Chapter Text
Revival of the Heart.
It’s a peaceful Friday evening in Uzoma Forest Reserve. The setting sun peeks just over the vast expanse of woodland bordering the neighbouring town, casting hues of orange and pink in warm rays through the canopy.
Wild Seedots cling from branches in snug rows alongside each other. There isn’t a single breeze, allowing them to huddle together without fear of a gust dislodging them. Now that the forest has been lulled into an evening haze, Shroomish; which detest the harsh light of the day, waddle out from their hiding places to forage quietly among the leaf litter.
Young trainer Nicholas strolls along a trail beside his father’s Skarmory, which is often lended to him to assure a safe travel. The gravely path which follows the perimeter of the reserve is his usual route to and from school. Friday afternoons are always filled with school club activities for the boy, and his parents are much too busy, so a walk along the dimming forest is his only way home at the end of the week. It’s nothing to complain about, though. There’s plenty of opportunities to catch wild Pokémon.
The sheathed, knife-like feathers of the Skarmory’s wings twitch and she stops in place. Nicholas continues onwards, then notices that the Pokémon isn’t following.
“Blades?“ He calls her name.
The bird ignores him and assumes a defensive position. She glares into a dark patch of woodland to the left, where her gaze is met with the vast, shadowy depths of the reserve.
“C’mon, stupid,” Nicholas teases lightheartedly, “I don’t think there’s anyone around here.”
“Skar!” The Skarmory growls, stretching her wings out to reveal finely whetted steel feathers in an attempt to intimidate anything that may be lurking nearby.
The boy sighs.
“Again? I told you, it’s only the…”
A white flash blinks from somewhere in the darkness, accompanied by a gentle sparkling sound.
“Oh!” Nicholas giggles to himself when he notices the sound and steps off the trail. “You’re always so worried. I know what it is, come see!” He beckons his Pokémon into the gloomy patch of wilderness. Blades, having been sent to protect her trainer’s son, obliges and sticks close by Nicholas’ side.
“Just be real quiet,” he commands, “and don’t make any sudden moves.”
The boy crouches down by a hollow log. He leans over to get a look inside.
There’s not much interesting within. Just a wet bed of ferns that some Pokémon must have been using as a nest.
“She’s not in here…”
Blades senses that there mustn’t be a threat and wanders a little ways away to scrounge around through some brambles.
Nicholas gets up and looks around. Something is watching him. A few metres away, behind a tree, a little Pokémon peeks out. He locks eyes with it.
“Okay, Blades, stay right where you are,” he orders, then begins carefully tiptoeing toward the Pokémon. It allows its grip on the tree to loosen, though still keeps its distance.
“You remember me, don’t you? Well,” Nicholas bends down and fetches something wrapped in thin paper from his pocket, “I’ve brought a little something for you.” He unwraps it to reveal a freshly baked pretzel. “It’s from school. I got it just for you!”
Blades turns her head to survey Nicholas. When she sees that he’s attempting to befriend a wild Pokémon, she immediately tenses up, but this worry quickly fades when she confirms it’s only a Ralts.
The critter hesitates, but when Nicholas offers a gentle smile, it’s encouraged. It approaches cautiously. The boy stretches out his arm to the wild Pokémon. Being such a skittish thing, it backs up for a moment, but quickly sees now that the tasty treat is only centimetres out of its grasp. It reaches out and, with one quick swipe, takes the pretzel between its hands.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Nicholas whispers softly to it as it nibbles on the baked treat.
“Ralts!” It responds joyously between tiny bites.
“I’ll win you over soon. I know I will! Then, you can come home with me, and you’ll have my room all to yourself. It’s super cosy and quiet. How does that sound?”
The Ralts pauses for a moment and smiles. It likes that idea.
Nicholas fetches a Pokéball from his back pocket and sets it down on the grass in front of his acquaintance, being sure to do so slowly as to not scare it away.
“Will today be the day?” He asks gently, but the Ralts shakes its head. “Aww, darn. Maybe I should give you a name,” he returns the Pokéball to his pocket, “would that help?”
“Ralts, ralts!” It exclaims excitedly.
“How about… Valerie? It’s my mom’s middle name.”
“Ralts…” the Pokémon shakes its head.
“Picky, are we? What about… hmm… Marylin? It’s my auntie’s-”
Before Nicholas can continue, the Pokémon jumps with glee, happily declaring; “ralts, ralts ralts!!”
“Aww! You’re so happy! You like that name, don’t you, Marylin?”
Marylin nods. She’s about to take another bite of the pretzel, but drops it and hastily disappears in one quick flash of white and cyan light, followed by a tinkling sound like that of a charm. Nicholas scowls and turns around to see a Skarmory looming over him.
“Blades, you iron-headed dummy!! I almost had ‘em! Arghh…”
“Skrrr… skar,” Blades trills and directs her attention towards the road which the path leads up to along a grassy slope. Nicholas picks up the pretzel then follows her view. It’s getting quite dark now, allowing the faint glow of a far off vehicle to be seen as it follows the cliffside road bordering Uzoma Forest.
“That’s what you wanted to show me? You goofball! Go pick some berries for me. I want another crack at this Ralts, then we can go.”
Blades grumbles to herself and storms off. She resumes her foraging and Nicholas scans the forest for his new friend. It’s difficult to see much, but the pale moonlight filtering down from between the canopy should be enough to spot any little pink horns among the grass.
The snarling of an engine rattles quietly in the distance, barely cutting through the stillness of the forest. It quickly grows louder…
A van painted in a matte camo finish stops along the roadside. Nicholas stands up and takes a look. Blades is also alerted when the sound of a vehicle sliding door opening and closing once again disturbs the silence.
“Maybe we should go. I don’t like strangers,” the boy admits and repositions the strap of his school bag more securely over his shoulder.
“Skar,” Blades agrees.
Nicholas turns to leave, but he’s halted when he catches sight of Marylin beckoning him from deeper in the forest. He doesn’t wait for Blades’ approval, instead hurrying off into the dense underbrush without so much as a glance in her direction.
“Ralts!” Marylin calls behind her. Her acquaintance struggles to keep up.
“Hey, slow down!!”
The two of them careen through tall grass and bracken. It’s not so easy to see where one is going through the dark of the night, but Nicholas, for whatever reason, trusts in this Ralts. He, however, can’t help but look over his shoulder. Blades is perched among the bramble quite a way away now through the trees. He’s deeper in the forest than he’d ever been before without his parents. Suddenly, the root of a tree grasps his sneaker and sends him tumbling to the ground. Marylin turns around when she hears the thud.
“Aagh! Maybe let’s not go rampaging through the pitch black forest??” The boy pleads, sitting up and wiping dirt from his hands and knees. “What are you even trying to show me?”
The Ralts approaches him and takes the nearby pretzel which had escaped his grasp in the fall. She gives him a smile and inches closer, then ushers him to follow with a little flick of her wrist. Before Nicholas can gather himself and get up, Marylin’s smile fades into a frown.
“What’s wrong?” He questions her. She places the baked good down and looks around. She appears worried, as if searching for the source of some kind of disturbance which cannot be detected by conventional means.
Ralts… it can sense emotions and will flee negative ones… but there’s nobody else around…?
Nicholas scans the forest around him. It remains just as still and quiet as it was before. Wind doesn’t blow. No other Pokémon can be seen nor heard. Nothing dares to interrupt the tranquility, that is… until something does.
“Chains, use Shadow Claw.”
A mass of some inky form emerges at lightning speed from a patch of tall, snaking ferns. It’s an immense figure. When the Pokémon enters the trajectory of the moon’s light, it is revealed. It’s a massive black Charizard wielding a claw enveloped in ghostly purple energy. It had camouflaged itself perfectly in the darkness.
“LOOK OUT!” Nicholas shrieks and rolls out of the way. Marylin, however, is not so quick to react.
She attempts to teleport away. Her body is wrapped in white rays of energy, but before she can dematerialise, the Shadow Claw of the Charizard descends upon her form and breaks her attempt in two.
SLASH!
“SKARRR!” Blades caws in a panic from behind upon hearing the commotion. She zooms onto the scene and in front of Nicholas, feathers puffed out and at the ready to protect her friend.
The Charizard emits a low growl and stands between a now stunned Ralts and the Skarmory. Somebody steps out from the veil of the night and into the moonlight. He dusts off his denim vest and grips tightly a scratched up Pokéball taken from his belt. He approaches Marylin, who is out cold.
“Hey! That’s my Ralts!!” Nicholas protests, barely held back by one of Blades’ claws.
“Your Ralts?” The man scoffs in a gritty Unovan accent. He cracks one knuckle, then continues. “I don’t recall seeing you with a Pokéball for that thing.”
“She’s not a thing, and I was just about to catch her!”
The man sneers; “it’s my Pokémon.”
Nicholas wants to argue back, but he’s halted by the sharp glare of his Skarmory which advises him not to continue.
It’s less than fair to come and steal my opportunity of a catch. Who does this guy think he is!? Why, I’ll show him…
“You can fight Chains here for it if you wanna,” the man gestures to his Charizard, “but I wouldn’t recommend battling a fire type with one measly metal bird.”
The boy clenches his jaw in anger. He looks up at the dragon beside the gruff man. Most of its limbs are locked in thick golden rings, one of which a small length of chain dangles from. Three parallel scars run the length of one horn and trace diagonally across its face and over one eye. Part of its left lip has been sliced up in an old fight, leaving a short row of glinting razor-like teeth showing between. This Pokémon is well experienced from years of battle and is surely not to be trifled with.
That’s right, fire typing…
“Let’s get lost, Blades…” Nicholas admits defeat. He stands up and picks a bit of moss off from his school uniform, then turns to the Skarmory. “We should probably head home. It’s late, anyway…”
The man fixes one badge on his denim vest and, with Pokéball in hand, bends down to shortly analyse his new catch. First, he watches the naive child scurry away with his Skarmory close behind him.
“That was the right decision,” he chuffs to himself.
He opens the Pokéball and tosses it beside the fainted Ralts. Without hesitation, the red energy within envelopes the Pokémon and sends it inside.
One shake,
Two shakes…
Click.
Gotcha.