THIS IS NOT A POST (title: Used Bonemerang)
But it is Route canon for Hope. I have no way of making this encounter a proper network/log post, namely because it's designed only for Hope and his Cubone, so I've decided to write it down as a behind-the-scenes thing, what goes on between posts, etc.
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You know it's getting dire when it's been weeks, with no improvement in sight. And when the baby of the group is showing more promise than who's supposed to be your second starting partner.
People have been helpful, but somehow you feel being nice and waiting just isn't enough. There's something else here, something that somehow, you can understand.
You just don't know what it is yet.
Something like... You.
You didn't like anyone back then, in those early days of being a fugitive, running scared for your life and replaying your mother's death over and over in your head.
And then you remember the entry in the PokeDex. It lost its mother, and that helmet-thing is actually the mother's skull.
Funny isn't it? He's a Pokemon that's just like you. Kind of weird too.
Almost creepy.
You don't question why you have him. It just is, you suppose as you brush dirt and grass off your jeans and make your first move.
"You know... If you twist your wrist a little like this and relax your shoulder, it would be easier for you to throw the boomerang."
He looks up at you, and because the skull is in the way, you can't tell whether he's frowning or completely uninterested in you. But you've spent enough time with him to know things, and know where to look if you want to read him properly. He's squinting up at you, like he's trying to read you, or maybe he can't imagine why you'd want to talk after a long while. The way he holds that bone of his is a little slack, pike he wants to take your word for it out of desperation, maybe, but he's not doing it because he still thinks he doesn't like you.
And all you do is wait. Sitting for hours bedside a hospital bed helps put things in perspective. Not a lot, because you're still young, but just enough that you've gotten a whole lot more patient nowadays than before. You've learned that it's not the wait that's the hard part. It's finding the patience to wait.
You're rewarded when he raises his bone-boomerang with a different stance. It's more relaxed. He's finally taking your advice.
"That's better, but I think..." You crouch behind him, putting your hands on his small shoulders and arrange his posture. He's stiff for a few seconds, but eventually lets you move him to a squarer stance for more balance. He almost looks like you when you were throwing your boomerang to fight for the very first time.
You show him how to throw it properly, guiding his arm this way and that in the same manner you used to. "Just relax, okay? When you pull your arm back, you should lean back a little too, and when you throw, you don't just move your arm. You have to throw with your whole body or else the boomerang wont fly properly."
His body is all wrong, because he has stumpy little legs like a dog's and short arms with no fingers except for that one stubby little thing that looks more like a claw-less dewclaw than a thumb, but you think he can still make it work.
He turns around to stare at you and you can almost imagine him asking a question in your voice. ... That would be a little scary, actually.
"Trust me," you say.
He doesn't even nod or blink when he turns around again.
"Just breathe, okay?" You step back a little to give him some space. "When you're ready, breathe in, and throw while you're breathing out."
He does so, and you watch that bone fly. It's not a perfect arc, but it's not like his last attempts. It's better, cleaner, and it doesn't fall short of the tree he's aiming at. It doesn't come back, because the throw just wasn't enough, and he was lacking that little bit of practice, but it hit the target, and that's what you've been looking for.
-----
You know it's getting dire when it's been weeks, with no improvement in sight. And when the baby of the group is showing more promise than who's supposed to be your second starting partner.
People have been helpful, but somehow you feel being nice and waiting just isn't enough. There's something else here, something that somehow, you can understand.
You just don't know what it is yet.
Something like... You.
You didn't like anyone back then, in those early days of being a fugitive, running scared for your life and replaying your mother's death over and over in your head.
And then you remember the entry in the PokeDex. It lost its mother, and that helmet-thing is actually the mother's skull.
Funny isn't it? He's a Pokemon that's just like you. Kind of weird too.
Almost creepy.
You don't question why you have him. It just is, you suppose as you brush dirt and grass off your jeans and make your first move.
"You know... If you twist your wrist a little like this and relax your shoulder, it would be easier for you to throw the boomerang."
He looks up at you, and because the skull is in the way, you can't tell whether he's frowning or completely uninterested in you. But you've spent enough time with him to know things, and know where to look if you want to read him properly. He's squinting up at you, like he's trying to read you, or maybe he can't imagine why you'd want to talk after a long while. The way he holds that bone of his is a little slack, pike he wants to take your word for it out of desperation, maybe, but he's not doing it because he still thinks he doesn't like you.
And all you do is wait. Sitting for hours bedside a hospital bed helps put things in perspective. Not a lot, because you're still young, but just enough that you've gotten a whole lot more patient nowadays than before. You've learned that it's not the wait that's the hard part. It's finding the patience to wait.
You're rewarded when he raises his bone-boomerang with a different stance. It's more relaxed. He's finally taking your advice.
"That's better, but I think..." You crouch behind him, putting your hands on his small shoulders and arrange his posture. He's stiff for a few seconds, but eventually lets you move him to a squarer stance for more balance. He almost looks like you when you were throwing your boomerang to fight for the very first time.
You show him how to throw it properly, guiding his arm this way and that in the same manner you used to. "Just relax, okay? When you pull your arm back, you should lean back a little too, and when you throw, you don't just move your arm. You have to throw with your whole body or else the boomerang wont fly properly."
His body is all wrong, because he has stumpy little legs like a dog's and short arms with no fingers except for that one stubby little thing that looks more like a claw-less dewclaw than a thumb, but you think he can still make it work.
He turns around to stare at you and you can almost imagine him asking a question in your voice. ... That would be a little scary, actually.
"Trust me," you say.
He doesn't even nod or blink when he turns around again.
"Just breathe, okay?" You step back a little to give him some space. "When you're ready, breathe in, and throw while you're breathing out."
He does so, and you watch that bone fly. It's not a perfect arc, but it's not like his last attempts. It's better, cleaner, and it doesn't fall short of the tree he's aiming at. It doesn't come back, because the throw just wasn't enough, and he was lacking that little bit of practice, but it hit the target, and that's what you've been looking for.