My Name is Loto [Pokémon Fanfiction]

08| I Did It for Him

I stared down at the Gracidea pendant in my hand, which glinted in the weak light that filtered through the window. It was the one thing of Kari's they'd saved—the only thing they could save. Now it was mine. My fingers tightened around it, the cut edges biting into my skin. I wasn't even able to say goodbye to him since he'd been buried while I was still bedridden. As much as it hurt to learn that, it made sense.

Days, possibly a week had passed since I found out Kari had died. Iga and Alan had said I could stay here because I was "still recovering," but I knew that as soon as I stopped coughing they'd throw me and Dew out into the snow.

That thought scared me more than anything. When we had to leave, where would we go? Literal weeks had passed beforehand, so any chance we had of finding the purple-eyed man was gone now. Because of me, I lost any opportunity of finding a connection to my past. More importantly, because of me, Kari had died.

It was all my fault.

The door opened. I refused to look since I knew who it was. Cyryl would bring me food twice every day, which was always some type of simple broth with water. It wasn't a good idea for me to eat too much food at once, Iga had said.

Iga was weirdly persistent about me eating, probably because I was so thin. After not touching the food the first time, she made sure I did the second time, and it was... great. It was Combusken broth with some kind of seasonings mixed in, always piping hot.

Because of the food I got, the hunger that had been dulled by sickness was reawakened with a vengeance. I ate now not because I wanted to, but because I couldn't stand being hungry. I was sick of the unrelenting stabs in my gut, reminding me that there'd never be a day where I couldn't see the outlines of my ribs.

Cyryl lingered in the room for a moment. "Um, Loto," they started. "Mother was wondering if you'd like to eat with us tonight. She thinks you could handle—"

"No," I cut them off. This was probably the third time Cyryl had asked me this. "Just leave me alone."

"A-all right, I'm sorry." They placed the usual bowl and cup down, the latter audibly scratching against the bandages that seemed to be permanently wrapped around their fingers. At first I'd been curious about what happened to them, though now I couldn't care less. Afterwards they left the room without another word, the door clicking closed.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them. It pained me to be so rude to Cyryl. They didn't know what I knew their parents would do, they were just obeying like a good kid. Even more heart-wrenchingly, I couldn't bring myself to look at them. Despite the differences, they kept reminding me of Kari.