When old, one must take care to be healthy by sneaking out of town at midnight.

Very much known was the town's enmity to the clandestine, that all doors sealed shut at eight, all lights broke at nine, all snores offered earplugs at ten, and every creature in the universe lay entangled in newfangled dreams at eleven.

Any person found awake would be eligible for house arrest, shackled to the rack and the screw of beds till seven in the next dawn. To claim such bounteous rewards, simply present your foot to the lumpy tussock of grass between the justice-white fence any time before the witching hour. Else, a deadly curse will be activated and you lose your eligibility to house arrest.

Constance was one such convict, and it was inspirational that she had the motivation to return to her routine after flooding her house with fifty-seven of these presents, these temporary house arrests she was forced to sleep in a fluffy bed. That she would one day evolve into a Delibird might just be a midsummer's night dream come true.

Her brown fedora retained its air of pride, and the lone, white feather protruding from its head as she sauntered swung like a metronome, pleased to be unleashed and taking a walk. This would be a night of success, no doubt, for her hair grew into a tame Ponyta-tail, and her breath was as fresh as the minty gale. Her heart, having devoured the ocean and leaving it turbulent, now experienced the same chaos. Constance was breaking order, and she liked it.

A woman definitely could not be better expressed than in the form of maternal love, even if husbandry was a lack. Her Musharna mind mechanically swerved to the dreams of the townspeople. The men, she reckoned, would top their cream pies with toxic sexism, vices, fears of women empowerment; the women knew better and founded love, beauty, courage; the children, akin to daisies, would only wish to grow up, turn ten and receive their starter Pokémon to set out on a journey of independence.

As usual, her head gyrated to that two-storey building washed white with a sepia roof to top, a plain place to call home. She then dispensed her token at the dew-forbidden grass blades and waited for the curse to get to her. She relished in the bewitching magic as it brought itches to her ankle, clawing at her Corviknight-black ankle socks. Falling leaves spiralled to the earth.

She ought to have been accustomed to the process, yet the success rate could prove lower than the failure rate at times. A wonky system always never failed to provide worries to quell her present anxieties.

Three time's the charm, so her third step indeed surprised her with a disembodied hand, cold as wax, resting on her shoulder. It refused to budge even as she whirled around, eyes adjusting to the sterile and vile dark of the town. It was an effect of the curse to grow a little unfamiliar with the town once out of bounds come midnight.

The hand soon developed a body, a hair of snow and piercing eyes. A heavy sweetness weighted on her. Freshly cracked lips split apart. "Hey, you don't have a Pokémon with you! It's dangerous to go out without a Pokémon! The tall grass will attack you!"

Constance could hardly suppress her smile, then that laughter. "I'm Constance, not hey. Also, boomer talk is ineffective against me. Though... Why is the professor astoundingly sober at this time of the day?"

"So children like you can't running about mindfully."

"Oh, then I can be minding about my run." Constance retreated into the clutches of the wilderness.

There was nothing better than being away from home when a curious geezer lived within reach. She would never wish contact with him anyway.

Not all wishes come true; some of them lie through their teeth.

Professor Oak's fingers were intertwined with her, and the still scene could well paint a sense of elopement. "There's something I must ask you."

"What could it be?"

"Are you..." He coughed. "Are you—" He coughed twice.

"Am I single? Yes. Am I a boomer? No." Constance could barely hide her excitement. When she'd reckon him a possible admirer of hers from childhood, perhaps this interruption would be the pleasantest affair ever.

He coughed thrice. "Are you a boy or a girl?"

"I'm neither."

"Have you come out of the closet this young? Well, have you?" Professor Oak rested his gaze at her frown.

"No." Constance took a step back and he took a step forward. Disgruntled, she took a step forward, hoping to intimidate him, and perhaps it succeeded, for he retraced his stride. "And you? Have you come out of the closet this old?"

"Yes." His lips shut down, inviting stillness, some heavy pause, as if he were in a drama. "I have to go in and out to take out my designer lab coats. They are made of the finest silk of the cutest Sewaddle imported from a beautiful region by the name of Unova where the first female professor I've ever known, named Juniper, and she's so young, resides, woven by the seamstress in Viridian City whose husband likes to block the path of beginning trainers and gift them a rusty Teachy TV that they actually don't use but can actually fit into their bags somehow, and yet there is still so much space to put in their clothes, their Poké Balls, medicines, Fire Stones, Water Stones, Grass Stones, Chargestones—"

"Chargestones?" Constance blinked. It would be illegal to remove one of those from the one and only cave in Unova that stored them. "Surely you meant Leaf Stones and Thunder Stones?"

"The Sunder Tones, alright. You are a nice boy, uh... girl, uh, are you a boy or a girl?"

Constance wanted to end this conversation. If their dialogue had grown a pair of legs, or a million for that matter, it would want to leave this place too.

"I got to pee, alright? Yes, nature calls!" She paced forward, he leapt back, still insistent on holding her hand however many times she swatted his. He closed in and she was taken aback. She was a helpless Pokémon leashed to a pole, trapped in a fixed radius, trying to reach out, to get out. But she would never be able to.

"I believe that in this terrain, Nature Power grants you Swift. How are you not fast enough?" He let go of her, backed away and snapped his fingers. "Aha! You must have went to the loo in less than a second! Now that's really swift of you!"

Constance dusted her coat. How ignorant could he get? All she wanted was a short getaway, but she just had to draw that lot of misfortune. No, it was forced upon her.

"I—"

"Answer me, are you a boy or a girl, old lady? You have a promising potential for the waltz. Do you mind doing the steps again?"

He's not just blind. Constance pulled her sleeves up, shoving the temptation to claw at him down her throat. He doesn't understand the language he speaks. How frightening! Why would I dance with him anyway? This is not a ballroom.

"A boy," she admitted.

"Then we'll get you a nice Pokémon, young man!" His oily hands found their way to her arms. He pulled.

That changed so quickly. Maybe he's got a problem differentiating a contralto and a bass too. Surely my voice doesn't sound so deep?

She knew better than to possess such a long thought, but that slipped her mind. Gruntled to face the music, she merrily mentioned that she had two legs she could use to walk and needed no extra support. Professor Oak, however, was no more than a Mudbray, so he voiced his sweet intent of dragging her like a Poké Doll across the grassy grounds of Pallet to his lab to choose a Pokémon.

A ripple in the nearby pond secured her attention.

"Professor, can I ask you a question?"

He nodded. "Oh, I am male, for sure."

"Every sixty seconds in Johto, a minute passes in Galar. So, when it takes a minute to find Sunder Tone in Sinnoh, how many seconds does it take for you to let go of me in Kanto?"

The man exhaled and released his grip so he could scratch his head and strike a pose for his improvised mannequin challenge. He had truly transformed into a stump.

Meanwhile, Constance was ready to capitalise on this opportunity. Turning on her heel, and tossing her fedora onto a patch of grass, she used much of her energy to run into the pond. Not all, if some energy was used to bet that the man cannot swim, and he would not have a Water-type Pokémon with him.

A rock was the most convenient object to make one fall into a pond. Constance barely had time to breathe. For someone her age, she could proclaim herself to be an expert at falling, but falling because of a rock was a first—and at least, she wasn't falling for a rock. Falling was an art, like everything else. She did it exceptionally well; she did it so it felt like hell. The plunge into the waters filled her ears with bubbles and a rush of cool air penetrated her being.

Old habits die hard, huh?

A smile made its way to her lips. She kicked away, letting herself sink deeper though she only wanted to resurface like the bubbles. A soft crack burst in her ears, and on her right was a white glow, small and steady, from an egg. It was mostly orange, a little yellow at the top, with a fine zigzag separating the two warm colours. It was one of the most arresting sights in her life full of mundane purposes and chores.

At that moment, the only thought that zipped into her mind was that she wanted to care for the egg. She hoped it would turn out to be a rare Pokémon, for after all it was an uncommon sight to feast upon. Together, they inched toward the gentle waves.

Her hair swished as it lashed out of the water, and being the white-haired mermaid she became, she flipped her legs to reach the surface. The egg touched dry land first, followed by her hand, which now had a smooth, pale paw lying on it. Fluttering her eyelids, she shook her head for a while. She wouldn't want to stay in the water for long. Only the hand wouldn't let her. Choosing to let it pull her out of the pond, her shivering body and the non-stop chatter of teeth still could not drown the snores from the houses.

"Young man," she heard her saviour say. "You might want a Squirtle now. Don't belittle this little Pokémon! Despite its tiny size, it can carry you to the surface when you are diving. Or a Bulbasaur's vines can come in handy."

Professor Samuel Oak Stump. The name flashed across her mind, and she wished she hadn't held onto his hand for support.

"I've got an egg. Oh, look. It's hatching." Constance's attempts to dismiss him must prove futile, or he wouldn't have kept gazing at her, and she wouldn't have not realised it in her triumph. She busied herself with cradling the egg in one arm and putting on her fedora with the other. As the egg shook in her grasp, she held her breath. Having been drenched, she placed the egg down with concern in her eyes before wringing water out of her clothes. It was not as effective, but it worked just enough to free some water out of her clothes. Her eyes never left the egg despite this.

Bits and pieces of the shell got chipped off, falling onto the ground gently. The egg danced vigorously, expressing its passion for its favourite dance—breaking. Then, a Pokémon hatched from the egg.

"That's a Magikarp. All it does is Splash and nothing happens. Are you sure you want that instead of a rare and cooler starter Pokémon?" Professor Oak asked. His ears grew red.

The lady puckered her lips and blinked. Her Pokémon's large and heavy reddish-orange scales shone under the dim starlight. Two tan barbels drooped on the pond's edge. Flopping around, its white pectoral and tail fins hit vulnerably in the air, but the yellow, stiff, three-peaked fin on its back and stomach seemed to slash the air critically. Ultimately, it was still another Splash, no matter how graceful. Yet, it displayed the strength of a newborn Pokémon, a symbol of life.

"It's a Magikarp. It's been years since I've seen one. Even if it splashes and flops around, I'll take it. This is a rare gift."

"Only a golden Magikarp is rare." The professor arched a brow and yawned.

"I take back my words. I mean, this Magikarp is priceless." Constance sighed and narrowed her gaze. "How drunk are you?"

"You're not the Magikarp salesman outside Mt. Moon, are you, young man?" His legs wobbled.

"Never." Constance got up and hugged her Pokémon. "Now, if you'd be kind, this Magikarp needs water."

"You'll never become champion like this, young man. My grandson is better than you."

"Well? I never once said I ever wanted to be one."

The white-haired woman made quick steps back to her house, the Pokémon slippery in her hands, and she hoped it would be fine without being in water for that short while.

Before she closed the door behind her, she wished she had been faster to drown out the dreaded voice. She wished, for once, that the snores were more amplified so she would not hear him. But wishes don't always come true immediately unless she was Jirachi. Only, disappointingly, she wasn't.

"You don't seem much like a young man after I looked at you for so long. Are you a boy or a girl?"

When the door clicked shut, the hands of silence massaged her ears. She learnt against the door and slid down, her knees at eye level. Then, she said, "It'd be best if you could leave me alone. You can't remember your grandson's name anyway."

She guessed she couldn't be heard, or that he had walked away, back to Oak's residence. Shaking her head, she dropped onto her knees. The Magikarp in her arms let out a soft cry. She saw the tan barbels and realised her Pokémon was male. More importantly, he needed water. Getting up, she rushed to the bathroom, turning the tap clockwise for the water to flow onto the scales of her prized Pokémon.

"Magi," Constance mumbled repeatedly as she caressed the waves of scales. Her eyes bounced onto the bubbles that grew from his mouth and popped without a sound. "Yes, your name is Magi. As magical as a Magikarp can be."

Holding the fish Pokémon in her hands, her eyes were watery. She earned herself a companion and she felt like she had closed a can of worms.

"Magi!" Her Pokémon cried and splashed lightly in the basin.

"Now, now, Magi. We'll find you some food. You got a home now, sweetie. You got a home."

The tears were liberated from her eyes, and each drop meant something to her. Even if she could not claim them back, she was over the moon to have a companion. A friend.

"I will protect you. Shield you. Love you. You're not weak like what they tell you; you're strong."

In the mirror, her lips twitched and she thought for a while there were two 'Constance's. One who remained the same, and the other, always changing.

Magi is unlike what I hear about his kind. He looks and feels so strong to me. I only want to love him, to let him experience what I don't receive from my family—except Sebby who gives me lots of love. I want to give Magi love.

Strangely, as she was reminded of her late husband, after all these years, she had let go. After so long, it was time for her to protect and nurture someone again.

Constance was finally ready.