Chapter Three: Goodbye, Hello

"You're going to leave today?"

Celeana's voice was small, and she clung on to her mentor's side with a stubborn air about her, fingers grabbing on to every fold of fabric she could find.

The slim psychiatrist didn't move her patient away, but instead offered her a kind smile—one that was sure to breathe confidence into the heart of the young girl. "Well, it is a journey by yourself. I'm sure you're more than able to handle this."

There was a short burst of silence as Celeana said nothing, relishing the sparse moment—and one of the last ones—she had with her caretaker, leaning into her arms and trying to commit every detail of her warm scent into her youthful memory.

It was only then that released her numb fingers from Miss Enya's shirt, casting a solemn gaze to the whitewashed tiles of the clean airport floors.

"I'll miss you," she mumbled, her voice downcast.

A tender hand lifted the teenager's head, bringing her wide amber eyes to meet with the woman's grey eyes, reflecting comforting waves of pure clement that she'd grown accustomed to after all these years.

"Don't be sad," the mentor advised, her words flowing out in a silky-smooth string. "You're always able to call me."

Almost absentmindedly, Celeana nodded, biting her lip as those slate-grey eyes brought a fresh surge of confidence soaring through her veins; Miss Enya's tranquil voice working through her like a charm.

"...alright," she murmured.

This brought a relieved grin to her caretaker's face, and she ruffled through the trainer's hair, knowing that she loved it when her hair was tousled like that.

"Oh, yes." The older woman shook her head at herself, frizzy blond strands of hair unraveling from her originally pristine bun. She rummaged through her bag, digging out an object that she presented to the bemused girl. "I got something for you."

The teenager accepted the thick, black hairband, running a finger over the layer of lustrous satin that wrapped the accessory's frame. "A hairband?"

"Your fringe is getting long again," Miss Enya chided mildly. "This will help you keep your hair out of the way."

With that, she helped to slide the ornament onto Celeana's head, arranging the black ribbons that drooped down on both sides so that they weren't lost among the teenager's thick locks.

"Thank you," Celeana smiled. "Not just for the gift, I mean. Thank you for l—looking after me for so many years."

"It was my pleasure," the psychiatrist replied in her soft voice before glancing at the gate opposite them. "Well, I have to go now. I'll be late if I stay any longer."

Celeana beamed at her. "Who knows?" she queried playfully. "Maybe that was my intention all along." Her tone was light, however, and there was a joking hint in her voice.

The woman chuckled to herself. "You do know how to get out of the airport, right?"

The teenager nodded, a touch of annoyance in her eyes. "I'm not a child."

"Very well, then." Miss Enya turned to leave, but kept her gaze on the youth behind her. "The nearest contest from here is in Lavaridge Town. Remember to look at the map I gave you for directions, and—"

Celeana interrupted her rant. "I'll be fine," she reassured. "Goodbye, Miss Enya."

There was a slight hesitation, but the psychiatrist returned the cheerful grin. "Same to you."

The girl spun abruptly, giving the exit a blank glare before quickening her pace to leave. Choppy strides distanced her from the psychiatrist, as if signifying that her previous years in the hospital was now over and her new life started now.

"Yeah," she muttered, turning her head back one final time. "Goodbye."

• • •

"I've already taken the cab, but it only takes me to Fallarbor Town. So, if I manage to get through this route, I'll be at L—Lavaridge." The name was unfamiliar; complicated, but she had bigger problems to deal with.

Grass tickled the sole of her boots, and she'd picked the worst time to be out in the open sun—noon.

Heat rained down on the blue-haired teenager like the breath of hell. The scorched blades of grass shimmered under the intense white rays of the sun, the headband cocooning her heads in warm sweat and the arid heat burnt at her lungs in an annoying hunger.

She couldn't rely on the map alone. It had just offered general directions, leaving her to explore the long, winding twists and turns of the route alone.

Sighing, she decided to take a small break. She'd already gotten lost in the maze of endless paths, and the vast grassland seemed never-ending,playing tricks on her and somehow leading her back to where she'd left off.

Upon letting her Pokemon out of its capsule and allowing it to feed on the food she'd made, the Froakie sniffed the air with its sensitive nose. He paced around the saucer of hard pellets, nibbling on one of the tiny pieces before turning away.

"You won't eat?" She received no response from the small creature beside. "I know it's not the best. Yes, it's cheap and p—pre-made, but once I learn to cook, I'll—"

The frog-like critter grunted his name, taking one of the compact brills and shoving it into his mouth with great reluctance, taking several long moments of apathetic gnawing before the pellet was gone and he reached for yet another piece of food.

A lengthy period of cringeworthy time passed as the Froakie took his time to finish the meal. Celeana also felt much better—after all, resting under the shade of a tree for half an hour was certainly welcome, and the break had chased away the slight, aching pounding in her head.

The teenager returned her Pokemon to his Pokeball, deciding to continue onwards.

She'd thought that maybe, just maybe, the break would clear her head and somehow enable her to find her way, but it hadn't worked at all.

The girl was deep in thought, forehead already brimming with a thin layer of sweat once again. She'd ended up circling the area twice, and had ended up back at the very beginning of the route.

A voice pulled her out of her mind, one that was deep and amused.

"Are you lost?"

Startled, she glanced up, looking at the unfamiliar boy in front of her. He seemed to be coping with the heat—well, at least much better than she was—and he looked at her with a beguiled expression in his violet eyes.

"H—How did you know?" Celeana startled, her mind speedily processing his words before she looked at the floor in sheepish embarrassment.

He shrugged, offering her a lazy smile— one that could either be interpreted as either kind or straight-out dangerous. "I saw you when I first entered the route to Lavaridge, and, well, I left my bag here by accident. I had to come back to take it and I saw you heading to the same location as before."

"Do you think you could show me the way out?" The teenager's voice carried a spark of hope.

"Sorry," he replied, an apologetic note cleverly intertwined with his words. "I would, but I'm new to this route too. I may be ahead of you, but I'm still not the best person to ask for directions."

She bowed her head, a small "oh" escaping her mouth as she shifted from side to side, burning with abashment.

"Are you a new trainer?" It was a sudden question, and Celeana couldn't do anything much than nod. "If so, do you want to battle? It would be a good way to help my Pokemon digest their lunch."

In the grip of silent panic, Celeana's pupils dilated, her heart racing and her brain seemingly on fire. The girl's brain synapses fired like a hyped up internal aurora borealis, turning her brain to a mental soup of conflicting instructions.

Her brain was frozen, feeling like it'd seized up; feeling like it'd been pickled in brine.

She couldn't just refuse a trainer's request, but seeing that Kadabra's piercing eyes had shook her to the very core, and—

"You OK?" The boy's smirk had dropped. "We don't have to battle if you don't want to."

Celeana firmly shook her head, trying to recollect her thoughts and sucking in huge mouthfuls of fresh air to stop her pounding heart from overwhelming her tiny frame. "It's fine," she replied, bouncing on her feet and fidgeting. "W—We can battle."

Her mind screamed at her to disagree, that she was being far too soft, but she had already agreed. It was far too late now, and she couldn't find anyone to blame but herself.

He studied her face, searching for any signs of distress, but withdrew a Pokeball, still glancing at her with a worried expression. "Alright. I'll start, then."

The teenager opposite her flung a Pokemon into the air, a dragonfly-like creature soaring into the sky, buzzing her large, diamond-shaped wings as she focused her large eyes on Celeana.

The girl quickly scanned over the description that the Pokedex had given her—not that it would make any difference—before releasing her Pokemon, Froakie appearing in a burst of white light. The small creature gave the opposing Vibrava a harsh glare, padding forward to face the larger Pokemon in front of him.

Her mind was in a mess as she read over the types of moves that Froakie could use, and called out the first command. "U—Use Pound," she shouted, and her Pokemon was glad to comply.

The Froakie's tiny fist lit up in a milky white, and he ran towards the creature in front of him, jumping into the air with that lithe frame of his and striking at her with a triumphant expression.

Without even waiting for her trainer's command, the Vibrava eyed her opponent distractedly before using her wings to propel her sleek body to the side, skipping sideways in a lazy manner—it was infuriating— and slamming her tail into the small, frog-like Pokemon, sending him flying to the side.

The boy had a look of unassailable confidence and intelligence in his eyes. Accompanied by his lazy smirk, he looked like someone who could be a genius—could be someone important—but never bothered to try and become one.

"I believe it's my turn now," he smiled. "Vibrava, Dragon Breath."

Letting out a ear-splitting screech that had almost surely surpassed the decibels a human could even hear, the Pokemon opened her fanged mouth, a cloudy mix of pink and blue shooting out in a turbulent, spinning gust.

Froakie let out a pained cry, trying to scramble out of the way before the deadly attack could land.

But he was still winded, reflexes lagging and aching, and the blast of compressed energy smashed into the Pokemon's small frame.

"Are you OK?" Celeana took a step forward, staring at the battered Pokemon in horror. "If you can't continue, that's—"

She was interrupted as Froakie pulled himself up, giving her a apathetic stare.

"Very well," she sighed, shelving her concern. "Um..." She struggled to pronounce the move, and in that short pocket of time, the shorter teenager opposite her had snatched the chance to land another attack.

"Vibrava, Sonic Boom," he called, smirking—just a small parting of the lips; a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head.

With a shrill call, the Pokemon beat her wings like a madman, conjuring up a powerful vortex of wind, the rushing air compressing themselves into boomerang-like weapons and flinging themselves at the injured Froakie.

That was it. Froakie couldn't fight.

"W—Water Pulse," she insisted, but her mumbled words were drowned out by a clap of wind produced by the Vibrava's earlier attack.

Her Pokemon opened his mouth, and instead of the intended sphere of water, a weak stream of bubbles shot out, and the Vibrava did little more than blink at the attack

"Let's finish it," the trainer stated, aubergine eyes already looking somewhere else. Celeana tensed, angry at the fact that he wasn't even concentrating, but then again, she couldn't really blame him. His pale, silver hair seemed to glow white under the harsh afternoon light as he spoke. "Use Feint Attack."

The creature darted towards Froakie, seeming to disappear for just a moment, before reappearing behind Froakie with an innocuous expression.

"Dodge—" Celeana started, but she'd forgotten about the startling accuracy that Feint Attack had.

Her Pokemon shifted to the side as a shadowy projection of a fist struck at it, but it promptly wheeled around to follow Froakie's direction, exploding in a burst of indigo flames as the attack collided into the frog-like Pokemon.

When the flames faded and dissipated into the air, Froakie lay on the ground, unconscious.

Celeana ran to her Pokemon's side, checking him for injuries with a worried expression, and the teenaged boy walked over to her as he returned the Vibrava to her Pokeball.

"Froakie just fainted." The silver-haired boy smiled at her, but it wasn't a serious grin. "He'll be alright in a while."

The girl looked up inquisitively as something was pressed into the palm of her hand. She glanced at the small, diamond-shaped pill, coloured a deep gold and measuring no larger than a couple of centimetres.

"It's a Revive," he explained. "It'll help your Pokemon to regain consciousness."

His playful tone made her bristle, but she couldn't deny the fact that he had at least offered her some form of help.

Before she could thank him, he spoke again. "I'll be going, then. I need to get to Lavaridge by dusk. Thanks for the battle, bye the way—I enjoyed it."

"W—Wait!" He raised an eyebrow as she stumbled over her words. "Thanks. My name's Celeana."

"Ryou," he replied, the hint of a laugh still in his voice. "That was an interesting way to lose, by the way." 

Seeing her widened eyes and panicked expression, he regretted his words at once. "Ah, I didn't mean to upset you," he apologised. "I'm sorry!"

With that, he flashed her another of his torpid grins, turning away and disappearing into the distance.

And Celeana was alone once again.

I swear I'm going to end up hating this story because of how happy it is. =_= Seriously, though, I need to fulfil my angst quota... But on a side note, Ryou's finally introduced... and he's my favourite OC in this book. xD

Besides that, thank you SO MUCH for 445 reads and 85 votes! That's about a 150+ increase in reads :o My next goal is 100! :)

Critiques are most certainly welcome, and don't forget to read, vote and give your thoughts in the comments! Please be 100% honest!

~ nyxia ☆