In a mirror, darkly

[Kolibrie]

Chapter One​

There is very little that I would not do to get Kyle back. Maybe not everything, could I knowingly commit murder to get my brother back? Not likely, but still. Putting my life on hold to lead my own one-woman search party, though? That, I'd do in a heartbeat. Would do, even, considering I was in fact en-route to start on that long shot of a project. Consciously, I knew the odds of actually finding my brother alive were slim to none. Missing cases of trainers of a certain age tended to follow a predictable pattern. Either they were found with a hangover the next day sleeping in some secluded ditch, or we found their remains.

Or nothing was found. Maybe in a decade they'd find something and his case could be closed and subsequently would maybe get some airtime on a podcast hosted by one of those overly fanatic true-crime enthusiasts. We'd know that he was actually dead, rather than being stuck with the status given to him by the authorities. A paper death and an empty room at home.

I dearly wanted to find him alive, but I could settle for finding his body. Anything to bring home, to end the hurt of not knowing.

Oh Arceus, my thoughts were turning morbid again. There was too little to busy my mind with in the floating hellhole I was stuck in on what was arguably the worst day in a year of subsequently worse days. Stuck on a ship on the day they formally declared my little brother legally dead because that's simply standard procedure, folks, so sorry.

It was, though, I'd checked. It was so very by the book that it grated.

At the very least the gargantuan deathtrap I was stuck in had a view, a view that was little else than 'grey ocean' sometimes offset by 'grey-ish waves on the ocean' over the many hours I'd been stuck inside. Now, though, Sunnyshore city's lighthouse was visible even in the dense fog that surrounded the city. Its light cut a path through the clouds that had descended from the heavens to swallow the earth. I could see it from the window in my cabin wet enough, a regular flash that caught my eye on each rotation. It would have been pretty had the seas themselves not been rough, making my stomach roll in synch with the motions of the Wallace as it cuts through the waves. The opened packet of pills had done little to help save for making me feel as if my head was wrapped in wool both before and after a brief, coma-like nap some hours ago.

The Sinnohan mainland loomed in front of me, despite still being hidden from view. It felt like a load had lifted from my shoulders, while at the same time my legs felt like lead more than ever. Sinnoh, home. Mom's chewy cookies and pop's cigarette-smelling hugs.

Sinnoh, the continent where Kyle had vanished into thin air.

Hi Elly. Just a quick txt now, got plans tnt. Call tmrrw!

I closed my eyes and willed the thought away from the forefront of my mind, cottony as it was. No use dwelling on a text that I could see any time I opened the messaging app on my phone, or opened my cloud storage where they'd been saved, or looked at the pages-long digital cork board I'd compiled on my laptop. Kyle's last words had been immortalized both in the physical and untouchable sense. The only tangible remains of a boy that had vanished without a trace.

My phone beckoned me with a small flashing light in next to the selfie cam and I unlocked it, ignoring the two missed calls and several unanswered messages. Barbara could wait a bit longer, as could my mom.

The distance between the tiny blue dot representing me and the mainland was growing smaller according to my trusty map app, now updated to the paid version that boasted prime coverage of the common tracks used by trainers. Reviews had raved about HikeMeister Maps' input-based method of listing 'prime camping spot' and 'best place to cross rivers' as if the developers had found way to cure cancer through their app.

By Arceus, the thought of crossing a river by foot alone mad me queasy in ways even the Wallace's movement on the waves couldn't. To think that a mud-covered and tent-filled life was what my future had in store for me.

A grating crackle sounded over the intercom, followed by the soft chime that preceded the ship's common announcements.

"Good afternoon passengers," the captain's low voice echoed through my small cabin. "This is your captain speaking to you from the bridge. Right now, visibility is low, as those on the lido deck or walking our promenade can likely see. We still expect to have the Wallace safely berthed in a little less than thirty minutes. Manoeuvring has already started and we welcome all that want to, to come and have a look at the action from our promenade or to enjoy the action from the upper-level Oceanview café. I'll be back with you for the disembarking announcement once we're safely at our berth and the walkways are all connected. Thank you, that will be all."

With a brief click, the captain's voice was gone. He could have had a successful career as an e-book reader with his voice, which was more pleasant than the entire voyage on the 1100ft monstrosity that carried me from Kalos to Sinnoh. Beneath my feet, I swore I could feel the vessel changing course as the captain did whatever he needed to do to get the vessel to lie alongside the berth that would let me set my first step back on Sinnohan soil in nearly a year. The last time-

I dug my pastel-pink nails in the palm of my hand at that thought, banishing it to the best of my ability. Not now. Not here.

Mercifully, the eighteen boldly written in a red bubble over the app linking to my text messages proved a distraction from the traitorous places my mind was dragging me and the pending return of my lunchtime wrap as the ship continued trying to make me sick.

Mom: Good morning Danny! Dod you sleep well? Sent at 08:50.

Mom: Did* you sleep well? Sent at 08:51.

Mom: Did the new seasickness pills work? Did they help? Sent at 10:02

Mom: You have to take them with water, don't forget that! Sent at 10:17.

Mom: Danielle, call me when you get off the ship, okay? Sent at 12:00.

Mom had left me more texts and the pit in my stomach felt even worse when I considered what my silence would feel like to the woman who'd lost one child a year ago to the date. Fuck. In my own bid to evade seasickness and fool-hearted approach to ignoring my own feelings about this damned day, I'd ignored what mom must feel like.

A quick text later, mom was at least reassured of my continued stay on the mortal plane. In stark contrast to mom's frantic dozen messages, Barbara had simply sent me a short series of pictures of her lazing on a beach in the sun with a bottle of wine. Her floppy sunhat and the bohemian dress that covered her bikini were artfully displayed in the shots, the setting sun and the filter making the scenes look ready for a magazine.

Not to mention that Jamie, Barbara's boyfriend, had actually taken photography courses and dutifully took the photo's in question.

Barbara's text thankfully caused less emotional turmoil and required qually little effort to respond to, considering several exclamation marks followed by a series of fire and sun emojis did the job admirably. My best friend would understand, Barb could imagine the toll today took on me. Or at least, I hoped she did.

To kill the remaining time, I grabbed my schedule to check my itinerary again. I'd be stuck on yet another moving deathtrap hours after disembarking this one, to travel home by train. Then it was another train the next day to Jubilife City. The last place my brother'd been seen, the day of his disappearance. The HikeMeister app did not allow a grid overlay, it wasn't made for such things, but I had an actual honest-to-Arceus physical map in my bag that I'd painstakingly drawn grids on for the regional sections surrounding Jubilife.

Grids that I would be checking one-by-one for any sign of Kyle.

I went back to those very regional maps to go over the order in which I'd planned to search them again. My phone laid next to the small fold-out booklet on the sleek glass table opposite the stark white couch I was perched on. HikeMeister did have its small flags with its handy user-updates about things that could be found there. Things like how some paths were overgrown, warnings about sudden drops in terrain and even notifications if an area had been leveled by some out-of-control battle. In short, places I wanted to check for any signs of my baby brother. I tapped to watch the history panel, looking at past notifications for Route 218. Nothing I hadn't seen before, had looked at until my eyes hurt, but one could never be too certain. I could've missed something those other times, people make mistakes like that.

My watch vibrated against my wrist. Two hours until next activity: Train to Hearthome the screen read. I pressed the X to remove the pop-up, my watch face going back to its regular overview of the activities I'd put in my agenda listed next to the digital time, 14:25. It was the latest series released by Aguav, boasting it had all the functionalities any trainer could ever want or need. Considering it cost about as much as a ticket on this blasted boat, I almost expected it to grow me a full human being to act as my own personal training-assistant.

Land was getting increasingly closer in the view my window afforded me, even through the dense fog I could spot the port facilities steadily growing clearer. My stomach did another backflip, bile rising to the back of my throat. I swallowed, gazing at the fuzzy contours of the Sunnyshore skyline. Sinnoh.

A knock sounded at my door.

I closed my map and walked over, opening it without bothering to use the peephole first. There really was only one category of people who'd just randomly knock on doors on this section of the ship, given that I knew no one here.

"Good afternoon miss," the white-suited cabin boy said. "The walkways are about to connect. We are inviting all our first-class passengers to join us in the Green Lounge where your walkway will connect. There is a selection of snacks and drinks available in case you are feeling peckish and you are welcome to ask staff for something to take with you on the go should you wish."

I was right, it was the staff. And this cabin boy really was but a boy. He couldn't have been much older than eighteen, his cheeks too chubby with faded acne and his body too gangly still. By Arceus, that age and already working like that? I couldn't imagine life on the seas being the easy side-gig I'd expect someone in their teens to have. Supermarket stocking, sure. Traversing the ocean? I sure hoped he was getting danger-pay, because honestly this thing could go down in a million different ways.

"You are listed for transfer, miss." The boy looked at a small stack of papers he'd fished from his pressed pants. "We will arrange for your laggage to be delivered to the 16:25 train to Hearthome. Is there anything you wish to keep on you?"

"Yeah, just give me a moment." I cut across the room to swipe the items littering the table back in my purse. My suitcases I'd already re-packed earlier. They stood ready to go, a matching set of three, tan embossed leather trim covering a rock-solid aluminum shell. The same set I'd carried with me from Sinnoh to Kalos three years ago.

For a moment, I eyed my rucksack. It quite obviously didn't match my luggage set, being neither leather nor at all pleasing to look at. Some sort of high-performance albeit completely unnatural canvas-plastic fabric made it as close to fully waterproof as anything could truly be and apparently it also boasted a high degree of fire resistance. It was beige, with 'ergonomic' arm straps and more pockets than I had shoes. It was also the single ugliest item I'd ever purchased.

Yeah, I was not going to carry that with me today. Tomorrow would be another thing, but today I'd enjoy the light heft of my purse on my arm and nothing else. Mind made up, I attached the monstrosity to my largest suitcase and hoisted my purse over my shoulder. My phone I put in the zipped compartment of my bag, absentmindedly making sure my wallet was next to it. I felt its familiar shape, smiling slightly. All set there.

Surveying my cabin one last time, I didn't see anything that was supposed to be packed away. I 'd already checked during packing that morning, but it never helped to double-check.

I lazily waved an arm at the small pack of suitcases that had carried all my earthly belongings that I'd taken with me from Kalos. "All set, thanks for the stellar service."

It wasn't until I nearly passed the cabin boy, did I remember. Shit. A quick search through my wallet netted me a lot of bills, but nothing really suitable for a reasonable tip. Fifty, fifty, fifty .. ah. One rumpled twenty, next to another fifty and for some reason the receipt from my last manicure.

"Here, for you. Thanks again!"

I handed the bill to the kid, shooting him a winning smile as if I was in the habit of giving tips that likely matched his hourly wage. It wasn't truly outlandish, it isn't like I handed him my credit card and invited him to have at it, but mom and pop would shake their heads for sure.

Ah well. Manners and such, can't not give him a tip if he's going to be hoisting my stuff around. That'd be terribly gauche.

The Green Lounge was a short walk away, as was anything on this side of the ship really. At least they'd given people's lack of sea-legs some thought and not put everything half a marathon away from the cabins. There was a small crowd of people milling about, though I paid them little mind. I asked the lady at the bar for a coffee to go, also ignoring the captain's disembarking announcement. His voice was a pleasant background noise while I watched the staff start opening the doors and getting everything in order. I took a swig of my cappuccino and absentmindedly touched a hand to the two pokéballs attached to my belt.

At least Oberon could be let out once I set foot on solid ground. Sunnyshore would likely not be to Titania's tastes, but keeping Oberon cooped up for longer would likely not be appreciated.

Disembarking went quickly, our section of the pier was sectioned off by red rope and somewhat filled with cabs and some private cars with uniformed drivers waiting for others that were in a hurry to get somewhere. The men and women who entered those were an eclectic mix, some of them dressed as if they were a minute away from a boardroom meeting while others looked perfectly ordinary. One older lady paired jeans with a band t-shirt and stepped into a waiting town car with a gold figurine on its hood that shone despite the fog. Can't judge book by its cover, I reminded myself.

There was no such car waiting for me. HikeMeister told me the Sunnyshore station was a brisk forty-five minute walk and, having walked it before, I knew I could make it with time to spare. No use wasting money on a cab when my legs were begging for some use after being cooped up in my cabin for over a day.

I ran my fingers across the ultra ball with an O engraved on its top. Titania's had a T because honestly I would have no idea which was which otherwise. Trainerpedia had listed various options to solve the issue, stating that most trainers resorted to writing names or initials in sharpie on top of their pokéballs, but that just felt silly somehow. Juvenile. So I'd forked over some cash and gotten mine engraved, that way I could both see and feel who was where.

A press and a flash of red light and Oberon stood in front of me. Under the bone protusion on top of his skull, Oberon's pitch black eyes gazed balefully at me. His red muzzle was tense in a way I'd think would be a frown, were he human.

As it was, I was happy my fire-breathing little monster was not. Human, that is. He was trouble enough as a Houndour.

"I know, buddy." I knelt down and ran a hand across his fuzzy black ears.

"I know. They had a strict rule and only approved Pokémon can roam the ship. You weren't on the list, Obie. So silly, yes-" Obie's hind leg started twitching, his short tail making aborted motions back and forth.

"No shit," I heard someone mutter from behind me. I whirled around, but couldn't catch the culprit. Ah, well. Prejudiced asshole.

Oberon's collar and leash were in my purse and with a sigh I fastened the white leather around his neck. The faux-gold tag with my contact details on the front had been worked into the collar itself. I tugged a little so it sat neatly aligned at the center of his throat, then clipped the leash on.

Walking down the pier was calming, Oberon stuck to my leg obediently and matched my leisurely pace. It was good to finally have solid earth beneath my feet, to not have to compensate every time that floating hellscape moved on the waves. It was getting increasingly busy the closer we got to the edge of the city itself, rather than the pier and the nearly empty boulevard. Not many people were out on scenic seaside walks when you could scarcely see the sea itself, I guessed.

The few people I did encounter, watched me warily. Or, well, maybe not me. I followed their gazes down to Oberon, some of them going as far as to take a wide berth around me. Halfway to the station, I saw a mother with a stroller cross the street to pass me. At my side, Oberon did nothing to assuage those people's fears. He kept up a steady rumble with everyone we passed, baring his teeth if they dared venture within three feet of me.

"Oh stop it," I hissed at my Houndour. "Seriously, you're supposed to be the professional one here."

Obie glanced at me, then issued a short warning bark at an uniformed man heading my way that was engrossed in his phone.

Coming closer, I could see his eyes widening when they fell on Oberon. He fumbled with his smartphone, nearly dropping it in his haste to sidestep me and Obie. Good Groundon, what a joke.

*.*.*.*.*.*​

The Sunnyshore Train Station was on the outskirts, built away from the historical centre and separate from the cargo train station located near the city's container terminal. It was a large glass building, its roof featuring an intricate glass dome in the middle that let in the sun on bright days. Today, though, the building still felt light thanks to the custom light fixtures built into the ceiling and lining the walls. it almost made me reach for my sunglasses, the glaring lights on the very edge of being too much.

It was compounded by the various bright storefronts flashed their promotional offers at me, endless loops of energy drinks and new fashion trends being shown off by brand mascots in overly bright colors. The extravagant use of electricity was excused by the many signs boasting of Sunnyshore City: Sinnoh's Solar Power Capital . It was cute the first time I came across it, the little stylized smiling sun at the end of the sentence was adorable, but the station had a bit too many of those plaques scattered around in strategic positions.

Had people complained about the waste of power and did they want to put a stop to that by not letting anyone escape the fact that yes, Sunnyshore city had a lot of solar panels? It made little sense and I couldn't dredge up the energy to give it more attention than I already had.

Instead, I grabbed another coffee at a cutesy little café that didn't look like some run of the mill franchise chain. The sizes were regular too, rather than made-up names that anyone sounded stupid saying.

My third cappuccino of the day in hand, Obie's leash in the other, I followed the signs until I reached the platform listed on my e-ticket. Just before I got on the escalator to reach the platform, I could feel my watch vibrate again. Heh, good timing. The fifteen-minute warning to my 16:25 train flashed across its screen, and once more I swiped the notification away. At least my luggage should already be on-board, that saved me some hassle. Thank Arceus for good service.

The ticket I had saved on my phone was for the first class section, but once I got to the platform I was left looking around awkwardly. They'd changed the departure platform since my last trip, and I honestly had never set foot on this once before. I scanned the signs to see if I could find where I ought to board, not seeing much with the dense crowd of people milling about.

A throat was cleared behind me and I turned around to see what appeared to be a conductor, judging by his navy uniform and matching flat hat.

"Ma'am," he tipped his hat at me. "Sorry to bother you, but could you please recall your Pokémon? I'm afraid it's scaring the other travelers on this platform."

The strangers walking past me were keeping a curious distance, making me feel a bit like a boulder in a fast-flowing river with how they evaded me. Oberon was sitting at my side, ears twitching back and forth as he kept his gaze trained on the people around me.

I looked back up at the conductor. "Houndour are permitted inside the station and on the trains, even. I checked."

My wide smile hurt my cheeks with how wide I made it, though the man in front of me did not match it. His bushy grew brows twitched, but face remained carefully impassive.

"Of course, ma'am. However, we've had complaints from others at the station. If you-"

My fingers tightened around the supple fabric covered handle of Obie's leash. "Unfounded complaints given how my Houndour has shown nothing but exemplar behavior since we both arrived here. Or are you telling me that him sitting quietly at my side is somehow a danger to the general populace?"

At my feet, Oberon angled his head up. His body was tense and even looking at the back of his head where his bone profusion fused back into his spine, I could swear he was not blinking as he stared up at the conductor.

"Now, I would love to get off this platform so that all my laughably small-minded fellow-travelers can stop jumping at shadows. Could you direct me to where I can board the first-class carriage of the direct train to Hearthome City, please? Thank you."

Whatever response the poor guy wanted to give me was likely kept inside by years of customer service-training and the fact that my Houndour looked like he would swallow him whole if he as much as blinked at me wrong. I'd respect such restraint if I wasn't feeling oddly personally attacked, for some reason.

A few gawking onlookers scattered as the conductor lead me through the throng of others getting on and off the trains at this platform. Moments later, we stood in front of a cabin with a separate staff member helping others board the carriage.

"The first-class section, ma'am. Enjoy your travels." With a tip of his hat and a frosty look, the man strode away.

Looking around, I noted that there really wasn't a sign. I hadn't missed it, then. There was an ornate pillar though, with an arm stretching out, just nothing sign-like that dangled from it. Odd.

I showed my ticket to the lady dressed in her own navy uniform, though boasting a skirt rather than dress pants, who guided me to my carriage. Crimson wingback chairs filled the carpeted space. Groups of four surrounded round wooden tables on the one left, with sets of two around smaller versions of the same tables on the other side. There were a few people scattered around the seats, most of them already scrolling on their phone or leafing through the complimentary magazines. None of them looked up at my entrance, and I quietly made my way to one of the chairs that only had one other chair opposite it.

There was enough space between where my ankle boots rested on the floral carpet and the table for Oberon to curl up. I grabbed my phone again, not really interested in whatever magazines they're thought to supply this carriage with. A quick look at my e-mails made me groan.

The railway company had apparently tried to inform me that they were renovating platforms and that they'd placed signage on the ground to compensate. Well, I hadn't seen any of those with all the people passing by.

Our cosy cabin wasn't even half filled by the time the trains started its journey, gaining speed once it crossed city limits until it thundered through the countryside of Route 222. Instead, me and my few fellow travelers enjoyed a quiet ride offset only by the appearance of our hostess for pre-dinner drinks. An hour later, we relocated to the dining carriage for our complementary dinner. It was a picturesque space, wood paneling and a dark polished wooden floor that offset the deep green of the cushioned chairs well. The tables were covered by a pristine white tablecloth, plates and cutlery featuring the Sinnoh Railway logo in cursive golden font.

A bit basic, but well executed nevertheless. The plates were actual porcelain and the cutlery was well-polished to at least cary the look of silver. They'd clearly prioritized style over pure utility. Not that I'd expect these plates to somehow fall of the tables, given how smooth the journey had been so far. Much unlike my previous method of transportation.

The menu looked decent enough, but my gut churned when I looked over the entrées they offered. When my server came for my order, I asked to start with my main dish instead.

My steak was expertly done, but tasted like ash. The fine red wine looked eerily like blood as I twirled the glass around by the stem. It was a good vintage for sure, surely enhancing the taste of the main dish, but I couldn't swallow more than a few bites of the food. I ended up sneaking Obie bites of my steak, his sharp teeth carefully taking them from the prongs of my fork as I offered it to where he sat under the table. He even finished the haricot-verts and seemed to like the taste of the dauphinoise potatoes. Or at least, he ate it happily enough. His jaws worked so quickly that I doubted he even caught any of the taste. Well, even thought the chef's effort might be wasted on the both of us, at least he could be counted on to empty the plate.

Wine was probably not good for Pokémon, so I drained the glass myself. I waved off the server when he offered a refill.

I asked for the cheese platter for dessert, which I also snuck to Oberon. Cheese was made from milk, I rationalized, that ought not be bad for him either.

"It won't be like this all the time," I whispered, lifting the table cloth to glance at Obie. His black eyes blinked back at me. "Today's an exception, okay? Tomorrow it's back to your usual hyper-nutritional kibble bullshit."

Given that I then handed him another bite of brie, I didn't think the point really sank home as much as I wanted it to.

Our surver had offered me a complimentary glass of port to suit the cheese, but I instead asked for a nice dessert wine. Something sweet and easy to drink. It wouldn't be good with the cheese at all, but he didn't know that I hadn't planned on eating anything on that plate.

So I drank my second glass of wine while Obie swallowed bite-sized morsels of fine cheese. I stopped at my last mouthful of wine, holding the glass way from my face for a bit. I then toasted the empty air in front of me, eyes on the slowly darkening sky I could glimpse through the carriage windows.

Here's to you, Kylester. Happy death-day, I'm coming for you.

My eyes burned as that last swig went down my throat. I pretended not to notice.

Hours later, when the squeaky brakes had brought us to a stop at Hearthome Central Station and a pasty teen had unloaded my luggage for me, I felt the weight of the day press down on my shoulders. I'd recalled Oberon before getting off the train, not nearly nimble enough to guide him and lug my small army of suitcases behind me at the same time, and really not in the mood for another stupid confrontation with the station staff.

It was while I was re-arranging my ugly backpack on top of my largest suitcase that I caught sight of them, my mom's blonde hair was so bright it was almost white and together with her lanky frame and pops' ginger curls, it made them stand out from the crowd. My feet felt routed to the cobblestone floor, my legs like lead. Not that I had to move, as I was as tall and blonde as my mom. I must have stood out as much as they did in the grey of the faceless crown around me, as I could see the moment our eyes connected. Hers lit up, I simply tried not to forget to blink.

"Oh, Danielle." Warm arms wrapped around me, soft hands rubbing my back through my jacket.

I buried my face in her neck, inhaling the familiar smell of her perfume. I felt her blouse growing steadily more damp beneath my face as my shoulders shook with heaving sobs, but mom pretended not to notice.

*.*.*.*.*.*
​

Proof that sometimes I write something that isn't overly fluffy as well as me trying to get back into writing. Or, my attempt to fill the hours when people aren't trying to sink their ships and/or need me to tell them that violating their contracts is not something they should want to do.

Fun job fact of the day: Law school does not teach you the horrifying truth that maritime charters are (a) riddled with insane acronyms and abbreviations that you have to google and (b) decided on almost exclusively through e-mails (the dreaded recap, for those in the know). Thankfully, there are actual glossaries that explain what they meant when people write beauties like SSHEXEIU; DLOSP; Molchop or W/W/W/W.