Chapter Text
Today is Black’s seventeenth birthday.
His fingers tremble as he clumsily zips up his jacket, adjusts his cap. Tries to find his shoes. Fails to do so. Fiddles with the frayed edges of his scarf before carefully wrapping it around his neck.
Today is Black’s seventeenth birthday. Today is also the day he's been preparing for many, many years.
“Are you alright?” Hitomi asks from across the room, voice worried. Her speech is generally clumsy and sometimes cracks into a growl before she can finish a sentence, but it's comprehensible enough, and honestly, Black couldn't care less; she makes his life so much easier that the small language barrier isn't even an issue anymore, hasn't been for years.
Black hears the pitter-pat of her delicate paws, the clattering of blunt claws on the floor, and starts when she nudges his leg. He twists his face into something he hopes resembles a smile. It probably doesn't come even close, but he tried and therefore should not be judged.
He kneels down on the floor and reaches out his hand, palm outward. The Lillipup mercifully strains her neck to meet his hand halfway, leans into the gentle touch. Black's head-rubs are the best, he never forgets to scritch behind her ears, but, right now, Hitomi isn't comforted by the expert petting.
“No,” the boy admits. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want to make White feel bad. It’s her big day.”
“She's too excited to feel bad,” Hitomi mutters. Black doesn’t answer.
Right on cue, the bedroom door flies open with a slam and Black winces – he can almost hear the paint crumbling off the wall. “White,” Hitomi informs him. Black turns to face the doorway, attempting a smile once again, hoping desperately she won't see right through it.
“Hey, baby brother,” his sister quips cheerfully and crosses the room to sit herself on his bed. She grabs Black's hand and places it on her shoulder; the gesture makes the smile on Black’s lips feels less forced, a little more genuine. He tugs at her hair. It’s grown so long. It's soft, too; she must've brushed it for a change. He bets it looks beautiful.
“You’re only thirteen minutes older than me,” Black reminds his sister and she laughs, a short, sweet sound.
“We don’t have time for your smartassery,” White quips playfully and stands, tugging him along. “Come on, everyone’s waiting on you.”
Black’s gut twists. This is one birthday-slash-leaving-home-party he really wouldn’t mind skipping. White’s cheerfulness only makes it worse and he kind of hates himself for thinking like this because, well, it’s his twin sister whom he adores and worships, but he kind of hopes she would just be more considerate. The thing is - he's prepared himself for this, he knows he can't have Pokémon, blindness and Pokémon Training don't really mix. But that doesn't mean he's still not kind of hurt about this - about how his sister gets to live her dream while he... well. Doesn't. Celebrating it in such a festive way is like rubbing salt into the wound.
But he doesn't say any of this, never has. Ever the wet blanket, Black just kind of lets her drag him down the stairs without complaints. Hitomi scuttles after them, eyeing White disdainfully.
“Be careful,” the Lillipup mutters irritably.
“Oh come on, it's not like he can't go down stairs without hurting himself,” White chirps back at Hitomi and reaches down to ruffle her head. “You’re his guide Pokémon! Guide him, if you're so worried!”
“White don’t take your hand away-!” The sudden disappearance of the hand pulling him along throws Black off balance, the momentum getting the better of him, and he stumbles, just barely managing to grab a hold of the railing. Hitomi barks in alarm, White just giggles and goes “whoops”, and, wow, that can’t be an acceptable way to react to your blind brother almost breaking his neck.
“Oh gosh – Black! Did you hurt yorself?” The familiar voice of Bianca comes from right next to him. A pair of soft hands reaches up to grab Black’s face as he clings to the railing like it's his lifeline, heart thumping in his chest.
“I’m fine, Bianca,” Black assures the girl and tries to half-heartedly bat her invading hands away from his jaw as he peels himself off the wall. “You can let go of my f-face, um, if you want?”
Bianca keeps fussing over him until White, in a rare fit of mercy, tugs her away. Black cautiously walks down the rest of the stairs, immediately feeling his gut clench at the loud ripple of conversation floating in the living room. He's never done well in social situations, much less when there's this many people. But he's going to be fine. It's all fine.
Someone bumps into him and a pair of unfamiliar hands grip his shoulders to steady him. "Sorry, lad," the man's voice says - Black thinks it might be Cheren's dad, but he's not too sure. He tries to tell him it's okay but finds he can't really move at all, it's loud, it's too loud, someone's asking him something and it's probably Professor Juniper -
it’s a mess of voices, he can’t focus, he doesn’t know which voice belongs to who and someone’s touching him, grabbing at his arm, and he doesn’t know who it is, Hitomi’s growling at them to back off and he tries to take a step back but there’s something blocking his way, it might be a chair - what the hell is a chair doing there?
“Guys, can you please give him some space!” White's voice snaps, cutting through Black's stupor.
The invading hands let go, replaced by his sister's familiar arm around his shoulders, her scent washing over him. Black’s hands are shaking, just a bit, and his heart's beating in his ears a little too loudly. Hitomi’s at his feet, her shoulder pressing against his leg, a comforting, familiar weight. Black realizes uneasily that people staring at him. He can’t see them, but he can feel the eyes on him, boring into him.
Black loathes being the center of attention. He swallows thickly.
“I’m – I’m okay,” he says reassuringly, both to himself and his sister. To be honest, mostly himself. He forces out a smile and gently removes White's arm from around himself.
“Um, hello, everyone? Everyone being…”
“Cheren, Bianca, Professor, your mother, Bianca’s mother, Cheren’s parents,” Hitomi murmurs, and Black nods in acknowledgement, biting his lip.
“Hi,” he repeats awkwardly. “Sorry a-about. Um. Er, carry on.”
No one answers - no one probably even heard him. Black sighs in relief.
Honestly, he thinks it's a bit cruel he was forced to attend this little get-together, because, well. Aside from his aversion towards parties of any kind, there's still the... thing.
Black keeps telling himself he's happy for his sister. Really! He is! She’s his sister and he adores the ground she stands on, and he wants White to have everything she wants! He’s also happy for Cheren and Bianca, even if Cheren is kind of a douche. They’re his friends and they're getting the chance to live every kid’s dream. Everyone will look up to them. They’ll have so many friends. They’ll be respected and
and all Black will get is left behind.
But that’s just the way things are. Just have to get through this and he can retire back to his solitude.
“Well then,” Professor Juniper says then, effectively shutting everyone else up. Black likes her voice. It’s strong. It’s the kind of voice that carries conversations, the kind people want to listen to. “Let's get this party started, shall we? First off - Black.”
Oh no. This conversation is not a thing Black’s very eager to have.
White grabs his hand. Her nails dig into his palm.
“We all admire your strength, Black, and we want you to know we’ve got your back. If you ever need help, all you have to do is say the word.”
It’s like she’s quoting a guidebook on how to deal with disabled children. It would be really sort of amusing if Black didn’t feel like he was about to cry.
“You get to pick first,” Bianca chirps.
Wait.
Hold up.
“Pick what?” Black blurts, whipping around to face White. He can almost feel her grin as she gently guides his hand to touch something smooth, and round - a Poké Ball.
“Your starter, dork,” White says brightly and buries her face into his neck affectionately. “Happy birthday, loser. You’re picking a Pokémon and we're gonna go adventuring.”
“I can't go a-adventuring what're you t-talking about,” Black blurts out, all conversational intelligence, and he doesn't get it. People are chuckling and their mom is ruffling his hair and someone he thinks is Cheren’s dad is slapping his back and do they not understand he’s on the verge of a panic attack here. A Pokémon journey? This must be some kind of a sick joke, he would not put that above White, but how did she get everyone in town in on it?
Black’s mom pulls him aside by his shoulders, runs her fingers along his cheek. Black dislikes people touching his face, but their mother’s soft, thin pianist fingers are cool and comforting, and if he really strains, Black can almost remember the way her auburn hair frames her face, dark eyes warm with love.
“Happy birthday, baby,” she says softly, voice thick and oh God is that a sob, that’s a sob, we have sobbing, ladies and gentlemen. Black has to blink back tears of his own. “I know you weren’t expecting this, but… I trust you and I trust White and I’m sure you’ll do good. You have all of us backing you up. We... I wanted to give you this, Black, because there's so much, so much I haven't been able to give you. And for that I'm sorry. I hope you don't hate me for it.”
That part about blinking back tears? Yeah, not going so well.
"M-mom," he says a bit brokenly, then falls silent. He hopes she hears everything he can't say - and judging from the way her hand tightens on his shoulder, she does.
White has been watching the silent exchange, and gently grabs her brother’s hand and places in it one of the Poké Balls Juniper brought over. It's oddly heavy. He runs a finger over the polished metal.
“There’s three starters,” Juniper says, her voice warm with mirth. “Water, fire and grass, as is customary. Your friends and sister have decided to let you take your pick first.”
Black blinks.
“But… there’s f-four of us,” he says in a small voice and pulls his hand back worriedly. This whole thing, honestly, it’s just too good to be true. Juniper wouldn’t just… give away a valuable rare Pokémon to a kid who needs a fucking cane and a guide Pokémon to go outside.
“That's been taken care of,” Juniper assures him. Black hesitates, then reaches up to again brush his fingertips against the cool, smooth surface of the Poké Ball White handed him.
He crouches and reaches out a hand. Hitomi is there in an instant, her cool nose nudging Black’s fingers, assuring him she’s there.
“H-how about this one, then?” Black asks, his voice choked and chest feeling tight. Hitomi noses at the Poké Ball resting on his palm.
“Approved,” she says, and watches Black press the button, feeling just as nervous as he does.
With a flash of light an Oshawott bursts out from his confinement. Hitomi immediately thinks it must be the goofiest-looking thing she's ever settled her eyes on. The Water-type wobbles on his feet and blinks, confused, black eyes darting from person to person to Hitomi until they settle on Black. The water-type tilts his head and offers a sharp-toothed smile, one that Black doesn't get to witness.
Oshawott chirps out a greeting.
“Hi,” Black offers.
The silence that follows is rather awkward.
“I’m Black.”
Another chirp, followed by more tense silence. This is going swimmingly, Hitomi thinks.
“D-do you mind if I, err, touch you?” the boy then manages, gesturing vaguely at his own face. “Only I can’t, uh, you know. See.”
The Pokémon blinks again and then raises his figurative eyebrows, tilting his head bemusedly.
"He's blind," Hitomi supplies in Poké speech to spare Black the embarrassment. "Let him touch you, it's the only way he'll have any idea what you look like."
Oshawott does a double-take, then chirrups. Hitomi translates that out loud as yeah, by all means, touch away, and Black reaches out gingerly, barely containing a flinch when his fingers meet the fine fur on the Pokémon’s side. It feels cool and slick under his fingertips, like there’s a wax coating. Black gently runs his fingers up Oshawott’s sides, down the arms to his small paws, brushing against the smooth paw pads and tiny little claws. Moves his fingers to the Pokémon’s belly, pausing to examine the coarse texture of the seashell, then reaches to run his fingertips along the leathery tail.
Oshawott looks vaguely uncomfortable, but allows the physical examination without squirming. He glances around uneasily and locks eyes with Hitomi.
“Hitomi, Black’s guide Pokémon,” she introduces herself coolly, feeling almost relieved to have someone to converse with in Poké speech. Human language is hard and makes her throat feel itchy.
“Wow, like, you tell him when he’s about to fall down the stairs and stuff?”
Hitomi translates that bit, and Black giggles in a very undignified way. “She tries. Do you mind if I pick you up?”
Oshawott answers by climbing up his sleeve and clinging to it with his sharp little nails.
Cheren and Bianca are arguing about the two remaining Pokémon and White is animatedly chatting with professor Juniper and Bianca’s mother - everyone's being conciderate, Black realizes, and letting him bond with his new companion in peace. He stands up, Oshawott carefully cradled in his arms, and makes his way to his sister and the professor. White proceeds to coo at Oshawott, and Juniper puts a firm hand on Black’s shoulder. She’s the only one besides his sister who does that every time - touching him when she’s speaking to him. He likes it, likes how it makes him feel more included, to know they’re talking to him, and not at him.
“Oshawott is a good Pokémon,” Juniper says. “I’m sure you’ll get along great. Oh, and-“ her hand leaves Black’s shoulder only to grab his and place in it a frighteningly light and expensive-feeling, rectangular piece of equipment. “This is your Pokédex.”
Black takes in a sharp breath. “You’re giving me a Pokédex? Are you sure?”
“This one has been designed to specifically suit your needs. It has a voice command and all the recorded data can be read out loud. Unfortunately this is still the prototype, so it can't, for example, tell you what move a Pokémon is currently using. We're still working on that.”
“It’s okay,” Black assures, smiling gratefully. “Thank you s-so much. I'm, I'm just so grateful you've d-done all of this for me."
Oshawott trills cheerfully and starts chewing on the edges of Black's scarf. The boy carefully pries them away from the Water-type's sharp teeth, but can't hold back a small happy grin. "D-does he have a name?"
Juniper hums thoughtfully. “No, he doesn’t. You can give him one if you so wish.”
“Uh…” Black tilts his head at the Pokémon in his arms. “How would you feel about that?”
Oshawott shrugs.
White giggles, materializing from apparently nowhere to pet Black's new partner's head. Oshawott lets out a slightly confused chirp, and, seeming to deem White's petting adequate, leans into her touch. “You shouldn’t let Black name you. He’s lame, he'll call you something stupid that has to do with water mytology.”
Black tries to look offended, but honestly, he’s feeling a bit too elated to manage that. This whole thing just feels too good to be true. He can’t stop hugging Oshawott closer to his chest, which the water-type doesn’t seem to mind, honestly, and he’s pretty sure he’s grinning like an idiot.
“Black!” Bianca chirps excitedly and skips to his side. Hitomi glances up at her - she's holding a slightly uneasy-looking Tepig. “Wow, your Oshawott is cute! Not as cute as my Tepig, though. So, how about a battle?”
“Great idea!” White cries while her brother squeaks out a “What, now?” Oshawott perks up at the word ‘battle’ and tries to squirm out of Black’s hold, chirping eagerly and honest-to-god making grabby paws at Bianca's Tepig, Hitomi is amused to note. And, well, there’s really not much Black can do to fend off the pair of girls dragging him along, except mumble an “um, okay then,” and hold his new partner closer to his chest. On the other hand, these are all baby Pokémon and can’t really hurt each other too bad, but then again the last time Black actually saw a Pokémon battle he was six. He really has no idea what he’s supposed to do, and even if he did, he can’t actually see what’s happening on the battlefield, and he anxiously admits this to the Oshawott who’s kind of vibrating in his arms in excitement.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle this!” is the translated answer he gets, and, well, okay then.
“You kids take this outside,” Black’s mother cuts in. “You’re not having a battle in the living room.”
So out the kids take it. The parents follow their offspring with poorly hidden interest, drinking lemonade and making idle conversation and clearly just as excited about the Pokémon as their children are.
"They grow up so fast," Bianca's mother sighs, earning a chorus of mumbled agreements.
It’s a relatively beautiful early autumn morning. Nuvema town is basking in cool gray sunlight, the air is crisp but warm enough to be pleasant. Black can taste the dew still hanging in the air, feel the slippery grass underneath his shoes and the bubbling excitement in his chest.
Bianca pulls him along to the back yard, where there’s a field of grass and flowers and a couple of old apple trees. They're in full fruit, Black can tell from the smell. Cheren and White trail after them, Cheren’s newly acquired Snivy still in her Poké Ball. On White’s shoulder, Hitomi tells him, is perched an Emolga, and, well, that answers the question of not enough starter Pokémon for everyone. Black is glad. He's very much aware about his sister's love for electric-types.
“Okay, Black, stay there,” Bianca instructs him and hops back, the warmth of her leaving his side. “I’m gonna let Bo out now and you just tell me when you’re ready!”
“Bo?”
“I nicknamed him. Isn’t it cute?”
Oshawott snorts and shares an amused glance with Hitomi.
The Tepig sends their way a glare frightening enough to paralyze, but the water-type shrugs it off with a toothy smirk. Hitomi nods at him approval before returning to Black's side - she could get used to this little guy. He's got spirit.
“Okay, um, I guess go, Oshawott, then?” Black stammers, and is really happy to feel Hitomi’s familiar weight against his leg. If this goes to hell in a handbasket, at least he’ll have the Lillipup to cover his ass.
Oshawott goes. Bo lets out a squeal when the water-type hits him with a full-body tackle, knocking him to the grassy ground and quickly hopping to the side, dodging the kick the Tepig aims at him in retaliation. He turns towards Black, awaiting instructions, commands, before remembering he’s pretty much on his own. The moment of distraction is enough for Bo, who takes the opening and slams into Oshawott. The water-type cries in surprise, and the sound makes Black flinch.
What’s going on, this was a stupid idea, is Oshawott okay, what’s happening, he can't see-
“Tepig tackled him, he’s down, not hurt, there’s two feet between them, Tepig’s dazed, needs to recover from the tackle.”
Hitomi’s soft voice breaks through Black’s panicking, and he blinks. “Oh,” is all he manages at first, but then says, in what he hopes is a loud, clear voice; “Oshawott, don’t let him recover, tackle now!”
Oshawott obeys without hesitation and quickly hops back on his feet, gathers his strength and once again goes for a tackle. This time it sends Bo flying, and he hits the ground with an undignified yelp.
“Oh no!” Bianca cries while Hitomi calmly describes what’s happening, in a low voice only Black can hear. It only takes one more swiftly delivered tackle to knock Bianca’s Tepig out, and Oshawott skips back to his trainer, panting from the exertion but mostly unharmed and grinning. He's squealing loudly, and Black doesn't need Hitomi to translate it to know what he's saying.
“You kicked butt,” Black says and he knows he's smiling with all his teeth and that he looks like an utter dumbass, but he can't find it in himself to care. “Hitomi told me what was happening.”
“Guess she’s not as useless as she looks, then.”
“Careful,” Hitomi growls.
Black fumbles to pick Oshawott up, hands trembling and tears threatening to spill. He'd never... he hadn't really expected to ever get to experience a Pokémon battle, at least not after his, well. Condition, you might call it, became apparent, and he'd honestly kind of accepted it by now. And yet. There was Bianca cuddling her dazed Tepig whom Black's own Pokémon had just beaten, in an actual battle, with actual Pokémon. This is indeed a thing that has just happened.
"Wow, Black!" White whistles and walks to her brother's side. "That was cooool! I'm gonna hug you now." And she proceeds to do just that. Oshawott gives a distressed squeak from where he's sandwiched between the twins. Bianca giggles and pats Black on the cheek gently. "You're gonna be an awesome trainer someday, I can tell!"
Cheren scoffs and adjusts his glasses. "Beginner's luck," he mumbles, and flinches like a loser when Bianca shoots him a piercing glare.
"How about you battle him then?" White challenges, adjusts Black's cap and gently shoves him forward. "Come on, hot-shot, let's see how you handle it."
Cheren looks at Black who's biting his lip. He then nods, with confidence he doesn't really feel at all, but, well.
"Fine." The black-haired boy adjusts his glasses and grabs Snivy's Poké Ball.
Oshawott hops down and proceeds to mow the lawn with Cheren's Pokémon. The battle sets records in being the shortest battle to have ever been battled.
No, not really. Snivy puts up a good fight and Oshawott only barely manages to slam him into the ground, but Black has to admit that first one would've really shown Cheren.
The rest of the day is spent like that - battling and messing around and playing, and for once in his life, Black feels invincible.
- - -
The air is crisp and tastes of salt, smells like fallen leaves and seaweed. Black can hear the distant roar of the ocean. The wind has died down but it’s getting colder by the minute; it must be a beautiful sunset.
Black and White sit together, on the roof of their house. Their mother hates it when they do that. Says they’re gonna loosen the paneling. And it’s not like Black can really appreciate the view, or that White really cares about it, but they both welcome the fresh air and the privacy.
Kiki (White's Emolga, who, apparently, is just as fiesty as the girl herself) is snuggled on her trainer’s lap, munching on a berry and enjoying the belly rubs White’s giving her. They’ve really bonded. Not that Black and Nix (his Oshawott; the name was honestly just to spite White) don't get along, but they just. Need to get used to each other.
“So, leaving tomorrow, huh,” Black says. His conversional skills really need some fining.
White chuckles. “Yeah,” she just says, and doesn't make fun of his illiteracy, so Black can tell she has something on her mind. He doesn’t ask, just waits patiently.
“Are you… are you sure you’re going to be okay, Black?”
Black smiles softly. “Are you worried about me, sister dear?”
“Well duh. How can I not?”
It’s meant to be playful, but it makes Black feel really guilty. White has always been kind of chained to him, and it’s not like she’s ever seemed to mind, but they both know - at least Black thinks she knows - he's been holding her back ever since they were kids. And now, even when he’s been given this opportunity he thought he’d never have, he realizes – he still is. White still feels like she's responsible for him.
"White..." he starts, but can't find the right words. So he goes for the wrong ones. "I don't think we should travel together."
Black can tell when a silence is a shocked one.
"I mean," he rushes to correct, "You're gonna go places. You might even get to the League, you're really good, you beat me and Cheren and Bianca so many times today, and... I'm just. Well. I mean," he fiddles with his sleeves; White's hand on his shoulder feels heavy, the grip like iron. "It's okay for you, to, um, be selfish for once. I'll be fine."
The silence is only broken by the distant crashing of waves. Black can feel his sister's hand slowly slipping from his shoulder.
"Thank you," she says softly, and it's exactly what Black expected to hear.
So why does he feel so hurt?