Morty & Haunter

“They say practice makes perfect.” Though it never made much sense to him why the Alolans insisted on using their region name as a form of greeting. Being the curious scholar that he was, he wondered about the possible reasons. 

Did it begin as a result of the people’s pride for their land? Did the greeting actually come first, followed by the decision to call their region by the most popular word heard on the island? He could just ask the Alolan native in front of him, but decided against it. It was best to save his inquiry for a more appropriate time.

Instead he answered, “Yes.” The practice was more of a formality than a greeting, a less than common sight to witness than one would think, compared to earlier years anyway. “We usually just bow our head slightly like so,” he explained before demonstrating the action. “If you’re greeting someone very important, a deeper bow…” How should he put it? “…is expected.” 

He considered saying it was required because it was, to a degree. Then again, to say it was expected wasn’t wrong either. Anyone familiar with the customs would know they are expected to greet certain people properly. “I don’t disagree with your opinion, but Johtojin hold fast to tradition. It is unlikely their customs would ever fade away completely even if the rest of society evolves and leaves them behind.”

Practice certainly did make perfect. That was something Phoebe could agree with. What she didn’t necessarily agree with - or, rather, understand - was the clinging to tradition. Maybe greeting people in Alola was tradition as well, but the bow just felt so… so stiff! So formal! Phoebe could never really get used to it.

She practiced the two bows - first, the gentle bowing of her head, then the deeper bow. But she still found it strange and different. Even though she’d seen people in Hoenn sometimes greet others the same way, it still felt so distant. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.

“I guess history has its place in society,” Phoebe mused. “We have traditions in Alola that have never really faded away. Dancing, for example, has really stuck to it, not changing much over the years. Sure, we adopt other ways to dance and practice those too, but…” Phoebe gave a small shrug, unsure of what else to say.

“I guess we’re all a little strange in our own ways.”

So she was a trainer, one that even put her own powers to use instead of manipulating her own Pokemon to do her dirty work. Unlike Team Rocket. Not that they had any special powers to speak of themselves. Perhaps if they did, they too wouldn’t force Pokemon to do their bidding, just maybe…

He had to end that train of thought. Morty couldn’t afford to become distracted again, especially now that this mysterious ‘trainer’ seemed to be changing her strategy. He watched her movements, expecting another similar attack to be directed at his Pokemon. But he was misled yet again! With no time to dodge, he raised his arm to brace himself from the inevitable contact… until he saw the aura explode against a translucent barrier that materialized just inches in front of him. 

<Haunter used Protect>

To think that such a free-spirited ghost would be reliable when his trainer really needed him. Now of all times in particular considering Morty himself had been losing focus, but of course such a proud gym leader would never admit that… nor was he the type of trainer to directly praise his Pokemon. “Your timing has improved,” was all he said. But for an easily affectionate Pokemon like Haunter, it was more than enough. His cheeky grin proved he was more than satisfied with those words.

Morty still had to make a decision. It was clear that his opponent was playing with him, but for what purpose he wasn’t entirely certain. He assumed for entertainment purposes, but he didn’t want to underestimate her anymore than he already had. Frankly, he’s had enough of these games, and he planned on bringing an end to them.

“It’s a shame that a trainer with talent such as yours only wastes it on games. If you had interest in your own Pokemon, maybe you would have more respect for others. As it stands now, I guess you need someone to teach it to you. …Haunter, Double Team.”

And with that, an endless sea of Haunter’s clones surrounded them at once.

Rui scowled at the taunt. “For your information… my Pokemon are quite strong. I just prefer them to remain safe.” To think, the Haunter blocked her attack. She was a bit grumpy now. “Respect for other though?” Rui started laughing now. “What has humans ever done for me but use me then throw me aside? Even my own parents! The only Pokemon who’ve showed me kindness are those I have caught. If I’m going to just be used and played with, why shouldn’t i have some fun instead?”

Rui then proceeded to grab one of her own Pokeballs, tossing it into the air. “Harley, how about you come out to play. I could use some assistance.”

“Mimikyuuu!” The shiny Ghost/Fairy type manifested out of the pokeball, ‘head’ cocked to the side. 

“Use Mimic followed by Shadow Claw.” 

“What are you–” 

The gym leader saw the figure come charging in his direction. He never managed to complete his question because he had to dodge out of the way to avoid being trampled. It’s a good thing his partner was a ghost type or Haunter would have taken a lot of damage from what seemed to be a human tackle attack. 

Haunter materialized out of the human’s path before they made contact only to re-materialize in the same position seconds later. The curious ghost Pokemon found itself being sniffed by this unusual human, his form flickering between this dimension and the next as if to confirm his own case that he was a ghost Pokemon. But Morty also responded on behalf of his Pokemon just in case the ghost’s message wasn’t clear. “Yes, Haunter is a ghost type.” 

Morty had his own questions for the ‘child’—or at least he assumed that’s what they were, taking their behavior into account—but his better judgment reasoned it would be best to leave them unasked if he didn’t wish to be seen as disrespectful. Concerning his reputation as gym leader, it was important to put on a proper face in the eyes of the public. Instead, he managed something more subtle, “Are you in a hurry?”

“That’s….I’ve nevrar met a ghost type before!”Dae awed. The Drampa who raised them mentioned them every once in awhile though. Mainly to not fight them because they couldn’t actually do damage to them.

“Yes, there was this Meo-”They looked back the way they were running. There was nothing there.

“My apologies if I sounded that way.” The monotony in his tone lacked any sense of genuine apology, but it couldn’t be helped that it was his natural way of speaking. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for him to try to sound more polite to his senior. 

     She clicked her tongue, severely disappointed in his excuse of an apology. In fact, the dragon master would have said more if she hadn’t known this is how he normally talks. At least she and Falkner took this entire event seriously. Bird brain was probably talking with the monks right now, discussing everything he should have been discussing with them—which freed her up to finding him. 

“Ah, Lemonade would be nice…” he muttered in a daze.

It would have been nice if Morty had one on hand. Why hadn’t he opted to buy that one instead of a bottle of Fresh Water? Not that he had any left of that to drink either. He would give anything to drink something right about now. Even the thought of drinking warm water sounded refreshing. 

But all he had was his imagination… a powerful thing it was, as it may. He could feel the coldness of the can radiating in close proximity to his neck, as if his troublesome ghost partner was nearby waiting to pull off a mischievous stunt when he least expected it. He wouldn’t let that happen. 

Mustering his remaining strength, he turned around and attempted to whack away what he thought was one of Haunter’s stray hands, only to nearly knock over the Lemonade out of the other person’s hand instead. 

“Uh-h–ah-ahh! S-orry about that!” He couldn’t believe what he just did to the seeming stranger. On top of it all, he was seen without his scarf, a sight rarely captured by anyone who doesn’t know him intimately enough to have been a guest at his house. (It was only there where he would feel comfortably dressing out of his gym leader attire, for very few people would be able to see him after all.) 

To make matters worse, the kind stranger took his gesture as a ‘no’ and attempted to offer an alternative beverage instead. If the early summer heat hadn’t already stained his face with a red hue, he would have made an attempt to hide the marks of his embarrassment with his scarf (despite how hot it still was). Thankfully, his limited energy didn’t allow much room for him to go into full blown panic mode, and he realized the patient young man that had addressed him was someone far from a stranger.

“..A long time…it can’t be! You’re…you’re Cal!” 

Cal kept his grip firmly on the rejected drink, but he too was surprised by Morty’s reaction. That had been a pretty strong ‘no’ coming from Morty. In fact, Cal didn’t think that it was very Morty of Morty; a quiet snub of the drink would have been more in line with Cal’s own expectations.

“Ah, so you do remember,” said Cal, chuckling at the late response, “I thought you’d forgotten. Most people do when it’s been more than half a decade since. That was a lacklustre welcome, though.”

He shook a new drink packet in front of Morty to replace the unwanted C.C. Nomel – maybe something sweet and uncarbonated would do the trick.

Morty expected her to ignore him (maybe even hoped that she would) because she seemed lost in a daze. 

But now he would see what poking his head into other people’s personal affairs would get him: a very personal confession that he had no choice but to further comment on. Maybe even offer advice. That’s what this woman expected right? Why else would she share such intimate details? 

This isn’t normal. Is she not from around here…? Why isn’t she stopping already?!

Welcoming the break in her narrative, he began by acknowledging what she said with a quick nod. Perhaps the sort that could be mistaken for the insincere type who couldn’t wait for the other person to be done with their story and would wave them off in a hurry, as a result. Not that it would be a stretch to say that’s the type of mindset Morty was in when he started listening. But also after having listened to everything, he resigned himself to offering his honest opinion of the woman’s ordeal, if for no other reason than the fact that he could empathize with her.

“I see. Well, who is it you love now? You don’t have to answer out loud, but the person you have feelings for is someone you choose yourself, whether someone else approves of them or not.” He was very adamant of this concept, proof of which came from his direct manner of speech contrasted with his distant inquiry made earlier. 

“If you find yourself lost about which one you do have feelings for, consider which one you can imagine yourself with in your ideal future - cute house, frequent naps, and all.”

The look on his face told her that he had only wanted to be light-key nosy, and he didn’t actually care about her whole story. But what did she have to lose by unloading on him? Some stranger came up to her and asked for her problems because she had been a whiny chick. He shouldn’t be surprised that he received what he asked for. 

Because when you have a couple of friends, an objective point of view is always appreciated. And besides, it wasn’t like any of the information was personal. She couldn’t be the only person in the world who was going through a stupid love triangle with stupid people because boys were all stupid. Like seriously, men, whose bright idea was that? 

In fact, part of her was waiting for him to just decide she was a crazy chick and ditch her right then and there and she absolutely would not have blamed him for it. She had invested nothing in him. He had invested nothing in her. It wasn’t like he could tell anyone anything they didn’t already know. 

But then he started to give advice, and she actually thought on it. Who did she love now? What kind of love was it? Her heart ached, longed for James. All she wanted was him to be by her side. She wanted them to be permanent. She wanted to not fear losing him. And she wanted to have romance and a romantic love. Could, would, James love her that way? But Butch was giving her that romance. He was giving her attention and he was giving her love. Was she in love with Butch? Or the idea that he wanted… her, that way? 

She nodded. Who, which of them did she see that house with? Those naps? They napped together already. On each other sometimes. He was always so comfortable. So safe. He was safe. Did she feel as safe with Butch? 

“This can’t be…”

Morty had called out to a human just now, hadn’t he? ..Of course he did. There was no mistake! The person before him had certainly been a human. How is it then that the rainbow-colored deity now stood in her place? He wasn’t imagining things was he? 

He surveyed the area in an attempt to see if others nearby had witnessed what he saw. But there was no one else to be found. How could this be? He had trouble making sense of this–dare he say it–miracle. He needed to trace the logic of these preceding events to understand.

He backtracked to the moment he first noticed the stray icicles. It would’ve been odd to see them this time of the year, as summer was nearly approaching, but the fact that he had seen trainers sparring in the area helped make sense of the phenomenon. The fact of the matter was, he had no time to process anything else when he realized they were heading towards the woman. He remembered calling out to her before a flash obscured his view temporarily. 

Figuring it had probably been the sunlight’s reflection on the ice, he didn’t think much of it. Nor did he think about his next choice of words very carefully. Her safety had been his primary concern, for he had his own formidable battle with an unforgiving ice-type master that left him with physical as well as mental scars. 

“You’re lucky, that icicle could’ve killed you.”

Those were his last words before she had revealed her true form to him. In any other situation, he would have considered such a meeting an honor. He would’ve bowed and further attempt to gain the deity’s favor by uttering flattering words. Maybe then she would hear him out. 

But now he could barely stand. He used to imagine the deity’s holy flames generated a warmth so gentle that it would relax anything it came into contact. In reality, Ho-Oh’s ire permeated the air, suffocating Morty and leaving him immobilized until she had finished chiding him for his audacity. Even after she was done, he still couldn’t find the strength to move. He couldn’t find the voice to defend himself. He didn’t think he had the right to even try.

Unable to utter a word, unable to move, he stared straight at the deity, his palms sweating.

still, disrespect–well-intentioned or not–cannot be tolerated under almost every circumstance.

she’s quiet for a fair while after he speaks, and though her expression doesn’t quite shift to anything more kind or forgiving, she does allow her body to generate heat–just enough to warm the immediate area and begin turning the remaining icicles into nothing but harmless droplets of water.

the goddess takes one step toward him, then another, and yet another still until stops several feet away, wings still folded to her sides.

“it is.. regrettable that this is how we have finally, truly met, face to face.”

a pause, thoughtful and brief.

There was nothing quite like walking around the National Park with a dear friend during a lunchtime break.~  Truly it has always been a convenient meeting point that sat squarely in between two gyms, and looks beautiful when spring comes too! 

“The blossoms sure are lookin’ good right now.” the bluette admired one of the blooming trees in passing. Soon the petals will fall to the ground and make a mess with the ushering of new leaves instead, but it was a welcomed kind of mess.