Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Special Episode 6 - You Promise

Sunlight filtered through stained glass and onto the Pokémon congregation in the audience chamber of a pristine, white temple. Long, large seats covered the majority of the room, only half-full. At the front was a Goodra, riddled with countless scars and old, old wounds. He recited off of a book—this time, the Book of Arceus—to the audience, which seemed to be paying attention, or at least feigning it.

Anam shut the book a moment too quickly, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He suppressed a sneeze, wincing at the particles that stuck to his arms and chest. That was going to take a long time to get off...

His single, green eye scanned the temple audience. Two Tyranitar sat at the front seats, grinning at Anam when he finished, though the left one looked like he had just woken up. Off near the middle-right of the audience were two other Pokémon, standing up at the sound of the book closing. Near the back corner was a group of younger Pokémon quietly chattering with one another, stopping only when they realized the Goodra had stopped talking. They glanced nervously at one another.

"Thank you all for coming!" Anam said to the handful of Pokémon. "We'll have another holy day in twenty days!" Because five days was too often nowadays. "I'll make sure to put notices up on Quartz Square when that day comes! See you, and thank you!" He waved, though half of them had already shuffled out. Anam kept smiling until everybody left.

All but one of the Tyranitar. "Hey, Anam!" He waved him down, lumbering across the aisle.

"Hey, Rora," Anam said. "Did I do well? I think I made some of them a little bored..."

"I think you did great." Rora patted Anam on the shoulder, careful to avoid a new bruise that had formed from his last dive into a Dungeon. Rora brought his hand back, slime connecting it to the Goodra's shoulder. "You didn't stumble over your words or anything."

"I know! I did so well that time! I just wish there were more people!" He lunged forward, and for just a moment, Anam saw a flash of terror in the Tyranitar's eyes. In a caring embrace, Anam heard the slime squish between them. "Thanks for listening, Rora. I know you heard that story a lot."

"Y-yeah... that's great... real great..." Rora slowly pulled away, wincing at the many strands that tied them together like some twisted sense of fate. "It's always good to hear the story again. You notice new things, you know?"

Anam grinned, stepping through the temple doors and into the afternoon sun. He breathed through his nose, opening his right eye. He tried to open his left, but it didn't quite work.

Rora winced. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?"

The Tyranitar looked away. "It's just, a lot of those injuries seem really painful. You're more scar than skin."

"Oh, it doesn't hurt! Well, this one does, but that's because I just got it from the last blessing." Anam pat his shoulder gingerly, rubbing at the darkened bruise. "And Goodra scar easily, remember?"

"You need to stop flying solo for Dungeons." Rora crossed his arms and growled. "Your mother did fine because she had you and your dad to help cover her blind spots, but going alone keeps getting you injured one way or the other. And also, your Mom was huge. I didn't realize how big she was until I realized you, um... you're smaller. Well, normal."

"It's not that bad," Anam said. "It was only bad once!" He held up his right hand, as if to bring up a finger, but it was missing. He hastily swapped for the other hand, which had a proper pointer digit. "How come you're bringing this up, anyway?"

Rora tensed. "It's... because we found another Dungeon that has to be blessed. But it's... in Rotwood Fen."

The color drained from Anam's expression, but he held up his smile nonetheless.