “Say please.”
“Maybe if you give me this attitude I should just leave you there, but I am too nice to do that.” He approached them still laughing. He shunted James’s body back and pulled Kitiku forward. “Why did you even get stuck? Going somewhere other than the centre of town to fix the mess you made?” His stare deepened. “You are already late...” James and Kitiku both looked at each other confused and then back at Sutton. “Didn’t I tell you to be there at 6:30 am?”
“I’ll let Okta eat you if you don’t let me through,” James blurted out.
Both boys shook their heads. James blurted out angrily, “You know today is an important day of the week for us. Why would you do something that could make us collapse or faint or be ill or faint?” Sutton raised a single eyebrow. “You said faint twice. That means you are up to something because when people lie and they list things they tend to repeat something for emphasis. What are you up to?” “That is the stupidest thing you have said,” James answered. “You say a lot of stupid things. Nearly everything you say is stupid. Can we go and play now? You are in the way.” James attempted to side-step Sutton but was unsuccessful.”
Kitiku quickly elbowed James. It was a feeble elbowing. If James didn’t know Kitiku was there he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. “Fine. Please let us go play now you idiot,” James snarled. “That should do, I suppose”. Sutton stepped back and sighed, “One day you will treat us with respect.” James sighed before walking past Sutton, who gently brushed his hand against James’s head. “We must be extra careful with this new Captain around. He could be exceptionally tough, I mean I could take him on... probably.” His leg started to twinge a little, the wound inflicted by the Gengar seemed to be worsening the more they walked. The walk upon the bumpy streets was at best irritating. The heat from the sun glared down onto the faces of the boys. In the distance James could see Lioa. Lioa was waving. “Lioa!” “James. Kitiku.” Lioa answered calmly. “Sutton actually let a Guard punish us last night. Dirty move. We are trying to forget about it, but we will make him pay. Anyway, where are we going?”
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“The only clue is “Deseto es-k kibro. E mirra nos thero”. Deserted the kind. The mirror of the truth. No. “E” means the, so... possibly “a desert of its kind. The mirror of the truth.” I am not sure what it means.” Kitiku said softly. “My translation is probably wrong... Father always said I wasn’t as intelligent as Pierre...” “Kitiku, you are never wrong. Honestly, Tak is an idiot for thinking that,” James said reassuringly, thumping his friend’s shoulder. “Desert? There is one big desert in Coltar. Just south-west of Akrat. Its maybe if we are lucky we will get to the desert by nightfall. If we are wrong though...” His thoughts started to wander to how he would manage to make it from the 400 entrants to the finals. “James? Did you hear what I just said?” Kitiku nudged his shoulder. “No? Was it important?” James grunted in a moody fashion. “I was thinking about how Okta and I will beat everyone else so it better be important!” “Akrat is a place where lots of slave trading happens. We need to be careful,” Kitiku replied, nervously, “Besides, We still have to walk through Kithuk,” Kitiku added. Slave trading was a big issue in Coltar back then. It still is an issue in Akrat today but most other areas it is in decline or has been abolished completely.
“Who needs to walk?” James smirked. He turned out his pockets to reveal a Poké ball with a rather angry looking Claydol inside. “I stole it off of Sutton a few days ago. You guys remember the key switch we did right? Well I broke into the Pokémon storage room that they have. Claydol teleport us to the festival!” Claydol didn’t budge from its ball. It looked even more agitated at James. “You are doing it wrong.” Lioa snatched the Claydol from James’s hand. “Claydol use Teleport”. Once again nothing happened. Claydol’s dark brown body rested against the inside of the ball. Its big red eyes stared at Lioa. Although Claydol don’t tend to have any means of showing expression, Lioa was convinced it was laughing at him. “I said use teleport.” Lioa started to shake the ball in a rather violent manner. “Fine! Don’t use teleport. I will throw you into the river! You stupid wasteful piece of Tauros ...!” As Lioa went to hurl the ball into the river the enraged Claydol seized the moment to break free of the ball. Claydol used teleport.
Part 2 The boys quickly found themselves consumed by the psychic field. They were thrust into what the people of the island generally call the Ranubaithe world of nothingness. Different
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to the Void between the Aether and Distortion World. The transportation to Ranubai was violent and dizzying. They steadied themselves momentarily as they stared blindly into the dark world around them. The world felt like nothing. They quickly began to panic, they feared they were trapped there forever. There was no air for them to breathe. Each breath was harder than their last. Slowly the world around them darkened into a blur of light. They fainted before being thrust back into the normal realm. *** “James...” Kitiku squeaked, “Are you awake? This isn’t the festival. This is Akrat.” James scanned the area quickly with his eyes. They were in a narrow alley. The ways of the houses were wooden and crooked. Each side was coated with sand. They had clearly faced numerous sandstorms. The ground was clearly concrete at a touch, but it was also coated in sand. The small sand pieces were sharp and dug deep into James’s fingers. “Wow, we have an intelligent one. I suppose he is worth a coin or two,” a dark figure chuckled. “Look at that one. He looks like a real warrior. I suppose with some training he and his Pokémon could fight in the pit for amusement,” a second
figure leaped from the shadows. A tall skinny man wearing an open top and incredibly short shorts stood in front of the boys. His face was scarred across his lip in three places. He was an albino. His hair was blacker than coal and his eyes were soulless. “I am surprised you haven’t been burnt to ciders,” James grit his teeth as he spoke. He bulked himself up in an attempt to seem fearless and too much hassle. “Now, now, you shouldn’t speak to your new owner like that,” the albino man hissed. “Teach them a lesson Kirno.” An Aggron appeared behind the boys and cried out its battle cry. Andrew seized the moment. He leaped up and tried desperately to escape. The first slaver grabbed him. “I want my mother!” Andrew screamed as loudly as he could before being slapped. James reached into his pocket and left his hand in there. Something was bothering him. He could hear something. “James...Go on James. Make him hurt for what he has done. Make him bleed. Make him feel pain. What are you waiting for James? Are you too afraid? Kill him James. Use her power. Crush him with the pure power of the rocks of her body. What are you waiting for? Do it!”
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His head filled with rage. He felt a burning feeling. He wanted to hurt these men. He wanted them to feel afraid. James went to summon Okta to complete the circle of rage within his soul. The first slaver dumped Andrew back down next to Lioa. The albino pushed James to the ground. Lioa threw his Gurdurr forwards. With a thud it shrieked to protect him. It went to charge the Aggron but was quickly tossed to the ground with a thud. It had fainted. Lioa reached for his second team member but was quickly slapped across the face and slammed into the wall by the albino man. “Kill him James.” James nodded to the sound. He reached into his pocket once more to summon Okta. As he threw her into the air his hand slipped on the catch. The slaver reached forward and with a smooth movement snatched Okta from the air. “Let’s see, oh, an Onix? That’s very rare. What about this? A Klink? That’s not so much in value,” the albino scoffed. “Deino? Shame, Zweilous neck is a delicacy. I don’t know if I can wait that long. Look Miroko, this little warrior has two. A Staravia and a Gurdurr,” he laughed, as he kicked Lioa and Andrew.
James’s head screamed. All he could hear was the voice telling him to do dreadful things to these men. James could see a shadow in the distance as his head dizzied and the pain of his Gengar bite increased. He heard a word. Just one word. “Psychic.” James felt a vast wave of energy blast past him and quickly found himself pushed over by the sheer physical presence in the air caused by the psychic move. How could he feel a psychic move physically? “Have mercy!” the men screamed. They pulled themselves to their feet and scurried away as fast as they could, dropping Okta.
A tall man stood at the end of the ally way. Behind him stood a Pokémon which James had never seen before. Its ears were pointed. Its head appeared to be quite large. It hovered cross legged above the ground. The man said something to the creature and it nodded before returning to its ball. The man then stepped out of the dark and towards James. His zaffre blue hair was tied back into a short pony tail. His steel blue eyes were wide. His skin was fair and not freckled and seemingly without scars. “Are you four okay? I hope they didn’t harm you.” He smiled and
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offered a hand to James who looked back at him with a rather puzzling look. The man wore a grey-white shirt and a rose red tie. His trousers were soot black. He wore a beige jumper which appeared to have a knitted pattern over his shirt and tucked was into his trousers. “What are your names?” he asked, smiling only to receive blank looks. It took Lioa a moment or two to pick up the courage to speak, “No one takes down slavers. No one. They are too strong. Even the Lords avoid them. Who are you? How did you do that? You sound weird... like you have a weird accent. Are you from the South? I hate the South. I hate you. Stay away from us if you are a bad person like them. The South is full of evil people.” Lioa spoke so quickly, he had run out of breath by the end of his rant. “My name is Clarence. I used Psychic because my Pokémon is a psychic type and there is no better way to make a statement to these types of people than by defeating them. I am not a Lord and therefore I will do something about them especially when they go after children. It disgusts me. I am from the border between the North and South. You shouldn’t judge people by where they are from,” the man said. “Where scowled. “Between answered.
on
the
Kiro
border?”
and
Llirok,”
Lioa he
“Which Lord is better? Madison or Piscar?” James’s eyes narrowed. This man could be a spy. Or he could be a generic arsehole. Or what scared James most of all was that this man could be genuine. He wasn’t sure. “Each Lord has merits and failings. Piscar is younger. He has had to fight hard to survive throughout his whole life and as a result he is quick to make judgements. Be it good or bad ones. Madison is older. He has more experience. He knows when to back away from certain situations. However, he is arrogant. He won’t back away if he is convinced he is correct. Hence the war,” he spoke softly but he seemed confident in what he was saying. James stared at him. “Now, who am I speaking to? Also where are you going? I do not think it would be wise of me to let you wander off alone.” “I am James, the short one is Lioa,” Lioa rolled his eyes and crossed his arms at his description. “The mute is Kitiku and the other one is Andrew. We are going somewhere near Akrat,” James cautiously answered. “Vague...” Clarence turned his head slightly and squinted for a moment. His expression was of clear suspicion. “I suspect that means you are going to do something you shouldn’t. Perhaps going to a certain banned festival? Which also happens to be where I am going.” Kitiku tugged James’s arm before
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pointing to his knuckle on his right little finger and then running his left index finger along the top of the same little finger. “You can hear but do not speak. How... interesting. You are right. Perhaps that was too open of me.” He looked with kind eyes towards James, “However, judging by your attitudes towards meeting me I doubt you would reveal to any Southern solider or Elite Guard my intentions. So... It would be definitely safer for you to travel with me.” Clarence stepped forward so his moustache short, somewhat thin moustache was visible. Kitiku felt short standing next to him. “I could have handled it. Okta and I will win the festival because we are stronger than everyone. Including you,” James blurted out angrily. “No, I am stronger than you and I am going to win!” Lioa snarled. “Yeah. Lioa is going to win James.” Andrew joined in. James pushed Lioa. “No I am going to win!” James shouted.
however? Time is Clarence laughed.
running
out,”
Kitiku yawned in the background. “Someone is tired already. That won’t help you battle. Will it Kitiku?” He reached out a hand to Kitiku, who appeared puzzled by the gesture. Traditionally, my dear off-islanders, it is considered vile to shake hands in the North. Instead crossing the top half of your right arm with that of the person you are speaking to is considered polite. “Kitiku doesn’t battle he just sits there and looks pretty,” Lioa smirked, “He isn’t good at anything. He just tags along with us because he has to. If Pierre was still alive then...” “If it wasn’t for Kitiku we wouldn’t even know where we are going!” James snapped back. “Hey, mister?” James said softly. His eyes shined with curiosity. “What was that? I mean I know it was something like mindblast, but what was that creature? I have never seen one before. I know a lot of things and that wasn’t one of them.”
“What is so funny?” Lioa shouted.
The man paused for a moment allowing James to catch up and stand beside him. “That was Hishrak. My closest, but not oldest, friend. My oldest friend is called Barook. He is a Braviary. What about you? Have any close non-human friends?”
“Competition is good. How about focusing on getting there first,
“Okta. She is an Onix. She is the strongest Onix ever. We will prove
Lioa shunted “No. Me.”
back
even
harder.
“No. Me.” James pushed back. Clarence started laughing.
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that to this small world. Then people will treat me better and her too. She is yellow-orange. I’ve never met another Onix like her,” James said. “Well mister. I have a Deino. Deino is blind so they need help finding food and things,” Andrew answered cautiously. “What else do you have other than Braviary?” “Now that would be telling,” he said, smiling back. Hishrak and I have been through a lot together. We have seen a lot of conflict. Conflict passes with time. Wounds heal, not just physical ones but emotional ones too.” Clarence paused. James shrugged quickly as an answer to his statement. “You don’t trust me? It is completely understandable. I have seen a Deino before, in case you were curious. When I was growing up they were a pretty popular dragon type, as was Bagon. Have you boys ever seen a Salamence?” All four nodded with certainty. “Impressive. What about a Samurott?” he asked as the group walked through a rather crowded area. “Stupid Guards use those,” James blurted out and then quickly looked down to the ground in an attempt to prevent the inevitable. An Elite Guard had clearly overheard James. He carefully approached. His left hand stretched across his middle to his sword. His right hand lay on his leading Pokémon.
“Okay... let’s all calm down.” Clarence stepped forward. His eyes fixed firmly on the Lord’s dark grey eyes. “We mean no disrespect. This is my nephew. He has Starly’s disease... he is very sad at the moment because his doctor was arrested. Something to do with Houndoom horns.” “That runt needs to learn respect, as do you. You didn’t bow to me either, scum. That boy challenged me. He shall face the penalties!” the Lord barked attempting to grab Clarence by the throat. Clarence stepped back to avoid the angry swing. A few other nearby Elite Guards had their attention now fixed on the coming dispute. “Unless you want to take his place?” the Southern Guard finished, irritated his grab had just been dodged. He gripped his sword once more. “Why do we not just have a calm discussion about this instead? It is better for everyone that way. We don’t die, your Pokémon won’t use up energy and your sword won’t need cleaning afterwards...” Clarence said softly. His eyes were flicking between the boys and the Guard. He wasn’t worried or nervous. James knew those eyes. This man had a plan. The Lord loosened his grip on his sword. “I have many gratitude hearts.” He responded and their conversation became quiet. “James that made no sense,” James
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looked at Kitiku who was thinking, “Gratitude hearts?”
clearly
James looked puzzled. His face almost looked as if it was in a stupor. “No one says gratitude hearts. No one. It’s weird. I like him, but I don’t trust him. If we could just...”Kitiku whispered. “He seems okay. I am sticking with him. Besides, he actually knows where we are going!” James growled. He felt angry. The emotional swelling inside of him was getting bigger and bigger by the minute. Kitiku returned a saddened look. “You are not a disappointment... it is just good to be around someone who actually knows something... I mean... I... I don’t know what to say,” James’s words ran into each other. “We are all ready to continue. I just had to do a little explaining.” Clarence smiled calmly. His aura was so strong even I could feel it. With every sandy step they came closer to leaving Akrat. Kitiku couldn’t wait to be out of there. Every passing minute he became more and more stressed. James sighed as he looked at Okta. Before he could prevent himself he gasped in agony as the bite on his leg issued a sharp burn. “Are you okay?” Clarence asked.
James nodded. James wished he could scream, but screaming is for those who are too weak to face their fate. He had no choice but to proceed through the gates of Akrat into the wilderness once more with the group.
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Above: James, Age 14, by Cavespider_17
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Sunyshore Nights by
Dtmahanen
The first thing that Volkner notices is her breath.
his head. “Man, it’s been way too long since I’ve had the chance to do that!”
Flicker, his boyfriend’s torracat, is chuffing heavily and loudly on his neck – the usual “Flint-Special” wake-up call. While Volkner is usually quick to admit that it’s definitely a nice replacement to the “Beat Your Boyfriend Over the Head with a Pillow” routine he’d done for a while when they’d moved in together, it’s still annoying. He slowly opens his eyes to see her black-and-red fluff and yellow irises staring at him with a smile. Meowing, she darts out of the room, likely letting her trainer know that she’s accomplished her mission.
Arceus, how does he have this much energy in the mornings? Volkner thinks. A year living with him and I’m still not used to it. “Not long enough, in my opinion,” he mutters. “How’d you feel if Ray started doing the same thing that Ember always does?”
But to Volkner, that just means he had five more peaceful … blissful … minutes…
Oh, right, that’s tonight, Volkner thinks. “I take it you’ve already done stuff on your end?”
WHACK! “Wake up, sleepyhead!!” There’s the pillow. His head still spinning, Volkner turns to face the afro and grin of his boyfriend, Flint, triumphantly holding a pillow above
“I’d give him a snuggle,” Flint says with a wink. “That is, if you’d ever get off your ass and train him to do that.” He leans in and gave Volkner a quick peck on the cheek. “But right now, we need to get moving! The Sunnyshore Fireworks Festival won’t prepare itself, you know!”
“Babe, I got that done days ago! Got the fireworks ready for you to hook up.” “And I take it you made some crazy powder/metal mixture again?”
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“It’ll blow your Arceus-damned mind. One hundred percent Flint guarantee. All I need now is for you to hook them up in the order I need.” “You mind if I borrow Flicker for this? I’ll need his precision with fire to make sure I get all the welding done right.” Flint smirks. “You just want to have both cats to yourself today, don’t you?” “…yes.” “Then they’re all yours,” he says with a laugh. He turns around to head back to the kitchen. “Call me if you need me! I’ll be makin’ breakfast.” Volkner’s head flops back onto the bed. Flint doesn’t normally make meals for the two of them (that’s been Volkner’s territory for most of their relationship), but he’s not gonna question it. “What I wouldn’t give for some more sleep today,” he mutters. “What was that?” “I said I wanted pancakes.” “Oh, going fancy today,” Flint says. “Short stack coming right up!” And as the pancakes cook, Volkner … gets those five more minutes. -----------------------After a quick breakfast (the Belue berry juice mixed in the batter is an inspired choice, Flint knows he loves
that stuff), Volkner sets out to get the fireworks set-up ready. While the festival itself is taking place in the beach district, the fireworks had to be set up in the middle of the city by the Gym so that people in the lighthouse could see as well. Luckily, Volkner just so happens to have all the tools he needs in said Gym. He owns the damn thing, after all. Renovated it himself. The fireworks should be a piece of cake. “Ray, Flicker, could you aim a Thundershock and Ember at the points I marked?” he asks. “We need to weld these rockets together in this order.” The two cats, both jockeying for the more dominant position, aim their low-powered elemental attacks at the X’s Volkner had marked on the wire arrangement. The welding is crude, but much quicker than if Volkner had done it himself. However, Volkner is still needed to finish the job. Donning a well-used welding visor, Volkner finishes the work, making the metal casings blend seamlessly with the holding plate and connecting the end of a homemade remote activation system to the whole contraption. After a couple of minutes (much faster than even the smallest gear mechanism in his Gym, thanks to Flicker), the process is complete. “Alright, thank you for your help,”
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he says, scratching Ray behind the ears. The luxray leans into it, purring like a tricked-out Harley motorcycle. “Now, who wants to help me carry it to the city center?” The two big cats sit on their haunches. Flicker lolls his head to the side, while Ray gives Volkner a wry look, sticking out his tongue. Neither of them want to help. “Well fine. See if I care,” Volkner deadpans. “I’ve got more friends to help me move this.” He grabs another pokéball from his belt and tosses it, releasing his ace into the bright summer day. Shocksquatch the electivire lets out a mid-morning bellow, stretches his arms, and cracks his knuckles seeing the fireworks contraption at his feet. Nodding to Volkner, he hoists the contraption onto his shoulder – “Carefully, Shocksquatch, carefully!” – and looks expectantly towards him. “I think the market district might be a good place for them,” Volkner continues. “It’ll probably be pretty much empty tonight.” “Got that right, buddy!” Flint remarks. He’s finally arrived to help move stuff, a bag slung over his shoulder, with his magmortar, Rocket, carrying another bag over his. Fireproof material, thankfully, Volkner thinks, wouldn’t want the fireworks to go off prematurely. “Everyone’s gonna be partying on the beach, dude!”
“Or getting drunk in lighthouse,” Volkner mumbles.
the
“What, you think they aren’t gonna be drunk on the beach, too?” “No, because there’ll be families there. With kids.” “Babe. Let me tell it to ya straight.” He places his free hand on Volkner’s shoulder. “People are gonna be drunk and partying no matter where we go. There’ll also be families everywhere we go. With kids, without kids, whatever. They’re all gonna be looking at the night sky, and I wanna put on a show.” “That, I can do,” Volkner replies. “Let’s go, we need to get this set up.” -----------------------Thankfully, the process doesn’t take too long, and the two manage to set up the fireworks contraption in record time. After all their work (including a sudden addition of a few more rockets by Flint), the two can relax for a bit. This is a strange sensation for Volkner. He doesn’t get to relax very often. There are always Gym battles to schedule or conduct, adjustments to make to the Gym’s electronics … this is nice. He and Flint go for a nice walk along Route 222 with their pokémon for the first time in … what’s it been, months? It’s nice to have a break. But they can’t stay away for too long. As a clear, beautiful evening
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begins to set in, Volkner and Flint return to the fireworks set-up, give it one last once-over, and bolt down to the beach to get ready for their cue. The past few years, especially since Galactic was brought down, Sunyshore has made it a point to go all out on the pyrotechnics at the Fireworks Festival, and they always enlisted Flint and Volkner to help organize the display. This year is no different. However, unbeknownst to Volkner, Flint has a surprise for him. “Alright, boys, the crowd’s getting antsy,” Mayor Pinella says over a walkie-talkie. “Are you two ready?” “’Course we are, Geoff!” Flint exclaims. “Just let us know when we’re good.” “Well, then, light ‘em up!” “With pleasure.” He gives Volkner a quick thumbs-up and steps out from the tree they are hiding behind. “Evening, Sunyshore beach-goers!” he yells at the top of his lungs. “Y’all ready to see some fireworks?!” The crowd cheers. “Alright! Hit it, Volkner!” Nodding to Flint, Volkner presses his remote. All at once, a bunch of light spark up on his contraption, and in sequence, a bunch of fireworks begin to rocket into the sky. Patterned explosions dot the sky. They start simple: single colors, golden bursts that sound like rain, the works. But then, through his own ingenuity
and Flint’s extensive knowledge of pyrotechnics and gunpowder, more complicated images emerge. Layers of colors, sequences of explosions, even images of pokéballs and pokémon. Most everyone is “oo-ing” and “ahing”. The kids love it, as they always do. Overall, a very successful display. “Alright, how was that?” Flint exclaims. There’s cheering, but also a little bit of confusion from the older attendees. Flint doesn’t normally do this. He usually just lights them up and lets the crowd go about the rest of the night. Volkner is also a little bit confused, but for a bit of a different reason. He was counting the number of rockets fired, as he always does. There are still a few rockets on the set-up. “Now, I know what you’re all thinking,” he continues. “What more could I possibly show all of you tonight? Well, this final launch of the night needs a bit of context.” He points…to Volkner. Wait, what’s going on? Flint is not someone to hide things from me, he’s way too eager to talk about stuff. Something’s off. “All of you know Volkner, right?” Flint asks. “Gym Leader, expert engineer? He’s the guy who lets me fire off the rockets every year with his awesome technical know-how.” He pauses, takes a breath, and takes out another remote detonator. Volkner
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recognizes this. He’d connected it to the fireworks set-up earlier at Flint’s request, although he was never sure why. “We’ve also been dating for a couple of years now. And recently, I’ve had a question on the tip of my tongue., and I thought this’d be the best way to put it.” Oh Arceus, I know what’s happening now. Oh geez, oh Arceus, in front of all these people, oh no, please stop – Flint presses the button. The rockets fire and launch into the sky. They explode into letters, words. WILL YOU MARRY ME Volkner stares at the message. He stares at it for a while. His vision starts to get a little cloudy with tears. He feels a tap on his shoulder. Flint’s standing next to him, a ring in his hand. The diamond itself is small, clearly freshly cut. “Rocket made that himself. Got some coal from Iron Island. Byron himself sent it to me. Rocket crushed and pressurized it, and there you go.” He gets down on a knee. “So whaddaya say?” Volkner doesn’t say anything. He just nods, takes a breath, and slams him with a hug. The crowd is cheering even louder than after the fireworks ended. “I love you,” Flint whispers. Volkner says the same, but it’s muffled by
Flint’s shoulder. He feels Ray nuzzling his side, and Flicker is to his left, chuffing loudly and happily at the sight. And they just sit there for a bit. Both of them have tears in their eyes. It smells like cats and the tiniest bit of gunpowder. But they’re happy, and at the moment, it’s all that matters.
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THE GOLDEN AGE and all the other times, too
by Human
Soul Engineer
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Age: 7 For once, Gramps didn’t want me in his Pokémon lab. “The joy of learning about Pokemon comes from bonding with them, Blue!” he had told me. I just wanted to be left to my own devices that day, but if Gramps wanted me to play outside, I’d make him regret it. This feeling guided me as I hopped the short fence that enclosed the grounds and stumbled out into the Kantan Yellow brush the filled the landscape. Now that I was out in the wild, I realized I had no idea what it was that I was supposed to do to get back at Gramps. I tried bothering the Rattata and Pidgey, but waving my arms and yelling stopped being fun after the third time around. The only fun came from crawling on my hands and knees, trying to sneak up on the Johtoese soldiers encamped on the roadside, lazily puffing away at their cigarettes and pretending not to notice me. “Hey, whatcha doing?” I nearly jumped at the sound of that voice. The source was boy my age, in a t-shirt and jeans, who’d crept up behind me without a sound.
He asked me what I was doing and the further I clarified, the sillier it seemed and the more embarrassed about it I was. I told him to forget the whole thing. Instead, he said “Let’s sneak up on that thing instead!” as he pointed at a Poliwhirl minding its own business in a pond. I followed along as he led me closer, but of course, only one of us was actually sneaky, and my clumsiness got us both blasted with water from an irritated water-type. “Ah, darnit!” I cursed, wiping the water off my torso. Our mission failed and all we had to show for our efforts was some wet clothing. I groaned realizing what a hassle drying off would be. “Hahaha, that was great!” I couldn’t believe that kid was laughing; he got sprayed before either of us got close enough to see the Poliwhirl. He didn’t seem to care that it had happened or, perhaps, this was what he wanted. “You’re a real strange guy.” “I’m not strange, I’m just Red! Like the color!” I stifled my laughter before pointing towards Gramps’ Pokémon lab, “How
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about we go dry off? Unless you want to stay soggy?”
under my own cap, and then let it down post-game like she could.
He let me grab his hand and lead him there.
“So what’s that?” I sat on the edge of my bed next to Blue, who’d brought over my desk chair to sit in.
Age: 11 Blue showed up at my door, right on the day he said he’d return. He had a mild tan on his face and a giftwrapped box cradled in one arm. Blue tore down six months of distance between us with his first words. “So are you going to let me in or what, Red?” he said, as if he hadn’t left to study in Cianwood. I knew it was his grampa’s idea and that it was something he couldn’t pass up and it’d be good for him and all that, but still, I was a little mad. I let him in, but reminded him to take off his shoes. He already knew that, of course, and knew the way up the stairs to my room. Even after half a year, no one else had learned what the inside of my house looked like. Not even Yellow, who played kickball with us out in the flattened fields across from the new town hall, saw my room. Yellow was small and vibrant and kicked with the front of her foot, sending the ball in a new, random direction each time. She would hold onto her straw hat each time she ran the bases and it reminded me that I couldn’t just hide a pony tail
“It’s a gift for you, doofus!” He held the present in front of me. “Come on, open it!” I clawed at the wrapping, revealing a black plastic clock-radio. Both sides had cartoonish flaming skulls, whose flames met on top near the snooze button. It was aggressively boy-ish. “A radio?” “I know your old one’s busted, so I got you a new one,” said Blue, already starting to take it apart with his screwdriver. “But check this out! I’d been messing around with the radio a bit and realized there’s a lot of empty space in it, so I rearranged the innards and made a secret compartment! Just unscrew it a little and…” “Ta-da!” The clock-radio popped open, revealing a bunch of wires and metal parts, and one very not metal card. I pulled the card out of its envelope. “I hear you have a birthday, rad dude!” covered the front and on the inside, written in the neatest handwriting he could muster, was “I missed you lots. Sorry about the late birthday card.” I looked at my present and back at Blue, staring at me expectantly, and wondered about the uncomfortable
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feeling the objects gave me.
with his Pokémon than I did. I hoped this justification would replace my disappointment with myself.
“Thanks, they’re great,” I said.
Age: 13 “Charizard, Flamethrower!” I yelled out into the battlefield, surrounded by thousands of spectators and aided only by my giant flaming lizard. Red’s Pikachu sped under the attack, his small frame proving too tough to hit in every match between the two that we’d had. Launching consecutive fire attacks usually compensated, but the stress was too much for my Pokémon. “Alright Pika, use Thunderbolt!” Charizard was in no position to do anything, but receive the brunt of that powerful attack. Loud cheering followed Charizard collapsing onto the ground. “And the winner Pallet Town!”
is…Red,
from
Red pumped his fists, ready for his Pikachu to run over and jump into his arms. “We did it, Pika!” he yelled. I had never seen him smile like that before in my life. Red always kept this friendly, neutral expression on his face, but today I could see something make Red genuinely, excitedly happy. “We’ll get him next time, buddy,” I said to Charizard, who grunted before I return him to his Pokéball. Red always did have a stronger bond
But I really had fought with all of my heart, and me and my Pokémon pushed Red and his to their limits. It was a spectacular match for the Kanto League Junior Finals. And at the end of it all, Red walked over to my side of the battlefield and stuck out his hand. “That was the best battle I’ve ever had. You did great.” Red had given me his best smile and his best words. I felt my heart melting and resisted the urge to pull him into a hug on national TV. I returned his handshake, holding on past the point of social acceptability and staring deep into his eyes. I raised his hand as high as I could and used my other arm to show everyone their junior champion. As the audience cheered, I gripped Red tight and wished that moment could last forever.
Age: 15 I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. I was too engrossed in my journey the first time around to really notice; Kanto seemed so expansive and novel. Training and taking care of my Pokémon consumed any time I’d spend in introspection, but after the Pokémon league, after the rush of winning wore off and I returned home, I crashed.
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Legally, I was required to spend the next year back in school, catching up on what I’d missed, and the boredom from that gave me plenty of time for nagging thoughts to intrude. I’d spend days lost in my own mind, not even remotely present in class or conversation; I realized at that time that I’d had one year of my life that felt like my own, and the feeling it gave me disappeared and left a void.
“You could strip bark off a tree with a stare like that.”
Blue must have noticed too, perhaps during an empty conversation at lunch or after another instance of my borrowing an entire day’s worth of class notes. He always seemed to have his shit together. While I sat around distressed, he planned for a second Pokémon journey. “Let’s go together! I’d be wrong not to,” he said, having already prepared for the both of us.
“I wanted to get the new Pokétch before they sold out,” explained Blue. “Of course, I got you one, too. Because I knew you’d feel left out. Pretty thoughtful, right?”
That’s how I ended up in Johto. It felt like a dream arriving in New Bark Town and seeing the other half of the continent and the countrymen we shared it with. But the familiar routine of officially sanctioned travelling set in, and with nothing new to distract me, I slowly pieced together what I was missing. It all came together in Goldenrod City. Its gym was run by beautiful women and I couldn’t help but notice not only how much different from them I looked, but also how similar. That feeling lingered even as I waited in silence outside of the city’s department store.
Blue, holding an object in each hand, appeared in front of me, partially obscured by my bangs. “Did I keep you waiting?” Blue grinned his usual semi-joking cocky grin. “Yeah...” Pretending to be sad about that was easier. “Whatcha get?”
His smirk said it all. Blue always seemed to know what he was doing, and wanted me to know, too. He put the red Pokétch in my hands before putting the blue one on his wrist. I stared at the craftsmanship. It was beautiful. It was fashionable. It was not my style. “Now we’ve got matching ones!” Blue held his arm next to mine to compare. “Cool and useful, to boot.” He started going over all of the functions that he’d already installed for the two of us. I interrupted his tutorial on the built-in compass. “What are those things on the cover?” I asked. Whatever adorned the edges of the glass glimmered in the sunlight. “Oh, those things? They’re tiny crystals embedded in the watch
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face,” explained Blue. “Very neat, if you ask me.” “Crystal, huh.”
Age: 16 I could tell something was wrong in the days leading up to the Johto League Junior Finals. Red pretended to be okay, that he was just nervous for the tournament, but I could tell something was weighing on him. Sure, he was good enough to fake his way into the last round, the privilege of having a stellar team that love him, but it was sloppy at best. And when we met again in the Finals, I trounced him. It wasn’t even close. I didn’t even get to show off my Tyranitar, who I’d been training for months. I had won the Johto League in a complete sweep and it felt horrible. Fighting an opponent who wasn’t mentally there took the satisfaction out. And the next day, he wasn’t physically there, either. At first, I thought he just left to train for a while on his own; we did something similar before. I returned back home, applying for Gym leader positions and getting ready for school. I passed my anxious days with applications and exams and endless tinkering with electronics. Months passed with no contact, and as I accepted my new Gym leader
position, it sunk in that Red had just disappeared from my life. As part of my new placement at the Viridian City Gym, I earned a month’s worth of paid time-off, which I had almost completely exhausted searching every nook and cranny of the Johto-Kanto mainland. By the time I doubled back to Violet City, I only had two days left before my job and my studies once again filled out my calendar. I spent one of those days pleading with a very patient government employee. “I can’t list him as missing, not even as a favor for a gym leader. Red is technically still on a Pokémon Journey and that gives him a certain autonomy that most kids don’t have,” said the League official. “Look, kids some break contact with friends and family for long stretches of time. You should just be patient and wait for your friend to be done, okay?” A nagging thought stuck in my brain as I exited the office building: “What if I had told him? Would he have stuck around?” An even worse thought supplanted it: “What if he left because of me?” Friends don’t just disappear. If I were his friend, he would have told me. I tried to remember all the times when Red trusted me most, but my brain twisted them into something perverse. Maybe we really weren’t as close as I’d desperately wanted.
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I sat down on a section of the building’s front steps where no one could see me and put my face in my hands. “Dammit, Red.” I began to choke up, uncontrollably.
Age: 18 I emerged from the woods and into the field that held that little shack I called home. A pickup truck with two familiar faces and a cargo bed full of propane tanks sat on the dirt road between me and my house. “Good to see you back in one piece, Crystal,” said Morimoto, a little lopsided from leg pain as he walked over. “And of course you too, Pika.” Pika let out the kind of “chu” noise he could make only after a day’s trek. Ai lugged one of the tanks over, plopping it down next to her father. “We don’t see you in town often enough, Chrissy,” said Ai, one hand on her hip and the other against her jacket. “I guess so. Nature has a funny way of drawing you away.” Pika tiredly tugged at my leg. “Let me bring Pika inside and I’ll get your things.” Inside were the two Pokétchs that I had left patched up on the table. Years of watching Blue show me his technology had paid off. I didn’t have
the talent or inclination for repair work, but I could at least mimic the actions of the person I’d spent most of my years next to. I was good at faking this profession for the money because no one else knew enough about technology to call me out on it. I returned outside with the Pokétchs in hand. Ai whistled at the sight of my handiwork. “Wow, these look great!” she said, admiring the fresh coat of paint as she slapped hers on. “You did a marvelous job, little lady,” said Morimoto. “You’ll be the talk of the town when the boys see this.” “If you say so.” “I do say so. Why, you already have your own admirer! I’ve seen the looks Jiahao’s been giving you at the grocer,” said Morimoto. “Come to think of it, isn’t that shack a little lonely? I know it’s that time in your life when girls think about those sorts of things.” “Dad!” chided Ai. “She shouldn’t be thinking about those sort of things yet! We’re still teens, right Chrissy?” “I’m not lonely as long as I have Pika and the others with me,” I explained, hoping Morimoto would drop the subject. He did, beckoning his daughter to follow him and leaving the propane as payment. Ai didn’t follow, instead
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fishing something out of her large jacket pockets. “These are for you,” she said holding two fists full of packaged sweets with colorful metallic covers. “You don’t get to eat these sorts of things much, so I saw these at a mart while we were picking up propane and…” Ai stammered her way through the sentence. “…There’s a couple snack cakes in there, like the kind from Fuchsia City we don’t get much. I wanna know if you like them.” Ai pointed out the two packages, which I’d definitely seen in a previous lifetime. I recalled that brand of Fuchsia cakes being predictably stale, but the most mundane parts of city life seemed exciting here. We were on the intersection of Kanto and Johto and received neither of their cultures. “Anyway, just think of these as payments for doing such bang up job on my Pokétch, ya know.” I awkwardly tried to cradle all of it in my arms. It seemed like Ai was still waiting for something. “Thanks.” Ai jerked her hood over her head and bolted back to the truck. I watched the truck disappear down the road, thinking about how much I wanted to do the same. Every few days, I’d walk out into the forest and each time, I’d go a little further and stay a little longer. Hour-
long hikes turned into days long treks. I didn’t have the heart to tell those two how long I was gone for. This week, I made it to the base of Mt. Silver, normally for me just a majestic blot in the distance. And next week, I’d go further and further and further, until I realized that I didn’t have to return.
Age: 19 Like every other Tuesday night, I had secluded myself in the stacks of the science library on the far side of Saffron University’s campus. The days pass so quickly when they’re filled with lab reports and consecutive gym battles; it astonished me how quickly I acclimated to “preparing for exams” preoccupying my life. With a couple ending sentences and a third attempted sip from my empty coffee, I completed that write-up. More awaited me tomorrow, but it was way past midnight and I needed to escape the dreary place I was in. Scooping up my pile of books and papers, I navigated my way to the outdoors. Two things I noticed after exiting: that the night was pleasant with crisp air and that a bored-looking young woman sat sprawled out on one of the benches under a nearby lamppost. Upon seeing me, she shot up from
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her spot, musing with her hair before approaching. “Of course you were at the library!” I heard that voice and felt like I’d been dragged back to my adolescence. I stared, gobsmacked, right at her face; it was the same calmly welcoming expression, but the sense of loneliness was overwritten by confidence. My texts slipped out of my arms as I ran up to embrace her, not wanting to let my chance slip away. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” I didn’t realize how much I was choking up until I asked her. She didn’t seem to know any more than I did. “…I think I just needed somewhere…A place where I was just me.” Her voice was serene and a little husky, but I knew it couldn’t be anyone else’s. It hurt knowing I couldn’t see the best version of her before. “You know I would have supported you? You know I loved you so much, right?” I admitted, spilling out a decade’s worth of feelings. I could barely speak without sobbing. “Yeah…” We stood, embracing each other for a few more moments, before she spoke again, just above a whisper. “My name is Crystal now.” “Thanks for telling me. It’s a good name.” We let the hug dissolve and she helped me pick up my papers. Crystal squinted at the cover of one of my
books, as if not seeing it clearly was why she didn’t understand it. “I see you haven’t been studying the sciences since I last saw you,” I japed. “You haven’t changed one bit, you nerd,” she retorted, cracking a grin. My smile widened, too, even as tears started flowing again. “So, we need to talk, right?” “I’m not letting you go until we do,” I said as I tried to recall what cafes were open in the dead of night. “Actually, how do you feel about coffee? I’ve got some I can whip up at my place.” “Perfect.”
Age: 20 Blue looks absolutely whipped, resting in his small gym leader office. He says he’s been alternating between fighting gym battles and doing exam prep since 8am and just got off the clock. I think seeing what I was up to during those hours would cheer him right up. “Wow! No kidding?” Blue inspects the cover of my tiny booklet, running his fingers over the miniscule golden bumps spelling “Johto-Kanto Democratic Unified Republic --Passport”. “Crack it open, Blue.” He obliges and stares at the most important
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page. He didn’t use to weigh his words this much. “Well…It’s you. It’s Crystal.” “Yeah, it’s me.” The photo’s awful, but it’s my awful. Blue makes that expression he always has when he’s planning something exciting. “So now we just have to pick a place to go,” he says. “The Pokemon World Tournament is four months from now and we both know you’re out of practice.” “No argument here.” “But since I’ve freed up the time,” offered Blue, “how about we travel around a region. Somewhere nice, just the two of us. Like old times.” I couldn’t put into words how nice that idea still sounded. So, I didn’t try, but just made my own suggestion.“Hey, have you ever been to Alola before?”
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The Snow I Miss
by Vray
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The cold winds blew gently through the streets in while mons were all out busying on their business or chatting. It wasn’t your typical winter day, or at least not for one person. That person being currently late. Yes, poor Nasch never was good with time and found himself late once again. With huffs of warm air bursting out from his mouth, young nidoking rushed frantically down a sweet little living area, doing his best not to run into walls, mons, and making sure to say “Pardon!” or “Sorry!” as he went by. The small droplets of snow didn’t feel present on this male however and with good reason. His heart did it’s best to emphasize how overworked it was getting and seemed to rise in temp with summer for every extra minute it took him to get there. Finally, he saw it. “Smith’s café and coffeehouse”. With one more furious push of his muscles, Nasch rushed into across the street, through the doors, and frantically looked around. Despite all the eyes returning a glance to him Nasch only cared to see one particular pair of eyes. His head fell slightly and his hand slipped from the door. Am I too late? He thought, gritting his teeth in self-frustration. This depressing demeanor was cut short by a hand resting on his shoulder, with a gentle force to match the gentle voice that said, “Nasch, when I said never change, I didn’t mean your lateness.”
Nasch’s eyes widened. He knew that voice and what he was in for. Slowly, Nasch turned to see the face of another nidoking. He was about two inches taller than our Nasch and looked much more reserved and smiling as one would at a party with dear friends. Nasch took one big gulp, making his friend laugh a little and with his eyes shut, weak laugh and along with the rubbing of his head said, “Heh, so I can merely call misunderstanding then?” “Only if you don’t want me to pay for you.” The other one smiled and took his arm off. “Unless you’re trying to say you didn’t forget your money this time?” “Nope,” Nasch said with an odd proud smile, “I completely forgot it.” The two shared a laugh and then gave a hug. “Many lights for your winter,” The two wished each other and went to get a seat. Nasch looked around at the old place, whistling as he noticed some new furnishings added. “Mon, I didn’t expect them to try getting a little more stylish.” “Perhaps your lagginess was slowing them down, Nasch,” the other one joked. “Hey!” Nasch responded with a ‘playing along’ smile. “Not like they’d take managing advice from me, Vadlek.” Nasch slouched back into his chair.
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Vadlek gave a grunt with a grin and looked out the window. “Then you don’t mind if I punish you by having already made our order?”
you need to choose now. I know you’re having pressure from your relatives in Norfair and in all honesty, you may have a better life the-”
“What?!” Nasch shouted, once again gaining the entire establishment’s attention. “I wasn’t that late.”
“But I grew up here, with you!” Nasch froze, the sheer force in his voice was enough to even make him flinch. Though, to his relief, Vadlek didn’t seem phased by it.
“I call being over five minutes late more than just simply trying to be fashionable,” Nasch pointed out as rolled his neck, “Let alone trying to prove to me that you, who tries to be ‘fashionable’.” Defeated and devastated, Nasch slouched back into his seat. After a few minutes of Nasch’s internal groaning and Vadlek looking out the window, the late one finally mustered himself. “It’s good to see you again.” “Indeed…good to see you as well.” Their smiles locked, but Vadlek raised a brow upon seeing Nasch’s head fall slightly. “What’s wrong?” Vadlek leaned on the table a little. “Well…” Nasch found the words hard to say, leading Vadlek to lean back. “It’s about the growing tensions isn’t it?” Nasch didn’t reply, but Vadlek knew full well the struggle. He could see it in Nasch’s eyes. The mon he valued as a Sorphian brother with a Norfarion on his right shoulder, torn about the current turmoil that was the reality around him. “Nasch.” Vadlek cupped the other’s hand in his, making Nasch look at him in surprise. “Don’t feel like
It was at this time they were brought their drinks and Vadlek paid for both. Vadlek began to partake in his warm concoction of deep richness and beans of caffeine while Nasch just stared down at his. A little sad smile curved over Nasch’s face and he looked at Vadlek. “You remembered?” “Of course,” Vadlek replied, blowing on his drink a little, “I mean what else did you ever order besides coffee with sitrus and fructose mixture. Only you, Nasch, would drink something so silly.” The two laughed once more. As Nasch started on his drink, Vadlek’s eyes widened. “Oh my,” he exclaimed suddenly. “What?” The suddenness and sheer shock on Vadleck’s face even caused Nasch to feel something was off. “I completely forgot.” Vadlek began reaching into a pack he had brought, leaving Nasch alone with his thoughts. Forgot? He never forgets. Oh no, what if he’s sick? Or, or, what if something is wrong. Oh no, don’t tell me
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he has to go away for the lights of winter. Oh, Arceus please no! He was interrupted from his thoughts as Vadlek held out a little box to him. “Huh?” Nasch just stared at it, taking a while to even process what it was.
“So tell me, Nasch, how silly are you to me?” Vadlek grinned as Nasch looked at him. “Did…did you have thi-?”
Vadlek allowed Nasch to take his time, chuckling to himself at how long it took to click. “A gift for the new year. I never got to give it to you since you were in Norfair at the time.”
“Made, yes,” Vadlek replied setting down his cup. He leaned in forwards and tapped on the pipe. “Growing up with you has taught me a lot about who an individual is. In fact, I wouldn’t mind calling you the brother I never had.”
Nasch accepted it and looked at the box. He couldn’t seem to muster the will to open it. Wiping his eyes a little, a few sniffles escaped his lips. “Vadlek,” he said amid what felt like a cracking voice, “Thank you. You’re so good to someone silly like me.”
The words seemed to pierce Nasch’s heart in the most positive way possible. A few happy tears escaped his eyes as he hugged Vadlek repeating words of gratitude over and over and over, to the point even Vadlek was starting to feel a little awkward.
“Someone silly? Heh,” Vadlek began to drink his coffee, while Nasch gave him a miffed looked. “Well, open it and see how silly I think you are.”
---
With a request like that, Nasch couldn’t hold back any longer. In no time at all, he had torn the ribbon off, too excited to even catch it from falling down to their feet, and had taken off the lid. His eyes froze at the sight. In there he saw what looked like a pipe, not a basic looking one, but one with some gold interspaced in its design and the words, ‘Maximum Taste in every puff.’ Nasch set the lid down and held it up near his face to get a good look at it. For a while, he was just speechless, stuck admiring the pipe like a child admires a new toy.
“Isn’t it nice out here?” Nasch queried with a little twirl in the light snow. “I love Sorphian winter, it’s so… magical in how soft the snow comes down.” Nasch gave a few more twirls, causing his scarf to spin right onto his face. “Heh, well not every snow,” Vadlek corrected, flicking some snowflakes off his scarf as Nasch fixed his own around the neck. “But they say the snow at this time in North Tower City is very quaint and lovely.” Nasch looked at the snow all around, the emura lights flicking in their spots
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for lighting. He looked at Vadlek and a mischievous grin crossed his face. “Say Vadlek,” he asked with a subtle grin.
down into the snow and just lied down alongside his brother. “That’s for implying my taste in coffee is bad.”
“Yes?” No reply came, just Nasch rushing off holding something in his hand. It took Vadlek a second to realize that Nasch had just snatched his scarf.
Vadlek laughed as he rolled onto his back. “I suppose I had that coming.” The two just stared up at the dark cloudy sky, the image of over a thousand snowflakes falling down with only the light of the clock tower high above illuminating a good majority of them. They just stared up at it, in silence and with smiles.
“Catch me and get your scarf back!” he shouted as he rushed down for the corner. “Nasch!” Vadlek roared as he sprinted off after his laughing friend. The chase went through a few dimly lit and near-empty streets, with Vadlek occasionally getting so close to catching Nasch yet failing to nab him due to some maneuver or bad timing. Suddenly, Nasch darted into the open field area in front of the very tall North Tower; Vadlek rushed in after him. This was the time to catch. Vadlek pushed forward with all he could and finally manage to pounce upon Nasch, tackling him into the snow in front of the view of the tower. They started wrestling, smiles, and laughter on their faces. Finally, it was over. Nasch’s exhausted pants from his tired smile, staring up to a similar Vadlek, the victor. “Why can’t I beat you?” Nasch jested, looked at the arms pinning his wrists to the snowy ground. “Your taste in coffee.” Vadlek teased. “Hey!” Nasch laughed as Vadlek got off of him and offered his hand. Nasch accepted it, but instead pulled Vadlek
“I’m glad you liked the pipe.” Vadlek turned his head and Nasch did as well. “I really do. It’s Sorphian curve, right?” “Of course,” Vadlek replied with a smirk. “Sorphian’s have the superior curve in their puffers.” “You say that like you use one,” Nasch jabbed and the two looked back up at the sky. Nasch’s eyes slowly went from the energy and happiness they once had to the worry and concern for the future once more. Vadlek took notice of this, and got up as Nasch said, “Vadlek…I want…to stay here. Stay here in Sorphia. I grew up here, with you and the others in our barracks. I…” his eyes slowed moved along with his head to look at his right shoulder, where his crest resided. “I don’t want to go be with my Norfairion family. I don’t want to leave you.” The sad eyes of Nasch looked at Vadlek, who returned a strong yet understanding gaze.
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“Nasch,” he said putting his arm on Nasch’s right shoulder and looked up at the clock tower. “You’re a good person. Growing up with you has been a great time in my life. I know that you want to stay here in Sorphia and well you have a lot of reasons to. But,” he turned his head to Nasch, “I don’t want you to forget that this,” he tapped the crests for emphasis, “Is part of who you are too. You have family back there… and you can do so much good where you are better accepted. Not just seen for that mark you have.” Vadlek looked up at the tower and a small smile crept on his face. “You’re strong Nasch… strong enough to make the choices I have worked to build mine on. One day, maybe our kinds will go to war…it’s why they need those of us that grew up together to put the world back into place.” Nasch sat up and looked at Vadlek. “So…you want me to go?” “I never want you to leave,” Vadlek gave him a sincere looked, with probably one of the most emotional faces Nasch had ever seen from him. “You’re my brother, Nasch. That will never change. I know that…if I fail, in our worlds making amends…you will succeed.” “You won’t fail,” Nasch argued. “You’re strong Nasch, you’ll do great. Who knows, you might even make ‘Sorphian Sun’.” “Your words touch my heart.” Vadlek
gently grabbed Nasch’s hand and moved it to his chest, right over where his heart was. “You’ll always have a place to stay in the winter here.” Nasch smiled. “Heh, and you’ll always have someone to drag you into the snow right here,” he exclaimed, patting his own chest with a hefty smack. Vadlek giggled at this and let go of his grip. He stood up and brushed himself off and Nasch did the same. “So, shall we head back to the barracks?” “Sure,” Nasch said with a nod, “I’m in the mood for a nice warm bath.” “Bath?” Vadlek replied with a raise of his brow, “You call that pond a bath?” “Oh come on, they didn’t change it?” Nasch said in a disappointed tone and a moan. Vadlek roared in laughter and Nasch followed along. The two threw their arms over each other’s shoulders and headed back to the street, leaving the shadow of the Tower and two long snow spots right next to each other.
THE UNDERGROUND
Fam e by
Dra
ma
tic M
el o d
y
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“C’mon, it’s no big deal. It’s not like you didn’t see this coming.” “... ...?” “Don’t give me that. It isn’t called the Fame Checker coz it has a bunch of no-name trainers on it. You saw it for yourself—it has the Gym Leaders, the Elite Four, and other famous people like Gramps and Old Man Fuji. There’s a lot more content now after all the updates, but it’s missing one person.” “... ...” “Whatever. If I called the shots, I wouldn’t have gone all the way to get you on this.” “...?” “I mean, they got me to sign up, right? It’s not like you’d add anything—” “Alright, we have one medium cappuccino for Blue and one large black coffee for—oh? Oh! Oh wow! You’re...yyou’re—” “Yo, Mister, we’re in the middle of something here.” “S-sorry! H-here you go, Red. One large black coffee.”
“... ...” “I-is there anything else I can help you with?” “...” “He says he’s fine.” “O-of course! Th-thank you for dining with us!” “...!” “Tch, whatever... Anyway, this guy, Kyle, he made the Fame Checker. Cool guy. Horrible at battling but a genius in tech. Apparently, he was part of the team that helped Gramps develop the Pokedex. Well, he’s now all in with this Fame Checker stuff, ever since it blew up after you—after both of us became Champions.” “... ...?” “Remember that weird device I gave you in Cerulean? When Kyle found out that you were the one that used his prototype and not me, he used your name to market the new version. He got a photo of you using the Fame Checker while you were reading a Pokemon Journal in a
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Center. And hey, nothing better than a Champion’s endorsement, right?” “... ... ...?!” “Wha... I don’t know how he got that photo of you! He’s the crazy tech genius, not me.” “... ...” “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I was part of that campaign, too. Two Champions are better than one, after all! I even had to look candid while using it to match your photo. See?” “... ... ...?” “Yeah, yeah, I know I told you I didn’t need it. That’s why I gave you the prototype he lent me in the first place!” “...!” “I know! But look, Kyle won’t stop bugging me about this. He says that users have been asking why you don’t have a page. I keep telling him you’re the last person who’d want to talk about himself, but he wouldn’t have it. So he begged me to convince you to create your page and—” “Oh my gosh! You’re Red! You’re the one who beat Team Rocket! Hi!” “... ...” “Can I have a photo with you, please?” “Hey, lady, we’re in the middle of something here. And he’s not—” “Oh my gosh! And you’re Blue, the city’s Gym Leader!”
“The one and only!” “Can I have a photo with both of you? Pretty please?” “Heh, sure, if you insist!” “... ... ...” “Oh thank you, thank you! Ooh, my friends are gonna be so jealous that I have a photo with Red!” “See? That’s why you need to be on here. The Fame Checker means nothing without the second most famous trainer in Kanto.” “...” “Tch, I know it’s awkward, but the sooner you do this, the sooner you can forget about it. What do you say? “... ... ...” “I’ll take that as a yes. OK, so the first thing you need to do is go over these blurbs and see which ones you’d want in your page. Kyle said you can pick as many as six, and he gave me a flash drive with a whole bunch of recordings to choose from. Ridiculous! So I already cut it down to the ones from the most famous people. See? I’m already doing all the dirty work for you.” “... ...” “Right, recording.”
so
here’s
Gramps’
“You can’t go wrong with Red. Tell him to do something, he’ll go the extra mile to see it through.” “... ...!” “Yeah, you have to put it, right?
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Can’t go wrong with Gramps! And here’s Lance’s.”
Surge’s? I thought his was real nice.”
“Those Pokemon of his, they’re on another level. Even my Dragon-types are no match for his team!”
“Whatever, it’s your page anyway. Alright, here’s one from Mr. Silph. I don’t know how Kyle got this, but here you go.”
“...” “Really? Not feeling that one? OK, how about Bill’s?” “He might seem shy, but he’ll get you out of a pickle when you need it the most!” “...?” “What? No, he wasn’t forced to say that. Weren’t you the one who turned him back from fusing with a Pokemon?” “... ...!” “Yeah, that’s what he was talking about. Already getting memory loss, huh? Must be getting old!” “...” “Heh! OK, so here’s a bunch from the other Gym Leaders. We got Brock, Surge, and Sabrina here.” “Red’s team can’t get any more solid. You’ll always feel like you should work harder after battling him!” “Who knew such a quiet kid would have a lot of spunk in him? Hah! Kids these days, they can shock you when you least expect it!” “I foresee several accolades coming to him. Perhaps even a role surpassing that of a Gym Leader.”
“...”
“Ah, seeing kind-hearted trainers like him reminds me why I started this company!” “... ...!” “Huh, alright. I still think Surge’s was better. That means you’ll also like this one from Old Man Fuji.” “That boy... he raises his Pokemon in a very kind and loving manner. He should be an example to all trainers!” “... ...!” “Yeah, thought so. OK, one more recording, and you bet I saved the best for last!” “Man, that Red, there’s no other trainer like him. If he became a Gym Leader, he’d be the second best in all of Kanto! Heh heh!” “... ... ...?!” “Wha... Of course that was the best one! Meant every word of it! If you only knew what Kyle had to do to get that out of me...” “...” “Tch, whatever. You know you’re flattered!”
“...”
“... ...!”
“Really, none of ‘em? Not even
“Heh! Thought so. Alright, that’s
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Gramps, Bill, Mr. Silph, Old Man Fuji, and me. That’s only five blurbs.” “... ...?” “If you have less than six, you need to fill the rest in with your own blurbs about yourself.” “...!” “Yeah, yeah. So, you wanna go through all the other recordings I got from Kyle?” “... ... ...” “Alright, have fun with that. I’ll get us some more coffee while you’re at it. You still want a large black coffee?” “... ...!” “Got it. I don’t know how you can drink that stuff. It’s so bitter!” “...” “Wow wow wow! There’s watching Red’s battles on the TV, then there’s actually battling him. Nothing compares to the real thing!” “...” “Ah... That boy... He looked way too much in a hurry to enjoy my cup of tea...” “...” “POKEMON FAN MAGAZINE: What’s Red’s favorite Pokemon? Why, it’s none other than—” “...?!” “Heh, I know that look! You heard the one from Pokemon Fan Magazine, didn’t you?”
“... ...!” “Thought so. I don’t know how they got that answer. Anyway, the barista gave these on the house because the store’s been getting more customers than usual while we’re here! So if you want more of that bitter stuff, just tell ‘em!” “... ...?” “I don’t know, but I’m not one to pass on free coffee. Heh heh! So, which recording did you pick?” “...” “What? None of ‘em? Heh! I knew they were all bad. But that means you have to make one describing yourself. You sure you wanna do that?” “... ... ...?” “Wha... You promised you’d do this! No turning back now, you’ve already done a lot. Didn’t Gramps say you’d go the extra mile to see anything through?” “...” “Whatever. Kyle’s gonna be real disappointed if he finds out I got you out of that mountain, made you listen to all of his recordings, only for you to be a stick in the mud.” “... ... ...!” “Heh heh! So, you wanna go through all the recordings again, or are you gonna make one of your own?” “... ... ...”
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“Uhmm, excuse me?” “Wha... Who are you?” “Uhmm, I’m sorry for interrupting you, Mr. Blue. But, uhmm, hi. You probably don’t remember me, but I can never forget you, Mr. Red. Me, I’m... I’m one of the employees you saved at Silph Co.” “...!” “Mr. Red... I know my words don’t mean anything now. It’s been so many years since all that’s happened, and I don’t even work for Silph anymore. But I never got the chance to thank you. You being there and driving all those thieves away... I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up. So, really... thank you, thank you for everything you’ve done.” “... ...!” “I’m sorry, I must’ve interrupted something important if it’s two Champions talking. Thank you for letting me talk to you.” “... ... ...!!” “Way ahead of you. Hey, Miss! Miss!” “Yes? Ah, Mr. Blue!” “The one and only. Hey, Miss, you wanna be a part of history?” “Uhmm, I guess?” “That conversation we’re having, it was for Red’s Fame Checker page!” “Ah, really? I’ve been looking for his entry for a long time!”
“Right? He’s finally gonna have one, but we’re still missing a blurb. And he wanted you to say it!” “Oh, wow, really? That’s... that’s such a big honor! Are you sure you want someone like me to say it?” “... ...!!” “He says he can’t think of anyone better! So, you up for it?” “Of course! That’s the least I can do after all he’s done.” “Alright, let me make sure this is recording... There. So, what do you think of Red?” “He’s... He’s amazing. People might know him as a Champion, but I’ll always remember him as a hero.” “That’s great! Thanks, Miss!” “No, thank you, Mr. Blue. And Mr. Red, I... just, thank you again. I meant every word of that.” “... ... ...!” “Ooh, look at Mr. Hero over here! Who knew beating up a bunch of grunts would be such a big deal?” “... ...” “I know, I know. But hey, that’s six blurbs! See, that wasn’t so hard, right?” “...!” “Sure, but it would’ve been harder if it was anyone else making you do this, wouldn’t it?” “... ...”
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“Heh, thought so. And... sent! Kyle’s gonna freak out when he realizes I actually did it.” “... ... ...?” “You wanna go back already? I just got you another cup of coffee! Least you could do is stay until you finish it.” “... ...” “Yeah yeah, I know I didn’t pay for it. But my point still stands. This café’s much nicer than a cold mountain, right?” “...?!” “Oh, give me a sec. There’s someone calling... Heh, it’s Kyle! Bet he wants to thank me how great your page turned out!” “...” “I’m Blue. Yup, that’s exactly what it is! Heh heh, so what do you think? I told you I could get him to—wait, what? No, don’t push it. There’s no way he’d do that.” “... ...?” “Listen, you know who you’re talking about, right? I’ve known him since we were kids, and there’s no way he’d agree to do that. Yeah, I know he’s not mute. But he lets his skill do all the talking. Why do you think I made him my rival? Heh heh!” “... ...” “Tch, fine. Hey, you owe me a lot for all the crap you’re making me do. Yeah, yeah, I’ll send it to you in a bit.
Smell ya later!” “...?” “So, Kyle wanted you to record yourself saying a message to all your fans—” “... ... ...?!” “Yeah, yeah, that’s why I told him you couldn’t do it. It’s one of those key features in a Fame Checker page, so he was insisting on it. But he knows that I always get what I want. Heh heh!” “... ...” “That’s why we reached compromise. Stay right there.”
a
“... ...?” “Alright, look here. You don’t have to say anything. Just smile and act like you want to do this.” “... ... ...?” “You’ll one...”
see.
Ready?
Three,
two,
“... ... ...?!” “Yo! Blue here, and Red wants to tell you to hang in there! He knows that being a trainer is tough—he’s been through everything you can think of! But all that hard work paid off, since he’s now one of the best trainers in the world. And if he can do it, you can too. Right, Red?” “... ...!” “Yeah, exactly! Alright, smell ya later!” “... ... ...”
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“And sent. There, that wasn’t hard, right?” “...?” “Yeah, Kyle said that’s the way to go if you didn’t want to do it yourself. And hey, you got the best person to hype you up right here! Why waste the opportunity?” “... ...” “Oh, look, Kyle just texted and said everything’s peachy! He’ll have your page up by tonight. Heh! That loser owes me a lot for making this happen! “...!” “Alright, that’s that! I guess you wanna go back to training, huh?” “... ...!” “Thought so. But hey, the barista said we can order another round of coffee on the house if we wanted. And I’m not one to pass on a free drink. You up for it?” “...” “Wha... C’mon! You can’t get this kind of coffee in Mt. Silver! Plus this place isn’t too bad, right? I love going here to cool off after a long day of winning.” “...” “Tch, fine. But I’m not gonna let you leave without a battle!” “... ...?!” “Of course! You didn’t think I’d pass on the chance to battle you without
having to go on a hike?” “... ...” “Aww, what’s the matter? Afraid you’ll lose? I bet hearing all those people praise you made you softer.” “... ... ...!” “Heh, thought so! Now c’mon! I asked Arabella to prepare the gym so we can battle there!” “... ... ...?” “Don’t worry about it! All those challengers can lose to me anytime, but they won’t miss the chance to watch me beat the legendary Red!” “... ...!!” “You’re on! Let’s go!”
Read more: https://canalavelibrary.boards.net/ thread/194/fame-shot#ixzz5wuEXfUqt
THE UNDERGROUND
He figures it out via an experiment. Not the kind he’s used to but instead the kind where his clothes are off, and he’s in a Kalosean apartment with someone whose name he absolutely will remember for years to come, even though he’ll pretend he won’t. Everything is an experiment to him, but these ones? These are the ones he doesn’t tell anyone about. “Oh,” he says, after the fact. “Oh.” And after a terse thank you in the morning, he and the other man agree to never speak of it again. It comes out two years later, and all of a sudden, every tabloid in Kanto and Johto is talking about Bill’s sexuality.
“I don’t see why they should care.” Bill leans back in his chair and turns his head away from the front page of the newspaper Lanette is showing him. Or, well, it’s not really his chair; it’s Lanette’s. After the whole thing came out with the asshole one-night-stand in Kalos, everyone from Bill himself to the Cutting-Edge Technology Research Center’s PR department agreed that maybe he should lay low for a while until everyone lost interest in his story, and that meant secluding himself in a remote part of a region. Seeing as both Kanto and Johto were out, as everyone knew where the Sea Cottage was, he opted for the next best thing: Hoenn. He doesn’t mind, though. Lanette never judges him for anything, and frankly, he could use someone who doesn’t judge him right now.
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STEP 6: Publish Your Results by Minty
“Uh huh,” Lanette says. She eases back into her chair and sets the paper down beside her cup of coffee. “I don’t,” Bill replies. “Why should anyone care what I do with my personal life, so long as I do my job?” The truth is he knows damn well why, and he’s known all his life—or at least since he became a researcher and the administrator of the storage system. Everyone had a fascination with him: the child prodigy, the seven-year-old who passed Johto’s national college entrance exams with flying colors, the novelty just a few decades too late to be a part of PT Barnum’s traveling circus of freaks and anomalies. And now, now that he’s well over legal age and technically one of the most well-known names when it comes to pokémon training, he’s something else: a celebrity story just
waiting to happen. Perhaps keeping his personal life a closely guarded secret didn’t help. It’s probably why people are right now scrambling for any hint that Bill isn’t as pure or scientifically obsessed as they thought. Humanity sells, so long as it’s not your own and all. But the problem is the headline isn’t him. Sure, it’s semantics, but something about that headline bothers him. Gay bothers him. Not that he has anything about gay people, but the whole point of the experiment was … well, was to rule that out. And he did. Just as he ruled out, in no particular order, literally every other gender one could possibly be sexually attracted to. “Okay,” Lanette says, “I’m pretty sure you know that’s not true, but it’s clear that you don’t want to ta—”
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“Lanette, can I ask you a question?” Lanette hesitates. Then, she says, “Well, normally, you just do.” He wants to smile at that, but he doesn’t. Not really. And Lanette’s smirk vanishes. “Bill? Is everything okay?” And she knows nothing is (and he knows this); she’s just trying … well, she’s just trying. “Lanette,” Bill says slowly, “I’m not … I’m not really gay.” Her shoulders sink. “Okay … so, bi?” “No. Not really.” He plays with the spoon in his cooling coffee. “I think … my question is … how do you know when ‘finding the right person’ isn’t possible?” The question sounds so juvenile that even Bill doesn’t think it sounds like him. He kicks himself, wants to change the subject to something about pokémon, wants to retreat like he always does into something else, but Lanette reaches across the table and places her hand on his wrist before he can. And he straightens and decides to listen. “No one?” she says. He shrugs. “I’ve tried. I remember … I was with him, and we were just … well, you know. And I remember thinking, ‘Is this it?’” He laughs and throws the hand Lanette isn’t grasping in the air. “I was bored, Lanette. I couldn’t feel a thing. And I realized…”
His laughter dies in his chest, and he sinks but doesn’t stop smiling. “I realized I can’t feel anything. Or … I can’t feel anything like that.” “Oh. I see.” Lanette doesn’t withdraw her hand, so Bill uses his free one to slip the spoon out of his cup and sweep the cheap porcelain mug off the table. “Anyway,” he says. He takes a long moment to swig the too-bitter coffee. Lanette had never been that great of a cook. Better than him, sure, but that coffee is definitely burned. “It’s confusing. I was certain I felt something towards people, but not like that. Does that make sense?” Lanette blinks, and then she says, “You do realize that romantic and sexual attraction are two different things, right?” He does. He’s done some kind of research, after all. He would do some kind of research about it. It’s part of the scientific method, after all. (Just as the last part is publishing one’s results.) “I know,” he says. “I just…” He trails off. He’s not sure what he’s saying. Of course Lanette would understand. She’s always understood him, ever since she bumped into him in Celadon University, said hi, and refused to leave his side since. And for that, he’s grateful. He feels awful that that’s all they are to each other—
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friends, that is—but on the other hand, he can’t think of a more perfect configuration. After all, he would drive her absolutely fucking insane if their relationship were to grow any more intimate than it is right now. And she understands. Of course she does. So she pats him on the wrist and withdraws her hand, straightens up and sits back on her side of the table. “It’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to feel anything at all. You don’t have to get married and have kids, you know. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling.” It’s really not. When the public isn’t wondering about Bill’s sexuality, they’re expecting him to be sexual. He’s an adult now, and he’s done something with that amazing intellect, just like they were hoping. So the show must go on, right on into finding the Right Person his parents and his older colleagues and everyone else keeps talking about, the one that will magically change his mind about things and make him settle down and start a family. All so everyone—the tabloids, social media, the news— everyone finally has a satisfying fairy tale ending to his story. And some part of him is very, painfully aware that this is true and has been true since his PC first launched. But he doesn’t disagree with Lanette. Part of him is scared to admit that she’s wrong, and the other part of him isn’t
scared at all but still wishes beyond everything else that she’s right. So he nods. Lanette freezes at this, and Bill knows at once that she can sense what he’s thinking. It’s two parts incapability of hiding his emotions and one part Lanette just knows him too well, and he’s afraid she’ll reach across the table and pity him again. But instead, she says, “And if anyone has a problem with it … they can go fuck themselves.” Bill nearly drops his coffee cup. Lanette doesn’t swear; that’s more Bebe’s and Cassius’s department. So hearing that curse tumble out of Lanette’s mouth spread a smile across his face. An actual smile this time. “Was that a pun?” he asks. “Wha—oh God.” Lanette turns bright red, as she always does when she’s embarrassed, and she covers her eyes with a hand. “No, Bill. No, it isn’t.” And Bill laughs—genuinely this time—and eventually Lanette joins in, and all of a sudden, everything feels okay. Sure, he’ll have to deal with that tabloid some other time, but for now, he has his closest friend and an understanding between them of who he is and frankly godawful coffee, and Bill feels like he doesn’t need anything else, not even his work or a rare pokémon.
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-051
Black Magic Woman
by girl-like-substance
THE UNDERGROUND
It’s harder to draw a circle than I expected. I give it a few goes – even try to do the thing where you tie the chalk to a string pinned to the floor – but it keeps coming out wobbly, and while I’ll admit I’m mostly going off novels and movies, I’m pretty sure that screwing this up gets you killed. In the end, Low takes pity on me and dives down to twirl just above the floor, carving a perfect circle of black shadow into the worn cement.
Low burbles in that adorable consonantless way that ghosts do and flies away across the room in search of the book. I know I brought it in here, but I had to clear a lot of the junk to make space for the circle, and at some point along the way it got lost among the boxes and relics of Aunt Winnie’s passion for gardening.
He tips his head back to look up at me, eyes questioning beneath the brim of his hat, and even now it’s just so cute I have to smile.
Nope, not thinking about that. Better thought: I’m kind of regretting not cleaning up in here earlier. But moving has been much more complicated than I thought, so I’ve just been tossing everything that I can’t find a place for into the garage, and now I guess I’m reaping what I sowed.
Man. I really don’t know why everyone’s so down on ghosts. I guess they’re dangerous, but so are growlithe or scorbunny, and people partnered with them never have to worry about being asked to remove their pokémon from the premises. “Cheers, Low.” I rest my fingers briefly on the jewels in his throat, letting them suck the heat from my hand, and he grins his evil little grin. Looks mean, of course, but he’s happy. “C’mon. You got my book over there?”
—Ah, you’re here! Lovely to see you, dear. Now, as long as you’re visiting, I need a hand with the big camellias—
“Uomuou,” cries Low, dipping his head, and a moment later the book floats up from behind a rusted-out lawnmower, wisps of shadow carrying it across the room towards me. “Cheers. Can you hold it open for me? I gotta write this stuff down round the edge.”
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He nods enthusiastically and flips it open to the right page, levitating my bookmark up and out of the way. “Okay. So … I think we start, here, right? Larva callida …” It’s really just a matter of copying down the words, making concentric rings of well-read classical gibberish and trying to stop my kara slipping down my arm and clattering on the cement. Honestly, I thought magic would be harder, but you can get anything on Amazon, it seems. Obviously that’s not ideal, but you know. Sometimes you need stuff you can’t find in your local independent bookshop. And, well, it sorta seemed like an omen. I want to invoke a potentially evil power, and what’s more evil and powerful than Amazon, right? Low moves slowly around the rim of the circle, turning the page whenever he thinks I need it; he only gets it right maybe half the time – mismagius might be smart, but reading is definitely beyond them – but it’s okay. He’s trying to help, even if he doesn’t quite understand what we’re doing here, and I honestly do not know if I deserve that. It takes a little while, especially since I have to fight my awful handwriting, but I have nothing else to do today. I finish up the locks and wards, Low rings them with another dark circle, and we step back to admire our handiwork.
Book, circle, magic should do it, right?
ghost.
That
I pick up my mug from where I left it on top of the box of books and take a sip of lukewarm tea. “Looks good to me,” I say. “What about you?” “Ulumu,” he agrees, swooping down to inspect the circle as if he actually knows what he’s looking at. Maybe I’m underestimating him and he does. Mismagius might not be able to read, but they definitely know magic. “Oh!” “I’ll take your word for it,” I say, finishing my tea. “All right. I, um … I guess we should do it.” We look at each other from either side of the circle. After a second, Low scowls and drifts over, his ragged body billowing in concern. “Uou?” he asks, cocking his head on one side. I try my best to give him a smile, but it doesn’t quite survive the transition from brain to mouth. “Mm,” I say. “It’s okay. Just like. Little bit intimidating.” He swirls around the back of my head, swishing his cloak through my hair. I read somewhere that this is how mismagius socialise, chanting and swirling through one another; Low knows I’m not a mismagius, of course, but he likes me enough to consider me an honorary colony-mate. “Thanks.” I reach up, feel him rubbing his folds against my hand. “I
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think … I think I’m ready now.” I don’t think this, at all, but I can’t stand here all day. I motion Low into position at my side, flick through the book to the right page, and start to read. “De profundis, voce mea audi …” It sounds dumb. I can’t pretend to know anything about Latin, but even I have a suspicion that this isn’t grammatically correct; I’m hoping that the words aren’t everything, that what matters are my intentions and Low’s powers. I gesture with my free hand as I speak, and Low zooms around the edge of the circle, mingling his chanting with my own and making little purple fires sprout from nowhere around its limits. His voice has no words, although like always it sounds unnervingly like it does, buried just beneath the surface in a language you forgot a long time ago; the air grows still and heavy as he speaks, the drumming of the rain on the roof and door becoming unnaturally distant, and as I watch and declaim my awful cod Latin the flame begins to bleed down the lines of the circle like the water in the gutters outside. Is it working? No idea. This might all be Low; maybe none of this is even possible and Low’s just humouring me with illusions while I babble on to an empty gara— Whoosh.
The flames surge upwards into an incandescent ring – and immediately die back down to glowing gold cinders. “All right, mate?” There’s someone here. She’s tall and handsome, with tawny skin and eyes as dark as a desert night. And she’s right there, in the circle, and … and holy crap, I think I just summoned someone. I mean. I was trying to. But you know. “Hello? Anyone home?” The spirit waves. Her nails are the same dark purple as her lips, her eyelids, her huge mane of hair. Is this even a hoopa? That’s what I was going for, but I thought they were six-armed giants. “Mighty djinni over here. You called, I answered.” She keeps on looking at me. I guess she wants an answer. I did drag her all this way, after all. “Um, hi,” I say. “Sorry. First time.” “Hey, happens to the best of us.” She claps her hands together, all business. “So. What can I do for you?” “What?” Nope. Try again: “‘Scuse me, it’s just you’re, uh, not quite what I was expecting.” “Oh, sorry. Did you want a twentyfoot colossus with six arms?” Before I can answer, a ring of gold light flickers around her, like a coin spun on its axis, and suddenly she’s huge and hunched against the rafters,
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her horned head scraping the ceiling and her tail lashing against the confines of the circle. DOST THOU PREFER THIS GUISE, MORTAL? she asks, her disembodied hands orbiting her like taloned moons, and I jump back so hard I almost trip over the hosepipe. “Aah! No, oh my god, turn back!” AS THOU COMMANDST. The ring spins: there’s the woman again, grinning and brushing imaginary lint off her kameez. “Yeah, that’s why I led with this shape,” she says. “Not really enough space for the real one. Also I gotta admit, the novelty of terrifying people sorta wears off after the first thousand years.” I stare at her mutely. Behind the boxes in the corner, Low floats sheepishly up out of his hiding-place and hurries back to my side. “So you are a hoopa?” I ask, once my voice has come unstuck. “I’m old-fashioned, so I usually say ‘djinni’, but sure, same thing.” She smiles, showing teeth as white and even as a row of retiree bungalows. “Anyway, I should introduce myself, right? Obviously, you know my real name or you couldn’t have summoned me, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use it. Sorta impolite to keep reminding me that I don’t have a choice about being here.”
“Oh. Um, sorry about th—” “It’s fine. You’re just human, is all.” Her charm falters there, and just for a second her smile turns cold and wintry before she recovers herself. “Anyway, you can call me Qamar. Prettier than the other one and all. More vowels.” “Okay.” This is so not what I was expecting. Not that I know what I was expecting. “Um, I’m Samreet. This is Low.” “Ooo,” says Low, swirling around her, torn between checking the circle’s integrity and keeping an eye on its occupant. “Umuo.” He sounds suspicious. I guess I should be too. Nobody is nice without reason; that goes for hoopa as well as humans. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, after all. “Okay,” says Qamar, waving lazily at him, utterly unconcerned. “Samreet, Low. You gonna make some requests, or is this just a social call? ‘Cause I’m gonna be honest, there are probably better uses of you and your partner’s magical powers than calling me up for a chat.” “Oh. Yeah, I’m …” I force some laughter, shake my head. “Sorry, I just didn’t really know what this was gonna be like.” “Heh.” Her eyes flash for a moment. I can’t tell if it’s just amusement or whether there’s real fire in there,
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burning beneath the surface. “First time for everything, Samreet. Anyway, let’s talk about what you want here, eh?” Yes. Right. Without being asked, Low swoops back to my side, his cloak expanding to settle over my shoulders. Qamar’s mouth moves slightly when she sees it, although I’m not sure she really finds this funny at all. She’s hard to read, in that particular way that makes me shrink inside myself. The way that reminds me of home. “Mm,” I say, because after all one little sound isn’t too hard, is it. “Mm, I, um …” Deep breath. “So you can grant wishes, right?” “In a manner of speaking.” Does she ever blink? I’m not sure she does. “Dunno if I’d call them wishes, but I can change things. If you want. Gotta warn you though, you might not like how it goes.” “Might not like it?” “Yeah, you know what they say. Be careful what you wish for and all.” That grin again, a sudden startling flash of beauty in this gloomy nowhere town. “You understand what you’re getting yourself into?” “Yeah. Sure.” Low’s cloak tightens slightly. Not a mismagius thing; he learned this watching people hug each other, and though he can’t apply the same pressure, he always tries his best. “I – I really need this.”
Qamar nods deeply, encouragingly. Like she can see right through me and knows everything. Maybe she does, I don’t know. She’s thousands of years old, maybe older. Must make all my problems seem like clichés. “Course,” she says. “Just had to make sure you knew the score. Now come on, mate, hit me.” Okay. Here we are: twelve years, one death, an escape down here to the suburban wasteland sloping down to the Channel – all leading up to this moment, facing this circle in this damp garage as another no-longer-freak storm blows itself out overhead. I take a deep breath. Low mumbles quietly in my ear: uolumo, oee. Doing his best to be encouraging. “I want to be a girl,” I say, and to my surprise my voice doesn’t shake at all. “Can you do that?” The words leave a silence that the breaking thunder can’t fill. Qamar stands there, nodding slowly, and raises her eyebrows. “You do know that asking that question means you already are one, right?” “Yeah, I’ve read the fucking motivational Tumblr posts too,” I snap, before I can stop myself. “Not the same thing.” She sighs, rubs her forehead. “Okay.” I’m expecting more, but that’s it:
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just that okay, half-lost in the rain. It’s getting worse; the storm must be moving closer off the sea. I stand there, listening to it howl, and watch Qamar watching me. She’s very calm, and very patient. After a few seconds, I start feeling guilty and fold my arms, embarrassed. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I’m, uh … not mad at you.” “I know,” she says. “I’m just thinking, Samreet.” She stops herself, brow creasing. “That what you wanna be called?” Oh, no. No, no, no, now I feel even worse. Low pulls away from me a little, eyes full of confusion. “I, um, I dunno,” I admit. “I guess? Maybe? Sikh names are unisex.” “Mm, I Sometimes anyway.”
know, people
just checking. wanna change
“Oh. Right.” And now I feel even worse. She does know, doesn’t she? Probably better than I do, in fact. I wonder how many times she’s been summoned, how many different corners of the world she’s been dragged to from her native desert. “Look, can you do it or not?” I ask, trying to cover my embarrassment. “I just want a straight answer.” “Oeeu,” says Low, with a forceful kind of nod. I don’t think he has any idea what we’re talking about, but
he’s picked his side. Without even thinking, of course, because that’s just who he is. God. I don’t deserve him. Nobody ever deserves their pokémon, of course, but I especially don’t deserve him. Qamar screws up her face thoughtfully, then lets it settle again. “Okay, sure,” she says. “I mean, in theory. I can change my shape, so how hard can it be to change someone else’s, right?” “That’s … worryingly vague.” “Wow, tough crowd.” She gives Low a conspiratorial look. “Doesn’t have a great sense of humour, does she?” It’s like a firework in my heart, sparks racing down my veins to burst all through my body and transfigure it into light. Literally nobody has ever called me that before. It’s kind of awful that the first person to do it is a capricious genie who’d murder me if she could get out of her circle, but still. I could get used to this. “Uumuo?” Low cocks his head on one side, uncertain. He can tell she’s sort of mocking me, but he can also tell I like it, and now he doesn’t know what to think at all. “All in good fun, mate.” She smiles at him and turns back to me. “Okay. Non-joke version, then: yeah, I can do it. But I need something from you first.” The sparks wink out; the firework
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grows cold and dark. Of course. There are no free lunches, are there? Just because I have some chalk and a book and a magical partner doesn’t mean I can have this. It isn’t this that frightens me. It’s the fact that I already know I’ll pay any price she wants. “Right,” I say, squashing the impulse to reach for Low. I can do this by myself. I can. “You want to …” I’m about to say eat my soul, but that feels like it might be prejudiced. I’ve already dragged her all the way here; I shouldn’t insult her into the bargain. “I dunno. What do you want?” Low burbles softly and floats closer again to draw his cloak through my hair. I touch his jewels briefly, without thinking, and only remember a moment later that I was trying not to do that. “Your help,” says Qamar, watching us from beneath hooded eyelids. “See, you know the rules, right? You make a wish, I fulfil it, but surprise! There’s an ironic sting in the tail. You wish for your dead son back, but oh no, he’s a zombie, that kind of thing.” “Did you steal that example from ‘The Monkey’s Paw’?” “That’s kinda my point. Unfortunately, I’m not very imaginative.” She gives me a serious look. “I’ll be blunt. I’m gonna need your help coming up with a horrible twist for your wish.”
I can’t help but stare. Honestly, I didn’t really know what would happen when I made the circle and recited the spell; maybe nothing, maybe everything, maybe just lethal levels of ignorance and/or transphobia from a demonic spirit who didn’t know anything about humans, or who knew too much. I thought about all the places I might land after I took the plunge, over and over; I stayed up late at night, staring at the ceiling of the bedroom I still think of as the guest room, unable to claim Aunt Winnie’s for myself, and planned out how to negotiate every variant of the conversation I could think of. This was just too important to leave down to chance. But even after all that, I never could have imagined this. “Couldn’t you just … not do one?” I ask. She sucks her teeth, shakes her head. “Ooh. Now that would be nice, huh. But it’s not how it works.” Apologetic grin. “You could call them union rules, I guess. We like to avoid being bound to people’s wills, right? So we came up with the idea of twists, to discourage people from summoning us. And if anyone hears that I broke the rule …” Short, sharp exhalation. “Look, you seem nice and all, but I’m not gonna get myself beaten half to death for someone I just met.” “Oh. That’s fair, I guess.”
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We look at each other. Outside, the rain pours down in solid, deafening sheets. I’m so selfish. Everyone always said as much, didn’t they? It’s all about me, all about what I want, and screw all those who have a stake in my future. Now I’m proving it: what is this, any of this, if not an exercise in selfishness? A normal person doesn’t summon hoopa at all, let alone ask them to break union rules. “Sorry,” I say, avoiding her eye. “I’m not being a very good host.” “Easy enough to sort that,” she replies, her smile broadening. “Listen. Might take us a while to figure out the twist. Any chance of a cuppa while we think?”
Maybe you can excuse this. It’s not like I have a lot of experience entertaining guests, after all; I only left home three weeks ago, and I still don’t even feel like this house is mine. Still, I’m going to do better now. I strain the leaves and spices from the tea—
this. I load everything onto a tray and carry it through to the living room, where Qamar is looking around at the old lady décor and listening politely to Low’s babbling. It took us a while to do the spell to let her out the circle while still keeping her from killing me and going home, but she’s out and I’m still alive, so I think it worked. “… aiou uollu, uo!” “All of them at once?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “That was very brave of you.” Low beams. “Uuollo,” he says proudly. “Umuo.” “Wow. And they didn’t even manage to hit you?” He shakes his head vigorously. “Wow,” she says again. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of such a mighty warrior. And hey, here’s the woman of the hour.” Oh god. I almost drop the tray when I hear that, but I just about keep myself together, and set it down on the table without spilling anything.
—Sammi, you came! Excellent, because no matter how much I try I cannot make masala chai the way your uncle did—
“Here,” I say, passing her a mug. “And here’s yours, Low. Make it last, okay?”
—pour out two and a half cups, and fill a plate with chocolate Hobnobs: that’ll do it, right? Feels like what Aunt Winnie would do if I came round. Would have done.
He levitates the half cup out of my hands and sucks happily on the straw, completely ignoring my advice. He loves tea, and while it doesn’t do him any harm, he can’t absorb physical substances very well, so if I don’t
I don’t want to think about any of
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restrict him to a half cup every two days he just drips everywhere like a haunted umbrella. “You didn’t need to do all this,” says Qamar, taking an appreciative sip. “I’m a philistine, so. PG Tips would’ve been fine.” I shrug and take my own mug over to the armchair by the rain-streaked window. (Aunt Winnie’s chair. Except not any more.) “You’re a guest,” I tell her. “And Low likes it.” “Well, ta very much, mate.” She takes a Hobnob and crunches it in a meditative kind of way. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I always forget how good these are. Ahem. Uh, so – ironic twists, eh?” “Right,” I agree. “So, um … I was thinking while I was making the tea, and I thought maybe if you made me a girl, you could turn me into someone my family and friends wouldn’t recognise, so I’d be lonely and estranged forever.” Low raises his head from his tea to give me a look, and rightly, too. I do feel a little bad about suggesting this, as if I’m not lonely and estranged already; still, if there’s a chance I can pull this off without ruining my life even further, I have to take it. “Ooh.” Qamar nods deeply, impressed. “That’s a good one, I have to admit. Let’s put it down as a strong
maybe. Got anything else?” “Uh …” Honestly, I was really hoping she’d go for that. Not ever going home again sounds kind of appealing. “I dunno. I could die?” “Drastic,” she observes. “But is it ironic? Like don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely mean, but unless you die because you got your wish, it doesn’t count.” “A racially-charged murder?”
transphobic
“Wow. Heavy. I, uh … I actually dunno about that one.” She gives me a frank look over the top of her mug. “Bit brutal, you know? No class. And if there’s one thing we hoopa are known for, it’s class.” “I thought it was amassing huge amounts of ostentatious wealth and then immediately getting bored with it?” “Yeah, that’s what I said. Class.” Qamar laughs: I guess that was a joke. “But seriously, Samreet, that seems a bit pointless. You gotta be alive to regret your decision, you feel me?” “You can’t keep conditions like that!”
adding
extra
“Course I can,” she says, amused. “I’m a hoopa, aren’t I? Caprice is the name of the game.” I don’t really know what to say to that, so I look away and pull my feet onto the chair, curling up against the arm. Outside, lightning burns the
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sky white for a moment, and a split second later the thunder follows. Right overhead now. “In the thick of it, huh,” says Qamar, looking out the window at the little square of garden, Aunt Winnie’s – my – rose bushes thrashing wildly with the rain. “Where are we, anyway? I mean Galar, obviously, from the accents and the weather, but more specifically?” “South coast,” I reply, glad of the change of subject. “Nowhere, really. One of those places where white people go to die.” “Ah, OAP central.” She grins and takes another biscuit. “So what is this, your grandmother’s house or something? Does she know you’re doing magic in her garage?” Low hisses and burbles something even I can’t catch, darting up off the back of the sofa and making little sparks of ghostly fire flicker in the air around him. “Something I said?” asks Qamar, furrowing her brow. “Hey, Low, there’s no call for—” “It’s my house,” I say, drawing on some reserve of composure I didn’t know I had. “I own it.” I think I say it wrong somehow. With the bravery of someone who eats ghosts for breakfast, Qamar takes her eyes off Low and his posturing and transfers them to me. “Okay,” she says, and for once there
isn’t any trace of a joke in her voice. “Are you all right?” It’s because I’m not expecting it. Can I use that excuse? Never mind that I’ve already planned how to answer if anyone ever asked me that (yeah, fine mate; brief smile; slight tilt of the head), because I knew nobody ever would. They’ve got no reason to, after all. It’s not like Aunt Winnie is really family, when you get down to it. So I’m not expecting it. And I can’t reach my prepared answer. And what I end up saying instead, after a half second in which I feel like chisels are being hammered between my ribs, is: “N-no.” There’s a shake in my voice, thick and ugly with tears. Qamar stares at me for a moment, face utterly unreadable, then puts her mug down on the coffee table and pulls a large gold ring out of thin air. “Here,” she says, as a box of tissues drops out of it. “I think you might … whoa, okay, mate.” She raises her hands and smiles gently at Low, who’s hissing and conjuring sparks again. “Take it easy. Let’s not any of us cast any spells we regret, huh?” Low throws her a dirty look and dives towards me, body expanding to drape over my shoulders. For a moment, I wonder why he’s shaking, and then I realise I’m the one who’s shaking and reach up to clutch the hem of his cloak in my fingers.
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“I-I’m okay,” I mumble. “Sorry, I …” I snatch a tissue and wipe my eyes, furious. I’m supposed to be better than this. Supposed to be competent, for a start. Have to be: it’s all down to me now, no one else here to catch me if I fall. “Sorry,” I say, trying to raise my voice back to normal. “I’m fine.” “Yeah, uh, you’ll forgive me if I’m not totally convinced by that.” Brief hesitation. “I’m gonna be honest with you, I can see what it might mean for a child to come into possession of a random bungalow in retiree territory.” “I’m nineteen.” “Really? That’s your response?” She sighs. “Look, uh … why’d you summon me, mate?” “To become a girl.”
presses in close on my other side. “I know.” “Ugh.” I sniff deeply, could somehow reverse the minutes and draw my tears “God. Sorry. I just … not a lot have said that.”
as if I last few back in. of people
The solicitor, looking grave and shrunken in his dated 90s suit. I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Singh. Now, I do need to go over these papers with you. Frieda next door. You’re Winnie’s nephew? Oh, I am sorry. She was a lovely soul. By the way, if you’re sorting out her things, would you mind doing something about the tree on the corner there? She never would allow us to cut it, but it’s such an eyesore. Were they the only two? Jesus. I actually think they might be.
“Because of what the book said.”
“Chose your summons well then, didn’t you?” asks Qamar. “What does it say – something like ‘a hoopa of above-average power and remarkable ingenuity, but possessed of more empathy than many of its fellows’?”
Qamar nods like this is what she was expecting. I guess it probably is.
“It, um … it says ‘merely average’ power. And nothing about ingenuity.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” she says. “But in this case, you probably thought right. I’m sorry for your loss, Samreet.”
“Merely—? You wanna take that grimoire back, mate, it’s rubbish.”
“No, that’s why you summoned a hoopa. Why me, though?” She’s got me there. I look up, forcing myself to let go of Low, and admit it.
There’s no fighting it now. I cry, for several long minutes that make me feel naked and ugly, and Qamar leans in to put an uneasy hand on my shoulder. “Yeah,”
she
murmurs,
as
Low
It’s hard not to smile, even with everything. When she sees it, Qamar smiles too. “There you go, that’s better.” She pats my shoulder again, in an awkward sort of way that makes me very aware that she hasn’t touched anyone in a
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long time, and leans back into her seat. “Here. Your tea’s getting cold.” “Cheers.” I take a sip. It tastes so strongly of home that I almost start crying again, and I put it down again immediately. Low understands, because of course he does, and burrows down into my lap, spreading his cloak as far across my body as he can. “Cheers,” I say again, stroking his little head. “I, um … this was my aunt’s house. My uncle, he – he was like the black sheep of the family? Ran off to marry this older white woman, which everyone was unhappy about.” I don’t know why I’m explaining, but I can’t seem to stop; the story has been wound up so tight in the back of my head all this time, and now Qamar’s kindness has knocked it out of joint and the whole thing is springing violently back into shape. “I always liked her, though. She and my uncle didn’t often show up to family stuff – or I guess we didn’t invite them – but like …” Deep breath. “I’ve known about this for a long time,” I say, not daring to look at Qamar. “About … me. And I mean I’ve always tried to hide it, but I guess something shows.” Once a white guy with a tiny mottled sobble on his shoulder propositioned me in the bathroom at the restaurant. I could see it reflected in his eyes: that thing, that soft and boneless thing that lives in my face and screams weakness
at the world. It was my fault, I knew, because I couldn’t hide it from him, same as I couldn’t hide it at home, or at school, or on the street. So I stammered and tried to run off, and mistaking my terror for nerves he caught my arm, and I wrenched myself free and spat a slur that hurt me as much as him and hurried back out to get the drinks for table four. I wished I’d had Low with me. But Raja was always adamant that letting ghosts on the premises would scare the punters, and the closest he could be was in his ball. He shifts in my lap, tilts his head up towards mine, and I realise I’ve stopped stroking and started squeezing. “Sorry,” I say, letting go. “I didn’t mean to—” “Uouoou,” he says kindly, shaking his head. “Umo.” I turn the edge of my mouth up, which is as close to a smile as I can manage right now, and hug him gently. Some cold tea oozes out of his folds and seeps into my shirt, but it’s worth it. “Anyway, she was the only one who was nice about it.” I risk a quick glance at Qamar; her face has settled back into its usual unreadable calm, and though I know she’s probably not judging me, I still look away again, heart pounding. “Or I guess my uncle was, too, but he died. Someone knocked him off his bike with a van. And then Aunt Winnie moved down here.”
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—Sammi, I’m an old white lady, so tradition dictates I retire to the coast and, I don’t know, take up bowls or something. You’ll come and visit me, won’t you? “She – she died too. Recently. Orion, her magmar, he died a while ago, so there was no one to get help when …” I see the body in my mind’s eye, cold and still and sunken in on itself like a rotten fruit, and in the face of it my voice just quits on me completely. Qamar’s mouth moves silently for a moment, searching for words, before she speaks. “Hey, uh, you don’t have to say—” “It’s okay,” I mumble. “It’s okay.” In my arms, Low is as big as he can go, so big he’s shrunk his hat to divert his substance to his cloak. He keeps looking at me like he hopes this is enough, but I think he must know that it never could be. Deep breath. Okay. “Turns out she left everything to me,” I tell Qamar. “I don’t think she got on any better with her family than she did with mine. And, um … we had a fight about it. Me and my parents. They thought that was why I’d stayed in touch with her. To try and get mentioned in her will. When they said that I just – I just sorta lost it.” Early afternoon, bright winter light lying in bars across the table. The shock and hurt in their eyes. My chest, cold and tight and heaving.
Let’s be honest. Things had been bad between us for a long time. Amar got that apprenticeship at the airport and now he’s a manager; Meena’s at medical school, top of her class. And what about Samreet? Well, Samreet’s still waiting tables at the worst Indian restaurant in town, fresh off the back of three mediocre A-levels and years of smiling and pretending not to notice he’s being bullied. I was the one who suggested I go. Half out of fury, half because this was an out and I needed it. But I have to admit, I was kind of hoping they might try to stop me. Thunder again: sudden deafening rumble, and I rise back out of the past into the present. “Well, here I am,” I say, the words slipping out without tone or feeling. “Starting over. I figured if I was gonna do that, I might as well sort out the girl thing too.” Qamar is silent for a moment, eyes dark. “Sorry,” she says. “Have you spoken to them since?” “They called twice. I don’t want to talk about it.” She nods. “That’s fine, mate. That’s fine.” She sighs. “Can I be honest with you?” “Sure.” “I thought of three different ironic twists as soon as you made your wish.”
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I start. Low rises from my lap, eyes full of confusion. “What? But you said …” “Hoopa.” Sheepish grin. “Totally untrustworthy, remember? But, uh … basically, I saw you and I thought, she doesn’t need a wish, she needs to talk.” “But I do need a wish,” I protest. “That’s why I summoned you.” “Samreet, mate, we’ve already established the difference between summoning a hoopa and summoning me,” she says. “I may be an amoral supernatural being who likes nothing better than to bring misery upon the asshole magicians who bind me to their will, but … you’re not an asshole magician. You’re like five.” “Nineteen.” “Same difference. More importantly, you didn’t wish to be a girl, did you? You wished to be cis.” She grimaces. “I gotta say, that’s one sting in the tail I’m not sure I’m happy delivering.” “What the hell would you know about what I want?” I ask, annoyed that she saw through me so easily, but she just smiles sadly.
the sudden burst of anger spent as quickly as it came, and fiddle with the edge of Low’s cloak. “Sorry,” I murmur. “You must think I’m such a—” “Muomo,” says Low warningly, twitching himself free of my hands and floating up to eye level. “Omomuo, ummi.” And now even my pokémon’s telling me off. Great. Clearly this is just the day I fall apart completely. “Sorry. You’re right.” I raise a hand to his jewels; he doesn’t immediately pull away, which I guess means I’m forgiven. “Shouldn’t … be like that.” “Honestly, given the month you’re having, I’m inclined to cut you some slack.” We sit there for a few seconds, me with Low in my arms and Qamar flipping one of those rings between her hands in blurry gold arcs. Our words have carved out a piece of time all their own; now that we’re no longer speaking, the rain and the wind seem to rush in from somewhere far away, bringing the real world with them.
“I get around, mate. You’re not the first I’ve met. Or the second. Or even the tenth.” Her smile fades. “It turns out a lot of desperate people summon you when grimoire writers tell everyone you’re a soft touch.”
I have to say it. Don’t I? Yes. Yes, I think I do.
Okay, it’s official. I am literally the dumbest kid in Galar. I hang my head,
Qamar keeps tossing the ring back and forth, back and forth, then throws
“What happens now?” I ask, hesitantly. “I don’t know if … I mean I think you might be right. About the girl thing.”
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it lightly up into the air, where it spins away into nothingness. Something about this action seems very final. I can’t tell if the lurching in my chest is fear or hope. “Well.” She gets up and wanders over to the window – trying to hide her awkwardness, I think, or maybe deliberately letting me see it, to try and put me at my ease. I guess I really don’t know anything after all. “Your choice, really. You can make a wish, or not. I thought of a fourth twist while we were talking, so y’know, if you do go for it, you have options. Unpleasant options, but hey. Still.” “And, um, what if I don’t?” Qamar shrugs, turns to face me. “Release me,” she says. “You don’t need a hoopa if you aren’t making wishes.” “Oh.” I’m not disappointed. I knew we’d have to go it alone, didn’t I? Just me and Low. Sorting out Aunt Winnie’s things, finding work, figuring out how to run a household. So no, I’m not disappointed. But I feel a little crushed all the same. “No,” continues Qamar, “you don’t need a hoopa. You need a friend. So hurry up and release me, then I’ll make another cup of tea and when the rain’s done, let’s go down the shops. Get you some new clothes. Haircut too, if you like. Or not if you
wanna take things slower.” I freeze. “What?” “A haircut, mate. I assume you’ve heard of them, although judging by the state of that mop maybe you haven’t.” “No, not that part.” I stare. “Are you – I mean did you mean – like are you sure?” Qamar grins. “Like I said. You’re not the first. And, well, you’re a nice kid and I feel like it’d reflect badly on me if I left you sitting alone in a strange town full of the kinda suicidal desperation that makes people summon hoopa.” “It’s not that strange,” I mutter. “Like I used to visit her sometimes—” “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, mate, you’re really bad at accepting offers.” Low seems to agree; he rises from my arms and bobs his head at Qamar, little black sparks popping in the air around him. “Uoromo,” he says. And he’s right, so I get up, and I swear I only mean to shake Qamar’s hand but somehow I end up hugging her instead. “Oh,” she says, stiffening in surprise. “Uh … hey, you know what, that’s fine.” She hugs back, something beneath her skin vibrating with suppressed energy. I wonder what would happen to me if she exploded back into her
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real self now, if the expansion would rip my arms off, and then I don’t care any more because I’m pretty sure I’m crying again. “Hey,” says Qamar. “Hey, it’ll be okay. You know that, right? Shit’s hard. But I’ve seen enough of it to be able to say, it gets a little easier.” I sniff. “Sorry—” “Don’t need to apologise for having feelings, mate.” She pats my shoulder and pulls away again, summoning more tissues through another ring. “Here you go.” “Cheers.” A moment to scrape myself together again, Low swishing his cloak through my hair. “I, um … I release you.” Low cries out in a thin voice – the air bursts into vivid gold flame – and Qamar, against every fearful expectation in my heart, does not dematerialise. “There we go,” she says. “Now we’re equals. Or as equal as a mere mortal like you possibly can be to a being of unparalleled power like me. But, y’know, I’m not your slave any more, which is kinda the important thing.” It feels so long since I met anyone who made jokes. And she hasn’t killed me, either. Honestly, I’m not sure what more I could ask for in a friend. If I said that, she’d probably tell me to raise my standards. But I think it’s
true all the same. “Cheers,” I say again. “I … you’re really staying?” She shrugs. “Why not, eh? Nice part of the world, this. Handy for the downs, walking distance of the sea. I could see myself sticking around for a good long while, really. If you’ve got space for me and you don’t get sick of the lip.” It barely even seems possible. But I guess maybe she really wants to help. “Man,” I murmur. “I – I don’t know what to say.” “Ua!” cries Low, darting forward. “Ummi oh!” “He does, though,” observes Qamar. “And you’re welcome. Both of you.” She smiles again, picks up the mugs. “Shall I do the tea, then? No clue how you make that chai stuff, but I know how to put a bag in a cup and add hot water.” “Yeah. Thanks. And … Qamar?” She pauses halfway to the door. “Yeah?” “My friends, they— I mean. Since you’re. Like.” Calm down, I order myself. It’s okay. Things will be okay. “You can call me Sammi. If, um, if you want.” “Sure thing, Sammi,” she says, kindly ignoring the fact that it took me five tries to say that. “Be right back.” Out she goes, leaving me and Low
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alone with the flash of lightning and the drumming of the rain. I look at him. He looks back. “Uomuou?” he asks, head cocked questioningly to one side. “Yeah,” I reply, a little nervous shock of laughter prickling at the inside of my throat. “Yeah, I … I think we might be okay.” The words hang between us like hummingbirds, jewelled and fragile and so beautiful they take my breath away. Yes. Twelve years, one death, an escape, and here we are. I still don’t know if we can make this work. But at least we don’t have to do it alone.
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REVIEWS
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“Teenage Wasteland” by jeffexcellence The Sinnoh of jeffexcellence’s Teenage Wasteland isn’t quite the one you’re familiar with: there’s no sign of the Galactics here, and a stranger is sitting behind Rowan’s desk in the Sandgem pokémon lab. But while it may not have canonicity, what it does have is character in spades: from protagonist Connor to minor threshold guardian Paulie, every single character makes an immediate impression and sticks for some time yet.
mentioned previously, is essentially a cartoon mobster – but he very soon runs into Julius, a smooth, dangerous character who seems more at home in the CEO’s office in a spy thriller than in an animated back alley. The generic mismatch is severe; it sees Paulie so thoroughly defeated that the only trace of him remaining in the text is Julius remarking ominously in a later scene that he had to change his shirt after spilling something on it.
Every one of them is rooted in a type – which isn’t intended as critique; the reader gets the measure of each character very quickly, and with such strong personalities to work with, jeffexcellence can play his cast off against one another to striking effect. Connor is exceptionally anxious and struggling with the stress this causes him as he embarks on his trainer journey; his travelling companion Reyes is his polar opposite, so overburdened with self-confidence that it barely even occurs to him that he might not be capable of putting any of his plans into action. Much of the entertainment comes from the clash of these vibrant personalities, Reyes constantly pulling Connor into trouble and Connor constantly pulling back from it.
It’s a story of dramatic contrasts and larger-than-life personalities that drive the journey forward at every turn, new characters appearing and immediately establishing themselves as powerful influences on the story’s trajectory. However, it’s firmly rooted in an interesting alternate-universe Sinnoh, retaining just enough of the original – gym leaders and their types, basic geography – to allow a reader to pick things up swiftly, while mixing in new things to draw the interest as Connor makes his way around the region: rampant crime in Jubilife, a miners’ strike in Oreburgh. At this point, it’s a little early to tell where Teenage Wasteland’s plot is ultimately going to go. But for now at least, it’s safe to say that this is a trainer fic where the journey beats the destination.
Sometimes the types bring with them contrasting genres, too: Paulie,
(Review by girl-like-substance)
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Issue #7 Credits:
All content in this issue belong to their respective authors. Pokémon and all related entities are the intellectual property of Nintendo, Game Freak, and The Pokémon Company International. Pokémon © Nintendo, Game Freak 1995–2019. Use of canon material throughout this issue is done according to fair use. For more information, please visit www.copyright.gov/fls/fl102.html. Halloween background (page 2): Background vector created by 0melapics - www.freepik.com Fireworks (page 16): Laurentiu Stonescu, via pexels.com Journey (page 22): Photo by Tom Swinnen from Pexels Coffee (page 32): Photo by Jason Villanueva from Pexels Texture (page 47): Photo by Tim Mossholder from Pexels Interested in contributing art or writing to the next issue? Visit our submissions guidelines at https://canalavelibrary. boards.net. Or visit our Discord: https://discord.gg/naQgwuC Thank you for reading!