nekoplusdanshi

[nekoplusdanshi]

Morty/Enki 01

Wordcount: ~ 1,500 words

Fandom, Pairings: Pokémon, Morty/OC

Warnings: bit of an age gap, foster siblings to lovers, total AU with me making everything up

A/N: A self-indugent fic with an edgy OC I ended up caring about way too much. Mostly about interactions with spirits and ghost pokemon. Enjoy.

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Morty is fourteen when he meets Enki, and all he can think as he looks at the younger boy is that he looks so very, very tired. Enki is skinny, and pale, and trembles a little as he holds a Pokémon Morty’s never seen before in his lap. His lower lip looks bruised and swollen, as if he was biting it, trying not to cry. Morty has become quite stoic in recent years, training very hard to get his feelings under control and tune out the white noise that results from his psychic abilities, but when he looks at Enki then, he feels a surge of unexpected emotion; pity, or something close to it.

His father and Enki’s are speaking in hushed tones, and out of curiosity, Morty listens in;

“I understand. We’ll do everything in our power to assist you.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly…”

“It may take some time. This sort of thing is never easy…”

He can’t make it all out from where he’s peeking through the crack in the sliding door, but after a moment his father turns and sighs, looking directly at him with infinite patience. “Morty,” he calls. “Come here if you’re going to eavesdrop anyway. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Morty has the decency to look a little sheepish at least, pushing the door back and stepping into the tatami-floored room. The Pokémon looks at him, or at least Morty thinks it does—it’s difficult to tell with the way its eyes are covered by fluffy, green fur. It’s owner, however, doesn’t react—doesn’t even so much as glance in Morty’s direction. His eyes are fixed on some indistinguishable point in the shadows of one corner of the room. Morty follows his gaze and notices a flicker of energy, a spirit of someone long-since passed. Ah, he thinks then, like a lightbulb going off in his head. So, he can see them, too.

He mumbles a greeting and sits down seiza next to his father, hands placed neatly on his thighs. “This is my son, Morty.” His father places a hand on his shoulder, a heavy and familiar weight. “He’s training as a spiritualist himself, and is to one day succeed me as the leader of Ecruteak Gym. Morty,” he says, and gestures towards the fragile boy in front of him. “This is Enki. His family has traveled a very long way from the Hoenn region, seeking our counsel.”

Morty notes the plural; our counsel.

“He’s going to be staying with us for a while. I hope you’ll help him feel at home here.”

Morty thinks for a moment that he should be offended; the boy—Enki—is being spoken about, and yet hasn’t so much as even turned his head to look at him. But there’s something in the shadows under his eyes and the way his hands tremble that makes Morty let it go. He holds out his hand so it hovers square in Enki’s field of vision and smiles, patiently. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then, eyes flickering to the corner of the room again, adds, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise.”

And there isn’t. The spirit there is weak, and quite benign; one of his own distant relatives, Morty guesses, lingering in the old family home long after death. He’s seen spirits like this time and time again. What is there to be afraid of?

Enki jolts a little. His eyes skitter over to meet Morty’s, and Morty notices for the first time that they’re nearly pitch black. He doesn’t move for a moment, as if he didn’t hear what Morty said, but then the Pokémon in his lap makes a soft, imploring sound, as if saying something only Enki can understand. Enki swallows, and finally extends a small hand to clasp Morty’s own. His palm is damp with sweat, but cold to the touch.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replies softly. “Morty.”

…

He realizes why Enki is here quickly enough.

It’s obvious from the way the boy shudders and trembles whenever a spirit is around that he’s affected by them, strongly. It goes beyond normal sensitivity. Where Morty sees shadows—weak spirits that hardly have the energy to even stay in the world of the living—Enki sees apparitions. Where Morty feels a strong presence—a weight on his chest and perhaps, when the spirit is particularly strong, an uneasiness—Enki feels more, pressured to the point he can barely breathe. Morty has been told time and time again that he’s inherited a great power, the sensitivity of the Matsuba line that’s passed down through generations. But when he meets Enki, he thinks that surely, these people must’ve been joking.

His power is nothing compared to this.

And as a result, the burden he’s carried since birth suddenly seems a million times lighter.

Enki isn’t like him though, not entirely. His spiritual sensitivity is incredible, but he lacks the psychic power needed to deal with it. This, Morty realizes quickly, is where his Pokémon comes in, and also why he’s come to Ecruteak city in the first place.

Morty had thought it odd at first to see a child so young with a Pokémon to call his own, but discovers after a while that it’s by some sort of special permission. The Pokémon—called Ralts, Morty finds out soon enough—helps Enki control his own emotions and also wards off unwelcome spirits that would otherwise overwhelm the boy. It’s an interesting condition, to be honest, and Morty is sure there’s plenty of people out there who would be eager to study Enki, his sensitivity to the paranormal, the subsequent effect both psychic and ghost type Pokémon have on him.

But that isn’t what Enki or his family wants. They make it very clear to Morty’s father that all they want is for Enki to be able to live a normal life.

Enki wants to be normal.

…

“He’ll be training with us,” Morty’s father explains to him one morning, as they both hover in the kitchen drinking coffee, minds occupied with thoughts of the boy sleeping upstairs. “He needs to learn how to live with ghost Pokémon and deal with the spirits of the dead.” He father takes a long sip from his mug and then brings a hand up to his chin in thought. “He needs psychic training as well. There’s no running from something like this, and he can’t rely on his ralts forever.”

Morty tilts his head, crossing his arms and leaning back against the countertop. “Why, though?” he asks, genuinely confused. “Why not rely on his ralts as much as he needs to? Psychic training won’t be easy. He’s a complete novice.” And he wasn’t naturally gifted in clairvoyance or psychic warding like the Matsuba family was. Frankly, Morty doesn’t see the point.

His father shakes his head though, frowning. “No Pokémon will ever be able to alleviate his mental burden entirely. He needs to learn how to block out all this energy on his own. Right now, the spirits scare him; not just the evil ones—all spirits terrify him, because he can’t tell which are dangerous and which are… well, just scary to look at. He feels so much of the dead’s emotions that he can hardly tell them apart from his own.”

Morty furrows his brow a bit, trying to understand. “So he’s a medium?” he asks. “Feeling the spirits’ emotions…”

“No,” his father cuts in. “Rather, he shouldn’t be. He’d be too susceptible to possession. And I don’t mean just channeling or communicating with the dead—I mean true possession. The type that’s hard to come back from.”

For his part, Morty isn’t sure what to say—isn’t even sure how he feels about the whole situation. There’s a part of him that thinks maybe he should feel a bit jealous, or put out about the fact that he now has to share his father’s precious tutelage with another. Many came to the Matsuba family’s gates hoping to be taken in as disciples only to be turned away. But then, for his father to accept this boy into their household… That in itself spoke to the gravity of his situation.

And Morty, despite his own inexperience, had been able to sense it as well—the desperation from Enki’s parents, and the tumult of emotions that hovered around Enki himself, dark and stifling. That was no way to live.

Though it goes unsaid between them, both Morty and his father are thinking the same thing, as shadows creep in a little closer from the corners of their house and silvery entities slither unseen along the floors; Enki wasn’t only oversensitive to the presence of spirits… He attracted them, as well.

“Well,” Morty says finally, and downs the rest of his coffee in one go. “It seems we have our work cut out for us.

[nekoplusdanshi]

New Fanfiction Blog

hi, my name is cat and i just started this blog as a place to collect all of my fanfiction, both old and new.

i write for a lot of fandoms, but i’ll list a few of the main ones for now:

- pokemon - idolish - RWBY - nier automata

i plan to post almost everything i write here, including self-indulgent stuff and incomplete stuff. and i’ll be crossposting from some old tumblrs i plan to ultimately delete. if you recognize me, then hello! if not, then nice to meet you! and thanks for reading!