Pokemon: Light and Darkness

Chapter 2: Shrinking Family?

I'm really starting to hate this passing out routine I seem to have. Am I really that weak? The other two trainers took blows from Hariyama and stayed up. I wasn't even hit! Training was for naught, I see, unless having a Pokemon automatically boosts your damage tolerance.

I thought about this for some time, though I'm not completely sure how long. My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Professor Sycamore walks in, a concerned look on his face.

"Malachi, are you alright?" I look down at myself, then around the room. Seems I wasn't home. In fact, I have no idea where I am. This kind of looks like a hospital room, but smaller.

"I... think I'm okay." I sit up in the bed. Nothing hurt, at least, and I could breathe. "Where am I?"

"This is a room where Pokemon are taken when they're injured," he responded. "Usually people are taken to the hospital, but your case was different." Different? Different how? I know I didn't get hit, but how would that warrant taking me here instead?

"So the Pokemon Center... is Froakie here too?"

"Froakie is here, but in the waiting room. Completely healed, if that's what you were wondering." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. At least Froakie didn't suffer too badly from having to fight alongside such a faulty... um... what do you call a person that battles once, but isn't a trainer? Trainee? "It wanted to see you actually, but we wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened first. Of course, if you're not ready-"

"I'm all good," I interrupt, although I'm not completely sure if that's true. I mainly want answers myself. As pathetic as it was, the way I passed out before didn't seem right.

"...Well, alright then." The professor opened a notebook and took a pencil off his ear. Wait, has he always done that? "First, I just want to confirm, you are not claustrophobic, correct?" Claustrophobic? My house is fairly small, and I've hidden in my closet millions of times as a kid. The size has never bothered me.

"Definitely not."

"As I suspected." Professor Sycamore tapped the notebook with his pencil a few times. "According to the witnesses, you started freaking out and your breathing slowed significantly the closer the Hariyama in question got to you. Can you confirm this?" I didn't exactly think about the distance before, though Hariyama was closing in after knocking Froakie down.

"That's... true." Wait a minute, the people at the scene are here too? What happened to them? The red-haired girl and blue-haired boy took quite a hit each from the Hariyama.

"Hm." The professor started writing. "According to your medical record, you have no allergies." He looks up at me. "Oh, the witnesses are also here as well. Also in the waiting room." So they're fine too? How long was I out for? Also, what's up with Professor Sycamore reading my mind? Very comforting! There were still a few things I had yet to figure out, though. Not that the fact I was the only one who couldn't breathe back then answered any questions.

"Professor, did you see the scene before?"

"I saw the aftermath, around when the Hariyama returned to its pokeball." That shouldn't have been too long after I blacked out then.

"Was there any fire?" The professor raised an eyebrow.

"There were dark patches on the grass, but I never saw any fire. The witnesses also made no mention of it." Strange, but I'll continue anyway.

"I saw fire." The professor looked even more confused, but let me continue. "The Hariyama just walked through it, though. There were no Fire type Pokemon around either. And it kept launching weird things at me. First it threw a shingle, then 5 orange Froakie jumped at us-" Orange Froakie. From when I went out on my 10th birthday. I'm starting to realize how delusional I must sound. Still, Professor Sycamore is taking notes.