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Gate duty is pretty boring, mostly.
Wild Pokémon mostly leave the town alone these days. A big gathering of humans and Pokémon all grouped together, surrounded by walls and guards, just isn’t worth it to anything that isn’t completely desperate. Or a Bidoof. But Bidoof are easy to deal with, mostly, they’re so docile—you can just sort of pick them up and put them back outside and they’ll accept it. Might come back later, but at least you aren’t earning any bites for your efforts. The Security and Survey Corps come and go through the gate, but with the easily identifiable uniforms, all the guards need to do is give them a nod and let them through. The Gingko Guild has earned similar blanket permission. The others who inhabit Hisui have seemingly lost interest in Jubilife as long as it keeps to itself.
Or. Had lost interest, the guard amends, watching someone in distinctive Pearl Clan off-white approach them.
More details become clear as they get closer. What had at first seemed like one, intimidatingly large person reveals itself as a man—tall, but not strong, to the guard’s eyes—walking with a black-and-grey Pokémon that, uh. Taller than a person, fangs, massive pincers, a twitching forked tail sharp enough to stab and tear—the guard doesn't know what it’s called and does not care. Nope, nope, nope. Not messing with that today, thanks.
He takes a couple steps to the side, positioning the Pearl Clan member firmly between him and the unfamiliar Pokémon.
“Jubilife is closed to outsiders without permission,” he says, praying he doesn’t force the issue. “What’s your business here?”
His eyes hold no malice, but not anything else either. His face is so empty, it’s unnerving. There’s no indication of what he’s thinking. His mouth is turned down in a frown, but even that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I’ve heard your group can craft something known as Pokéballs,” is the answer.
Dragon’s almighty fire. Fuck. It’s one of those. And he brought something to fight with.
“Let me get my boss,” he replies, already backing away.
Kamado strides down the central street of Jubilife. Behind him, the guard follows, feeling considerably safer now that the Commander is in front of him.
The stranger from the Pearl Clan shows no indication of noticing their approach. He’s staring into one of the wooden beams of the gate, and doesn’t turn until Kamado stops and clears his throat. Then he looks over, blinking a couple times as though he’s just woken up.
Kamado wastes no time with pleasantries. “I’ve already told your leader: we do not use our Pokéballs out of a desire to control Pokémon, only to better live alongside them. The devices–”
“–can be released at any time from the inside, so that the Pokémon are never trapped. Thus they only remain inside when it is comfortable, convenient, or necessary. Pokémon theft relies on the principle of not alerting the Pokémon that their conductor has changed.” The strange man finishes Kamado’s explanation for him, tipping his hat at the end. “I’m familiar with the principles. I’m interested in observing exactly how they function.”
“Pokémon theft?” the guard echoes, but Kamado ignores it. He studies the man, frowning.
“I see you’re in possession of a Warden band. Are you here representing the Pearl Clan in an official capacity?”
The man chuckles—or, maybe that’s what he does? It’s strange, seeing someone laugh without smiling. “No. At the moment, I am simply Ingo. My clan is currently unaware of my detour.”
“Well, then, Ingo,” the commander echoes the name, matching it to the face, “we of the Galaxy Team are happy to demonstrate our innovations for you, provided you mean no threat to us or our village. However, I must ask that you leave that…” he searches for a name, doesn’t find it, and settles for gesturing at the beast still lurking behind him, “that, here, at the gates. Unrestrained Pokémon are not permitted to roam free unless their trainer can completely control them.”
The beast hisses, like it understood that, but Ingo straightens up a little and holds out one hand, and it settles down immediately. “Respectfully, I do not know how you intend for me to observe the workings of a Pokéball without a Pokémon to test it on. I assure you, I am one hundred percent confident in Gliscor’s operating abilities.”
Gliscor. Huh.
Kamado’s eyes narrow, but eventually he huffs. “Very well. Come this way, I’ll show you to one of our crafters.”
“Rei is a member of the Survey Corps. He isn’t our inventor of the Pokéball,” Kamado says, stopping in front of the craftworks, “but the Professor is busy at the moment, and he’s reasonably familiar with their construction and use. Rei, I’d like you to demonstrate how a Pokéball works.”
The boy—mid-teens, from the look of it—had been rummaging through a satchel when they approached, but now he stops, and looks between the Commander and Ingo a few times. “What, right now?”
Ingo nods. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Uh, no, sure!” He grabs something out of the satchel and bounces to his feet. “So, it… Pokémon can, uh, shrink themselves down…” he can’t seem to stop looking at the Commander, as if waiting for confirmation.
“The basic concept has already been explained to me. Perhaps you could walk me through how the different parts function?” Ingo suggests.
Rei blinks, and then focuses back down on the Pokéball in his hands. “Right, yeah, sure. Okay.”
He flips something up and the two halves of the ball separate, swinging open on a hinge. “So, this latch swings freely so it’ll close automatically when the top is nudged, but—see, here—there’s a pin on the inside that the Pokémon can push to release it. The whole thing is meant to be pretty simple so we can craft them in the field. When we use it to capture Pokémon, there’s a wooden bar, here, that can be broken, and that,” he closes it up again and rotates it to show a small hole in the top, “sets this off here, to let us know it worked. If the Pokémon doesn’t want to be captured, it’ll size up and…”
“…the ball will be broken and rendered useless,” Ingo finishes when Rei trails off. He holds out a hand. “May I see?”
After a moment of hesitation, he passes the ball over.
The other two watch silently as he studies the Pokéball. The perpetual frown on his face gets deeper, brow furrowing in apparent concentration.
“You’re certain these are not manufactured anywhere else in the world?”
They both blink.
“…yes? Not unless they have suddenly spread much further than we’re aware of.”
“But they would be a recent invention either way.”
“Yes, they were developed to help the Survey Corps with their-“
“Hmm.”
He turns it over, flicks the latch, scratches the wooden base for some reason—then sighs, and rolls it to an upright position in one hand with such ease you’d think he’d practiced.
He looks up, at the Commander and then Rei, holding it a little higher and more towards the Gliscor behind him. “May I?”
Rei looks at the Commander for confirmation—he nods—and then shrugs. “Sure, I have plenty.”
He holds it out to Gliscor, who pokes at it with a claw, tilting its head. Curious, but unsure.
“You accompanied me all this way, you may as well board it. I will not allow you to become trapped.”
It chitters once, and then enters the Pokéball, which opens and then clicks shut, the latch swinging down. A small firecracker goes off, making everyone except Rei lean back a bit in surprise. After another moment, it re-emerges only to chirp before disappearing again. Ingo laughs.
“Happy to have a comfortable car to board, are we?” He looks up at the other two again. “Is there somewhere I may purchase more of these?”
“…I suppose I can allow that.”
Choy’s as confused about the stranger from the Pearl Clan, who doesn’t seem alarmed at the concept of Pokéballs, as the rest of them. Even more so when Ingo sees the shopkeeper and immediately reaches into a pocket.
“How much for six?”
“…you want six?”
He pauses. “Ah, well, I suppose–“ he turns to Rei. “May I keep the one Gliscor is already riding in?”
“Uh, yeah, sure. It’s no good for fieldwork now anyway.”
“Five, then.”
Choy’s confused, but he’s not about to let it stop him from doing his job. “It’s, uh, 200 per, so… a thousand.”
Kamado clears his throat as Ingo counts out coins. “If I may… I thought your clan found the concept of Pokéballs distasteful. I’m not complaining, but… what brought about your change in view?”
“I couldn’t tell you for certain. The Pearl Clan seems to have some instinctive revulsion for the principle, but I find that same feeling lacking in myself. Ever since the Ginkgo Guild brought news of them, I have had a desire to see them for myself.”
“I… see.”
He pauses for a moment, looking up and fixing the side of the building with a stare that’s somehow both flat and frustrated. “Additionally, none of my partners are smaller than Gliscor.”
“…how many do you have?” Rei asks.
“Six.”
Nobody’s entirely sure how to respond to that. Ingo returns to counting, adding, “So you understand my desire to be able to keep them with me without causing a stir in the settlement.”
Kamado speaks after a moment. “Is that… a normal amount for wardens?”
“It is not.” He finishes gathering the thousand, and holds them out to Choy. “Apologies for the delay! The Pearl Clan has little use for money. This is what I’ve been able to save through my own trading with the Gingko Guild.”
While Choy counts it, he turns to Rei and holds an extra 200 out to him.
“Oh, no, that’s fine–“ Rei says, holding up his hands. When he doesn’t take it, Ingo simply reaches out, pulls one of his hands down, and places the money in it.
“I insist. It would be very rude of me to simply take your hard-crafted items without paying.”
“Uh- okay, thanks!” Mentally, Rei adds polite and stubborn to his list of things he knows about this warden.
Kamado accompanies Ingo back out of town, insisting on seeing him off. Half of it is simply wanting to make sure he’s really gone.
Ingo hasn’t stopped staring at the Pokéball still held in his hand. “Did you mention that the creator of these devices was in your village?”
“He is, yes. Professor Laventon pioneered the device for his research—he heads the Survey Corps. He’s… a very busy man.” Kamado keeps his tone carefully neutral.
“Perhaps a meeting could be arranged at some point? I think it’s admirable work that your Survey Corps is doing. It would be a wonderful thing if people and Pokémon could work in harmony. If this is your Professor’s goal, I would very much like to meet him.”
That gets Kamado’s hackles up, but he’s good enough by now at smoothing over his emotions in this area. “I imagine you two would get along… quite well, if that’s your attitude,” he manages.
“These inventions are a great help in that regard, as well. They are…” he frowns even deeper than his normal, running his finger along the carved wood. “I wonder if it’s an alternate material…”
He lets himself look over for a moment. “This seems like… more than idle curiosity for our crafting.”
Ingo sighs at that. The sound is so deep, honest and exhausted that it startles him a little. “You’re correct. I…” he pauses, apparently gathering his thoughts. “I am a warden of the Pearl Clan, it’s true, but I am not originally of Hisui. I’m uncertain, in fact, where exactly I am from. I awoke in the highlands with no memories, and it was pure luck that Lady Sneasler found me. I’ve searched for leads everywhere I can as to where I came from, with no luck… the Guild does not recognize any of my strange mannerisms, and nothing in your village feels familiar either. Except,” he twirls the ball, “when I first heard of these, I felt… some distant recollection, that I’d seen them before. But now I have one, and I’m no closer to catching that line. Only a strange sense that… the make of these is not what I was expecting, somehow.”
Well, that explains why you’re so strange, Kamado thinks, but doesn’t say. I find it hard to believe the Pearl Clan trusted someone like you with such a respected position. Not when they have no way of knowing your intentions. You could be lying, or have something awful buried in that void. What were they thinking?
“Must be difficult, not knowing your past,” is what he says out loud, and that’s true enough.
Another, less heavy sigh. He doesn’t seem to mind—or maybe notice—the Commander studying him, taking in the slant of his shoulders and the distant, almost vacant look in his eyes. “I have nothing to complain about. I am alive, and to the best of my knowledge, whatever I am missing cannot be… terribly important. Not with how little it's left behind.”
The tone of his voice has shifted from what it was before, Kamado notes. Less inflection to it.
He’s lying. The paranoid part of his mind threatens to run away with that, but Kamado reins it in.
They’ve just about reached the gate by this point. He turns halfway and tips his hat. “Thank you very much for your time, Commander.”
Kamado nods back, only half listening. He watches the Warden leave with narrowed eyes.