diamondpearl876
Well-Known Member
Hey, Serebii. I haven't learned my lesson, clearly, because I'm releasing yet another chaptered journey fic that I'm working on. This one's quite a bit special to me, though, since it's the sequel to Survival Project, which is the first fic I posted here and also the first fic I've managed to finish completely, edits and all. Survival Project was a fic that helped me learn a lot of things about myself along the way while going through a particularly difficult time in life. I couldn't resist coming back to work with my characters and see what else they have left to teach me.
Seeing as how Survival Project was mostly a character study, I would highly recommend reading it before moving on to this fic. For those interested in reading the original, the link is here. If you're entirely new, the fic won't be difficult to follow at all, but I think Phantom Project would be experienced best if you already know about the characters.
There is a five year gap between Survival Project and Phantom Project. To help new readers learn more about the original fic and about the characters, and to kind of help fill in the gap without breaking the flow of the main fic too often, I've decided to open each chapter with a third person flashback-esque scene that'll set the tone for the real chapter. And as in the original, the real chapters will be in first person, with rotating character POVs.
Phantom Project will be rated PG-13 for swearing and discussion of heavier subjects such as mental illness and suicide.
As always, any and all comments are appreciated.
Nominations
Senori for best pokémon character (bulbagarden)
Best pokémon chaptered fic (serebii)
Best writing style x2 (serebii)
Most original overall (serebii)
Best character development (serebii)
Awards
Best dark fic (bulbagarden)
Best story (bulbagarden)
Best new pokémon chaptered fic (serebii)
Most heartbreaking scene (serebii)
Best character-driven fic (bulbagarden)
Most heartbreaking fic (serebii)
Most memorable quote (serebii)
Index
0.5 // 1 - light [gracie]
1.5 // 2 - the first gift [atis]
2.5 // 3 - albatross [ezrem]
3.5 // 4 - effigy [kuiora]
4.5 // 5 - multileveled [rennio]
5.5 // 6 - mindscape [gracie]
“Oh, God... My pokémon are illegal.”
Sai Luart had just come to the realization that he never did update his official trainer's license when he retired, despite how determined he used to be to follow the rules, to do everything right. And now, he’d be breaking a second League rule by adding another pokémon to his full team of six.
Senori’s tail perked up in response to Sai’s revelation. The furret had been helping to clean the kitchen, but he deserted the task and ran to Sai’s side. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“He means he's been working you too hard,” interrupted Kuiora. She ran into the room with a playful expression on her face. Of course the feraligatr was pretending that it wasn't her fault their trainer was in such distress.
Senori smirked. “No kidding. Where's my paid vacation?”
“I'd send you out to New Bark Town, but...” Sai trailed off and grinned too, and then he picked up his starter and wrapped the little ball of fur around his shoulders.
“New Bark Town?” Kuiora's eyes widened. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she left the place she was born to travel with Sai. “I want to go!”
“No. You'll end up getting in trouble or something.”
“Who cares? A little corruption is good for the soul.” These words entered Ezrem the shiny braviary into the conversation, which caused everyone to roll their eyes. He was perched on a nest settled on the floor in the farthest corner of the apartment, away from the kitchen fumes that could harm the egg he was keeping warm underneath his chest.
“You'd let a mother-to-be get caught up with another trainer?” Despite her words, Kuiora went and nuzzled up to him. “You're the worst.”
Ezrem shrugged. “You'll still get food and shelter.”
“I'll protect her!” quipped Rennio, the elekid who was previously thought to have been napping on the small bed located in the apartment's second bedroom. Sai had specifically asked for it when searching for a home.
“Uh, no. I will.” So said the heroic hitmontop named Atis, who crossed his arms defensively over his chest. Keeping the electric-type away from any source of water was a reinforced habit in this household.
“Guys, please,” Sai said. He sighed. “I'll ask for a few days off at work, and then we can all go.”
“Don't forget to ask for your breeder's license, too...” Atis said, motioning toward Kuiora’s belly.
“Oh, right. Poor baby,” Rennio said, shaking his head. “She'll need protection all her life.”
Ezrem glared at him, but only said, “It could be a boy, you know.”
“Still. Poor baby,” said Gracie the quilava. She licked her paws idly, knowing for a fact already that whatever she said would irritate the braviary. Sometimes it seemed that her sole purpose in life was to make him miserable.
“Go to hell,” Ezrem said, but his actions betrayed him as he subconsciously glanced at the fireplace, which, per his and Rennio’s request, had been covered by a large blanket.
“Already been there. Got the t-shirt,” Gracie said. She motioned toward the pile of laundry in the far corner, which Senori had yet to get around to. With only one person in the house, you would think there'd be fewer clothes to worry about, but Sai insisted on shopping for his pokémon a little too often.
“So...” Senori said, “didn’t you have to show them an ID or something when we got this apartment? How’d they not notice you were still technically a traveling trainer?”
Sai blinked. “Ask Atis,” he said.
“Er,” the hitmontop started. “I did the paperwork. I put that I would—well, that Sai would update the license right away, but it never happened...”
“You should have told me!” Senori said, shaking his head. “I would’ve made sure he did it!”
The team continued to bicker as they usually did. Soon everyone huffed and went their separate ways, but Sai knew they weren't actually angry with each other. It was only a facade they put on so that their trainer could live a normal life.
Sometimes it seemed as if the contents of his medicine cabinet controlled his life. Sometimes he was able to construct a coherent explanation for how he was feeling during a rough incident. Sometimes he found it easy to laugh.
Sometimes he was reminded that a little extra help couldn't hurt. During sleepless nights where he’d be hurting, his starter would curl up with him in bed to keep him company. Senori always retold the story of the day they met. I never saw you coming. Now I never see anything coming, even if all the signs are there. Sai would apologize. Senori would smile.
Sai’s goal was to not feel obligated to apologize. He wanted to forgive himself for being sick. For feeling like nothing but a burden. For those sad times he stayed silent when all his team wanted were answers. When things fell apart in the most unexpected way, he changed his mind. He wanted it back, all that pain, all that grief, so that no one but him had to know the terrible struggle of trying to justify the unwillingness to keep on living.
“He's dying, Trainer, dying...”
I hadn't yet gathered the courage to call my trainer by his first name. His name represented what he had once been—a weapon, a toy to be sharpened and used for all the wrong reasons. He tried to let go of his past after Team Rocket had lost their hold on him, but we both knew there would be some things he’d never grow accustomed to. That’s just what happens when someone else controls your life for too long.
I think what got to Trainer the most was how he never grew accustomed to wanting things for himself. Team Rocket had set strict rules for his journey that constrained his curiosity and freedom from the start. Somewhere along the way—I wasn’t present for the majority of his travels, really—Trainer adopted the idea that he should try to focus on preventing anything he already had from being taken away.
And what he already had was a decent apartment in Olivine City, Johto—the only place he’d been to so far that felt peaceful enough for him to get a good night’s rest, he said. He had a job at the Olive Grove Bar and Restaurant, which was where he could socialize with other humans. He had food, clean water, a bed… And he had us, his pokémon.
We were a full team of six until Kuiora and Ezrem’s son came along. Things got crazy with a kid running around in the apartment all the time, but it was a kind of chaos we could enjoy and be happy about.
Not too long after that, we found out there would be just six of us again soon.
Trainer stood his ground when he heard the news. No, Senori’s not sick. No, I don't know how old he is! Why are you asking me these things? Let me see him and I'll figure it out... It never occurred to him that a pokémon's life expectancy can be short depending on the species, nor the fact that diseases like dementia can affect us just as well.
The truth sank in when we remembered what we knew about Senori’s history. Senori had been a leader to a clan of sentret living on the outskirts of Cherrygrove City. No one knew exactly how long it had taken Senori to earn that title, but we figured he had to have been one of the older clan members. He had left to travel with Trainer, and they had been together for years now…
I didn't dare say Senori could live a while longer under the right circumstances. I had seen dementia before, and even in the early stages, it wasn’t pretty. My previous trainer, Marty Vondila… He didn't mean to, but he introduced me to dementia and other such nightmares. His mother was trapped in a relationship with an abusive man. Because she feared for her children's safety, she refused to leave. She turned to alcohol and developed dementia before she reached her sixties, as if she willed herself to have the proper excuse she needed to escape.
Senori exhibited some of the classic symptoms. They didn’t stand out much at all. The way he repeated the same phrases over and over, and the way he forgot to take a bath after playing in the mud... We could all chalk it up to his joking nature.
We only knew there was a real problem when he wandered off once, claiming he would be back soon enough. He was gone for a week. He claimed to have been taking a walk in the forest that separated Olivine and Ecruteak, but had gotten lost on his way home. He told me later that it felt like he was going crazy and that he couldn’t keep up with how quickly the time was passing by. I told Trainer I was worried about Senori and asked if we could do anything for him. Trainer was just as worried, so he had Senori evaluated, and soon enough, he was given an official diagnosis.
That had been a few months ago. Now, I was encouraging Trainer to eat dinner at a nice restaurant with one of his friends, who also happened to be Marty’s sister. He agreed to go, I think, more for my sake than his, because his anxiety became too much too quick and he had to excuse himself. I followed him, even after I saw that he was fleeing into the bathroom, even after I knew he was going to throw up the little amount of food he’d eaten.
“I'm only being honest, Trainer,” I told him. I stood behind him, rubbing my head against the back of his knees for comfort. At that moment I forgot that mercy can be cruel, too.
Trainer said nothing.
There was a knock at the door. It was, of course, Sasha Vondila. The two had become friends when they bumped into each other when Trainer traveled through Azalea Town years ago. I wondered vaguely if she would be upset with me after this. I had requested she travel all the way to Olivine, after all, so that Trainer would go somewhere besides the hospital when clearly he just wanted to be by Senori’s side…
Sasha called Trainer’s name. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Trainer flushed the toilet and stood up straight. “Yes... I'm fine,” he said, his voice strained. “I'll be out in a minute.”
He went over to the sink, washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were soft, which told me he appreciated my company despite my harsh words. Being able to read Trainer's moods this way was a skill the whole team shared.
“It'll be winter soon,” he said after a few moments. He ran a hand through his hair. “You think my hair will turn darker again?”
When we met Trainer, he was pale and had jet black hair. Once he started getting outside more, that changed pretty quick. Senori spent a lot of time teasing Trainer and pretending not to recognize him, as if the boy had become a different person altogether. In truth, Senori wasn't wrong.
...Would the two of them be able to laugh about it this year?
“Probably. Maybe not,” I said. I knew he was just trying to distract himself, but I couldn’t let him ignore the problem entirely. Ignoring the problem wouldn’t make it go away. “You're not gonna do anything stupid, are you?”
He paused. “I don't know,” he admitted.
“…Just focus on breathing for a minute.”
As a quilava, you can tell how I'm breathing because of the flames on my back. I inhale and they evaporate; I exhale and they're let loose. So we sat there and practiced. In and out, in and out. He paced back and forth for emphasis. His tempo matched mine and I felt as if he really, truly wanted me there.
“He's dying, Trainer, dying... I know you don't want him to go, but...” I couldn’t finish that sentence. Someday Senori won't remember you. Someday Senori will be in too much emotional pain for you to bear and you’ll change your mind.
Trainer had had enough regardless. He took his right fist and smashed it into the corner of the mirror. I flinched at the noise and cowered in the corner, hoping that none of the broken pieces touched me.
Trainer flexed his hand and ran it through his hair again, a bit of blood staining his scalp. He turned to me and said, “Sorry. I don't... I wasn't ready for this. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. A quiet tone was all I could muster.
He got down on his knees and picked me up. I was half his height, but he had grown stronger over the years and he was determined to make it up to me.
We left the bathroom together. I ignored the cuts on his hand and he ignored my words. An even trade.
“Sai,” Sasha said, managing a sad smile, “you didn't even drink anything! Why were you in there so long?”
Sasha tended to be insensitive when she was nervous and didn't know what else to say or do. Trainer wanted nothing to do with it. His expression turned emotionless as he said, “Please. Not today.” He shuffled past her, his grip tightening on my paws as a sort of consolation.
We stayed quiet on the way home. What had been the use of him reshaping his world when there are inevitabilities such as loss? I wished I could have said just one hopeful thing about that, but I didn’t do well with words that didn’t accept reality for what it really was.
*
The glass slid across the wooden table over to me. Atis needed another round, it seemed.
“Water, soda pop or lemonade?” I asked. It was like asking a human whether he wanted bourbon, scotch or Irish. I thought of Marty's family. This was not the sort of knowledge a pokémon should have.
“Just, uh… Just water. Thank you,” Atis said.
I hummed in acknowledgment as I poured the glass, then scowled when I spilled. Senori was better at this, even with his evolved form’s stubby arms. With him gone—almost gone—I was going to suck it up and take over the housework. Dusting, cooking, balancing everyone's schedules with my own... I had no idea how the furret did it. Pokémon weren't meant for this, either, but Senori took care of us like no one else could.
Senori...
I attempted to fill the glass again. I slid it back to Atis and tried to keep my paws from shaking as I said, “Did you find Sai’s diary?”
The two of us had stayed behind while the rest of the team went to the hospital. Atis wasn't usually comfortable without Trainer nearby, but we needed to speak in private. Our talk wouldn’t make for a pleasant night in, but Atis made it bearable by turning on the lights. It took a bit of work for me to reach them. I used the flames on my back to find my way around most nights.
“Y-Yeah... I did,” Atis said.
“Well? What'd it say?”
Atis turned his head away. He rolled his glass around, the ice clinking against its sides. “He’s at least five years old,” he said, sighing. “And a half. That’s… a normal lifespan for, well, normal-types.”
A patronizing silence followed. It wasn't every day that we talked to each other, but I needed someone who could read. Our goals were the same when it came to Sai, so Atis was more than willing.
I didn't know what I had been expecting, but it wasn't this.
“Are you sure? Did you count right?”
“Yes!” I blinked at him. “Sorry... Yeah. Sai wrote this a few months after we met him. This was after... after he jumped. I-I made him write down his feelings and experiences for his therapy sessions...”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I get it.”
Atis set down his glass with force, then made his way to the couch. He flopped down on it and stretched his limbs. It was like I was watching a dramatic television show. Atis was acting weird, as if it hurt to be home. I didn't press him and waited for him to make the next move.
Finally he said, “Is there any food?”
“I've just been sitting here... How rude of me.”
“I-It's okay. Really!” Atis said. He sat up and looked at me with pleading eyes.
“I'm kidding,” I said. “Relax.”
The kitchen was a mess. The dining table had been moved near the counters as well as all the chairs. We needed something to reach up high, and we didn’t bother to put anything back since Trainer didn’t eat with us much these days. Stacks of dishes lay close to the sink, and spilled coffee had dried up on the tile floor. Open boxes of cereal were sprawled across the counter tops. Our water bowls were empty. I ignored all this and pulled out a bag of saltine crackers from a cabinet for the hitmontop.
He took a bite of one. “They're stale,” he said, spitting it out in the garbage.
“Figures.”
He shook his head. “What do we do now?” he said, not bothering to go down the food route again.
“I don't know. I’m not sure that we can help Trainer.”
“Why not?”
“There's a lot of baggage that comes with... going through what he went through. Abuse, I mean. Of any kind. I can’t explain it very well, even after dealing with it myself.”
“That... sounds like it’s tough to talk about, yeah,” Atis said as he fumbled with his fingers.
“Yeah. Can't understand it if you haven't gone through it.”
“Maybe... Maybe not.”
“What?”
“I personally think that there are a few universal truths, one of them being that everyone suffers. People can at least understand that, right?”
“That's up for debate.”
“Oh...” Atis stood up, though he didn't seem to have a destination in mind. There wasn't a room or spot in the apartment that Senori hadn't touched at some point, anyway.
“Universal truths ask for a lot in return because they're not yet understood. Suffering says we should suffer more until we understand, for example.”
“I don't think that's why Senori's... the way he is,” Atis said. The pause was natural, and innocent.
“I know.”
I went over to the coffee table in the other room where Atis had put Trainer’s journal, careful not to let my flames get too close. I struggled to flip through the pages of Trainer's journal with my shaking paws. The handwriting was emotional, like him. On some pages, the text was large and scrawly, and on others, small and sophisticated. I glanced at his words, which I couldn't understand for more reasons than one. I would have asked Atis to read them to me, but the dates that hinted at Senori's age seemed to tear him apart enough.
*
“I can't say I want to babysit for you, but...” I said, staring back and forth between Kuiora's joyful eyes and Ezrem's deadly ones. Kuiora had changed from the violent, selfish brat she had been, but Ezrem was as horrible as ever.
The two parents didn't want their son, Shin, to go to the hospital. I didn’t blame them. The last time they took him to the hospital, he tore a nurse's coat and pulled the fire alarm. The totodile, still in his toddler stage, had been trouble ever since he was born. He was just like his father, really. No one had thought to make the apartment childproof, of course, and we were paying the consequences in full.
I watched Shin as he tried to dig his jaws into a can of baked beans, and I thought maybe it’d be good for me to not be alone for a day. “...I'll do it because Kuiora's the only other girl on the team,” I said. “Not for you, Ezrem. You’ve let your boy turn into a little hellion.”
Kuiora sighed. “I agree. Why do you have to be so difficult, Ezrem?”
Shin's head snapped up. “Hey!” he said, his snout covered in brown sauce. He licked himself clean. “Don't talk about Daddy like that.”
“It's okay,” Ezrem said, patting Shin with his wing. “I'm not difficult. When I get what I want, in fact, I tend to be pleasant and occasionally helpful.”
“Yeah. Daddy helped me learn how to swim,” Shin said, shrugging. Bored, he turned to leave the room.
“Wait! You what?” Kuiora said, grabbing Shin by his sides before he could escape. “You can swim already?” But Shin only chomped down on her claws and held on. She glared at Ezrem and asked, “Do you have an explanation for this?”
“To be fair, I didn't do anything. He was flying on my back and he jumped off into a river and—”
“He didn't learn to swim overnight!”
“Actually, he did.”
“Did you ever think the water-type mother might want to teach her water-type son how to swim?” Kuiora said, throwing her arms up in surrender. Shin let go of her, plopping himself on the ground with a thud, and ran away. “Gracie, you're gonna learn how to swim next.”
“Senori already taught me,” I said, my voice soft as I shrank back at the memory.
“Oh,” Kuiora said. “Never mind. ...Should we go? Are you gonna be okay?”
“Yes. I just—don't like going to the hospital.” I shuddered, not wanting to think of what it’d be like to see someone voluntarily let a doctor do what they thought was best to their body.
“I see. Senori loved you and you can't even say goodbye to him, is that it?” Ezrem said, speaking loud enough to make sure I heard him.
Kuiora pushed him away. He flapped his wings, made an excuse about finding Shin, and was off.
“I'm sorry, Gracie,” Kuiora said. She came up to me and put her paws on my shoulder. She was stronger than me, otherwise I might have tried to deflect the touch. “This is hard on him, too. Senori was like a rival to him, or something close to it.”
“Yeah, I'm sure. He can be happy.” My voice broke. “He can be the leader now.” Just like he tried to be when Sai disappeared, or so I heard.
“He doesn’t want to be,” Kuiora said. She let go of me, sat down and sighed. “He knows how much it means to you.”
“I don't want to lead the team, either! I don't want to be Senori's replacement. I want Senori to not feel… guilty.”
There was a muffled cry coming from the other room. Shin ran back to us and found comfort in Kuiora's lap. She cradled him while he pretended to cry, mumbling about how mean his father was being.
“There, there,” Kuiora said. After a few moments her attention turned back to me. “Senori feels guilty for everything.”
“That's not true.” I shifted in my seat. We were in the kitchen, Kuiora standing on the floor and me curled up on a stool. If I moved too much, I'd fall off. Usually I was more in tune with my surroundings, but being with the family trio always made me forget that. It was different, seeing a mother, father and son fight, but not escalating that fight to outright war. Kuiora set her son down, and Shin started dancing with enthusiasm as if nothing was wrong. Ezrem perched himself next to them.
“Yes it is! Remember when he broke Sai's favorite coffee cup by putting it in the dishwasher when he wasn't supposed to?” Kuiora said, waving her arm toward the coffee maker. “He kept saying sorry for weeks.”
That was true. Senori had come to me time and time again, asking for advice on how to fix the problem. He asked Trainer if he could battle to get money for a new one. After a while, Trainer had to make Senori promise he'd stop overreacting, and then the furret was finally able to let it go.
“Yeah,” I said. “It's hard not to remember.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen exactly, but… Yveltal will take care of Senori.”
“Who…?”
“The god of death.”
“Okay. But Yveltal won't be taking Senori peacefully, it seems.”
Even Ezrem had nothing snarky to add to that. Kuiora looked away. She believed in legendary pokémon without hesitation, but she couldn't deny that they, too, could be cruel. Yveltal in particular wasn't anyone I could look up to.
*
Olivine City's Glitter Lighthouse had become a sort of refuge for both Rennio and me. The lighthouse was home to several electric- and water-types he could practice sparring with. As a fire-type, I didn't quite fit in, but Rennio always made me feel welcome by telling me that the flames on my back could brighten anyone's spirit, which was just as important as keeping the generator running for the ships finding their way to shore. I believed him.
I started visiting the lighthouse more when Senori got sick. My anxiety worsened when the apartment was empty for too long, especially at night. Since Rennio worked so hard to keep me from isolating myself, I’d go to the lighthouse and climb the stairs to the top. The sound of crackling electricity got louder the higher I went, making me feel less alone. Rennio’s elekid friends, Corinne and Tamron, lived there and were always the ones to greet me at the top.
I had been there when Rennio first met them. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, having an elekid meet some other elekid, but Rennio’s life was more difficult than it had to be thanks to Ezrem. That stupid braviary had convinced Rennio that he was one of the last elekid on earth and that his species was near extinction. On that day where he learned the truth, though, I saw a hint of knowing in his eyes, as if he had never believed Ezrem deep down.
The two stopped speaking to each other shortly after that. The tension was too great, no doubt, but I could tell Rennio missed him. From what I was told, they had been through a lot together before meeting Sai. I didn’t quite know the details. Rennio was able to forget his sadness when he was around Corinne and Tamron, at least...
Today the three of them were yelling about a common problem the lighthouse dealt with: flying-types.
“That's it!” Corinne said, chasing after Rennio. She showed no sign of giving up, but she was careful enough to avoid the generator in the middle of the room. “I'm gonna sell you for scrap metal!”
“What'd I do?!” Rennio cried. He was out of breath soon enough. Corinne crashed into him and scowled as they fell onto the floor. “Ow... Really, what'd I do!”
“Stop throwing berries out the window! All the flying-types are gonna come in here and peck us to death.”
“But Corinne...”
“What excuse do you have this time, huh?”
“We're electric-types. We have the advantage,” Rennio said, grinning and pulling her in for a hug.
I shook my head. “The flying-types come around because they know you two are lovebirds.”
Several noctowl and pidgeotto mocked us outside the windows every day. They squawked nonsensical insults, distracted us from working and bribed us in exchange for our food. Rennio, of course, was happy to oblige. He had been happy when his previous trainer, Annie, fed him berries and it seemed that now he felt the need to be the one doing the feeding instead. Corinne and Tamron weren't as thrilled.
“No thanks...” Rennio said. He stood up and dusted himself off, then helped Corinne to her feet.
“Suit yourself.” Corinne huffed and I shrugged. “Tamron,” I said, turning to the lone elekid watching from the corner, “don't you want to say something?”
“Yeah, I do,” Tamron said, positioning his shoulders to be rigid and to radiate confidence. “Don't give away my food, Rennio.”
The other two elekid were twins, but had little in common. While Corinne was outgoing, Tamron only spoke when spoken to, and in a manner that made him look tough, but if you bothered him enough you'd see that front disappear and replaced by a more sensitive personality. These traits made it easy to tell them apart, even when they pulled the trick where they wore each other's favorite item: a blue wristband and a red bow.
Rennio frowned. For some reason, he could never actually figure out if Tamron was being serious or not. Corinne didn't care, and went over to the corner to give Tamron a light push. She told him not to be a baby and Rennio said, “Corinne, I thought we talked about this...!”
Rennio, for my sake, had made it a point to prevent Corinne from being even somewhat violent, not even as part of a joke. She didn't remind me at all of the monster I had known before, but it was a kind gesture nonetheless.
“It's fine. This is better than being at the hospital, anyway.”
“Why do you say that?” Rennio said, walking over to me. I don’t know why he asked. Surely he knew what I was going to say next.
“I can't be near Senori.”
“I know... But why?”
The question came at such short notice. What was I supposed to say to him? That the closer I got to death, the sooner death might take me? Was that at all possible? Marty’s father always made me think so. Sometimes I even hoped it’d happen, but I knew Senori wouldn’t go down without a fight. He was strong and persistent, and I had to be that for him, too. Still…
“I don't know why,” I said. It wasn't a complete lie.
Rennio didn't answer.
I supposed I'd have to go sooner or later. There was no telling how advanced Senori's dementia was now. It had been months since I last saw him and no one mentioned his name in my presence anymore. What if it was too late to have one last laugh with him? ...It was Senori who taught me to question fate, but at that moment I didn't want to think about it.
*
For me, it had always been about the pain. The more I could take, the safer I felt... which was why it actually didn't make sense for me not to go to the hospital. There were all kinds of pain to be felt there.
In the end I went for Trainer's sake. On a cold and windy December morning, he decided to skip work and visit Senori. He hadn't been taking care of himself lately and today was no better. I woke up because he tripped over me. He didn’t seem to notice as he ran out the door without a jacket on, and with shorts on instead of pants. Had I been more alert, I would've woken up Atis and told him to go, but I was too tired to think clearly. So I just followed him.
When Trainer noticed me, he said nothing. I walked beside him, igniting the flames on my back to a temperature warm enough to make up for his carelessness.
“Did you have a bad dream last night…?” That was usually the cause for Trainer not sleeping well.
Trainer shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “I might have,” he said, and sped up.
I caught up to him, but not before zigzagging between a couple passing by, holding hands and not watching where they were going. “What happened?” I said, turning to glare at the two people.
He ignored me and followed my gaze, then said, “People either see me or they don't.”
“I… I’m not sure what you mean.”
I didn't see what he meant until we traipsed through the hospital’s stuffy corridors to get to Senori's room. The air was thick and the walls a calming lilac color. The pictures on the walls were meant to be inspiring and hopeful, but some were crooked and others, Trainer pointed out, he had seen at the cheapest store in the city. Blue signs, lit up and printed with large text, brought us to our destination soon enough. Trainer spoke with a nurse beforehand to make sure we could go in, and she told us that Senori had been checked on just ten minutes ago and was doing fine.
Trainer pulled open the heavy door to Senori's room. I didn't know what I was expecting—maybe I had wanted Senori to tackle me to the ground for fun like he used to and then all would be well—but what I saw was a helpless little furret, curled up on a bed with white sheets draped over the side along with wires for a feeding tube.
Senori didn't acknowledge Trainer’s presence. Senori didn't say hello to me, either, and though Trainer was apparently used to the lack of recognition, it was nerve wracking for me. I paced around the room, trying to keep my breathing steady in case I had to talk. The window at the far end of the room offered a view of a garden outside—which meant we were on the first floor, no doubt at Sai's request. An old TV sat on the dresser across from the bed, and there were two leather chairs in the corner, ripped and frayed at the edges.
“Ari?” Senori said with a sudden burst of energy, scrutinizing Trainer and me with squinted eyes. He didn't sound normal. His voice was hoarse and strained.
“No, not Ari. It's Sai,” said Trainer. He pulled me to the side and explained to me that Ari was the one who had banished him from his old clan. I nodded and focused on the buzzing of the machines to ground myself to the present moment.
“Uh huh. Very funny, Ari.” Senori sauntered over to Trainer, the feeding tube wires trailing behind him. He looked Trainer in the eye. “Are you going to let me come back anytime soon? Gets a little lonely here sometimes.”
“I know it does. I come by when I can.”
“Uh huh. You not coming around isn't about some eye for an eye situation, is it? It's not a power game, right? Well, I guess that's what it is... A total power game...”
Trainer frowned and buried his face in his hands, no doubt to hide the pain he was feeling. It was odd, knowing that Senori believed he was speaking with a family member he left behind years ago. It felt like I, too, had left him behind years ago.
Trainer managed a smile and said, “I don't understand, Senori.” He had mentioned to the team once or twice about Senori having bad days and good days. If Senori was completely confused, this had to be a bad day. “Can you tell me more?”
“I couldn't save the clan and now you want me to go and save the whole world, is what I mean.” Disorientation. Suspicious and fearful of others. “I'm not a hero or a god... is what I mean.” Repetitive statements. Unable to take care of self.
I'd seen it all before. My breath hitched, and it was all I could do to not bolt out the door. Have patience. Use nonverbal cues. Refer to the patient by their name. Trainer was doing everything right, but Senori was still dying.
“You're a leader, Senori,” Trainer said, his voice low and wispy.
“Yeah. If you say so.” He paused. “For what it's worth, this doesn't hurt. So don't go and cry about it.”
“...I'm not going to cry, Senori.”
The furret's eyes widened, as if coming to an important realization. He marched in a circle, contemplating his next move like he might during a battle. Then he said, “Why'd you fight me that day, Sai? Why'd you do it?”
The shock registered on Trainer's face before he could hide it. The corners of his mouth lifted and the mask faded just as quick as Senori's memory. He stood up and patted Senori on the head, then reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, which he had turned on vibrate before coming. Someone was calling him, and what timing they had...
“Hello?” Trainer said, the phone pressed tight against his ear. After a moment he glanced at me. I turned away, embarrassed. “Uh, hi... Not quite... She's at the hospital with me.”
Of course. It had to be Marty. He called Trainer once a week or so to ask how I was doing and whether he should come to Olivine for any reason. To hear that I was at the hospital must have been surprising. Trainer bent down and put the phone to my ear. He never let me get away with not talking to Marty, insisting that it wasn't healthy to push others away.
“Gracie?”
“Hi, Marty,” I said, sighing. Sometimes I wished he'd go back to not being able to understand pokémon speech, but something told me that he'd call regardless.
“What made you go to the hospital? Is everything all right?”
I watched Senori curl up into a ball on the bed again, unaware of our presence once more. That was one nightmare out of the way, but nightmares, they tended to pop up one after the other.
“Everything's fine. I just figured I should come for once, is all.”
After a moment the phone clicked, and Marty was gone. I felt a little bit older.
“Huh,” Trainer said. “Reception's not the best here. Sorry, Gracie.”
It was for the best. I had said what was needed to keep Marty from calling for at least another seven days, and that was what mattered.
Trainer walked over to Senori and went to pat him again, but he held his hand back. His hand shook and he grabbed his wrist, trying to keep it stable along with his emotions. How did it feel to be Trainer right now? It had to be hard, balancing reality with the voice that lied and said Senori would be okay somehow, someway. ...And how did it feel to be Senori? I couldn't imagine. He had been so open-minded, able to make snappy judgments when it counted. It wasn't the same anymore.
If Marty called again, I might have said something different. He wanted to know how everything was? Well...
Marty, we were doing so good before this.
But Marty...
Now we're just doing the best we can.
Seeing as how Survival Project was mostly a character study, I would highly recommend reading it before moving on to this fic. For those interested in reading the original, the link is here. If you're entirely new, the fic won't be difficult to follow at all, but I think Phantom Project would be experienced best if you already know about the characters.
There is a five year gap between Survival Project and Phantom Project. To help new readers learn more about the original fic and about the characters, and to kind of help fill in the gap without breaking the flow of the main fic too often, I've decided to open each chapter with a third person flashback-esque scene that'll set the tone for the real chapter. And as in the original, the real chapters will be in first person, with rotating character POVs.
Phantom Project will be rated PG-13 for swearing and discussion of heavier subjects such as mental illness and suicide.
As always, any and all comments are appreciated.
Nominations
Senori for best pokémon character (bulbagarden)
Best pokémon chaptered fic (serebii)
Best writing style x2 (serebii)
Most original overall (serebii)
Best character development (serebii)
Awards
Best dark fic (bulbagarden)
Best story (bulbagarden)
Best new pokémon chaptered fic (serebii)
Most heartbreaking scene (serebii)
Best character-driven fic (bulbagarden)
Most heartbreaking fic (serebii)
Most memorable quote (serebii)
Index
0.5 // 1 - light [gracie]
1.5 // 2 - the first gift [atis]
2.5 // 3 - albatross [ezrem]
3.5 // 4 - effigy [kuiora]
4.5 // 5 - multileveled [rennio]
5.5 // 6 - mindscape [gracie]
PHANTOM PROJECT
0.5
*
0.5
*
“Oh, God... My pokémon are illegal.”
Sai Luart had just come to the realization that he never did update his official trainer's license when he retired, despite how determined he used to be to follow the rules, to do everything right. And now, he’d be breaking a second League rule by adding another pokémon to his full team of six.
Senori’s tail perked up in response to Sai’s revelation. The furret had been helping to clean the kitchen, but he deserted the task and ran to Sai’s side. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“He means he's been working you too hard,” interrupted Kuiora. She ran into the room with a playful expression on her face. Of course the feraligatr was pretending that it wasn't her fault their trainer was in such distress.
Senori smirked. “No kidding. Where's my paid vacation?”
“I'd send you out to New Bark Town, but...” Sai trailed off and grinned too, and then he picked up his starter and wrapped the little ball of fur around his shoulders.
“New Bark Town?” Kuiora's eyes widened. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she left the place she was born to travel with Sai. “I want to go!”
“No. You'll end up getting in trouble or something.”
“Who cares? A little corruption is good for the soul.” These words entered Ezrem the shiny braviary into the conversation, which caused everyone to roll their eyes. He was perched on a nest settled on the floor in the farthest corner of the apartment, away from the kitchen fumes that could harm the egg he was keeping warm underneath his chest.
“You'd let a mother-to-be get caught up with another trainer?” Despite her words, Kuiora went and nuzzled up to him. “You're the worst.”
Ezrem shrugged. “You'll still get food and shelter.”
“I'll protect her!” quipped Rennio, the elekid who was previously thought to have been napping on the small bed located in the apartment's second bedroom. Sai had specifically asked for it when searching for a home.
“Uh, no. I will.” So said the heroic hitmontop named Atis, who crossed his arms defensively over his chest. Keeping the electric-type away from any source of water was a reinforced habit in this household.
“Guys, please,” Sai said. He sighed. “I'll ask for a few days off at work, and then we can all go.”
“Don't forget to ask for your breeder's license, too...” Atis said, motioning toward Kuiora’s belly.
“Oh, right. Poor baby,” Rennio said, shaking his head. “She'll need protection all her life.”
Ezrem glared at him, but only said, “It could be a boy, you know.”
“Still. Poor baby,” said Gracie the quilava. She licked her paws idly, knowing for a fact already that whatever she said would irritate the braviary. Sometimes it seemed that her sole purpose in life was to make him miserable.
“Go to hell,” Ezrem said, but his actions betrayed him as he subconsciously glanced at the fireplace, which, per his and Rennio’s request, had been covered by a large blanket.
“Already been there. Got the t-shirt,” Gracie said. She motioned toward the pile of laundry in the far corner, which Senori had yet to get around to. With only one person in the house, you would think there'd be fewer clothes to worry about, but Sai insisted on shopping for his pokémon a little too often.
“So...” Senori said, “didn’t you have to show them an ID or something when we got this apartment? How’d they not notice you were still technically a traveling trainer?”
Sai blinked. “Ask Atis,” he said.
“Er,” the hitmontop started. “I did the paperwork. I put that I would—well, that Sai would update the license right away, but it never happened...”
“You should have told me!” Senori said, shaking his head. “I would’ve made sure he did it!”
The team continued to bicker as they usually did. Soon everyone huffed and went their separate ways, but Sai knew they weren't actually angry with each other. It was only a facade they put on so that their trainer could live a normal life.
Sometimes it seemed as if the contents of his medicine cabinet controlled his life. Sometimes he was able to construct a coherent explanation for how he was feeling during a rough incident. Sometimes he found it easy to laugh.
Sometimes he was reminded that a little extra help couldn't hurt. During sleepless nights where he’d be hurting, his starter would curl up with him in bed to keep him company. Senori always retold the story of the day they met. I never saw you coming. Now I never see anything coming, even if all the signs are there. Sai would apologize. Senori would smile.
Sai’s goal was to not feel obligated to apologize. He wanted to forgive himself for being sick. For feeling like nothing but a burden. For those sad times he stayed silent when all his team wanted were answers. When things fell apart in the most unexpected way, he changed his mind. He wanted it back, all that pain, all that grief, so that no one but him had to know the terrible struggle of trying to justify the unwillingness to keep on living.
//
The abyss doesn't divide us. The abyss surrounds us. — Wislawa Szymborska
chapter 1 ; [GRACIE]
light
*
The abyss doesn't divide us. The abyss surrounds us. — Wislawa Szymborska
chapter 1 ; [GRACIE]
light
*
“He's dying, Trainer, dying...”
I hadn't yet gathered the courage to call my trainer by his first name. His name represented what he had once been—a weapon, a toy to be sharpened and used for all the wrong reasons. He tried to let go of his past after Team Rocket had lost their hold on him, but we both knew there would be some things he’d never grow accustomed to. That’s just what happens when someone else controls your life for too long.
I think what got to Trainer the most was how he never grew accustomed to wanting things for himself. Team Rocket had set strict rules for his journey that constrained his curiosity and freedom from the start. Somewhere along the way—I wasn’t present for the majority of his travels, really—Trainer adopted the idea that he should try to focus on preventing anything he already had from being taken away.
And what he already had was a decent apartment in Olivine City, Johto—the only place he’d been to so far that felt peaceful enough for him to get a good night’s rest, he said. He had a job at the Olive Grove Bar and Restaurant, which was where he could socialize with other humans. He had food, clean water, a bed… And he had us, his pokémon.
We were a full team of six until Kuiora and Ezrem’s son came along. Things got crazy with a kid running around in the apartment all the time, but it was a kind of chaos we could enjoy and be happy about.
Not too long after that, we found out there would be just six of us again soon.
Trainer stood his ground when he heard the news. No, Senori’s not sick. No, I don't know how old he is! Why are you asking me these things? Let me see him and I'll figure it out... It never occurred to him that a pokémon's life expectancy can be short depending on the species, nor the fact that diseases like dementia can affect us just as well.
The truth sank in when we remembered what we knew about Senori’s history. Senori had been a leader to a clan of sentret living on the outskirts of Cherrygrove City. No one knew exactly how long it had taken Senori to earn that title, but we figured he had to have been one of the older clan members. He had left to travel with Trainer, and they had been together for years now…
I didn't dare say Senori could live a while longer under the right circumstances. I had seen dementia before, and even in the early stages, it wasn’t pretty. My previous trainer, Marty Vondila… He didn't mean to, but he introduced me to dementia and other such nightmares. His mother was trapped in a relationship with an abusive man. Because she feared for her children's safety, she refused to leave. She turned to alcohol and developed dementia before she reached her sixties, as if she willed herself to have the proper excuse she needed to escape.
Senori exhibited some of the classic symptoms. They didn’t stand out much at all. The way he repeated the same phrases over and over, and the way he forgot to take a bath after playing in the mud... We could all chalk it up to his joking nature.
We only knew there was a real problem when he wandered off once, claiming he would be back soon enough. He was gone for a week. He claimed to have been taking a walk in the forest that separated Olivine and Ecruteak, but had gotten lost on his way home. He told me later that it felt like he was going crazy and that he couldn’t keep up with how quickly the time was passing by. I told Trainer I was worried about Senori and asked if we could do anything for him. Trainer was just as worried, so he had Senori evaluated, and soon enough, he was given an official diagnosis.
That had been a few months ago. Now, I was encouraging Trainer to eat dinner at a nice restaurant with one of his friends, who also happened to be Marty’s sister. He agreed to go, I think, more for my sake than his, because his anxiety became too much too quick and he had to excuse himself. I followed him, even after I saw that he was fleeing into the bathroom, even after I knew he was going to throw up the little amount of food he’d eaten.
“I'm only being honest, Trainer,” I told him. I stood behind him, rubbing my head against the back of his knees for comfort. At that moment I forgot that mercy can be cruel, too.
Trainer said nothing.
There was a knock at the door. It was, of course, Sasha Vondila. The two had become friends when they bumped into each other when Trainer traveled through Azalea Town years ago. I wondered vaguely if she would be upset with me after this. I had requested she travel all the way to Olivine, after all, so that Trainer would go somewhere besides the hospital when clearly he just wanted to be by Senori’s side…
Sasha called Trainer’s name. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Trainer flushed the toilet and stood up straight. “Yes... I'm fine,” he said, his voice strained. “I'll be out in a minute.”
He went over to the sink, washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were soft, which told me he appreciated my company despite my harsh words. Being able to read Trainer's moods this way was a skill the whole team shared.
“It'll be winter soon,” he said after a few moments. He ran a hand through his hair. “You think my hair will turn darker again?”
When we met Trainer, he was pale and had jet black hair. Once he started getting outside more, that changed pretty quick. Senori spent a lot of time teasing Trainer and pretending not to recognize him, as if the boy had become a different person altogether. In truth, Senori wasn't wrong.
...Would the two of them be able to laugh about it this year?
“Probably. Maybe not,” I said. I knew he was just trying to distract himself, but I couldn’t let him ignore the problem entirely. Ignoring the problem wouldn’t make it go away. “You're not gonna do anything stupid, are you?”
He paused. “I don't know,” he admitted.
“…Just focus on breathing for a minute.”
As a quilava, you can tell how I'm breathing because of the flames on my back. I inhale and they evaporate; I exhale and they're let loose. So we sat there and practiced. In and out, in and out. He paced back and forth for emphasis. His tempo matched mine and I felt as if he really, truly wanted me there.
“He's dying, Trainer, dying... I know you don't want him to go, but...” I couldn’t finish that sentence. Someday Senori won't remember you. Someday Senori will be in too much emotional pain for you to bear and you’ll change your mind.
Trainer had had enough regardless. He took his right fist and smashed it into the corner of the mirror. I flinched at the noise and cowered in the corner, hoping that none of the broken pieces touched me.
Trainer flexed his hand and ran it through his hair again, a bit of blood staining his scalp. He turned to me and said, “Sorry. I don't... I wasn't ready for this. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. A quiet tone was all I could muster.
He got down on his knees and picked me up. I was half his height, but he had grown stronger over the years and he was determined to make it up to me.
We left the bathroom together. I ignored the cuts on his hand and he ignored my words. An even trade.
“Sai,” Sasha said, managing a sad smile, “you didn't even drink anything! Why were you in there so long?”
Sasha tended to be insensitive when she was nervous and didn't know what else to say or do. Trainer wanted nothing to do with it. His expression turned emotionless as he said, “Please. Not today.” He shuffled past her, his grip tightening on my paws as a sort of consolation.
We stayed quiet on the way home. What had been the use of him reshaping his world when there are inevitabilities such as loss? I wished I could have said just one hopeful thing about that, but I didn’t do well with words that didn’t accept reality for what it really was.
*
The glass slid across the wooden table over to me. Atis needed another round, it seemed.
“Water, soda pop or lemonade?” I asked. It was like asking a human whether he wanted bourbon, scotch or Irish. I thought of Marty's family. This was not the sort of knowledge a pokémon should have.
“Just, uh… Just water. Thank you,” Atis said.
I hummed in acknowledgment as I poured the glass, then scowled when I spilled. Senori was better at this, even with his evolved form’s stubby arms. With him gone—almost gone—I was going to suck it up and take over the housework. Dusting, cooking, balancing everyone's schedules with my own... I had no idea how the furret did it. Pokémon weren't meant for this, either, but Senori took care of us like no one else could.
Senori...
I attempted to fill the glass again. I slid it back to Atis and tried to keep my paws from shaking as I said, “Did you find Sai’s diary?”
The two of us had stayed behind while the rest of the team went to the hospital. Atis wasn't usually comfortable without Trainer nearby, but we needed to speak in private. Our talk wouldn’t make for a pleasant night in, but Atis made it bearable by turning on the lights. It took a bit of work for me to reach them. I used the flames on my back to find my way around most nights.
“Y-Yeah... I did,” Atis said.
“Well? What'd it say?”
Atis turned his head away. He rolled his glass around, the ice clinking against its sides. “He’s at least five years old,” he said, sighing. “And a half. That’s… a normal lifespan for, well, normal-types.”
A patronizing silence followed. It wasn't every day that we talked to each other, but I needed someone who could read. Our goals were the same when it came to Sai, so Atis was more than willing.
I didn't know what I had been expecting, but it wasn't this.
“Are you sure? Did you count right?”
“Yes!” I blinked at him. “Sorry... Yeah. Sai wrote this a few months after we met him. This was after... after he jumped. I-I made him write down his feelings and experiences for his therapy sessions...”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I get it.”
Atis set down his glass with force, then made his way to the couch. He flopped down on it and stretched his limbs. It was like I was watching a dramatic television show. Atis was acting weird, as if it hurt to be home. I didn't press him and waited for him to make the next move.
Finally he said, “Is there any food?”
“I've just been sitting here... How rude of me.”
“I-It's okay. Really!” Atis said. He sat up and looked at me with pleading eyes.
“I'm kidding,” I said. “Relax.”
The kitchen was a mess. The dining table had been moved near the counters as well as all the chairs. We needed something to reach up high, and we didn’t bother to put anything back since Trainer didn’t eat with us much these days. Stacks of dishes lay close to the sink, and spilled coffee had dried up on the tile floor. Open boxes of cereal were sprawled across the counter tops. Our water bowls were empty. I ignored all this and pulled out a bag of saltine crackers from a cabinet for the hitmontop.
He took a bite of one. “They're stale,” he said, spitting it out in the garbage.
“Figures.”
He shook his head. “What do we do now?” he said, not bothering to go down the food route again.
“I don't know. I’m not sure that we can help Trainer.”
“Why not?”
“There's a lot of baggage that comes with... going through what he went through. Abuse, I mean. Of any kind. I can’t explain it very well, even after dealing with it myself.”
“That... sounds like it’s tough to talk about, yeah,” Atis said as he fumbled with his fingers.
“Yeah. Can't understand it if you haven't gone through it.”
“Maybe... Maybe not.”
“What?”
“I personally think that there are a few universal truths, one of them being that everyone suffers. People can at least understand that, right?”
“That's up for debate.”
“Oh...” Atis stood up, though he didn't seem to have a destination in mind. There wasn't a room or spot in the apartment that Senori hadn't touched at some point, anyway.
“Universal truths ask for a lot in return because they're not yet understood. Suffering says we should suffer more until we understand, for example.”
“I don't think that's why Senori's... the way he is,” Atis said. The pause was natural, and innocent.
“I know.”
I went over to the coffee table in the other room where Atis had put Trainer’s journal, careful not to let my flames get too close. I struggled to flip through the pages of Trainer's journal with my shaking paws. The handwriting was emotional, like him. On some pages, the text was large and scrawly, and on others, small and sophisticated. I glanced at his words, which I couldn't understand for more reasons than one. I would have asked Atis to read them to me, but the dates that hinted at Senori's age seemed to tear him apart enough.
*
“I can't say I want to babysit for you, but...” I said, staring back and forth between Kuiora's joyful eyes and Ezrem's deadly ones. Kuiora had changed from the violent, selfish brat she had been, but Ezrem was as horrible as ever.
The two parents didn't want their son, Shin, to go to the hospital. I didn’t blame them. The last time they took him to the hospital, he tore a nurse's coat and pulled the fire alarm. The totodile, still in his toddler stage, had been trouble ever since he was born. He was just like his father, really. No one had thought to make the apartment childproof, of course, and we were paying the consequences in full.
I watched Shin as he tried to dig his jaws into a can of baked beans, and I thought maybe it’d be good for me to not be alone for a day. “...I'll do it because Kuiora's the only other girl on the team,” I said. “Not for you, Ezrem. You’ve let your boy turn into a little hellion.”
Kuiora sighed. “I agree. Why do you have to be so difficult, Ezrem?”
Shin's head snapped up. “Hey!” he said, his snout covered in brown sauce. He licked himself clean. “Don't talk about Daddy like that.”
“It's okay,” Ezrem said, patting Shin with his wing. “I'm not difficult. When I get what I want, in fact, I tend to be pleasant and occasionally helpful.”
“Yeah. Daddy helped me learn how to swim,” Shin said, shrugging. Bored, he turned to leave the room.
“Wait! You what?” Kuiora said, grabbing Shin by his sides before he could escape. “You can swim already?” But Shin only chomped down on her claws and held on. She glared at Ezrem and asked, “Do you have an explanation for this?”
“To be fair, I didn't do anything. He was flying on my back and he jumped off into a river and—”
“He didn't learn to swim overnight!”
“Actually, he did.”
“Did you ever think the water-type mother might want to teach her water-type son how to swim?” Kuiora said, throwing her arms up in surrender. Shin let go of her, plopping himself on the ground with a thud, and ran away. “Gracie, you're gonna learn how to swim next.”
“Senori already taught me,” I said, my voice soft as I shrank back at the memory.
“Oh,” Kuiora said. “Never mind. ...Should we go? Are you gonna be okay?”
“Yes. I just—don't like going to the hospital.” I shuddered, not wanting to think of what it’d be like to see someone voluntarily let a doctor do what they thought was best to their body.
“I see. Senori loved you and you can't even say goodbye to him, is that it?” Ezrem said, speaking loud enough to make sure I heard him.
Kuiora pushed him away. He flapped his wings, made an excuse about finding Shin, and was off.
“I'm sorry, Gracie,” Kuiora said. She came up to me and put her paws on my shoulder. She was stronger than me, otherwise I might have tried to deflect the touch. “This is hard on him, too. Senori was like a rival to him, or something close to it.”
“Yeah, I'm sure. He can be happy.” My voice broke. “He can be the leader now.” Just like he tried to be when Sai disappeared, or so I heard.
“He doesn’t want to be,” Kuiora said. She let go of me, sat down and sighed. “He knows how much it means to you.”
“I don't want to lead the team, either! I don't want to be Senori's replacement. I want Senori to not feel… guilty.”
There was a muffled cry coming from the other room. Shin ran back to us and found comfort in Kuiora's lap. She cradled him while he pretended to cry, mumbling about how mean his father was being.
“There, there,” Kuiora said. After a few moments her attention turned back to me. “Senori feels guilty for everything.”
“That's not true.” I shifted in my seat. We were in the kitchen, Kuiora standing on the floor and me curled up on a stool. If I moved too much, I'd fall off. Usually I was more in tune with my surroundings, but being with the family trio always made me forget that. It was different, seeing a mother, father and son fight, but not escalating that fight to outright war. Kuiora set her son down, and Shin started dancing with enthusiasm as if nothing was wrong. Ezrem perched himself next to them.
“Yes it is! Remember when he broke Sai's favorite coffee cup by putting it in the dishwasher when he wasn't supposed to?” Kuiora said, waving her arm toward the coffee maker. “He kept saying sorry for weeks.”
That was true. Senori had come to me time and time again, asking for advice on how to fix the problem. He asked Trainer if he could battle to get money for a new one. After a while, Trainer had to make Senori promise he'd stop overreacting, and then the furret was finally able to let it go.
“Yeah,” I said. “It's hard not to remember.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen exactly, but… Yveltal will take care of Senori.”
“Who…?”
“The god of death.”
“Okay. But Yveltal won't be taking Senori peacefully, it seems.”
Even Ezrem had nothing snarky to add to that. Kuiora looked away. She believed in legendary pokémon without hesitation, but she couldn't deny that they, too, could be cruel. Yveltal in particular wasn't anyone I could look up to.
*
Olivine City's Glitter Lighthouse had become a sort of refuge for both Rennio and me. The lighthouse was home to several electric- and water-types he could practice sparring with. As a fire-type, I didn't quite fit in, but Rennio always made me feel welcome by telling me that the flames on my back could brighten anyone's spirit, which was just as important as keeping the generator running for the ships finding their way to shore. I believed him.
I started visiting the lighthouse more when Senori got sick. My anxiety worsened when the apartment was empty for too long, especially at night. Since Rennio worked so hard to keep me from isolating myself, I’d go to the lighthouse and climb the stairs to the top. The sound of crackling electricity got louder the higher I went, making me feel less alone. Rennio’s elekid friends, Corinne and Tamron, lived there and were always the ones to greet me at the top.
I had been there when Rennio first met them. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, having an elekid meet some other elekid, but Rennio’s life was more difficult than it had to be thanks to Ezrem. That stupid braviary had convinced Rennio that he was one of the last elekid on earth and that his species was near extinction. On that day where he learned the truth, though, I saw a hint of knowing in his eyes, as if he had never believed Ezrem deep down.
The two stopped speaking to each other shortly after that. The tension was too great, no doubt, but I could tell Rennio missed him. From what I was told, they had been through a lot together before meeting Sai. I didn’t quite know the details. Rennio was able to forget his sadness when he was around Corinne and Tamron, at least...
Today the three of them were yelling about a common problem the lighthouse dealt with: flying-types.
“That's it!” Corinne said, chasing after Rennio. She showed no sign of giving up, but she was careful enough to avoid the generator in the middle of the room. “I'm gonna sell you for scrap metal!”
“What'd I do?!” Rennio cried. He was out of breath soon enough. Corinne crashed into him and scowled as they fell onto the floor. “Ow... Really, what'd I do!”
“Stop throwing berries out the window! All the flying-types are gonna come in here and peck us to death.”
“But Corinne...”
“What excuse do you have this time, huh?”
“We're electric-types. We have the advantage,” Rennio said, grinning and pulling her in for a hug.
I shook my head. “The flying-types come around because they know you two are lovebirds.”
Several noctowl and pidgeotto mocked us outside the windows every day. They squawked nonsensical insults, distracted us from working and bribed us in exchange for our food. Rennio, of course, was happy to oblige. He had been happy when his previous trainer, Annie, fed him berries and it seemed that now he felt the need to be the one doing the feeding instead. Corinne and Tamron weren't as thrilled.
“No thanks...” Rennio said. He stood up and dusted himself off, then helped Corinne to her feet.
“Suit yourself.” Corinne huffed and I shrugged. “Tamron,” I said, turning to the lone elekid watching from the corner, “don't you want to say something?”
“Yeah, I do,” Tamron said, positioning his shoulders to be rigid and to radiate confidence. “Don't give away my food, Rennio.”
The other two elekid were twins, but had little in common. While Corinne was outgoing, Tamron only spoke when spoken to, and in a manner that made him look tough, but if you bothered him enough you'd see that front disappear and replaced by a more sensitive personality. These traits made it easy to tell them apart, even when they pulled the trick where they wore each other's favorite item: a blue wristband and a red bow.
Rennio frowned. For some reason, he could never actually figure out if Tamron was being serious or not. Corinne didn't care, and went over to the corner to give Tamron a light push. She told him not to be a baby and Rennio said, “Corinne, I thought we talked about this...!”
Rennio, for my sake, had made it a point to prevent Corinne from being even somewhat violent, not even as part of a joke. She didn't remind me at all of the monster I had known before, but it was a kind gesture nonetheless.
“It's fine. This is better than being at the hospital, anyway.”
“Why do you say that?” Rennio said, walking over to me. I don’t know why he asked. Surely he knew what I was going to say next.
“I can't be near Senori.”
“I know... But why?”
The question came at such short notice. What was I supposed to say to him? That the closer I got to death, the sooner death might take me? Was that at all possible? Marty’s father always made me think so. Sometimes I even hoped it’d happen, but I knew Senori wouldn’t go down without a fight. He was strong and persistent, and I had to be that for him, too. Still…
“I don't know why,” I said. It wasn't a complete lie.
Rennio didn't answer.
I supposed I'd have to go sooner or later. There was no telling how advanced Senori's dementia was now. It had been months since I last saw him and no one mentioned his name in my presence anymore. What if it was too late to have one last laugh with him? ...It was Senori who taught me to question fate, but at that moment I didn't want to think about it.
*
For me, it had always been about the pain. The more I could take, the safer I felt... which was why it actually didn't make sense for me not to go to the hospital. There were all kinds of pain to be felt there.
In the end I went for Trainer's sake. On a cold and windy December morning, he decided to skip work and visit Senori. He hadn't been taking care of himself lately and today was no better. I woke up because he tripped over me. He didn’t seem to notice as he ran out the door without a jacket on, and with shorts on instead of pants. Had I been more alert, I would've woken up Atis and told him to go, but I was too tired to think clearly. So I just followed him.
When Trainer noticed me, he said nothing. I walked beside him, igniting the flames on my back to a temperature warm enough to make up for his carelessness.
“Did you have a bad dream last night…?” That was usually the cause for Trainer not sleeping well.
Trainer shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “I might have,” he said, and sped up.
I caught up to him, but not before zigzagging between a couple passing by, holding hands and not watching where they were going. “What happened?” I said, turning to glare at the two people.
He ignored me and followed my gaze, then said, “People either see me or they don't.”
“I… I’m not sure what you mean.”
I didn't see what he meant until we traipsed through the hospital’s stuffy corridors to get to Senori's room. The air was thick and the walls a calming lilac color. The pictures on the walls were meant to be inspiring and hopeful, but some were crooked and others, Trainer pointed out, he had seen at the cheapest store in the city. Blue signs, lit up and printed with large text, brought us to our destination soon enough. Trainer spoke with a nurse beforehand to make sure we could go in, and she told us that Senori had been checked on just ten minutes ago and was doing fine.
Trainer pulled open the heavy door to Senori's room. I didn't know what I was expecting—maybe I had wanted Senori to tackle me to the ground for fun like he used to and then all would be well—but what I saw was a helpless little furret, curled up on a bed with white sheets draped over the side along with wires for a feeding tube.
Senori didn't acknowledge Trainer’s presence. Senori didn't say hello to me, either, and though Trainer was apparently used to the lack of recognition, it was nerve wracking for me. I paced around the room, trying to keep my breathing steady in case I had to talk. The window at the far end of the room offered a view of a garden outside—which meant we were on the first floor, no doubt at Sai's request. An old TV sat on the dresser across from the bed, and there were two leather chairs in the corner, ripped and frayed at the edges.
“Ari?” Senori said with a sudden burst of energy, scrutinizing Trainer and me with squinted eyes. He didn't sound normal. His voice was hoarse and strained.
“No, not Ari. It's Sai,” said Trainer. He pulled me to the side and explained to me that Ari was the one who had banished him from his old clan. I nodded and focused on the buzzing of the machines to ground myself to the present moment.
“Uh huh. Very funny, Ari.” Senori sauntered over to Trainer, the feeding tube wires trailing behind him. He looked Trainer in the eye. “Are you going to let me come back anytime soon? Gets a little lonely here sometimes.”
“I know it does. I come by when I can.”
“Uh huh. You not coming around isn't about some eye for an eye situation, is it? It's not a power game, right? Well, I guess that's what it is... A total power game...”
Trainer frowned and buried his face in his hands, no doubt to hide the pain he was feeling. It was odd, knowing that Senori believed he was speaking with a family member he left behind years ago. It felt like I, too, had left him behind years ago.
Trainer managed a smile and said, “I don't understand, Senori.” He had mentioned to the team once or twice about Senori having bad days and good days. If Senori was completely confused, this had to be a bad day. “Can you tell me more?”
“I couldn't save the clan and now you want me to go and save the whole world, is what I mean.” Disorientation. Suspicious and fearful of others. “I'm not a hero or a god... is what I mean.” Repetitive statements. Unable to take care of self.
I'd seen it all before. My breath hitched, and it was all I could do to not bolt out the door. Have patience. Use nonverbal cues. Refer to the patient by their name. Trainer was doing everything right, but Senori was still dying.
“You're a leader, Senori,” Trainer said, his voice low and wispy.
“Yeah. If you say so.” He paused. “For what it's worth, this doesn't hurt. So don't go and cry about it.”
“...I'm not going to cry, Senori.”
The furret's eyes widened, as if coming to an important realization. He marched in a circle, contemplating his next move like he might during a battle. Then he said, “Why'd you fight me that day, Sai? Why'd you do it?”
The shock registered on Trainer's face before he could hide it. The corners of his mouth lifted and the mask faded just as quick as Senori's memory. He stood up and patted Senori on the head, then reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, which he had turned on vibrate before coming. Someone was calling him, and what timing they had...
“Hello?” Trainer said, the phone pressed tight against his ear. After a moment he glanced at me. I turned away, embarrassed. “Uh, hi... Not quite... She's at the hospital with me.”
Of course. It had to be Marty. He called Trainer once a week or so to ask how I was doing and whether he should come to Olivine for any reason. To hear that I was at the hospital must have been surprising. Trainer bent down and put the phone to my ear. He never let me get away with not talking to Marty, insisting that it wasn't healthy to push others away.
“Gracie?”
“Hi, Marty,” I said, sighing. Sometimes I wished he'd go back to not being able to understand pokémon speech, but something told me that he'd call regardless.
“What made you go to the hospital? Is everything all right?”
I watched Senori curl up into a ball on the bed again, unaware of our presence once more. That was one nightmare out of the way, but nightmares, they tended to pop up one after the other.
“Everything's fine. I just figured I should come for once, is all.”
After a moment the phone clicked, and Marty was gone. I felt a little bit older.
“Huh,” Trainer said. “Reception's not the best here. Sorry, Gracie.”
It was for the best. I had said what was needed to keep Marty from calling for at least another seven days, and that was what mattered.
Trainer walked over to Senori and went to pat him again, but he held his hand back. His hand shook and he grabbed his wrist, trying to keep it stable along with his emotions. How did it feel to be Trainer right now? It had to be hard, balancing reality with the voice that lied and said Senori would be okay somehow, someway. ...And how did it feel to be Senori? I couldn't imagine. He had been so open-minded, able to make snappy judgments when it counted. It wasn't the same anymore.
If Marty called again, I might have said something different. He wanted to know how everything was? Well...
Marty, we were doing so good before this.
But Marty...
Now we're just doing the best we can.
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