We were now nearing the outskirts of town. The conversation was still raging, but I’d been out of it for a while — I deeply desired to abscond to my home and begin translating the book right away, though I couldn’t have gotten the artefacts without the help of Team Bravado, and I wanted to properly finish the mission with them first, and return the necklace.

The mission had asked us to head to Our Story, and to return the necklace to a shiny Zorua by the name of Asterus. Chasing the thoughts of the artefacts from my mind, I chose to tune back into the conversation.

“…opened recently. It sounds like it might be fun to do as a team one of these days, you know? Just grab a bite together,“ said Amber.

“I’m down for anything,“ replied Nivas.

“If we do this, I’m only going there for the team,“ said Elm.

Arc, no longer bound to us by the threat of Dungeon Pokémon, was far ahead — though he was running back our way at the moment. He was still too far to voice his opinion on the matter, though if I had to guess, it’d be resounding agreement.

“Sounds like a plan, then,“ finished Amber. “But honestly, we’ve only been doing the missions together as a team so far. We should really go out to do activities together as a team or something.“

“Maybe I’ll be able to convince you guys to play Eterna this time,“ said the Snivy with a smirk.

Eterna — I’d heard of it before, but had never tried it at the time. It’s a role-playing game, a set of rules for playing any scenario one could imagine, and the only thing that was truly needed were dice — though pen and paper for note-taking were never remiss. Most of the more dedicated players also had figurines, maps, and more, all the better for fully visualising the scenario as it played out.

“Do you really think Arc can sit still for that long?“ asked Nivas jokingly.

“HUH? I heard my name!“ yelled the effervescent Shinx from the distance, still bounding towards us.

“Don’t worry about it!“ returned Nivas, grinning widely. He turned to Elm. “See what I mean?“

“We’ll figure it out,“ answered Elm.

Suddenly, Arc stopped, and looked down a side alley. After a few seconds, without a word to any of us, he ran down the path, out of our sight.

“Actually, maybe you’re right,“ added Elm, sighing.

A few moments later, and he hadn’t returned.

“Huh. Odd,“ remarked Amber. “Ida, you don’t mind going to check on him, right?“

“I can do that,“ I said. Looking down the alley, not spotting him, I added: “We’ll meet you at Our Story.“

“Thanks.“

As I entered the alley, nothing in particular had stood out to me. I couldn’t yet fathom why the Shinx had run here. Even stranger, Arc was still nowhere in sight — either he was hiding, or he’d run further down the alleyway than I’d expected.

It was the type of path that was typically empty, used only as a shortcut by those quite familiar with the place — it weaved around a few houses, though it didn’t connect to any of their entrances, which were on the main road. It was clearly little traversed, the grass mostly intact, showing only the beginnings of a desire path. Slight burn marks were visible — most likely a Fire type had used this path themselves. The houses around this path were also nothing remarkable. A fair few had flowerbeds, though nothing quite so impressive to be worth a sudden disappearance.

I’d started a brisk stroll down this path until I’d heard something. I couldn’t hear it clearly, but the panic in the sound was obvious enough — my stroll had turned into a sprint.

The voices became clearer as I’d approached.

“HELP!“ yelled a voice.

“You, shut up,“ said another. The sound of a blow resounded, followed by a shout of pain. Silence ensued.

I approached a final house; I’d heard the voices coming out from behind this one. I chose not to reveal my position, and instead began working my psychic abilities where I stood, out of sight.

A third voice then joined in. “Did’ya really think you could take us one on two?“ It laughed.

While the voices were busy taunting Arc, I linked myself to his mind. I asked him a simple question:

What happened?

I heard this Emolga yell, he answered. I was THIS CLOSE to saving her, but they’re fighting UNFAIR!

“Now that that’s done…“

A brief riffle through his memories had shown me what I needed to see. Two thieves, a Wartortle and a Leavanny, were staring down an Emolga, threatening her. Arc had tried to fight them off, and was doing quite well, until the Leavanny had thrown a Stun seed. He’d taken the seed from a satchel, likely containing more items.

From what I saw, their fighting wasn’t the best, especially for evolved Pokémon — it seems they were little opposed when threatening others, and didn’t have much practice. A small boon in my favour.

“We’re not letting you leave here until you give us something,“ declared the second voice, whom I now knew belonged to the Leavanny.

With that, I began to assess the situation. Both of my foes were still injured from their fight with Arc. I’d already returned to Nivas the team’s items, so I had nothing useful on me for a fight. Returning to find the rest of the team, or calling them psychically, was not an option — the two Pokémon had almost finished their business, and would most likely be gone by the time the rest were here. Arc was still paralysed, and with no seeds or berries, I could do little but to wait it out. If I was to fix the situation here, I’d have to rely on the Emolga’s help, and perhaps try to grab the Leavanny’s bag.

“…b-but I d-don’t…“ trembled the first voice, belonging to the Emolga.

“CAN IT! You fell in our trap, so you’ll give us something!“ yelled the third voice, the Wartortle.

I peeked around the corner of the house to ascertain their positions. Arc was quite close to me, with the Leavanny right behind him, ready to strike should the paralysis wear off. Farther away from me was the Emolga, cowering in fear next to a wall, while the Wartortle approached her menacingly.

All were looking at the Emolga, so I had the perfect moment to sneak up on the Leavanny. The satchel itself was slung over his shoulder — quite loose, I’d have ample opportunity to psychically lift it off.

Beginning my assault, I did just that. Satchel now in my possession, the thieves would now have to resort to their combat prowess alone. Of course, my action couldn’t possibly have gone unnoticed.

“What?“ The Leavanny turned around. Noticing me, he took up a combat posture. “Oi, Vox, there’s another one!“

I slung the bag over my shoulder, on top of my own bag. I took up a combat stance, ready to engage. Vox turned around, and began by walking closer to me. Now, everyone having turned away from the Emolga, I decided to call mentally to her. After all, she had the type advantage on everyone — her help would’ve been much appreciated.

They’ve stopped concentrating on you, attack!

The Emolga jumped, quite high, taken aback by my message. Still trembling, now looking for the source of the voice she’d heard, it was clear to me that she was too terrified to be of aid, and I did not push the matter further.

This did, however, leave me the unfortunate scenario of a one on two with the Leavanny and the Wartortle. Digging through the bag for a Cheri berry or Heal seed was no option — I had no time to do so before my opponents were upon me. It seems I was at a complete disadvantage until Arc’s paralysis wore off — I had intended to get the Emolga’s help to mitigate that.

The Leavanny, closest to me, began with an elegant Slash, cutting horizontally through the air. I’d avoided it adequately, though my counter of a Scratch did little — he’d dodged to the right quite swiftly. I took a few steps back; I did best at range, so I needed to put some distance between us. In my retreat, I was struck by a Water Gun from the Wartortle. I shrugged it off — I wasn’t about to be done in by a singular strike.

In any fight, destabilising an opponent is incredibly important. Capitalising on the distance I’d made, I’d let off a Confusion, doing my best to twist the mind of the Leavanny. Unprepared — expecting something else, I suppose — he had his psyche shattered by my assault. He still hobbled towards me, not intending to give up the fight, but he struggled to let fly an attack. In the meantime, I’d avoided another Water Gun from Vox, who had managed to run all the way next to me, and was preparing to strike. It seems he favoured melee combat; no other reason for his approach stood out to me.

An adept Water Tail flew my way, striking me square in the chest. Now somewhat off kilter, I chose to take a moment to link my mind to the Wartortle’s — I’d have better luck avoiding him if I could read his every move before it happened.

The Leavanny had let off a Razor Leaf, though his confusion had disoriented him — the barrage of leaves hit Vox instead, who let out a cry of pain. Type effectiveness was no joke.

“Lance! Watch where you aim that thing!“ he yelled angrily.

Lance opened his mouth, trying to defend himself, but he only babbled in response — confusion still holding strong.

The Wartortle hid in his shell, and I could mentally see him aim a Rapid Spin coming my way. A little sidestep took me to safety. I retaliated with a Psychic, but unfortunately for myself, Vox was prepared. He’d managed to maintain his focus, and keep my attack out of his mind, as he popped back out of his shell.

It seems while that happened, Lance had managed to snap out of their confusion. I was struck by a Razor Leaf, this one aimed accurately and intentionally my way. Hit by the attack, now staggered, I was beginning to reach my limit. Although I’d inflicted a few hits of my own, the duo were a bit too much for me, and I stepped back once more. A moment of respite to tally my injuries and heal them would have been much appreciated — though given the situation, it’s no surprise to say I had no such luck.

I hadn’t noticed at the time that the Emolga was feeling guilty. As I write this, she tells me that while the fight was raging, she was feeling remorseful about her actions — two rescuers had come to save her, but she’d helped neither, the second of which was about to fail. Emotions getting the better of her, she chose to make the most of a sudden burst of resolve, and let out a taunt:

“H-Hey! Two o-on one isn’t fair!“ she yelled.

Noticing my weakened state, and the Emolga’s stutter, it seems Lance believed victory was assured.

“Vox, you deal with that,“ he said, sighing at yet another challenger.

The Emolga, realising that an actual fight was now headed her way, began trembling many times worse than before. As Vox overconfidently began preparing an all-too-telegraphed Aqua Tail, the Emolga reacted defensively. She put up her hands in front of her face and had instinctually summoned a wall of electricity in front of her.

Vox careened through the wall, as it was merely electricity, immaterial. It had hurt him, though he bore the brunt of it to hit the Emolga on the other side.

On my end, I’d changed my mind link to Lance, since he was now the one facing me down. I was still catching my breath from the earlier hits on me, so the Leavanny was able to let loose a handful of Slashes my way. I’d avoided most of them, though my dodges were only getting worse with time, exhaustion taking hold. I attempted another Confusion, but Lance, now ready for it, disregarded my psychic influence as if it were nothing.

“Looks like the end of the road for you, sweetie~,“ he said, readying a fatal Pounce.

I saw it clearly in his mind — the attack was quite solid, and I did not have the reaction time to think of a counter — as hurt as I was, it was indeed the end for me.

…were it not for Arc, striking Lance down with a Spark to the back. I added a Psybeam of my own to the fray, hitting the Leavanny in the arm, but I don’t think I needed to — he fainted all the same.

Arc turned immediately to fight Vox, while I finally opened the bag to see what was inside. It held typical supplies, with the exception of Orbs. Since Orbs only worked in Dungeons, it seems these two were thieves only, and had never done exploration. Their lack of experience showed during the fight.

I’d pulled out an Oran berry and ate it, while Arc finished off the Wartortle. Now that it was a fair one-on-one, he’d had no issues taking him out. I’d prepared a second Oran berry in advance for the Emolga, cowering against the wall once more now that Arc had everything under control, bleeding lightly on her arms and her back.

Now that I had more time to look at her, I noticed she did little to stand out compared to other Emolga. Most Pokémon would covet accessories, or take a moment of their time to differentiate themselves, most commonly fur styling for those who could do so. I myself wear a cloak daily; I quite like it. This Emolga had chosen to do none of that.

What struck me as odd is that she carried nothing. I was somewhat taken aback that thieves would attack her, given her current lack of possessions, and I still am. My best guess is that the thieves had laid a trap, and had intended to jump anyone who crossed this path. It seems this Emolga was fairly unlucky to be the one to cross it.

“Are you alright?“ I asked her.

“N-no…“ she replied, though recognition flashed in her eyes. “W-wait… Was that your v-voice in my head earlier?“

“Yes,“ I answered.

“How?“ she looked at me with worry.

“I’m a Psychic type.“

I’d thought at the time that she wasn’t aware of Meowstic’s typing — with so many Pokémon out there, it was no surprise that few had all of them memorised.

“O-oh… does that mean you can read my mind?“ she asked, now visibly distressed.

It was like any other child learning of typings for the first time, and the immediate panic that always ensued when they learned their private thoughts were slightly more public than was expected. This is when I started noticing that something was off.

”…yes,” I answered, confused. Noticing her expression changing, I immediately added: “I haven’t read your mind at all — that would be incredibly immoral of me.“

She relaxed slightly, though it was clear I’d only assuaged her anxiety; she was still very skittish, eyes darting often to the two fainted Pokémon, looking down both ends of the path we stood on.

”Who doesn’t know the basics of typing?” asked Arc, now hopping circles around the Emolga.

”…w-was the e-electricity in the f-fight you, then? …like, t-the wall in f-front of me,” she asked Arc, weakly.

”That was you!” Arc replied. ”You’re also an Electric type, like me!”

The Emolga looked down at her hands, cogs racing in her mind. Something was terribly wrong. What Pokémon was completely unaware of typing, including their own, something so central to Pokémon’s lives? Before I’d had the chance to ponder this further, I recalled the berry in my hands.

”Oh!” I exclaimed, noticing I haven’t given the Oran berry to the Emolga yet. ”Looks like you were quite hurt during that fight. Here, have this.”

”…w-why a berry?” she asked. It was evident that she was still incredibly uneasy, and her suspicion over even an Oran berry made that quite clear. However, her confusion over the berry stood out even more. How could one not know of Oran berries’ properties…? They grow anywhere and everywhere, and their healing is still unrivalled by modern attempts at creating any salves, mixtures, tinctures, and the like.

”…you don’t know what in Oran berry does?” I asked, once more taken aback.

”…N-no? Should I…?” She began trembling again.

”OOH, OOH, I’VE HEARD OF THIS!!! It’s called amnesia!!!” offered Arc.

”…y-yes, I think you’re right…” she said, relieved, now choosing to bite into the berry. The way she’d worded this sentence, the relief as she spoke it, however, had sowed unease within me. I did my best to ignore it; her face betrayed nothing, and reading her mind to figure out the truth was just as unethical as it was before.

Finishing the berry, she looked back at her arms, cuts fading away. She looked, wide-eyed, as the Oran berry healed her.

”What‽ H-how does a berry do that?” she asked. Confusion palpable, it was clear she needed help.

”I think you might want to go to the Guild, if you’ve got amnesia,” I said. I was about to continue, when Arc interrupted me.

”YES!!! The Guild helps everyone!!!”

”…actually t-that’s why I’m here. T-this is Verdant Town, right?” she looked around.

”Yes,” I answered. ”Actually, Arc, can you help her get to the Guild? I’ll call for the rest of the team psychically, and arrest these thieves.”

”Sure!! Follow me!”

Arc, realising the weight of the Emolga’s situation, stopped hopping as much as before. He’d begun leading her to the Guild, slowing down to let her get her bearings. It seems the conversation had halted, the Emolga lost deep in thought.

I shall skip ahead a little once more. The arrest was mostly uneventful, and I hadn’t seen the Emolga at the Guild, where we handed off the thieves, and met back up with Arc. We were graced with a small reward of 500 Poké for the arrest of the thieves; it turns out Vox and Lance had been wanted for a short while.

---

The team now entered Our Story, ready to finally complete today’s mission. Various Pokémon of all shapes and sizes could be found enjoying a conversation, over a drink or food. In a corner could be found some of the items that had been brought in. Right now, there was a broken oar with odd inscriptions on the side (neither Common nor Unown), and a curiously shaped stick, too jagged to be natural. Sitting at the table next to it, a Sandslash and a Petilil were pouring over a stack of papers, comparing and contrasting what they contained with the oar next to them.

Most other tables held regular conversation — a Chimchar and Beautifly laughing over some joke; Panpour, Munchlax, and Krokorok arguing over something or other; a Guild team of an Elekid and Sentret discussing their previous mission, counting their Poké; a small game of Eterna, played by a party of five, in the furthest corner of the room. At the front of it all, was the bar itself, where Quil was regaling a dozen or so Pokémon with a tale of myth, of the legendaries, every Pokémon raptly attentive.

”Alright, remember — we’re looking for a shiny Zorua named Asterus. Should be easy enough to find,” reminded Elm.

And she was right — nearly instantly, Amber had found him. Shiny Pokémon were quite rare. Although a handful of shiny colourings could blend in with the rest, most were fairly resplendent — the combination of a dark brown and vibrant blue made the Zorua stand out somewhat strongly from the crowd.

”Over there, by that table in the corner,” said the Breloom.

The Zorua sat alone, looking over a bag on the table, torn through the bottom. They looked quite exhausted, stifling a yawn — it seemed the only reason he hadn’t gone to sleep yet was that he was waiting on us to complete the mission.

Arc, as always, had run ahead of us, directly at Asterus. The rest of us followed slowly.

”Oh, finally. I would’ve gone to grab it myself, but I lost everything in my bag. Can’t do a dive without supplies,” he said, spotting our approach.

While Nivas shuffled through the bag looking for the necklace itself, Elm asked:

”Alone?”

”Yes, I like to practice my fighting skills,” Asterus replied, grinning. ”Dark Depths is none too hard.”

”WOW!!! You do Dungeons ALONE????” asked Arc.

”…you literally managed to lose everything on you,” interjected Nivas, now having found Asterus’ necklace, showing it to him.

”Still cleared the Dungeon, though,” he answered cheekily. ”Anyways, I was already tired from hunting down some thieves, they ripped my bag. Can’t fault me too much for losing my stuff.”

After a quick look back at the bag, he continued.

”It’s not that bad, anyways. I only lost all my gear and my necklace. Still have my Poké, ha!” he said, patting a front pouch of the bag.

Nivas reached out to hand Asterus the necklace, who interrupted him with a wave of the paw.

”Can you put it on me? Tough to do with being quadrupedal, and all that,” he said.

Nivas obliged. The necklace fit quite snugly, clearly never intended to be taken off. The colour of the gem at the center of the Shining Crown matched quite nicely with Asterus’ fur colour. The chain of the necklace was hidden in his neck fur — it looked as if the centerpiece were clipped to his fur, at first glance.

”Why don’t you join an Exploration Team?” I asked, curious. ”It’s better to be surrounded by allies in any Dungeon.”

He looked pensive for a moment.

”One of these days, I’ll consider it. It’s just more fun to go it alone, y’know?” he smirked our way.

Three replies came simultaneously:

”No.” said Elm.

”Not really,” answered Amber.

”Can’t agree,” added Nivas.

Arc hadn’t replied, but the expression on his face was one of admiration. Had he spoken, I think he would’ve agreed.

”You guys are no fun,” he commented, frowning jokingly. ”Anyways, I should head to sleep. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Team Bravado shared the sentiment, so we all said our goodbyes. Asterus gave us our 500 Poké reward then; we each took our fair share of 200, which included the reward from the thieves. Now left to my own devices, I decided to walk up to the bar, to chat with Quil, who had finished his story, crowd dispersing.

”Oooh~! Ida, nice day today?”

I chose only to pull out the cube and the book from my bag in response, with a wide smile. The Smeargle’s eyes glowed, realising just how important these were to me.

”Well, well, well… Looks like Victini finally chose to favour you, hehe~”

”Indeed. As far as I can tell, this book is in the best condition compared to all the ones presently at the University.”

”Aaaah, oh nooo~, I almost feel like what I have planned for you is coming at the worst time,” he said, his expression one of lighthearted shock. ”I don’t want to bother your research.”

”What can you tell me about that? You’ve piqued my interest.”

”Not much, not much… otherwise, there’s no point in involving you, don’t you think?”

”Fair,” I replied.

We spoke a little longer. I’d shared today’s story, as he listened devoutly, asking questions as they came. He was surprised to hear of my rescue of the Emolga, and I could already see the tale forming in his head, much grander than reality. In return, he told me a little of his clientele today – a handful of new Guild teams in over their heads; a Dragonite crossing the continent, stopped by the bar for a drink; some woes of the locals, sure to be mission board postings tomorrow.

He’d eventually let me go, not wanting to hinder my passion for history. It was on that note that I left the bar, ready to end the day.

---

At long last, I found myself at home. I took off my cloak and hung it on my coat hanger. It was slightly sullied from the day’s events. Any other day, I’d spend a moment to clean it, but my new discoveries were wholly too important to do so.

I’d entered my research room, and pushed some books to the corner of a table. I’d taken out my bag, and pulled out the cube and the book. I’d also taken out some notes on Unown translation, and prepared myself for one of the most important nights of my life.

I’d begun with the cube, working on the marked side. After a brief period of comparison, I’d managed to figure out the inscription said ”Rubik’s.” Unfortunately, that didn’t line up with any other word historians had discovered — I could only imagine that it was a name.

Tallying up the colours as I said I would, I figured out there were six colours, and nine of each. They were all distinct, those being green, orange, white, red, blue, and yellow. It perfectly matched up with the sides — six sides with nine squares each. I was fairly certain my initial assumption was correct, and tried my hand at organising the colours. Unfortunately, it was quite tough. After a good while had passed, I’d only managed to solve the blue side.

I let it be, to get to the bigger discovery — a book, somehow completely intact. Trepidation running down my spine, I opened it gingerly to the first page, ready to begin my work, my magnum opus. A handful of moments later, I’d translated the first page.

_____Anna_____’s

journal

Everything was written in print, save the name, Anna, which was handwritten. I wasn’t quite sure why, but I was tired from the day — I imagined the reason would come to me later.

Flipping to the next page, I noticed the same as I had back in the Dungeon — many printed lines, with handwriting atop them.

As this journal was quite critical to the start of Team Journal (it should go without saying), I shall intersperse these first few chapters with excerpts of the book as I translate it. The first excerpt begins now.

For my Pokémon readers, know that this journal might contain concepts foreign to you — don’t worry, a fair few of them will be explained in the coming chapters.