Pressing Flaaffy’s pokeball against my lips, as one might a fist in signs of nervousness and unease, I half crouched by the wall around the back of a dilapidated hut just outside Silverwind. Flaaffy was outside her ball, habit and excitement provoked my stance, though Kayla was beside me for protection, and Flaaffy looked more ready than either of us.
On returning to Silverwind, the rangers hadn’t taken long to coordinate with the police. I wasn’t privy to the actual discussions, but the short of it was: the police already had some suspicion of some kind of smuggling or some such. The building before us was supposed to be long abandoned and had seen more than its fair share of activity in the past days. This in itself wasn’t all that strange. With the festival happening, there were more than enough bold characters who, especially after a night of drinking, might disturb the place, whether as a dare or because they were desperate for shelter and in no fit condition to look for where they had left their own. No, the suspicions arose from the neighbours noting it was always the same people coming in and out. They were always sober, and by their clothes and manners, they were not squatters. The possibility that they were trainers looking for cheap accommodation during the festival still existed, but the rangers' report finally gave enough reason for a raid.
Which was all well and good, but with one police officer for the entire village (discounting the league security and the like, which only concerned themselves with the festival), the rangers' help was called upon. Me, being a temporary part of the ranger’s team, partly because I didn’t know a good time to leave, and partly because I had no desire to anyway, was dragged along in the whole affair, and was given the task of guarding the back, should the people inside attempt to make their escape. It wasn’t expected to be a dangerous operation. There were people inside, that much had been confirmed, and, apparently, they all had some form of criminal record, though the offences were all non-violent. Resistance was not expected, and if there was, it was sure to be slight.
None of that calmed my nerves. My last experience with unlawful battles had ended with a three-headed dragon ripping holes in the earth like it was styrofoam. It was, I told myself, an outlier to how these things usually went, but what the brain tried to rationalise, the body refused to feel.
So caught up was I in my own head, that when things went down, I almost missed it. There was a commotion within the building, which was loud, short, and ended with a man and a Pidgeotto bursting out the back window. Flaaffy sent out a Thunder Wave before I could blink, and the man collapsed, paralysed, but otherwise unharmed. With his trainer down, Pidgeotto attacked, Air Slash ripping towards me with all the violence of a box of knives. I flinched, but managed to call on Flaaffy to use Protect. She hardly needed my instruction, and once the assault had ended, she countered with a Thunderbolt, knocking Pidgeotto out of the sky and much relieving my mind.
It was all over before it had really begun. I was almost left waiting for the Minun after the Plusle. The suspects were apprehended, and boxes (small ones) of pearls were found. I was congratulated for my contribution, though I swiftly directed the praise towards Flaaffy, who was much more deserving. It went smoothly and I was back in Trim’s house before I could believe it. There, my nerves came in a different form. Sunny had yet to return. To distract myself, I dedicated myself to sculpting. By now, it had wholly replaced the time I spent drawing. I didn’t love the latter any less, but the opportunity to sculpt was now and who knew when next. Besides, there was a piece I was working on that I wanted to finish before we left. At first, it had been just Flaaffy. The night before, however, Comfey had jumped onto my patient model with the obvious objective of being included. I was not against the idea. Comfey didn’t introduce any drastic change in the design, but I could not, then, in good conscience, exclude Junior from it. The studio, though, with its clutter and tightness, was no place for an anger bomb. Which was why I was working outside on a spare market table Trim lent me. It let my Pokémon play freely, too; I didn’t actually need them to stay still like I preferred when I was drawing.
I was glad they got along well, despite their contrasting personalities. Flaaffy was patient enough to put up with everything the other two could throw at her. Junior’s more violent urges were warded off with Protect; their suddenness good reflex practice for her. When she wasn’t violent, Junior had a sense of hierarchy that, while I found troubling, for now worked in my favour. She considered Flaaffy a senior and so, deserving of respect. She showed it, as always, with aggression, but she also listened and followed Flaaffy’s cue while training. She could be surprisingly disciplined where getting stronger was concerned. How Comfey fit into all this baffled me for some time, but I was grasping their dynamic. She was as whimsical as any of her type, a trait which aggravated Junior to no end. She was also her senior, though usually she didn’t command anywhere near the level of respect Flaaffy did. She was also the one with the greatest ability to end squabbles; Flaaffy might be a good mediator, and on the rare occasions Junior didn’t want to fight, only a devious Comfey was willing to tempt her in the first place, but when Comfey wanted a fight to end, it ended without a whimper. Some of their interactions that day in the garden might illustrate my points better.
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At one time, Comfey, taken by one of her mischievous moods, danced on Flaaffy’s head, pricking her with shrill cries and calls for attention. Few people or Pokémon could get under Flaaffy’s wool as quickly as Comfey. Alternating between playful jabs and nasty pokes, Comfey wore away at the boundary between affection and annoyance until there was no difference between the two. It culminated in Flaafy sending a light Thunder Shock. It was easily parried, but Junior, who had been behaving herself stellarly, incited by the move, burst into a frenzy, smashing her fists against twin Protects. Under her assault, Flaaffy didn’t have any other recourse than to weather it out. Comfey had other options. The picture of innocence and grace, she formed herself into a bracelet on Junior’s wrist, and so convincing was her act that even Junior was touched and calmed. Only a twitch of Flaaffy’s ear showed her discomfort at feeling like she was the aggressor without even the relief of being the peacekeeper.
After a period of tranquillity in which Comfey, tired from her play, had settled into a nap, Junior, either unsatisfied by her laid-back attitude, or because she was showing respect, it was hard to tell, advanced on her with a Karate Chop. She would have caught Comfey unawares had Flaaffy not interceded. Indignant and not in the mood to show grace or tact, Comfey responded with enraged screeches and shrill whistles while Flaaffy bore the brunt of Junior’s attack. The spar was short, and Flaaffy came out on top. Her strategy of defence and counterattacks allowed her to utterly control Junior until she tired out. Comfey, still jumping up and down and shrieking with the kind of rage only a ten-centimetre creature can have, was shut up by being stuffed in Flaaffy’s wool, where she presently went back to sleep.
All this to say, their relationship involved a lot of scuffles, and pushing each other to the limit of reason, but they built up an undercurrent of trust and appreciation with each other that would have made me jealous had I not been, in some ways, included. I was still Flaaffy’s best friend, Junior’s mentor, and Comfey’s favourite resting place. I was glad to show my appreciation for them by making them into art, which was all but finished by the time I saw Sunny and Hector straggling in through the gate.
I left the clay, which I should have left earlier, but could not stop adjusting with the zeal of an artist who simply cannot accept her piece as finished, and wrapped Sunny in a hug. My actions surprised even me. I knew I was opening up more lately, but to initiate contact was still somewhat of a rarity. I was, I guess, worried for her, and the idea of parting ways with her, though unconfirmed and nebulous as it was, made me want to cherish the moments I did spend with her.
“There, there, let go of me, you’ll get all wet,” she said. She was soaked, even though she was in a new change of clothes. I wanted to ask her how it went immediately and have her tell me every detail of her day. First, however, she said she was in need of a hot shower. I could not argue against practicality.
She came out in time to see the sunset, or at least the red sky left by a setting sun, the object itself being hidden by a horizon broken by trees and hills.
“Did you make this?” she asked, looking at my sculpture. It was of Flaaffy and Junior embroiled in a tussle incited by Comfey. I nodded in response to her question.
“You’re very artistic.”
“Thanks,” I said. I was once again prevented from asking about her day by the arrival of her father, who, by his good humour, seemed to have had a good day at the market. He began to cook as I tidied my workspace and Sunny and I fed our Pokémon. Once everything was taken care of, we sat at the kitchen table while Trim stood over a pan sizzling on the cooker. Finally, I felt I had my chance.
“So, how did it go?”
“Good, I think. It was frightening at times, but it went well.”
“What’s this?” asked Trim jovially. “What have you been up to today?”
Sunny hesitated, shy of telling her father how she had exposed herself to potential danger.
“We went diving in Lake Rin,” she said, starting easy.
“That’s cool, there are some lovely spots, though it’s chilly this time of year.”
“Yeah, I mean, we went with the rangers Calla was taking about before, remember?”
“Oh, yes, that. You were looking for Clamperl.”
“We found the Clamperl,” said Sunny. “But first, we encountered some poachers. The rangers asked Aria to tail them, and I asked if I could accompany her.”
Trim’s enthusiasm dropped a notch before he recovered.
“That sounds interesting, tell me more.”
“When we left the rangers, Aria and Miss Song, that’s her Primarina, taught me and Hector how to trail someone in the water. We kept a large distance from the poacher’s speedboat and were kept to just under the surface of the water, only coming up for breathing. Miss Song guided us. She was able to locate the poachers solely by sound. They spent a long time drawing circles on the lake with their boat without showing any signs of diving, so that I thought we were wasting our time. I don’t know if they were trying to shake off any potential tails; they hadn’t seen us, of that I was sure, or maybe they were arguing about completing the dive that day at all. Eventually, they did decide to. The rumble of their motor, constant, even at our distance from them, cut out. In time, the silence was broken by two splashes as they entered the water. Now the real pursuit began, as we dove into the depths of Lake Rin.”
