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It wasn’t the first time Naveen had found himself on this park bench, nor even the first time he’d run away from home. That was how he and Scraggy had met, after all, two oddballs with no place to go. But this time, experience equipped him with the forethought to pack his toothbrush, even as the same righteous anger crackled under his skin, and that made the whole thing feel real.
On the other side of the mid-bench armrest (because Arceus forbid Naveen spend the night there), Scraggy echoed the sentiment with a whine. Most Scraggy owners had to keep their Pokémon from headbutting every perceived problem; Naveen just had to keep his from crying. He pulled out a notebook and pencil—two art supplies his grandma hadn’t touched, considering their use for academics—and put them in front of Scraggy. Predictably, it set aside its existential crisis long enough to pick up the pencil between both claws and start scribbling away.
“Careful,” Naveen said. “I didn’t bring any construction paper, so you’ll have to avoid scratching up the pages.”
He spoke calmly to avoid setting Scraggy off, but having to work around that blasted armrest made his hands clench. It shouldn’t have caught him off guard. After all, his own grandma didn’t want him, not as he was, anyway, and he couldn’t have changed even if the thought hadn’t been abhorrent. Why would the city he’d lived in his whole life be any more welcoming?
A stranger’s whistle intruded on his melancholy. “Oh, wow, you’ve got an artist there? And that’s such a fancy little cape it’s wearing, too!”
Instinctively, Naveen held his bag closer, his other hand resting behind Scraggy’s head.
“It’s a cloak.” Stylish and practical in case the stray wisps of clouds proved deceptive.
A boy who was either a bit older than Naveen or drank more Moomoo Milk planted himself in front of the bench, wearing a smile that said he wanted something.
“My bad, my bad. My name’s Urbain. I’m making PR videos for the greatest hotel around, and that Scraggy of yours looks like a perfect collaborator.”
Great. Now Scraggy was getting acknowledged before him.
“What use does Hotel Richissime have for Scraggy-based advertising?”
With a wince, Urbain laughed, somehow making both gestures seem fake. “We may not have fountains in the lobby, but wouldn’t you rather stay in a quiet, cozy place with no CEOs?”
He had Naveen there.
As Urbain gave Naveen a proper look, his knockoff influencer smile dropped.
“Hey—what’s wrong?” Urbain asked.
Everything. “Nothing.”
“You sure? You’re looking a bit teary-eyed.”
The pity on Urbain’s face looked sincere, but that didn’t make Naveen feel better when he raised a hand to his face and it came back wet.
“I’m not helping with your videos,” he said, hating himself for how his voice cracked. The statement didn’t make Urbain go away; he dropped into the makeshift cubicle on the other side of Scraggy, who held its pencil protectively away from him.
“No worries. You want a sympathetic ear, or is there something else I can help you with?”
Naveen didn’t recall asking for anything, but considering the exact thing he needed had practically landed in his lap…
“Not unless that hotel of yours accepts IOUs.”
“I’m sure it does. The owner’s a good man. I moved here from pretty far away, and he’s done a lot for me.”
Naveen looked down at Scraggy, who could sleep in its Poké Ball in a pinch but would spend the next day fussing if it didn’t to get curl up near him. The idea of owing someone made him uneasy, but…
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask,” he said. Urbain hopped to his feet.
“Great! C’mon, then. It’s almost dinner time, and I’m the chef, so you’re not gonna want to miss it.”
Did this hotel have any other employees? Naveen was getting the creeping suspicion he’d gotten himself into some sketchy business.
“Hold on. What’s the catch?”
“Who said anything about a catch?”
Naveen gave him a hard look until Urbain rubbed his neck.
“Listen, if you just want a place to stay tonight, I’ll make sure it happens, no questions asked. But if you’re looking for something more long-term…”
Naveen continued letting his pointed gaze speak for him. Admitting to a need would make him vulnerable, but the sun was setting. His stomach was demanding he cut into either his handful of granola bars or his handful of cash.
And Urbain was, supposedly, willing to help him without prying.
“I’m actually the leader of a team competing in the Z-A Royale,” Urbain said.
Naveen had had the misfortune of ducking through Battle Zones from time to time, but the experience of Pokémon jumping at him and Scraggy out of nowhere hadn’t enticed him to enter one on purpose.
“The other member is staying for free in return for being on the team,” Urbain continued. So, not much of a team.
Apparently, two could play the meaningful pauses game. A game Urbain seemingly won as Naveen heard the ding of a main quest unlocking.
“I have somewhere to stay, if need be.” Not that he relished the thought of going home, but it wouldn’t do to sound too needy. “That said…I’m a fashion designer, looking for studio space.”
“Perfect! Our rooms are definitely big enough. And that vintage flair is bound to be inspiring.”
“I’m not a strong trainer, though. And despite what you might assume, my Scraggy is more into art than battling.”
“No problem, the whole team’s still at Rank Z. Have to start somewhere, right?”
Naveen closed his eyes, shutting out Urbain’s blinding optimism long enough to think—but that only let him picture the part of an RPG where the title screen faded in, just past the point where the player expected a beginning.
“I’ll come check it out.”
Urbain gave him just enough time to put Scraggy back in its ball before shooting off toward the road. Still stuffing his notebook in his bag, Naveen stumbled after him.
They trekked far enough at Urbain’s relentless pace for Naveen’s feet to ache when they finally slowed down. Mostly so Urbain could save the breath for chatting, unfortunately for Naveen, whose nerves at the whole situation weren’t helped by being winded.
“Now that we have a third member, we can finally do a proper team huddle. I think Lida said she was eating out with some classmates tonight, though. You’ll like Lida. Everyone likes Lida.”
Naveen often found himself at odds with ‘everyone’, but it didn’t seem like the most important point to argue.
“I haven’t agreed to join yet.”
“Yet! If what you’re looking for is a nice room and a nicer manager, look no further.”
Just as Naveen wondered if Urbain ever stopped sounding like a walking PR video, the hotel came into view. Naveen understood why, in a lifetime living in Lumiose, he’d never been there. They’d practically had to bat ivy aside to get through the archway. Still…if he’d had time, he’d have admired the composition of the old building through the arch, the glitter of the Mega Stone clusters creeping up one wall and the more matte vines along the other, framing the doorway with Lumiose’s past and present.
There was no time to imagine what designs the sight could inspire before Urbain threw open the door.
“AZ, I’m back! Guess what!”
The cheerful greeting gave Naveen a pang. It must have been nice, having a place and person one was so happy to return to. As he set eyes on the hotel’s owner, his morose thoughts fled.
When his sister grew old enough to walk, he’d watched her toddle around at everyone’s feet, cranking her neck to look up at them until she fell back on her butt. It had reminded him what it was like to be so small that adults became skyscrapers. He still came up to most adults’ shoulders, but he’d learned to keep his head down to escape their notice rather than try to meet them at their level.
The man standing behind the desk would have been the first to actually earn the title of skyscraper, if he weren’t more like a willow tree, bending down to greet them.
“It’s always good to see you in high spirits, Urbain. And who is this?”
“This is Naveen. Naveen, AZ, the hotel’s owner. Naveen is our latest guest and teammate.”
“Prospective,” Naveen hastened to clarify. “That is, er, Urbain tells me you might have a room I can use. For studio space.”
Talking to Urbain, regardless of how tiring, had been surprisingly easy compared to forming sentences in front of a man who held the fate of Naveen’s sewing career, or at least that night’s sleep, in his very long hands.
“For studio space, you say?” AZ said.
“Naveen here’s a fashion designer, can you believe it? Maybe he can make us a team logo!”
“My, what a fascinating pursuit! You will have to show us your designs. Floette has quite the eye for beauty.”
He nodded at his partner, who gave a little chirp. Naveen watched them all warily, waiting for the punchline. Maybe he can make us a team logo was a pretty nothing one, if Urbain thought he was a jokester. But no one laughed, and AZ turned to Naveen with sloping, gentle eyes.
“It would be wonderful to have another young person around to keep Urbain and Lida company. I’m not sure how well the rooms will suit your needs, but please, feel free to peruse them. Urbain told you of his team’s purpose, I assume?”
“To win the Z-A Royale, right? Not that I’ll be much help with that,” Naveen said.
The look AZ gave Urbain made Naveen’s stomach drop. What in Kalos had he gotten himself into?
Before he could demand an explanation, Urbain escaped to the kitchen, leaving AZ to give Naveen the tour. The man somehow folded himself into the elevator, and Naveen squished in beside him, buoyed by something he couldn’t name. Yes, this all had bad idea written all over it, but…
He’d really been introduced as a fashion designer. No one laughed. No one yelled. They’d just…believed him.
For the first time in a while, he straightened his shoulders as he let AZ show him to his room.
Naveen may have remembered his toothbrush, but that didn’t mean he had everything he needed. He spent the night at the hotel without a bonnet or even a silk pillowcase, and no fashion designer could make a new wardrobe from scratch under these circumstances. Considering he had dramatically proclaimed he wouldn’t go home until he was famous, he wasn’t proud to go crawling back the very next day, even if just for his things. At least he could savor the look on his grandma’s face when he told her he’d secured a studio.
Or…no. Now that he’d gotten this far, the thought of going home only exhausted him. He just hoped he could get in and out without his grandma yelling or his sister crying.
With the thought heavy on his mind, he left the hotel and walked almost smack into a flailing arm.
“Watch it!” he said.
“Sorry! I wasn’t expecting anyone to come out here.”
The girl looked stylish for someone currently beaded with sweat. A Staryu was spinning by her ankles, and peppy music played from her Rotom Phone.
“I just have some things to go pick up,” he said, as if it were her business. She squinted at him.
“Oookay...wait! We had a guest?”
He didn’t know where to start: with the fact that she didn’t notice, the fact that he didn’t notice her, or the fact that the hotel having a guest was apparently a monumental shock.
Deducing this must be the third member (second member—he hadn’t committed), he said, “I might be joining Urbain’s team, but don’t expect too much.”
His warning didn’t prevent her from lighting up. “A new teammate? Now we’re getting somewhere! I’m Lida. I’m not the best battler, but I moved here for dance school and I needed a place to stay, so here I am.”
Her shrug said it all. Unless some sort of prodigal battler was headed their way, the three of them had better hope Urbain’s battling was better than the strange concoction he’d insisted Naveen call dinner.
“I’m Naveen. A fashion designer.” Again, he straightened, trying to summon his nerve from the evening before.
“A fashion designer, huh? I love fashion! I mean, I’m no good at sewing—I’m better on my feet than with my fingers. You must have good hand-eye coordination. Anyway, we should go shopping sometime.”
Tracking her thought process felt like trying to count multiple rows of stitches at once.
“I’m not exactly rolling in cash…or spare time,” he said.
“I feel that. Like, I’m in a rigorous dance program on a scholarship, you know how it is.” She turned off her music, to the apparent disappointment of her Staryu, who flopped back onto the ground. “So, have you had breakfast? Or are we in mid-morning snack territory? There’s a place I wanna try with really good pastries, so either one works.”
“If you haven’t tried it, how do you know they’re really good?”
“My classmate said so. I keep a color-coded list of café reviews, so I’m never wrong.”
That was…unexpectedly organized of her. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Nah, we’ve gotta taste test! And I want to get to know my new teammate. Plus your personal café rankings, of course. It’ll be my treat.”
“If I have tell you my life story, I’d rather buy my own pastries.”
“Sorry, I’m just so curious! Everything’s so different here. You’re from Lumoise, right? The accent’s kind of a giveaway.”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. Still, the thought of potentially-really-good pastries was awakening his appetite enough to get past the knot in his stomach. A full belly would give him a defense against his grandma’s inevitable at least eat something when he tried to duck in and out.
Plus…Lida’s targeted curiosity may have made his shoulders hunch back down, but something about her lopsided smile made him think she might have been feeling just as awkward. If nothing else, an aspiring dancer had no place judging his dreams. The artistic kids at his school had tended to stick together. With him at the outer edge of their orbit, but still.
“I’ll answer questions about pastries, and only pastries,” he said, starting out toward the arch. After a beat, she fell into step with him.
“Sounds like a plan. I can talk about pastries all day,” she said, before proceeding to get a head start at proving it.
It occurred to him that were she not there, he could have stopped and admired that view through the arch, perhaps gotten out his notebook and brainstormed some designs. Perhaps she would even have been willing to wait while he did it.
Self-conscious at the thought, he resigned himself to heading straight for the café. For the moment, at least, he had his own room. There would be time to take in the view when he returned.