The Poison type

Latios sat at the kitchen table, the old wood creaking beneath his elbows as he leaned forward, staring at the remnants of dinner. The house was quiet except for the muffled sound of the television in the living room where his mother, Nidoqueen, sat absorbed in her nightly routine. Lately, that routine had become a ritual—hours spent poring over Jehovah’s Witness literature, watching sermons, and taking notes in her well-worn Bible. It was as if the woman who had raised him, the strong, independent mother he once knew, had slowly slipped away, replaced by someone he barely recognized.

Nidoqueen hadn’t always been this way. She was once the cornerstone of their family, especially after the divorce. Hitmontop, his older sister, had tried to fill the void left by their absent father, becoming more of a mother to Latios than Nidoqueen had been able to at times. Still, Nidoqueen was their protector, the one who held them together when Hitmonlee moved across the country and Hitmonchan, their other brother, chose to live with their father and never really looked back.

But then the Jehovah’s Witnesses came. At first, it was just a couple of polite visits—a knock on the door, a brief conversation. Latios didn’t think much of it, but those brief conversations turned into lengthy visits, and soon, his mother was drawn in completely. What started as curiosity morphed into an all-consuming belief, one that isolated her from everyone who didn’t share it.

Nidoqueen had always been a little naïve, easily swayed by others if they seemed convincing enough. But this was different. It wasn’t just her naivety—it was fear. She became paranoid, convinced that the world outside was full of dangers that only her new faith could protect her from. The news, her friends, even her family, were seen as potential threats to her salvation.

“Mom, you barely leave the house anymore,” Latios said one evening, trying to keep his voice gentle but firm. “Don’t you miss going out? Seeing people?”

Nidoqueen looked up from her Bible, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and distrust. “Why do you keep asking me that? The world is a dangerous place, Latios. I’m safe here. We’re safe here.”

Latios swallowed the frustration rising in his throat. “I just want you to be happy, Mom. To live your life, not just… hide away.”

“I am happy,” she insisted, but her voice lacked conviction. She looked back down at her Bible, dismissing the conversation as if it were nothing more than an annoying buzz in her ear.

Latios knew he couldn’t reach her alone, but the weight of responsibility still pressed down on him. His siblings couldn’t help—Hitmonlee was too far away, and Hitmonchan hadn’t been a part of their lives in years. Hitmontop, though always a phone call away, had her own family to worry about. It left Latios feeling trapped, stuck between his loyalty to his mother and his own need for a life outside of her increasingly insular world.

Thankfully, he had his three best friends—Lucario, Rapidash, and Gholdengo. They were his lifeline, the only ones who seemed to understand what he was going through. Lucario was the practical one, always encouraging Latios to take things one step at a time. “You can’t do everything at once,” Lucario would say. “But you can take small steps. Focus on what you can change today.”

Rapidash, ever the realist, was more blunt. “You’ve got to think about yourself too, Latios. Your mom’s made her choices, but that doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your life for them.”

Gholdengo, the logical one, approached the situation like a puzzle to be solved. “There are ways to help her without losing yourself in the process. Boundaries, Latios. You need to set them, or you’re both going to drown.”

Their advice was sound, but putting it into practice was another matter. The guilt of even thinking about leaving weighed on him heavily. But staying here, in this stifling house, was taking a toll on him that he could no longer ignore.

One night, after a particularly tense argument with Nidoqueen about his decision to visit some old friends, Latios found himself back at the café where he often met his friends. The familiar setting was a comfort, but the reality of his situation still loomed large.

“I’m thinking about moving out,” Latios admitted, stirring his coffee absently. The words felt heavy, but there was a sense of relief in finally saying them out loud.

Lucario nodded approvingly. “It’s about time. You need your own space to figure things out.”

Rapidash was more direct. “Good. You’re not abandoning her, Latios. You’re taking care of yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Gholdengo added, “It’s the logical choice. You can still be there for her, but you need to live your life too.”

The decision wasn’t easy, but with his friends’ support, Latios knew it was the right one. Over the next few weeks, he started looking for a small apartment nearby. The process was bittersweet, but the idea of having a space to call his own, free from the constant tension and fear that had taken over his home, kept him going.

When he finally found a place, he sat Nidoqueen down to tell her. The conversation was difficult, filled with tears and confusion on her part, but he remained firm. “I’m not leaving you, Mom,” Latios assured her. “I’ll still be here for you, but I need to do this for myself.”

Nidoqueen didn’t understand fully, but she didn’t argue either. She simply nodded, looking lost in a way that broke Latios’s heart. But he knew he had to follow through.

Moving out was a turning point for Latios. It wasn’t a cure-all—Nidoqueen’s situation hadn’t changed, and there were still days when the guilt gnawed at him. But the distance gave him room to breathe, to rediscover parts of himself that had been buried under the weight of his mother’s needs.

He visited her often, bringing meals and keeping her company when he could. And though their conversations were still tinged with the same tension, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when he could see glimpses of the mother he once knew.

Latios knew the road ahead would be long and uncertain. But with his friends by his side and the space he had carved out for himself, he felt a renewed sense of hope. He couldn’t change his mother’s choices, but he could choose to live his life in a way that honored both her and himself. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.