Chapter 525: The Poké Balls of Memory
After clearing out the Stitched Shadow Army in the underground chamber, the little dragonfly checked on the Seeds around her. "Is everyone okay?"
A chorus of varied cries responded from all around. Amid the cacophony, one Pokémon quickly caught the little dragonfly's attention. It was a Sandslash, clearly not weak, and unusually calm after being released from its cage.
What drew the little dragonfly's attention was that this Sandslash had been staring at her ever since it was freed. Unable to tolerate the blatant staring, the little dragonfly floated over and bonked the Sandslash on the head. In the past, Arthur had always been the one bonking her. Now, she finally got to experience the joy of bonking someone else. And she had to admit, it felt pretty good.
"Flyy, gon?" — Why are you staring at me?
The Sandslash answered honestly. "Slash, slash." — Are you the famous Flygon of the desert? There was a human looking for you earlier.
The speaker meant nothing by it, but the listener took it to heart. The little dragonfly immediately became alert.
"Flyy, gon!" — You've seen that human? What is your relationship with him?
At this point, the little dragonfly couldn't help but pout. Fine, Master! You said you didn't have any new doggies!
The Sandslash, unaware of the little dragonfly's inner turmoil, continued honestly. "Slash, slash." — I traveled with that human for a while. He was very anxious to find you. He even barged into the Krookodile's territory for it.
What confused the Sandslash was that when it mentioned the human being anxious, the Flygon in front of him suddenly started wagging her tail happily. She wagged it faster and faster until it was almost a blur! The speed boost from Dragon Dance was certainly being used in a strange way.
Hands on her hips, unable to hide her grin, the little dragonfly suddenly found the Sandslash much more pleasing to the eye. She looked him up and down and gave a mock-mature evaluation.
"Flyy, gon, gon, gon." — You're not bad. Your strength is passable.
"???"
The Sandslash was completely lost. Why is this Flygon changing the subject so fast?
"Slash, slash, slash." — I mean, that human was really worried. He was looking for you everywhere.
"Flyy, gon, gon." — I know. Also, don't be disrespectful. You arrived later, so you have to call me Big Sister.
"???"
The Sandslash realized there might be a misunderstanding.
"Slash..." — No, I haven't been captured by that human...
"Flyy!" — Call me Big Sister!
"Slash!" — Listen to me! I said I'm not!
"Flyy!" — Call me that or I'll hit you!
"Slash, slash!" — I said I'm not, I haven't!
Smack!
The little dragonfly slapped the Sandslash on the forehead.
"..."
"..."
"Flyy, gon?" — What were you saying?
"Slash..." — Nothing, Big Sister. Whatever you say, Big Sister.
The little dragonfly put her hands on her hips happily and started wagging her tail rapidly again. The Sandslash clutched his head, speechless, silently complaining in his heart: Look at that tail wag. You're clearly the doggy here!
Then, the little dragonfly unzipped the small pouch at her waist. In an instant, her gaze froze.
"Flyy..."
She suddenly became incredibly sad. Even the victory she had just won was momentarily forgotten. Because the Poké Balls she had brought were broken.
These Poké Balls had been the biggest puzzle for Linda earlier. In this world, Poké Balls had anti-theft features. Once a Pokémon was captured, a specific mental link was established, and no one else could use the ball. It made no sense for a wild Pokémon to be able to use them!
But what Linda could never have guessed was that these were Poké Balls the little dragonfly had secretly kept for two hundred years.
They were Arthur's balls!
One was the little dragonfly's own from back then.
One was Tyranitar's.
One was Specter's, which she had retrieved after he left.
One was Leafeon's. Since Leafeon had later gone with Arthur's disciple, Lyneth Everhart, changing masters meant changing balls.
And two belonged to Arthur's fallen comrades: Luxray and Scizor.
The little dragonfly remembered where every single ball came from! In the past, she had treasured each one!
Normally, a Poké Ball's lifespan was at most a few decades. But the little dragonfly had managed to keep them functioning until today through meticulous care and selfless maintenance! The original reason she had started wandering the desert as a merchant was to save up money to go to the human world and buy maintenance tools for the Poké Balls.
At that very moment, in an old alley in a city of the Batta Alliance, an elderly Pokémon craftsman with graying temples was telling his grandson this story.
The little grandson asked curiously, "Grandpa, Grandpa, is the story about the Flygon true? Does she really have six Poké Balls older than you?"
Asked about this story, the craftsman felt a mix of exasperation and nostalgia. "Yes! That business always gave your grandpa a headache! Those Poké Balls should have been scrapped long ago! Every time I maintained them, I had to be extra careful. If I damaged them even a little bit, that Flygon would throw a tantrum. Sigh, honestly, trying to save a Poké Ball that's been used for one or two hundred years... even a god of craftsmanship couldn't do it!"
The grandson listened with great interest. "Then why did you keep maintaining them for her, Grandpa? Couldn't you just not do the business?"
The old craftsman lit a cigarette, his eyes suddenly distant. "Yeah, why? Maybe... it was because the first time I met that Flygon, seeing her sitting on the steps of our shop, hugging those malfunctioning Poké Balls and crying her eyes out, I just couldn't bear to leave her alone."
As he spoke, the old craftsman laughed at himself. "Sigh! I really was a busybody back then. Who would have thought that after helping her once out of kindness, she would keep coming back for decades! Honestly, how can there be such a silly Pokémon in this world!"
So, Specter and Old Flame were right—the little dragonfly was just a tsundere! All those conditions she had pretended to demand when she reunited with Arthur at the oasis were just a cover for her joy and tears. This seemingly unruly desert wanderer had spent all her cunning and effort making money just to protect those six Poké Balls of memory that had long exceeded their lifespan...
But no matter how much care and maintenance she put into them, there was a limit. The desert environment was not suitable for maintaining precision human-made items like Poké Balls. She had held on for over two hundred years, only to use them once, and they had failed.
All six balls were now broken. Not a single one survived.
"Flyy..."
The little dragonfly stared at her small pouch, dazed for a long time. She held it in, and held it in, but finally, she couldn't help but let out a heartbreaking sound.
The Maractus that had been transported in the balls didn't understand. They didn't know why their "commander," who had led them to victory and rescued their friends, was suddenly crying. But even without knowing what had happened, they could hear the overflowing sadness in her voice.
Jingle, jingle~
The Maractus looked at each other and began to sway in place, creating a rhythmic melody to comfort the little dragonfly.
And so, in the post-battle gloom of the secret chamber, a warm and soothing melody of bells began to ring out.
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