The exam room I’m in feels a bit off, but that’s just because it isn’t set up the way I’m used to. Which makes complete sense, this is a clinic for pokemon, so it being laid out more like a vet tracks. That might also somewhat explain the large double doors on one side of the room, although not why I’m in this room instead of one of the smaller ones we passed as the nurse led me in here.

  The nurse fox hadn’t done any checks or vitals, probably because there wouldn’t be much point yet, or possibly because my two fans want to be the ones to do that. Hmm, I’m starting to feel a bit antsy, and it’s only been… I think a few minutes? Maybe it’s been thirty seconds, I don’t know. There’s no reference point in here.

  I think I should be more… I don’t know, jittery? Wound up? Uncomfortable?! Just not as okay as I am after being pulled– Okay, after I willingly joined the emergency fire response. Especially one on that scale.

  But I’m not any of that. And thinking back on it, no one who was in the response was actually in much danger at all. I think Weaver was the most at-risk, and she never got close to anything that was burning. Bibarel, Quagsire, and I were all practically safe given our various abilities. And Onaga had us, as well as whatever superhuman secret the rangers are juiced on.

  And of course, then we ran into Celebi. I really hope I’m overthinking that, and that they were just… doing their thing, I guess. You know, despite how they focused on me. Maybe I really did get shot forty years into the past when I died? That’s not the most unbelievable thing anymore.

  That, all of that, and I can’t say I disliked most of it. Today honestly helped most of my lingering doubts about letting Weaver talk me into becoming a ranger partner. I’m not entirely sure how, but it feels more right than yesterday.

  I’m not left waiting with my thoughts for too much longer, anticipation reaching me a few seconds before three men file in. I recognize two of them, even if seeing them dressed in scrubs is new, and that means the third must be the doctor, Bernard.

  He’s a bit on the short side, clean-shaven, with some of the more colorful hair a lot of people seem to have. Bright green, in his case, and tied in a short ponytail.

  “Hello,” Bernard greets before pausing as a woman enters, handing him a clipboard. “Oh, thank you, Doris. Now, I don’t think there’s any mistaking you,” The short man says, turning his attention back to me, “But to be certain, you are a partner of Ranger Onaga Ryuko?”

  I’m assuming he has to ask, so I simply nod.

  “That’s good,” He chuckles. “I understand that you are a relatively new partner. Has Miss Onaga informed you about the healthcare process?”

  She did, of course, in the list of other things she tried to explain shortly after I joined. Even if she never went that in-depth on most of it. Not that I think she needed to, here, since it seems fairly familiar thus far.

  I nod again.

  “Good, good,” The Doctor nods, looking down at what I’m guessing is stuff about me. “Let me just confirm some basic information. You aren’t literate yet?” He asks me.

  “Misdreavus can read perfectly well, if somewhat slowly,” Rowan cuts in, answering for me.

  “Ah,” Bernard says, glancing at me as I grudgingly nod confirmation, “I assume you haven’t passed the exam yet, then. Let’s see… no preferred name?”

  I shrug. I honestly don’t mind being called Misdreavus, although I think there’s more translation weirdness happening since I can tell when people are referring to me or not.

  “Okay. And, sex unknown?” The doctor asks, looking back up at me, then at the other two men in the room once I shrug.

  “We were hoping to get a more definitive answer today,” Rowan admits. “The pokemon doesn’t seem to know, and Ranger Onaga wasn’t able to determine during her own check of the individual. We suspect misdreavus may be amorphous. Or possibly aprotogenus.”

  …I understood that word. ‘Aprotogenus.’ Well, onto the list of things with language that goes. I don’t even think Bernard, who I assume is some kind of MD equivalent, has finished parsing the meaning yet.

  The idea isn’t that far out there either, with some of the things I’ve learned since dying. Although the thought that my body simply hasn’t resolved into male or female yet makes me feel… uncomfortable. Probably because I honestly prefer myself this way.

  Oh, look, Bernard’s about to say something.

  “And further on that,” The man nods, now understanding something as he glances back at the information about me, “Unknown maturity stage. I admit, there are a few too many ‘unknowns’ on here. But I suppose that’s the whole reason the rangers asked us to let you– Ghost-type?” The doctor looks up at the other doctors again, now surprised. “It is official, then? A new type classification?”

  “Technically, it has been recognized for several years, although mostly as an academic point and never fully codified,” Rowan confirms. “That is one of the things we intend to come from our study of the misdreavus, a true knowledge of how to identify the type. I hope you’ll understand if I decline to say more unless it becomes relevant.”

  “I’ve never published, but I have heard stories,” Bernard says, only somewhat understanding. “Now,” He shifts back to me, “I see here that Ranger Onaga noted you have proximity issues. I, and by extension, my colleagues here, are bound to ethical practices–” The man says, missing the affront from the other two in the room, “–And so I need to ask, are you comfortable with one or more of us physically touching you? It’s okay if you aren’t, although it will change how we go about this rather drastically.”

  I’d imagine, and it would probably annoy my stalkers something fierce, too. I wish I could say I didn’t know what he was saying about ‘proximity issues,’ but I’m not that unaware of how I act. It’s not even a conscious action when I drift away from people most of the time. Am I uncomfortable with being touched, though?

  …A bit, I suppose. And I have a few suspicions that being in contact with me for too long would be bad for anyone who’s either not trying to get rid of emotions or with such a deep well of them that it doesn’t really matter, since I’m pretty sure I eat a lot more that way. Mostly?

  Um, let’s see. Marshal is a near-endless wellspring, although I wasn’t paying enough attention to how much I was eating back when she saved me. I don’t get anything from Weaver. I wasn’t paying attention to that when I threatened Guy-Number-Five. Leaf was a wreck that I actually helped by eating so much. And Onaga… falls into the same category as Marshal. Huh. Although she barely touched me during her own examination.

  That all makes sense, and is a good excuse to keep some distance, but is that just me trying to justify not liking people getting too close?

  Yeah. Yeah it kind of is. This isn’t even a new thing. I was like this before I died, wasn’t I? I… really didn’t like being near myself, let alone most other people, then. Even most of my friends. Which is a weird thought because I do like being near several other people now. And I certainly like myself more.

  …

  I’m having too many thoughts. The three others in the room with me need an answer, and I’m willing to put up with them poking at me for a bit.

  Mmm, someone is growing increasingly concerned. I should probably tune back in now.

  “–regular occurrence,” Oak says, both he and Rowan having at some point moved to pull what I assume is the exam table to the center of the room. “Miss Onaga has said she believes it’s an indicator that Misdreavus is focused elsewhere.”

  “I see,” Bernard says, watching me. “Are you back with us, Misdreavus?”

  Everyone thinks it’s strange when I freeze, don’t they? And everyone has to comment on it, of course. To be fair, I probably would too if I weren’t the one doing the freezing.

  At my nod, the green-haired man takes a small, steadying breath. “Can you give me your answer?” He asks a bit uncertainly. I nod at him, then nod again when he seems to hesitate. “Alright. Before anything else, I’d like to acknowledge that this won’t be how things would normally go. As I’m sure you’re aware at this point, we don’t know enough about your species to identify or effectively treat most theoretical issues.” He stops, looking at me to see if I’m following. I just blink at him.

  Bernard continues, coughing once, “In short, what I’d ask you to do before we begin is to bring our attention to anything that feels out of the ordinary. Any pains, aches, stiffness, or general difficulties? Anything that doesn’t feel right? Any concerns, essentially.”

  Mmm… Nope, I feel great, physically. Pretty much the same way I have almost constantly since dying. I’m not even sure if there’s anything they could do for me, as I’m maybe sixty or seventy percent certain that my body is disposable. Thanks, Marshal.

  But that’s a thought, isn’t it? ‘Oh, my body is starting to get old, better make a new one.’ I don’t think I can just do that, though. After I had to… rebuild? Regrow? Repossess? Probably a bit of all three, honestly. But after I had to do that, I haven’t been able to go back to not having a body.

  I haven’t tried getting hit by something that can casually tear through trees again, though. That might do it. Or maybe it’s one of those things that will just take a bit to get a feel for. Like not breathing. Or moving all my arms at once.

  Gods, power use always leaves me with so many questions, almost no answers, and only a few people I can realistically ask. I probably should at least try to ask Marshal about how to properly control power again. See if she might have more to share than ‘practice, practice, practice.’

  Hmm, I haven’t seen Marshal for a bit, have I? I should– Remember that I’m in the middle of something. Still, I should try to visit Marshal soon, though I imagine Onaga will give me that chance in the next few days.

  When I turn my focus back on Bernard, he loses a small bit of tension. He’ll get used to me doing that, I’m sure. “Do you have any concerns you’d like to bring up?” He asks again. This time, I shake my head. “Alright then. I’ll mostly be an observer during this visit, but, again, we are bound by ethics standards, so let us know if you’re uncomfortable at any point.” Having said his part, he gestures to my stalkers, giving them the go-ahead.

  “Most of what we wanted to do was confirm information Ranger Onaga gave us, alongside measurements she wasn’t able to take?” Oak queries, looking to Rowan for confirmation.

  The severe man nods, looking over the various medical-looking devices hanging from one wall. “Correct,” He says, pulling two things down before connecting them. Looks like some kind of pressure tester. “You wouldn’t happen to have a scale hidden somewhere in here? An appropriately sized one, that is.” He asks, looking at who I suppose I should start thinking of as my doctor.

  “Of course,” Bernard says, gesturing as he moves to one of the low cabinets along one wall. “I assume Misdreavus is light enough that we can use an electronic one?”

  “We only have an attempt on a spring scale, but they weighed less than a kilogram on that,” Oak says, making his way over to help lift the bulky contraption. “I would have thought a public clinic would have something more practical than a lab unit at this size,” He chuckles as they set it on the table. “Miss Onaga didn’t note Misdreavus’ weight?”

  “Unfortunately, no, to both,” the short man responds, pulling the machine’s power cable over to an outlet. I can see why the thing is stowed when they aren’t using it. It takes up half the exam table. I’d bet that scale is overbuilt for precision.

  “We may as well do this now so we can put that away quickly,” Rowan comments, his eyes locking onto me.

  I hold in an eye-roll as I float over, watching Bernard do whatever it is to get the high-tech-for-this-year thing going.

  “Please set yourself on the plate,” Bernard says after a few more seconds of fiddling. I do so, although I’m starting to wonder if this whole thing will just be more of the same prodding I’ve already been through.

  “four-hundred-nine-point-five-one,” Bernard says, nodding to himself before looking back up at me. He blinks, then shifts his head a bit, curious.

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  “I’m not so certain,” Rowan cuts in, his perpetual frown-glare combo deepening slightly. “Would you please rise, then gently lower yourself back onto the plate?” He asks me, intrigued.

  …Okay then. Doing as he asked, I slowly let gravity set me back on the scale. Rowan’s eyes flick between me and the small readout, Oak and Bernard watching confused.

  “There,” The older man says, pointing. “Did you see the sudden jump?”

  “Barely sixty grams, and then the rest all at once,” Oak nods. “Which is why you asked them to be gentle this time. A product of how they fly?”

  “Possibly,” Rowan replies, eyes scanning over me.

  I glance at Bernard, and he seems… not content, but at least willing to now be in the background while Oak and Rowan work.

  “I think…” Rowan slowly begins, “We should try weighing the pokemon’s gemstones separately.”

  Oak and Bernard both taste confused for an instant before Oak has a flash of realization. “The gems remain floating,” He voices. “Even while Misdreavus is supposedly resting their full weight.” The young professor inspects me as well, tilting his head a fraction before asking, “Can you consciously control your gemstones?”

  I’ve never thought about it. Can I? I look down to where five of my seven red orbs sit just out of my peripheral vision, the remaining two requiring me to look slightly left or right. I… should be able to move them, I think. I can feel them, after all. But I haven’t ever tried to do so since they move with me so naturally.

  Maybe if I just get a feel for moving them? Reaching an arm down, I press my center-left orb slightly to the right. It feels odd, and I move, not the orb. That’s not what I was expecting. After a short moment, however, my entire necklace does reorient to follow my rotation. Since I’m paying a lot of attention to myself right now, I can at least tell that something shifted, although I don’t know what.

  I try my center gem this time, and the same thing happens. Even one of the outermost orbs moves me instead of me moving it. What if…? I turn. My gem-orbs move in relative lockstep with me. I turn the other way, sharply.

  My gems move first. Twisting instantly while the rest of me follows an almost imperceptible time later. The rest of me.

  Holy shit, I really am just possessing myself. I’m not me, I’m the gems. Or, no. I’ve seen my arms in unreality, and caught glimpses of the rest of myself out of my peripheral vision. So, I’m not just my gems, but my gems are where I’m… attached… here?

  …Putting that aside for later—when I can freak out without witnesses—I can’t move my orbs with my ‘body’ because that’s like trying to fly by carrying your own feet. It just doesn’t work. Fundamentally. Next question, though. Can I move that part of myself separately from the part that feels like me?

  Yes, obviously. It only takes moving my body by pushing myself off myself a few more times to get a feel for it. It feels kind of odd, now that I’m doing it without my arms. I can’t believe I didn’t realize I could do this sooner.

  Well, that’s probably because my maybe-life is crazy, my body is weird, and I already move enough like a squid that I didn’t need more complexity on top of that. And, you know, I simply never considered it. My gem-things always just drift around me at various distances, and why would I ever think that they’re how I’m fucking possessing myself?!

  Calm, calm. Okay, maybe I should be more glad that two of the best pokemon researchers are taking their time to figure my species out. I’m not just weird, I’m strange. And I should probably stop making said researchers wait on me to get my shit together. Again.

  Parsing back to what Oak had said before this little diversion, I try to let gravity pull specifically my orbs down, but… Yeah, no. What if I let the rest of me be pulled down at the same time? Again, nothing, they stay in the same relative place. I– I think I should be able to do this, but there’s something weird about the way the rest of me interacts with what I guess is the main part of me. In reality, at least.

  I won’t figure this out in a reasonable amount of time, so I should stop trying for now. Withholding a sigh, I turn my attention back to the frankly over-attentive trio before shaking my head and shrugging.

  Rowan is the first to catch on, “You cannot stop the gemstones’ flight,” He realizes aloud. “Any pressure on a scale would be applied by you, not the objects’ weight.”

  “Could you… separate their weight from your own? When you sit on the scale,” Oak adds, considering.

  That– Yeah, I think I can. Nodding, we then repeat the process of weighing me for a third time.

  “Sixty-two-point-two-oh,” Bernard reads. “Can we safely assume the rest from the earlier measurements is their gems?”

  “Until we have a better way to check, I believe we can leave that at a resounding maybe,” Rowan adds, deadpan. He’s also extremely amused, but he doesn’t show it. “And as it’s likely the pokemon is still growing, though possibly not developing, it can’t be treated as final either.”

  “I presume we’re moving to the physical, then?” Oak asks, giving me a questioning look. I shrug.

  The three men waste little time in putting the heavy-looking scale away, donning gloves, and surrounding me at the table. It’s rather like what Onaga did, just a bit less cautious on their part. A thermometer gets stuck in my mouth, another taped to my head, and both Oak and Rowan prod me a bunch with tools I don’t understand. I mostly zone out while they occasionally stop to talk, write things down, or just think for a bit.

  This whole thing is almost as awkward as I’d feared, and I’d rather just get it over with and not think about it.

  “Misdreavus, could you ascend about half a meter?” Oak asks. Hmm? Oh, sure, but why– He’s holding a flashlight?

  Oh. I– This just went from awkward to worse. Should I float back down? Fuck, it’s already too late.

  “Light doesn’t appear to reflect,” Oak muses. “Or perhaps it’s being absorbed?”

  Could be worse, really. I could be human me. Hell, I could actually have something to look at instead of an empty void. And damn if I wouldn’t feel so much worse if that wasn’t the case.

  “It is rather difficult to look at,” Rowan says, also inspecting me. “In fact, are you noticing your eyes trying to avoid the area?”

  I probably shouldn’t feel so weird about this, given that every other pokemon is just naked. Hmm, I don’t think I’d feel this way if it were just my personal doctor over there, would I? Then I really could just think of it as a physical.

  “…Yes, now that you say it,” Oak admits, finally moving away and letting me descend again. “What kind of effect would cause that? Could it be psychic?”

  “I think it's more likely another oddity of the ghost-type,” Rowan replies, now stroking his mustache. “If you recall, your own notes on haunter–” He cuts himself off, eyes flicking to the third man in the room.

  Oak and Rowan glance at each other before returning their focus to me. Once more starting to stare, comment, and sometimes poke at me.

  Great. They clearly have some kind of idea, and won’t say it because they don’t want their research compromised. Although what they’ve already said matches up with something Onaga said about ghost stuff. It’s hard to look at. Except that it isn’t, for me.

  I’m a ghost, though. Genuinely. Not just a ‘ghost-type’ but a full-on ghost ghost, since there’s apparently a difference.

  Food for thought.

  The two researchers haven’t stopped poking at me, even while I’m thinking. Well, I can make my own observations of them. Retroactively, even. For instance, I’m definitely sucking in a lot more emotions from them when they get right up to me, more so when they actually touch me. Still, they don’t seem to notice and keep going. Right up until Oak brushes a hand over one of my gems.

  That– Shit. Now that’s… a lot. Oak flinches, pulling his hand back like it was burned. All three men stop as Oak experimentally flexes his fingers on the hand he poked me with. “I think it best,” He slowly says, “That we avoid contact with Misdreavus’ gemstones.” Rowan gives the younger man a look, but he simply shakes his head. “Later, I’m not sure how to describe it yet. Although I think the mouth on Misdreavus’ body may be more performative than genuine.”

  Oh. Oh good. My orbs really are the center of my body, huh.

  They all move on, albeit with a bit more hesitancy for at least a small amount of time. Well, until Rowan starts getting brave again. “The pokemon’s skin feels almost frictionless, I find myself at a loss to describe it,” Rowan continues dictating, pulling on one of my frills with a now bare hand. “No noticeable change in elasticity across the body.” He frowns more, looking down as he rubs the fingers he’d been touching me with together, “Interesting… The pokemon’s skin feels numb, somehow. Synesthesia?”

  After a bit more poking and pulling, he switches to silently inspecting my arms. After several silent moments, he proceeds to pull at one of my arms, not trying to move it away from me, but I think wiggle a few fingers into the hair it’s made of.

  “No identifiable material transition from head to mane,” Oak adds, trying to keep his intrigue out of his voice. “All one, continuous structure.”

  That’s neat, I suppos– Eugh! Even before I can voice my discomfort, Rowan backs off, obviously aware that he did something. The shudder that goes down my arm after he stops holding it is closer to a whip-crack than anything else. Complete with sound.

  Oh, I almost hit him with that. It– It’s a good thing he wasn’t still holding on to me.

  Bernard immediately holds his hands up, “Stop!” Both of the other men freeze. “Misdreavus, are you hurt?” I shake my head. It wasn’t painful, just supremely uncomfortable. The green-haired doctor raises his eyebrows, and continues, “Was there any pain?” Again, I shake my head. He sighs, relieved, “That’s good, although… I’d ask if you feel alright with continuing, except, now that we’ve reached a natural end, this visit has gone on longer than I’d planned for.”

  Oak sighs in relief. “I think we’ve gotten nearly everything we were looking for, and possibly more, in any case,” He says, looking to the third man. Rowan nods in agreement, feeling embarrassed.

  All three of them watch me for a bit before Bernard speaks up, feeling almost desperately awkward, “We should wrap this up, but I’ve felt the increasing need to ask, do either of you understand how Misdreavus’ skin is achieving that effect?”

  “Which effect?” Oak responds, looking away from me to the other man. “The depth and parallax, or the shifting patterns?”

  “The depth.”

  “No,” Rowan answers. “We have no solid hypothesis either. I believe our best at the moment is that it has to do with the pokemon constantly cycling a ‘type-specific energy.’ Which means we may as well simply state that we’ve no idea, given how incomplete type theory is.”

  Bernard nods, taking his medical gloves off, “I see. Now, if I could ask the pair of you to step out while I finish with my patient?”

  I barely pay attention to Oak and Rowan leaving, as I’ve had a realization. My body is made of the same stuff I use for ghost power. In its entirety. It sounds obvious, but it’s so– so different. Especially in just how ridiculously stable my body is in comparison.

  AND I PUT THIS BODY TOGETHER! That’s how I learned to start using ghost stuff! I’ve been using that exact same power since, but not the instinctual method behind it because that’s for building bodies, right?

  Is it? All my free-form ghost power practice feels iffy because the power decays so fast without constant upkeep, and I’ve basically been shoving a frankly tiring amount of energy at the problem. All the control and energy in the world can’t make up for a faulty basis, though.

  And I’ve had a perfectly good example of one right here the whole time. Me.

  I force myself to pay attention to Bernard, although it’s difficult with this new idea I’ve had…

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  “I was rather hoping to speak with you about Misdreavus,” The doctor, Bernard, relays, apparently having been waiting for me.

  I glance around the lobby again, then to Weaver. She very lightly tips her head toward the lobby doors. I hope Bernard wanting to talk and Misdreavus having already left aren’t connected, but I’m assuming they are.

  “What about them?” I ask, moving my attention back to the doctor.

  “Nothing too bad, or at least, I don’t believe so,” The man says, raising a hand in reassurance. “I merely have some questions about their personality. …And perhaps some concerns about their behavior.”

  “Go ahead, then.”

  “How mature would you say Misdreavus is? Both mentally and physically. Professor Rowan–” Bernard stops and blinks. “Sorry, it’s still unbelievable that I was working with him. But he mentioned being reasonably sure that Misdreavus was fully matured. I simply wanted your opinion as well.”

  It makes sense he’d want to check with me. For all that Rowan is studying the pokemon, I’m their legal steward at the moment. “Rather,” I say, thoughtfully. “They’ve been distant, but I would say they’re fairly mature. Almost certainly an adult.”

  “And they aren’t prone to lashing out?” He asks, not reassured.

  Mmm, something happened. “I don’t think I’ve seen a wild more hesitant to resort to violence,” I inform him. “Why?”

  Bernard relaxed after my question. “Misdreavus was clearly uncomfortable with physical contact,” He says, stating the obvious, “Although they did allow us to give them the best physical we realistically could. There was a near miss that caused me to end the visit there, and I was concerned they could have been masking an attempt to strike Professor Rowan as an involuntary reaction.”

  “What was the professor doing?” I ask. “And what did Misdreavus do?”

  “Rowan had begun a deeper inspection of Misdreavus’ frankly fascinating limbs, and was, as he informed me afterward, attempting to feel for any sign of how they move the way they do,” The man describes to me, prompting a thought that I set aside until he finishes. “He was feeling inside the limb when it became obvious Misdreavus was about to object to the probing, and as Rowan stopped, he was nearly struck by the limb whipping in response.”

  I nod, taking that in. I don’t believe Misdreavus would actively try to harm Rowan. Not unless the man had done something truly egregious, at any rate. Still, that’s quite a reaction.

  “Was Misdreavus’ mane shaped into limbs the entire time?” I ask, although I’m near certain they would have been.

  “Yes,” Bernard confirms. “I assume that’s an emotional tell?”

  “It is, alongside how close they hold their gemstones,” I reply. “Nervous or uncomfortable, as far as I can tell."

  The short man nods. “That idea had occurred to me. If it’s not too much to ask, could I ask you to schedule a follow-up in the near future, without the interference of whatever government project this was? Preferably with you there, although I understand why that isn’t practical much of the time.”

  I do my best to hold in the smirk and eye-roll at Bernard’s summary of the research situation. “I’ll try. For now, I need to track Misdreavus down.” I do have my suspicions as to where they’d go, although them flying off is unexpected.

  I think it’s a good sign, frankly. Misdreavus has been almost too reluctant to assert themself, so their deciding to do something without checking first is nearly a relief. Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t go looking for them, actually. I doubt they’re going to cause trouble, and talking with them about how they did today can wait.

  I give Weaver a questioning look, glancing at the lobby entrance briefly. She considers for an instant before shrugging dismissively, leaving the ultimate choice to me.

  Maybe I will go find them, although I’ll leave the work stuff until tomorrow. It means I’ll probably be up another three or so hours, but that’s fine. I’ll sleep… when I sleep.

  Discord :3