From the Vast (Pokémon Fanfiction)

Thirteen votes.

Just thirteen votes to decide between redemption and damnation of an innocent child, already spurned by life.

The topic refused to wash itself from Aria’s mind as she ventured further away from the village, diverging heavily from her usual route. She had to see to something important before starting on her duties—someone important, in fact. With just thirteen votes, seven would seal the deal in either direction. Numbers weren’t her strong suit, but she could figure that much out, at least.

Her, Marco, Sprout, and Cypress were shoe-ins for letting the girl stay, which just left three more. Just had to sway three more souls towards her side, and there wouldn’t be anything to worry about anymore. Anne would be safe for certain, and they would all be able to rest easy. At the same time, the three elders and Lumi were all but certain to vote the other way. They, too, needed just three more voices, and to Aria’s despair, it felt like their task of finding said voices would end up being much easier than hers.

Lucere was almost certainly going to agree with them. She rarely spoke with the Altaria—their scouting routes rarely intersected—but from the little she had, the deep distrust of humans was clear to sense. Hard to blame her for perceiving humanity as a virulent plague when her duty was playing the proverbial doctor and doing anything in her power to stave it off. But... they weren’t dealing with the abstract, shapeless mass of humans and their constructs.

They were dealing with a lone, lost child.

Ruby gave Aria the impression of being broadly on board with letting Anne stay, but she wished she could be as sure of that as she wanted to be. Shutting Lumi down and poking holes in the Elders’ words was one thing; genuinely having no objections was another, and Aria was much less certain of the latter. Whichever points of contention she might have had, Aria was confident enough in the Weavile’s level-headedness to be sure that they would get argued through.

Ori was... opaque at the best of times. Even someone as deliberately logical as him was still driven by emotions, and it always peeved Aria that the Scizor almost never acknowledged his. Maybe he simply didn’t know how to do it. It was a possibility that deeply confused the Gardevoir, but a possibility all the same.

From what she sensed at their meeting, Ori was uncomfortable about the whole human situation, even if these emotions never breached the surface of his expression or words. Maybe bringing these up with him would help him sort through them and figure out how he really felt, deep down.

Lariat... would be tricky to persuade, she feared. The Lucario wasn’t dim, but he tended to be single-minded. Protecting his in-group was the sole transcendent motivation behind his becoming a scout. An in-group that a human was unlikely to ever be accepted into on an emotional level. Still, Aria could try to use Ember’s predicament to appeal to his soul. She wanted to think that not even someone as stern as him would argue against repeating the misery the Braixen had been through, but it remained to be seen.

That left the last scout, absent from the meeting. The idea of lowering their guard all the way down and withdrawing all patrols just to debate how cruel they’d be didn’t sit right with Aria. Still, if that’s the procedure, then that’s the procedure. She disagreed, but her energy was best spent elsewhere—such as on the person she was heading towards.

How could she convince someone who had spent over a decade and a half of her life as a ‘trainer’ pet to feel sorry for a human?

Aria had no idea how to answer that question, and even thinking about it threatened to roast her mind. The Skuntank might have been easygoing, but they never had to deal with stakes this big before. She knew full well from experience how easy it was for smiles to be replaced with cold focus if the situation called for it, and replacing smiles with seething anger fueled by one’s own past was likely even easier. Rose had a heart; Aria knew that full well, but... *sigh*...

It remained to be seen if she could pry it open even the slightest bit once she’d finally found her.

Sensing other minds wouldn’t help with Rose’s Dark typing, but she still had her eyes and nose, and Rose was more than noticeable with that first sense. And exponentially more so with the second if anything was to go down. Which—fortunately for the often downwind village—it rarely ever did.

Alright, here she was, unaware of the miserable discussion they were about to have.

“Rose!” Aria called out.

The Skuntank stopped mid-step before slowly turning her bulky body around toward the sound; a grumpy resting expression replaced with a grin and a wave of her stout foreleg. She wasted no time before speaking up either, her voice its usual cheerful, “Heya Aria, how you doin’, darling? Quite far from your route, ain’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.”

Her answer took Rose aback before the Skuntank nudged her in the direction of her patrol. “Oh, really? Somethin’ popped up with Zephie, orrr~.”

“No, no, don’t worry, nothing of the sort; your son is as eager to help as ever,” Aria reassured.

“Damn right he is.”

“I... I wanted to talk about the human, actually.”

“Ah, makes sense! Heard a buncha rumors about weird things happening with her last night. I really hope she’s doing alright, all in all,” Rose smiled. Her unflinching compassion towards Anne stunned the Gardevoir, making her stop as she tried to process the information.

It took the Skuntank more than a few moments to notice that hangup, body shape leaving her prone to accidental tunnel vision. “Aria? What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“Oh—nothing, nothing at all, I...” she trailed off, unsure how to word her concerns. Though, she supposed she might as well speak Rose’s language and be as honest as can be here, “I just didn’t expect you’d have much goodwill for them.”

The rapidly changing expressions on the Skuntank’s end conveyed a story in themselves. Eyes narrowing in offense, then relaxing in realization, and finally doing an impressive roll in exasperation accompanied by a drawn-out groan. Skuntank anatomy didn’t lend itself towards facepalms particularly well, but that sure didn’t mean Rose didn’t try. “Oh, come the hell on, darlin’! I spent fifteen years with a human as my best friend; why the hell wouldn’t I feel for them? And this kiddo ain’t even a trainer, just a poor lil’ scamp that ended up here against their will.”

Human as her... best friend?

“I... figured your experiences as a trainer mon were traumatic enough to put you off humanity for good,” Aria admitted, stunned.

“Oh, I know, everybody in the village does! It’s bloody annoying, frankly, but I gave up tryin’ offering my version of the events since nobody listened. They all just heard what they wanted to hear, and I can only stand so much of bein’ ignored like that,” Rose groaned. She was annoyed, and it was the kind of annoyance that had been brewing for a while, aimless and with Aria only being its incidental recipient.

The Gardevoir was unsure what to do with that information, expecting many responses—but nothing like this. “I apologize, Rose. I assumed, and I shouldn’t have in hindsight.”

“S’pose, I can hardly blame ya. Talkin’ with most folks in the village about humans is like discussing the night sky with peeps so scared of the dark they jump at their own shadow. Some of it ain’t unearned, sure, but at least just as much is bein’ silly and paranoid.”

Aria couldn’t deny Rose’s point, left unsure what to say now. Though… there was one course of action that would both endear the Skuntank to anything else she had to say, while filling in one of many knowledge gaps she had about the mysterious, terrifying humanity.

And that was simply listening.

“If you wouldn’t mind... what was it like, then? Being... owned, and battling like that?” Aria asked with stilted words. It was dumbfounding to be asking about experiences as horrid as that with a straight face, without any underlying anger or comfort. The Skuntank didn’t need either, not with her apparent cheerfulness about the whole thing.

It made no sense, but that’s what it was.

Rose eyed her for a couple moments at that inquiry, eyebrows rising as she mulled it through. She supposed she very well could, especially now that it seemed her coworker was open to actually listening to her. “Aight, I can recount how it all went down, then. It started in what humans call ~Sinnoh~.”

“~Sinnoh?~”

“Yep~. It’s an island, far, far away from here. Both my friend and I hail from there, and that’s where our big ol’ adventure started,” Rose explained, upbeat.

“What was their name?”

“Well... ~Adam~. I’ve no clue what it means, really, and I think I butchered the pronunciation a fair chunk, but that’s what his name is. We’d... known each other since we were both little,” the Skuntank explained, voice growing quieter as she concentrated. An involuntary smile crept onto her features as she replayed the memories in her head, continuing, “Me and Ma used to live rather deep in a human town, ya see. For the most part, they didn’t treat us all too nicely, and I s’pose it makes sense from their end. We always made a hell of a mess when digging through the stuff they threw out—though it’s only their fault for tossing out so much good food, ha!”

“Humans... throw out food?”

“Fair bit of it, even. Some of it moldy, which I get; not everyone got an immune stomach after all, but definitely not all. Anywho. Most humans gave Ma and me a wide berth, which is only smart of them, ha. Not all, though, and my friend was one of those fools that didn’t. Though since I was a kid, and he was a kid, and Ma wasn’t around at the moment, and he brought snacks... I let it slide and let go of the posturing Ma taught me I was s’posed to be doing. It’s hard to be particularly hostile towards what feels like the only being that isn’t scared of me to bits, especially if he also brings food.”

Rose was well into walking on autopilot by now. Aria picked up the slack, giving the immediate area a scan to thankfully find it empty of any dangers. Seems the Skuntank could reminisce all she wanted~.

“And that was hardly a one-off thing either; eventually, he began to show up near our den daily with a berry, something sugary, or even one of his own sandwiches. Felt really sweet to see him taking the human treats his parents made for him and just sharin’ those with me directly. He got me wrapped around his finger, and me being the ever-hungry kit loved it, ha. Got food, got pets, got affection, got... a friend. Why wouldn’t I love it?” Rose chuckled, voice dreamy from pleasant memories.

“What about your mom?”

“She was understandably skittish at first, but eventually, she saw the error of her ways, especially once he’d brought her a snack or two, ha. Though still kept tryin’ to drill into me to let myself be caught by none of them damnable balls, since then I’d be gone for good. But honestly? Even then, I didn’t really mind getting, eh, ‘caught’ by that friend of mine. Ma aside, he felt like the only bright light for me in that place, and I couldn’t imagine having a future on my own. Had no idea whether it’d come down to that, but decided that if it did, I was going with him.”

“And then it did come down to that?” Aria asked, worried about broaching unpleasant topics.

“Ha! Hold on, lemme do a bit of finessin’...” Rose mumbled, taking Aria aback, especially as she followed it by stopping in place and moving her tail around the top of her body.

The Gardevoir had no idea the limb had anywhere near as much flexibility as Rose promptly showed, its range of motion more like a furry tentacle than something affixed to the Dark-type’s back. She didn’t have the time to ponder on that too much, though, not once Rose was done grabbing the item she wanted to show off.

She’d heard these balls described plenty of times and never thought that an actual one would end up looking this... mundane. Less like a death trap or an unbreakable cage, and more like a mere object. A very, very human object, of course, its artificiality made determining its materials nigh impossible. The red and white hemispheres looked like nothing else Aria had ever seen, glossy even despite the uncountable tiny scratches covering them.

Other decorations were much easier to spot, even if they weren’t any easier to explain for the psychic. Slightly creased artworks covered a few spots on the red half, worn at the edges and visibly bleached in places. There was a flower, a scribble of a Skuntank, and a red geometric shape Aria didn’t know the significance of, a sharp point at the bottom stretching to two adjacent semicircles at the top. Probably plenty more too, but they were covered by the plume of Rose’s tail holding the ball up in the air.

The Skuntank spared her coworker no chuckles at her dumbfounded expression as the horrible abomination of a ball was slipped back into its previous spot, completely hidden when pinned between Rose’s tail and back. “Hahaha, darlin’, you look like you got Licked by a ghost or somethin’!”

“How, why, when—”

“I’m gettin’ to it, I’m gettin’ to it~,” the Skuntank chuckled. “So, one day, once the time came, it was the time for my friend’s big ol’ trainer adventure. I didn’t know a whole lot of his language, but I could still figure the gist out, and boy, was he giddy. At the start, I was a bit sad, worried about him leaving for good... but then he showed me that ball and asked if I wanted to go with him. Most kids his age get given a mon they breed for this to start the whole trainer business with, but he wanted to take me instead. And yes—he asked, he didn’t just throw it at my face apropos of nothin’, ha.”

“What did your mom think?” Aria asked, shuddering as she tried to image a similar situation happening to her children.

“She was... *sigh*, I think she was just worried. Worried about what’d happen to me, whether I’d be treated well and all. I trusted my friend at that point, and so did she, but there was always that bit of doubt about how it’d all end up goin’ in practice. But, eventually, she agreed, and we were both sooooooo happy. I remember scrambling onto a small patch of grass in their park, turning towards him, and him just smiling so wide it almost split his head open as he held that thing. Held, aimed, and threw, and in I went!”

Aria had to keep her confusion and revulsion in check throughout Rose’s recollection. The evilness of these devices contrasted greatly with the whimsical nature of Rose’s tale, feeling impossible to resolve. And yet, the Skuntank continued to do just that, waddling on with a content smile as her memories reached that delightful moment.

Though, this was one conundrum Aria had to ask about, “That ‘ball’. How did it feel? They make you disappear, right?”

“I think? Was never clear to me. As to how it felt... warm. Really, really warm. It was like, I’m already giddy to go out on this adventure with him, to be by his side, and then I see him throw that thing, it hits, and it’s this wave of warmth all over me, and then the next thing I know he let me out again there and then. As much as I liked him before, it felt like I liked him even more afterward, somehow. Only for a while, though–maybe a couple months or so. Almost like infatuation or somethin’, hah. Mighty peculiar in hindsight, but it was pure bliss at the moment. It... heh,” Rose chuckled bitterly; the Gardevoir beside her left in the deeply unusual situation of having to wait for the source of her amusement to be verbally conveyed to her. “It felt like I was meant for this. It felt right.”

Rose lingered on that moment for a while longer, pensiveness eventually getting her to stop and stare at the snowy ground before her. She took a deep breath, and then another, before finally shaking it off and continuing with her patrol and recollection alike, “And so, the big ol’ journey began. Just me and him at the start, but that didn’t last all that long. After all, he had to get his hands on the rest of the team, and I had to start my training. It was... gods, it was hard to get into it, in hindsight. The battles, the training, the practice. They were strenuous, especially starting out. Back where I grew up, all I really needed was a Scratch or two for any scrap to be decided; nobody was gonna die for a bit of human trash with how plentiful it was. But in these battles, with wildlings and especially with other trainers, it was combat for as long as I could keep standing. It’s, uh, it’s surprising how much pain we can tolerate before keeling over with a bit of practice.”

“How does practicing something that excruciating work?”

“The hard way, really. Pushing my body to its breaking point and back, trying moves so many times it felt like I was gonna throw up, fighting and fighting and fighting with teammates, up to the point of fainting and back. And again, and again, and again, day in and out. It’s... it never really hurts less, is the thing. Taking a full-strength Body Slam now is just as excruciating as it was; the only difference is nowadays, I feel like I can take a lot more of that pain on. It feels like it should be enough to make me tumble over and break, but it’s just not, not if I force myself to keep standing. Maybe it’s even possible to get used to hurting with enough practice, but even after all my training, I didn’t end up getting all the way there.”

“That sounds nightmarish,” Aria commented, aghast.

“It’s,” Rose paused, reflectively wanting to deny that. No, of course it wasn’t that bad; she managed it all well, after all. Then again, she knew all too well that her experience wasn’t the only one out there. “With the right support, it’s manageable. Constant struggle, yes, but having my friend on hand made all the difference as far as motivation went. It felt like all that suffering was for a reason, like it wasn’t just misery for misery’s sake. I was doing it for him, and he was there for me throughout. And, like... after some time, when the differences first show themselves, it feels incredible for a while. Going from a single Starly Tackle almost knocking me out there and then, to shrugging them off and sending them tumbling to the ground with one well-aimed Bite or Scratch. You don’t really feel stronger at any point, but the results speak for themselves eventually, and the results sang.”

“These Starly... did he order you to chase them into battle?”

“Sometimes, yep. Most of the time, they were territorial enough to try intimidating us off their turf, and that was as good an excuse for a scrap as it got. Eventually, they spread the word amongst themselves, and in time, just stepping in was enough to send them scrambling, ha!” the Skuntank laughed.

“And did the human use that opportunity to ‘catch’ them?” Aria asked, words dripping with unspoken accusation. Hardly an undeserved one, either.

Rose was forced to sigh and slowly nod, some of the enthusiasm in her voice deflating, “Yeah. In fairness, it wasn’t like he didn’t try ‘recruiting’ more team members the same way he recruited me. I remember us settin’ camp one day, myself exhausted after a day of training and glued to his lap, him fixin’ us both some roasted snacks. It was so serene, so innocent. He made some extras, laid them on the opposite side of the campfire, and waited to see whether anything would bite and come warm itself.”

The Skuntank closed her eyes, thinking back to the bliss of it all, of well-deserved rest after a strenuous practice session.

“And sure enough, a Shinx had made their way over, kept eying us down between bites, ha. Eventually, they downed the whole thing aaaaand scampered right off afterward. If my boy was anythin’, he was persistent, so he tried again and again. That same Shinx even came back at some point to grab another treat before running off again. Eventually, though, a single lil’ Starly ended up staying even after finishin’ their portion and waddled closer, over to the fire. And another snack later, closer still. And so it kept going for a while before the birdie finally lowered their guard enough to rest by our side and snooze.”

Aria followed Rose’s recollection in her mind, imagination taking her for a pleasant ride. She couldn’t help but smile at the mental image of a lil’ human offering a small mountain of snacks over to the local wildlife until something bit for good, and began trusting him. Such a lovely scene, a weary wild Starly dozing off beside them—

“And it was only then that he went for the ball and nabbed them.”

Oh.

The Gardevoir needed a moment to come to after the whiplash she’d just been subjected to, commenting, “I can’t imagine that Starly felt anything but hatred after realizing what had happened to them...”

“You’d think, but there’s somethin’ weird to these balls, I tell ya. They came out of it even more affectionate, not mindin’ coming along with us one bit. And so, the team expanded to the two of us, and we could start better practicin’ against each other. He tried that again a couple nights later, but no catch this time.”

“That sounds like a lot of food inadvertently going to the wildings...”

“Eeyup! Plenty of stores around the area and places to rest at though, there was always someplace to resupply around each corner,” Rose admitted, not noticing the contradiction.

“Didn’t you say you were in these Starlys’ territory?”

“Yeah, it’s... I’m really unsure in hindsight. Like, it was wilderness; it was supposed to be wilderness, I’m quite sure. But there were a lot of human facilities along the big main path we were following. Stores like the ones inside their towns, spots for my friend to use to communicate with his mom, even spots I could recuperate at. I still don’t remember how the latter worked. Felt like we were never more than an hour’s walk away from a human-made building,” the Skuntank realized, brows furrowing.

“That’s... odd.”

“Won’t catch me denying that, ha. Anywho, we kept going like that for a while. Training hurt, but camaraderie helped, having my friend on hand helped, and of course, victories helped. We had our first battle against another trainer a couple weeks in; gods, I still remember it. Me and Starly versus their Turtwig and Bidoof, we smoked them! We were at the top of the world, all the pain was worth it for that moment alone.”

“Can’t imagine they were all that eager to fight you two...” Aria muttered.

“You’d be surprised! At least... at least at the start. A few months later, we had our first big, really important battle, in a fancy stadium inside a cave and all. Still remember the other human wearing this silly red helmet, pffft. Didn’t end up getting too good of a look before his Onix slammed right into me. Felt like I almost fainted there and then; it hurt that much.”

Rose rolled her shoulders, quite certain a crick she got after that one blow never came out right. She continued, “They took hit after hit and just wouldn’t go down, and we both just had to keep on dodging their strikes; it was so overwhelming. We got some practice against Rock-types like that earlier, but nothing could’ve prepared us for all that. I even had to learn how to Dig fast enough to catch them off guard, but it was worth it once they finally fell. We won, we had won our first important match, a Stunky and a Staravia takin’ on a team of Rock-types and comin’ out on top! Take that, everyone!”

Even just retelling the story was enough to get Rose pumped, her walk gaining a spring to it as the tip of her tail waved from side to side. “It was just the first step, but at that moment, I really, really wanted to see it through to the end. To keep going and never stop, to keep winning and making my friend proud. Goodness, was he proud. We spent a good couple days afterward just lazing, celebrating, and napping, and it was the best feeling in the world.”

“Sounds... idyllic.”

“It... it was, at times, especially near the start. I had no idea what Ma had meant with her warnings. Not yet. Even all the pain was tolerable at that time, if barely. Of course… nothing good ever gets to last forever. We took the big trainer down, but we had to get back to training afterward. It was just the first step of so, so many, and all of them turned out to be harder than the previous one. We all got stronger and stronger, but all that meant was that the training hurt more and more. We lost sometimes, but it was worth it since we’d eventually come out on top, even if it took even more practice, even more days of every single fiber of my body screamin’ in pain. The victories were worth it. Making him proud was worth it.”

Rose’s pace slowed down, one paw shaking with each step. A wince accompanied it each time, one that Rose couldn’t keep hiding forever despite her best efforts. “It never got any easier, though. Not when we won our second important match, not when I had evolved into a Skuntank, not when our team grew to its full size of six. It hurt and kept hurting, and we kept pushing through that. I started figuring out ways of dealin’ with the pain, was able to keep pushing day in and out, but some others weren’t so lucky. They couldn’t bear it anymore; it was too much. Sometimes he’d set them free, sometimes he’d stop bringing them out for weeks or months. I knew that as long as I was by his side I would manage, but...”

Another painful step, another wince, now joined by tears rolling down the Skuntank’s cheeks.

“He, too, changed for the worse. We all started off so excited, but just a few years later, it was as if all the smiles had left him. I’d only ever catch him smiling or relaxing in the evenings; at all other times he’d get so serious. Kept reading strategies, devising plans, directing our practice in a more specific direction, managing diets. S’mores and sandwiches turned to flavorless paste and pills. Even if most of the day-to-day stuff wasn’t all too pleasant for me, it was worth it as long as it remained a fun adventure for us. Eventually... that stopped being the case.”

With a deep sigh, Rose finally stopped her march, Aria following in tow.

“None of us were havin’ fun anymore. None of our opponents were, either. You can tell when someone’s into this, y’know. There’s that enthusiasm to their expression, that lightness to their moves. I felt like I had it in me for the longest time, like many of my opponents did too, but the further we went, the fewer of us, and the mons we fought against showed that kind of eagerness. Eventually, it was just me, and then... not even me, not anymore.”

The Gardevoir crouched beside her friend, wordlessly offering affection in the wintry cold. Her offer was gladly accepted, the Skuntank’s soft fur tingling her legs and hands as the nuzzles were exchanged for light pets.

“I can’t even blame him all that much, I don’t think. It’s either makin’ it through the entire grueling circuit or giving up and realizing you’ve wasted years of your life on something that went nowhere. He was trapped in the system, and we were trapped with him. I think he always wanted the best for us, but all that stress, all that pressure... he didn’t see; he couldn’t see what was happening to us all. Just how much strain it was putting on us, and on him, too. There was no choice but to keep trainin’, keep practicing, keep suffering in the pursuit of light at the end of an unending tunnel.”

Aria’s affection kept coming; all of it was both needed and appreciated. The Skuntank didn’t think that any of it would shake her anywhere near as much anymore; it’s been years after all—but it did, all of it. Each tiny detail and tattered recollection of her friend’s anxious expression and sunken eyes as he spent hours devising strategy or managing the little money the League provided them through their trip.

“Eventually, I couldn’t take the training either. Pain is manageable as long as it’s for a purpose, but once that purpose is gone? It just starts meltin’ through you; each strike feels like it shatters your bones. I started to falter, couldn’t complete my reps, couldn’t put up as much practice as was necessary. Couldn’t pull my weight. The team got stronger. We were a chain made out of ever-strengthening links, in which the weakest had to be replaced from time to time. And, after so many years, I became that weakest link. I had to be shelved. It was days between each time he’d finally let me out of my ball. I felt physically rested each time, but mentally it was just a flash from one moment to another; none of it made no sense anymore. I didn’t know what day it was, where I was; my teammates were strangers. We were in some other country entirely, and I had no idea.”

“And then,” Rose’s expression scrunched up as her fur bristled, the eventual relaxation leaving her even more tired, “and then; I realized I had reached my limit. I couldn’t continue. I had no idea how to convey that to him, to the human that used to be my friend. One evening, I approached him as he was strategizing, reached for my ball, and swatted it well off into the distance before staring at him. I hoped he could figure it out, and… he did. He just stared at me, showed any emotion that wasn’t stressed for the first time in days, and... asked me if I wanted to go. All I could do was nod with all my strength.”

“Was he angry?”

“Heartbroken. It was as if, for a moment, he finally saw what I felt, what we all felt. Like it all really got to him for the first time in years. He looked me in the eye, and just… wept. Held me tight, kept apologizing over it all. Over how much it hurt. Over failing us. Kept blaming himself for our losses, for us havin’ to hurt even more. Kept apologizing to me specifically, for ending up so far from home and with nowhere to go. Took one brief look at the fancy case with the colorful badges, the seven of them, and just tossed it off to the side, and it all rattled all over. I held him back; I held him close. His tears kept flowin’, apologies kept flowin’. He said he didn’t know what to do, that he wasted the last fifteen years of his life, of my life. He said... he said he just wanted me to be happy.”

More tears, more affection, the latter helping only nominally.

“We spent one last evening the way we used to. He made a sandwich for us for the occasion, toasted it, and shared it between us. I spent the night on his lap, crying. He held me tight all night long. Then, the next morning, he gave me my ball, and I was free to go. I didn’t want to leave, but knew I couldn’t stay. I took one last look at him, and... left. And then, a few months later, ended up here, with y’all. Figured might as well put all my strength and practice to some actual use and settle down. I don’t regret it one bit, but... I miss him, miss Ma. Hope they’re doin’ well.”

Finally, the tears waned, replaced by composure. Each soggy strand of thought got shaken off, one after the other, until Rose was close to her former, cheerful-ish self. A couple more nuzzles on Aria’s legs, and she’d had her fill, stepping away with deep breaths.

The Gardevoir didn’t know what to say; there weren’t any words appropriate for the tragedy of her coworker’s situation. Eventually, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

“He did many awful things in hindsight, but... none of it was cruel. It was only how things had to be, according to their system. There was no other way but misery, and misery is where we ended up at, despite him trying as hard as he did. He wasn’t a bad person. I don’t think most humans are. I don’t even think most trainers are. Their world binds them just like it wants to bind us, and there’s little any single person can do about it.”

“Then why don’t they change it?” the Gardevoir asked, distraught.

“I wish I knew. Maybe they just can’t, for one reason or another. They have to realize it’s bad for everyone, right? That much was obvious to me, but... maybe it’s not obvious to them. Oh well. That was... a bit of a rant on my end, wasn’t it?” Rose chuckled.

“It was, but it was very... enlightening. Thank you a lot, Rose.”

“Anytime, darlin’! Though I take you didn’t haul your whole self over here just to hear me whine and reminisce over the ol’ days, good and bad, eh? Think you mentioned that human girl in the village?”

Aria nodded deeply as she picked herself back up to her feet, a glance skyward giving her a vague idea of how much time had passed. Her route had gone unwatched for a while now; it was time to wrap this up. “Yes. She doesn’t have anywhere in the human world to go to, and the Elders have settled on a vote to decide whether to let her stay here.”

The Gardevoir wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she was expecting from Rose when mentioning that, but the drawn-out groan wasn’t it. Neither was another attempt at a facepalm that accompanied it, nor the array of grumbles that followed it, “Oh, come right on, really? How come that’s even a question? Course she oughta stay here if she has nowhere to go! Ughhh... these old farts, I swear. Oh well. I’ll be there, lay out just what they need to be convinced. You can count on me, Aria.”

Rose’s words made Aria let out a breath she wasn’t even consciously aware she was holding. So much of the tension left from her lithe frame all at once that it almost made her jump, the tiny motion leaving the Skuntank chuckling.

“Thank you so much, Rose. It’s so, so appreciated.”

“Don’t fret it darlin’, I’ve heard you’ve grown close to her. Just can’t help but rush in to protect people, eh?”

“That’s a stereotype...” Aria muttered, rolling her eyes.

“A stereotype for a reason! Aight, I’ve fallen behind on my patrol somethin’ mighty, and so have you probably, ha! See ya later, hun~.”

“See you later, Rose.”

“And don’t ya worry about the girl—doubt the Elders will have the gall to say no to a loaded Skuntank inside their tent, ha!”

“Sage?”

The ghostly murmur snapped the Phantump out of her idle thought, glowing eyes shrinking as they focused on the sight before her. And then, moments later, at the Banette beside her. “Y-yes, M-Mr. Yaksha?” she answered, shaking at the ambient cold and her own thoughts.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay.”

Sage was always okay, even when she wasn’t. It annoyed the Banette a great deal.

One thing to look after a poor, lost hauntling, another still to have that lil’ ghost never be as forward with him as he would have liked. About anything. Yaksha couldn’t blame her for that either, not with a fate like hers. The humans were bastards, one and all, and every single thing the ghost had seen of their actions only cemented that fact further for him. “You know you don’t have to pretend, Sage. We can pause for a moment. We’re hardly rushing.”

“Mmmm... o-okay,” she admitted hesitantly.

Yaksha’s zipper mouth parted as he let out a heavy sigh.

With an affirmative nod, he turned his attention towards scanning for threats, letting the smaller ghost focus inward once more. Hardly anything ever bothered them when they were making their way around, especially not during the day when all the Dark-types were asleep. Humans, as always, were the negative exception. But even they just needed a scare or two to scatter and leave them alone.

Or at least, when the Banette was there for the lil’ one...

The thought involuntarily unraveled more of Yaksha’s zipper, the tiniest bit of pink light escaping as he lashed out. Shadow Claw left no immediate scars on wood aside from slight discoloration—give it a couple weeks, though, and the dying, dry bark would fall off along the three parallel cuts, scarring the oak trying to endure the bitter cold.

For a while, he thought his grudge about humanity would be enough to keep him going forever, driven away from his long-time home. It’s been decades since then, but he still remembered it so well. Humans showed up with their tamed mon, and he had to run away, ending up with nothing and nobody—not even memories of the good times.

He didn’t need them; not anymore. Neither did Sage. But she deserved them; deserved them so much more than her Banette wreck of a guardian. A quick glance over Yaksha’s shoulder revealed Sage had only floated over a bit, the Phantump’s attention affixed to a tiny, frozen puddle. He’d seen this enough times to not even have to look anymore, knowing exactly what would happen afterward.

And Sage... knew too, to an extent.

Still, she went through the motions, again and again. An inky tendril reached down to swipe the fresh dusting of snow off the ice, the revealed surface as reflective as it got this time of the year. She stared at the ghost in the reflection, its wooden face and spectral body mimicking her movements. Sage remembered enough to know that it wasn’t her, but... what ‘her’ even was anymore was becoming harder to tell by the day.

The occasional glances at the denizens of the woods provided inspiration, but no concrete answers. A bird? A rodent? Maybe even a bug? Something small enough for humans to beat up...

Her eyes clenched shut as she partially withdrew into her wooden shell, the pained whimper catching Yaksha’s attention. Each time she tried to think back for any amount of time, she only ever arrived at the same half-formed memory, the cursed capstone of her existence. Three humans cornered her, tall bodies towering over her. Their faces were erased from recollection, but not the sounds they made. The cruel laughter, the shouts, the screams. She remembered hurting so much. She remembered her head hurting so much. And that wasn’t even the last time they’d torment her—

“Sage, I’m here. You’re safe now.” Yaksha whispered, the accompanying embrace making Sage flinch. She snapped out of her recollection and back to the reality around her—snow-covered woods, just like for the past however long. So uniform that if not for her guardian’s guidance, she wouldn’t have thought they were making any progress at all.

Once the Phantump had gathered her attention, she looked at the other ghost. The Banette’s pink eyes were still as unnerving as when she’d first seen him all these weeks ago, and even knowing there was no malice in them—not at the moment—helped little. “Reminiscing won’t help you much, kid, trust me. I know the allure all too well,” he reassured.

“Mh-mhm.”

“It was just what you told me, right?”

“Y-yeah, and—”

“And what?” Yaksha asked, attention narrowing in an instant.

Why did she have to bring it up? He’d just be even more worried...

“Sage, what happened?” the Banette insisted.

“N-nothing...”

“Was it this morning when I left for recon, and you stayed at that ruined building?”

“Mmm... y-yes,” the Phantump relented.

Yaksha sighed, continuing his patient hug. Sage was a rough kid, but he knew the right tricks to make her spill what was really gnawing at her. “What happened then, Sage?”

“Th-there were a c-couple humans, and they saw me a-and they threw things at me, l-like pebbles and bricks...”

Sage felt Yaksha’s grasp on her tighten to painful levels before he let go. He turned his head towards the woods as if to scream, but no words came out, nothing but full-body writhing. She briefly watched the pinkish light shine on the shrubbery before Banette, wilting whatever it touched before disappearing as suddenly as it had come. He snarled, “Beasts, one and all. Next time I see one of them, I will not resort to just some idle scares...”

“M-Mr. Yaksha—” the Phantump pleaded.

“Shush, kid, leave it to me. I promised to keep you safe, and I will, but these things have got to pay—”

*caw, caw!*

The repeated caws coming from some ways away firmly captured the attention of both ghosts; the human murmurs accompanying them made Yaksha’s glare narrow. A peek into the trail they were previously following confirmed the ghost’s worst fears—two humans walking in their direction. A taller, darker-skinned one with a Murkrow on their shoulder, and a shorter, lighter-built one, the pink color of their hair unusual for their species. Wanted to hurt Sage while she was down, no doubt.

“Bastards, beasts, I’ll show them. I’ll show them good,” Yaksha seethed.

“Mr. Y-Yaksha—”

He wasn’t listening, mind so overtaken by fury that all he could do was let it loose. In a split second, he was in the two humans’ path, the scream that followed overflowing with hatred, unraveling deep inside the ghost,

“RAAAHHHH!”

*CAW!*

His entrance was nothing if not successful; the human duo stuck in place as if rooted. The Murkrow stared daggers into the ghost, but he didn’t see or care—they had to pay, humans had to pay; what would end up happening to him was a very distant concern. His care burned bright,

But his grudge burned brighter.

“Th-these weren’t—” Sage tried to say, but the Banette didn’t hear, he couldn’t hear. Curses and fury echoed in his mind, loud enough to drown out all other sound; all other thought. This has been a long time coming.

Yaksha’s Shadow Ball came out in a split second, aimed at the weaker of the two humans, the one without their little Murkrow slave. A seething sphere of dark energy rocketed through the air, the monster on the collision course only able to stare at their impending death—

“~IZZY, WATCH OUT!~”

And then, with a loud shout, his target was tackled to the ground. Yaksha’s Shadow Ball careened off into the distance before inevitably striking and collapsing a distant tree. A momentary setback, especially now that both of these vermin were down and immobilized. This was his chance to follow up and nail them this time; another projectile beginning to form between his hands—

*CAW, CAAAAW!*

And then, the next thing he knew was utter pain overflowing his body, tearing it apart.

His own spectral hands tore his body up, pink light shining through the gashes all over its gray surface. The cloth body tattered in spots as the dark and pink energy ravaged him. He hurt. If he had any blood, he’d be bleeding to death. 

Sage could only stare in horror; stare at her guardian; stare at the Murkrow that had almost banished him in a single strike, utter fear freezing her tiny body. It was only after a long while, once the two humans had picked themselves back up, that she’d forced herself to float over to the knocked-out Banette. Still moving, thank goodness…

“~Holy shit, Chucky—~” the taller human muttered.

*caw, caw!*

“~C’mon Lee, let’s dip outta here!~” the shorter one pleaded.

“~But we still haven’t found—~”

“~LEE!~”

“~Fine, fine!~”

The Phantump looked up at the exchange between the two humans and a Murkrow. whimpering in fear. One of them had gotten so much closer to them, his lower voice filling her with fear. Sage hyperventilated with nonexistent lungs as she hovered backward and away; the human only sparing her the minimum of attention as he approached her guardian—

*crr-cr-crrr-crr-CRACK-CRACK!*

Suddenly, something on the back of the darker-skinned human began to rattle loudly, the piercing sound freezing everyone gathered. Sage had no idea what that sound implied, but it sure seemed that the humans did, and they weren’t happy about it. The pink-haired one turned on a whim, dashing over to the other one and pulling him backward, him and the Murkrow on his shoulders—

An instant later, something appeared in front of them. Tall, white, and green-haired.

The air itself cracked with energy as it hovered a couple inches above the snowy dirt, facing away from the hauntling. For a few moments, there was just silence, choking and deafening.

And then, before Sage knew it, both humans were screaming at the top of their lungs and running away as fast as their legs could carry them. The Dark-type reluctantly followed, chasing after their human’s increasingly distant shrieks, its own caws contributing to the fading cacophony.

The white being remained in its pose until the humans were out of earshot. Only then did it slowly descend onto the snowy ground and turn around, its red eyes piercing through Yaksha.

And then; it spoke.

Not the stealthiest of ways of getting rid of some humans, Aria had to admit.

Though, with how dedicated to finding her that darker-skinned one was, it’s not like she had too much of a choice. Them having been aware of her for an unknown amount of time was terrifying, but she could figure out how to adjust her patrol route later. Right now, there was yet another mess for her to take care of. Or rather, two ghostly messes. “^Are you alright? Why did you attack them!?^” she asked, unnerved.

After a few attempts to pick himself up, the Banette gave up, finally accepting his temporary resting spot. A stream of grumbles continued to flow out of his unzipped mouth, eventually coalescing into a coherent response, “They kept harassing Sage...”

“B-but they didn’t...” Sage insisted, her words finally catching the other ghost’s attention.

His pink gaze snapped to her, making her jump a bit. It hurt to see, admittedly, especially with all the time he’s been looking out for her, but... oh well. “What do you mean, Sage?”

“I-it wasn’t them... it was th-the other humans earlier...”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I tried to, b-but you weren’t listening!” Sage shouted, worried, her voice girly and shrill. She floated closer to her guardian as the fear of these humans left her system, her pinprick eyes looking over the Banette’s raggedy body with concern.

Off to the side, Aria just sighed at the mess of a situation. At least nobody got killed. “^Do you need help?^” she asked flatly.

“And who are you to ask?”

“^Someone who knows a healer or two and hails from a settlement for mons. You two look like you could use a hand.^”

“I’ll be fine...”

“M-Mr. Y-Yaksha, I’ve never seen you this hurt...” the Phantump pleaded.

“You’ve only known me for a couple months, kid.”

“Please!”

“^You hear her,^” the Gardevoir chuckled.

“*Ugh.* Fine, fine,” Yaksha relented, groaning.

“Th-thank you...”

Sage’s quiet, squeaked response tugged at a spectral heartstring or two, much to the Phantump’s relief. Slowly, Yaksha picked himself back up into the air and continued, “So, where is that ‘settlement’ you mentioned, oh stranger?”

“^It’s for the best if I guide you over. My name’s Aria, and yours?^”

“M-my name is Sage, Mrs. Aria!”

“Yaksha.”

With a tilt of her head, Aria set a direction for the group. The lil’ Grass-type followed her close, floating right beside her as they got going, the Banette keeping his distance behind them. “^What brings you here?^” she asked.

It didn’t take her long to realize she’d made a faux pas. Yaksha’s glare was unnerving, but it paled when compared to Sage freezing in place and shaking, unfocused eyes staring into the distance, her fear shining brightly for the psychic.

“Not the best of questions,” Yaksha grumbled. “I’ve been around this wider area for longer than I can remember, kept moving from place to place while avoiding humans’ spread, the lot of them. Sage... Sage, come here. You’re safe now.” As grumpy as he was previously, the Banette’s mannerisms changed immediately at seeing the Phantump be as terrified as she was. Sage withdrew into her stump as he continued, “I’ll say this once, and I best not have to again. Sage was murdered by humans. If she never sees one again, it’ll be too soon.”

...oh no.