The Other Side

The Other Side
Sequel to The Other

He is the lonely boy that sleeps quietly beneath the slab of marble, without a name. He can't remember anything, except the sound of beeping, the sting of a needle in his arm tying him to life-nourishing fluids, the rustle of doctors and Pokemon around the bed, and the warmth clutched in his hand.

All he knows is himself, that he is currently 10 years old, has gray-eyes and messy gray hair and strange little arrow-like sideburns that creep up the side of his face.

And- he's cold. Of course, that could be attributed to the fact that he was completely naked. He wasn't sure where he was, except it was dark and quiet and there was nothing but the faint outline of a velvet ceiling just inches away from his nose. The strange sensations he felt eight years ago seem so far away, and by now, he has forgotten the voices of the doctors and the concerned chirping and humming of the large pink and cream colored Pokemon lumbering around his bedside. But he remembers the warmth, tied in his hand. And he also remembers when they forcibly pried his cold, unmoving fingers from the warm ones, and carried him away to another room.

And honestly, he hadn't expected to ever see the light of day again, he was simply trapped far too deep.

There are others. They come and go on the surface above him, stopping here and there, but never where he is. He is truly alone, and many times, he wants to scream and shout 'I'm here' and get SOMEBODY's attention.

But nobody looks his way, and no one stops to glance at him.

It is a bright, sunny day today. There are fewer people than usual wandering the ground above his head. Lately, there have been fewer and fewer people coming around. He wonders why. The roar, click-clacking, and the thundering off in the distance that he's so fond of have been occurring less and less as well. He thinks there might be a connection, but he is unsure how he knows.

But today feels very different. He feels a little warmer than before- he was always so cold. He decides to try again and escape today, so he pushes his hands up against the velvet ceiling, and to his surprise, they sink through, where before, they had stood firm. Elated, his sits up quickly in his excitement and instead of hitting his head like he anticipated, he is suddenly seeing a sea of brown. At first he is confused. Where was this? Where were the people and the presences that he should be seeing? Then he laughs at himself for being so silly. He could still feel them- they were higher than this. Very much higher. Maybe they were in the sky, like the angels that woman always talked about? So he experimentally flails his arms a little, and feels himself rise a little. Grinning at the unexpected surprise, he flails harder, waving his arms up and down as if he had wings. Slowly but surely, he is rising through the brown- it is some sort of crumbly, yet solid substance and he briefly wonders what it is called, but none of it stops him from ascending faster and faster.

When he erupts into through the darkness, he is very nearly blinded by the world. Nearly.
Except that there is a shadow cast over him- protectively hiding him from the suddenness of the light and the colors.

That shadow belonged to the person standing in front of him- and the boy holds back a gasp of wonder.

They look exactly alike.

He can't help it, but he giggles when the reflection turns in wonder at the blasting sound that cracks through the sky, and for the first time, he sees that the sound belongs to a large brown box sliding across a strange pattern along the ground. It is slowly moving towards and disappearing into a pitch black hole. He loved it too, the call that split across the silence that was his life. But soon, his attention is back upon his the boy who looks just like him- except the other is real… and he is not. Well, maybe at one point, he was real, but now he isn't. It all made very little sense, but it wasn't like he could put those thoughts into sounds anyways.

Although, now that he looks closer- the Other is a little different. Not only is he smartly dressed in a plain white shirt and black shorts, he also wears a black newspaper boy's cap. The boy wishes he could have such cools things too!

And before he knows it, he too, has a matching set, just like the Other! The boy twirls around in delight, smiling widely for several seconds before abruptly frowning.
Something wasn't right. Reaching up, he seizes the hat and holds it up to his eyes. So dark…

He looks down to his shorts as well. They are the same color as the Other's! He pouts and stamps a foot childishly. He is his own person! He isn't this Other, he is… he is…
Who was he, anyways?

The Other is looking determinedly at the flat decorated stone that marked where he lived. What was he thinking? The boy cocks his head to the side curiously. The Other speaks only a single word though- and yet, somehow, the boy feels like the answer to his long lost question has almost been answered, yet, not quite.

"Emmet"

He blinks, and as if to emphasize his point, the other boy raises his arm and points his index right at the stone.

The boy understands. The Other is talking to him. But what did 'Emmet' mean? He is confused, but the Other seems satisfied with himself, allowing a smile to break across his solemn face for the first time.

"And I am Ingo."

He really doesn't understand… but he tries very had to keep those two lines in his mind and heart. They are important- he knows it, but while he can't understand, all he can do is keep the sounds in his mind and try to figure them out later.

Then the other boy holds out a strange red and white ball, and in a flash of white, a strange little creature with large white claws and a dull brownish-gray coat is standing in front of his marker.

"Write his name. Emmet. E-M-M-E-T" The other boy commands, and the little creature obliges, clenching the claws into one strong point before digging the edge into the stone.

The boy watches as the creature draws some strange symbols onto his stone. There were already words there, he couldn't read them, but he was now rapidly making connections. For every word the creature wrote, the other boy would recite another sound. Was he, perhaps… giving him something?

He furrows his brow and strains to listen, hoping the other will say it again.

"It's perfect, Drilbur." The other boy states, recalling the creature in a beam of red. "Emmet…"

There! That was the third time- that strange word… e…emit? Emmit? Emm… et. Emmet! There! That was it! He cheers silently for himself, the emotions slowly welling up and causing him to involuntarily do a little wiggle in mid-air.

Heheh… he rather likes the sound it makes. Yes… he will be Emmet. As if agreeing with his internal decision, the black color of his cap still in his hands and shorts slowly fades to gray, and then shortly after, to white. Emmet giggles because he loves this new color, and eagerly, he stuffs the hat back onto his head.

--

It is the time of red leaves and the creeping chill again. Fall- he thinks it was, that the Other had called it. Well- the Other had a name too, it was Ingo. In the years gone by, Emmet has come to a very important realization.

He is dead.

Nobody can see him except the occasional passing ghost Pokemon that stare at him strangely as he drifts by. Some are friendly, giving him a happy wave or a smile. Others, not so much, as he learned when a couple of candlesticks attempted to draw him towards a strange looking bulbous ghost with a purple fire coming out of its head and several black spindles topped with smaller flames sprouting from its underside.

He remembers all feeling being drained from him in that moment, and suddenly, he felt heavy, tired… so exhausted. The larger ghost starts to approach him lazily with a predatory swagger in its movements. It has a pair of wide yellow eyes, he notes, as the black spindles start curling themselves around his arm, slowly reeling him in.

Emmet is too tired to fight back, and wonders what the ghost wants with him anyways, when suddenly, a blurry figure slams straight into the approaching Pokemon and knocks it away, tearing the spindles roughly from his arm.

Emmet blinks, and suddenly, he can move again. To the side, he can see Ingo's intimidating posture, commanding his Fraxure to bite into the ghost's underside.

Emmet grimaces when he returns to reality, torn from his memories by the sudden glare of two giant yellow eyes in his face.

The ghost that his brother caught that day cackles maniacally, but merely playfully. And despite their rough beginning, Emmet knows he owes much to the Pokemon, Chandelure.  
It is well versed in the ways of the world, unlike Emmet, and he takes every opportunity to try and pry more information from the older ghost.

Today, Emmet has realized something. Ingo talks a lot to him. He speaks of many things, such as his dream for the two of them. Something about a 'Subway' and a new Battling Facility that would rival those of other regions. But Emmet doesn't know what those things are, no matter how hard he tries to understand them. Chandelure helps some times, but there is only so much a Pokemon can explain about the mechanisms of humans.

Ingo also shows him many things, whether or not Emmet is paying attention. He shows him a map of how the Subway would span Unova, and the people he would recruit. He shows him a floor plan of the old Subway standing in Nimbasa right now, and tells him their dream would start there. Ingo draws a circle on a sheet of paper, then an hourglass-like shape inside, not quite meeting at a point in the center but forming the edges of another smaller circle inside.

"It'll be the symbol of our Subway." Ingo explains, ever patiently, as he colors two parts of it blue.

Emmet nods, but remains forever confused.

"Chandelure, why does Ingo always talk to me if he can't see me?" He whispers one day.

It cackles briefly before replying, but there is an unpleasant look on its face. "Trainer Ingo… is… as humans would put it… not entirely in his right mind." Emmet gives him a blank stare and Chandelure hisses in annoyance. "It's a saying. In other words- he's crazy."
"He's not crazy, he's talking to me!" Emmet protests, but Chandelure raises an arm to stop him from continuing.

"But you do not… truly exist to him. Not you… the 'Emmet' he speaks to is not you."
He wants to stamp his feet on the air and argue further, but Chandelure is already drifting off, having been summoned by Ingo into battle. Emmet is left to wonder.

--

He doesn't want to hear the 'I told you so' coupled with the usual rasping laughter from his brother's Pokemon. But as he experienced the life he was never allowed to live, Emmet realized that his brother was a very lonely person. He didn't have friends. Anyone who tried was brushed off, cast away, and ignored because Ingo was too busy in his perfect fantasy world where Emmet was alive and by his side, and a brother was all he needs to complete his world.

Ingo was not a child anymore. And he, Emmet, is the same. If he is dead, he wondered why his spectral body continues to age. Chandelure had snickered quietly, and merely noted that there was something Emmet could not see, that bonded the two of them together. The bond of two having once been one. And so, while Ingo lived and age, so would he.

Emmet didn't understand, but maybe that was why only he and his brother looked alike and so few other humans in the world had their own look-alike. Their bond was special- and that was how that day, he'd come to know that it was time to go.

He loved Ingo. He truly did. And it was so agonizing watching his fully grown adult brother continue acting out two roles.

So silently, on that fall day, he finally departed from his brother's side. Chandelure merely gazed after him from afar with a knowing look in its eyes.

As a wandering spirit, there was no limits to where he could and couldn't go. Sometimes he would run into an individual with rare abilities, and they would immediately recognize him as a spirit. Sometimes they would chase after him with dangerous looking slips of paper, screaming about exorcism and the likes. Other times, they would politely nod, and some even prepared some fruits and burned incense. Emmet didn't mind, the incense was pleasant to smell even if these people didn't know him at all, and were simply being kind, even to the wandering dead.

It was one day, however, as he wandered up a strange old tower, that he found something interesting. A boy, perhaps in his mid-teens, stood at the foot of a grave. Perhaps it was the strange, foreign, and even naïve look in his green eyes that drew Emmet near. And to his surprise, the boy immediately spun around, piercing eyes staring right into his.

"… You are no longer human." The boy said, in a rushed, yet steady tone that betrayed nothing else but curiosity. "…A spirit. Have you been to many places?"

Emmet paused, not certain what to make of this situation. Most people who had the sense to see and acknowledge his existence certainly did not talk to him. But here was this boy, dressed plainly in a white collared shirt worn over a black one, and tan slacks. Tea green hair was bundled up in a pony tail that fell in a bushy mess to his back.

"I've been here and there." The boy continued. "You see, I've been asked by a man… to help him liberate Pokemon. And I've come so far. And yet, despite my resolve to see my goal finished… I feel as if there is… a mistake. That guy… and his Pokemon, who say nothing but love and good for him. I can't help but wonder if there is a chance that he… could be right? But no matter. I can't back down here. Do you see, here in my hands?"

The boy was clutching a battered and severely burnt Pokeball in his hands. Emmet could feel many things coming from it. Anger, betrayal, pride, despair…

"I will be blunt. I stole this Pokemon from his trainer." The boy said, with no remorse in his voice. "But… I failed to save it." With a shaking hand, he motioned toward the grave. "This Durant… despite its disadvantage in battle against a Heatmor… its trainer forced it to battle until it was too injured to continue. And over here, is a Trubbish I also failed to save. Some humans believe that Trubbish bring in nothing but filth and rot. Once in a while, cities hold major extermination events. This one was thrown into a fire pit to burn to death. I saved as many as I could, nursed back to health so many… but it is still not enough. I wonder… will they ever find peace? Will Pokemon truly find peace and happiness alongside humans? While there is doubt- I cannot… I will not fail."

Suddenly, from the corner of Emmet's eye, he saw a small movement. A small gray head poked out from behind the grave, and both his and the boy's eyes widened.

The boy was on his knees suddenly, prostrate to the Pokemon's spirit, whispering in a broken voice, over and over again. "I'm sorry. I failed you."

From the other grave, a small figure also shyly peeked out. Again, the boy whispered his apologies. Emmet, however, slowly dropped to a squat, and reached out invitingly. Immediately, the Durant had snapped its pincers around his hand and bit down.

The boy's eyes were now fixed on him, fists at the ready, even though he knew it was impossible to interfere in the world of ghosts.

Undaunted, Emmet reached out with his other hand, while continuing to smile reassuringly to the Pokemon. The pincers tightened for a split second, before his other hand made gentle contact with the Pokemon's cold hard exterior.

"…It's okay. No more hurt." He whispered. Even the 'pain' in his hand was nothing but a cold ache. The dead could not feel pain. "Hehe… well, as long as you don't run into any Chandelures, that is."

"Hurt. Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt…" The ant Pokemon rattled off, its pincers still digging into his hand. Emmet merely continued his soothing gestures. "But it hurts so bad. Hurts so much. Why. Why did he…"

"He is not here." Emmet responded quickly, and he could feel the trap loosening as the Pokemon's rage turned to sorrow.

"Can you understand him?" Startled, Emmet turned back to the boy, whose piercing glance had not left him.

"It's death. We're equals." Emmet answered. Durant was clacking away- no doubt its species' way of vocalizing grief. Even then, he did not stop stroking it.

"…I see." The mysterious boy turned to where the Trubbish was still hiding. "Come here, friend." He said, holding out a hand invitingly. The Trubbish was instantly by his side, hopping up and down cheerfully as if it were not dead. "If you are here, then you cannot yet rest. What is it that you are searching for?"

The Trubbish burst into squeaks and trills as the boy listened intently. "I see. Then…" He turned to Emmet again. "I understand that you are dead. But I have a favor to ask of you."

"…What is it?"

"…It really is against my agenda, but I have no right to dictate any rules for the world of the dead, even if I do bring my dream to completion. And because these two seem to want to continue, to the best of their ability, their journey." The boy sighed, then gave the ghostly Trubbish a little push toward Emmet. Of course it went through its body but the Pokemon understood and shuffled toward Emmet carefully. "If you could, take these two with you on your wanderings? You have a truly pure spirit, unlike most human spirits I've come across."

Emmet sighed, looking down at the Durant in his arms, then at the Trubbish, who offered him a small smile. "If they want. I don't mind."

The boy then smiled for the first time since Emmet had met him. "Thank you. My name is N, N Harmonia. You are…?"

"I am Emmet." He responded automatically.

"Then, I will entrust these two to you, Emmet. Farewell."

As N got up to leave, two more ghostly figures skittered around his feet, and stopped at Emmet's. A Tynamo and a Galvantula. Both were chattering away, and Emmet needed no translation.

--

All over the world, they wandered aimlessly, without direction or guide, but all journeys wrap around one day, and Emmet could not have known about the other worlds across the seas, but when spring rolled in to Nimbasa, he too, followed with his four companions.

The Trubbish bouncing along at his feet was a rather perky fellow. Even its gruesome death hadn't put a damper on its personality.

The Durant was solemn, quiet, and rarely spoke, except to make mournful keening sounds now and then. Traveling had soothed its sorrow but Emmet could tell the Pokemon was still torn by its trainer's betrayal.

Tynamo had apparently died in an accident, along with its trainer. It spoke fondly then and now about a 'Rebecca' and hoped one day, when it completed the journey they could not together, that it could meet her again.

And lastly, Galvantula had been a very recent death, like Trubbish and Durant. It spoke of strange garbed people who had convinced his trainer to release it into the wild. But it had been bred and born in a day care center, and knew nothing about the wild, and one day, a Braviary swiftly ended its life.

But most importantly, they were his precious friends and traveling companions. Who cared if they were all dead? In a sense they still existed, so while it was so, they should enjoy it! There was no limits to where they could go, what they could do, except-

A cold stab of loneliness struck Emmet's heart, swift and sharp like a dart. It did not fade, either, only growing faster and faster, almost as if he were being submerged into freezing cold water. With a cry of pain, he fell to his knees, and was immediately surrounded by his Pokemon. There was the sharpest, crushing pain in his ribs- and his leg felt almost dislocated. His arms too, he could barely feel them…

A dull ache brought him out of his sudden stupor, and he saw Durant with his jaws tightly snapped on his hand. "Durant? I… what… happened?"

Ingo.

How long had it been since he'd thought of his other half? His brother? The one who named him? The one who freed him from his grave where he'd been trapped for so long…

Ingo…

Ingo!

Like a mantra, it rang endlessly in his mind and panic began racing through his veins. Ingo. Something was horribly wrong with Ingo. This was no time to be on his knees! Emmet ignored the stabbing pain assaulting him from every direction, and wobbled to his feet. Ingo needed him. But where? Where would Ingo be right now, there was a whole world out there and Ingo could be everywhere and anywhere and, and, and…

The old subway.

It came to Emmet suddenly, in an inspirational flash. The trains, the way Ingo spoke so passionately about them all the time to the imaginary Emmet, the whistle that kept him sane knowing there was a world out there while he lay buried so far deep below.

In a way, his life started with the train and now… Emmet ran. He ran and ran, only looking back to make sure his Pokemon were keeping up. They were family too. Family shouldn't abandon family. Even if his mother did.

Cold beeping. Nurses. A shrill cry, so full of pain and raw grief. And then the beeping ceased and fell into a monotone line. Light became dark. Cold. So cold.

Even if he'd nearly done so to Ingo. He would rectify it.

He held the last bastion of warmth in his hand, and despite how hard he tried, it was pried from his still, cold digits. And then he was lost.

There! The tracks! If he followed the tracks they would certainly take him to the Subway. To Ingo. Faster and faster. Almost like he was flying. Durant, Trubbish, Tynamo, and Galvantula were all behind him, hot on his heels. But it wasn't fast enough. Faster! Faster!

Emmet growled in frustration, closed his eyes, and tried to recall what it was like- those box like machines that'd roared over the tracks mere yards away from where he lay buried. But no- not those ugly brown, rusty things. He wanted- no, he needed something swift AND beautiful. Silver was a good color, it was smooth and professional. Sleek so it could cut through the air as it raced along the tracks. Anything to make it faster, faster. He could almost see it coming together, the magnificent cars, linked to each other, gliding effortlessly. A truly magnificent combination! The full and throaty roar of the horn rang out, alerting any and all bystanders that the train was crossing. Elated, Emmet looked around him at the miracle he was weaving. It was finally coming together. For so long, he'd forgotten Ingo's dream. Their dream. And Ingo had tried so hard, for so long to bear the burden on his own. No more. Emmet wouldn't let him continue on by himself anymore! He would show his brother that he could be helpful too, that Ingo didn't have to take everything on by himself.

After all, the combination of two beings was an infinitely beautiful thing to Emmet. And victory was even sweeter.

Of course, no train was complete without its conductor. Like so long ago, when Ingo had first appeared before him, Emmet pulled off his white paperboy's hat and gazed upon it fondly. But he was not a little boy anymore. Even if he was dead. It was time to grow up even if it was already too late. Slowly, the hat began to shift, fabric folding and the visor extending further slightly. Two dull orange bands wrapped around the base where cloth and visor met, and a round badge bloomed over the center. Upon it, was the symbol Ingo had drawn out for him, so long ago…

He placed the finished hat on his head, and looked down at his clothing. He'd eventually traded out his white shorts for slacks as well when Ingo had. But it was time for the suspenders to go, really. And oh! Perhaps a tie. With the same color blue as Ingo had used in the symbol. Gracefully, it slid around his neck and wrapped itself into the perfect knot. And lastly… Emmet thought long and hard. A coat… white… and maybe the same dull orange color of his cap, patterned like railroad tracks. Railroad tracks, perfect! Emmet applauded himself as he continued. Long sleeves, forming a slight bell shape at the end, encompassed by large cuffs also taking after railroad tracks. Four large silver buttons. A pair of gloves. It all appeared to him, falling into their rightful places, snug on his body and on his hands.

The city streets and sights were merely a passing blur, and when it all went dark, Emmet wasn't worried. Tynamo and Galvantula, moving at speeds equal to the flying train, lit the way with electric sparks. Trubbish eagerly jumped up and down, letting the horn bellow now and then. And Durant? Durant merely gazed at him, then smiled in its Pokemon way, for the first time since Emmet had met it.

Emmet paused, despite the frantic thought that Ingo might still be in pain, but first, he had to make sure of something. "Everyone… is this okay?" They all fixed their eyes on him. "Is it okay… to go on now? Once we find Ingo… we won't be stopping after that." Durant had made its way to his feet, and gently nibbled on his shoe. Trubbish responded with another bellow of the horn. And outside of the train, Tynamo and Galvantula let out sparks so powerful and bright, that one by one, each of the old, dead bulbs in the tunnel began springing to life, flickering and fighting the entire way.

Now that he knew everything was okay, Emmet had no more hesitation. Ahead, he could see it- a portion of the tunnels had collapsed. But that didn't matter, his train needed no rails to run. It began to slow, coming to a complete stop at the foot of the collapse. He can see him, a dusty, disoriented figure gazing in awe at his creation. For a second, Emmet feels the soaring sensation of pride- this is what his death has accomplished. Even if it isn't real to anyone else, it's real for him, for his friends, and now…

When the doors slide open, all Emmet can do is smile, and hold his hand out.

We're home, brother.