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Having three children usually didn’t lead to a quiet home. Clara Striaton knew that all too well. Though two of those three were usually much easier to deal with (and for that she was thankful), the third of them was a small, fiery whirlwind of chaotic energy. Not that Clara would change anything about him if she could. Sure, sometimes going to parent-teacher conferences at the Trainers’ School was painfully embarrassing, but Clara didn’t mind. It was better than how Coriander chose to handle him.
Clara looked out the window of the kitchen. Dinner had long finished, four clean plates and four glasses now sitting on the counter waiting to be put away. She’d promised the three of them they could play until it was dark out. Usually she would be much less lenient about bedtime—they would always complain about it, but Clara had her reasons—but Coriander had called to tell her he’d be back late from the Gym. Thank Arceus for small mercies, Clara had thought. Even if she knew he was probably off with that new twenty-year-old Gym Trainer he’d taken on the week before, it was better than him being home while the boys were up. They were just seven. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t —have them seeing what went on after they went to bed.
The front door opened, a loud cry of “Mama!” snapping Clara out of her thoughts. She froze. With Chili, that could mean anything from “look at this rock I found” to “someone needs to go to the hospital.” As Clara turned around, her heart sank to discover that it was closer to the latter. Chili was holding Cilan’s arm, Cress trailing behind with a look on his face like he’d seen death. Cilan himself was sniffling, close to tears, and he was covering one of his eyes with the other hand. Clara knelt down, long purple braid brushing the floor as she gently moved Cilan’s hand away from his face.
It was bleeding. Badly. Clara picked him up and put him on the counter, looking back at the other two. “One of you get me the first aid kit, do you know where that is?”
Chili was off like a shot, and Clara’s attention turned to Cress. “What happened?”
“Chili wanted to go into the tall grass… I tried to tell him no but—”
“No you didn’t!” Chili gave his mom the first aid kit before glaring at his brother. “You didn’t say—”
“Boys.”
Clara fixed the two of them with a look, and they both promptly shut up. Clara sighed; even in the worst of times, those two would find something to fight about. She just prayed they would grow out of it one day. Another sniffle caught her attention, and she turned back to Cilan. He was covering his eye with his hand again, and Clara gently moved it away. “Don’t touch it, sweetheart, that might make it worse.” She took a glass from the group by the sink and got enough water from the sink to cover the bottom. Murmuring a few quiet reassurances, Clara managed to get some of the water into Cilan’s eye, though he squeezed it shut on instinct before much could get in.
“Ow, ow, ow…”
“I know, I know.” That would be enough, Clara decided, and she set about cleaning the blood from his face. It was close to his eye, but not enough to do any real damage, thankfully. It wouldn't hurt to visit the doctor and see what they said about it, but Clara thought Cilan would be fine for now.
“There.” She brushed his hair out of his face, giving him a quick kiss on his forehead for good measure. “We’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and make sure, but I think it’s okay for now.”
“Okay.” Cilan jumped off the counter, and Clara sighed in relief. Good. Everything would be okay, at least for tonight. As Cilan went to stand with his brothers, she turned to look at the clock. It was 8:30, and it was already dark out. Coriander wouldn’t be back for a while yet, thankfully, but Clara had kept them up long enough.
“Alright. Off to bed, you three, you still have school tomorrow.”
As usual, this was met with some resistance, but after a bit Cilan and Cress finally went up to their room for the night. As Clara started on putting the plates and glasses from dinner away—she’d forgotten them in the panic of Cilan’s injury—she became aware of a set of red eyes looking at her.
She turned her head to look at Chili, who was sitting at the table, his cheek resting on folded arms on the counter. He looked like a kicked Lillipup, and Clara couldn’t blame him. She was sure it had been scary.
Once everything had been put away, she joined him at the table. Clara laid her hand on his arm, her thumb rubbing the skin gently. “Was Cress telling the truth?” she asked gently. She knew he was, of course, but she wanted to give Chili the opportunity.
Chili looked down at the table, and Clara knew to take that as a yes. She just sighed sympathetically, ruffling Chili’s hair. “You know you’re not supposed to go into the tall grass, not until you have your own Pokemon.” She tried to keep the scolding out of her tone. He didn’t need that right now, she knew that. Besides, she refused to be anything like Coriander.
“I’m sorry.” The sentence was a low mumble. “I just wanted to look at the Pokemon, I didn’t think they’d jump out like that. I didn’t think that Purrloin would go after Cilan, either…”
“I know.” Clara brushed some of Chili’s hair out of his face. It was getting longer; Coriander had been complaining about that. “But please be more careful. Right dangerous, those Pokemon can be.”
Chili nodded, and Clara gave him a soft smile. “Good. Now, off upstairs. I’ll be by in a bit to check on you three, alright?”
Chili smiled back at her before running upstairs, and Clara’s smile disappeared. They deserved much better than this. They deserved better than Coriander, but it wasn’t like Clara had anywhere to go. All her family was in Galar; she wasn’t even sure if they knew the boys existed. And it wasn't like she had any friends here in Striaton City. Coriander dealt with all the money, there was no way she could get them out of Unova without him finding out within the hour.
Even never being home, Coriander still managed to be a dark cloud over the Striaton house, Clara thought bitterly. The only thing she could be thankful for was that he’d never laid a hand on the boys. Better her than them.
With one last look at the clock, Clara got up from the table and tucked some stray hair behind her ear. She should probably go check on them.