Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Quenched Torch

Chapter 22: Falling Into Place

You'd think that being a Pokémon for over two weeks now would have someone try to use that to answer the great mysteries of the universe. You know, where do Pokémon come from, how exactly do they work, are humans just another species of Pokémon, was it Pokémon or an omnipotent human-biased God that created the universe, those sorts of questions. I'm sure anyone in my position would jump at the chance to figure those out for themselves from this new perspective, especially when presented the days of thinking a broken bone provided.

Except me, apparently.

'How would Digletts exercise? Like, they don't have arms, do they? Hm, maybe they have legs and we just can't see them. In that case, do they have leg days and leg days only? Would they just dig tunnels to beef up?

Yeah, let's add this to my ever-growing list of what-the-fuck mysteries.'

As I sat alone in our quarters idly scribbling in our notebook, such enlightened contemplations kept springing up, pushing my concentration away whenever I tried to scrawl something tangible onto the paper.

'Is this even paper? I mean, it's been through a good bit and it hasn't disintegrated, so maybe it's parchment? Wait, isn't parchment made out of Pokémon skin? Ugh, here we go with this whole moral dilemma again...'

I shuddered and pushed the notebook away to maybe use another time. With nothing more to do, I tested my broken arm. While it still screamed at me with each bend of my elbow, I found it wasn't quite as intense as it had been yesterday. In fact, I found myself able to actually push myself off the floor somewhat (though I decided not to test that much for obvious reasons) even though the arm was supposed to be freshly broken. Maybe Pokémon have quicker healing rates than humans? Who knows.

As I thought this over, Rye walked through the door, a small sack in his hand.

"Hey, uh, got supplies from Mr. Kecleon. Here, eat this, i-it won't fix your arm, but it'll help a bit," he said, offering an Oran which I gladly accepted. Rye took a seat on the straw bed next to me as I started messily eating the berry, relishing in the pain-dulling properties of the fruit. As we went about our business, a sudden rapping rang out from behind. Rye and I quickly turned around to find a Noctowl and a Pawniard standing just outside the door. We watched each other for a bit before the Noctowl hopped forward, clearing its throat.

"Afternoon. You're Team Reach, I presume? We're Noctowl and Pawniard with Team Dawncrack," he said. Rye grimaced slightly.

"Dawncrack? Uh, I-I get it, but... er..." he said. The Noctowl sighed.

"We work with what we have," he said dismissively. Rye pursed his lips and nodded, swallowing as he continued.

"D-do you want something?" he asked worriedly.

"You could say that. We're one of the teams the Guildmaster's entrusted to help keep the news board up to date, and we have a couple questions for you and your... er, teammate," Noctowl said, casting a quick nervous glance towards me.

We reluctantly nodded, so Pawniard stepped up with its arm wrapped around a notebook and a crude inkwell. Noctowl waited as it sat down and dipped one of its blade-hands into the well. With a nod of affirmation, he turned back to us.

"Sources returning from the southern Imperium Desert say you were involved in an outlaw incident in and around Bassa Village. We're told the chase ended with the recovery of the desired goods, but also that the criminals ended up with shattered legs and were wiped of their motor skills around the time you apparently confronted them," he said. "Were you responsible for their current condition? If not, who was? Is the sheriff in Bassa Village correct in saying an emergency might be in the making?"