Chapter Text
He was a man lost to space and time, only recalling his name and the faintest whispers of what he used to be. Muddled and confused, he was taken in by a clan of settlers who revered the space of the sprawling icelands around them, and he soon found himself burdened by the responsibilities of a warden. He didn’t mind the duties assigned to him because of the unique skills he possessed, such as inherent knowledge of the pokémon in the wilderness and how to gain favour with them. It was something that came naturally to him, likely to be connected to his elusive past, though there’s disappointingly little information to be gained from such minor clues…
Day to day, the warden’s waking life was one that followed a routine, a schedule, an almost monotonous program but with enough variation to be stimulating. He would tend to his noble pokémon, patrol the highlands, and help wandering travellers that would come by, which kept him occupied enough to not think on his own for too long. Despite the semi-stable state of his life, in the back of his mind was always this sense of uncertainty, unrest, anxiety, or even dread. Whenever the silence was thick enough such that his own whispering thoughts could be heard, he would inevitably start to reflect, looking into himself and seeing nothing but an empty chasm. But it wasn’t the emptiness itself that he was afraid of, no, it was the thought that something used to be there, something he held so dear to his heart that its absence created such a gaping abyss.
He could distract himself from such things by busying himself in the day, but the same could not be said for when the sky would darken and all were called to rest. As long as he was tired enough to immediately fall asleep, everything would be fine… but then came the problem of the vivid dreams he would experience. They were not bad dreams, nor were they ever nightmares, but they’d leave him shaken when he woke up, his mind desperately scrambling for the fleeting sounds and fading scenes which would rapidly plummet into the chasm. He knew for a fact that he was dreaming about the past—so warm and vibrant and filled with every emotion—but every time, all he would recover from the darkness were mere echoes and overflowing tears.
Sleep did not come easy to him after those dreams, so he would busy himself yet again, even if it were in the middle of night. Literally any activity would be fine as long as it demanded his focus, but he soon started to favour the art of carving. It was a quiet activity that didn’t disturb others, there were plenty of small scrap wood pieces around, and it would give a satisfying, tangible result. His own creations didn’t always make sense to him, but he would carve whatever would come to mind, carefully etching into wood with roughened hands and a simple knife. He even tried making a replica of his warden band one time, though it was certainly rough around the edges and ended up not looking much like the original. Still, he would wear it on occasion over his left wrist, as if balancing out the warden band on his right.
It didn’t take long until someone noticed it, however. He hadn’t expected his crudely made ornament to catch the eye of the clan’s old craftsman, but it was enough to initiate conversation between them, which led to the craftsman inviting him to his little workshop. Many intricately made pieces both practical and decorative were found in that humble space, but the craftsman sadly admitted that the workshop would soon be emptied since he was getting on in years and had no one to take his place. Thus, the craftsman was searching for a suitable apprentice to pass these unique traditional techniques to. It didn’t matter if it was an outsider, just as long as they displayed the skills and signs of interest.
The warden already had his many duties to tend to, yet he found himself accepting the craftsman’s offer. Perhaps it was the promise of improving a skill, or just another reason to distract himself from the widening hole in his chest, but either way he would surely get some benefit out of it. He would learn as much as he could while in the clan settlement, and then diligently practise the techniques when he was out in the highlands. Many months had gone by, and the old craftsman soon told him that he was talented enough to surpass, to go to even greater heights as a craftsman with the skills he’d gained, but the warden stayed as the warden in the end. Even when the old craftsman passed away, leaving his little workshop cold and abandoned, it was as if nothing had changed.
The warden still frequented the workshop, however. On nights he couldn't sleep, he would quietly work in there, creating whatever came to his mind in the moment. Soon, the shelves were filled with his collection of small decorative pieces depicting daily items, people or pokémon… but, in a sense, they were all very easy to make. He began looking towards carving something larger, more challenging and with more complicated components. A project like that would surely take up his attention for a good long while… and his eyes had happened to settle on one of his teacher’s creations at that very moment.
It was a small wooden doll. It possessed no clothes nor any facial features so it appeared like an incomplete piece, but the carefully made sockets and joints that allowed for manoeuvrability was fascinating to him. Indeed, this was the challenge he was looking for, but it shall be bigger, better, and more complex! The only setback was the limited materials he had so there was not much choice but to settle with a doll around the size of a child. An adult-sized doll would probably be unsettling to look at anyway.
So he soon got to work, and he was certainly right about how challenging the task would be, though he severely underestimated how long it would take. Each segment was to be made with care and precision so it could be pieced together with the other components of the system flawlessly. If there was any mistake, any miscalculation, he would have to start again, and there were several instances where he had to completely rework his design. It was exasperating at times, but still, to have that special project to personally work on was inspiring. Invigorating, even!
It certainly took time, but eventually almost all parts were assembled, leaving only one more component which was perhaps the most crucial. Funnily enough, he hadn’t thought much about what the head should look like, just that he didn’t want to leave it featureless. Admittedly this would be difficult to do without a model to base it on, so he ended up using his own features. Mostly. There was only one modification he purposely did while carving the face for the doll, and that was to curve the corners of the mouth upwards instead of downwards. Even though any smiling expressions did not come naturally to the warden, he felt it was only right that the doll should not be limited in such a way. If anything, the doll should be allowed to smile… and because it was something of his creation, he would want it to be happy. Perhaps it was irrational of him to think that, since the doll would be nothing but a doll. Just chunks of wood pieced together to resemble a human. Even so, it was a decision that came naturally to him—it just felt right even though he didn’t know exactly why.
It was already late in the evening when he’d finally assembled everything, carefully attaching the head as the last piece of the puzzle, and he allowed himself a moment to stand back and observe his hard work. The child-sized doll was sitting atop the workbench, hands neatly placed on its lap and posture straight as it stared ahead with open eyes. It would look creepy if it wasn’t for the gentle uplift of its lips, giving the doll a kinder expression as if it was content to just sit and gaze at nothing in particular. The finishing touches had yet to be added, but the doll already appeared strangely life-like in the dim lamplight of the workshop. Only the segmented body parts revealed that it was a doll and the swirling patterns indicated the pale wood it was composed of.
The doll wasn’t perfect—nothing would ever be by the warden’s standards—but he felt satisfied with the result. There was a sense of fulfilment in finally being able to see the fruits of his efforts, to reach the end goal he had envisioned so long ago. He had certainly gained a few wrinkles and lost a few hairs in the process, but none of that really mattered to him as he gazed upon his creation. From start to finish, he was involved in every part of the process. Every cut was a decision, every etch was done with care, every segment was imbued with thought… and he could remember it all just by looking at the doll. In a sense, the doll now existed as a physical symbol of his memories. Separate from him, but a part of him all the same.
Perhaps that was why he gave the doll his warden band replica, slipping it over the left hand to let it sit loosely on the wrist. The roughly carved ornament was certainly not as refined as the doll itself, yet it still looked to be a suitable accessory. Speaking of accessories, he would definitely need to provide the doll with appropriate clothes too, but that could be left for another day. After all, he was exhausted and tired to the point that he could probably pass out at the very sight of a bed, so it didn’t take any time at all for him to close the workshop, leaving it in silent darkness.
That night, he slept deeply and peacefully, and when he awoke with rapidly fading scenes in his head, the only thing that seemed to stick with him was the faintest feeling of happiness. It was certainly a change from the sorrow that usually plagued him, but a good change nonetheless. His bright mood carried him through his morning routine, and he soon arrived at the workshop with a sense of excitement. There were still some small things he needed to add to his doll, and he hoped to get them done quickly before he was to head out for his warden duties. So he slid open the door to the workshop with enthusiasm, only to be greeted by a most peculiar sight.
His workshop was definitely not in the state he left it in. His smaller wood carvings were scattered across the floor, or rather, deliberately placed on the floor… and sitting in the middle of it all was the doll, looking at him with wide open eyes.
Without a word, he promptly slid the door shut. It could all be explained by someone or something sneaking into the workshop at night and messing with his creations. Yes, it could easily be explained by just that. A simple prank. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that the doll was looking at him just then. Those wooden eyes seemed to move inside their sockets during that briefest moment of eye contact, actually turning and focusing on him.
He could open the door to confirm if that was actually the case. He could just slide it open right then to get all the answers, but instead he just stood in front of the entrance completely still. And before he could even move his hand, the door opened on its own by just a crack, and curiously peering out from there was the doll’s smiling face.
From that point it was undeniable. The doll really was moving on its own like a creation that suddenly came to life.
For some reason, the warden’s first impulse was to step into the workshop and close the door behind him. The doll seemed to be surprised by that, staggering back with clumsy steps before falling flat on its rear. The impact caused several wooden figures on the floor to tip over as well, and the doll looked down and around at the mess it made.
Truly, it was surreal to witness a wooden doll move and behave like an actual living thing, but the warden was more concerned about helping the doll back onto its feet. He reached out with an open hand, but the doll started picking up the surrounding wood carvings instead, collecting them in its hands before offering them to him with a smile. Such a simple action, but it seemed to imply that the doll recognised who these little creations belonged to.
The warden hadn’t expected that, but he took the carvings anyway and placed them aside before helping the doll up. For the briefest moment he was surprised by how light it was, as if he expected it to have the weight of a real human child, but in the end it’s still a doll made of wood.
Just how in the world did it come to life? Or would it be more accurate to say it’s being manipulated or possessed by something? It could very well be a pokémon with the many different types who enjoy playing tricks like this, or perhaps a ghost who’s found a suitable vessel… yet none of those answers seemed right to him. As his eyes locked with the doll’s, he suddenly had the impression that the doll knew exactly what it was and how it came to be. There was already a connection between them from the moment he first started carving, though he never realised that.
The doll’s eyes, although unblinking and made of wood, somehow carried so much expression within them, so much joy and delight which perfectly matched the tilt of its smile. Without warning, the wooden creation sprung forward to hug its creator, deeply grateful for its existence in the present, and the warden was left stunned for a moment. A sense of familiarity washed over him and there was an itch in the back of his mind. Even though this doll was something he created, something he was definitely meeting for the first time, it was as if he knew this doll already. Like an old friend he knew his whole life… And he already felt great warmth and fondness for this creation of his—perhaps a natural kind of affection, like the unconditional love between parent and child.
So, of course, the first thing he needed to do was to get his doll dressed. He couldn’t just leave it unclothed like that, even if the warmth of the garments wouldn’t do anything since the doll doesn’t appear to be affected by the cold. He wasn’t sure if the doll could actually sense anything through touch, though the logical conclusion would be that it couldn’t, or at least not to the same extent that humans sense things.
Procuring clothes for his doll was actually much easier than he’d thought it would be, since all he needed to do was to ask around the clan and some parents were willing to offer the clothes that their children had grown out of. Naturally, he received a few suspicious looks in regards to his request, but as soon as he mentioned that it was related to his warden duties, they easily complied.
He didn’t want to stay in the settlement for long after that, so he’d quickly packed his things for a trip to his station in the highlands. He had every intention of bringing his doll with him, though how he would do that was a problem. Currently, his doll was nicely bundled up with a thick jumper with the clan insignia on it, a beanie to cover his head, a warm pair of pants with the ends tucked into white two-toed socks, and a pair of traditional sandals for travelling on snow. From a distance, the doll easily looked like a child, but that didn’t mean the warden could just walk around the settlement with the doll by his side. He needed to somehow sneak the doll outside without anyone seeing it, and the best solution came in the form of a tall and cylindrical foraging basket.
So that’s how he ended up leaving the settlement early with a travel pack on his back and a lidded basket in his arms. When they were far enough into the wilderness, he allowed the doll out of the basket to walk on its own, but it was still quite clumsy with its coordination, tottering about like a newborn deerling. Holding the doll’s hand certainly helped, and the way it smiled up at him with a joyful glint in its eyes once again brought back that rush of familiarity.
Their journey to the highlands actually took less time than he expected, despite the extra passenger on board. Although the doll was still getting accustomed to walking, it never needed to take a break since it never seemed to run out of energy. It was able to keep up by the warden’s side and never strayed too far, even when it was clearly interested in the wild pokémon. The warden warned his doll of how easily it could be damaged if it got too close and took a hit from the local pokémon, but that didn’t stop the glimmer of fascination in the doll’s eyes.
That gave the warden a thought. He couldn’t let his doll interact with wild pokémon for obvious reasons, but perhaps if he befriended and trained a team of his own then he wouldn’t have to worry about any accidents occurring. Strangely enough, he hadn’t thought about gathering his own team of pokémon yet… or was it that the concept never existed in his head until now? No one else in the clan had more than one pokémon companion, yet there was this odd feeling that he knew of people who had impressive teams of six or more!
He could do that. He knew he was very much capable of capturing such a team, and it seemed his doll was the one who inadvertently inspired that thought… or was it a recollection?
When they arrived at their station and prepared to settle in for the evening, the doll stuck by his side the entire time. It would tug his coat to get his attention or curiously reach out to help with a task, and it seemed to be trying its best to be useful. The warden certainly appreciated it, but it didn’t feel right to give his duties to the doll to do. He hadn’t spent all that time and effort carving a doll, only for it to come to life and act as his servant or assistant.
So he told the doll what he thought, and it appeared a little confused. The doll couldn’t speak, nor could it emote anything beyond a smile, but it seemed to be asking a question as it cocked its head to the side. Somehow, the warden could tell that it was asking about what it should be doing, what its purpose was, why it was here right now…
And the warden wasn’t sure. He wasn’t one to consider philosophical or existential questions very much, so he just answered with what he honestly thought.
“You are here because you are, and you can be whatever you want to be.”
He wasn’t sure if those were the right words or if they made any sense, but the doll seemed to take them to heart. It still stuck by his side, but something had changed. When he ate his evening meal, the doll picked up an empty bowl along with a pair of thin sticks to pretend to eat with him, and when he laid down to rest, the doll also laid down right next to him and nuzzled into his side. The doll didn’t require the warmth of a blanket nor did it even need to sleep, but it appeared very happy to be allowed under the covers, cuddling close to its creator.
That night, the warden slept and dreamed as he usually would, but something was different. In his dream there was a hazy figure—it appeared to be a man wearing a coat and hat just like his but white instead of black. The man stood in the distance and his back was turned, but then he spun around, showing his incredibly familiar face. Swirling patterns of pale wood marked his skin, a warm wide smile was carved on his face, and segments of his body jostled and rattled like he was vibrating with excitement. The man in white seemed overjoyed, and his mouth appeared to be moving, saying something important, but the words were drowned out by a constant rumbling noise which gradually grew louder and louder until there was a blinding flash of light.
The warden was very surprised when he woke up. Firstly, he actually remembered his peculiar dream, and secondly, there was a wooden doll clinging to him. Of course, he was well aware of everything that happened yesterday, but it almost didn’t feel real so he’d partly expected the doll to just… not be here. Or at least not stuck to him like this.
He gently shook the doll’s shoulder and that seemed to rouse it from stillness. He could hear the soft clatter and slide of wood as the doll’s joints rotated in their sockets, and it suddenly reminded him of the man in white he saw in his dream. Much of that unique scene was nonsensical, but it had a warm and lighthearted feeling to it, just like the warm smile on the doll’s face right now.
Although the warden couldn’t quite offer a smile in return, he instead fondly patted his doll on the head. It was just in the perfect position for it, and the doll appeared to greatly enjoy the affectionate touch, its small wooden body trembling with happiness. At that moment, for some reason, the warden felt like it was his duty to protect that happiness. Even though it wasn’t that long since they’d formally met, the doll was already so precious to him and somewhere within the deep chasm of his lonesome heart, a little warm bud was sprouting, reaching up with wooden branches to gradually fill the vast emptiness around it.
Perhaps it was then that he realised the doll wasn’t a doll to him anymore. It didn’t feel right to refer to it as a doll—a thing that’s void of sentience and personality. What he was looking at right now was a child, a young boy, his ward to care for… and although he had yet to bestow a proper name, he had a strange feeling that the boy already had one from the start.