Chapter Twelve

Shiloh's practice attracted an audience.

Thankfully Lane was not a member of that audience—she wasn't sure she would've been able to stomach practicing anything Pokémon-related with that mew watching. She would sit there, smugly content in the fact that she'd taken away Shiloh's whole future, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

But the mew was nowhere to be seen, along with the older shaymin she had seen during their battle. It was only the nursery's usual inhabitants left behind to watch.

The mew named 'Miya' didn't interfere, but flew away as soon as it was clear to her that no one was going to involve her in the training.

Then there was the gardevoir, who seemed the facility's appointed guardian. Whether she emerged to make sure she didn't try to escape, or just to stop her from drowning in the pool, Shiloh couldn't tell.

She didn't mock her the way Lane had done, anyway, just found herself a comfortable seat by the pool, and soaked in the sun. She was bored enough that she even removed her dress to do it, something Shiloh had never seen before.

Briar came too, and his presence made it impossible to forget just how little she was wearing. "Don't mind me, I just wanted a change of scenery," he said, grinning wolfishly at her. "I can only try those same illusions in an empty room so many times before I lose my mind. I'm a little surprised to see you out here."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. Just looking at Briar brought a whole layer of instincts to the surface, as though her subconscious was trying to keep her from communicating with him. Would that ever go away, or would she always see him as slightly dangerous?

He's just a zorua. If I'm not a master trainer, I'm one of the most powerful Pokémon in existence. "Don't be," she said. She lowered her voice, whispering into one of his ears. "I have a plan to get out of here now. Might take a little while, but stay calm. I'm figuring things out."

His expression hardened, and he bore his teeth. Just for a second, but the effect still made her feel nervous. "I'm with you, boss. But don't try starting any fights."

He nodded towards the drone flying overhead. Rotom had followed them out here, but now that it was outside it had so many other things to distract it. It flew higher and higher, turning its camera on the sides of the canyon, or the other Pokémon.

Perfect. All they had to do now was shut the door when they were done, and she wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

"So, you ready?" Goh asked, floating over the surface of the water. Her distance was perfect, so that her paws made faint ripples but never grew damp. "Once you can fly, everything feels so much easier! And you're not being crushed all the time."

I don't feel like that now. That must be something specific to the way mew worked—maybe a weakness she could exploit? It would be worth watching, to see things she could use against Lane. She wouldn't capture this little mew, leaving her alone as a thank-you.

She walked to the edge of the pool, eyeing the water warily. The idea of being fully submerged made her feathers stand on end, and her tail lift. "So how do I start?"

Goh explained. What she said didn't really make sense to Shiloh, not if she just listened to the words. It sounded only a few degrees removed from new-age empowerment nonsense about reality being whatever she wanted, and how gravity couldn't hold her down if she didn't let it.

Only for a Pokémon, those statements were literally true. Goh's sincerity communicated just as much as her words themselves—in ways that Shiloh couldn't quite explain, Goh shared the feeling of flight.

Getting into the air herself would be easy, if only she could recreate that exact feeling. The longer she kept trying, the closer she came. There was open sky overhead, tempting her towards escape and freedom. Shiloh didn't know where they were or what dangers waited up there, but they didn't matter. If she could get out into the wider world, her humanity would soon follow.

For doing what amounted to standing around and not moving much, Shiloh felt herself wearing out the longer she practiced. Using her psychic powers had a physical weight on her, one that grew the longer she kept fighting.

But she persisted—imagining Lane was floating up there on the cliffs, lecturing her constantly about how much of a failure she was. If she could just get off the ground, eventually she'd be able to fly up and punch her in the face.

She felt the moment when she left the ground as something less dramatic than she had expected. One moment she was leaning precariously over the edge of the pool. But when she fell, she really didn't want to get wet again, so she just—didn't.

She squealed, flailing with both arms and legs, wanting to be anywhere but wet. She opened her eyes, staring down into the water's glittering surface beneath her. But other than a gentle motion from the little wings she called a tail, she felt nothing.

"You did it!" Goh exclaimed, zipping over to her, then passing alongside in a typical feline way. Not quite a hug, but close enough to make Shiloh uncomfortable. "Look, you're flying!"

She was doing something, anyway. Shiloh spun in the air, and kept spinning, like a satellite with failing thrusters. She began traveling gently upward, over the center of the pool, with the world turning over and over in her vision.

Her stomach quickly dropped out, and that late breakfast began to migrate upward. "Uh, Goh? How do I… hold still?"

She didn't get to hear an answer. Her own panic was rising as the water fell further and further away underneath her. Eventually, her focus faltered, and she stopped levitating.

The next thing she knew was the splash, and water soaking through her entire body. Victini were no charmander, so the fall didn't kill her. But the water made her instantly and powerfully uncomfortable. She kicked her way to the surface, struggling out for the fourth time that day.

"I think… I think that's enough," she stammered, accepting Briar's paw to help her stand. Once she was out of the water, she started to steam, as the moisture rapidly evaporated. At least she was powerful enough to dry herself off.

"You did so good!" Goh chided. "That was even faster than—"

"Don't say it," the other mew snapped, appearing on her other side. "You don't get to compare us. We're totally different."

Goh's tail twisted around her, and she quickly fell silent, some of her enthusiasm deflating. "I wasn't gonna," she lied. "You're learning good, Shiloh. That's a cute little tail thing you do. I wonder if that's really how you fly."

She had no answer to that, other than a slight increase to the heat around her face. They can't get to me. They're just Pokémon. Deep breaths.

She didn't even bother with a towel, not when her own body already dried so fast. All she really had to do was wait.

Fortunately that wasn't something the mew wanted to do very much. Now that she wasn't interesting enough to keep watching, Goh and Miya stopped watching, wandering off to do other things. She made her way back inside, over to the little TV room. She had to know if they'd declared her dead yet.

She turned on the broadcast, then settled down in a mountain of little cushions to watch. But the longer she watched, the more certain she was that it wouldn't be saying anything of interest to her. Plenty about the ongoing crisis and the further evacuation, but not a single word about the missing Pokémon master.

Maybe I just missed the segment. She rose from her chair, only to see Aspen standing in the entryway. She'd been totally still, so must've been sitting there for at least a few minutes. "Didn't hear you come in."

The shaymin grinned back at her. "With those ears? Should pay more attention. I wasn't sneaking."

With someone else watching, Shiloh decided against turning off the screen. She just sat back down, sprawling out on the cushion. She could almost pretend no time had passed, and she wasn't transformed. Ignore the fluffy tail, ignore the ears pressed to the back of her head, and all the missing clothes.

The screen showed more images of boats, mostly, with occasional cuts to cities still burning. It was a good thing Orre had such a small population, or the destruction would be even worse.

"Makes you wonder—why don't the others do anything?" Aspen asked. She settled beside Shiloh, watching the screen. "The whole world is in pain, but my grandmother doesn't do anything. Mewtwo is unseen. And the greater powers—how long until enough Pokémon die for them to see?"

Shiloh reached for the remote. It was in her paw—though how it had gotten there, she did not know. She flipped the channel until they were on the "Pokémon League Highlights" channel, which began playing reruns. He'd see himself if he watched for a few minutes.

"Watching the news depresses me," she admitted. "It always did. You see all these terrible things out there, and know there's nothing you can do to help. What's happening in Orre is just the latest, and worst. If you try to carry the weight of the whole world, it'll just break your back."

The Pokémon watched her, beady little eyes unreadable. She had been born a Pokémon, unlike the recruits. Yet she acted more human than Miya or Goh. "I wonder if that's what the others think. The world is too big, its problems aren't their fault. Just let things work themselves out. My mom's a mess, but at least she cares."

"I care!" she snapped back, reflexively. "When I'm Pokémon champion, I'll have the power to change things. I'll have my own organization. Fixing things all over the world, branding, finalizing deals…"

At least one of those things had occupied far more of her planning time than the other two.

The shaymin didn't move. Her eyes barely blinked, just watched her. Could she see more than Shiloh thought? "Those things matter to you? They sound so… strange. Hard to understand. What is branding?"

How could she explain the life of a champion to a Pokémon? Even an intelligent, attentive legendary was still just an animal with a few moves and a short attention-span. "I've been… working at something my whole life," she finally said.

"Decades now. A lot longer than any kittens have been alive. Every day I had the same goal, to become a Pokémon master. I have done everything right to achieve my goal—wake up every morning to train. Make all the right friends, go to all the right places. Keep working through the rain and snow, when other trainers all quit. Then I arrive at the ending. The thing I tried to build is so close I could touch it. I've won all the right battles, my team is prepared.

"But I make a mistake. I end up as a tiny rabbit-thing, living in a box, eating berries. My friends can't find me, I have no idea if there's even a future waiting for me. That's why making it out of here matters so much—I didn't fight a whole lifetime to achieve something only to give up when victory was so close."

Aspen hopped up, placing her forelegs on the cushion beside her. She patted Shiloh on the shoulder, sympathetic. "I think I understand why my mom picked Victini. You have something I've never felt before. I don't know what it is, but it's strong."

"Drive," said another voice from the doorway. Briar's voice, rehearsing the lines from one of their TV spots. "The craving for competition, no matter the odds." Briar stepped inside. Shiloh couldn't see Mirage with him, but she couldn't be far behind. She clearly thought of Shiloh's assistant as her child, now. Maybe she always had.

"Maybe that's it," Aspen said, oblivious to the fact that she was hearing the words of a commercial. "I have lived here for a long time, Shiloh. I can tell you this: my mother is strong, but she cannot force someone into a shape their true essence rejects. That is what makes her mission so slow. Decades trying to create more of her own kind, and there are still less than ten mew."

If she was going to share her "essence" with anything, the embodied spirit of victory was about as good a match as she could hope for. If it were male and a little more intimidating, she might not have minded as much.

"Maybe at the end of a successful career, when I was old and gray," she whispered. "Not right now, before I pass into legend. It's not fair."

Briar settled down in front of them, his back to the screen. He didn't seem the slightest-bit interested in the battles there. But he still said nothing, just watching.

"I'm going to help you," Aspen said. "But you have to let me come with you. When you go—I want to see what the human world is like. I've had a lifetime to ask questions of the kittens who come and go. Sometimes I watch the screen, and it tells me things. But none of that is good enough. I want to experience it for myself."

Shiloh nodded reflexively. "Of course you can come. I'll even show you some of my Pokémon battles, if you want."

That last part was a lie, of course. If she could find the right person to change her back, then it would practically be a crime not to get at least one battle with a legendary on her team.

Briar's eyes fixed on her, but Aspen seemed completely oblivious to the weight behind her words. "I've never had a real battle before, just practicing with the kittens sometimes. It might be fun to be on one of those screens, have people talking about you all over the world."

"Do we have a plan for this?" Briar asked. "You know I trust you, boss. But I know the odds we're up against right now. If that mew is pissed off, then we're screwed."

Shiloh shrugged. "There's no reason for her to be. Aspen said that the nursery isn't a prison. People grow up and leave all the time, don't they?"

"Yep." She paced over to the screen, then reached up to turn it off. She didn't have dexterous paws like Shiloh, and had to resort to just smashing her face up against the controls. It worked, and flicked off. "I'm strong enough to be on my own. I can fly, and fight, and I know the world. But I'm a shaymin—I can't be part of my mom's world, and I don't care about my dad's. Maybe this is what I'm supposed to do."

She glanced nervously at the curtains behind them, then touched her head against Shiloh's. At first the Victini felt heat rising from her again—had she accidentally attracted this little Pokémon to her, despite their sexes?

But no, she was doing something else. She heard thoughts, directly in her mind. "Lane will be distracted until she solves the problems in Orre. She probably won't be back until she finishes. Akiko plans on taking the kittens out for a day-trip in a few days. We could stay behind, and sneak away while they're gone. If you can fly by then."

She pulled back, looking winded. She had barely moved, but the effort looked like it cost her. "Think about it, okay?" She turned, retreating back out the way she'd come, and leaving the two former humans alone.

"What was that?" Briar asked, as soon as she was gone. "There's no way you made her like you that quickly. You've always had more of a disciplined training style, not an affectionate one. That's why you've never trained a Sylveon."

She glared up at Briar, annoyed. "I've never trained Sylveon because Glaceon is clearly the superior eeveelution. There are other fairy types with better coverage." It was certainly not because he could never get one to the required levels of the ineffable “affection” they apparently relied on to evolve.

"It was a deadline, Briar. We both have our important tasks now. I have a few days to learn to fly, and you have a few to learn to look human. How are your illusions going?"

He shifted, tail flicking nervously back and forth. "Could be better. It's… hard to focus on things as a Pokémon, you know? We don't have a trainer here."

"Well, focus on it," she said. "I'll remind you if I have to. But when we break out, we'll need a human. Getting Mirage out of the crater might be tricky, but we'll need her too. Even if she can't talk, those illusions will come in handy."

"I still have her poké ball," Briar said. "We can use that. Just… I'm serious, boss. Don't piss off the legendaries. Whatever this plan is, we don't get Lane trying to kill us, okay?"

"Okay," she said. "We're not going to blow up the place and steal her kittens. We're just leaving."