Finding the Independent Variable

Spoilers for Pokemon Black 1/White 1 and Black 2/White 2.
This story contains graphic illness.
It may or may not have a shippy bent.

I have heard humans say that Pokemon’s senses are so acute that they can tell how a human is feeling. Some have said their Pokemon knew they were ill before they did.

It makes sense that a Pokemon should be able to detect subtle cues in the scent and posture of a human that would determine its suitability as prey.

I never believed a Pokemon could be aware of another creature’s illness before the sick creature knew… Unless the first sign were a change in appearance or scent without sensation. Or if the sensation were attributable to something else…

I sat on the bluff, legs dangling over the edge, newspaper spread in my lap. The words swam on the page. Part of my mind calculated the probability that I would lose my balance and fall into the sea below as the rest of my me worked on the equation I couldn’t solve without more data… the only equation…

And then something was on my head, comforting, warm, a little claw tracing through my hair. “What’s wrong, N? What does it say?”

He had been doting on me all day, more than usual. It was as if he knew something had happened… and it was possible he did. The dragons sprang forth from the same being…

“A landslide in Unova. Victory Road and Route 10. Challenger’s Cave, too.”

He gasped and wrapped a claw around my shoulders. No words. A bad sign.

“She trained there often.” I took a deep breath, trying to settle myself as my heart and my stomach rose up in me, threatening to come out. “She liked to hunt for evolutionary stones there… she took that missive from Juniper so seriously… “

“I’d know if something happened to my brother,” he soothed me. “Right now all I sense from him is bad gas.”

I turned around, looking up at him, into his eyes. “You’re certain.”

“I’m sure. We’re all ok.” He sighed, whining, “Can we go sit somewhere you can’t fall over the edge of now?”

“I’m not going to fall over the edge.” But still I obeyed, steadying myself with my hands as I put my feet on the cliff and rose. He knelt, and I climbed onto his back.

I attributed my malaise to that base, nervous concern that my one human friend had died. It was only a few hours later, as I picked my dinner out of my hair, that I realized I was the last to know how I felt. Everything I had been told about her safety may have been a calculated lie to lower my stress, a catalyst for my recovery…

I went into the town for a decent meal a week later, and I saw them on the TV in the diner.  Going to Hoenn, the anchor said.

I ate well, relieved. Then I saw her arm as I turned to leave. Were those stitches?

I felt sick all over again.