"Did I hear that right?” Slate called out, springing to his feet.

“You found Slate’s mom?” April asked the professor. She then turned openmouthed to Slate, who dashed over to the videophone.

“My mom’s there? Is she okay? Let me see her!” Slate demanded.

“Oh, hello, Slate,” Professor Larch greeted nervously. “She’s okay, dear. I think you should come here as soon as you can, though. I have to go now. See you both soon.”

“Wait!” Slate pleaded as the feed cutout abruptly. “Why did she hang up?”

April looked as confused as he was, but suggested, “Well, she might not be able to stay on calls for long in case of being tracked or something.”

“Let’s just go then,” Slate said. “We can be there in under an hour if we hurry.”

“Slate,” April said softly, “we’re waiting for Cryote.”

Slate’s heart sank. How could he have forgotten? Did his new partner mean that little to him?

April put a hand on his shoulder and guided him back to the chairs. “I can guess what you might be thinking, Slate, but it’s your mom! It’s natural for you to be concerned about her, especially given what’s happened. Cyrote’s going to be just fine, and as soon as he’s recovered, we’ll head back to Almony,” she said.

Slate nodded in reply. April bought drinks and snacks for the two of them from the Center vending machine, but Slate wasn’t in the mood to eat. His mind was consumed with thoughts of guilt. He felt like a failure as a son and a Trainer. Maybe he would be better off abandoning his dream of being a Trainer?

After an hour of agonizing this way, the Center nurse appeared from the back, wheeling out Cryote. Slate jumped up and ran to meet them, where Cryote leaped off the gurney and into his arms. Slate felt conflicted while the pup licked his face. As happy as he was that Cryote was okay, he wasn’t sure he deserved the Pokémon’s forgiveness.

Once Slate was satisfied that the Pokémon was really restored to full health, he and April left the Center with Cryote trotting along by their side. They jogged down Hazell Town’s southern route and were happy to find themselves in time for the sitting ferry.

Slate found the slow sail across the water excruciating, tapping his foot impatiently. He stared longingly at the opposite shore, ignorant of the beauty of the setting sun behind him, willing the ferry to go faster.

April, it seemed, could sense his tension and had chosen not to bother him, which he was privately grateful for.

“Hey there! Want to battle?” asked a well-dressed passenger out of the blue, eyeing Cryote with interest.

“No!” Slate snapped a little louder than intended and turned back toward the ever-approaching island. Even if he wasn’t still affected by his recent defeat, he couldn’t think about such things right now. All he wanted to do was get to his mother as quickly as possible.

“Not today, thanks,” April added sheepishly, and Slate heard the stranger’s footsteps walking away.

Soon, the ferry docked, and Slate, who had positioned himself at the front of the pedestrian queue, broke into a run across the gangway and onto Marcona Village High Street.

“Slate, wait up!” April called out as he idashed off in the direction of Professor Larch’s place, but he didn’t slow down. Cryote barked happily bounding along next to his Trainer, but April could be heard huffing in annoyance. Slate allowed himself to smile momentarily, recalling how April had been the one running through town with the bad attitude the previous day. Now their roles had been reversed. He, however, wasn’t chasing after a donut.

Slate soon turned down the correct street and climbed the stairs to the professor’s apartment, not taking a moment to catch his breath until he reached the door and pounded on it harder than necessary. After a few moments, Professor Larch opened the door and greeted him.

Slate didn’t respond. This was partly due to being out of breath, but also because he was busy looking over the professor’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of his mother. Was she really there? Why wasn’t she coming to the door? And why was the professor not letting him past?

“Where is she?” Slate demanded.

“Just a minute, Slate—” the professor said.

“Thanks for waiting!” April growled over her mother’s voice, appearing on the staircase, panting.

“What’s going on, Professor?” Slate asked, feeling apprehensive as he tried to place the odd expression on her face.

“Your mom is here, Slate. She isn’t hurt,” she assured him, “but there’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Slate questioned. Then, as his worry and coursing adrenaline overwhelmed him, he forced his way past the professor and into the apartment.

“Slate!” April warned angrily and proceeded to yell something else.

Slate ignored her protests but was suddenly assaulted by something barreling into his chest. Looking down in alarm, he recognized the mass of soft, fluffy brown and cream fur, and the familiar weight in his arms. “Eevee!” he exclaimed. He hugged the Pokémon tight to his chest, happy beyond words to be reunited with his loyal pet and friend.

As Eevee purred and nuzzled against his chest, and Cryote barked with jealously, Slate remembered himself and looked around the apartment for signs of his mother. She wasn’t in the living room. Slate lowered Eevee to the floor and introduced him to Cryote. Cryote sniffed warily, but Eevee gave the pup a friendly nuzzle and the two began playing together.

Slate left them to it, and made for the kitchen, where a figure appeared in the doorway. “Mom!” he called out instinctively, but as he spotted the long, high-heeled legs coming around the corner, he quickly realized it wasn’t his mother.

“Hello, Slate,” said the attractive Gym Leader.

“Bella?” Slate responded. “What are you doing here?”

“I called her, Slate,” the professor interjected. “I thought Bella would be able to help us.”

“Help with what?” Slate asked impatiently.

As if in answer to his question, another figure appeared behind Bella in the kitchen doorway. The woman’s fingers clinged tightly to the doorframe, half hidden by it as she observed the commotion in the living room.

“Mom!” Slate repeated, and he stepped towards his mother. However, he stopped in his tracks as Heather Davy flinched at his movement, and her eyes bulged with fear. “Mom, what’s wrong?” he added.

Mrs. Davy’s eyes darted between Bella and the professor, then Bella took her back into the kitchen and out of view. Slate made to follow but the professor took him by the arm and firmly guided him away.

“Slate,” she said gently, “sit down, please.”

“What’s wrong with her? Tell me what happened,” he pleaded as she pulled him down with her on to the sofa.

“Your mother is not acting like herself, Slate,” Professor Larch explained. “I noticed earlier when I discovered her in town. She didn’t recognize me at first. Once she did, I brought her here. It quickly became apparent that she was having trouble with her memory.”

“Her memory?” Slate questioned.

The professor nodded and continued, “One moment she would be lucid, the next she would have no recollection of moving to Nutera, or even who I was. That’s when I called Bella. As a former doctor, I thought she would be able to help.”

“B-but… How?” was all Slate managed to get out, his mind awash with confusion.

“I believe—and Bella concurs—that she has been in contact with a powerful Psychic-Type Pokémon,” said the professor.

“In contact with?” Slate echoed.

The professor sighed. “We think Team Shade tried to wipe her memory,” she revealed.

April, who had been listening to the conversation while entertaining Cryote and Eevee, gasped and covered her mouth.

The truth hit Slate like a thunderbolt. This was why Team Shade had taken his mother. They weren’t simply trying to intimidate her. They wanted to be sure that she couldn’t continue with her investigation. “So, she doesn’t know who I am?” he asked as the devastation sank in. “They made her forget me?”

“She’ll remember in a minute,” the professor assured him. “It was the same with me. Her memory comes and goes intermittently.”

“What can we do about it? Is it temporary?”

“We don’t know how long it might last. I don’t have the right equipment here and Bella’s curatives have been unsuccessful, so we think she should be taken to Pistachion City Hospital.”

***

After a hasty goodbye to the Larches, where the professor had handed Slate Eevee’s new Silph Ball, Bella had a medical chopper dispatched from the hospital. She then accompanied Slate and his mother to the roof of the Almony Island Gym and onward to Nutera’s capital. Despite the expedient journey, it was a difficult ride for Slate.

At times, Mrs. Davy seemed like her old self. She knew who Slate was, she understood there was something wrong with her, and knew where they were going. Every now and then, though, she would suddenly become panicked and unsure of herself.

Slate was thankful that Bella had joined them. He wasn’t sure how to handle his mother’s moments of confusion, but the former doctor, in her white lab coat, was an authoritative and calming presence.

When they touched down at the hospital, Slate’s mother was lucid. She clutched Slate’s hand tightly and told him, “Don’t worry, honey. I’m sure the doctors will know what to do.”

Slate squeezed her hand in response, but his mother’s words didn’t ease his concerns. Then, they were exacerbated upon exiting the elevator. The small waiting area was pandemonium. It was packed with frazzled-looking doctors and nurses, and patients and families in varying degrees of distress.

Bella strode through to the busy reception desk beyond, where nurses were juggling phones that wouldn’t stop ringing, while Slate and his mother found a corner away from the chaos to wait in.

“Where am I?” Mrs. Davy said, snatching her hand out of Slate’s grasp. “Who are you? Where’s my son?”

“It’s me, mom. I’m your son, remember?” Slate prodded gently.

Mrs. Davy shook her head and responded, “What? You’re not Jet! Where’s Jet? Where’s my son?”

Slate’s heart sank. He supposed it was a good thing that she knew who she was this time, but for her to remember his brother and not him, hurt more than he would ever admit. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re not feeling well, but we’re at the hospital,” he explained.

“S-Slate?” Mrs. Davy muttered.

“Yes. It’s me, mom.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey!” she said, a tear escaping her.

Bella made her way over to them at that point. “The doctor will see us in a moment. He’s an old friend of mine, who specializes in Pokémon-related conditions,” Bella informed them. “There’s something you should both know, though. The nurses just told me that they’ve been inundated with patients since yesterday, all suffering from the same symptoms as you, Heather.”

“Symptoms? Is there something wrong with me, doctor?” Mrs. Davy countered, apparently experiencing another gap in her memory.

“What do you mean, Bella?” Slate asked instead.

“All these people,” Bella pointed to the manic crowd that filled the waiting area, “they’re all having memory issues. Not only that, but many of them were also recently reported missing. What happened to your mother was not an isolated incident. It appears Team Shade have been busy.”

Slate’s jaw dropped as he put two and two together. This was it. This must have been Team Shade’s plan, or part of it. They must have taken others on the same day that they kidnapped his mother. Blocking the commuter ferry had reduced the number of witnesses or obstacles in the way of their activities on the mainland. It was a coordinated effort.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Slate’s mother said angrily, returned of her senses. “Those awful people. How could they force a Pokémon to do something as heinous as this? Just what are they up to that would require such a thing? Whatever it is, we can’t let them get away with it! Promise me, Slate—If I can’t do it myself—promise me that you will expose them!”

“I promise,” Slate agreed half-heartedly. The truth was, he didn’t care about Team Shade right now, or even about the other victims that surrounded him. His only concern was his mother.

***

After a lengthy consultation with the doctor, Bella emerged from his mother’s treatment room and came out to meet Slate. “I’m afraid there isn’t good news, Slate,” she said. “Your mom’s condition matches that of the others the hospital has been treating. She’s experienced a psychic attack from a very high-level Pokémon.”

“What happens next?” Slate asked.

“Well, your mom’s memory will naturally improve over time, and I’m sure you can find ways to manage her condition, but she’ll always be inflicted with it unless it’s reversed,” Bella informed him. “To do that, we have two options. We either find the Pokémon that Team Shade used on her, or we locate an even stronger Pokémon with psychic or healing capabilities, bearing in mind that the hospital’s strongest Myschief has been unsuccessful.”

Slate presumed a Myschief was a Pokémon akin to the Chansey’s who assisted doctors and nurses in Kanto. He shook his head. Just a few hours ago, he had seriously been considering giving up on becoming a Trainer. Now, it might be his only route to restoring his mother’s mental faculties.

While sitting in the corridor waiting to hear about his mother’s prognosis, Slate had been thinking over his mother’s words and the events of the last few days. His concern had turned to anger, and his indecisiveness had turned to resolve.

Team Shade was not your ordinary gang of thugs. They had proven themselves to be a dangerous and organized operation. They clearly had big plans and were prepared to go to extreme lengths to stop anyone who threatened them, his mother included. If Professor Larch hadn’t gone into hiding, she may have been targeted too. As it was, she was still in danger.

Someone had to stop them, and someone was going to. Slate knew what he had to do, and he was going to need Eevee and Cryote’s help. It was time to train!