I have to take several deep breaths before I dare to shuffle into the kitchen with my porridge. Amethio is sitting at a table, bent over an empty plate, Rotom Phone in hand, probably reading the news. My fingers clutch the bowl with all my might before I settle down next to him and swallow drily. My world feels like it’s standing still while my heart thunders so hard against my ribs it hurts.

  “Good morning.” I have to clear my throat. My cheeks burn. Being certain about your feelings is a terrible thing. “Were you able to ... recover well yesterday?”

  “Morning.” A terse answer, followed by nothing more. Instead, he keeps his eyes fixed on his Rotom – the daily digital newspaper, as I can see – and pays no attention to me. Almost as if I am background noise.

  The smile stiff on my lips, I choke down a bit of my porridge before looking at him again. “Is there anything interesting in the news?”

  “No.”

  “Anything new from Hamber regarding Plasma?”

  Lost in thought, he grumbles. I could probably tell him things about Lillie here and now and ask him about Spinel, and all I’d get back is an indifferent hum. The interpretation is entirely up to me and as much as the Butterfrees in my stomach drive me mad, for a moment I want to wave a hand in front of his nose and see what happens.

  Instead, I stick to my breakfast and before I can think of another, perhaps more exciting topic, he gets up, grabs his things and disappears. He doesn’t even react when he nearly crashes into Spinel in the doorway; just dodges and disappears quickly, as if he’s received an important message.

  “Looks like he’s been sent the lab reports from the last experiment.” Spinel looks after him with a smirk before sitting down at the table with me, a cup of milk coffee and a sandwich in tow.

  “He was reading the newspaper until just now.”

  “Then perhaps the subtle threat of Gehtsis got him on his feet.” A grin settles on his features. “He’ll probably try to get information from Hamber or Master Gibeon.”

  “And that amuses you?”

  “A little,” he admits. “Each of us has already approached them. But getting an audience with Master Gibeon isn’t easy and Hamber claims he doesn’t know about any measures.”

  Brows drawn together, I tap my spoon against my bowl. “What did the newspaper say?”

  “Not much. Just that the new King of Unova will unite the people and that from then on there will be no room for organisations who don’t align with Plasma.” His smile fades. “They know Gibeon won’t bend his knee to them.”

  “They seem certain that the legends surrounding Unova are true.” I stroke my thumb over the spoon handle several times. “Then again ... isn’t Amethio taking this article too seriously? To live up to their ideals, they first have to summon one of those legendary dragons.”

  “Some people love to dream about unreachable things.” Instead of going further into the subject, he shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his drink. Then he sets his sights on me again, but this time much more seriously. “What did you do after you disappeared yesterday?”

  I swallow. The porridge scratches my throat a little. Talking to Spinel feels so normal now I’ve pushed my anger and behaviour from yesterday to the back of my mind. But nothing has changed. Yesterday happened, and I left him standing there because I didn’t like his judgement.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally force out. “I just wish you had acted differently. You probably made the smarter decision, but it ... was very frustrating to see all the answers I crave just disappear. I didn’t even have a chance to find out anything.”

  Soft laughter overcomes him. “That’s what I thought. You’re every bit like Amethio in that respect.” He taps his cup patiently with his index finger. “Let me guess, you went to see him afterwards?”

  A barely perceptible nod passes me and although it doesn’t seem right, I feel caught and reprimanded. I shouldn’t be so damn embarrassed that I ran to Amethio yesterday, and yet the knot in my stomach tightens as if it’s better to keep any topic surrounding Amethio far away from Spinel.

  “You seem tense,” he adds, so I push my bowl aside. My hunger has vanished. “Did something happen between you?”

  “No,” I answer slowly. “I just still feel bad about yesterday. I should have been ... kinder to you. Coupled with the fact my dad keeps calling and hiring the Rising Volt Tacklers to come after me ... I just feel like I have to do something.”

  “How about we go somewhere?” Tilting his head to the side, Spinel looks at me as if my well-being is the most important thing in his life. The way he watches me conveys a certain attentiveness creeping uncomfortably under my skin and yet tempts me to ask.

  “Go somewhere? Where to?”

  “Nimbasa City.”

  “What’s there?”

  “Every kind of amusement you can imagine. They have a theatre, an amusement park – it’s a popular city to get away from everyday life.”

  On the one hand, the offer sounds tempting. On the other, it would mean I’d be travelling with him to another place. Sure, I’d call Spinel a friend, but the thought of us running into Plasma’s hands again and him holding me back once more is just as unpleasant as the thought of making the acquaintance of a madwoman and her knife yet again.

  “I don’t think we should allow Plasma to attack us a second time. We’re safer here than out there.”

  “If we hide from them, they win.” Spinel takes another sip of his milk coffee. “Besides, most of them are scattered around here in Castelia City, telling people about the insanity of their holy mission. We’re almost safer in Nimbasa than here.”

  A trip under the eye of Plasma, to a city I’m supposed to believe I’m less likely to run into anyone who could do us harm. It sounds like a terrible suggestion, and it would be wiser to wait here until Hamber gives the all clear or Gibeon makes a decision. But if I go out there and face the circumstances, there’s a chance I’ll run into Ghetsis once more. Asking him questions piques my interest. Even if Spinel gets in my way again, I might have the chance to find out more; more about myself and the gaps in my memory.

  I wanted to learn to make better decisions, but who’s saying that will get me anywhere?

  The sigh on my lips weighs heavily. I should rethink my decision, but everything in me is sure this is the path I want to take. “Okay.”

  》 WHISPERS 《

  It’s midday and if I didn’t know better, I would categorise the city in the bright glow of the sun as almost miraculous. But between the endless windows and grey facades, there aren’t more than a few beautiful places before you run into someone you don’t want to see.

  With a sigh, I turn my gaze out of the window, trying to forget the danger and concentrate on the pleasure awaiting me at the end of this journey. It’s half an hour by car to Nimbasa City and although I’m carrying my team in my belt pouch and wearing comfortable clothes, I can’t create a joyful mood. Spinel is behind the wheel and the space between us is frighteningly quiet.

  Briefly, my eyes wander to the radio. A little music wouldn’t hurt. The Join Avenue doesn’t offer much to look at and if we could at least find a common theme among the daily bands on the radio, there would be something like a conversation. Something to stop me from sinking too deep into my thoughts.

  Further back in the sky, the clouds appear grey-brown and the pavement here seems dirtier than in Castelia. The differences are small, but noticeable.

  “There’s a desert resort on both sides of the Join Avenue,” Spinel begins without being asked. “A sandstorm rages there most of the time, which is why it took almost two years to build this section.”

  When I look at him with raised brows and our eyes meet, one of his charming smiles appears. “You looked like you were interested in what lies beyond the obvious.”

  “A little,” I reply with a smirk before looking out again, my thoughts drifting in a different direction.

  Spinel is attentive, courteous, thoughtful, smart, always friendly, and genuinely interested in my well-being. He seems like the perfect guy any smart woman would ask out immediately. All he does for me are things I can’t expect from Amethio – assuming he even sees me in the middle of his Rayquaza obsession. If I had a bit more brains, I’d approach Spinel and see what happens. I’m seventeen. Romances are quite common at my age.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  But whenever I dare to glance at him, my thoughts drift to Amethio. To the strange heaviness telling me I would like to have him here with me and also to the crazy idea of how nice it would be if he did all these things for me.

  Yet I can’t help but get hung up on how perfect Spinel is. He’s always in control, always knows something to say back, and never lets himself be provoked. His even-tempered manner comes across as the perfect facade of a man whose character goes much deeper. And that emphasises to me that, despite our time together, I’ve learnt absolutely nothing about him. There are a few bits of information in passing, but they don’t give him any character – no weaknesses and flaws of the kind Amethio carries around with him every day.

  “What is it?” When he catches one of my glances, my heart drops a notch. Part of me wants to remain undiscovered. The rest of me opens my mouth and doesn’t say anything at first.

  Then I shrug my shoulders gently. “I was just wondering, given that you know so much about our surroundings ... are there Pokémon in this supposed desert resort people are trying to protect?”

  I don’t care, I really don’t. When I want to know things like that, I grab a book and look up the information. Having a conversation about it feels incredibly futile, but it’s the only lifeline I know how to cling to.

  “No...” His gaze fixed on the road, he frowns. “However, the Sandile are very popular here. Interested in adding one to your team?”

  I shake my head hastily. “My team doesn’t get along well enough for another member to be such a good idea.”

  I could tell him more, bring my partners to the fore and maybe get a tip or two. Trumbeak is hard to reach and while I have the feeling that Lum has at least become a little more trusting, I’m sure there’s still friction. Disagreements I was completely indifferent to in Alola because everything else seemed more important.

  But instead of asking and sharing my worries, I let the silence win. In these seconds, I no longer want to worry about things that might work out without my interference. I can’t control everything and the co-operation of my Pokémon depends on their understanding of each other. Until then, I’ll watch and wait. I can always interfere later.

  In this way, the Join Avenue steadily passes us by until the rows of houses thin out, green stripes on the sides bring change, and small water baths appear at regular intervals. Pidoves are drinking here and there, lining up next to a few Pidgeys, while two Duckletts fight over space in a water bowl.

  A few metres later, new buildings rise to our sides, this time made of heavy brick. They are blocks of houses lined up next to each other before the colourful roofs of a lively city come into view. The shimmering lights of the amusement park can be seen from afar, emphasising the mighty shape of the Ferris wheel, which at its highest point probably offers a fantastic view. Meadows cover every spot that hasn’t been built on, creating idyllic resting places – far away from the limited roads that can be travelled on.

  Stairs everywhere allow you to reach different platforms and whenever Spinel turns a corner, I seem to discover something new. There’s a colourful dome with strikingly beautiful sculptures covering the entire roof; a sign pointing to the Battle Subway; large notices for the local sports arena and its sports hall, aimed at “beginners and professionals who want to have a brilliant career with their Pokémon”; and the mighty green roof of the gym.

  Finally, Spinel drives us around once in a circle, back to near the Ferris wheel, before finding a parking space in a shady corner. The others we passed were already packed.

  “Where do we go first?” In a flash, my gaze lands on Spinel, whose narrow smile radiates little enthusiasm. He’s probably annoyed from searching for a parking space.

  “How about a quieter start?”

  “We’ll find that where?”

  “In the Pokémon Musical Theater.” His gaze wanders in the direction where the colourful mess of a building is supposed to be. “It’s a very popular one and I’ve already got tickets for a performance.” He skilfully pulls out two tickets, looking as neat as if he had planned all this long in advance. “You can also attend with your own Pokémon, if you like.”

  “I’ll ask them if the opportunity arises.” I immediately raise both hands in defence. I can’t imagine anyone on my team, apart from Mirra, taking part in a musical.

  Still, I happily accept Spinel’s suggestion as we leave the car and set our sights on our chosen destination. The walk isn’t long, but it makes me breathe a little harder until we arrive and the bright colours sting my eyes. People gather at every corner. The smell of fast food wafts over to us from every alleyway, and laughter fills the air. Glass skyscrapers rise in the background. Windows that reflect the light so favourably that the colourful drawings on the sea-blue walls shimmer gracefully.

  It is only behind the wide entrance – four doors lined up close together so everyone can come and go without stopping someone else – that I let out an audible gasp. Even the interior impresses with colour. Strong blue turns into soft violet, which fades into gentle pink towards the ceiling. The ticket counters stand out with their black polished work surfaces and the red ribbons marking the passage to the stages stand out like little warnings.

  Spinel leads me straight to one counter, where he hands over the two tickets and signs us up for a musical performance of “West Side Tragedy”. I don’t know much about musicals, except that there’s a lot of singing waiting for us, and when the woman behind the desk offers us to let our Pokémon loose, our numbers increase dramatically. While I let my whole team take part, Spinel only includes Umbreon.

  As such a large group, it seems impossible at first to find a place in the middle of the theatre without getting separated. But with a few shifts and a little help from the ticket seller, we all eventually find seats – Spinel to my left, Ying in the guise of a young woman to my right. The crowd of people seems to overwhelm her at this point.

  In the next breath, darkness squeezes through the cracks of the audience and can only be dispelled by the light of the stage. The ceiling lights are switched off a little later and as the play begins, silence falls – quiet that feels unusual because a part of me has long since become accustomed to the noise of Unova.

  The performance begins with the wondrously high-pitched singing of a Primarina following its trainer a few steps. It tries to talk to her with its voice, to turn her sad expression into something wonderful, but its trainer remains bitter. Their painful act drags on until a Murkrow steals her necklace and leads her on a chase to a young man who remotely reminds me of Skull’s idiots. But instead of dismissing her with bad dialogue, he uses a song to explain to her why she shouldn’t be hanging around the back streets of Castelia.

  Everything about this performance is a rehearsed play of colours, music and a story that bores me a little. There is almost no normal dialogue and between the Pokémon battles and dancing, I realise musicals are probably just not for me.

  Spinel doesn’t seem to be any different. He has his Rotom Phone in his hands and keeps glancing at the screen. Messages come in, some of which he replies to, and although I shouldn’t be looking at his display, I notice the name Agate.

  Immediately, I turn my gaze to my team. Whoever Spinel is communicating with – as long as it’s not Hamber or Amethio, I shouldn’t care. I’d much rather focus on the shining eyes of my companions. Ying bobs her head to the music. Even Coro seems to be enjoying the singing, and Mimikyu is so mesmerised that she looks like a lifeless doll. Only Raya has curled up in her seat and is sleeping, while Eevee wrinkles his nose and snorts from time to time, as if the unrealistic love story on this stage is nothing more than entertainment for all those who have no one out there.

  Or maybe these are just my thoughts, because this love story is hitting me as if it wants to show me what I can’t have. On top, it’s completely different from this strange feeling in my chest whenever I think of Amethio’s stare.

  Eventually, the performance ties me to this seat for over two hours and when the performers finally bow and the lights are switched back on, it’s fortunately not long before the crowd flushes us out and we arrive at a food stall. Spinel stumbles out a few minutes later, Rotom still in his hand.

  “Is everything alright?” As I turn towards him, the first thing I notice is his furrowed brows. It’s just a slight, barely noticeable crease on his forehead, but my question makes it disappear instantly. Instead, he forces a smile.

  “Just a report from the lab.” On the side, he also orders something to eat – a cheese steak, which looks a lot less savage than my hot dog with fries and spicy-sweet barbecue sauce on it. “A few test results weren’t as desired.”

  “Does that mean you have to look for alternatives? Make big changes or ... just minor adjustments?”

  “Probably both. A few minor adjustments, but in larger quantities than expected and probably more drastic than hoped for.” He lets out a sigh before glancing at Umbreon, who has stuck its head into the ordered bowl of fresh berries with my team. “We’ll have to collect the results and analyse them more closely to create a suitable alternative.”

  “What is this experiment about?”

  “Releasing restricted energies and abilities. Surely you’ve heard that Pokémon can sometimes learn special attacks – even in their eggs – and that some can boost their psychic or physical powers with aids, right?”

  Heavy nodding is all I know to reply. He doesn’t have to explain to refer indirectly to the Sneasel and its icy wind.

  “We’re researching the circumstances under which a creature we’ve chosen uses this enhancement to its abilities. Is it caused by emotions? Stress? A physical condition?” His eyes seem to bore deep into my body. “If we solve the riddle, we might create a change for battles in this region. Or we could achieve a lot more with it.”

  He is probably alluding to the fact that Unova as a region is developing its own way of fighting, as is the case in Alola and other areas of the world. While many threads gather here, there is no special battle system. If you’re going up against a trainer who wants to use their stored energy for a mega evolution to gain an advantage in battle, you’ll most likely need something to counter with. It could reduce injuries – maybe. It is something I want to believe in; the idea Spinel wants to do something good with this.

  Simultaneously, it gives me enough food for thought to push the world to the back of my mind. All at once, it no longer matters that Spinel chooses our next destination with my humming approval. My Pokémon return to their balls, Umbreon snuggles up to its trainer’s legs for a moment, and as we wander along the streets towards the amusement park, I can no longer get away from the possibilities that would open up to me if I stuck my nose a little deeper into Spinel’s research. Before I commit myself as a professor – one day, when I have all my exams done – I want to get to know as many things as possible. I spend most of my time with Spinel. Looking inside his lab is certainly not a wish he would deny me.

  But I don’t get a chance to ask him about it. Out of nowhere, someone bumps into me and apologises in the same breath. People scream. A rollercoaster is doing a loop and the smell of roasted almonds hangs heavy in the air. Fun is the motto here at every corner and while a Mr. Mime hands out balloons to small children, Patrats poke their heads out of small holes and pull them back again, hoping not to be caught by the quick hands of a visitor to the stand.

  Somewhere in between, Spinel lets out a tense click of his tongue, causing my attention to whirl back to him. He is apologetically lifting the Rotom in his hands. “A quick call.”

  “No problem. I’ll get us something to drink in the meantime.” I wave it off, give him a wry smile and head for one of the market stalls, which offer various types of lemonade and cream soda and iced tea.

  There’s enough choice to make me think twice about my decisions, especially as I have no clue what Spinel would like. With Amethio I would go for the lemonade – in Alola I had the chance to pay a little attention to his preferences after we came out of the volcano park half parched – but Spinel remains a mystery.

  In the end, I choose iced tea, ready to pass my order on to the man of the stall – interrupted by a sudden touch on my shoulder. Someone’s hand rests gently on my body and only lifts when I turn round. Steel-grey eyes meet mine, connected with a broad smile on his lips.

  “I knew I wasn’t imagining you were here!”