How long has it been? Like a year? Whatever.

Of all the places in Hoenn, Kanto, and Johto, Gina liked Hoenn's Route 119, the route leading to Fortree City, the best. Of course, she'd only seen it in pictures and only had pictures to compare to, but it appealed to her most nonetheless. The amazing waterfall, cascading so picturesquely, intrigued her to such a degree that she nearly forgot her troubles as she stared at the photo on the wall of her room in the pokemon center.

She finished dressing herself, pulling over her shoulders her newly laundered tee shirt, and grabbed a fistful of money made from things she had sold over the past few hours. Looking around the small, cramped room, she sighed. No one was there; she was obviously late. Gina grabbed three pokèballs off her bed, stuffed them carelessly into her pocket, and ran out of the room.

----

"Um, I'll just have a burger, thanks," Gina said to the waiter. She and her four roommates had arranged a dinner at a nearby diner for the purpose of coming to know each other, and in that diner was where she sat. The people she was to be staying with for at least that one night seemed nice enough thus far. The oldest of the pack who had managed the organization of the dinner was a tall, broad girl named Camille. She had obviously been training for several years, this evident not only from the way she held herself and her full belt of pokèballs, but from the smiling glances she got from people as they walked by. As the talking began, it was revealed that she was thirteen and frequented this area of the city.

Sitting next to Camille was Megan, a novice trainer like Gina, who had begun her journey in the nearby town of Viewse. Meekly, she told the table of her tale thus far, recounting her days with a beloved spoink. The final girl was another young trainer who introduced herself as Cheryl. She spoke proudly of her expedition from Centrimark Town with her pidgey, zippurah, and murkrow. She wanted to be a bird trainer, she announced to her audience.

Gina, latest and-- according to rules set up by Camille-- last to introduce herself, took a deep breath. "Hi…" she began, "I'm Gina; I'm from Sunrise City. I just started a week and a half ago with a catiel, but I also have a butterfree and a kingler." She contemplated adding that Cancer had come from a friend, but she winced and her chance was lost as the other girls gave words of affirmation.

The dinner came and went idly, and Gina quickly retreated to the girls' room while the others went out to tour the city and, undoubtedly, the many stores. Gina had never been one for shopping—she saw it as an idle waste of time—and found no desire to accompany the girls, even after Camille tried to woo her with promises of ice cream.

Gina sat on her bed (the bottom bunk on the left) and pulled her backpack over to her feet. Her journal slid out as the bag moved forward, seemingly upset at the neglect it had been subjected to over the past few days. Gina grabbed the little book, found her favorite pen, and flipped it open.

Day 11

So I got to talk to him this morning. I guess that was why I seemed (or was) so antisocial at the dinner tonight, but… the one thing my mom told me when I was leaving was that I should always trust my intuition, but there's also the problem of me being paranoid and having a wild imagination.

Anyway, recap.

So first I got a call from Colette, the same officer who came when I called at the Peak that night. She gave me all this totally fake stuff about how everything was under control and that kind of thing. I was seriously thinking about hanging up on her (and like blaming my phone's faulty connection or something), but then she put Jon on. We agreed to meet in five days so I could give him Cancer back. He said in typical him fashion that I should use Cancer to beat the Arc tournament. I guess I'll have to, since I need three pokèmon. Oh, and he said he caught the gastly and that he'll give it to me for Cancer.

The whole thing is so sketchy. It's like all of the stuff up at the buildings on Mt. Sci… the League just insists there's nothing on the 'dangerous' mountain when any idiot could see that there are several active buildings. I hate the way the League covers things up like we're all idiots. I don't care if they dismiss the happenings, but claiming a building doesn't exist is insane. And then there was that story about the nurse who was killed…

God, I have to never watch that again. I'm scarred (or scared, either way) for eternity. But I mean come on, the thing clearly said.

I think all the anxiety will go away when I see Jon on Saturday. Well, most of it. Some day, when I actually have pokèmon and stuff, I'm going back to Widow's Peak.

Gina closed the book and commanded herself to calm down. Her eyes felt strained and sore (as they always did when she was tired) and were now tearing up (as they always did when she was watching or thinking about something that scared her). The tears went away on their own time, and Gina sat still for several seconds, feeling the strangest lack of satisfaction. She released her butterfree and opened her journal back up.

As for my actual 'journey,' I finally named butterfree. I felt bad for being nasty to Jon when he suggested it, so I did end up naming Butterfree Monarch. The problem is Butterfree doesn't really like the name. So I've been going back and forth between 'Butterfree' and 'Monarch.' For all intents and purposes, though, he has a nickname. My new mission is to catch a psychic pokèmon to figure out what his problem is. The urban legend is that some psychic pokèmon are so smart that they speak every language on the planet, even some they've never heard. There are tons of people in the city and center, so I'm going to go up to the lounge in the center tomorrow morning and try to buy a psychic off someone.

I have money now! Isn't that amazing? And my bag is lighter, so it all works out.

Back on the topic of my butterfree, he and I have become really close. This seems kind of cruel, but Sproing and I have been having an insane personality clash recently. Butterfree and I, despite the whole naming issue, have been really bonding. That's good, because as I train him more he becomes more independent, and he'll be a gem in the Arc battles.

As far as Spro goes, I do feel bad. I haven't trained him much over the past few days, though I'm sure he should evolve soon. I guess after that maybe he'll calm down and be easier to get along with.

Cancer is so funny. He's very lazy and nonchalant (as opposed to chalant, I guess, but that's not a word. Our language is retarded). He and Butterfree are really bonding, too. Thing is, it's not a playful kind of bonding. They're just talk to each other, sometimes for what seems like hours. And I think Cancer looks sad. I'd say it was his missing Jon, but my butterfree had the same look. I wish I could listen in… I bet they could fill in a lot of holes in this whole thing for me.

So, Butterfree/Monarch is looking over my shoulder right now, as if he can read. I wonder if he has any idea what I'm doing, or if the concept is totally foreign to him. For a pokèmon not raised around people, he and I do communicate pretty well. He knows more words that I say than I think people give butterfree credit for, and he's a fast learner. This may sound weird, but I think I'm starting to figure out what he says, too. Their language, I think, depends a lot of how long they hold a sound, whether it's high or low, and which syllable it is. He's definitely ahead of me in that area, though.

Gina again shut her diary. The clap of the pages slamming together startled Monarch and he quickly retreated to the opposite bed and set himself down. He gave Gina a strange look, one she could not quite decipher. For a split second it seemed nearly human, speaking loudly feelings of pity and confusion. But just as quickly as it came it passed, and Monarch busied himself with trying to pull the sheets off the bed.

Gina stood up, and her butterfree gazed at her blankly as she headed toward the bathroom. At first she had been wary of leaving her pokèmon (Monarch in particular) alone in the room for fear that they would attempt escape, but after the one attempt Carsu made, she was sure it wouldn't happen again.

The truth was, though Carsu has once considered the window as an exit, he had no desire to leave. He didn't mind this life— he simply wanted to know what it was like to finally be a butterfree outside. His curiosity got the best of him once, but after his wing got caught in the hinge of the window and ended up entirely out of commission for a day, the odds of him attempting escape again were slim. Or, rather, the odds of him attempting escape through the window of this building.

He sighed. Monarch was quite happy, he told himself, shooting a glance at the window, but Carsu… was he, too?

For the first time in several days, Carsu felt uneasy about what had been happening to him more and more since the mountain. Or maybe it would have happened anyway, there was no way to be sure. It wasn't exactly insanity, and in truth he didn't find it that big of a deal, but Cancer insisted on bringing it up.

The butterfree had inadvertently separated himself into two persons. Cancer had pointed this out to him several days ago, and though the statement was characteristically concise and monotone, it had enough meaning to create a paranoid creature out of the normally collected and decisive butterfree, at least for a few minutes.

((You act so differently for her.))

That had been it, and naturally Carsu demanded an explanation. Cancer looked at him, eyes narrowed, concerned. ((You didn't know?)) Carsu stared, and after Cancer realized his companion had no reply, he shuffled away.

Entirely bewildered and quite upset by this brief exchange, Carsu had resorted to asking the bird's opinion.

Sproing had looked at him blankly, letting go of the shoelace that had been dangling from his beak. It never ceased to surprise Carsu what a child the silly bird was, though he knew it should. The butterfree wasn't sure what he thought would happen if he confronted Sproing; the two weren't particularly close, especially as of late, and the bird probably didn't know him well enough to distinguish between one of Carsu's mindsets and the other.

((You don't think you're a little weird?)) Sproing had asked.

Now, Carsu was not entirely sure what to make of this statement, and he hadn't the desire to pursue it any further. So he left the conversation before it started, and went to meditate on everything. There, in a corner of a clearing and while Gina fed the bird, Cancer found the butterfree.

((You don't get it,)) he stated plainly. Carsu looked at him silently.

Cancer gave a moan and a groan, setting his torso down. Suddenly, the butterfree felt like the child he always accused Sproing of being, seeking wisdom from this heaping mound. This was not at all a welcome feeling, but curiosity overcame him and he stayed put.

((Carsu,)) Cancer began, taking his time, ((you put on a show for the girl.))

The butterfree took this statement as an accusation, and was insulted to the point of being disgusted. He threw a horrific look toward the crab, who replied with a haughty laugh at the misinterpretation of his words. ((No, no…)) then a pause, ((You put on a mask of optimism for her, and you are most assuredly not like that toward the little bird or me… That Monarch you hate? That peppy title? You give into it with her. And that's the best I can explain it.))

Carsu recognized it now, especially staring at the window. There was a division within him, and he decided the details were beyond his understanding. He opted to continue with his life and to not bother worrying all too much. He assumed Sproing and Cancer hadn't felt the same thing because they had always lived with humans, and he figured that the girl was the cause. It was something he had not anticipated in his personal quest for some kind of better life; he had not expected to take any minute liking to this girl like the bird had. And in an inexplicable way, that both worried and comforted him.

------

Sproing ran around the room, chasing the shoelace manically. Monarch gave a torturous laugh as he again stopped, bringing to a halt with him the lace. He allowed it to dangle for just enough time to make Sproing think he had a chance at it. As soon as Sproing jumped for it, Monarch pulled it away. It was an almost cruel game, one that Monarch had played often as a caterpie with his siblings and using a fern's leaf.

Cancer was, more practically, enclosed in his pokèball. Gina let her other two pokèmon exasperate each other while she prepared for her first Arc challenge and her second attempt at pokèmon catching. She had bought a great ball and four pokèballs, her heart set on at least one more pokèmon before she went to meet Jon in a few days. She had abandoned the idea of buying an abra after her mother told her it was an impractical way to spend her money and her brother had spooked her with all sorts of weird stories about them.

Gina truly wanted a fire-type pokèmon, but she knew none lived in the area surrounding the City, so she had decided to go after a permanent water-type. She felt awful at the prospect of giving up Cancer—she had become extremely attached to him, as had Carsu—so her initial idea was, despite her mother's scolding, to buy a krabby. When this proved illogically expensive, Gina decided on the Konnichiwa City-native corphish.

It was exceedingly fascinating to Sproing to see how much more Gina had taken to depending on herself as opposed to when they set out. However, about thirty minutes into the excursion (after getting lost far more than once) when Gina announced that they had no actual means of getting a corphish out of the water, he had second thoughts.

Gina had assumed that the ponds where corphish were supposed to live would have banks; she would be able to lay some food out and the pokèmon would crawl up out of the water onto a shore and things would proceed from there. However, this was not the case. The pond was simply a hole in the ground—the grass ended, and the water began. The water was several yards deep, and, though she had a bucket for fish or any small crabs, Gina did not have a fishing pole, nor string with which to make one.

She released Cancer, "Cancer… can you swim? Like, if I sent you down there, could you get back up?"

Cancer surveyed his surroundings, resisting the urge to throw himself into the pond. He heard Carsu snort, presumably at the girl's question. Of course he could not swim; he could hardly walk. He shook himself: no.

Gina stared hard at the pond, deep in thought, "I didn't think so… but you know, everything weighs less in water… Hey, can you breathe underwater? Can crabs do that?"

Cancer looked around again, wondering where they were and why this mattered. Gina called him, bringing his attention back to the question. Yes, only naturally did he have gills.

Gina's face lit up. "Okay then, here's what we'll do! Um, no, maybe… that won't work… oh well, we'll try. Cancer, I need you to go down there and find a corphish for me. When you're done, I'll just recall you down there; it's not too deep. Hey… could you bring a pokèball with you? Is that possible? I know they float…" She pulled a pokèball out of her bag and tossed it in the water, just to be sure. When it bobbed back up to the surface, the grabbed it and handed it to Cancer's smaller claw. "This isn't going to work, is it? Do you think the corphish will float if it faints, like a fish?" She took back the pokèball.

((This is stupid,)) Sproing offered.

The catiel's tone was all Gina needed to interpret the statement. "You have any ideas?"

Cancer set himself down with a groan, ((Get a fish-catching stick.))

Gina tapped her foot, and everyone stood in silence for several seconds, before the girl's face lit up, and set declared, "I've got it." And so she got to work.

She flung her bag on the ground and pulled out several cherries and some slices of ham from her bag. She grabbed the bucket, set it on its side, and poked two holes in it with her pocketknife. A vine—not poison ivy, Gina prayed—served as her rope, and she slowly lowered the contraption into the water, setting it on its side.

Gina looked on, proud of her efforts. "It's like cage-crabbing-- now, we wait."

Time passed at a fine pace. The four took turns watching the trap, and whoever was not on guard enjoyed the picnic lunch Gina had packed. The day was pleasant, and the cloudless sky reflected gloriously in the water. Gina savored the aura of content—feelings and days such as this never lasted long. Not to mention the forecast was calling for thunderstorms starting that night.

It was Cancer who was on guard when one stupid, courageous corphish finally ventured into the bucket. Understanding the dynamic of the trap, he quickly gave the vine-rope a tug, and the bucket was jolted up toward the surface. It broke out of the water with a loud, gushing noise, and Gina immediately rushed over to the scene.

The pokèmon was extremely small, almost to the point that Gina felt sorry for it. Its pointed feet scratched against the side of the bucket, and when Gina peered in, it stuck its claws up toward her, wide open. Gina found the defensive measure heart melting.

In truth, she wasn't sure if it was even legal to capture corphish this small. A quick check of her guidebook revealed that it was perfectly acceptable—as long as the corphish was male.

Several minutes later, the pokèmon was tossed back into the pond, and the trap restocked and re-lowered.

The next catch came nearly an hour later, when the weather had started getting rough, and the tiny bobbin Gina had made (a walnut with the vine strung through it) was being tossed to and fro. It was actually Carsu who refused to leave until a corphish was obtained. If not for the stubbornness of the fearless creature, the mission would have been lost.

Carsu was well aware of the fact that Cancer would soon be leaving them, and he resented it with every ounce of life in him. His advisor and companion was being torn away, and he saw no reason to let this opportunity to begin filling that gap pass them by-- storm clouds notwithstanding. They were going to catch a corphish, even if Carsu had to stand and man the trap alone. Gina had mentioned to them earlier that they were only attempting this once for whatever reason—something about time and money-- and he took that to heart.

The second corphish was pulled up. It was of decent size, and the flailing of its pincers was anything but adorable. It couldn't escape from the bucket while Cancer was holding but, so Gina found it safe to say that they had a corphish in their possession.

But she didn't know what to do with it.

She did not try to take it out of the bucket and battle it. She had enough knowledge of the world to know that it would immediately head back for the pond, and she didn't want Cancer to crush and kill it, defeating the purpose entirely. Yet, her better judgment told her it was too big to simply capture without a fight. And so she made a rather unorthodox decision.

"We're going to carry it back to the room, and then catch it there," she proclaimed. With the verdict announced, the sky felt free to break open, and it began to rain.

----

The bucket swung back and forth despite Cancer's strange gait having come to a halt; the rainwater that had filled the pail was sloshing back and forth, taking the young corphish on a sick ride with it. Gina was frantically clearing her and her roommates' things off the floor. She thanked some higher power for the absence of the three from the room.

Things were cleared and put away, and the full contents of the bucket were dumped on the floor. The water cascaded out from the plastic thing, and the corphish flowed onto the floor with it in such a way that Gina had to giggle—he seemed to be surfing the little wave.

He stood and shook himself off, trying to regain a sense of up and down. He might have achieved this, but, regardless, he was quickly assaulted by Sproing and all sense of balance became null as he was hurled toward the wall. A razor leaf was enough to collapse the young pokémon, and a lone great ball enough to secure that it was in their possession. Gina then promptly opened the room's window, and called the nurse. The window had been carelessly left open, Gina insisted, and the room allowed to flood.

Cancer stared out the open window blankly, his gaze, Gina thought, rather sad. There was symbolism in it somewhere, but she couldn't find it.