Common
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- May 15, 2022
- Messages
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I can not wait for that to happen lol
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A New Journey in Pokémon
- Thread starter Common
- Start date
-
- Tags
- pokemon pokemon au
Chapter 12
New
Common
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- May 15, 2022
- Messages
- 556
- Likes received
- 15,653
Cynthia was tired.
Not the dramatic, collapsing-on-a-fainting-couch kind of tired. The quiet, bone-deep exhaustion that came from back-to-back League meetings, two arbitration disputes between Gym Leaders, and a three-hour excavation review that could have been an email.
She had just removed her coat when her phone rang.
She stared at it.
She glanced at the caller ID.
Grandma.
Cynthia closed her eyes briefly.
"…Of course."
She answered.
"Grandma, it's almost—"
"I've cracked it."
Cynthia paused mid-step.
"…Cracked what?"
"The script," Carolina said, voice vibrating with barely contained energy. "Pre-Sinnoh Glyphic Pattern Type-3. It's a tactile linguistic system. Fully structured. Repeating syntax. Cynthia, it's a complete language."
Cynthia leaned against the wall.
That woke her up faster than coffee.
"That's not possible," she said automatically. "That archive has been studied for decades."
"Yes," Carolina replied. "Incorrectly."
There was the sound of papers shuffling on the other end. Excited pacing. Possibly mild academic hysteria.
"Grandma," Cynthia said carefully, "how?"
A pause.
"…Ethan."
Cynthia blinked.
"…I'm sorry?"
"He can read it."
Silence stretched between them.
Cynthia glanced at the clock.
She considered several possibilities.
None of them were sane.
"He can read," she repeated slowly, "a script that every specialist in Sinnoh has failed to decode."
"Yes."
"And how exactly is he doing that?"
"He says it's called Braille."
Cynthia frowned. "I've never heard of it."
"Neither has anyone else," Carolina snapped. "Which is precisely the point."
Cynthia pushed off the wall and began pacing.
"Grandma," she said, voice lowering into Champion-mode calm, "Ethan is five."
"Almost six," Carolina corrected automatically.
"That does not improve the situation."
"He read a line verbatim," Carolina insisted. "'The Royal Giant must rest between uses. If overworked, even it will break.' Cynthia, that directly links to the mythological interpretation regarding—"
"—Regigigas," Cynthia finished quietly. "I'll be there first thing in the morning… You are letting Ethan get his sleep, right?"
"As much as I regret it, he's currently asleep," Carolina replied. She paused, thinking rapidly. "Do you think we could have him translate the inscriptions at Snowpoint Temple as well? They're not Pattern Type-3, but if this 'Braille' is a broader system…"
Cynthia exhaled slowly.
"So that psychic diagnosis the doctor mentioned after his accident," she said carefully, "might actually be legitimate?"
===
Morning came too quickly.
Ethan shuffled downstairs in socked feet, hair sticking up in impossible directions, Eevee padding loyally behind him.
He rounded the corner into the kitchen—
—and stopped.
At the table sat his grandmother.
And across from her—
A very tired-looking Cynthia.
Cynthia's posture was straight out of habit, but there were faint shadows under her eyes and a mug of coffee in her hand that suggested she had not slept nearly enough.
Papers were spread across the table.
Transcriptions.
Rubbings.
Charts.
Ethan blinked.
"…Morning?"
Both women turned toward him at the exact same time.
It was deeply unsettling.
Eevee froze mid-step.
Cynthia offered a small, deceptively calm smile.
"Good morning, Ethan."
Carolina's expression was far too neutral.
Ethan's gaze dropped to the papers.
Raised dot patterns.
Translation notes.
The word Braille written in Carolina's sharp handwriting.
Ah.
So this was happening today.
He looked back up at them.
"…Why does Aunt Cynthia look like she fought a Garchomp?" he asked innocently.
Cynthia did not blink.
Carolina, however, pointed at him.
"No. This is entirely your fault. Finish breakfast. We're going into town to get you winter gear."
Ethan froze.
"…Winter gear?"
"Yes," Carolina said crisply. "Boots. Coat. Gloves. Hat. Preferably something rated for subzero wind."
Cynthia took a slow sip of coffee, watching him carefully over the rim of the mug.
Ethan processed that.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Snowpoint Temple," Cynthia replied calmly. "Though that trip will be a few days from now. I need to clear time from my Champion duties first."
She set the mug down.
"Today," she continued, "you'll be translating more of this Braille."
Carolina slid one of the tablets forward across the table.
Ethan stared at it.
"…What happened to breakfast?" he asked.
"Chomp!"
The shout came from directly behind him.
A plate was set down on the table—
—and Ethan absolutely shrieked.
He nearly launched out of his chair as a massive, blue-gray shape loomed over him.
Hammerhead.
Fins.
Teeth.
Eevee bolted under the table.
Ethan looked up an the Dragon-type blinked down at him, eyes bright, expression smugly pleased with itself.
In one clawed hand, a perfectly balanced breakfast plate was set down in front of Cynthia, who took another calm sip of coffee as if nearly giving a child cardiac arrest was part of the morning routine.
"Good morning to you too," she said mildly. "Garchomp insisted on helping."
Garchomp gave a proud rumble, clearly pleased with both the plating and the psychological warfare.
Ethan clutched his chest.
"You can't just— just— stealth deploy a land shark!"
"Chomp," Garchomp replied, entirely unrepentant.
Carolina adjusted her reading glasses, unfazed.
"He did not stealth deploy. You were distracted."
Cynthia nodded, finally picking up her fork.
"You need to work on your situational awareness," she said evenly. "Especially if you intend to explore the forest out back more. A lack of awareness can land you in trouble."
Ethan stared at her.
"You sicced a pseudo-legendary on me during breakfast," he said.
Cynthia paused mid-bite.
"…Pseudo-legendary?" she repeated, one brow lifting slightly.
Garchomp tilted his head.
"Chomp?"
Carolina slowly removed her glasses.
"That's a new term," she said evenly. "Care to explain?"
Ethan immediately realized he had made a mistake.
He pointed at his plate instead.
"Is this Oran berry reduction? That smells like Oran berry reduction. Did Garchomp make the sauce? That's impressive motor control for claws that size—"
Carolina did not blink.
Cynthia set her fork down again.
"Ethan."
He deflated slightly.
"I don't know," he said, waving a hand vaguely. "I just kinda know, y'know?"
Silence.
Both Carolina and Cynthia paused.
They looked at him.
They looked at each other.
Then, unexpectedly—
They nodded.
"…Yes," Carolina said after a moment, as though that explained everything.
An Ethan could only sit there confused.
Not the dramatic, collapsing-on-a-fainting-couch kind of tired. The quiet, bone-deep exhaustion that came from back-to-back League meetings, two arbitration disputes between Gym Leaders, and a three-hour excavation review that could have been an email.
She had just removed her coat when her phone rang.
She stared at it.
She glanced at the caller ID.
Grandma.
Cynthia closed her eyes briefly.
"…Of course."
She answered.
"Grandma, it's almost—"
"I've cracked it."
Cynthia paused mid-step.
"…Cracked what?"
"The script," Carolina said, voice vibrating with barely contained energy. "Pre-Sinnoh Glyphic Pattern Type-3. It's a tactile linguistic system. Fully structured. Repeating syntax. Cynthia, it's a complete language."
Cynthia leaned against the wall.
That woke her up faster than coffee.
"That's not possible," she said automatically. "That archive has been studied for decades."
"Yes," Carolina replied. "Incorrectly."
There was the sound of papers shuffling on the other end. Excited pacing. Possibly mild academic hysteria.
"Grandma," Cynthia said carefully, "how?"
A pause.
"…Ethan."
Cynthia blinked.
"…I'm sorry?"
"He can read it."
Silence stretched between them.
Cynthia glanced at the clock.
She considered several possibilities.
None of them were sane.
"He can read," she repeated slowly, "a script that every specialist in Sinnoh has failed to decode."
"Yes."
"And how exactly is he doing that?"
"He says it's called Braille."
Cynthia frowned. "I've never heard of it."
"Neither has anyone else," Carolina snapped. "Which is precisely the point."
Cynthia pushed off the wall and began pacing.
"Grandma," she said, voice lowering into Champion-mode calm, "Ethan is five."
"Almost six," Carolina corrected automatically.
"That does not improve the situation."
"He read a line verbatim," Carolina insisted. "'The Royal Giant must rest between uses. If overworked, even it will break.' Cynthia, that directly links to the mythological interpretation regarding—"
"—Regigigas," Cynthia finished quietly. "I'll be there first thing in the morning… You are letting Ethan get his sleep, right?"
"As much as I regret it, he's currently asleep," Carolina replied. She paused, thinking rapidly. "Do you think we could have him translate the inscriptions at Snowpoint Temple as well? They're not Pattern Type-3, but if this 'Braille' is a broader system…"
Cynthia exhaled slowly.
"So that psychic diagnosis the doctor mentioned after his accident," she said carefully, "might actually be legitimate?"
===
Morning came too quickly.
Ethan shuffled downstairs in socked feet, hair sticking up in impossible directions, Eevee padding loyally behind him.
He rounded the corner into the kitchen—
—and stopped.
At the table sat his grandmother.
And across from her—
A very tired-looking Cynthia.
Cynthia's posture was straight out of habit, but there were faint shadows under her eyes and a mug of coffee in her hand that suggested she had not slept nearly enough.
Papers were spread across the table.
Transcriptions.
Rubbings.
Charts.
Ethan blinked.
"…Morning?"
Both women turned toward him at the exact same time.
It was deeply unsettling.
Eevee froze mid-step.
Cynthia offered a small, deceptively calm smile.
"Good morning, Ethan."
Carolina's expression was far too neutral.
Ethan's gaze dropped to the papers.
Raised dot patterns.
Translation notes.
The word Braille written in Carolina's sharp handwriting.
Ah.
So this was happening today.
He looked back up at them.
"…Why does Aunt Cynthia look like she fought a Garchomp?" he asked innocently.
Cynthia did not blink.
Carolina, however, pointed at him.
"No. This is entirely your fault. Finish breakfast. We're going into town to get you winter gear."
Ethan froze.
"…Winter gear?"
"Yes," Carolina said crisply. "Boots. Coat. Gloves. Hat. Preferably something rated for subzero wind."
Cynthia took a slow sip of coffee, watching him carefully over the rim of the mug.
Ethan processed that.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Snowpoint Temple," Cynthia replied calmly. "Though that trip will be a few days from now. I need to clear time from my Champion duties first."
She set the mug down.
"Today," she continued, "you'll be translating more of this Braille."
Carolina slid one of the tablets forward across the table.
Ethan stared at it.
"…What happened to breakfast?" he asked.
"Chomp!"
The shout came from directly behind him.
A plate was set down on the table—
—and Ethan absolutely shrieked.
He nearly launched out of his chair as a massive, blue-gray shape loomed over him.
Hammerhead.
Fins.
Teeth.
Eevee bolted under the table.
Ethan looked up an the Dragon-type blinked down at him, eyes bright, expression smugly pleased with itself.
In one clawed hand, a perfectly balanced breakfast plate was set down in front of Cynthia, who took another calm sip of coffee as if nearly giving a child cardiac arrest was part of the morning routine.
"Good morning to you too," she said mildly. "Garchomp insisted on helping."
Garchomp gave a proud rumble, clearly pleased with both the plating and the psychological warfare.
Ethan clutched his chest.
"You can't just— just— stealth deploy a land shark!"
"Chomp," Garchomp replied, entirely unrepentant.
Carolina adjusted her reading glasses, unfazed.
"He did not stealth deploy. You were distracted."
Cynthia nodded, finally picking up her fork.
"You need to work on your situational awareness," she said evenly. "Especially if you intend to explore the forest out back more. A lack of awareness can land you in trouble."
Ethan stared at her.
"You sicced a pseudo-legendary on me during breakfast," he said.
Cynthia paused mid-bite.
"…Pseudo-legendary?" she repeated, one brow lifting slightly.
Garchomp tilted his head.
"Chomp?"
Carolina slowly removed her glasses.
"That's a new term," she said evenly. "Care to explain?"
Ethan immediately realized he had made a mistake.
He pointed at his plate instead.
"Is this Oran berry reduction? That smells like Oran berry reduction. Did Garchomp make the sauce? That's impressive motor control for claws that size—"
Carolina did not blink.
Cynthia set her fork down again.
"Ethan."
He deflated slightly.
"I don't know," he said, waving a hand vaguely. "I just kinda know, y'know?"
Silence.
Both Carolina and Cynthia paused.
They looked at him.
They looked at each other.
Then, unexpectedly—
They nodded.
"…Yes," Carolina said after a moment, as though that explained everything.
An Ethan could only sit there confused.
ThunderBasilisk
Well Worn Bastion
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2020
- Messages
- 21,450
- Likes received
- 178,315
Honestly can't wait to see how he explains Psuedo legendaries. And how each region has at least 1 (Hoenn is special cause they couldn't decide on Salamance or Metagross)