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17kNovel > I Will Touch the Skies – A Pokemon Fanfiction > Chapter 113

Chapter 113

    Chapter 113


    <strong>CHAPTER 113</strong>


    <span style="font-weight:400">I sat to Denzel’s left as I grabbed my phone and opened my email. “Didn’t you start looking already?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I was waiting for you,” he shrugged.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Laptop woulde in <em><span style="font-weight:400">real</em><span style="font-weight:400"> handy right about now,” I said. “Y’know what’d be a good policy change for the League? Aputerb room where trainers would be able to use them for whatever they wanted in Centers.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well look at you, already finding ways to improve our lives,” Denzel smiled. “Anyway, this is going to take a <em><span style="font-weight:400">while</em><span style="font-weight:400">.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Tell me about it,” I sighed as I opened my email.


    <span style="font-weight:400">There were hundreds of messages from differentpanies that dated back weeks. Some were even from before I had beaten Candice, and a few businesses had contacted me multiple times. Of course, I had ghosted all of them, because having to look at this stuff gave me crippling anxiety. The <em><span style="font-weight:400">idea</em><span style="font-weight:400"> of having to go through it all was worse than actually doing so, however. It was kind of when people were anxious about answering the phone, but when they actually picked up, they were rtively okay.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Okay, let’s sort through the shitty offers first,” Denzel exined. “Here, for example. Look.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">He showed me an email from apany that had been asking for a meeting.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“This is from Surf Solutions… I don’t know what it is they do exactly, and that’s a problem, right?” He continued. “If they don’t respect us enough to at least tell us <em><span style="font-weight:400">that</em><span style="font-weight:400">, then it doesn’t pass the smell test. I’m not going to look up everypany out there, that’d take days.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Right,” I nodded. “Retani Industries didn’t tell us what they were about in their email. Emi and Pauline had to exin it to us.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“And look how that turned out. We almost signed away years of our lives. So… scroll down to right after your battle against Gardenia and start sorting through the shit offers.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You seem prepared,” I said, my eyes widening slightly.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Pauline helped me improve my financial literacy a little. We should probably still ask them if we aren’t sure about anything, though.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">And so, we began writing off anypany that seemed suspicious. Some of them, because they didn’t tell us what they were about, like Denzel had said, but others because they had offered us hriously bad terms <em><span style="font-weight:400">in the email</em><span style="font-weight:400">, not even as a contract. <em><span style="font-weight:400">Twenty </em><span style="font-weight:400">potions per month? <em><span style="font-weight:400">Come on! </em><span style="font-weight:400">They were obviously trying to take advantage of the price hike, and I feared some trainers might have taken the bait. There were also the usual monthly sries offered, but some of them were bad too. I might have gawked at fifty thousand Pokedors per month a few months ago, but today?


    <span style="font-weight:400">I knew we were worth more than that.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Annnnd, done,” I said before stretching.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“How many offers you got left?” He asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I don’t know, I didn’t count. Probably thirty or so.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’ve got twenty-four, and they’re all pretty recent,” he exined. “Now, I guess we should try to meet as many of these as possible during our time in Hearthome and sign the best deal before we leave.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I nonchntly agreed, but then froze when my eyes zed over one of the messages. I had been in such a trance when deleting these emails that I didn’t actually read that one of thepanies offering to sponsor me was the <em><span style="font-weight:400">Poketch Company</em><span style="font-weight:400">.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Holy shit,” I breathed out. “I—I think the Poketch Company wants a deal with me.”


    <em><span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? </em><span style="font-weight:400">They usually only sponsor high-level trainers! <em><span style="font-weight:400">Craig</em><span style="font-weight:400"> is sponsored by them.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I… I know. There must be a catch to this,” I frowned, carefully reading over the email.


    <span style="font-weight:400">It was a short but concise message that got straight to the point that they had sent a week and a half ago. A first paragraph describing what they did— not that I needed it, they held an effective monopoly over the smartphone industry— then a second one saying that they’d be interested in a meeting and that I should contact them back as soon as possible.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“They don’t explicitly say it, but I don’t see why the Poketchpany would want to meet you unless they wanted to sponsor you,” he said. “Damn, I’m jealous.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“My dad works there. Maybe it has something to do with that?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“How high up is he in the food chain?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“He’s an engineer for their products,” I said. “He gets paid a lot, but he wouldn’t be able to influence who they sponsor.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, think about it like this,” Denzel pondered. “You were almost poached by Retani Industries, who are trying to break into the smartphone market and rival the Poketch Company. Back when we had just beaten Gardenia, I don’t think it would have mattered very much, but if you keep gaining traction like you have… it could maybe be a major blow to them.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Ah, you might be right. Then they’d be preemptively securing me. Plus, since my dad works there, if I did get into the Conference, for example… then wouldn’t it be embarrassing?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Embarrassing?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, imagine the headlines. My dad works in the Poketch Company, but I’m sponsored by someone else or even a rival. It’d be <em><span style="font-weight:400">embarrassing</em><span style="font-weight:400">, and my dad could maybe get in trouble if it generated too much negative press. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I sighed in relief, and there was a brief pause in the conversation.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Still,” I continued. “There’s always a catch with these. I can’t rest on myurels.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I don’t think they’ll shaft you like Retani Industries tried to do. The Poketch Company’s well known for their sweet deals. I mean, if Craig’s working with them, they’re doing something right.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m not expecting to be screwed that hard, but I don’t know…” I muttered. “Companies value profit over everything. I’m a high-profile trainer, but our novelty’s starting to die down—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Until you reveal that Turtonator of yours,” he interrupted with a grin. “There are only rumors right now. People aren’t sure if you caught it or not.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I rolled my eyes. “He’s a piece of work, let me tell you. My point still stands, though. We’re starting to disappear from the news cycle. We burned bright, but we’re burning out quick. Older, high-leveled trainers like Craig… they’re like candles. They stay lit for a long time. They’re household names. A constant, reliable <em><span style="font-weight:400">presence</em><span style="font-weight:400">. Which is why they get the deals they do.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, you don’t even know the deal they’re offering yet. Could be good.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You and your positive outlook and everything,” I groaned.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Just <em><span style="font-weight:400">write </em><span style="font-weight:400">them already! You only get offers like these once in a lifetime, and you don’t know when they’ll rescind it!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Fine!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I rolled my eyes and started typing a short response, saying that I had just arrived in Hearthome and I was avable to meet any time. I wrote back to three otherpanies as well in case the Poketch meeting didn’t work out: <em><span style="font-weight:400">Bloom & Breeze</em><span style="font-weight:400">, which was a well-known clothing brand that delved both into luxury and everyday clothing. <em><span style="font-weight:400">Fitstride</em><span style="font-weight:400">, which was a footwearpany that focused on making durable shoes for trainers. The new sneakers Cece had bought me were from there. Finally, there was <em><span style="font-weight:400">RefreshCo,</em><span style="font-weight:400"> a beveragepany that made all kinds of soft drinks, including my favorite grape and orange sodas. Denzel, meanwhile, wrote to ten in total, so he was being a lot more generous with his standards than I was. Now all we had to do was wait for them to write back.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“We won’t be together for our meetings this time,” Denzel told me. “Will you be alright?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’ll have to try,” I sighed. “I wish I could bring Cece.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Closed-door negotiations are a bitch,” he nodded. “But don’t sign anything right away.”


    <em><span style="font-weight:400">“Obviously.</em><span style="font-weight:400"> You know me. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">He smiled, gently wrapping an arm around me and giving me a short hug. “Alrighty. Let’s get back to the party!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“It’s been five hours, I don’t think the party’s still going.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“If I’d been there, it would have been,” he chuckled.


    <span style="font-weight:400">——


    <span style="font-weight:400">We knocked on Emilia’s room, and she opened the door after thirty seconds or so. I turned toward Denzel and gave him a smug smile when he saw that everyone aside from Pauline was gone, although she was lounging on the bed under the covers, and she was ring at me specifically and not Denzel, who looked like he had seen a ghost.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, shit! Sorry. Party’s over, I’m guessing?” Denzel awkwardly asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yes. Justin’s resting in his room, and Cecilia decided to go out on an item shopping spree,” Emilia said. She seemed to be worried. Her breaths were tired and short, and her eyes were darting between me and Denzel.


    <span style="font-weight:400">My shoulders slumped. I had wanted to speak to Cecilia, but she was probably going to be gone for a while. It was my fault too. I had told her that I was going to speak to her tonight, and it was still the afternoon. Maybe I was being too clingy.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I took a step inside. “Well, can we hang out—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Uh, wait,” Denzel said as he pulled my shirt. “Let’s go hang out with Justin, Grace.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What? Justin needs his alone time—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine,” he interrupted. “In fact, he’ll be d his teacher’s spending some time with him.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“But—”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Bye guys!” Denzel ignored me and closed the door right in my face.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I turned toward him angrily. “What the hell was that for?!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">For some reason, he stared at me like I was a lost cause.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What’s with the look?!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">He sighed and shook his head. “Let’s go hang out with Justin.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I clicked my tongue and attempted to get an exnation for his strange behavior, but he wouldn’t budge. After going up a floor, we knocked on Justin’s door, and he opened in instantly. There was an open book on his desk.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Grace. Denzel,” he smiled. “Come in.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sorry, Justin,” I grumbled. “I didn’t want to disturb your reading, but Denzel was adamant about visiting you.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Ah, it’s not an issue, I was going to take a break anyway.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Whatcha reading about?” I asked as I sat on his bed.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, just a book about recent innovations in human medicine,” he sighed.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You’re the only one that’d read a book about that stuff. You could have looked it up for free,” Denzel smiled.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I tend to prefer holding a hardcover in my hands,” he shrugged. “I’m terrible at focusing with a screen.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“So, what’s new in the world of human medicine?” I asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, there’s a depressingck of progress, that’s what’s new,” he grumbled. “I don’t get how it doesn’t <em><span style="font-weight:400">anger</em><span style="font-weight:400"> more people that we can effectively save a Pokemon from anything as long as we get them to a Center, but humans still die from the smallest things.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">One didn’t have to be smart to see that Pokemon medicine had blown past human medicine in thest century, but Justin was the only one I had seen so angry at that fact. To me, it was just a part of life.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Ditto in particr are <em><span style="font-weight:400">so</em><span style="font-weight:400"> fascinating,” Justin continued as his eyes sparkled. “Their cells can transform into anything they touch after they’vee into contact with it once, although they can only store enough memory to hold one transformation at a time,” he exined.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“So Grace’s scars, for example…” Denzel hesitantly asked. I elbowed him. “What? You won’t tell me anything, but I can tell that you hate them!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yes, even your scars. We could potentially ce a single colony of ditto cells on your skin, and they’d rece the scarred tissue.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I didn’t even bother listening to the small spark of hope that appeared in my heart. “But there’s a catch, isn’t it?” I asked.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Justin winced. “Human trials have all… failed drastically. The results weren’t pretty.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What happened?” I asked, my fists tightening.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Pherzen tried starting small. At first, we regenerated lost toes or fingers. For the first few days, everything seemed fine. The new body parts were responsive, and they genuinely felt like a part of the participants’ bodies. But after a while… the ditto cells would grow out of control like cancer and overtake the hosts’ bodies, killing them in the process. We tried everything. Surgery to remove the cells… it didn’t work. There was always at least <em><span style="font-weight:400">one</em><span style="font-weight:400"> left over in the body, and that’s all they needed to replicate. They all died in terrible pain, and there’s nothing left of them in the end. Just a… purple blob.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I swallowed as I felt a bead of sweat roll down my chin.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“So it works for Pokemon, but not humans?” Denzel shuddered. “Are we just too different?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I wished that we could have studied the phenomenon more, but my father shut down the trials immediately,” Justin sighed. “I wanted to move the testing to animals like cows and pigs so that we wouldn’t have to endanger lives, but the press had already heard of our previous failures, and he wouldn’t hear any of it. The victim’s families sued and were thankfully paid damages in full.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Moving the testing to animals would have made sense… so why not do it? Maybe Justin’s dad just wanted to sweep the whole thing under the rug to avoid negative press, but if the potential was as great as Justin thought it to be, then they could have turned it around quickly enough. Who would care about some dead animals if their grandpa or grandma were getting their cancers cured or regenerating limbs? Justin went on further, theorizing that by using Ditto cells, rejuvenating the human body was even theoretically possible, although that had never been tested.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I was still focused on the previous incident. I felt like something had been hidden from Justin. Something far worse than his already tragic story let on. Companies were driven by profits, and the potential here was so <em><span style="font-weight:400">massive</em><span style="font-weight:400"> if they got it right…


    <span style="font-weight:400">Or maybe I was in and over my head.


    <span style="font-weight:400">After an hour, I left Justin and Denzel alone to speak while I finally entered my room for the first time to shower and change. Showering was still painful, and I was forced to use less water pressure than usual, but at least I could actually do it now. After so long, it was the little things like showering or <em><span style="font-weight:400">holding a pen</em><span style="font-weight:400"> without being in horrible pain that made me truly appreciate what I already had.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I hated looking at myself. I <em><span style="font-weight:400">hated it.</em><span style="font-weight:400"> I avoided the mirror like the gue. Then at least, I could pretend that it wasn’t actually <em><span style="font-weight:400">me</em><span style="font-weight:400">.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Eventually, when night had fallen, I heard a soft knock on my door.


    <span style="font-weight:400">That was Cecilia’s knock. Gentle, yet purposeful.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I got up from my bed and let her in.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hi,” I said. “Buy anything interesting?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">She gave me a teasing, half-smile as she sat down. “Fishing for information, I see.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, I was also genuinely interested,” I chuckled.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I never doubted that,” she said. “Are you ready to talk?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I drew a sharp breath. “Y—yeah. Right to the point, huh?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">What did I even want to say? Comin and whine about consequences for a decision I had taken? Now that the moment hade, the words were stuck in my throat.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sit,” Cece said, patting my bed next to her


    <span style="font-weight:400">I nodded and obliged her.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“From the moment you were told that you’d be keeping the burn marks, I could tell that you were feeling awful,” she said. “More awful than you did when you only had to deal with the pain.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I…” I exhaled. “I can’t bear to look at myself, Cece.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Her eye twitched. “Why?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">It was a simple, stupid question, but the answer was actually quiteplicated. I sat there in silence for a good five minutes, trying toe up with what to say. The correct words that would express the feelings I had bottled up all this time.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, it being ugly is a part of it,” I sighed. “I look terrible next to you now, Cece. People are gonna talk.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I don’t care. Let them talk.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I know <em><span style="font-weight:400">you</em><span style="font-weight:400"> don’t care, but <em><span style="font-weight:400">I do</em><span style="font-weight:400">,” I said, raising my tone slightly. Cecilia flinched. “I’m sorry. <em><span style="font-weight:400">I</em><span style="font-weight:400"> care. I don’t have your thick skin, Cecilia. That’s why I keep away from the public and the forums in general. There could be a sea of positivity, but <em><span style="font-weight:400">one </em><span style="font-weight:400">badment is all it takes to ruin my day, and it hurts me more when they talk shit about you than when they do about me.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What can I do, then?” She asked. “Do you want me to fight back? Pauline and Chase do it.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, no, it’s my problem. Don’t change the way you are,” I sighed. “It’s just… I already feltckingpared to you— not in Pokemon battling, but in looks. And now I have <em><span style="font-weight:400">this,</em><span style="font-weight:400">” I eximed, pointing at myself. “But that’s not it.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“There’s another reason,” she nodded. “A bigger one.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I nodded tightly. “This… scarring. It’s a cost. That’s fine,” I said. “But it’s a mark of my failure. A mark that’ll stay there forever, reminding me <em><span style="font-weight:400">every day</em><span style="font-weight:400"> that I fucking failed.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You… didn’t fail, Grace. Everything might not have gone ording to your n, but you still caught Turtonator. He’s strong enough topete at <em><span style="font-weight:400">seven badges</em><span style="font-weight:400">.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“It’s not enough,” I sniffled. “I want everything to be iron tight. This n wasn’t. I <em><span style="font-weight:400">thought </em><span style="font-weight:400">it was, but it wasn’t, and I’ll have to remember every time I stare at myself. I’m not as good as I thought I was, Cece.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Warm tears streamed down my face, and Cecilia wrapped an arm around me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Not as good as you thought you were? You’re holding yourself to impossibly high standards.”<span style="font-weight:400">


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Think about it. <em><span style="font-weight:400">Think.</em><span style="font-weight:400"> I hadn’t lost anything since… since… I can’t even remember when— <em><span style="font-weight:400">oh</em><span style="font-weight:400">, the fight against you at the Floaroma tournament. I hadn’t lost anything I made a n for since <em><span style="font-weight:400">then</em><span style="font-weight:400">. Just losing would have been okay. One of the first lessons dad taught me before I left was to not be afraid of failure, so even though it would have stung, I would have gotten over it.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“But not when there’s a permanent mark,” Cece said, finally understanding.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I nodded and wiped my eyes. “It’ll always be there. Fresh in my fucking mind,” I cursed. “And there’s nothing I can do about it. I was in over my head. I was high on the damn string of victories, and I thought I was invincible. I wasn’t.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“That second part is not something I can help you with, although I’ll try,” Cecilia gently said. “But I’ll be the first to tell you that I am in no way embarrassed to stand by your side. You are as beautiful as the day I met you, Grace.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Come on, you’re just saying that to make me feel better. That’s objectively untrue,” I said.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“It isn’t. Look at me. Look into my eyes,” she said. I turned toward her. “I am not lying. You can tell.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">And I could. Cece had an easy tell when she gave a really obvious lie: she used her confident, smooth tone, and her face defaulted into a neutral expression, just like when she had battled Roark. Right now, she was emotional. Her voice was shaking, and she was tearing up.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Okay, I believe you,” I conceded, falling onto the bed.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Did you think I was going to leave you because of some scars?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I didn’t think so, but a small part of me couldn’t help but be paranoid and scream what if, you know?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Please, I’d never be that shallow,” Cecilia said, lying beside me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">We let the silence settle in as we stared at the ceiling.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hey,” I asked. “When’d you fall in love with me?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I sensed her freeze next to me. “Where did thate from?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Nowhere, I’m just curious,” I said, still sniffling from earlier. “Spill.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well…” she hesitated. “I think it was after you beat Chase in battle for me, but I didn’t realize it until you told me you liked girls. What about you?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I don’t really know,” I admitted. “But I knew in Floaroma.”


    <em><span style="font-weight:400">“That early?” </em><span style="font-weight:400">Cecilia screamed.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You’ll destroy my other eardrum if you screech that loud,” I said sarcastically. “Surprised?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I… yes? I thought I was the one that fell for you first.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, I didn’t even know you liked me until you kissed me,” I said. “Denzel thought that we were both terribly dense.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">We bothughed at that.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Are you ready to meet my dad in two days?” I asked. “I’m going to make you two pamper me <em><span style="font-weight:400">so </em><span style="font-weight:400">hard. We’re going to the Poffin house, and you’re going to make me food. They make human variants, you know?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I already want to pamper you without any special asions,” she shrugged. “But I <em><span style="font-weight:400">am</em><span style="font-weight:400"> nervous. I want to make a perfect first impression.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You’ll be fine. He has a heart of gold, just ask Denzel! Although he <em><span style="font-weight:400">did</em><span style="font-weight:400"> scream at him the first time they met…”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Grace! <em><span style="font-weight:400">Not. Helping.</em><span style="font-weight:400">”


    <span style="font-weight:400">——


    <span style="font-weight:400">The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing. After yawning, Izily grabbed it and opened the group chat, making sure not to wake Cecilia up.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Chase was finally out of Mount Cor, and he’d be in Hearthome in five days.


    <hr>
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