Shaun woke up on a beach that he didn’t remember going to sleep on.
He blinked groggily and saw a sprawling sandy beach. From this point of view it looked like it spanned halfway across the world. He sat up, his balance slightly off, and looked around.
The water was a deep cerulean blue, reminiscent of the brightly lit sky it partially reflected as it rolled up onto the sand beside Shaun. He seemed to be on a sandbar of some sort that seemed to stretch infinitely into the horizon in one direction. He shivered. Where on earth was he? This didn’t look normal.
Shaun tried to stand up, but ended up sprawling on the sand. Ow. His head was spinning from the attempt. His balance must be a lot more messed up than he thought. He sat up again and tried going on all fours. Huh, this is much easier, he reflected. His brain was frustratingly foggy right now.
Suddenly, Shaun’s mouth went dry. Water. He must have water. He was dying of thirst and hadn’t even noticed.
He cast a disdaining look at the seawater that flowed temptingly up onto the sand. Yeah, no. Drinking seawater was an awful idea, even if he was extremely dehydrated.
Wandering around the sandbar provided less answers than he would’ve liked. It was pristine. It looked like no one in the entire world had ever set foot here. He shivered, suddenly cold. Where was everyone? Had he fallen off a boat or something?
A cough pushed its way out of his throat.
It was a fairly weak cough, all things considered, but to a dehydrated Shaun it felt like a demon from hell was trying to scrape its way out. He gasped for air, which only inspired more coughing.
Just great. I’m sick and in the middle of nowhere. The thought was bleak.
Shaun desperately looked around for any signs of other people. Completely deserted. He grimaced and resisted the urge to cough again. He needed water.
He walked along the sand for what felt like hours. The sky was a blinding shade of white that hurt his eyes if he looked at it too long. In the distance, along the horizon, Shaun could just barely make out vibrant pinks and yellows. He distantly wondered if he was having a drug trip, but he couldn’t remember anything clearly. His memory faded more and more as he walked towards his unknown destination.
Slowly, his surroundings changed into a set of woods. The path was lined with leaf litter, as if the trees had gone to sleep long ago due to the cold. Shaun stopped and looked at the trees, confused. Hadn’t I been walking on a sandbar a minute ago?
He went deeper into the forest, the trees growing thicker. His head started to spin further down the path. He didn’t think much of it until he nearly fell over, the world spinning sideways and the ground rotating to meet him. Shaun swore hoarsely and pushed himself up. God, he needed water.
He stumbled ahead, his sense of balance betraying him at almost every step. Oh, this sucked. He needed to find civilization before he died of dehydration. A road always leads somewhere, right?
He stumbled again and landed on a soft patch of grass. Shaun’s world slowly drifted away from him as he laid there, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. Mmm. Had grass always felt this comfortable to lay on?
Shaun never did recall going unconscious.
Buizel was out exploring the forest again. Mom had said not to, especially after last time, but he was determined to anyway.
He was a relatively young Pokemon, 14 summers at most. He was certainly not the least exploratory Pokemon for his age, but he did wish that his parents gave him a bit more wiggle room in the matter.
Buizel wandered mostly aimlessly through the tired trees. He didn’t have any particular destination in mind, he just needed to get away from the village at the moment. He sighed. That stupid Haunter had dragged his dream through the dirt again at school.
His dream to join the Rescue Guild when he was older.
He took a deep breath and shook off the memory. He was out here to relax, not relive past embarrassments. He did that enough as is when he couldn’t go to sleep at night. Here, it was just him, the trees, and the occasional Pidgey.
He wandered back towards the path. He knew these woods practically like the back of his paw, but straying too far from the path was a fantastic way to get lost and get Mr. Fearow after you. He shuddered. Mr. Fearow was certainly well meaning, but Buizel still felt that particular 2 hour long lecture deep within his bones.
As he approached the path, a moment of indecision seized Buizel. He could either get to the end of the path and then turn back, or head back to Island Village. He weighed his options and finally decided on the former. An extra few minutes tacked on to his way back was fine. Probably.
He turned onto the path leading out of the village. To his knowledge, it just led to a dead end, but it was a peaceful dead end nonetheless. He could use some peace right now.
It was a quiet walk, with only the Buizel’s thoughts and footsteps to keep him company. He wasn’t exactly a loner, but he did like to keep to himself, if for no other reason than he would get bullied otherwise. He took a deep breath and shook his head again at an attempt to clear his mind. Nope. Not thinking about this right now. Arceus knows he’d think about it far too much once in bed tonight.
His train of thought was derailed by what he saw when he reached the end of the road.
It was as much of a dead end as ever, but lying on a patch of grass slightly removed from the road was a passed out Shinx. Buizel blinked. Had a ferry come by with one on it? He thought back to the transport Lapras from that morning and mentally shook his head. No, just the regulars. So who was this?
He cautiously made his way over to it. There were hardly any feral Pokemon on Fifty Island, but with the unsettling rumors going around that he wasn’t supposed to know about, he thought it was probably a good idea to approach with caution.
He stood next to the unconscious Shinx. It was about half as tall as him, which was hardly surprising. Buizel had always been one of the tallest kids in school. He shook the Shinx gently, aware that this was an Electric-type Pokemon. That unnerved him slightly. If this Pokemon turned out to be feral, he’d have the type disadvantage.
At first, the Shinx didn’t respond. But after another minute of gentle shakes, it hoarsely mumbled something about water.
Buizel winced. As a Water-type, being dehydrated wasn’t really something he had experienced, but he had seen its effects on other kids during the hot summer.
He gently opened the Shinx’s mouth and carefully placed his paw inside. Focusing, he condensed the surrounding water moisture from the air into a small bubble of water that surrounded his paw, which he then released to drop the water into the Shinx’s mouth. The Shinx, thankfully, swallowed automatically. Buizel didn’t have the guts to try and dribble water down somemon’s throat without accidentally choking them.
He repeated this a few more times until he was satisfied that the Shinx wouldn’t die of dehydration on the way back to town. He began shaking it again. “Hey, wake up.”
The Shinx didn’t respond immediately, which worried him until it muttered, “…goway.”
Buizel’s mind went to the old Guild handbook that his dad had. “Are you injured or in any way impaired from walking?”
Instead of responding, the Shinx lapsed into a coughing fit, which made Buizel flinch. “Oh, you’re sick.”
The Shinx finally moved, turning its head to look blearily at him. “…whatever made you come to that conclusion?”
Buizel deflected the question. “Can you walk?” he asked again.
The Shinx, in response, stood up on shaky legs which threatened to collapse under him. Buizel inhaled a sharp breath. “Definitely not for long.”
“I’ve lived through worse,” the Shinx said unconvincingly. He stared at Buizel for a long moment, making him feel uncomfortable, before doing its best approximation of a shrug, muttering something unintelligible under its breath.
Buizel sized up the Shinx. Sick, weak, dehydrated… This mon needed to get to the clinic ASAP. “Do you think you could walk about…” He calculated the distance in his head. “Oh, less than half a mile?”
Tentatively, the Shinx walked around in a circle. “Um, maybe…?”
That was good enough for Buizel. “Alright, follow me.”
He started off down the path at his regular pace, but looked back to see the Shinx lagging badly behind. He resisted the urge to groan. So much for a walk in the forest without anymon noticing he was gone. He walked back over to the Shinx, who was unsteadily plodding after him. “Not a fast walker, are we?”
“I’m sick,” he replied indignantly. “Not to mention my head is spinning, I’m massively dehydrated, and I think I’m hallucinating!”
Buizel grimaced. “Ah.”
The Shinx took a deep breath to say something else, but it devolved into another coughing fit. Buizel watched with concern. “We need to get you to the clinic.”
There was silence between the two Pokemon as they walked, besides the occasional coughing fit from the Shinx. Buizel almost wished that it would ask for more water or something, just to break the silence.
He almost laughed aloud when he saw the archway that denoted the forest entrance from the town. He still had to walk excruciatingly slowly to keep up with the Shinx, but they were almost there.
The Shinx collapsed, its legs suddenly giving out and sprawling it across the dirt path. “Ow,” Buizel winced. “You good?”
“Mostly,” came the weakened reply. “My arms and legs just… don’t want to work.”
Buizel looked into the sky for some kind of guidance. “Guess I’m going to have to carry you.”
The Shinx chuckled weakly. “That sounds really nice, actually. I’m just so… tired…”
Buizel hoisted the Shinx onto his back in a piggyback. There were complaints from his back, but they subsided quickly. Breathing a sigh of relief, Buizel started the trek into town.
It was so much faster than walking that Buizel immediately wondered why he didn’t think of this ages ago. Sure, he had a little extra weight on his back, but he was strong enough to carry a lightweight Shinx.
As they arrived in Island Village proper, Buizel gazed at it through a newcomer’s eyes. It consisted of a lot of very colorful stucco shops, with equally colorful knickknacks being sold from them. The more mellow wooden buildings still had a colorful accent of some sort here or there, as the architects prided themselves on having a beautiful town. Buizel thought it all looked just a tad too garish sometimes, but he wasn’t the one actually building anything so he kept it to himself.
There were also quite a few other Pokemon doing things around town. Buizel recognized almost all of them, having lived here his entire life. There were a few mons that he didn’t really interact with outside of polite greetings in the street, but that didn’t really count. There were a few glances spared his way, but he was obviously headed towards a destination, so they didn’t pay him much heed.
The Pokemon in the town were certainly interested in the ‘mon on Buizel’s back, though. As he walked through the town, more than a few whispers broke out in his wake. An Electric-type here in Island Village was extremely rare, even if it was just a Shinx. There were only three other Electric-types who lived on the island, after all.
Buizel walked into the clinic. It was a simple wooden building, with a sign denoting its status as a building of healthcare. Buizel never really went here, save the occasional gash or two that he thought would be the cause of his untimely demise. Looking around the reception, it was a long wooden room with two benches lining the walls on either side of the doorway. Two doors at either end of the room lead deeper into the clinic. In the middle of the room was a sturdy wooden desk with a bored looking Cleffa behind it, rolling loose papers into a ball.
She started as she saw Buizel enter the building and carefully resumed an air of kind professionalism. “Hello, Buizel! How may we help you today?”
“I found a sick Shinx in the woods,” Buizel answered without preamble. He carefully moved Shinx from his back to a slightly less comfortable position in front of him so that Cleffa could see it.
When she did, she sucked in her breath through her teeth. “Ooooh, that’s one sick Shinx. Hang on, I’ll see if Miss Chansey is busy.” Cleffa went bouncing out from behind the desk and through the left door.
Buizel walked over to one of the benches and set the Shinx down on it before taking a seat himself. The Shinx was looking after the Cleffa in what might have been confusion. “What did she just call me?”
“A Shinx,” Buizel supplied. “That’s what you are, right?”
The Shinx opened its mouth to presumably contest this when Cleffa bounced back in. “She says you’re to see her right away.” As Buizel got off the bench, she added, “And Buizel, you’re to carry him in there. He looks taxed enough as is.”
Groaning, he picked up the Shinx again and went through the left door. This was a slightly smaller, more square-shaped room. Along one end was another bench, along with a shelf of various instruments. The rest of the room was taken up by a large spinnable chair. Buizel vaguely remembered being younger and spinning around in it without permission and getting in trouble for it.
In another chair was Chansey, the town’s resident doctor and nurse. Buizel nodded. “Good afternoon, Miss Chansey.”
“Oh please, I only have Cleffa call me that when we’re at work,” she said lightly. “Let’s see this Shinx you found.”
He held up the Shinx for her to take, which she did without much hesitation or problem. Buizel vaguely envied her as she placed the Shinx in the chair as if he weighed barely more than an empty wooden bucket. “Let’s see. How do you feel on a scale of one to ten? Ten being the worst and one being barely any pain at all.”
The Shinx looked vaguely perplexed, but answered, “Uhhh, maybe a four? …five, maybe?”
Chansey nimbly sprang over to the shelf and grabbed a tool that no one but her seemed to understand the use of, and looked at her patient’s eyes with it. She clucked disapprovingly. “You should’ve gotten more bedrest while you had the chance. This is a nasty illness, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
The Shinx coughed weakly in reply. “Oh boy, just what I wanted to hear.”
She ignored him and grabbed a thermometer from the shelf as well, and expertly stuck it in his mouth. After observing it for a minute, she shook her head. “You haven’t even run a fever yet. It’s going to get much worse before it gets better.”
Buizel felt slightly useless just standing there, so he asked a question that had been worrying him. “Will he live?”
Chansey nodded, still examining her patient. “He’ll live and probably be a better ‘mon for it, but it’s going to be an unpleasant week or two.”
Buizel grimaced. A week or two of being sick? A few days was bad enough, but this was another level of suck. He felt a new layer of empathy for the Shinx, who looked to be sharing similar thoughts.
Chansey spun to Buizel, catching him by surprise. “What symptoms has he been showing?”
“Uhh.” Buizel quickly tried to recall anything he noticed while on the walk. “Weakness, coughing…” He listed them off on his paw. “Dizziness, um, sickness, delirium, I think…”
He immediately wished he hadn’t said that last one. Chansey nimbly waltzed over to the shelf and grabbed about 3 new tools, two of which were sharp looking implements, and proceeded to poke at the Shinx with them, who looked severely uncomfortable.
Whatever her methods, she was undeniably a great doctor. She sprang over to her desk and began writing furiously. It took her about 3 minutes, but she was done and carefully filed it away in a file cabinet that Buizel hadn’t noticed. Chansey turned to the Shinx in the chair. “You are to be put on immediate bedrest and quarantined until your fever starts, and then kept for observation for the week after your fever breaks.” Buizel was startled at how much authority was in her voice. It must’ve been a pretty serious illness.
The Shinx was too tired and/or weak to contest this ruling, and surrendered himself being carried off to the other side of the hospital, which served as a sick ward.
Chansey staunchly refused to let Buizel see the Shinx after that, citing, “You’ve been in far too much close contact already. I’m amazed that you’re not sick, yourself!”
Buizel eventually gave up and left the building amidst Cleffa’s cheery goodbye. It was a lot later in the day than he had remembered, and with a twinge of guilt remembered that he was supposed to be helping his parents with work by now. He was most likely going to get in trouble either way, so he took his time making his way home.
Halfway there, he wished he just hurried home.
Buizel turned a corner on his usual route home when he froze. Lurking in a shadowed alleyway, leaning against a brightly colored stucco wall, was Haunter.
Buizel knew that he knew that he knew he was there. Any alternate route he tried to take would just be cut off by the bully. He knew this particular ‘mon all too well. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the Ghost-type’s taunts as he walked by the alleyway.
They didn’t come. Confused, Buizel doubled back and saw no Ghost-type in the alleyway. He looked around, perplexed. He swear he just saw him a moment ago-
A cold hand draped itself over his shoulder. It felt like ice. Buizel didn’t like ice.
He let out a shuddery breath and turned around to face the Haunter grinning at him. “Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t handle a friendly greeting?” he said.
Buizel sighed irritably. “Haunter, I’m not in the mood right now.”
That evil grin was still floating on his face. “When are you ever in the mood for a friendly little hangout? Never, apparently.” He drifted lazily around Buizel, blocking most routes of escape, he noticed. “I just wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
“What I wanted to talk about,” said Haunter jeeringly, “was that little Shinx you brought in from the woods.”
Buizel’s insides felt like they were cascaded in ice. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Practically everyone in town had seen him carrying it, no wonder Haunter was so interested. “What about it?”
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t introduce us,” Haunter flippantly said, grinning at him from upside down. “Quite rude, if you ask me.”
“He was sick, Haunter!”
Buizel immediately wished he hadn’t said that. The nasty grin grew even wider, somehow. “Oh, was he?” It spun upright again. “So you’ve been cavorting about with sick and feral mons, have we?”
Buizel glared at Haunter. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Haunter said. He was obviously going to have the time of his life with this information. “I guess we all know who to blame if a plague breaks out in Island Village, don’t we?”
This hit one of Buizel’s hidden worries exactly square. What if he did accidentally cause a plague that wiped out the village? It wasn’t unheard of for small island communities to be completely wiped out by a foreign disease.
The worst part was, Haunter knew this as well as he did. “Well, I suppose I can’t keep you any longer,” he pouted. “A shame, really.”
Buizel remained silent. If he said anything, it’d most likely be something he’d regret. Again. For the fourth time that day.
Haunter waited a moment, obviously hoping Buizel would say something else horrifically incriminating. But after a moment he shrugged, content with what information he had gotten from Buizel, and left, floating down the path Buizel had come from and fading into the evening light.
When he was certain he was gone, Buizel let out a shuddery breath. It wasn’t every day that Haunter waited for him like that, but whenever he did, he was far nastier than he ever was allowed to be at school. And it was only him, specifically. Haunter wasn’t the most popular guy at school, but he didn’t bully anymon else like he bullied Buizel.
Just Buizel.
He started for home again, hoping that he wouldn’t have to battle his dad to calm down.