Bag packed and ready to go; daily necessities in the main pocket, the new Pokéballs in their pouch. Medicine and his identification papers in the sub-pocket near the front of the bag for ease of access. What else? Oh, yes – the Pokédex the professor had given him.

“It’s redundant, I know,” he’d said, rolling his eyes, “but I have to give you one or the League won’t recognize you as my assistants. But don’t worry,” he added in a stage whisper, “I downloaded the information from the League database – they’re full.”

Henry stuffed the digital encyclopedia into another, smaller side-pocket. That done, he flopped back onto his bed, sighing heavily.

I’m leaving tomorrow. The thought was hard to grasp.

It’d only been three months, but Zhou Mi’s laboratory had become a home to him. More than just a place to stay; Zhou Mi reminded him of Clinton, his brother out travelling Johto after completing the Kanto gym circuit. And Faye – well, there was probably no one in the world like Faye, but Whitney, his talented sister Whitney who last he heard had secured a place of Apprenticeship in Celadon’s Gym even without Affinity, had been a year younger too.

Henry’s haughty Starter Nereida – a girl. A girl! – padded softly into the room, spared him a glance and leapt nimbly up on to his study table. Specifically on the other side of the room from the miniature bed he’d set up for her.

“Get some rest, ‘Reida. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The ludicrous stare he got in return could only mean one thing, even if Eevee were Normal types and out of his Affinity – you’re the one doing the walking. Fool.

 Which, he had to admit, was right. Damn.

“Fine, suit yourself then.”

The sky was clear tonight; the pale, clear light of the silver moon shone through his bedroom window. He could even see the stars. In Celadon, the light pollution was just enough that any stargazing had to be done from Lavender Town. And, to be honest, Lavender Town gave him the creeps.

Henry sat up, reached out far enough to flip the light switch, then laid his head down on his pillow again. The light was brighter this way. More ethereal.

So if he wanted to get any sleep at all he’d have to draw the curtains. That was fine by him. He wasn’t tired. Yet.

So Henry Lau of Celadon watched the stars in a foreign land, thinking of home and anticipating the events that had yet to come.

*

The second time in her life that Faye was leaving safe waters to spread her wings and fly.

Drumming her fingers absentmindedly against the table top – adagio, then allegro – she waited for the toast to finish toasting. A custom; she rose the earliest, and hence she was unofficially in charge of breakfast. She was fine with that; breakfast was easy. Toast, omelettes, waffles and pancakes on the weekends, and if they’d run out of supplies and hadn’t had time to get food, well, there was always cereal.

Henry did lunch, and if Zhou Mi could be extracted from his research then the professor cooked – or ordered in – dinner. Most of the time it was the latter, but the man could whip up a mean steamed egg dish.

As the toast popped up and she waited for it to cool, Faye opened the fridge’s freshly stocked berry compartment to make freshly-squeezed Berry Juice. Pecha for herself, of course, and a mix of Nomel and Oran for Henry – she remembered to set aside a Pecha berry, in case Henry found it too sour. She was horrible at tending Berry plants – even back home, the yield had always been unpredictable. In this case, unpredictably extreme. Her Mago berries were diabetes-inducing, and the Figy berries were so unbearably spicy that they’d covertly been sold off to the town baker at a discount. Only Henry, she suspected, could convince the little Berry garden out back to flourish properly.

Zhou Mi drank coffee; she’d the coffee maker before she started on the toast.

She set the two glasses of juice on the table, along with butter and a butter knife for the toast, as a bleary-eyed Henry shuffled through the archway.

“G’morning,” he yawned, rubbing away the last of the sleep-grit caught in his eyes. The chubby-cheeked boy plopped onto a chair and slumped forward, resting his head in his arms.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, brow raised.

“Nereida jumped on my stomach and went to sleep there,” he moaned, voice muffled by white sleeves. “At one in the morning.”

“Feed the Eevees, wouldja, Mochi?” Faye paused to pat him on the back, before darting out the room to find Zhou Mi. He must have fallen asleep in his study again. As always.

*

Raising Divisi had calmed Faye down some, Henry mused as he filled the two food bowls on the floor with pellets. She treated the Eevee like she would her own child, and maybe the additional responsibility had weighed her down some. She just didn’t seem as flighty as before. Or maybe she was just worried? After all, it was their first official day on their journey. Maybe, once they’d settled into a new routine, the old Faye would be back, with her overly exuberant greetings and bubbly laughter.

He secretly hoped he was right. Faye was supposed to be the bright and cheery ray of sunshine, here. Not him – definitely not him.

Henry crossed over to the doorway, and hollered, “Divisi! ‘Reida! Breakfast!”

The former of the two foxes scampered down the stairs, his eyes bright and aware. Nereida followed behind him about ten paces away, ears and tail droopy. The glare she shot at her trainer was positively livid.

“Well,” Henry shrugged, “I did tell you to sleep early.”

Nereida sniffed, turned up her nose, and walked past him to join Divisi at their feeding bowls. At around the same time, Faye walked out one of the ground level studies, her face torn between amusement and disapproval. Zhou Mi pushed out behind her soon after, his face sheepish and contrite. His black hair was ruffled, and – was that drool on his face?

“Fell asleep researching,” he muttered, cheeks turning red, and he hurried up the stairs to his room.

*

Before they left the safety of Shincho for the town next over, Professor Zhou Mi had taken the time to load off two leather-bound notebooks on them. For recording observations – anything they thought important.

“Like what it’s like, when we talk to our Affinity,” Henry suggested, before falling silent. Faye thought she could understand how he felt. There had been no Grass types within Shincho’s safe boundaries, and if it felt anywhere near as terrible as only getting to talk to the odd – concussed – Pidgey, then....

She came back from her zone-out to catch the professor nodding.

The baker’s younger son, a boy around their age called Joowon, stopped them on their way out with a gift of bread; about three loaves of mixed Berry bread. She hoped it wasn’t made of hers.

“They’ll last you about five days or so, at most,” he said solemnly. “Father doesn’t use preservatives, so they’ll turn a bit stale before then.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she chirped, grinning. “Thanks, Joowonnie.”

The boy flushed, jerked his head down into a nod, muttered his goodbyes under his breath, and hurried back to his father’s bakery. Henry surreptitiously rolled his eyes.

The two trainers turned to face each other, looked back once at the undisturbed peace of their second home, and stepped out of Shincho.

A/N:

Henry and Faye’s naming themes~

Henry Flowers

Faye Music(Idols + Songs +Terms)

Can anyone guess what drama Joowon the baker’s son is a reference to?