Hyphen (Pokemon Emerald)

[Dermonster]

Leaving the safety of her hidden commune, a Ralts narrowly avoids capture on Hoenn Route 102. Finding a discarded pokeball, she ventures into the human world only to discover that her home is in danger from Humanity's rapid expansion. Now she has one recourse: disguise herself as human and become the pokemon champion before her village is discovered, and prevent the tragedy that is sure to come.

It's too bad she has to deal with subterfuge, eco-terrorism, the end of the world, and awkward inter-species friendships along the way.




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[Dermonster]

For (far) future readers: Spoilers probably abound!

Official @Dexexe1234 Art.

Spoiler: Title Card

Spoiler: Banner Ad

Spoiler: City Battle (Ch. 6)

Spoiler: Forest Ambush (Ch. 7)

Spoiler: Ancestor (Ch. 8)

Spoiler: Meeting Treecko (Ch. 9)

Spoiler: Last Stand of the Parents, Memorialized in Flame. (Ch. 10)

Spoiler: Pokemon trainer Astra would like to battle! (Ch. 11)

Spoiler: Sushi is delicious! (Ch 15)

Spoiler: Violin Practice with May

Spoiler: Ancient Regicide (Ch. 19) {Somewhat Violent}

Spoiler: 5 YEAR ANIVERSARRY!

Spoiler: Exploud Beatdown (Ch 23)

Spoiler: Maybe she's in a cult?

Backslash art!

Spoiler: Title card

Other art?

Spoiler: Astra

Aritst: Coishua

Spoiler: Pastra

Barebones TvTropes page! CONTRIBUTE!

 

[Dermonster]

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Hyphen 1

Beginning

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A Ralts poked her head out of a bush and observed the trail ahead of her, oblivious to the foliage lodged in her green hair. The sun shone down from above, the leaves casting dappled shadows across the rough-hewn dirt. In the distance she spotted the pack of Poochyena who had taken to resting in the road. The black-and-gray-furred wolves sniffed at the air, their shining red eyes peering at the woods around them. The Ralts crouched low, and willed them to look elsewhere; the prize she sought was so close, but the hounds would sooner make her their dinner than let her pass unhindered.

Suddenly, a Zigzagoon shot out from a bush further down. It was clearly frightened, and every inch of its alternating light and dark brown fur was standing on end. As one, the pack of Poochyena turned upon the smaller creature and growled.

The Zigzagoon yelped and ran away, dashing through bushes and branches alike in its panic with the pack of Poochyena hot on its heels.

The Ralts breathed a sigh of relief and extricated herself from the bush. Peering into a nearby puddle, she picked off excess twigs that had gotten stuck in her hair. The image within the pool was a familiar sight—a bowl of forest green hair encircling her head and partially obscuring her eyes, her snow-white coat extending into a billowing dress-like cloak that covered her nubby legs from view. Atop her head rested two shining red half-ovaloid horns, the larger protruding from the middle of her forehead and the smaller from the back of her head. The Ralts smiled at her reflection, and plucked the last errant leaf from her hair.

Examining the road once more, she confirmed it was all but deserted; the only things here were the occasional acorn-mimicking Seedot hanging from the trees. Dashing across the hard packed dirt, the Ralts stopped before an Oran berry bush. Quickly unfurling a large leaf she had procured, she began picking the delicious blue fruits with practiced speed.

There were much less dangerous bushes to harvest back home, the Ralts mused, but only the ones located on the human trails were rich enough to satisfy her. They could be made into so many delicious meals; eaten raw, cooked into soup, drained and eaten dry—the possibilities were endless! So absorbed was she in her gourmand errand, the Ralts didn't notice the approaching figures until a voice cut straight through her thoughts.

"Oh! There's one right in the middle of the road!"

The Ralts froze, wide eyes turning to see a nightmare made manifest. Two humans stood a mere dozen feet away, staring directly at her, eyes filled with calculated curiosity and barely constrained excitement at the sight of such an easy target. A red-and-white ball was clutched in one's hand, just waiting to be unleashed. The Ralts dropped the Oran berry, her shaking legs barely responding as she took a single step backwards.

"Huh. So there is. Never seen this kind before though..." The human girl in the red bandanna nudged the human boy with green hair forward. "Well? Capture it already."

"R-right!" the boy said, and shuffled forward. The Ralts took another step back and tripped over her coat, falling to the ground. The green-haired boy tossed the ball into the air with a cry, "Go, Zigzagoon!"

The ball cracked open, a thunderous red light erupting from within. The light coalesced upon the ground, revealing the form of a Zigzagoon. It yipped, circling around twice before crouching low, growling at her.

"R-Ralts!" the Ralts yelled, losing control of her voice in the face of overwhelming terror. "Raaalts!" she screamed again, scrambling to her feet and turning to run—

"Zigzagoon, use Tackle!"

—Only to be hit from behind as the Zigzagoon smashed into her at full force.

The Ralts flew backward and slammed into a tree. "R-rah—!" she cried out, the rough bark scraping at her coat as she slid down. Blinking the stars from her eyes, she looked up to find the intense stare of the green-haired boy and the crouching Zigzagoon in front of him. The boy held out another red-and-white ball, and the Ralts stared at it with dread.

"I—I throw the ball now, right? Here I go!"

The girl in the red bandanna blinked and reached out, "Wait, it's not injured enough yet!"

Ignorant of the girl's warning, the human boy reared back and threw. Time slowed to a crawl as the Ralts watched the sphere hurtle toward her. No, no! She didn't want this! This couldn't happen! She wouldn't let it! With a surge of energy, she threw herself to the side just in time, and sprinted into the forest as the ball ricocheted off the tree behind her.

"It's getting away!" the boy cried, distraught. The human girl cursed.

"Dammit, Wally..."

The Ralts sprinted into the woods and hid behind a tree, out of sight. The humans' voices were still audible even this deep into the woods, and she listened with bated breath.

"Did you see where it went?" asked the boy.

"No. Ugh, now we'll have to find something else…"

"I'm sorry…should I go get the pokeball?"

"Tch, there's too much tall grass around here, it's a lost cause." A sigh. "I have a dozen of the things anyway. Let's get going—I think I heard some Poochyena barking from that direction. They're pretty cool, let's get one of those."

"A—alright…"

The terrified Ralts held still for several moments, and a few more after their voices faded, then finally collapsed against the tree. She clutched at her chest with a shaking hand, heart beating madly in her chest. That…that was close. She'd known that humans were to be avoided, and she'd never expected to come face-to-face with one, but they hadn't even taken a moment before attacking. If she'd been even a hair slower...

The Ralts sat there for a moment, catching her breath, before standing up and venturing back the way she had come. But a flash of color caught her eye as she walked; laying there in the grass was that red and white sphere the smaller human had thrown at her. She stared at it uneasily. So this was a pokeball…

With a trembling hand, she reached down and poked it, jumping away at the touch. When nothing happened, she poked it again. After nothing continued to happen, she reached down and picked the sphere up.

It was a strange thing. Half red, half white, a thick black line across the middle with only a protruding white circle in the center interrupting it. Tentatively, she pushed the button, dropping it like a poisonous barb when it shrunk to a fraction of its size, accompanied by the sound of rushing wind.

After nothing happened a third time, the Ralts picked it back up. How had it gotten so small? She pressed the button again and only jumped a little when it expanded back to its original size.

She stared at the sphere, new questions bubbling within her mind. How did this sphere grow and shrink and fit whole creatures inside itself? To what end? Who were those humans and how did they make something like this?

She traveled back to the path and—after very carefully looking both ways down the road—gathered her plucked berries into the makeshift bag. With a moment of hesitation, she buried the pokeball among the Oran berries, hiding it from view.

After picking up the bundle, she scurried across the road once more and began the trip back home.

 

[Dermonster]

Hyphen 2

Home

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South of the trails, through a vast forest and hidden from any mundane explorations, there was a village. Surrounding the village were wooden palisades; constructed, reinforced, and occasionally replaced over the course of centuries, they stood proudly in defiance of whatever might dare to challenge them.

To the returning Ralts they were a familiar and welcome sight indeed. Closing in on one of the few gates built into the barricades, she waved to a spear-wielding Kirlia who was on guard. She frowned at said guard's lack of reaction. Why wasn't he waving back or—oh, he was asleep.

Slowing her pace, she snuck up on the snoozing guard. The Ralts observed him, wistfully imagining her evolved self through his image. All Kirlia looked more or less the same and he was no different: his horns had both lengthened and migrated to just above both ears and his hair now flowed off both sides of his head—under his horns to his shoulders—and over his face, naturally parting to reveal both of his currently closed eyes. His coat had split apart into six wide strips which swayed gently in the breeze, exposing his green legs that tapered down to the tiny nubs that constituted feet. He was currently leaning on his spear, gently snoring.

With a mischievous smile, the Ralts stepped behind a tree, telekinetically picked up a stick, and jabbed him in the side. The guard jerked upright and screeched, swinging his spear wildly. His head twisted around rapidly, eyes frantically searching for what had hit him. The Ralts burst out laughing, falling out from behind the tree in mirth. The guard stared at her, surprised, before scowling, practically radiating embarrassment and outrage.

"Oh you little brat, I oughta whack you!" he yelled, waving around the blunt side of his spear.

The Ralts caught her breath and got to her feet, smirking at the Kirlia. "It's not my fault you were sleeping on the job!" she taunted, sticking out her tongue. "What if I'd been a hungry Poochyena? What kinda 'stalwart protector of our walls' are you anyhow?"

The guard coughed and looked away, his embarrassment and shame fading from the Ralts's senses as his empathic control restored itself. "W-well, it's not like those blank-minded mutts come this close anyway! I haven't seen one all season; it's not my fault standing out here all day gets boring!"

"Of course, of course," the Ralts said, nodding along. "Well, since it's not your fault, I guess you wouldn't mind me telling—"

"Now, now, let's not get carried away here!" the Kirlia interrupted, holding his hands up and laughing nervously. He paused, turning a cheeky grin on his opponent. "Then again, I think you might be in more trouble than I am; after all, you're not supposed to be wandering outside the village without an escort. Maybe I should tell your grandfather?"

"You wouldn't," she said, gasping loudly. "You'd get scolded for letting me leave!"

"Ah," the guard countered, grinning like a Poochyena. "I could simply suggest that you climbed a bit of the wall out of my range. How could I have possibly known?"

"Well darn," the Ralts huffed, grinning at the guard. "You've got me there. I don't suppose one of these," she reached into her bag and held an Oran berry aloft, wiggling it enticingly, "would change your mind?"

Quick as a flash, the berry shot from her hand and into the Guard's, the Kirlia already taking a bite. "Mmm," he hummed, blue juice dribbling into the grass. "Absence? What absence? Never saw her leave, honest."

The Ralts giggled at the display. "Thanks!"

"Hey, no problem. As long as I get one of these babies, it's all good." He took another bite and smiled. "Ah, that's the stuff. You just don't get this kinda quality from the garden too often. You gotta tell me where you found a premium Oran bush out there someday."

The Ralts winked. "It's a secret~"

"Fair enough," the guard said, shrugging. He paused, looking at the Ralts curiously. "Though, you're looking a little scratched up there; anything I need to worry about?"

The Ralts waved him off. "Ah, just had a little run-in, it's fine."

"A run-in? With what, a Poochyena?" He scanned the forest behind her. "It better not have followed you; wall duty might be boring but that doesn't mean I actually want to use this thing." He nodded to his spear meaningfully.

The Ralts scratched her head, laughing nervously. "Nah, it was...just a Zigzagoon. I'm fine, really."

The guard peered at her for a moment, then grunted, leaning back against the log wall. "If you say so. Hey, drop a few of those off at the fermenters for me, will you? I bet they'd make a delicious drink."

The Ralts's face scrunched up. "Ew, no. I'd like to eat these myself, thanks!"

"Tch, how lame. Whatever. Thanks for the berry; see ya later," he said, dismissing her with a solitary wave.

"Goodbye!" she waved back, stepping through the open gate. On the other side she was treated to the familiar sight of the village proper. Wooden buildings crafted by generations of families were peppered throughout the massive trees; some alone, some stacked upon each other, and some even resided upon the boughs of the trees, connected through sturdy bridges anchored to the thick branches. Firepits lay scattered in open areas, though most lay cold.

The Ralts wandered down the hard packed road, nodding at other passing Kirlia and Ralts as she went and politely ignoring the flashes of poorly shielded emotion some of the younger Ralts sometimes let loose. She snuck a look at her leafy bag and frowned at the flash of red hidden therein. What was she supposed to do with this? How could she figure out how it worked? They had been trying to hit her with it, but just throwing it at another villager was out of the question. What to do…

She glanced to the side as singing became audible, spotting a cluster of newly hatched Ralts surrounding an older Kirlia. Oh, they were learning that old song. She listened with half an ear as she passed them by.

"–Rust, rock, and rime, were punished for their crime; rust, rock, and rime, locked below for all of time~," the Kirlia sang, the hatchlings telepathically following along in offkey asynchronicity. The Ralts grinned awkwardly as she passed, hearing more than one hatchling simulcast their own thoughts or rush through individual words. In time they'd learn how to say exactly what they wanted to say, as fast as they wanted to say it, to only the person they wanted to say it to, but for now they'd still be a font of unfiltered thoughts and emotions whenever they tried to speak.

The Kirlia leading the pack clapped, smiling softly. "Well done! Remember, follow my speed, and only say what I say. Feel how I am speaking, and try to match it as best you can. One more time, all together now. Here we go, three, two, one—Once on a mountaintop way up high, there lived a giant with seven eyes wide—"

It was kind of a morbid song, the Ralts mused. She'd always wondered who had made it—were they describing an event, or was it just a fanciful story? She had asked once when she was younger, but the storyteller had only told her it had been passed down. She distinctly remembered the odd, pinched expression the Kirlia wore when she asked her to elaborate.

"It was from someone who isn't around anymore," was the only answer she received.

The smell of roasting Magikarp broke her out of her thoughts. Just ahead of her, she spotted several Ralts and a Kirlia standing very still alongside the river that ran through the village, a large fire burning merrily a short distance from the shore. Each of them held a sharp fishing spear and gazed into the waters with a tangible intensity. They could have just plucked one from the waters from afar, but it was said a Magikarp would bring great misfortune if they had time to panic before they were caught, which seemed to manifest in tasting worse.

She spotted a flash of orange before one of the Ralts slammed their spear into the depths. The waters churned for a moment before he raised the spear up in victory, a writhing Magikarp impaled upon the end. Clamoring out of the bank, the lucky fisher merrily began preparing his catch for the fire.

The Ralts spotted several Magikarp already roasting on the firepit. They smelled so good…ah, if only she wasn't carrying so many berries. She would have to catch one for herself later. Tearing her eyes away, she walked across the river's bridge and continued on.

Just a short while later, she turned off the main path onto a side trail. Soon enough the Ralts came across a steep grassy hill with a thick layer of vines hanging over a large opening into the rock. Pushing the vines apart, she smiled as she felt the constant breeze that flowed into the hollow. Stepping forth into the entrance of the small cave system, she made her way through the short entrance tunnel and paused at the inner threshold of her home.

Resin candles were scattered across the main cavern, revealing the richly painted walls depicting verdant vegetation, scenes of villagers performing various activities, and a brilliant depiction of the sunrise along the far wall. Tables and chairs made of smoothly carved stone lined the edges, covered in varied tools and clay pots. Alcoves in the walls were stuffed with keepsakes: small figurines of objects or animals carved out of stone and wood, intricately woven fiber tapestries dyed in myriad colors, ancient spears that still gleamed in the firelight and countless other trinkets. In the center of the room was an ignited fire pit, the smoke lazily curling towards a shaft carved into the ceiling long ago. A metal pot was situated on a sculpted stone platform above the fire, water coming to a boil within.

Spotting movement from the side, the Ralts made to go forward but hesitated when her eye caught the red gleam from her bag. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to carry around proof that she had been out of bounds. She'd just have to ask about it subtly. Removing the sphere, she hid it behind a few clay jars on a nearby table.

"Grandpa!" she called, "I'm back!"

As she entered the room fully, the Ralts spotted her grandfather near the left wall, partially hidden by some shelves. A Kirlia edging into his fading years, his green hair had paled and wrinkles decorated his coat and face, though his eyes were as sharp as ever. He stood on top of a stool, a collection of bowls full of pigment hovering around his waist, with another in one hand and a brush in the other. Behind him was an in-progress depiction of the night sky, particularly the grand cloud of light that streaked its way across the heavens in its full, moonless glory. His face brightened when she came into view and he stepped down, leaving his tools on a table.

"Welcome back!" he greeted warmly, drawing close and hugging the Ralts. He pulled back and looked down at her, smiling. "Did you get the berries?"

She held up her haul with a grin. "The best I could find!"

Her grandfather's eyes sparkled as he inspected them. "Oh, well done! They are simply magnificent. I must say, your diligence is quite inspiring; I could spend an entire day in the gardens and not find more than a handful of this quality."

The Ralts giggled, blushing. "It's no big deal, really! But, uh, are we really making jam today?"

"Indeed," he said, bringing the berries over to a different table where numerous bowls and jars lay waiting.

The Ralts pouted. "Aw, that takes forever. Can't we just roast them?"

"Now now," her grandfather chided, "let's not be impatient. It is important to make preserved food even this early in the season. Poor yields could strike at any moment, after all, not to mention the winter. Besides, you love jam." He paused, frowning. Reaching out, he began examining his granddaughter closely, turning her head this way and that much to her confusion. "Did you have any trouble in the field? You look a little battered."

"Ah," the Ralts grinned nervously. "I tripped down a hill. It's nothing, really."

"You should be more careful," he admonished, "Still, I am glad you are unharmed. Now, would you like to help me crush the berries?"

"Sure!"

With a thought, her grandfather levitated a few bowls and jars off their shelves. Sitting down, the elderly Kirlia spread the Oran into a small pile.

"Now," he began, "you've been proving yourself quite adept at providing enough power to crush the berries, so I would like you to try to work on your control by reducing the splatter." Levitating one of the berries, he demonstrated by forming a sphere of psychic power around the fruit, which shrank down and twisted until it was naught more than mush. "Do you see how I fully enclose the fruit in a shell? Try to copy how I did it."

"Mm!" She took a berry of her own, and concentrated. A flickering shell surrounded it, and it began to shrink. Grinning, she squeezed down. The shell and berry both promptly exploded, showering the area with pulp. The Ralts shrieked in surprise, scrubbing the sticky fluid off her face.

"A bit too much force, I think," her grandfather chuckled, setting down a small mass of berry remnants. "Ah, you've got juice all over your face. Hold still for a moment," he said, kneeling down and wiping his granddaughter's face with a brush and some water.

The Ralts stood there, face scrunched up as he gently cleaned the juice off. "Sorry…" she mumbled.

"Oh, it's no worry, my dear. Everyone makes mistakes, especially when they are learning." He put the brush down and patted her on the head. "Why, I'd say that making mistakes is the foundation of learning."

"Eh?" she blinked at him. "Why? Wouldn't it be better if everyone got it right on the first try?"

"Perhaps in some respects, but never making a mistake leaves one sorely unprepared for when you or someone else does. Set yourself too rigidly to a process and you might find yourself breaking when it fails."

"It's still embarrassing," she grumbled. "You do it so effortlessly, and all I can do is make a mess."

"Then make a small mess," he said, squeezing another berry into slush. "Then a smaller mess, and an even smaller mess, and eventually there will be no mess at all. That is the secret to progress."

"Hmm." She frowned, staring at the berry pile. Sitting up, she reached out for another. She had used too much force last time; if she just held onto it tighter, then…

Well, it still exploded, but this time it only hit the table. She grinned.

Some time later, the Oran berries had all vanished, transformed into an indiscriminate blue slurry. The Ralts wiped a stray globule of fruit off her hair, grimacing. While she hadn't yet perfected the art, there were fewer accidents than last time. But that didn't make them any less troublesome to clean up.

Humming and kicking the air idly, the Ralts watched her grandfather prepare the mixture for the long boil. It wasn't very interesting, and her thoughts wandered to and fro until she remembered the little red ball hidden near the door. She bit her lip anxiously. Question after question crossed through her mind, tempered only by the looming threat of discovery. If her Grandpa found out she was out of bounds...but, there was no other way to know. If she didn't do it now, when would she? Now or never.

"Hey Grandpa?" she called, "do you know anything about humans?"

Her grandfather looked up from the table, bafflement written across his face. "Humans?" he repeated, "Well, I suppose I do, but why the sudden interest?"

"Ah, one of the Kirlia in the garden was talking about them," she said. "They said that they, uh…went wandering around outside and saw one from a distance?"

Her grandfather's eyes widened. "Oh dear, have the protections faded that quickly? To think they've gotten so close…I'll have to talk to the other elders about this." He set down a jar, lost in thought. A moment later he blinked, turning back to his granddaughter. "Well, I suppose a quick lesson would be in order. If they are coming closer…yes, it wouldn't do for you to go wholly uninformed. Just give me a moment to put this batch in."

He fretted over the metal pot for a moment, pouring in mashed Oran and a handful of other things, then put another log on the fire and rearranged them for a more even burn. Task finished, he turned back to the Ralts and sat across from her, humming. "Humans…hunters, explorers, trainers…was there anything in particular you wanted to know about first?"

The Ralts blinked. "What's a trainer?" she asked. The term sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it.

The elderly Kirlia let out a short bark of laughter. "Hah, it seems you haven't been paying attention to many of your lessons, have you? Ah, to be so carefree again." He shook his head, smiling gently. "Mmm. Trainers are a specific type of human that wander the wilds searching for creatures to capture."

That seemed to match with what the boy in the forest was doing. "Why do they do that? Is it like hunting?"

Her grandfather shook his head. "Not quite. While a hunter would prepare his catch for food and material, a trainer would keep his capture alive and take it with them. They use these small red and white spheres called pokeballs to do this. I do not know what becomes of the creatures, but most commonly they are made to fight other Pokemon, either in the wild or owned by a different trainer."

"I see…" So if she hadn't dodged, she would be living with that green-haired human boy right now? Living and fighting on his behalf…a cold feeling crept over her. Gramps wouldn't have known. What would he have done if she had never come back home?

She chewed on her lip and gazed at the ceiling. The celestial artwork above flickered in the firelight. "Why…why would they do all of that?"

"It's a bit of a mystery. Though when I was young, I often happened to overhear a myriad of conversations humans held on the trails." He tapped his hand on the table absentmindedly. "As far as I can remember, having strong Pokemon was a mark of prestige, with the strongest trainer becoming a 'Champion.'"

The Ralts tilted her head. "Is that like a really important elder?"

"It might be. Who can say for certain? The title certainly seemed to be said with a sort of reverence. In any case, it is because of trainers that we must hide in our little corner of the world. But dear me, I'm parched. Would you like me to warm up some Oran juice?" At her affirmative, her grandfather reached out, taking an ancient stone kettle off the fire pit. Two cups joined it in short order, and were soon filled with a steaming brew.

The Ralts frowned, gently blowing the heat off. "We have to hide because of the trainers?"

"Oh yes," he said, pausing to take a sip. "If they knew we were here, I imagine they would flock from the very ends of the world to capture us; our psychic potential would be far too great a temptation to ignore. And so we hide."

"Oh…" She frowned into her cup. That was…she couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life like that; subordinate to a random human and made to fight at their call. "From the ends of the earth?" she muttered, "Like, beyond the ocean and the forest?"

"Mmm. There are humans across the entire region, and even further beyond. I'd imagine the trainers would travel to all sorts of places to challenge one another. It hardly concerns us, though."

Oh wow. She'd hardly traveled past the trails; she'd only spent time around the village. Was the world truly that big?

"...What are they like?"

Her grandfather blinked. "Excuse me?"

"What are the humans like? Do they have a village like us? What do they eat?" she asked, staring intensely.

"Er," her grandfather grunted, looking surprised. "Please, little one, slow down a bit. I can't say I rightly know the answers to those questions. I've only been able to overhear a few conversations, and none that detailed." He took another sip of his drink. "They do have a settlement like ours; multiple, in fact. Much larger, and called 'cities.' As far as I am aware, there are two to the northeast and one large one to the northwest. But does it truly matter what they are like? We cannot interact with them, or we will be discovered and captured."

The Ralts stared at him, aghast. How could he not even be a little curious? These humans who defined so much of what they could or couldn't do…shouldn't they learn more about them?

She wanted to know. She wanted to see. The mysterious places beyond the ocean and the forest… What were they like? If her grandfather didn't know, then who else could she possibly ask?

"Mmm," her grandfather hummed, shaking her out of her thoughts. "I ought to gather the elders for a meeting. I think our brief lesson is over, for now. Is that alright?"

"Ah! Yes, I was just getting hungry anyway," the Ralts said, hopping off her chair.

"Very well. Ah drat, I forgot about the jam. I'll need to finish the batch or I'll waste perfectly good Oran." Her grandfather looked back at her. "Dinner might be a bit dull this evening. Will you be okay with garden berries?"

The Ralts shook her head. "I can just get a Magikarp from the river."

He nodded, turning to the boiling pot. "Fair enough. Be back before dark!"

She promised to try, and moved towards the exit—glancing at her hiding place as she passed. It was safe enough, she decided. Stepping outside, she blocked the noon day sun's rays with a hand. The village lay in a familiar sprawl before her.

Familiar, but...it had been her home for all her life, and she'd never stepped beyond the trails. What else was out there, beyond the edge of what she'd always known?

Striding past the river, the firepit, and the singing hatchlings, the Ralts strode through the gate, fire blazing in her heart. The guard blinked at her, his brow furrowing. "What, are you going out again? That's unusual."

"It's important," she said, walking past him. "I might be out for a bit longer than normal."

The guard squinted at her. "...Well, okay then. But I better get extra for this! If you're in trouble, you know where the patrols are, right?"

She nodded, passing him by without a second glance. "I'll be fine."

She departed the village, heading ever deeper into the woods. Questions and longing coiled together in her gut, a burning curiosity taking root in her soul. If her grandpa couldn't answer her questions, she would just have to find the answers herself.

There was a human city to the northwest. Maybe there she would find the answers she sought.

 

[Dermonster]

Hyphen 3

Adventure

---

The Ralts peered up at the sky, shielding her eyes as she did so. The sun hadn't moved very far across the sky, and yet she had already left the familiar portions of her home behind. The trees had started to thin out little by little, and the sounds of wildlife were becoming less and less common. She hadn't even heard any Zigzagoon packs, and they were as common as the grass. It was, she decided as she brushed past yet another shrub, slightly unnerving.

Not for the first time, she wondered if this had been a bad idea. Heading directly into a human city where she could be found and captured at any moment…one wrong step, one bad move, and it would all be over. It went against everything she had ever been taught, yet among the anxiety and fear excitement welled up from deep within—a font of curiosity and wanderlust in equal measure. It was with these feelings that she forged onwards, determined to seek out answers for herself.

Still, all the excitement in the world didn't help with her nerves. What would a human city even look like? A vision of giant log houses came to mind, each with their own garden so you didn't have to go far to get a snack; an enormous bonfire would light every corner and at least five massive rivers would be trailing around, all wide and shallow yet packed with fish. She crested the hill she had been climbing, daydreams still floating through her mind, when a glint of light from ahead blinded her. Yelping, she rubbed her eyes to get the spots out and squinted at the irritant. She blinked once, twice, and her jaw dropped.

Sprawled in front of her was a landscape full of structures unlike anything she had ever seen. Most were taller than the trees and colored not unlike river pebbles: a collection of muted grays, blues, tans, and reds, with brightly colored slanted tops. And spaced regularly along many of their walls were...mirrors? The light of the sun glinted off of them, bypassing her protective bangs and stabbing into her eyes, forcing another blink. The only mirror she had ever encountered was a small, cracked thing owned by a trail-scavenging Kirlia. It had been strange, akin to looking into a collection of water-filled cups from above.

And then she looked closer and saw that the swarms of far-off figures among the buildings were humans. Many, many humans.

Overcome with a sudden bout of paranoia, the Ralts squeaked and dropped to the ground, only peeking above the grass after a moment of stillness. Not spotting any alerted bands of hunters or trainers bearing down on her, she felt rather embarrassed, but continued to peer at the little dots of life visible around the buildings. The number of people and the size of the city was amazing; the concentration of beings around the structures outnumbered her home fivefold, yet there was so much space it felt a little empty. They moved to and fro, heading about their day with nary a bumped elbow.

A different hint of movement caught her eye. To her left, she could see a large amount of humans scattered around the forest edge. What were they…? In the distance, she saw a tree fall to the ground, cut from its roots at the base and leaving a stump behind. Many such stumps were littering the field behind them. They were cutting down the forest? Why?

Across from the field of felled trees she could spot an increasing number of squat structures, some of which seemed to be unfinished. The Ralts felt uneasy at the sight. Was the city…growing?

Well, she wouldn't get answers by sitting here and gawking. To her right she spotted a patchwork line of large bushes and trees that led down, with only a few open spaces between. Backtracking a little, she circled around and made it to the line with no trouble, darting down the hill in the foliage's shadow.

Her cover passed near a small, isolated building on the far outskirts—one that seemed like a promising first investigation destination. The walls were very tall, with a mirror inset into it above a few stacked boxes. There was no movement, but muffled noises emanated from inside. Spotting nothing immediately alarming, the Ralts moved forwards. Climbing on the crates, she looked into the mirror only to find it wasn't a mirror at all, but a window.

It was transparent, giving her a perfect view inside the building, which she quickly re-identified as a house. There were so many things inside it was hard to take in: amazingly crafted furniture, wooden floors, figurines of creatures she had never seen, something like an unflickering candle on the ceiling surrounded by rotating boards, plants in pots, a human that was looking right at her—

She dropped down, almost bashing the windowsill in her haste; her heart hammered in her chest as the seconds passed. When nothing seemed to happen, she hesitantly peeked over the edge, ducking back down when she spotted the human still looking at her. She bit her lip—surely, they should have spotted her by now? Taking a risk, she poked her head above the edge a third time.

The human was still there, but they didn't seem to notice her. They seemed to be animatedly talking into the otherwise empty room, unbothered by the lack of audience. She held a hand above her head to block out the glare of sun from the glass and blinked, confused. On closer inspection, the human appeared to be exceptionally tiny, and standing in some sort of box.

Who was she talking to? What was going on here?

In a flash, the human disappeared, only to be replaced with a closeup of her upper body. Various images in the shape of clouds and the sun appeared behind her, the human waving at them animatedly. The Ralts stared at this unexpected display, struggling to understand what was happening. What was this? She gazed at the rest of the room, desperate for some context—and saw that there were small images of other humans hung up along the walls, all in odd poses and smiling. She frowned at them, comparing it to the weird box. Was it a moving picture? A moving, talking picture at that, though it was a bit hard to hear through the glass.

The Ralts stared at it in awe. Humans made this? How did they make a picture move and talk like that? It wasn't anything like telepathy, and she didn't sense any psychic energy, so it wasn't an illusion. Who was it even playing for? There didn't seem to be anyone receiving the message around. The moving image changed again, showing a different set of humans.

Well, if nobody was around to hear it, she might as well listen in. Pressing an ear to the window, she concentrated on the voice within.

"...Mossdeep's Space Center has reaffirmed their plans to launch their first manned mission to the moon in the coming weeks," a woman with blue hair stated as an image of a tall yellow-green building came into focus behind her, with a large white construct looming in the background. Mossdeep Space Center? What was that? The Ralts watched the screen, fascinated. "Using data gathered from the Porygon-M rovers, these brave astronauts and scientists will land on the moon to facilitate the first ever lunar research base. The center has announced that with their new spacefaring technology and cooperation with several species of Pokemon that construction should only take a few months. An exciting time for all of us."

She nearly fell off the crate. Land on the moon!? Did she hear that right?

"Indeed." The screen had switched to focus on the black-haired man. "I wish them the best of luck. In other news, the Gym Leader of Lavaridge Town, Jeffrey Moore, has retired from his position—"

Suddenly, a high-pitched screech filled the air and the Ralts jerked back from the glass, scrambling for cover. She hid below the edge for some time, listening to a succession of very faint sounds and footsteps followed by some nondescript clattering, a squeaky groan, and a sigh. Risking a peek, she saw that an actual human had sat on the cushioned seat directly below her. He appeared to be fairly old, brown-haired and light of skin, dressed in a baggy garment, and he emanated hunger, anticipation, relief, and a fading exhaustion. A bowl of what appeared to be steaming worm-like strands covered in some type of meaty sauce lay on the table, next to a metal tool and some type of small rectangular device covered in bright protrusions. The human picked the device up and pressed down on the protrusions, and then the noise from the animated box became so quiet that she struggled to hear anything at all.

The Ralts watched as the human picked up the tool, twirling the strands around its long tines. Was that how humans ate? Wouldn't it be easier to just lift them up and—oh, right, they weren't Psychic. Wouldn't his hands work? Ah, but the meal had been hot enough to steam, and that sauce looked rather messy. Maybe he could've just made a psychic bubble and—er. Hm. Wow, living without telekinesis kinda sucked.

The human frowned suddenly, looking left and right before turning around fully. The Ralts recoiled, dropping back onto the crates, and descending even further at the distant sound of footsteps. Darting around a box, she hid with her back to the cardboard and held still.

The glass panel creaked as it slid open, then she heard the human's voice. "Tch, damn pests. Gotta get rid of—" the words cut off as the window closed, and the Ralts sighed in relief. That had been too close; the human was starting to get suspicious, she'd best move on before something bad happened.

Circling around front, she noted a flowerbed and a strange wheeled contraption chained to a fence—and more importantly, a road that looked to lead directly into the city. She glanced at the sun once more, finding that it was still just barely past its apex; she had plenty of time left to explore the city before she had to head back. Few questions had been answered, many more had arisen. What were those strange terms that woman had spoken of, like 'Gym Leader'? What was that animated box, and how did it work? What kind of weird food was that, and what did it taste like?

But the most important discovery was that announcement on the picture box. Were they really going to…?

The Ralts glanced at the distant horizon where a faint white crescent peeked out from the rim of the world, thoughts of wondrous flight darting across her mind. Shaking her head, she turned back to the human city and started to walk once more.

 

[Dermonster]

Hyphen 4

Encounter

---

The scale of the city had been large even from a distance, but up close it was mind-boggling. There hadn't been any humans on the path to the house on the outskirts, but that had rapidly changed the further she went in. The buildings looked imposing and strange this close up, and some had darkened windows that she couldn't see through, and she avoided those ones whenever possible as a precaution. The vast uptick in humans wandering the roads necessitated more subtle movements and an active tightening of her senses to avoid getting overwhelmed with unshielded emotional broadcasting. For not being Psychic, humans sure had a lot of mental activity!

The Ralts waited patiently, hidden in a shrub at a narrow intersection, houses behind and the bulk of the city ahead. There were a few too many humans walking through to move safely. Absent-mindedly, she reached out and touched a curl of black material that circled the line of bushes she was in. Smooth, shiny, and bendy too. Was this plastic? She had only seen it made into bottles. Why was it in the dirt around a plant?

She glanced behind her, and observed a row of flowers at the foot of a house. She had never seen a purple flower before. Maybe the plastic helped plants grow, somehow? Wait, no, there wasn't any grass here or there, just chips of wood. Oh! It was to stop other plants from growing in between the bushes and choking out the flowers.

The Ralts smiled to herself at a mystery well solved. A few moments more, before her patience was rewarded with a significant gap in the passing humans. She dashed straight into the opposite alleyway, delving deeper into the heart of the city.

The alleyway stood in stark contrast to the streets behind her. Where before there had been small paths of dirt and grass, now there was only a layer of hard dark stone covering the ground. The buildings to either side had no windows into the alley, but a couple doors were inset into the walls here and there.

But something caught her eye—a few large green containers lined one side of the hall, and dust, stones, and bits of paper were scattered in nearly every nook and cranny.

Giving the doors a healthy distance, she moved closer to the green bins. Strange, blocky markings were emblazoned on the front of them both, indecipherable to her brief inspection, so she ignored them to climb up on a handle and crack open the lid. The Ralts gagged as an acrid fume hit her face, and she reeled back for a moment, before steeling herself and peering inside, eyes watering. The source of the smell was revealed to be a deep pit of trash; greasy plates, used tissues and napkins, torn wrappers, a cracked glass pane, and giant piles of moldy food in bags.

Gross. Was this what humans used as a refuse pit? The Ralts spotted a mushroom and grimaced. It wasn't even a tasty one! Disgusting. There must have been a food preparation area behind some of the doors. Closing the lid, she checked the time again. The sun had moved across the sky much faster than she had expected, and midday had come and gone not long ago. As if to remind her, her stomach began to growl. She blinked and patted herself, checking for the grass-woven pouch full of berries she had most assuredly remembered to bring along, because heading this far away from home alone without any food at all was just plain silly, and—

The completely berryless Ralts let out a small whine, lightly thumping her horn on the metal bin. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself, each utterance followed by another hollow thunk that reverberated into her skull. The sound echoed through the alley, hammering in the idiocy in more ways than one.

"Hey, did you guys hear that?" a faint voice said from the side alley further ahead. If the Ralts hadn't already been pure white, she would have paled considerably. That wasn't good.

She looked behind her, only to see an empty alley far too large to cross. Her eyes darted toward the source of the voice, seeing naught but the same. Swallowing thickly, she finally looked down at the metal bin.

"I'm gonna go check it out! Come on, it might be a Zigzagoon!" another voice proclaimed.

"Oh, I always wanted one of those! Maybe we can grab it?" exclaimed a third, higher pitched voice.

For a moment, the Ralts considered just letting herself be discovered. Then she took a deep breath, opened the waste container as quietly as she could, and slipped inside, landing on the refuse below. The smell washed over her at once, a horrible rancid wave that made her eyes water and throat clench in pure revulsion. Reflexively, she pulled her hands over her mouth to choke down the sudden rise of bile.

Unfortunately, she had still been holding the lid aloft when she did so. It came crashing down, the painfully amplified sound echoing inside the filthy container. Three pairs of footsteps came running into the alley, stopping right outside her hiding place. Attempting to ignore the smell—and failing miserably—the Ralts strained her ears to hear the humans outside.

"It must've been scavenging in the dumpster!" said a human boy.

"Is it still there?" another asked, deeper but still obviously childish.

"Well, I don't see it in the alley, so it has to be!" proclaimed a third voice, a match for the higher pitched one earlier. A girl? "You guys better not have scared it off."

The Ralts hesitated for a split second before burrowing deeper into the trash below her, leaving herself only a small gap to see through—and hopefully obscuring her from view. A crack of light appeared as one of the humans attempted to open the dumpster, but it didn't open very far; from the sounds outside and the way the lid bobbed, the Ralts guessed that the human was too short to properly open it, and was jumping to compensate.

The first boy gave a grunt of disappointment. "I can't see inside, it's too dark. Barry, get over here and hold my cone, I need to climb on your back!"

"Uh, are you sure that's a good idea?" Barry, the deeper voice, asked.

"Come on, I want to see the Zigzagoon!" said the girl.

The Ralts heard a sigh, then a small shuffle.

"You ready?" Barry asked.

"Yeah, lift me up!"

A grunt, and then a small noise as the first boy steadied himself against the dumpster. "Alright, opening on three. One, two, three!"

Light suddenly flooded the interior of the dumpster, and the Ralts heard a cry of triumph followed rapidly by one of distress. The lid came crashing back down, the impact making her clutch at her ears in pain.

"Ow..." the boy outside moaned. "That...didn't go so well..."

"You think!?" Barry exclaimed. "You threw both of us backward! I told you it wouldn't work!"

"Hey, if you had just moved with me, I could've gotten it easy—hey!" the boy exclaimed, "You dropped my ice cream!"

The Ralts blinked. Ice...cream? You could cream ice? Wasn't that just water?

"Yeah, well someone knocked me over, and I didn't want to fall on my head!" Barry countered, aggravated.

"Guys, calm down!" the girl interjected. "We can get you another one later. Are you okay? Did you see the Zigzagoon?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," the unnamed boy said. "Maybe a scrape. I didn't see anything in there, though. Just trash."

"Come to think of it," Barry said, "all the noise should be making it run around in there, but I don't hear anything."

"Aw. It must've gone down the alley before we got here," said the girl. There was a sharp ping as a pebble hit the dumpster. "Hmfh. Oh well. Let's get going. Oh! I just remembered, apparently Wally got a Poochyena from the Gym Leader earlier."

The still-unnamed first boy made an incredulous sound. "Wheezy Wally got a Poochyena? Oh, I've gotta see this!"

Then she heard footsteps, increasingly distant, marking the humans' departure. She poked her head above the sea of rubbish, gagging. How long had all this been in here? Grimacing, she wiggled free and wiped the worst of the clinging sludge off her coat—before freezing as the lid opened again.

"They gotta stop leaving trash laying around; what are we, Pokemon?" Barry muttered, tossing something extremely cold right on her horn. "Guys!" he called out, dropping the lid again. "Wait up, I wanna see it too!"

The Ralts stood very still, a wet chill dripping down her head as the footsteps faded away. With a grimace, she reached up and lifted the lid of the dumpster enough to slide out, climbing back out onto the handle, and then the ground below—making sure that the noisy thing didn't bang shut and give her away a second time. The cold thing had stuck fast, refusing to fall off in the descent. Still grimacing, she reached up, grabbing onto something stiff that crushed when she gripped it too hard.

Pulling the object loose, she stared at it. It was a thin yellow cone covered in a grid-like pattern, hollow but for a malformed and runny lump of blue...stuff.

"Is this ice cream?" she wondered aloud. A portion of the viscous substance was still soaking into her hair, dripping steadily onto her face, and with a final grimace she concentrated and slowly ran a psychic hand through her locks, forcing the majority of the liquid to fall to the ground.

The Ralts felt at her hair, experiencing the unpleasantly sticky residue left behind. "I'm going to have to take a rinse later," she grumbled.

Then her eyes turned to the cone, thoughtful. It was some manner of human food, but they had just tossed it away because it fell on the ground? What a waste. She had eaten Magikarp that had fallen in mud just fine; it just needed a quick rinse to be good as new! Her stomach growled again. Hesitating, she looked around the alley, as if the children would pop out from behind the dumpster in revenge, or her grandpa would fall out of the sky and scold her for even thinking of such an idea.

She sniffed it.

It smelled of winter, a cool breeze through an overcast, lightly snowing sky. The shade of the trees at dusk.

A taste.

It was creamy, sweet, and soft. It flowed like a liquid but retained shape. It tasted like the early frost, a chilled berry crushed and spread even with flakes, walking through the monochrome forest at the brink of dawn.

"Haaa..." she gasped, shivering as the chill bit at her throat. She blinked, and stared down at the marvelous treat in her hands. She took another bite, then two and three—

A sharp spike of pain washed through her head. She winced, holding her head with her free hand as it died down. Right. Lesson learned: Don't eat cold things too fast.

She looked at the cone, and wondered. If they could possibly throw away something like this, treat it like common trash when it only picked up a bit of dust, what else did they have that made this so unremarkable?

Ice cream in hand, she crept toward the alley's mouth. Paths and plans whirred in her thoughts as she searched for a way ever deeper into the heart of the city, and below everything a core of burning curiosity continued to shine ever brighter.

She took another lick. It tasted like clouds.

 

[Dermonster]

Hyphen 5

Vibrations

---

The Ralts sighed, crouched uncomfortably inside a large, upside-down box made of thin pseudo-wood.

She peered out of one of the slits in the box's walls, grimacing at both the ceaseless tide of humanity walking the city's streets, and the hard stones digging into her knees and shins. Pedestrians had become more and more common as the Ralts had ventured into the city, and opportunities to advance further proportionally fewer. Currently she was trapped in a narrow, three-way alley, hiding from sight in a convenient box that had been abandoned next to one of those giant metal trash bins.

Ordinarily, she would've celebrated the sheer number of humans to glean knowledge from, but not only were there so many of them that their voices and emotions were garbling together into incoherence, but they barely stuck around for the time it took to cross the alley's mouth! Simply moving elsewhere was looking less and less likely as well; the humans were too ever-present to simply dash across unseen, and she doubted trying to disguise herself as a moving box would work out that well.

Shaking her head, the Ralts slowly started backing up into the alley, taking care not to lift the box too high or move more than a few steps at once. Peeking back the way she'd come, she found the street outside the opposite end of the alley as well-traveled as the nearer one. And shuffling the box back toward the intersecting passage midway down, she let out an aggravated groan when she saw the same, equally dense congestion.

How was she supposed to move on from here? There was some sort of metal grate in the ground that looked to lead into a tunnel, but it was blocked off and smelled bad, and she had reservations about going underground in such a strange place anyway. Ugh, she was getting nowhere, and this rough ground was killing her legs. Maybe she could take a moment to hide and get off her feet, recuperate and look at things from a fresh perspective…

Turning towards the two giant trash bins, she maneuvered herself into the small gap between them. Now away from the sight of passersby, she flipped the box upright and pushed it against the wall, collapsing inside with a frustrated huff. While it wouldn't beat out even the driest of grass, the pseudo-wood of the box was much better than the rocky surface the humans paved the alley with. Yet, what should she do now? The Ralts stared at the sliver of visible alleyway listlessly, pondering her options.

Teleportation was out of the question; she knew the theory, but Grandpa wouldn't let her practice until she became a Kirlia—not that she had the power to even try as a Ralts. She doubted she could camouflage herself for more than a few moments, as she had neither the control nor the power for that—if it was a partial illusion, maybe, but she was dearly lacking in anything to aid the effort. Maybe she should just run over under the box after all? Find a place to hide on the other side and wait until the commotion died down? It was so risky, though...

The Ralts wrestled with her limited options for some time, daylight passing by in agonizing, indecisive slowness, until a sudden glare shone directly into the Ralts's face. Jerking up, she rubbed her eyes and glared at the source of the light—then blinked, gazing at a folded metal ladder hanging from the rooftops, the sun having drifted far enough to reflect off the shiny surface. She grinned; now that was perfect! If she couldn't go through, she'd just go over!

The Ralts got out of the box and peered at the ladder speculatively. There had to be a way to bring it down, right? Looking closely, she spotted a small latch at the top that seemed to be holding the mechanism closed; that should be easy enough to move. Concentrating, the Ralts delved into her latent energy, the comforting warmth of psychic power flowing through her body as she opened her mind.

A chaotic blend of emotion struck her as she began to pick up on the feelings of the people around her more acutely, but she ignored it as best as she was able, directing her attention to the release mechanism. Familiar purple energy enveloped the latch, clattering and clanking as she tugged it around. With one last yank she finally opened the latch, and the ladder descended to the ground with a roaring crash of metal.

The Ralts gasped, quickly flipping the box back over and hiding inside. That had been way louder than she had expected! She didn't doubt for a moment that there were a dozen humans looking into the alley right now, and a careful glance through the gaps underneath the trash bins confirmed at least a few pairs of feet loitering around the alley entrance. She waited, heart pounding, as a few distant voices pondered the ladder's sudden descent...before ultimately moving on, unconcerned.

The Ralts waited a moment more, before hesitantly poking her head out and looking around. It seemed nobody had come to investigate, and the streams of humans passing the alley mouth had continued, unchanged. The Ralts exhaled, slumping in relief. That had been nerve-wracking! Hopefully she wouldn't have a close call like that again.

Underneath the box, the Ralts steadily crawled out toward the ladder and examined the metal device; its rungs looked awkwardly spaced, but she would manage. It was fairly tall, though, and what if it made noise as she climbed? Reaching out, she gave the base a decent shake as a test, and was pleasantly surprised at the lack of give. Maybe it was sturdier than she thought. Still, she could at least make herself a bit lighter to minimize risks…

A light purple haze covered the psychic's body as she reduced her own weight by a fourth. Taking a deep breath, the Ralts burst out from under her cover and threw herself at the ladder, climbing the rungs with a muffled haste. After a frantic moment she crested over the roof's edge, panting.

The Ralts took a moment to breathe, then hesitantly peered back down into the alley, sighing in relief at the lack of reaction from either end. Right, step one accomplished. Now to figure out step two.

The roof was barren, except for odd bits of shaped metal here and there and a giant machine on a nearby corner, rumbling peacefully as it did whatever it was meant to do. Most of the other buildings she could see were on the same level of her current perch, aside from one area that seemed to spike upward into the skies, and all of them were partially obscured by the number of large trees on every street. Off in the distance, a rather distinguished building sat with giant flat constructs displayed proudly on top—they had the same blocky look of the symbols on the refuse container, and after a moment's thought she recalled that these shapes were called 'letters,' and humans used them in their writing.

The Ralts considered the vista before her. That building with letters looked rather unique; maybe something interesting was over there. Path set, the Pokemon approached a nearby tree that grew taller than the roof and formed a bridge over the street with its fellows. Testing a likely branch for durability, the Ralts smirked as it held firm under her still-lightened weight. Brushing past the outer layer of leaves, she climbed off the roof and onto the bark. She spared a passing glance at the people moving below her, the hubbub slightly dulled by the masses of foliage, but none of them appeared to notice the commotion above them. And so, with a grin, she continued to navigate the leafy pass.

Traveling this way was both much easier and much more nerve wracking, the Ralts discovered. She didn't have to heed the traffic below, but simultaneously she had to be extremely cautious about where she stepped, and how much noise she made as she pushed aside leaves and branches. It wouldn't do for any of the humans below to look upward at an inopportune time after all.

She had made it through two iterations of roof-tree-roof hopping when she began to hear an odd sound, distinct from the hubbub below. It was melodic in nature, and altered pitch in slow, methodical ways. Curiosity piqued, the Ralts made a detour towards the sound and peered at the ground below in search of the melody.

There was a human on a bench across the street. Thin, silvery hair adorned his head, and he was dressed in a white shirt with a column of buttons running down the middle and smooth black pants. He held a rather strange wooden object shaped like an oval with a very narrow plank running off the tip; the wide base was pressed against his neck and chin, while he grasped the object's own 'neck' with a wrinkled hand. His other hand held a long stick with a separate thin white band attached. The Ralts couldn't make out much more than that at such a distance, but as she looked, she saw him maneuvering his fingers along the neck of the object as he drew the rod over the middle of the wide area. Clear, airy melodies sang out as his hands moved, pitch changing with the movement of his fingers.

The music was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard. The notes were long and solid, so unlike the familiar flickering of birdsong or the chorusing of the villagers. The song itself played slowly, many low notes echoing leisurely across the street and bringing to mind foggy days and a rather weary melancholy.

But...where was his audience? Across from her vantage point, the bench the man sat on was situated in front of an odd grove that took up as much ground as a half-dozen buildings. It was empty aside from him, and everyone on the street passed him by, like they couldn't even hear the music wafting in the street. A couple of humans slowed down or nodded at the man, but aside from brief moments of acknowledgement they just rushed onward, as if none of them could stay for longer than a second.

It was an absolute tragedy, she decided. Finding her way into some branches across the street, she came to rest in the crown of the tree behind the man and settled amongst the branches, hidden from view. She closed her eyes, listening to the strange, wonderful sounds emanating from below. Those humans passing by everywhere didn't know what they were missing. If nobody else could stop to appreciate something like this, well, she'd just have to enjoy it in their stead.

The Ralts smiled, and listened to the old man's melody for a long, long time.

 

[Dermonster]

Hyphen 6

Ruckus

---

Eventually, the song ended. The man stood up, cracked his back, and packed away his instrument. Stretching, the Ralts herself rose from her treetop perch and watched as the man slowly walked down the street. His music had taken a more upbeat tone near the end, she noted. Silently, she waved him goodbye and turned to her original destination.

A comparatively short time later, she arrived at the massive building with the giant letters. It was situated at the center of a large plaza surrounded by a tall hedge wall, with several flat concrete fields circling the structure. The building itself was several stories high, and sported a bright, cheery sign across the surface where the three human letters—G, Y, and M—were proudly displayed. Unfortunately, her path of trees ended a distance before the fields. She sighed; there would be no getting close to this building. Shame, it looked rather important…

But then a commotion on the field caught her attention. A couple of young humans had entered the area, their unshielded mental signatures very different from the trio in the alley or the two who had tried to capture her. They were about 50 yards away, and one of them appeared to be jostling the other onto a field. This warranted further investigation, she decided, and descended from the tree into the hedges. Shifting through the twigs, she arrived at the closest point to the ruckus; they had arrived in the center of an arena next to the hedge, which was marked by a drawing of concentric circles.

"—Know the rules, Billy, a Pokemon trainer has to accept any challenge he receives!" said one of them. He was a tallish boy, with styled blond hair and a blue suit that snugly fit his frame.

"And I already said I'm not a trainer, Winston!" cried the other boy—Billy? He was a foot shorter than Winston, had brown hair, and wore a blue and yellow shirt with black shorts and a blue cap.

"Oh?" challenged Winston, who smirked. "You caught a Pokemon, that means you are a Pokemon trainer. If you weren't you wouldn't be allowed to buy a pokeball, and they only sell those to people who show a pokedex!"

Billy flushed. "I—but—I'm not going to go around fighting people, I just wanted a pet!"

"Then you should have just gone out and grabbed one." Winston shrugged.

"You're the one who said I had to get a pokeball to get a Pokemon!"

"Did I?" Winston put a finger on his chin in mock contemplation. "I do believe I only said that trainers used pokeballs to catch Pokemon, and that it was one of the easier methods to acquire one. You're the one that went out and registered."

"You lied to me!" Billy yelled, pointing at the taller boy accusingly.

"No, I'm quite sure everything I said was true." Winston smirked, tapping his foot. "Now, are you going to blame me for every poor decision you've made, or are we going to battle?"

Winston, the Ralts decided, was a jerk. She didn't fully understand what exactly was going on, but obviously he had tricked Billy into something he didn't want to do. Silently, she rooted for the short boy. Kick his butt, Billy!

Billy grit his teeth. "Fine!" he shouted, pointing at the other child dramatically. "But I'll win this thing, and then you have to pay!"

Palming his own, Winston chuckled. "As if. Go, Thomas!" he called, throwing the ball up into the air. With a loud pop and Whzxzxzxzxzxzx, a red blob shot out of the pokeball and to the arena floor, which resolved itself into the form of a Zigzagoon.

"Zig!" it yipped, running in a circle, before turning to face Billy. "Zig-zig!"

"Ah..." Billy stepped back, hesitating.

"Hm? Are you intimidated? After such bravado a moment ago..." Winston shook his head.

Billy's face turned furious. "I'm not scared!" he declared, taking out his own pokeball. He tossed it into the air, and with the same sound and beam of bright light a Seedot emerged from containment. The stage was set.

"Seed?" Seedot said, looking around in confusion.

Winston was smirking again. "A Seedot? Really? They're useless!"

"I'll show you useless!" Billy pointed at the enemy Zigzagoon, snarling. "Seedot, Tackle!"

But the Seedot didn't move. A second passed.

"Dot?" it said, sending an uncertain look Billy's way.

Winston stifled a chuckle with his hand. "Having a bit of trouble there?"

"Shut up, you!" Billy yelled, before directing his voice to his…pet? "What are you doing? Tackle the Zigzagoon!"

"Dot..." Looking vaguely uncertain, Seedot turned back to the spiky-haired Pokemon. Starting forward, it picked up speed, its stubby feet plodding across the ground at a sluggish rate. "SeeeeeeEEEEE—" it cried, and flung itself full-force at the Zigzagoon…slightly nudging him before falling face-first onto the pavement.

"Zig." The Zigzagoon nudged the seed, unimpressed.

The Ralts winced. What in the world was Billy doing? Seedot didn't fight head-to-head!

Winston had burst into full-on laughter, clutching his sides as the ridiculous display unfolded. Billy, for his part, looked dumbfounded.

"Ah ha ha...hoo. That was the best thing I've seen all day." Winston smirked as he regained his composure. "Now then, let me show you how it's done." He waved his hand lazily in the direction of his still-toppled enemy. "Thomas, Tackle."

The Zigzagoon—whose name was apparently Thomas—yipped. He bounced back two steps, jumped in a circle, then rushed forward towards the struggling Seedot and rammed his head straight into its side. The Seedot was launched backwards, tumbling across the ground before skidding to a stop on Billy's side of the arena.

"Seed..." it wheezed, dazed.

"Seedot! Are you okay?" Billy shouted, face wrought with panic.

"Dot...dot." it replied, twisting around and climbing to its feet. "Dot, seedot."

"Uh…" Billy glanced at Winston, then focused on Thomas. "Right. Can you still fight?"

"Seed!" A fire had appeared in the Seedot's eyes. It appeared the fight was personal, now.

"Heh. I've yet to see any fight in the first place." Winston closed his eyes and made a shrugging motion with one hand, resting the other on his hip. "In my opinion, you should just surrender now and save yourself the pain."

"We'll show you!" Billy shouted. "Alright Seedot, use Solar Beam!" He pointed at the Zigzagoon, impending triumph splayed on his face.

For a second time, nothing happened. Seedot stared at his master. "Seed?" it said, somehow managing to convey exasperation. Billy's face fell.

Winston had palmed his face. "How can anyone be this terrible?" he murmured to nobody in particular.

"You can't...?" Billy asked, then continued, "Uh. Frenzy Plant!" Seedot continued to stare.

"Petal Dance! Leaf Blade!" Winston was burying his face deeper into his hands.

"Giga Drain!? Razor Leaf? Vine Whip?" Zigzagoon yawned, and scratched at his ear.

"Come on!" he pleaded. "Bullet Seed, Absorb, Stun Spore? You must know how to do one of them!"

"Seed!" it replied, confused and worried. "Dot, seedot seed-seed!"

The Ralts herself was getting irritated by the boy's lack of knowledge. She didn't think she'd ever seen a Seedot use anything the boy had said, whatever they were, and that Seedot looked a season old at best! Why wasn't he using Seedots' natural abilities? Did he just not know? She slumped, groaning quietly to herself. And the Seedot didn't seem capable of using them on its own, either. What a mess!

She peered back at the helpless Pokemon, then at its opponents. She didn't want this taller boy to win…but what could she do? It was his battle, and she couldn't give the Seedot orders. Or, she realized, maybe she could? Telepathy wasn't limited to talking to other Ralts and Kirlia; it was perfectly able to work on other species as well! It was just that she'd only ever used it in that sense to forcibly stun or disorient particularly stubborn Magikarp. She hadn't tried using it to talk to another Pokemon; it wasn't like they could talk back, after all. But here and now, perhaps there was a reason to try.

"Right then," Winston said, simultaneously interrupting Billy's ineffective calling of abilities and the Ralts's train of thought. "I think it's time we finished this. Maybe then, you can go learn how to not be a terrible trainer!"

"Eh?" Billy looked up at his nemesis. "Wait, no!"

"Yes!" Winston opposed, and flung out his arm. "Go, Thomas! Bury that seed in the ground!"

Thomas yipped, and rushed forward.

"Seedot!" Billy cried, reaching out as if he could protect it himself. "Do something!"

"Seedot!" Seedot responded, turning back to its approaching doom, its eyes wide with fear.

And the Ralts knew she had to act. She reached out, the barest flicker of power communicating intent in a form purer than words.

The Ralts spoke to the Seedot, and said 'Endure, and return two-fold.'

In a flash the Seedot understood, cowering no longer. Coming to fully face his opponent, he stood his ground and prepared himself.

Zigzagoon rammed into Seedot with the force of a hammer, slamming the Pokemon into the ground. "Goooooon!" it crowed, boasting its prowess as the Seedot rolled to a stop.

"Seedot! Are you...okay?" Billy blinked at the strange sight before him.

"Seed...seed..." Seedot replied, and began emanating a soft red glow where it lay, motionless.

"Now then, Thomas!" Winston called, not seeming to notice the light. "Finish it off, crack open its shell!"

"Zagoon!" Thomas replied, jumping to the other side of the glowing Seedot and biting down on the stem poking from the head of his opponent. Then with a muffled cry of "Zig!" he lifted the Seed Pokemon off the pavement, and hurled it back down on its other side. "Zag!" Again, he lifted and slammed the glowing Seedot down with a crack.

Over and over again, the Zigzagoon hurled Seedot against the pavement, but with each iteration of this assault, Seedot's red aura grew brighter and brighter. "Seed...seed..."

"What...?" Billy uttered, transfixed by the strange light.

"Eh?" Winston said, finally becoming aware of the disturbance. "Huh? Why is it—wait, what!?" The boy's eyes widened dramatically as he stepped back. "How...when did you—? Thomas!" he yelled as the Zigzagoon continued to pummel the increasingly shimmering Seedot, "Stop, retreat, get back here!"

Thomas's head snapped to his trainer after he slammed his opponent down for the last time. "Zag?" he said, dropping the stem.

"Run, dodge!" Winston yelled, voice cracking in panic. "It's going to—"

"SEEDOT," the Seedot bellowed from the floor. It stood up ponderously, like an awakening giant. The Zigzagoon yipped in surprise, turning to stare at its opponent.

Billy's eyes sparkled, confused but understanding that something awesome was happening. "Seedot! Go get him!" he commanded, grinning wildly. And Seedot obeyed, the entirety of his crimson aura collapsed and coalesced into a raging white sphere.

"Seeeeeee—!" He shouted, staring straight at his opponent.

"Thomas!" Winston screamed.

Thomas turned to run, but he was far, far too late.

"—DOOOOOOOOOOT!"

A raging torrent of energy cascaded out of the sphere, crashing straight into Thomas's face with the force of a furious Mightyena. With a pained cry the Zigzagoon was launched away, skipping across the pavement a fourth of the way across the grounds, where he fell to the earth and tumbled twice more before skidding to a halt. Thomas struggled to stand, but faltered and collapsed, motionless.

"Thomas!" Winston cried, rushing over to his fallen friend. Crouching at his side, he quickly checked him over before sighing in relief. "Just unconscious..." he muttered. Then he brought out his Pokéball, and with another laser Thomas disappeared into the device. "Don't worry buddy, I'll get you to a center soon."

"Yeah!" Billy cheered as he ran to hug the Seedot. "We did it! We won! Oh, I thought we were done for but then you glowed like Fwhoom and then you blasted a laser like Peoooow and that was awesome!" He laughed as he spun in place, squeezing his Seedot tightly.

"See-seedot..." Seedot replied, dizzy and exhausted but happy.

The Ralts giggled to herself as she watched the childish display. Interfering had most definitely been worth it..

"Ha!" Billy shouted, pointing at Winston, who was trudging across the arena with a sour look on his face. "I won! That means you gotta pay up!"

"That win was a load of tosh and you know it." Winston scowled, folding his arms. "You didn't even do anything."

"Doesn't matter, I still won!"

Winston sighed. "Yes, very well. What do you want?"

"You!" Billy declared, "Are going to pay for my lunch!"

Winston raised an eyebrow. "It's five-thirty. Lunch was over three hours ago."

"Linner!" Billy immediately restated, grinning madly.

Winston stared at him. "What in the world is Linner?"

"It's like brunch, but with dinner and lunch."

"I don't think that's a word."

"Well it is now!" Billy folded his arms. "I just made it one!"

Winston facepalmed again. "You are just unbelievable."

Billy, who had started walking out of the area, turned his head back and hollered, "Unbelievably awesome!"

"Seed!"

Winston groaned and followed the pair, and the Ralts watched them go with a silly grin on her face. This place, she decided, was so much more interesting than the forest. Next time she came, she'd have to...

Next time? She thought about it for a moment, and to her surprise she found that the surprising urge to return was very tempting. When she had first set out, she had only wanted to satisfy her unusual curiosity. But now she could see just how much she had been missing. She didn't think she could stand not ever tasting that sweet concoction called ice cream again, nor could she forget the soft melody the man on the bench had played.

The fight just now, the latter half had set her ablaze with excitement. That singular rush when the Seedot unleashed its full power was unlike anything she had ever experienced. And the moon! Humanity was going to walk on the moon! How had they been able to fly so far as to break the sky? It was so far away, and yet...

Humans had left the forests behind, she realized, staring at the shadowed moon, which was looming at the horizon. They left it behind and reached for the stars. Maybe...

She paused and looked at the sky, which was transitioning into darker shades of red.

The moon was coming up, she slowly realized.

A moment of silence.

Crap! Panicking, she untangled herself from the leaves and turned to run. It was so late! Fretting, she shot along the hedge and shimmied back up the tree. It was going to be twilight before she could make it back, at minimum! Oh, Gramps was going to tear her a new one...

Dread in her heart, she shot along the rooftops and towards the place she called home.

---

Well that took three months.

Credit to my good friend Dexexe for providing an image ('sketch', he calls it. Dude's awesome.) Expect to see more where that came from!

And so ends the 'in the City' mini arc. Next time, we see Ralts's grampa again!

 

[Dermonster]

Hyphen 7

Ambush

---

By the time the Ralts had made it back to the forest edge, twilight had well and truly fallen. The woods took upon themselves an ethereal haze as the glow of the moon slowly became the only source of light. She weaved through trees and shrubs towards her home, taking care to make as little noise as possible.

For the Poochyena hunted most often at night, she knew; their natural coal coloring and dark minds making the gloom a perfect hunting ground. The Ralts bore this in mind most clearly as the sun faded entirely. Navigating the half-remembered surroundings, she became acutely aware of every sound around her.

A third of the way there, she said to herself as time passed. The moon rose near its apex in the sky. A third more. A Taillow's echoing shriek caused her to jump, terrified. She stilled, listening intently. When nothing further happened, she let loose her stilled breath.

Then a lone howl echoed through the darkness, freezing the blood in her veins. Abandoning all subtlety, the Ralts fled through the bush. Shadows jumped and twisted in the light as a wild chorus answered the first.

Through this bush, jump the rocks, slide under the fallen tree. The cries sounded again, closer.

The Ralts took fleeting glances at her surroundings as she passed through. The dim light made it hard to see, but her mind pieced flashes of familiar scenery together. This was…yes, she knew this place, she was so close! Making a hard turn left, she dashed with renewed vigor—as behind her she heard a crash, some pursuer slamming into a thorny brush. She winced as the pained cries echoed off the trees, seeming to come from every direction. This is not the time to feel pity, she told herself, and pushed further on.

Just a short time later, she saw a light flickering in the distance. The sounds of pursuit nipped at her heels in frightening volume, and she put on that extra burst of speed as she dove through into the clearing beyond.

"What the—" a voice called, startled. The guard from earlier stood in the glow of a floating lamp, staring at her with wide eyes. His spear was pointing directly at her.

"Poochyena!" the Ralts cried, skidding around his weapon and hiding behind him. "From the forest!"

"You—what!?" The Kirlia halted his half-turn, gaze snapping to the woods beyond. The bushes rustled all around them as the Ralts huddled closer to the larger guard's side.

"You know," he mentioned, eyes shifting back and forth. "When I said I'd protect you from the Poochyena, I didn't exactly mean 'Go out and find them.'"

"You're lecturing me about this now!?"

"Might not get another chance." He shifted his grip and lowered his lantern onto the ground. "Stay low, I'll get us both out of here, alright?" The shadows danced eerily around the clearing and the wind picked up slightly, whistling through the canopy above. For a moment, there was calm.

Then from the left, a Poochyena exploded out of the shrubbery, thirty pounds of sharp teeth and fury. The Kirlia spun around at once, and smashed it to the ground with the haft of his spear. Pirouetting, he levered the mutt and flung it, intercepting another leaping dog in midair before skidding to a halt and stabbing at the third dog rushing down the center.

It dodged to the side, but yelped when the spear scored a gash along his body. The Kirlia pulled back and stabbed again, but the Poochyena retreated, growling, as the Ralts watched its fellows find their feet. Spinning, the guard buried his shaft in the snarling jaws of a recovered dog and with a heave slammed it down, narrowly ducking under the first Poochyenas attack.

She watched in terrified awe as the guard spun and slashed at the dogs, barely managing to stay ahead of their ferocious attacks with skill and experience. Shaking, she reached out with her psychic power, searching for any way to help—but found that her efforts slid off the Poochyena like water.

But there had to be something. Sitting there, useless, powerless…a swell of fury rose within her. Again she threw a blast of confusion at the hounds, and again her efforts yielded nothing. Helpless, she watched as her guardian faltered, receiving a gash to the arm for his mistake. Desperately, her eyes wandered the clearing for anything she could possibly do.

The Kirlia panted as the dogs readied themselves for another assault. They circled him, looking for an opening to exploit, and he winced as fresh gashes on his arm pulsed; the Ralts could feel it, that fresh wave of pain. Sensing weakness, the hounds closed in from all sides, snarling and thrashing. Desperately, he warded off two of them with a wide sweep and caught the third in the leg, tripping it.

He jerked the spear backwards, jamming the haft into an adversary's snarling maw, but the Poochyena growled and snapped its jaw shut around the shaft and pulled away, almost yanking the tool from the Kirlia's hands. He stumbled, falling to one knee—and once again the other dogs took advantage, rebounding and charging in from opposite sides. Panicked, the Kirlia turned to his left and instinctively shot a blast of pure psychic energy at the incoming mutt. Neither Poochyena reacted; they only darted forward, slavering. Raising a desperate arm in guard, the guard braced for pain.

So he was rather startled when they were instead pelted with two rather large, glowing rocks. He kicked the hound attached to his weapon once, twice, and finally knocked the beast off. Leaping backwards he brandished his spear at the Poochyena once more, sending a glance backward to whence the timely assistance had come. Face screwed in concentration, the tiny Ralts stood tall in the flickering lamp light. Around her orbited tens of stones, whirling above her in a loose cloud.

He paused, then broke out a wry grin. "Couldn't have busted that out earlier?"

The Ralts let out a low, annoyed keen, and a rock narrowly missed the guard's head. A whine sounded as a dog was downed mid-leap.

"Point made," he noted.

Swinging around the haft, he slammed a hound to the dirt yet again. Whirling, he slashed at the third foe which failed to dodge in time, leaving a seeping gash across its side—and then it was hit by a stone.

Hit by hit, slash by slash, the Poochyena were driven back. Any advancements made or tactics attempted were thwarted by a precisely slung piece of granite.

Finally, after what felt like an age of combat, all of the Poochyena lay upon the ground, exhausted and bloodied. The guard, out of breath, watched them with his spear still at the ready. Slowly, the trio of aggressors climbed to their feet.

Letting out a collection of mournful howls, all three slinked off into the night.

With a sigh of relief the guardsman planted his spear into the ground and rested against it for a moment, before turning his attention to his charge. The Ralts had long since released her cloud of rocks and fallen to her knees, gasping for air.

The Kirlia staggered over and kneeled down. "You alright, there? It's okay." He laid a hand on her shoulder as her shuddering breaths filled the night air. "It's okay. We made it, eh?"

They were both silent for a time, the guard letting her regain her stamina before he spoke again. "First time using that much energy, huh? Didn't even think you had that much in you—most Ralts don't. Really saved my butt there," he added.

The Ralts chucked weakly. "Had to…had to do something. Couldn't sit and do no—nothing." She coughed, mouth dry.

"Well, I'm glad you had my back. Not many would have started chucking rocks." Gently, he turned her over and scooped her into his arms. With a bit of effort he telekinetically lifted his spear and the lamp, which hovered behind him.

"C'mon," he said, walking through the trees. "Your grandfather was worried."

"Let's go home."

---

Image credit: Dexexe

 

[Dermonster]

Hyphen 8

Elder

---

The walk seemed quiet, though the Ralts didn't entirely trust her situational awareness in the moment. At some point she had transferred to riding the shoulders of the guard, head resting between his bright red horns. With tired eyes, she watched the trees pass by as they made their way home.

She could sense when the guard sent out a psychic message, presumably alerting everyone else about her. Idly she searched for who else might be out, but her range was still very limited; she could not sense anyone.

"You holding up okay?" the guard asked after a long silence.

"'M tired," she mumbled.

She could feel the amusement wafting off of him. "Yeah, going head-to-head with a pack like that does that to you."

"You're not tired at all!" she accused.

"Nah, I'm exhausted too. But I've trained for this, and I'm bigger than you as well. I can deal with it." He smirked. "Who knows, more escapades like this and you might be as tall as me soon."

"Do you really mean it?" she whispered. Staying awake was becoming a difficult prospect.

"Of course! Stressful experiences like that are the fastest way to become a Kirlia! Though," he backtracked suddenly, realizing what he was saying, "you shouldn't actually do anything like this again. These woods are dangerous, you know, and…huh."

He paused, and only heard soft breathing in reply.

---

She woke up in darkness, illuminated by candlelight and a soft shine from far away. Soreness emanated from her legs, and her mouth was dry. Rubbing her eyes, the Ralts sat up and beheld the familiar comfort of her room which was located within the cave.

Her bed was a semi-carved alcove in the wall, liberally padded with dried grass and other greenery. Next to it was a large, flat boulder which held a few trinkets. A rusted old spearhead lay prominently next to a faded red hair clip at the edge closest to her resting place. Other things were strewn further back, such as a collection of interesting rocks—her favorite being the transparent green one—and even the small skeleton of a two-tailed Magikarp.

But what really caught her attention was a small cup of water next to a burning candle, set well within reach. She took a large drink and coughed as it stuck in her throat, but doggedly emptied the cup. Then she gingerly swung herself out of the alcove, grimacing at the lingering ache.

The rest of her room was somewhat empty. A small yellow ball she had found on the trails rested on the floor, and a worn-out replica of a Surskit made out of different-colored grasses lay on another rocky table. The walls were occasionally marked by her own amateur attempts at artistry—most were drawings of various other Pokemon, but a larger one depicted her, her Grandpa, and an aborted depiction of two taller figures behind them.

Putting the candle out, she gingerly made her way into the main cavern of her home. Her grandfather stood at a table against the wall, muttering to himself—she brightened up immediately at the sight of him, ache forgotten.

"Grandpa!" she exclaimed, latching onto his waist.

"Wh—! Oh dear," he said, turning around and kneeling to return his granddaughter's hug. "It is good to see you up and about. I admit I wasn't expecting this for a little while yet." He pulled away and looked her over. "Are you feeling well? Are you hurt?"

The Ralts shook her head in the negative. "I'm all right. My legs are really sore, though."

He smiled, relief blazoned upon his face. "I am glad. You hadn't come home at sundown and nobody knew where you had gone. I was so worried."

The Ralts's smile faded, and she curled into herself a little, looking away. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"You're safe now, that's all that matters," he murmured in return. He hesitated before continuing, "Though, I must ask a question. Please answer truthfully: what were you doing out so late?"

The Ralts froze. A myriad of excuses, each worse than the last, raced through her mind. "I…I got lost?" she tried, weakly.

Her grandfather stared at her blankly, then sighed. "I see." Turning around, he reached back toward the table. "Would the reason happen to have something to do with…this?" Facing her once more, he held in his hand the Pokeball from yesterday morning.

She boggled at the small device. "I—what—how?"

"It was on the table by the entrance," he stated. "We haven't had visitors for a long while, and yesterday morning you lingered at the entrance for a strange amount of time. Hiding something?"

Whatever formative plan she had begun to make wilted and died at her grandfather's stern tone. She nodded, ashamed.

"I see," he murmured. Then his eyes sharpened. "You asked about humans before you disappeared. Where did you find this?"

"I…" Ralts hesitated. "Yesterday morning. I was picking berries on the trails—I'm sorry!" she pleaded at his disapproving frown. "The berries there are so much tastier, and I…well, nothing had ever happened before, so…"

Her grandfather didn't say anything, but his disappointment thickened the air like soup. At her pause, he motioned her to continue.

"Ah," she stammered. "I, ah, well. Yesterday, when I was about to go home…two humans snuck up behind me and—and tried to capture me."

"Oh," he breathed, staggering like he'd just gotten Tackled. "Oh child."

"They had a Zigzagoon, and it knocked me around a bit," she rambled. "I…they threw that at me. I saw it coming, and dodged into the bushes and ran for it. I found it after they left."

There was an ominous, horrified pause. "After you asked your questions, you left the village." Her grandfather was still, as though fearing the answer. "Where did you go?"

The Ralts hesitated once more. There...really wasn't any way to skirt around this, was there? Mustering her courage, she responded. "I went north. To the human city."

"Oh," her grandfather whispered. He looked ready to faint, his hands trembling mightily. "Oh, what have you done?"

"I don't—" The Ralts reached out to him, but drew back at a sudden advance.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close. "Did they see you!? Did they follow you?" he stressed, his eyes searching her own in a panic.

"I—" The Ralts recoiled from his maddened gaze, heart thumping in her chest. She'd never seen him act like this! "N—no! They didn't see me! I was hidden the entire time!"

Her grandfather held her gaze for a moment more, before exhaling, furor calmed by her denial. "Good." Releasing her, he stood to his full height. "What were you thinking!?" he scolded. "You could have gotten captured! They could have found us! You—I" His face twisted, his voice lowered to a whisper. "I could have lost you."

"I just…I…" The Ralts felt tears prick at her eyes. She wrung her hands together, robbed of any reply.

Her grandfather stood in silence for a moment longer, then sighed. "Can you tell me why? I know I have told you before that humans were trouble. Why in the world would almost being captured spur you to travel into their city?"

Ralts sniffled, then rallied. "I don't really know. I mean, after they left, I found that ball they threw at me in the forest. It...well, can I show you?" She held out a hand. After a moment's hesitation, the aged Kirla gave her the device. "It's like nothing I've ever seen before. If you press the button—" With a click, the pokeball shrank to a fourth of its size. "it shrinks, and if you press it again it grows." She demonstrated, holding the re-enlarged pokeball aloft.

"That's it?" her grandfather said, incredulous. "It's just a pokeball. I don't see how—"

"What do you mean, 'that's it?'" the Ralts asked, shocked. "That's amazing! They're tiny little balls that can shrink and grow on command! And—and the humans keep their companions in them! I saw a full Zigzagoon pop out of the one! It was alive and well, and—and how did they do that? How does this thing work? I just…I…" She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of her rambling. "I know you told me about them earlier, but seeing it for myself was different. I just wanted to know more."

"Hmph. There are better ways to satisfy curiosity than charging straight into a human city!" He frowned. "Were my lessons not enough? I've taught you so much already, and while what I know isn't complete it should be good enough—"

"No!" the Ralts interrupted. "No, it isn't. Everything I've ever heard about humans were either warnings or horror stories. Everything else is just…bits and pieces overheard from whenever we weren't so scared that we ran away at the first sign of them!"

"Of course we run!" His tone was wavering, confused. "You should know by now how dangerous they are. They don't have anything that's worth the risk of discovery! Even scavenging what they leave behind is perilous. How can you even argue this?"

"You didn't see what I saw!" she accused. Gesturing wildly, she explained. "I was there, in the city! I saw structures made of stone and glass rising taller than any tree! They had boxes with moving images in them, which talked and showed faraway places! I tasted their food, and it was sweeter than anything I had ever eaten before, and they threw it away casually like garbage! I heard a wordless song from an old man who created it with wood and strings, and it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. And they ignored it." She stalled, breathing heavily. After a moment she continued in a more even tone. "If they can ignore such wonderful things, there must be something even grander out there to make them seem dull. I'm just…I want to see it. I want to see all of it."

An uneasy quiet took place once more. Her grandfather stared at her, eyes wide with shock. "I…" he started, hesitating, before he gathered himself together, looking at the Ralts firmly. "Even so, you can't do this again. If we were discovered, the humans would surely ravage our home. Here in the forest, we are safe—"

"They went to the moon."

"—from discovery—what?"

"I said, they went to the moon. I heard it from one of their picture boxes."

Incredulity wrote itself across his features. "You can't be serious. Humans can't fly, and even so, the moon is so far away—"

"They did!" Ralts roared. "They built a giant ship that goes up and they went to the moon and now they're going to build a giant house there!"

The elderly Kirlia shifted uncomfortably, seemingly thrown off by how his granddaughter was taking control of the conversation. "Well, okay. That's incredible. But what does that have to do with this?"

"Because, if they don't mind flying toward the stars to reach the moon, why would they have trouble finding us here, eventually?" Ralts pointed outside. "I saw their city, and for all its size it was still growing! They were cutting down the trees at the edge of the forest to put up more structures. And their path leads them straight towards us. They're just going to keep coming closer and closer until they run right into the village!"

Her grandfather shook his head, frustration boiling the air. "Whatever the case, it's still not safe out there!"

"It's not going to be safe here for much longer either!"

"Then what would you have me do!?" her grandfather snapped, temper wearing thin. "Go up to the humans and politely ask them to stop!? There can be no resolution! They would not even listen to me for a moment! Whatever they've done, they are still humans, and they would still capture us!"

"Then I'll make them!" Ralts shouted, surprised at her own outburst. "With this!" Brandishing the pokeball still within her grasp, she proclaimed, "You said that the best trainer became their version of an Elder, right? A Champion? And everybody listens to the Elders! With this, I'll become the Champion and then they'll have to listen to me!"

Her grandfather's expression could be best described as that of a freshly caught Magikarp: open mouthed and shocked beyond comprehension. "Have you gone mad!? Becoming a trainer? What in the world are you thinking, you can't do that!"

"Why not?" she challenged.

"They would sooner capture you!"

"Then I'll disguise myself!" she retorted.

"What foolishness—no disguise could possibly conceal you! We look far too different!"

"Then I'll trick them! We can do all sorts of tricks with our powers; we can make walls of light and throw objects and I even ordered a Seedot in battle while I was out there! Why can't I learn how to make myself look like them!?"

"Stop! Just—stop, for one moment!" The Ralts stilled. Had she gone too far? Her grandfather closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He shook for a second, then clasped his hands together and exhaled slowly.

Another moment passed, and then he cracked an eye at her. "Do you remember why we are here? Or rather," he amended, "why there is a village at all? The reason we do not all wander in the wilds aimlessly, like all other species?"

The Ralts frowned. She...vaguely remembered a tale about that, but she'd been a hatchling at the time and couldn't quite recall it. "I forgot that one, I think. Why?"

"Hmph. You should try to remember our tales better; our history is important, though I suppose I cannot fault the others for not retelling it more than necessary now that...bah. Come, I will tell it to you myself." He beckoned her over to a rocky table, where they sat. The Ralts fiddled with the pokeball still in her grasp, and her grandfather's eye was drawn down towards it. "I suppose the first question is, have you heard of our Ancestor?"

"Ancestor?" She frowned. "I think I've heard some of the old Kirlia say things like…" She adopted an exaggerated voice, that of an old crone. "'Back in my day, the Ancestor would have sorted this mess out right quick.' Is that who you're talking about?"

Grandfather nodded solemnly. "She was a Gardevoir."

The Ralts gasped and leaned forward. Kirlia rarely evolved into Gardevoir—so much so that there weren't any in the village right now, and hadn't been for some time. Hearing about them was bound to be special, especially because their last two had been...

"Like my parents?" she asked.

Sorrow crossed the old Kirlia's face, there and gone again in a flash. "Not quite. Your parents were regular Gardevoir—as far as that term can be applied. The Ancestor was different, and though she vanished a mere few seasons before your birth, I can remember that frightening woman to this day." He leaned back. "She didn't look like a regular Gardevoir at all, no. Your parents, they had solid green hair, eyes like rubies. My son had a coat of a pure cloud, and your mother's was a dress of fresh snow. They wore their hearts openly, horns placed right in the middle of their chest and spine. Your father moved with calculated, elegant precision, while your mother held all the grace of the summer skies. Their dances were...beautiful."

The Ralts felt that old ache in her heart. She had never gotten to know them, and never would. Her grandfather's words provided a tiny bit of catharsis.

"But the Ancestor, her coat was marred by streaks of darkest pitch; her hair was stained with spots of foul, stagnant water, and her eyes shone in blood. Even her horn was cracked in twain." He stared into the distance, reminiscing. "She was a true terror; her tongue bit more than a Mightyena and fires darkened in her presence. Even crippled as she was, she exuded a power greater than anything else I have ever known."

Well, that sounded terrifying. The Ralts couldn't help but feel a little grateful that she was gone. "Crippled?"

"Mmm. Yes, she was crippled. Recall how her horn was cracked? A shattered horn is a horrific curse; a complete collapse in both psychic power and control, along with unimaginable agony when psychic power is used. And yet use them she did. What she could bring to bear at the hardest of times was amazing, and yet it still felt like a stream was running a route that had once contained an impossibly vast river. Even as hobbled as she was, she was our founder, protector, and leader. Her abilities were enough to ward off even the Mightyena."

"Warded off the Mightyena?" The Ralts asked, tone wavering. "I thought you said my parents…?"

Her grandfather nodded sadly. "Mmm. When she vanished, her protections faded over time. Eventually the Alpha Mightyena and his pack were able to find our home without diversion, and decided we made for a magnificent feast. Your parents objected and, well…I have told that story before."

The Ralts dipped her head low, and fiddled with the ball a bit. Composing herself, she returned to the matter at hand. "Why are you telling me about the Ancestor?"

"Because she is at the root of the matter. The reason that she is called the Ancestor is that every single Kirlia in the village can trace their parents and grandparents and so on right back to her. She was the founder of the village, and has lived with it for as long as it has been."

Ralts stared in disbelief. "What? That's crazy! She couldn't have been so old!"

He chuckled. "Indeed, even when I was young, she was ancient. My grandfather knew her, and so did his grandfather. She was old beyond comparison, and oh, did she loathe humans."

"Living for so long...and crippled, too. That's...amazing! And horrible. Spending all that time in so much pain..." The Ralts digested that for a moment before the last part caught her attention. "She hated humans? Why?"

Her grandfather sighed. "Because it was the actions of the humans that crippled her."

"What!?" The Ralts yelped.

"The story is fragmented, and she disliked talking about it, but she did retell parts of the tale every so often. To remind us. When she was young, she herself was the partner of a human. Back in ancient times when the distinction between a Pokemon and human didn't exist. And it was the consequence of that partnership which caused her to lose so much of herself. Whatever happened, she fled that world, leaving naught but dust and bitter hatred behind her.

"She gathered every one of her kind she could find on this land and moved here, deep into the untouched forests. She took pieces of knowledge from her time with the humans and taught us how to be that slightest bit better, and then we were able to build all this, humble as it is."

He slumped in his chair, suddenly seeming every bit his age. "She warned us of them continually. 'Do not go near the humans, they will capture you, and hurt you.' With her tricks nobody ever wandered near, and she took attempts at leaving...poorly. When she left us, leadership was passed to your parents as the only remaining Gardevoir. And now it is shared amongst us old folk. Every day I wonder what will vanish next."

"I am scared," he admitted, looking her in the eye. "I am scared of what they could do. If they could do such things to her, then…" He looked at her, voice dropping to a whisper. "My son is gone, and so is your mother. I don't want to lose you too."

SIlence fell. The Ralts turned the situation over in her head. What her grandfather spoke of seemed almost impossible in the face of what she had witnessed; she couldn't imagine a place that held such marvels to be capable of also performing such horrors. But then, she hadn't seen much, had she?

"I still want to go," she said.

Her grandfather looked at her incredulously. "After all that I have told you, you still pursue this ambition?"

The Ralts made an affirming hum. "I get that horrible things were done to her. I get that. But…that was a long time ago, right? The people there, in the city…I can't see them doing anything like that. And even if I stayed, we'd still be in danger from their expansion into our forest! We can't stay here forever—and you said yourself that her protections are fading now that she's gone. I need to do this." She stared her grandfather down, steadfast.

The seconds ticked by as he stared right back, but then he sighed. "Stubborn, you are. Just like your father. I suppose you got that sharp tone of yours from your mother, too.

"You'll need a cloak, I think," he continued, and the Ralts's eyes widened. "Maybe a hat? You'll need a more thorough understanding of illusions as well, which shouldn't take too long—urk!?" He grunted, interrupted by an abrupt impact.

Smiling, he returned his granddaughter's hug.

"Thank you!"

"Don't thank me yet. We'll have to do a bit of preparation, and there's still the fact that you need to fool one of those professors into thinking you're human. But, first things first, you need a name."

The Ralts blinked, looking up at her grandfather in confusion. "A name?"

He chuckled. "What, you didn't notice? Humans aren't psychic and don't talk via telepathy. They use their voices, and they can't just identify someone by the patterns of their mind. So they need to single people out with a personal name!" He patted her head. "Took me a bit to figure that one out too. And I didn't go sneaking around the city!

"So!" The elderly Kirlia kneeled, and clapped both hands on her shoulders. "As your grandfather, it is my pleasure to grant you a name! Something worthy of the hope you seek to bring us, I think. My son, he was like the night, harmonic in nature and of calm mind. Your mother was like the day, with a burning spirit of fiery passion and determination. Haha, I think I've got it!"

The Ralts jittered, giddy at the prospect. "What is it? What is it?"

"So, the humans think they can go wherever they please! They can have the moon, I say," he said with a flourish. Spreading his hands, he continued, "We'll go even further beyond, as we always have! Granddaughter, I bestow upon you the name Astra; for we came from the stars, and shall all one day return, but in the present you are a piece of the heavens walking the earth, set to shine brilliantly across all the land. Fitting, wouldn't you say?"

Astra grinned.

"Now, let's see about that disguise…"

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Sorry for the wait. I hope it reads ok. I stopped writing straight in the middle for over half a year after all.

Art credit to Dexexe.