Chapter 110
<strong>CHAPTER 110</strong>
<span style="font-weight:400">“Um, this isn’t some prank, is it?” The receptionist ranger asked me.
<span style="font-weight:400">“No? I was justing here to notify you because it’s important.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Okay, well— let me call my boss,” she sighed. <em><span style="font-weight:400">“Jeremy,e take over!”</em>
<span style="font-weight:400">Around thirty secondster, a short man with a full, thick beard and long hair came over from the backroom andined about his break not being over, but the woman just ignored his pleas and hurryingly left to get whoever this boss was. I looked at my shoes and groaned. The soles were still intact, but the bottom was half-melted by Turtonator, and it made it hard to walk. I’d need to buy new onester today, especially since we were supposed to walk down the mountain. You needed good shoes for that. Still, I felt somewhat sentimentally attached to these white sneakers, although they were stained so much that they couldn’t really be called white anymore. I had had them since the start of my journey, and now, I’d have to throw them in the trash soon.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Is this her?”
<span style="font-weight:400">I heard a familiar voice, and my eyes widened when I recognized Malcolm Brockhouse— the same ranger that had given us our ss days ago before entering the mountain.
<span style="font-weight:400">“That’s her,” the receptionist said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Well, she certainly looks like she fought a Turtonator,” Brockhouse said after a short pause. “Are you sure you don''t want to go to the Center first?”
<span style="font-weight:400">I shook my head. What he had said about how I looked was true, though. The left side of my face and neck were still recovering from burns, and my left arm and both of my hands were covered in bandages. My shoes were half-melted, and my jeans were slightly burned at the knee level. Plus, he couldn’t have known this, but I still heard practically nothing out of my left ear.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Come with me,” he continued. I just nodded and followed him. I wasn’t exactly nervous, but I hadn’t expected to see Brockhouse again <em><span style="font-weight:400">at all</em><span style="font-weight:400">. After taking me to what appeared to be his office— there was a huge picture of him and who I believed to be his family on the wall— he seemingly noticed my surprise. “You were in my ss. Are you surprised to see me?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Um, yes,” I blurted out.
<span style="font-weight:400">“We have a League-issued Kadabra that lets us Teleport between both sides,” he exined. “I’m in charge of both outposts, and I had some business to attend to here, but that can wait. Sit.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Um, I don’t want to dirty your fancy office chair,” I said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“That doesn’t matter, no one uses the office anyway,” he shrugged. “So, you’ve got the Turtonator. I believe you, but could you let us verify it?”
<span style="font-weight:400">Well, he had certainly cut to the chase quickly.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I told this to the other rangers, but I’m keeping him, so I’ll only let you see if you agree. I don’t want to hear anything about how it’s too dangerous, or whatever,” I said.
<span style="font-weight:400">Brockhouse smirked. “Did you think I was going to say that?” He asked. “That isn’t how we function. You’re fifteen and a trainer. You’re not an adult <em><span style="font-weight:400">yet</em><span style="font-weight:400">, but society certainly treats you like one, and we already trust you to make your own decisions. I think you’re biting off more than you can chew, but you caught it, so if you want to, you get to keep it. If it ever goes out of control and causes death or injuries, though… then we or the League will be in contact.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I breathed out a sigh of relief and grabbed Turtonator’s Pokeball on my belt, trying to hide the pain I still felt when I grabbed things. Brockhouse said something, but since it had been my left ear facing him, the voice was muffled and I couldn’t hear what he said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Excuse me?” I asked.
<span style="font-weight:400">He grabbed the Pokeball. “I said I wouldn’t have expected a first-year like you to catch this thing. His old trainer was pretty experienced.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“His older trainer? Did you figure something out?” I eximed. Finding out about this could potentially help me understand Turtonator better, so I wouldn’t let the opportunity pass.
<span style="font-weight:400">“We did. He was a seventeen-year-old Aln that had gone through the trials during his first year, and the Johto Circuit the next. He was trying out Sinnoh this year, but as you know, he was killed,” Brockhouse said with a heavy breath. He got up, walked to the corner of the room, and ced the Pokeball into some kind of spherical container in a printer-like device with a screen. “He seemed to prioritize traveling overpeting, though.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“So this was his third year…” I trailed off. Turtonator had lost his trainer who he had known for more than <em><span style="font-weight:400">two years</em><span style="font-weight:400">, and yet he hadn’t shown any signs of grieving after our battle. “Um, what’s that machine?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Pokeball scanner. Helps us identify what’s in the damn thing without having to release whatever’s inside,” he said. The screen machine beeped, and a Turtonator image shed across the screen. “Well, you were right. Since an official, League-sanctioned trade didn’t take ce, I’m going to need you to fill out a few documents to give you legal ownership of Turtonator,” he continued as he grabbed a few papers and a pen. He ced them all on the table in front of me.
<span style="font-weight:400">I brought my hand forward and hissed in pain when I grabbed the pen and tried to write.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Um, I don’t think I can hold a pen,” I said embarrassingly. The friction between my hands, the bandages and the pen rubbing against it was just too much.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Are you sure?” Brockhouse sighed. “Well, you can alwayse back before you leave. You’re in no state to travel, and you should get yourself checked in at the Center, especially if you can’t even write. Those burns look… bad.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, I’ll do that,” I said as he handed me Turtonator’s Pokeball. With a painful grunt, I clipped it on my belt. “Um, onest thing. Turtonator’s trainer, what was his name?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Kamaile Nnie,” he said. The words felt heavy. Like they <em><span style="font-weight:400">mattered</em><span style="font-weight:400">.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Thank you,” I nodded. I wouldmit this name to memory and never forget it. I stood up and let Brockhouse show me out, and soon enough, I was at the Pokemon Center. I warned the nurses about Turtonator being potentially aggressive or uncooperative, and I walked to the human wing to get a check-up.
<span style="font-weight:400">——
<span style="font-weight:400">“Second-degree burns all along the face and neck, and a second and third-degree burn on your arm,” the doctor said. “Another two second-degree burns on your palms, and two first-degree burns on your knees. You certainly went through it, Ms. Pastel.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Third degree?” I gasped. “Isn’t that really bad? I don’t feel any pain there.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yes, it is really bad,” he deadpanned. “Did you not pay attention in ss? The reason you don’t feel any pain is because the nerve endings have been destroyed. You’ll need a skin graft. That implies surgery.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I froze. That… that was way worse than what I thought. A part of my arm waspletely white— like a sheet of paper, and I thought that had been weird, but since there was no pain, I thought it was improving <em><span style="font-weight:400">somewhat</em><span style="font-weight:400">, but I had apparently beenpletely wrong. I had been in denial. It wasn’t that there was just no pain, there was just <em><span style="font-weight:400">no feeling </em><span style="font-weight:400">there whatsoever.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I can see you’re anxious, but that isn’t it,” he said. “You said you struggled to hear out of your left ear, correct? Your left ear drum is ruptured, but it’ll heal on its own in a few weeks. If it doesn’t, or if it starts leaking, you’ll need to get it checked again.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Thank you,” I sighed. <em><span style="font-weight:400">Surgery</em><span style="font-weight:400"> terrified me, but if it was the only way… “When can we do this surgery thing? And what does a skin graft imply? Will I be put under?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“The third-degree burn on your arm is rtively small, so it will be local anesthesia,” the doctor said. “We’ll take a thinyer of skin from another part of your body and ce it on the burned area. After the procedure, you’ll need to stay for a few days, since the new skin will need to sit very still— but after that, you’ll be free to go, even if the graft won’t havepletely healed yet. I hope you don’t mind scars.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No, no, it’s fine,” I said. At least the ones on my face and neck wouldn’t be too bad. “What about the area you take the… skin from?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, that takes a week or two to heal back as well, but it’ll be as good as new,” he said. “If you want, we can have your surgery as soon as tomorrow. The rest of your burns will heal on their own with a cream we’ll give you.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Fine,” I resolved. The sooner, the better. “Tomorrow it is.”
<span style="font-weight:400">The doctor nodded, wished me well, and left. A few minutester, a Nurse Joy came into the room and exined the surgery in full detail, including the recovery process, in which I’d have to take care of the graft site by keeping it dry, clear of fluids, and I’d have to keep the stitches possibly for <em><span style="font-weight:400">weeks</em><span style="font-weight:400">, and that part of my arm wouldn’t feel right for months. There were also risks, such as an infection on the graft site, and then she gave me some cream to put on my second and first-degree burns to quicken the healing process. After that, she made me sign a consent form, and then I was put into another room with a bed. They allowed me to wash myself, which had to be done with a soft shower glove because the pressure of the showerhead hurt too much to actually shower normally. Hell, even using the Arceus damned glove hurt my hands.
<span style="font-weight:400">I had never felt as weak as I did now. The human body was so fickle.
<span style="font-weight:400">Afterward, I was put in a hospital gown, and they ced an IV drip in my arm that would give me antibiotics and electrolytes, whatever that second thing was. I was given a slew of pills, including painkillers, and finally, I was alone.
<span style="font-weight:400">Turtonator certainly had done a number on me, hadn’t he? I was so used to walking off injuries and letting them heal on their own that I thought it’d be the same here. I’d have to text my dad about it when I could. I had told him I’d be in Hearthome soon, and he was supposed to fly out to see me. He had already booked his flight, so the dy would mean he’d need to extend his stay in the city.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Kamaile Nnie…” I trailed off. If my hands hadn’t hurt like hell, I would have looked him up to learn more about him—
<span style="font-weight:400">The door burst open, and all of my friends entered my room.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Grace! You didn’t tell us you’d need to <em>stay</em> at the hospital!” Cece said immediately. “You kept pretending to be fine! What’s going on?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Well, I didn’t know either, so you can’t me me,” I said with a thin smile. I lifted my burned arm. “A part of my burn here is third-degree. I need a skin graft.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Holy shit…” Denzel exhaled.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You said it. I’m getting it tomorrow already, and we’ll have to stay for a bit longer,” I said. “It should be fine, though. With all the burned trainersing through, they’ve had to do this a lot, and it’s always gone well.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“If you say so,” Cece sighed. “Do you want anything?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, actually,” I said. “Could you grab my phone and text my dad about what happened? I’d do it but…”
<span style="font-weight:400">I brought my hands up and showed my bandaged fingers. Cecilia let out a small chuckle and grabbed my bag, looking for my phone.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hmph. This Turtonator spells trouble,” Pauline said. “You made a deal with him to get out of the cave, right? What if he attacks you now that he’s out?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I’ll deal. He’s hurting, but hiding it,” I said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re too nice for your own good,” Justin sighed. “If it were me, I would have given him to the rangers. A murderous dragon is dangerous.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I can’t act like I’m a saint either. A part of me is also doing this because of how powerful he is,” I shrugged. “Denzel, can you look up a name for me?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Kamaile Nnie,” I said. “Turtonator’s old trainer.”
<span style="font-weight:400">He whipped out his Poketch. “Gotcha.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Grace, what should I text to your father?” Cece asked. She was holding the phone and trembling like a leaf. It was cute how embarrassed she was around meeting or speaking to him.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Well, you can either say that it’s you, or you can pretend to be me,” I shrugged. I still hadn’t told my dad that we were dating— I was nning on telling him in person— but he knew her and my friends’ names. “Just start with the fact that I’m actually fine, and then ease into the surgery part.”
<em><span style="font-weight:400">“Ease into it?” </em><span style="font-weight:400">Pauline said incredulously. “How do you ease into that?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Leave it to me,” Cecilia said with a determined nod.
<em><span style="font-weight:400">“What?!” </em><span style="font-weight:400">The redhead scoffed.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Grace, I’ve got a some results for your guy,” Denzel said. “What do you want to know?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“How he looked and what he was like, maybe?”
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel showed me his screen, and Kamaile looked like any teenager. He had tanned skin, his face was square-ish, and he looked to be well-built and tall like Denzel was. Most of the pictures were recent from the news of his death and the whole debacle with Turtonator blocking Mount Cor that the media seemed to have run with, but some of it was older. Pictures of his younger self during his travels through Al and Johto.
<span style="font-weight:400">“He made it through four trials during his first year in Al, which is more impressive when you realize that there are only seven,” Denzel exined. “Then, instead of trying again the next year, he went to Johto and got six badges there. Most of his fights seem to have been won due to his Turtonator’s power.”
<span style="font-weight:400">So Turtonator was strong enough topete at six badges— no, probably seven now, because of how much time had passed sincest year’s Johto Conference. That was good to know, and it exined why he had been so tough when he had practically been knocked out. Now that he was being healed by the nurses, I was sure that my entire team wouldn’t be able to win against him, especially when he could have such an incredible effect on the environment around him. I always knew fire types were capable of emitting heat, but Turtonator had been on another level entirely. Just having one of my Pokemon <em><span style="font-weight:400">approaching </em><span style="font-weight:400">him would hurt them. Tangrowth could maybe restrain him, but not for long enough, because his vines would just burn off, and Turtonator was probably strong enough to rip them apart now that he’d be at full capacity. Frillish’s water type attacks were neutral due to his dragon typing, but they wouldn’t deal that much damage either because of all the heat. Togetked in raw power to even hope to hurt him, even with Fairy Wind, and dragons resisted electric type attacks, and Ice Punch wouldn’t do much, so Electabuzz was off the table too. It wasn’t like he’d be able to even approach him anyway with all the heat. Larvitar might be able to do something when she got stronger and evolved, though.
<span style="font-weight:400">Well, I knew a fight wouldn’t actually happen because I’d just recall Turtonator if he looked like he was about to attack me, but my brain couldn’t help but theorize how I would win. Right now, though? There was just no way.
<span style="font-weight:400">“There isn’t that much else about him out there,” Denzel said as he scrolled through his Poketch. “He seemed to keep to himself.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Well, I know he liked to travel, so that lines up,” I said. “Oh, did you guys send a message in the group chat too?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“We did. Emi’s worried about you,” Pauline said with a slight smile. “She was beside herself. You know how she does that thing where she uses so many punctuation marks and emojis that you can tell exactly how she’s feeling through the screen?”
<span style="font-weight:400">We allughed at that. “Yeah, I know,” I smiled. “Anything about Chase or Louis?”<span style="font-weight:400">
<span style="font-weight:400">“Nothing from both of them,” Pauline said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Not even Chase?” Denzel raised an eyebrow. “That’s strange. He went through Mount Cor before us, he should have been out by now.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Have you considered the fact that he might just be an asshole?” Pauline shrugged.
<span style="font-weight:400">“He’s got a lot of redeeming qualities,” Denzel said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I think Pauline and Chase could either get along amazingly well or hate each otherpletely,” Cecilia said. “There’s no in-between. Here, Grace.”
<span style="font-weight:400">She showed me my phone to read the message she had typed, which was… ridiculously long. Seriously, this was at least five hundred words long, and it somehow followed an essay-like structure with a short introduction where she introduced herself, a body where she described my condition, and a conclusion that said I’d be fine.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Thanks,” I smiled. “You can send it.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Chase not having sent a message worried me. He had sent one before going through the mountain, and he wasn’t the type to forget things easily. Even if he had acted all nonchnt about the promise to keep us up to date, I knew that he knew how important it was to me. Louis… well, Louis probably still wanted his space, but I hoped that he was fine.
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel sprung up. “Hey Grace, did you know that Craig battled against Gardenia a few days ago? Do you want to watch the battle?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Holy shit! You could have told me earlier! Obviously I want to watch. Who won?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Craig.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ugh,” I groaned. “I wanted Gardenia to win.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Craig would be hurt if he heard that,” Denzelughed.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Craig this, Craig that, Justin and I don’t know him, so every time you bring him up, we feel left out. Just put the video on,” Pauline said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Let it be known that I have nothing against you speaking about Craig,” Justin sighed.
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel put the battle on, but something seemed off about the fight. Sure, high-level battles were incredibly impressive, and they made me <em><span style="font-weight:400">wish</em><span style="font-weight:400"> I was that good. Craig and Gardenia were in apletely different world, and their Pokemons’ attacks put even Turtonator to shame. Still, Gardenia’s head seemed to not be in the fight. She gave Craig a run for his money, but there were none of her usual battle-long traps that she usually set up. She hadn’t even smiled once during the battle, when using her personal team was something that should have brought her incredible joy.
<span style="font-weight:400">Had something happened to her recently?
<span style="font-weight:400">Maybe I was just imagining things. None of my friends were saying anything about it anyway. Maybe it was just an off-day for her. Gardenia battled all day long, so I couldn’t really expect her to always be wless. That would be seriously unhealthy.
<span style="font-weight:400">We spent the next few hours just fooling around and talking. Justin and Pauline left first, since they wanted to train and battle. Denzel and Cece stayed until visitor hours were over. The next morning, a few doctors and a Nurse Joy came into the room and started the surgery. After the initial pain from the local anesthesia injection, everything was smooth sailing. They took some skin from my thigh to put on my arm, although I had to look away. Seeing my <em><span style="font-weight:400">skin</em><span style="font-weight:400"> get cut off? Ew, no thank you.
<span style="font-weight:400">It went perfectly well, and it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but the consequences would besting. The scars would be a part of me forever, and the pain would stay for weeks or possibly months. A reminder that actions had consequences. I couldn''t always be reckless and hope things would work out. ns wouldn''t be enough if the power disparity was asrge as it had been between me and Turtonator.
<span style="font-weight:400">At least I could scratch ‘first surgery’ off my non-existent trainer bucket list. It was bound to happen at <em><span style="font-weight:400">some</em><span style="font-weight:400"> point anyway.
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