Chapter Eight: "Past"

"Celeana?" The silver-tressed boy's voice pulled her from the little world she had immersed herself in. "We've reached Verdanturf."

She gave an overenthusiastic nod, swallowing a little in embarrassment. She'd never even noticed that they'd been standing in a cement-overrun town for the past few minutes.

"OK," she replied, shifting her gaze to the one building that she was familiar with. The orange-tiled roof stood out like a sore thumb against the plain cream of the other buildings, a trademark design that any trainer would be able to recognise. "Is that the P—Pokemon Center?"

Ryou gave her a brief nod. "Yeah. We'll head there now to heal our Pokemon, restock our supplies and book a room. Is that fine with you?"

It wasn't as if she had anything planned, so she swiftly agreed.

She stepped into the large structure, a subconscious smile forming on her face as she was greeted by a pleasant, cold gale of air brushing against her skin.

Her companion walked forward, handling the conversation with graceful ease. The smooth, calculated tone he spoke with was a far cry from the lazy drone that she was used to. He spoke to Nurse Joy in a tone that seemed much too polite from his usual demeanour.

Moments later, he approached Celeana with a set of colour-coded keys in his hand. "Done," he told her. "You can go settle in, and I'll go get supplies."

She gave him a slight scowl—he was treating her as a small child, and she wanted to prove to him that she wasn't completely incapable of performing the simplest of feats. "I can get my own supplies, you know," the trainer sighed. "Stop treating me like a kid."

"Ah, I wasn't trying to make you feel bad," he chimed. "I was just thinking of what was the most efficient way to do things, you know." The teenager's words were logical enough, but they were layered with a hint of flippant nonchalance.

The coordinator said nothing, but bristled inside with disgruntled indignation.

"Well, you're welcome to buy the supplies if you want." Ryou raised an eyebrow at her reaction. "I'm not stopping you."

She replied with a half-hearted inclination of her head, leaving the silver-haired boy in the room and closing the door behind her with a soft click.

As soon as the trainer was out of her sight, she gave a small sigh, knowing that she was wrong—with her stammering and near-incapability of speech when she was nervous. She had told Ryou that she could do it, though, and there was no going back.

I've embarrassed myself enough today, she told herself in a grudging tone.

She exited the Pokemon Center, barely managing to spot the iconic blue roof of the Mart through the large crowd of people that combed Verdanturf's streets.

Celeana walked into the cosy structure, smiling as she saw the rack of Potions that her travelling partner had asked her to get. She grabbed a few of the colourful medicines off the shelf, struggling to balance the compact boxes in her arms.

Mumbling to herself in frustration, she seized a basket from the rack beside her, barely managing to dump the bottles into the plastic vessel.

Golden eyes scanned the rest of the shop's brackets, deciding to take some status-healing remedies and a few Revives—after all, she didn't want to be stuck in a situation if she lost a battle and had Froakie or Ralts faint.

"Right, Pokeballs," she reminded herself, and added a few of the red and white capsules to her ever-growing collection.

Finally satisfied with the basket of items, Celeana heaved the green receptacle onto the counter. The cashier offered her a kind smile, deft hands moving to pack the items into bags and handing them to her with a wide grin.

"That'll be 3000 Pokedollars, miss," he informed with a placid grin. Celeana knew that smiling was just a non-negotiable rule of his job, but the trainer was still impressed by how genuine that manufactured beam looked.

"O—Okay. Thanks," she stammered out, nodding her thanks to the clerk and wrapping her fingers around the crinkled plastic of the bags.

Relieved, she turned to exit the Pokemon Mart, but a muffled conversation caught her attention.

"...hey, this happened in the past..." That was all she could make out, but her head jerked to attention at the unfamiliar word. She tilted her head, not recognising the word past in the sentence. It did sound quite simple, but she had never heard of it before.

Maybe I didn't need to know it, she frowned to herself. I'll just ask Ryou about it later.

With that, she departed from the outlet in a brisk walk, feet already aching from the long hours of walking and eyelids heavy in a sudden urge to sleep.

I did it.

• • •

"I'm back," Celeana announced, throwing the bag containing her companion's supplies towards his head in a fit of tired annoyance. She couldn't be bothered for good impressions now.

The silver-haired boy just laughed, catching the carrier and nodding to her in mock gratefulness. "Thank you," he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile, voice tainted with a spoonful of forced awe. "I am very much indebted to you."

The coordinator bit her lip, watching the shorter boy's indifferent reaction and forcing herself to ignore his response.

"Anyway, it's late." The airiness in his voice was as if their earlier conversation had never happened. "We should probably go and eat dinner now—the food served at the Pokemon Center is free."

Celeana bowed her head in silent agreement, and she followed her acquaintance to the quaint dining area of the building, sealed off in a warm, comfortable corner where customers could enjoy the peace and quiet.

She had underestimated her hunger, because she had ate food the way heroin addicts shot up. She inhaled everything savoury to get her fix, devouring the Miltank steak in a matter of mere moments.

"Hey, take your time," Ryou commented with an amused snicker, taking a more sophisticated bite of his meal. "The food's not going to run away, y'know."

"I didn't eat lunch," the blue-haired girl retorted. "Of course I'm hungry."

There was another refreshing moment of complete quiet as both of them enjoyed their dinner in peace, the teenager opposite her choosing to focus his attention on the neatly-sliced pieces of steamed Remoraid on his plate.

"Oh, yeah." Celeana perked up, the question in the back of her mind pushing its way to her lips. "I overheard an unfamiliar word today. It may sound stupid, but I've honestly never had a need to learn this word before."

The silver-tressed male raised an eyebrow, his attention averted from his plate for a moment. "What is it?"

The female trainer looked down, nervousness wetting her lips as she spoke. "It's 'past'," she then acknowledged. "I'm sure that it's a common word, but I didn't have a complete education in the past—"

She trailed off, red tinting her cheeks in mortifying embarrassment—she was sure that they had darkened beyond the usual healthy rose-coloured shade.

"Oh," the boy hummed, drumming his fingers on the table's surface as he thought. "Well, are you talking about the literal or figurative definition? There are two different meanings to it, y'know."

His aubergine eyes were playful, and she could tell that he was belittling her. Celeana tilted her head to the side in confusion. She did know what literal meant, but she couldn't tell what the trainer meant by figurative.

"Literal," she decided, "since I have no idea what you mean by figurative."

"It's a word used to refer to a ​period of ​time before and until the ​present," Ryou recounted mechanically, a serious expression on his face as he tried to recall the word's dictionary definition. His eyes were narrowed into the distance, his face blank as he spoke.

Ryou's answer was as vague as his enigmatic personality, his eyelids firmly pressed together in a harmless frontage.

Celeana scowled to herself—the fancy words he used to describe the word weren't helping, but she could at least understand a bit of it. Making a mental reminder to ask Miss Enya later, she nodded as if she understood, not wanting to seem like a fool.

He tilted his head at her, setting his cutlery down on his plate. "Then do you have a past? I'd like to know if it isn't too probing."

"I don't know," the female shrugged. "I don't really have a normal past—if I did, then I don't know about it. I can't exactly e—empathise with you over these sorts of matters if you do have a past unlike me."

Ryou smiled at her, the gentle smile back and the familiar indifferent quality abundant in his amethyst optics. "That's OK," he replied in a calm tone. "Anyway, you should finish your meal. It's going to get cold if you don't eat."

With that, he stood up, his empty plate in his hands. "I'm going to train for a while. You can head back to the room first," he informed, a flippant edge gracing his voice as usual. "I'll be back around midnight, so don't worry."

"Right," Celeana muttered. "Noted."

Ignoring her less than enthusiastic response, Ryou rounded the corner, barely pausing to return his vacant plate to the counter with a quick word of thanks.

The cobalt-haired girl watched as her companion disappeared, leaving her alone in the cafeteria without a second thought.

Nothing I can do, Celeana told herself. At least it's peaceful.

• • •

Ah, it didn't hurt when she asked me what the word past meant. I guess I'm getting used to this.

The sun had gone to rest, the moon taking its place as the darkness wrapped around the silver-tressed boy like a duvet. Twilight had long since given way to waiting blackness, the inky canopy only lit by a wan sliver of a crescent moon and the barest freckle of stars.

He rather liked the night. It hid his flaws, his imperfections, the stabs of invisible knives left behind.

It lit a sort of cold fire inside his gut, burning away the crumbling mask and letting the gales of frigid air brush past his skin.

Hm. He shook his head to an imaginary audience, but in reality, the only audience that he could ever have was himself. That's wrong.

He paid no attention to his Pokemon behind him—he had instructed them to train by themselves, and he was sure that they would listen to him. He was to them, after all, their commander, trying to kid himself into being the leader of a circus show when he was in fact nothing but a mere clown.

The teenager had already completed his share of the training, and while he should have been supervising the battling creatures like any responsible trainer would have, he found standing on a rock and gazing into the night sky much more interesting.

Absentmindedly, he withdrew a Pokeball, releasing the creature inside in a burst of bright light.

The organism gave him an empty stare, single red eye remaining unblinking as it regarded his trainer with an even expression. Its body was rusted blue, canister-like frame glistening like polished metal.

"You're just a forced spot on my team, you know."

The boy broke the silence, his voice dropping to a low whisper. His tone was filled with something that neared resentment—he tried to keep his words light, he really did—and he returned the Pokemon's gaze with an equally hostile exhibition of emotion.

The creature opposite him simply stared back in response.

• • •

Eh. It's a pretty short filler-yet-non-filler chapter. :p These fillers are inevitable, lol. Sorry. We get some Ryou development, though <3

A lot of this was written in school, so it's probably filled with hideous grammar errors and such. Whoops. I'd be eternally grateful if you point out any mistakes lol.

Making Celeana an idiot is fun too :D

Besides that, thank you SO MUCH for 1.3K reads and 215 votes! That's about a 200+ increase in reads :o My next goal is 230! :)

Critiques are most certainly welcome, and don't forget to read, vote and give your thoughts in the comments! Please be 100% honest!

~ nyxia ☆