KoN (1/8)

[aetherling]

Formatting fixed?

I. the king is returning

 

It takes Black nearly an hour to slip into a fine summer nap beneath the shade of an oak tree, but only half a second for his ringing Xtransceiver to jerk him awake. Silently wishing electronic death to the device, he rolls himself onto his stomach before jabbing at “Accept”.

“Black.” Before Black could even register Cheren and Bianca’s faces on his screen, or even mumble something incoherent back in greeting, Cheren says, “Ghestis is dead.”

He is glad he doesn’t have to say anything because questions start pouring out of Bianca’s mouth. “Wait, what? How? When did this happen? Why so suddenly? Did they find him before or after he died? Where was he found? What’s going to happen to Team Plasma, and what about N, does he kn—”

“Bianca, breathe,” Cheren interrupts. “And Black, please turn your brain on at some point, you look like a zombie.”

“I was napping,” Black says. Even to his sleepy mind, that sounded lame.

“I know,” Cheren returns with a hint of triumph.

There is a small pause before Bianca speaks up again, “I’m done breathing so start spilling, Cheren.”

With a more business-like air, Cheren continues, “Right. These articles just came online less than an hour ago” —Black hears Bianca’s notification sound before he sees a few links appear on his screen— “so it looks like at least his body was discovered recently, but they’re all saying the same thing: ‘Swimmers reported a body floating in Undella Bay this morning’; ‘Identified as a high-ranking Team Plasma member’; ‘Cause of death yet unknown’. Oh, here’s a photo—”

“Whaa,” Bianca breaks in quickly. “Don’t send it to me; I’m not in the mood to see a dead body today.”

Black hears Bianca’s notification sound go off again before Cheren says, “Too late.” 

Bianca groans, “I’m not clicking on that.”

Black quickly pulls the photo up on his screen, and is surprised by its serene nature. There was the former leader of Team Plasma, fully robed and lying in a simple boat floating innocently in Undella Bay. He could have been mistaken for sleeping in an unusual setting; what with his hands clasped together and resting on his chest like a dead person. White flowers framed his body, and hanging on the bow near his head was a hat.

“It’s ok, Bianca,” says Black. “He’s not rotting. He’s just spilling his bloody guts while Sharpedos nibble at his fing—” Bianca’s side of the screen violently shakes as she plugs her ears and shouts, “Nooo, you don’t have to tell me!”

“Very funny, Black,” Cheren says. “As much as I’m glad to see you’ve finally rebooted your brain—Bianca, he was joking, it’s not that bad, just look—this is a serious matter—”

But Black is not listening. His eyes are focused on the object hanging off the boat. “That’s N’s hat,” he murmurs.

“What?” At last, curiosity overcame trepidation and Bianca opens the photo. “Oh, wow. It’s like a funeral barge.”

“His hat, huh?” says Cheren. “I bet he was the one responsible for the flowers and the boat.”

“He’s come back, then,” says Black thoughtfully. Then he frowns. It can’t be a coincidence. Lately, there has been an alarming increase of news reports about Pokemon theft on the rise—and stories of strangely clothed people preaching Pokemon liberation from city to city, and now Ghestis’ death, N’s return...they must be connected somehow. Black can tell from Bianca and Cheren’s faces that they are thinking the same thing.

“We still don’t know much,” Bianca admits.

“We can get more information when the autopsy reports are released,” says Cheren. “But for now, let’s keep our eyes and ears open. I’m betting Team Plasma is behind the Pokemon thefts, so stay safe you two.”

“Oh, don’t worry! I can be Cheren and Black’s bodyguard!” Bianca assures excitedly. “And together we will protect all Trainers and Pokemon from any sort of abduction!”

“Bianca, don’t get carried away with this,” Cheren warns.

“Ohh, we can be like, superheroes you know? Protecting Unova from the bad guys!”

“No.”

“Aww, don’t be like that! I’ll let you choose your theme color first!”

“Black, please make her stop.”

Black shrugs.

 

Night falls slowly on Unova, and it is only twilight when Black arrives in Striation City. He stays in a room at the Pokemon Center, but it’s no use--he can’t sleep. Cheren and Bianca aren’t helping either--all the messages they keep sending him make his Xtransceiver flash (he had put it on silent mode a long time ago), and Black is not one to ignore messages.

To: Black <black_yang>
From: Cheren <cheren1>

Okay, someone needs to stop Bianca. She's assigned us colors and now she wants to design outfits. I'm afraid I don't fancy wearing my briefs over my pants. I don't fancy this at all.

To: Black <black_yang>
From: Cheren <cheren1>

Please don’t tell me you’re asleep again.

To: Black <black_yang>
CC: Cheren <cheren1>
From: Bianca <biancabel>

hi black! i noe black is ur name but ure read

To: Black <black_yang>
CC: Cheren <cheren1>
From: Bianca <biancabel>

i mean red

To: Black <black_yang>
CC: Cheren <cheren1>
From: Bianca <biancabel>

cherens blue. he didnt want a color tho. i wanted to make him pink but i decided to be nice and pick a boring color for him but he doesnt appreicate

To: Bianca <biancabel>
From: Black <black_yang>

that’s b/c he secretly wants hot pink
don’t take no for an answer

To: Black <black_yang>
From: Cheren <cheren1>

I’m setting a reminder on my Xtransceiver now so I’ll remember to physically hurt you next time we meet

Black finally puts his Xtransceiver away, but the brief exchange he had is not enough to lull him to sleep. Maybe a stroll through the Dreamyard will help, he reasons, and he walks out of the center right into a Team Plasma rally.

“Citizens of Striation! We of Team Plasma herald the return of our king!”

Black flashes back to over a year ago when the exact same thing happened--as a rookie Trainer he had walked out of the Pokemon Center and right into the middle of Ghestis’ speech about Pokemon liberation. Except this time, Ghestis is not present; it’s just a couple of Plasma grunts addressing a small crowd.

“And in turn, his return shall herald a new age, an age of Pokemon liberation, in which humans cease the disgusting enslavement of Pokemon and Pokemon shall finally be treated as they should be—as whole, equal beings!

“He shall bring a world where the concept of human ‘masters’ and Pokemon ‘slaves’ will only exist as a shameful stain in the history books; where humans live in a separate world from Pokemon.

“He shall bring unto us and Pokemon—separate paradises!”

The crowd is restless and people are muttering among themselves. “Bunch of crazies,” one man near Black says under his breath before walking away.

“He shall bring the age of Pokemon liberation to Unova, then to the rest of the world! He will spread his paradise to the stars, if he must!”

Black hears a voice snicker behind him. “Ingested one too many Tinymushrooms, I bet.”

“This change shall happen. No matter if you think otherwise, the day will come when everyone will willingly release their Pokemon. It is our king’s wishes, prior to his glorious return, to have his loyal servants advise the masses to release your Pokemon now. And to those who refuse to follow his word, he warns of a dark day when you lie in bed and realize you find no comfort in dreams, and your heart shall grow heavy in your chest, and your mind shall always be restless—until you release your Pokemon.

“Heed his words. Fear his warning. That is all.”

Black watches the Plasma grunts disassemble their standard before they march away. They lacked Ghestis’ charisma and finesse with words, but they have something else--a threat. But too many pieces of the puzzle are still missing. The crowd has already dissipated and there is no point in standing in the middle of the street, so Black walks slowly into the Dreamyard.

Even at this hour, there are a few trainers battling or looking for new night Pokemon to catch in the Dreamyard. But the ever-present mist clouds the area and dulls the noises of battle. To Black, it’s like walking through a dream. He instinctively looks to his side and sees no one there.

“You’re not dreaming,” he tells himself. “Not yet.”

And it’s so tempting to give into the Dreamyard’s invitation--to stop for a bit and close his eyes and let the Dream Mist see what dreams run through his head. Maybe if he’s lucky, his dream will come true, but only a fool would believe the unorganized mist will defy the laws of thermodynamics and by pure chance, assemble into a concentrated form to make one person’s dream reality. Black slides down onto a soft patch of moss and breathes in the damp air deeply. His eyes are closed when he exhales, and in a matter of seconds, he is already dreaming.

 

The room is large and vaguely familiar. Black knows he’s been here before, perhaps more than once. A throne sits at the end of the room, but remains empty. Black is standing in the middle of the room and he can see how wrecked it is. Parts of the ceiling are missing, revealing the tumultuous red sky; every window is shattered, and colored glass bleeds on the floor. It must have been a grand room once, fit for the coronation of a king.

Black looks toward the throne again and this time, he sees N standing with Reshiram looming behind him. N is looking in Black’s direction, but he’s not looking at Black. A girl’s voice laughs behind his ear, “What are we dreaming about now?” and Black turns--

 

--and he is abruptly pulled from his dream by a Team Plasma grunt. Literally--the grunt--

“What—Whoa, get your hands off my pants!”

“Quiet! It’s not like th—OW!” Black lands an effective punch across the grunt’s face, but the grunt still has one hand on Black’s belt while the other hand nurses his bruise. “I’m only liberating your Pokemo—”

The grunt makes an extremely unpleasant squeal when Black slams his knee into his assaulter’s groin, and he finally detaches from Black completely. Black proceeds to shove the grunt off him and gets up before he can be caught on his back again.

“Don’t worry Black, I’ll save you!”

Black barely has time to register who or where the voice came from when a powerful force slams him face-down into the ground. He is temporarily blinded by the stinging on his face and hopes his nose is not broken.

“Sorry, I missed!” He recognizes the voice now; it’s Alder, who is lifting the Plasma grunt by his collar. “Alright pal, you better start explaining why you’re attempting to molest a minor in a Plasma uniform. If this is some weird new fetish—”

“No, it’s nothing like that!” cries the Team Plasma grunt as he struggles in Alder’s grasp. “I was liberating his oppressed Pokemon—in the name of the king—”

“I thought your king didn’t support this sort of behavior,” Alder growls in his face. “Unless this is what his return means? The return of petty Pokemon thievery? Did he command you to do this?”

But the grunt strikes Alder’s nose in his struggles and Alder immediately recoils, cursing and dropping the grunt. The grunt scampers away and the mist obscures his escape route. Alder curses again, rubbing his nose.

“Ah, my nose stings,” Alder grits out from between his teeth. “He didn’t steal your Pokemon now, did he?”

“No, I didn’t bring any.”

Alder smacks the back of Black’s head lightly. “What are you doing, sleeping unprotected in a place like this? Are you inviting people like him to take advantage of you?”

Black scowls. “I had it all under control until you smashed my nose into the ground.”

Alder gives a hearty laugh. “Oh right. My apologies for that but you should not have been sleeping in such a dangerous place in the first place! If you need a place to stay, come with me.” Alder grabs Black’s arm and half-drags him, ignoring Black’s protests.


to part ii