“Buh…?”

  Ethan had a rude awakening. A throbbing headache, a mouth as dry as the Savannah desert, and a series of unrelenting smacks to his cheeks. Opening his eyes revealed nothing but black and white fur and the rapid beats of winged movement. Sluggishly and desperately, he raised a hand and tried to shove off his feeble attacker.

  “Emolmolmolmolmolmolmolmo—” With a swift hop—his offender, Emolga—jumped over his hand, which revealed the overly bright fluorescent lights of his and James’ hotel room. Now that she wasn’t blocking his face, the bright light seared into his eyeballs, and his headache pulsed with renewed vigor.

  Emogla landed from her hop right back onto his face. Then, the smacks began anew. Emolga’s membrane flaps smacked his cheeks as she rained down tiny and feeble palm strikes onto his temples.

  “Emol! Emolmolmolmol—”

  “Stop… I’m awake. Mercy…” Ethan begged as last night's decisions came back to haunt him.

  He… may have drunk a little too much. Luckily, he remembered everything until he got back to the hotel. At that point, his final drink was just kicking in. As soon as his head had hit his pillow, the room was spinning and twisting.

  As he sat up in bed and cradled his throbbing skull in his hands, Emolga slipped down into his lap with a pout. “Give me a second, Emolga…” He groaned.

  After drinking two glasses of water, brushing his teeth to get rid of the foulness that resided inside his mouth, and a quick shower, Ethan sat down on his bed and waved his hand lazily to prompt Emolga to speak. As she opened her mouth, a loud grumble beat her to the punch. Emolga frowned, then pointed to her stomach.

  “Hungry, got it.” Ethan said, eyes scanning the room and not finding James, Meowth, or his bag. After a minute of searching, it was still nowhere to be found. “Did James take my bag, Emogla?”

  “He did. They’re selling stuff at the stall. Looker said it might lure out the baddies.” The all too familiar voice of Ralts spoke into his mind, yet Ethan couldn’t actually find her in the room.

  “Well, when did they leave? It’s only nine.”

  “Same time as last time—Before the sun rose.” Ralts’ voice replied, yet… it sounded like she was chewing.

  Ethan walked to the small window near the door and pulled open the curtains, revealing Ralts on the other side of the glass with a small bag of potato chips in her grasp. She was holding the bag like a stuffed animal, snugly pressed against her chest as she levitated chips into her mouth. She tilted her head to stare at him through the glass window. “Hai”

  After bringing the trouble seeking psychic inside, Ethan released his other pokemon to make sure they were okay and to tell them his plans for the morning. First, they’d get breakfast, then Ethan would make his way out of town to find some Combee. Seeing that everyone was on board, he returned them and set off into town with Ralts riding on his left shoulder.

  Floaroma Town was just as busy as it was the day before, with people walking to and fro with clear goals in mind. Behind him, he noticed two very out of place Interpol agents trailing his moves. His first stop was the stall, and luckily enough, business was booming.

  James, Jessie, and Meowth were like a well oiled machine as they zipped and zoomed across their little plot to grab, refill, and take orders for the customers lined up. While they looked haggard and overworked, they each had genuine smiles on their faces and oozed confidence and contentment. Running this stall seemed to be one of the first things they’d ever really wanted to do, at least while they’d been with him, and it showed.

  Not wanting to ruin their flow, Ethan snuck in the back and grabbed his pack. Meowth noticed him, and simply gave him a nod of approval before zipping off back to work. As he left the busy market, Ethan followed the main street off towards the exit of the town, from where they first entered. Fifteen minutes later, Ralts had found a good spot for a little picnic within the flowerfields.

  As it turns out, dropping a hot air balloon into a flower field wasn’t very good for the flowers. Their spot was the location of their arrival, where the heavy basket and large balloon had pressed the flowers into the earth, creating a very small, flat, clearing.

  As he released his pokemon and emptied his pack of berries, Ethan’s headache had finally started to dull. The breakfast for his pokemon was what it normally was back on the ranch, berries, fruit, and vegetables. Emolga shoved two bright pink Magost berries into her cheeks, while Ralts, now bereft of her bag of potato chips, chomped a bite of an Oran berry.

  Skiddo, like most other times, ignored the berries and went straight for the veggies and the crushed flowers on which they sat, chewing them slowly but with a curious gleam in her eye as she dined on something new. Munchlax just shoveled a load of mixed berries into his mouth as he chatted with Chatot who also ate whatever berry that was near. His colorful bird was one to eat the seeds as well, which the Munchlax spit out like Watermelon seeds from back home.

  Unsanitary? Yes. Did she care? No.

  As his pokemon ate merrily and had their morning conversations, Ethan gazed about their location. The flowerfields surrounding Floaroma Town stretched wide and unbroken, waves of pinks, yellows, and purples rolled in the breeze. The flower’s fragrant perfume hung thick in the air, carrying on the gentle chilled breeze that caused his hair to stand on end. Winter was approaching, and he’d need to get some proper winter clothes.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The scene of his pokemon eating, the flowerfields ebbing with the wind, the fragrant smells of flowers, and the chill of the breeze against his skin… there was something grounding about it all. For this short bit of time, there weren’t any worries—It was truly peaceful.

  For a rare moment, the world didn’t feel so heavy.

  ...

  Then, he remembered yesterday's events. With a heavy heart, he grabbed his pack and did something he wished he never had to do...

  “So, can you feel any of them around?” Ethan asked as he stalked his way through the thick field of flowers with Ralts riding on his left shoulder. Few and very far between, some other pokemon trainers could be seen searching along, each on their own mission to find pokemon for themselves and their coming trials.

  “It doesn’t work that way.” Ralts huffed as she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled to direct him in a different direction.

  “Well, how does it work then?” Ethan asked as he swatted her grip away. Emolga pulled his hair enough, and it quickly grew from cute to being annoying. It was best that Ralts didn’t follow suit. “Also, Emolga! Don’t bother those trainers. I see you eyeing them!”

  Emogla was high up in the air, arms and legs spread wide as she glided on the wind. She stuck her tongue out, but listened. For all that she was spirited, she knew when he wasn’t messing around.

  “Do you not understand what I truly am? I am a Ralts, born with senses that pierce deeper than mere sight or sound. The stirrings of your heart reach me as clearly as spoken words, for emotion itself is my true language.” She blew upwards, flaring her bangs and flashing her haughty violet eyes at him. “Your joy is the warmth upon my skin, your sorrow a weight upon my chest, and your fear a bitter taste on my tongue. You may try to cloak your feelings with silence, but you cannot hide the truth of your spirit from one such as I.”

  Ethan paused and turned his head to stare at Ralts. “So…”

  “... if a pokemon was close I could tell you that, but I couldn’t pinpoint them. Some pokemon are… simple creatures. Those are harder to feel.”

  “Oh? Do you have any examples? What do the Magikarp in my pond feel?” Ethan asked as he broke through a particularly thick patch of flowers, arriving on a narrow dirt path.

  “Their emotions are quick and fleeting. Hunger, fright, fleeting contentment. They are unburdened by the greater designs of life itself.”

  Ethan frowned—

  “Do not think that they do not recognize your love, for they do. They may be simple, yet they are not dull.”

  As Ethan followed the path, eyes scanning around for any Combee, he asked another question. “And my emotions? Do you think my weird empathy thing is troublesome? I feel like it’s a hindrance when it truly matters. Did you see all the pokemon in the market freak out when I did? This wasn’t the first time all the pokemon around me acted on what I felt. I think it has to be even worse for you.”

  Ralts was quiet for a moment, obviously gathering her thoughts. She sat down on his shoulder and beat her small legs against his collarbone in a lazy swing. “Every moment of joy, sorrow, and doubt thrums through me as though it were my own…” She paused, “At times, it is unbearable. Some nights—” She cut herself off, as Ethan already knew what she was referring too—and thanks to their abilities, she knew that he knew. “Yet others… It is like a light so brilliant it warms me to my core. That moment of peace as we ate… it made life better.”

  “I will not act like I know the thoughts of others, but they know what you feel. If you meant someone harm, all would know the target of your ire. If you meant a pokemon nothing but the best, they would know your care without a moment of pause. I believe it is a blessing from Arceus himself. When you are saddened, they know. When you are happy, they know. When you struggle for them, they know. When you worry, they know. When you love them, they know.”

  That… that made him feel much better about it all. There had been moments where he thought that being around pokemon would just be a bad idea, putting them through undue stress from his frankly unhealthy emotions at times. Those thoughts had obviously been fleeting, but they had come once in a blue moon. He opened his mouth—

  “And when you are thankful, they know.”

  —and then closed it with a smile.

  Deep in their conversation, Ethan hadn’t been paying too much attention as to where he’d been traveling. Emolga swooped down to land on his head, grabbing clumps of hair and pulling them forward to lead him onwards to the sight before them. In front of them, a small wooden gate leading to a very beautiful and picturesque home surrounded by a field of flowers and a small outcropping of Eterna Forest lay in their path.

  Around the house, which looked remarkably like an American farmhouse, a handful of Combee fluttered about on large, nearly translucent wings around the front patio. Ethan pushed aside the rickety white gate and made his way up the small path that led to the home itself. Who better to ask about Combee than those that lived around them?

  As he made his way up the small set of stairs leading up onto the front porch, one of the Combee, a much larger pokemon that he’d imagined, fluttered over and hovered about, inspecting him with its three small faces. The top who were smiling, while the bottom face had its mouth open in wonder. It was a male, as it didn’t have the red diamond marking on its bottom forehead, but that wasn’t too surprising.

  If they were anything like they were in the games, then a female would be a rare find indeed.

  Ethan let the big bee do his inspection, but Emolga, much too excited to find a new friend, hovered off his head and circled the flying combee, inspecting him in turn. Soon enough, they both orbited each other, chatting loudly.

  The sound of a screen door swinging shut caused Ethan to turn towards the home again, finding a hardy looking elderly woman with a gentle smile. She’d seen her fair share of work, and her dark sunkissed skin told him that she’d been out in these flowerfields for far longer than he’d been alive. She looked to be… over seventy, but past a certain age, Ethan’s judge of age became unreliable.

  “Good morning, ma’am. I was on the lookout for Combee and found myself at your home. Would you be the owner of these few?”

  “That I’d be. Looking for Combee, are you?” She asked, her voice confident and stern—not hostile though. Ethan had the feeling that in her household, what she said was law.

  “I own a ranch deep in Eterna Forest. I am a move tutor and breeder, and was looking to see if I could find some Combee that’d be willing to make my ranch their home. Of course, a Vespiqueen and her hive would be ideal. Do you happen to know where I could find one? Oh! And my name is Ethan Reed.” Ethan held out a hand for the women to shake, and she easily reached out and damn near crushed his hand in her iron vice grip.

  “Isolde Barnheart. You won't be finding any wild Combee or Vespiqueen around here, as all the hives have been in my family since before you were born. You might be able to find a wild hive in the forest itself, but I’d bet against that. Combee are pokemon that need protection from predators. Those without a queen fall quick and swift.”

  Ethan sighed, disappointed at the news. It wasn’t unsurprising, but it was still a downer. “I assume you own all these Combee for their honey?”

  Isolde nodded and made for the door, holding it open to let him in. “That’d be correct. You ain’t the first to come sniffin’ about, and you won’t be the last. Interested in some honey?”

  “I might be.” Ethan replied with a smile, following her inside her beautiful home.

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