Automatically, I press the Pikipek tighter against my chest. If this guy is my chance out of here, I need to lay my cards wisely. “Maybe. The question is, what do I get for my information?”

It’s one of those crappy attempts to get something by pretending to be something special. A bit as if this guy is depending on me - which he definitely isn’t. His gaze remains fixed on me as if he has no inner emotion. Almost like a pale doll whose reaction remains defective within its chest. The silence that spreads between us is so stifling that I can hear my swallow - until a sigh escapes him. “What would you like, miss?”

A lift! Freedom! Something to take me far away from this island. But the words stick to my tongue. Not a single sound leaves my throat, almost as if suddenly my wish becomes truly real, whereas I never actually believed I could get away from here. It seems like all I have to do is reach for my dreams.

My lips open, but the words continue to miss out. Simultaneously, my counterpart looks at me as if he is running out of time. His eyelids lower slightly, a clear sign he will leave if I don’t say something. Even Pikipek seems to notice that something is wrong. Its head turns towards me and as the beak tugs lightly at my top, I know I have to do something. A chance like this will never come again.

“Are you going to stay on this island for long? You and your fellows?”

“Only as long as necessary.”

“Would you take someone with you to abandon them on the next island, far away from Alola?”

His fixed expression lingers on me a little longer before he closes his eyes and sighs softly. Only then does he turn his attention to me again. “No. We have no capacity for such distractions.”

Saliva lingers dry in my throat. He doesn’t need me, which also means it doesn’t matter at all if I give him my information or not. A certainty we share as he gives me one curt nod and prepares to leave. His legs carry him straight past me. He will continue his journey. Perhaps I can still contribute something. After all, I don’t want to be a complete idiot.

“Hey!” Hands pressed to my sides, I turn to face him. Sure enough, he stops and turns his gaze in my direction. “The Pokémon you’re researching ... I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for, but I saw a black dragon here over Melemele a few days ago. It ... just flew straight over us. I don’t know if it was on its way to another island of Alola ... but it was definitely here.”

His eyes widen a little with each word, as if my statement is exactly what he has been hoping for. Something he’s been seeking for a long time, to find at last. Probably it’s quite hard to catch a trace of this Pokémon. And here I give him a hint that might lead him further.

“Thank you,” the stranger finally brings to his lips. There’s more he wants to say. Probably a few more questions he wants me to answer. But before he can bring himself to say more, a woman’s voice interrupts him.

“Amethio, sir, the messages have been answered.” Hastily, the stranger approaches. The uniform on her body gives the impression that she is part of a larger organisation. “We have been provided with a flying ship near the Verdant Cavern. It will certainly simplify our search - in every way.”

“I see. You and Zir should take the most necessary things there. We’ll meet there.”

“Understood!” Instantly she takes her stance before giving me a curt look, raising her brows and hurrying back to the submarine that has docked on the shore. They must have used it to get to this island. I don’t understand why they would want to change to a flying boat, but it’s probably easier to find a dragon above the clouds than below. In addition, you have a better overview of the islands and don’t need a map to find your way around.

My gaze follows the guy as he finally leaves the harbour and turns onto the street. Asking around is probably, next to the internet, the safest option. After all, elders rarely bother with modern technology and many don’t share what they see necessarily on the net. That’s probably why they devote themselves to all the extra work. Not that I know any better. In the end, I’ve been allowed to use pretty much no internet in my life - so as not to learn too much about Pokémon and get on my father’s nerves.

Shaking my head, I try to push the thoughts away. Much more important is the fact that if I try hard, I may be able to sneak onto the ship. All I have to do is get to the Verdant Cavern. The likelihood of them just throwing me over the railing is slim. So at least I can get to another island and fight my way from there. It would certainly be wiser if I tried to get home and grab my packed things. With the Rotom and all the other aids, it’s much easier to get around. Plus, I could enjoy a bit of modern technology, which seems complicated but can open doors if you learn to use it.

Half in thought, I let go of Pikipek to stow it back in the Poké Ball and glance back at the road. My father will be at home waiting and if he gets his hands on me, I’m done for. It’s a risk I can’t take. In the end, it’s smarter for me to be a stowaway and fly with this strange gang.

So I turn on my heel and, like the guy in front of me, make my way inside Hau’oli City again. The only difference is that this time I don’t go back to the shops that would eventually take me back to school. Instead, my path takes me beyond the edge of the buildings, straight past a Pokémon Center that is the last demarcation of civilisation. The tarmac path ends, replaced with a trampled footpath taking me onto Route 2.

The first thing that hits me in this place is the climb. On a bicycle, I would have to pedal myself to death. On foot, I am left with pent-up heat inside that threatens to engulf me, while a gasp escapes me now and then. It pulls at my legs, burns like fire in my muscles and every breath hangs so heavy in my throat that I choke a few times. Coughing dries out the rest of me.

But stopping is only an option when I finally have the slope behind me. By now the heat is burning my skin and although I am sure it won’t be long before the sun subsides, it is driving sweat mercilessly onto my forehead. Resting my hands on my legs, I allow myself to breathe deeply. I really need to become more athletic in order to survive such journeys, otherwise, my adventure will end with me lying in bed crying for three weeks because the sore muscles want to punish every fibre in my body. My head lifts only sluggishly to gauge the way ahead. A few minor climbs can be identified, but overall the landscape before me seems peaceful. Everything is bathed in a dreamy green and the sea surrounding the island makes me long for distance a little more. Someday I’ll get to know things out there that I didn’t expect - of that I’m sure. And maybe when I see my father again, he’ll listen to me spellbound and realise that he’s been worrying so damn much for nothing.

“But there’s a long way to go before then.” With a sigh, I brace myself again and stretch through my back before a growl makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Immediately, my gaze swings to the side to linger on a Pokémon holding its head low. Its fur is dusty, and it shivers as it eyes me as if I am its next breakfast. Visually, it shouldn’t be bigger than Zorua and apart from the wild hair on its chest and head, it makes a noble impression with its black stripes on orange fur.

Slowly, I crouch down and reach out for it. It is only a few steps away, which should make my offer of friendship a little clearer. Maybe it’s hungry or looking for someone to shake the fleas out of its fur - should it have any.

“Can I help you?” My words make its big ears twitch before it lets out a strange, distorted bark. Then it comes closer.

Its powerful leaps lead it straight to my nose. But my hand is of no interest. Instead, it grabs my top and tugs so hard at the fabric that I fall to my knees. Instantly, it lets go, jumps a few feet away and then, with a noticeable nod of its head, gestures for me to follow.

Wherever my journey is to take me, this Pokémon has already set a destination. Presumably, it really needs help. So, with a groan, I force myself back onto my feet. The weight on my arms as I do so brings the throbbing back to the forefront of my mind. Those damn scratches will now take twice as long to heal thanks to the Magnemite.

The thought alone makes me snort before I tap off the dirt and follow the Pokémon. That I understand its desire makes its tail wag back and forth briskly. But it never lets me catch up. Whenever I think we’ll be side by side at any moment, it jumps ahead again a few metres and I’m too slow and too exhausted from the uneven path to keep it on its toes. Only after we have passed a house with a bright blue roof and a vast garden appears behind it, after which another building can be made out, does the Pokémon stop. Its gaze has focused on the field. But even when I squint, I can’t make out a thing among the berry bushes and watering cans.

“Is there anything here you want? Do you want me to steal you some of those ... berries?” The only thing I know is that they’re Pokémon berries. Now and then, my father would bring some home to do something good for Zorua.

But the Pokémon at my side shakes its head before looking at me and snorting. It wants something from me, but I have no clue what. Still, I nod to provoke some action from it and sure enough, it pushes forward again. Slower than before, but it forces me straight through between the bushes as if we shouldn’t be seen.

The leaves rustle in places and thorns occasionally get caught in my bandages. Again and again, I have to stop and detach myself. But the closer we get, the more we can make out. An old man, visibly in his sixties, is sitting on his knees in front of two guys whose clothes I have seen before. They look exactly like the two who came along at the harbour. That also means they are up to no good. One of them is shouting something unclear, and the other keeps his Pokémon close to the old man. Presumably, they want to avoid him doing something stupid.

Without further ado, my gaze falls to the Pokémon at my side. It answers my unspoken question and all at once, it becomes quite clear what it wants. That old man there is probably its master, and it needs help to drive Team Skull away.

“I’d hate to use one of my Pokémon, though,” I whisper, more to myself than to my companion. Pikipek has only just fought and Zorua needs to take it easy. Besides, I have no resources to help either of them should we be poisoned again.

However, all these are worries that are secondary to the Pokémon at my side. It pokes its wet nose against a bare spot on my hip, causing me to pull the top down instantly. The thorns have definitely turned my clothes into a visual mess, with stains slowly spreading across them.

“Do you want to fight this with me?” Brows raised, I watch the Pokémon’s every move and when it lets out a low growl, it’s certain that it won’t leave until we do something.

“I’m warning you, I have no bloody idea what attacks you’re capable of.” With a sigh, I burrow out of this hiding place - the Pokémon still at my side. Hiding any further is pointless, and the certainty that we’re going to have to take this fight anyway drives my legs straight towards the two idiots who think they can seize this farm.

“Hey!” My voice is a little too loud, yet it’s just enough to draw a boy’s interest in my direction.

“No way. Where did ya come from? Can’t remember seeing a brat like you around here before.” He waves his hands around a bit, as if trying to make a rap out of his words. “Ain’t no matter. Nobody invited ya, so get the fuck outta here.”

In the meantime, his buddy has also turned to us, while the attention of his Rattata remains on the old man. The latter only lifts his head and the brief gleam in his eyes reveals that hope is growing in him.

“You two better get out of here. What are you doing here, anyway?” Indecisively, I spread my arms. There is nothing but trees and bushes in this place.

“Eh? Do ya need glasses? This is a huge fuckin’ farm. It’ll make a lot of cash if we sell it. All the geezer has to do is autograph a piece of paper.” One of them runs a hand through his red hair. The cloth in front of his face makes it hard to make out more of him. “We’ve got you covered now, yo.”

“We should nail them, too. Better than getting a warning from the cops,” the other adds.

A wise suggestion that has no relevance as I point my finger at the Rattata and turn to my partner. “You look like a Fire-type Pokémon, so I’d say ember!”

Instantly, the Pokémon leaps in front of me before swelling its chest and hurling a small fireball towards the Rattata immediately after. It lands at our opponent’s feet, causing a squeal to escape the enemy before it recoils. It’s the same moment that my partner acts without words, smashing the Pokémon straight at its owner’s feet with a powerful tackle.

The Rattata doesn’t make it back to its feet. Its wobbly stance quickly collapses again, leaving us with a free hand. Quick as a flash, I run to the old man to grab him by the arm. Simultaneously, I turn my attention to the fight. “One more time, ember! Attack those two fools and chase them from the yard!”

“That’ll shut it up!” Without further ado, one boy charges forward and grabs me by the shoulder. With a jerk, he yanks me to the side, causing me to trip over my own legs and crash to the ground. My fingers automatically dig into his top so that the black fabric drags his body to the dirt as well. He lands half on top of me. My legs wrap around his hips and with force he lets himself be thrown to the side. The momentum allows me to get the upper hand. The very next moment, I’m on top of him.

Clenching my hand into a fist, I punch him in the eye once. The yelp of his voice joins the screech of his companion, who has already stumbled back a few steps. The Pokémon at my side throws one small fireball after another at its human opponent. His shorts already have a burn mark on them.

“She’s nuts!” escapes him and it doesn’t take more to make him turn around.

I, for that part, slowly rise from my victim. It takes little more than the blink of an eye before he gains distance on all fours and tries to jump up. “Violent maniac!”

His shoes slip off at least twice before he finds his footing and follows his mate. They take off so quickly that I can’t even respond to the insult. What remains is the old man, still on his knees.

Slowly, I push my way in his direction. The Pokémon has already snuggled up to him, as if it wants to make sure everything is all right. Then two glances move towards me and I can only offer my hand to the stranger to help him up.

“Thank you.” He lets me help him up before giving his clothes a makeshift pat and taking a deep breath. “These little criminals ... someone really needs to teach them that this isn’t the way to live, otherwise these children will lose their future.” He snorts. “Trying to steal and sell a berry farm is no small project.”

“I hope they won’t come back.” I can’t help but put my hands on my hips. “Who knows if someone will be there next time.”

“Surely someone who can fight back better.” A raspy laugh escapes the old man. “My daughter takes over this farm next week, and she has some Pokémon to help her pick berries. I also got this Growlithe from her,” he points to the Pokémon, “but I have no clue how to deal with Raya. I’m not a trainer, nor do I have any connection to Pokémon and their fighting skills.”

My answer falters. I’m too young for such experiences and the feeling of saying something wrong dries my throat.

“Are you travelling?” He eases my anxiety and heads for another topic. “Island challenge?”

“I have the amulet for it, yes, but travelling applies better.”

“Do you already have a full team?”

“No.” Immediately, I put my hand on the two balls hanging from my belt. Two partners out of six that you’re officially allowed to use in an arena fight. Presumably, it would be hard to carry around over six Poké Balls. You can’t possibly give all the Pokémon in the world the same love. “There are only three of us.”

Briefly, the old man examines me from top to bottom. “You know how to fight back. I like that.” He strokes his stubbly chin. His stooped posture makes him look older. “Would you do an old man a favour and take this Growlithe?”

The first moment I can’t answer. The next, the words all tumble from my lips at once. “But doesn’t that Pokémon actually belong to your daughter? I can’t possibly just take it.”

He laughs out. “Raya isn’t really made for a berry farm. She’d rather eat the berries than harvest them and she loves to fight, even if she is very tender at heart. She’s supposed to protect me here, but I can’t give her the commands she needs to turn her inexperience into something great.” Gently, he places a hand on the Pokémon’s head. “If I can retire in my little house, then my Sandshrew, who waits patiently for me every day, is enough for me. Raya would be much happier if she could go travelling. Fighting battles, learning, conquering the world ... she would certainly be a real whirlwind out there, wouldn’t you, little girl?”

Growlithe gives him a joyful bark back, kind of wry yet full of drive, before looking at me. The gleam in her black eyes seems to envision an adventure she wants me to take her on, and the longer I look at her, the better she seems to fit into my team. We both want to experience something and even if I can’t serve with endless fights, I’m sure she will enjoy the trip. So I crouch down and reach out a hand to her. This time, she nudges me with her nose.

“Do you really want to come with me and leave your master behind?” My thumb gently runs over the side of her round muzzle. The four protruding claws on her front paws scrape briefly. Then she wags her tail.

“Here. Her ball is yours.” Smiling, the old man pulls out a small Poké Ball. The transport form makes it tiny in his hands, and only as it enlarges does it take the space of his entire hand.

“It looks ... different from a normal Poké Ball.” I raise my brows. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything other than the red and white colour of a regular ball. This one is orange, with a yellow spot on each side.

“Because it’s a Fast Ball,” the old man replies. “It’s especially good for catching nimble Pokémon. My daughter had to throw ten balls at Raya before she surrendered, though. It was ... probably not the perfect ball for her, even if it worked out in the end.”

An interested murmur escapes my throat. The further I get from home, the more things I encounter that I have no knowledge of. Poké Balls are completely unknown to me. I know the bare essentials, but the rest I’ll probably only find out on my journey.

One that I will take Raya on.