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Mahalo Trail is well-traveled. And of all the places he’s been to in Alola, Hau likes it the best. He visits more than anyone else he knows, except for Gramps, but he’s the Kahuna so he’s always up at the Ruins of Conflict doing something. Hala lets him tag along sometimes, tasking him with sweeping up all the clutter that’d collected on the steps leading up to the altar or picking up the little branches that fall onto the path, tying them in bundles to take back into town. His chest burns at the memory, shame and fear welling up and spilling over the sides.
Still, Hau likes Mahalo Trail better than anywhere else in the whole world. Wildflowers and grasses grow freely alongside it, Pikipek and Spearow make their homes in the trees and in the hollows of fallen logs: it’s quiet and pretty and no one’s ever there to tell him not to try and climb the cliff faces that surround it.
Maybe that’s why his feet led him here. No one ever comes to Mahalo Trail so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him cry.
Hau stumbles up the first set of wooden steps, his vision blotchy with tears and legs weak from exhaustion, but he doesn’t let himself stop; he just runs, swiping at his eyes with one hand as he rounds the first switchback. As he peels around the corner, Hau’s foot catches on a root and the next thing he knows he’s on the ground, palms and knees stinging. He doesn’t doubt that they might be bleeding.
The silence as he recovers is brief: a few seconds of peace as he gulps down air that was knocked out of his lungs during the fall. Then, the tears come back tenfold. His entire frame shakes with sobs as fat tears roll down his cheeks, falling from his face and leaving small speckles in the dirt as he cries. At some point he falls backwards into a sitting position, tucking his knees up into his chest and rocking back and forth slowly. Hau tries to be quiet, he really does, but it’s just too much—
He doesn’t know how long it takes but, eventually, the tears begin to slow. The memory of Gramps’ twisted face and the echoes of his thunderous voice start to retreat. His breath evens out and his heart doesn’t feel like it’s trying to bust out of his chest anymore, so he uses the back of his hand to wipe away some of the snot on his face. A few tears leak from his eyes, and Hau wipes them away the best he can.
There’s a rustling in the bushes just off to his left, then a weird sort of crackling noise, like someone crumpling up a receipt, and a weird smell that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It reminds him of the ruins. Ozone, he thinks it’s called. And even though Hau doesn’t really want to, he peeks over the tops of his knees, searching. Someone from the village might’ve found him already, and his stomach twists. But it’s not anyone from the village: it’s a Pokémon.
Small and yellow with big ears and pink cheeks, the Pichu opens its mouth and makes that weird sort of crackling sound again. Gramps always told him to be careful around wild Pokémon but… it’s a Pichu. And he doesn’t really want to think about Gramps right now so he extends a hand and scratches Pichu between the ears, delighting in the way it leans into his touch. Still, just as soon as it appeared, Pichu ducks out of reach of his fingers and scampers away towards the underbrush.
“Hey, get back here!” Hau calls after it, pouting.
Pichu pauses, looks back and waves, twitching an ear. And then it disappears into a nearby bush. Hau doesn’t even stop to think— rising to his feet and giving chase with a watery laugh. Together, they tumble through the undergrowth. Pichu is small and fast, weaving through the plants with ease, darting in and out of sight. Every now and then it’ll peek up over its shoulder, moving even faster when it sees Hau still following. Eventually, they slow. When Hau glances around he can tell they’re somewhere on Route 1, probably one of the offshoot paths that leads to a dead end.
There’s a strange sound that’s sorta like the one Pichu made before, and Hau glances up to see a Pikipek fluttering a few feet above the ground. Immediately, he can tell what’s going to happen.
“No!” Hau calls. “Don’t be mean!”
Pichu doesn’t seem to hear him, or doesn’t care at least: electricity starting to spark off of its fur. Pikipek doesn’t seem to know what to do, frozen like a Stantler in headlights— so before Hau can put any more thought into it he snatches up Pichu, tucking it in close to his chest. The movement startles it so bad it lets out a squeak and shoots off a zap.
“Ow!” Hau shrieks, spitting out a few bad words he’s heard some adults say over the years, shaking out one of his hands and trying to get the stinging sensation to go away. Pichu crackles uncertainly, tiny body limp in his grip. Slowly, carefully, Hau pokes at one of its ears. The thing twitches a bit and he lets out a sigh of relief, petting the Pokémon down its back.
“I’m sorry about that, but you really shouldn’t be so mean,” he chastises. “Pikipek didn’t do anything to us, so you don’t get to attack it.”
Pikipek studies him for a moment, looking between boy and Pichu and back again before fluttering up into a nearby tree. Hau watches as Pikipek plucks a berry from the tree and immediately drops it, smacking Hau right between the eyes, bouncing off and rolling away into a strip of grass. Pikipek chirps and drops another berry, trilling as it flies circles around Hau’s head.
“Thank you!” he calls as Pikipek flies off. Pichu hops out of his hand and chases after the berries. Hau waits a few seconds to follow it, still fixated on Pikipek’s silhouette before it finally disappears from view.
He turns and joins Pichu over by the grass, where it’s searching for the dropped berries, which probably isn’t made any easier by the fact that the grass is the height of poor Pichu. She gets close but right before it can find the berries, someone new is shoving Pichu aside and snatches up both berries.
Munchlax stuffs them into its mouth. He doesn’t even bother to chew, swallowing it whole and turning to Hau. Pichu whines and points to the tree. “Munch,” the thing says, almost expectant. Pichu whimpers again as Munchlax yanks up handfuls of grass and shovels them into its mouth.
Hau looks up at the berry tree and well, it can’t be that hard.
It takes a few different tries to get anywhere with it: he tries right from the ground and barely gets two feet up; he jumps and that hardly does any better, sliding down and scratching up his palms in the process. He kicks off his shoes for a better grip and takes a running leap at the thing, which probably doesn’t help as much as he thinks it does, but he sticks it anyway. And the shoes really are a game changer, Hau doesn’t slip and it takes everything in him not to celebrate when he gets to the top because he’ll probably go overboard and end up falling all the way back down.
He plucks the fattest berries off the tree, only managing to fit two in his hand before he runs out of room. Hau gnaws at the inside of his cheek and looks down, frowning; he did not come all the way up here to only get two berries. He shrugs and starts to drop them. Loses count of how many he goes through, but before long he calls it good enough and scampers down the trunk once more. Munchlax is already gnawing its way through the pile so he settles down next to Pichu, grass tickling the backs of his thighs, and starts to eat. The Oran and Chesto berries split easily and he shares a few of their segments with Pichu; the flavors are a bit of a weird combo, but he can’t complain too much. When he bites into them whole, the juice runs out from the corners of his mouth and dribbles down his chin, leaves his hands sticky and dyes his fingers blue.
Hau throws his shoes at Munchlax to keep it from stealing the entire pile, and is forced to sacrifice one of the only Persim berries they have to a Grubbin that crawls out of the grass— last thing he needs is to end up on the wrong side of those pinsers. Eventually though, they run out of food. Munchlax sniffs around for a few moments, probably making sure everything’s really gone, before tottling off down the path and disappearing into the brush.
Hau sucks the remnants of juice off his fingers and wipes his hands on his shorts, turning to look out towards the water. The sun kisses the horizon line, and the waves scatter its light. Once, Gramps explained to him how all of that worked— why so many different colors could come from just the sun and the ocean waves. The entire rainbow is streaked through the sky and dappled across the water.
And well, as pretty as it is… he really should be getting back. No matter how angry Gramps might still be, it’ll be worse if he comes back after dark. Hau stands and stretches with a yawn, turning on his heel and heading back for the main road. The long way is always crowded with trainers, so he wrestles his way through the foliage to avoid them: tumbles through a few bushes and hops over a few ledges before, somehow, still running right into a trainer. With a pained groan Hau stumbles back, clutching his head. There’s a few moments of silence, but then the man speaks.
“You’re the kahuna’s grandson, aren’t you?”
“…Maybe.” Hau squints at the man. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?”
“Hey, I asked first! And you can’t answer a question with another question, everyone knows that.”
“Can’t you?”
“Nuh uh!”
“Sorry, sorry.” The man laughs and raises his hands in surrender.
Hau taps his foot and crosses his arms. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Kukui.”
“What’re you doing out here?”
Kukui gives a lopsided sort of smile. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“But you didn’t, so I win! And you still didn’t answer me.”
He thinks for a moment. “I’m… working.”
Hau might’ve stuck a fork into an electrical socket last week, but even he’s not so dumb to realize what an obvious lie that is. With a sigh, Hau shakes his head and clicks his tongue just like the lady who lives next door always does. “You can just say you’re lost, I won’t get mad.” Kukui starts to splutter, but Hau shakes his head. “It’s okay, mister. I’ll get you back nice and safe. We aren’t too far away from town!”
When the man doesn’t follow, Hau huffs and grabs his hand, tugging him through the last big bush, getting spit out on the other side after a few moments of struggle. From there, it’s easy to find their way back to the main path. Route 1 is a lot different than Mahalo Trail. The grass is well-maintained, the paths clearly defined and the occasional trainer waiting around a bend in the road, ready to fight.
The Rattata peek their heads out of the grass and Hau makes faces at them to keep most of the rats at bay. They’re mostly quiet on the way back. Even when they break out onto the main path Hau doesn’t let Kukui’s hand go: he’d probably get lost again. Every now and then, he’ll glance over his shoulder to make sure Pichu doesn’t fall too far behind. And then they’re… there. He releases Kukui’s hand with a frown: even from here he can see their house. Is Gramps already there, waiting for him to come back? Or is he still out there, searching? Hau doesn’t really want to know.
“I’ll see you later,” he says to Pichu, ignoring the look on the strange man's face.
“Is that Pichu not yours?” Hau shakes his head, squatting down to rub under Pichu’a chin. He knows she can’t come with him, especially not now of all times. “You good to make it back on your own?”
Hau rolls his eyes, and that’s all the answer the man needs. Kukui looks like he wants to protest in some way, but before he can Hau waves goodbye to him and Pichu one last time. Turning and taking a few steps to enter Iki Town proper, he goes as slow as he can manage. No matter where Gramps is, what he’s like right now: Hau still needs to think of a reason why his shoes are gone.