And Still, I Climb (ch2)

CHAPTER 2 - THE LAND OF IDEALS

If one wished to understand a scientist, one could begin with their desk. To Cecilia Obel, Professor Juniper’s was an irritating disaster. Research papers were buried beneath field reports, which were buried beneath photographs, which were in turn buried beneath sticky notes covered in frantic handwriting. Not only that, but every piece of equipment looked a generation older than it should have been. The lab was constantly strapped for cash, and the computers looked as old as she was.

Admittedly, Cecilia had been sold a much rosier version of Nuvema Labs than what turned out to be reality. She’d expected a small-scale operation, but if this year did not prove successful for the laboratory, it may very well go under. 

Still, the dark-skinned girl was happy enough to be given any work. Despite no longer having access to the Obel fortune, Juniper had placed a lot of hopes on Cecilia, along with the fact that she had Pokemon usually not accessible in Unova to study without more money. 

Perhaps this year would be the first time Cecilia made a difference—a true difference in someone’s life. Perhaps she would take destiny by the reins and decide where she was headed.

But she was getting ahead of herself.

Every journey began with a single step.

“Professor, you called for me?” She made her voice as emotive as possible, something she had to put plenty of effort in. “I hope this is a good time.”

Professor Juniper jumped before swiveling around in her chair, offering the Unovan a small, nervous smile which slowly turned genuine. Cecilia would have to take more notes about scaring people from behind. “Your Scizor will be happy to hear that I’m done studying him. He was giving me quite the glare by the end.”

Cecilia glanced through the observation window. Scizor had endured the procedure with remarkable patience, but that patience had finally run dry. An assortment of sensors and measuring instruments were fastened to his scorched carapace. He looked deeply offended by their existence. 

“Did you make him overheat?” Cecilia took a step, and teasingly tapped a finger on the glass. The bug type opened a claw at her and hissed, his wings flapping in irritation. By the attack’s brightness and strength, it’d be a good old Flash Cannon and not any of the new fancy tricks they’d learned.

One had to learn to gauge these things when they couldn’t see color—

Juniper let out a blood-curdling scream, hiding under her desk until Cecilia realized how such an action could have been perceived.

“Oh—I’m so sorry Professor, he’s—he’s fooling,” Cecilia stuttered. Frustrated, she mouthed a ‘really?’ at Scizor, who shrugged and ignored her complaints. What did he care if they had a bad impression of him? “He means no harm, I promise.”

Juniper exhaled, peeking from the false safety of the table, and let out a shaky breath. “Great ideals,” she whispered to herself. “I’ve seen a lot of Pokemon-trainer dynamics, but never this one. Sorry for losing my cool.”

“It’s alright.”

The Pokemon Aurea Juniper researched were usually more docile and weaker than this. The Professor had specialized in the origins of Pokemon themselves, along with ancient civilizations. One of the first things she’d told Cecilia during her welcome party was that one of her dreams was to study the many ruins dotting Orre—but that her wife would always refuse without proper security to protect her.

The trainer had promised her she’d make it happen. She owed Juniper for the many opportunities she would get this year. Eccentric as she was, the Professor knew people.

Cecilia found Scizor standing amid a graveyard of discarded testing equipment, having already freed himself from anything Juniper had attached to his carapace. She thanked him for sacrificing his evening for her, promised that he was finally done with experiments for as long as he wished, and recalled him. 

Through the looking glass, she noticed Cheren and Bianca enter Juniper’s lab most likely to investigate what that scream had been.

“...really nothing, don’t worry about it, kids,” Juniper said as Cecilia walked out.

Kids, they were. Not just because Cecilia towered over them—she was taller than even Professor Juniper, after all—but because of the innocence in their eyes. It reminded her of… no, not better times, but simpler ones. The start of her journey in Sinnoh with so many expectations swelling in her heart.

“Evening, Cecilia,” Cheren greeted her with a small wave. “I hope the Professor didn’t give you too much trouble.”

“Oh, not at all.”

Bianca, meanwhile, struggled to look Cecilia in the eyes much. Part of her believed it was because she had no irises and pupils to speak of, or maybe the two massive claw scars running down her face fighting Jupiter near the peak of Mount Coronet. Either way, the blonde offered her a much more muted greeting.

“I don’t give people trouble, Cheren!” Juniper protested. 

The boy adjusted his glasses and crossed his arm. “I think I recall a time when you made me skip school by promising that I’d get my starter earlier, and that was just some bogus lie to make me find Hilbert. Speaking of, is he home?”

“I’d hope so. He’s been going out a lot now that he has his Oshawott,” Cheren said.

The Professor nodded, then bent at her desk to turn off her computer and gather some of the notes she’d taken on Scizor for the past few hours. “Well, it’s two days out to the start of the Circuit, so y’all better get your affairs in order before leaving for a year. Oh, and again, make sure he sticks with you for the beginning of it. We don’t want him to get in trouble. Cecilia, may I talk to you for a second?”

The four filtered out of the testing room, and Juniper dragged Cecilia to the side of the laboratory front office. This late at night, all of the staff had left to go home. “Uh, I assume that I won’t be able to study Spiritomb yet, correct?” she asked, yet already knew the answer.

This was the crux of why she’d been sponsored. For any professor, the opportunity to study a Pokemon as rare as Spiritomb was a dream come true. For someone whose passion lay in ancient civilizations? It was what she’d been born to do.

The Unovan shook her head. “They’re far from ready.” Right now, she mentally wouldn’t survive the encounter. “I’ll try my best to heal their anger, but I don’t want to rush them into anything.”

She nodded. “Of course, of course. No issues from me there,” she nervously laughed. “Oh, and also, if you make it to Striaton City by the 12th of September, there should be an opportunity to meet with some bigwigs through Fennel. I think Cilan will be there; they want to discuss the Dragons know what, but it’ll be a policy meet.”

The half-ghost’s heart skipped a beat at the chance that was being presented. Finally, she’d have a chance to plant her roots here. This sponsorship was already paying dividends.

She thanked Juniper what felt like ten times before the Professor got in her car and left. 

Nuvema was one of the many, many small towns that dotted Unova, and thus contained no Pokemon Center. As a result, Cecilia needed to stay in the only motel they had. She’d just been about to release her Slowking to Teleport her when Cheren called out to her.

“Excuse me!”

She turned, head tilting just a little too far and enough to clearly unsettle the two kids.

“Uh, since the Circuit starts soon and you have a lot of experience with this sort of stuff. Um, traveling, training, Gym Battles and the like,” he mumbled nervously, “Bianca and I were wondering if we could come over to ask for some advice?”

The fair-haired girl nodded. “S—sorry. We don’t want to be a bother. You must be so busy—”

“Not at all!” Cecilia beamed. Connecting with people this way was the kind of stuff she’d always wanted to be better at! She kept a journal where she noted down what she learned about socializing each day, for Arceus’ sake! “I’m free for the next few hours; I’d love to give you two any advice!”

Both Cheren and Bianca looked at each other for a moment with a sigh of relief, their lips curving upward. It seemed that they believed her to be far less approachable than she desired to be.

“Have any of you Teleported before?” she asked with a grin.

——

Cecilia's room was small enough that they could take in most of it from the doorway. A double bed with a floral bedsheet occupied one wall, and opposite it sat a squat dresser supporting an aging television that looked older than everyone in this room. The one time she’d tried turning on the damn thing, the screen had been full of static. A narrow desk had been squeezed beneath the window. The room smelled faintly of detergent and old wood.

For all its deficiencies, especially compared to what she might find in a Pokemon Center in a larger town or city, Cecilia thought this motel had its charm. The proprietors were the sweetest old couple who had been very nice to her despite her many… social deficiencies.

“It’s not much, but make yourselves at home.” Cecilia allowed them in first, as proper etiquette dictated. While they scuttled in, her eyes met Slowking’s.

I still can’t believe you’re having guests over, Slowking spoke inside her mind teasingly.  

She rolled her eyes at him—not that he’d be able to tell if he hadn’t known her. The psychic waddled in, and she closed the door behind him. She made a mental note not to linger in front of it for too long, since that could end up unsettling them. What better to do than thrust herself within the storm, anyway, the dark-skinned girl thought to herself.

Cecilia was no good at reading people, but she could at least see this:

Cheren struck her as an overachiever. He had studied the ins and outs of the Circuit, preparing as best he could for the journey ahead. From her few interactions with him, she knew he had one of the highest Certification Exam grades for the year across the country, and yet this did little to satiate his hunger for power and greatness. She did not know why he strived to do so much in so little time. The pale boy released his Snivy, with whom he trained every day for hours on end in his backyard. The grass type stood up straight, greeting his trainer with a respectful nod.

“O—oh! I guess I’ll—sorry!” Bianca fumbled inside her purse, awkwardly stumbling as she pulled out her Pokeball. A Tepig materialized next to Snivy, whom the fire type tried to headbutt with affection. Snivy pushed himself up with two vines, and Tepig hit the foot of her bed.

Ah, youth. I miss when you were so bad at handling your Pokeballs… Slowking lamented with a sigh.

“I was never—” she stared at Cheren, Bianca, and their starters, who were looking up at her with so many expectations. “Sorry, my Slowking is being a pest.”

Her Pokemon shrugged. With their minds so inexperienced, he couldn’t speak to them without giving them a horrible headache until they acclimated to a psychic presence.

Yes, Bianca… now that the Circuit was so soon, the girl had turned into a nervous wreck nearly as bad as a certain Wimpod. Every time the blonde spoke about her prospect, she did so without any expectations and from a position of weakness. Cecilia would often overhear her at the lab talking to her friends about how she’d be glad if she could get even one badge, but that she’d rather not hope to not be disappointed. She knelt, grabbing her Tepig in her arms and petting the fire type.

In a way, they both reminded Cecilia of herself at the start of her journey.

She dragged her desk chair and sat down facing her bed with her legs crossed. Once she cleared her throat, she began. “So. You two wanted advice. First, before any tips about training or moves or anything of the sort, I have to ask an important question. Why are you going on this journey?”

Cecilia remembered when her old friends back in Sinnoh spoke about their dreams and goals. About how their eyes practically sparkled as if the future were something they could already see waiting for them just beyond the horizon. Even at the beginning when their goals hadn’t materialized quite yet, there was something beautifully childish about wanting to explore, to make connections and to grow stronger. Grace Pastel had shown her that at the beginning of their journey.

Cheren? Cheren frowned as if he couldn’t even understand the question. “To become stronger.” At his feet, Snivy gave a nod of approval. 

“And?”

His face scrunched up in confusion. “Well, if I become the Champion, that means I’m the strongest. And if I’m the strongest, well,” he paused to chuckle, “That means I’ve got the freedom to do whatever. I dunno, that seems pretty obvious to me, right?”

Cecilia thought like this once. The feeling had seemingly been vindicated when she saw Cynthia for the first time, swooping in on her Garchomp at Valley Windworks to save her from Team Galactic. Yet as the months went by and she got to know the Champion better, she realized this was far from the truth. 

“What do you mean?” Cecilia asked, tilting her head.

“Think of it this way,” the boy continued. “Everything in our society comes from how powerful you and your Pokemon are. I’m going to be the Champion, and then I can do whatever I want.”

There wasn't a trace of arrogance in his voice. If anything, he sounded as though he were explaining a mathematical formula.

Champion equaled strongest.

Strongest equaled freedom.

Therefore, Champion equaled freedom.

Simple, yet catastrophically wrong. Still, she couldn’t deny that there was a certain magnetism to his naivety, egotism and pride all wrapped up into one, neat and studious teen. Cecilia considered explaining that she shed herself of this mindset, but perhaps it would be best for his development if he discovered this for himself.

“Very ambitious,” she said. “I wish you good luck.”

She didn’t even know how she would go about it, anyhow. Cecilia was no good with people yet, and she wanted to be friendly with her new colleagues. Arceus knew abrasiveness had gotten her nowhere back in Sinnoh.

“What about you, Bianca?” she probed, leaning slightly forward.

The meek little girl leaned back in response, eyes drifting away from hers. She lifted a hand in front of her mouth and stumbled over words for a moment. “I, uh, yeah. I want to—” she took a deep breath. “I just want to see what’s out there, I guess!” she finally got out. “I know it’s not as crazy or grand as Cheren and Hilbert, but I don’t care about being the strongest, I think. I guess I just want to explore Unova and maybe find something I want to do…”

Bianca shifted in place, almost embarrassed by her admission. 

“A perfectly valid goal. They don’t need to be huge, they just need to push you forward.”

The blonde scratched her cheek and laughed awkwardly. “It’s suffocating in my house. My dad watches that stupid Crescent News all day and they always say a bunch of nonsense.”

“They call you a Sinnohan spy,” Cheren said.

That elicited a snort, and the tension in the room eased. Before long, the conversation had turned to Cecilia's own journey. She recounted a handful of stories, carefully selecting the happier ones and keeping the focus on herself and her Pokemon rather than the friends who had once shared the road with her—most of whom she no longer had. They were obviously avoiding the burning question on their tongue: how she’d become a pale imitation of a ghost. The two vaguely knew that she’d helped Sinnoh fight back against Team Galactic, but nothing else.

It wasn’t long before she had them speak about themselves again, this time for advice. 

Cheren thought of battling in a very rigid way. He’d gone over every Pokemon he could potentially get and made a list of twenty he would be happy with to make what he believed was the best team. He carried a diary filled with neatly organized training schedules for Snivy, complete with color-coded notes detailing what they would practice and when over the coming month. Already, he’d started thinking about how to tackle the Gym at Striaton when it had taken Cecilia until she got to Oreburgh to start doing the same for her own first Gym battle.

No, the things he asked of her, therefore, were more esoteric. How did she know when to trust her instincts over a plan? How did she know when a strategy was worth abandoning? How could she tell whether a loss was caused by a bad strategy, poor training, or simply being outmatched?

It was enough to overwhelm her, in truth. She did not think anywhere as rigidly about battling, but she still tried her best to aid him, with Slowking occasionally helping her find the words. Bianca was content to soak up the information with Tepig napping in her arms.

But penultimately, he asked this question:

“How can you tell if a loss is a fluke or not?” 

Cecilia opened her mouth to answer, then stopped. She tapped a finger against her knee and considered the question for a moment. “Well, I suppose that if you’re very even in skill and power, the coin could fall either way on any given day,” Cecilia said. “But you shouldn’t take a defeat thinking about flukes and whatnot. You should learn from each defeat.”

“You’re right.” Cheren smiled, though his grip tightened on the edge of the bed. Snivy gave his leg a reassuring pat, but the gesture seemed to have the opposite effect. A moment later, the boy rose to his feet.

"Thanks for the advice," he said. "I think I'm going to call it a night. Snivy and I have some training to do."

The grass type was already following him toward the door before he'd finished speaking.

When the door closed, Cecilia glanced back at Bianca. “What about you? Anything specific you want to know?”

“Not really,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time; we’ve been here so long already.” The blonde laughed awkwardly.

“It isn’t wise to put yourself down constantly like this—”

Bianca spoke over her. “I’m not putting myself down.” Realizing she’d raised her voice, her eyes widened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to I—again, I’m just being realistic and all.”

Not wanting to overstep, Cecilia nodded, allowing Bianca to get ready to leave. She gently placed her starter on the bed and recalled him in his sleep. 

“You’re good with Pokemon,” Cecilia noted. 

“Pfft,” she snorted, dismissing her compliment.

“I mean it. Back when I was just starting out, I was doing a lot wrong. My Scizor would be the first to tell you that.” It had taken a lot to get the bug type to forgive her for her violent method. “This’ll take you far.”

Bianca’s cheeks flushed—though it was somewhat difficult to tell in monochrome. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She fidgeted with her thumbs with her eyes stuck to the floor. “Um. If you’d like, I’d love to have your—you know what, nevermind.”

“No, no, go ahead.”

“I’d—I mean, it’d just be for advice!” She pulled her phone out of her purse.

It took a moment for Cecilia to realize she was asking for her contact information. The taller trainer figured it’d actually be best to have a way to contact all of her colleagues besides Juniper and a few important members of the lab, thus she accepted the request. She was still using her old Poketch phone she’d purchased back in Sinnoh, which was a lot thicker and more cumbersome than the expertly made X-Tech device. She made herself scarce after that. 

Slowking chuckled to himself. I think she might have a little something for you.

“I think she’s shy and scared of me,” Cecilia said.

Why not all three?

“Because it wouldn’t make any sense.” She patted down the comforter on her bed, then dragged the chair back to its desk. “Legendaries know I’m not looking for anything romantic anytime soon. And she’s too innocent and young for me.”

You’re a year older than her, but yeah, I get it. He nodded sagely with his hands behind his back. Want me to Teleport you to the usual place now?

With her heart beginning to pound in her chest from what awaited her, she shook her head. She needed more time to get into the correct state of mind.

“I think I’ll walk.”

——

Nuvema was, for all intents and purposes, on the smaller end of towns in Unova. Home to a few hundred people and a stubborn collection of weatherworn buildings, it sat at the edge of the region like an afterthought scribbled into the margins of a map. 

There was a quietness to the place that seemed almost deliberate. The roads wound lazily between modest homes painted in fading colors, their porches decorated with flower boxes and old rocking chairs. Beyond them stretched rolling fields and pockets of woodland that swallowed the horizon in shades of green. 

Within that woodland, Cecilia had traveled each night away from civilization. The forest had proved to be the best environment for what she was about to do, away from prying eyes and shielded from patrolling rangers in the sky. She traveled to the usual clearing she utilized, making sure no other wild Pokemon were near—though most had learned to avoid the area by now.

She settled on a fallen tree, sitting on its tough bark with her hands folded on her lap. Her eyes were closed tightly shut, and her skin prickled in anticipation. To experience such pain, such physical anger once had taken everything she’d had. To do it daily, albeit to a lesser extent, required the most ardent of minds. 

Spiritomb’s Pokeball felt uncomfortably hot to the touch, as if she was touching concrete on a summer day. None of her other Pokemon are present—no, this needs to be done by her and her alone. The last thing she needed was for the constantly furious ghost to mistake her caution for a threat. Her team hadn’t liked it at the beginning, but she’d proven herself capable of conversing with Spiritomb without risking herself.

Her stomach aching with anxiety, she released Spiritomb into the tall grass.

She could see the obsidian keystone flickering, pulsing with energy amidst the vegetation. Clenching her hands, she braced for their arrival. Cynthia's Spiritomb had been built to prey on someone's worst fears enough to turn them despondent. Hers targeted rage and turned the emotion into physical agony.

She could already feel the first warning signs.

A tightening in her chest. A pressure building behind her eyes. The faint ache of muscles wound too tight.

She could not see its color, yet knew the screaming wisps seeping through the keystone were red instead of purple, violent like flames instead of uniform. They gathered into a jagged disc suspended above the ground. Faces emerged and sank beneath its surface like victims writhing beneath the flames.

MEAT, they spoke out as one.

“Good evening,” she replied. “Should we get back to what we were speaking about yesterday with Hasinaw—” she blinked, and suddenly she saw herself burning in flames hot enough to melt her down to the bone. Her tongue caught in her throat, and she collapsed to the ground. 

Cecilia couldn’t tell what was happening. She’d been reduced to a limp body incapable of telling her fingers apart from her feet because it all hurt so damn much.

YOU BRING ANOTHER TO THIS MEETING.

What? The Unovan’s eyes darted in their sockets desperate to find the intruder, but found none. Yet she heard the groans of a boy nearby, most likely in the same predicament she was. Fool, she had been, too entranced by the routine of this meeting to be extra careful every time; she hadn’t made sure the perimeter was clear. 

WHERE IS HIS HATRED? Frustrated, the Spiritomb swirled more violently, bringing nightmares of fire and brimstone. 

Cecilia didn’t want to see her brother’s flesh washed away by the hateful flames. She’d been reborn anew, and her life would no longer be about others, but herself.

“Please,” she groaned, clenching at dirt and grass. “Hasinaw…”

A Spiritomb was inhabited by 108 souls all wound together by one horrifying fate. To gain their favor was to win over the majority, and that started with one. Hasinaw and her clique’s influence lingered throughout the clearing, granting Cecilia enough relief to rise to her feet and recall the ghost. 

Cecilia hacked out a cough, closing and opening her fist to make sure she’d regained control of her body. She wiped the drool off her chin, then stumbled against the fallen tree. Something rustled in the tall grass just beyond what she could see.

Hilbert Cassidy crawled forth, vomit still dribbling down the corners of his mouth. A ragged breath tore from his throat, scraping against it like chalk dragged across a blackboard.  

Cecilia rushed toward him, finding her balance now that someone was in danger. Was the pain so much for his inexperienced mind that he would have to delay the start of his journey? Would he be traumatized forever and no longer wish to leave? Or worst case scenario, would she have to carry the guilt of his brain death upon her shoulders?

Instead, the boy chuckled dryly, turning to face the sky with Oshawott’s Pokeball clasped against his chest. “Thank the Legendaries,” he whispered to himself. Cecilia understood he was glad his starter hadn’t been with him. When Cecilia reached him and grabbed his arm, his eyes snapped into focus as awareness of where he was flooded back.  “I’m alright… I think,” he mumbled.

The two sat down on the floor in silence. The clearing was quiet save for the rustling of leaves overhead and the distant chirping of wild Pokémon going about their evening. It felt strangely normal considering what had just happened. Hilbert's breathing gradually slowed from frantic gasps to something resembling normal.

“I’m so sorry. This—this was on me.” Cecilia’s head hung low. “I should have asked my Slowking if anyone was around. I fully understand if you report this to the Professor and—” 

“Oh no, I was following you,” Hilbert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What was that? It was so scary…”

The dark-skinned trainer blinked in confusion. “Why were you following me?”

“Because I was curious is all. Some Pokemon told me your Golurk had told them not to show up here around this time and I wondered why.” He shivered, recalling the Spiritomb’s ransacking of his mind no doubt. “I guessed that you wouldn’t tell me if I asked ‘cause you didn’t tell anyone else.”

And he was correct. No one was supposed to know, but Cecilia had no idea the teen was close enough with the wildlife here to get so much information from them.

“To be honest, they were kinda scared and I figured checking would be good, but I was also curious,” he corrected. “I mean, you’re an intriguing person, Cecilia!” His face lit up. “Look at you! How does one get like that? How’d you get the scars? And your eyes? I wanna hear your story!”

Even though the questions took her aback, there was no malice in his tone. Cecilia remembered what Spiritomb had noted before glowering with further rage. Where is his hatred?

No soul was so pure that it lacked shadows. Somewhere, hidden beneath layers of love, hope, and forgiveness, there was always a spark of hatred waiting for someone cruel enough to breathe on it. Yet they’d found nothing to use and must have resorted to a basic form of Pressure. Hilbert’s inexperienced body would have still been shaken by the ability.

It must have been a mistake.

“It’d be long,” Cecilia finally answered. “And there are wounds that are still fresh. Maybe some other day.”

“Aww.” He crossed his legs and pouted. “That’s okay, though. Oshawott says the same thing and I let it go.”

“Your Oshawott?”

“Yup! She’s weird, but I love weird! She threw her scalchop away recently and her body’s started growing a new one.” He threw his head back and sighed. “That made beating Cheren the other day such a headache! He nearly got us!”

Things were… clicking into place.

“Say, Hilbert,” she said, “why are you going on this journey?”

The boy grinned, adjusting his cap. His eyes glinted in the night without an ounce of maliciousness, yet threateningly all the same.

“I just want humans and Pokemon to be happy, and your brother’s in my way.”

She felt a chill run down her spine.