She picked the wrong time to pay a visit to Driftveil. The streets were overcrowded with trainers, their PokĂ©mon, the press and spectators alike. Anzu had to bite her tongue every time some trainer bumped into her or when someoneâs kid got right in her path. At one point, she accidentally stepped between a news reporter and a cameraman filming for the tournament taking place here.
How was she supposed to know the Pokémon World Tournament was happening right now? Other than from the billboard advertisements, the posters plastered all over Join Avenue and the coverage that was on nearly every public access channel on television. Not to mention the number of people who were talking about it non-stop. How on earth could she have forgotten?
This wouldnât be so annoying if the person she came to visit hadnât run off somewhere without warning, defeating the main purpose for her trip. And to continue her great stroke of luck, the drawbridge that connected Driftveil to Nimbasa just decided to malfunction mid-rise. This wasnât much of an inconvenience for people with flying types or other ways to get across. But for Anzu, it meant she was stuck here until they could fix it.
Thankfully, the lack of people coming into Driftveil meant there was more space for her to breathe in the small park between the bridge and the city. Watching flocks of Ducklett fly over the water would help take her mind off of these shitty circumstances. But the collision of a young trainer quickly snapped her out of the brief state of calm she was in.
âJeez kid!â Anzu barked at the young girl, lacking the proper judgment to restrain herself from yelling at a child. âWatch where youâre go-â
She looked down to her feet, noticing the red jam and peanut butter that painted the sole of her boot. How frustrating. So frustrating, she could scream and make a scene.
This was the opposite of good. Sheâd made this lady super upset and now she was going to pay for it.
Moon tried to get the words out, tried to wrench out that Iâm Sorry, but it was all in vain. She could already feel her throat constricting rapidly, and her hands followed suit. They grasped around her neck, trying to at least ensure she could still breath. It wasnât much use; her face was bright red and she already looked either on the verge of tears or choking.
Moon may have been a lot of things, but most of all? She was only twelve.
As soon as she could breathe again, her hands began signing rapidly. Iâm so sorry please donât yell at me I didnât see you there it was an accident please donât be mad please ran off her hands with each passing second, her heart pounding at the same speed. Her hands were so fast and clumsy that she wasnât sure if the lady was going to know what she was saying.
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