Chapter Text
Come As You Are - The Naked and Famous
The first thing you noticed was how collected Leon seemed.
He stood there by the Taxi, waving you down and smiling. It was a far cry from the wisping smile he’d offered the day before, and you were nearly convinced it may have been genuine this time. Nearly.
You’d thought to ask him again, to reach out the way he had to you, really, you had. But when you thought about it—and you had thought for as long as the night—you realised he was nothing like you, and that meant something. Leon was a leader, a legend, a battling laureate—everything you’d ever tried to be, and everything you’d ever fallen short of. And where you could collapse and fail and pull yourself together again, he could not afford the same luxury. Too many relied on him, looked up to him, needed him to be alright, so alright he would be, and he would not tell otherwise. Simply, there were things he wouldn't or couldn't tell you, so, you wouldn’t pry into his world. Not unless he invited you to.
This, you felt, was the least you could do as you met him in the quiet city centre cleared out for your arrival.
“Morning, then!” You chirped with a smile that was all teeth.
The second thing you noticed was how his shoulders eased at your easy greeting, and you wondered if he appreciated your ignorance for the night before, if not having to explain himself was one less burden to worry those strong, weary shoulders. You hoped it was, anyway.
“Today’s the day, all-star! Ready to shine up that third Gym badge?” There was a practiced inflection in the way he spoke that you recognized, but did not acknowledge.
“You don’t even know. Motostoke won’t know what hit ‘em!”
“That’s the spirit,” he replied approvingly, offering his hand to help you into the Taxi. You took it and climbed in, and Leon continued, “Arceus knows Kabu needs some young blood to keep him on his toes.”
You nodded. Kabu, although much younger than the late Opal, was beginning to show his age much as she had, with greying hair and crow’s feet and the stubborn denial he was ever ageing at all. But age had never been congruent with strength in the world of battle. You’d have to bring your all if you were to beat the fiery wise man and his blazing Centiskorch.
For now, you settled into the Taxi cabin with your bag in your lap, the front flap bulging and round. You had wised up, too, opting to keep your team in their pokéballs this trip around. Motostoke was much further than Hulbury, after all, and you weren’t keen on losing thing or limb to Princess and her unrelenting energy—even if the ride would be admittedly lonelier for it. Leon leaned into the cabin with his arm to the frame, having to look up at you instead of the other way around. There was no vulnerability in his amber gaze now.
“You should get there before dark,” he explained, “but not before the Gym closes for the night. Use the time to train, get yourself sorted.”
“You saying I’ve lost my touch?” You stuck out your tongue. “It’s only been three days!”
He chuckled. “Not in the slightest, all-star, but you have a rookie and you shouldn’t underestimate Kabu. That old bloke would battle the sun if he could. Wouldn't bet a pokén on him losing, either.”
You knew. Kabu had ended many a Trainer’s journey. You had already decided you would not be one of them—not with Shellos on your side.
“Trust me,” you flashed your newly-equipped Dynamax band for the first time in days, “I’ll be ready.”
“Alright,” Leon patted the frame and the Corviknight flashed his shining black wings with a screech. “I’ll see you soon, then. Have a safe flight… and keep out of trouble, won’t you?”
It felt too soon to joke about your previous blunder. And yet, you found yourself quipping anyway. “No promises!”
“Atta girl.”
Leon stepped away as the Taxi rose from the ground. You peered out the window and waved at him until his form was but a dot in the city’s iron sprawl, and it occurred to you how strange it was to see the Champion so small by comparison. You supposed even giants looked little more like specks when they were far enough away. Placing your bag in the empty space beside you, you leaned your head against the seat, and closed your eyes for the trip ahead.
You’d woken up long before Motostoke Stadium speared the evening sky. Stretching static-stiff limbs, you looked out at the dusk-red city and were glad for the sparse high street below. Fewer people meant fewer eyes, a privilege you’d come to treasure since the televised incident that left you the region’s punching bag. Three days had settled the worst of the aftermath, but that didn’t mean everyone had forgiven you quite yet—not that you felt you needed forgiving. Truthfully, your time away had only strengthened your resolve and no matter of ridicule would ever convince you otherwise. Dangerous? Yes. But wrong? You’d save Shellos again in a heartbeat.
You wished others understood that. You wished Dazzle and Princess would stop fighting, too, but neither of those things were going to happen anytime soon, so you wished the Taxi would land already instead. You were sorely overdue for a good back click.
You hopped off the Taxi just before it touched ground, impatiently twisting your spine to and fro until a crackling pop relieved your aching body. You hunched with a satisfied hum. Beside you, the Taxidriver scoffed.
“Can’t help yourself, can ya?”
You sighed, prepared for the worst, and glared up at him. “Sorry?”
“Couldn’t wait to get off before I even parked ‘er. Always gotta be ahead. Can’t be surprised, knowin’ yous.”
You stood. The man worked to untether his Corviknight and, while he refused to face you, the crowish pokémon scowled enough for the both of them. Unfortunately, you were all too used to human ire, but why was it pokémon were always mad at you, too? Did it even matter? You scoffed, picked up your bag, and stomped towards the Motostoke gates leading to the Wild Area. Leon said you had to train, anyway. At least now you were in the mood to beat something up.
Most Challengers had moved on by now, whether by defeat or by victory, but the stragglers that remained hadn’t given up just yet. They were in the Wild Area, too, hoping and training to beat Kabu once and for all. Opening the gates, you saw a couple now battling against each other. You watched as one suddenly activated their Dynamax and threw their partner, an Onix, to the field. The Wild Area was one of the few places outside of Gyms pokémon could Dynamax, but you were still surprised to see them so close to the city. The nearby gate guard seemed to agree as he ran over to end the battle before any real damage could be done.
The pair cleared off without noticing you. You reckoned you still had a bit of luck yet and ventured into the wilds towards the Watchtower Ruins. You weren't particularly sure what your plan was. Of course, you wouldn't fight the wild pokémon, not unless you had more revives in your bag. You'd picked up what you could afford in Wyndon—five in total—and quickly fled when a gaggle of Nate fans recognized you. You grimaced at the memory, and hoped you might avoid another confrontation for as long as possible. Thankfully, most Challengers didn't pick favorites the way fans did. Most would want to battle you for the sole pleasure of beating the infamous match-ruiner.
You clicked your tongue disapprovingly and continued on.
Eventually, the stein of ancient stone and moss leaned into view, casting a mighty shadow over your tiny form. You picked your way through the rubble peering out of the grass, anxious of disturbing any historical artifacts you couldn't see in the growing dark. Archaeologists still sifted here, and it would be just like you to destroy their biding prophecies with a careless step or fall. Really, you couldn't afford another mishap this week. You just wanted to battle some Trainers who'd claimed the place as their own—away from the tower, of course.
You’d never seen the tower this close before. You stood at its lichen-robed throne and marveled at its clawed crown with parted lips, its size rivaling any Gigantimaxed pokémon into insignificance. Suddenly, you remembered Cawley’s story and glanced at the shimmering lake behind you. The shore was some distance from the tower, but when you closed your eyes and imagined it, you could see Cawley just as awed as you were now, and Linnea, young and beautiful, diving into the deep blue waters like a Milotic. You traced your finger along the stone thoughtfully and wondered what other stories might sleep within its crumbling facade.
But another story was unfolding, for, as you lost yourself to the splendors of days gone by, a familiar face had wandered over and began to speak.
“Grand, innit?”
You spooked, but quickly composed yourself. It was only Bunnie, gazing with a smile at the watchtower beside you.
“Man, are you a sight for sore eyes,” you sighed.
“Missed ya, proper, Fluffle.” Bunnie looked at you now and you were relieved to find no malice in her steady juniper eyes. “Where'd they have ya holed up all this time?”
“Some hotel in Wyndon,” you replied. “I don't remember the name.”
“S’pose that's fair, considerin’.”
“Yeah.” You swallowed dryly. “I’m surprised you’re still here. Thought you’d be in Hammerlocke by now.”
“Ya know how it is,” she grumbled. “That old bastard’s tougher than he looks. I was real close the first time, but after the fourth… Ya learn to swallow yer pride. The team needed trainin’. Guess I did, too.”
“I wish I could’ve been there. Would’ve softened him up for you.” You winked.
“Yeah, well, ya weren’t,” she retorted and you jolted at the bitterness on her tongue. Bunnie suddenly broke your gaze and, for the slightest of heartbeats, you swore you saw sadness there. “Tried callin’ ya, ya know. I've been cancelled before, but nothin’ like that. Was worried somethin’ happened.”
You chuckled. “You? Cancelled? For what?”
“I'm serious,” then, for the first time since meeting her, Bunnie spoke your name with so much heartache and frustration, you flinched away as if she had struck you. It seemed your silence had hurt her far more than she would ever admit—aloud, at least.
“I'm sorry,” you murmured guiltily, recalling Leon’s own worries for you. “I lost my phone on the way there.”
“Makes sense.”
“I would’ve called, really, but I don’t know your number.”
“I don’t hold it against ya,” she picked up a pebble, examined it, and tossed it towards the lake. “Just wish I’d heard somethin’ sooner, is all.”
You heaved a sigh. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
Her voice sharpened. “But I don’t, so stop tryin’ to make this somethin’ it ain’t. I didn’t come here to lecture ya.”
“Then what are you here for?” You asked much more pointedly than you intended. “I mean, being seen with me can’t be good for your whole,” you gestured at her weakly, “whatever.”
“This ain’t ‘bout my followers, Fluffle.” Bunnie crossed her arms, screwing her brows. “I ain’t heard from ya in three days and I was sick thinkin’ what might’ve happened after everythin’. Figured that was obvious.”
You didn’t reply at first. Bunnie had never been an obvious person to you. So, you turned away and said very softly, “I guess I didn't realise you cared about me like that.”
For a moment, all that passed between you was the whisper of wind catching your hair. Then, Bunnie’s hands seized your shoulders and she forced you to face her. You blinked at her in surprise, at the intensity of her brilliant gaze, and opened your mouth wordlessly
“I,” she hesitated, “I gotta level with ya, Fluffle. I ain't got so many friends. Not real ones, anyway.” You worked your jaw, but she held up her palm. “I don't need yer sympathies. I gotta keep folk at arm’s length for a reason. Not all of ‘em, ‘course, but the real ones? Yeah, I give a damn ‘bout ‘em. That’s you, Fluffball. Yer not just my rival. Yer my friend, too.”
At first, you wanted to laugh. Bunnie, your friend? Why would someone like her want to be caught up with someone like you? It was as much your job to make a mess as it was hers to be, well, famous, you supposed. But, when her gaze didn’t falter, when you realised she was more like Leon than she was the spectators or the talk show hosts or the family of yours gorging themselves on your miseries and fears, you saw the truth for what it had been all along: Bunnie was your friend—Arceus, she was your friend! How had you missed it? Tears burned your eyes. You hiccuped as the woman took you into her arms and held on as if you might disappear. No, you’d never disappear again. You’d stay here in her embrace and cry for as long as she allowed.
You would let your friend cherish you, and cherish her all the more for it.
Soon, your tears dried and your chest settled and you stood in each other’s arms a heartbeat longer because it felt as natural as the night air on your skin, the moonlight puddling through the pitted patchwork of the watchtower. When you finally parted, Bunnie laughed. “It was for vapin’, by the way.”
You wiped away a stray tear, smiling in your confusion. “W-What?”
“What I got cancelled for. Got caught with a vape in the ladies at a beano. Silly, innit?”
You shook your head, laughing, “Yeah, silly for you, maybe. You might as well inhale glass!”
“Y’ain’t wrong,” she chuckled, too. “Stopped after that. Guess Tweetermon knew best.”
“It always does, doesn’t it?”
Immediately, your shared laughter rose to the night sky and a Pidove winged away in alarm from its nest atop the tower. The both of you jumped at its sudden flight, shared a bug-eyed glance, and laughed anew. Joyful tears sprouted in the corners of your eyes, your belly reeling with painful delight, as you doubled over into the grass alongside Bunnie. You smacked her arm playfully. “It’s not even that funny! Stop making me laugh!”
“You first, Fluffball!”
Eventually, the hysteria subsided. You sat with your arms on your knees, Bunnie nestled beside you, and gazed out at the starry lake. Scales shimmered in the moonlight as fish leapt from the dark water and scattered glittering crystal waves, the fireflies drifting just above the surface twirling to avoid them like lanterns on the wind. A cool breeze had picked up and you closed your eyes against it, enjoying the tousle of your hair and the warmth of Bunnie beside you. You knew this moment would only be a fleeting memory soon—a memory etched by ancient stone and moss, recounted as dreams to young strangers in old homes that looked a little too familiar. You could see it now.
Tonight, this memory, you would carry for a lifetime.