Dear Markus {SWC}

DEAR MARKUS​

April 26

Dear Markus,

You wouldn’t believe what happened to me a few days ago. I know what you’re thinking, and I promise I’m being serious here! Jokes and pranks were our specialty once upon a time, but there’s no punch line for what I’m about to share. If things go as well as I hope they will, a punch line won’t ever exist.

The mere fact that I’m writing to you is a joke, really. If you want to laugh, well, go right ahead. It’d be nice to know that you’re laughing again.

I wanted to tell you about what happened before anyone else. Everyone who’s bothered to glance my way recently has noticed that something’s up. The smile plastered on my face is a dead giveaway, I guess, which makes sense. Smiles are rarer than dragonite around here, I swear. So, yeah, they’ll probably be asking questions soon… and none of them matter even half as much as you.

Anyway, I think you’ll really appreciate what this means for me, Markus. You always did want to see me happy, and I’m sorry you have to read my gushing through a stupid letter instead of hearing it in person. I’m imagining you rolling your eyes and shouting some curt comment about how I should ditch the sentimentality and get on with it. Not that you’d ever do that, but I’ve always wondered what you’d be like if you lost your temper with me.

I’ll get on with it, geez. I’m writing to you, Markus, because a girl wrote to me. She’s asking me to be a pen pal of sorts, and I just might accept that offer.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking this sounds really wrong. Really bad. Trust me, okay? Things could change for the better if this works out.

I’ll have to fill you in on the details next time. I’m not at all used to writing and my hands are starting to cramp already. At least putting my thoughts together and putting them on paper was good practice for when I write back to her.

It’s been too long since we last spoke, I know. I wish I could keep on rambling—surprise, surprise—but it’s almost 8PM here in Laverre, time for lights out. There’s no chance I’ll be able to sleep with all the words I want to say dancing in my head. Still, rules are rules.

Okay, that’s it for now. Expect to hear from me again soon because I miss you tons.

Sincerely yours,
En

*

May 11

Dear Markus,

I finished writing back to the girl earlier today. It took me forever, and in the end, I didn’t really say anything worthwhile. I just thought she might be feeling discouraged by this point, you know? A whole three weeks has gone by since I received her letter from our local carrier fletchling—and even longer since she sent it out—so I opted for cutting things short.

It was super difficult, trying to pick out the right words to say what I wanted while still reassuring her that I paid close attention to everything she’d written. But I did it, Markus. I tried as best I could, too, to sound more like you and less like me. I had to make a good first impression, after all.

You never said out loud how important good first impressions are, but you proved it whenever you introduced me at the beginning of our street side performances. You’d praise me so much that you got our audience clapping and cheering in a matter of seconds.

I never told you the reasons why I never talked much when we worked together, did I? Or why I refused to even utter a simple grunt here and there? (The answer is no, obviously.) Terrible quips aside, you’re part of the reason. Please don’t think of that as an insult, Markus, because it’s not. It’s just that my mind would panic at the mere sight of someone else and then you’d express everything you adored about me, which helped me calm down and carry on with the rest of our performance. No matter the situation, show or not, it always seemed best to step back and let you take over.

That’s not possible anymore, as you darn well know. And despite how awful it was when we parted ways, I owe you… a lot. So I suppose I’ll take a shot at painting a picture of somebody for you, though I doubt I can come up with anything that’ll sound elegant.

Anyway, the girl who wrote to me, her name’s Haley. She was surprisingly honest with me in her letter despite the fact that I’m, like, a total stranger to her. You’d think we were childhood friends catching up after years of separation or something, considering just how much she told me about herself upfront.

Childhood friends… Tsk, tsk. If only that was the truth. Things would be much simpler in that case.

To a certain extent, this Haley girl has no idea what she’s in for. At least she knows about my, uh, current predicament—that is, my being trapped behind bars.

I’m not sure whether or not you remember this little fact about me, Markus, but if not, now you do!

You can put in the effort to read that crossed out message or not. I don’t care… much. I learned that little strikeout trick from Haley, I hope you like it, and I’ll try not to do it too often lest it bothers you.

So, now that that awkwardness is out of the way…

Haley’s speculated on the details of my imprisonment, attempting to pry out all the reasons I’m not the terrible person society claims me to be. In reality, she probably just needs a way to justify her desire to communicate with a prisoner. She thinks that me having a connection to the real world might change my perspective on life, or at least motivate me to hang in there until I’m released. I’m no fool, though. I know better than most about the words that people want to say yet choose to bury instead.

Are you wondering what she thinks of her new pen pal being in jail, Markus? Of course you are. Basically, she’s concluded that I’m a damaged man in jail for “using and possessing drugs” (her words, not mine) based on her brother Joey’s tale about how, long ago, he sold me some. We’re apparently unforgettable to the point where her brother recognized the name listed on the Brun Way Correctional Center’s manifest.

When we bumped into her brother, we were most likely seeking shelter in Lumiose. (You might wonder, too, whether I trust her rather flimsy story. Why, yes, I do.) But I can’t say I remember any drug dealer named Joey, Markus. With your terrible memory, I doubt you remember, either.

You had to have been there, though, because we never spent time apart back then. Whenever I daringly entertained the thought of running away from you by blending in with a crowd accumulating in the main plaza, I mentally cursed myself for allowing the image to come to fruition. I berated myself until the urge fizzled away like an illusion.

I got off track, didn’t I? Whatever. Joey’s irrelevant for the most part, anyway.

I wish you were here to look over my letter before I sent it, Markus, to confirm whether or not I made a fool of myself. This Haley girl’s already got me in a bind and it’s putting me on edge. What do I do if she writes back again?

The better question is, why is she writing to me in the first place? A prisoner shouldn’t be anybody’s first choice for a pen pal, least of all an eighteen-year-old girl’s. She tells me she often feels lonely, and being a prisoner must be a pretty lonely thing too, so does that mean she wants us to help each other out? Because I’m honestly not sure if I can do that.

…I wish you were here for a lot of other reasons. Namely, I wish you could listen to what I have to say after keeping quiet all those years we traveled through Kalos together. I don’t know how long it’s been since I trusted my own voice, and I haven’t a clue how ridiculous I sound, babbling endlessly and not bothering to analyze anything too much beforehand.

Arceus only knows how Haley will react to my letter after pouring hours upon hours of my free time into it. On the bright side, me jotting things down with a pen can’t quite compare to exercising my actual vocal cords. I can choose to erase my work and start from the beginning with ease if necessary (and I may have done just that, at least on five or six occasions).

I’m afraid that too much of my true self slipped into the letter, more so than her deciding not to reply. The latter is understandable. The former… Well, let’s just say that, as a complete mute, you focus extra hard to build walls on each side of you, a wall so high it rejects even your shadow. And you intend to protect those walls with everything you’ve got, for as long as humanly possible.

I guess I’ll have to wait and see, huh? It feels like torture, not knowing, but then again, you told me once that you’d spent your whole life for something to happen. You never quite specified what. I think I know, and my problem here doesn’t hold a candle to yours. So I think I can be patient.

Sincerely yours,
En

*

May 29

Dear Markus,

You’ll have to forgive me for leaving you in the dark over the last couple weeks. I’ll catch you up to speed with this letter, all right? Better late than never.

Haley’s written back to me twice now, believe it or not. What’s more, she’s trying her best to assure me that putting a bit more substance into my letters is okay. So, as you can imagine, I’m doing her the favor of responding in kind.

Unfortunately, whatever I write to her still doesn’t contain anything, uh, useful, for lack of a better word. Or maybe interesting fits better in this context? I’m basically filling each page with verbose fluff. The art of being concise is not my forte by any means.

I try to sound like you but I can’t speak for you on a lot of subjects, either. So naturally, there’s going to be a gap or two… or three… in everything I tell her. I fill in the gaps with my own memories and knowledge whenever I can, but still. It’s up to her to fit the puzzle pieces together, if she deems it worth her while to try.

She referred to me as “wise” at some point. Rather, she referred to you as wise, since I’m just an innocent third party who happens to play an extensive role in all this, if you think about it hard enough. Anyway, her peculiar word choice there strikes me as a byproduct of her age and the unsubtle naivety she hasn’t grown out of yet.

What intrigues me the most is how she’s committed herself to journey through Kalos. She’s mapped out her route in advance and plans to travel past where the mountains level off and give way to winter weather. And unlike other trainers, gym badges are an afterthought for her. The fun of it comes from meeting new kinds of people you’d not find in her hometown, Anistar, and showing her grandmother’s beloved flying-types places that caught pokémon wouldn’t see otherwise.

I hate to come off as arrogant, but I picked up on a possible explanation for why she’d initiate contact with a prisoner, of all people. Her perspective on life is skewed (her words again, not mine) in part by her parents’ negligence and their tendency to turn to unhealthy methods of escaping stress, including—you guessed it—drugs.

You could argue, Markus, that there’s no difference between that and the story about her brother. I disagree. Like the trainer is the ultimate influence for a team of pokémon rather than the teammates themselves, parents are a human’s ultimate influence and not any siblings they might have.

Did I mention that her trek is to travel Kalos as a trainer? I double checked, and… yeah, I did! I guess I got lost in my own ramblings. But it’s interesting, isn’t it, how the timing of setting out on a pokémon journey and sending a letter to a drug addict coincide? On the surface, only the latter of those two plans seems strange. However, it strikes me as odd, how a teenage girl who admits her sheltered past to strangers would also aim to change my view on life while simultaneously gaining the life experience one needs to perform such a feat.

As the declared wiser someone in this correspondence, I should warn her. Her efforts will no doubt be in vain and they’re a waste of her kindness. I… admit with a twinge of regret that I don’t have the heart to follow through with warning her. I know what you’re thinking, Markus, and don’t worry. I’ll accept the blame for any mishaps that might occur.

If nothing else, I can’t lie or keep quiet about one thing: she’s already accomplished so much in the way of helping me. And all she had to do was reach out.

Let’s see what else I’ve gotta catch you up on, Markus. Oh! She did cite a barebones, textbook version of the history of Kalos and the war between Yveltal versus Xerneas 3,000 years ago. It was an odd attempt at educating my perspective on things, I have to say. In general she tends to meander and sometimes veer toward topics I don’t care for, or ones you lectured me on forever ago in an attempt to fill the perpetual silence between us.

She just kind of assumed, too, that we’d never been to her hometown, Anistar. She described the whole city, practically everyone in it (including the fairy-type gym leader, Olympia, if you recall her). Then, despite how eager she is to leave the place, she presented all the evidence she could think of to convince me that Anistar’s one of the region’s more unique locations.

Her arguments are contradictory, but you know what? She’s being contradictory for my sake, sort of. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m glad her upbringing was… the way it was. It’s just an indescribable change of pace, the confidence I now place in the power of words and the certainty that a bond between me and someone else exists in the face of my flaws.

Seriously, if Haley hadn’t reached out, what would I be doing right now? I don’t mean in the grand scheme of my life—I’m not that melodramatic—just right now, at this time on this day. I’d be sitting on the bottom bunk in my cell, stewing over any negative thoughts that came to mind. I wouldn’t bother gathering the energy needed to will them away because, well, what would be the point?

Don’t get me wrong, Markus. I reminisce on the good ol’ sentimental memories, too. Sometimes, I allow myself to speculate on where I would be, this time in a melodramatic fashion, if we’d not ever met or if you’d managed to stay with me in the long run.

Okay, you obviously can’t hear me from wherever it is you are, but I set the pen down for a minute, and I’m laughing now as I write this sentence. Do you remember the most successful show we put on in Anistar, Markus? The show where I dressed myself up as one of those fire breathers you find in circuses? You shouted to the crowd that I’d exhale a flame stronger and brighter than any fire-type pokémon’s for my final act. And once I ignited the blaze, a stunt executed far easier than the audience would expect, I decided to play a game. I quite literally played with fire, but pretended I couldn’t, pretended that the fire was acting of its own accord. I allowed it to spread until the people suspected it might become a full blown wildfire. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your perspective), a sudden downpour drove the flames away before it got too out of hand.

I’m sure you’re aware of this, but I feel obligated to clear the air regardless: I wouldn’t have done something so risky if we weren’t doing as well as we were. For once, we weren’t scrambling for drug money. We weren’t on the lookout for the police, dealers, extra sympathetic people who’d listen to us beg. For once, we performed solely for the fun of it.

After the crowd dispersed in favor of finding shelter from the rain, the shock on your face was enough to make me tremble in fear. My thoughts raced through all the ways I could possibly apologize for misbehaving and screwing things up. …In the end, Markus, you simply smiled a soft smile and said that I’d become the most perfect illusionist in no time if my repertoire of tricks kept evolving like that.

You know, now that I think about it, I’d have been satisfied if we lived the way we did around the time we visited Anistar. The skits we acted out for the passers-by made kids and adults alike pause, watch, and forget all their worries, even for just a few minutes. It almost seemed as if we could make an impact on whomever, whenever, wherever. And it seemed like only the two of us, out of everybody in the whole damn world, could say that truthfully.

I… haven’t covered everything I wanted to, but I’m thinking I should set the pen down again at this point. Time’s slipping from me. I missed the dinner call, and the lights will shut off without warning any moment now. Life without you feels like one big illusion as it is, Markus. If I’m gonna live up to your most perfect illusionist expectation, I can’t get sucked up into what doesn’t exist anymore.

I’ll write to you again first thing tomorrow.

Sincerely yours,
En

*

May 30

Dear Markus,

What transpired last night after I climbed into bed was a fluke, I’m sure of it. Not only did I fall asleep easy and wake up feeling refreshed, but also, an event which Haley described in her letters managed to creep into my dreams last night.

The dream was most likely caused by my fixation on writing yesterday, and certainly, it strikes me as a curious byproduct of the sudden change in my routine. I should’ve been earning my keep here in the prison to prove to the officials that I deserve to be released back into society, but what’s the use of closing the prison gates behind me if no one’s there to meet me?

As for what happened in the dream… Well, amusingly enough, you were part of it—not us, just you. That’s an important distinction. In any event, Haley told me that, when she was younger, she experienced a run in with the police that left her feeling rather paranoid.

…Yeah, you heard that right. Sweet, naïve Haley got yelled at by an officer, and a mean-spirited one at that. Life’s unfair like that, isn’t it? But you don’t need me to remind you over and over, so, okay, moving on.

Haley had gone with her brother and father to Anistar’s namesake, the sundial, and she’d made the mistake of reaching over the bridge leading to it. She nearly fell into the surrounding lake, until a man in uniform pulled her back to safety.

Why’d she bother doing such a foolish thing, you ask? You see, she wanted to grab a coin she’d seen floating in the water, and she let her curiosity get the best of her. Sadly, the police officer confronting her wasn’t swayed by the fact that he was talking to a mere child. He berated her for messing around on the sacred sundial grounds, and warned her that desecration landed those who were older than her in terrible places—you know, like prison.

That’s what actually happened, or at least, that’s what Haley claims happened. The dream part came into play when it wasn’t a police officer Haley made acquaintances with, but rather, your old team of pokémon. Everyone was there, evolved and in tiptop shape: Delphox, Greninja, Chesnaught, and—get this—even a zorua showed up.

A touch of guilt grips me when I remember that zorua, but there’s no use in hiding or lying about it. And, well, this will sound like an understatement no matter how I phrase it, so I’ll just write whatever words pop into my head first: it’s a shame you never got to help him evolve. I know how much you wanted to. If it makes you feel any better, he seemed real proud of how much stronger he’d gotten in the dream. That’s gotta count for something, right? Don’t worry—Professor Sycamore’s starter trio looked pretty content, too.

You… never got around to telling me the full story behind how you convinced Professor Sycamore to let you take all three to avoid separating them. However you did it, congratulations on a job well done, because it was worth it, no doubt. They worked together to cheer Haley up after the incident in my dream, and when Delphox also almost fell into the water amidst their playfulness, Greninja and Chesnaught immediately got down to business. Chesnaught built a fort-like structure on top of the bridge rails to prevent anyone from going overboard under any circumstance, while Greninja tested how strong the wall was since he, being a water-type already, didn’t mind the water. The zorua stood off the side, glancing on, smiling and stifling a fit of giggles—as per usual.

Naturally, I disclosed your team of pokémon to Haley and how lamentably short-lived our journey was. Her reaction to the morbid details I provided was more distressing than I thought it’d be. In hindsight, I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but honestly, the idea that other humans might not feel desensitized toward such topics didn’t cross my mind.

It took a ton of energy, trying not to beat myself over it and apologize incessantly in my next letter to her. That’s just not something you’d do, Markus, and I’ve got to keep up appearances. I’ve got to be consistent. My life’s lacked any sort of consistency thus far, and it’s felt like one giant train wreck. I’d like to prevent anyone else from experiencing that pain, if possible.

I know I made the right choice there, because Haley’s persistent about sending with her next letter the coin she grabbed during the incident in Anistar. She claims it’s been a lucky charm for her ever since then, and because I seem like a… man down on his luck, so to speak, she thinks I deserve it more. Arceus only knows how badly my tirades would’ve backfired had I actually gone through with them.

…I’m going to have to stop here again. Admittedly, Markus, I’ve adopted one of your more ugly habits. That is, I’ve been sitting, doing nothing, just waiting for the sun to set in favor of giving the moon its time in the spotlight. It’s not May 30 anymore. In fact, a whopping total of five days has passed since I started writing this letter.

I think a lot about the moon, even after I can’t see it anymore. The moon reminds me of your laughter and the few times I almost broke down my walls to laugh out loud with you. Some nights, I force myself to stay awake to try to hear your laugh again. No one else in the prison can hear you, of course. And thank Arceus that that cliché, faraway look on my face is hidden in the dark. You’re a secret that I keep, Markus. I have to keep it that way, even from Haley. Especially from Haley.

Yours always,
En

*

June 20

Dear Markus,

In my garbage bin are several crumpled up pieces of paper from letters to you which I decided weren’t up to par. So, yeah, that explains why I’m writing this officially almost a month later. The writing process has taken a bit longer lately, as I’ve been testing the words I want to use by, uh, speaking them out loud. My voice sounds raspy and wilted from disuse, despite me muttering a bit here and there to the other prisoners.

I just need a distraction, you know? I need to think about something that isn’t the fact that you left and aren’t coming back. I need to get the idea that Haley can help me out of my head because then I’m bound to be let down. That betrayal can go both ways, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I already had my turn at sleuthing around like a detective to unearth the clues that would’ve told me you’d leave eventually. The signs were all there, sure as anything. I was simply too blind to notice, and if Haley remains blind to what’s wrong with me, too… Well, that’s on her.

Unfortunately, the risk doesn’t seem as worthy anymore, given Haley’s recent introduction of a traveling partner who is skeptical of my existence. I’ve developed yet another ugly habit of yours as a result, and that’s, uh, degrading others for no reason other than to express my anger. For you, I’ll try not to let my bias show.

Haley’s traveling partner is Kenneth, a Hoennese boy who moved out here to Kalos for the sake of his mother. She needed a smaller home, a quieter home, and now that she’s settled, Kenneth’s on a mission. He wants to find his father, who apparently left the family to chase after his childhood dream to study something related to astronomy—the stars and constellations, maybe, or the moon. Conveniently, he checked first in Anistar because of the famous sundial, and the two happened to be the only ones to catch a mamoswine ride out to Dendemille. So they talked, and they connected.

Phew! That’s done with. I think my body was a bit tense while writing that, but what can you do? I can’t talk about Haley anymore without adding Kenneth into the mix, otherwise I would’ve skipped mentioning him and thought nothing of it.

Like I said, the boy’s suspicious of me. He has good reason to, but it’s not like he’s the one writing to me. Honestly, it all feels like one big joke that Haley may or may not pick up on. It isn’t likely. So far the two of them have trained together, explored the Frost Cavern from top to bottom, and talked about all kinds of topics—half of which Kenneth’s dodged. Kenneth, it appears, is suspicious by nature. Haley brushes off this trait of his and claims, you know, he must be shy because they just met. But me and Haley just met too, Markus. We just met too and I’ve said almost everything I’ve ever wanted to.

Kenneth doesn’t strike me as the most dangerous trainer in the world, but I cautioned Haley to keep her on her toes. I said I wouldn’t let my bias show for you, Markus, but for her? I can’t help it. Since then, he’s relented enough to confide in Haley the details about his past I outlined for you before.

Okay, okay, conversing about your decision to go on pokémon journey is hardly what you’d call confiding. Or at least, for kids it’s not. To be fair, Kenneth showed Haley a scar he got in the middle of a fire-related experiment done by none other than his father. His dad was a huge fan of fire-types, given his love of stars and all. But one day Kenneth’s stomach got too close to their pet numel as it attempted to exhale blue flames instead of the boring old red and orange flames. Why did their blueness matter? They didn’t, really. They just signified a much, much hotter flame than you usually see from fire-types. Kenneth’s father was so caught up in the idea of them anyway that he became careless.

Huh. I guess I do have some sympathy for the kid. I’m no fire-type, but that near wildfire experience taught me how flames don’t make for good playthings—even if you have means to douse them.

Did I mention that Haley’s determined to be a flying-type specialist like her grandmother? She refused a volbeat as a gift from Kenneth’s family just because it’s not officially designated as a flying-type. Never mind the fact that it can, you know, fly. Anyway, the aforementioned lucky coin she carries around made her interested in dragons and fairies as well. One side’s got a clefairy etched onto it while the other shows a dratini. “Call it in the air!” she writes, adding in the exclamation mark to emphasize her enthusiasm. “Heads or tails? Dragons or fairies?”

I wonder, Markus, what Haley’s opinion is on dark-types. She’s got some dual-types on her team, a dragon and a psychic specifically, and from what I can tell, she loves them all the same way. I’ve heard you have to be a certain kind of person to take in the dark-types, and I don’t mean ones like your greninja. I mean the full-fledged, exclusive zoruas and zoroarks of the world who have the mischievous label attached to them everywhere they go. You owned both kinds of… darkness, for lack of a better term. Take of that what you will.

Our fledgling Haley is still unacquainted with the nuances of the world. The stigma that separates humans and pokémon from the society they’ve built for themselves is of no concern to her right now. To her, the coin means luck, and once I pretend I’m deciding heads or tails while it’s in the air, once she actually flips it, she’s going to let me know if I chose right. If I win, she’s going to let me choose the city she visits next on her journey. If I lose the bet, well, then she’s free to do what she wants.

Of course, she’s free to do what she wants regardless of the inane coin toss game. She had the guts to say upfront that she’d like to stop by Laverre eventually. Since she’s not challenging the gym circuit, Markus, that can only mean one thing: she wants to meet me face-to-face at the Brun Way Correctional Center.

…Yeah, hence why I’ve been testing my real voice. You didn’t think I’d bother without a legitimate reason, did you?

This may or may not be a bet I want to win. Part of me shouldn’t care either way, but sometimes, craziness wins out.

Yours always,
En

*

July 10

Dear Markus,

Brun Way Correctional Center’s implementing a new rehabilitation program. The goal is to assign each prisoner a fairy-type pokémon for a companion, as they’re notorious for soothing people’s emotions. So naturally, that must mean that, out of everything else in the world, they’re the best pick to provide therapy for people who are more often than not behind bars because they let their impulses take over.

Yeah, I don’t know about that. More like they’ll manipulate us into a calm submission so the prison guards can take a nap or two on the clock without worrying a fistfight might break out.

I can’t say what the source of my anger toward this is, Markus, but... My instincts tell me that it’ll hurt more than help. Seriously, what kind of muddled logic concluded that crowding the prison with fairy-types would turn all of us into healthy, functional humans? I can see it now, the group of “educated” scientists that met together, stroking their beards and nodding fervently as they took turns proving how a certain sickness of the mind can be cured with a sprinkle of fairy dust.

I mean, the program could be beneficial to others, but I know for sure that won’t be the case for me. Those… things make my skin crawl, no matter how cute pet owners think they are.

I know I’m probably overreacting. To be fair, I’m hesitant to accept any kind of social interaction. I don’t want a togekiss hovering over me as I fold my laundry or a clefable’s creepy smile whisking away any positive emotion I might feel.

The main reason, though, Markus? You were the one who was supposed to help me. Haley should be writing to you, you should be responding to her, and I should be doing whatever the guards ask of me until you’re released. Now, everywhere I go there’s going to be a reminder that you’re not around. And because you didn’t help me, because you left, I’m stuck here behind bars with nothing to look forward to once I leave.

If I sound a tad bitter, it’s because I am. This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to feel this way toward you, and it’s awful. It stings. Still I miss you so, so terribly. What is wrong with me?

Sincerely yours,
En

*

August 1

Dear Markus,

Hey. It’s been a while again, hasn’t it? I won the bet. Craziness is still winning out. That’s all the updates I have for you, or rather, that’s the gist of them. I could go on, but it hit me at some point that maybe you don’t care. Even if you were here to listen, maybe you wouldn’t. I mean, why else would you leave begin with—especially in a way that’ll never allow you to come back?

God, if anyone knew about this, they’d call me desperate. Any resemblance of my humanity would be shattered in an instant. Writing to a dead man and hoping to get a response somehow, someway… Nobody in their right mind does that.

It just seems like common courtesy to write to you. Your birthday just passed back on July 10, Markus, and you know who reminded me? Haley, of all people. I don’t remember doing this, but I guess I threw in your birth date somewhere in my letters. Probably when I introduced the three starters you got when you turned 10.

So, yeah, happy belated birthday. I tried to watch the moon that night, but the clouds were blocking my view. I thanked them and basked in the silence. I realized I miss silence more than I thought I would, honestly.

I shouldn’t apologize, but… If I sound overly aggressive, sorry. Haley’s still got me in that bind but a different kind of bind, one in which I know what it’s like to have someone accept me unconditionally and everything in the past suddenly takes on a whole new meaning. She succeeded, just not in the way she hoped for. And I’m writing to you because I can’t tell her that. Not yet, and not ever.

Still yours,
En

*

August 28

Dear Markus,

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this at all.

I shouldn’t have to explain what I mean to you, either, but I will anyway. Because that’s what I do. I do all the things I’m not supposed to and I muck them up. I’m the grand illusionist you always wanted your zorua to be once he evolved into zoroark and I won’t be able to dispel that title no matter what happens from here on out.

I won that coin toss, and now Haley wants to visit. Well, okay, that’s wrong. She doesn’t just want to. She’s definitely visiting within the next two weeks. An exact date hasn’t been set yet since, you know, unexpected things can get a trainer off track en route.

Unexpected things like getting arrested by the police.

We were doing so good, Markus. What happened? I never fell into the trap of drugs, so I can’t guess as to what your justification was. I can take a complete stab in the dark and say you were never content during the times I felt that way. When we were earning enough money with our shows to rent a place, to eat food at restaurants instead of out of the garbage, the addiction must’ve been prying at the back of your mind the entire time. It must’ve been begging you to come back to it, no matter the cost.

The urge spiked tenfold, and you spent all of our savings in one go. Do you remember that, Markus? Or were you too lost in the highs? Your highs were my lows, you know. You must’ve known that. So why didn’t you stop for me?

I’ve ratted on Haley for being naïve, but I was the same. Greninja and Delphox and Chesnaught, they all believed in you, trusted you enough to stay by your side. In return, you forgot about them, too engrossed in your fantasy world to let them out of their pokéballs. I thought that the guilt of leaving them to rot would be enough to spark a change, but I was wrong.

I should get to the point, since it took all my willpower just to get started. Each letter Haley sends only strengthens my anger toward you. I’ve succeeded in putting on a front for her, succeeded in acting like you and only saying what you’d say. Every word calculated. Every word still sounding like it comes from a mess of a man.

What I’m trying to understand is why she accepts you anyway. I’m trying to understand why she can accept how terrible you are but how you couldn’t accept your life as a trainer. I can’t grasp her logic and it’s killing me.

There’s a part of me, too, that thinks maybe you’re finally coming back to say hello every time the guards hand me the mail. That’s my fault, I know. That’s me being stupid, especially since I know I could leave this prison anytime I want. I’m the most perfect illusionist, remember? The title implies I can do anything.

But I can’t live outside the prison without you. You were my trainer, Markus. You were all I knew, and yet you threw it all away. Once our savings were gone, you resorted to stealing drugs. As desperate as you were, you weren’t too sly about it. So I’ve concluded that someone gave you up to the police, someone who had enough connections to do such a thing safely.

The police found us sleeping in an alleyway. Their shouts stirred you awake, and your eyes went wide, and you scrambled to your feet, bolted away from them too quickly for me to register what was happening and react. Groggy and confused, I watched you go without looking back. Once the police started their pursuit, I noticed the squad cars and their flashing lights.

I think I always expected something bad like this to happen deep down, because what I did next, I did without hesitation. I took a shortcut route that I knew would put me ahead of you and the police, then directed you to a suitable hiding place. Your expression frantic, I gave you the sternest glare I could give you, one that I hoped would get through to you and convince you not to do anything reckless.

Of course, I was the reckless one. I transformed myself into you, took on your persona, your appearance, everything, and so the grand illusionist made his debut. The police, utterly fooled into believing I was you, arrested me instead.

I figured you’d find a way to get me out. Or you’d let me know you’d wait within city limits for me to escape on my own, to be on the safe side. Weeks of silence passed, and for the first time, I wanted something other than silence.

And when the silence was finally broken, it wasn’t by you. It was broken by Haley.

I was so sure that we could hang on to each other. There were all kinds of things, really, that I thought I just… knew. Now, I’m not so sure about anything.

Still yours,
Enmity (because the meaning of my full name applies for the first time)

*

September 16

Dear Markus,

I miss you so, so terribly. No matter how good or bad of a trainer you were, you’re still familiar. You’re a comfort zone, even if you’re not exactly comforting. Just like it doesn’t matter if staying silent hurts me or not. It’s better than the unknown.

I wish Haley had found all those years ago somehow, Markus. Maybe she could’ve changed your ways since I couldn’t. Maybe her being open minded and having faith in anyone would’ve meant something to you. I can’t say for certain, but the thought is a nice one, isn’t it?

In person, she was sweet. Long blonde hair that she had to keep sweeping out of her eyes, but she didn’t seem annoyed by it. Just amused, and happy. She introduced all her pokémon to me, one by one, as if I knew nothing about them. That boy, Kenneth… He came, too, though we didn’t interact much. He offered a dismissive wave and said he’d wait around the town, see the other sights before they moved on. Why he agreed to come to begin with, who knows. Probably to protect her on the off chance I was the murderous, kidnapping kind of fraud. I can appreciate that.

Haley’s been traveling long enough now that she’s starting to understand her pokémon when they talk. Her xatu, Ribbons, in particular was frazzled by my presence and squawked at her endlessly until she agreed that she needed to get going.

She could only decipher a few words here and there. I could understand Ribbons, of course. Posing as a human hasn’t taken away my animalistic abilities. The xatu was trying to warn Haley that I, in fact, wasn’t human. The damn psychic-type could tell. She’ll know soon. …I’ll have to say goodbye to her soon.

Why did a flying/psychic dual type pokémon have to exist? I give the damn bird for trying to stop her from something dangerous, I guess. It’s more than I ever did with you.

Please come back, Markus. You left in a way that wouldn’t allow you to come back. If the police see you, the punishment by this point will be more severe than it originally was. You know, too, that I might not forgive you. I don’t think I can. But still. At least write to me, won’t you? Like you did, once, telling me you’d free me and we’d escape? The guards might read my letters, but you could write in code, like I used to communicate solely in body language. I could be the one deciphering you this time.

I could’ve helped you, and we could’ve been fine. But addiction of any kind is… extreme. I went to extremes to try to deal with it. My efforts were in vain.

I’ll keep writing to you, though. I have to write to you and imagine you’re still here. No one else will. You didn’t have anyone else, and you’ll cease to exist entirely if I stop imagining you’re still here.

I’m sorry, okay, Markus? I’m sorry. For my silence. For my silence. For my silence. I don’t… I don’t know how to say anything else.

Your zorua always,
Enmity

Spoiler: misc info

pokémon: zorua
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