Chapter 3: Partners (In Crime)

At once, he froze. Stiff muscles and a roaring heart ranting on his behalf, begging him to flee. His rational mind came to quick conclusions that could soothe his soul—it had to be the monster he had yet to meet. It could be no other, after all, it was white and not at all like any he had seen before.

 

It was evident, now, that his startle was unwarranted. Still, his breath caught, and between them, the long stillness formed. He gulped, waiting for a word to be muttered, or some sound to be produced.

 

The creature in front of him was the height of a child, similar to his own—that made him think of his own appearance, but he had no time for reflection. White in complexion, its body was similar to as if it. He was aware that it was absurd, ridiculous, but something primal within him couldn’t help but lash out at him for not retreating and running away like a cornered animal. His rational mind was losing the fight, but nevertheless, his last argument was how they couldn’t step back because of the book on the floor, which he could feel brushing his heel against the thick leather. 

 

Muscles rigid, he just froze.

 

The creature shuffled its feet, closer, and closer. 

 

There was no reason or motive for the rapid beating of his heart. The creature was no more than a… new, harmless being. With which he was alone. From which he could not flee and which he also didn’t know. If it sought to harm him, right now he would be completely at its mercy, and—

 

“Hi!” — his horns glowed.

 

Felix jolted—the youthful voice that greeted in front of him with a wide smile was able to cause his muscles to relax. He gulped the squeak in his throat, aware that there was no reason to fear—not after having designated the monster for what he was: a child. “Uhhh.. umh. Hello,” he timidly lifted his hand, lacking the strength to wave it, and feeling goosebumps.

 

The creature took a step forward, closing the distance between them to an uncomfortable point. “Who are you?! You’re a new recruit?!” he babbled, similar to Fash. “That’s great! What’s your name?” he took another step closer.

 

His sole patted the cover of the book, leaning his body back to create as much physical distance as possible without retreating. The invasion of his personal space was the very thing he was incapable of enduring with a cool mind.

 

He was about to take another step, when he ceased his movement in midair. His eyes were barely visible behind his bangs that hid part of his face, but he could see the flash of red symbolizing that they were both wide like saucers. “Oh— o-oh. Personal space, right. Sorry,” he stepped back, allowing the abra to breathe.

 

The air entering his lungs couldn’t halt the oppressive feeling in his chest that nestled inside him after hearing an apology. “N-No, no… it’s— it’s alright,” he stammered, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck which he scratched. were hidden under a blanket that covered even its feet, too large for its body to drag with each step. Big-headed and short-armed with no fingers, the top of its head was ornamented by lime-colored hair of a bowl cut, covering its eyes with the bangs. Not least were the red horns, flat and set one in front of the other, sprouting from atop its forehead.

 

The white creature shook his head, “no— really, it’s my fault, sorry—” he insisted, his back curving slightly, seconds away from giving a bow to accompany his apology.

 

The mere thought of it made him uncomfortable—the sensation in his ribs tearing at his skin from the inside with its horrible heaviness. He inhaled deeply, and opened his mouth to ask for him to cease. However, his ongoing brain had other plans—pondering how that monster could possibly be capable of such a movement. It could be that he had a spine, but not that the anatomy of those creatures had to be similar to the human; to any other type of animal, for that matter. But without a spine, he had no clue as to how they could—

 

His thoughts were severed when he was rammed. A small body leapt towards him and placed the end of his digitless limbs on his shoulders; but the surprise only caused Felix to stagger straight to the floor. Back impacting against the book on his posterior—he couldn’t help but yelp.

 

“I KNEW IT, YOU’RE INTERESTED IN HUMANS-!” The creature exclaimed, grinning wider and brighter —not unlike his horns at that instant— than any other member of the crew, limbs even vibrating with excitement. “Ah— sorry!” The cry grounded him in reality and he recoiled, regret evident in his voice.

 

Felix groaned and rested his palms on the ground. He pushed with all the strength in his arms to manage to lift himself off the floor, feeling all the pain creeping through his old bones.

 

“W-Wait, that doesn’t matter!” The white spawn squealed from a reasonable distance, and pointed his hand toward the abra. “I heard it— in your thoughts! You know about humans!” he spluttered, in hurried speech. If Arinton had a vast soul incapable of being contained, the same was the case with the monster of white; only in a radically different way. 

 

Before his brain could manage to process the bulk that had been hammered into his back, it only processed the most important thing of all that he had heard—humans. Living beings, like him, of his species. 

 

He pulled himself back up, sitting on the floor with knees pressed against the stone floor. For the first time, he could sense the light of hope shining on his near future—a warmth spreading through his veins, the sensation which twisted in his ribs diminishing at the notion that, at last, he might get the help he so desperately needed. “You know about humans?” he was almost breathless as he spoke, but not from the lack of air in his lungs.

 

He bent down, fishing a book at his feet with both of his hands. “Of course I know about them, I know EVERYTHING!” he exclaimed, masterfully flipping through the sheets, like one who remembered every word and every text contained in those pages. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure; “I love ancient histories, and so do you! Don’t you?! Which part do you like the most? Archaeology, cryptobiology related to organic functioning, or cryptobiology from the brain perspective, or skeletal study, or anthropology, or mythology, or maybe— anthropological sociology?” each word ran over with the next, like a dam full of cracks about to flood everything with its infinite energy. “Mine is anthropobiology theory! Is that your favorite too? We’ll have so much in common, then, because I’ve never met anyone who thinks about humans like I do!” 

 

The warmth fizzled out. What replaced it instead was the coldness of dread, the icy chill that ran down his spine to the base of his tail. Some of those words he could recognize, their names and definitions on the tip of his tongue. But all those pointed to something: to the study of humankind, not as something recent but as if it were something ancestral, ancient and beyond the comprehension of these monsters. As if human beings were something mystical. His heart sank in his chest. his mind conjuring up more and more ideas about the fate of humanity—

 

Then it hit him. Like thunder.

 

“WAIT, CAN YOU READ MY THOUGHTS!?” his panicked yell filled the room, his heart in his throat—he had finally realized the implications of his words. The mere thought of anything penetrating his mind and privacy made him feel not only sickened, but rather utterly terrified. The walls of his ego were what guarded his psyche, what little identity was remaining in his brain, and thus, the very notion could cause his heart to twist with a rushing beat. With goose bumps, he watched the creature’s horns flicker brightly, ignoring the lethal icy chill coursing down his back.

 

“Have you never seen a ralts—? Ah, but fear not!” he took a step forward, careful and even somewhat shaky, both of his hands forward and showing his palms. “I don’t have too much psychic power, so I can’t know everything, but… I know you thought of humans, I just know it!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking a bit once the excitement bubbled up again from his soul.

 

That alone caused the abra to slowly retreat, still heart hammering in his ribs, against the inside of his chest and threatening to rise bile up into his throat. Now he couldn’t be safe, he could no longer trust—he might be watching his thoughts, peering inside his head as if he were a strange specimen instead of a living being. “D-Don’t read them-!” his voice trembled, taking another step backward, and his hands shook, threatening to go grab his own skull. “Get out of my head, G-GET OUT!” his voice cracked at last, the oxygen tempted to leave his lungs forever.

 

Behind his bangs, he could see how the creature’s eyes were still wide as saucers, the muscles where his eyebrows should be arched upward, a remorseful stare. “No— look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” his horns still glowed, and he mumbled with panic clawing at the inside of his throat. The hysteria was contagious. “I’m sorry, I did it without thinking, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, please calm down—!” his stumbling speech only caused Felix’s heart to beat faster.

 

This was not an unrestrained beating, it was as though his heart was about to explode into a million pieces and break from the inner bones, horribly mutilating his chest and splattering the room with red. He took another step back, but recognized that it was in vain—if he could read his thoughts, then it was irrelevant how far he could run, because he was unable to escape. If the mechanism was fight-or-flight, right now his muscles rigid as steel anchors and the itch in all his extremities urging him to flee without success did not fit into that rational reaction.

 

The creature’s mouth gaped open, but without words. He gestured with his hands and mouth to try to say something, but was totally unable, utterly powerless to halt the situation he had created. He stood still, and lowering his whole body, knelt on the floor. He rested both palms one on top of the other on the ground, and his entire torso embraced the pebble, connecting with it, his forehead resting on the back of his hands. “I’M SO SORRY!” he cried out.

 

…

 

Then he snapped—his conscious mind. The demonstration of an apology so crystal clear that was impossible for his psyche to recognize as a threat dispelled the fog from his mind, and from his fists that had clenched of their own accord from all the tension that had built up in every ounce of his soul. He towered over the menace who stood in a helpless position— no. He was but a mere child.

 

He gulped, heat filling his cheeks. He was so foolish. He deserved, at the very least, a thousand blows to the back of the head. It was like dirt to the flames of the fire, now only the ashes of what was his absolute dread remained.

 

Grimacing and eyebrows arched upward, Felix inhaled from his teeth. Sensitive as they were, he felt soreness in his molars, but still took in the cool air that drifted down his lungs like smoke in his dreams. With each breath his frantic throbbing dozed once, sinking into a relaxed rest, as did his slackened muscles. The haze dissipated more and more, leaving only lucid consciousness. And the heat in his face. “AH— no! I— I should be the one apologizing!” he cast a glance down to his own right hand… he had clenched his fist. Perhaps, if he had felt more cornered, who knows how he might have reacted. The thought sickened him—feeling that way against a child. He should be the one on the ground.

 

The boy detached his head from the back of his hand—his eyes through his hair still had a sorrowful gaze in them. His horns glowed once more as he maintained eye contact —though it fluctuated instantly, never focusing on him entirely— for a few moments. The glow ended, and with it, the monster’s gaze; which sighed with relief, all the air leaving his lungs. “You’re calmer…” he mumbled, and flexing his knee, he lifted himself off the ground by pressing both palms down. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t think it would bother you so much that I was reading your thoughts, it’s just…”

 

He felt a lump in his throat, “n-no. I-I was the one who acted… wrong. I overreacted, I’m sorry—” he insisted. He wished the whale could swallow them all, so that would put an end to that situation for all eternity.

 

“No, I should apologize… I shouldn’t have read your thoughts without your permission, that was wrong,” he replied, pausing to look aside and mutter; “it’s just that your psychic defenses were so low that…” he shook his head and bowed to Felix, his whole spine bent. “No, that’s no excuse for my behavior! I’m sorry— really!” 

 

His heart jumped up into his throat—what an abnormal feeling, so bitter. “N-No, it’s alright, really—” he mumbled, almost panicking at the sight of the monster’s gesture; so bad that he even raised his hands to shake them, showing his palms. He looked away towards the ceiling, “I-I forgive you… it’s alright— it doesn’t matter.”

 

The monster gently kicked the dust off the floor, still casting his gaze elsewhere—though it was hard to distinguish, hidden behind his green bangs. “Alright… if it doesn’t matter, I guess it’s fine…” his tone was low.

 

The bitter pang in his chest nestled. Just like the silence that fell between them, one that he couldn’t help but curse inwardly for being so prevalent, so typical for him. Though speaking in that instant was akin to swallowing needles, he could not permit another long stillness to form—not for the last time in the day.

 

He gulped saliva, and so too the lump in his throat. “How can you… r-read my mind?” he inquired, curiosity too broad in his soul to be restrained by his discomfort—deep down, he did not wish to know, but that was better than drowning in silence.

 

The monster tilted his head, almost frozen for an instant before blurting out, “you don’t know what telepathy is?” In his tone the undertone of disbelief was apparent, even of hesitating to speak, as if the question alone confused him.

 

He shook his head. The word on the tip of his tongue had no definition other than the all-consuming emptiness. He felt a shiver go down his back.

 

“Weird…” he narrowed his eyes and muttered to himself, but coughed forcibly after those words left his mouth. Recomposed from his bewilderment, he pulled himself upright with proper posture, “But don’t worry, it’s alright—! I can explain, really!” he hastily spluttered, raising his hands to show his palms. With another cough he cleared his throat, “well… telepathy is something we psychic pokémon can do, that lets us read minds.” He tilted his head once more, leaning forward, arching an eyebrow, “how come you don’t know what it is?” another inches closer, “weren’t you raised by a family of your own kind? That would explain why you don’t know! I once knew one that—” he rambled, and startled, gulping. “Ah, sorry, I got carried away, didn’t I?” he sighed, and cleared his throat once more. The glow in his horns came and went, more like a steady, rhythmic flash, “But as I was saying… Mind reading allows us to see a certain part of someone’s thoughts or emotions, depending on what we’re aiming for. Though we never see all of their thoughts, of course…” he explained. “It’s a very difficult skill, even masters of telekinesis have a hard time with it! Though not as much as light manipulation— but, I mean,” the light was distracting, “it takes a lot of concentration and mental stability to do it.”

 

For a brief moment he opened his mouth in an attempt to blurt out anything—

 

“Ah!” The creature startled, and quickly clarified, “I-it’s not that I’m strong, it’s just that ralts naturally are good at reading emotions—! Sorry if I explained and it sounded the wrong way…” his shoulders slumped slightly—what could be considered shoulders.

 

He wasn’t really thinking about that, although he could understand how the information could be interpreted that way. The amount was overwhelming, swirling around in his brain like a bottomless whirlwind, for it was more than any other crew member had provided him with so far. Still, inwardly, he was grateful with every ounce of his heart to be able to get his hands on even the smallest amount of knowledge about the world he was trapped in.

 

But it soon took its toll on his brain, a key piece—that he had psychic powers.

 

His jaw had dropped to the floor, and if there were flies in the place, they could have made their way into his throat without the slightest complication. This was where his existence had ended, meeting monsters with the ability to read his mind on the spot, to invade his most precious privacy… and he had become one of them.

 

Despite that, the novel clarifications left clear gaps without an explanation. About what a ralts was, or what exactly a pokémon was—until that moment, everything was still shrouded in mystery, even the secret of his own anatomy.

 

The weak, repetitive flash of the creature’s horns ceased for an instant, replaced by an intense glow of white, which illuminated his own hair. “Are you still confused?” he asked.

 

Felix was at a loss for words; with doubts swirling and clashing in his little brain. But even if they were lies, he had to answer so as not to be rude—

 

The monster, once again, flinched. Even before the abra could make a sound, he was already lowering his head. “Ah, sorry, I did it again! I read your emotions again, it’s just—”

 

The bitterness ripped from inside his bandages. “N-No, it’s…! It’s alright, it doesn’t matter— really,” he refused to watch that spectacle again, but he really wasn’t comfortable with the situation—it was a complete invasion of his mind, that was too much to assimilate. But the itch under his skin was more tolerable than the acidity on his palate, “I wanted to, uh…” he wasn’t certain how to proceed. No matter how many questions he had in mind, he would first have to sort through which one would leave his muzzle. For now, the problem of what pokémon were was putting more pressure on—

 

“W-Wait!” the monster raised his head, and pointed one of his hands at him. “I know… I know I’ve done wrong, but it’s not fair that I answer your questions and you don’t answer mine so…!” he cleared his throat, and a smile graced his expression. “Tell me! Why were you thinking about humans? I’m absolutely sure you love ancient stories, just like me! Come on, tell me!” whatever was in his tone before was squashed by something broader, vaster that was born from within him.

 

“Uh— w-well…” he gulped, taking another step backward. He was uncertain what was the correct course of action to take, whether to blurt it all out or to lie, whether to withhold the information of his existence or to trust that the monster in white was the only one who could help him with his serious predicament. Panicking, he allowed his mouth to drop wide and the words tumbled out of his throat on their own, still his conscious mind caught up in pondering his next move, “Ah, uh. Umh. Actually, well, I was thinking… w-well, that… that you didn’t had, eh, that you could have— if you could have a spine, yes, like humans, and— and that’s why—”

 

…

 

He muttered. Paying no attention to his words.

 

Because his mind focused on deciding what to do, he had spoken without even giving a thought or being aware of what he was mumbling.

 

The realization struck his skull like a wave of the sea, spreading its unpleasant saltiness through every duct of his organism. Acidity rose up his throat, infecting every inch.

 

Time froze—and when it returned, the paralyzed creature with his gaze completely fixed —without even a hint of movement— let out a shriek filled with all the raw energy that only a child could wish to possess. “Do you believe in the theory of humanoid spines?! Me too, there’s so much evidence for it I can’t believe anyone could agree with the theory of slugs or chitin armor powered by electricity! Fermlock is a fraudster—!” he rambled, but ceased his speech to interrupt himself. “B-But-that doesn’t matter! You like humans, I knew it!” his voice grew higher pitched, more excited with every word that came out of his lips. “I didn’t think you liked them enough to be into cryptoanthobiology—” he let out a giggle, “we’re gonna be able to talk about so many things every day!” he stretched his arms out to the sides and up, as if trying to encompass all the conversations he fantasized about in his mind. “It’ll be great!” He took several steps forward, inches closer to the abra. “What are your favorite authors? Do you believe in the Farfrou theory—? Oh, why do I ask, if you obviously believe it…! Oh, oh, how about the Ferum theory—! Do you believe in that one!? But you sure did read The Hypothesis! Right!?” he clicked his tongue, the gleam in his eye was visible even hidden by his hair. “Come on, tell me all about it!”

 

By his own hand, he had cornered himself in the depths of the overwhelming sea. He was drowning, and he had thrown into that predicament himself in the first place—there was no one else to blame. “I-I— uhhhh— I haven’t— I haven’t read anything—” he stammered, shrinking in on himself and taking another step backward. His very words smacked him like lightning, self-conscious that candor would bring nothing but trouble, but now he couldn’t regret what had already been said, “I d-dont know how to…” he gulped, blood rushing back to his cheeks, “read.”

 

Honesty was not the cure to his problems—

 

“Ah?” the creature faltered—physically. Eye contact was as foreign to him as it was to Felix, but still with a quick glance he was capable of seeing his eyes widen like saucers and his eyebrow muscles shoot upward. “Then how do you know…?” he murmured, the last words falling into utter silence.

 

A heartbeat.

 

Then another.

 

Silence crackled between the two. The monster absolutely mute.

 

He inhaled deeply; as if his heart had skipped a beat—and in the blink of an eye the creature lunged at Felix just like a wild beast, placing his small hands on his shoulders and shaking—with all the primal strength of an animal. “HAVE OTHER HUMANS TOLD YOU—?! DO YOU KNOW THEM, THEM— I MEAN, HAVE YOU MET THEM, BEFORE?! AND— AND— AND HAVE THEY TOLD YOU ABOUT THE HUMAN WORLD—?! HOW?”

 

All he could focus on was the taste of his own stomach acid. Neurons churning like his guts, his skull vibrating along with the movement of his upper body. He tried to gulp, but the bile surged back up with a new wave of internal dizziness that sent the world spinning from one side to the other. “N-No—” he stammered with all his might, feeling the blood fail to reach his brain, even though that was wrong.

 

Abruptly the monster halted, and as if touching a burning furnace, his hands left his skin—instead, taking a step backward. “Ah— I’m sorry, I’ve done it again!” he shrieked, clicking his tongue after releasing those words, the glow of his front horn flashing. “I just got so excited and—!”

 

He brought a hand to his head, the coolness of his palm against his scrambled mind was refreshing. “D-Don’t apologize…” he requested, letting out a sigh of relief as the gastric juices once again dropped back to where they belonged from the start. At least on this new occasion, he would be able to stop the formation of another lull, “I-I… I haven’t talked with other humans,” as soon as the mere words were out of his mouth was when he was able to process them—his monumental weight.

 

He was incapable of deciding if humans were extinct or if they still walked among the monsters, and doubt writhed inside him like a worm burrowing into his ribs. 

 

As if time stood still, he fell into the dim recesses of his own mind—retracted from reality to ponder his next course of action, his next move in the situation. It was evident that the creature in front of him wished to inquire further about his connection to his own species, but that was beyond what he was comfortable responding to, unable to be certain what he should even utter. He could allow the conversation to run its course, him as a spectator inside his own skull, but that would only drown him once further in a sea of uncertainty.

 

The thought of being honest crossed his mind.

 

But it was discarded—he would only be treated as insane, just as Zelodec reacted in that forest. This instance would be similar… but as a needle, the mere prospect of his words not falling on deaf ears intrigued him beyond what it was possible to describe. He pondered what might even happen, the ramifications of his actions.

 

His mouth parted of its own accord, determined—unlike his mind. “Is that…” doubts still plagued his heart; he would only be met with mockery, or bitter feigned politeness, “I’m… ehm. Umh. I’m—” he was unable to decide, “I’m human…”

 

He processed the proper words that left his lips, and now he knew that no matter what, he had already blown it. His heart sank in his chest, prepared for the worst of the consequences.

 

The cold realization made with a heartbeat the time go by again as it normally should—at least from his perspective, for nothing had changed.

 

The monster’s frozen expression only sent a shiver down his spine. Red eyes hidden by lime bangs stared back at him, making visual contact. The eyebrows arched towards his forehead, so slowly that it seemed to be just his imagination.

 

He was trembling.

 

He noticed that, and felt his guts churn inside him. His mouth parted once more to blurt out an apology—

 

A shriek escaped instead—that was his reaction as he was rammed to the floor, his nerves on edge screaming from the agony; the throbbing beneath his abdomen firing its speed just as his heart, and the back of his head hit the floor with a thud. Towering over him, the creature with sunlit eyes and wide grin glared back at him.

 

“ARE YOU A HUMAN— REALLY— A REAL ONE?! A REALLY REAL ONE, REALLY?!” The sharp waves of sound interrupted any futile noise the abra had considered making. His breathing was brisk, quick to inhale as to exhale, with his chest heaving down and up in an exaggerated fashion. “LIKE THE ONES OF THE LEGENDS—! I-I’M— I’M IN FRONT OF A HUMAN OF LEGENDS!” he squealed, bending his body to pull his shoulders forward and shake him. “I HAVE MEET A HUMAN… ONE ALIVE! ALIVE!” he blurted out, taking a step back and pressing his palm against his forehead, letting out an agitated, rushed giggle—bubbling with excitement. “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT—!”

 

Felix; brain scrambling like a whirlwind, pressed one of his palms against the ground—his flattened tail causing his uncomfortable burning all over his posterior area, and looked up at the creature. He was unable to comprehend what—

 

Instead of further expressing the vast thrill in his soul through decibels, the monster halted his excited laughter in its tracks, eyes widening even further and a grimace adorning his expression. “Wait… Does that mean the world is in danger—?” his pupils grew smaller, and he jolted. “Oh no, the world is in danger!” he gasped in panic, rushing over to one of the many books scattered on the floor, and picked it up, to turn the pages at breakneck speed.

 

That his eardrums were shattered did not cooperate with his whirling indisposition, where the whole world spun and bile threatened to rise in his throat, as it now seemed familiar. His other hand went to his forehead, the cold so slightly quelling his dizziness. Using the support that was his other palm, he pushed himself up to sit on the floor, trying not to wobble along with the motion of the ship. The throbbing in his abdomen was similar to as if two claws had mercilessly ripped open his chest—his back and nape of his neck didn’t help, nerves also accompanying his heartbeat. It was complicated for him to process what he was hearing, between legends and humans, but he was capable of discerning something that stuck out like a sore thumb—the danger that loomed over the world. “What— W-What do you… m-mean the world is in d-danger?” he rasped, struggling to get up.

 

Devouring one of the books with his gaze, the pale-skinned creature took a seat on the floor, the leather cover sitting on his lap. Its pages were thick and yellowed, a tome between his small hands, turning swiftly from one text to the other.

 

On shaky legs he was able to lift himself to his feet using the support that was his hand, and staggered over to approach, until he was positioned just behind the monster. “H-Hey—”

 

—The creature rose with a jump —causing Felix to startle and recoil— and shouted, turning on his heels. “Here!” he spun the book around to present its pages to the abra, pointing the end of his right hand toward one of the mountains of text. “Right here, it’s Krow’s theory!” 

 

He was unable to retort, his gaze falling on the unreadable text. Once again he felt his face heat up, hunching his shoulders and shrugging his head like a turtle fleeing into its shell. “I-I— don’t know what that is…” he muttered.

 

The creature blinked, his eyebrows rising. “Ah— right, I forgot you couldn’t read, human—” he cleared his throat, pulling the book closer. “According to Krow, every time a human appears, it is followed by a terrible disaster that they have to stop… and that means you come to save us!” his hand shifted to point and follow the text as he spoke. He turned the book to face himself, and closed it. “It also means there’s a danger! We have to do something—!”

 

In his mind now the concept was already carrying the weight of whole tons. He could understand—and he hated it. Oh God. But another doubt assailed his psyche and at this point it was absurd not to blurt it out, “h-have o-other humans appeared b-before—?”

 

“Obviously, there are four that—!” he paused, grabbing the closed book with one hand only, to slap his forehead with the other—which elicited a dull but sonorous sound. “What am I doing telling you this, human? You obviously don’t know, you just came to our world!” he groaned, and ran his hand over his face, lowering to his chin. “Sorry, human. I should answer your questions before anything else— right? Do you have questions to ask?” his enthusiasm was beginning to cool, just like the abra’s face.

 

Once more, Felix was willing to make himself clear how apologies to his person were not required—but he had something more important on his hands: the golden opportunity to, for once, obtain the answers to his deep-seated doubts. The offer the reptile had given him, now more available in front of his eyes. “Uh, well… yes, I-I have,” he gulped, bringing a hand to scratch the skin on the back of his neck. “W-What were you saying about… f-four, before…?” 

 

“Ah, right— the legends!” he strode toward one of the bookshelves, his hand hovering over the covers until he found a blue one, and grabbed the book, flipping through the pages until he reached the indicated—pure muscle memory. “In modern history there have been four humans who have popped up to save the world from terrible catastrophes,” he explained, eyes glued to the pages. “The first were the Meteoric Mediators— over thirty years ago, their feats started the new historical period of our time, aside from also founding RETRO over twenty years ago, and—” he blinked, “I’m going off on a tangent again,” he cleared his throat. “They saved the Air Continent from being destroyed by a meteorite, and appeased the wrath of Groudon-! And that’s not all, that’s just one of the humans, because then follows; twenty-five years ago, the temporal cataclysm! Where the Temporal Saviors prevented the planet from being paralyzed and the evil Darkrai from plunging everyone into an eternal nightmare— and— and they also made all sorts of discoveries in the dungeon field!” He took a deep breath. “And just ten years ago, just ten years— the Bringers Of Hope stopped the freezing of the world by the Bittercold—! They also revolutionized the world’s economic field, and established the most prosperous city in the world, apart from—!” he cleared his throat—his words faster than Felix’s brain was capable of comprehending. “I mean— it follows The Champions Of The Tree Of Life, the heroes who escaped from the badlands and destroyed the Dark Matter— it was only three years ago, and— I was there—! Well, not exactly there, just suffering— I mean, being affected and being turned to stone but— You know?! I was there!” He spread his arms out to the sides, as if trying to encompass an unseen surface. “I bet they were so cool!”

 

Until that very moment, he was unaware of the capacity of so many words to mean absolutely nothing. He blinked, still holding his heavy head with his palm to his forehead. “S-Slow down— please…” he requested, a single moment to catch his breath and the thread of the conversation. “T-This world has been about to be… uh, destroyed…? T-That many times?” menacing monsters and planets on the brink of danger—the more he knew, the more his heart sank. “How…?” he asked, in disbelief.

 

“Well…” he dragged out the last syllable, his gaze going vaguely towards the ceiling as his free hand went to the chin, rubbing gently before sheepishly shrugging. “Sorry but… I don’t know? No one knows why, I think— or maybe just me, but I don’t know.”

 

That didn’t alleviate his fear. With the information processed, there was now another doubt in his head; aside from the more obvious ones—like what a pokémon was. “Uhh… how— how a, a h-huma can… uh, can do all t-that?” — even if his knowledge was crushed by the waves of oblivion, he still had the certainty in his heart that humans were not great creatures; neither powerful nor as great as the monsters he had seen aboard this ship, which was also a monster.

 

“Oh, that’s simple!” he blurted out, once the thick book was opened, and flipped through its pages quickly. “Upon arriving in our world, humans become pokémon, and in that way, they integrate into our society without any problems,” — turning his book around, Felix was able to see the figures on the page; by hand, the illustration of the silhouette of something similar to a cat with a flower tail was drawn in ink; with no further additions to help him identify what it was supposed to be. The monster clicked his tongue, “unfortunately… because it would be so cool to see a human walk in the world— because, oh, forget to mention, but here humans are creatures from fairy tales!” he exclaimed, his tone quickening again. “But they exist— well, they existed, thousands of years ago they were the dominant species on earth! There’s all kinds of evidence to prove they were here, apart from all the architecture they left behind, even if no one knows why they disappeared—! But they’re not mere fairy tales, they’re not just mythology to scare, they’re real! They were real!”

 

This confirmed that his slight suspicion that he was in an apocalyptic world where humans had perished was a reality. There was even the possibility that it was merely the future—a doomed fate for all mankind. It seemed that, like other powerful humans, he had been transformed into a pokémon; whatever that was, and now he was trapped in a situation of extreme danger, in a new job of greater risk than someone like him should ever have to take in a lifetime.

 

It was a total achievement that at that moment he hadn’t collapsed to his knees and rolled into a corner to cry until dawn. 

 

Odd as it was, he felt a weight leave his chest—perhaps it was that, for the first time, something big he had assumed was right. As appalling as that was, knowing it beforehand softened the blow. But now it was time for the doubt that had not left his mind since he awoke: “And what— what is that? E-What’s a… p-pokémon?” He tried to pronounce it as best he could, but even the word sounded alien.

 

“Well you and me, that’s a pokémon!” he exclaimed, “well— no. Yes, we are a pokémon, but not all pokémon— but surely you knew that already, right? because a pokémon is, well…” one of his feet kicked the ground gently, as if trying to kick up invisible dust. “We, yes! The species we are— not exactly the species, because I’m a pokémon, and so are you, but we have different species, it’s just…” he tried to find the words, his gesticulation accompanying his speaking as if he was trying to grasp something non-existent between his fingers. A few seconds later he just sighed, “sorry, I don’t know how to explain it— it’s something very general! What I mean is… we’re all pokémon!” he stretched out his arms, trying to encompass the concept physically. Then he tilted his head to the side, “what had you called us so far?”

 

It was a synonym. Among the myriad of unconnected words, he could manage to understand its basis—it was an umbrella way to refer to all species of monsters, just like the word animal or plant. He wasn’t entirely certain, but that seemed to be the case.

 

He felt the blood rush to the veins in his cheeks. Until that instant, he had referred to intelligent, emotional creatures as monsters, no more than terrifying beasts that sought to devour him. In his mind, the term sounded highly offensive. He gulped, “I-I called you…” he struggled to admit, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth sideways. “M-Monsters…” he muttered, lowering his voice. The pokémon in front of him had been kind, and this was how he was repaying him.

 

“Oh. Oh—” the pale pokémon’s horns lit up yet again; not as the faint repetitive glow that seemed idle but as a stronger shine. “N-No, no, it’s alright, don’t be embarrassed, human! After all, you had no way of knowing— you meant no harm.”

 

“Y-Yeah, anyway… sorry,” his shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh. Already his brain had gone to pondering what his next question might be. Perhaps about the map hanging on the wall, or the psychic powers—

 

“Human, hey,” he interrupted his train of thought, taking a step forward—his horn still flickering in its glow. “You’ve asked enough questions— haven’t you? right? So…!” he pointed his hand at him, straight toward his chest. “You have to answer my questions too!” he exclaimed excitedly. “…Please?” he added timidly.

 

He cringed—he was aware of his inability, of how his memories were lost in the nothingness and unable to return. But he also knew he was correct, that it would be worse than an injustice not to provide answers when he had already received a few. He placed his discomfort aside, and nodded hesitantly. “A-Alright,” he could only hope that his best effort was not in vain.

 

The milky pokémon released a giggle; as if it leaked out of his chest along with elation. “Good! Perfect—! I have a thousand questions to ask you, you have no idea everything I want to know!” he giggled again, and gave a single clap—his gaze lit up like the sun. “Was Izult right, did you really have psychic powers—? Or— Or was it as Nunzur postulated, and in reality humans had colossal strength of a fighting-type pokémon? Haha, I can’t believe that ME is going to settle the argument between two of the most renowned authors! Wait— Wait! Was Hoss right, and it was a mix between the two!? Everyone called him a lukewarm but maybe he wasn’t wrong—!” he fired off one question after another, rapid as bullets, unable to be understood and the end of one word melting into the beginning of the next. “Oh, by Arceus— you can end the skull discussion here and now!” he pressed a palm against his forehead and let out a giggle to release tension. “You can end the skull discussion! Come on, tell me— tell me! How many skulls do humans have?! Or— Or maybe you don’t! But that’s impossible, isn’t it? Because— wait—” once again he rushed to the bookshelf, pulling out a book and flipping open one of its pages. “You must have skulls, there’s no way you don’t! But how many?! Was Beheint right?! Keeva—?! No, wait! Was Ferum right?! I knew it, I knew you humans had eight brains! Right?!”

 

The dizziness did not contribute to understand all the incomprehensible gibberish that the monster had released without rhyme or reason. His mind writhed like a whirlpool, and once again, he brought his hand to his forehead, trying to get the coldness of his palm to bind him to reality. When he could reach a mere answer, he was met with further questions—similar to a maze with no end, infinite and endless. It was akin to the walls closing in around him, enclosing him in his own psyche. 

 

He tried to focus on the page he could see in front of him; with the drawn —and what he could recognize as— human skulls, inked like the findings of an archaeologist. They were realistic and detailed, being able to see every contour in the uncolored bone. They were three heads, together but not connected. Having seen fragments of the world’s technology, he could intuit that they did not possess cameras —the word lingered on the tip of his tongue— as to take pictures. He couldn’t understand why there were three skulls together, but if he had to guess—

 

“—How many arms do humans have?! Three, two, five, six, four— wait, like the captain?! Do you have the same arms as the captain?! So Nunzur WAS right after all?! Wait— wait, wait, wait, wait, maybe you humans don’t have arms, or you just have wings! Like Cislo— or Fermlock said, but he’s a fraudster, so that’s impossible!” he shook his head, even disdainfully. Soon his gaze lit up even more, almost like the fire of passion in the eyes of a creature like Arinton. “Please tell me what human societies were like! I read that you used a psychic resonance box to communicate between different continents! Was that true, so Hoss was right about everything else?! And was Cislo right about the societies above the clouds, or was Bowost always right and you actually lived underground eating rocks?! And— And what about Farfrou? Can you lift the earth with your powers—?!” 

 

“S-Stop!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling. The plea emerged from the depths of his lungs, of his soul, with a bone-like shiver. He was instantly aware of his action, and covered his muzzle with one of his hands. He was utterly overwhelmed, unable to comprehend any of the words that came out—apart from the most obvious, that they were too much for his poor little heart, fluttering between his ribs. Gently parting his fingers around his mouth, he let out a weak, “S-Sorry—”

 

“I’m so sorry, I talked too much again!” he shrunk in on himself, his eyebrows arching upward. “It’s just that— I got so excited and, well, I—” he lowered his book as well as his head. “Forgive me!”

 

With the short lull came peace. Stunned for an instant, the next he sighed with relief. With his mind scrambled, a brief space to rearrange his thoughts was more than welcome. Something squirmed in his chest, and it only got worse by the second. That was what prompted him to speak, “I-It’s alright— b-but… uhm. Humans don’t, uh, have… psychic powers, nor super strength. I think,” he cleared his throat.

 

The pokémon raised his gaze. “But… Then how did you create so many things…?” he asked timidly.

 

“Umh.” He squinted —not that it was visible to anyone else but himself, it was a reflex action— and tried with all his might to squeeze his own brain for answers. “I think— uhhh… There were a lot of very talented people? And they were doing things, that helped us do other things. It— it was pretty simple.”

 

He brought a hand to his chin, recovered from his embarrassment, and with his stare more focused on the ceiling, his eyes widened. “…Oh, so Keeva and Beheint were partly right! It was the superior intelligence all along— and that still fits with Ferum’s theory, or so I think!” he dropped the book in his grip to the floor, and ran to pull another one off the shelf; turning its pages at breakneck speed. “I knew, I KNEW Ferum was right! Humans have multiple skulls—!”

 

Felix cleared his throat, cringing a bit. “W-We, we humans didn’t have three heads… j-just one, just—- we don’t have more than one brain. I think.” He had a hunch he was correct. “The picture from before is, uhm. Sorry but, it’s wrong. It’s— It’s just three heads of, uh, three different people.” He tried to visualize a person, but the image was just a skin-colored blur.

 

He ceased the turning of the pages in an instant, and cocked his head, tilting it to one side. “But— but then how was it possible for them to create so many things? So Farfrou was right? Humans only have one brain? I thought they were like metagross…”

 

“Uhhhh…” he shrugged, “yeah? I-I don’t know what a, uh, metagross is, but… humans aren’t that, uh, smart. They’re just…” he scratched his brow. He hoped with all his heart that he was right, “There’s a lot of us. And we get together. T-To do things.”

 

Once more the fleeting eye contact was made, with the look of fainter glow in the pale pokémon’s expression. Felix felt his throat tighten, and thought hastily about what to say—but was interrupted by the creature turning to look away. “…Then Ferum is still right— partly right! Not exactly right because it’s not entirely his theory, but it fits enough. Well, not enough, but just parts of it, and more like the general idea about the hive mind. But without the shared mind! How fascinating!” he giggled in giddiness, and resumed eye contact—though it was more akin to them looking at different parts of his face. “Even if humans are not like metagross, they’re still amazing! After all, they created artifacts that even to this day we can’t understand— like electromagnetic boxes, or subway tunnels, or—!” he blinked, and ceased the slight leaning forward of his body. “But, erm, come on, answer more of my questions, human—!” he blinked again, and his body slumped slightly. He took a step back, granting the space Felix so longed for. “N-No pressure, of course…”

 

Felix brought a hand to the back of his head and scratched. “I-It doesn’t matter…” the feeling ripped once more within his chest, the anvil leaving his throat. He took a deep breath, “a-about the… other questions—” he cleared his throat. “Umh. I know we humans only have… two arms, and I don’t… I don’t think we live in the sky? And I don’t think either— we don’t lift the earth by ourselves, but with…” the explanation remained on the tip of his tongue, and from there it didn’t depart.

 

“You keep saying you think so…” the pokémon sounded baffled, but his eyes widened. “Wait— you can’t terraform!? Farfrou got it wrong— but how?! He— he’s one of the most recognized authors in all of anthropology, a great majority of work relies on his research as a fundamental basis. If he was wrong that means Hoss was wrong— but not quite because not all of his research was based on Farfrou, but still—”

 

“Emh,” Felix’s voice disrupted the rambling, and he shook his head softly. “No, we can’t… terraform things. I don’t remember having powers. We just used materials to, uh, make things, to have more materials. I think.” 

 

“You keep mentioning that— that you think! But you’re human… how do you not know that?” he tilted his head, his tone mimicking his expression.

 

Apparently Felix was beyond incapable of not appreciating the wooden floor; so much so that he couldn’t take his gaze off of it. “I, uhh…” he took a deep breath, and with a sigh, his shoulders slumped. “I… I don’t remember anything, actually,” he confessed. Being blunt —until now; that couldn’t end well, it never did— had proved successful, he had nothing more to lose. “I don’t remember the human world, nor— nor who I am, nor… anything…” his voice threatened to break, a sensation climbing through the flesh of his throat. 

 

The pokémon’s horn glowed once more, but instead of deigning to say a word, he merely frowned upward. He looked away. The stillness that filled the room was far from peaceful, rather it was defined as tense-a single word could cut through it, and Felix wasn’t sure which one that might be. He couldn’t discern what the pale pokémon was thinking, if he was even pondering anything in his silence.

 

Then the creature’s arms dropped to his sides. “I got it,” he muttered—those words did not carry infinite enthusiasm. He lowered his head… and then pointed his hand toward Felix, at the same time raising his chin once again—the eyes fully visible, glowing with an inner glow that screamed resolution. “Human, I have decided!” he exclaimed, revitalized vigor. “I am Conlogy…!” It was a blaze of decision. “And you will be my partner!”

 

It didn’t sound like a request. There was not a tinge of jest in it, that being spoke with all the seriousness someone as small as he could muster. “P-Partner?” — the suddenness had stunned him, and dumbfounded, that was all he could ask.

 

“Yes!” With a step, he approached Felix, jabbing softly the tip of his hand at Felix’s chest. “You’re a human! Even if you don’t know anything about your own world, you’re still a mine of information—!” he glanced to the side, “sure, not in a literal sense, you’re yellow but not gold, and are not a mine and you still don’t know anything, but that doesn’t matter—!” he added quickly and shook his head, returning to eye contact. “I want to know about you, where you live, and I want you to get your memory back! I want to see you get it back, I want to help! I want your knowledge and I’m willing to do everything possible— within my means, to achieve our mutual goal!” he pointed to himself. “You want to know more about our world, obviously you must be curious, though I would not like to assume. But I can help you— as much as possible, including in fights, or in teaching you all that I must show you!” firmly, he grabbed Felix’s left hand with his right hand, and tightened, the grip in front of their faces. “You and I can make a team that benefits us both— and I can finally go out and do missions! We both win, like I said!”

 

Missions.

 

The burden of being a bounty hunter was still weighing unpleasantly heavy on his mind. Not even this conversation was capable of distracting him from the fact.

 

But that was true—an extra hand that could guide him through the seas of violence would be his lifeline in the cruel ocean where he had ended up, wandering among the roaring waves. For a moment, he pondered —seeing his hand and Conlogy’s in front of his face— what choice was left to him other than the one offered.

 

…

 

There was no choice.

 

“…My name is Felix,” his hand threatened to tremble—but he halted it. “And… alright. I’ll be your partner.”

 

He felt the warmth abandon his grasp, and the creature took a step backwards to raise his arms, accompanied with a lively, “LET’S GO!” he almost staggered with the thrill, and clenched his fist —the closest thing to a gesture he could make— with all the euphoria he could muster. “We’ll be a great team— even if we’re not the strongest, or at least I’m not, and you don’t look like it either, but we’ll still be a very good team, human Felix! Nice to meet you!” he sketched a wide grin, and turned toward the door. “We should tell the captain right away!” 

 

His eyes widened as he watched Conlogy stride toward the door, in response he held out his hand as if trying to reach him. “Wait—” having caught his attention, he cleared his throat. “I mean…maybe not?” he shrugged awkwardly.

 

Turning to look sidelong at him, he raised an eyebrow, his hand on the knob but not twisting it. “Eh? Why not? You don’t like the captain—? But he’s so cool and—!”

 

“N-No,” he interrupted the newly begun digression, and scratched the back of his own neck. “I… I already told him I was human, and— he didn’t believe me,” he hesitated—he couldn’t really blame him, for now that he understood; in part, the situation, he could see how his behavior thus far had been abnormal. That didn’t wash away the bad taste in his mouth.

 

“Wait, he didn’t believe you?!” Conlogy turned fully around to face him, and after; with a jerk movement, turning his head to the side, he huffed. “The captain has good things, but that’s not one of them— really, he’s too distrustful. Would it be so hard for him to believe a little more? No one’s ever died from trusting!” From his closed mouth came an indignant sound, and accompanying his words, he gave a soft stomp.

 

Honesty, to the surprise of his conscience, had worked. He couldn’t rely on it doing so a second time, and the feeling twisting in his gut urged him not to progress—but he swallowed the lump in his throat, and shared his thoughts. “And… well… I’m tired— we could talk to him, uh, tomorrow,” his bones yearned for real rest; not painful unconsciousness.

 

“You’re right, human, but…” he hummed, crossing his arms as his gaze wandered aimlessly surveying the room. His thinking continued for a while, until it was halted by another soft stomp—which broke his crossing of arms, raising one upward. “Got it!” he pointed at Felix. “You can rest, and I’ll go inform the captain that from now on we’re a team—! Oh, right, because I have to get you a badge, and a bag, and the initial— right, I hadn’t thought of that,” he mumbled the final part, rambling aloud as he turned to face the door once more.

 

He had multiple doubts about what he’d just heard—but his bones weren’t going to allow him another minute up. So, psyching himself up to lie down on dry grass, he nodded. “Alright,” he yawned.

 

“It’s a plan, then— though well, I don’t know if this could be called a plan, but whatever!” he opened the door, the outside behind his small frame. He took several steps forward to leave the hut.

 

Felix turned on his heels to advance to the bed—

 

“Hey, human, by the way!”

 

The abra then turned to look out of the corner of his eye at the door, seeing it about to close—and Conlogy facing inward, with a grin.

 

“I’m a ralts— surely you didn’t know that, so I was telling you—!” and the door closed before he could continue, the wood only allowing access to the muffled sound from the other side.

 

What prevailed then was silence, a peaceful calm where he was completely alone. His eyes roamed for a moment, falling on the symbols of the open books on the floor—returning his gaze with mockery. Finally, his glance rested on the hay beds.

 

That one without a lamp he could guess was not his. So he walked over to the other one, which seemed abandoned, devoid of life, and glanced down. He confirmed that it was dry grass, piled up to create a cushioned surface on which to rest.

 

He hesitated.

 

He lay down, his back against the yellowish hay. He felt the brittle dig into his skin, like tiny needles making room in his flesh, but only superficially. He squirmed and shifted, seeking the best posture.

 

With his eyes on the ceiling, he felt the sting in his ribs and in the bones of his thighs. It wasn’t negative, but pleasant, being able to inhale and feel all the fresh oxygen rushing into his lungs. He could ignore the throbbing under the bandages and the dizziness in his mind.

 

…

 

He wished he could wake up. To really open his eyes and see the ceiling of wherever he slept when he was still human. He could really only expect the worst of the situation, for nothing had proven to him that it was not going to be like that. He was lost, trapped in a violent tinged world where he was obviously unable to fit in. His identity wandered in the seas of oblivion, and now he was a castaway, astray in the hands of cruel fate. 

 

He raised a hand vaguely; the back of it facing the ceiling. He closed his fingers a couple of times, trying to capture something invisible in his grip. His mind was assailed by doubts—perhaps Conlogy was just lying, perhaps they were both too weak for what was coming. He couldn’t trust.

 

With the pounding in his chest, the bitter acid of what these creatures were capable of struck him like a bolt of lightning. Controlling fire, psychic powers, superhuman strength… how could he not fear, how was it possible not to tremble.

 

He wasn’t even certain how things could get any worse.

 

…

 

He knew the answer. He dropped his arm.

 

He closed his eyes, wishing that at least the darkness could be his old friend; a fallen comrade who could wash the doubts from his mind, the fear from his bones. He inhaled deeply, hoping to wander into the dream world.

 

His limbs felt heavy.

 

He was incapable of raising his eyelids.

 

He fell.