A short one-shot written for Yuletide, slightly edited and generally spruced up to make it a cleaner draft than the original. Dramatic Melody cited Wally as one of his favourite canon characters, and asked the question of what he might have done in the large gap between Mauville and Victory Road where he's noticeably absent for much of the game. I used this as a starting point - combining this and a bit of slice-of-life, along with my continuing obsession of food in writing, and this fic is what I ended up with. Interestingly enough, actually the first ever one-shot (or any piece of fictional prose) I've posted here. Hope I've not flunked too badly. Any comments and/or criticisms are always welcome, anyway. Bon appetit.
Dessert Course
It was a Wednesday afternoon when Wally found himself sitting in an unfamiliar restaurant in Slateport City with a total stranger.
They were sitting in a quiet corner, beside a large floor-to-ceiling window which looked out onto the street outside. The room was bustling, and all around was the hubbub of conversation and the clinking of cutlery on plates. Distant shouts from the kitchen could be heard every time the door at the other end of the room opened.
It was here where Wally sat with a mysterious girl, who had dragged him here from the beach with little warning just moments before. Temporarily confounded, Wally had allowed himself to be carted away, and now they were sitting opposite each other: one of them utterly relaxed, the other wondering what on earth he was doing here, and what on earth was going on.
“So umm… why am I here…? And what -”
“Wait, wait, not yet,” interrupted the girl. “I wait to wait for - oh, hi there!”
She broke off suddenly and smiled at the waiter who seemed to have materialised from nowhere and was now standing at their table.
“Hi!” Said the waiter, smiling back. “Welcome to the Slateport Ballroom. Are we ready to order?”
The girl swiftly picked up the menu lying in front of her and scanned it quickly. “Hmm, let's see… What do you feel like eating?” She asked, glancing over the top of her menu to Wally. “Pecan pie? Fruit tart? Soufflé? They've got pretty good cheesecake here too… I could go for some of that right now actually, what do you think?”
“Umm-”
“Two slices of the chocolate cheesecake please, and two glasses of… Orange squash. No wait, actually, make that lemon squash. Thanks!”
The waiter nodded, and promptly left. The girl set the menu back down onto the table, yawned, and slowly stretched out her arms, looking lazily around the room. Wally remained stiff in his chair.
“You like desserts, right?” The girl asked abruptly.
“I- I- well-” Wally stumbled over his words. “Y-yeah, I guess so.”
“Good.” The girl nodded in approval. “I've been here quite a few times, so I know what's worth eating and what isn't. Ever been here before?”
“N-no,” he said again, seemingly struggling to find his words. “T-this is my first time in Slateport…”
“Uh huh, is that so…?” Said the girl, rubbing her chin. “Well, it's a great place. I've been kind of all over the place, up and down the country and stuff, but this is one of my favourite cities. It's just got… a really good vibe to it, y’know?”
From the look on Wally’s face, it was evident that he did not know.
“I should probably introduce myself - I guess I probably should have done that sooner, but I think nowadays you can't be too careful. I was reading up the other day about this… team or some crap who’re really making waves with some technology they're going to use to expand the ocean… or was it landmass? Can't remember, but it's bad news either way if you ask me - not that anyone seems to be doing much to try and stop them...” She lapsed into thoughtful silence and began fiddling with the button on her shirt sleeve.
“M-maybe you should hold a protest?” Wally ventured, after a few seconds of silence.
The girl focused her attention back on Wally. “Hmm… I guess, but if you ask me, I think going on the offensive is the best idea; something that actually gets results or something, y’know. I dunno why, but vigilantism seems to be a pretty big thing recently. I just wish it'd be as easy as walking into their headquarters, solving a few puzzles and battling the head honcho for supremacy, but I really doubt that that'd be the case. I mean, this ain't a game or anything.”
The girl poured herself a glass of water from the jug sitting on the table - the first slosh of water was a little too strong and spilt onto the table, staining the tablecloth under it a dark grey. As the girl picked up the glass to drink, Wally could see the stain the water had left behind as it collected around the base of the glass. It looked like a crooked half-moon.
She took a few glugs of water, wiped her mouth with a tissue and threw it casually aside. “I guess really, the real thing that worries me is just idea of it, y’know? Like, the constant threat of something bad happening, looming over us even if at the end of the day we’re all getting worked up over nothing. It's like being in the shadow of something mysterious and… unknown, but it's just that idea of it being something to worry about which is enough to send you over the edge. Know what I mean?”
“Umm… yes… well, k-kinda.”
The girl rested her head in her hands and gazed out the window. Through the passing crowds of people on the street, they could just make out in the distance the beach and the sea beyond.
“I dunno, it's just something I like to think about sometimes, I guess. The trick is to not let it get you down, though.” The girl smiled. Wally smiled uncertainly back.
“Anyway,” said the girl with renewed vigour. “Sorry. I guess I'm rambling a little. Look at me, prattling on, sitting here with you and I don't even know your name. That might be a good place to start, don't you think?” She looked expectantly at Wally, who was now also looking out of the window, but with a pronounced look of longing on his face. It took him a short while after to realise that she had asked him a question.
“Oh! Wally. M-my name’s Wally.”
The girl frowned. “Wally… Wally… Waaaaaaaally. Wally Wally Wally. Wally.”
“...Yes.”
“Nice name.”
“Thanks.”
“I wish I had a name as interesting as that, I'm - oh, thank you!”
The girl was once again cut off by the sudden reappearance of the waiter, who much like last time, seemed to have materialised out of nowhere and was now carrying their order on a tray. “Two chocolate cheesecakes,” he said, setting the plates down in front of them, smiling widely as he did so, “and two blackcurrant squashes.”
“Oh, uh, excuse me, but we actually ordered the lemon squash, not blackcurrant.”
The waiter paused, then smiled mechanically again. “My apologies,” he said politely. He took back the two glasses of the offending squash and placed them onto his tray. “I'll be back in just a minute.” He then swept away again, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.
The girl turned back towards Wally and rolled her eyes. “Waiters. Can't trust them, can ya? But then again, I guess working in a job where you have to kowtow to rude people all day long must be pretty hard. Do you eat in restaurants a lot?”
“N-no, usually I cook my own meals over a portable stove most of the time…”
“Hmm. Hardly haute cuisine you'd be making though, is it? Basic stuff I guess, like beans, or soup, or sausages, things like that?”
“Sometimes, yeah… but I d-don't really eat very often, so I don't often make meals for myself, it's mostly just food for my Pokemon which I'm concerned about a lot of the time.”
The girl raised her eyebrows. “Well I'm glad at least your Pokemon are getting some square meals everyday, at least. Anyway, never mind that, I wanna get started on this cake.”
The girl picked up the plate and brought the cake to her nose. She inhaled long, deep lungfuls of the cake’s scent, her eyes closed in apparent satisfaction. Wally looked at his plate dubiously and wondered if he was expected to copy her strange behaviour.
“Mmm. I love the smell of food, don't you? It's like, the anticipation you get before you eat it which is the best. And lemme tell you, there's nothing like the smell of cake after a long, hard day.”
To Wally, food had never been anything more than simply food; a necessity rather than a pleasure, and a little-required one, at that. Despite this, he did watch with strange interest as the girl ate her cake - it was with a slow, almost indecent enthusiasm with which she ate, enough to make Wally slightly uncomfortable, as if he was intruding on something which ought to be private.
The girl noticed that Wally was staring at her; more importantly it seemed, she noticed that he had not touched his own slice.
“What're you waiting for? It's not poisoned, I swear.”
Wally slowly picked up his fork, cut off a small part off the tip, and with all the enthusiasm of someone being force-fed gruel, ate it. The girl watched all his movements throughout with a fierce, unbreaking gaze.
“Well?”
“Well… what?”
“What do you think? Do you like it?”
“I’m… yeah, well, I guess. T-tastes like ordinary chocolate cake.”
The girl didn't look happy. “Yes, it's chocolate cake, but what else can you taste? What else is going on past that? You should be able to tell me more than just that. Go on, taste some more, and this time try to actually try to pay attention to what's in your mouth.”
A little taken aback at the girl’s vociferousness in which she was force-feeding him cake, Wally ate a little more. The pressure of this unexpectedly demanding eating session was beginning to get to him a little.
“Umm, it tastes… very… chocolate-y? I guess? The base is biscuit-y and… chocolate cream… cake…”
He trailed off into an embarrassed silence.
“Ok, look,” the girl’s voice had an impatient bite to it now. “Finish off the rest of your cake and see if anything comes to you - I'm going to order something else in the meantime. God, where is that stupid waiter when you need him?”
Wally started eating the rest of his slice in undignified silence as the girl turned around in her chair to try and flag down a waiter. Her unexpected anger was slightly unnerving, but was that the reason why Wally was dragged here in the first place? To be taught first-hand the fine art of dessert appreciation?
The girl clicked her fingers imperiously at a passing waiter. He stopped, visibly irritated.
“Yeah, could I get a slice of tiramisu, the creme brûlée, a salted caramel tart, and -” she glanced back at the menu for a nanosecond - “the lemon meringue pie? Two of each. Thanks!”
The waiter gave a curt nod and stalked off.
The girl eyed Wally carefully, who was regarding now her a little as if she was a land mine that could go off without warning at any second. “Sorry if I seem a bit short with you, but this stuff is important to me, and it's important to me that other people see how important it is, too. I mean, I did bring you here with an agenda but I figure that this is just as, if not important than that, too. If you know what I mean.”
So there was something else besides dessert tasting which was currently on the table. Though Wally did undoubtedly feel like he'd much rather be somewhere else, his strong aversion to confrontation in social situations meant that he would rather endure sitting through this a little while longer (whatever exactly “this” was) rather than risk provoking the girl’s potentially volatile temper.
“I haven't told you my name yet, have I?” She said suddenly.
Wally shook his head.
“Hmm. Well, it's really a kind of inter-”
“Lemon squash for the lady and gentleman?”
It was the first waiter again, bearing two tall glasses of lemon squash. The girl beamed at him, as usual, and he set the glasses carefully down in front of them. He nodded at them, then turned away swiftly and disappeared. The girl waited until he was out of sight before turning back to Wally again, who was now practically on the edge of his seat.
“What was I saying, again?”
“I think you were going to tell me your name?” Said Wally expectantly.
“Oh yeah.” The girl narrowed her eyes and slowly took a pensive sip of lemon squash. “Actually... it might be best if I don't give you my real name after all, given the… circumstances. It's a bit of a long story, I don't really want to get into it now. Anyway, in the meantime, you can call me… O.”
“O?”
“O.”
“Oh.”
“O,” repeated the girl, nodding solemnly. Sorry, but the way things are at the moment, it's best for me to keep a low profile. And in any case, you know...” she inhaled sharply, “I don't reeeeally know if I can trust you yet or not, so it's best to just be safe. For now. No offence or anything.”
“O...kay,” said Wally slowly. “That's fine. B-but I still don't know what I'm doing here, or who exactly you are…?”
O stared out of the window again - the street outside was less busier now, giving them a mostly unobstructed view of the beach and the dazzling sunlight reflecting off the sea. “Let's tackle one question at a time,” she said, turning back to Wally. “Who am I? Not important at the moment. On the other hand, the matter of what you’re doing here? Slightly more important - in my opinion, anyway.”
O lapsed into thoughtful silence as she turned her attention back towards the window again, as if there was something particularly interesting happening outside which she didn't want to miss. Wally began to grow annoyed: did she drag him all the way here just so she could lead him on some wild goose chase involving conversational dead ends and impromptu dessert tastings? It seemed to Wally that there was a definite whiff of farce at work here, as if the entire thing were perhaps some elaborate prank or perhaps a highly detailed hallucination designed specifically to mildly irritate and discomfit.
When she went almost a full minute without showing any signs of continuing the conversation, Wally quietly cleared his throat, and O turned back towards him and sighed.
“Sorry, just zoned out there for a sec, that happens sometimes.” She shook her head vigorously as if physically shaking the dreaminess from her mind, and took a lengthy gulp of lemon squash.
“Ahh, refreshing! Okay, so look - fine, I'll jump straight to the point here: one reason you're here is because I saw you earlier, out there, on the beach, battling. You and your Pokemon really caught my eye. ”
Wally looked slightly taken aback. “Me? Are you sure? B-because I lost nearly all of my battles today… My Pokemon aren't really very strong yet, compared to other trainers around here.”
O waved her hand impatiently, as if batting the notion away. “Yeah, yeah, I know that, but none of that really matters, winning or losing or whatever, does it? I mean sure, I know some trainers out there spend twelve hours a day or something, pumping iron or whatever and getting their teams to the strongest they can be physically, but… that's only a part of it, right? They're missing the point. Because the important thing isn't that you’re able to knock over all your opponents in one go like a bowling ball, it's so much more than that - it's so much better than that really, but I don't think everyone realises it. You, though,” she said, jabbing her fork aggressively in Wally’s direction, “realise it. No, even better than that, actually - you get it.”
Wally looked bemused. “Get… what?”
O shook her head. “It's really hard to properly put it into words, but… you know that moment, before a battle, or during one or whatever, when you look at your Pokemon, and they look at you, and it's like… you know exactly what the other one’s thinking, without even having to say anything? You just have to glance at each other and it's the, the, you know, the connection between the two of you, that feeling that you’re both totally in sync. That's… sort of what I'm talking about. Not everyone has that skill, and even less people can actually use it - because to them, training Pokemon is like a chore rather than a spiritual learning curve. You're just starting out, right? Well that makes it even better, because you've already got that understanding, that special kind of link with your Pokemon which separates the good from the great. And lemme tell you, I think you're going to be great.”
Wally couldn't say for certain whether he fully understood what O was getting at; it was with even less confidence that he believed that it was his own skills which O was pontificating about when she talked about “connections” or “links”. Yet he knew that for as long as he could remember, a small part of him had remained defiant that through graft and hard work, he would perhaps, one day, make for an acceptable, even strong trainer. He had spent much of his life thus far concentrating on little else; and yet strangely, now that the words were actually coming from someone else’s mouth, he couldn't help but feel strangely doubtful of himself, and his abilities. Being told that he had something which set him apart from the rest was disconcerting, as if shining a harsh light on something which was better off lurking in the dark. If anything, Wally felt like he didn't deserve these words. In fact, the more Wally thought about what O had said, the very notion that he was in some way special, or had a unique ability to connect or to perceive, or something to that effect, was, to him, nothing short of ridiculous.
“S-sorry, but I think you've got the wrong person… I've only been training for a few weeks, I haven't even got many badges yet, and I'm definitely still too weak to be called a good trainer.”
“That doesn't matter,” said O, defiantly. “Anyway, it’s not even that important that I tell you this anyway, because whether you like it or not, it's there, and it's not going to go away. I'm telling you, I saw you battling out there, you and your Ralts, and you wanna know what I saw? I saw potential. You know what that means, right? It doesn't mean you're amazing now, doesn't have to mean you're gonna be amazing tomorrow… but someday, somewhere, you're going to look at yourself and see how far you've come and realise that all that work you've put in from never giving up and giving it your all, and all that jazz, has paid off. Now then, let's pause there for a sec and see if we can make some headway with these cakes.”
Wally looked down and saw to his surprise, four new dishes laid out in front of him: a creme brûlée burnt to a golden crisp, a large slab of tiramisu, a thin and elegant slice of salted caramel tart, and a huge wedge of lemon meringue pie, piled high with crisp meringue peaks atop a bright yellow band of lemon curd.
“I barely even noticed them arriving,” said O, echoing Wally’s exact thoughts. “Must have been a different waiter to that annoying interrupt-y one. Oh well. Anyway!” She said excitedly, rubbing her hands enthusiastically. “What d’you want to try first?”
Wally opened his mouth to answer, but was quickly interrupted by O. “Actually, maybe it'd be best to eat the creme brûlée first - before it gets cold, y’know.” She picked up her ramekin and took a deep sniff. Wally didn't reciprocate.
Setting the dish back onto the table, O took her spoon, and in two swift movements, broke the top of the brûlée with it, cracking the thick, charred topping into jagged pieces. She picked up a small golden shard and popped it into her mouth.
“Mmmm, crunchy. The custard filling is a little… pointless, but you can't get a thicker topping anywhere else, and that's all I really care about. Ok, now you try. Try the top and the custard underneath together in one go. Probably best if you take your time, and close your eyes while you're eating, too. Try to consider the flavours and textures together.”
Encouraged by her slightly calmer demeanour compared to the chocolate cheesecake incident, Wally nodded and carefully broke the top of his own brûlée with his spoon. He scooped up a jagged piece of the caramelised sugar and the custard underneath, and keeping his eyes firmly shut, ate the spoonful.
He could understand what O said; the vanilla custard underneath, bland as it already was, was completely overshadowed by the sweetness of the sugar topping. Though it provided a light and airy counterpoint to the hard, crunchy topping, its barely-there flavour added disappointingly little in terms of taste.
He opened his eyes to find O looking at him expectedly. “Well?”
Wally waited until he had swallowed his mouthful and took a sip of lemon squash. “The sugar topping is nice… but the filling is kind of… well, it doesn't taste like much, if I'm honest.”
“What can you taste?”
“Umm… I can taste vanilla… cream… sugar… oh! And uhh, caramel, as well. In the topping.”
O nodded. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Where exactly they were “getting” to, Wally was curious to ask, but he held his tongue.
O scooped up a generous helping of custard and ate it slowly, a thoughtful look etched on her face. “I guess,” she began slowly, “in the way of custard, this isn't that bad,” she said. “I've had some really bad custard before, and I'm not just talking about the really awful, split ones which people make when they have absolutely no idea what they're doing. No, I guess this is more… well, custard is never really presented as a main component of a dish, is it? It's always with something else, like crumble or brownies. It's never going to be anyone’s favourite part of a dessert I guess, but it's still pretty important. You need to consider all aspects of something like that; the main players and the supporting roles, too. They all make up the whole after all, right?”
Wally nodded slowly. He felt like O was trying, intentionally or not, to tell him something.
O shook her head. “Anyway - listen to me, going on about custard. Let's try the tiramisu.”
She pulled the dish towards her and inspected it. “Very mousse-y, isn't it? But I guess that's a good thing - if you don't like coffee, that is. It’s really more of a subtle flavour in this one, but it's still really nice.” She scraped off some of the cocoa-dusted mousse off the top of her own slice and ate it slowly.
“There's like a… vanilla-y, chocolate-y, kind of taste to it. The coffee flavour is only in the sponge, and it isn't that strong. It's like eating a hot chocolate with whipped cream, but in a cake. Try it and see.”
Wally tasted a small portion, again with closed eyes, and considered the flavours. Yes, there was indeed a subtle coffee-like flavour in the sponge, but the cream topping definitely took centre stage with the flavour of vanilla and dark, earthy cocoa slowly growing in intensity in the mouth. The overall effect was an initially bitter taste of the cocoa giving way to a smooth, delicate vanilla finish with a slight coffee aftertaste.
“I don't like the taste of coffee,” started Wally, “but I like the cream, and the cocoa. It's uh… really rich though, so I don't think I can finish the whole thing… sorry.”
“That's ok, don't worry,” said O, who was already nearly finished her own slice. “I mean I guess you've got to have a real sweet tooth to be able to get through this much cake in one sitting. Me, I love it, I can just eat and eat and eat, especially after a difficult day. Besides, you can't just train Pokemon all the time, you've got to take some time out to treat yourself too, right?”
“I do treat myself,” said Wally. “I like reading books about Pokemon in my free time… and spending time with my Pokemon - playing with them and reading with them… th-that's my idea of a treat.”
O nodded, “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. But it never hurts to try new things. Especially - and I mean especially, when it comes to food.”
“D-do you eat at a lot of restaurants?”
“Yeah, well you know, when I get the chance. Which is most of the time.” O gave a short laugh.
Wally watched as O continued to work her way through her tiramisu slice. Three main questions which had been niggling away at the back of Wally’s head had come to the forefront in the past few minutes. Firstly: why was this girl so fixated on desserts? Secondly: what was her reasoning behind making such a huge point about his apparent potential in becoming a good trainer? And finally - and this was perhaps the biggest question mark of all - who was she?
“Umm-”
“Ok, salted caramel tart time! I have to admit, I've been really looking forward to this one, this is one of my favourites.”
Wally sighed. He pushed his half-eaten tiramisu aside with a twinge of guilt and made a mental note to attempt to return to it later (he had always been taught by his relatives that wasting food was a cardinal sin) and turned his attention to the salted caramel tart.
Unlike the other desserts, this one looked thinner, darker, and more elegant. A thin layer of caramel was sandwiched between a golden brown pastry base and a dense layer of chocolate. For decoration, artistic swirls of white chocolate were piped on top, surrounding a delicate piece of white chocolate which was set at an angle, protruding up from the tart. The entire thing, plate and all, looked too pristine, too perfect to eat.
O saw Wally taking in the tart’s appearance. “You eat with your eyes as well as your mouth, right?” She laughed as she picked up her fork. “But this is a restaurant, not an art gallery, after all.”
Wally cut away a portion with his fork - though the caramel itself was thick, the layer of chocolate on top was so heavy that the pressure of the fork pushed the caramel outwards, oozing onto the plate before it cut through the chocolate and the pastry base. Wally carefully scraped up the caramel with his knife onto his fork, and ensuring that he had all three components, took a mouthful.
The sharp, bold saltiness of the caramel came through immediately, and it was unlike anything Wally had ever tasted before; the flavour was simultaneously sweet and salty while carefully balanced with the buttery shortcrust pastry and the velvety milk chocolate. Despite the distinct flavours, it was neither overwhelming, nor overly brash in the way it slowly melted in the mouth. It was truly an addictive combination.
O smiled at Wally and ate a portion of her own slice. “Good, isn't it?”
“Wow, it's… yeah, it's really good! I didn't even know that salted caramel was a thing that existed.”
“Oh, well it's a pretty big craze nowadays, you'll find it in everything: chocolates, cakes, tarts, muffins - you can even buy it in tubs so you can spread it on toast. It's not really a hard one to get wrong, but it's still bloody good.”
“I would never have thought that salt and sweet could go together like that…” Wally took another forkful of the tart. “It's weird, but… a good weird. I- I think this one’s my favourite.”
“The white chocolate’s a nice touch, too. Very artsy.”
“Very,” Wally agreed. He cut what remained of the slice into half and was just about to eat a portion, but instead changed his mind and set his fork down on his plate. He sighed as he turned to look towards the window. O stopped eating and looked at him concernedly. “What's the matter?”
“Why am I here - really? I mean… I don't think you brought me here just so that we could eat desserts and stuff… It's - it’s nice and all, but… I'd like to know what we’re actually doing here..”
“Hmm.” O mirrored Wally and looked out of the window at the sea. The sky was stained a light pink as the sun began to set. From here, they could just about make out the streams of people leaving the beach for the day, filling towards the concrete steps which led back towards the city.
Suddenly, without warning, O stood up abruptly and started picking up plates from the table. A shining look of excitement was on her face, as if Christmas had come early.
“I've got a great idea. Come on, we’re leaving - follow me!”
Wally look positively alarmed by this sudden burst of spontaneous energy. “B-but, what about - we haven't paid, or anything?”
“Oh, don't worry about that,” said O as she waved her hand dismissively. “Now come on, hurry!” And before Wally had a chance to argue, she gripped his arm with her free hand and marched him out of the restaurant, the other diners looking on with curious looks.
-
“T-this is your great idea?”
“Yeah! It's nice, right?”
“We're at the beach. I was here earlier...”
“I just love it when it's all empty and quiet like this - you can really hear the sound of the sea and nature and really connect with it.”
“I think something just bit me.”
“Ahhh, the beauty of nature! Y’know, it's moments like these which really make me grateful to be alive and crap. I love being by the sea.”
To give O credit, it was indeed a beautiful evening; to the right of them, a spectacular sunset was blazing pink, red and gold, reflected brilliantly in the sparkling sea; to the left of them, a pale sliver of a moon had appeared in the inky blue sky, as well as the first faint stars dotted here and there. The beach was largely deserted; all that was left was the sand, the sea, and the two of them sitting side by side, gazing towards the horizon and listening to the endless rush of the tide washing over the sand.
“Y’know, even if you don't believe me, I meant what I said,” said O after a short silence. “I really do think you've got the potential to become a great trainer. It hardly means anything coming from me, I know, but… without going all gooey and sentimental and that kind of crap, I think you've got something, I really do. Believe me.” She turned towards Wally and smiled. He blushed and rubbed his neck self-consciously.
“Oh, well… thanks. I really do want to become a strong trainer and take on the Pokemon League… but I still have a long way to go, I think.”
“Well… I think I have something which might help you with that.”
O reached into her pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a wooden pendant and a small, round rainbow-coloured stone. “Here,” she said, as she dropped the two objects into Wally’s outstretched hand.
“What is it?”
“Well… your Ralts, it's a male, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, good. Well lemme just say, keep a hold of these, and when you and your Pokemon get stronger, and your bond grows, and you learn to understand each other even better… this'll come in handy. Like you say though, you've still got a bit more work to do but I'm pretty sure you'll manage to get there ok.”
Wally stared at the objects in his hand. There was a small stone embedded in the wooden pendant, not unlike the larger, separate stone. They both seemed to glow and sparkle with a dull glint in the evening light. He looked at O.
“Why are you giving these to me?”
O shrugged. “I dunno. I'm just a traveller really; I meet a lot of people who think they're all that, but… it's not always that people get a chance to tell their own stories, you know? I think even though you've got potential, you're the type of person who kind of stays in the background a lot. But that doesn't mean you're condemned to stay there forever. And I like that kind of thing, I like underdogs, I guess.”
Wally remained silent and bowed his head, somewhat resignedly.
“Hey! That doesn't mean you're not good or anything,” said O encouragingly as she nudged him in the ribs. “It just means you've… well… got a steeper hill to climb than other people. But you know what? That just means it'll be even more impressive when you'll make the summit.”
Wally nodded slowly.
“The important thing to remember is that it's about the journey, not the destination. Sure, you've got a goal and you're working towards it, but y’know what? I think it's more about what you learn along the way, rather than whatever achievement or title you get at the end. It's about you and your Pokemon at the end of the day, and it's even better for you, because I think you already understand your Pokemon better than a lot of experienced trainers do. Just don't worry about how strong you are compared to everyone else or anything like that… as long as you and your Pokemon are happy, who the hell cares what anyone else thinks, right?”
“Yeah…” said Wally slowly. “Yeah, you're right. I guess I've never really thought about it like that before. I value my Pokemon more than anything… but I suppose what you're saying is that… It d-doesn't matter if I become the strongest trainer or not - it's about me being with my Pokemon and just being the best we can be… right?”
O nodded. “And y’know what? I've got a feeling that by the end of it all, you'll have a story that'll be just as worth telling as anybody else’s. I think you're gonna go far.”
Wally put his hand in his pocket and touched the objects inside as he gazed out to the horizon: the stone and the pendant that O had given him, his Pokeballs, and his set of keys which he still carried around with him everywhere he went, even though his house in Petalburg was seldom locked.
“Anyway look, I've got to get going soon, I don't really like being in one place for too long so I’m gonna dash. Also I don't think those waiters are gonna be majorly happy when they hear we’ve taken their desserts for nothing, so best to put a little bit of distance between us and them.”
“Where’re you going to go?”
“Oh, I dunno… east someplace, maybe. I've heard there's a cafe in Lilycove that does amazing scones, maybe I'll go and check that out - then after that, who knows? That's the great thing about travelling on your own. There's no agenda, you can just go wherever and whenever you fancy.”
“Don't you get lonely, though? I mean… d-do you have your own Pokemon?”
O exhaled and stretched her arms back, looking up at the sky as she did so. “No, no, it's just me at the moment. But it's okay, I mean yeah, it's not like I never get lonely - everyone does - but I do have some friends around the place and stuff, and food is always a great companion when I don't have anyone else to hang out with… which is most of the time.” O gave a short laugh. “Anyway, that's enough about me - speaking of food anyway, we've still got one more cake to try, remember?
She passed the plate to Wally: lemon meringue pie - stolen, fork and all, from the restaurant they had visited earlier.
“It's impossible to choose a favourite dessert above all others,” said O as she carefully cut into her own slice, plate balanced precariously on her lap, “but lemon meringue pie is definitely up there with the greats.”
The sun had almost completely set as Wally started on his slice. Similar to the salted caramel tart earlier, the flavour was a balance of two extremes: the intense, zingy and tart lemon curd at odds with the crispy, chewy, and impossibly sweet meringue. Perhaps it was the setting, or the company of O or something else entirely, but even though this particular dessert wasn't new to him like the others were, Wally had never before truly appreciated the marrying of these two different tastes: the way they balanced and complemented each other, with one part coaxing out nuances in the other which wouldn't have been possible with just the individual elements alone. The lemon curd cut through the light, sweet meringue with a sharp intensity, and seemed to give the rather plain meringue flavour a proper voice. The pastry base provided a middle upon which the flavours could work, grounding them with a solid buttery and crumbly texture. There was just enough of each component to provide a true balance between the flavours, though the lemon curd was definitely the main player on the stage, and it was the lingering tartness which remained in the mouth above all else when the mouthful was gone. Within a minute, the plate was empty and Wally set it down gently onto the sand. The sky was darkening and the wind blowing in from the sea brought with it a slight chill.
“That really was a good pie, wasn't it?”
“Yeah… I guess it was.”
Wally and O sat there together, gazing at the sea and the distant horizon as night fell around them.
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