We merged seamlessly with a passing wave of pedestrians. The rhythmic thumping of shoes against concrete, bits and pieces of conversations held between friends, and minute rustling of fabric as limbs swung through the air… all of it was familiar, comforting music in my ears and an entire atmosphere of its own.
And the people, oh the people.
Castelia was the largest city in the world and an absolute melting pot. Cultures, ethnicities, styles— all of them came together in a harmonious union. Only here could you find such wide diversity, and I saw it for myself everywhere I turned. Central was flooded with locals and visitors from every part of the world and walk of life, and this was only one part of the city.
The smile on my face only grew larger.
Our first stop was the huge fountain in the middle of Central. My Pokemon and I maneuvered around a massive tour group and wandered around the fountain’s perimeter until we found an empty gap. Before any tourists could claim the picture-taking spot for their own, we swooped in and posed. I snapped a selfie of our group, and Ribombee followed up with a nice shot from afar that had Central’s famous billboards in the background.
There were plenty of famous places around the plaza including the Theater District nearby, but we’d go see a musical another day. For now, we headed to the train station.
Along the way, I admired how much less trash there seemed to be. Even the air seemed better than I remembered it. There were still cigarette butts and other small pieces of trash littered around, but it was minimal. It had been a different story twenty years ago with filth-ridden streets being one of the city’s biggest problems. I used to see Rattata scurrying around every corner I turned.
Another change on a whole list of changes that’d probably surprise me going forward, but I found myself eagerly awaiting what else I did not yet know.
A wide arch appeared in the distance. We followed the steady crowd of people through the doors below it, and we took our first steps into Castelia’s largest train station.
Grand Sky Terminal.
It was like stepping into an entirely different world from the urban landscape outside. The architecture had been inspired by a Kalosian style prominent in a previous century, and it showed in the elaborate detailing on marble staircases or the beautifully wide, arched windows high above our heads. The ceiling looming above all of that was one of the terminal’s most famous features. A mural spanned its entire width in the form of a dazzling blue sky. Across it, incredible renderings of people and Pokemon rested on wispy clouds. The artist had supposedly depicted the workers who had helped construct the terminal.
The place was also crawling with commuters.
Grand Sky Terminal wasn’t connected to all of the subway lines in Castelia like Gear Station in Nimbasa was, but its convenient location near the heart of the city meant that it was easy for a lot of people to access. Plus, a lot of subway lines still flowed through here.
Kricketune couldn’t stop singing praises about how marvelous the mural was as we descended the steps into the Main Concourse. We snapped a few pictures further in the hall before blending in with the crowd again.
There were two reasons why I’d slept a little at the hotel before officially starting the day. One was simply because I’d felt tired, but the other was to let the morning rush hour pass.
Nobody liked the feeling of being crammed into a subway car like a bunch of Remoraid. No one.
There were plenty of signs and digital departure boards that outlined where to go, so I led my Pokemon in the direction of a subway line that ran downtown. Through winding halls we went — which was punctuated with a few stops to listen to musicians — until we eventually reached an area with turnstiles and boarding pass vending machines. To use the subway in Castelia, one had to load train fares onto a card called a Metro Pass.
I didn’t have to buy the physical copy of a Metro Pass considering I could load money onto my phone through an app, but I bought one anyway as a little memento of our trip. Sometimes the Castelia Transportation Authority ran advertisement campaigns and partnered with brands to produce limited-edition cards with special designs. When I was a kid, I’d even had a passing dream to collect different cards someday if our financial situation ever changed.
Unfortunately, they weren’t running any campaigns now. I got a standard light blue card with the CTA logo instead.
Boring.
My Pokemon had taken the subway before in other places like Lumiose City in Kalos, but they still found novelty in swiping the card at the turnstile for me. Ribombee looked especially proud that she’d gotten it in one try without an annoying ‘error message’ popping up.
I patted her head before we set off. The train wasn’t due to come for a bit according to a digital liveboard on the wall, so we waited patiently. Ribombee and Kricketune were already well-aware of subway safety guidelines and stood far behind the yellow line on the floor. They hung out by the wall with me.
Minutes later, warm winds blew into existence as a train came roaring into the station. I was still busy trying to clean up my messy, ruffled hair when it lurched to a halt and the doors opened. Ribombee and Kricketune skipped inside first with me close behind. A few other passengers plodded in after us.
I was so very glad to see that the train had plenty of free seats. My Pokemon sat on either side of me in the middle of an empty row right as a distinct voice played over the intercom.
“Next stop: Gloria Street. Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”
Without further ado, the doors slid shut. My Pokemon bounced up and down a little in excitement when the train started moving again. The station scenery outside the tinted windows blurred past until we were sucked into the dark recesses of an underground tunnel.
I wasn’t as excited as my Pokemon, but I had to admit it was nostalgic taking the Castelia subway again. I liked how much cleaner these newer subway cars were. As a bonus, the seats weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as I remembered them being.
I kept an eye on the digital screen blinking overhead. It had texts and lights indicating different stops on the line we were taking. When our stop came, I ushered my Pokemon out and into a humid subway station. Urgh. The faster we got out of here, the better.
My wish was granted soon enough. We took the steps two at a time into bright sunlight and fresh air. We were in the Midtown area that bordered Lower Castelia. It wasn’t as busy here compared to Central, but there was still plenty of sound and people walking around.
This was Castelia’s largest arts district, Adonna, otherwise known as the Artist Sanctuary.
People from all over the world flocked to the city to share and celebrate different styles of art. That overwhelming passion was reflected in numerous art galleries and museums scattered across Castelia.
Here in Adonna, those creative sparks shined the brightest.
Almost every other building in our general vicinity was an art studio, coffee shop, or gallery. Some people had set up interactive exhibits outside for people to peruse, and one individual was even doing street art. A crowd had gathered underneath the artist’s stepladder as they worked laboriously on a stunning wall mural depicting two trainers locked in a battle.
The Pokemon at my sides practically squealed with delight, making me laugh.
I’d brought Kricketune and Ribombee here because I knew they’d probably enjoy this place the most out of all my Pokemon. For the next two hours, we trekked up and down the district checking out the local art scene. I had some experience with art — it was one of dozens of hobbies I’d randomly dabbled in over the years — so I wasn’t completely clueless when trying to interpret various artworks and sculptures.
Aside from galleries, they even had stores here that featured pottery, jewelry, and other accessories lovingly crafted by hand. All of it was expensive, but who could truly put a price on art? I made a note to come back near the end of our trip and pick up some unique souvenirs for my family back in Alola.
Once Kricketune and Ribombee had their fill, they swapped places with Scizor and Frosmoth. I checked out a few more galleries with them on our way to Adonna Market, a massive indoor food hall and marketplace.
I’d been there once as a kid on a field trip, but it felt even bigger now that I was an adult. Delicious smells wafted through the air. There were so many of them that I couldn’t hope to identify what was what.
All I knew was that they were making me hungry. We were right on time for lunch.
Frosmoth latched onto my back while Scizor and I gently pushed through throngs of people. She was heavy, but I bore with it. Lines were starting to form at every store, so we needed to make up our minds fast if we didn’t want to be on the tail end of a disastrously long queue.
“What are we in the mood for? Soup? Kalosian-style savory breads?” I asked, and then my eyes caught sight of a particularly long line. People were waiting for sushi and dumplings made from ingredients imported from Kanto-Johto. I gulped a bit.
That was definitely a newer store. The Kinjoh Area, a region that consisted of Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh, hadn’t opened to the general public over here… at least until some years ago when a crisis over there passed. Then the Leagues and governments on this side engaged in serious diplomatic talks with them, which ultimately led to international efforts to establish safe air and sea routes between our continents. It took a long time, but the Kinjoh Area and our very own Galovea Continent finally succeeded. They managed to facilitate the interactions of differing cultures, Pokemon, and peoples.
Today?
Now we were in a golden era of international trade and cooperation. Every day, there were foreign tourists and trainers pouring in to challenge the League Circuits over here and vice versa.
I shared a look with my Pokemon. The decision was unanimous.
“Sushi and dumplings, go!”
Scizor planted himself firmly at the back of the line. I handed him one of my credit cards, and he held it gingerly with one pincer.
And by gingerly, I meant applying the teeniest, tiniest pressure possible. We’d had incidents in the past where Scizor had broken precious appliances or even my phone. Luckily, he’d been a big boy for years now. I didn’t have to worry about incidents like that too much anymore.
“Get whatever you want off the menu for the team, okay?” I called out over my shoulder.
Scizor used his other pincer to offer a playful salute. The moment I got confirmation, I turned around and queued up in a line on the other side. Kanto-Johto cuisine was amazing, but I also wanted my Pokemon to try some local specialties.
Once it was finally my turn at the counter, I didn’t bother looking at the menu. I hadn’t wasted my time in the line just idling around.
“Six servings of clam chowder, ten bagels with veggie cream cheese spreads, two whole cheesecakes…” I rattled off. They were all Castelia-style, of course.
The tuckered-out cashier handed me two order slips a minute later. One of them was for a fresh drink, so I wandered off to the waiting area. Scizor had somehow finished ahead of me and saved a seat. Before I sat down, Frosmoth finally unlatched herself from my back and landed on the table between us. She chatted with Scizor while I scrolled through Zoogle Maps on my phone. Hmm, after we got our food, we needed somewhere big enough for the team to eat… maybe somewhere on the High Garden—
“Still can’t believe Burgh retired,” I heard a gruff voice say.
“He should have hung on until after the Circuit ended at least,” another voice said, and his words were accompanied by a tsk sound.
The voices came from two men sitting at a table close by. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they were speaking so loudly that I could hear them over the din of the marketplace. It didn’t help that my hearing was sensitive to begin with.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
I raised a brow as I closed Zoogle Maps for the time being and checked my email instead. I could only assume the ‘Burgh’ person they were referring to was the Castelia Gym Leader— er… former Gym Leader now it seemed. I hadn’t kept up too much with Unova news over the years (more like I pointedly avoided learning too much), but I did know that Burgh was the guy who had succeeded Marcus, the reigning Gym Leader from my childhood, after the old man passed away.
The men kept talking. I listened with partial interest.
“You know Maxwell from Sales Team Two? He said he saw Burgh moping around the docks the other day. He looked real bad, Jake. Real bad.”
“No kidding? You’d think he’d get a grip by now. Sure, his Leavanny died, but it’s been a month already… He’s got to move on.”
“I know… Maybe he’d be happier if he raised another one? It’s not like Leavanny are rare. We’ve got Bugs all over Unova. Burgh could get another Sewaddle if he wanted.”
They went on, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
Was I really hearing this kind of shit right now?
I held my phone with a grip so intense that my knuckles started to turn white. My eyes clouded with anger and disbelief. I didn’t know the full story behind what those men were saying, but I thought I understood the main point: Burgh had retired after losing one of his Pokemon, not a gym but a personal one by the sound of it, and he was still deeply depressed.
Regardless of where their ignorance stemmed from… whether it was their identities as civilians and not trainers, or whatever damned other reason… those guys really pissed me off.
They didn’t understand what it felt like to lose a Pokemon.
They didn’t understand what it felt like to lose a friend, a family member, a precious companion who had always been by your side and created countless memories with.
And for a Bug Specialist, that kind of grief hit the hardest.
Most Bugs had shorter lifespans compared to other species like Rock or Dragon. Fortunately, Bugs could live as long as other Pokemon if they acquired enough strength and nourishment from the world to sustain themselves. If you looked at any powerful, old Pokemon in the world, it had probably managed to live that long because it had accrued vast amounts of experience and influence for itself. It almost sounded counterintuitive, but fighting kept Pokemon in good health and strengthened their bodies.
Still, that didn’t erase the fact that an average Bug’s lifespan tended to be on the lower end. Depending on when you met and caught them — how old they were — and then the speed at which they evolved and grew stronger, chances were still high that your Pokemon would likely die before you.
It was heartbreaking, but it was a very real reality that Bug Specialists had to be aware of. It was also why people didn’t typically see a lot of high-level Bug Specialists out there. The occupation sometimes came with crippling grief, and for others, they couldn’t help their Pokemon grow strong enough… or fast enough.
Grief wasn’t something so easily washed away, either. Just like how you couldn’t put an exact price on art, how could one ever hope to label the depths of one’s despair? Everyone mourned differently, and everyone processed it differently.
If those men understood any of this, they wouldn’t be spouting those kinds of thoughtless words.
Insensitive pricks.
I hadn’t realized it yet, but one of my hands had subconsciously reached for the sun tattoo inked into the left side of my neck. My index finger traced it twice, yet it didn’t calm me down fast enough.
I shifted in my seat to rip those guys a new one—
“You outta be ashamed of yourselves, fellas. After everything Burgh’s done for the city, you’re talking crap about him behind his back?”
Ice cold words were spat out by a young woman wearing an apron. The waitress had beaten me to it, and she now slammed two milkshakes on the table the jerks were sitting at. They wilted under her glare.
“Let the man grieve for Arceus’s sake. He’s hurting. Legends forbid, but I’d like to see how you two would react if your mother or best friend suddenly passed away, yeah?” the woman continued.
She didn’t wait for them to finish. She snatched their order slip away from them and marched off. The small commotion had caught the attention of people sitting nearby, and the two men quickly ducked their heads out of embarrassment.
I mentally whistled out loud. That waitress deserved all the praise in the world.
Minutes later, that same waitress came back with a fresh tray of drinks. I raised a hand when she called out my order number.
“Order Number 103, thank you for waiting! Here’s your Frosted Milkshake!” she said in a bright voice and a smile to match. It was a far cry from the intimidating woman from earlier. “Your food order can be picked up at the counter now, too.”
“Thank you.”
The waitress held a hand out patiently for my order slip, but I had to write something on it real quick and sign my name. Once it was in her grasp, my Pokemon and I got up to collect our food. Scizor and Frosmoth shot the assholes from earlier dirty looks on our way over. We were already at the counter when someone called out to me.
“H-Hey, wait! Sir! I think you added too many zeros here for the tip!” our previous waitress hollered.
I glanced over my shoulder. The lady wore a flustered expression as she held up the order slip I’d handed her. I’d included an unusually large tip in appreciation for the empathy she’d shown today.
I smiled in response, already turning away.
“It’s not a mistake. Have a nice day.”
With those as my parting words, we made our way out of the marketplace. Our arms were laden with bags. In fact, I even had to send out Golisopod to help carry stuff. I felt my anger from earlier subsiding as we walked through the streets. There was no point dwelling on something that wasn’t any of my business.
This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.
Soon, our group left behind the arts district for another iconic part of Castelia: the High Garden.
In the distant past, it was used as a railroad and means of transportation. Architects later converted it into a massive elevated greenway that spanned a decent chunk of the city. It’d even been featured in magazines before for being one of the world’s most innovative public parks.
From up here, we had a nice view of the urban sprawl. Tiny cars zipped past underneath us as we trekked through breathtaking gardens and snapped pictures. There were plenty of people enjoying the warm weather besides us. Laughing children ran ahead of their parents on strolls, young adults and businessmen rested on benches… It was a peaceful reprieve from the busy city life.
Aside from beautiful flora and infographic signs, they also had art installations up here, some of which were rotated out on a seasonal basis.
There was one I’d never seen before in a plaza, a twenty-foot-tall statue in the shape of a Pidove. It was so hyper-realistic that we all stopped for a minute to stare at it in wonder.
Golisopod even blanched and demanded to know if it was a new species of Pidove they’d discovered. He wanted to fight the statue. I’d never laughed so hard in my life before. My Pokemon ended up adopting certain poses underneath the statue and mimed running away from the colossal Pidove. It was a little embarrassing as the picture-taker, but they were having fun messing around.
We must have traveled for another fifteen or twenty minutes on the High Garden before we found a suitable spot for lunch. There was a plain lawn area for people to rest on, and we snagged an empty corner half-obscured by small trees.
Golisopod pulled picnic blankets out of my bag while I released everyone else from their capsules. With everyone’s help, we laid out our spoils of war from Adonna Market.
I went ahead and hosted the Sterling Network while everyone else dug into the food. My eyes narrowed slightly in concentration as I focused, pulling at the central part of my mind and imagining threads spiraling out from it like veins in a human body.
One after another, my Pokemon connected their consciousnesses to the link I’d set up. A faint buzzing sound filled my head, but it was more like a pleasant hum in the background than anything annoying.
I knew my Pokemon were sharing their memories and senses with each other when my mindscape rippled slightly. Appreciative oohs and aahs filled the air as my Pokemon commented on what the others had experienced in person. They also had nice things to say about the Castelia-style foods. Apparently it suited their tastes.
I knew that because everything disappeared into our stomachs faster than one could say ‘Ditto.’ We lounged around like lazy bums on the grass afterward.
“Daddy, look! It’s Vesta! The Champion must be here!” I heard a child say at some point.
I didn’t have to turn to look. A young boy passed by holding hands with his dad, and he pointed directly at Rune. His dad was about to nod his head in agreement, but he stopped midway when he looked around and didn’t see the Champion of Unova anywhere. His eyes eventually found mine.
I tensed. I thought he recognized who I was, but I didn’t have to worry. No look of recognition dawned on his face.
It turned out the guy was a civilian not too familiar with the trainer scene… or at least not the niche part of it I belonged to. Most civilians only cared about yearly League Circuits and the trainers associated with those. They were the biggest tournaments after all.
“Er, that’s not Alder’s starter, son…” I heard the dad say apologetically to his child as they walked away. The man tossed more than a few furtive glances behind his shoulder as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. I couldn’t blame him. There weren’t a lot of people out there with a Volcarona. The species was practically synonymous with Alder in this day and age.
Rune had heard everything, too, and he huffed.
In a dry voice, he told me how glad he was that I hadn’t persisted on calling him Vesta back when we first met. A dreadful name or so he said.
I waved a hand in mock anger at him.
“Shut it,” I drawled, a hint of defensiveness leaking out. “You and the team know I suck at names.”
Rune huffed again, but this time it was out of laughter.
The rest of the day was chill. We looped twice through the High Garden before taking one of its exits out into Lower Castelia. There were numerous ethnic enclaves around here reflected by the names of the neighborhoods we visited. For instance, Kalostown had a lot of locals with Kalosian ancestry. There were also newer additions like Indigo Heights that indicated an influx of people emigrating from the Kinjoh Area.
I had fun looking around small stores and hidden gems, all the while snacking on small foods and drinks. My Pokemon kept rotating so everyone could enjoy time in the city. We only gathered as a big group again for dinner. I paid for a private room in the back of a busy Hoennian restaurant and feasted until my stomach threatened to burst like a balloon.
The plan was to walk it off.
Under a darkening sky, my feet carried me through a winding labyrinth of streets. I reached the wharf thirty minutes later.
I wasn’t surprised to see that it was busy. The Five Piers were prime picture-taking locations for tourists and locals like, and there were plenty of couples and families strolling around. Dozens of Wingull and Pelipper perched on railings overlooking the sea. Their soft caws filled the air at irregular intervals.
I walked leisurely toward Liberty Pier, head swiveling left and right as I did. A huge artificial island and walkway out in the distance caught my eye. I didn’t remember those being there in the past. One quick Zoogle search later, and I learned that it was a newish public park called the Little Green.
That sounded interesting, but at this point I just wanted to sit down for a bit.
My hands were shoved into my hoodie pockets as I lumbered down Liberty Pier. Kricketune was back out of his Pokeball again, this time with Armaldo and Heracross for company. We searched for somewhere I could sit. Luckily, there were tons of benches lining the side of the road. Unluckily, they were all already occupied.
Kricketune quickly corrected that thought of mine by buzzing excitedly. He jabbed at the air with an arm, pointing to a partially occupied bench about three quarters of the way down the pier. At the risk of upsetting my full stomach, I quickened my pace. Half of that bench was mine.
I sank down onto the seat with a relieved sigh moments later. No one had beaten me to it. Armaldo and Heracross left me to rest in comfort and decided to check out a nearby food truck. Meanwhile, Kricketune tugged at my sleeve and asked if it was okay to busk here.
My response was handing him a cap I never wore anymore from the confines of my backpack. He took it and darted down the pier with glee.
Soon enough, sweet notes filled the air and tugged at my heartstrings. Kricketune had decided on a romantic ballad for his first song, and it was already attracting couples. A few wandered over to listen, and one woman even put money into the cap on the floor by Kricketune’s feet. We didn’t exactly need the cash, but it was part of the busking experience.
Out on the horizon, golden rays from a setting sun illuminated the whole wharf in a beautiful, intimate glow. The way they reflected off the sea’s surface reminded me of precious jewels. I felt at peace here listening to waves roll by amidst calming music. My eyes closed without me knowing it.
I might have even drifted off to sleep if not for a sudden voice.
“Your Kricketune’s playing is quite exquisite.”
The compliment had me cracking my eyes back open. The voice had come from the person who’d been occupying the other half of the bench long before I ever sat down. I hadn’t paid too much attention before, but I did now. I turned to face the stranger.
A man with wavy brown hair looked back at me. At his feet were an empty canvas and a bag stuffed with expensive paints and brushes. As for the man himself, he looked like he’d just crawled out of bed from the way a wrinkled green shirt and pants full of lint had been carelessly thrown on, but it was his overall posture and facial features I paid more attention to. His shoulders were hunched over in defeat. The clothes he wore sagged a bit as if they were no longer a perfect fit. Huge eyebags were present underneath his eyes indicating a lack of sleep. And his eyes… To put it simply, they looked almost lifeless. It made me wonder what had happened to this guy, but it wasn’t my place to ask.
Anywho, it wasn’t too odd for strangers in Castelia to randomly strike up a conversation. I took it in stride and nodded.
“Thanks. He’s always trying to learn new songs,” I replied.
The man simply nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to face the horizon. I thought that was the end of our unexpected chat and quietly did the same. One minute later, I was proven wrong.
“Are you a Bug Specialist?” the man asked.
He hadn’t turned his head, so I didn’t either. We both kept admiring the horizon.
“I am.”
“…That’s wonderful. It’s always nice to meet a kindred spirit.”
One of my brows rose in interest. Huh, what a nice coincidence. It wasn’t often I met a fellow Bug Specialist either.
“So you’re a Bug Specialist as well?” I asked just to be sure.
For some reason, the man found that funny and laughed a little. It sounded hollow to me.
“Indeed.”
“Neat. Name’s Kayden.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kayden. I’m Burgh Arty.”
Ah.
My eyes didn’t widen or anything, but a flash of recognition did instantly go off in my head. I turned my head to look once more at the man sitting next to me, this time with a more scrutinizing gaze. I’d never seen a picture of him before, but I didn’t need one. I had all the puzzle pieces I needed. I’d even heard his name crop up in conversation earlier today.
I was speaking to the former Gym Leader of Castelia City.
Kayden’s Pokemon for reference purposes
- Rune / Volcarona / M
- Flygon / M
- Golisopod / M
- Kricketune / M
- Frosmoth / F
- Centiskorch / M
- Beedrill / M
- Scizor / M
- Heracross / M
- Araquanid / F
- Ribombee / F
- Vespiquen / F
- Scolipede / M
- Galvantula / F
- Yanmega / M
- Armaldo / M