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Cyllene’s glare was intense. It clearly made the woman across the beach uncomfortable, but the young girl couldn’t find a reason to stop staring. Why would she when the woman was wielding a sword, swinging it in the air with great gusto. Quite the sight to see.
Her grandmother set a hand on her shoulder, breaking her of her trance. “Don’t stare, sweetie. It’s rude.”
She pointed in the direction instead. “But what’s she doing, Nanna?” An innocent question for the six year old.
Ursa gently pushed her arm down. “I’m not sure. But we best not disturb her. She looks busy.”
“But I wanna know.”
“And I said no, Cyllene. Now,” Ursa said firmly. She grabbed Cyllene by the hand and tugged once, trying to push her into following. “Let’s go find some pretty shells to give your Papa when he gets here.”
When she wouldn’t budge, Ursa pulled her along by force, walking hand in hand with the girl along the shore. Cyllene looked back behind her shoulder until it hurt her neck, still amazed by the woman on the beach.
It had been a long day. Her wrists hurt. Her calloused palms bled. But at least her accuracy has greatly improved. She doesn’t train from early morning to late evening for nothing.
She sighed as she took a seat on the partial dinghy. If she already didn’t feel so relaxed from finally sitting down, then the warm sake hitting her throat sold it to her. Her shoulders went slack as she gulped down half the flask.
“What’s your name?” And there it goes right back out.
The sake hit the sand, quickly being absorbed. She grasped for her blade but fell into a violent coughing fit instead. Cyllene put her hand to the woman’s back to help, however the woman jumped off the wrecked boat, taking a defensive stance as the fit died down.
When she realized it was a child, that same girl she saw in her peripheral earlier, she put her arms down but didn’t relax her demeanor. “Um, I’m sorry,” Cyllene balled her fists into the skirt of her kimono. “I was just trying to help…”
She relaxed and sat back down, taking a proper swig of her beverage. Cyllene circled the boat. She looked up to the woman, curiously observing her features. Her red hair that flared out at the bottom appearing spikey and her tan complexion stood out to the girl. Red hair was very uncommon here. More cooler and darker tones where more prevalent, at least they are in her village. “Where are you from?”
“Nowhere.”
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You gotta have a name.”
“Well… I don’t. So there.”
“But what’d your mommy call you when you were a baby?”
“I don’t know. What did your mother call you?”
“I don’t have a mommy. My mommy‘s dead.”
Oof…. Awkward silence fell. Cyllene kept staring, waiting for the woman to say something. She swayed her body, making the silk kimono dance along.
“Call me… Petal.” She nodded at her own choice of name. “My name is Petal.”
“I’m Cyllene.” The girl pointed. “Can I touch it?”
Petal looked around for context. “What?”
The pointing intensified. Petal followed the little finger to— ah . Her katana. Petal pulled it close to her side. “ No .”
Cyllene leaned forward with her hands clasped behind her back but otherwise stayed where she was. “Is it real?”
The older woman quirked a brow. “Would you like me to slice your hand off and find out?”
Cyllene nodded vigorously. A wide grin overtook her as she straightened her back. “Yes!”
Petal pulled the weapon flush to her body, it practically fusing to her. What a weird child…
“I am so sorry about her!” Ursa picked the child up by the underarms. The girl struggled in mild panic, pushing away as she was placed on the woman’s hip. “I should’ve known she’d wander. She does this all the time.”
Petal stood to greet the elder woman, securely sliding the katana into the obi of her plain yukata. “That’s alright. It is what children do after all, right?”
Ursa tightened her grip on Cyllene, forcing her to stay, or at least attempted to, the girl always a wriggle weedle. She nodded. “You have children as well?”
Petal’s gaze turned to the squirming child, her expression turning more and more upset by the second. Then traveled to the sand and back to Ursa. “No.” She swallowed down the guilt. “And, mind me for prying, but I believe she would like to be put down.” Petal pointed out. Cyllene’s whole face turned red in upset. Her hands balled themselves into the front of her floral attire. She fought back tears, head turned to the sea away from her grandmother.
Ursa sighed. “She does this every time someone other than her father picks her up.” She set the girl back down, who immediately sat in the sand with her knees to her chest, staring at the millions of grains angrily. “She is…. A unique child.”
“No time to stare at the sand now, though. Get up.” Ursa nudged her on the shoulder. It only made Cyllene wobble, she sat firmly, stubbornly. “It’s getting late. If we go now, we should be able to make it to Littleroot by dusk.”
Petal spied over the other woman’s shoulder, staring briefly where the sand and grass met. “Or… You could stay with me.” Petal watched the suspicion flitter in her eyes. “I live in the forest between here and Littleroot. You shouldn’t be traveling defenseless and alone with such a young child. The passage into the village is a breeding ground for bandits and frauds I’m afraid. They hide in the thick trees that amass the area.”
A moment of thick silence passed. Ursa observed the sea’s horizon, blue eyes squinting. She turned her attention back to Petal, looking her up and down. Then she nodded. “Thank you. That is very kind of you to offer, Miss….”
“Petal.”
“Petal?” The swordswoman nodded. “Miss petal. Right… Thank you, Miss Petal.”
Cyllene got up but wasn’t happy about it. She begrudgingly obeyed her grandmother, taking her hand as they followed Petal to her home.
But as Petal led the two into the woods, the girl ignored Ursa’s calls to come back after she slipped out of her hold, telling her to at least slow her pace if she was going to walk on her own. When she threatened to pass by Petal herself, she hesitantly offered a deal. “You know, child, if you listen to your granny, I will allow you to watch me clean my blade this evening.” She looked back at the woman for any given offense. But it wasn’t there. She only nodded in approval. The deal worked as expected. Cyllene slowed down. She even grabbed Ursa’s finger to hold as they walked through tall grass and climbed inclines, not committed to grabbing her hand.
Petal’s cabin lay in the thick of the forest, cleverly situated next to a pond. It was quite small but not so small that it wasn't fit for the one person that lived there. The outside was fairly plain and standard, too. Clothes hung on a line to dry. A few bamboo woven baskets sat near the door, the dirt stains at the base making its frequent use obvious. Other than the few amenities, it was quite bare in the front. Nothing to write home about. Cozy looking, though.
As they approached the woman’s home, a creature came lurking out, its horned head kept low to the ground as it drew out a low threatening growl. Ursa stopped where she was but Cyllene giggled, pointing at the beast. “Nana, it’s a pokemon!” She exclaimed.
“Yes, dear, I see that.” She pulled the girl back behind her. “Miss Petal, i-is that—“
“Yes. She is my beast.” She approached the tense creature without fear, firmly pointing to the ground. “Ichigo, HEEL .” Just as she commanded, the canine came to her side, ceasing her aggressive behavior.
Petal turned back to her guests. Ursa remained hesitant to move while Cyllene practically bounced on her heels to get a closer look. “Nothing to worry about, I assure you. Ichigo is practically harmless. She is merely all bark and no bite. Terrible guard, wonderful company.”
This “Ichigo” certainly didn’t look harmless. From the horns atop her head to the long pointed tail. “It’s not…. Common to see companion Pokémon around here. Not since the Empire had driven that cultural tradition out of here those hundreds of years ago. Not even us folk from Fortree Village live with this tradition, not counting the tropius we keep as livestock of course.”
“She is not my companion.” Petal corrected. She stooped down low to pet the pokémon’s head lovingly. “She is my colleague. She has a debt to repay to me for saving her life as a Delvil pup.”
“She’s missing a leg. Wait, um,” Cyllene counted on her fingers. “Yeah! Ingicho only has three legs! Nanna, look!”
Petal laughed at the mispronunciation. “Yes. She is missing a leg.”
“What happened to it? Did she get a owwie? Papa gives good kisses for owwies, maybe when he gets here he can give Gogo a kiss!”
Petal couldn’t help the smile stretching across her face. Her heart danced at the child’s youthful innocence. She asked Ursa for her permission to allow Cyllene to pet Ichigo. She was fearful of the idea at the first, those devilish horns making her sweat, but the way Ichigo began to nudge Petal with her nose, sweetly demanding more pets, convinced her. She pushed the girl forward, who then made a running start towards the canine. Petal stopped her, instructing her to go slow. She would not react well to being run at, she explained. So Cyllene crouched to the grass, shuffling in a peculiar manner towards Ichigo.
“Ichigo was abandoned by her mother as a pup.” Petal began. “She was simply born this way. As a young girl, one of my duties was to care for the Delvil and Hellgar. Ichigo was deemed weak and sick from the start so my superiors seeked to abandon her in the woods outside the village in my home region. So every night I would sneak out and care for her until she could fend for herself. Ichigo is loyal to me in exchange for my assistance.”
“Woah…” Cyllene didn’t listen to a word of what she said. Instead, she was completely enamored in the way Ichigo reveled in her head pats. The way her tail thumped on the ground, her tongue hanging gratefully.
Petal stood and Ichigo followed, Cyllene falling to her bum with a small laugh. “Would you like some tea? I only have the one kind though I’m afraid.” Ursa accepted the offer.
The hours passed by fairly quickly thereafter. For a late supper, the two women prepared hot soba; nothing else on the side as Petal lacked the ingredients to make enough for everyone. Ursa struggled to get Cyllene changed into her less expensive yukata, as to not ruin her fancier dress. Eventually, with some coaxing from Petal, the girl did change. She promised to hold the older woman up in her promise to allow her to pet Ichigo again.
“So that’s why the two of you are here far from your home.”
Ursa sipped her tea. “We wanted to surprise him. But it seems we’ve arrived much too early.”
Cyllene sat looking over the edge of the pond. Innocent giggles rippled through her chest as her reflection rippled through the water. “Your son sounds like a wonderful father. I can tell Cyllene loves him very much.”
“They’re a special duo indeed.” A fond smile grew. “The reason Cyllene wore that kimono was because Orion had bought it for her. Paid a lot to have it delivered here from Kanto. It was meant to be worn for this year’s Omatsuri festival, but she insisted on wearing it to welcome him home. Said she wanted to be pretty for papa.”
Ursa continued to share more about her only grandchild, bragging almost. It was sweet. The way she talked about her was something beyond fondness, beyond love. She seemed to feel blessed whenever she’s allowed the honor to hold the girl without her struggling in her arms. It was clear how close their bond was, how treasured they are to each other.
Petal missed feeling that same kind of blessing…
“What’s that say?” Cyllene pointed, shaking the woman from her thoughts. Petal shooed her hand away from the blade. “It’s an inscription.”
“But what’s it say .”
She rose a skeptical brow. “You can’t read it? I thought a child your age would’ve known how to by now.”
“Fortree doesn’t teach Johtoan.” Ursa supplied. “At least not written Johtoan. We only learn to read and write the true language of Hoenn. That is how we honor our fallen ancestors, the ones who died in the war, who fought for our safety against the Johto empire.”
Right, Petal reminded herself, Fortree is one of the oldest still purely native villages in the region. A village stuck in time, they say. Still speaking old the old Hoennean language, still worshiping three gods rather than the one many other regions under Johto’s control have adopted— all except herself and her clan that is. Yes she worships one god, but He is nothing close to the white gold of the Johto emperor’s affection.
She looked down at the curious girl and back at the etched symbols on her beloved blade. She ran her thumb across the surface. “Dragon...” She whispered. “It translates to Dragon’s Wrath.”
“Woah…..”
“Teach me.” The desperation was clear in her voice.
Petal gently sipped her tea. “No Hello, Miss Petal. How are you, Miss Petal?”
Cyllene growled. “Please! Teach me!”
Children these days, so impatient and demanding. “Teach you what, child?”
The girl with the powder blue hair stamped her foot. “How to wield a sword so that I may justly repay the pirates who harmed my father!”
Petal silently sat her tea aside. She gingerly stood, Cyllene’s stern expression never faltering, nose pinched in foul anger and face going red. Suddenly, without warning, now at her full height, Petal’s sword was drawn, just an inch away from the child’s steep aquiline nose.
Cyllene gasped. She stumbled backwards, falling on her bum with a squeak. Surprise fear filled her wide eyes, focusing on the sharp blade as if to monitor its movements.
Just as suddenly as before, Petal withdrew her blade.
“You do not deserve it.”
Cyllene spluttered. “Why not!”
The woman sat down and resumed her tea. “Because,” She took a sip. “Revenge is a demon that I do not make deals with.”
“But those men hurt my Papa!” Cyllene yelled. “He’s stuck in Rustburo Town with a broken arm and leg and a hurt head. He almost drowned if it weren’t for his captain’s help. Those pirates have to pay! They have to feel the pain my Papa did!”
“Your father is alive, is he not?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then nothing can be done,” She concluded. “What’s happened has happened. Your father is alive and the pirates are gone. It would be frivolous to track down a group of degenerates like that. After all, what is there to be done after the deed has been finished? What goal have you achieved by stooping down to their level of violence?”
Petal almost thought the Fortree girl had run off from how quiet she was.
She now sat with her legs pulled underneath herself, hands clenched in her lap. She hid her eyes.
“I just… I want to protect Papa. And Nanna. They’re my only family.”
Surprisingly still curled up behind her, Petal gazed back at her partner Ichigo. She nudged the horned beast up and mouthed her instructions. Then she stood, towering over the eight year old merely due to age, the elder woman’s height being just below average.
“You are left handed, yes?”
Cyllene fidgeted, still avoiding eye contact. “Um… I’ve been learning to use my right hand but what does—”
“But you are naturally left handed?”
Finally, slowly, Cyllene looked up with small confused eyes. “..…yes?”
Ichigo returned with a bamboo katana replica in her mouth. A training sword Petal still uses on occasion. She placed it in Petal’s palms then went back to her spot, curled up nice and comfortable.
“It will be a challenge then,” She held the false sword out for her to take. Hesitantly, Cyllene reached forward, only stopping a second to make sure she was allowed. Petal nodded her approval. “You must learn to lead with your right as if it were natural all along.”
“You mean…?”
Petal turned and walked in the direction of her personal training grounds where a loan handmade dummy of straw and sticks sat. “Come, child. You have much to learn.”
Cyllene’s silent cheer didn’t go unnoticed.
Cyllene’s chest burned now. A sour taste settled in her mouth. “That was disgusting.” She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her samue.
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad!” Atlas chortled. “It’s a Lilycove staple, the easiest thing to make like ever in existence.”
Cyllene crossed her arms and pointed her nose to the sky. “Well maybe you just made it wrong.”
“Psh,” Atlas dismissed teasingly. “Maybe you just have terrible taste.”
He plopped a berry block into his mouth only to immediately spit it out. “Okay maybe I did make it wrong…”
Cyllene snorted around her mouthful of water. She swallowed and packed the canteen away, already feeling better. She stood with purpose, grabbing the bow and arrow her father gave her for hunting. “I’ll find us something else for dinner. I don’t think I can eat berries for a week after those block-things you tried to poison me with.”
Atlas began to follow her but the older teen stopped him. “Stay here and watch camp. Don’t forget where we’re at right now.” Pokémon are more likely to attack in this area. But it was their only option with the sun currently setting.
“Right. Sorry.” He grabbed her sword and handed it over. “Don’t forget this.” She hummed her appreciation and left.
They were headed to a small village named Ashwood. It used to be bigger, but some decades ago, as the story goes, Groudon grew angry over the settlers, causing earthquakes and later an eruption. It turned the area into a rough terrain of rock and sand, but it wasn’t too uninhabitable. On the edge of the wreckage, Ashwood rebuilt thanks to the descendants of those who managed to survive, no matter how few it was.
Now, Ashwood was known for being a popular resting spot with delicious food and exciting entertainment. But that wasn’t what the two travelers had in mind going there. They needed to refuel on negotiated supplies, stop somewhere to clean their dirty clothes. They planned to stop by Lavaridge, too, just to take a bath in their hot springs. Maybe they could pick up a small job while they’re at it. Master only gave them enough for a meal and one at an inn.
They were traveling the entire mainland of Hoenn as a test of skill. Specifically survival. To prove themselves m. They were allowed luxuries, though they had to make the money themselves for those luxuries, besides the small bit they were given which they already spent days ago at an inn a little ways from Rustboro. A sudden storm had hit, one that would need cover to endure. Now, they needed more cash if the same situation arises; and knowing the region’s sporadic weather change, it was inevitable.
Cyllene slowed her breathing as she zeroed in on the spinda lazing about in the short ashen grass. Easy game. Although not the best meal. Spinda meat was notoriously tough. But it was better than nothing.
“Well what do we have here...” Cyllene jumped causing her grip to loosen, arrow flying off in the other direction. The spinda was scared off into the bush. She sharply turned to see a man with a wide hulking frame and bold turquoise beard and short hair of the same shade, casting a smug grin but his body displayed a contradicting air of kind invitation. He didn’t look like a local. Or sounded like one either. What’s more is he had a large black and white pokemon that reached his shoulders, tongue drooping down and drooling. It looked like a larger linoone with a mutated coat of colors.
Cyllene stood straight, squaring her shoulders. She dropped her bow and gripped the handle of her sword, frowning bitterly.
“What’s a little girl like you doing out here all alone?” The man tried with a friendly tone, his Johtoan a little broken but still recognizable. She pretended not to understand.
He shifted his stance which showed off the hunting rifle hanging off his shoulder. Her eyes fixated on it. His eyes trailed after hers and immediately he untensed. He pushed his rifle up further his shoulder then raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you, love. Just passing through.”
Cyllene squinted.
“I swear it! I’m headed to a place called Mauve Village. ‘S’where my daughter settled. Finally meeting her husband and my new grandson, you see. Was dropped off by a shore in, what’d they call it, the sailors I mean, er—”
“ The Mossy Woods ?”
The man snapped his large fingers. “Yeah that’s it!” His laugh was airy, full of life. Cyllene sensed no malice in the man’s demeanor. He was certainly large, the beast beside him terrifying, but neither didn’t seem to be a threat. Still though, she kept her guard up.
“Say now,” He laughed. “You can talk! And what a pretty voice you have, lassie.”
She flared her nose, not appreciating the unwarranted flattery.
“Oh!” Her body language seemed to have gone unnoticed as the man beckoned for his beast to turn. He pulled a rolled up paper map from the bag the mutated linoone carried. “Thank you, Sweets,” He muttered to the pokemon. She growled low, seeming to smile as if to say you’re welcome. The man unfurled the map and held it out, it looking small in his large hands. “You wouldn’t happen to know if I’m on the right track, would you, dear?”
Cyllene weighed her options. Either this was a trap and she was about to be grabbed, proving her father right that a fourteen year old girl shouldn’t be doing something like this; if she survived this possible attack, she’ll never hear the end of it from him. But then again, what he’s done so far hasn’t been threatening in the slightest. He did sneak from behind her, but then again she is facing away from the main path…
With a sigh, Cyllene recomposed herself. She allowed her muscles to rest but still kept a hold of her sword. With her free hand she pointed at the map. “If you stay on this path you’ll reach a desert; don’t go through it. ”
He nodded vigorously then stopped. “Er, why?”
“You don’t know the terrain. It’s dangerous.” She explained. “Instead, take this cave called the Fiery Path.”
“Ah.” He nodded. His partner nodded, too, mimicking him. “Sounds dangerous.”
Cyllene shrugged. “Not really. It’s better than trekking the desert without properly preparing at least. Now,” She pointed again. “Once you leave the path, you’ll turn south and keep going.”
“And I’ll reach Mauve Village from there?”
Cyllene nodded.
The man cheered. “Here that, Gooney? You’re gonna see your little Isla soon!” The pokemon gave an excited roar. Cyllene couldn’t help the endearing grin. Which soon faltered, resetting to her typical straight and serious face.
The man turned his attention back to Cyllene, “Thank you kindly, Miss! Was very helpful! Here, I’ll repay you for your assistance.”
Cyllene waved her hands. “Uh, no, that wouldn’t be necessary, sir. I-I was just—”
“Nonsense!” He boomed. “S’only right.” Reaching into his bag again, he pulled out a lumpy clump of cloth bigger than her hand, which only seemed smaller because of his huge claws. He thrusted the clump towards her. It smelled good. Food?
He realized her confusion and unwrapped the clump, revealing it to be…. “Bread?”
“Bannock. Something to eat. Since I scared off that wee snack of yours.”
Cyllene shook her head. “I can’t take your food, sir. You still have ways to go until your destination.”
“Ack, it’s fine. Really! Can always make more, dear. S’no trouble at all. I insist.”
“Okay…” She took the bread wearily. The man only continued to smile. “Uh.. Thank you?”
“You’re welcome!” He chirped. “Well, I’m off then. Again, thank you— Oh! You can call me Wallace, by the way. Named by my father and his father before him, so most just call me Wally or Ace. And this is Sweets, my obstagoon. What’s yours, darling?”
Cyllene stayed quiet, watching this “ Wallace ” intently.
Wallace nodded stiffly. He gathered himself and Sweets and ventured forward, calling over his shoulder. “Was nice meeting you, lass. Be careful out there and thanks again.”
Cyllene made it back to camp in one piece, the moon now settled across the island. She dropped the bread onto Atlas’ stomach, who had fallen asleep while she was gone. He scrambled awake, alert and confused.
“Eat up, bitch. Bagged us some bread.” She plopped down carelessly onto the fabric covering the ashy grass.
Atlas peaked under the cloth as if he didn’t believe her. “What’d you do, rob a baker?”
“Sure.”
He fell flat. “You know, I can never tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”
Cyllene reached over and snatched the pastry back. Atlas grumbled. “Not my fault you’re stupid.”
She shoved a piece of bread in her mouth and immediately fell in love. Smokey. Nutty, even. And another flavor she couldn’t quite identify. Hm… salty, but kind of creamy? A little bitter. Not bad. It was really, really good though.
“Hey don’t hog it all! Gimmie a piece!” Cyllene dodged the hand that sprang out to grab at the pastry. When that failed, Atlas threw himself at the girl, pinning her down and taking the bread for himself. He took a large bite and hummed. Cyllene kicked him off and took the bread back, ripping off the saliva soaked bits he ate from.
“You’re so fucking gross,” Cyllene gagged. “I had the decency to pick a piece off , not put my whole gross mouth on it like a swallot at a feast.”
Atlas laughed. She threw the chunks of bread at him, eliciting more laughter. “You called your own mouth gross, ha!”
Cyllene rolled her eyes.
Cyllene ran a damp rag across the blade’s surface, it reflecting the soft orange glow of the fire ahead of her.
“I’ve always wondered what your sword says.” Rei spoke up.
“Oh yeah,” Akari agreed, putting her whittling aside. “It looks Johtoan, but not the kind I learned.”
Cyllene looked at the teenagers she was forced to tag along with. They were traveling to the Pearl Clan to deliver medicine. It required more manpower than the supply corp currently had so Rei had volunteered his help. Kamado then thought it sounded fit for Akari to help too. And Laventon. And eventually the entire survey corp was dragged into it. With a prediction of terrible winter storms in the months ahead, Irida had asked for Jubilife’s assistance in making a bulk of medication as they often get hit hard in the winter, snowfall becoming dangerous and temperatures reaching below what they can usually handle, far too much to leave to make medicine themselves when sickness breaks— and it will, without fail, because it always does in the winter. Kamado offered refuge in the village, but Irida refused. She said it would be cowardly of them to do. He doesn’t understand why it would be that way, but he doesn’t argue about it. Still though, he left the offer open. For the Diamond Clan, too, he didn’t leave them out. Another group was on their way to them, in fact.
“If it’s Johtoan, why can’t you read it?” Rei asked.
Akari shrugged as she picked at the fire with a nearby stick. “Just before I was born, our writing system changed. A new emperor took the throne and suddenly decided he didn’t like the old one and changed it. I grew up with the new system. The older one is kind of hard to decipher on your own if you lack the experience.”
“Hm. Makes sense.” Rei then turned to his superior captain. “But wait, I thought you were from Hoenn, Captain. Why does your katana have Johtoan words on it?”
Cyllene continued gently polishing her blade. She made a mental note to give it a good sharpening when she got home.
Before she could reply, Akari spoke again. “Yeah, and you’re from Fortree right? I heard in Fortree they, like, shun the use of Johtoan even though most of Hoenn still speak it.”
“Wait really?” Akari nodded.
“At least that’s what I heard when I lived in Slateport for that one year. Some traders from Fortree spoke in broken Johtoan. I could barely understand them. When I asked the locals, that’s what they told me.”
“Everyone’s patient with them though. I think our host family said it was honorable what they were doing? Like, keeping their Hoenn ancestors spirits alive or something?”
“It is an honor.” Cyllene finally spoke. She set the rag aside in a bowl next to Laventon who had already dozed off, lightly snoring with Akari’s pikachu sound asleep in his lap.
She admired the gleam of her sword carefully. “After our fall to the Johtoans, our mother tongue and culture was quickly banned. But Fortree’s impossible terrain provided us safety. Frequent and unpredictable rainfall created floods. The thick flora made it hard to navigate even when it was clear; at least to those who were not native to the area. So our village leader at the time took it in his hands to save our language. They say even the mighty god of the sky, Rayquaza, approved of this feat, which is a boastful pleasantry seeing as Rayquaza is a stubborn and silent god.”
Rei smiled and chuckled a little. “It sounds like you really like talking about your home, Captain.” Akari laughed along in agreement.
Cyllene flushed. She picked up the rag again and pretended she had missed a spot. “It’s hard not to when the Johtoans ruined our name with those abhorrent history books and stereotyping. I’m proud of my heritage and would be glad to properly spread its truth.”
Akari squirmed with guilt. Cyllene noticed and quickly apologized. “No offense.”
Akari waved it off. “None taken!” She laughed. “But… that doesn’t explain your sword. Now that I have a better look at it, it’s Johtoan made. Kind of looks like my great uncle’s. He was a samurai until they were outlawed. Mom kept his sword to honor him and stuff.”
“Yeah,” Rei nudged his head toward her sword. “Now that you mention it, it is I guess. Old man Yuto, one of the new villagers that came in last month, is from Hoenn. I think he fought in that war that freed Hoenn from Johto control. His sword has a totally different style to yours.”
He’s right. Her sword does have a completely different style and make than the traditional Hoenn katana the blacksmiths picked up during the war. Hers has the weapon’s signature curve but is shorter than a traditional katana, in fact resembling a Johto style blade, as opposed to the much longer blade the Hoenn rebels had forged. Granted, Master forged it herself, so it could be her own elements and additions. Her signature, if you will. But she doesn’t know much about her old Master to confirm this.
Sure, she spent most of her childhood going back and forth from Fortree to that thick forest north west of Littleroot. Trained with Petal until she was old enough to independently take jobs— not independently, Atlas was always by her side, she was never alone. Not until they were 22 that is.
Master Petal taught her how to disarm an opponent. Never taught her to kill, despite Cyllene doing exactly that behind her back. Hey, they needed money. If Atlas wasn’t going to tell, she wasn’t either. Simple assassinations filled their pockets. And it wasn’t revenge killing on their behalf, it was the customer’s, so who cares? They weren’t really breaking Master’s rules.
Petal was like a mother to her, but despite that, Cyllene didn’t know much about her. All she knew was she came from some esteemed clan in Johto related to dragons. Someone taught her how to forge weapons and how to use those weapons. And she fled her home and a family she might’ve had for a reason she never disclosed. She was a big mystery that she respected too much to step over and enrage. If she didn’t want to talk then so be it.
She glanced over to her young recruits then back to her sword. She thumbed over the language she never learned but instead only memorized the characters’ meaning in memory of her dear Master, the woman she had always wished to call mother at least once. She swallowed. “Dragon’s Wrath.”
Rei made an audible huh.
“I inherited it.” She found it amongst two corpses. Covered in blood, whose it was exactly neither young adult could tell. But probably Petal’s. Maybe.
Someone had obviously sought her out, however. They knew her and she knew them, otherwise the door would’ve been broken down but it wasn’t. What looked like bullet holes embedded themselves on Petal’s and Ichigo’s side and back and their heads. Atlas couldn’t stomach touching it, so Cyllene took it and kept it close until they reached Slateport. She then cleaned and sharpened it carefully. “I don’t know what it means. Only that it meant a lot to my Master.”
Rei nudged Akari. She shrugged. “Never heard that saying before. Cianwood doesn't get dragons so that’s probably why. Besides Lugia that is. Although scientists these days say she isn’t a dragon..”
Cyllene sheathed her prized weapon and sat it on her left side. She was initially taught right handed but her stubborn nature convinced her it would be easy to translate everything she learned into a left hander’s language. It wasn’t easy at all but she got through it well enough, cuts and bruises be damned. She’s ready enough to draw her blade in case any of those nasty thieves snuck up on them and they weren’t quick enough to call their pokemon. Since they’ve opened up more room for more settlers recently, with a couple new villages popping up, more criminals have slipped through, causing trouble not just for the village but for the clans, too.
“I don’t care to find out what it means or where it came from. I know who I obtained it from and that’s all that matters now.” She stood with a short grunt, her legs having gone to sleep. “Now you two should be getting to bed. It’s late.”
The teens did as their captain instructed, splitting up to lay in their respective tents. Akari called pikachu’s name and he awoke easily and came running, stretching and yawning before he did.
Cyllene shook the professor awake, which was hard to do as he’s a heavy sleeper. Eventually, he did get up, sheepishly wiping drool off his chin and groggily stumbling towards the tent. A yelp that sounded like Rei came, Laventon profusely apologizing coming shortly after. Apparently he stepped on the kid’s foot. Clumsy man.
Cyllene turned to the three security guards on duty, “One of you can take a break. I’m too awake to sleep right now. I can keep watch.”
Once agreed upon who can be relieved of duty, the guard left for one of the tents, leaving her one pokemon with the others in case they needed it. Cyllene silently took the guard’s spot on one side of the camp, keeping her senses sharp, her Abra close, and her sword in a white knuckled grip.