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“I would, but there’s not a lot of--” Shade, as he was going to say, but he spots something far more interesting in the process. “-- Is that a Sneasel?!”

He bolts upright, wobbling only for a moment due to the headrush, and scrambles to his feet.

“He’s so beautiful, sir! Will he be alright in all of this heat, though?”

Unimpressed. 

“Than go to the shade.” Or get a ice pokemon to use like a mini ice pack like his sneasel. Who was perched on his shoulder. 

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jocularjewel

“Hey, Steven!”

There’s no masking his excitement as he sprints across the sand, an arm raised in greeting. Unfortunately the heat overwhelms him before he can get too far, and he ends up stalling out a few paces away, doubling over and breathing heavily.

“I... Bought... These,” he manages between wheezing breaths, pulling a pair of small water pistols from the pocket of his swim trunks. “Do you want... To play?” The grin on his face doesn’t fade, even as he struggles to catch his breath.

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Oh, someone’s calling to him! He peeks his eyes open sheepishly, fixing his gaze on... A man who looks vaguely familiar, like he should recognize him, but he can’t put a name to the face.

“I’m just trying to cool down, sir.” He runs a thin arm across the sweat of his forehead. “It’s so hot...!”

What is this green fuzz- eh no its just a human. 

“…Boy. What are you doing.”

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“It’s hot...”

He’s little more than a melted pile of green fuzz atop the scorching sands. Goodbye, cruel world!

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SHE HAS RISEN.

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“... I miss my dad.”

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It’s been a tough few weeks for Wally, and the impact on his health is plain to see: The boy who lingers in the doorway is positively gaunt, even more so than usual, and his hand trembles faintly against the door knob as he struggles to make sense of his surroundings.

His pale eyes seem to stare through Connor rather than registering his presence, the glossiness of his gaze half-lidded with sleepy bruises. For a moment, he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or not; he’s been conjuring up scenarios like this on the rare occasion that he manages to rest, and the ensuing wake-up is always accompanied by bitter disappointment.

Clarity bleeds in with agonizing slowness. The stumbling gait of his feet brings him lurching into the room, guiding him towards his friend until he can collapse against the assassin’s chest. If this is a dream, he would rather not wake up... At least, not right away. Connor’s warmth is so familiar that it would pain him to part from it so soon.

A creek is audible as the door gradually opens, a familiar figure visible through its slit–hurriedly, Connor lights the remaining candle and seats himself at the dining table. 

He waits, feet rhythmically tapping against the ground. A white, circular and somewhat extravagant cake that reads “HAPPY BIRTHDAY WALLY” lay at the center of the table. At last, he he enters the room–and Connor’s lips then gradually form a sheepish albeit subtle smile.

“This is belated,”

“Sorry.”

galladeknight

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“Oh... A text from an anonymous number?” Wally reads the message aloud with interest, oblivious to Gallade’s presence hovering over his shoulder. “It says, ‘A quick questionnaire... Would you be willing to eat your partner’s a--’”

With a roar like the clanging of steel blades, Gallade lunges forward and deftly slaps the cell phone from his Trainer’s hands. It soars through the air, majestic as an Altaria mid-flight, before reaching the peak of its journey and crashing down hard enough to crack the screen.

“-- ....... Why did you do that?” The green-haired boy is left stunned, his hands still grasping feebly at nothing.

My dear, sweet child, some questions are best left unanswered.

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Ms. Bunji looked so sad... Honestly, he didn’t want to upset her. He was slightly bewildered by the attention, but she did have a valid point -- he had no idea what he looked like right now. Was it truly that bad? Gallade hadn’t appeared overly concerned, but he was the type to disguise his true feelings about things if they posed a risk of worrying his Trainer. Maybe he was worse off than he’d assumed.

“I was in Sector oo2,” the boy explained, his expression growing more bashful by the moment. For some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something wrong. “Someone attacked it, and the air made me sick, but Mr. Connor...” The first hint of despair crossed over his face at the mention of his guardian’s name. “... He kept me alive, so I’m alright now.” 

“I’m not hurt anymore, but just look at you… Have you seen yourself? How are you even standing?” She fretted over him, feeling how thin he was, how he shook simply by being upright, even the temperature on his forehead before she gave him a comforting nuzzle, worry written all over her face.

“By Arceus, Wally, what did they do to you?”

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The tears were a completely unexpected development. Wally startled as she dropped down to his height and wrapped him up in her arms, his eyes widening slightly as he was enveloped in a soft, warm embrace. It wasn’t unwelcome, even with how ill his body felt, but it was rather confusing; as far as he knew, she wasn’t crying for his sake.

“What’s wrong, Ms. Bunji?” His thin arms moved to reciprocate the hug, although they shook faintly with the effort. Evidently he was more tired than he first thought. “Are you hurt?”

“Wally…” 

She barely got the word out before tears formed and started falling from her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. She could only imagine what the young boy had been through in all this. Children weren’t meant to fight in wars, and yet, this one had been in the thick of it all. It wasn’t right. Nothing about this whole thing had been.

Without another sound, she simply came closer to the boy, got to her knees, and hugged him while she stroked his hair. She may have startled him, but that was okay. This was something he needed, whether he realized it or not.

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Ms. Bunji hadn’t been joking around when she said she’d be there ‘in a flash.’ Wally looked a bit stunned to see her arrive so quickly, but he managed to smile anyway, his lips quirking up subtly at their edges at the sight of someone he could trust. Gallade was equally at ease; he sheathed the blades on his arms in order to help his master stand, offering the part-Lopunny a nod in greeting.

“Hi, Ms. Bunji,” the young Trainer greeted once he was back on his feet, pausing momentarily to clear his throat of its hoarseness. “Is something wrong?”

TO: Wally FROM: Bunji

[1 / 2] You’re that close by??? [2 / 2] I’ll be there in a flash!

Bunji quickly stuffed her phone in her pouch and took off like a rocket, picking her way over the divets and gouges in the ground left from the fighting. In truth, she was still in more than a bit of pain from her own brief stint in the inter-dimensional war, but she was determined to move past it. Pain was meant to be worked past, not wallowed in. That was one of the many things Kale had taught her.

When she finally made her way to the small hill where her friend was waiting, she was thrilled to see him… but only for an instant. The bright, happy Wally she remembered wasn’t there. Instead, she saw a tired, fragile little boy, pale beyond words. It looked as though a strong enough breeze could blow him over. Yet, he looked up at her with as much of a smile as he could muster.

“Oh, Wally…”

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Well, that’s a pleasant surprise!

Reply To: Ms. Bunji We’re There Too. Under The Big Apple Tree. It’s Still Standing. If You’re Nearby.

TO: Wally FROM: Bunji

[1 / 2] I’m in Sector 006! Or what’s left of it, anyway… [2 / 2] If you want to come here, please be careful! I don’t think the trains are running, though.

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Reply To: Ms. Bunji (1 / 2) I Was Too, But We Survived. Someone Attacked The Sector We Were In. (2 / 2) We Were Worried About You. Where Are You?

TO: Wally FROM: Bunji

[1 / 2] Oh! I’m so glad you two are all right!! [2 / 2] I’m…. okay now. I got caught in a little of the fighting.

There wasn’t a need to tell him just how far it went.

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A text... Wally scans his phone and types out a hasty response, glad to have some form of confirmation that Bunji is still alive.

Reply To: Ms. Bunji We’re OK. Just A Little Tired. Are You Alright?

TO: Wally From: Bunji

[1 / 2] Wally!!! This is Bunji! [2 / 2] Are you okay??? You and Gallade didn’t get hurt, did you???

|| galladeknight ||

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Today, Wally turns twelve.

The aftermath of battle hangs heavy over his pseudo-refuge within Sector oo6. He can’t find a reason to leave this place in spite of its abandonment, knowing what is -- and isn’t -- waiting for him back at his temporary home within the city. No matter how much he strains his ears, he can’t detect a single bird’s chirp, nor can he hear so much as a solitary peal of laughter; the park is deserted, even down to the parts that managed to survive becoming a war-ground. It’s likely that most of the city’s survivors have found some degree of safety, and now they’re reluctant to leave it behind.

He isn’t alone, though. He never is.

Gallade sits beside him, as always. Given the state of the city, it's doubtful that any bakeries will have their doors open for special allergen-free orders; they’ve settled for a single red apple instead, picked from one of the few trees that hasn’t been uprooted. It’s far from a celebration, but it’s all they can manage. The Pokémon’s bladed elbows have cleaved the fruit into small segments, and Wally has found himself reluctantly nibbling them, more to avoid hurting his companion’s feelings than anything else.

All semblance of hunger has left him. He’s not sure he remembers what it’s like to actually want something: The mere idea of a towering birthday cake makes his stomach feel hollow and sick. As the adults often say, everything heals with time... Wally considers this as he uses his teeth to scrape thin lines from the apple’s pale flesh, allowing each sweet stripe to sit on his tongue before he swallows it whole.

Twelve is just another number, anyway.

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Wally is so very tired.

The phone within his grasp feels cool against his palm, its glowing screen lit up with a brief, somewhat cryptic message. He’s been searching for Mr. Connor for days -- weaving in and out of battlefields, searching ruined buildings, desperately combing what remained of the city -- but in the end, all he has to show for his efforts is a single set of text messages. The words suggest that his guardian is safe, but their ominous tone suggests that he won’t be for much longer. Wally is intelligent enough to understand that much.

Sector oo6 is smoldering faintly with damage. His teammates are sprawled around him; two weeks of combat have exhausted them, and with no Pokémon Centers to ease their fatigue, they can do nothing but languish in their aches and pains. Even their Trainer is running on fumes by now, continually plagued by illness from his time within the poisoned air of the Industrial Sector. The thin planking of his ribs heaves through his shirt as he draws in shallow breaths, a faint brand of hysteria causing each wheezing gulp of air to tremble.

He can do nothing to save Mr. Connor. He is helpless. He is weak. He has never done anything good for anyone, and he never will.

The mantra repeats within his mind as he stares downwards, scanning each word with mounting desperation. All of those days spent exploring and fighting, aiming to rescue the one who always rescues him, to be helpful just this once... He should have known that it would be futile. Now his Pokémon are too exhausted to fight -- all but Mega Gallade, who remains standing vigilant through sheer force of will -- and he’s about to lose the person within this city’s walls who cares for him the most.

Failure.

He rereads the messages until the screen goes black. Then, for the first time since the sky opened up to display another city overhead, he allows his eyes to water; they dampen until tears are spilling liberally over his lashes, leaving clean tracks through the soot and filth on his cheeks. His shoulders quake and his lungs tighten, hissing with strained, convulsive breaths that rob him of coherency. He wants to embrace his mother and father; he wants to see Wanda; he wants to visit with his uncle and aunt; he wants to pick flowers in Verdanturf. Yet above all else, he wants Mr. Connor to tell him that everything is alright, even though it isn’t. It may not ever be alright again.

Within the ruins of Sector oo6, Wally clings to his cell phone and sobs.

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Wally’s thin lips broke into a smile, though its corners twitched with nerves. Truth be told, he would rather do anything but go into the other city -- but if his friend was going back then he couldn’t stay behind in good conscience. He glanced over his shoulder at Gardevoir, who reassured him with a nod and a smile of his own.

“... I’m only doing what's right,” the Trainer said, carefully mopping up the last of the blood from Ninten’s face. “As long as you’re willing to have us... My teammates and I will stand by you.” His worried eyes glanced towards the portal with obvious concern. “I’m sure they’ll start coming here to retaliate soon, anyway. There won’t be any escaping from the fight once that happens.”

The concern over Ninten going back was expected, but Wally’s offer of going with him wasn’t. Wally never really struck him as much of a fighter, at least not to the point of going in willingly. “Yeah. Once I’m healed up, I’ve gotta go back. If we lose this war… I don’t wanna think about it. I’ve gotta protect everyone. And you… y’don’t have to come with me, but I’m not gonna turn you down. It’ll be good to have you and your Pokémon along.”

“You’re a good friend, Wally.”