Fury and Confusion (A Pokemon Fanfiction)

Chapter Eight

Mist hung low over the ground, the air still and calm. She could feel dew from the short grass lining the pathway brushing her socks and shoes. The moon was low on the horizon and the sun had not yet risen. Dark blue skies dotted with the remnants of early morning stars hung over the landscape. Even the wind was still, like the whole world had become a painting overnight.

It was her favorite sort of morning, where the entire island felt empty. Even when she passed through Hau'oli City earlier it had been deathly quiet. That was the perk of a late night ferry ride: landing in the early hours of morning, when the black of night still engulfed Alola's capital city.

She brushed her shoulder-length black hair back with her hands, wrapping it up into a ponytail.

"Maybe I should dye it purple again?" She wondered to herself. Ilima had always told her she looked good with dyed hair.

The hike was shorter than she remembered, even traveling this early. Or maybe because it was so early. There were no trainers out at this time – those that had opted to camp out in the wilderness were all sleeping soundly in their tents about now. Nevertheless, her feet were sore with the effort by the time she was running her hands along that familiar rock wall.

"He's still got that spooky rusted gate," she snickered, flicking the dull iron with one finger. It rang out softly in protest.

"It's too expensive to replace," a voice called from behind. She jumped, gasping in shock, and turned. Ilima hovered about at the opposite side of the dirt road, hidden from view by a tall monkeypod tree.

"Damn it, Ilima," she gasped, her heartbeat fluttering as she calmed herself down. "Of course you'd try something like that.

"But it's so fun." Ilima smirked at her. "Welcome to my home, Acerola."

Acerola huffed, turning her head in mock anger.

The anger was quickly replaced with a sudden reluctance. She looked over the small property. The house looked the same as ever. The same old grassy walkway leading up to a quaint little door. Ilima ushered her inside, his footsteps beside hers bringing more memories to mind than she wanted to think about.

Inside the house felt like time itself had stopped. The small kitchen took up one corner and the bookshelf took up another, just like they always had. The couch where she usually crashed was pushed against one wall now, a small coffee table that she'd never seen before in front of it. Made the room seem larger, but also a bit emptier.

Two years is a long time, Acerola thought to herself as she slipped off her black sneakers, the odd feeling in her stomach nesting itself there. Maybe I should have come back earlier.

She walked over to Ilima's room and peered inside. Amusingly, its layout hadn't changed in the slightest: white and brown floral print curtains and plain white bedsheets. He still had the jacket she'd given him years ago, though now it was well worn. It hung over the back of his desk chair.

Acerola ran a hand over his desk, her fingers brushing a picture frame. She picked it up, examining it. It was Ilima and some girl, the girl kissing his cheek and Ilima laughing. They were at some beach she didn't recognize and the picture looked fairly recent.

"Good for him," Acerola said to herself, smiling softly.

Behind her, the light rattle of pots and pans grabbed her attention. She walked back into the living room as Ilima rummaged through a cupboard. Acerola found herself grinning. She struggled back the beginnings of a laugh.