Shaun lay in a quiet room, staring up at the ceiling as a prisoner.
After a good night’s sleep, he was already feeling much better. But he wasn’t allowed to leave the clinic, no matter what he said. He had tried earlier, but the weird star shaped thing gently but forcefully walked him back to his room. He stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. He was sick, and probably just hallucinating other people as weird creatures. It wasn’t unheard of, right?
He laughed a little to himself, which quickly turned into coughing. Wow, this sucked. He had nothing to do but wait to get better, and he was likely to be cooped up here for at least a week, if not more.
He tried to remember the town he was brought into without much success. It had all seemed colorful enough, but his brain had been melting out his ears at that point. Shaun shuddered. He probably would’ve died within the day if he hadn’t been found by the person who looked like some kind of orange otter.
He recalled the rest of the other day. Shortly after the otter had left, the nurse-thing came into his room and forced him to drink about 3 different medicinal elixirs, none of which tasted pleasant. He did feel much better after drinking them, but was still sick.
“Remember, you need to stay in bed,” the nurse said.
Shaun weakly agreed as the nurse left the room. As soon as he was sure that the nurse was out of hearing, he immediately got out of bed and stretched. It felt immensely satisfying as he relaxed and looked around.
It was a plain affair, consisting of rows of curtains parallel to the beds out of respect for their occupants’ privacy. All of the other beds were empty, a fact which Shaun was slightly relieved about.
Directly across from the foot of his bed was a table, slightly longer than he was. There was currently an empty glass bottle on it, but he had seen the nurse prepare one of the elixirs at the table earlier, so he assumed that it was there to assist in the preparation process.
A long window let in morning sunbeams that illuminated small dust particles floating in the air. Shaun watched them for a moment, mesmerized.
Something went thump behind him. Startled, he spun around.
A black tail with a large star tip at the end laid on the floor. Confused, he stepped towards the tail. It slid away across the floor. He took another step and the tail retreated further.
Shaun shook his head and traced the tail up to a set of black furred legs. Am I hallucinating?
Confident he was hallucinating, he looked around for the nearest approximation of a mirror. The glass bottle caught his eye, so he walked over to the table.
It was difficult to see his distorted reflection through the clear glass, but he vaguely made out his face. It looked like a kitten’s, with a cowlick jutting up from his forehead. His ears were now big and floppy, with a star pattern on them.
Looking down, he was covered in a fine blue fur down to his stomach, where a ruffle of black fur took over and extended down over his legs.
He also made the discovery of having four legs instead of two arms and two legs. Shaun was distantly surprised by how normal this seemed to him, somehow. He should be freaking out or something, but being sick brought about a certain layer of apathy to the more unsettling discoveries.
Such as the fact that he hardly remembered anything before waking up on that beach.
He remembered a few odd details here and there as he stared into the glass: His name was Shaun, it had been July 23rd (last he had checked, around here it seemed like sometime in mid-January), the fact that he was human, and… nothing else.
At least, he had been a human.
The discovery of being in a new body had been certainly unnerving, but not entirely unexpected. Whatever sickness he had, it was certainly messing with his brain somehow.
He laid in his bed, thinking about nothing in particular. When was the last time he had properly rested? He certainly felt overworked, and laying here was… nice. Peaceful.
Shaun coughed again. They were wimpy little things, more designed to annoy than to spread germs. He glared at nothing in particular. Of course he’d have to get the works. Waking up in an unfamiliar place, amnesia, an undiagnosable sickness, confined to a hospital bed… He wished he at least had some company.
Shaun laid back with a frustrated sigh. He wanted to go out and do things. Something. Anything. But he was confined to this stupid bed, for his own health’s sake.
Suddenly, an idea struck him. He carefully got out of his bed and wandered over to the doorway that led out into the reception. That meteor child thing was standing there at its desk, bored, as usual. He cleared his throat and asked in a pathetic voice, “Excuse me…”
There wasn’t a response. Simultaneously cursing large rooms and weak voices, he coughed. This did catch the child’s attention, though it was rather reproachful. “You’re supposed to be on complete and total bedrest, you know.”
“I know, just…” His brain blanked out on what he was going to ask for a moment. “Do you know the person who brought me in?”
“Buizel? Not personally, no,” it responded. “Why do you ask?”
“Uh, do you think there’s a chance you could bring him back here?” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I kinda forgot to thank him yesterday, and I wanted to thank him. In person.”
The child seemed to weigh its options for a moment, then sighed. “We’re supposed to fulfill patient requests, but… I’ll ask Miss Chansey about it, and then if that goes over well, I’ll ask Buizel.” She wagged a finger at him. “As long as you get back into bed and stay there.”
Shaun barely resisted the urge to groan. “Alright, alright, I’m going back to bed.” He pointedly made his way back into the sick ward, where he begrudgingly got back into bed.
Now to hope that things go well, he mused as he got comfortable.
Buizel got home and had to explain to his parents why he’d been so late in getting back. They were initially angry with him, but after he explained he had found a sick Shinx in the woods and brought it back, their anger turned to quiet understanding and more questions.
“An ill Shinx, huh?” his father, an Ampharos, contemplated. “I have to say that’s the first I’ve heard of any ‘new’ Pokemon around Fifty Island.” He sighed. “You do understand that we’re going to have to punish you for disobeying your mother?”
Buizel nodded, downcast. He knew that he would get in trouble if he went into the woods after explicitly being told not to, and he did it anyway. At least he had helped somemon in the process.
His mother, a Floatzel, seemed to think along the same lines, and placed a paw on his shoulder. “It won’t be too harsh, Buizel. Whether by chance or some predetermined fate, you saved a Pokemon today, and that’s something to be proud of. But you have to understand that disobeying your parents is dangerous and stressful for everyone involved.”
Buizel nodded again and hugged her. “Thanks, mom.” Floatzel had returned the hug, holding him for slightly longer than necessary.
That was last night, though. Today he had to work through his punishment, which was cleaning the lenses of the lighthouse.
The Lighthouse was a fairly tall stone building, with a massive set of glass reflectors at the top to send Ampharos’ light further than he could have alone. It was an impressive work of engineering, but due to the nature of being near the ocean, various parts of the building required maintenance. Buizel was just glad he didn’t have to repair the elevator again.
He had gotten home from school earlier than usual that day after explaining the situation to his teachers. He was extremely glad that he usually got to school before Haunter, because he would’ve been mocked to no end about it.
Cleaning the glass lenses wasn’t exactly the hardest task, with him being a Water-type and all, but he did have to be gentle. Getting glass out here wasn’t cheap in any sense of the word, and this Lighthouse was both a symbol of the town and a safety measure. Making sure it was well maintained was part of his entire family’s job.
He finished cleaning a lens and sat back to admire his work. They hadn’t been too dirty, but being able to see his reflection clearly again had its own satisfaction.
As he moved on to the next one, Buizel bit his lip in trepidation. One of the lenses had a very small flaw in the form of a crack. Ampharos wouldn’t be too happy. They had just replaced a lens earlier that week, and he was still bemoaning how expensive it had been.
His father called to him from the ground, interrupting his train of thought. “Alright, Buizel! That’s enough for today!”
He blinked and checked the sky to gauge the time. Had it been that long already? No, that couldn’t be right. Glad to be done with the work regardless, he stepped onto the elevator with practiced ease, and pressed a button embedded into the wall that sent him down from the lantern room, forgetting about the small flaw almost entirely.
On the ground floor, his mother was waiting for him. She smiled warmly as he entered the room. “Hi, Buizel.”
“Hi, mom,” he replied. “Is it really that late already?”
“No,” she said. “Cleffa stopped by and was asking for you. Apparently that Shinx you rescued wants to thank you in person.”
Buizel blinked in surprise. “Really?”
Floatzel nodded. “Guess I’d better head to the clinic, then,” Buizel said reluctantly. He felt scared to go back there in case he was seen by Haunter and he began to spread rumors. But he did want to see that Shinx again, even if that was a risk.
His mother drew him into a surprise hug. “You want to be an explorer, right? Explorers should get used to getting thanked by the people they rescue. That’s just a part of their job.”
Tears threatened to well up in Buizel’s eyes.” Thanks, mom.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She released him from the hug. “You should probably get going.”
Buizel nodded and started for the clinic.
It was a short but pleasant walk. The sky was a clear blue, with soft breezes promising to bring more like it tomorrow. There were a few Pokemon here and there, but most of the town’s bustle was around the weekend, when the ferry with supplies and the occasional tourist arrived. Buizel didn’t mind the activity, but he much preferred it when it was quiet.
He made it to the clinic without incident. As he walked in, Cleffa perked up from behind her desk. “Oh good, you’re here! That Shinx hasn’t stopped asking for you since this morning.”
“Oh, uh, really?” Buizel rubbed the back of his head with a paw.
Cleffa shrugged. “Must be a really thankful ‘mon or something.” She gestured in the direction of the sick ward. “Third bed down from the door. Miss Chansey says you’re not to overexert him, alright?”
“Alright,” Buizel nodded in assent, and entered the sick ward.
It was simple, consisting of curtains hiding beds. Of course, almost all of the beds were unoccupied at the moment. It was a testament to how good of a doctor Chansey was.
The third bed down, predictably, had the Shinx in it.
The Shinx was staring at the wall across from it with unfocused eyes, the kind of thing Buizel did when he was extremely sick or extremely bored. This seemed to be mostly the latter, as when Buizel approached the bed the Shinx focused on him and grinned. “Oh good, they let you in! Was mildly worried that my badgering was going to backfire.”
“You certainly sound more… well.” Buizel didn’t know what he was expecting to hear first, but it wasn’t this.
“Yeah, well,” the Shinx chuckled. “That, uh, Chansey, sure knows how to make medicine. If it weren’t for the cough, I’d be willing to bet good money that I was completely cured.”
Buizel was slightly taken back by how chatty the Shinx was. “You’re sure talkative compared to the last time I saw you.”
“In my defense, it felt like my brain was literally melting out my ears,” the Shinx replied. “‘Kinda out of it’ would be a massive understatement.” He looked Buizel up and down and muttered, “…still not entirely convinced otherwise.”
The Shinx seemed to remember what he had asked Buizel here to do, and said, “Oh, right. Uh, thanks for saving me from certain death. That was pretty kind of you.”
Buizel blinked. “You were going to die?”
The Shinx nodded. “Sure felt like it.”
There was a moment of awkward silence before the Shinx seemed to remember something. “Oh yeah, I never got your name. Uh, what’s your name?”
“Buizel.” He didn’t know how to follow up a question like that, so he asked, “What’s yours?”
“Shaun. Pleased to meet you, Buizel.”
Buizel looked “Shaun” up and down. Somehow, the name seemed fitting. “That’s certainly a, um, unique name.”
Shaun chuckled. “I could say the same about yours.” He stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking Buizel in the eyes. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Uh.” Not what he had been expecting. “Depends on how dangerous it is, I guess?”
Shaun looked at the ceiling again, seemingly trying to figure out how to say it. “I have a mild case of severe amnesia.”
Oh. “That’s… not good, actually.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.” Shaun wrestled with his bed’s blankets for a moment before finding a slightly more comfortable position and looking at Buizel pleadingly. “Please don’t tell anyone?”
Buizel extended his left paw and thumped it on his chest. “On my honor, I won’t tell anymon.”
Shaun visibly relaxed. “Okay, phew. Going around telling people you have amnesia seems like a really bad idea, somehow.” His expression changed to a look of curiosity. “What was that salute you just made?”
“Oh. Uh.” Buizel didn’t know what to say. Slight embarrassment flushed his cheeks.
Shaun observed this, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he turned to someone behind Buizel. “Oh, hi Miss, uh, Chansey!”
Buizel turned around to see Chansey standing behind him with a faintly disapproving look on her face. “Alright, that’s enough visiting for today.”
“Awww, come on,” Shaun whined. “Two more minutes?”
“Nope.” Chansey stood there imposingly. “You, sir, need your rest.” She ushered Buizel out of the sick ward amidst Shaun’s complaints.
Out in the reception area, she sighed with relief. “I swear, that Shinx is more headstrong than a Mudbray.” She turned to Buizel, smiling. “Thanks for keeping him company,” she said, unexpectedly. “I’d do it myself, but I’m busy with making sure he gets well.”
“Oh, uh,” Buizel said, nonplussed. “You’re welcome?”
“He’s probably going to ask for you again tomorrow,” Chansey continued, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to deny him that while your immune system recovers from the exposure.”
“What about overmorrow?” Buizel asked. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to, but something inside him wanted to talk with the Shinx more.
Chansey considered it for a moment. “Well, possibly, if he doesn’t get up to too much mischief. He’s already tried to leave the clinic twice today and Cleffa practically had to drag him back in.” Cleffa, who had been listening in the entire time, nodded in confirmation.
“Anyways, you should probably head back to the Lighthouse,” Chansey said. “Your parents are probably wondering what’s taken so long.”
“Really?” Buizel looked out the open clinic door, trying to gauge how much time had passed. “That took like two minutes.”
“It’s been closer to five, actually,” Cleffa chimed in. “And I’m sure that the trip back to the Lighthouse isn’t exactly short.”
“It’s shorter than you’d expect,” Buizel muttered. “But yeah, I should probably get going.” He turned and waved at the clinic staff. “Thanks for having me!”
They bowed in return, and Buizel left the clinic for home.
“Dad, how common is amnesia?”
The question made Ampharos and Floatzel look up. They had been enjoying a peaceful evening in front of the crackling fireplace. Mid-winter, while mild on Fifty Island, was still cold for the residents who lived there. Ampharos often joked that “on Fifty Island it never snows, but everyone still bundles up like there’s an incoming blizzard”.
Ampharos considered his son’s question for a moment before responding with one of his own. “What got you to thinking about amnesia?”
“Oh, just thinking, I suppose,” Buizel answered noncommittally. “Losing your memory seems pretty harsh.”
“That it is.” Ampharos tilted his head. “Amnesia is a relatively rare ailment. I’ve only seen it affect ‘mons with severe head trauma, but they usually regained their memory slowly under intensive care.”
Buizel stared into the fire slowly scorching the logs his father had put in earlier and thought back to his time with Shaun. No evidence of head trauma, just a pretty bad illness. “What about amnesia unconnected to head trauma?”
Ampharos and Floatzel shared A Look. “Is there something wrong?” Floatzel asked concernedly.
“Huh?” Buizel looked up at his parents sitting on the couch from where he sat on the floor. There was a perfectly good armchair he was leaning against that he could sit in, but it was slightly warmer on the floor than in the chair. “Oh. No, I’m perfectly fine. Just thinking hypotheticals, I guess.”
Ampharos looked thoughtful for a moment before getting up and wandering to their bookshelf. It was a tired old thing, but it still held up the myriads of books that their family collected. Buizel returned to staring at the fire, its hypnotic dance consuming his attention.
Ampharos sat back down on the couch with a large book and started flipping through it. Buizel looked up again. “Oh, it’s that collection of Fairy-type tales that mom used to read to me when I was younger.”
Floatzel was looking over Ampharos’ shoulder. “Mhm. Though I only read the first half of the book, what your father is looking for seems to be in the second half.”
Buizel perked up, interested. “Really?” He got up off the floor and stood behind the couch, watching Ampharos flip through most of the book. Wow, this is a really thick book, Buizel mused.
Ampharos stopped at a certain page that seemed to be worn extremely thin. “Ah, here we are.”
It was a story about a Turtwig and a Vulpix joining a rescue team together and their various adventures. Buizel felt a small twinge of envy. They made it sound so easy.
Ampharos seemed the most interested in one passage, though. “Ah, that’s what I was thinking of. ‘The Turtwig, though entirely unharmed, had claimed they had lost their memory. What’s more, they also claimed to be a human.'”
Buizel blinked. “He really said that?”
Ampharos nodded. “It seemed to be the truth, as well.” He flipped to a much farther section in the book, where the two Pokemon had teamed up with an unnamed Pokemon to escape back to the past from a desolate future to prevent the future from happening. “The Pokemon talks an awful lot about their human partner here. And this…” He flipped another few pages to a sketch of a Dusknoir guarding a portal. “…is where the Pokemon mentions the Turtwig’s name, ‘Chrome’, and refers to them as a human. Obviously a huge plot twist,” he said jokingly over his shoulder. “Sorry if you haven’t read this story yet.”
Buizel waved a paw. “Eh, I hardly read the stuff in here anymore anyways. Besides, I don’t think I even knew there were more stories past the ‘Jirachi granting wishes’ one.”
Floatzel laughed softly. “You sure did love that one.”
Ampharos flipped backwards to a colored illustration of an etched blue gear. Buizel’s eyes widened. “There’s colored pictures in here?” Colored pictures in books were extremely rare and expensive.
Ampharos chuckled. “Ah yes, my dirty little secret.” He pointed to a spot where the color went slightly outside of the lines. “See this? I made this mistake when coloring in this one drawing. I wanted to do all of them, but my parents caught me as I was finishing this one and promptly confiscated the book. My father told me later that he was astounded by how lifelike it looked, but not to do it again. ‘That book was expensive enough as is,’ he told me.”
Buizel knew what he meant. The colors were bright and the light blue was extremely vivid, even after all this time. He could almost see the gear spinning and keeping the flow of time, and the forest winds around it rustling the grass.
“Sure is pretty,” Buizel said truthfully. “Wish I could paint like that.”
“It’s an acquired skill,” his father replied. This seemed to make him remember something, causing him to sit up straighter. “Say, how did your visit with the Shinx go?”
Buizel shrugged. “He thanked me for saving his life out in the woods.”
“That’s good!” His father bobbed his head enthusiastically. “You’d be shocked by how many ‘mons don’t thank their rescuers after getting rescued.”
Buizel returned to staring at the Time Gear illustration. Something about it was eerily familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
Ampharos shut the book with a thump, making both Buizel and Floatzel jump. “Welp, it’s long past time for Buizel to go to bed.” He pointedly looked at Buizel as he spoke.
“Alright, alright, I’m going.” Buizel went upstairs to his room.
A few quiet moments passed. Ampharos got up and squeezed the book back onto the overloaded bookshelf. “Well,” he turned to Floatzel. “What do you make of all this?”
“I’m not sure.” She cocked her head worriedly. “I think Buizel may have gotten himself into something that none of us are prepared for.”
Ampharos chuckled softly. “I sure hope you’re wrong.”
He was searching and still hadn’t found it. Still. Where was it?!
He had combed the entire island and hadn’t found a single thing. It had been almost an entire week! How had he not found it already?
He had found the location of where it was supposed to be, but it wasn’t there. He was almost positive that someone had moved it. But whom?
He shook himself a little. No, he must keep looking.
The entire future was at stake.