"The world is vast". These are the words Emi left behind. Emi, back then, couldn't have known she was my world. To her, I was probably nothing more than the neighbor brat. Emi wasn't the prettiest girl in the world, but she wasn't ugly. If I were to show you her picture, "cute" would be an appropriate reaction, but Emi's image didn't do her justice. The charms Emi lacked that made a beauty a beauty, she made up for in personality. Emi, in all the years I knew her, growing up just half way down the dirt road that made up our town, was never predictable; never boring. Emi, in a single word, was like fire. Warm and kind, but passionate when she spoke. Talking to Emi about Pokemon was infectious, and when we were young, I was often swept away in her fantasies of discovering new species or becoming a legendary trainer.
As we grew older Emi talked less and less about becoming a trainer. In our town, becoming a trainer was not exactly the norm. See, our village is rather unique amongst the Uteno region. In most villages it's normal for a young man or woman to receive their first Pokemon on their tenth birthday. Our village, however, has this tradition; older than the bricks of our most ancient homes. We aren't gifted a Pokemon from our family, or a professor. Nor do we have to pass a test. No, in this odd little village, we have the "Right of Passage".
The Passage is a ritual. Once a month, all students who turned fifteen meet in the town center. There, we are given a choice. Two podiums sit at the end of a marble path. We walk this path, one-by-one. On one podium, there is a sheet of paper. Those of us continuing our education sign our names and intended career. The next two years are spent in apprenticeship. The other podium, on a dusty old pillow, sits a single, empty, poke-ball. These days, the poke-ball is just for the sake of tradition. It's been ten years since someone was brave enough to press their thumb into the poke-ball center, marking them it's owner.
Our village hasn't had a lot of luck in producing trainers. Or maybe it has, I really don't know, Nobody does. None of them have ever come back. I was never sure if it's because the world is far more dangerous than anybody knew, if it was because the rest of the world is more fantastic than anybody knew, or if they had failed and were to ashamed to return.
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Emi is two years older than me. She went with four others to the ritual. She had stopped talking about Pokemon a few months earlier. I knew it was because of the ritual, and I remember wishing I could, but honestly, I didn't understand. I may have been swept up in Emi's fantasies sometimes, but whenever I was with anyone else, I was just a normal boy. I pictured myself picking up a trade, mkaing a living, and maybe courting, and someday asking Emi to marry me. It seems ridiculous now, but that's just the way it was in our town. So while Emi seemed to be coming to terms with the absurdity of her dreams, I couldn't do anything, because I had simply never dreamt such grand dreams.
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Emi walked last; not a lot of names after Zahn. I'm an idiot, to not have seen it coming. Still, It's an odd feeling, being blindsided by the obvious. The four before Emi walked without a glance at the ball, now coated in ten years worth of dust. Emi, for better or worse, did not. She paused for a minute, stepped towards the paper, stepped back, then stepped toward the ball. Emi didn't step back again.
I didn't see Emi that day. She left the same morning, only a few hours after the ritual, before my classes got out. I went home that afternoon thinking I'd meet her somewhere along the way. I was disappointed, and blamed it on bad timing. It wasn't until I found a note in my room that I asked mom about where it had come from, I found out Emi was gone.
I felt the strangest mix of emotions that night. I was so happy that Emi was still Emi. That the girl I was in love with hadn't burned out. on the other hand, I felt like a geodude tossed itself at my face. Emi was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. The ritual is sacred in this town, and once Emi pressed the ball's center button, she had no choice but to set out, catch her first Pokemon, and move on.
---
Two years later, with the note in the chest pocket of my favorite jacket, a deep red and double breasted coat, I picked up the poke-ball. It was heavier than I expected. It was mid-autumn, when I walked through the same gate as Emi before me. I pulled my hat down, blocking the wind. Two years is a long time. I don't know if I'd call what I felt for Emi before "love", and don't really know what I'm feeling for her now, but I can't just forget her. I haven't heard from Emi since she left. I don't care much about being a trainer, but someone I care about is out there, and I may not have a clue what I'm going to say to her, but I'm going to find her. I have to know. What happened to Emilia Zahn?
-Wyat "Watt" Mason
