pdf-ebookys Chapter 409 The Dark Side of Utopia
Chapter 409 The Dark Side of Utopia
Chapter 411 The Dark Side of Utopia
Sayuri Morikawa first heard the term "plasma cluster" when she was six years old.
That day, she squatted by the sandpit in the park, holding a flattened sandwich in her little hands, intently breaking it into crumbs and scattering them on the ground.
The girl hummed a nursery rhyme she had learned in kindergarten, waiting for the timid bean pigeons to come and peck at her food.
Suddenly, a shrill laugh came from behind the bushes.
Little Lily looked up and saw several boys, a little older than her, gathered in a circle, holding pebbles and throwing them at a trembling, grayish-blue shadow.
The little shadow made a soft "squeak" sound, like a rubber toy being stepped on. She squinted and finally saw clearly—it was a bat, its wings covered in wounds, its pink nose covered in mud, desperately trying to shrink back into the tree roots.
"Stop!" She ran over and spread her arms to block the swarming bats. A pebble grazed her knee, stinging painfully.
"Mind your own business, this guy stole something!" the leader of the boys snarled. "He even left dirty marks on our walls!"
Little Lily didn't move.
She remembered her mother saying that bats rely on their sense of smell and sound to find their way, and if their noses with heart-shaped markings are injured, they may be lost forever.
She crouched down and carefully cradled the shivering little creature in her hands. Its downy fur was wet and trembled like a clover soaked by rain.
The boys surrounded her, grumbling and cursing, some pulling her braids. The girl closed her eyes tightly, shielding the rolling bats to her chest.
That's enough.
A shadow loomed over them.
Xiaobaihe opened her eyes and saw a tall man in a white robe standing in front of her.
"Bullying the weak is not what a real man does." The man's voice was soft, yet it rang clearly in everyone's ears. The boys looked at each other, then quickly scattered like birds.
Little Lily stared blankly as the stranger knelt down and took out disinfectant and bandages from his small bag. His fingers were long and clean, and the way he bandaged the bat's wounds was incredibly gentle, reminding Little Lily of the kindest teacher in the orphanage.
"I help out at Team Plasma's church in Odd Dragon City," he said, skillfully securing the bandage. "We're currently holding a 'Pokémon Clinic' event; would you like to take this little guy for a full checkup?"
As the stranger stood up and returned the rolling bats to Little Lily, a gentle breeze lifted the hem of his robe.
Lily noticed a silver-blue badge on his waist. The design resembled a shield split by lightning, with strange patterns interwoven in black and white.
"You're welcome to visit the church anytime." He smiled and handed her a church brochure with the address printed on it. "We also have many Pokémon like the roly-poly toy that need care."
Ryoko was initially very worried.
"Plasma Group?" She frowned, flipping through the church brochure her daughter, Sayuri, had brought back. "I heard they've been causing trouble all over the United States lately—"
"Uncle Church isn't a bad person!" Little Lily held the gray-blue fluff ball in her arms higher; the bat-shaped bandages were blindingly white under the indoor light. "He said he can take Little Roll to get his dressing changed tomorrow!"
The word "church" made Rim stop what he was doing.
Last week, while grocery shopping, she saw a new poster on the bulletin board at the street corner: against a blue sky background, humans and Pokémon held hands in a circle, with the title "Liberate Pokémon, Build a Pure World Together." It was signed "Team Plasma, Double Dragon City Friendship Association," and Ryoko just thought it was another head of some new religious movement.
She hadn't expected it to be a subordinate organization of Team Plasma—"that kind of place"—she carefully chose her words, glancing out of the corner of her eye as her daughter affectionately rubbed her cheek against the rolling bat. The Pokémon emitted a soft purring sound, its heart-shaped markings on its nose wrinkling up.
However, when she actually stood in front of the church, all her doubts vanished like morning mist.
The man whom his daughter called "Uncle Church" was more like a gentle extracurricular activity teacher than a clergyman.
Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting dappled shadows on him as he knelt down to trim the nails of a small Yorkshire Terrier.
In the courtyard in front of the church, Lily's squirm-like bat stood proudly atop a doll-like head, its injured wings still bandaged, yet it could already flap merrily. Nearby, four or five wild Pokémon were eating energy cubes, including a vulture girl who, instead of being fierce, was now obediently letting the little girl preen her feathers.
Ryouko instinctively reached for her waist—her Poké Ball contained a fluffy sheep, ready to handle any unexpected situations. But when she saw Doll use "Healing Pulse" to soothe a Whimsicott's sunburn, her fingers slowly loosened.
"Don't you preach your doctrines?" She took the orange fruit tea offered by the Plasma Group priest.
"We believe more in actions than words." The priest pointed to the girl brushing Munchlax's teeth, "That's Joanne, the night nurse at the Pokémon Center." He then pointed to the old man adjusting the projector, "He was Mr. Roy, a researcher at the Seven Treasures Museum before he retired."
The projector lit up, and instead of a religious propaganda video, it played an instructional video called "Pokémon First Aid Basics".
Ryoko watched as her daughter hugged the rolling bat and played happily with the other children in the corner.
She suddenly felt that perhaps there really was something here worth believing in.
Morikawa Shigeaki never considered himself a devout person.
When Ryoko returned from the Plasma Group church for the first time with Sayuri, excitedly recounting how friendly and helpful the people there were, he only gave a vague response, continuing to turn the wrench under the hood.
"They specially packed us a basket of tree fruits." His wife, Ryoko, placed the wicker basket in the center of the dining table, saying that the church members had planted them themselves.
Morikawa slid out from under the car, wiped the engine oil off his face, and glanced around casually. The plump oranges had glossy skins, and the berries emitted a faint sweet fragrance; they were indeed much better than the cheap stuff in the supermarket. "Hmm," he muttered casually, and crawled back under the car.
"Why don't you ask them why they're being so kind?" Ryouko asked, wiping the table with a probing tone.
"Isn't that how all churches operate?" A dull voice came from under the chassis, accompanied by the crisp clanging of metal. "To recruit people, you always have to offer them something."
Ryouko frowned, but didn't say anything more.
That night, Morikawa lay in bed, listening to his wife soothing Sayuri to sleep in the next room. His daughter was unusually excited that day, constantly talking about how the uncle at church had healed her bat's wings.
"He said Pokémon shouldn't be bullied," Sayuri's voice came through the crack in the door, "just like people."
Morikawa rolled over and closed his eyes...
Change always happens slowly.
First, vegetables and bread from the church started appearing frequently on the family's dining table; then, Xiaobaihe's cough symptoms, which she had since childhood, lessened—the medicinal diet prepared by Miss Joanne from the church seemed to have really worked; later, even her son started mentioning that a new classmate had taken the initiative to talk to him, and that the classmate's father was a deacon at the church who often tutored him in math after school.
But Morikawa still kept his distance from the church. He never attended services or participated in any church activities.
But when he came home from working overtime one day and found that the leaking water pipe in the kitchen had been fixed, Ryoko smiled and said, "Aunt Marlene from church sent her husband over, saying that you looked too tired lately."
Morikawa stood in the kitchen, touching the smooth, brand-new water pipe joints, and for the first time felt a little uneasy.
That rainy night became a turning point in their lives.
Morikawa was tasked with transporting a batch of classified Alliance documents to headquarters. The rain was so heavy that the truck skidded while turning, crashing into a lamppost. The rear cargo door swung open, scattering three boxes of documents across the muddy road.
He rushed into the rain, frantically trying to salvage the documents, but it was too late. Ink had smeared the paper, causing it to stick together; at least a dozen important files were now worthless.
"It's over...:::" Morikawa knelt in the rain, looking at the damaged bus, his fingers digging deep into the mud. For the first time, this forty-year-old man felt so hopeless about life.
"Am I going to lose my job—" he muttered to himself, recalling the terrifying look in his supervisor's eyes when he gave him the assignment. "No, not just lose my job, I might even go to jail."
Three days later, as he nervously entered the Alliance headquarters to prepare for punishment, a voice called out to him.
"Is that Morikawa? What a coincidence."
When Morikawa looked up and saw Lionel Skolatos, he almost didn't recognize him.
The man, whom his daughter called "Uncle Church," who always wore a simple white robe, was standing in front of him, but he had changed into a completely different outfit—a well-tailored dark suit that highlighted his extraordinary demeanor, with an access card for a high-ranking member of the alliance pinned to his chest.
"I heard about the documents." Lionel pulled him to a corner of the corridor, his voice extremely low. "Don't worry, I've taken care of it."
Morikawa stared wide-eyed, bewildered: "But those are confidential documents, the department head repeatedly instructed that they must be delivered—"
"Just some useless, outdated files. Just dust in the big machine of the Alliance; compared to an employee's livelihood, it's nothing." Lionel blinked. "They just needed to be destroyed, didn't they?"
As Morikawa walked out of the building in a daze, the sunlight after the rain stung his eyes.
The fragmented blue sky was reflected in the puddles, and he suddenly remembered what his daughter had said when she first came home from church: "The church uncle said..."
No Pokémon should be bullied, just like people.
From that night on, Morikawa began to unconsciously pay attention to the news about Lionel in the newspapers. Whenever he saw these reports at breakfast,
His lips would unconsciously curl upwards, as if he had contributed to those achievements.
This vice president of the United Federation seems willing to risk disgrace to quietly contribute to the Plasma Group Church in Shuanglong City as an ordinary church member.
No one could have imagined that a high-ranking official in the alliance would be so wholeheartedly devoted to the community groups in marginalized parishes—whenever he had free time…
He would then shed the imposing aura of his League uniform, don a simple white robe, and bandage the wounds of injured Pokémon in a candlelit church, or patiently teach the children under his care to read.
This unwavering commitment, transcending any pretext, is said to have earned the admiration of the seven sages of Team Plasma. They may have vaguely sensed something, yet were nonetheless moved by its sincerity. After all, in this world rife with lies, someone who can portray such a facade so convincingly is all the more believable.
When Morikawa truly witnessed Lionel's energy at the Ministry of Transport's annual meeting, he understood where that composure came from.
The section chiefs who used to boss around ordinary employees became completely different people in front of Lionel. The "church uncle," on the other hand, simply smiled gently and winked almost imperceptibly as he passed by Lionel.
Morikawa never intended to exploit this relationship for personal gain. But when his son was recommended for a better private middle school near their home,
He still made a point of inviting Lionel to the small pub near the station.
He was about to say thank you when the other person gently waved his hand to stop him.
"No need to thank me for this," the vice president interrupted Morikawa's bow. "Isn't the meaning of our struggle to ensure the children grow up happily?"
Under the dim light, Morikawa gazed at the light flickering in the other's eyes.
At that moment, he suddenly understood that what this man carried in his briefcase was not power, but an ideal more dazzling than the stained glass windows of a church.
"Do you know why I didn't promote you in the league?"
In the private room of the cocktail party, Lionel had his arm around Morikawa's shoulder. The light from the crystal chandelier reflected off his silver-gray suit, making it appear as if it were metal.
"Because the current alliance is like this glass of wine." He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "It looks glamorous, but it's already spoiled."
Morikawa gripped his glass tightly, listening to the vice president describe his ideal: a new world without Pokémon battles or class oppression. The spirit of mutual help within the church would extend throughout the Unova region.
"Then—" Lionel's voice suddenly became unusually clear, "only someone as diligent as you deserves to wield real power."
Later, whenever Morikawa drove the Alliance's official car past the church, he would silently roll down the window.
Amidst the hymns of praise carried on the wind, he could distinguish Ryoko's gentle voice and Sayuri's silvery laughter.
This tranquility was worth protecting with silence, even in the ugliest way—such as deliberately omitting the flow of certain supplies in the transport log, or turning a blind eye to the occasional strange vehicle that appeared in the corner of the garage—until one rainy night, when he saw Lionel being escorted into a police car in his rearview mirror.
The windshield wipers swung mechanically, but they couldn't wipe the rainwater running down the windshield clean.
The dream shattered like glass, the scene seen in the rainy night was not a nightmare—the news of Lionel's arrest spread like wildfire within the league. Rumor had it that the newly appointed Unicron Champion personally led the team to imprison the beloved vice-president on charges of espionage.
Even more frightening than this is the change in the church.
The gentle "church uncle" is gone, replaced by a new leader with sharp eyes. The church is no longer a warm community, but more like a camp preparing for war. Mutual aid meals have turned into heated rallies, and gentle doctrines have been replaced by hatred for the Pokémon League.
"They've taken our brothers!"
"The league must pay the price!"
Every now and then someone would stand up and shout, slamming their fist on the table and knocking over teacups. Scalding hot tea splashed onto the back of Morikawa's hand, but he felt no pain.
Morikawa stood in the crowd, listening to the roars all around him, yet suddenly felt a sense of estrangement.
We need you.
In a moment of confusion and shame, a cold voice pulled him back to reality.
The newly appointed high-ranking member of Team Plasma appeared before him, his sharp, piercing gaze seeming to cut through his disguise. The other man was only after his position in the League, wanting to use him to create trouble. Morikawa instinctively wanted to refuse—"The target of this operation is the new champion of the Unova League—you probably also want revenge for the vice-chairman, right?"
These words struck me like a hammer blow to the chest.
Lionel's face suddenly appeared before his eyes—the hand that reached out to him on that rainy day, the gentle smile under the tavern lights, and the words, "Only someone as diligent as you deserves to wield real power."
In the utter silence, Morikawa could only hear his own hoarse voice: "...Okay."
He didn't even hear the reward offered by the higher-ups. Morikawa originally intended to take all of this on his own.
But when he returned home late at night and found his wife and daughter standing in the entryway, looking at him with determined eyes, he realized that they had already heard about the plan from other people in the church.
"We're family." Ryouko gripped his arm tightly, her nails almost digging into his skin.
Whether influenced by the fervent atmosphere of the church or by her instinctive female intuition, her strength was astonishing.
"Wherever we go, we'll be together."
She seemed completely unaware that her husband was being ordered to take another person's life.
While her son was away at school, her daughter, Xiaobaihe, stood quietly beside her mother, tightly holding the now-healed bat in her arms.
Team Plasma doesn't have strict requirements regarding Pokémon ownership among its members. Over the years, the little guy's ownership has long been transferred to Ryouko, and he is currently nestled obediently in Sayuri's arms.
"Dad," Lily whispered, "we won't let you go alone."
Morikawa wanted to say, "This is too dangerous," and "You shouldn't be involved," but when he saw the look in his daughter's eyes, all those words stuck in his throat.
Everything seemed unchanged—before her eyes was still that little girl in the park sandpit, risking everything to protect vulnerable lives; and Ryoko was still that mother who would give everything for her family. But all of this seemed to have been twisted in some way. Morikawa took a deep breath and, in the quiet night, made his final decision.
He was always busy with work, yet achieved little; he received favors from others, but was always unable to repay them; he was neither a good father nor a good father.
He could not be a reliable friend either, but the hymn-like joyful times in church left him and his family with no choice at the crossroads of good and evil.
Even after taking that step, they will all step into darkness together.
"So? Where exactly is this so-called 'unexpected information'?"
Luna impatiently shook the document in her hand, the papers rustling.
She raised an eyebrow at the detective: "The Morikawa family's decision to carry out the assassination, influenced by the church and Lionel, perfectly matches our information. After all, how valuable could the information an ordinary driver have access to be?"
"If you ask me, the most surprising thing here is that Morikawa's son had absolutely nothing to do with this from beginning to end."
An investigator casually flipped to a page in the file: "That boy is in the most rebellious phase of his adolescence. He recently passed his school's entrance exams and adopted a starter Pokémon from the Yew Research Institute—I think it was Oshawott. In short, he's obsessed with becoming a Pokémon Trainer. He scoffs at Team Plasma's 'liberating Pokémon' theory and is even unaware that his family is involved in church activities."
This is truly ironic.
That child knew nothing.
He was unaware that his parents and sister were about to embark on a path of no return, unaware that his family was falling apart, and even less aware that his dream of "becoming a Trainer" was already considered a sin deserving of condemnation in Team Plasma's doctrine.
"The church outpost in Shuanglong City is also deserted." Officer Jenny continued, her fingers lightly tapping the table.
"While Lionel's past as a high-ranking member of the church is a new discovery, what about his successor, Virgil?" She flipped through another file, "this Plasma Group executive disappeared before the bombing. Perhaps you've found a lead on him?"
“No,” Hugo said, “the most important part of this testimony is that box of ‘discarded documents’ that Lionel deliberately concealed.”
The air in the room seemed to freeze.
The detective slowly rose, his finger pointing to the center of the testimony transcript: "No matter how strict the Alliance is, they wouldn't fire an employee for a few expired documents. So, here's the question."
His gaze swept over everyone present like a sharp blade.
"What kind of secret could it be that required a single driver to escort it on a rainy night? And why was a vice president able to suppress this matter so easily?"
He turned to Officer Jenny, his voice quick and firm: "Contact Gloria immediately and verify two things: First, whether any high-ranking Alliance officials with classified information have recently gone missing; second..."
Hugo's eyes sharpened: "Immediately interrogate former Vice President Lionel Skolatos."