Chapter 18: Trouble In The Sky

ENFIELD’S POV

Cloud City, true to its name, was located in the clouds. 

However, these were not the clouds that hovered thousands of meters above the surface of the Earth, threatening to unleash rain or snow at any point according to what time of year it was. These were not the clouds that only those on an airplane would see from above.

Rather, these clouds were more akin to what we all called fog. They hung low to the ground, sometimes making it difficult to see. They would have been a major hazard, except that we were all used to them.

I lived in Cloud City for the first seventeen years of my life. This treetop town consisted of numerous boardwalks snaking their way beside tree trunks, as well as huts that had been constructed mainly of wood that were far stronger than they looked. Human children might dream of living in a tree house, but us Flying-types didn’t even have to dream.

“What happens if it breaks?” I remember asking my parents once, childishly. (But then, I probably wasn’t more than six or seven at that point).

My mother smiled. “Well, Enfield, you can learn to fly on your way down. All you need to do is spread your wings.”

My father chuckled. “That’s saying something, isn’t it, Mika? You were too scared to go down that waterslide when we were dating.”

My mother glared at my father, as if to say You’re not helping. But she then glanced at me and said, “Enfield’s a lot braver than I was. Especially when he needs to be.”

At age six or seven, you tend not to worry that much. A lot has been written about how carefree childhood is, and I do not deny that for a moment. In my mind, there was no better alternative to living in eastern Sinnoh’s cloud forests. That was how life should be.

So I accepted my mother’s answer as valid and reassuring, but when I first took flight lessons at age eight, I distinctly remember hanging onto the instructor’s every word. This was just in case any one phrase was what it would take to keep me aloft. For all I knew, it might be.

Cloud City’s population of roughly five thousand consisted exclusively of Flying-types, hanging two hundred feet above the forest floor. Some of the trees had stairs leading to the surface, an opportunity I sometimes availed myself of, frolicking around in the woods with a few of my friends from the moment school ended until it was time for dinner.

Speaking of school, I performed well in most subjects, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that many of them were irrelevant to our treetop lives. When would any of us need to know, for instance, how to do long division? It was a simple life up here, and that’s how I wanted it to stay.

Something else we were taught, however, stuck with me. Now that I’ve been through what I have, it’s even more salient in my mind. If I struggled to see the relevance of mathematics, I understood exactly why we were taught social studies.

The teacher, a Staraptor wearing a tie, pointed his wand (which had no magical properties whatsoever, sorry to disappoint you) at the blackboard. He would always write concepts on it in chalk, which created a sound that made my fangs hurt. Some days, he droned on and on about a boring topic, but today (when I was maybe eleven years old and in fifth grade) was not one of those days.

“How much do you all know about humans?” the Staraptor asked the room at large.

A Pidgeotto raised its claw, and the Staraptor (whose name, in case you care, was Mr. Koda) called on him.

“They live in cities,” the Pidgeotto answered.

“Well, yes, Corey. They do live in cities, mostly. But then, so do we, so it’s not like that tells us much. How about you, Garnet?” he asked, calling on an Archen who’d lifted his wing this time.

Garnet narrowed his eyes. “They have it in for us” he mouthed angrily.

“That is also true, Garnet,” Mr. Koda responded scathingly. He wrote the word HATE on the board. “Humans do not like us Pokémon, which could be for any number of reasons. They claim not to understand our language, which is true, but that’s no reason not to treat us humanely.”

Corey Pidgeotto raised his claw once more; since nobody else volunteered, Mr. Koda had no option but to call on him again.

“The humans want to take our land” Corey volunteered next. 

“That is correct,” Mr. Koda replied, writing DESIRE FOR OUR LAND on the chalkboard. I cringed once more at the sound, just because it was so freaking grating that it hurt to listen to. But even that didn’t hurt as much as what the teacher said next.

“You see, class, humanity is bound and determined to take over the last few unspoiled places we have in this world. For the most part, they do this to make money – it’s the reason why they drill for oil and natural gas off the shores of Sinnoh and other continents. It does not matter how much ecological damage that might do – they don’t care about that. All that matters to the humans is profit, so they’ll drill even if they spill.”

One of my fellow Emolga (a girl sitting near the back of the classroom) raised her paw. When she was called on, she said the following: “The humans don’t care about the climate crisis at all, do they?”

Mr. Koda raised his wand further toward the ceiling. “Please tell the class what you mean by the climate crisis, just because the others might not know what you’re referring to.”

The female Emolga cleared her throat. “My parents have talked about it all the time. The planet is getting warmer, and they say we should not be happy.”

“Indeed” Mr. Koda replied. “I do not mean to alarm you, or to feel as though there is no future for this generation. But it’s also my job to teach you the truth, and the truth is that the next few centuries will be difficult. We will have to make hard choices in the coming decades – okay, really the humans will, because this affects them as well.”

Even as a fifth-grader, climate change felt like an abstract issue. Yes, I understood it on a rudimentary level, but it wasn’t relevant to my everyday life. I could only do so much at my current age, and it wouldn’t get truly bad for decades. By then I’d be an adult and would have the courage and grace to help the world handle it.

You can learn to fly on your way down. Maybe that’s what my mother had meant a few years ago when she’d consoled me about a hypothetical situation. Perhaps when the time came to handle it, I’d have all the answers. 

Of course, that’s yet another lie we all tell ourselves. I don’t need to worry about this right now, because when it becomes relevant, I’ll be able to deal with it. I’ll have what I need.

“But this is a fifth grade class,” Mr. Koda continued, “meaning that I won’t go into too many of the detailed projections. I was told to teach you all in an age-appropriate manner, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Naturally, that left us with as many questions as we had answers. That’s another thing about being a child: Your curiosity knows no bounds, even when it’s not good for you (or anyone else).

Class was dismissed shortly afterward, and I bounded out of the classroom, noticing the other Emolga next to me. There was something in her eyes I couldn’t quite place at that age – passion?

“Hey, it’s okay” I mumbled, trying to reassure her. (But was I trying to comfort myself instead? You decide).

“Is it?” the female Emolga enquired. “This won’t be here forever!”

I frowned. “Nothing lasts forever, does it?”

“Well, no,” she admitted tearfully. “But I don’t think any of us will truly understand what we have now until it’s taken from us.”

To my 11-year-old brain, that was more than I wanted to process. I didn’t desire any stimuli that might break this idyllic lifestyle I’d grown so used to in the trees. 

“It won’t happen,” I assured the Emolga girl. “My name’s Enfield…what’s yours?”

“Raine” she replied, perking up a bit as though she were very proud of her name. “My parents say they named me this for one reason only.”

I frowned. “What’s that?”

“So that I could fall from the sky and surprise other Pokémon, I guess,” she replied with a wink. “Just like a downpour.”

I snorted. “Okay, you’re funny. And I like a gal with a sense of humor.”

Now, given that we were both in fifth grade, it’s not like we immediately started dating. I wasn’t comfortable calling her my girlfriend, and my parents certainly wouldn’t be. But at a minimum, we became very strong platonic friends after that day.

Raine blushed. “Well, it’s a way to distract from what’s coming, I guess,” she sighed.

Just then, my mother literally swooped in and smiled at me. “Did you have a good day at school, Enfield?”

“Uh…yeah!” I exclaimed, trying to sound as convincing as possible in front of Raine. “It was a wonderful day!”

“I’m glad,” my mother replied. Once we were on our way back home, tiptoeing along the boardwalks to our treehouse, she had another question for me.

“Who was that?” she asked me.

“My friend Raine,” I told her.

This probably surprised my mother a great deal, as evidenced by her broad smile here. “Well, I’m happy you’ve made more friends. Are you going to hang out with her more?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

After that we returned to the tree house, where my mother set to work making me a mug of hot chocolate. (The early spring air was chilly enough for one’s breath to be visible – in fact, poets had written about the surprisingly brisk air during the cloud forest’s summers. So hot chocolate was warranted).

As I sat at the table, I was looking down at the wooden surface. I must have appeared pretty morose, because like any good parents would in this situation, my mom asked me what was wrong.

I didn’t even hesitate. “Our lesson today was about humans,” I sighed.

My mother set the mug in front of me and sighed. “I knew that topic would come up eventually. I just didn’t expect it so soon.”

I took a sip of the steaming drink, hoping it would make me feel better. Unfortunately, that just didn’t happen. On the contrary, I felt wistful, almost ill, knowing that this would be fleeting. Mika Emolga might know exactly what to say sometimes, but that doesn’t make her words true.

“So what was it about humans that you discussed in class?” my mom asked. When I did not reply immediately, she added: “Don’t be shy. We’re supposed to be able to talk things through with one another.”

She’s right. I shouldn’t be scared to tell her. And I’m not scared, just a little unwilling to relive it.

“Well, Mr. Koda had us list things we knew about humans. And one of the other students said that we’re at odds with them. That they want to take our land.”

My mother nodded; then, as if realizing she shouldn’t have done so, she grimaced. “Was Raine the one who mentioned it?”

I shook my head. “Nah, it was Corey. But he’s hardly the only ‘mon who’s talked about that here, is he?”

“I’m afraid not,” my mom admitted. “One day, we’ll have to be strong. We won’t take back our land with weakness.”

I didn’t ask her what she meant. In years to come, those words would haunt me like a Ghost-type that refused to peacefully pass into the afterlife. But at that moment, all I wanted was to be comforted, for my mother to wrap me in her wings and promise never to let go.

And yet, another question swiftly pushed its way into my mind, one I could not resist. “When the time comes…”.

“…will you be strong enough?” my mother said, finishing the sentence for me. “Yes, Enfield. I have absolute faith that you will be. You’d be surprised by what you can do when you need to do it.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

My mom gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then gave me a split-second grin. “I know I’m right. Because mama knows best.”

She looked at my mug. “It doesn’t look like you’ve had much of your hot chocolate. Are you feeling all right, Enfield?”

I nodded, though I was far from certain this was the truth. My stomach was sour and my legs felt like they’d barely support my body at this point. Just because my mother insisted everything was fine didn’t wash my worries away.

“You look a bit off. Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday – you can rest up all weekend before it’s time to go back to school.”

(Insert a horizontal line here)

For a while, I tried to let my mother’s words assuage my fears. When the time came, she insisted, I’d be brave enough to handle whatever I needed to.

But she didn’t understand – I wasn’t afraid of the fear itself, but rather the cause of said fear. Over the next few months, we were taught more about climate change and how it threatened to change our lives forever.

As concerning as that was, however, there was something else that stuck out even more forcefully to me.

When I was about twelve, I remember walking home from school when I passed by one of Cloud City’s few watering holes. Given that I was well under the drinking age, I was strictly forbidden from entering the building, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t listen to what transpired inside.

Mom always said eavesdropping was wrong, but it’s fine just this once, isn’t it?

Of course, that’s what smokers (or addicts of any kind) tell themselves. If they try it just once, it won’t become a pattern. But I assured myself that I would not become addicted to eavesdropping if I only did it one time.

However, the addiction did not come to pass, for the first words I heard struck me right between the eyes. Needless to say, that took away any desire for further listening.

“Syndicate 23 is going to make their move soon, isn’t it?”

I shivered. Syndicate generally wasn’t a word associated with anything positive. To me, it brought to mind a criminal organization that would stop at almost nothing to achieve its ends. As damning as that line was, it got worse.

“I don’t see why not. They’ll do it right now because we’re not expecting it. They’ve already attacked the next village over!”

So this Syndicate 23 attacks villages, do they?

My heart thumped so powerfully that I thought for sure the bar’s patrons could hear it. At the same time, I could barely breathe.

Another patron scoffed at that idea. “They wouldn’t attack us so soon after the last village! We’re expecting it now – we’d be prepared! Hell, we’re already prepared for it right now!”

“Unless it doesn’t happen now” the first patron’s voice muttered. “Maybe they won’t come until years from now, when we’ve forgotten all about their threat and don’t think they’ll ever have the guts!”

“Or maybe they’ll forget all about us,” another patron suggested hopefully. “They’ve got bigger Magikarp to fry.”

After that, I was borderline inconsolable, walking home with tears in my eyes. My parents did their best to reassure me, but they could only do so much when I was so hesitant to admit where I’d been.

“What’s bothering you so much, Enfield?” my dad asked me.

My mother glared at him. “Don’t push him, Canaan. He’ll tell the truth when he’s ready.”

“I might…sniff…never be ready” I admitted.

My parents glanced at each other, then at me. “You can trust us, Enfield. We’re your parents.”

My hesitation melted away right then, and I poured my heart out to my parents. I told them everything I’d overheard at the bar. Somehow, this didn’t result in them lashing out at me and yelling that I needed to stop eavesdropping.

For how long? I wondered. Something’s going to happen – I can just feel it.

Eventually I could not resist asking that question. “Syndicate 23…who are they?”

My mother grimaced as she locked her eyes on me, clearly having a hell of a time deciding how to answer. It was my father who bailed her out with a sigh.

“Enfield,” he said, “Syndicate 23 is a group of humans who hunt Pokémon.”

My spinal cord basically stiffened up – it was a minor miracle that my backpack remained on my shoulders. The only two words I latched onto were hunt and Pokémon.

“I know,” my mother told me. “It’s so upsetting. And I agree – nobody wants to think of their kind being hunted.”

“But murder is illegal, isn’t it?” I asked. “The teacher, Mr. Koda, said that even in human societies it’s the ultimate crime.”

“It is, my son,” my dad replied, “but unfortunately they don’t see it as murder when it’s against a Pokémon like one of us. They can’t understand our language, so they don’t see us as equals.”

“But that’s not fair!” I yelped. “Why are they allowed to kill us like that?”

My mother suddenly looked far older than her true age. “There are no easy answers in this world, Enfield. You’re twelve now, so I think you have a right to know that.”

All we know is that we know very little. How helpful.

My dad shrugged. “They – humans, I mean – can acquire hunting permits to hunt down certain numbers of different species. That’s perfectly legal…”.

“Canaan, you’re scaring him!”

“Good, he should be scared! I’m scared!” my father exclaimed, which sent another chill down my spine. “This world is just so cruel to our kind, isn’t it?”

“It is,” my mother replied. “But he’ll know what to do when the unthinkable happens.”

When the unthinkable happens. Not if. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out what, precisely, my mom meant by the unthinkable.

I suddenly felt very small. I mean, we Emolga are a small species to begin with, so much so that a strong gust can blow one of us off course if we’re in a state of flight. But I mean smaller than usual, to the point where I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a cocoon and pretend everything was still alright.

“Syndicate 23 are poachers” my dad continued. “This means that they don’t give a damn about the laws – laws humans have written, by the way, with no input from us Pokémon. But even their current law code isn’t lax enough for poachers, and they’ll stop at nothing until they have enough carcasses.”

“Enough, Canaan!” my mother shrieked.

“Fine,” my dad said, shaking his head. “But…”.

I still had questions, of course. Why did they want to kill us? What was in it for them? How likely is it that Syndicate 23 will go after us now?

That last query shook me the most, not least because I knew what answer I’d get from my parents (particularly my mother). But I had no way of knowing if they were right or not, or even if they were telling me what they believed.

Knowing what I know now, this is when I lost my childish optimism for good. I wanted to believe that my parents knew everything important, that I could always go to them and they’d tell the truth. This conversation was the death knell for that notion. And,in the context of what would later happen, this was the calm before the storm by comparison.

(Insert a horizontal line here)

The relative calm lasted until I was sixteen years old. Apparently this was the age at which humans could acquire their “driver’s licenses”, thereby being allowed to operate those giant metal death machines they referred to as “cars.” Needless to say, I had no interest in that.

I tried to live my life as best I could, in the vain hope that if I didn’t worry too much about the problem of Syndicate 23, it would never come calling. And for the longest time, I was able to convince myself of this, that I could wish them away.

For a while, it worked, but when I was sixteen my world was rocked.

My teachers started doing drills with us students, telling us what to do if someone ever tried to harm us. At first this was couched in vague terms, not referring to our assailants by name or giving any other clues, but anyone with half a brain knew who they were talking about. Only one organization had the power to strike such fear into our teachers’ hearts.

I could no longer go to my parents for comfort. I was too old for that by this point, and besides, I knew their answers would be less than satisfying. They might have mollified me as a naive fifth grader, relatively green to the adult world of responsibilities and worries, but they no longer had the same power.

Thank Arceus for Raine.

Ironically, the same Emolga who’d first piqued my anxiety about Syndicate 23 was now the very ‘mon I relied on to convince me that they posed no threat. Whenever I saw Raine (which was becoming increasingly frequent as we got older), she was always the voice of comfort in our conversations.

I distinctly remember one Sunday afternoon we spent together at my house. By this time I wondered whether either of my parents had come to suspect that our friendship had become something more than a friendship. (For the record, the answer is no. It never did.)

We were playing chess on my father’s old board, moving pieces around and capturing material, when I lost one of my rooks. Naturally, this put me in a bad mood. And naturally, when you’re in a bad mood, your mind goes places where it otherwise wouldn’t.

“Raine?” I enquired, feeling one of my eyes start twitching.

She looked up from her pieces, where she was no doubt plotting a queen sacrifice checkmate or something nearly as impressive. But she didn’t appear peeved at all. “Yes?” she asked.

I sighed. “Are you worried about Syndicate 23?”

Raine chuckled, but her chuckle carried a less lighthearted undertone. “You’ve been asking me that question every time we hang out.”

“Maybe I have been,” I acknowledged.

“Nobody likes a ‘mon who requires constant reassurance that everything’s going to be okay” she replied.

I winked. “Except you?”

Raine snorted again. “Maybe” she responded with a slight blush. “But to answer your question, I’m not that worried. The authorities will deal with it – they’ll make sure none of us get kidnapped.”

I gasped. “You’re worried about getting kidnapped?”

“Only slightly,” Raine said. “I know Syndicate 23 might come one day, but I’m sure they will be able to protect us. Not the syndicate, but the police here.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t need to clarify that, Raine.”

“Well, no,” she admitted. “But the point is, it’ll all be okay. This is the sort of thing that happens to someone else.”

That didn’t exactly make me feel better. It goes without saying, but we’re all someone else to someone else. Nobody thinks their home is going to be invaded, until it is.

“Then why are they having us do all those drills?” I asked. “We had one at school just yesterday – you were there!”

“It’s just to be safe,” Raine insisted. “We’re going to be prepared when they come with their cages to kidnap us. They’re not going to hunt us – we’re too valuable not to be kept alive.”

I wish I shared your optimism, Raine. 

“Anyway,” she continued, “I just moved. Check.”

Per the rules of chess, I had to move my king out of check right away, but Raine checked me yet again. Technically this wasn’t going to win her the game, but it was clearly trending in one direction only. And that direction wasn’t mine.

Once I’d gotten my king out of immediate danger, moving him behind a series of pawns, I posed another question. I looked up at Raine with wide eyes and asked her: “Are we going to die, Raine?”

As juvenile as this may have been, she didn’t seem to judge me for it.

“Well, we’re all going to die one day,” Raine replied. “Nobody can live forever.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean, Raine.”

“What could you mean? You asked me a question, and I answered it.”

“You know as well as I do that the answer you gave me won’t cut it” I stated forcefully.

“Well, what will? Check” she replied.

“I don’t even know,” I admitted. “I just can’t shake the feeling that none of these promises will ever be enough.”

“Why do you want promises from me?”

The thing is, she had a point. When you’re small, and the world seems infinite, promises mean everything to you. But when you’re faced with the reality of a world that’s not always as it seems, promises mean next to nothing.

“I don’t even know,” I sighed.

“That’s right. You don’t. Now, make your move.”

There was only one legal move, which was to move my rook to put between her queen and my king, which was trapped behind its own pawns. I’d fallen victim to her trap, a simple back-rank mate, for which I only had myself to blame.

“Checkmate. Good game, Enfield.”

I stood up and shook her paw, but a million Butterfree raced through my stomach as I did so. Not all of them were a product of the conversation we’d just had. (Or, better said, they weren’t exclusively because of concerns over Syndicate 23.)

My legs felt weak, and once I was done shaking her hand, I seized the edges of the table to steady myself. 

“I should probably head home now,” Raine said. “My parents still don’t want me to be away too long.”

“But you’re sixteen” I replied. “And there’s pretty much no crime in this town.” For now. 

“Still…”.

“You should stay a little longer,” I told her. Later, I would explain this by telling her that we’d had a pleasant game of chess at my house, and that I wanted to spend more time with her. This wasn’t even a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. I was too scared to spill the rest of the beans.

Raine smiled. “I wish I could, Enfield. I really do. But dinner isn’t going to make itself.”

“If you say so” I sighed. “But what are you cooking for dinner?” (It was a chilly November afternoon, so a hearty soup or stew sounded perfect to me).

“Probably carrot stew,” she replied, licking her lips.

“That sounds awesome!” I exclaimed, far louder than I should have. 

“Thanks,” Raine responded. “But I’ll head out now.”

After that, she left, and I realized that I’d squandered a chance. An opportunity to let her know how I really felt, and not just about Syndicate 23.

And yet it had passed me by, a chance to change my life, to add something to it besides fear of the unknown. How many more chances would I have?

I grumbled and sat down on my bed. My mother walked into my room shortly thereafter with a mug of hot chocolate, the drink she knew would cheer me up nine times out of ten.

Unfortunately for both of us, this was the tenth time.

“Why do you look so upset, Enfield?” my mom asked me, gently stroking one of my wings with her own. (She’d done this more frequently when I was little, to comfort me when I was sick or scared).

I glanced at her morosely. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you just spent the afternoon with Raine. At this point I’m almost convinced you like her.”

“Of course I like her, Mom. She’s my friend.”

“No. I mean, she like likes you. You want it to turn into something more, don’t you?”

My face felt hotter than it had during the most embarrassing moment of my life. “Uh…”I trailed off. “No, of course not. Raine is just a friend, that’s all.”

My mom started humming a song – I think it was “Just A Friend” by Electabuzz Markie. In any case, my face reached a boiling point.

“Mom, we really are just friends,” I insisted. “It’s nothing more than that, and it’ll never be more.”

“If you insist,” she replied. “But I feel like there’s something else you wanted to tell me. Were you talking about something upsetting?”

My resolve to hold back the floodgates suddenly vanished, much like a dam breaking. With a copious number of sobs, I mentioned that we’d been talking about Syndicate 23.

“They aren’t going to come,” my mom muttered. But something about that sounded rehearsed, scripted, as though she were portraying a character in a stage play. 

Or, more likely, she was trying to comfort herself as much as me. 

I didn’t bother asking how she knew that, because I knew what answer I’d get. Instead, I curled up into the fetal position and took a sip of hot chocolate.

The drink failed to lift my spirits as much as my mother had hoped. If anything, it felt like more of a gut punch, one I could not recover from so easily.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” my mom asked eventually.

I nodded tearfully, but soon had regrets. You see, on some level, I just knew that our days together were numbered. Exactly how those days would end, I was less sure – just that one day I’d wake up and they would be over one way or another.

As it turned out, those days were numbered, and that number was 371.

(Insert a horizontal line here)

On a nondescript Saturday in late November 2023, I was walking along the treetop avenue with Raine. By this time, we’d held paws a couple times, but I still wasn’t comfortable asking her if we’d take things to the next level.

If not now, then when? 

The easiest answer was When I’m ready, but the easiest answer isn’t always the best answer. If I didn’t confess now, I might forever lose my chance to do so.

There were black specks flying in the distance. “Birds?” I wondered aloud. “Flying-types, rather?”

Raine smiled. “Maybe it’s a group of Emolga whose parents taught them how to fly by throwing them off a bridge and telling them to spread their wings.”

“If so,” I replied, “they’ve got some serious beginner’s luck.”

Raine laughed at that, but her laugh quickly tapered off as though it were being snuffed out by some invisible force.

Honestly, what worried me most was not the situation itself, but Raine’s reaction to it. For the last year, she’d been the more relaxed one when it came to the threat of our world falling to pieces. And it might still be nothing, but there was at least a reason that her mouth now hung agape.

“Raine?” I asked.

She shook her head, her eyes open widely with fear. “This isn’t good,” she stated. 

“It’s just a group of Emolga learning to fly,” I insisted. “Maybe one of them fell, but if so their parents will catch them.”

“There are some right over us,” Raine stated. “And they’re way too big to be Flying-types.”

With a pit in my throat, I glanced skyward and immediately wished I would not have. 

Giant black canopies hung in the air, descending toward the tree canopy in slow motion. They were still hundreds of feet above it, but it meant something that they were steadily falling rather than flying forward.

That was the cause for concern.

“Did a bunch of Corviknight suddenly die in midair?” I asked the village at large, some of whom were now looking upward as well. (A few were already gasping in terror or running for their lives, and if the village’s authorities were horrified, I should be too. That’s how I saw it.)

My heart pounded against my rib cage so powerfully that it hurt, and Raine shook her head.

“Run!” she whispered, and I knew then that this was not a game of tag. Raine spoke with the franticness of someone with far more at stake.

I didn’t need another reminder; it was then that I heard rustling in the treetops above us, as well as some things snapping.

“Fuck!” a man yelled after one of those noises. 

Out of morbid curiosity, I chanced a look in the curser’s direction to find that he was a buff-looking guy wearing a dark blue, shiny suit. He also wore a series of straps around his back and chest, some of which had gotten caught in the branch.

Even as we scurried away, and I heard the screams of the other villagers, I allowed myself slight satisfaction. If Syndicate 23 couldn’t even parachute in without getting their canopies trapped in a different sort of canopy, they posed no threat at all.

That’s what I thought until I heard the first gunshot.

“Run in a zigzag motion!” I exclaimed. “It’ll make it harder to hit you!”

That’s what Raine and I did, much like if we were just frolicking around in the yard after school. Even in the face of what you dread most, some things don’t change.

It was harder to keep our composure when more and more bullets fell from the sky. Most of them failed to hit their targets, but some of them did. There were shouts of pain every so often, as well as the sickening noise of the bullet finding its mark.

All the general fear I’d harbored to varying degrees over the years now condensed into an immediate fear of this surprise attack. I’d known this was coming for so long, but the best-laid plans can vanish in the face of such an imminent threat.

More shots rang out, and Cloud City residents collapsed to the ground. Some of them came from the ground, which is when the zigzag motion helped Raine and I dodge them, but many came from above as the Syndicate 23 members got tangled above the village.

We passed by my house, and I exclaimed, “I want to check on Mom and Dad!”

Raine’s reaction was instantaneous. “Are you crazy? There’s no time! We’re under constant fire – this village is a warzone!”

“Then you’ll have to leave me behind!” I yelled. What went unsaid was this: My loyalty is still to the family I was born with, not you. Possibly the ultimate betrayal at a moment like this, but if we both lived out the day, maybe she’d forgive me later.

As I soon learned, that was a big “if.”

I poked my head inside my house, and I instantly regretted it. My parents were there, but they weren’t cheerily greeting me as I stepped through the doorway.

Instead, their backs were literally against the wall, and a Syndicate 23 grunt was pointing a rifle at both of them.

There was so much fear I hardly felt scared – I don’t think I was fully processing what it means to have both your parents held at gunpoint at the same time. 

“Put the gun down!” I yelled. A toothless command, given how little power I held in the situation, but that was the first thing I could think of.

The Syndicate 23 grunt gave me a wicked smile. “I think not.”

Then he pointed the rifle at my mother and pulled the trigger. A bullet exited the chamber and entered her chest. She fell to the ground, bleeding out rapidly from that wound.

All of the above seemed to happen in slow motion. I could barely believe it  – he’d snuffed my mother’s life out, just like that. 

The grunt smirked, approaching my mom’s corpse as though trying to assess how much a rug made of her fur might sell for. My fear had died with my mother, drained out of my veins to be replaced by rage.

My father fell on top of his wife’s body, snarling at the grunt. “Get away from her, you bitch!” he bellowed, tears filling his eyes.

The blue-uniformed grunt gave off another grin, one that rubbed salt in the wound after he’d just shot my mother dead. He wasn’t likely to lose any sleep over it either; that scumbag was going to walk around freely, as wicked as he was, and there was nothing any of us could do about it.

“You see, Mr. Emolga -”.

“If you kill Mika, you will pay!” he shouted, sheltering his wife’s carcass with his own body.

The grunt laughed. It was nothing like Raine’s good-natured laughter that she’d emit after winning a game of chess.

“You know, protecting your loved one is a lot less badass when they’re already dead,” the grunt replied, hoisting his rifle.

I recalled then that the Syndicate 23 grunts, like all humans, couldn’t understand our language. Reasoning with this man would get me nowhere; then again, I knew instinctively that this man was beyond help. If you could reason with Syndicate 23, there would be no such thing as Syndicate 23.

He was going to kill my one remaining parent unless I stepped in to save him.

Of course, that might sound valiant on paper, but the reality is that it wouldn’t accomplish anything but to send me to an early grave as well. But I had to try, didn’t I?

I lunged for the rifle, intent on seizing it and whipping the grunt in the head. But when I latched onto his back, the grunt emptied another few rounds into my dad’s back.

My father collapsed onto my mother as though they were cuddling. But there was nothing affectionate about death. Perhaps slow death, the type that’s expected for many months and has the person in hospice, but not sudden death like this.

And then, to add insult to injury, the grunt had the nerve to make that devilish, shit-eating grin at me. Surprisingly, he pointed his rifle at a distant wall.

Why didn’t he just fire?

That led me to an answer: Maybe he doesn’t want me dead.

The blue-uniformed man actually licked his lips as he stared at me. “I’m not going to kill you, little boy. It would be too cruel.”

Well, you didn’t extend the same courtesy to my parents. Apparently that’s a level of cruelty you can handle, but you draw the line here. Good to know.

And the man let me go, which, like the cowardly 17-year-old I felt like, I took full advantage of. I sprinted out of the house, though I couldn’t shake the belief that the reason he was letting me live was that I’d surely get sniped by one of the other attackers.

(Only later would I realize the true reason, which, if anything, was worse. It seemed like he might have thought it crueler to leave me alive without parents rather than allowing me to join them in whatever lay beyond this life.)

So I kept racing through Cloud City, eventually reaching the interior of one of the largest tree trunks. This was the main gateway to the ground for the village’s residents – it was how one accessed or left Cloud City until Syndicate 23 gave the rules the middle finger.

Anyway, I saw a disturbingly few number of Pokémon on the spiral stairwell, and it didn’t take long for me to understand: That’s because most of them have already been shot. Somehow I’ve escaped their fire…but I’m not out of the figurative woods yet.

Once on the forest floor, I kept sprinting along the ground. In late November, it was covered in a thin film of snow already owing to our northerly location, and I didn’t relish the thought of leaving footprints.

Alas, it’s unavoidable. Just like the truth.

Only once I’d done an all-out sprint for about half an hour did I allow the truth to catch up with me. The horrific reality that my parents were dead.

They’re gone, and they’re never coming back! There’s nothing I can do about that either! 

It wasn’t just that they were gone, but that I’d lost them so suddenly. Their demise had not come after a long period of declining in a hospital bed surrounded by loved ones, but rather immediately. The threads of their life had been snipped short, just like that.

I collapsed to the snowy ground, letting sobs take over my body. The grief was all-consuming, like a white-hot flame amidst the wintry weather. 

I convulsed numerous times, wailing like a baby who desperately needs something. In that moment, I had no shame whatsoever. I was beyond caring what anyone else thought of me, not that any other living thing was in sight of me.

After a while, I looked skyward, almost expecting to see more of those black parachutes descending from the clouds. If they were going to come, I decided, let them. Maybe heaven was real, maybe it wasn’t, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with this sort of pain too long.

But nothing could be found above me. Nothing, that is, except for sky, and maybe Arceus above, no doubt having decided that there was nothing wrong with letting me suffer for his own amusement.

Why would He do this to me?

I didn’t waste much time cursing Arceus, for something else occurred to me soon thereafter.

A snowstorm was starting, determined to dump lots of powder. It would cover my tracks, erasing evidence that I’d been here, but I could always forge a new path. New footprints, a new destiny.

Perhaps, I thought grimly, that is what I must do.

It was quite literally cold comfort, and it didn’t last long. I might have had plenty of fur to stay warm, but even a fur coat had its limits. If this snowfall turned into a full-on blizzard, I would need shelter, and fast.

So I resumed running after a while. Following a few minutes of this, the unexpected happened.

I came across a clearing in the cloud forest. By this time the clouds were full of snow, and the aforementioned blizzard likely wasn’t far off. Given that visibility had decreased, it’s a wonder that I saw Raine at all.

“Raine!” I exclaimed, the tiniest bit of hope springing in my chest. My last remaining link to my old life was right there, limping through the woods.

She turned to face me, smiling broadly. Yet there was something about this smile I didn’t realize at first.

“Well,” Raine replied quietly, “I’m pleased to see you made it out alive.”

Only later would I realize why she phrased it that way, as though she were providing a contrast between the two of us. But at the moment, I was so overjoyed just to see her still with me.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed, tempted to reach out and grab her wing in joy. We could fly off together and start a new life. Maybe we’d have children, and maybe one day we would work up the courage to tell them how brave their grandparents had been.

But none of that would happen if I didn’t ask now. If I didn’t confess to Raine that I liked, maybe even loved her.

Raine gave me a wistful smile. “You’re very much welcome, Enfield. I see your parents raised you well.”

“They did” I responded, the smile running away from my face. “They really did.”

She nodded, grimacing. And that’s when I noticed that Raine’s right wing was furled over her chest. Again, I didn’t think much of this; on some level, I think I just didn’t want to face it.

“Raine?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

Right away, my resolve crumbled just like a cookie that’s been hit with a hammer. The thought of confessing my affection to Raine, something that had seemed so obviously possible a few hours ago, now became very hard.

“Be quick about it, okay?” she asked, politely but firmly.

I gulped. I’ll tell you later, I decided silently. I could always tell Raine later if I didn’t have what it took to do so at this very moment.

It was then that Raine slowly removed her wing from her chest, and I saw that there’d in fact been a very good reason that she’d held her wing there.

Her chest was red with blood.

I gasped. “Raine!”

Suddenly, she wobbled, spreading her wings in order to balance; any thoughts of flight were no doubt gone from her mind. It was all she could do to avoid collapsing into the snow, a pool of blood staining the snow-white ground red.

I leaped out to catch her, but I was too late. Raine fell face-first into the ground, landing softly, almost gracefully on her stomach. (Not that there’s a graceful way to collapse).

My heart, too, leaped into my throat. Once I reached Raine, I flipped her over so that she could at least breathe. (At least, that’s the reason I gave myself. Honestly, I just wanted to see her face one more time.)

Even now, Raine smiled. “Thank you, Enfield” she stated, gazing up at the snowy sky as her heart raced, pumping blood out of her body and ironically killing her more quickly.

Within a minute, her crystalline eyes were now more akin to broken glass. They remained open despite everything as they stared at the treetops. 

Treetops they could no longer see.

My knees buckled, and I also collapsed on top of Raine’s body. And then everything came to me.

Raine had remarked that I’d made it out alive. As if she hadn’t. She had to have been shot as she was leaving the village, then flown this far despite her injuries. And she’d known she was dying.

As hard as that was to accept, there was another fact that felt far worse.

I’d had several years with Raine as a friend. In all that time, I had never possessed the nerve to ask her if she wanted to take something to the next level. I’d squandered every such opportunity, and now I would need to live the rest of my life knowing that I’d missed my chance.

I looked around at the snowbound forest, which was going to become even more snowbound within minutes. The wind was now howling, but not nearly loudly enough to drown out my numerous wails.

It’s not fair! None of this is fair! It’s not fucking fair!

Rocking back and forth like a small child throwing a temper tantrum, I pounded my fists against the snow. The snow that was rapidly turning red.

Not only have they taken my past, but they’ve taken my future too!

It was at least ten minutes before I came up for air. That was the cruelest part of all this: That in spite of such a loss, life had to go on. The forest did not care what had happened to me, and neither did the snow clouds high above. The world, including Arceus, was indifferent to all of it.

Although there was no practical reason to do so, I closed Raine’s eyes. That way, she might as well have been taking a small sleep rather than the big one.

And then I kept crying amidst the ferocious wind gusts, not caring if any Syndicate 23 paratroopers heard me. By now, none of it mattered. Not to me, not anymore.

Not now, and maybe not ever.