By the time Bambi reached Cycling Road with her traveling mates, the night was dark. Umbreon hung in her arms asleep. A faint light lined the road below them, tiny orbs of moonlight dangling in their lampposts. One of the lights had gone out, which caused a fracture in the perfect symmetry Bambi found herself mesmerized by it.
“It’s all going to be downhill from here,” Farore said. She stood next to Bambi, and peered into the vast space. The great road stood above the water.
Zakana and Isaque moved into her periphery. “It’s been downhill since I left Pallet,” Zakana said.
Bambi sighed in her own heart. She pitied Zakana. Not because he was eighteen and had never really owned Pokémon or fought with them, but because of the way he was acting now. It was the way Bambi had acted five years ago—spoiled and entitled. Was he really 8 years older than her?
Each of the members still held the baby Eevee in their arms. Zakana held his cradled close to him. His sling was finally gone. Farore’s was alert and awake, its frizzled brown fur frayed out like toughly handled straw. They were similar in appearance—Farore and the Eevee she held. And Zakana and his too—both sleepy and lethargic.
Bambi thought about the one that was ripped away from her. The bruise on Zakana’s leg made her sick to think that thing nailed her baby.
I’ll get it back from them. That’s my Kappa’s baby. They’re gonna pay.
“So now what?” Zakana asked.
“Now we travel to Fuchsia City via Cycling Road,” Farore said, “this wonderful length of Poke turf below us.”
“How long will it take?”
“See that house down there?” Farore pointed long, colorful fingernails at a teeny tiny home with yellow light flooding out of its window. “We can see if there are any bikes to rent. That will be safer. No one has a flyer and if we ride on the backs of a Pokémon.” Farore paused and looked to Bambi’s sleeping Umbreon. “We risk what happened to us last night.”
“No, thanks,” Isaque said. “So we’re traveling by night?”
“If we can get bikes, it shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”
Bambi wondered what a few meant here. When her dad said she could have a few minutes to look for Pokémon, it was always way different than her mom’s few minutes. Now, she always knew whom to ask. She imagined, in the silence of her heart, what Farore’s few was, but quickly realized it didn’t really matter. They would get there when they got there, and despite everything that had happened, she felt safe.
Farore led the way down the steep hill, into the great black abyss below. In sure-footed strides, she scaled lower, without fear. Bambi was fascinated with her willingness to lead them. She tore through life in a way that made her seem unstoppable and yet extremely vulnerable. If she wanted to jump in the way of something hurting her Pokémon, she would, and then take the fall. Her Pokémon would live, but she wouldn’t. That vision stuck out in Bambi’s head the most.
And like Farore, she knew what she wanted. She knew what her line-up would be. She knew that she wanted to be a Pokémon Master, the Elite Four Champion. But before that maybe she could be the youngest Gym Leader to ever live. Even younger than Farore at her meager 14 years. She would have to do it in 3, and half a year had already gone by. If she did that, she could move into the Gym and leave the Academy. Less school was A-Okay with Bambi. She repeated her dream team in her head:
Umbreon, Meganium, Houndoom, Kingdra, Victini (yes it was a Legend, but she wouldn’t stop trying until she found one, or the one, depending on what lore was true), and finally, Metagross.1
She already had three of the Pokémon she needed for her dream team, or she would as soon as Bayleef and Houndour evolved. That wasn’t bad, considering how recently she became a trainer. On the other hand, she only had three Pokémon. Hard work was cut out for her, she knew, like rare candy that hadn’t been formed yet.
At the bottom, they reached the small house that acted as the gateway for the great cycling road.
“How long is this thing anyway?” Zakana asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Isaque answered. “I rode down Cycling Road when I was a kid with my family, but I don’t remember it well.” He smiled thinly. “I remember how fun it was, I begged my mom if we could come back. We never got to.”
In a strange way, the boy, man, whatever he was, reminded Bambi of Zakana. They looked at each other as if they had been friends for a long time, and then Zakana’s gaze turned cold and he said, “And the next city is at the end of it?”
Isaque nodded, and in his playful shaking of the head, Bambi saw that he was very different from Zakana. Because he enjoyed things, or looked forward to things, or had emotions other than grief and resentment.1
They stood across from each other, Zakana in his jacket, the baby Eevee zipped up to his chin, and Isaque, almost a head taller, thin like a broomstick, and bendy, like he could spiral his lanky body around one of the lampposts behind him. Bambi sensed a strangeness between them.
Farore emerged from the house. “Four bikes, kiddos. Let’s get moving.” She moved to the side of the house, and proceeded to swipe the card in her hand across sensors. Bikes became untethered from their stations, and each of the four of them got on.
Bambi set Kappa in the rather large basket at the front of her bike. It was sleek and seemed to be made of aluminum, making it both strong and light.
“Remember, this is all downhill. Don’t be afraid to use your brakes if you have to.” Farore squinted into the sea of halogen lights before them. “And stay together. I still don’t think we’re out of the woods yet.” She smiled, and walked, one foot dangling and pushing against the ground, onto the great road.
The memories came rushing back to Bambi, and she suddenly remembered what she had been missing. One: her necklace. It had fallen when she was literally thrown from a window by the gust from a Pidgeot. It was so strange and yet exhilarating to be tossed out like that. Actually though, Makua’s Aipom had saved her life. And that was the second thing missing.
Makua.
She kind of missed his annoying bits of knowledge, Pokémon facts and stats, or quotes from Pokémon—as in those that could talk (mainly just Mewtwo) from Project something-or-other, or quotes from prominent Pokémon Professors or world leaders. She couldn’t remember any of the quotes now, and wouldn’t remember them later probably, but she remembered Makua’s voice and how he would dote on Bambi and say things like, I’m not even going to answer that.
He was such a nerd. But the good kind. Like he knew things. He knew things more than anybody in their grade, but he also wasn’t just going to do your homework for you if you tried to shove his head down a toilet. Except for that one time in the first week. He was wimpy and scared but he challenged himself and he challenged Bambi.
And the third thing Bambi was missing was Yumin. She needed her older brother like a fish needs water. Where was he, and was he still looking for her? Was Makua with him? She hoped so because there was no way he’d survive out here on his own.
Without another word, Farore’s feet left the ground and she descending into the darkening night.1
Butterfree grew in Bambi’s stomach. It was against the rules to leave the Academy except for sanctioned visits and field trips but after everything that happened, she wouldn’t be able to go back now. Even though she was in her first year, she was out in the open now. And there weren’t any rules against her catching Pokémon now. With that thought she breathed deeply, tasted the salty, moist air around her and let gravity pull her down Cycling Road, after Farore and toward Fuchsia City.
Cycling Road was magnificent. Traffic went only one way because it was impossible to bike it uphill. It was wide enough to allow at least thirty bikers to ride side by side. Polished railings bordered the edges of the road, and Bambi could hear the calmness of the ocean below. This road connected Cerulean City to Fuchsia City and as Bambi had found out, was part of Farore’s jurisdiction. Because she was gym leader she was 1 of 8 officials in the Kanto Region. She could vote on important matters, and actually sway the ways things went around her. Bambi knew this from her mother, who had briefed her on all sorts of things before leaving home, including but not limited to what she would have to do should she become a Gym Leader. She missed her mother.
The road became steeper. Wind lapped Bambi in the face, taking the air from her lungs as she breathed in each time. It exhilarated her so she pedaled faster.
The full moon lay ahead, a pale, ivory orb in the raven-black sky. It was a sight to see the stretch of road underneath the lights, and the moon even further above that, like it was the one thing keeping them all lit. In Bambi’s basket Kappa looked skyward to the thing that had made it evolve. Kappa could have become so many other things. Bambi thought about evolving her Eevee by using one of the Evolution Stones into: the speedy electric wonder, Jolteon, the smooth and gorgeous water-type Vaporeon, the passionate and feisty fire-type, Flareon, or either of the ones that were products of the environment around them: ice-type Glaceon from the wintry wonderlands, or Leafeon, the lush, soft grass-type. And then there were the two that evolved due to the time of day: Espeon by day, Umbreon by night. Silently, Bambi wondered what all her other Eevee would become.
“You okay, Bambi?” Zakana biked into view as they sped down the road faster.
The wind made it difficult to hear. “I’m fine!” She smiled and focused on the road in front of her.
Isaque strolled up to Zakana’s other side and stared straight ahead.
Was he Zakana’s friend? Everything was moving so fast there was no time to ask anything. They had acted like acquaintances and yet strangers. Did Zakana even have any friends? Bambi still wondered why he was here. He hadn’t given a clear answer, which was unusual for him. He usually was sure as heck about what he wanted and where he wanted to go. To become an astronaut. And anything that stood in the way of that was often shouted at. Pokémon were never part of the equation but yet here Zakana was.
Something bad had happened. And not the bad that happened over 8 years ago. Nothing like that could ever happen again, right?
She could ask when they got to the end. She could find out what was going on and meet up with Yumin. And hopefully there would be some Pokémon battles in between.
Ahead, Farore’s shoulder blades arched in an unusual way. Her head moved side to side. She slowed.
“What’s up,” Bambi said, catching up with her at last.
Farore looked to her much younger counterpart. There was curiosity in her eyes, but something else too. Uncertainty?
Her gaze snapped forward and both her and Bambi saw Zakana fly ahead.
They exchanged nervous glances. Isaque remained behind.
“He’s in a hurry to get to the end I think,” Bambi said.
“It’s not a bad idea. We shouldn’t be traveling so open like this after all that’s happened but we have—”
Farore disrupted her own sentence. “No! Zakana stop!”
Many things happened at once at that moment. Bambi looked far ahead and saw where Zakana was headed. Again, there were those men—the ones with the masks as dark as their suits, with only lemon shaped spaces for eyes that shone red.
Pokeballs flew. Farore had unleashed at least her entire team as far as Bambi was concerned, and Isaque unleashed a few others. Bambi wanted to release her own, but she was going too fast. Too fast to steadily grab one of her two Pokeballs, and too fast to have Bayleef or Houndour keep up once they were let out onto the road. Her hands tightened around her handlebars and found the brakes. She pulled on them lightly.
Zakana slowed too, his head perched high like a Girafarig looking above the canopies, as though he could see what these men really were the higher he looked. There was a line of them—3 or 4 from what Bambi could see between Pokeballs that flooded white and blue lights. She knew the balls that were being thrown—Quick Balls, Love Balls, Great Balls, Ultra Balls, Net Balls—each one of them colored differently on the outside and functioning differently on the inside. She knew this because of her father and his own trade. And the balls seemed to keep coming. Pokémon, big and small, wide, heavy, light, floating, flying, grounded, all took a stance as Zakana and the rest of the party approached.
Bambi found her voice. “Zakana!” Zakana had nothing. He had a Slowpoke, and having that here on this road was the equivalent of having a Magikarp. Bambi pedaled faster into the fray.1
Farore’s bug Pokémon flitted around in sweeping circles and struck. Isaque—who seemed to have a Magneton sent shockwaves at the enemy camp. The moment of battling that Bambi had been waiting for had arrived. “Hey, ya bozos! Don’t you lay a hand on my—on him!”
Bambi remembered her mother’s words. Don’t let anyone know who you are or that you are connected to any of these people.
An ear-shattering fissure rose up underneath Bambi’s wheels. In an incomprehensible display of power, the road began to split. Her bike wobbled. She steered to the side of it, made for the railings. What’s happening!
This time, instead of a fissure, an earthquake came, and the entire road in front of Bambi curled up. She ramped off it and as she did, knew she was in trouble.
“Help!” For a moment, she flew. The wind carried her. The angle of the ramp and the angle at which she rode down the road made her glide. But she was afraid. She would not survive this fall.
Powerful, fast-working wings moved into her periphery and before gravity took over, Bambi reached into her basket, scooped up Umbreon underneath the front legs. These guys don’t give a Furret’s butt about hurting people! Bambi’s bike fell but she did not. On both sides of her flew two of Farore’s more experienced bug Pokémon. The red one—Scizor—with sharp, deathlike eyes caught Bambi’s arm with a vice like grip on one side. The blue one—Heracross—a giant megahorn at the crown of its head, did the same to Bambi’s left. Somehow, she managed to hold onto Kappa.
They glided lower. Seconds later, Bambi was on the back of Farore’s bike. Her saviors released her, but there was no time to consider the pain in her arms. They had broken through the line of the enemy.
“Your cousin went ahead. He’s almost reached the end and so have we.”
“The other guy?”
“Isaque is holding his own ahead as well.”
Bambi could see the boys now as Farore sped on. Her sleek bike cut down the road as though it were cheesecake, leaving nothing but thin, crisp barely visible tire marks in their wake.
Bambi stole a glance behind her.
“They’re still behind us! Farore what should we do?”
“We have to get off this road, as I said. And let’s hope it’s by land!”
The ocean raged below. Would these men cast them aside and hope to find them in the black, unforgiving sea? Take them to their leader? Bambi wanted to know what they wanted. Why did those men want her back at the Academy? Why her?
The road leveled out. Silent Pokémon edged toward them.
“Scizor! Heracross! Get her out of here!”
And before Bambi could ask more questions or hold onto her protector, she was lifted again, skyward, with a harsh jolt. Kappa hung from Bambi’s front as she left the bicycle seat. The bug Pokémon were swift and decisive with their movements. They decided to plant Bambi down toward the end of the road where Zakana had now stopped.
“Bambi! You okay?”
She returned her Umbreon to its Pokeball for the first time since giving birth and evolving.
There was no time to talk. “Go, Houndour!”
Another scene of white lights and thrown Pokeballs unfolded before them, or rather behind them. Isaque’s Magneton blasted silver, blue, and electric-yellow bolts of thunder and steel.
“Houndour, give em a flamethrower!” Houndour rushed up the road that was more flat now and began breathing long, wispy lines of fire at the encroaching men.
Bambi could hear silent commands, under the breath voices, deep and creepy. Were they just talking among themselves? Pokémon were doing things but no one seemed to be commanding them. The men stood on Segways. They rushed downhill toward Bambi and Zakana.
“Don’t be afraid, Bambi. I’ll protect you.”
In that moment she didn’t want to think it but she couldn’t stop herself: how? How can you possibly protect me?
Zakana didn’t even think to send out his Slowpoke.
Men appeared them and two of them grabbed Bambi, lifted her up. “Hey! Zakana help!”
It was too quick. Now she was afraid.
The sound of those wings came again, and Bambi felt safe. Scizor sliced and hawed his way through the Pokémon protecting the men, then got to them too. Heracross tossed them with the huge horn on its head, like a catapult-forklift combination. The men sailed through the darkness unseen and unheard.
Isaque’s and Farore’s Pokémon took over. Farore’s bugs and Isaque’s Magneton and Feraligatr were delivering damage to the Pokémon around them. To the Rhydon that had caused the earthquake and probably the fissure too.
Bambi felt confused.
“No!” And now Zakana was screaming.
She spun and saw him. He was on the ground, arms clutching his knees, looking down.
“Zakana?” She couldn’t think of what was wrong with him but something was.
He shot up. “NO!”
What’s he shouting about?
“NO!”
Things on the outside—the battles, the men who had ambushed them, their Pokémon—they were dwindling back into the background and out of sight. Farore’s Scizor fought to eradicate the last enemy. Farore and Isaque finally appeared through the mess of everything, and there was a quietude to the night. Until—
“NO!”
There was pain in his voice and suddenly Bambi realized what was happening.
Oh my Giratina . . .
Zakana’s eyes were locked onto Scizor. They quickly shifted to Heracross. Bambi saw the bewildered look in her cousin’s eyes and she could practically feel the beads of sweat pouring down him.
“Farore! Call your Pokémon back!”
Zakana seemed to be deciding what to do. He took long, heavy breaths then short, quick ones, and his eyes darted in every direction.
“Why?”
But it was too late. Scizor and Heracross needed to finish their battles and they did. Though Zakana wouldn’t be around to see the end of it. He had mounted his bike again and was headed toward the final meters of the road. He pedaled like a maniac.
“Where’s he going?” Isaque asked, his voice hoarse. “We won.”
And it was true. They had won. It was a win for everyone but Zakana.
“What’s wrong with him? It’s like he went mental.” Farore said.
Isaque said, “Oh”, like he knew.
The memories, though Bambi had only gained them through osmosis, gained them through what she had seen growing up, grew like festering seeds inside her head. She remembered.
“He’s scared. Terrified even. He hates Pokémon. Most of all bugs.”1
Again, Farore said, “Why?” unable to comprehend this fact.
“Because. It was a bug Pokémon that murdered my cousin. Murdered Zakana’s younger brother. Happened right in front of him.”
Bambi could see the boys now as Farore sped on. Her sleek bike cut down the road as though it were cheesecake, leaving nothing but thin, crisp barely visible tire marks in their wake.
Bambi stole a glance behind her.
“They’re still behind us! Farore what should we do?”
“We have to get off this road, as I said. And let’s hope it’s by land!”
The ocean raged below. Would these men cast them aside and hope to find them in the black, unforgiving sea? Take them to their leader? Bambi wanted to know what they wanted. Why did those men want her back at the Academy? Why her?
The road leveled out. Silent Pokémon edged toward them.
“Scizor! Heracross! Get her out of here!”
And before Bambi could ask more questions or hold onto her protector, she was lifted again, skyward, with a harsh jolt. Kappa hung from Bambi’s front as she left the bicycle seat. The bug Pokémon were swift and decisive with their movements. They decided to plant Bambi down toward the end of the road where Zakana had now stopped.
“Bambi! You okay?”
She returned her Umbreon to its Pokeball for the first time since giving birth and evolving.
There was no time to talk. “Go, Houndour!”
Another scene of white lights and thrown Pokeballs unfolded before them, or rather behind them. Isaque’s Magneton blasted silver, blue, and electric-yellow bolts of thunder and steel.
“Houndour, give em a flamethrower!” Houndour rushed up the road that was more flat now and began breathing long, wispy lines of fire at the encroaching men.
Bambi could hear silent commands, under the breath voices, deep and creepy. Were they just talking among themselves? Pokémon were doing things but no one seemed to be commanding them. The men stood on Segways. They rushed downhill toward Bambi and Zakana.
“Don’t be afraid, Bambi. I’ll protect you.”
In that moment she didn’t want to think it but she couldn’t stop herself: how? How can you possibly protect me?
Zakana didn’t even think to send out his Slowpoke.
Men appeared them and two of them grabbed Bambi, lifted her up. “Hey! Zakana help!”
It was too quick. Now she was afraid.
The sound of those wings came again, and Bambi felt safe. Scizor sliced and hawed his way through the Pokémon protecting the men, then got to them too. Heracross tossed them with the huge horn on its head, like a catapult-forklift combination. The men sailed through the darkness unseen and unheard.
Isaque’s and Farore’s Pokémon took over. Farore’s bugs and Isaque’s Magneton and Feraligatr were delivering damage to the Pokémon around them. To the Rhydon that had caused the earthquake and probably the fissure too.
Bambi felt confused.
“No!” And now Zakana was screaming.
She spun and saw him. He was on the ground, arms clutching his knees, looking down.
“Zakana?” She couldn’t think of what was wrong with him but something was.
He shot up. “NO!”
What’s he shouting about?
“NO!”
Things on the outside—the battles, the men who had ambushed them, their Pokémon—they were dwindling back into the background and out of sight. Farore’s Scizor fought to eradicate the last enemy. Farore and Isaque finally appeared through the mess of everything, and there was a quietude to the night. Until—
“NO!”
There was pain in his voice and suddenly Bambi realized what was happening.
Oh my Giratina . . .
Zakana’s eyes were locked onto Scizor. They quickly shifted to Heracross. Bambi saw the bewildered look in her cousin’s eyes and she could practically feel the beads of sweat pouring down him.
“Farore! Call your Pokémon back!”
Zakana seemed to be deciding what to do. He took long, heavy breaths then short, quick ones, and his eyes darted in every direction.
“Why?”
But it was too late. Scizor and Heracross needed to finish their battles and they did. Though Zakana wouldn’t be around to see the end of it. He had mounted his bike again and was headed toward the final meters of the road. He pedaled like a maniac.
“Where’s he going?” Isaque asked, his voice hoarse. “We won.”
And it was true. They had won. It was a win for everyone but Zakana.
“What’s wrong with him? It’s like he went mental.” Farore said.
Isaque said, “Oh”, like he knew.
The memories, though Bambi had only gained them through osmosis, gained them through what she had seen growing up, grew like festering seeds inside her head. She remembered.
“He’s scared. Terrified even. He hates Pokémon. Most of all bugs.”1
Again, Farore said, “Why?” unable to comprehend this fact.
“Because. It was a bug Pokémon that murdered my cousin. Murdered Zakana’s younger brother. Happened right in front of him.”
