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Like rising tides, the passage of time happens subtly. One moment it seems you are miles away from the shore. The next, you’ve hardly seen it move, yet saltwater is soaking your fur. You can feel it now. The once completely white tips of your ears and tail are dusted with gray, and you are no longer as nimble as your nickname suggests. Once, it had been Natural that struggled up the skate ramp while you easily climbed to the top. Now it’s the other way around.
“Could you lift me up?” you finally ask after banging your tail against the unnaturally smooth wood. When they set you on your usual perch, it hits you how much they've grown since you met.
“Join me.”
They nod, and climb up beside you like they’ve done a thousand times before. There’s extra weight to their movement today; some heaviness in their sigh. If it weren’t for the feeling of waves licking your paws, you would tell them a tale like the ones you’ve told again and again: stories to pull both of you away from this room with no windows and a false sky beneath your paws. The tide waits for no one, so you don’t.
“I knew a small pack of Zoroark, once,” you tell them. Natural turns to glance at you. They’ve always paid special attention to stories about Zorua and Zoroark, the same way you’d always perk up when you met another Minccino while you traveled. “Their main illusionist was sick when I met them, so I helped lure away stray humans until their den could be properly disguised. When it was calm they would perform stories using their illusions.”
“You’ve told me some before, haven’t you?” They speak with human words even when there are no people around, and your chest pangs. When they were still a Zorua kit, they would take every opportunity to speak your tongue. Years of lectures about responsibility and how they needed to get used to talking “like a person” had crushed that habit.
“Yes. I haven't told you this one, though.
“As I was told, a litter of Zorua lived in a forest near a human village. Their parents were gone and there were few other Pokémon around, but they looked out for each other as best they could. For a while it was peaceful, until the youngest ran into their den with a warning.
“‘Humans,’ she panted. ‘They took Dwebble.’
“At that, they reacted with surprise. It had been a while since any of the kits heard of people just taking Pokémon, let alone that happening to one of their neighbors. They thought they were safe.
“‘Did they see you?’ the eldest asked.
“‘I don’t know,’ their littermate said. Unfortunately, all of them would soon come to realize the answer was yes.
“One day, three of the Zorua were playing together in a clearing. The eldest was teaching their younger brothers to craft illusions for combat, and they watched so intently none of them noticed the noise of rustling brush until they had been spotted.
“‘Run!’ one of the brothers yelled. He dove into the bushes, with the eldest close behind. The last Zorua was startled, and didn’t run fast enough. Within a moment, he was gone.”
“I’ve heard this story before. I don’t want to hear it again.” Natural shakes their head.
“Please, just let me finish.” Though the first part may be familiar—there’s only so many captive Pokémon you can meet before you know every beat of it like you know your own heart—you’re sure they haven’t heard the ending.
They sigh, but let you continue.
“As I was saying, they had lost their brother. The eldest hesitated, stuck between chasing their brother’s captor and staying to protect the ones still left. In the end, they stayed—even if they chased the human, they weren’t sure they could get their brother back, but the decision haunted them.
“For a while, the eldest focused on making sure their remaining siblings could look after themselves. When they felt confident that they could, the eldest Zorua gathered their siblings together and said they planned to get their brother back.
“‘How?’ one of the younger Zorua asked their older sibling. It seemed impossible. How could they find him if they didn’t know where to look? After they found him, how would they free him?
“The eldest took a step back from their siblings and put on a disguise. At the sight, their siblings jumped back. The litter of Zorua knew, logically, that it was their sibling and protector under their illusion, but they still feared the sight of a human.
“‘I’ve been practicing,’ the disguised Zorua said, ‘If I can convince the humans that I’m one of them, I should be able to safely travel and look for our brother.’
“Some of their siblings tried to talk to them out of the idea, but their elder sibling wouldn’t be persuaded. They had already practiced their disguise and even saying a few human phrases, and they weren’t going to give up on their brother.
“After saying goodbye to their siblings a few days later, the eldest set out to bring their brother home. The journey took longer than they expected, and they got more and more adjusted to their human disguise. The words they had once struggled with came more easily, and they got used to the effort required to maintain it. Finally, they successfully used their disguise and human voice to free their brother.
“When they returned home, their siblings rejoiced. Against their silent expectation, both of the Zorua made it back! Still, the eldest was unsettled. At some point, dropping the disguise had become as much of an effort as keeping it up, and they were haunted by some of the things they had seen. Their litter was far from the only group of Pokémon affected by the humans’ greed; they couldn’t stop thinking of all the others they could help if they returned.
“When they proposed the idea to their younger siblings, most of them were unhappy. However, the second eldest, who had taken charge of her siblings while the eldest was gone, understood.
“‘If you must go, we will be fine without you,’ she said. The eldest gave their thanks, and spent the rest of the day with their siblings before setting out just after the next dawn.
“They helped many Pokémon along their travels, and grew even more familiar with their human face. As the seasons passed, they spent more and more time among them—learning to fit in, and searching for Pokémon who had been captured.
“At some point, they had evolved into a Zoroark, not that most Pokémon or people would know. They spent so much time disguised as a human that they almost forgot they were doing it, as such rarely saw their new form.
“When the eldest returned home for a second time, their siblings cowered and hid at the sight of a strange human. The Zoroark tried to tell them to stay, that it was them, but the words came out wrong and confusing. Their normal voice was seldom used, and so when they spoke it was in a human one.
“Eventually, one of the Zorua realized what had happened. His sibling’s scent was still more Zorua than human, and it would be awfully strange for a human to act the way they had. With his urging, the siblings reunited once more. Some of them still paced and startled around the disguised Zoroark.
“The eldest noticed this, and they realized they needed to drop their illusion. Irrational as it was with no people around, the thought sent a bolt of anxiety through them. Still, they tried. It should have been easy to drop. It used to be easy for them to drop it.”
You sigh, and glance over at Natural. They’re staring down at their feet, unresponsive.
“It wasn’t anymore. The most they could manage was a flicker, before it was back to a human face. In desperation, they threw themself against a nearby tree. The Zoroark banged their body against it, over and over, in hopes of shocking themselves out of the illusion like their siblings had done when they were young.
“It didn’t work. No matter what they tried, they couldn’t reveal their true form for more than a brief moment.”
Until Natural speaks, silence hangs in the air. “Did they figure it out?” they ask. (Their tone says please say yes. )
“I don’t know. The story ends there.”
You change your position, and they nod and set down their cube in favor of tapping their fingers against the ramp. They’re taking their time to think, which is good. You can imagine the gears turning in their head like a Klink, putting two and two together. Finally, the last piece falls into place.
“What should they have done? Give up? Leave other Pokémon to suffer, so they could save themself?” It comes out slightly angry and snapish, but also hurt, like they’re backed into a corner and hiding a wound.
“No.” No, for them that was never an option. To deny whatever drove them to help others—selflessness, heroism, responsibly, the label doesn’t matter—would be to lose themself in another way.
“Then what?” You had asked yourself the same question, when you first heard this tale. You still can’t say you have the perfect answer, or that one even exists, but you give your best. That’s all you can do.
“Cling to it. Drop the illusion whenever they can, and use their voice, so that they don’t forget how.”
“What if some human saw them, or heard them?” As if expecting their words to summon the human that insists he is their father, Natural glances at the door. “That’s not safe.”
“I know there’s risk. All I can say is that I think it would be worth it.”
Swishing your tail, you move again to set your small forepaw on their bigger one. The motion and touch draw their attention away from whatever invisible trouble that had been staring at before, towards you.
“You’re worth it,” you tell them.
Natural takes a shaky breath. “I understand.” Your ears perk up at the sound—Pokémon words out of their mouth. “Thank you.”
They settle into rambling about something lighter, occasionally pausing to find the right word in Pokémon or glance at you for reassurance, but committed, and some weight you had hardly noticed before slides off your paws. The Zoroark from the story’s fate is unknown, but this one, right here, ranting about some book they just read…you have hope they will be fine, even after the waves pull you under.