into the ether

It was sort of hard to tell if her stuttering response was from nerves or because of the cold. Brock saw a lot of trainers with varying dispositions—some took the gym challenge head-on, never showing any self-doubt or insecurity, and others spent weeks building up the courage to battle him. There was nothing better for building confidence than working with your Pokémon, in Brock’s opinion. Even the most shy kids could handle a Gym Battle no problem as long as they felt comfortable with their team.

She was pretty decked out in that jacket and other winter wear, though… she couldn’t possibly still be chilly under all that, could she? Then again, it wasn’t all that warm in the big, empty gym. Rock-types didn’t mind a little cold, so as long as it wasn’t freezing Brock didn’t give the temperature much thought; Pokémon battles were a great way to work up a sweat, even in colder weather. She’d probably warm up pretty quick if she followed his advice about determination.

“Before we start: do you have any badges, or is this your first gym challenge?” 

A Gym Battle was meant to be a fair challenge; depending on her answer, Brock would pick some comparably-leveled Pokémon his team and a number of Pokémon for them to use during the battle. He’d learned never to make assumptions based on appearances; trainers always managed to surprise him

The amusement in Lillie’s expression quickly fell away, though her smile did not, replaced by as hardy a look of focus and resolve as she could muster, determined to feel the unyielding determination of rock types as hard as she possibly could.

“This’ll be my first.” Excitement seeping into her voice, it was odd for her to think that, a year ago, she might’ve been embarrassed by the prospect of admitting as much. Back in Alola, trainers appeared to clear their first island challenge within weeks at most of setting out on their journeys (at least, it’d seemed that way when she’d travelled the region with her friends). But Kanto was different; gym battles, though the equivalent of trials, were their own thing. Just like Lillie’s journey, her circumstances and motivations and drive, were their own thing, unlike anyone else’s. She couldn’t let herself forget as much.

Shoving her own hand into her pocket, the beginnings of exhilaration hastening her movement, the tips of her fingers bumped into the pokéballs within.

Rock types, rock types... Sending out Kyu and Mei, as fire and ice types respectively, would be reckless of her; it wasn’t that Lillie didn’t believe in them and their abilities, only that she wasn’t comfortable enough with the consequent type match-ups to happily allow them to head the match. She knew nothing of how strong Brock’s pokémon were (though she didn’t want to fall into the trap of underestimating him for even a moment), his strategy, his skill; she didn’t want to allow her pokémon to be hurt by misjudgement on her part.

Perhaps she’d send out Roo, whose simultaneous advantage and disadvantage as a grass-flying type would cancel out; and hopefully, it wouldn’t be too reckless of a decision. It felt right, too; to begin her first official challenge as a pokémon trainer with her first pokémon.

         Why Guzma chose to squander a day off here was beyond him.  He had the whole of the Alolan islands to choose from—most of them, that was, as the last time he’d visited a town elsewhere on Ula’ula, the people protested and threw garbage at him and forced him out.  The civilians wrote a nasty little letter to Hala, and that had been the end of that.  But not here.  Malie City seemed almost welcome to his presence, although Guzma knew by their stares and their whispers that he wasn’t wanted, not really.  Even still, he went to the city garden as he had not long ago.

         When his crew was still around, he’d paid it a little visit, walking his aggressive swagger, his mismatched shades over his eyes.  Outside the small shop that sold Casteliacones, the grunts overturned potted plants, tossed plush cushions, and harassed the visitors out of their wallets at his command.  Zadkiel the Golisopod and his claws stood on stand-by.  The civilians knew what his presence meant.  Guzma had then demanded a cone for each of his crew, his large hand on the counter and his voice loud enough for the everyone in the square to hear.  Guzma saw the fear in the clerk’s eyes and knew the place was his.  As the big, bad boss, he made sure the region knew his name and the destruction that came with it.

         Things were different now.  He was a changed man—or changing, as Nanu and Hala would have him believe.  Guzma wasn’t sure anymore.  His crew was gone.  He no longer felt the need to incite panic among the populous.  And yet his nightmares still plagued him.  And yet his scars still burned him.  He sighed and rubbed his shoulder.  Though the movement was common to him now, it brought no relief.  Even though his hoodie, his skin was hot to the touch.

         From his seat on the ebony railing of the golden bridge, his legs so long his feet dangled inches above the ground, Guzma could see the entirety of the garden.  He brought his tired eyes across its grassy expanse.  Dozens of tourists roamed it, smiling and taking pictures of the borrowed architecture.  Children shrieked excitedly, pointing and rushing into the shallows, towards the Golisopod, wanting more than anything to touch it, poke it, make it squirm.  Zadkiel continued to meditate as if he were alone.  Guzma envied his partner for that.

         Their parents weren’t as excited.  They recognized the hulking beast, and looked at Guzma with wide-eyes and tore their children from the water.  They scolded and told their struggling offspring to stay away from that man, he’s a very, very bad man, and the persons who were strangers to him saw Guzma in a very different light.  Their sudden realization showed in their frowns and in the way they avoided him.  He was alone once more.

         The breeze shifted and knocked the rounded shades off his head.  They landed on the railing opposite him.  “Fuckin’ fantastic,” he grumbled, hopping off the railing and landing on his feet.  He grabbed his shades from the dark posts and put them back on his forehead in one fluid movement.  Nanu gifted the yellow sunglasses to him not long after he disbanded Team Skull.  And even though he wouldn’t admit it, Guzma loved them.

         There was movement from across the bridge.  A young girl caught his attention, whose light blonde hair evoked memories he would much rather forget.  The half-moon of her face was Lusamine’s.  His heart stopped—it couldn’t be, that bitch wasn’t here, she was too inured to move, that tiny purple kahuna said so.  It was as if Nihilego’s tentacles were on him again, searing him, branding him as the man who wasn’t worth anything in this life.

         Guzma fell to his knees trembling.   He hid behind the railing.  She didn’t see him.  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple caught in his throat, feelings of panic coursing through his body.  But when the girl moved, her face transformed, and the cold lines of Lusamine’s scowl was instead the gentler one of her daughter.  Shit, s’only Lillie.  Guzma felt like a pussy for hiding.  He made sure his breathing was controlled and evening before he stood.

         He felt a powerful need to speak with her.  She’d been trapped in Ultra Space, too.  Guzma strode towards her without thinking.  His long legs easily closed the distance between them.  “Din’t ‘spect t’ see ya here,” he said when he was near.  The girl stopped in her tracks, flinching, but she turned to face him anyway.  He could see terror in her wide, emerald-green eyes, and his own giant reflection within them.  She shrunk from the fear and turned away.

         Guzma felt something stir within him.  “Thought ya wasn’t scared o’ nuttin’ no more, li’l bird,” he said, frowning.  “But yer still ‘fraid o’ big, bad Guzma, huh?”

Arceus. Arceus, why’d he have to come over here?!

Everything had been fine before, Guzma had showed up. Which was becoming something of a recurring pattern, she was noticing. Everything had been fine in Alola, before Team Skull showed up and started terrorising everyone. Everything had been fine, before Team Skull had tracked her and Nebby down on Ula’ula Island and taken them back to Aether, to her mother. And Nebby— Nebby could’ve died, that day. It hadn’t, of course; and as far as Lillie knew, it was finally as well and happy as it deserved to be. But that the risk had ever existed, that things very nearly could have taken a turn for the drastic worst, was utterly unforgivable.

A surge of resentment bubbled up, her hands trembling with more than fear, with unadulterated rage at Guzma for his part in it all, for all the pain he’d caused, he’d helped her mother cause, how he’d hurt innocent people and pokémon all for— what? His own gain? His own twisted satisfaction? Whatever it was, Lillie didn’t care to know. He was an awful person, and she hated that he was here, that she had to deal with him even when she had her own awful person, sitting sick back in Kanto, to contend with.

But no matter how angry she was, the reality of the situation was clear. Fighting Guzma, much less arguing with him, was a feeble and ultimately useless endeavour. One that would, in the process, end up hurting her, and possibly her pokémon.

And Lillie had always been a selfish person. She liked to avoid pain, where she could.

Words came tumbling out of her mouth, brain running on terrified autopilot.

“No.” Yes. “I d-don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Had she ever said that?! Because Lillie felt she was speaking pretty honestly, at least in that last part; she didn’t recall ever saying anything of the sort— though to be fair, now didn’t seem the most productive time to reminisce about minute details. If she had, then it was clearly a foolish, impetuous thing to have said; she must have been carried away in the moment. Afraid of nothing! She could have laughed. There was still plenty that terrified her: wild pokémon (though she tried not to be), hiccups in her mother’s recovery (though she tried to stay optimistic), what Guzma might do to her out of revenge for how Lusamine must’ve hurt him...

How Lusamine must have hurt him. Something Lillie was likely to never be able to fully understand nor know the exact extent of.

At the time, throwing herself into a bright tear in the fabric of reality had seemed like the best idea. She’d been frightened out of her wits, yes, for the sake of her mother and the friend that had been brave enough, foolish enough to help her, to follow her. But Lillie’s choice— that, more than anything, had been crystal clear, like nothing in her life had ever been before.

It all seemed like a fever dream now, of course, memories twisted and looped back on themselves, over and over and over without reprieve. She remembered, but none of it felt real, not really. She remembered seeing Guzma, the way his face had contorted as called them stupid for coming in the first place, how fucked up he seemed by it all.

She remembered that the sentiment had been oddly relatable. Coming from a guy who had run a bunch of thugs who liked to threaten people and pokémon and yell ‘uh yeah’ at things with more gusto than Lillie could understand. But that was all besides the point now. She wasn’t here to argue anything with Guzma, least of all the strange habits of his cohort. Were the grunts even still his cohort? Now she thought about it, their absence surprised her. She’d heard that Team Skull had been disbanded since she’d left for Kanto, but she’d always taken the information with a note of skepticism; their total dissolution seemed too good to be true.

@astralillie

Moving the sand with her toes, Leaf stared at the grains. The sound of crashing waves was an unsung sheet of music, always switching key with the tide. It filled her with relief, a feeling that with each wave, it took each worth away. Lately, she had been second guessing most of her decisions. Losing her sense of direction wasn’t a good thing, for most times, it was what guided her to right decisions.

Perhaps it was the new found freedom that came with no responsibility, and unlike her friends, she chose to put herself to work. Occupying her mind with her travels and catching some sun rays, she found herself relocating to the happiest places on the continent. It thawed the cold the gnawed at the pits of her heart, making it hot enough to keep the sinking feeling at bay.

Standing, she grabbed her sandals and walked along the shoreline. Avoiding a group of Krabby, she made her way up around the docks, where most people were exiting a ship. Most of them foreigners, which filled Leaf with excitement. Her eyes scanned the large crowd with anticipation, hoping to see something or someone interesting. Standing off to the side, she caught a glimpse of lightning blonde hair and furrowed her brows. The familiarity of the hair caught her off guard, causing her feet to move forward until she stopped in front of the girl.

“Ah... I seem to get that sometimes. Perhaps you have met my mother, before?” Lillie wouldn’t have been surprised if that were the case; lots of people seemed to mistake her for Lusamine, despite the fact the older woman was at least a foot taller than she was in her customary heels. Perhaps it was the masses and masses of hair the two of them had in common?

Though, now that she was thinking about it... There was something oddly familiar about the girl, about the way she carried herself, about the bright of her tone of voice... But that had to be impossible; Lillie had only ever left Alola a handful of times in her life before she’d become a pokémon trainer. This wasn’t the first time she’d ever set foot on Kantonian soil, granted, but the very last time had been over a decade ago: the sights, the sounds, the people she met, all seemed like a distant, only half-remembered dream.

“…..” Lusamine watched Lillie as she quickly crossed the room to quickly fix up some tea. She continued to watch…almost as if to study her movements. As if the answer she wanted would come if she stared hard enough.

“….I’m fine Lillie. I may be seriously ill but there is no need to expense so much care on me.” Lusamine said dully…almost as if she was trying to dismiss her daughter. The tone of her voice daring…questioning her motives.

If her mother’s words passive aggressive, then Lillie was going to have to seriously re-evaluate her understanding of the term. Were she not feeling so conflicted, she might’ve scoffed. It was ludicrous to think that the amount of care that had already gone into getting her mother this far wasn’t necessary. Without Bill’s help, Lillie feared that her mother might have to spend the rest of her life sat on a couch, wrapped in a blanket, too weak to do much else. Had they not sought the care they did, particularly in those terrifying few nights after escaping Ultra Space... Lillie wasn’t sure Lusamine would’ve lived to snark again.

And what kind of daughter would she be, if she knowingly left her mother alone to die? A bad one, surely. Even if she wasn’t convinced that her old mother, the one that had laughed and played with her and smiled like she really meant it, wasn’t still in there, somewhere. Maybe.