Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*
Notes: <> for telepathy, ** for thoughts, italics if a pokemon talks
Chapter 4
Needless to say, Lance was quite surprised when he woke up the next morning and found the Kanto League Champion in bed with him – er, almost, but at least sharing his living space and eating a broiled fish while Gyarados fussed over him. He rubbed his eyes twice, and went outside for a quick wash and to see if hell had frozen over.
It hadn’t.
When he returned, once more veiled in smooth white with only his eyes showing, Red was waiting for him.
“Who are you?” Red asked curiously.
Lance shivered, though he knew not why. “My name is of no importance.” He said quietly. “Kairyuu, did any pokémon come yet?”
The Dragonite shook his head, and Lance smiled. Perhaps now he would be able to replenish his supply of herbs… it was dangerous outside, but he had his dragons to protect him and pokemon to heal. Life went on, no matter what Bruno said or did.
Red frowned. “Why?”
“That is none of your concern.” A frown. “Did you or your pokemon need healing? That at least I can provide…”
Red shook his head. Thinking of his pokemon sent a sick surge of anger through his body, and his fists clenched. Lance calmly slipped past him, robes rustling slightly.
“Then I shall not bother you. Good day.” With basket and knives in hand, he set out with Ptera flying behind in search of the healing herbs he needed.
When he returned, he found Red moodily staring at his hands.
“Is something wrong?” He asked softly.
Red jumped, before settling back down as Gyarados bared his fangs. “It’s nothing. I just feel… stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because… I wanted to save them. I wanted to help Misty and Yellow – I know Bruno captured them, and he’s keeping them on display like slaves…” Red shuddered. “But I couldn’t do anything! Even though I won the battle, I couldn’t take on Bruno’s army, and I only escaped thanks to Hitmonchan…”
Lance closed his eyes. “You can’t save the world, Red.”
“That doesn’t stop me from wishing I could…”
“And so what are you going to do now? Try facing Bruno again?” Lance asked. “It would be suicide.”
Red nodded, his eyes troubled. “I know.” Then he cracked a smile. “Why am I telling you all of this anyway? You might be one of Bruno’s spies.”
“If I were a spy, you would no longer be alive.” Lance said blankly, and began to sort his herbs.
Red blinked at that, but accepted the truth and silently watched as Lance sorted. After a few moments, he stood and began to braid the strands of herbs. Glancing at the roof of the cavern in interest, Red noticed several shelves cut into the rock walls covered with sharp blades and bunches of dried plants.
So … “Who are you, really?”
“You should not worry about such trivial things.” Lance rebuked, picking up a skein of fiber and tying a strand of tansy together.
“Are you a girl?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“… Then what am I supposed to call you?”
“Whatever you choose.” Lance said quietly. “Names are quite meaningless in the grand scheme of life, after all.”
Red frowned, before he snapped his fingers. “Shiroi.”
“White? How poetic. If you insist.”
“Great.” Red said. “So, Shiroi… why are you here?”
“I live here.”
“You know what I meant.”
“It is peaceful.” Lance said quietly. “I am safe here from the plots of madmen, and truly… it is better for me to fade into obscurity. Glory as a trainer only brings misfortune, in the end.”
Red was about to protest, but as he thought of his current state, he had to agree.
“Were you a trainer too?” He asked curiously.
“Yes. But now I am only a Healer.”
“That’s cool…”
Lance said no more, and busied himself with other mundane tasks while Red watched. He had things to do, after all. He had to weave the long grass fibers into rope, and he had to prepare more bandages. His supply of cloth was running low.
Red just stared, and wondered. Shiroi was an enigma, but he seemed nice enough. Or was it she? The voice was soft and it was hard to tell gender, and since Red could only see his or her eyes, which were an odd shade of gold, that was no clue.
He sighed, and tried not to think about what Bruno was doing to his pokemon in his absence.
Misty gasped as Yellow staggered into the room the two girls shared. It was a very lovely, large room, with a soft black carpet and a large four-poster bed of red silks, but underneath it all, it was still a prison. She handed a cloth and the jar of cold cream to Yellow, watching as the girl dabbed angrily at the cosmetics on her face, smearing black eye shadow and pale blush with equal fervor and smudging her carefully applied mascara.
“That bad?” She asked.
“That bad.” Yellow said. “I’m going to go shower.”
Misty nodded, and while Yellow was absent, mixed up herb tea. Bruno provided them with expensive jewelry and beautiful clothing, but the control bracelets both of them wore, cleverly disguised as gold filigree, they told the true story.
They were little more than sexual slaves. Bruno must like flat-chested girls with childish features.
In a way, Misty pitied Yellow. Bruno had chosen her as one of his slaves, yes, but he didn’t parade her around as much as he did with Yellow. In fact, he often ignored her presence unless he was drunk and wanted a threesome with both of them. For Yellow to triumph at Cerise against Lance only to fall to Bruno…!
Terrible.
She shivered, and felt slightly guilty that the misfortune was visited on another.
Yellow came out of the shower a few moments later wrapped in a soft bathrobe of pink cotton. She sat stiffly while Misty handed her tea, red-eyed and not speaking.
It wasn’t fair…
“I hate him.” She whispered. “He can control my body, but I’ll never love him.”
“I know.” Misty whispered. “I know.”
“I wish Red… hadn’t come…” She sniffled. “I was so sure he’d save us…”
“He tried his best.” Misty said, and believed her words as she hugged the young girl. “It will be all right.”
“I hope so…” Yellow sniffed, and said no more.
End Chapter
Completed 12/28/06
Shiroi is one of the adjectives for ‘White’ in Japanese. It was the only one in my textbook, anyway…
The color white, in Chinese tradition, represents mourning, death and ghosts and is often worn at funerals. Also, it represents the direction West and the element Metal.
In Chinese tradition, the color black represented the element Water and the direction North. It was neither positive nor negative.
In Chinese tradition, the color red represented the element Fire and the direction South. Red is also the color of good luck and success.
Rather interesting that Lance now wears white, ne? And his old bodysuit was red and black? ^^ Look! I actually have symbolism!