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You are human, or you were once. Nuzleaf tells you not to go spreading it around, for your own safety, and you suppose he’s right. Nuzleaf is far more powerful than you are; you’d never have made it to the village without his help. Might makes right, isn’t it? Or, maybe because he’s older? Something like that. The point is, he’s right and you’re wrong, and the explanation can come secondary.
You know you were a human. You… thought you were an adult, right? Except Carracosta says you’re obviously nothing but a child, and he knows a lot more about this world than you do. You have too-big paws and wide eyes when you stare at yourself in the clear pool of water in town, so your proportions must be childish. And you’re going to school for all the things you didn’t know, which is helpful.
You’re not even certain you were an adult. You wonder what it was like, being grown and on top of the world. You bet it felt pretty good.
You have to ask the teacher just to relieve yourself, and sometimes you can be refused if the teacher doesn’t believe you. You’re expected to do this every time you need to go, up until the day you graduate when you’ll be set loose into the world to determine your career.
At least you have a friend in school; their name is Fen and they’re a Riolu. They’re also kind of… a lot. They’re overbearing, and chatty, and sometimes you get a headache. Fen seems to act out a lot, but never seems to mean any harm or malice by it. They just… feel like a lot. They want to do everything, all at once, and don’t pause to consider how their actions impact others.
“I want to get out of this town someday,” Fen says, “and I’ll join the Expedition Society! That’s the best guild there is, and then I’ll practically be an adult!”
“They don’t let kids join,” you remind them. You’re skiving off, technically, but it feels like it’s worth it. Fen’s been even more restless lately, to the point where frankly this seems like the safer option.
“Then we’ll be the first,” they insist, stubborn as ever. “Don’t you ever want anything?”
You think there was something you wanted, once, long ago, but now all you can think of is enduring it. You are very good at enduring pain, at pretending to be obedient, and you’ve forgotten how to be anything else. Maybe that’s why Fen feels so strange to you; such desire is incomprehensible.
One of you is broken. You’re not quite sure who.
“I suppose I’d like to keep you company when you leave,” you say, and it feels like a half-truth. “But we ought to learn how to get through more dungeons, first. I’m okay with staying and learning as long as you are.”
“Nah, I can’t do this much longer. I’ve gotta get out of here,” Fen says, staring at the sky. “This place is killing me, I really feel like it’s killing me.”
Nuzleaf says that going without supper will teach you a lesson. You learn a lesson, sure, but not the one he intended. You learn that this roof over your head is conditional, and maybe you need a better place to stay. He says he’s going to put in iron bars on your window if you do that again, so you figure you’ll need another escape route.
Fen’s been forced to clean the house as punishment— they say that someday they’ll live in a house that they never clean, with no one to tell them what to do.
“I mean, you’ll have to make sure you aren’t growing mildew in there, right?” you say nervously, shifting on your paws at their front door. “So you’ll want to at least clean sometimes.”
Fen glares at you. “Are you mad at me, too? I didn’t ask you to skip school with me! It’s not my fault, so you can’t get mad and yell at me to clean, too! You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“Right. Sorry.” Everything’s getting confused. “Will your pops be okay if I help you clean?”
“Who cares? I just need to get this done and over with.” Fen leads you inside, where you take up a brush and begin scrubbing a section of the floor. “Would you believe this? It’s like he got it extra dirty just so I’d have to wash it!”
“That…doesn’t seem right. He wouldn’t do that, would he?” You wonder if Fen has always been made to clean as punishment. No wonder they hate it with such a passion; it’s going to be a rough transition for them to live on their own.
“He’s done it before,” Fen mutters darkly. You decide to pretend you don’t notice. It’s easier that way.
You keep your head down at school, keep learning. You commiserate with Deerling sometimes; she’s constantly working to be top of the class. You’re one of the few to not have a crush on her, and you think she appreciates the lack of pressure.
“The recent heat wave has been brutal on Goomy,” she confides, walking to class with you. “I feel a little bad for him, honestly; he’s been given leave to stay home. Ah, but I guess I’ll be sent to deliver his work for him…”
“Better you than Pancham,” you reason. “He’s kind of a little shit.”
“Don’t say such vulgar things where people can hear you!” Deerling shakes her head disapprovingly. “Anyways, the sun has been kind to me, at least. I almost wish it wasn’t summer vacation soon; I can keep up much better with my work this way. It’s been a huge boost, physically and mentally.”
You look up at the sun, which feels larger than ever. Deerling is focused on her studies a lot, almost to the exclusion of everything else. She doesn’t even seem to like Goomy that much, now that you think about it. Is protecting him only an obligation?
“I should get home soon,” you tell her. You part ways, and pass by Nuzleaf sunning himself out on the front lawn. He looks at you as if to say something, then closes his eyes. Your water basin is all dried up.
Pancham’s been sneaking out at night. He keeps bragging about it, about how easy it was to get out and go on adventures unsupervised. You have this disconcerting feeling that something isn’t right, but you couldn’t say what it is. Couldn’t even find the words. So you keep your mouth shut.
“Hey, wimp,” Pancham says, swaggering over to your desk where you’re eating with Fen. “Why don’t you give some of that food to a real explorer, huh?”
“Go away, Pancham,” you sigh, wondering why Mr. Farfetch’d never seems to intervene. “Fen doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“How come you’re always forgetting your lunch at home?” Fen wonders, looking over at Pancham without any sort of fear or malice. “Do your parents not pack one for you? I can ask pops to make extra, and I’ll share. You just have to ask nicely instead of threatening me all the time.”
“Wimp,” Pancham snarls, lunging for Fen’s food. He grabs a pecha berry before getting caught on the desk, and the entire lunchbox goes clattering to the ground, rice and seaweed and nuts spilling out over the floor.
“What’s your problem?” Fen demands.
“Nyeehhhhh, should have given it to me first!”
“Fen, you need to be less clumsy,” scolds the teacher idly, looking up from a book. “Clean that up, will you?”
“I’ll get it,” you say quietly. It’s the least you can do for not stepping in. Pancham is always weird about food, you’ve noticed, and you’ve seen him hoarding away bits and pieces after you go adventuring in the woods behind school.
Whatever. It’s none of your business.
Summer vacation finally comes, and Fen is overjoyed to have some sort of freedom. They’re over at your house nearly every day, begging you for an adventure. You feel a bit like deerling, like you’re just tolerating them.
The truth is, Fen is annoying. And… well, there are worse things to be than annoying. Fen’s just a kid, after all; it’s really not a crime to be cooped up and want attention. But this is a small town, after all. If you’re annoying, people can dismiss a lot. And you’re tired of being their only support system. Maybe, maybe if Fen had a guild, then you wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed by them.
“Why don’t we stop at Espurr’s house and ask if she wants to come with us?” you suggest. “We could use a third person, after all.”
Fen makes a face. “Espurr? She’s creepy, though. I never know what she’s thinking.”
“Don’t be rude,” you chide. “Her face just doesn’t change much, that’s all. You shouldn’t judge a book based on its cover.”
“Man, you sound really mature when you talk like that,” Fen comments.
You feel a little off balance, all of the sudden. Of course you do, you’re— no, everyone says you’re a child, right? You don’t really know who you are. It’s easier to become what everyone expects of you than to navigate life without your memories.
You duck your head, pretending to need a moment to deal with the heat.
“Heyyyy, Espurr!” Fen calls, knocking on her door. “Oh— hi. We were going to go adventuring; you wanna come with?”
“Oh, sure,” she says. You glance over to see her standing in the doorway— the hallway behind her looks oddly dark and eerie.
“Don’t you need to ask your parents?” you ask. “We’ll be safe; it’s a reasonable dungeon for our strength, plus I packed an escape orb.”
“My parents?” She stares at you blankly. “Why would I? They’re not here.”
“Oh. Well, you can just leave a note—”
“They’re not around,” she says, more insistently this time. “They aren’t. So there’s no use in any of that. Why don’t we just go?”
Something is really, really wrong here. Espurr gives you a reassuring smile, and you shove down the gut feeling. You’re fine. It’s just anxiety, like Nuzleaf says. You’re fine. Espurr’s fine.
She’s just a kid. You feel like you have to protect her. It’s your responsibility, as an adu—
“Welcome to the team, I guess,” Fen says. “We’re headed out to deliver a rawst berry; it’s not super glamorous, sure, but it pays better than allowance! And hopefully it’ll keep us cool, too…”
You have a dream that Nuzleaf is standing over you, a trio of Beheeyem behind him. They call him boss, ask what to do, while you’re helpless to move. All of them point their hands at you, turning you to stone, and finally Beheeyem raises a fist to shatter you to pieces.
You wake up, heart in your throat and stomach churning. What the hell was that? It was… stress, right? Stress is something that can be waved off, especially if it’s from school. Or if it’s about the pokemon turning to stone. Why does your entire body feel shaky, as though you’ve just been fleeing from death?
You think about telling Nuzleaf that you had a bad dream. He said you could talk to him, right? But what he says and what he does… they don’t always match up. He says he cares about you, but he punishes you for leaving the house at the wrong times and he doesn’t bother listening to what you have to say. Can you really talk to him about this? Something so trivial?
No. You’re a big kid now, right? That means you push down your childish insecurities and act like an adult, while all the real adults just pat your head and call you a child. You feel sick to your stomach, but Nuzleaf will be mad and make you clean it up if you get sick inside the house, and he’ll be angry if you wake him up, so you crawl out the tunnel you’ve been digging. You retch in the bushes until your stomach is empty, and then crawl back inside. Your mouth tastes disgusting and your heart is beating way too fast, but you sneak a pecha berry from under your bed and try to chew quietly.
You’re a good kid, after all.