2: In Which Farewells are Bidden

Kip left to start his apprenticeship and set off on his expedition before Twig could work up the gumption again to even hint at her memories returning. She really was going to have to grin and bear their return on her own, and the thought weighed heavy in her belly. She only barely managed to keep up a smile for Kip in the days leading up to his departure— and the minute after Treasure Town saw him off alongside her, she started bawling. 

Bidoof noticed her silent tears as Kip disappeared from view down the road and everyone began filing off to their homes. “Shucks, are you alright, Twig?”

She sniveled and blubbered her answer. “I’m fine. I’m just going to miss him. Kip is the first friend I remember making. I just…”

“It must be awful rough, huh? I’m sure it’s hard on you, yes sirree. But… with Team Venture dissolved, maybe you could go on an adventure of your own while Kip’s off on his! I’m sure you got a family worried sick about you around here somewhere.” He smiled warmly, all buck teeth and sunshine.  “Bet your ma’s a right scary Charizard! That’s the kinda family you strike me as coming from.”

It occurred to Twig that she’d never told anyone from Treasure Town that she was once human. She wiped her eyes, then shed even more tears than she could hope to sweep away when her hands were already covered in her grief, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea. It’d be nice to know more about my past.”

Bidoof sat up on his haunches and patted her back. “I think it’d do you a lot of good, yup yup! But get some rest for now. You need it after today.”

He fell back onto his paws and waddled off after the rest of the townsfolk, humming cheerfully to himself as he went.

Yeah, Twig bleakly thought, recalling the numerous ways she’d been tripped up by her returned memories, Some good it’s done me knowing anything at all about where I come from. It’s not like I’d give anything to be a real amnesiac and have them stay gone.

The worst part of her bitter inward remarks is that they weren’t even true. She desperately wanted to know who she was and how she’d come to be who she is. But the fact that it came with those memories instead of happier ones first… she doubted whether she could handle the return of any more. It just might shatter her.

 

***

 

It hurt a lot to learn respect. That was the only thing she could say. She felt like her insides were all done up in knots and stuck with pins whenever she had to go home to her aunt, so she spent most of her time avoiding passing through the door. She would beg to visit friends’ houses, she would volunteer to clean up after school, she would take the long walk back— she did everything she could to put off her return to the place she’d learned was a painful schoolhouse and not a home.

That was funny to think about. Especially when the unit used to belong to her parents. 

Oh, that was sad to think about. Why did it surprise her to remember she had parents at one point? Sometimes it seemed like it had always been just her and Auntie. Her family had passed just a year or two ago, but here she was, remembering that she had forgotten the sound of their voices. 

How had they died, again?

She felt the memory of rattling gasps and the sound of bile splashing against porcelain tickle at the back of her skull. Her stomach twisted at that slightest hint of what happened. She would have liked to pursue the memory and grasp its slippery recollection with shaky hands, but she had just arrived home. She needed to be quiet and pleasant. She needed to hide and be silent. She hadn’t done anything disrespectful yet, but she didn’t want to try her luck and garner another lesson on how to behave for her aunt.

A hand seized her wrist as she carefully closed the front door behind her.

It turned out she didn’t have to do anything at all to need another lesson.

Twig woke up clutching her mouth and dry heaving. It wasn’t uncommon for this to be how she awoke nowadays, but the nightmarish dreamstuff clinging to her senses was more potent than usual— she couldn’t quite discern up from down as she rolled onto her hands and knees to retch. When her stomach finally got the memo that it had actually been well and truly empty the whole time, she wiped the spit from her chin and sat up to try and breathe. Her heart fluttered pitifully in her chest, and Twig recalled a word starting with P that described the sensation. What was it… Petulance? Presumption? She recalled a large dictionary that she’d spend time reading as a human and loving all of the words she learned from it, collecting them all like they were made of gold and precious gems. It was fun to gather them all and try to string the fanciest sentences she could come up with in her head as she hid away in her room. Twig remembered the feel of it in her hands despite not being able to recall the color of the cover or the edition. She remembered the way Menagerie and Jubilee felt on her tongue as she whispered them without sound to herself, and she remembered the way Cacophony described her aunt’s voice so well, even down to the way the word felt coming up her throat. 

Words were nice. A silent companion who she could take with her everywhere, and a way to help her make sense of what happened around her. She had forgotten how much she loved words. 

What a pity that there was no one around to speak English with or to help her remember whether it was Palpableness or Palpitations that she was trying to recall. 

What a nightmare that she couldn’t string together any words, whether in English or Pokéspeak or together, to convey the sheer terror she felt in the moment between hazy wakefulness and uneasy sleep as she looked over to Kip’s empty bed and recalled a terror from the near past instead of the distant Dark Future.

(She had slept in one morning after “Cresselia” had visited in her and Kip’s dreams. She was usually an early riser, but she couldn’t bear to face the day with the knowledge that her very existence was inexcusable. She was damaging the world around her and the people she loved within it just by living. Cresselia had made that clear. And she would have believed her wholly, if not for the fact that she said Kip was of the same make. Kip, the most perfect person she had ever met, who refused to fight before he could at least try to talk things out, who believed in the best of everyone— Cresselia thought he was just as bad as Twig? She was trying to mull over how that could possibly be. 

(Even beyond the morals of it all— Twig had apparently been traveling time for ages longer than Kip. She had been brought back from a Future that was meant to have been utterly erased. Kip had traveled to the future and back to the past just twice— maybe four times if you counted the disorienting spatial situation of the Hidden Land. But somehow Kip was on equal standing as her for being a temporal-spatial anomaly? She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

(But Kip had taken it so hard. He’d gone silent as Cresselia once again reiterated to them that if they were to continue living, they would undo the world around them. In the moments immediately after they had both woken up from their shared dream, he had turned to Twig and hesitantly posed the question of whether they should do it— whether they should go through with the unthinkable. Twig reacted with such a sudden anger at the thought of him harming himself that she snapped he was stupid for even considering it. 

(She didn’t mean to make him cry. She was grappling with the thought that she wasn’t just a burden on her loved ones, but she was also warping all of existence with her continued breath— and the idea that she had spread some of her self-loathing to the point of Kip pondering that very same question she had been grappling with for so long in her life was unbearable. She couldn’t stand the thought of her best friend being so poisoned by her presence that he believed for even a moment that he was as unworthy of existence as she was. He was stupid for considering it. He was. He was stupid for considering such a thing just like she was stupid for considering not doing it.

(She apologized. She said they should talk things through in the morning and try to get some sleep for the time being. He agreed and curled up in his bed opposite to her.

(Twig slept in, and she woke up to Kip’s bed empty, the entire house carved into the side of the bluff empty, and the waves and wind outside crashing and howling like a funeral march.

(She scrambled up the steps to search Treasure Town and found him sitting atop the cliff to watch the last of the sunrise. He was fine. He was okay. He was fine.

(When he asked her why she was shaking, she said she had another bad dream, and it was nothing to worry about.)

Seeing Kip’s bed empty while her mind was still halfway within her last nightmare sent her panicking.

The jolt of adrenaline snapped her awake, and with that wakefulness came the knowledge that Kip hadn’t done anything drastic— he was just gone on his expedition, seeking the apprenticeship of his dreams— but she couldn’t put a stopper on all those horrible thoughts that had gripped her when she first thought her friend had left her behind in a way more permanent than she could bear. 

When she came out of the panic attack, she decided she couldn’t bear to stay in the Bluff without Kip to dispel that awful silence his home had been overtaken by in his absence. Grovyle’s words about the restored Future being too perfect despite everything that had happened there rang in her head. She went to work finding herself a new place to stay— even briefly considered living with the Future Trio before she determined she couldn’t bear to live with Grovyle’s perceptiveness when she was in so fragile of a state. 

Honestly, sometimes it felt like he knew her better than she knew herself— admittedly, that wasn’t a very difficult hurdle to leap, but she still found herself irritated by it at times. He knew her tells that had apparently carried over from her humanity, he knew things she was interested in before it even occurred to her how intriguing the topic he mentioned her enjoying was— she could tell from his using her name that they had been close before her amnesia, but it was always surprising to relearn the extent of that closeness when he brought up some insight into her personality that she wasn’t aware of beforehand. 

All of that was to say that she would absolutely not be staying with him and the rest of the refugees from the Future. The fact that she would need to be in close quarters with Dusknoir as well to put the final nail in the coffin of the idea. No, she needed to find somewhere else to stay. Treasure Town didn’t exactly have much available real estate, and she wasn’t willing to wait until a new home could be put up, so Twig set her sights on the settlements outside of her current home. The Future Trio lived in Fair Fields, so it would be nice to set up shop nearby… 

A small settlement nearby called Verdant Village had a handful of homes available. Twig stayed the night at the Future Trio’s home so she could scope out the area— it was too long of a journey to Verdant Village to make as a day trip from Treasure Town— and managed to evade Grovyle’s worried glances and quiet questions on how she was holding up by staying out on her house hunt most of the day.

She eventually found a place that would work for her. It was a bit larger of a home than she would have preferred— it looked like it was meant for two or three inhabitants rather than one, really. But it was cheap beyond belief, and she was able to pay the mortgage in full with a single payment. She realized that she might have a bit more money saved up than she thought when the eyes of the pangoro selling the home went wide at Twig’s offer to pay in one fell swoop. She didn’t really ever spend her portion of Team Venture’s income on anything other than a few stray drinks at Spinda’s Cafe here and there. It was gradually occurring to her that she could spend the rest of her life retired in relative comfort. Not that she could ever retire— the very thought sickened her— but it was a shocking realization nonetheless. 

She moved into the home. Her belongings fit well into the main room, but there was nothing left over to fill up the closets and guest rooms— she barely had a pan and a couple of plates to put in the kitchen. It was weird to live in a home that was so bare. Sure, she’d be able to fill it up with decor and furniture as time went on, but she wasn’t exactly rushing to buy a bunch of stuff that she’d just have to sell in order to downsize once she moved back into Sharpedo Bluff. It seemed like a waste of time and money, especially when she had no idea what she’d even want to buy beyond a table to eat at and maybe a chair or two.

Twig soon learned she had neighbors, and she soon learned that having neighbors was probably her least favorite thing in the world. Sharpedo Bluff had been out of the way, on the fringes of Treasure Town, and her home was as well, for the most part— if not for the fact that there was another home built not too far off, and the gallade and gardevoir couple living there didn’t mind taking a brisk walk to invite her over for dinner or drop off a housewarming gift. 

The gardevoir had stopped by soon after Twig moved in. “I live in the house just over the hill to the east— I’m so sorry for my late introduction, my husband and I have been meaning to make a good impression and intended to introduce ourselves sooner, but I’m afraid we’ve been busy helping our daughter with her schoolwork.”

Twig set down the ax she’d been using to chop firewood when her neighbor arrived— it felt odd in her hands. She’d evolved all of a sudden while doing some more intensive home repairs not long ago, and she was still adapting to her new body. “I only moved in a couple days ago, though?”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. It must be worrisome to move somewhere new without someone willing to help you get your bearings. My husband and I would gladly be those people for you.”

“Oh— uh—” She let out a short, nervous chuckle. “I don’t mind. I’m probably just going to keep to myself, anyways. You don’t need to worry about showing me around or anything—”

“No, no, I insist! It’s the proper, friendly thing to do, isn’t it?” She gave Twig a kind smile, then shivered. “Ah— I hope you don’t mind, but is it alright if I step inside? I’ve always been one to get chilled, and the breeze is just a bit too stiff for my tastes.”

Gardevoir looked over Twig’s home with a scrutinizing eye when she invited her in. The barebones kitchen earned the narrowest appraisal. Twig assumed Gardevoir was judging her for her minimal furnishings or something, but it wasn’t even a week later when Twig was gifted a full set of dinnerware and a stock pot. Apparently her reluctance to possess anything more than two sets of silverware would not stand in the woman’s eyes.

Gallade, at the very least, wasn’t so overbearing with his welcoming nature. He made polite conversation with Twig when they crossed paths on the way to the market one morning, and told her that his daughter was a great fan of an exploration team when she told him about her former employment. “She’s always quoting their slogan. What was it… Nothing ventured, nothing gained? I had never heard it before. She had to explain to me that it was a saying from where one of the members came from. It’s got a lovely meaning, but it doesn’t roll off the tongue quite like you’d expect a slogan to, does it?”

It was a bit awkward to explain that she was the one who had come up with the slogan after that, but Gallade clearly meant no harm by it. He posed the possibility that maybe Twig could perhaps speak to his daughter about exploration teams and what she could expect from an apprenticeship at Wigglytuff’s Guild— she apparently had all sorts of romantic ideas of what it was really like, and Gallade couldn’t get her to understand that an apprenticeship would never be all sunshine and roses, especially an exploration team apprenticeship. Twig said she’d need time to get settled in more, but she’d gladly chat with her about the Guild. She figured it would be nice— she was missing Manaphy keenly these days, and chatting with a kid his age might help soften that wistfulness.

“I have all sorts of stories I could share,” she said, “good and bad, but mostly good. Let her know that the Guildmaster sleeps with his eyes open sometimes, and it scares the members silly whenever he walks in for announcements snoring despite looking wide awake.” 

When Twig finally met the young ralts in question just a few days later at the market, the girl was starstruck. She peppered her with questions as her mother surveyed the fruits available at the stall they had crossed paths before— and many of these questions were ones Twig had no idea how she’d come up with. She knew how to answer what the best way to keep your bearings in a mystery dungeon was, but she didn’t know how to describe the sights and sounds of the Guild. This dumbfounded her interviewer.

“How can you not remember the Guild? It’s so cool!” She exclaimed. “It’s built into a cliffside, and it’s got that big forest at the base, and Wigglytuff carved all the rooms himself!”

“I don’t know about that last one, Ralts. I’m pretty sure he asked some ground-types to help him out.”

“Nope, that’s not what happened at all. He blasted the rock until there was all the different rooms, and he did it by himself.” She straightened her bandana— a sweet little imitation of the informal uniforms worn by many of the Guild’s recruits, and one that was clearly homemade— and puffed out her chest. “Oh, and you can call me Lyra, Twig!”

Gardevoir, who had been silently weighing her grocery options until that point, sighed and shook her head. She knelt down to set her hand on the girl’s shoulder and kindly chastise, “Sweetheart, it’s not nice to use someone’s name without permission.”

“But I’m letting her use mine. That makes it even, so I can use her name too, right?”

Gardevoir opened her mouth to explain further, but Twig waved her hands placatingly. “I don’t mind,” she laughed. “Really. I always thought it was a bit weird to call someone Mudkip or Bidoof instead of something more personal, anyhow. We never did that where I grew up.”

“Is that so?” Gardevoir tilted her head curiously. “Fascinating! We must seem so stuffy to you, then. Where did you grow up, if you don’t mind my asking? I know a few grass-type and bug-type villages far into the valleys up North don’t place much weight in personal names, but I’ve never heard of a fire-type living out there.”

Lyra seemed to swell with excitement, eager to share her next words. “Nobody knows where Twig came from! She just poofed outta nowhere and became the best explorer ever!”

“Oh my!” She smiled down at her daughter. “I can hardly believe it! Truly the stuff of Legends, that sounds to be.” She looked back over to Twig. “You seem to have a fair few rumors built up around you, I’m afraid. I think that… Oh! Are you alright, Cha— Ah, Twig?” She looked her up and down, a worried look overtaking her. “Goodness, you look like you need to sit down.”

Twig shook her head to clear out the nervous buzzing that had filled it up. “I’m fine! I’m fine, I just need to get back home. It’s getting kind of nippy— I’m one of those people who get cold way too easily, you know? Heh. Um.” She wrung the woven straps of the bag she’d filled with her groceries. “I should head out, but I’ll see you again sometime. Let’s talk exploration soon, alright, Lyra?”

Lyra beamed. “Okay! I can show you my explorer’s bag!” 

“Let me accompany you. You don’t seem well—” She took a step forward, but Twig stopped her with a noisy refusal.

“Nope, no need! I’m good. Later, guys.”

Gardevoir’s concerned gaze didn’t leave Twig until she ducked behind a stall and out of sight. The scattered scales that she’d grown upon evolution prickled along the back of her neck. She’d moved out to Verdant Village to avoid Grovyle’s worried fretting, but it seemed she’d just gotten herself a new flavor of it in the form of her neighbor. Great. That was just peachy. 

She was going to regret moving here. She could feel it.