With one hand, I held up my Island Challenge amulet to the sun. The light reflected nicely off the wood when I turned it, a strip of yellow paint freshly applied. Four tassels dangled, one with a Trial bead attached.
A thousand years ago (eight centuries ago, history says), stories tell the first travellers came to the archipelago and journeyed to each of the islands. There, they asked the Pokemon for their aid and their permission to settle. The Pokemon tested the travellers' skill in trials, and then each of the Tapus tested the travellers' resolve in battle – then they made a pact, and the pact was cemented in a protective amulet.
Like this one!
In the crook of my other arm, I held Loa the Torracat up against me. My starter was bruised and battered and a little soggy– but still held herself proudly! She was hurt as much as one would expect after such an important battle, and her body was still tense, nearly ready to fight again. She pushed her head forward to look at the amulet from a closer angle. I brought it to her, and she gave it a curious look over.
"It's like– your armband! It's proof that I'm an adult too, you know!"
She looked down at the earthy colors of her accessory and snorted, turned a deadpan look my way – "Come on! What's with that look?" – and then simply rolled her eyes.
Behind me, the door to my Grandpa's office here at the Iki Town Mahalo arena – my friends waited for me down the hall in the other room. I'd had a long talk with my Grandpa as he'd stamped the mark of the Grand Trial on my amulet. I still had my opinions about battling, and he'd kept his, and for the first time in my life I had heard him curse.
This is your one chance. Don't fuck this up.
"Tapus above, that fight was fun, wasn't it?" I voiced aloud as I walked. I felt Loa nod, claws tightening on my back. "That Crabrawler was scary strong, and that Hariyama after was real reactive too, had us down to the wire 'til the end! You were so strong there, we even had the upper hand at the end, it was just down to a matter of reaction speed…"
The thundering steps of a moving crowd echoed beyond those walls, some of the audience filing in and out. This definitely wasn't the last Grand Trial for the day, so Grandpa was probably preparing himself for the next one. Though it wasn't for my sake, I couldn't help but feel excited – out there, there were three other teens our age trembling in their boots, clutching their Pokeballs, gearing themselves to fight my Grandpa and face adulthood–
Loa repositioned herself in my arms, and I hurriedly moved my hands to support her better. Her limbs still quivered, still reeling from how clobbered she had been during the fight. Eventually she rested her head on my shoulder and simply deflated, letting the tension seep out of my body.
The Torracat tried to show a resolute, steadfast front, she really did, but I was starting to grasp her true feelings behind the fa?ade– she took her performance super seriously, like her entire sense of self-worth hung in the balance. She'd broken down once by losing against Rui's Rattata; there'd be no second time. So be it.
We'd both have to double down on training. We'd managed to strike a bond, now we just had to strengthen it.
I continued to ramble; and though she hid it well, I felt the beginning of a purr.
Familiar chatter echoed from the waiting room.
"...There's the prodigal son!"
Dad called out to me then my friends and family all turned their attention my way–
I was practically bowled over by two twin missiles, my younger cousins rushing to gush all about the fight. They shot rapid-fire questions my way, talking over one another as I tried to answer as best as I could, an uncontrollable smile on my face. Their Mienfoo partners practically ran circles around the four of us, as I felt my Torracat growing distressed by the younger children, tensing and gripping her claws– maybe she wasn't used to that type of praise? I offered to return to her ball but she declined.
Aunt Lou practically grabbed her gremlins by the scruff, pushing back my cousins to give Loa and I space. The older, stronger woman congratulated me, giving me a friendly shake of the shoulder, complimenting our fight and petting my grumbling starter. Her older Pikipek flew up to my head and ruffled my hair as I laughed.
Her grip was firm– she'd had to get real strong, my older Aunt. She'd shouldered a lot of shit, and it was starting to show by the crows feet on the corner of her eyes. She looked at me with a smile that I couldn't help but feel a little weird about, strangely, like she had something heavy on the mind– but no matter! I won't fuck this up.
Then came Auntie Ele. She walked slowly, shouldered by her husband, her Politoed in tow pushing the strollers for her children (and Politoed's children). She congratulated me for the Trial, advising us on what to improve. Her husband lamented that he would miss our time surfing (what with Auntie's pregnancy coming to term and all), and I promised him one last ride before my friends and I left for Akala.
The whole family's got eyes on you, young man! Aunt Ele said; Yeah, I can tell, I thought to myself.
Finally, my relatives parted and let my dad through.
Dad is a man that can project a voice like mad– but nowadays struggles with anything else, relying on his helper Furfrou for most things physical. He hugged with near desperate effort, telling me how proud he was.
Last time I had felt him squeeze him that way–
The sterile scent of a hospital room. Dimly lit, blank light. Shudders as I hugged my dad tight.
The doctors were adamant, now; something was irrevocably broken and not even a miracle of the Tapus could fix it. The human body is very resilient, very adaptable, can handle a real beating yet dad's body was sending a clear message to dad's brain: stop what you're doing or we'll stop you.
He is invincible. He is a warrior, an athlete, a giant. Could he be all these things and be unable to walk? To fight? I couldn't think about it.
Dad released me, and I had to hurriedly wipe the moisture from my eyes– Keep it together, Hau! I couldn't look weak now! I put on my best grin and whacked him on the back.
I wouldn't have done it without my friends, I told him then. Why, look here, on the other side of the room!
Selene and her family on one side, then Lilliane and her… chauffeur, on the other?
Selene's mom had walked up to the guy – we'd met her mom once or twice, and she'd been awesome every time, just a cool mom with a real hippie vibe – and it looked like she was trying to strike a conversation with the professional-looking agent at Lilliane's side. Despite her best efforts, it seemed like the guy shut her every attempt at small talk.
Lilliane seemed a little bit embarrassed at– whatever that was. No matter– she hugged Stella a little closer to her chest. I wish you had seen it from where I stood, Dad, what a surprise it had been – not only to see Lilliane fight against her fears and finally throw her starter in the ring, but to also see her Pokemon evolve on the spot! That Cleffa must have been holding it in for a while.
Lilliane is the secret sauce of our group – she's already got a badge from her home region, and while she's been a little afraid to show her hand, I can tell she's got some real cool tricks in store. Just wait and see. Meowth's out of the bag now, we would have to train and fight one another soon.
Meanwhile, a battered-up Oddish was propped up on a chair as Selene and her parents chatted about something I couldn't hear. Her dad was this severe-looking kantoan man in a suit and glasses; practically the walking stereotype of a kantoan businessman, yet he kneeled to Petal and spoke to Selene with a gentle tone. The exhausted grass-type listened and nodded, as Selene gave an embarrassed smile.
And there was the brains of the operation: Selene, our researcher to be. Only a few days ago, she'd returned to us with a whole essay on my Gramps' pokemon, their strength and weaknesses, all sorts of shit for us to use during the fight– and look how that worked out!
There were, of course, a bunch of things I couldn't really tell my dad here – Selene is smart, but she's also just– so, so afraid of other people, in a way that seemed overwhelming and all encompassing. I had seen her retreat to herself over the week. When she's pushed she can be thoughtful and witty and I couldn't help but wonder if her Oddish was what she would be like if she totally let herself go– loud and opinionated and right no matter how frustrating the truth can be.
Lilliane is someone that's been more difficult to categorize– I'd chalked her to be a fancy foreign rich girl like any other but clearly she wears masks, and masks behind those masks, and we were only just seeing past the first layer. That's not even mentioning her mom's whole thing– the reality of her words still burned in the back of my mind, that out there there were real, awful adults that one day we would fight– and we will fight them, because you can't talk with people who chose to be monsters.
So this was us. This was our team!
We'd have to make it. I'll just have to make it.
One step at a time.
Make your family proud.
Restore dad's honor.
Beat the Tapu.
Don't fuck this up.
Don't fuck this up.
Don't fuck this up.
Don't–
–skip ahead just yet! With hoennian competitor May Senri vacationing in Alola, the local competitive scene is going to be shaken big time! Brought to you by our sponsors–"
Nah. I flicked my thumb and the next short rolled in.
A man and his machamp sat at a table, bowl of chesto berries in front of both. Above them, white text spelled out ′How real men eat'. Pokemon and trainer simultaneously grabbed a chesto in their fists, brought them to their mouths and bit down raw on the hard rind brainlessly–
Hm. Swipe.
"Little Riolu is so cute!" A robotic voice droned out in a feminine but monotone tone. "Watch it eat its slop!" The world's specialest Pokemon at its most baby sat on a raised chair, baby fat still clinging to its cheeks. Jolly music rang out, and a human hand brought forward a spoonful of mashed berry, the Pokemon's eyes crossing at the incoming treat.
...
Scritch scritch. Scratching of coloured pen on paper, the only other sound in my dorm room.
Me, head on my pillow, laying on my side, watching videos. Wasting time.
A cool wind passed through the window, carrying through the sounds and scents of the Hau'oli outskirts – someone had set up a food stand outside, and the smell of fried foodstuff wafted in.
Sigh. I checked my notifications– nope. Dozens of messages I had sent her over the week. Most unread.
My legs twitched, starting to fall asleep.
I had been laying a while. What time was it?
Knock knock knock knock.
"Fuck off, Rui," I whined.
My brother opened the door in a rush– and paused, my Spinda having gotten up from its seat on the low table where it was drawing. Rui gave Love Tax a quick half-hearted hug (fucker would pay LT's tax but not listen to me) and turned to address me directly, phone in his hand. "Hey."
"What do you want?" I didn't give him a glance.
"Look up the local Teye stream, Tuula. Quick."
Eugh. "LT and I did our training, Rui, this is my me-time. Get off my ass."
He sputtered and scoffed, getting red in the face. Still too easy to rile up. "Tuula– I'm not getting on your ass about training, sis– Hau & co got their Grand Trial, they're getting interviewed!"
"What?? For real?" My turn to do a double take, sitting up instantly. I fumbled the buttons to open up the streaming app, looking up the Trainer's Eye channel, feeling my brother sit on my left as my starter got up on the bed to sit on the other.
Trainer's Eye – Teye for short – is the biggest community of up and coming trainers around, with separate sub-forums and stream channels for different regions. Not that I give most of a shit, really, but they had been covering Alola recently and doing quick interviews with Trial-goers right outside Mahalo arena.
And there they were.
It was near the entrance to Mahalo trail, the stadium itself in clear view. Hau, Selene and Lilliane stood side by side, holding their bruised up starters for most (though Hau's stood proudly on her own paws at his feet). Selene looked like she was shitting herself.
"U-uh, I mean, it's like, huh," stammered Selene Matsu, fighting for her fucking life. "M-my dad t-taught me how t-to spot weaknesses, and uh, it was j-just a matter of p-pressing at the r-right time." Her Oddish nodded.
An eager voice from offscreen spoke up, holding up a microphone up to Selene's chin. "Mhm. Your father, does he have any experience in battling?"
"Yes! Y-yeah, he does," she sputtered. Hypocrite. "He has, uh, f-five badges from the Kanto circuit."
"Ah." Clear disappointment. Where they expecting a fucking tournament finalist? Their attention shifted to Lilliane on the dot. "What about you, young woman, tell us about yourself."
Yeah, I– I didn't need to see this right now.
Click. I turned off the stream. "I'm bored. Leave me alone."
My brother threw up his hands and complained, stood up, and left. I stared at the blank screen of my phone where I could see my face reflected on the dark surface.
An angry Alolan girl looked back at me.
No good looks, no talent, no friensd. A nobody. My hair dye had almost fully faded, dark grey hair like an ugly mop on my head.
"...Unda?"
In my reflection, a little beige snout peeked in, then I felt it dig into my side, nuzzling my belly worriedly. I put my phone down and scooped up my starter to give it a good hug. I didn't deserve it.
Sigh. I needed some air.
"...We're taking a hike, LT."
Hau'oli kind of sucks, in my opinion.
Like, I guess it's the face of Alola or some shit, but does it have to feel that fake? The streets are spotless, the buildings shine. The harbour feels less like a town and more like an ad, with people and Pokemon selectively put there like it's a fuckin' postcard.
It feels wrong, that's the thing. It shines a little too bright to be real.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Thank the Tapus every city has suburbs!
Walk away from the glitzy glamour of the shore, climb the steep slopes to the higher districts on the cliffs, find where people actually live like real.
Up there, the streets get narrower and convoluted, criss crossing over one another. The curb is a little less clean, the walls are a little less spotless. Plants grow through the hard concrete and ramp up the walls. It's a maze of stairs and roads, intersecting in small parks and squares where people come together to cook stuff, or play games, or play music–
And it's really good shit, too! A band composed of two guys with a Toxtricity and a fucking Tangela played their asses off on a stage – just a street over, a guy and their Magmar are putting on some kinda fire show, and you'd swear that the guy is a freaking firebender – turn around the bend, and here was a heartwrenching duet between a woman using a violin and– some kinda long snake fish Pokemon that sings with such a voice–
We don't have much, but we still grabbed something from the little pouch of accessories in my bag for Love Tax to wear out– today he was going with the drippiest of sneakers (that's fucking right), and that meant that he'd be my little man for the day.
Sometimes she wants to look cute, sometimes he wants to look tough; most of the time it was just my favorite little fella.
"Yo, Tuula and LT! Nice pumps, little man!"
And people know my name!
My Spinda and I, we walked the busking musicians and food carts. We passed by the Marks and his band, the Cavenos doing water tricks, Miss Magic (an actual Mismagius!) doing sleight of hand – artists pouring out their fucking soul into their craft. Pokemon scampered at our feet or watched from perches on roofs or windows.
I stopped for a second, looking at my messages on my phone. I wonder, for a moment, if I should send a congratulations to– to her? Like, that's a thing after a Grand Trial, right?
Still no response.
…
We stopped by to get something cheap and greasy and that I'll need to scrub out of LT's fur. My Spinda balanced off my arm like a Mankey, happily swinging from my sleeves.
"Hey!" A scratchy voice called out.
Off to the side, in a smaller, sparser street, three older teens were congregating around a boombox, sitting, squatting, leaning back. A Machop leaned against one of them with its arms crossed like some kinda emo teen of its own.
"Nice kicks," he said, giving a nod of the chin to my starter. "We're doing a contest, you wanna join?"
Oh fuck.
Okay. This is happening.
"Pff," I gave my best scoff. I am cool. I'm the coolest. I can hang with older guys. "Hoenn or Unova?"
The dudes beckoned me forward. We figure out the rules– there's no objection when I say we go for Coolness (though I do see the guy with his Machop make a face, hah) and we work out the conditions of the contest.
Some other person would go into the history of the Pokemon Contest– talk about where it originated, how the format changed with its migration to the Unovan continent or talk about its roots from ancestral Tohjo dances or whatever– but who gives a shit?
So we're doing a contest. It's a tiny committee in a tiny backstreet, we're not sweating it out.
"...Really– a wager?"
"Yeah. Makes it more real." He shakes a hat already containing a few bills. "You pussyin' out?"
"Nah, man." I grab the rest of the pocket money I brought and throw it in the pot, about a third we made from the first Trial– but we can trounce these guys easy. Fuck the Challenge. "I'm cool."
I'm first to go.
Click, thunk. A low droning beat filled the air, and the grating voice of Scyther the Creator began its preamble. Up on a windowsill, I caught the yellow tuft of feathers of an Oricorio– whoa. That's kind of a crazy Pokemon to catch the attention of.
The Unovan singer began to spin the tale about a relationship that lives in dreams– LT and I started slow. We were just loosening up, letting our bodies sway to the rhythm, side by side, getting into the mood of the song.
My limbs heat up, my blood began to run hot – a dream partner in a dream region, a romance that only exists behind eyelids – then we launched into it: kicking back and forth, knee shuffling to the side, kicking then shuffling to the other direction–
Love Tax was my mirrored partner. Normally a stumbling clumsy critter, he fell into a practiced sway, moves following the rhythm by the beat and tiny shoes kicking the curb with every step. The stumble of a Spinda is all a controlled illusion; LT showed them all he was more nimble than them all.
An impossible relationship, yearning and longing for another, expectations and fantasy mixing together – my Pokemon and I fell into sync. Our motions followed one another with the beat of our hearts, bodies moving as one, and I in that moment I felt like I could actually hear my Spinda's thoughts–
Then the beat dropped.
We switched it into high fucking gear. At once I'm going into violent, sudden rocking motions, my Pokemon following them like he had been thrown– and a beat later I am a pole and a platform for my Spinda to dance on, prancing on and around my limbs like gravity no longer obeyed.
The world disappeared.
This is how I know it; this is how it works: everyone yearn to express themselves since the dawn of time. We've all learned to do it with our fists– but how long do wounds stick? How do you get people on your side with violence?
No– let your heart shine through, let those feelings out, give them a space to bloom and blossom and people will remember your words a thousand times over–
Sudden painful motion and my legs slipped from under me–during the single second of consciousness before I crashed I saw the teen with the Machop sweep my leg and trip me to the floor. Another teen grabbed the boombox, the other had begun to run, hand tight around the betting pool, chuckling–
Crash. My shoulder then my legs met the concrete floor in a brutal fucking fashion, and all air is drawn from my lungs. What– what the fuck just happened?
Did I just get rug-pulled?
There was a ringing in between my ears, fading as I returned to reality, with the fading of frantic footsteps as the other teens ran away from the scene. Hot tears dampen my face. I shrunk into a ball, feeling like such, such a fucking idiot that anyone could ever take me seriously.
This is who I am. My skills are useless and bring nothing to society. A burden to my family and the Pokemon by my side. Something to be ignored until it stops existing.
…
I think Selene Matsu is fucking ghosting me.
"ScreEEE–" "Hey– HEY– get off–"
I jolted up, blinking, looking in the direction the assholes fled– I couldn't fucking see with those tears in the way.
In blurred vision, a yellow shape swooped on distant retreating forms, led by more cries and yells, a bright flash and an audible zap. A tan and red shape rushed on all fours in their direction (LT?) as well, throwing itself in the fight like some kinda feral beast.
Shakingly, I got to my feet, rubbing the dampness from my eyes. The sounds of scuffle in the distance faded. I rubbed my aching limbs off of gravel and dust.
I blinked my eyes open.
Flying to meet me was the scruffiest Oricorio I've ever fucking seen.
Those things are normally prissy little creatures that care more about their appearance than anything around them– this one couldn't be furthest from the truth. Her face radiated out unkempt feathers, her wings ended in tangled pom-poms that look like they were exploding out of her wings.
The Oricorio swooped to stop just in front of me, feathers dislodging from her form, my Spinda following in her wake, utterly exhausted.
She leaned down and unceremoniously dropped her payload: a torn hat, half-shredded bundle of bills crammed inside.
Then she opened her beak and began to sing an off-tune impression of Scyther the Creator.
Step step step step step–
Moon above and earth below– I wish I could scamper any faster! There is only so much time left! The world needs saving!
Cold stone met my roots with every step. You'd believe humans to be children of the ground, with how they love to live in flimsy caves and cover everything in rocks.
It's unbelievable how overwhelmingly human human cities are– oh no, the night is too dark, so let's set a million blinding lights to banish the gloom. Boo hoo, the ground leaves my poor paws so sore, let's cover it all in concrete– oh but watch out, this part of the ground is not for you to walk on, it's only for the smelly moving metal boxes–
I stopped myself, feeling like I was getting distracted. I only had so much time tonight; my trainer and I would be leaving the island tomorrow.
The world needs saving.
Weaving my way between the few nocturnal humans and Pokemon, deep within the upper districts of the city, I got to where the humans had relinquished their influence: abandoned dwellings, half-built human abodes where nature had recovered its rightful place.
Presiding over a gaggle of sleeping Bounsweet, night-elder Lurantis was softly speaking to other nocturnal Pokemon that had come for her counsel.
A small family of Rattatas and Raticates cowered at her roots, and she motioned to a direction. They nodded at her and disappeared in the underbrush.
"Oddish," she spoke, concern in her voice. "You seem unwell. What ails you?"
I had to catch my breath– I had run all this way to see her, and I could feel how this drew on my reserves. Not to mention that damned fire bird that had done a number on me the prior day! "No matter about my health, night-elder! The world needs saving."
Her head cocked to one side. Her eyes narrowed. "I listen."
I stilled. This was complicated to explain, and I would need to go over a lot of context.
"Something is wrong with my human," I began. "Lately, she is cutting off her roots– she is pushing away from others."
The night-elder sat gracefully to my front, focused intently on my story. "Has she pushed you away?" She asked.
"No." We were siblings, practically egg-bound. Though her reluctance lately had been hurtful. "She has always been mind-ill– but she should be no longer, night-elder. She performed the rites. She should be healed."
"...Say that again?"
"We performed the rites of renewal. At the grand garden to the north– we were there on my human's Journey, and another elder and her flock were about to perform, and we joined them!"
The night-elder blinked repeatedly, then brought a scythe to her face, deep in thought.
I continued. "Yet my human remains distant, night-elder. She has been– hm. The humans have these–" Eugh. Blast these humans for inventing so many new words all willy nilly. "They have talky-boxes that let them speak to one another– hers' has been beeping like never before, and she seems so intent on ignoring its cry. I can feel her sorrow spiking up. I don't understand."
Hot dampness wet my eyes. The world was ending, and I felt powerless to stop it. "She– she felt the weave of life, night-elder. She should know and understand the infinite bonds that link all beings, she should– she should know how I feel– how we plants feel. Why push others away?"
The night-elder walked up to me and brought me into her fold, hugging me with her long scythes. Our hearts touched– the gift of nature, to know and understand your place in all circles of life, to feel the connections that draw everything together. I could feel the soul of this night-elder, her long, long life, the myriad bonds that she had formed over her time on this world–
She pulled away, holding my head between her scythes. "If she is a human youngling, it is likely she has never felt the weave of life before, little sproutling. She must be overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and confused."
This– this wasn't an excuse. This wasn't how it worked. "She experienced it, night-elder. How could it be confusing to her?"
She sighed. "Humans are confusing creatures. She must translate it through her human words, not just personal experience."
How frustrating.
My walk back was a lot less frantic than my run over.
The remainder of night-elder's advice still swam in my head, and I pondered her words with every step. The sun had begun to peek over the curvature of the world, and I felt my energy waning. I would need to rest for a while, if I wished to be alert when my human needed it.
First, speak with your human. The night-elder had said. This was difficult. We had our own secret language to help with this, but my human shied away from what scared her so easily. I had been– so adamant to perform the rites with her once more– but perhaps this was hasty. I would have to be patient.
Second, ask her about the talky-box. Ultimately, this is what eluded me the most. There was so much of my human's bonds that I wasn't privy to. What had her so spooked? Had it been the rites' fault, or something else?
It would be so much easier if I could just look in it and check. I could, truth be told, and I had used it in the past to find moving pictures of my brethren performing their own rites or doing battle – but it wasn't the same.
I couldn't read or write human script.
Hm. Could I learn?
If my human could read my intent through the shape of my leaves, could I learn to discern their symbols, too? Maybe.
I felt the pull of Evolution– my time was near. If I wished it, I could start it any time I wanted– but how was that right? How could I allow myself to grow, when my human lagged so far behind me?
I could wait. I would bide my time. The world needed saving yet.
I reached the end of the maze-like road to my human's dwelling– finally reaching her personal chamber.
She slept in her nest still, breathing softly while Dunsparce stood vigil next to her. It seemed like over the night, my human had embraced the Dunsparce tight and he was now completely trapped in her hold. Good. If danger came, he would be first to respond.
He opened an eye slowly, blearily, then yawned wide. "Yawn– Breakfast?"
"Rest more, Lifesblood." Our human had given him an auspicious name. "First meal does not come until our human awakes."
He wiggled in our human's grasp and settled in to sleep more. "Mkay," he mumbled. "Rest well, Flower Shield."
My human had given me an auspicious name.
Hau Halākaua
Torracat (Loa, she/her): Scratch, Ember, Leer, Roar, Fire Fang, Flame Wheel, Counter
Tuula Tuari
Spinda (Love Tax, genderfluid)
Oricorio (???, she/her)
Flower Shield / Petal
Human (Moonsent / Selene, she/her)