Into the Unown (Pokemon Fanfiction OC)

Chapter 274

A/N:Sorry for being late today.

Forgot to schedule the chapter yesterday because I was feeling sick and I overslept today.

***

“Happy birthday!” Miles exclaimed, right as the door to his parents’ house swung open.

“Well, well… Look who decided to show up—” Clara Miller-Yoshida began, then broke off into a stutter at the sight of her son’s tear-stained visage. “Hey, hey… It’s okay, it’s okay…I’m not actually that mad, you silly little goose. C’mere…” The woman beckoned while pulling her son in for a hug.

“Wha— I…” Miles sputtered as he was suddenly made painfully aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks and of the sharp yearning gnawing at his chest. “M-mom? Is that you?” The man muttered, his raspy voice struggling to escape his throat.

“Of course it’s me, sweetie... What happened? Did you hit your head? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No… It’s just… I missed you, mom… That’s all.”

The woman smiled and ran the sleeve of her sweater against Miles’ face to wipe away his tears. “I miss you too, Miles. Now, why don’t you come on in and explain to me why you forgot about your mama’s birthday. We were worried sick! Your dad even thought something bad might have happened to you when he caught wind of that car accident on Facebook.”

Miles sniffled and meekly followed Clara into the door. The familiar interior of his childhood home, smelling of musky carpets, burning wax and freshly fried chicken, put him at ease almost immediately. “I’m fine, mom. Though I might have gotten hit by that truck if not for Azzy.”

“Oh~? Who’s Azzy? Anyone I should know about?” Miles’ mother teased. “I wouldn’t have minded some extra company tonight, you know?”

“Haha. Very funny, mom. Azzy’s Azzy. You know, Azalea? She’s family.”

Clara turned around and stared at her son in bewilderment, but a masculine voice chimed in before she had a chance to respond.

“Haha! You’re a bit too old for imaginary friends now aren’t you, son?” said the diminutive figure of Masanori Yoshida as he sauntered out of the kitchen to join his family in the living room.

“And you’re too old to be dying your hair, old man.” Miles laughed and reciprocated his dad’s embrace, the herbal scent of whatever Masanori used to dye his hair black tickling at his nose.

“What do you mean? I gotta look the best for your mom’s birthday. For the ‘Gram, y’know?”

“And definitely too old for Instagram — even I don’t use Instagram!”

The older man guffawed. “Get with the times, kiddo. Can’t score any game if you’re so rizzless.”

Miles groaned at his dad’s lingo. The thought of bringing someone back home to meet a fifty-something-year-old asian man who was addicted to posting geriatric dance videos on Tiktok was enough to scare away any potential suitor.

Clara clapped to interrupt her husband’s nonsense. “Alright, that’s enough, you two. Miles, dear, have you had dinner yet? There’s still plenty of food leftover if you wanna grab a bite before we cut into the cake.”

“Or we could just skip straight to cake? I’m fine either way." Miles offered, earning him a harsh glare from his mother.

“Miles Yoshida! No respectable son of mine is having cake for dinner! What are you? Twelve? You’re eating a proper meal before desserts and that’s final!”

The man laughed, feeling like he was a boy again. “Sure mom, I’ll begrudgingly partake in some delicious finger lickin’ goodness. And in the meantime, you guys can catch me up on the latest news while I’m stuffing my face.”

“Haha! And here I was worried my karaage was gonna go to waste!” Masanori exclaimed as he dragged his son into the kitchen. “I know how much you love my fried chicken, so I made extra today, just for you!”

Miles smiled, stomach gurgling at the sight of the golden brown, greasy and craggly goodness. His dad did indeed fry the best chicken in the world. And for some reason, it felt like it had been an eternity since the last time he had any. 

***

“You know, son. If those bean counters at work are riding you too hard, you could always just move back home and take over the restaurant.” Masanori offered, after his wife excused herself to go touch up on her makeup — gotta look her best for the ‘Gram as Masanori said.

Miles chuckled. “Sure, then snag myself a cute schoolteacher, get hitched and live happily ever after, right?”

“Hey, it worked out for me, didn’t it?”

The two men laughed. Miles’ dad did indeed own a restaurant in the neighbourhood — a quaint little Japanese diner called Wagaya. At a time when the dining scene in New Jersey was dominated by classical American diners, pizza, sub joints and Chinese takeaway, Wagaya had provided some much needed culinary diversity to the place, earning him a long and storied following over the years. 

To this day, even as newer and trendier places began popping up left and right, the older generation and the kids who grew up eating Masanori’s cooking still frequented the place for a familiar taste of home. It was also where Miles’ parents met and engaged in the old time-y ritual of courtship, or whatever it was that they did back in the disco era.

“I’m serious, you know?” Masanori continued, his gaze sterner this time around. “You’re free to come home anytime you like. No point suffocating in that soulless cubicle. You’ve done your time, you’ve seen the world. There’s no shame in calling it quits and settling away from all that senseless hustle.”

Miles smiled. “Thanks dad. I’m not actually against the idea. In fact, I’ve kind of been toying with the idea of quitting as well recently. It’s just… I dunno. I kinda wanna try a couple of things first. And if it doesn’t pan out then, yeah, I’ll gladly take over. So don’t write me out of the will just yet, old man.” 

The father and son duo laughed and raised their cans for a toast, just in time for Miles’ mom to come back for pictures and cake.

***

“Azzy… I brought cake~ You missed out on the family portrait. Is something wrong, babe?” Miles cooed as he entered into the nostalgic confines of his childhood room, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland with how small the furniture looked as compared to his memories.

With the click of a switch, the lights turned on, to reveal a Gengar sitting in Miles’ desk and shuffling some cards around.

“Hooo~ I see you found my old collection of Pokemon cards.” Miles never did figure out how to play the game, he only collected them for fun and for all the pretty artwork. “Let’s see here, what have you been doing… A Dragonite, an Espeon, Crobat, Rapidash and Gengar… Hey look, that’s you, Azzy! Are these supposed to be your favorites?”

“Gen! Gengar, gen!”

“Hehehe… Man, I sure collected a whole ton of them huh? Wonder how much these would be worth nowadays. Maybe I should start a new folio and fill it with some of the newer gen Pokemon. You know? Like Clodsire, Amaura, Primarina and stuff… But then again, with the whole scalping situation, I'm not sure if I even wanna dive into that rabbit hole right now.”

With a shake of her head, Azzy groaned and did something inexplicable; grabbing a marker from Miles’ desk and began vandalising the Rapidash card by painting it black.

“Azzy! No! Bad Azzy! What are you even doing?!”

But the Gengar was unrepentant, just shrugging away Miles’ grasp and continuing to blacken the white parts of the Rapidash before using a blue ballpoint to colour the flames and waving her masterpiece in front of Miles’ face, as if expecting some sort of reaction from him.

The man sighed. “Yes, yes. That’s very pretty, Azzy. What an adorable little artiste you are. C’mon, finish up your cake and let’s go to bed. I promise I’ll buy you some coloring books tomorrow — I’m sure we can find Pokemon themed ones on Amazon.”

“Gen, gengar-gen!” The precocious shadow flailed her stubby little arms around, probably dissatisfied by Miles’ lukewarm response, earning her a giggle and a smooch from the amused human.

As the sulking Azzy begrudgingly poked at her cake with a fork, Miles’ phone vibrated, prompting him to pull it out of his pocket with the Unown-themed strap that spelled out his name — a souvenir from his convention-going days.

“Huh? Amber just texted me — remember? The girl from earlier? — said that the police had enough witnesses and declined my number. She also asked if I wanna grab coffee with her tomorrow.” Miles froze as his brain slowly began to process the invitation.

“Wait, is this a date?! Is she asking me out?! Should I say yes, Azzy?”

“Gen!” Miles’ shadowy companion jolted, then nodded fervently in agreement, eliciting a grimace from him.

“Yeah, but… It’s been years since I last dated, and Sarah, she—” Miles' face twisted into a scowl. He had always wondered if it was his inadequacies that drove his ex to cheat on him. But over time, those regrets morphed into anger and resentment, to the point where just the mere thought of that unfaithful bitch was enough to get his blood boiling.

“Gen, gengar…” Just as Miles’ thoughts began to spiral, the cool and gentle touch of Azzy’s hands on his tightly clenched fists was enough to calm that burgeoning rage.

“Thanks, Azzy. You’re right. It’s about time that I move on anyway, and Amber seems like a nice gal. A bit rough around the edges and her humour’s questionable but that just adds to her charm, don’t you think?”

“Gen! Gengar-gen!”

“Alright, that does it then. I’ll agree to the meetup. I was actually kind of hoping to just stay home and hang out with mom and dad tomorrow. But then again, mom has been pestering me to go out and meet someone… I’m sure she’d approve.”

And so, after drafting and discarding several replies, Miles finally responded to the text with a casual affirmation.

***

“Sorry I’m late! Had trouble finding this place.” Seriously, who the heck thought it was a good idea to open up a trendy cafe in a dilapidated warehouse? Without any signage!

“Hmmm… And here I thought I was going to get stood up today…” Amber mused, somewhat disappointingly.

Miles laughed at his date’s bone dry humor. “Sorry, I’d offer to pay for coffee but I see you’ve already got one. So can I interest you in some cake instead?”

Amber brushed an almost translucent strand of her aqua blue hair behind her ear while her lips quirked up ever so slightly — a gesture that very much titillated at Miles’ desires. “Sure, I’d ask for some birthday cake but I don’t think you were considerate enough to bring any. So I’ll settle for some Red Velvet instead.”

“Guilty as charged, milady. Maybe next time.” Miles chuckled as he excused himself to the counter where he called for a cup of cappuccino and Amber’s Red Velvet Cake. They also had an extra large Peanut Butter Fudge Cookie that looked kind of tasty, so he got one of those as well.

“So? How did it go last night?” Miles continued once he sat back down again. “Did they find out what happened?” He had checked the news this morning but given that the investigation was still ongoing, details were sparse.

Amber shrugged and took a sip of her matcha latte. “Ambulance showed up with the police, then the fire department. To be honest, I lied to you, I bailed after seeing they had things under control. Figured, with so many people around, they ain’t gonna miss me, you know? Not like I’ve got much to say anyway; ‘Oh, sorry officer. I was just standing there, doomscrolling on my phone when this truck wooshed by and nearly brained me.’” The girl laughed and Miles laughed with her.

“Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t have had much to say either.”

A comfortable silence settled as the waiter came by to deliver their order. Miles took a sip of his coffee while Amber poked at her cake. The free spirited woman even took a bite out of Miles’ cookie like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, as if deciding that she much preferred the gooey molten peanut butter fudge over her cake, she swapped the plates around and devoted herself fully to its consumption.

Miles just watched it happen with a wry grin on his face. “You uhh… gonna leave some of that for me, lady?”

“Hmm?” Amber held the man’s gaze with her mesmerizing blue eyes, her cheeks undulating as she slowly and deliberately chewed on the cookie. The precocious woman gulped, took a leisurely sip of her drink then held the remnant of her desecration out towards Miles. “Here, open wide. Ahhh…”

With a shake of his head, Miles scoffed and leaned over to bite down on the treat, wrenching the cookie away from Amber’s tender grasp and fully inhaling it into his mouth like a blobby pink god of voracity that shall not be named.

“Careful not to choke on your own load there, mister.” Amber smirked while Miles choked, coughed and tried desperately not to regurgitate his food. Amber laughed, her voice pitched like a boiling kettle and punctuated by the occasional snort. Miles would have found it adorable, had he not been fighting for his life.

“You alright there, big guy?”

“Yeah… No thanks to you.” A sip of his coffee and a series of dirty looks from around the cafe later, Miles finally settled down enough to talk.

“Haha! Oh lighten up~ Why don’t you tell me how your night went? Did your mom have a good birthday?”

“She did, yeah. It was mostly just a private thing — me, my mom and my dad — just the three of us.”

“So you live in Jersey then?”

“Nah, I work in New York — Manhattan, to be precise. But I rent in the Bronx, it’s just cheaper there, y’know? What about you? Jersey native?”

“Take a guess.”

Miles smiled, he was starting to get a handle on Amber’s personality. “Not gonna lie, you look like one of those struggling artisté. You know? Trust fund kid, rents a private studio downtown, moonlights as a barista and spends most of the year in some third world country on one of them ‘soul-searching journeys’.”

Amber laughed at the ridiculous stereotype. “Hah! Soul-searching journey’s right. But nah, I ain’t no trust fund kid — ain’t got a dime to my name in fact.”

“Sorry to presume. But if that’s not right, then what do you do?”

“Oh, you know… This and that. Say, if I opened up an OnlyFans account, would you be my manager?” 

Miles choked once more and Amber chortled. Presumably, this was another one of her jokes, prompting Miles to hastily change the subject until they got to talking about their respective interests. 

“So, what do you do in your spare time when you’re not bending over backwards for your corporate overlords?”

Miles shrugged. He had finished his coffee by this point and had switched to water after a quick trip to the bathroom. “The usual. I try to keep myself fit, but when I’m at home, it’s mostly just movies, books and video games.”

“Oh? What sort of games do you play?”

“All sorts, but I find myself defaulting to Pokemon most of the time.” The man blushed. “I suppose it’s a little cliche to say, but it’s the game of my childhood so I can’t really help it.”

Amber smiled, the most radiant and genuine smile he had seen from her all day. “Nah, I getchu. What’s your favorite Pokemon?”

Miles perked up at the subject. “Oh boy, where do I even begin? I guess… if I had to pick just one, it would be Dragonair. Or Dratini. I just like how simple and elegant that general design is. What about you, do you play?”

“I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘play’... But yeah, I like Mew and Mewtwo. I also really like Gengar, actually. You have one with you, right?”

Miles beamed an affectionate smile. “Yup, Azzy. She’s super adorable and absolutely loves flowers — she was the one who picked out that bouquet for my mom yesterday.”

“Gen! Gengar!” Miles’ shadow writhed and a hand stuck out to wave at Amber.

The woman giggled. “Hehe. She’s adorable alright. Must be nice… to have a Pokemon companion. Where did you guys even meet?”

Miles tilted his head in confusion. “I mean, did your parents not get you a starter? And Azzy and I met in a cave about a year… ago… She was just… a Gastly… at the time…” As he spoke, Miles’ voice steadily faltered. “A year ago? Where was I a year ago? Why can’t I…” Memories surged, of another life — of a different childhood.

“I dunno… It’d be kind of hard to find a Pokemon of my own. Since, you know? They’re fictional and all that.” Amber continued as she gently caressed Azzy’s head, even feeding her the remains of her Red Velvet Cake.

“Fictional…?”

“That’s right. Pokemon don’t exist. Not in this world. Not outside of your TV or game console anyway.”

“So then what…? Where…?” Miles’ vision blurred, his heart palpitating as his breathing rasped, until he felt a soft touch on his shoulder.

“C’mon. I think it’s about time for you to head back home now. Your family’s waiting for you aren’t they?”

“Yeah… mom and dad… I was gonna spend the day with them today.”

Amber smiled and gently guided Miles to the exit. “Anyways, thanks for hanging out with me today, Nina. I’ve always wanted to go out on a proper date.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. Nina…?” Who was that? “Ah, I get it. It’s another one of your jokes — turns out you couldn’t remember my name this whole time. Haha. Funny.”

Amber leaned close and gave Miles a peck on the cheek. Then, as her hot breath tickled in his ear, she whispered; “Tell dad it’s okay to let go now. And that I’ll be waiting for him on the other side.”

“What are you—” Before Miles could question her words, the beautiful phantom brushed past his shoulder and sauntered out the door. “Wait, what do you mean?!” He turned around to chase after the girl, doorbells jangling in his wake, but was met with nothing but silent air on an empty street.

“Weird… What the heck was that about? Oh well… Let’s go home, Azzy. Mom’s probably gonna wanna grill me about how today went. I wonder if I can distract her by taking her out to dinner tonight?”

***

Miles hummed a happy little tune as he strolled down the familiar streets of his family’s neighbourhood. The date ended on a weird note but, all in all, he did consider it a success. “Even got a little smooch at the end of it. Heh. Take that, dad! Your son’s not so rizzless after all.”

As he neared his parents’ place, he heard a nostalgic little tune reverberating through the air, sounding both familiar yet alien at the same time.

“Look at that, Azzy. There’s an ice-cream truck over there. What a quaint little sight — didn’t even know they still existed in this day and age.”

“Gen! Gengar, gen!”

“What’s that? Do you want some ice cream?” Miles giggled as he allowed the Gengar to pull him towards the truck — a novel little thing called Ice Ahoy based on the signage. 

“And is that a real anchor?” He mused, referring to the comically oversized shipping implement propped up on the roof, complete with rust, seaweed and other sea detritus for a super authentic look. “Oh wow. These guys sure put in a lot of work on their branding.”

“Es! Espeon!”

“Oh, hi Espy! Is this little ice cream truck yours? Nice work. Loving the aesthetic.”

And indeed, sitting behind the steering wheel was an impatient looking Espeon with one of her paws hanging out the window.

“Kukuku… Cro!” And to her side, on the passenger seat was Brucey, quad-wings all folded up in an awkward manner to fit into the carriage, eliciting amused giggles from Miles.

“No surprise really. You’ve always been super smart, Espy. Are the others helping out too?”

Looking around, Miles also saw a tubby orange Dragonite by the side of the truck, tail wagging in excitement at the colorful array of ice cream on display. And behind the counter was an Unown staring out into the sky and a Primarina raining snow and ice into an ice cream churner that was being kinetically powered by a Clodsire’s thumping tail.

“Niteeey~ Didn’t we just stock up on ice cream the other day? Please don’t tell me you ate them all already.”

“Nite! Dragonite-nite!” The Dragonite protested his innocence by pulling the familiar girl in front of him into a suffocating hug, then flailed her around like she was an oversized plushie.

“Hehehe… Okay, okay… I get it already. Eating from a tub and eating from a cone is different. Now can you put me down before I get a migraine?” Nina giggled as she gave her partner a loving smack on the belly.

“Drago, nite!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s time to go home. Y’know, as a kid, I always dreamt of hitching a ride on an ice cream truck. Maybe we should buy one of our own some day and just drive around the city giving out free ice cream. That’d be kind of nice, don’t you think, buddy?”

“Nite!” The ice cream loving Dragonite was, of course, all on board the idea — already thinking about all the smiles they would bring.

“Hehe. For now, let’s just take a little joyride on this one instead.” Nina jumped in through the back and gave the metallic chassis a few good smacks to declare their departure. But funnily enough, instead of turning on the engine, Espy just cried out for Nitey, who flew up onto the roof, picked up Dhelmise’s anchor and began pulling them from the front.

“Wait! Are you telling me this thing isn’t diesel powered?!” Nina laughed at the absurdity of it all as the little ice cream truck steadily ‘drove’ off into the sunset.