Chapter 3: Play and Learn

The Village Pokémon had been kind enough to offer Atlas and the others a few pounds of dried meat, some fruits, and refills of their water canteens. Restocked with enough supplies to last them a few days, they bade the small hamlet farewell and began their journey into the pine forest. During their trek, Hiro kept his idle mind busy by counting pinecones on the treetops, each one looked at least three times the size of his head. Compared to the trees they grew from, they looked like boulders growing on shrubs.

Atlas leaned over to match Hiro’s height and made a broad gesture at the trees. “I know what you’re worried about, but fret not. Those aren’t Pineco.” He singled out a pinecone dangling off a scrawny branch. “Pineco have a darker blue-green shade that’s hard to miss, and they only hang by midsection branches.”

Hiro nodded along to the Ampharos’ explanation, though a grimace remained etched on his face. “I don’t get why the pinecones are so huge though.”

Atlas grinned and cast Mebh a look, who was perched on his shoulder with her paddle-tail bobbing up and down with every step he took. “It’s called mimicry. A hungry Skwovet will think twice before munching on a pinecone that resembles a pineco.” Atlas broke into laughter at his own joke.

Hiro smiled awkwardly in response. He clasped his claws tighter around the strap of their traveling bag—even Atlas couldn’t decline Hiro’s persistent offer to carry some of the load for the duration of their trip—and turned his face towards the trees ahead.

The three exchanged no more than a few words between themselves for the next few minutes. One moment Hiro was watching the pine trees, and the next time he blinked, the scenery had shifted to the familiar evergreen glade of Open Pass. Atlas had mentioned something before they left the hamlet about the lowest distortion dungeons lacking defined gateways. Only now did Hiro understand what that truly meant.

They journeyed on for some time through the forest, passing by trees strangling mossy boulders in their rooted grasps, and after a while they encountered more trees doing the same.

…Or not.

Either Hiro’s mind had played a trick on him or they had been walking past the same tree over and over again. To make sure he wasn’t going insane, Hiro excused himself and carved a cross-shaped marking into the mossy tree. Minutes later, they passed by the tree with the very same marking on it, just as Hiro had expected. According to Atlas’ explanation, Open Pass also lacked enough dungeon distortion to warp their passage in such a manner. He’d been following Atlas this entire time, so what on earth was going on?

Hiro then put two and two together. Even with the sagely air Atlas’ presence gave off, he somehow had an atrocious sense of direction. Not even the weird magical slab he called an ‘Expedition Gadget’, boasting a comprehensive map, helped them much. They found themselves going in much the same circuits, with the whistling of the breeze through the trees almost sounding mocking as they continued on.

The Sneasel had kept count ever since he marked the tree, and he knew he had to do something when they rounded back to it for the tenth time in a row. He picked up the pace till he was walking right next to Atlas. Hiro stole a glance at the expedition gadget that was under the latter’s stern gaze.

“Erm… Atlas?” Hiro tugged at the Ampharos’ red cape, and smiled awkwardly when Atlas threw him a curious glance. “Would you mind letting me take a look at that Expedition Gadget for a bit?”

Atlas gave a thoughtful hum, and there was a tinge of nostalgia in his eyes for a moment.

“I don’t suppose it’d hurt,” he said. “Though do you even know how to use an Expedition Gadget, lad?”

Hiro raised a paw and parted his lips to say yes… right. He lowered his paw and smiled sheepishly.

“Well, there’s no time like the present to learn, is there?”

Atlas chuckled. “I suppose not.”

One thing immediately became clear to Hiro the moment he held the device. None of the writings on the map made a lick of sense to him. Were the letters written in a unique dialect, or some kind of code? Would not being able to read it come back to bite him in the future? Hiro swallowed back that worry, and shuddered. He’ll figure something out before it becomes a problem.

What saved him was that the map had easy to understand shapes with distinct colors, and many of the locations had circles surrounding them and arrows. Did every map look that way or did the gadgets have special accommodations for Atlas himself?

Thanks to that however, Hiro only needed half an hour to absorb every instruction from Atlas on how the worked. But every second of that had been enlightening. Hiro may have lost his memories, but he had a gut feeling the world he was from didn’t have anything with a ‘screen’ that changed colors and lights with the touch of one’s claw tips.

Once Hiro was in charge of navigation, it didn’t take long for them to find the dungeon’s exit. Just as when they’d entered, the environment shifted in a heartbeat around them as if they were waking from a dream. Now a sea of jade grass stretched ahead of them for miles, the uniform expanse only broken by the trees that sparsely dotted the landscape.

Hiro didn’t spend too much time admiring the view. They had to keep moving.

…..

Over the course of a few days of travel, they passed a few small settlements along the way. Eventually, they delved into another mystery dungeon. This one greeted them with cold, snowy winds, and sparse shrubbery. They pressed along, walking the ground studded with rocks and pebbles like they’d rained down from above. Along the way, they harvested mild-tasting fruits growing on bushes on occasion, adding them to their rations.

Hiro’s throat quivered in a constant purr, and at times a trill would escape when he spoke. Something about the dungeon made him feel right at home. Was his Sneasel body built for such colder environments? It felt nice. He could probably build himself a den in the cave they just walked out of and live out his life there…

Hiro abruptly caught himself, and a chill went down his back as he dismissed those thoughts. Did he just consider abandoning his journey? Without skipping another beat, he urged Atlas and Mebh that they should leave.

After channeling the best of his navigation skills to lead the way outside, Hiro tucked the gadget under his arm and took a moment to inhale deeply. His mind no longer dragging itself in two directions was something that he relished. After fully regaining his composure, Hiro discovered they’d wound up in a forest valley surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Sunlight rimmed the mountain peaks in a brilliant orange, marking evening’s approach.

At Atlas’s suggestion, they began to set up camp.

…..

After Hiro gathered and arranged the wood for their campfire, Atlas set it ablaze with a mere spark from his hand. Hiro stood to his left and marveled at the sight, just like he had the first time they camped out days prior. Whenever Atlas channeled his lightning, Hiro often saw light flicker like a candle inside the orbs on his forehead and tail. A particular memory of him a few days ago, frying a wildener fearow that had dove for them, sprung to mind. Just how exactly did it work?

“You should rest up,” Atlas instructed, breaking Hiro out of his thoughts. “We have a long climb to Drago’s Watch ahead of us tomorrow.” He stretched his arms before finding a seat on the opposite log. “Afterwards, a swift ride on dragon’s back should get us to Lively Town beyond the mountains.”

“A ride on—” Hiro clamped his claws to his log and leaned forward with a glint in his eyes. “We’re going to ride on real dragons?!” This, Hiro could remember more clearly. His mind painted pictures of a fire-breathing lizard raining a blazing storm on… some kind of rocky wall.

Atlas chuckled. “Of course, we are. I even saw Charizard and Gyarados in their stations during my last visit. With our party size though, we might want a Salamence.”

Neither of those names brought anything to Hiro’s mind, but he nodded along as though he understood anyway. It took him a moment to notice his ears had folded down.

The conversation soon simmered to a lull. Hiro’s feather flicked this way and that as if it had a mind of its own, catching all the chirps and clicks of bug mon in the background. The Sneasel did his best to tune it out as he stretched his arms forward and spread his claws out till his joints made a satisfying pop. His eyelids felt heavy, the first calls of sleep tugging at them. He grumbled and slapped his cheek, though that did little to stifle another oncoming yawn.

After his third yawn, Hiro huffed and thought to find a tree to climb soon. That was when the sound of snipping and cutting pricked his ears. He glanced to his left and found Mebh there, her costume stirring like it had a thousand little creatures wriggling inside of it. Hiro furrowed his brows, looked away and paid no further mind to her. The last time he’d been curious enough to ask what she was doing, Mebh had hissed irritably at him and simply said “Not ready” in a grating, low-pitched voice that could haunt a person’s dreams for a good long while.

He threw a glance back at Atlas as he walked off toward a tree. “Are we going into another one of those Passage Dungeons tomorrow?”

Atlas looked away from his Expedition gadget. “Unfortunately for us, there isn’t one to take,” he replied. “There is a dungeon nearby, but it’s an old chasm dungeon. Naturally, that makes it useless as a travel shortcut since one can only leave a chasm through the same doorway they went in through.”

“Oh, I see. That’s too bad.” Hiro hadn’t the slightest clue what a chasm dungeon was beyond what Atlas had just said, but he chose not to inquire further, because…

Hiro had noticed the looks Atlas sometimes gave him during conversations. It was as if the added curtain of a language barrier existed between them. Hiro would often feel like he was treading a floor littered with barbs with each exchange that went on more than a few minutes. Just how careful did he need to be? How much had Atlas caught on to him? Part of him was thankful for his memory loss, as it gave a perfect excuse for his ignorance and for avoiding awkward questions each time.

Atlas rose from his log and found an empty patch of soil. He unclipped his cape and spread it on the ground. Then he settled down, tucked his arms under his belly and wrapped his tail forward. Curled this way to sleep, Atlas resembled a big yellow loaf of bread, and Hiro had to pinch himself to stifle a laugh.

Hiro had already climbed up a tree by the time the campfire died down, and yet he couldn’t sleep yet. It wasn’t because of Mebh’s… activities lingering in his mind; rather, his thoughts just wouldn’t stop drifting back to the scene of Atlas lighting those campfires with electric sparks. Hiro also recalled the time when frost clung to his claws back at the village. Neither snow nor hail graced them from the skies that afternoon. Nor did any frigid winds caress them like in that cold, cozy and wonderf— like in that passage dungeon earlier. The ice was definitely something he conjured himself. But how did he do it in the first place? Could he do it again? Such thoughts kept plaguing his mind, and soon he found himself abandoning the notion of sleep entirely. However he’d conjured that frost, he needed to know how to do it again.

The Sneasel hoisted himself to his feet, peeked over the edge of his branch, and slunk down without a second thought. His heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings as the ground rose up to him. He swiped his claw to his right, hooking it into the tree’s rough bark and stopping his fall just a few feet from the ground. He hung there a moment longer, his chest still light, and then grabbed the tree with his other claws before making the rest of the way down.

Hiro unhooked himself, and dropped silently to his feet. He checked to make sure the others were asleep. Atlas continued to snore soundly in his loaf-like state, while Mebh was perched on the log he’d last seen her on. Hiro nodded to himself, and marched his way deeper into the forest.

…..

The clicks and chitters of nocturnal bugs filled Hiro’s ears as he walked. Even a few birds could be heard cooing from the tree tops. He mostly ignored the sparse audience and kept his eyes on the path littered with leaves ahead, carpets of moonlit ground guiding his path. He stopped to hack cross-shaped mark into every third tree he encountered for no other reason than instinct. It felt… good, and there was no harm in it either. At least it would at least help him find his way back should he get lost.

At last Hiro chanced upon an open glade, with no wildeners in sight or hearing range. He glanced back the way he came, sap oozing from the latest tree trunk he’d carved a mark into… and also smeared all over his claws. Hiro groaned and crouched on his haunches, then slathered his claws on the ground. Once he’d covered most of the sticky sap in dirt, he rasped his claws together, exposing an ivory-white surface as he scraped the dirt off. A white mist escaped his lips as he sighed. His eyes widened in excitement, but no… He quickly put together that it was just the cold night air. He hadn’t figured out that ice sorcery yet.

Hiro closed his eyes and turned his thoughts back to the past, back to his encounter with Atlas at the bench. If he wanted any hope of repeating that scenario, he’d need to replicate the circumstances. At the time, he’d been feeling a sense of dread weighing upon him, hadn’t he? Hiro grimaced to himself, but pressed on.

What was he? A human? A Sneasel? A disguised abomination thrust into a world without any regard for his will and choice in the matter? How much of his current self was even real? Each colorful thought his mind conjured put him increasingly on edge, as his heart sank lower and grew colder.

Yet when Hiro opened his eyes, his heart rushing, he still found no frost gathering at his claw tips.

So, fear wasn’t the catalyst for whatever he’d done before. Or at least, not one he inflicts upon himself. Hiro groaned and clasped his claws against his head, drawing long heavy breaths. He massaged the fluff of his cheeks and gradually pushed those haunting thoughts of what on earth he was to the back of his mind. He was Hiro, and that was all he needed to be for now.

In spite of that, a frustrating thought remained, gnawing away at his mind like a bloodthirsty mole. What did he need to do to use his ice sorcery, then? Atlas’ electric prowess lit like a blinding sun in his mind again. After what he’d already experienced, he would no doubt need to find his own strength if he wanted to survive this world of Pokémon.

Any answers to his dilemma dangled just out of his reach. Except for one. He could wake Atlas up, explain to him how he was a human—or at least he probably was one, anyways—and that he needed the very basics of life as a Pokémon to be explained to him like a newborn. His stomach tied in a knot. No. Anything but that.

On their journey alone so far, Atlas had taught him the names of wild berries and foods they encountered, introduced him to the hamlets they’d passed through, and exposed him to the bizarre oddities that were Mystery Dungeons. Soon, Atlas would even show him to someone who might be able to restore his memories. To ask for even more now would only raise more suspicion. Lost memories be damned, even a newborn couldn’t be that helpless, surely.

His frustration growing, Hiro stomped to the tree he’d marked earlier and snarled. A quick swipe from his claw left another mark on it, and then another, and another. If this world’s sorcery would not open its secrets to him, then he’d force its doors open. And if not… At least he’d become a master at claw swiping.

“Playing?” The soft, wispy voice made Hiro pin his tail up against his back. He whirled around with his claws—once again sticky with sap—and found Mebh behind him. The moonlight cast her costume to a faded grey as she approached from the middle of the clearing.

“Mebh?” Hiro asked, blinking. How long had she been there? His cheeks flushed at the thought of her having seen him mindlessly swiping at a tree like a wild animal.

“You… playing?” Mebh asked again, unfazed in her approach even as a breeze blew leaves against her.

“Playing?”

Hiro quirked a brow, glanced at his claws, and scrunched his face at their stickiness. He went about cleaning them much the same way he had before, before throwing a glance back at her.

“What? No. I wasn’t playing. I was just”—he paused to think up an excuse—”training,” he said as he scraped off the last patch of dirt on his claw.

“Play…” Mebh cooed. Hiro swore he just heard her giggle. “I like play… too.”

“No, Mebh, I just said that’s not what I was doing,” Hiro grumbled.

“What… then?” she asked, her eager stare boring holes into him.

Hiro could feel his fur bristling from her gaze. He moaned and relented. “Okay fine, I was trying to learn how to use—”

Hiro pursed his lips and averted his gaze to the trees on his right. He reserved a moment to consider his next words. When he thought about it, he still didn’t even know the proper term for the sorcery he’d seen other Pokemon harness. He studied Mebh from the corner of his eye. She didn’t strike him as the sort to care about that though, or even judge him for not knowing.

Perhaps it’d be fine to ask her?

“Uhm, Mebh, do you have sorcery too?”

Mebh tilted her doll-head to the side and stared unblinkingly at him. Hiro squinted his eyes; had he used the wrong term, or did Mebh herself not know what the right one was either?

Hiro reached up to pinch his snout, though the sharp points of his claw promptly discouraged the act. Moonlight rimmed the blades of his claw as he stared in momentary confusion, unable to place in his mind what he was trying to do. He sighed, lowered his claw, and finally spoke up. “I meant… You know how Atlas can use lightning to make our campfires, right? Can you do anything like that too?”

By the time he’d finished speaking, Mebh had big wide sparkles in her eyes. Without warning, she cocked her head all the way back with a soft hiss. Hiro twitched his nose and perked his ears, alert to whatever would come next. Then lights swirled around like a viscous fluid, congealing to form a ghoulish purple orb. Hiro watched as it hovered a pebble’s width above Mebh’s head, lingering for a moment.

Before Hiro could gawk at it, the orb launched high up and into the air. It tore past the leaves and the branches, shimmering like a second moon in the sky, shrinking slowly as it ascended higher into the heavens. It twinkled among the stars for a moment then vanished from sight, never to be seen again.

“Like… that?” Mebh asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hiro’s eyes glimmered with the residual light of the shadowy ball, then he snapped his gaze to Mebh.

“That was… amazing!” he cried. “Show me how you did it. Teach me how!” He shut his mouth as soon as he asked that, cheeks burning in shame.

Meanwhile, Mebh trilled in response. “Okay! Let us play.”

“Play? You’re still going on about that?” Hiro asked. He didn’t understand why in the world she wanted to play that badly, and so late at night, too.

The Sneasel sagged his shoulders and drooped his tail feathers. Much to his great relief, she’d at least ignored his little mishap of begging for help. When he reached for his chest, he could feel his heart still pounding from dredging his worst fears earlier… Perhaps humoring Mebh’s proposal to play could help reduce some of that. He could always figure out sorcery some other night.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Let’s play.”

Those few words sealed Hiro’s fate. Before he could even blink, a dark blur smacked him right on his forehead gem. Hiro yowled and fell back, clutching his head. In front of him was Mebh, a tendril tied around her now detached paddle-tail.

Hiro massaged his forehead with the back of his claw, more confused than upset she’d hit him. “What did you do that for?!”

Mebh hissed as she lowered her weapon, its flat surface brushing against the grass. “Hiro… not…”

“I’m not… wha—” Before he could even finish his sentence, Mebh again vanished before his eyes and re-appeared right in front of him, poised to strike him with her weapon. He squeaked and shielded his face. When no blow came, Hiro opened his eyes and saw that Mebh had halted her blow just an inch away from his nose. He didn’t spare another moment before crawling away to put distance between himself and her.

Hiro hissed at her like a frightened cat and pressed his back against a tree. What was Mebh’s problem? Whose idea of ‘play’ involved hitting others out of nowhere?!

“Hmm… Hiro weak,” Mebh said, a hint of disappointment in her tone. “Can’t play…”

Though Hiro’s encounter with the Beheeyem already made it painfully clear, hearing someone outright call him weak left a pang of pain in his heart.

“I don’t know if I want to play… whatever this game is anymore,” Hiro said, a growl rumbling in his throat, and his back still glued against rough bark. He didn’t take his eyes off her for even a second.

“Learn. By play.” Mebh tilted her head with a hum. “Hiro not want?”

Hiro parted his lips slightly and fell speechless. Sparring… he’d walked into sparring by agreeing to play with her. It… made sense. One did get stronger by clashing their strength against others. All this time, she hadn’t ignored his impulsive request, but rather had been acting according to it. Even if he’d asked for help at the height of his excitement, it did not at all come in the way he expected.

He hardly wanted to continue right here and now, but it would be discourteous to refuse help when he had been the one to ask for it.

“New play,” Mebh said, breaking Hiro out of his thoughts.

“Again?” Hiro twiddled his claws… “I mean I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” He paused for a beat, his gem still numb with the afterglow of her strike. “Well, it might. Tell me what this new play will be about first, okay?”

Mebh trilled, prompting an awkward smile from Hiro. Then she sprinted a couple feet away and turned around. She waited a moment with a patient shuffle of her feet. “Catch me. You win,” she cooed.

“That’s it? Just a game of tag? Oh, I guess…” That did sound better than getting his tail handed to him in a fight he didn’t stand a chance in. Her new game almost sounded like something a younger version of him would’ve played with a group of friends out on the bustling streets… Not that he’d know when he couldn’t recall any such memories. Hiro dragged his feet off the ground, taking his time to pull away from the tree and walk a few steps in her direction.

“I just have to catch you. No strings attached, right?” A rumbling churned in his… no, was he purring? He shook off the embarrassment and spread his claws out. “Alright, let’s do this then. Here I come!”

Hiro dove at her, but he succeeded only in slamming face first into the ground. Hiro flicked his feather as he spat out a clod of dirt and leaves. His eyes trailed after Mebh, who stood a few feet away from where she had been moments ago, giggling and bobbing her doll head left and right in what he was pretty sure was some sort of taunting gesture.

He made another running start for her and dove a second time. Just as before, she avoided him without breaking a sweat, giggling even louder as Hiro caught nothing but empty space.

Mebh ran right up to him. Hiro swiped his claw at her on instinct. She ducked under it and tackled the Sneasel right off his feet with her paddle tail. The world spun for a moment before, once again, he fell flat on his face.

“So slow. Catch me, Hiro! Hurry!”

Hiro plucked his head from the ground, his eyes now brimming with resolve as he cracked a determined grin. “Okay, you’re on, Mebh!”

Hiro tried for… how long had it been? He wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Time and again, he was swept up by the flow of Mebh’s antics. The game went on as he chased her over shrubs, up the treetops, down into burrows and even across a creek. Every time, Hiro would come close to catching her, but then Mebh would slip out of reach, trilling in delight. Then she’d take a moment to lob him taunting, and then the chase would resume. Over and over again.

Eventually, they made it right back to the glade where they’d started. Mebh waited beneath the tree Hiro had marked with several gashes earlier. The Sneasel caught up, panting heavily while he leaned his weight on a tree stump. Fangs peeked through his grin, his blood coursing with adrenaline. He had to admit, the chase had proved more exciting than he expected. A brief lull settled amidst the breeze, the moon casting a soft light over the pair in their final standoff.

Mebh cooed and bobbed her head. Her big head with its squiggly face tempted Hiro like a cat’s toy, provoking a low growl from him. He crouched, tensed his claws, and darted forward. Something happened then. A jet of white dust trailed after Hiro as he pushed his legs harder than he ever had earlier. In a fraction of a second, he closed the distance between himself and Mebh.

“Caught me,” Mebh whispered right before they collided. Hiro tackled her down, and swept them both rolling and tumbling together along the ground. When they came to a stop, Hiro groaned and wheezed, his claws scraping against Mebh’s costume. She hissed in his arms, though much to his relief, it was a soft and gentle sound.

“What… was that… just now?” Hiro heaved between heavy breaths, his body still coursing with the weakening afterglow of his previous lunge.

“Played. Learned,” Mebh answered with a quiet trill, “Had fun, Hiro?”

Hiro offered her a tired chuckle, his strength ebbing away further. After a long exhale, he said, “Yeah… I kind of did.”

The full moon hung like a guiding light in the night sky, its glow engulfing the stars around it. Mebh looked up and gaped at the spectacle, staying fixed to her spot until Hiro’s grasp weakened and his breathing steadied. He had fallen asleep at last. Mebh hummed a soft melody to herself, one echoing spirits of a distant memory. When the melody reached its final verse, she bundled Hiro up in her tendrils, then carried him back to their camp by following the trail of marks he’d left behind.

 

…..

A bright glow spilled over Hiro, stirring him from his sleep. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He briefly wondered what was going on as the previous night’s events replayed in his mind. Ah right, he’d humored Mebh’s game of chase. But just at the end … he’d done something different. It felt new to him. How had he done tha—

A lustrous wheel careened from the heavens. Hiro squeaked and sprang to his feet in time to see the wheel crash into a floating platform in the far distance. He twitched his nose. Floating platforms? He dropped his jaw agape, eyes darting around as he realized his surroundings were totally unfamiliar. He had no idea where he was… Everywhere he looked in the sky, there were floating discs bearing ornate fractal patterns. Most looked at least ten times larger than the ground he laid on. The handful that were no bigger than his claws drifted like snow around him.

One of them hovered atop Hiro’s forehead, spinning afloat like a ballerina. He reached out for it, but halted and gasped when he could see the ground through his arm. Why did his body become see-through like a spirit’s? Each movement he made left a trail of itty-bitty fractal discs like the ones he saw everywhere. As if his body needed to change again…

Hiro scratched his cheek, but the absence of even the slightest pinprick of pain convinced him that he was having some kind of dream. A vivid one, but a dream nonetheless. The realization brought on a sense of relief. At least he hadn’t somehow sleepwalked into the ‘Chasm Dungeon’ Atlas told him about.

Hiro walked to the edge of the platform, getting on his knees to peek past it. Far below everything else spread a network of light. It resembled roots pulsing like a beating heart, and each tendril stretched far into the horizon and beyond to the pink cotton candy clouds. Just how far down were the roots? He flicked a pebble off the edge and watched it fall and fall before it became too small to be seen. That… looked like a long way down.

He sighed. Could he even find a safe way to reach the other platforms? Perhaps he could jump and hope for the best? The closest one looked at most maybe seven times his body length away. Even if he failed, he didn’t have to fear being hurt too much. It was a dream after all.

“How did YOU get in here?”

Hiro whipped around in time to catch the blur of a small and pink wispy creature hovering behind him. And then his foot slipped off the platform.

“Hey, watch out! You’ll fall!” the wispy creature called out, but it was already too late.

Hiro flailed his arms around in vain to try and grab onto anything. He even tried to scream, yet his words failed to materialize. The wispy creature watched from above, calling for him. Their voice rang in Hiro’s ears like bells, and yet he could only plunge deeper and deeper. Finally—

…..

“Whaa!” Hiro sprang up and smacked his face right into Mebh’s head, earning a not-so-thrilled hiss from the Mimikyu. He rolled himself to the other side of the log before blurting out a quick apology.

Mebh huffed and turned the other way, and then things began to wriggle inside her costume. “Wait. Almost ready.”

Hiro stared at her for a moment. He felt his tail feathers squirm. It was just Mebh doing her Mebh things as usual. He sat cross-legged and sagged his shoulders. The events of his dream were still fresh on his mind. Who in the world was that?

“You’re finally awake, lad?” the Ampharos asked, sitting atop his cape with his legs crossed. Hiro nodded and idly scrapped his claw on the bark log.

“I had this really weird dream. It almost made me think I got into a dungeon somehow. Everything about it felt so real,” Hiro said, tilting his head at Atlas.

“That sounds like a lucid dream. What was it about? It might clue us in on your forgotten memories perhaps,” Atlas speculated as he stroked his chin.

“I don’t think it was a memory though, but…” Hiro parted his lips, but he paused. Would telling Atlas about it be a mistake? It didn’t take a gifted genius to know something about that dream was definitely out of the ordinary… No. He should keep this one close. “Nevermind. It’s nothing really. Just a strange dream.”

Hiro caught the ever so slight narrowing in Atlas’s eyes.

“I see,” Atlas said simply.

The Ampharos fetched his journal and scratched a few things into it. “For now we should get on the move while there’s still sunshine.”

Hiro quirked a brow, and that’s when he noticed just how bright everywhere was. He shot his eyes towards the treetops, only to flinch when the sun threatened to blind him. “I overslept?! Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

“For your own sake,” Atlas said with a playful grin. “When you snuck off in the night, I asked Mebh to follow you just in case. But for her to challenge you to a joust under your circumstances…”

Hiro averted his gaze. So that’s why she showed up. A bit of dirt fell off his head as he flicked an ear backwards. From Atlas’ point of view, it probably looked like he was trying to run away. Hiro made a note to avoid such a stunt for the remainder of their journey.

Mebh paused from her snipping. “Hiro weak,” she chimed in.

“Wh-Hey!” Hiro’s cheeks flushed and he pinned his ears back. There she went, calling him weak again. Did she have to say it to his face a second time? His pride had enough holes in it already.

“Now… less weak,” Mebh added with a soft hiss.

Atlas laughed heartily. “Count yourself lucky. It hasn’t been long since I taught her how to hold back in a fight.” Atlas pulled his cape off the ground as he stood up and dusted it off. “Before I found her, she had garnered a bit of an… unfriendly reputation. Rumors had been spreading about a ragged specter confronting travelers on the road before beating them half to death.”

Hiro’s ears sprang up. “Wait what?” He shot Mebh a frightened look and scooted a couple inches away from her. “Why would you do that?”

Mebh hummed. “For cloth.”

“Cloth? What for?”

She pointed to her costume. “For cloth.”

Hiro raised a brow and tilted his ears leftward. He opened and closed his mouth a number of times, the words failing to form themselves.

“Make pretty cloth. For me,” Mebh added with a pleased hiss. Then all at once, her costume stopped wriggling underneath. “Ready now.”

Before Hiro could ask what that meant, Mebh wiggled back and forth before spitting out a clump of teal-green fabric at his face. The Sneasel squeaked and snatched it out of the air before it draped over his face and… he squinted at the cloth hanging from his claw. To his surprise, it didn’t have slobber dripping from its hem, nor any moisture at all for that matter. And to his relief, it didn’t come from her stomach.

“Wow, this is what you’ve been making all along?” Hiro asked, delicately moving the cloth between his claws, his eyes carrying the excitement of a jewelry appraiser. The fabric was soft to the touch and sturdy enough that it slid off his claw tips without being pierced through. It made the scarf Atlas had lent him earlier look sad in comparison. The poor thing had snagged against Hiro’s claws often enough to be riddled with holes and better resembled an old and used frayed rag by now. In spite of that, Hiro couldn’t contain his giddiness.

… How did Mebh have enough space in her costume to make something like that anyways? That, he wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

Mebh crawled up beside him, and let him finish admiring her work before asking, “You like?”

Hiro nodded, ears bobbing up and down. “Yeah, it’s pretty incredible…” Hiro’s mind paused, and he glanced between the cloth in his claws and Mebh. His ears folded back slightly, sensing where things were headed. From Mebh’s expectant gaze, and her not so much as reaching a tendril to retrieve it… No, he couldn’t jump to conclusions. Instead, he asked, “Is it for—?”

“For Hiro!” Mebh finished for him, her voice chiming with a trill.

Oh, so there it was. Another gift to receive, another debt he needed to repay in days and months to come. Just what did he do to deserve all this generosity? Hiro forced a smile and held the fabric to his chest.

“Thanks, Mebh,” he said.

He draped the fabric over his shoulders and pulled the drawstrings taut around his neck. The makeshift poncho weighed heavy on him. “Why the sudden gift?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Mebh pointed at his tattered scarf and hissed irritably. “Ugly.”

He stared blankly at her. That… was it? That was why she’d gone through all this trouble?

Atlas pried Hiro from his thoughts when the glow of the Expedition Gadget spilled over his face.

“Come along young’uns, we should get moving. The best time to catch a dragon is by late noon,” Atlas explained as he handed Hiro the gadget. Hiro was more than happy to resume contributing his navigation abilities. He could return their generosity that way, for the time being at least. At Atlas’ beckon, Mebh leapt up and perched herself on the Ampharos’ shoulder while Hiro walked ahead, trailing the blinking red light on the map.

Hiro parted his lips, but the words stuck to the edge of his lips. Should he really divulge in Atlas at the given moment? He sighed inwardly and made his call.

“Oh right, something happened last night too,” Hiro remarked. He turned around and explained to Atlas the events of the previous night.

Atlas nodded after Hiro was done. “What you described sounds like the move Quick Attack,” he explained. “Sneasel are well-known for being nimble. Master that move, it’ll be a great asset for you in life.”

Hiro’s ears fluttered at the sound of that. Though he’d failed to tame ice like he planned originally, at least now he had assurance in knowing that even he had a chance at mastering this world’s strange sorcery. He twitched his nose. ‘Quick Attack’ sounded a bit too silly and basic though. He’d have named it Speed Dash or something along those lines if it were up to him.

… On second thought, maybe not. That sounded even sillier.

…..

Far beyond the mountains, all the way in Lively Town, a café had just reached its closing hours. A cactus-like pokemon wiped the tables with a damp cloth, their gourd-sized ear extensions jiggling with every motion. His mangosteen-like coworker splayed languidly on a couch, her apron draped over her calyx that extended like pig-tails. She hummed a quiet tune while swinging her legs.

A third member walked to the counter, an adjustable stool creaking as a slender vine spun a knob on the side. The barkeep stood behind the counter, cleaning a cup with his scaly hands. When a green horn slowly poked into view, he couldn’t help but grin. Two others, as sharp and pointy as the first, followed it. Then at last, the rose pokemon appeared in his full diminutive likeness.

Roselia plopped his flowers on the counter and let out a long sigh. “My petals feel like they’re are going to wilt.”

Sceptile leaned his face on a palm and tapped on the counter. “Struggling to keep up with the new wave of customers?”

Roselia’s cheeks flushed at that. He threw his flowers over his head, and shook them as if they were a pair of pompoms.

“If I’d known it’d get this popular, I wouldn’t have ever brought up that stupid tea recipe.” He sighed, lowering his roses to cushion his face on them. “It’s not even that good. I don’t get it…”

A glass cup slid over the counter, spurring Roselia to shoot a pair of vines to snag it. Any later and the glass would’ve slid right off and shattered on the ground. Steenee wouldn’t like that. Roselia caught Sceptile grinning back at him, and he pouted in response.

“You shouldn’t have, Sceptile,” Roselia said with a forced smile, cupping the glassful of fresh water between his roses.

Sceptile chuckled. “It’s on the house, by the way.”

Roselia shook his head and heaved a weary sigh. If nothing else, the free drink would invigorate him ahead of his walk back home.

“Ever since we added your tea to our menu, this place’s seen a lot more life and new faces arrive. You’ve been pulling your weight as much as everymon else too. So, don’t sell your efforts short, Roselia,” Sceptile said while replacing the cabinet stock. His voice carried a grim air for his next few words, “It’s not a good way to live.”

Roselia jerked his head at the other grass type, but Sceptile had his back turned to him, handling bottles of various wine and liquor of all colors and tastes. He hid his face behind his cup as he drank its contents. Even he had heard his fair share of gossip about Sceptile’s past before. Something about him traveling with a Dragonair and Charmeleon pair… and things not ending well.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

After a beat of silence, Sceptile turned around and flung a cloth under the counter. Then he said, “Did you hear? The ol’ Wandering Thunder is coming back to town soon.”

Roselia widened his eyes. “Gramps? Huh. It hasn’t even been a month though.”

“Apparently, he’s been seen with a Sneasel and some… thing in rags.” Sceptile shrugged. “You know how he is. He probably picked up some prospective recruits for the E.S.”

Roselia stared at his drink vacantly. “That does sound like him.” After downing the last drop, he kept the cup and drew a satisfied sigh. He stood up and hopped off the stool, landing on the ground with puffed cheeks.

He went for the door and opened it with little effort. Before leaving, Roselia waved at his coworkers. “Be seeing you guys tomorrow!”

“Sure…” Steenee replied in a haggard voice.

“Catch you in the morning, Rosie!” Maractus answered with an enthusiastic wave.

Sceptile too offered a brief wave back. “Likewise, Roselia.”

…..

Roselia often followed the same routine on every trip to and from work. Even when the sun set, Lively Town hardly grew any less active with Pokémon out and about. Many of them were Delvers leaving on missions or exploring the streets for leisure. Because of course they would. The worst part of it all was having to wade through the crowded areas and constantly look over his shoulder to avoid being stepped on by a Nidoking or some other large Pokémon. They’d be the one to meet the pointy ends of his thorns if they tried, but Roselia would much prefer to avoid such an encounter altogether.

On the cobblestone path—now dull grey under the blanket of night—he ran into a belsprout and spinda pair and overheard a bit of their conversation.

“Did you hear the rumors? An Aberrant Dungeon was spotted just south of Showdown Mountain.”

“By Entei’s fangs! That close by?”

“Yes, everymon was talking about it in Barking grove. It’s the first thing y’hear soon as you walk into any tavern…”

The pair walked past Roselia and before long, he couldn’t eavesdrop their exchange anymore. Aberrant dungeons… he prayed to Alma above that he’d never have to see another one again in his life.

Roselia cut through an alleyway, taking a little-known shortcut. When it opened back up the street, he was surprised to find a crowd of pokemon gathered around a perimeter. Cheers and screams sailed about, along with the flash of elements igniting the night air. A public joust. The two mon taking part would keep it up until one or the other got knocked out, and he didn’t have the patience for that. He sighed in defeat and turned around to take the long way.

Roselia soon reached a house at the top of a cliff overlooking the town’s main river. It had been built to resemble a white rose in full bloom, with the windows and door cut into the outer petal and a chimney sprouting from the center. During full moons, Roselia would always spend at least a whole minute entranced by the way the moonlight gave the white petals an almost ethereal glow.

Roselia walked into the garden overlooking the porch. He plucked a few flowers on the way and cradled them in his own petals with a smile. The front door was at least three times his height, an artifact of how the house had been built with the previous owner in mind. He’d be a fit for it too if he ever evolved to a Roserade. Still, the knob was only a vine’s length away. When he opened the door, a soothing, floral incense greeted him, and he stopped to take a deep breath. Lastly, he flicked a switch and the luminous orbs lit up one by one.

With how tired he was, Roselia went straight for his bedroom upstairs. He placed the flowers on the cupboard, then took off his blue-green work apron. The apron found its place in the wardrobe right next to Roselia’s colorful bows, sashes and even a dress he’d worn to attend a wedding once.

Roselia returned downstairs, bringing the flowers to a shrine altar cradled in more flowers he’d brought on previous nights. He cleared the older flowers aside and offered the new ones in their place. He sat before the shrine, clutching the old flowers to his chest and lifted his gaze. The altar held not a photograph nor a pot of ashes. Only a worn-out expedition badge, and a looplet with charred black edges.

“Work sure was busy today, Ma,” Roselia said, sagging his shoulders as he sighed. “Gramps is coming back soon, according to Sceptile anyway. Maybe this time I’ll finally ask if…” He cupped his flowers over his face. It all began with that strange dream, didn’t it? In it he had faced against gods, and fought shoulder to shoulder with fierce allies. “It all felt so real. I started to feel that maybe I could do all those things too, but… that was all stupid, wasn’t it? Maybe I should just go back to Ma Zahra. That would probably make her happy.”

Roselia didn’t get a response. Of course, there had been no one but him in the house. He got up with the old flowers and tucked them into one of the several flower pots and vases decorating his home. When he passed by the shrine again on his way upstairs, his eyes lingered on the badge. Its golden sheen called to him… if only he’d reach out and grab it. No. Roselia squirmed and looked away, then promptly went upstairs to his bedroom. Only fools were swept up by dreams.

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