Music in media: Fly Away by Eminem

15 January, Saturday, 7 a.m. | Winter

Cheren's embrace was welcoming. Rae sniffled and pulled him closer. Her Pokémon watched them both without a word as catharsis swathed the room like a silk blanket.

"Pokémon are our friends," murmured Cheren. "Does it matter what type they are?"

Rather, should their types affect or reflect the type of human you are, Rae, and vice versa? Crude as it might be, thought Cheren, it's all but a matter of preference. How does a person wish to be perceived? What kind of identity will you carve out of your flesh and skin?

Ah, why did he resign himself to be a Normal-type specialist in the end, and a teacher at that? No, it wasn't because those who can, do, and those who can't, teach. Not that. He simply liked reminding himself of the basics, the fundamentals, the foundation of all things.

Too stereotypical that a villain would use only Dark-types and a hero, pseudolegendaries. What do you cling to so badly? Your image? Or your true self?

All these he transmitted to her through radio silence simmering in the room while beads of sweat formed on their foreheads, against the cool onslaught of the air-conditioning.

Certainly, there were some people who would be more intentional about their desires. If the five people you hung out with the most were what made you you, then it wouldn't be so different when it came to Pokémon. Strong Pokémon, weak Pokémon, statistically proven or not, wouldn't matter unless you wanted it to matter. The same could be said of their types and natures and abilities.

Rae whimpered as she tore away from Cheren's grasp. "I suppose not... But it feels wrong now. It feels too exclusive."

"Well," said Cheren with a glint in his eyes, "it's hard to be inclusive. There's always an Other no matter how much we try. A criterion we missed that makes someone feel lonely, left out. You can't be friends with everyone, or friendship isn't as special anymore."

"Special..."

Everyone she knew or came across wanted to be special, to be different, to be Other, as if it meant happiness. No, not everyone. Her brother did whatever he could to live a simple life. Aomine Kyo was the perfect homebody, the boy with little to no ambition. To him, then, being an Other would spell misery.

"It's... arbitrary," she added.

"It is," said Cheren.

"Then... how do I know if I'm right?"

"We don't know that. We can only rely on conviction." He patted her head. "But not too much. You don't want to be a convict of conviction."

Rae nodded, her eyes blurry as a slow understanding rose within her, followed by a low growl.

"We should get something to eat."

She nodded again, glanced at her Pokémon, muttered an apology and, taking his hand, let herself be led out of the room, out of the Pokémon Centre, towards a trailer on the route adjacent to Nimbasa, where the rest of the group was waiting for them, save for Linus and Calliope who had gone home and Professor Juniper who had returned to the lab to research about the red shoe and its connection to Thundurus. So, they were back to being a quartet once more.

Breakfast proved to be an interesting affair when the hungry maid of the trailer, an up-and-coming Gourmet Maniac interested in the wondrous world of umami, whipped up a couple of dishes such as Spicy Blitzle Stew, Burmy Salad in Soft-shell Glalie with a dash of cinnamon, Smoliv Butter Toast with a side of Lechonk Bacon and Chansey Eggs, and Politoed Porridge. They were such bold dishes bursting with spice and iciness, providing a pinch of rejuvenation alongside the surprise of Politoed meat tasting no different from Torchic meat.

It was only when they began their walk towards Driftveil that Icosa slowed down to catch up with Rae. They had not spoken much beyond cries of joy over breakfast. He would glimpse at her after a few bites of his bacon and chewing the grains of her porridge like a bored Rattata, ears drooping and tail limp on the grassy ground.

"You have Pancham eyes," he said as he gazed at the sky tinted orange and pink by the rising sun. While waiting for the Driftveil Drawbridge to link up, he supposed it would be nice to show some concern for her.

"I didn't sleep well."

Icosa shoved his hands into his pockets. "Are you that angry at me?"

"It's not that..."

Rae couldn't formulate a response that would justify her leaving the Pokémon Centre late at night. Sure, finding Zorozoro was a valid reason, but it would more likely than not lead to a snide remark, how she was ultimately still a young girl and a foreigner and how unsafe it was for her to be roaming alone like this, discounting the fact that she did have her Pokémon with her. There were, of course, Pokémon more fearsome than a Dunsparce.

"You're homesick," Icosa tried again. "You were crying."

"A little."

Against the warm dawn, the red drawbridge creaked a final time before connecting both ends into a walkable path. Lenora beamed and beckoned them to follow. Rae took in the sight of Pelipper and Wingull among other avians flocking to the bridge, their feathers glossy in the gentle sunlight. According to Icosa, these Pokémon were more prevalent after Team Plasma first disbanded, not before shipping Pokémon from other regions over to Unova to turn it into the most harmonious place for all Pokémon.

"I digress," said Icosa. The morning breeze tousled his hair. Driftveil Drawbridge was quieter than usual, save for the sweet-sounding instrumentals, but he paid it no mind, so long as it wasn't as intimidating and ominous a piece as it was before the musical perversion. It made for a cosy atmosphere for a heart-to-heart. He shrugged, as if to shake a load off his shoulders. "Your Pokémon are out of their Poké Balls and they do seem awfully concerned about you. Did something happen last night?"

Rae spilled the beans. The bridge meant a long walk, and what better way to spend it than with a long story? Surprisingly, Icosa lent her his ear.

"But you didn't have to be too emotional about it. You're being too perfectionistic."

"I am?" Rae raised a brow.

"You have always been striving towards your ideals," he offered with a snicker as he slid his gaze sideways to catch a dozen falling feathers, cloud white with an array of colours at their cores. Blue for Genius Wing, which would boost Special Attack, violet for the Special-Defence-boosting Clever Wing, yellow for the HP-boosting Health Wing, red for the attack-enhancing Muscle Wing, indigo for the defence-building Resist Wing, and lastly, green for the speed-boosting Swift Wing.

Rae had heard of these special feathers from Kaspar, but to see them in real life induced a sense of wonder bursting out from within. Ideals, huh? Could she fly away and scatter colourful feathers on unsuspecting pedestrians like the avians above? But she would have to be a mysterious entity, since no one knew from what Pokémon these medicinal items came.

"Your mind meanders like this, always thinking of possibilities," Kaspar had told her once. "But you must not forget that which is before you now."

She remembered it for this was one of the few times he took things seriously. Kaspar Wolfram was otherwise an easygoing person.

Snapping back to reality, she found herself near the end of the drawbridge. Surrounded by calm sea, a tiny meadow awaited the quartet, as well as yet another bridge, only that this was a concrete one.

"It appears you've gained the trust of both Volcarona and Zoroark then," said Icosa. "Is this Mystery Dungeon or something?"

"We're not Pokémon."

"Whoever Harmonia is must want to turn you into one then. You have such an affinity with them."

"That's not funny."

"Huh," mumbled Lenora who was ahead of them as she sniffed the air and rubbed her fingers. "Something grainy's in the air."

"Sand," Cheren hissed at the warmth of it and glanced at the pair behind him.

Icosa noticed his teacher's pensiveness and frowned. Driftveil City seemed no less than a ghost town. The tails of various Pokémon were erected haphazardly out of the earth, interspersed at times with a human limb or two, and most notably a rainbow-coloured fabric torn and scattered across the city. Tents at the marketplace were charred and sandy. All the groove that defined Driftveil was swapped out for a lullaby, as though a Jigglypuff had hijacked the speakers. The ports, once bustling, settled down with a disquieting peace, turned into a tableau of frieghters and fishing boats, no trace of revving engine or fish flopping in fresh hauls. Even the mining activities stopped.

"So... tired..."

"Rae?" Icosa turned to grab her, but he, too, slid onto his side, barely cushioning her fall with his chest. Beside them, Cheren and Lenora were motionless.

Atop the roof of the Driftveil Gym, Icosa glimpsed the silhouette of a domineering Landorus before joining the sleeping fray.