"That was... a close call."
When Dana regained consciousness, all she could manage was a single dumb phrase. The cries of Wingull overhead hadn't jolted her awake like an alarm. Her ears had tuned into them gradually, as if the surrounding world was sensitive to her near-death experience and knew not to overwhelm her. The sand provided a cushion for her resting body, and the waves consoled her with a gentle shush as they lapped the shore. But when memories of drowning came flooding back, the 15-year-old had a rude awakening, reconciling her state of total helplessness with her determined pronouncement to her parents. She'd planned to explore the region, live on her own, and find her purpose as she helped others along the way. In the end, her bold stride left her gasping for air and swallowing her pride.
Dana was glad to be alive, but no one could see her like this. She sprung to a sitting position and hastily scanned her surroundings. Though it was golden hour, there was hardly anyone around. Route 5 was full of trainers, food trucks, and street performers, but they were too high up on the cliff to have spotted her. The beach itself was empty, except for an orange Pokémon.
"Were you the one who saved me?!" Dana cried to the Floatzel. She was distressed. She needed to make sense of her situation, and the weasel, whose back was turned, looked like he was about to leave. But he faced her instead and... smiled?
Oh good, you're up. If I'd been a second late you might not have been, he said. Dead or alive though, I'm sure my words fall on deaf ears.
The girl didn't know how to respond. It wasn't that she hadn't understood him, but the opposite. A Pokémon had just formed a sentence, in human words she was familiar with, and commented that she was awake. But Dana wasn't sure anymore. She must've still been lying unconscious on the shore and dreaming, or had drowned and risen in the afterlife. There was no other explanation for a talking weasel.
Well, I won't confuse you any more. Take it easy, he added, starting away.
"Wait, don't go...!"
By the time the shock of hearing a Pokémon speak had worn off, however, the Floatzel had waded back into the ocean and taken with him her last chance at becoming a trainer. That wasn't the reason she'd set out, but surviving in the world meant having a Pokémon. She didn't know the first thing about bonding with one, but she figured that the creature who'd just departed had accepted her enough to save her life. It was a desperate, foolish thought that caved under the creeping realization that Dana shouldn't have run away so impulsively. If she was dreaming, though, then she might never have fought with her parents and was still sleeping soundly in her bed. She pinched herself and sighed.
"Nope. I definitely need a place to sleep tonight."
The sun was setting, the route was clearing, and Dana was searching the woods for someplace cozy. She was thinking things through for a change, like the fact that her card would only last as long as her parents' patience, and cash would only buy her a couple days' worth of street food. Thankfully the forest gave way to a winding path and ended in an illuminated space, because she didn't have an answer to her long-term problems. The girl set down her travel essentials and retired on a bed of leaves for now. She'd cross that bridge when she got there, and hopefully wouldn't drown beside one like she nearly had today.
Waking up on the cold, hard ground was worse, Dana thought the next morning. It wasn't something her pampered back was used to. Nor was brushing her teeth with drinking water, buying breakfast with her own money, and being around so many trainers. In a big city like Nimbasa, it was easy to walk by people without really knowing who they were or what they did. But everyone on Route 5 had come for the same purpose.
"Hey!" a male called, stopping Dana in the middle of the street and running up to her. "I caught a new Pokémon and can't wait to see what it can do! Send yours out and battle!"
"Oh sorry, I'm not a trainer, so I don't have one," she replied innocently. "Nice to meet you, though. I'm Dana."
"Dang, I messed up again, assuming everyone who passes through is a trainer!" the man whirled around and scolded himself. "This is so awkward. Sorry to bother you!"
"...Okay. Well, bye, I guess," the girl trailed off when he stomped away and left her there. Dana felt out of place among all these people who had a reason to be here. She continued on to the shore where she'd last seen Floatzel, not knowing what else to do. Maybe retracing her steps would give her an idea. Maybe she'd even run into the Pokémon again, and, as silly as it sounded, he'd offer advice, since he believed her life was worth saving. Dana stood on the empty beach, her eyes drifting to the litter that had washed ashore and her hands moving to pick it up. There was enough for her arms to fall into a mindless, trash-collecting routine, the only apparent way she could make a difference in the world. When she finished, she simply sighed and retreated inland. The weasel was still nowhere to be seen.
But he'd been observing her the whole time, from behind some rocks farther out in the ocean. What was this girl doing back here, he wondered. Hadn't she gone home after he'd rescued her? Didn't she have something better to do than pick up waste? Floatzel rarely took interest in humans and was only curious about Dana because her behavior contrasted his previous encounters. He'd watched people discard their trash on the shore he called home, but here was a girl who cleaned up after them. He dismissed the notion as quickly as it came. It's not like she actively cared about the environment. She probably just needed some thoughtless task to clear her head and move on with her life.
Yet there she was a day later, crouched on the sand and disposing of the newly deposited garbage.
"Well, that's the last of it..." Dana concluded. Perhaps she should just go home already. The repetitive motions helped her think, but she ultimately couldn't summon the inspiration of a few days ago. Her flight now seemed more like a petty act of rebellion than a genuine conviction.
What are you doing? a familiar voice asked, finally deciding to swim over when minutes of distant observation only deepened his confusion. The girl lifted her head and instantly recognized Floatzel.
"You're here?! I've been wondering if I'd ever see you again!" she exclaimed. "Wow, an actual talking Pokémon!"
Well, of course I can talk. In my own language that you can't understand.
"What? No, I can totally understand you!"
Are you serious?! I knew something was different about you...
"What do you mean?"
I mean that most people don't come here to pick up trash every day. Don't you have somewhere else to be?
"No, not really. I can't go home, that's for sure."
I doubt that.
"It's... complicated."
In what way?
Dana hadn't expected a conversation with a Pokémon to last this long, much less delve into her family drama. Perhaps that was why she ended up confiding in him; Floatzel was a Pokémon, whom others couldn't understand, so she trusted that he wouldn't breathe a word of this to anyone. She told him why she'd fled Nimbasa City, what she was hoping to accomplish, what had changed in her as of late, and why she couldn't return. At the conclusion of an intensely personal confession, however, the weasel simply turned and retreated toward the sea.
"Where are you going this time?" a startled Dana asked.
I think I understand your situation. Follow me. I need to show you something.
"Where? In the ocean?!"
The 15-year-old trembled the moment she took a step forward. She hadn't touched the water since almost dying the other day, and now it hissed at her feet like a snake waiting to choke her a second time. The experience was still fresh in her brain, erasing her many years of swimming and paralyzing her, urging her to flee again when there were few places left to run.
You'll be fine, Floatzel reassured. Just hold tight to my back.
"...Yeah. Sure. Will do."
It was hard to get a proper grip on the Pokémon's sleek body, so Dana dug her nails into his fur. He kept the pain to himself, since she was hurting worse and one of them had to be strong. With a human in tow and a prick of discomfort accompanying every forward motion, Floatzel's trip seemed longer than usual.
But the sense of relief when they finally reached their destination was greater. To Dana, it didn't matter where she'd arrived. Anywhere was paradise after having to relive the most terrifying experience of her life. The place even looked the part—a quaint pocket of land where Pokémon scurried through the grass, cradled by the island's natural rock walls and spared the ravages of the outside world.
At least that was how it seemed at first. When the girl approached, the blinding sun that obscured everything from a distance slipped away and revealed heaps of garbage. If her only problem was that her pristine image of this location was ruined, Dana’s face would’ve merely sunken in disappointment. But her hand flew to cover her mouth, because it horrified her that Pokémon had to live like this. She looked to Floatzel, who’d cast his head down and said nothing about this being some sort of mistake.
This is my home, he said with a resigned smile. I don’t fully understand what’s preventing you from returning to yours, but nothing ever stops me, even if it means living among garbage. So you should probably go back to where you came from.
When she saw the resident waterfowl with their necks in plastic six pack holders, Dana realized why she rarely saw the weasel. He likely struggled to provide food for the critters who couldn’t do it themselves, and cleaned up the trash at all other times. She felt selfish for wanting him to be her Pokémon, ripping him from his community and his responsibilities. Team Plasma’s message, however disagreeable, suddenly made sense. Trainers removed creatures from their natural habitats, polluted the environment, and left the reduced population to deal with the consequences.
But that wasn’t all they did.
“I think… I can help,” Dana said. The expression on Floatzel’s face told her that she shouldn’t go through the trouble, that she should just return to Nimbasa. Home and where she was actually going were in the same direction, however. She turned around and started toward the water, shivering in discomfort and signaling for the weasel’s assistance when wading in was the only way forward.
Where are you going now? he asked.
“Back to Driftveil Drawbridge, please.”
Sure. It’s not like I’d strand you here.
The return trip wasn’t any easier on her. When they reached the Route 5 shore, she hurried inland as if she never wanted to see the ocean again. Floatzel was just behind her, following a human who wasn’t even his trainer onto the paved street. Now, it was he who was out of his comfort zone, peering into Dana’s back and not knowing how to act among the others in his peripheral vision, many of whom might have been responsible for the squalor he lived in. Yet the female casually walked up to one and asked a favor.
“Hey, sorry to bother you. Can you show me how to catch a Pokémon?”
Floatzel was intrigued. Swimming was second nature to him, but a suffocating experience for her. When it came to conversing with strangers, however, he found it just as hard to let go of his prejudices as Dana did her fears. Not that he expected anything to come out of her request. The teenage boy she’d approached looked unconvinced. Why would she need to learn how to catch a Pokémon when one was already following her?
“Sure thing. Which Pokémon do you want to catch?” the boy, to his surprise, obliged. He was clueless when it came to human body language, so he wasn’t sure what the blush suffusing his cheeks meant, or if it explained why he was so eager to assist.
“Trubbish.”
The smile with which Dana replied made even a gross Pokémon’s name sound cute. To the teen, it was the tiniest glimmer of positivity after a recent losing streak, and a big chance to redeem himself. He led the girl into the tall grass, sent out his team, and stopped, listening for the slightest sounds around them. When a rustling patch cleared and revealed the source of the noise, he didn’t think he’d ever been more excited to see a trash bag with eyes in his life. The battle ensued almost instantly as the trainer’s three Pokémon swarmed the lone Trubbish. When it was weakened enough, the boy wound his hand back in an exaggerated motion and let his Pokéball fly.
“How was that?” he addressed her with a smirk when it had clicked and was spinning on the tip of his finger.
“That was great! Can we catch two more?”
“Two more? You really like Trubbish, don’t you?” the trainer remarked. She must’ve had a heart of gold if she could love such a Pokémon despite its appearance. He spent the next 20 minutes skimming the grass for the other two, and Dana’s idling person for any indication that he was right. The former search yielded results—three Pokéballs in the palm of his hand, and an empty one that he handed her if she wanted to apply her newfound knowledge.
“Hey, thanks a lot! And you even threw in something special,” Dana expressed her gratitude with the most genuine, disarming smile.
“Y-yeah, no problem,” he stammered. “I-I’ll see you.”
He stood there like an idiot as she walked back to the beach. Only when she’d disappeared did his head descend from the clouds, and the missed opportunity to ask her number hit him like a solid floor. Suddenly he felt like trash, maybe worse; the difference between him and Trubbish was that one had gone with her and the other hadn’t.
He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t follow. Floatzel, though he accompanied Dana back to the island, hadn’t the faintest idea what she was planning.
“Just wait and see,” she assured him, releasing the three garbage bags. The Poison types wandered the grass, nomming on every piece of litter they encountered, from the scraps on the ground to the plastics straining the wild Pokémon’s necks. It had taken the weasel time and effort to undo them, but Trubbish’s toxic teeth broke them down in a matter of seconds.
How did you know this would work? Floatzel asked, surprised that a girl with no training experience had freed the critters.
“I’m from the city. There are Trubbish eating our litter in every alley,” Dana answered. “They stay full, and the city stays clean. That’s how we survive.”
Her voice picked up a more sympathetic note.
“You must have only seen the harm that humans do,” she continued. “But I want to set a different example, help people and Pokémon in need all across Unova.”
When Floatzel had first heard her story, he believed Dana was rather spoiled. However he’d wanted to explore the world outside his community, he needed to stay and take care of his friends. The girl should do the same, put her ambitions in check and return to a home that was likely much nicer than his. But the sight of his fellows, relieved of their pain and no longer relying on him, made him question who should really be imitating whom. Maybe he shouldn’t be confined to this island for the rest of his life, be more adventurous now that it was possible, and take the time to understand the trainers and Pokémon he mistrusted from afar. Dana’s altruistic vision, when other teens thought of themselves, was increasingly compelling. From her focus on the capsule in her hand, she seemed to be thinking the same.
“I have an extra Pokéball…” she said with a smile. “And I’m not one to throw things away.”
~~~
It was a pleasant memory, and one that faded as quickly as Dana recalled it. She didn’t need to remember how she met her partner, the lights decided. They were both pawns now, and that was all that mattered. The masters had begun to erase the experience that the real Dana would’ve never let them touch—her journey. But she could no longer resist them, for they were changing who “the real Dana” was.
“What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? Is there something on my face?” she feigned innocence. She then passed her hand in front of her, wiping away the lifeless expression and leaving in its stead an uncharacteristic, hateful glare. “Is that better, now?”
She wasn’t there for idle chat, a fact that probably hadn’t clicked in the dumbstruck Shiro. Her plan was already in motion, Close Call rushing the boy from the cloaking mists behind him and heeding Dana’s next command before she even spoke.
“Kill him.”
