Work Text:
On paper, The Amazing Himiko’s Magic Show is a professional touring company composed of the titular ringmaster and her highly trained troupe of Pokémon performers, frequently booked across all nine regions with special appearances at children’s festivals and Contest Halls. Their current act, developed and perfected over the last two years, has earned a number of awards and accolades from performance foundations, as well as rave reviews from big name critics and coordinators alike.
In Himiko Yumeno’s heart, however, it’s just the way she can make the world smile.
The show runs both matinee and evening performances during the week, with three performances on Saturday and Sunday to account for schoolchildren and working families who otherwise wouldn’t be able to attend. For seventy minutes at a time, Himiko and her troupe put forth their best efforts to make sure each and every member of their audience walks out happier than before… or at least with the knowledge that every bad day can still have a little good in it.
As much as she enjoys it, however, it’s still hard work. That work only continues when the doors formally close for the evening and the tent comes alive with the sound of their post-performance cleanup—the one thing standing between Himiko and the rest of the night free to laze around.
Unclasping her cloak, Himiko frowns at the mascara smudged along her lashline in the mirror. Her bangs sit damp from blazing spotlights and the contagious energy of tonight’s crowd. It’s warm in Paldea, even in the spring months of March and April, and the fan in her makeshift dressing room only really moves all that hot air around. Still, it’s obviously better than the alternative; summer weather is when the tourism comes in heavy, and Himiko’s shows are always meant for the locals. The third leg of their Paldean tour is located in the grassy fields south of Mesagoza for just that reason, close enough to the capital city but within reach of the sleepier towns of Los Platos and Cabo Poco below.
Himiko’s heat-addled thoughts eventually simmer away as she auto-pilots through the rest of her routine. Mic, makeup… Unlike the finely tailored ensemble she wears onstage, an old Nimbasa Musical Theater tee and cheap flip-flops bought from the Pokémon Center up the road more than suffice for a cute mage off the clock. By the time she’s finished with her hair—only six minutes behind schedule—there’s a familiar trill outside the cracked door. Braixen shuffles in a moment later, tail swishing pleasantly as she holds out the ever important post-performance checklist.
“Thanks,” Himiko mumbles, taking the clipboard before scritching the left side of Braixen’s cheek fluff (just how she likes it.) She doesn’t remember leaving this thing anywhere, so it’s a good thing they’ve got such a dependable stage manager.
- performer head count
- double check for guests
- check in w/ furret
- clean (outside too)
- secure costumes/props/etc
- food, water, play (pkmn center?)
- take a big nap !!!
Smushing the butt of the pen against her cheek, Himiko thinks it all over before nodding. “I’m all done here, so we can go around and see how everyone’s doing. And then for dinner, I ordered catering from Every Wich Way.” Himiko smiles at the way Braixen perks up. “Yeah, so we better get started. I don’t want the bread to get gross and soggy…”
To be honest, Himiko’s not too worried about the usual stuff. With months and years of experience and muscle memory to fall back on, their little family runs like a well-oiled Rotom, with or without Himiko’s supervision. Today, however, there is one thing that only she can take care of.
Passing through backstage, the two enter the house just in time to catch Furret’s arrival. The moment they lock eyes, he weaves towards them through the amphitheatre-style seating with ease, all the while avoiding Machoke and Timburr as they lift a bench for Minccino to roll under.
“Any updates?” Himiko asks, crouching down as he approaches. Furret circles around both her and Braixen twice before squeaking in response. She frowns.
“Again?”
Furret chirps in confirmation.
Himiko looks at Braixen, who seems equally concerned.
“Nyeh… Okay. Lemme see what I can do.”
Standing back up, Himiko wills the ache in her bones to wait a bit as Furret leads her back through the house, the scent of popcorn and lemon soda starting to overwhelm in the evening heat.
Each able Pokemon is specially assigned to the offstage job that best suits them; Furret does what they like to call “kiddo round-up”, scouting the perimeter both for security measures and to ensure no children or Pokémon have been left unattended. He’s fast and he’s sweet, making him a good fit for the average guest. He’s smart, too—he can pick out any face in a crowd. Himiko’s show arrived in Paldea five weeks ago, spending the first two between the east and west provinces before settling down south for the remaining three.
Since then, every night, Furret’s reported one special guest in the audience: a little Sprigatito.
Now, it’s unsurprising for its evolutionary line to attend Himiko’s show for obvious reasons—they’re Pokémon after her own heart, after all. Sprigatito being native to the region is specifically why she implemented a larger hands-on segment of their Paldean act, somewhat of a compromise for the kitties’ insatiable need to be the center of attention. Himiko loves that about them, though, and it’s an honor to share that passion for magic with them through each performance. So when she happened to notice a Sprigatito alone near the back one night, tail politely tucked over its paws, she didn’t think too much of it. But show after show, Himiko or Furret would catch it lingering afterwards, only ever disappearing once the stage lights shut off for good.
Now, Furret tells her that it doesn’t go home to anyone.
It wouldn’t be too concerning if lab-designated partners were ever considered wild. Himiko’s first harrowing thought is that it’s been abandoned. It’s a problem that’s long lurked in Trainer circles, enough so that official language surrounding the tradition of professors providing one’s first Pokémon has evolved from starter to first partner, all in the hope it might curb any further mistreatment.
It’s a very quiet Sprigatito. Himiko doesn’t like the language that it’s not “meant” to be that way, but she can’t deny the signs all add up to something that gives her a stomachache.
Their destination leads them outside. Furret scurries a few meters one way, then the other, nose twitching until he stands at full attention with a single chirp. Himiko follows his gaze to a small grove of holm oaks off the main path. It takes a bit of squinting, but then she sees it: Sprigatito, staring right back through the curtain of tall grass.
Himiko brushes off her shirt in some effort to be presentable before stepping forward, ditching the beaten path for a slow beeline towards the kitten. No Poké Balls, no Pokémon. She doesn’t want to give off that impression. The moment she gets close, however, its eyes widen into big dinner plates before it promptly disappears into the underbush. Himiko sighs, not all that surprised.
“Alright… Let’s try something else.”
Himiko stands in the grass, two hours before the house opens.
The sun’s high in the sky at three in the afternoon, beating down on her shoulders where the shadow of the holm oaks doesn't reach. It’s been a long day, but they managed to reset for tonight’s show in record time, granting Himiko the chance to slip away like this.
From her pocket she pulls out a plastic yo-yo, the brightly colored halves mimicking the bud of Floragato. For all her magic, she’s never found the proper spell to master yo-yoing, but she knows the basics. Himiko lets it drop, pulling the yo-yo back up to her palm the moment it reaches the end of its string. She does this a few times, even letting it plummet once or twice into a lazy swing before diligently winding it back up.
As the star performer with the most stage time, she’ll be the most familiar face. If Sprigatito is willing to be approached by anyone—even if being human hurts those odds—it’ll likely be her.
Eventually, there’s a slight rustle in the grass.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Himiko says, careful not to turn her body. She throws it a few more times before letting it still completely. She lowers herself next, cross-legged in the grass as she looks out at the tent and Mesagoza behind it.
After a while, Sprigatito creeps closer, sniffing the abandoned toy.
“Here, I can show ya something else.” Himiko pulls out a five yen coin from her pocket. “This is called Kalosian Vanish Magic. It’s one of the first spells my master taught me.” She makes a show of the coin sitting in her palm before her other hand goes to take it. With a twist of her wrists, she activates the spell, moving the coin around in her closed fist until she feels it disappear.
When she reveals both of her empty hands, Sprigatito doesn’t mew or yowl in delight. It doesn’t bounce or wiggle, relentlessly pawing at her to see just how she did it. It just stares, expression unchanging, but Himiko can see it. That quiet, burning passion in red eyes.
Something anyone can see if they just take the time to look.
She smiles.
“You liked that a lot, yeah?”
Sprigatito looks right up at her.
“Y’know… back when I left Camphrier Town, it was just the three of us. Me, Braixen, and Meowstic… I caught Meowstic right off Route 6, but Braixen was my first partner. She was just like you.”
Well, she should’ve been.
“Right away, I was good at Gym battles. Actually,” pushing back her jacket to reveal its inner lining, “I was super good.” Himiko’s fingertips brush three badges earned a lifetime ago. “But it kinda felt like I was just doing it ‘cause I was good at it, so I stopped. I tried out Contests after that, and I was pretty good at those, too. Still got the Ribbons hanging back home.” She glances in Sprigatito’s direction, just to make sure it’s still there. “Thing is, that didn’t feel right, either. I liked the show of Gym battles, and I liked the stage of Contests, but they both felt rigid. I had to do what it took to win, or I had to do what the judges liked. I wasn’t ever doing what I wanted to do.”
Himiko pulls up a knee, hugging it close.
“And then one day, I happened to see my master’s show. It was like… every question I had about my life was answered. Everything I know about magic and performing, I learned from him. He’s the best in the world, even if no one else believes it anymore.”
Himiko swallows around that familiar lump in her throat. It’s the same one she carries onstage every single day.
“...Thanks to him, I found my own way to make everyone smile. I figured out how best to use my talent for raising Pokémon. He helped me find my home, and now I try to make a home for everyone else too.”
Sprigatito moves a little closer.
“I know it looks like magic from the audience, but magic’s a lot of hard work. In some ways, it never gets easier. Like, no matter how many shows I do, I’m still gonna get nauseous before each one.”
For the first time, Sprigatito meows. It’s small, but it’s there.
“It’s true. I’m not lying.” Himiko smiles softly. “You seem pretty shy. Contests or battles… I bet whatever it was, it was scary. Scarier than being out here all alone.”
No one would expect stage fright from a Sprigatito. Maybe that’s why…
Mm.
It’s easy to expect things, like it’s easy to expect that a Chikorita will be easygoing, or that a Piplup will be a long, worthwhile challenge. When Trainers—no matter their age—receive one of three Pokémon, they’re bound to have expectations.
But for those Pokémon, their only expectation is that their Trainer will want them.
To be chosen is with intent, after all. There’s no battle to be had, or challenge to overcome. Upon registration, they’re essentially owed to a Trainer, and to some, that’s a transaction, not a promise.
Take good care of this Pokémon, and they will always keep you safe on your journey.
It’s the chance for something really wonderful. There’s always the risk of something very sad.
“The Pokémon in my troupe… they all needed someplace they could be themselves. Abra lived near some kids that liked scaring it into teleporting for fun. Snorlax needed plenty of food where it didn’t feel like a bother. Litleo grew out of his pride, but he just wasn’t a good fighter, and Slowpoke… Well, most people don’t treat Slowpokes right, anyway.” Himiko turns more towards Sprigatito, perhaps pushing its bravery a bit for staying here this long. “A lot are in the show, but only ‘cause they wanna be. Mime Jr. loves doing impressions. Brionne and Azumarill are naturals with their double water act. Dedenne usually just sucks up power and takes a nap, but it likes checking on all the wires after the show. And Phanpy’s still working on controlling her strength, but she’s a lot of help with the set.”
Himiko trails off, palm up as she slowly offers out her hand. Sprigatito tenses, pupils constricting before it gingerly extends its neck to sniff at her fingertips.
After a moment, a cool nose pushes into her skin. Himiko smiles.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m not asking you to work with me, not even in a ‘maybe one day’ kinda way. And I know it’s probably hard to trust humans. Someone really let you down. But… if you like the show, and you’d like somewhere to sleep after, we wanna have you.” Himiko lightly rubs Sprigatito’s cheek with a curled finger. “Maybe one day you’ll even overcome your stage fright. Maybe not. But if being onstage is a dream that can’t happen, then I promise we can find your next one together. Nobody ever gets just one dream. Just look at me—I’m on my third. I love this one, but if I ever find a fourth, it’ll be okay.”
Here it is.
“So… how does that sound?”
And Sprigatito, as bright as the sun, purrs.