Archive of Our Own ^beta

All he could do was watch.

Watch, as Friede—his partner, his best friend—tumbled feet over head through the clouds, careening down to the earth—sea? they were too high up to tell—below. Watch, amidst the roaring winds and bloodcurdling scream of the girl holding him to her chest. Watch, as every muscle in his body thrashed against her hold, his own throat raw and cheeks sparking as he scrabbled for purchase against the side of the Brave Asagi. Watch, despite how when he had tumbled from the sky in that very same way, a strong hand had caught him just before he hit the ground.

All Cap could do was watch.

It was over in seconds. Friede and Char both disappeared from view, and Cap’s voice shattered as he discharged all the electricity he had in him in one burst. Liko’s scream broke with pain as she released him; Cap hit the floor of the ship and immediately jumped up to the edge again, yet just before he could throw himself over (he had to catch Friede, he had to), Liko’s arms snapped around his middle again.

“Cap, no—Ca—!”

Liko’s words splintered into a high pitched yelp as he sank his fangs into her wrist. Once more she dropped him, and this time it was a vine from Meowscarada that held him back from the edge of the ship. Cap whipped around, claws sinking into the vine as he prepared to send a Thunderbolt through it—

“Is he . . . wild?”

Dot. Barely audible over the pounding winds. Cap stiffened, body rigid, as he looked up at her—her eyes terrified under her fringe, lips trembling at the implication of her question.

“No,” Roy said, his own voice shaking. “No, he can’t be. He can’t be, because . . .”

Cap threw himself to the side in a roll, slamming Meowscarada’s vine against the deck. With a hiss Meowscarada released him, and before anyone could grab him he was on his feet again. Instead of heading to the edge of the ship (they were going too fast, they were too far away already) Cap bolted in the door that Orio had left open, sprinting despite the voices and footsteps in pursuit.

He didn’t stop until he reached a door that had been, as always, left ajar. A door with an emblem identical to the one on his own hat slapped on the front, the words Captain’s Quarters gleaming beneath it.

The door was always left open, because the person Cap shared the room with preferred it that way. This way, the wild pokémon on board won’t feel shut out, he had said. And we’ll know right away if the rest of the crew needs us for something. With kids on board now, it’s especially important to be accessible, don’t you think?

Cap spun and slammed his back feet against the door. It hit the frame so hard the wall trembled, but it didn’t bounce back open. After a second of deliberation, he climbed up and secured the lock, ensuring no one else would be allowed to enter after him.

The room was huge. It was too big. Big enough for couches that he could fit ten of himself on, big enough for bed that could fit fifty of him. He ran to that bed the second the door was locked, and launched himself onto it. The covers were still messy; they had been in too much of a hurry that morning to make the bed. And the linens were fresh, smelling strongly of the Brave Asagi’s detergent, and when he smashed his face into the pillow—

Friede showered at night. He did too much during the day that scuffed him up with dirt and caked him in sweat. So each night, before bed, he would take a warm, relaxing shower. Cap sometimes joined him, if he’d gotten particularly dirty, too, because he wasn’t like most pokémon; human showers suited him just fine.

Like always, Friede had showered right before bed last night. His pillow was saturated with the smell of his shampoo, a two-in-one deal safe for both people and pokémon, for the occasions Cap joined him for a wash up. Cap hadn’t bathed last night—he hadn’t needed it—but Friede had washed his own hair, and some strands were still on the pillow, and the pillowcase smelled so much like shampoo after freshly washed hair was allowed to dry on it night after night—

Unlike others of his species, Cap was not cute, and he did not cry. But he had to bite the pillow hard to muffle his scream as the pillow grew steadily wetter beneath his face, his electricity shattering the bulb in the desk lamp and the picture frames on the walls as it discharged out of his control.

Everything was wrong and no one would listen. What kind of crew was this?

They were halfway to Alola. Alola, because that was closer to Mt Kumuri than Kanto was. Alola and Kanto, because Dot wanted to go home and Liko wanted to return to school, and the rest of the crew was fine with that.

Cap, look after everyone for me. How was he supposed to do that when they insisted on splitting up?

“Cap.” Cap’s ears twitched, but he didn’t bother to turn all the way. He turned just enough so he could look at Murdock out of the corner of his eye, as Murdock slid a small plate with a doughnut on across the deck toward him. “Just try a few bites, okay? For me?”

Cap’s tail lashed against the wood. He had half a mind to throw both doughnut and plate overboard. Instead, he perched himself up on his tail to do squats. You can’t exercise on an empty stomach, a familiar voice in his mind chided, but Cap ignored it. He had more pressing problems.

Murdock sighed. “Friede . . . he—he wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”

Oh, that was it.

In one fluid movement Cap threw himself onto the deck and spun; his tail hit the plate and sent both it and the doughnut smashing into the door of the cockpit cabin. Murdock winced at the sound, but Cap—back on his feet—was already laying into him, because how dare he? How dare he bring up what Friede would want when—Friede would want the crew to stick together. Friede would want them to keep moving forward, together. That was what Friede wanted, wherever he was—for them to stick together, for them to look for him together, for them to find him, together, as one whole crew, the crew of the Brave Asagi.

“What is going on out here?” Orio’s voice, raised to be heard over Cap’s shouting, accompanied her exit onto the deck. Her eyes went from Cap and Murdock, to the remnants of the doughnut Murdock had tried to foist onto Cap, and her expression fell in understanding.

“I . . .” Murdock gestured helplessly at Cap, his own shoulders slumped. Cap almost felt bad. Almost. “Cap, I’m sorry. I know—I know you’re hurting. We—I miss him, too. So much. But—”

Murdock couldn’t speak pikachu, and that was to his benefit, as he couldn’t understand the obscenities Cap shouted before he turned tail and ran. Both Murdock and Orio called after him, but he didn’t care. Why should he? It was obvious they didn’t care about keeping the crew together. It was obvious they didn’t care about his and Friede’s dreams.

Later that night, half-delirious with hunger, Cap sneaked into the kitchen and stole three doughnuts. He refused to acknowledge they were probably left out on purpose.

“I—I think this’ll be my stop, too.”

All eyes turned to Roy as most of the crew stood there, on the back lawn of Liko’s school. Cap had hoped, stupidly it seemed, that Liko would change her mind on the journey back to Kanto. It wouldn’t be the first time she had changed her mind about leaving the crew, after all. But in the seventeen days it took to reach Indigo Academy, Liko had hardly left her room. The only time she had left was to use the restroom; otherwise, she took meals that the Maushold brought to her door, and sent the empty plates and glasses back with them. Even now that she was leaving, she wouldn’t look any of them in the eye.

But now Roy made his announcement out of the blue, and Cap felt as though he’d been plunged into the arctic. Even Liko turned back, looking someone in the eye for the first time in a little over two weeks as her eyes met Roy’s. Ultimately, she was the one to break the silence.

“Where . . . are you going?”

Roy shrugged, smiling so wide it almost didn’t look like one. “Dunno. Just around Kanto, I guess. It’s my home region, but I’ve barely seen any of it. Might be a good chance to try out the gyms and get even stronger, so the next time I see the black Rayquaza, I’ll be ready.”

Liko frowned, but turned her eyes to the ground at her feet. “But . . .”

“I suggested it,” Mollie said, and Cap’s cheeks sparked with indignation. “The news isn’t looking too good for us right now. I think we’ll need to lie low, and this is a good way to go about that.”

“Plus, lots of trainers go on solo journeys, especially here in Kanto,” Orio said. She grinned as she ruffled Roy’s hair, and sniffed despite there not being any allergens around this time of year. “It’ll be a good experience!”

“Yeah,” Roy said, and he stretched his smile too wide again as he looked back to Liko. “So, I’ll be okay. Maybe I can even come visit you here at school in-between gyms?”

Liko had turned away from them all again, her head down and her shoulders hunched. She hummed a noncommittal sound in her throat, and Meowscarada put a paw on her shoulder.

“Make sure to keep up on your meals,” Murdock said, his voice thick. “If you crave anything special, send me an email. I’ll get it to you.”

“And take care of yourselves,” Mollie added. “Both of you. Your health is the most important thing. Don’t neglect it.”

“We won’t,” Roy said, and he looked over to Liko again. His expression looked a little desperate. “Right, Liko?”

At first, Liko said nothing. Then, so quietly even Cap almost missed it, she said, “Bye, Roy.”

Then she took the handle of her suitcase, and walked to the door of her school with Meowscarada at her side, neither one of them looking back.

“Dot should have been out here,” Murdock said quietly. He sniffed loudly, shaking his head. “I should have insisted. She needs the chance to say goodbye—”

“This is as hard on her as it is on the rest of us,” Mollie said, just as quietly. “It’s best you didn’t push it.”

“I’m sure she’ll come around,” Orio said, though with her eyes trained on Liko as Liko entered her school and shut the door behind her, Cap wasn’t too sure who exactly she was talking about. “But enough about that. Roy, are you sure you’re ready? You’ve got everything you need?”

“Yeah.” Roy tugged on the strap of his bag, adjusting it across his chest as Crocalor chimed in his agreement. “What about you guys? Will you be okay? I can help get the word out about us, let them know that what really happened was—!”

“Don’t you worry about us.” Mollie tugged the brim of Roy’s hat down so that it covered his eyes, and smiled as he readjusted it and looked back up at her. “We’ll be just fine. You take care on your new adventure, okay? We’ll be in touch.”

Roy looked away, his lips trembling. “Okay. But if something changes—!”

“We’ll let you know.”

Roy nodded, his lips pressed tightly together, before he threw himself forward and tackled Mollie in a hug. It took her no time at all to hug him back just as fiercely, Murdock and Orio quickly joining in.

Cap watched it all from the departure ramp.

Liko was back at school. Dot, who also hadn’t left her room since the night of the incident, was headed back home. And now Roy was leaving on a solo journey, talking some nonsense about battling gyms or whatever it was he wanted to do.

Cap, look after everyone for me.

Liko would be at school. Dot would be at home. Despite what had been said, Cap knew who everyone specifically entailed. Two of the three would be in stationary locations, presumably around adults who could make sure they were safe. The third—

Cap launched himself off the departure ramp as Roy finally started off, walking away from what remained of the crew, the Brave Asagi, and Liko’s school altogether. He turned, though, when he heard Cap’s paws hit the dirt, and his eyes widened along with Murdock’s, Orio’s, and Mollie’s.

“Cap . . . do you want to come with me?” he asked.

Want was a funny word. What Cap wanted was for the crew to stay together. What Cap wanted was for the adult members of the crew to ignore whatever stupid reports were on the news, for the kids to stay in one place where Cap could keep an eye on all of them as he’d been asked, and for them to find Friede wherever he’d disappeared to, together. But for the past seventeen days no one had cared very much for what Cap wanted, so instead of answering, he ran ahead to lead Roy down the path.

“I . . . guess that’s a yes?” Roy said, and Cap heard his footsteps on the path behind him seconds later. “Cap, wait up!”

“Ugh . . . who knew Kanto was so easy to get lost in?”

Roy flopped over on the grass, an empty expanse of which spanned either side of the road they had been walking. They had left the city where Liko’s school resided days ago; according to Roy, the map on his Rotom Phone said that they were headed in the direction of Vermilion City. Yet as far as Cap could see, there was no city to be found near them for miles.

“It feels like we’ve been out here for weeks,” Roy continued. “Months, even. Doesn’t it, Cap?”

Instead of answering, Cap pushed himself up on his tail. There were empty plains as far as he could see, but on the air . . . his nose twitched, picking up the scent of foliage and berries. There was a forest nearby. Forests meant food, and possibly water if there was a stream or pond. (Which there had to be, he thought; how else would the pokémon who live there get anything to drink?) That was as good a direction to head as any.

“Cap?” Roy pushed himself into a seated position. “Did you hear me?”

Cap dropped to his paws again, and glanced over his shoulder once to make sure that Roy was watching. Then he darted in the direction of the forest smell, leaving Roy scrambling after him to catch up.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind living in a forest like this,” Roy said, swishing a stick he’d picked up off the ground through the leaves in the trees above them. “Kinda reminds me of home, a bit. I spent a lot of time in the forest back home, making friends with all kinds of wild pokémon . . . did you ever live in a forest, Cap?”

Obviously, Cap thought, but didn’t say. Forests were the natural habitat of pikachu. All pikachu started out in forests, even if they later migrated to other areas. Cap had thought that Roy had attended virtual lessons; he was now starting to think that they should have kept a better watch over the kids’ studies.

“Friede never did say where he found you, exactly,” Roy went on, and a sharp jolt rippled through Cap’s body at the sound of his partner’s name. “I mean, he said that Liko’s mom took him to you when you were training your rising volt tackle by the ocean, but . . . oh, wait, now that I’m thinking about it, he did say that was in Paldea, didn’t he? My ba—Cap?”

Cap bolted up the nearest tree. The foliage was thick; he could easily make it from tree to tree by jumping from branch to branch, and up here, maybe Roy would feel less inclined to talk about things that didn’t need to be talked about.

Or things at all, really. Cap didn’t realize Roy liked to talk this much.

“Huh . . . it probably is more fun to travel through the trees, huh?” Roy said, seemingly not deterred at all. Cap grit his teeth, and launched himself to the next tree. “I actually used to do that a lot on my home island, too. We’ve got a lot in common, Cap!”

Cap sincerely doubted that.

It was evening. They’d followed the stream out of the forest. Roy said (among many other things) that he thought they were on the right track to get to Vermilion City now, though the way he looked at his Rotom Phone’s map suggested he was less than confident.

But now it was evening. They were still following the stream, and had made camp near it. Roy was back by the tent, getting the fire going so he could heat up some canned food. Cap was at the stream itself, dipping his paws in so that he could scrub his face. Stream water was nothing compared to a warm shower, didn’t smell nearly as good as two-in-one human and pokémon shampoo, but—

Something hard smacked into the back of Cap’s head, knocking his hat clear off and into the stream. Cap dove to retrieve it as a red glow washed over him, a feeling like bad static crackling along his fur before the glow dispersed in a flash of white light.

Cap stood up straight, and turned to look. A broken pokéball lay at his feet. And just beyond it . . .

Cap bared his fangs, electricity spiking off his fur and dancing along the stream behind him. Roy held up his hands, embarrassment and anxiety warring in his expression.

“I’m sorry!” he said, and took one step back toward the tent. “I just—I just had to know, you know? And now we do. We know you’re not wild, for sure, which means—”

Cap didn’t shock Roy directly, but his Thunderbolt hit the ground close enough to Roy’s feet that he was sent sprawling flat on his back. Cap didn’t wait for him to have time to recover; he jammed his hat back on his head and bolted back toward the forest, hardly seeing where he was going for the rage in his eyes.

How dare he, how dare he, when Cap already had a trainer—a partner—and Roy knew that, he knew it—

Maybe now that their partner Lucius is gone, they’ve returned to being wild.

Is he . . . wild?

I just had to know.

Cap screamed, and his Thunderbolt broke the trees above him. Bird pokémon scattered, shrieking, as the debris rained down around Cap, the remaining branches smoking and charred.

He wasn’t wild. He wasn’t. And it was obvious, it was obvious, it was so obvious—

So why did he feel—why did a little part of him, underneath the fury that had kept him going for a month now—feel relieved?

Cap sank down on his paws, and curled inward so his face was tucked underneath him. He wasn’t wild. He knew that. He knew that. He knew that because every part of his mind and heart still yearned for Friede, every second of every day. He knew that, because long after Roy went to sleep, Cap launched himself into the sky with Rising Volt Tackle after Rising Volt Tackle, so that he could get a better view of their surroundings and could, just maybe, spot Friede in the distance. He knew that because, after exhaustion put him to sleep at the end of every night, he dreamed about Friede scooping him up, about smelling Friede’s shampoo in his hair, about snapping the goggles he currently wore around his chest to their rightful place on Friede’s head instead.

He wasn’t wild, because Friede wasn’t dead. Cap had refused to let himself even consider it for a second second over the past month. But now . . . now he knew, for sure.

Cap pushed himself to his feet. His face was damp, from the moisture in the dirt, he was sure. Dirt that was now all over his hat, too, muddy streaks over the top thanks to its fall into the river. He pulled it back on his head anyway. It wasn’t the first time it had gotten dirty, and it wouldn’t be the last.

He made his way back to their makeshift camp more slowly than he’d run away from it, and as he neared an odd sound made his ears twitch. Breathing—but not normal breathing. Strange, choked, hitching, as if in pain—?

Cap bolted the rest of the way out of the forest. Roy had Crocalor and Kilowattrel. He wasn’t defenseless, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be hurt, and if he had been hurt when Cap had come along specifically to look after him—!

But he wasn’t. At least, not that Cap could see. There were no external threats; no one was at the campsite except Roy himself, huddled in a seated position by the campfire, his face buried in his arms on his knees. He was the one making the strange, choked breathing sounds, but as Cap got a look at him now—

Oh.

He was crying.

Cap slowly made his way over to Roy, and sat down beside him without saying a word. For a moment, Roy didn’t say anything either; his muffled crying was the only sound between them. Then, finally, Roy spoke.

“I’m—I’m really sorry. I just—it’s—it’s been so long. And I’ve sent messages, but he hasn’t returned any of them. And he always returns our messages. And last night, before I fell asleep, I tried calling him and it went right to voicemail. And it never goes right to voicemail. I’m—“ His muffled voice cracked. “I’m really scared, Cap. He’d never leave us hanging like this, never. If he’s not returning our calls or messages, then—then it’s ‘cause he can’t, and I don’t know what that means. Dot says she’s still looking, but even she can’t find anything, and Liko—” Roy sniffed hard. “We know where she is, but she won’t say anything, either. It’s like she’s—like she’s given up, on all of us, on me, and we had this whole crew and now there’s no one, and Friede—Friede’s—he’s gone, and I don’t know why or what to do, or . . .”

Roy’s crying resumed, louder and harder than before.

I know you’re hurting. We miss him, too.

Cap, look after everyone for me.

Cap looked over at the broken pokéball by the stream. It wasn’t okay that Roy had done that, but . . . Cap was big enough to admit that how he’d been acting wasn’t great, either.

Neither Cap nor Friede had been criers. Cap didn’t have any experience on how to handle this. But he still had instincts, even if not wild ones, and trusting those he moved closer, his side pressed up against Roy’s lap.

And when Roy scooped him up and held him close seconds later, his tears dampening Cap’s fur—well, it wasn’t Cap’s favorite, but he’d allow it. Just this once.

Two days later, there was a city skyline in the distance. Whether it was Vermilion City or not remained to be seen. They had set off earlier than usual that morning, and even with the grass under their feet, Cap’s paws were starting to ache. As far as he was concerned his body was perfect, but in that moment he would have killed a legendary pokémon if it meant getting longer legs.

Between Roy’s longer legs and Cap’s aching paws, distance started to fall between them. Distance that Roy must have noticed, for he stopped and looked back at Cap later that afternoon.

“Are you tired?” he asked, and without waiting for Cap to answer, extended his arm. “If you are, you can . . . you can ride on my shoulder. If you want.”

Every instinct of Cap’s balked at the suggestion. There was only one person whose shoulder he rode around on, at least for any length of time, and that person was—was . . .

Roy’s expression faltered, his hand lowering.

I’m really scared, Cap.

Cap, look after everyone for me.

Cap took a deep breath, and before Roy could drop his arm the rest of the way and resume walking, bolted forward. Roy was so much shorter than Friede that Cap almost overshot it; he ended up halfway on Roy’s head before Roy realized what was happening, but when he did, he started laughing.

“Okay, okay, you can ride on my head, too,” Roy said. “Just try not to cover my eyes, okay?”

Cap grunted acceptance, and then tapped his paw against Roy’s head. Roy’s attention grabbed, Cap pointed toward the city again.

“Aye aye, Cap,” Roy said, and started off toward the city again. He started humming a random tune, and after a few minutes, Cap allowed himself to swish his tail to the beat.