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Interlude - Maylene II
INTERLUDE - MAYLENE II

Maylene had barely slept all night, a far cry from the twelve hours she had gotten her first day back from the Distortion World. The sun hung low over Veilstone, and the sky was clear this morning after rain clouds had covered the entire eastern part of the region yesterday. Maylene stood at attention with a cohort of her oldest, highest ranking Gym Trainers in front of her Gym. Most of them were people who had seen her grow up and taught her, too. People her father had hired back when he still ran Veilstone. Maylene was wearing her Gym Battling uniform, a sleeveless, dark blue top and white pants with a red stripe down the sides. Her fingerless gloves felt comfortable around her hands, and she was usually, but not always barefoot. Since she was out, she had her shoes on— simple running shoes.

Closest to her was Lucario, who was just as nervous as she was. Barely a day out of being stuck in his Pokeball, and he was already being made to meet their father. He had been just as hard on him growing up as he had been on her, demanding excellence at every single step. Miss one, and he would unravel you right where you stood. Beat you up mentally so you could either rise a stronger person or break so he could reforge you into the person he wanted.

Legendaries, Maylene had been blind. The signs had been everywhere for her to see, yet she had instead thrown herself into running her Gym in hopes to impress him. Maybe, just maybe, if she had done a good enough job, then he would finally tell her that he was proud of her.

Their lining up in front of the Gym attracted plenty of stares from early commuters. A lot of them would walk up to Maylene and shake her hand, thanking her for her service to the city. It was difficult to take their gratitude and compliments seriously when she could have been working right now, or Teleported to Snowpoint or Hearthome to help out the cities in need of the most help. There, her fighting types would be a godsend.

"Think it's that one?" Maylene leaned close to her sibling to whisper.

I sure hope so. Better get this anxious feeling over with and break the tension, Lucario frustratingly answered. His eyes lit up with a cold blue, and the fighting type shook his head. Nope. Not this one.

"Unless he's masking his aura." A little trick he'd taught her to keep it suppressed, even if she rarely did so. The taxi passed them and the Gym by without a fuss.

Look, we're both nervous but he has no reason to. Lucario patted Maylene's back. And even then, I would have been able to tell. Don't let your anxiety make you underestimate me. He tried to be cheeky, but Maylene wasn't in the mood.

"You're right. Sorry."

Maylene asked one of the Gym Trainers for the time, and the older woman replied with 7:12 am.

"He's late. It's not like him to be late," she said. "There's like no traffic, either."

Oscar, her father, was not a man for luxuries. He had advocated for them to live a humble life and not use the Gym's resources for their own gain for as long as she could remember, or at least that was until he met Maylene's step mom, decided going to live in an Alolan Resort and that dumping all these responsibilities onto her was a great idea. Who knew, maybe Alison had changed that part of him, too. It wasn't like they messaged regularly at all beyond him checking up on how the Gym was doing, so it had been an entire year since they'd held an actual conversation aside from when Maylene had her breakdown. There, he'd called to berate her for being weak before disappearing again, but she had already hit rock bottom so it hadn't had much of an effect.

It took another seven minutes for Oscar Suzuki to arrive, and he did so in one of Veilstone's taxis, as predicted. As soon as Maylene saw him step out of the car, she found it difficult to breathe clearly. Her hands behind her back twitched, and she had to stop her eyes from darting all around her Gym Trainers. Her father was not the stereotypical fighting specialist. He did not have the body of a body-builder, although he was toned, as was shown by the tanktop he was wearing. He had the same uniform as her on, and in his— in her Gym, it was reserved only for Gym Leaders. Her father still had a head full of pink hair, although his was more of a faded color than hers, akin to Charon's. Usually it would be short— he had always told her to keep her hair short to stop it from being grabbed in a fight— but his time in Alola had allowed him to let himself go. It was long enough to reach his neck, now, and had been curled. It looked like a wave cascading around his head.

Speaking of his time in Alola, he was still relatively tanned. Oscar said something to his taxi driver with a loud laugh before looping around the car to let Maylene's step-mother out, as if she couldn't open the damn door herself. Alison was a delicate little thing, akin to a flower. Her father had met her during the Gym Trainer hiring process, and that meant she was young. Twenty years younger than him, at a striking twenty-six years old. Young enough to be her older sister. She'd been rejected at the interview stage two years back for reasons unknown to Maylene, but they went out for coffee that very week-end, and the rest was history. A year later, they were married and decided on a honeymoon that had never ended.

Instead of being tanned, she just carried the remains of sunburns on her arms and legs. Maylene's step-mother was dressed in what the Gym Leader figured must have been a traditional Alolan garb, an ankle-length dress with colorful, flowery patterns and fabric that flowed like water. Her light brown hair… ugh, they had the same Arceus damned hairstyle. It was enough to make her want to puke—

It was when they both swung around the car, that Maylene figured why her father had helped her up.

Alison was pregnant.

She was pregnant. She was pregnant. She was pregnant. She was pregnant. She was pregnant.

A small nudge from Lucario snapped her back to reality, although she wished she was fucking dreaming. Her father hadn't thought it a good idea to fucking tell her? Maylene gripped her wrist behind her back and struggled to contain the wisps of aura desperate to burst out of every inch of her skin to accompany her anger. Oscar and Alison walked up the Gym steps, and every single Gym Trainer bowed their heads, including Lucario.

Maylene did not. Only she was Gym Leader, and therefore above her father in status, but the fact that he had hidden a pregnancy from her— he was staring; staring her down so intensely she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He looked larger than life, and each second he did so was like she was being crushed under the weight of his expectations.

She lowered her head.

The dam of tension broke. Finally, she could breathe again. "Maylene! Oh, it's good to see you." Oscar wrapped her into a tight and uncomfortable embrace that she didn't care for. "Sorry for the tardiness, it looks like every single taxi decided to have a day off. Sloppy." He clapped Lucario's shoulder next, and the fighting type answered with a nervous smile and greeting. "I missed you too, Lucario. I hope you've been taking good care of Maylene."

Oscar then greeted the cortege of Gym Trainers one by one, which was going to take a while, but was the reason why he had such dedicated personnel here at the Gym. Maylene glared at Alison when she ignored her greeting as usual. She wasn't a bad person or anything, or at least Maylene didn't think so. Maybe a little aloof. It was unfair of Maylene to expect a twenty-six year old to be the mother-figure she never had (or at least until she got herself pregnant; she was going to have to be a mother soon enough). The problem was that she just constantly acted like Maylene didn't exist, like so, and the Gym Leader didn't find it in her to say hello louder or confront her about it.

The reception now over, Oscar led everyone inside the Gym. Already, he was acting like he was in charge even if he had been neglecting his duties the year he had met Alison and then dumped them all on Maylene because he was so madly in fucking love. Where had all that 'duty' talk been for, if he was going to be a hypocrite about it? Irritating. Balloons in the lobby had been set up to spell out 'WELCOME BACK, OSCAR' right above reception, and nearly eighty Gym Trainers erupted into a thunderous applause as soon as they stepped foot in the building. The man of the hour laughed, making small talk with his employees he hadn't seen in over a year while his wife hung off his arm like a leech.

All Maylene could do was observe with Lucario. Some people just had this… this magnetic property to them. Like, they could step into a room and immediately capture the attention of everyone in it. To some, it was innate, like Cynthia, but Maylene's dad had cultivated this reputation in Veilstone over the decades, and even more so in his Gym. The year Maylene had been in charge had done very little to change that. You couldn't cut away at the roots he'd planted so quickly.

He's just come back and he's already acting like he owns the place, Lucario grouched with his arms crossed. How annoying. It was us who kept it standing. Why does he get the damn victory lap?

She wanted to reply, but didn't. Her father's hearing was as sharp as hers, so for many years, it was only Lucario, who had been able to vent his frustrations whenever a day got tough.

Outwardly, Maylene appeared zen. She had, after all, learned to pretend that she wasn't angry, or frustrated, or sad, or feeling any kind of negative emotion with Oscar in the vicinity. Drinks were brought by a few trainers, though none of them were alcoholic. They'd come from pressed fruits they'd bought at the grocery store yesterday, and of course the Gym had paid for those. Oscar grabbed some freshly pressed mango juice and jokingly complained about how bad it was compared to Alola.

Maylene ground her teeth. She had busted her ass to get this shit ready, so even a joke was getting on her nerves. She hated the fact that she found it difficult to hide what she was feeling, now. A year ago this would have gone over her head, but now…

Stay calm, Lucario whispered into her mind. The day is just beginning.

Alison cackled at every single joke Oscar made with that obnoxious Honchkrow-like sound she called a laugh, but most of her time was spent recounting how beautiful or welcoming Alola was. Oh, did you know they went hang gliding over Akala Island? Oh, you just had to hear about the food, they ate like kings every single day! What about the resort with the fucking 10 pools, the lazy river and the minigolf? The Aether Foundation having built a completely artificial island called Aether Paradise where they cared for Pokemon who needed it? While she'd been working day and night here to keep the Gym running and stop Team Galactic, they'd been having a grand old time!

Fuck off.

"Maylene." Oscar slowly approached her, carrying the confident swagger of a man that owned the world. "What's wrong? Your aura's showing." His hand gently gripped her shoulder, and it was only now that he noticed the hearing aid in her ear. His finger traced its contour, but he didn't say anything.

The blue light permeating through her skin was snuffed out like a candle. Instinctively, she lowered her head, staring at his feet instead of into his eyes.

Giratina had stood not one hundred feet from her, yet her father still made her feel like this. Pathetic.

"Just a little tired," Maylene finally answered. "I—I've been working long hours 'cause I'm helping out the other cities. I've been helping with their paperwork and such, too, when I can."

Finally, she gathered the courage to face him. A prideful smile stretched across his lips. "You're as diligent as always, Maylene."

"You heard her! My daughter's tired!" His voice bellowed across the room. Aura coalesced on his palms, and he clapped them twice. Each sound was a thunderclap reminiscent of yesterday's weather. "Enough partying! Drain your glasses and it's back to work!"

They did just that. Within the next five minutes, the lobby was empty. There was no need for a receptionist when the Gym was closed, after all. Alison and Oscar still remained, the former of which had opted to go on her phone.

"I'm tired, too," she complained. "Sinnoh's totally harshing my vibes right now, it's so depressing compared to Alola."

Before Maylene could protest at how out of touch that was, her father spoke up, "Why don't you go to my old room and rest?" he asked. Maylene had known him long enough to know that the calm in his tone was just a facade. The easiest way to tell was the unnatural smoothness in his voice, but also how he suddenly took three steps away from her. It was good to see that he still cared, at least. "I hope you didn't convert it to something else." Maylene shook her head. "Good. Maylene and I have some catching up to do."

Alison chewed on her lip for a moment. "Are you sure you don't need me here?"

Why would he ever need you here? You don't do anything.

"No, we'll be just fine on our own." He forced a smile. "I'll check up on you and the baby later."

Finally, she took the hint and left, leaving the three of them alone. Lucario shifted uncomfortably under Oscar's gaze, and Maylene could barely even meet it.

"Surprised?" He watched his wife exit the lobby with his arms crossed. "You're getting a baby brother soon. Sorry about her, by the way. She didn't want to come back, so she's a little miffed."

"It's okay," Maylene lied. She never got so many excuses.

"Thanks for the party, but," here we go, "what's with the way you carry yourself?" Gone was the soft tone he'd used for his wife. Her father spoke down to her, his face marred with displeasure. "You sat in the corner for twenty minutes; people barely noticed you were there at all! I raised you better than that!" Maylene flinched at the sudden yell. "You are a Gym Leader, you need to act like it. If you keep acting so lost and weak, people will notice. It'll reflect badly on the Gym, especially in these trying times!"

You were the one who wore a Gym Leader's clothes.

You were the one who stared me down until I bowed my head in front of the others.

You were the one who acted like you were in charge and didn't leave enough oxygen in the room for me to speak.

You were the one who taught me to be subservient to you.


She wanted to say all of this…

A pathetic, coarse "yes, sir," was all that came out.

He clapped her shoulder. "Good, good. Now, show me around the Gym, will you?"

What followed was the longest hour of Maylene's life. No, correction; the longest hour since she had helped Grace and the others save the world. She would show her father around the Gym, both the old and the new, and at first, he would praise her. Make her breathe a sigh of relief and allow a small amount of pride to rise in her chest. Allow her to smile and look up at him, as if to say 'I did a good job?!'.

Then, he would notice something.

It was always the minutest of things. Like too much dust gathering in a corner, or there being not enough four-badge Pokemon, or her not handling the training of the 1st and 2nd-badge level Pokemon anymore after her break, or them having too many Gym Trainers on payroll because she could handle more work, or that Lucario wasn't doing enough, or that—

Or, or, or. There was always something, it was never enough.

No matter how Maylene believed that this time, this room, this hallway, he would not find anything to yell at her about, her father always found a way.

And then he broke her down. Slowly, first. "You are better than this, I know it," he would say. But the more wrong he found, the more these backhanded encouragements turned to insults. "Worthless," he would call her. "You should never have been made Gym Leader. I should have picked x, or y, or even z." Maylene had long learned to disassociate when her father did this to her, so she could barely keep track of what he was saying. That worked for some time, until he asked her "Are you paying attention? Am I boring you?" and suddenly she was forcefully dragged back into the world as if his voice had a grip on her neck and was forced to nod or answer back with "Yes, sir."

Oscar wore her down, slowly but surely. Like a sculptor chiseling at stone. He took her to one of the Gym's lower-level training grounds, a room half the size of a normal arena filled with a myriad of blue fighting mats with bright lights shining from the ceiling. Then, he had a Gym Trainer bring out a few first-badge Pokemon. A Mankey, a Scrafty and a Croagunk.

"Let's see how you train them," he said behind her.

Lucario spoke up, Oscar I can help—

"No. It is the Veilstone Gym Leader's job to personally train their fighting types as soon as they reach the first badge level. You're giving them the foundation from which they will be fighting years from now. That cannot," he insisted on the word, "be half-assed. We won't be doing grapples today. Just hone their reflexes."

Lucario shrank and remained quiet.

"C—Croagunk first," Maylene said.

The poison type nodded. It was nervous to be fighting her for the first time, but it jumped onto the mat with the tiniest of croaks. Maylene raised her fists in a guard—

"Arceus, what even is that?" Oscar complained. "Slightly higher— lower! Your legs— your crouch is all wrong! Where's your center of gravity? I could knock you on your ass with a tiny push. Straighten your back a little. I said a little!" He let out a frustrated scream. "Why are you so scared? No need to look like a stiff wooden board! Relax your body, you're supposed to be fluid. There. Good, you've got it."

Maylene knew her posture wasn't wrong. It was excellent, yet because it wasn't perfect to the exact millimeter, her dad hounded her for it.

"I guess I'll have to move our sparring to tomorrow. If this is how sloppy you got in my absence, we'll have to rework the basics into you first." He exhaled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Maylene stopped herself from sighing in relief. Spars with him rarely ended well, even on his good days like this one. He must have been happy to be back. "You're squandering so much potential," he continued. "You'll make it far one day thanks to this, trust me."

"Thank you, sir," she muttered.

She hadn't even begun the fight, and she was mentally exhausted. The Gym Leader slowly flexed, working aura through her body until it flared to life and Croagunk flinched. The mat felt firm and supportive beneath her feet, a reminder of the countless hours she had spent honing her skills there. Her father counted down from three, and then the battle began.

With a swift movement, Croagunk lunged forward, its sharp fists aimed directly at Maylene. Slow. She sidestepped swiftly, feeling the rush of air as its attack missed by mere inches. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the harrowing, judging gaze of her father pierced through her—

"Sloppy!" he called out. "What is this? You're worthless!"

She gritted her teeth. Maylene pushed herself down the mat and kicked behind her, but her foot only found air. With a defiant croak, Croagunk lunged at her, forcing her to push herself with her hands into the air away from the fighting type. She landed in a crouch around ten feet away at the edge of the mat.

"Stop dancing around it and win," Oscar pressured.

"Yes, sir!" she yelled.

Your body is a spring. Don't be stiff and let every action lead into another.

Her foot slammed against the ground and within a second, she was up to Croagunk. The poison type's eyes widened as she jammed a fist into its stomach, sending it away from the mat and onto the wooden floorboards. Croagunk rolled nearly forty feet before it managed to catch itself.

"Good," he gruffed. "Sloppy, slow, but good enough to be borderline passable with some guidance. Now the other two."

Maylene shut her eyes. Relief flooded her, but she knew it to be only temporary until he took it away from her again.

She should have been working to help Sinnoh right now. "Yes, sir."



Their Gym tour and her sparring now done with, her father finally told her she could go back to work, though not before worming himself into her duties. He had made himself at home in her office because he didn't want to disturb Alison while she rested, but at least he had allowed her to keep her seat at her desk and he was quiet now, not criticizing her every move. He'd sent Lucario away to work through the Gym, as if he hated when the two of them were together. He was sitting on the floor, just as he liked, with his own laptop on his knees that he had connected to the Gym's email without asking her. Sometimes he would ask what she was doing, and depending on her answer he would tell her to prioritize something else, but he really wasn't that bad—

No! Maylene's knee hit the side of her desk, and she quickly apologized to her father for the sudden noise before he could blow up at her. She heeded Cecilia's words and took a deep breath. Just because her dad wasn't that bad right now did not mean he was not awful. Maylene had lived through the cycle thousands of times. She was lucky Cecilia had texted her last night— or early this morning, she supposed— with many warnings. The girl rarely ever slept anymore. Maylene finished answering a message telling Candice that she would Teleport to Snowpoint early tomorrow, but she struggled to press send. Countless questions ran through her mind. What if her father tried undermining her position and took over while she was gone? Sure, Oscar would never be the actual, de jure Gym Leader, but in practice? Cynthia and the others were too busy for her to ask for help, so she would either have to confront him herself or let it happen…

She liked this job, even after everything it had put her through. She enjoyed helping Veilstone and testing trainers. Maylene liked being a Gym Leader despite the fact that she had been woefully unready when she took over. She didn't want her entire Gym to be swept from under her feet just because Oscar's standards were ridiculously high. It had been difficult to adapt to, but the job was actually fulfilling, now.

No, his standards were only ridiculously high with her. Because he saw potential in her and got angry at her when she didn't meet his absurd goals. Because she was his blood. Because her talent with aura went beyond even his.

Legendaries, she hoped her sibling wouldn't have to suffer the same fate.

But Maylene was being stupid. She sent Candice's Gym the message and leaned against her hand, which clenched at her forehead. A dull headache had been building up from the moment she'd set her eyes on Oscar, and now it was becoming unbearable.

"You know, now that we're in your office, I've been meaning to ask," Oscar said. "What happened to you in Coronet?"

"I—I can't tell you, dad," she sputtered. "I—"

"None of the other Gym Leaders were out there, I checked," he spoke over her. He got up and started pacing. "You can't blame me for being curious, can you?"

"No, I don't, but it's classified." Every time he got close to her, it took everything not to flinch. "It's literally for the Champion's eyes only, even the Elite Four don't know the entirety of what went on."

"You aren't the Champion, Maylene," he said. "And yet, you know anyway."

She was going to hyperventilate. She should have claimed she didn't know anything from the get go. "Lo—Look, if you have an issue, take it up with Cynthia, okay? It's out of my hands."

Bringing up the Champion's name seemingly worked, thank the Legendaries, because she'd been quite literally about to break and spill everything. A notification rang out both in her pocket and her laptop. The name 'Grace' on the top right corner of her screen instantly brought her relief, like she was some kind of painkiller. Her hands still soaked with sweat from the confrontation with her dad, Maylene clicked on the notification.

Grace - Hi Maylene. Is everything okay with your dad? I wanted to text you earlier but Cece told me to wait until your lunch break so you were alone, just in case the texts triggered your father or something.

Lunch break…? Maylene looked at the time and noticed it was 12:26 pm. Right. Lunch Break.

"Something good happen?" her father asked from the corner of the room.

"What?"

"You're smiling. You didn't even smile when you saw your father again after a year." The way he was speaking, Maylene knew it was one of his 'I'm joking, but not really' moods. If she answered jokingly, he would suddenly turn serious and berate her for not taking him seriously, but if she did take him seriously, he would tell her to calm down and to stop being so emotional. "I'm just curious. That's not classified, is it?"

"It's not—"

"It's not a boy, is it? You have no time to involve yourself in romance. Not until you've been trained up to perfection, at least," he said.

He had it all wrong. It wasn't— she'd never been in love, and Grace wasn't even a boy. She was just a friend whom Maylene hoped she could be best friends with one day and for that feeling to be mutual.

"Look, can I go— stretch my legs?"

"Avoiding the topic?" he pressed. "So it is a boy. I'm willing to give him a chance and meet him. If he isn't pushing you to improve and I don't like him, break it off."

She needed out of here, and quickly. Maylene scrambled out of her chair, knocking down a pen holder and sending a bunch of pens clattering on the floor. She nearly ran out of her office with both her laptop and phone to make sure her father wouldn't just look at her stuff.

"When you're back, we're having a conversation about this. Don't be long."

She ran off to the nearest bathroom and caught a glance of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy. She was on the verge of having a breakdown. Maylene slowly sat down on the floor, feeling her back drag against the wall as she slipped down, and then the moment she hit the ground, her vision grew blurry and her cheeks felt wet. Her phone chimed again.

"Damn it," she cried, wiping her eyes. "Ugh."

Grace - Hey, I'm double texting cause I know you saw the message and I'm kind of worried.

What? She could see that? Maylene thought back to all the times she had waited to figure out the perfect message to send back and groaned in embarrassment. Was that a setting she'd turned off by accident? At least she had used work as an excuse.

Right now, her shame was low priority, however.

You - Im not gonan lie i need some help today has been awful

She took a few seconds to answer.

Grace - Okay. Can you send a Gym Kadabra or do we need to harass the League for one? Either is fine.

Oh, she was coming over already? Maylene looked around the bathroom and finished wiping away her tears.

You - Ill send a Kadabra. Ur still at that same hotel, right

Grace - Yup.

You - Go out in front. Should be liek 5 mins or so

You - Im sry i was the one supposed to help you and take care of you after all od this but instead its the opposite

Grace - No problem! I wouldn't let you face this alone or I'd be a pretty shitty friend. I'd do it for all of them.

Ugh. There was a pang of pain deep within, new pain she neither knew nor understood. Maylene didn't know what was wrong with her— actually she knew. She wanted to be special. To think like this when Grace was literally saving her? She was being selfish again.

Maylene stood back up, but before picking up her laptop she looked at herself in the mirror again and washed her face. She forced a confident smile, made herself look taller and then nodded. She saw a Gym Leader staring back, this time, not a scared little girl. All things considered, she'd handled this well. She hadn't freaked out and broken something with aura or accidentally hurt someone.

Her laptop in hand, she made her way down the stairs to the ground floor. She could have had elevators installed, but stairs always made for a good workout. Maylene traveled through the long hallway circling the Gym's main arena until she found herself in front of two glass sliding doors. Behind them was a single Kadabra and two League Trainers tending to… his every need. She recognized him by the comically large and clumsily-made spoon he carried around and that lazy stare he had in his eyes. The psychic lounged on a reclining chair with a book about metalworking levitating in front of his face. Every five seconds or so, he would wave a finger and the page would turn. Maylene wished she could read her reports that fast.

Every Kadabra had one topic they were passionate about. One that would seize their very being and never let go until they had learned enough to be satisfied. Pokemon were very rarely paid in human currency. Maylene remembered a Gym Machoke taking Pokedollars from when she was a child because it had actually been renting a small apartment thanks to a very nice and understanding landlord, but it had been the exception among exceptions. Rare were Pokemon who lived like humans. Most Kadabra were paid in food and training, yes, but mostly knowledge, which was why Blair and Matthew over here were continuously working day and night to get Kadabra what he wanted.

It was important to keep their Gym Kadabra happy, or they'd quit, be transferred back to the League, and a high turnover rate in a Gym was usually a bad thing for Pokemon and people alike.

"Leader Maylene," both trainers said in unison. They didn't bow, though. None of that with her. Then, the girl named Blair continued. "Is something wrong?"

They both looked on edge. Before her… intervention and all of the Gym Leaders intervened to basically force her to go on her break, they used to be this nervous around her. She'd been… not an awful boss, she believed, but not a great one like she'd wanted to be either, always berating them for their work if it wasn't perfect and taking more and more of their duties. Sometimes, she'd taken so many that she fired some, even.

You know what, maybe she had been an awful boss.

The apple never fell far from the tree.

She'd worked day and night to rectify her relationship with her employees. While she still didn't want to be just friends— or sometimes frenemies— with them like Candice was with most of hers because she still believed it was important for there to be a boss-worker relationship (although one based on mutual respect), she would be stupid to think that they worked at their best when they were scared of her.

She could already guess why they were nervous. "This has nothing to do with my dad, so don't worry," she sighed. "I need to borrow Kadabra really quickly, if that's okay with you?" she asked the psychic. "It'll take five minutes tops."

Kadabra rolled his eyes. And to think I avoided being sent up to that hell up north to be a glorified Teleporting slave only to end up being one anyway, he complained before hopping off his leather chair. Where do you need me to go?

"The League."

Maylene gave Kadabra the hotel's address and showed him a map using an app on her phone. He wouldn't be able to Teleport right at the hotel, but he would be close enough for it to be a three minute walk. Plus, he would need to rest for a few minutes before Teleporting back in front of the Gym anyway. Most Kadabra the League loaned out to Gyms tired out quickly. Maylene quickly texted Grace that it would only be a few minutes now.

You - Kadabra on his way. Should be a few mins

Grace - Gotcha. We're waiting.

"Um, Leader Maylene." Matthew kept looking at the door behind her. "We won't get in trouble for this, won't we?"

"Trouble?"

"I mean, Leader Oscar—"

"I'm the Gym Leader," she interrupted him and took a step forward, causing him to flinch. "Not my dad. I am the person in charge!" When she noticed how his face twisted in fear, she tried mollifying him by apologizing. "I'm sorry, it's just— it's just been a tough day." She wished she could just tell them to take the day off, but she couldn't. Everyone was needed at the Gym right now, despite what her father told her.

She couldn't afford to stick around with those two. Grace and Cecilia would be there any minute now, so Maylene made her way back toward the Gym's entrance. It was difficult not to think her father was going to jump out at her at any moment demanding to know what she was doing. Maylene believed that he'd wonder where she was soon enough, especially with how he believed she'd been texting a guy. As if she'd ever be interested in romance.

For once, she found the lobby's emptiness soothing instead of disturbing. To Maylene, having it be so empty during the day, even this early, was not something she was used to quite yet. Her Gym was probably the first one that was going to open again in the country since Veilstone hadn't been damaged, and she was excited to get back to the routine sooner rather than later. After Galactic, normal Pokemon battles were exactly what she needed to relax. Plus she'd given some more thought to who she wanted to be as a Gym Leader, and her father's ever-looming presence had accelerated those. She had been in the process of carving a niche for herself before the bombs.

Maylene saw her friend…s Teleport through the glass door. It was impressive how quickly time passed when she was lost in thought. She saw Grace mouth something to Kadabra, who kept glaring at Cecilia as if her mere presence personally offended him. Then, she turned toward Maylene and—

And…

Yeah, uh, yeah.

Okay. Wow.

She pulled one of those bright, genuine smiles that illuminated the world around her. Smiles were funny, really. It was just a motion of the mouth, but she always made it look so great.

Maylene waved at the two girls as they quickly entered the Gym. From what she knew, they didn't exactly want to be seen out and about, so she'd have to keep a tight lid on the flow of information after they were gone. Cecilia, Maylene had noticed, had always been one for feminine clothing. She had a casual, dark dress on that Maylene would never be confident enough to wear, not that they interested her much, nor did she have the figure to. Dresses were difficult to move and fight in. She had a hand over her white eyes to shield them from the sun.

Grace wore baggy jeans, white sneakers and a white t-shirt with 'just be kind' written on the front. Meltan was inanimate around her wrist like usual. By all intents and purposes, these were normal clothes. Probably something she'd thrown on without giving it a single thought. Maylene had never really paid attention to what people wore before, and her eyes had never gravitated toward someone that much; as if they were being forcefully pulled toward Grace without her doing. Not even her closest friends Candice and Gardenia. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious of how horrid she must have looked after crying and being so exhausted.

Though Maylene got the feeling that if Grace ever was as touchy with her as Gardenia was, she'd get a heart attack. The mid length ponytail her hair was in left a lot of her neck exposed. This must have been what wanting to be best friends with someone meant.

One of her trainers passing through the lobby flinched at Cecilia's face and quickly sped away toward where he'd been walking. She was quite scary-looking, especially when her expression was so angry. Angry and tired, though the latter went for both of them. They clearly weren't sleeping much. Kadabra lazily strode back to his room where his book on ironworking awaited.

"Hiya," Grace said. "Are you okay? Do you need a hug?"

Maylene wanted to say yes to that, but couldn't bring herself to. Her reasons wouldn't be pure at all; in fact, they would be selfish. She wouldn't have accepted just because her father was here, but partly because she just liked her hugs. Grace's hug remained the only positive memory she'd had in the Distortion World, so she wondered how one would feel outside of that horrifying dimension.

"Where is he? I'll kill him," Cecilia snarled.

Grace smiled. "Baby, you don't even have your Pokemon with you."

Maylene figured she would have chuckled had she been in the right mood. "Ha. Ha. Very funny—"

"Oh, right. I was joking, obviously." Cecilia shifted in place with a forced smile that was more creepy than not.

For Maylene, the situation suddenly wasn't very humorous. "You both know that violence isn't on the table, right?"

"Oh, we know." Grace nodded and nudged Cecilia's arm with her elbow. "Now, what do you need us to do? Do you need us to kick him out for now? Because you're— hey, did I say something wrong?"

The Gym Leader lowered her head and stared at their feet. "I just don't like talking about it in the open," she whispered. "Can we make some sort of plan in my room? My dad's probably gonna be looking for me any minute now."

"I see he also gives you no privacy," Cecilia said. "Expected. Let's be on our way, then."

It was hard not to be anxious and feel like she was doing something wrong despite common sense dictating that yes, inviting friends over was normal. While they walked down the sleek, wide hall and up the stairs, Maylene sent a message to her Gym Trainer group chat telling her employees not to say anything about Grace and Cecilia being here. She made sure to look if her father had been added first, of course. He hadn't. When Cecilia asked her what was with the laptop she was carrying around, Maylene explained that she'd been scared her father would look at it.

She'd muttered something under her breath in response— Maylene wasn't so sure what. Probably an insult.

Maylene ushered the two girls into her room and locked the door behind them. Her father might suspect she'd be in here, but if he did, he would yell at her through the door before trying to force it open. She'd never been allowed to have locked doors growing up. It was rather minimalistic and not well-furnished. A single couch in the middle of the room facing the wall where a small television was mounted; a kitchen island from where she could cook that she placed her laptop on with a fridge next to it, and a small dining table behind the couch. There was also a hallway leading to her bedroom, though that room was truly empty. Just sleeping mats and a window. Maylene would have rather died than let these two see it.

"Oh, so it does look like that…" Grace muttered.

Knowing the confrontation with her father was coming soon, Maylene was too nervous to pay any attention to it, and Cecilia was intently staring at her Medicham. Medicham sat on the couch, eating a banana by picking it apart piece by piece with her hand.

"On your lunch break?" Maylene asked. The fighting type wasn't the biggest of eaters, so she knew that banana would last her the entire day. "Mind if we use the room?"

Silly, silly Maymay. This is our home, not mine. You are free to use it as you wish! Medicham spoke into her mind, her stumpy legs wiggling.

"Thanks. This is Grace, and this is Cecilia," she introduced them. "Girls, feel free to sit anywhere and make yourselves at home. Do you want anything to drink? Some food, maybe?"

Cecilia turned to face her with a stare she couldn't help but avert her eyes from, and Grace leaned against the kitchen island, content to let her girlfriend speak. "You shouldn't put this off, Maylene." The Unovan walked up to her so very slowly. "We need to go on the offensive, or he'll have you defeated and broken."

Ouch. No confidence in her. Maylene supposed she hadn't really inspired any given that—

"No need to look so hurt. I am not saying this because I do not believe you to be capable of facing your father, but because of my past experiences. The longer you wait, the more doubt will creep in. You will want to delay and say: 'maybe tomorrow', and the days will turn into weeks. Then it will be too late. He will have reestablished himself."

Oh. That made her feel a lot better. "Th—thanks, Cecilia."

Um… what is happening? Medicham asked. The psychic started shoving the peels into her mouth, which made Grace wrinkle her nose for a second. Medicham was embarrassing Maylene!

"We're telling my father— we're telling him that he's been not so great to me and that I'd like to keep some distance," Maylene explained.

Ooooh, yeah! Kick his butt! Medicham cheered. Uh, don't tell him or any of his Pokemon I said that.

When Grace snickered, Maylene quickly recalled Medicham into her ball before she could embarrass her any further.

"Actually Maylene, we're telling him to fuck off," Grace said, now that the conversation grew serious again. "Enough is enough. Like I wanted to say earlier, you, as the Gym Leader of the Veilstone Gym, have the authority to kick him out and bar your doors."

Cecilia smiled grimly. "I know of his type. Consciously or unconsciously, they've broken you down so much that they think you never capable of standing up for yourself. We can be your support, but the final order has to come from you, Maylene." She gripped the side of her arm. Her hands were cold.

Ten seconds of silence passed. Ten seconds of intense stares; ten seconds of self-doubt; ten seconds of wondering if she had what it takes. For so long, she had vied after her dad's pride and attention. For as long as she had remembered, she had pushed herself to be the Gym Leader he wanted her to be instead of who she wanted to become.

"I—I don't know if I'll be able to." And yet, one did not break from fifteen years of domineering so easily. "If I close my eyes and I imagine it, I just freeze up. I'm scared I'll just get pressured and just say yes to whatever he says. I'm scared I'll kick you out instead!" Her fists clenched, and aura flared around her like oil had been poured onto a flame. "I'm useless, I'm worthless, I can't even do this one little thing after—"

Cecilia's mouth gaped as her hand jerked away from Maylene's skin as if she'd touched a hot stove. "That color— I can— I can see it," she said in between pained grunts and moans.

Realizing she'd caused pain, Maylene's aura instantly receded.

"Something to wonder about later. Maylene, calm down. We're here for you, okay?" Grace tried reassuring her. Even she barely worked as a remedy anymore. "We're here for you," she repeated, moving toward the Gym Leader. Her hand rubbed Maylene's back so, so gently.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Cecilia, I didn't mean to—"

The dark-skinned girl showed her palm, though she still seemed mildly hypnotized by the fact that she'd seen color again since her death. "I'm not even burned. It's nothing. The feeling's already passed." Even Maylene could tell that she'd been enthralled by the color.

"So we have a plan, right? And we'll be right there," Grace said. "You get him out, get your space back, get time to breathe and recuperate. Then, if you want, you can have another conversation at a later date in a neutral environment where you really drag him through it. Make him feel the pain he's caused you tenfold; turn your words into a weapon that leaves him bleeding out right then and there." Her eyebrows rose a centimeter, as if she'd remembered something. "Or— you know, never see him again. I guess you could want that, too."

Did Maylene want a clean break? She wasn't sure, but right now she had to focus on step one.

"Okay. Okay. I can do this," Maylene whispered to herself. "You can do this. I'll tell him to leave, I'll tell him that—"

Then,

Her world froze.

A knock on the door. Three distinctive booms that felt like electricity coursing through her skin. Her breathing grew so rapid she couldn't tell exhale from inhale. That was her dad. Grace and Cecilia's voices seemed far away now, and her vision grew blurry, save for that door. It narrowed, staying in focus, and she couldn't help but imagine her dad behind it. Deformed, tall, monstrous. 'You'll never be enough,' she already heard. He'd come for her, he had—

"Maylene," his commanding, deep voice rang from behind the door. "Someone told me you had people over. This isn't what we discussed." Three other knocks, stronger this time.

Damn it, someone had fucking leaked anyway! This place was a den of Sevipers! "I can't do this, I can't fucking do this!" Maylene gripped the sides of her head.

She heard a soft, metallic scrape, and then a subtle click. The door opened, revealing Oscar's looming frame that nearly spilled over the door frame. He always looked bigger than he actually was to her, as if he was leaving her no escape.

He had anoter fucking skeleton key. Or maybe he'd had a double made years ago— whatever, now wasn't the time!

Her father's eyes were instantly drawn in toward Cecilia's wounded face, then to Grace, then to her, where his gaze remained, and by the Legendaries, it was just so heavy until he finally stared at Grace again.

"You. I recognize you," he slowly spoke, his voice low and threatening. "You're the girl who humiliated my daughter. This is the kind of people you have over, Maylene? Have you no self respect?!" Maylene flinched away as if she'd been struck. "Making friends with the person who proved to the world that you weren't enough to run this Gym?"

Grace and Cecilia had been silent up until now. Maylene guessed it was to see if she was going to retort, but she couldn't. It was as if her mouth had been sewn shut.

Cecilia stood back up, her movements quick, yet clunky. "People change and learn from their mistakes," she bit back. "Apparently, you haven't." She raised a finger. "Oh, and also. Is this why you're back and trying to sweep the rug from under your daughter's feet? Because she was hurt and dared to show it in public?"

"And this is— this is the Obel girl. A foreigner." Oscar scoffed, then shook his head as if incredulous. "I thought you were smarter than this. Arceus, do you ever think about the consequences of your actions? About what people will say about this when it comes out?" he berated Maylene. "They'll say you're a weakling. That you're making a mockery of us. And maybe you are." Oscar jammed a finger toward Grace. "You let the people who walked all over you put ideas in your head—"

"Shut it," Grace said. "That is your daughter. Your child, the person you're supposed to love the most in the world. She's not a thing you can yell at until she fits the mold that you want. She's a living, breathing being."

"Give me a break." He rolled his eyes and laughed. "You're the cause of the problem in the first place. And what does a teenager know about raising a child?"

Grace bit her lip. Maylene could almost see the calculus going through her head. She considered her Pokemon her children, and no one could take that away from her. The thin thread of restraint she had left snapped on her face in an instant, and it morphed into twisted anger.

Then, she lashed out.

"Hey, no, you know what, fuck you!"

"No need to get so emotional," her father smugly said.

The yelling grew frantic, with Grace growing louder and louder and Oscar taking it all in as if they only made him stronger. If looks could kill, her father would have been a crumpled corpse on the floor. It was only a few exchanges later, that he—

"Maylene is my daughter!" His voice, amplified by aura, was like a shockwave washing over them; so loud it was like being hit by a hammer. "As you said, she is my child. I will decide what will happen to her until she's ready. You're just a kid who's way in over her head…"

Maylene wondered why he'd stopped.

Then she saw Grace's hand hovering over her Jellicent's Pokeball.

"What are you going to do, exactly?" Oscar asked. "Release a Pokemon and attack me? My, it must be true what they say about you."

Grace's face just shattered in a way that was agonizing for Maylene to look at. "I—I—I'm sorry, I—" Her hand shot up, and she seized it with her other one to stop it from moving any further, as if it had a mind of its own. She started mumbling under her breath, so fast and quiet Maylene could barely catch what she was saying.

Aura surged and crackled right beneath the edges of her skin, like a cup being filled with enough water to nearly, nearly overflow. Maylene yelled, suddenly finding her confidence, "Hey! Leave her alone—"

Before she could finish that sentence, Cecilia lunged at Oscar with her hand ready to wrap around his neck. She jumped at him with exaggerated movements, as if she was being controlled by a drunk puppet master, but Maylene restrained her first by grabbing her from behind and pulling her. Her father didn't budge, though he did end up flinching when her hand ended up an inch from his throat. Usually he would have snatched her wrist and squeezed to hurt, especially when it would have been self-defense. Maylene let Cecilia helplessly struggle against her, and her father slowly regained his wits and just laughed.

"See who you associate with, Maylene?" He chuckled darkly, taking a step back. "Violent children who have outbursts instead of communicating. And I'm the problem."

Maylene finally let go of Cecilia, who glared at her, as if Maylene hadn't stopped a catastrophe from happening. "The way you communicate might as well be violence, with how it's wounded your daughter for life," the Unovan hoarsed out. Grace was still quiet; somewhat dejected, but at least she'd stopped mumbling to herself and had recovered a little.

Riding the wave of outrage she had from her dad hurting Grace, Maylene took a deep breath. "I think… I want you to… um… like, leave. With Alison. Please."

It had been said in the tiniest, meekest voice possible. She'd been staring down at her feet, sweating bullets and her hands had been fiddling together.

But it had been said.

"No," he simply answered. Crap, what could she respond with now? "You need me here to run the Gym. This place is being run by amateurs—"

"Sir," Cecilia interrupted him, her voice cold and barely-tempered. "You are a malignant growth. A parasite that has come to gorge on your daughter's own exhaustion and hard work so you can take the credit when everything is said and done and Sinnoh returns to normal." Maylene's eyes widened. She hadn't heard her speak with so much strength since she had died. "I know your kind and what must be done to dispose of the likes of you. You are a cancer lodged deep into this place's ecosystem who can only be removed through scorched earth. The Gym Trainers and your daughter fear you for your reputation; you hold much sway over their fates and power over their heads, but take that away and you. Are. Nothing. Another few years, and you'll be entirely forgotten— a bad memory!" She sounded high-strung and crazed by the end of it. Her twisted smile seemed to stretch too far to be natural. It was as if it had been plastered on her scarred face.

"Maylene is ten times the Gym Leader than you are," Grace said a little shakily. "Being a Gym Leader implies that you have to be a leader. A good leader is compassionate. A good leader is not feared by the ones they rule, they are respected and liked. Otherwise, well… we know how the stories end," Grace shrugged before declaring, "you are a monster, Oscar Suzuki, and it takes one to know one."

For a moment, there was silence.

"You— you aren't that," Maylene mumbled to Grace. "You aren't a monster. And yeah. Um, dad, I think I'd run the Gym better alone. Sor—" Maylene stopped herself from apologizing. "You need to leave. This is an official order from Veilstone's Gym Leader."

Oscar was fuming. Maylene could see a vein popping out on his forehead behind his faded pink hair. His body was tense, his arms were crossed and she was honestly surprised he hadn't started yelling at her yet.

"Fine. See how you like it when the Gym collapses without me," Oscar growled, turning toward the door in a motion so fast it left Maylene dizzy. "You think your Gym Trainers will just accept the fact that you've kicked me out? They're loyal, something you still don't seem to understand."

"I suppose we'll see," Maylene said.

"Hmph. I raised you better than this," he grunted. "These 'friends' have been a bad influence on you."

Then, he was out the door. He slammed it, and hard. Enough for the wood to splinter around the hinges, causing the frame to crack and the door to hang slightly askew. The force of the slam left a visible dent in the wood, and the handle rattled precariously, as if it might fall off at any moment.

Maylene would have collapsed on her knees had Grace not caught her. She felt like she'd run for a marathon for a week straight. With ragged breaths, she struggled back to her feet as tears welled up in her eyes.

"You did it," Grace softly said. "You were amazing."

I was worthless, she instantly thought. You both did most of the talking.

Cecilia walked up close to the broken door and wrinkled her nose. "This is only the first step. He'll be back. He might speak to the press, too. Luckily I doubt he'll find much attention there, and he'd probably appear tone deaf given the situation."

"I saw him for who he was— pride and ego. I think he genuinely believes Maylene to be incapable," Grace said, shaking her head. "But hopefully if he actually tries more of his bullshit the other Gym Leaders will be less busy and will be able to help. Though we're always here if you need it."

Maylene remembered, back when all of her fellow leaders had called her shortly after her breakdown. Byron had offered to have a stern talk with her father for him, going as far as threatening to smack him in the back of the head with his shovel. She remembered as a child, how estranged both he and Roark had been. He knew about bad parenting and burying your child under heavy expectations, even if he'd changed for the better. She just wished her dad had been the same.

She just wished she had a dad who loved her.

"Th—thank you," Maylene sobbed. "Thank you so much for be—being here for me."

Maylene felt a rush of relief as Grace stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. Her embrace was warm and tight, her presence a soothing song to Maylene's frayed nerves. Maylene allowed her head to sink onto her friend's shoulder as she cried and probably soaked Grace's t-shirt with tears and snot. She could feel Grace's slow, calming heartbeat against her chest. Did that mean Grace could feel her own heart beating so fast it hurt? How safe she felt in her arms, how soft and delicate Grace was, how nice she smelled, how gently her fingers ran along Maylene's hair and touched her scalp; the silky strands of hair she'd missed in her ponytail brushing up against the side of Maylene's face. Finding all of that pleasant was probably natural.

Her neck was a little uncomfortable because Grace was shorter than her, but she still didn't want the moment to end.

Yet it did. She didn't know how long it lasted, but it did. Cecilia was irritatingly tapping her finger on her elbow by the end of it, yet she had said nothing. Maylene supposed it might have been too much given that Grace was her girlfriend.

Maylene wiped the remainder of her tears with her arm. "Ugh. Sorry 'bout your shirt," she said.

"It's alright, it's just fabric with no meaning attached to it, I'll wash it later."

The door rasped open, dragging against the floor. For a moment, Maylene balked, thinking her dad had come back. "Maymay? Wait, what happened to the door?"

Maylene's head swiveled up. All caught up in her emotions as she had been, the Gym Leader hadn't noticed that someone else had been approaching.

"Nia?" She could barely believe her own eyes, yet her fellow Gym Leader was standing there in baggy clothes and khaki overalls. "What are you— I thought you were busy."

The grass type Gym Leader had been hit somewhat hard by the news of Craig's death, but none of them had been hit as much as Candice.

"I knew your father was coming back today, so I decided to swing by anyway. I had a meeting planned with the City Council, but it's just procedure to pick and choose where to allocate our emergency fund. Eterna has that archaic law saying I have to be present or send a representative, yadda yadda you know the drill. They're just putting a stamp on what I already decided, so I sent Roro instead. So, the door?" Gardenia asked warily. It was only then that she glanced at Cecilia, who was the closest, and jumped a little.

"Sorry," the Unovan dryly said.

"No, I just… you know what, I can't phrase this in a way that isn't offensive," she said.

"H—hi. Nice to meet you, Gardenia. Leader Gardenia!" Grace stumbled over her words. Maylene had never seen her that nervous, but she remembered Candice telling her that Nia was her favorite Gym Leader. "Sorry to intrude!"

Nia sighed, returning her gaze back to Grace and Maylene. "Nice to meet you too, I suppose."

"It was my dad." Maylene hastily went on to explain the entire confrontation, save for the murder attempts or near-murder attempts. It still didn't feel real to her. She'd stood up to her father. She used the opportunity to finally tell all of them that Alison was pregnant, and she was glad she hadn't just been insane. It was normal to be angry that Oscar hadn't told her. Growing up, she'd always felt like the crazy one, or at least her father insisted that she was always in the wrong, always too emotional, or that she didn't know what she was talking about. "Now he's gone for a while, I hope. I don't know when I'll want to see him again," she finished.

Gardenia pinched the bridge of her nose. "God, I'm so confused. Okay. Yeah, okay. I'm sorry, Maylene, I should have come here sooner and been there for you. Your father would have gotten stern words from me." Maylene did not doubt it, from how she could dismantle someone with only a glance. They'd been colleagues for a bit, too. She walked up to Maylene and wrapped her in a tight hug that Maylene returned. Warm, welcomed, but no funny feeling in her stomach. Odd. "I have an hour free, if you want me to stay. Well, it's really more like forty minutes, but I can stretch it to an hour."

"Nia, don't. Eterna City needs you," Maylene protested. "Forty minutes is okay."

"And you two…?" Gardenia asked.

"I—I guess we'll leave." Grace leaned against the kitchen island. Maylene's heart sank. "I wouldn't want to intrude— Cece, what about you?"

She simply nodded. "If your father ever comes back, give me a call."

"Maybe I should be here too in case you attack—" Grace stopped, then cleared her throat awkwardly. "Anyway. Yeah, we'll get out of your hair."

"If you want to," Maylene said with a forced smile. Maybe they wanted to leave? Maybe she'd asked too much of them, and now they wouldn't speak to her anymore.

And just like that, they decided to leave. Maylene and Nia walked with the two until they were back in the Gym's lobby waiting for Kadabra to come back and Teleport them back to the League. The goodbye was awkward. Maylene thanked them again for helping, but she couldn't formulate the words the way she wanted, especially toward Grace. All she got was a wave, too. A few days ago she'd be content with a wave. She'd have been happy with it, even.

Maylene left the lobby in a hurry, but she didn't go back to her office or her living quarters right away. Instead, she skulked around the door, telling herself that she was better off waiting for Kadabra to get here. Teleporting within the Gym wasn't allowed, after all.

Gardenia shoved her hands down her overall pockets. She'd been texting someone on her phone. "You wrote to them to help you out, huh." When Gardenia looked at her, there were no secrets. Her amber eyes could read her like a book. "I underestimated how close you were. I thought you were just friends." She wasn't bitter about it, nor was she accusing her of anything, Maylene knew.

"We are," she said. "I mean, I hope so. I don't know."

Gardenia snorted and caressed her arm. "Come on, Maymay. You'd have to be close for them to accept facing down your dad. He used to be a Gym Leader, for Arceus' sake!"

Maylene leaned against the wall, hidden from view of the glass doors. She rubbed her tired eyes and sighed, both happy that they'd gotten her father out and sad her friends were already leaving. She knew dreams of hanging out were just that, anyway. Dreams. She'd already been on a break for too long, and she hadn't even eaten. Lucario, the rest of her team and her Gym Trainers needed her at the helm to right the ship. Hell, she had recalled Medicham for basically no reason.

She took a step forward.

Maylene's hearing had always been better than average, even with her now-damaged left ear. Consciously or unconsciously, she opened her senses and leaned back against the wall despite Nia looking at her weird.

"...difficult. I lost my cool there, I should have been better," Grace said.

"Why is it that you have to be better while others can just walk over you?" Cecilia questioned. "I doubt you'd have killed him. He would have stopped you, I think, and if you did, well he deserves it," she spat. "But maybe… maybe I need to figure out how to put a lid on these feelings too. If I attacked someone in Unova this way for bad mouthing you, it would ruin me."

"It would," Grace acquiesced, her voice soft. "Thanks for— thanks anyway. It means a lot to me."

"Hmhm."

A beat of silence.

"Do you think Maylene will be fine?" Cecilia asked.

"Oh, she will. She's strong and never gets knocked down for long," Grace praised. Maylene felt her face heat up. "Better we leave her and Gardenia to work things out, though; we'd just get in the way. They've known each other for a lot longer. Candice told me they were like sisters, you know?"

"They did seem rather close."

"You know, it'd be nice if we could go back to that restaurant you took me to that one time, you know?" she said. Maylene could hear the smile in her tone. "Ugh, Be— Hatterene's so close, too. I wish I could go see her and Nightstalker."

Cecilia laughed. "I'm pretty sure that's like the fiftieth time you've nearly slipped with that Pokemon's name. She should start charging you."

"Hey! Believe it or not, I have enough stories to pay her tenfold, now!"

When she finally left back toward her office, she saw their hands intertwined so tightly, Grace leaning against the side of her girlfriend's shoulder. That new feeling; the pain in her chest came back at full force.

"Maymay, is something wrong?" Gardenia asked.

"No," she lied and fixed her face.

"Hm. Okay." The word was drawn out in a way that Maylene knew just meant she had figured something out, but Maylene had been too shaken to inquire any further.

Ah, Kadabra was waddling over. Back to chatting with Nia, then back to work.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap
 
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Chapter 319
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

A/N: A reminder of who has what Pokemon:
Denzel: Sylveon (M), Roserade (F), Milotic (M), Lopunny (F), Froslass (F), Altaria (F)

Cecilia: Hydreigon (M) Talonflame (F) Slowking (M) Scizor (M) Golurk (Genderless/M) Toxicroak (F)

Pauline: Charizard (F), Gothitelle (F), Braviary (F), Vigoroth (M), Primeape (M)

Justin: Arcanine (M), Krookodile (M), Ludicolo (M), Audino (M), Toxapex (F), Corviknight (M)

Louis: Gabite (M), Empoleon (M), Ninetales (F) Vespiquen (F) Bisharp (M)

Chase: Lucario (M) Houndoom (M) Zangoose (F) Vikavolt (M) Abomasnow (M) Sigilyph (F) Wimpod (F)

Mira: Alakazam (M) Gengar (M) Magnezone (Genderless/M) Gardevoir (F) Porygon2 (Genderless/F) Exeggcute (M)

Maeve: Infernape (M) Starmie (Genderless/M) Drapion (M) Staraptor (F), Gligar (M) Yanma (M)

Emilia: Metang (M) Lyranroc (M) Ambipom (M) Braixen (F)

Lauren: Sceptile (M) Magmortar (M) Aggron (M) Reuniclus (M) Seismitoad (F) Rhydon (M)

CHAPTER 319

"Okay, so what you want is to take a deep, deep breath," I slowly whispered, one eye open. I was lying flat against the ground with Mimi next to my face in our hotel room. The steel type mewled, their eye turning to a thin, disappointed line. "I know you don't breathe, just… feel it."

Meltan stared at me, and then huffed. They pointed an arm forward and took aim toward their designated villain: Buddy. The ghost had split some of his body mass and made a Mimi-sized clone of himself, or a smidge bigger. The rest of his body was off reading a book in the living room.

Mimi cried out with a cute, squeaky sound; squeezed their eye shut and shot out a tiny, shiny metallic pebble. The throw was slow and arced through the air, glinting in the ceiling lights before it bounced off the mini-Jellicent and clattered on the ceramic tiles with a soft plink. Of course, even at full power, Mimi was harmless, but Buddy played the part. He made his eyes shine brighter than a star in the night sky, then dim and slowly lost in mass, deflating like a balloon until he crumpled on the floor as a puddle of water. It would evaporate and join back with the main body soon enough.

"You did it!" I sat up and swept Mimi up in my hands. "You vanquished Buddy— uh, the evil, nefarious Predator Of the Abyss, nay, Terror Of The Depths!" I spun them around in my arms. "No one will be able to stand up to you now! Ohhh, you deserve a feast after such a fight."

I placed the steel type on my shoulder, where they excitedly jumped up and down at the thought of replenishment. Yesterday's visit to Maylene had been… something. My friend hadn't heard anything from either her father or stepmom, so at least that was good news, but I couldn't help but anticipate his next move, if it was even coming. It was something to keep my mind occupied.

The relief I'd felt when I'd been about to send out Jellicent and attack him still haunted me. A feeling that finally, the world had stopped putting on airs and I'd be of use again was something that would haunt me for weeks to come.

Of course, Oscar hadn't even contemplated attacking me; his aura-powered voice had just been loud enough to trigger my fight or flight— and for me, it was always fight.

After grabbing my supply of scrap metal from the pantry, I lay everything out on the floor. Mimi jumped on them like a kid would in a pool and started eating their full as if they were an industrial grinder, interspersed by various metallic screeching or burps. I winked at Buddy for playing his part, and he 'winked' back, rapidly dimming one eye.

For all child-like they behaved, they'd expressed how proud they were that I hadn't attacked Oscar. They'd been on my wrist that entire day, after all. Meeting Gardenia in such circumstances hadn't been ideal, but at least she hadn't screamed at me like I feared, or thought I'd been the one to make Maylene cry, or believed I had influenced her with my empathy to be my friend. Paranoid? Maybe, but misunderstandings such as these would have been just my luck.

Arceus, months ago I would have fangirled over her so much. I still did, kind of, but I'd probably have tried to talk to her about battling or something and came on way too strong.

Being a mom was fulfilling, and more importantly distracting, but I had something else planned today beyond the usual hospital visit to Chase, Denzel and hanging out with Emilia and the others.

Visiting the League's prison.

Getting it approved had taken a while, not because letting a trainer randomly get into the most secure place in the country was unprecedented, but because the people who could push the right levers to get me in were all difficult to get a hold of. It was Andrew Frazier, who I'd managed to get permission from. He was the League Commander who had spoken to us in the bunker we'd been shoved in after the bombs. As soon as Mimi finished replenishing themselves, I lowered my hand and let them climb on it. They were always lethargic after eating, so they nearly dripped off my skin as they crawled up my arm and into my sleeve. When I told Jellicent he could keep reading should he want to, he closed the book, dropping it on the couch with Extrasensory, and he looked at me like I was stupid for even suggesting that.

"I'm not going to lie, I was hoping you'd say that." Not having a Pokemon with me would make the uneasiness ten times worse. "You just looked interested, so…"

Buddy floated over and told me the book would always remain. If something happened to me while he wasn't there he would never forgive himself. I had at best eight to nine decades left in me, so he was going to make the most of them.

"Eight to nine decades is a while," I contemplated as we walked out the hotel room. I could feel Mesprit wanting to desperately say something, clawing at the edge of my mind. "Though I guess for you, it isn't. I can't really imagine myself as an old woman."

We chatted about what I'd be like as a senior until we made it out of the hotel. I scanned the surroundings until I found the specific person I'd been looking for. Instead of making himself tall and waiting in the middle of the entryway, Louis had quietly carved out a place for himself near the decorative hedges, hidden away from any but the most attentive of eyes. I smiled and waved at him, and it took my friend a few seconds to notice me. His golden blond hair was a mess of a bedhead, but he was taking care of himself now, at least. Showering, dressing well, shaving, moisturizing, so on and so forth. The scar running from the corner of his lip to his ear he'd gotten in Coronet when we'd gone to save Cece was still as prominent on his face as it had ever been. At his side was his Gabite. The tall drake looked somewhat uneasy, his yellow eyes and body occasionally twitching. I used to find him somewhat intimidating, but he looked like a whelp next to Cynthia's Garchomp.

Granted, that was every Pokemon I'd ever seen.

"Looks like your dragon needs a fight," I said with a slight quirk in my lip. I hugged Louis, which he hesitantly returned. Gabite hastily growled in agreement. "How're you doing, Louis?"

"Gabite does need some exercise, and he'll get some soon, though he's been battling my other Pokemon as of late." Gabite grunted, complaining that he was bored of them and wanted something new, like Maeve's team. Louis exhaled and ignored him, though I wasn't sure how much of that he'd understood. "I'm… doing. Living day by day and trying to keep my head above the water. You?"

"I'm pretty much the same. Sorry I haven't been around much." I brought a single finger toward Gabite, who rumbled in response— kind of like a Glameow's purr, if you were generous. My hand caressed the dragon's neck. Petting things was nice. It was apparently the universal language of love. Of course, it was short-lived. Dragons generally didn't enjoy displays of affection from anyone other than the ones they respected.

Louis simply greeted Jellicent with a nod the ghost barely returned. "I understand. I've not exactly been available, either."

We started walking. "Right, right. How's, uh, how's—" Could I just bring the funeral up? It wouldn't be very tactful. "How are— how are things?" Gah, so awkward. I stared off to the side, toward a group of kids grumbling about the fact that we still had no word on when the Conference would be. They were probably children of government employees.

"Planning for the funeral with Al, mostly." Al was short for Albert, Justin's father and CEO of Pherzen. While I'd never seen the man, Louis had been talking to him extensively over the last few days. "We don't have—" he stuttered, then gulped, "a date yet. Sometime next week, depending on how the dice fall."

Not knowing what went into planning funerals, I had no idea if that was a long or a short time.

"But, uh, Al's been great. Him and Anna are devastated. You know, Justin— he never did believe his parents loved him as parents should, and… yeah, they weren't great." He ran a shaky hand through his hair and laughed nervously. "With the whole deal propping him up as a trainer to advertise Pherzen, and then the darkness that took him over in Solaceon it's easy to see why they were estranged."

Too quick to forgive, in my opinion, but the death of a loved one had a way of making you reevaluate everything about yourself. I answered with a noncommittal nod as we made it to the end of the beige-orange street where a tram with a flock of Starly and somehow, a Luxio was lazily riding, her tail swaying over the edge, and we waited for the streetlight to turn green.

"Any more info on the funeral?" I said. "Wait!" I yelled, soliciting annoyed stares from a few passersby. "Actually, we had a conversation before he died in Canalave where we ended up talking about being remembered and stuff because of Seafarer's Day." The light had turned green already, but Louis was too focused on what I had to say to notice, so I gently pushed him along. "We were talking about our deaths, and he said he'd rather be cremated than buried."

Louis stopped one step from the sidewalk. "What?"

Suddenly, guilt gripped me. "I'm sorry, I— I didn't forget as much as there was so much going on. I mean, there was the bombs, then we figured he was dead at the Lake, then Coronet, then…" I bit my lip. "I'm sorry."

Louis nervously chewed one of his nails, as if thinking about everything he would have to change for the funeral. "I would have liked to know earlier, but at least you remembered, so it's no harm no foul." He grabbed his phone from his pocket and started texting… Albert, I assumed, and we started walking again. "For the funeral, it'll be a small ceremony. Close friends and family only. Cousins, uncles and such," Louis said. "We're planning on holding it in— in Floaroma. Where I hope to open my sanctuary sometime next year with Albert's financial backing."

My mouth gaped. "Louis! That's amazing; I'm so happy for you, you finally found the money!" The mood cratered in a second. "I wish it could be in better circumstances, of course."

His face grew grim, and even Gabite patted him on the shoulder with a reassuring growl. "Don't we all? The land is actually going to be bought soon with the remains of what I still have from my father's wealth and Albert's generous donation, but I am hoping for Justin's Pokemon to be its first… inhabitants."

"Louis, that's— that's so sweet of you." It was a tragedy, how his father had ruthlessly eliminated that part of him for so long. "I'm sure you'll help them grieve and get through this. I honestly can't think of anyone else to help them." Louis had been the closest to Justin's team outside of Maeve, and he was just… he just seemed like he could do the job. Give parts of himself to help others. "Are they still being held at Canalave's Center?"

From what I knew, they'd been let out once to process the news of Justin's death. Every Pokemon Center had a trauma processing unit for Pokemon in case their trainer was grieviously injured or died, and while it saw way less use today thanks to Sinnoh being safe outside of a few routes and areas. They couldn't be put in their Pokeballs and kept in the dark forever. The news always had to be delivered eventually.

I just hoped they wouldn't have to be alone for long. When I asked Louis, he said there were some legality problems. Officially, he didn't have the rights to Justin's Pokemon, and he also didn't have the right to have more than six Pokemon, at the moment. My friend proceeded to tell me that normally, when a trainer died, their Pokemon passed on to their family members with priority to children, parents or trainers. If there was an issue with the Pokemon carry limit, then they'd be split among the family. If they had no family, then they were given to the Rangers, where they'd be able to get routine back into their lives and decide if they liked their new life, wanted to try something else with the government or if they'd be released back into the wild in appropriate environments.

"Then why doesn't Justin's dad have them already?" I asked.

"It's an entire process," he said. "It hasn't even been two weeks, it'll take some time to get finalized."

Legendaries, it felt so much longer than that.

Legalese about owning Pokemon made me a little sick to my stomach. It veered too much into treating Pokemon like possessions instead of partners, like so many aspects of our society. The worst offender was breeding— but I couldn't get lost in thought. I'd bet good money that Justin's Pokemon would have rather been with Louis than speaking to an assortment of Nurse Joys, no offense to them. They were great and often not appreciated enough, but a bond was not something you could reproduce on a whim.

Then again, maybe I was wrong. Maybe distance was what they needed. I wouldn't know until I saw Justin's team again.

We continued on our way toward the League's prison, making small talk about Louis' plans for his sanctuary on the way there.

He still needed a name for it.



The bright hospital lights were a bit of a bother for Cecilia, however she would rather sit here than be out in the sun nine times out of ten. Pauline and Emilia had just left, so it was now just her with Chase. His legs lay motionless beneath his hospital blanket, and every few minutes she would see him attempt to discreetly move them. His upper body would squirm, and he would attempt to slowly drag his lower body with it, yet movement did not come. He would keep trying, harder and harder until he'd give up with a swear and apologize for yelling.

It was after one of these outbursts, that Cecilia considered speaking up at last. She'd been largely quiet today, as she was in one of her depressive, self-deprecating moods. Some days, she was learning, like yesterday with Maylene's dad, were better than others in that regard. Perhaps it was because Cecilia had imagined facing down her own so-called 'father' in Oscar's stead to motivate herself, and her hatred of him was far more powerful than any doubt and regret that currently permeated her soul. Thinking back on that day, every time she closed her eyes, Cecilia could not help but remember the brilliant blue that had surged around Maylene. She had heard many times that aura worked outside of Type Energy, yet she'd never expected for it to be her key to seeing color once again.

And she missed seeing colors. When she closed her eyes, she could already barely remember what they looked like.

Maybe once Chase got better and Ri was done being healed, she would ask and see if his was the same. She wasn't going to text Maylene first unless it was to check if she needed help with her father, or to give random advice for dealing with abusive pieces of trash. That girl had a crush on Grace that was growing by the day; the fact that she was so brazen about it right in front of Cecilia's face angered her to no end. It wasn't on purpose, she knew. Maylene was likely blind to her own truth as Cecilia had been until Grace had spoken to her about what being gay was like. Cecilia had watched her girlfriend like a hawk to see if there were any signs of reciprocating the crush, and no alarm bells had gone off. Grace was also utterly clueless: she had always been blind to everyone's love for others but her own. Empath or not, it wasn't like she was peering into people's emotions.

A while ago, she'd given Grace an ultimatum. Look at her emotions without her explicit permission, and their relationship would be over with no second chances available.

Over. That was a terrifying word, now. So much so that Cecilia wasn't sure if that ultimatum still applied today. How much of herself had she left behind when she'd died, for a breech of privacy so deep not to move the needle? Not that she expected Grace to do so, anyway. It was just mortifying to think that she'd changed so much. Too much.

It was just—

Cecilia knew she had grown unhealthily attached, worse than they'd ever been when they realized there had been an issue in the first place. Grace knew as well. It was just easier to ignore, because fixing this would require so much hurt it might as well be impossible. What if Grace picked Maylene over her? She just didn't want to be abandoned. Cold. Alone. Who else would ever love her? Who else would ever understand her? Who else could ever make her feel so warm? So it was, that she found the best move to be to stay quiet and not say anything about Maylene at all, lest the situation blow up and ruin everything.

Speak no evil, as they said. Cecilia supposed that Grace would be 'hear' and Maylene would be 'see' in the equation.

Either way, today was one of the bad days, especially given that Grace wasn't here. The world felt so cold without her.

"You shouldn't exert yourself too much," Cecilia quietly said. "It might hamper your recovery."

Chase smiled— and bitterly. "Right. Right." His shoulders sagged, and he leaned back in the bed. The TV in the top left corner of the room was, for once, not playing the news. He must have switched it to some random Pokemon battling program. People were trying to get back to normal. "Cece, I— my legs—" He choked on his own words and slammed a fist on his bed railings. "Fuck."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you— damn it, I fucking hate that you— you know what, whatever." He threw his hands up. "It was a lie, Cecilia. I'm never walking again. I'm a cripple." Were those tears? No, they weren't there yet, but his eyes were wet to the point that he rubbed them with his arm.

The hurt must have clearly shown on Cecilia's face, because her friend glared at her.

"Don't fucking pity me; this is why I didn't want to tell anyone," he growled. "I hate this. If you're going to tell me that you're sorry, just leave—"

Suddenly, Cecilia found herself on her knees on the side of his bed, grabbing one of his hands so tightly that her wrists hurt. Chase squirmed in his bed, trying to escape her grip, but no matter how hard he pulled, how harshly her arm moved, her hand stayed locked around his, squeezing more the harder he fought.

"Cecilia, what the hell—"

"So what?" she demanded to know.

"Huh?"

"So what? What comes next? What are your next moves?" Each question, she came closer to her friend, yet unlike all the other rubes out there, he actually faced her without flinching. Yes, she thought. Look into my eyes and see me!

"First of all, get off me," he grumbled. The Unovan did so, calmly sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs. Chase shook his hand in the air. "Mean grip you've got there. I think I get what you mean. What's the plan to fulfill our oath, right?"

Her confidence evaporated. "I know I'm no longer a Shard— or barely one— but I was hoping that—"

"Oh, shut up," Chase sighed. "Who cares about some magical powers we have in our heads? Ruling is about people. You and I, we're people. Azelf is a concept. The faceless, nameless, soulless fucks who suck out all the wealth out of the Iron Islands without ever stepping foot there to see what they've done aren't people— but— but yeah, I still want to be the Champion."

Cecilia smiled, relieved with the news that they were still halves of a whole. "So what are you going to do? I have a plan of action for my arrival— and a list of objectives I need to achieve within the next five years with me as Champion or at least a member of the Unova Elite Four by the end; able to push policy. Have you given it some thought since waking up?"

Chase blew a raspberry. "You know I'm not one for plans; I'm a man of action, Cece. Action."

Cecilia looked down at him, stuck in his bed. "A man of action who currently is unable to do anything. A man of action who has spent the last few days brooding— and I get it." The rectification was swifter than his coming anger. "I'm sorry about your Abomasnow. A tragedy, what Mars did to him; hopefully you will see him again some day."

He waited for the next sentence. The 'I'm sorry about your legs.'

It didn't come, because she understood him more than anyone else currently alive other than Ri.

He relaxed and nodded.

"If Abomasnow wakes up a few years down the line, I want to have done something," he said. "I want to have progressed and for him to be proud of it. He wanted to be stronger, that was why I caught him, but he supported me, also. Especially after we saw the Iron Islands again."

Cecilia nodded. "Make him proud, Chase." She let the moment pass, watching Chase reminisce.

"Legendaries, I love you." The statement took her aa little aback. She'd only seen Grace say that to her friends in a platonic way. "I hope you get that through that thick skull of yours." As if to mimic her cranial structure, he knocked on his head with his knuckles. "You have people other than Grace to help ya out. No need to look like it's a funeral all the time."

"I just like wearing black," she said.

"I meant your face, but whatever."

She ignored him. "Now, what is, in your opinion, your fastest road to power?" After turning off the TV, she leaned forward in her chair. Cecilia always enjoyed this kind of talk. "Now, when I say power, I don't—"

"You don't mean the Champion, I know." He hummed and started to think. "Could join the army. With the Voice still in my pocket and my skill I could probably climb up the ranks relatively quickly, even if I'd have to find a way to move around."

"But that's not what you care about," she guessed.

"As much as it pains me, I will have to join the system that keeps my people down. If I do it, I want to have a say as fast as possible. Feels less dirty that way."

"How does… Gym Leader of Canalave sound?"

Chase's mouth gaped; his eyes widened, and then he scoffed. "So what, become some fucking Gym Trainer lackey, toil for years and then lead some fucking palace coup?"

Palace coup? He must have read some of the books she got him. Good.

"Byron is old. He turns fifty-three this summer and I doubt he'll go as long as Fantina did," she explained.

"Yeah, and the piece of rusted steel picks his successor. Is he going to pick the poor sod from the Iron Island who wants to burn the system down, or meat puppet number twenty-three who'll continue not to rock the boat?"

Cecilia chuckled, a surprise to even herself. "Rule is never so easy. You still see him as a caricature; black and white without any depth."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Come on, Cecilia. He's an accomplice to oppression. In fact, he's not just an accomplice, he fucking puts a nice stamp on it every day and says, 'why yes, Teracore!'" He took in a faux-happiness and clasped his cheeks with his hands. "'Please continue fuck my people in the ass and I'll watch and cheer you on from the side!' Give me a break; he's pathetic."

She wrinkled her nose at the crude remark.

"Yes." Cecilia thought back to a certain Unovan currently in League custody and dug her nails into her seat. "Yet even the worst of villains have substance to them." Legendaries, it pained her to say this. Literally. As if her throat was on fire. Luckily it was less intense than when she'd tried to use the Voice twice in a day, so she did not let it show. "He's not doing this because he wants to—"

"Yadda, yadda, power comes with its limitations, I know." He irritatingly waved a hand and adjusted his seating position, lifting himself by the arms. "I'm saying I don't give a fuck and that it doesn't matter to me." A short silence settled in, and he looked up at the ceiling as if to think. "But I was thinking."

"Thinking?"

His eyes lit up with a sudden brilliance, widening as if a spark had ignited within them and was growing brighter and brighter. "I like this idea. Lets me get right in the thick of things, and it gives me an opportunity to clean the shit out of Byron's ear if he still has a soul. Get some work done early."

She leaned forward, and the motion nearly had her fall off her chair. "Tell me what you're going to do."

"I'm not going to hand in my application and go for a round of interviews. I'm going to battle him."

His answer rang out throughout the hospital room, swallowing the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the chatter outside for a moment.

She waited for further explanation, but that was it. "...you would lose," she declared without a shadow of a doubt. They were good, yes, but not good enough to win in a five against six. The only training he'd done with his Wimpod was endurance and movement-based, some of which she'd seen during their time in the Iron Islands, and there was no way the little bug would ever be up to par. From the passionate way he'd spoken, he had meant the battle would be soon, as in, when the Gym Battle opened again soon. "Without Abomasnow, you cannot win. Byron is not the kind of man who will go soft because of your contributions to taking down Galactic—"

"Fuck no, he isn't, and that's a good thing," he retorted, fists clenched. "And yeah, maybe I'll lose, but if I did, that wouldn't bother me much. Who gives a fuck about some badge? It was never about the badges for me. Fucking trinkets. If I do this right, I'll win in every way that matters, Cecilia," he said, grinning like a madman. "I'll talk to him right there, man to man. Think about it. Think about how I'll fucking expose him in public."

Cece scoffed. "So what, are you going to list statistics about poverty and harsh living conditions in the middle of a fight? I doubt it's something he doesn't already know, and if you're going for a PR angle—"

"Bah, even I don't know the stats. You don't need stats to prove what you see with your fucking eyes every day." Cecilia decided to ignore that dangerous line of thinking. "When I say I'll speak to him through battle, I mean it."

That fire within him; the flame of ambition; so bright Cecilia felt it sear the edges of her skin. They'd all had it, once.

It looked like Chase had been the first one to reignite it.

"When the day comes," he said, "I want you to be the one to push my wheelchair up there. I mean I could probably use my hands and the ramp they got on the side, but—"

Cecilia steeled herself. "Of course, I will."

He smiled. "Thanks, pal."



Shuffling into Sinnoh's highest security prison, as it turned out, took time. The building looked a lot more boring than I figured it would. From the outside, it appeared as a nondescript, concrete monolith nestled in a remote corner of the island. We'd had to travel by a lonely road for forty minutes to get here on foot, which didn't sound like long but had my feet numb by the end. It had been a lot easier to ignore my legs and feet hurting when the fate of the world hung in the balance. Tomorrow for sure, I'd start running. Didn't I have Chase's personalized workout plan he'd given me for my birthday crumpled in my bag somewhere? I was pretty certain I'd lost it; maybe Maylene could be of help to get me fit again if she wasn't too busy with work. Wouldn't that be fun? I missed good old fun. I wished I could just remember how to do and enjoy goofy stuff without putting up a façade for my kids. Actually, Maylene was busy helping in Snowpoint today, but she'd left Lucario, Medicham and Machamp— who she had gotten back this morning— to watch the Gym. She didn't know which Gym Trainers to trust right now, so her Pokemon were needed to keep watch.

But I was getting sidetracked.

So, the prison. Gray concrete blocks stacked on top of each other. The walls around the prison stretched high into the sky, crowned with coils of barbed wire that glinted dully in the sparse sunlight. There were guards all around, of course, either in towers, flying on Pokemon or patrolling. We'd been stopped by many League officers on the way here until we'd given the visitor slip afforded to us by Commander Frazier because civilians weren't allowed this close, and now we had a high-ranking League Trainer whose name I didn't catch leading us to the gates. We'd crossed a sign a few miles back warning that anyone caught beyond this point who was not authorized could be met with lethal force, which Louis was nervous about even though we had the right to be here.

The guard at the entrance checked our identification thoroughly and analyzed our minds with a Mr. Mime before allowing us to pass through the heavy iron gate. One of the ones personally trained by Lucian's who helped create barriers in the higher rounds of the Conference. The psychic was very intrigued at my brain and decided to delve deeper until she was struck by a sudden headache and— was knocked back into an invisible wall?

"Knock it off," the guard said. "Don't mind her, she's one for theatrics."

I heard Mesprit giggle in the back of my mind. The headache was real, though!

Please don't give Pokemon doing their jobs random headaches, I thought.

Hmph. Whatever, just go and see Natalia already! I want to see how she's doing! I wish you were visiting her today!

Ugh, they were so whiny at times. The gate creaked open, revealing the barren, gravel-covered courtyard ahead of us. It was actually disturbing, how all vegetation had bled away, leaving only desolation. The crunch of stones underfoot was the only sound in the oppressive silence. Towers rose from the earth, each one containing at least one Kadabra and Trainer standing guard. Reaching the main building, I was met by another guard who led me to a small, sterile waiting room. There, I had to sign a visitor log and surrender my belongings, which were placed in a secure locker. That meant that our Pokemon also had to be put away, including Mimi. The steel type hated their Pokeball, but there was only so much I could bend the rules to my favor. The room was dark and dreary; heavy enough to be uncomfortable, especially when we started ambling through the cell hall to our destination. This place was where I expected so many stories to meet their death knell, and yet it was just so empty of everything that was human, as if everything and everyone had resigned themselves to the end of their tale.

The entire hallway was clad in nondescript white, along with bright lights that hurt to look at for too long, as if being uncomfortable was the point. As if an extended stay here was supposed to have you return to a blank slate. The cells were covered up by reinforced glass, allowing us to glance at many of the Team Galactic members who had been captured alive in Coronet. Their rooms were utterly barren. From the moment one stepped inside, it was as if reality itself had been stripped away. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a blinding, sterile white, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed incessantly overhead. There were no windows, no breaks in the monotonous expanse of color— just an endless sea of white that seemed to stretch on forever. The only way for the prisoners to know what time of the day it was was when their food was delivered to them, but even then they'd still lose track of how many days had passed eventually. There would be no break in the monotony, ever.

It was a prison designed to break your mind.

Most of the Galactic grunts were not broken, however. They actually seemed in alright spirits, and I attributed that to the fact that one, they probably still believed Cyrus would come save them at some point; two, they had only been there for a few days.

"There she is," the guard who was leading us said. "Inmate 58." He twisted a handle next to the prison cell, and part of the glass wall slid away as if it was a window. "Louis Bianchi, follow me to inmate 72."

I pulled on Louis' sleeve before he could go. "Good luck with Harvey."

His face grew grim. "I've wanted a conversation with my father for a long time. I won't let it slip past my fingers."

Louis left with the guard, and I turned toward the inmate. Not Natalia— I was going to speak to her later today— but Clara, named Grace Pastel the fourth by Mars. Just like Cecilia had said, she looked very similar to me. Her face was a little longer, her hair a little more golden; she had fewer freckles, but they were spread out throughout her face more than mine, which were mostly on my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. I wouldn't go as far as to call her my doppleganger, but I could understand why Mars had gone after her to cope with the fact that she couldn't get me.

This poor girl. She'd been burned too, enough for the left side of her face and neck to scar like mine. The white prisoner's uniform she was wearing was covering too much to see if the burns extended further, but I knew Mars wouldn't have spared her the pain if it meant she could be more like me.

Her look of disbelief at my presence bled away, leaving a glare hateful enough to kill in its place. Had someone else ever looked at me like this? Not even Saturn's gaze had been this hateful.

I'd expected this. This hatred. From her perspective, I'd been the main cause of all of her issues. If I'd never been involved with Team Galactic in the first place; if Mars had never grown obsessed with me because of my weakness, then my similarity to her; if I hadn't hurt Maylene and others and given Mars a reason to think we were similar; if I had died at the power plant at Valley Windworks; if I had died in Solaceon; if I had died in the raid on Backlot's mansion—

If, if, if. You'd never run out if you kept thinking back. So many actions of my doing had only increased Mars' obsession with me that they'd directly led into this girl and three of her predecessors being tortured physically and mentally for months on end.

It honestly did not hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. Not because I wasn't concerned about her; I was just too exhausted to care.

"Clara—"

She shot up from her bed. "You." She stomped her way toward me, her body so full of hate she bumped her head into the glass. "You fucking show up here? After everything?"

I sighed. From the way Cecilia had described her, she'd been rather meek—

Clara laughed, throwing her hands up. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I'm boring perfect little Grace Pastel. Maybe if you hate it so much here you should go out and enjoy your freedom so I never have to see— to think about you again."

No sighing. Okay. Another attempt. "Look, I'm sorry I—"

"Oh, you're sorry now, are you? I should be out here, and you should be in here." Her voice was so full of hate— of vitriol that spittle landed on the glass between us. "See how you like it, to have your Pokemon, your dreams and your individuality taken away from you." She gripped at her uniform, where the number 58 had been embroidered in black. "No one calls me by my name here. I do nothing all day, and they won't tell me what they did with Musharna! My parents don't even know I was arrested and that I'm in prison, and even if they did, they wouldn't be able to visit! This is all on you! Fuck you."

Her breaths were ragged, her chest rising up and down as if she'd just gone on a run. She was waiting, I knew. Waiting for a reaction. She had built up an image of me for months in her head. Most likely, Clara had played out this argument within her own mind more times than she could count. I did not blame her. Hate was a very good vehicle to fuel you during trying times. You needed something to keep yourself going; I'd been the easiest target to go after.

Yeah.

I looked up at her, tired and weary. "Did that feel good?"

"You think you're so above me, aren't you? Like I don't even deserve your attention," she hatefully spat. Rarely had I heard someone speak with so much venom in their tone. "Like you're better than me because I'm mad. I deserve to be mad— I—" she shrieked and tore at her hair.

It had been a genuine question to figure out if we were going to be able to speak any time soon. If she needed more hate, I'd let her hate me. No matter how much she berated me, I'd be there at the end to have a talk.

But the answer was no, then.

"Okay," I said, emotionless.

So I let her scream at me for Arceus knows how long. At some point, she was just threatening to kill me or calling me names. Bitch. Attention whore. Whatever, honestly.

I wanted to close my eyes.

I wanted to see Cece.



"Is this it, then?" Louis asked. "Are you just going to be a child and ignore me?"

Louis' father, Harvey Bianchi, had been in this cell for months. He had lost a bit of weight, but what was most striking was that defeated look in his eyes. He remained here, a shadow of his former self, with neither ambition nor greed to drive him. He had schemed for years, growing richer and richer, and he had forced his hand too much and paid for it.

Now, all that remained was a husk. Louis figured that they were similar, in this way. When they realized all was lost, they grew nonresponsive. Like Louis when he had heard the world might end, his father sat on the side of his bed, his eyes downcast and his hands set on his thighs. Sometimes, he would mumble. Others, his body would tense and he'd close his eyes and shake his head, as if to chase away his own inner demons.

All that time, Louis had wanted to speak to him one last time. One final conversation before he turned that page on that part of his life. The part with the version of him he despised more every day, with the sleaziness, the ego, the cluelessness, the fake friends and girlfriends. It had all been his father's doing. He alone had molded Louis into an easy to manipulate man so he could further his father's goals. Louis shook his head and laughed dryly.

"I just wanted to know why it had to be this way," Louis whispered. "I just wanted to know if you ever loved me, but you can't even give me that. You couldn't even stay strong enough to wait to speak to me." Feeling rage bubble up inside of him, Louis hit the glass with his fist so hard the pain from the impact spread throughout his arm. "I know you're capable of speaking. They told me you're allowed to speak to your lawyers and they come back once a week!" he yelled. "You're a pathetic, miserable excuse of a human being. I'm ashamed of being your son."

He turned to walk away—

"...did it…you…"

Louis' head whirled to the side so quickly his neck hurt. He scrambled back close to the glass, ashamed to still be so desperate for a word from his father, yet unable to resist the prospect of a conversation.

"What?" he asked, no; he demanded.

"I did it for you," Harvey said. "I needed to set you up for success, son. Mark Obel is the Champion of Unova and Cecilia was not going to inherit the position of CEO. It was going to go to you, we just needed…"

Ah. And then he would have had an easy to control CEO at the helm of one of the largest companies in the world.

Louis tuned him out.

Even now, he was obsessed with business. His eyes had some life in them now, as if he was daydreaming of what could have been.

They'd lit up now, but not when seeing Louis again for the first time in months.

He had never loved him.

Louis walked away less hurt than he thought he would be by that revelation.



Clara was on her knees, now, softly hitting the glass with her fist where my face was. She was utterly exhausted, yet when I looked at her, I still only saw more hatred. If I used my empathy, I would be certain, yet just looking at her face was enough to see. Tears were not enough to hide herself behind.

"Why?" Clara sobbed. "Why are you just taking it?!"

Alas, she had failed to get me to fight back. Clara had thrown herself against a wall and crumpled to the floor a crying, sobbing mess.

"Because I wanted you to do this until you were satisfied," I softly said. "Is it enough, now? I'll wait as long as you need—"

"That's not—" she inhaled, sobbing, "what I want."

"I'm afraid I can't fit the mold you have given me. I am sorry," I said, bowing my head slightly. "I thought that you would be satisfied once you hated me enough. Can I talk, now?"

"N—" she couldn't say no. She was too intrigued by what I was about to say. Clara took a deep breath, stood up and put her back to the glass. "Whatever."

"It is my understanding that you helped Cecilia and Maeve ascend up the mountain. Without your guidance, there's a chance they might have been too late to save the world."

She didn't respond, which I found strange. Didn't she see where this was going?

"I'm saying that you contributed to the effort to save His creation," I pressed. "I think I can vouch for you and— and get you out of here at some point."

Again, she said nothing, but her shoulders grew stiff and her next breath was a shaky one. I knew that bodily motion anywhere. Excitement. Hope. I understood a little better, now. Clara didn't want to tell herself that she was accepting help from the girl who had from her point of view caused so much of her suffering. To some extent, I felt like I'd be the same.

"Of course, it'd probably still take some time. You'd have to be assessed mentally and get some deprogramming done so they're sure you're free from the cult's influence— and again, that's just what the League would want, not me," I quickly spoke before she could blow up at me. "I think I could find out what happened to your Musharna, but odds are she's just in her Pokeball being held until they figure out what to do with her. I have a lot of influence here." I caressed the glass with my finger. An idle motion. "I could stop that and allow her to remain to you. I could bring you, uh, books, or comics, or snacks and other small-scale stuff if you need it. I'm allowed to visit here whenever I want, and I plan on coming back soon to see someone else. I could come back…" I wasn't ready to commit to once a day yet, so I gave it some thought. "Once every two days to bring you something. And tell you what's going out on the outside."

"And what," she started, crossing her arms, "do you want in return?"

I blinked, slightly confused. "For you to say yes?"

"What?"

"I— I'm just waiting for you to agree to this," I said. "Is it okay?"

"Wha—" She finally turned my way again. "Why wouldn't it be okay?"

"Because it's me asking you this?" If it hadn't worked, I would have sent Cecilia instead tomorrow. This only felt more appropriate. "You hate me. You could say no."

"I literally do not care. Mars could have walked down this hallway and proposed the same deal and I would have taken it…" she trailed off. "Maybe— maybe not Mars. Jupiter."

There were steps to my left. Louis was coming back. "Okay, I'll let Commander Frazier know about this. Your life should change significantly from tomorrow on, so just hold on, okay?"

"O—okay. Thanks. I guess."

With Louis now here, the conversation ended pretty quickly. I bid my goodbyes to Clara and we shuffled back to the locker room. My heart felt a little lighter when I told Louis about how things had gone.

"What about the other girl?" Louis asked. "Natalia, right?"

While Louis didn't know exactly what had gone on in Coronet or the Distortion World, I'd seen it fit to explain Mars' origins. Emi and Pauline knew as well.

On my tiptoes, I opened my locker and grabbed my Pokeballs and backpack. "I would have visited her, but Cynthia wants to assess her… way of thinking first."

"I see. And what's the goal with her? Do you want her out, too?" Louis closed his locker and began clipping his Pokeballs to his trainer belt. "If I were you I'd want nothing to do with her."

"I don't know," I slowly answered. "I guess I'll have to see for myself."

Two minutes later, we were on our way out.



The rest of the afternoon had gone by at a Slugma's pace, as it usually did when I ran out of things to do. Mimi was out of their ball again and out and about, exploring the condo at their leisure— under Jellicent's supervision, of course. The water type was getting better at multitasking his true other selves, not just his Night Shades. A tiny piece of him hovered next to the couch I was playing dead on, whispering to me about either Mimi's whereabouts or interesting history tidbits from his book. The other two were either playing babysitter or reading.

I'd be able to get the next batch of my family pretty soon. Sweetheart, Honey and Cass were going to finish getting healed within the next few days, but the others would need more time.

I tossed and turned on the couch, never quite finding a comfortable position. Occasionally I'd get an alert from my phone that I'd forget to check because I just had no energy, but at least it was something. If I hadn't had to go to the bathroom, eat and the hotel had been cut off from the outside world, maybe I'd just lay here and let the days pass. Maybe weeks. Months?

"I can't think like this." I sighed and sat upright, tapping my feet against the cold, smooth floor. "What else is there to do? More research on Pokemon Rights, maybe…"

Or I could text Cece. It was nearly six in the evening and she wasn't back yet. Was she busy?

You - Hey baby.

You - When are you coming back to the hotel? I want to see you.

Damn it. I clicked my tongue and quickly added something else before she could type her response.

You - You don't have to feel obligated to come. If you can't, don't worry about it.

Cece - I'm with Chase talking about future plans. I spent the day with him.

'Future plans' was vague, but I wasn't too bothered about it. The next speech bubble formed; my heart hammered in my chest and my hands clammed up when I awaited her response.

Cece - I can come back. We were going to finish soon.

I gasped in relief and kicked my feet.

You - See you soon <3

Happiness had permeated through me already. I found it so much easier to get up and get the place in order. We had some dirty clothes lying around— some of which I threw in the laundry. Plates and cups which had been littering, I put in the dishwasher, and I opened the windows to cycle some air through the place, allowing the setting sun to filter through. I hadn't even realized how much time flew by by the time I heard the door click open before I could get started on dinner.

I took a peek from behind a wall and grinned. "You look like you had a good time." She wasn't smiling or anything— ah, well, she was now, but it was more about how she carried herself. She was a lot more… relaxed, but not too much like when she attacked Oscar.

"Chase and I had a very productive conversation," she said, carefully taking off her shoes.

"Hm? About?"

"He asked me to keep a lid on it for now. Though he told me he apologized for what he said to you. About how you figured out his legs weren't going to get better."

So he had told her. Good; the sooner the truth came out, the more united we'd be to get through this. It was hypocritical of me given that they still didn't know the full extent of what had happened— and outside of Chase, they would never know— but that was entirely different. The apology was welcomed, too. At least I knew he hadn't really meant what he'd said.

I wrapped my arms around Cece and placed my head on her chest, tucking my head right under her chin. One of her hands came up to stroke my hair.

"What's wrong? Did Clara refuse your offer?" Cece asked once the hug continued for longer than usual.

"She didn't, it was just… hard. I'm just recharging. You're my charger." I inhaled loudly, and we both laughed. "What? You smell good!" I giggled. "I love you. I—I need you."

Her heart skipped a beat.

I looked up at her; I could feel her breath on my lips. Before she died, she would have kissed me right then and there, but I guess I had to take the lead because she wasn't sure of herself. I only had to stand on my tiptoes and—

The ringing phone didn't have to interrupt our kiss, but Cecilia instantly felt off the moment she heard it, like she wasn't into it as much anymore andshe was preoccupied by something else. I should have put the damn thing on silent like I usually did, but I'd turned on alerts to get a break from how monotonous the day had been.

It was a message from Mallory Ryan, asking me to meet tonight and saying that this would be her last and final offer. I quickly explained the situation to Cece.

"Oh. I see," she nervously said.

"Damn it," I sighed. "This is like an ambush."

She was flipping the table and seeing if I wanted this meeting as much as her. To see how committed I was to the cause after our argument after my interview. She'd even offered to send a Teleporter herself— rich people like her often hired psychic trainers for their small-scale travel, though I knew there was a bill currently passing through the Directorate to draft those people and Pokemon while help from Indigo got here.

"Guess I didn't give her enough credit," I slowly said before staring back at Cece. "Should I—"

"You should," Cece said. "Of course, you should."

"Yeah." My shoulders sagged. "I should."

It was time to face the music.

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Chapter 320
CHAPTER 320

Getting to the address Mallory Ryan had provided me had been tough. First I'd needed to catch a ride from a Kadabra, and to get one as soon as possible, I asked to be sent to Sunyshore. It was easier to get one the less distance I had to travel, given that it took less energy of them and they could get back to whatever they'd been doing at the League quicker. Had I not been privileged after saving the world, this single step would have been impossible.

The reason it was necessary, however, was because the Lily of the Valley Island was still on lockdown. Mallory sending one of the Teleporters on her payroll wasn't allowed; they would instantly get pinged by one of the many other psychics keeping track of every inch of the island, and as it stood, the League was still in 'attack first and ask questions later' mode. The Kadabra had brought me to one of the Pokemon Centers— this one close to the boardwalk. Ten minutes away from here, the destruction Team Galactic had brought would be on full display. Inside were many trainers and their Pokemon in lower spirits than usual. There wasn't much to be happy about these days. I'd had no time to get dressed properly, so I was still wearing my usual t-shirt and jeans; I had thrown a hoodie on top to hide my face while needing to hide my presence in Sunyshore.

Moments later appeared a Pokemon I'd never seen before, yet I knew littered the caves of Unova and once Orre, occupying similar niches as the Zubat line. His body was covered in soft, velvety fur, primarily a deep shade of cobalt blue, and the glow of his heart-shaped nose faded in line with his powers. The second I saw the Swoobat quietly pop into existence in the sky above the Pokemon center, I knew he had come for me, so I gestured and waved until I was spotted. One could rarely mistake such purpose in a being's eyes. The flying type glided down toward me, nearly bumping into the Pokemon Center's Pokeball sign glowing faintly in the night in the process; he was quite the clumsy flier, I noticed, but it looked like he could at least Teleport properly. I scanned the surroundings looking for a trainer, but found none. Swoobat had come alone.

MY APOLOGIES, HONORED ONE, Swoobat spoke— yelled telepathically. I'd never heard a psychic be so loud. The closest to this was Jasmine's Metagross. I AM HERE TO TELEPORT YOU TO JUBILIFE. I HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED TO… he trailed off. UH OH. WHAT HAVE I BEEN INTRUCTED TO DO AGAIN? RIGHT! RIIIIIIGHT! TO TELL YOU THAT IF YOU WISHED TO TURN BACK, NOW WAS THE TIME! THIS IS YOUR FINAL OPPORTUNITY! The bat heartily flapped his wings, as if he had not told me the most ominous thing he could have said before this tense meeting.

It did make me hesitate a little bit. I didn't think Mallory would do anything drastic like attack me, or whatever— and if the impossible happened and she somehow did this, Buddy would wipe the floor with anyone she could bring— but I did think she was the kind to make a social situation as uncomfortable as possible, which would possibly lead into an argument.

And arguments… well, when I had one with Maylene's dad I defaulted to trying to kill him.

Still, I was not deterred.

"Can we just hurry? I don't want to be seen," I said, pulling the top of my hood down. The longer I stood around here, the more likely this became, especially with Swoobat being such a bad flier attracting attention.

Swoobat grinned, revealing sharp teeth. I'M GLAD. I AM INTRIGUED IN YOU, HONORED ONE. YOU CAN UNDERSTAND US, AFTER ALL— he bumped into a passerby, who told me to watch it as if Swoobat was my Pokemon. YOU WATCH IT! Swoobat hissed, throwing out a few vocal insults. Hearing my transporter calling someone's mother a whore had not been on my bingo card for tonight. AS I WAS SAYING, YOUR CAPABILITY TO UNDERSTAND MY KIND IS OF GREAT INTEREST TO ME AND MY PARTNER! NOW, LET US BE ON OUR WAY!

By the time we finished that sentence, we were somewhere else. I was greeted by high ceilings adorned with an elegant chandelier that cast a warm, golden light over the intricate wooden flooring. Not very unique as far as decorations went, but it made me feel like I was in another world. This place was even more luxurious than the condo Cece and I were staying in and I immediately felt underdressed. Swoobat dropped to the ground and decided to hop forward instead of flying around, possibly out of fear of breaking something, and he told me to follow.

Jazz music that Swoobat hummed to softly played throughout the apartment as he led me forward. Each room I passed by or through was the apex of what money could bring you in Jubilife. It was as if every detail in the apartment, from the recessed lighting to the rich wood flooring, to each extravagant painting that looked like it had been plucked out of a modern art museum, had been meticulously chosen to appear as opulent as possible. There were a few security cameras in corners, which was not ideal; I was being recorded. Sometimes I'd catch a glance of a window, each with its own stunning view of the city that would have made Cece stare for hours. This must have been one of Mallory's apartments; she had a few in Veilstone, but one here, which she picked as our place of meeting. As Sinnoh's most famous and popular news anchor, she could afford it. I knew that this wouldn't have made most of my friends even turn their heads, though.

But I was led into… not a living room, but something akin to it.

WELCOME TO THE ROOM WHERE MANY CONVERSATIONS WHILE BROODING OVER THE CITYSCAPE CAN TAKE PLACE! Swoobat said, sweeping the place with his wing. AN ACTIVITY RICH HUMANS ARE VERY VERY VERY FOND OF!

The two who caught my eye— because there were two people here— were Mallory and an old man slightly hunched over. Mallory, as usual, had her short, dark brown pixiecut. She sat on a couch in a fancy glittering dark blue one-piece dress with her legs crossed as she sipped on some white wine. There was another couch free, facing the same massive window Mallory was, but the man was standing. He stood slightly taller than Denzel, draped in flowing robes of muted brown with a golden cloak draped around his shoulders and a tall, cumbersome-looking hat. A thick, white beard flowed down to his neck, hiding the lower part of his mouth, and he had a large, round nose with a twinge of red from irritation. Swoobat hopped toward him like an excited child, forgetting his quest to not knock anything over. He bumped into a counter and the couch before reaching his apparent trainer, who lowered himself with a tired grunt carrying the weight of aching bones to scratch the flying type's neck.

"Ah, Grace! The girl of the hour!" Mallory had turned my way, her smile mildly unsettling. "Come, come, sit!" She motioned me her way, and I hesitantly followed. "Thank you for taking me up on my offer. I know I didn't make it easy for you, but the topic we're about is important, don't you think? Do you want anything to drink? I have water or juice. Soft drinks, too."

"No thanks," I dryly responded, plopping myself down on the free couch. The city unfolded below me like a tapestry, and I could hear its sound faintly reaching the window; the occasional honking of a car or someone yelling. "Wait, where are my manners. Um," I quickly shot back up and faced the older man. "I'm—"

"Grace Pastel, yes," he interrupted, then slowly gestured toward Mallory. His voice was gentle, yet stern. Weathered, perhaps, yet it was clear that he spoke with purpose as well. He carried with him an accent reminiscent of Cece's before she'd absorbed Sinnoh's way of speaking. "I've heard many stories about you from our dear benefactor."

Mallory laughed, a sultry and admittedly pleasant sound. "You flatter me, Rood." Then, she turned my way. "Rood was originally here to thank me for one of my donations to their political party— my largest to date, but he jumped at the occasion to meet you once I said you would visit. He even extended his stay!"

Swoobat snorted unpleasantly and glared. The old man stroked his beard in contemplation, and I honed in on his displeasure instantly. He had been either caught off-guard by this, or did not want me to know about the circumstances of his visit, or both. Maybe he wanted me to feel more important than I already was. Flatter was one of the many keys to get what you wanted from someone.

"As I said, I'd heard about many of your feats," the so-called Rood said. "Ah, but I forget myself. My name is Rood Vaughan, and I am a Sage of the Plasma Organization. Think of it as one of their guides or leaders. It is a pleasure to meet you."

He outstretched his hand, and I shook it. The grip was weak, yet I felt a jolt of electricity up my arm. His skin was dry and wrinkly. Now that he faced me, I noticed the emblem on his chest, tying the golden cloak together around his shoulders. A black and white shield with a blue 'P' and 'Z' linked together.

It hit me all at once.

They wanted something from me, and the knives were out. They wanted to use me, perhaps each for a different goal, and I wanted to use them as well. This wasn't just a conversation, this was a fight for my survival in the mud. There was a tingle in my hands, the need to clench at something; a subtle sharpening of my senses; the hair on my neck and arms stood on end and I gulped.

Here, for a moment.

Here, at one of the highest points of Jubilife.

I found a story. I found purpose. I was alive again! This was a battle; there were three sides to it, and I was the only one blind to its ramifications. My back was against the wall. Mallory had the power to leak this and ruin my relationship with Poketch. If it had only been her, I could have escaped with only a flesh wound, but now with one of the leaders of Plasma in the room if this got out I would lay not only defeated, but dead. A corpse bleeding out on the floor, beaten by her betters. Those had to be the stakes. They had to be, because then I could actually feel this fire in my heart. The prickling sensation along my skin; the sweat building up on my palms; the rush of adrenaline; the realization that I was utterly outplayed and cornered. These were the drums of war, of blood and iron, and by the Legendaries, I had missed its rhythm.

Finally. My worries had been confirmed. I was a weapon. Conflict drove me. Conflict meant a story with me at its center. A story meant purpose. Purpose was to me now as oxygen was to my body. No, it was worse. So bad you could get drunk on it.

But I could not get ahead of myself. The Sharpedo were circling, and the ambush I'd been led into had left me bleeding. I had lost the first engagement before even knowing there was going to be a fight in the first place.

"You could have met Zinzolin too, but I'm afraid he had to make himself scarce yesterday when Sinnoh's airspace opened again. A shame that he left, really," Mallory continued with a threatening smile. "I truly apologize for not being able to warn you about Rood's presence. I am aware this puts you in a bind."

So they truly weren't on the same side, somehow. There was a conflict of interest, and I was the only one blind to it. Not wanting to be out of my depth, I nodded and decided to go on the attack. "I would have liked a warning. And you know what, can I take you up on that drink offer?"

Her stare sharpened. Did she think me a fool, to gloat and bare her ill will toward Rood right in front of me? Her smile softened, and she uncrossed her legs. "What do you want?"

I couldn't overplay my hand. "Just some tea, if you have some? I've become a big fan over the last few months— any tea is fine." I did like tea, but the water reaching a boiling point meant the kettle would make some noise. I'd be able to figure out when she was done. If she took too long to come back, I'd know she was trying to eavesdrop, and water took a bit to boil. Plus, I had a good view of the way toward the kitchen.

Accepting her first loss, Mallory got up and calmly walked toward her kitchen. The size of her apartment would play in my favor here, but I couldn't rest on my laurels just yet. Mallory, I knew a little about. I knew she wanted to abolish trainers; I knew she represented the biggest extremes of Plasma; I knew she was genuinely interested in me, and so while she would step on my toes, she wouldn't try to sabotage these talks to the point of getting me to leave. Blackmail and threats were just that, an idea of what could go wrong. If I fucked up, she would use it, but she wouldn't just throw me under the bus for no reason. She'd have to be certain there would be no avenues to cooperate with me.

Rood was a blank slate, one whose blade has still not been dirtied from the battle. The old man had stayed quiet after our introduction, content to listen and observe with his hands behind his back while his Swoobat rubbed on the side of his legs in-between joyous snorts. Mallory being gone was my opportunity to figure him out. No doubt the woman thought she'd just listen back to the footage on her own time, which was why she hadn't minded stepping away.

A mistake, in my opinion. It was as if I did the same for a Gym Battle, thinking I'd just watch the video of my loss afterward. Yeah, I'd learn, but I had still lost.

"So," I eagerly began. "What is it that you want from me, Rood?"

"Straight to the point," he said, clearly amused. "As you age, you'll learn to appreciate the scenic route to things."

"I mean, from what I understood, your fellow Sage Zinzolin left before you did, meaning that you're clearly interested." I'd been sitting on the couch with an arm over the armrest, meaning that the wrist Mimi was on was hidden. I quietly tapped them on the side of the couch to wake them up until they shivered in annoyance. "Obviously you've heard that I can talk to and understand Pokemon, as you've said, but what are you hoping to do with that knowledge?"

Rood slowly ambled toward the window, and he observed Jubilife at night. "A wonderful city, don't you think?"

This was clearly leading somewhere. "Yes."

"So small. It is a quaint little city." Finding Jubilife small of all things was something only a Unovan would say. "I have to say, from my time here, Sinnoh is quite the humble region. I have appreciated my stay, even in these dire circumstances. You have my sincere condolences for what these 'Galactic' terrorists have done."

I nodded, taken aback by the warmth in him. "Thanks. I—It's been a tough time for all of us."

He swept his hand toward the city below. "Mallory… Mallory would have us tear all of this down; that is her ultimate goal," he continued. "You would be hard-pressed to find someone in Plasma who would go that far; we simply fight for Pokemon liberation." Swoobat crooned at that word. Liberation. "Mallory has been a staunch ally in the fight for Pokemon, but I fear she loses the forest for the trees sometimes. I am sorry she forced your hand." There was a small smile behind his beard. "But I did not find it fit to stop it. The opportunity here was too interesting to pass and as she likely thinks, the fact that you have not left running as soon as you saw me or the cameras means that this is something you truly believe in. I find that admirable. To be willing to lose much for your goals."

Here were go. I braced myself for the first bout; the moment friendly small talk would turn into a game of pushing and pulling. He let around ten seconds pass, no doubt allowing the pressure to build. Occasionally, he would glance toward the hallway leading to the kitchen.

"Ah, but I need to make sure you are worth your salt, first," Rood said. "A little test for you. Swoobat, if you will."

The bat beamed, happy to help his trainer. With a wink, Swoobat told me that if I wanted to steal anything from Mallory on my way out, he would Teleport it with me. I said no, of course, and quickly relayed the message to Rood, who I assumed got confirmation from the psychic through telepathy.

His eyes widened. "Fascinating. All of my life, I've given to this cause and tried to find like-minded people, yet this is only the second time I've seen someone like you. Someone who can truly hear Pokemon, even if they are strangers."

My nails dug into the couch, but I caught the tic and just hummed nonchalantly, as if I was intrigued and not utterly bewitched by this revelation. He must have wanted to gauge my reaction too, from the beat of silence that he allowed to pass as his gaze washed over me like a thousand needles. I called to Mesprit using my mind, asking if they had anything to do with this— some kind of half shard business they hadn't told me like Chase and Cece.

Nope, the God immediately answered. I've got nothing to do with this, if he's telling the truth! Mesprit snickered, signaling they already knew. You should have used your empathy to tell, Grace! C'mon, get your head in the game! This is the most exciting thing that's happened to you since you've been back from the Distortion World!

Right. Right, he could have been lying. I didn't want to rely on empathy if I could; if possible I wanted to be able to tell what people thought and felt and wanted by just looking at them. Like Gardenia. But given that the stakes were so high, maybe…

Was that a lie? I asked Mesprit.

Well now it's less entertaining if I tell you. Figure it out on your own, if you want to be such a goody two shoes! Hmph!

The whistling of the tea kettle in the distance eventually centered me before I could make my decision.

"Really? That's interesting," I said. "Are they another member of your party—"

"Ah, welcome back, Mallory," he said, facing the nearby hallway.

We heard her steps before we saw her. "I got you camomille," she said, lifting a ceramic cup. She looked frayed, but not beaten. "I hope you like it, I'm not that big on tea. I have to drink at least four coffees a day to survive, though."

When I grabbed the cup and thanked her, a realization hit me like a bucket of cold water while she and Rood continued their small talk about coffee (the old man was convinced it was a vice).

Was this why he'd waited so long? Spoken so slowly? So he would get something out of me, but not me out of him? From how long an answer had taken to come out, he could have easily told that not only I did not know someone else like me, but that I hadn't expected it to be possible in the first place. Yeah, I'd gotten information too— that out there someone else like me existed— but again, it could have been a lie, and even if it wasn't, he had gotten the better deal. Internally, a curse rang in my head. I was rusty. It had been a while since the politicking of Poketch.

A second loss. I couldn't let it get to three. Three felt significant, somehow. As if he'd have too much leverage in the conversation and even Mallory would be able to twist my arm. Remember, this is a story. It would be too obvious to have me lose here; an opportunity would arrive soon. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was insane, but at this point I was too deep into it to care.

I eyed the news anchor, who was also still reeling from her loss. She was far easier to read. Prickly, tense, and using their stupid argument about coffee to feel like she was at least winning something. We all knew this small talk was only a break from the fighting. We'd all traded barbs; now was the time for the second bout.

Taking the lead was a risk, but I had to trust Mallory would catch onto what I was doing.

I blew on my tea a few times. "Smells good." A meaningless filler meant to garner attention, and it worked. Both of my opponents were looking at me, now. "So, Mallory. Tell me how you and Rood met. If that's okay, of course!"

It was an attempt at an olive branch. If she knew any better, she'd take it. It wouldn't be wise to weaken our standing and allow Rood to get out of here as the sole benefactor to this meeting. The potential reward had increased for me now. I needed to know if this second Pokemon whisperer was real, and if they were, I wanted to know more about them. Knowledge was an invaluable.

She lowered her glass of wine and smirked. "Ah, it's been a while, hasn't it, Rood?"

"Certainly."

Mallory explained that she'd always been against trainers even when she'd been a child, and that she'd involved herself in Pokemon Rights organizations as a teenager and young adult. She'd even met her husband through these and forged a wide net of connections with important people all over Sinnoh. This was all information I already knew from Melody, but I pretended to be fascinated by it.

Maybe that was a little too harsh. The story was interesting. She'd done a lot of volunteer work to rehome Pokemon which had been abused or caught against their wills and released in an environment they hadn't been adapted to live in by trainers too lazy to go back to where they'd caught them, too, so she had done a lot of good for the world. I was simply after something else. We were circling the drain, so to speak.

Unfortunately for her, or at least she thought so, her ideals eventually turned too extreme for many of the groups she'd been a part of, so she quickly looked abroad and found a tiny group of like-minded people in Unova.

"I had only just joined at the time," Rood explained. "We were small, only based in Castelia and without much funding. Mallory had already become one of the largest news anchors in Sinnoh and was our second big political donor, you see. Without her, we wouldn't have grown anywhere as large as quickly. For that, she will always have my eternal gratitude." He inclined his head at her.

"Second?" I asked. "Who was the first?"

I caught the twitch in his eye; the way his hand reflexively moved an inch toward his beard, but then stayed flat against his robes. Rood was difficult to read, but was not infallible. I was only growing sharper as the night went on. He had not expected me to ask that question, and normally I wouldn't have. Second just struck me as an odd thing to say. If they'd had a donor beforehand, why had they stayed small? He'd identified them as big, after all. That meant pulling similar numbers to Mallory.

"I'm afraid they desire anonymity," he said. "You have to understand, Grace, that taking our position publicly, while easier than ten, twenty, thirty years ago, is still liable to ruin your reputation."

"Oh, I understand."

One loss for him, then. Minor, but a loss nonetheless. Mallory just had a smug smile, and I didn't know if it was she liked seeing Rood get some egg on his face or if she knew about this donor as well. Our alliance, while tentative, was still holding somewhat, so I decided not to throw her under the bus and ask her about this mysterious donor. She was the one with the cameras, after all. Chitchat about how Plasma struggled in its early days continued for a few minutes until Mallory moved on the attack as soon as I signaled to her with a look.

"I'm sorry to bring this back up, but I do wonder what I missed while I was gone." She brought a finger to the side of her lip. "Grace looked quite shaken; I hope you weren't mistreating our guest, Rood."

Damn it, she was good to have caught on to what I wanted exactly. Crazy, but good, when she focused. She wasn't known to be merciless in her interviews for nothing. Years upon years of experience had been enough to sharpen her tongue enough for it to be lethal. It was a good thing that the beliefs she could barely hold back without a massive media conglomerate breathing down her neck were a weakness of hers. Honestly, the fact that they let her work for them with these views of her was insane to begin with, but maybe she'd grown too important, so they were stuck with her. It wasn't like she aired those in public, anyway.

"Most of it was just small talk, but Rood actually told me about someone else like me earlier," I said. "Someone who could also speak to Pokemon."

"Ah, yes. Them." That was confirmation they were real, especially with how Rood fucking stared daggers at Mallory, which seemed to reinvigorate her. She was a little like Mars, in that way. While a trap was possible, I sincerely doubted they were coordinating this lie. "A wonderful child your exact age that I've heard many good things about, though I have never been allowed to meet them, even with my many visits to Unova." Mallory tapped a finger on her armrest and lounged there like a lazy Glameow. "They're the reason why I was so intrigued by you when you walked up to Veilstone's Gate with that army of Pokemon behind you. You sounded and looked like what I'd heard about them."

Rood was fiddling uncomfortably with his beard. He'd overplayed his hand! Had he thought I'd never ally with Mallory just because she was fucking insane and he'd tried to tarnish her in my eyes while she was gone? And the best part was that he couldn't even say anything about it, lest he give something else away.

"I could never have imagined that you would, in time, become such a brilliant trainer," Mallory said with stars in her eyes. "We need people like you among us."

Well, all good things came to an end, I supposed. "Brilliant trainers? There are many like me; I don't even have my eighth badge." A soft rebuke first, to steer her away. We could still salvage this, even if she had slighted me.

"But how many can speak to Pokemon, and how many are… at least favorable to our cause?" she asked. "And that's not even speaking about your rate of progress. Who knows where you'll be in three months? Six? A year?"

Why did she have to go there? We had Rood on the ropes, and now we were trading blows! "Generally, you slow down the stronger your Pokemon are," I said, echoing Craig's words. "Why do you even need me for?" Back. Off.

"This world is run by strength above all, is it not? In nearly every single country, it is the most powerful trainer that rules, or at least appears to rule." Mallory's jaw clenched in displeasure. "Strength behind your cause is many things. It is respect; it is credibility; it is legitimacy. That is how the world works. The bigger a monopoly on violence you have, the better shot you have at being heard."

I bit the inside of my lip, knowing that she left me no choice. "The world you're describing where I am a weapon for you to use is a fantasy," I hissed. I wanted— needed purpose, but I was not far gone enough to let anyone use me. "I will not be a tool for you to scare people with or worse. I am certain Rood will agree with me."

Mallory's face fell. She'd expected a rebuttal, and maybe had wanted to drive me into a corner, but she hadn't expected me to run back to Rood for support after she'd given me so much information about this other individual like me. I'd essentially backstabbed her, and the look in her eye let me know that she would never help me again. Another loss for her; bad, since she had control of the cameras. I smelled her tea's aroma and circled a tiny spoon in the cup, as if unbothered.

Inclining his head toward me as a sign of gratitude, the Sage spoke. "We have many young and hotheaded people." The importance he'd put on those words, accompanied by a very obvious stare toward Mallory made his intent known. "Passion is good, but I fear the actions some of them could take if the ban passes this summer."

By that, he meant the banning of their political party in parliament. Cecilia had spoken to me about it a bit, and I had done some research on my own with Jellicent's help.

"It will pass, and it will be buried now that the news can only speak about Sinnoh. The establishment fears us." Mallory sneered and took another swig of wine. "We're surging in the polls! Nowhere near enough to be the largest party yet, but we've gone from a tiny irrelevant group to a sizeable voice with amazing ground game and organization. Why would they ban our party if they weren't scared of us? Terrified that we'd keep growing? We were about to break the fucking dam, forgive my language, and they want to put a— a bit of tape over it and bury their heads in the sand!" She wildly gestured.

Rood audibly groaned, so I followed up to keep her talking. Anything to use her rashness as a weapon against herself. Anchoring myself to Rood was the only way I'd make it through the night. "And what does that mean? Breaking the dam."

The news anchor's face burned alight with passion and she uttered a single word. Quiet, yet solid as steel. "Revolution."

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Arguing for revolution while she would be watching from an ocean away in her ivory tower, sipping wine and profiting off of it by reporting on it was insane, yet expected from someone like her.

"Enough of that," Rood growled, sounding a decade younger. "I will not allow blood to be spilled in our streets. For innocents and children to die as collateral damage. Violence is never the answer."

Mallory laughed and clapped her hands. "Oh you bleeding heart. Spare me."

"And who, pray tell, do you think will fight this theoretical revolution." He gestured at me. "Trainers will use their Pokemon as tools of violence! This goes exactly against our core beliefs! The very beings you want to save will die by the tens, hundreds of thousands! Maybe millions." His expression grew grim, and a darkened shadow clouded behind his eyes as if he was visualizing it. Swoobat patted his leg with a wing, and some of the tension left Rood, who took a deep breath. "You think we will put the heads of your enemies at the League on pikes, but war is never so self-contained. Innocents would die and be displaced, and in the wild as well."

"Coward," she hatefully spat. "So you would rather let them ban our cause," Mallory countered. "You would rather allow them to stay the course on hundreds of years of oppression than do what is necessary. Allow me to posit you this." She stood up and began to pace, though maintained a piercing glare toward Rood. "It is the Great War. The Kalosion monarchy bans any dissident voice against the war and imprisons anyone who speaks out. Do you know how it ended? With a revolution, the king dead and Kalos out of the war."

"Apples and oranges," he dismissed her with an irritated rasp in his voice. There was a beat of silence passed, heavy even for me. I did not know who'd won the engagement, but I'd give it to Rood. "And what do you think, Grace?"

"I agree that there is a problem," I said. "I just vehemently disagree with what you think is the cure. And that goes for you as well," I told Rood. It was easier to understand their difference, now. Their agendas. Both believed Pokemon Trainers to be endemic to the issue that Pokemon in society were not treated as equals. They disagreed, however, on how to fix that issue. "It's like, you're both acting like Pokemon themselves don't get a say in this."

"A common rebuke," Rood said. "I can assure you, we both know that different Pokemon will have different needs and wants."

"Despite all of this, they are victims who have been brought up in the same society that we have. Many of them think that this is all normal despite—"

Rood softly clicked his tongue, as if to tell her she would find no companion in that line of thinking. Not here, at least. "One cannot deny that ripping away Pokemon from their trainers would be a traumatic experience. Not only would it be impossible without a war we could not win even with all of Unova's resources behind us, but it would be morally wrong." Mallory whispered that they just lacked the will for it. He ignored her. "This is why I argue for a more sensible position. The banning of catching new Pokemon, effective immediately."

Damn it.

He was better than her. He really was. And I was sure I would enjoy speaking to him about many things.

But at the end of the day he was cut of the same cloth. Plasma was no good for me.

"It would allow us decades of leeway to learn how to work with wild Pokemon as equals, along with slowly adapting the state to function without their labor, yet it would not upend society in an apocalyptic manner. It would allow the trainer class to naturally die out over the decades," he continued. "Though I can tell this disappoints you, Grace. A shame."

"Yeah," I just said. When I imagined future generations unable to experience the sheer love I had with my own Pokemon, it filled my chest with so much anger. "Yeah, I think you're both full of shit. And it pains me, because— because you're so close to being— to being workable with, Rood. You seem like such a kind and passionate man at heart."

The man exhaled. "I could say the same. By His Truth, this was such a wasted opportunity. I wish I could understand how you could hear the voice of Pokemon and not think the same as us. Not think the same as them."

Them. That mysterious figure again. Biting my lip, I put my face in my hands and sighed.

"I gotta go to the bathroom. Where is it?" I quickly asked.

"Ah, Swoobat knows," Mallory said. "He can bring you."

"Nonsense. You should trust your guests, Mallory." Rood looked to still be willing to cooperate even though we'd come at an impasse.

That was exactly what I'd hoped for.

I wanted more from this, but first I had to do this test. After Mallory directed me to the nearest bathroom, I left Mimi on the couch in their bracelet form and made my way there. The truth was, I didn't need to go at all. I just needed to see if Rood would stab me in the back and attempt to discredit me, which was why I'd woken up Mimi from their slumber earlier. I allowed two minutes to pass before I flushed a clean toilet and washed my clean hands, then I came back to Rood and Mallory debating poll numbers. The little steel type had no warning for me, so I knew we were in the clear.

Supposedly with the election this October, the Plasma Organization was polling at 14%. That was behind every single mainstream party who I assumed were in the pockets of the corporations, but they were the largest out of the four parties that Cece would call the 'non-establishment'.

Granted, Unova wasn't like Sinnoh. Even 'establishment' parties were a part of the opposition sometimes, and there were a crap ton of parties. I knew of few of their names because Cece would often rant at me about them being beholden to the Conglomerate at the end of the day, even if they all had differing opinions. 14% was actually a huge rise from the paltry 2.3% they'd gotten the previous election, which hadn't even been enough to get any seats in parliament. According to Rood and Mallory, their rise in the polls came in the wake of a series of very public scandals in the Unovan Ranger Corp which were 'worse than usual'. In the Mistralton branch, it was because of the mistreatment of Pokemon in their custody. In the Nacrene Branch, it was due to an aggressive rehoming of Pokemon off the route into a supposed 'Pinwheel Forest' that left many hurt and some dead. A video a nearby trainer (who hadn't been supposed to be here; Rangers had the authority to fully close down areas of a Route in Unova on their own) had filmed had catapulted the story to front-page news.

Well, until a massive rift opened up on top of Coronet, at least.

While I knew there was no way that many people believed in separating trainer and Pokemon, they'd still jumped that high in the polls for whatever reason. I had heard that they were moderating a little publicly, at least, so maybe that was it, but the ban on them would take that out of the picture.

"People always say that it's a few bad apples…" Mallory trailed off with genuine sadness. "Every few weeks, there's an incident that's supposed to be just an exception. They investigate themselves and sometimes fire the culprit or put them in prison, but the entire thing is rotten."

"That, we can agree on," Rood said. "Mark Obel, of all people, will not change anything. He is even worse than cruel, he is a coward who revels in inaction. I never thought I would miss Alder. For all I disagreed with the man, he was better than this."

Silence was my answer. I would not form an opinion on the Rangers until I saw the region for myself; while these incidents had happened, I could not forget that these people were biased. What they were describing was difficult especially when knowing how good Sinnoh's Rangers were in comparison.

I swallowed. We'd traded blows tonight, and I found him to be a very engaging conversationalist. We were opponents, yet like in every battle, it did not mean I could not learn from this. I warmed my hands against the teacup and leaned forward.

"Why don't you tell me about some of the other things you've seen, Rood?" I slowly asked. Unlike Mallory, he could be objective. "I'm afraid that while I desperately want to help Pokemon, I am severely lacking in the knowledge to do anything about it."

Rood stroked his beard, something that I was quickly learning was a soothing gesture for him. "While you may not be a new party member, it would always be good to have someone of your caliber working to help Pokemon. I can see that you are different."

"Because I talk to Pokemon?" I asked.

"No. I see that look in your eyes, young girl. It reminds me of my father's; he fought in the Last War." Few people used that name for the Great War, for obvious reasons. It implied that it would be the last war ever fought, at least officially. "You have seen much horror and hope for good in the world. Perhaps it is what I want to see, but it is what I see nonetheless."

Rood was an optimistic man at his core. I was learning much about him tonight.

"I" I hoped that I was like that as well. Desperately. "Yeah."

"It has been… more than two hours of discussion. I'm afraid that like Zinzolin before me, I will have to leave. I have a flight to catch early tomorrow." Rood chuckled. "I assume that some will be greatly pleased with this."

Mallory was already salivating at the prospect of getting me alone to try to turn me over to her side. "Don't worry, Grace. I have two more Teleporters on payroll that you can use to get back." She'd downed her wine by now, but she enjoyed twirling the empty glass around in her hand.

I had not touched the tea I'd had her make.

Despite wanting to leave as soon as possible now that Rood was gone, Mallory still had the footage, and she knew it. She would be able to twist me into some kind of concession before I could leave in exchange for safety. The good thing was that I hadn't lost too much of my standing in the previous conversation. We'd fought, and I'd come out on top enough times for her to respect me. If I'd mishandled the meeting, she might have forced me into

"Oh, and Mallory," Rood said with a hidden smile. He motioned at one of the cameras in the corner of the room. "Do me a favor and delete all of tonight's footage."

The news anchor nearly fell off her velvet couch. "And why… is that?" she asked, barely containing the surprised rage within.

"You know that I am a private man," he said. "I am not the face of Plasma; I cannot be as outspoken as Zinzolin or Gorm. I fear that I have not behaved as a man worthy of my position as a Sage tonight, with all the arguments and the non-curated narrativesah, but you know how politics go." Swoobat giggled and jumped on his trainer's back. Somehow, as clumsy as he was, he did so gently as to not hurt Rood's back. "Ah, patience, Swoobat. You must take Grace home, first."

"And what if I refu…" Mallory didn't finish that sentence, as if the thought of going against Rood was unimaginable.

I thought I understood it. They could spar verbally all they wanted, debate theory and theoreticals, but at the end of the day, he was one of the leaders of Plasma and she was just a donor. A donor with influence within the party, of course, but a donor nonetheless. If Rood wanted, he could probably cut her off. It wasn't like they were financially dependent on her any longer, and she needed them. They were more important than donations to her, they were her life's purpose.

The old man simply nodded. "Grace, a little conversation, if you will. Swoobat?"

In-between Mallory's outrage, the psychic's nose glowed pink, and he yelled—

Then everything around us went quiet before my hands could even get to my good ear to take out my hearing aid. It had been painful for a fraction of a second. I knew I was within some kind of sound barrier, but it was different than one Cass would make, for example. Less refined, with less of a defined border between the outside and inside.

"This is a favor I am doing you," he said. "Truth be told, while what I said tonight getting out would not be ideal, it would not hamper our goals much. I would never be so careless."

"Then whwhy? Why do this for me?"

He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "While I am disappointed this meeting is ending this way, I still wanted to analyze your character tonight. To see if you were as bloodthirsty as your so-called 'battling' showed." He scoffed, squeezing my shoulder a tad, and it was now that I'd realized how close to oblivion I'd stepped. He had watched my battles. Of course he had! Why would he not try to learn everything about me? "While I am appalled at what you make your Pokemon and the Pokemon of others go through, I understand that it is… sport for you all, however misguided that may be. One day, hopefully, you too will see the truth."

I responded with a terse nod, not agreeing but being grateful he was giving me this opportunity.

He took his hand off of me and brought them both behind his back. "All I ask is for you to not speak of the other like you to anyone."

I expected more, like an explanation as to why he did not want this person known, but it never came. "Of course. I owe you."

"Thank you, Grace. Tonight, you showed genuine concern for our plea," he continued. "You showed that you do not follow the path of violence in hopes of fixing things. You showed that you have a good head on your shoulders," I could have laughed at that one, "and that you are a smart and good speaker. So I will let Swoobat take you home. Do not worry, Mallory will not do anything rash. She is young and has the temperament of a Hydreigon, but like all of us, there is good in her heart. She is bitter at a world that has refused her at every turn, and it has only radicalized her more. I will handle her with a gentle hand."

"Ththank you, Rood."

The Sage smiled, closing his eyes. "Why don't you head on home, then. Teenagers like you need good sleep, and you look like you haven't gotten any in a week."

My ears popped when Swoobat took down whatever he'd done to contain our voices. Mallory looked to be stewing in anger. I wouldn't hear what they were going to talk about, given that Swoobat was already hopping away. It wasn't until we reached the condo's foyer, where he had Teleported me beforehand, that he spoke up again.

SO, Swoobat wondered. WHAT DID YOU THINK?

I shook my head in disappointment. "I learned a lot, you know. A lot of statistics and horrible, horrible stories that had happy endings because of Rood. His heart is in a good place," a way better place than Mallory's, who just wanted blood and death, "but I still believe he's misguided."

HE THOUGHT YOU MIGHT HAVE COME TO AN AGREEMENT, Swoobat said. HE THOUGHT YOU MIGHT HAVE BEEN LIKE THAT PERSON HE MENTIONED TO YOU. YOUR COUNTERPART. I THOUGHT SO TOO, BUT OH WELL. POBODY'S NERFECT!

I leaned against the wall, staring at one of Mallory's paintings. "Can you tell me more about them?" Then, I raised my hands innocently. "I promise I won't say anything to anyone."

The flying type snorted. YOU'RE GOING TO UNOVA, RIGHT? IF YOU ARE, YOU'RE GOING TO KNOW WHO HE IS VERY SOON— OH CRAP, I REVEALED HIS GENDER! Swoobat jumped around, flapping his wings in a panic. BAH! WHATEVER! YOU'D HAVE FIGURED IT OUT EVENTUALLY. ROOD MADE A CALCULATION WHEN TELLING WHO ABOUT HIS EXISTENCE AND HIS PURPOSE. A GAMBLE THAT IT WOULD GET YOU TO OUR SIDE. YOU BETTER REMEMBER YOUR PROMISE, EVEN IF IT DIDN'T.

"I won't. It's mutually assured… well, it'd be destruction for me, and I assume you guys don't want the world to know he exists yet, or that he's involved with you, so it'd be bad for you too," I guessed. As Rood said, that might ruin his reputation as well, though he still had plausible deniability given that he'd never confirmed this boy to be a part of Plasma, just that he knew him.

WELL HE'LL MAKE A BIG SPLASH, I BETCHA! A BIG SPLASH! Swoobat cackled. Their nose started to glow as they gathered the energy to Teleport. BACK TO SUNYSHORE, I PRESUME?

Before agreeing, I spoke up. "Say, Swoobat. You agree with Rood's ideals wholeheartedly?"

He nodded. YUP!

"Even if it means he'll have to release you if he reaches his goal?"

The bat's concentration wavered for a moment; his wings shivered and he began to cackle wildly until his laugh turned into a snotty-sounding wheeze. SILLY HUMAN! DO YOU THINK I STAY WITH ROOD BECAUSE OF THAT PRISON YOUR KIND CARRIES ON YOUR HIP? He continued speaking in-between coughs, looking at Buddy and Mimi's Pokeballs. I AM WILD, STILL! ROOD'S PLAN DOES NOT MEAN A TOTAL SEPARATION BETWEEN HUMAN AND POKEMON; I WOULD NOT HAVE TO LEAVE HIS SIDE! ONLY WACKOS LIKE ZINZOLIN AND MALLORY BELIEVE IN TOTAL SEGREGATION! WE HOPE TO UNDERMINE THEIR CAUSE EVENTUALLY, BUT WE'RE FORCED TO WORK TOGETHER FOR NOW. UNITED WE STAND, DIVIDED WE FALL AND ALL OF THAT JAZZ. ROOD THINKS TOO WELL OF THEM, HONESTLY. HE SEES GOOD WHERE THERE IS NONE, OR AT LEAST IT WOULD TAKE TOO MUCH WORK TO SQUEEZE IT OUT OF THEM.

Oh. Oh, that made a lot more sense. I disagreed, still, but that was so much more palatable. Still, it was clear from Rood's argument that this would result in so much fewer opportunities for bonds between human and Pokemon to form, and that was in line with his plan. Not because the Pokeball was necessary to that bond (history had shown that wasn't the case; people had been partnering up with Pokemon long before the invention of the first Pokeballs made using apricorns and whatever the hell else). Ignoring the fact that Pokeballs had saved my Pokemon's lives many times, it was his phrasing, which had bothered me. 'Allow the trainer class to naturally die out'. He wanted to phase us out, and from the conversations I'd had with him earlier, he was vehemently anti-battling to the point of believing it to be abusive. Not only my methods of battle, but any battling.

I exhaled in disappointment, remembering that moment. So much for listening to Pokemon; good luck taking battling away from Sweetheart, Princess, Honey or Sunshine.

"To Sunyshore," I said, satisfied.

ALRIGHTY! HERE WE— Their eyes glowed white, and they seized up. Emotional misery encroaches upon you GO!

"Wh—" we were back in Sunyshore, in front of that same Pokemon Center. "—at?" People spared us a glance, as they usually did when people Teleported nearby, but that was it. The cover of night and the hoodie I was wearing helped keep me hidden. "What did you just say?"

WHAT? Swoobat clumsily blew up, knocking himself into a pole. WHADDYAMEAN?

"Was that a joke? Or do you genuinely not remember? You said misery encroaches upon me—"

OH! OH! THOSE. YEAH, I DO THAT SOMETIMES, he yelled. I WOULDN'T WORRY, THAT'S JUST A TIC. I HAVE A GOOD NOSE; I CAN SMELL ONGOING, PAST, OR FUTURE EMOTIONAL TURMOIL SOMETIMES, BUT IT'S NEVER THAT CLEAR, AND I ALWAYS FORGET! LIKE A FLEETING DREAM! IT'S PROBABLY WRONG! ANYWAY, GOTTA DIP! SEE YA!

I blinked, not knowing what to say, and the bat disappeared into the night.

"Way to make me anxious," I muttered to myself. Mimi vibrated against my wrist. "Yeah, hopefully it's nothing. Better be ready for anything, though." I honestly couldn't think of anything that would cause me turmoil in the future now that Galactic was gone, so it was probably what I was feeling now. Melancholy. "Hey, thanks for helping me out in there. You didn't have to." My hand gently caressed the bracelet, who quietly mewled.

I pulled out my phone, texted my contact at the League and sat on a bench on the opposite sidewalk of the Pokemon Center while I waited. Tonight had been full of twists and turns, and honestly, at the beginning of it all, I'd felt like I'd been fighting for my life. I had carved out a space for myself among those two and gotten out with a deal that was as close to optimal as it could have been thanks to Rood.

And honestly? I was sad that it was over.

Something was wrong with me. I didn't exactly care to fix or even acknowledge it, at the moment. I closed my eyes and reimagined the words full of harm, poison and barbed wire, and what I'd done to counter them.

A/N: I usually wouldn't feel the need to do this because I don't like spelling out things for the readers, but here, just in case: reminder that Grace is an unreliable narrator who puts way too much importance on stories because they make her feel alive and help her think during high stakes situation. She is just a teensy weensy bit insane (very insane).

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap
 
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Interlude - A Taste of Rule and Forgiveness
INTERLUDE - A TASTE OF RULE AND FORGIVENESS

As it turned out, pushing Chase around on a wheelchair was a very demanding job for Cecilia. For one, he always complained about how sitting permanently meant that he'd be short as hell for the rest of his life and that he'd have to look up at people, a personal pet peeve of his. Having people in front of him cut off his field of vision whenever it got too crowded. He hated the way so many passersby looked down at him with pity in their eyes, probably thinking 'oh, that poor thing! Disabled and so young!' They never said anything, of course. He would have talked their ear off with countless insults if they had, but just that look was enough to piss him off. The fact that Chase still wore some bandages over his shallow burns didn't help. Apparently none of it would scar, save for a spot on his shoulder blade.

He would also complain if she was going too slow. Cecilia thought that it was due to some insecurity about being handled 'softly' due to his new condition, but the honest truth was this was her first time pushing a wheelchair and she didn't want to bump into some poor League Trainer or even worse, a child.

Both of them were technically breaking a rule, at the moment. While Chase had been allowed to go out on his wheelchair, he hadn't been discharged, nor had his doctors allowed him to go this far from the hospital. He kept insisting he was fine and he could do this, however; she had gone through too much with him to doubt Chase now.

She brought him south of the island, stopping at a vantage point once built to observe the League's densest residential zone right around its relatively small port. Cecilia assumed that once upon a time, this place could have been used to observe any enemy force landing on the League's shores. Today, it had been turned into a touristic spot with paid binoculars and a colorful sign explaining the significance of this place to passersby. Cecilia didn't read it, however. She enjoyed guessing how places and their purpose changed throughout the years. The Unovan placed Chase's wheelchair right next to the old-looking stone railing so he could have the best view possible. Even with how cloudy it was, this place was breathtaking.

He wasn't as much of a view nerd as she was, but one would have to be blind not to be taken aback by the beauty of the world unfolding before you. Everything looked so small from up here. The League was growing busier every day, yet they all looked like little ants going about their purpose. She should have brought Grace here. They could have taken a picture— maybe of them kissing above the world.

Cecilia shivered, hugging herself, craving for her like she was some sort of drug. Her leg began to impatiently tap against the ground, as if helping Chase with his issues was a waste of time when she could spend more of it with Grace. The thought disgusted her as soon as it came, and she chased it away with a head shake.

"What, you're cold in this warm ass weather? Is this a ghost thing again?" Chase asked with his usual lack of tact. "I guess there's a bunch of wind."

Cecilia pondered that question for a moment as she observed the bustling port below the stone railing. "I think some of it is," she said. "Some of it is just me, though. Just me."

"Cryptic," he said with a hint of irony. He pushed himself up with his hands to get a better look. "Yeah, I think this is a good spot to leave me in."

Her hand lay to rest on the side of his chair. "Are you sure you'll be able to get back alone?"

Chase shrugged. "Nothing like getting thrown in the sea to learn how to swim."

Cecilia scoffed, and looked at him like he was insane. "That's also a very good way to have you drown." He had been the one with the insane plan for her to bring him in the middle of nowhere so he could practice moving around on his lonesome.

"That's how they do it in the Iron Islands," he explained. "Plus, when you're a baby you automatically know how to hold your breath."

"What? No way."

"Dude, I'm telling you that's how it works! I've seen it with my own eyes." Chase placed his hands around his wheels with a firm grip and mumbled about needing to get back to working out soon. "Anyway, thanks for bringing me out here. I'll…" a sigh, "wheel my way back to the hospital soon enough. I just needed fresh air."

A Pelipper flew overhead, followed by a group of Wingull. One of them passed so close to her she could have snatched it out of the air. Pokemon here were as they were in any other city— they were used to people and content to live their lives in their company. Chase and Cecilia stuck around for a few minutes until her phone rang in her pocket. She was wearing shorts today; shorts that weren't black. Grace had helped her get dressed so she didn't have a horrid mix of colors. What greeted her was a small group chat with Maylene and Grace, one that she had the immediate urge to unravel.

Maylene Suzuki - Hello

Maylene Suzuki - I hope this isnt like

Maylene Suzuki - Forcing anything or whatever.

Maylene Suzuki - Theres a problem with my dad cus he leaked that u were both here ayt the Gym. Hes trying to push the narrative that Grace hurt me so she shouldnt be here and that foreigners shouldnt be involvedin Gym business.

Maylene Suzuki - Its not catching on rn so I wouldnt worry, I just figured Id warn you

Forget everything about any notions of unraveling,
Cecilia thought to herself. This was important.

You - Pathetic. He desperately flails and tries to discredit your leadership because he can't do anything else but salvage his wounded pride.

Maylene Suzuki - Can u 2 come over?

Cecilia waited to see what Grace would say, which resulted in a rather long silence.

Maylene Suzuki - Its not urgent so dw if you cant

Now she was just feeling bad for her. Cecilia pursed her lips.

You - I said I would come over. I'll come over.

Grace - Sorry! I was busy making food for my kids. I'm picking up Honey, Cass and Sweetheart from the Center today so I don't think I can unless your dad is literally there and you need some huge emotional support from yours truly.

Maylene started to type, then stopped and started again. She could not have made her disappointment more obvious.

Maylene Suzuki - Dont worry haha ill be fine.

Maylene Suzuki - I nmean its fine.

You - I am still coming over.

Grace - Good luck Cece! Beat him to death!

Grace - In the marketplace of ideas*

Maylene Suzuki - Ok Cecilia ill send a Kadabra to ur hotel

Grace - Oooh if you're swinging by can you come up? I wanna see you really badly. I'm barely holding on as it is.

Teleportation was convenient, even when it took the fun out of travel. The Unovan looked up from her phone. "Well, I'll be on my way, then."

"Thanks for hanging with me pal," Chase said with a lazy thumbs up. His hospital gown looked terrible on him, she had to admit.

"I'll be busy today, actually, so if you need help, you gotta call one of the others—"

"I'll be fiiiine," he insisted before patting his breast pocket. "My phone's right here, and if something actually happens, some guy or girl's going to feel bad for me and help anyway. You do you and… you know, good luck with your Pokemon." He glanced at the two Pokeballs clipped on her hip and grimaced. "It's gonna take a while, but you're gonna work together again, I believe in you."

A soft smile reached her lips. "Thanks."

She used the tramways to get back to her hotel as fast as she could. Luckily for her, they were running routinely and she didn't have to wait very long. Cecilia's Teleporter was the same Kadabra Maylene had sent before. He still carried that horrid, ragged spoon and still sneered at her whenever she got near. Grace was out of the hotel waiting for her, but she'd been chatting up Kadabra with bright interest in his craft as if it was second nature to her. There was impatience in her face too, though, one that disappeared as soon as she noticed Cecilia.

Warm.

Unbelievably warm as if she'd jumped into a jacuzzi. It started from the throb in her heart and spread throughout her body like an unstoppable force. A tsunami of warmth that heated up further when Cece saw how genuinely glad she was to see her. Grace skipped forward, ignoring the outraged Kadabra, and tackled Cecilia into a tight hug. This was what she'd craved. Her skin against hers. Cecilia squeezed back so tightly that it was as if she wanted the two to meld into one person. Grace was still wearing an apron dirtied by a little flour— had she been making some kind of cake?

Cecilia mind whispered at her to stay for an hour, or two, or more. Maylene could wait, it would tell her. Can you last an afternoon without her? With a goal in mind, she could. The longer it lasted, the more she began to doubt herself. Cecilia's hold loosened, and Grace's tightened in response as if she didn't want to let go.

"I missed you," Grace whispered.

This wasn't good. This really wasn't good.

"I should go," Cecilia said.

"Maybe."

"Not maybe. I have to." Cecilia finally managed to find the strength to leave.

Grace looked at her with an irresistible pout— Legendaries, Cecilia missed seeing her green eyes. She'd been in better spirits since her conversation with that Plasma member and Mallory, though it was fading rather quick. She was still riding that high. "Okay. Guess I'll get back to it, then. Tell Maylene not to feel bad for the leak! She'll beat herself up over it if you don't."

"Will do. You have a good time with your team," Cecilia said.

"And good luck with yours. Especially Zolst," Grace whispered.

You interrupted a wonderful conversation, revenant. I hope you're happy, Kadabra grouched. She didn't bother responding. The psychic inhaled as his eyes lit up and his spoon bent, and in an instant, they were in Veilstone.

The transition between the dull overcast that had covered the League to the radiance of the white sun was so abrupt it was nearly dizzying. At midday, the sun had reached its zenith, a blinding orb amidst the varying shades of gray that formed the skies. Here it was, a ball of burning hot plasma hovering in space, yet having lost all of its golden splendor. The Kadabra was already gone before Cecilia could even thank him. The psychic hated what she'd done to herself and couldn't believe she was still alive.

By all accounts, she should be dead.

Her face soured when she remembered the fight with Jupiter, and Talonflame and Hydreigon's Pokeballs seemed just a little heavier. With a tired exhale, Cecilia made her way inside the Gym. Maylene seemed to have put a receptionist back in the lobby even though it hadn't opened. The girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, did not notice her until she leaned against the Gym's desk and cleared her throat.

She yelped and scrambled to push herself back against her chair until it reached the wall behind her. The small taste of satisfaction Cecilia got was short-lived and immediately replaced by a dull annoyance. She was growing tired of everyone being scared the first time they noticed her.

"Maylene summoned me to meet her here thirty-six minutes ago. I thought she would be here," the Unovan said, trying to be as loud as possible, which wasn't very much. Truth be told, she had expected the Gym Leader to greet her in the lobby like the other day. When the receptionist didn't answer, Cecilia tried changing her expression to a pleasant one. It seemed to work somewhat. "Sorry to bother you, I'm just wondering where I should go to meet her. Were you not warned of my arrival?"

The girl answered with a meek nod. "Uh— y—yes, you— she said she would come down for you." Cecilia frowned. What was her deal, to invite her and then not bother to come when she showed up? "Icancallherifyouwant!" the receptionist blurted out.

"I know where her office is," Cecilia said. Trickery wasn't like Maylene, so something must have happened. "Thank you for the help…" she waited for a name or an introduction of some sort, leaning further into the desk.

None came.

Cecilia gave up and decided she was better off cutting her losses. She would need to practice at things like small talk if she wanted to do well in Unova. It wasn't as if she'd forgotten how. Being sociable was one of the things her tutors had forced into her from the time she'd been a toddler. It was just harder to care now, and everyone looked at her like they'd seen a ghost. At least Professor Juniper sounded like she was over the moon at the opportunity to have her work with her now. She liked new things, and someone resurrected from the dead through a ghostly song was certainly novel. Cecilia hoped her fellow sponsees wouldn't mind her too much.

Lost in thought, she made it to Maylene's office. Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, which she nearly twisted until she remembered to knock.

"Who is it?!" The voice came back mildly annoyed.

Cecilia silently scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Cecilia."

She was met with silence for nearly five seconds. She heard a little scrape through the door, then a swear and the sound of someone desperately cleaning up a room. Had she lost track of time? That would certainly make more sense than tricking her in some sort of nonsensical love rivalry. All was well. Cecilia decided to pass the time looking at things around the hallway, trying to guess what color things were. Brown for the door, of course. Maybe gray for the ground? They were tiles in most areas. A darker brown for the roof—

"Coming! Just a sec!" Maylene yelled, the voice inching closer with every word. The door swung open and bumped into Cecilia's foot. "Oh my God— Oh, I'm so sorry, crap, crap, crap!" Maylene's eyes frantically alternated between Cecilia's feet and face. "Do you need some ice? I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry."

It did hurt, but pain wasn't that bothersome any more. "One 'I'm sorry' is fine." She peered into the office where stacks of paper had hastily been shoved in drawers they were nearly spilling out of. "I assume you lost track of time."

"Yes, I— I have a lot of work," she said. She was wearing her Gym Uniform, as usual; a blue tank top and white pants. "Luckily they let you up here anyway."

"They weren't supposed to let me up?"

"Well, you're technically not a part of the Gym, so no." Maylene sheepishly scratched the back of her head. "Normally she would have called me and I would have come down, but it's fine!" she hastily said. "Come in, come in. Don't mind the mess. Usually my team keeps me centered at times like these but other than Lucario they're all in Snowpoint helping, so."

"I don't mind. You get used to it living with Grace." The Unovan stepped inside the office, which was actually quite smaller than she expected. There was only enough space for one desk and she felt like she would have gone insane working here for too long. This was smaller than even Pokemon Center rooms, though at least the view over Veilstone was good even if its buildings had none of the elegance of Castelia or Jubilife. The ceiling felt a little low for her, leaving Cecilia somewhat cramped. Her gaze lingered on the window for a second, and Maylene asked about how messy Grace was, exactly.

"She's the type of person who lets things pile up in her room until she can't take it anymore and goes on a huge cleaning binge," Cecilia answered.

"Woah. That's kind of like me!" Maylene beamed. Ugh, now that was something they might bond over; annoying. "Then Lucario pushes me into cleaning things up. Or Machamp. Or Infernape— you know what, all of them except Medicham. She's a slob."

"Do you like working here?" she asked out of the blue. "Not as a Gym Leader, but in this office, I mean."

"Yeah?" Maylene looked out the corridor before she closed the door. "I like empty and enclosed spaces. They make me feel comfy. I picked this office; dad used to work down the hall."

Well, if she said so.

"So. The leak," Cece said.

"Yeah… it's not ideal. Like I said, my Dad's been furious and is trying to undermine me by saying that I let 'strangers' into the Gym during such unprecedented times. It's… not really catching on. Or less than I thought 'cause most of it has to do with some people online being weirded out that I'm friends with Grace." Maylene's face scrunched up. "It probably would have been way different if Veilstone had been bombed though. Oh, and I guess people are wondering what the hell happened to your face." Maylene opened some drawer inside a wall that had been nearly invisible to the naked eye and grabbed a mat that she unfolded and placed on the ground. "A place to sit. I don't have another chair. I could get one if you want."

"Whatever."

Maylene shrank. "What?"

Cecilia stood there, stoic, then remembered that whatever could be taken as rude. "I meant it doesn't matter to me." She slumped down against the comfortable blue mat with a heavy sigh, and Maylene did the same, facing her cross legged. "The leak also doesn't matter to me, really. It was only a matter of time, and while it is annoying to have people wondering about what happened to me, I won't have to suffer the endless questions until I leave the League." She shrugged. "It'll be a while until then. Maybe it'll be out of the public consciousness."

"I still feel sorry… it's my fault. What does— what does Grace think? Did she say anything when you two spoke?" Maylene shuffled against the mat and averted her eyes.

Cece felt her eye twitch in irritation, but she contained the feeling as best she could. "She's worried about other things. She had a conversation with someone that she can't really let go of, at the moment, so she's in rather high spirits. I wouldn't worry for now." Maylene leaned forward, knees up and arms hugging her thighs. "No," Cece said.

"No, what?"

"No, I won't tell you what it was about." Should Grace want to, she could, even if it would make Cece jealous. Just imagining it was pissing her off.

The girl deflated, sagging against her propped up legs. "Hey, I feel like I should apologize for— being so close to her and stuff. I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot." Her feet anxiously tapped against the mat in a nonsensical rhythm. "I know you're her girlfriend, but I was close to her despite that. Like, physically. That hug the day my dad came over? I saw how it angered you but I kept going anyway, so I'm sorry."

Had it been anyone else— Pauline, Emilia, Mira, or any other girl— honestly it wouldn't have bothered her. The issue was that Maylene was interested in Grace romantically, so her apology wasn't very effective, even if Cece knew she meant it.

"She's a great person, even if she's a little broken. That makes me want to help fix her." Maylene smiled, and her legs flattened against the mat. Blushing, she twirled her fingers together. "She tries her best to be better, and that's admirable. I wanted to tell you that I just wanted to be friends with her. Good friends, but nothing more. I don't— I don't even swing that way, so I won't come in-between you two."

Cecilia squinted. Oh, you sweet summer child.

Surprisingly, she wanted to grab Maylene by the shoulders to shake and drag her into reality; luckily she stopped herself before she could make that mistake. The last thing she wanted to do was rock the boat— what if she was abandoned for her?

"And— and even if I did a little, theoretically, just because two people are gay doesn't mean they can't be friends," Maylene said. So at least she wasn't that clueless, just pretending for the safety of her own heart. "Again, that's just a hypothetical. If you tell me to, I'll back off, and, uh, I'll be fine."

She was so brazen, and yet so clueless about it! "That hug came after you'd faced your dad," Cecilia said, making sure each one of her words was curated not to hurt. "It did irritate me, but it was fine. You needed a shoulder to lean on. If he shows up again, I would just suck it up." What was she doing? She could have told her to screw off and never have to deal with her again. Her instincts screamed at her to retract her words. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't make it an everyday occurrence."

Damn it. She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from snapping. Cecilia was certain she would come to regret her inaction, but she had no choice. This girl had no one else to rely on; all of her coworkers were too busy to show up consistently. Without Grace as a pillar of support, she would collapse and her Gym would go with her, which would open up an opportunity for Oscar. She could absolutely not let him win.

Legendaries, what a mess. They were so tangled up, the three of them. Less so Maylene and Cecilia, but the fact that they were talking today meant that they were, even if it was through Grace. Coronet and the Distortion World had scarred them all. Cecilia had been mulling over how she could possibly fix her own issues, but the only solutions she came up with would tear her apart and open up an opportunity for Maylene to slide herself into her spot—

The Gym Leader let go of a breath and relaxed. "Got it. Thanks." There was a little nervous laugh. "Whew, Arceus I was so nervous about this talk. I thought you'd— well, nevermind. Thanks for being so nice to me," she said. "Uh, if I asked you to stick around today, would you?"

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "I expected you to ask. You wouldn't have told me to come by just for a leak that could have been discussed on the phone."

Maylene blinked. "Woah. You look like Grace when you do that."

"Do what?"

"That eyebrow thing— nevermind." She shook her head in dismissal. "I kind of need help to figure out how to step forward. Lucario is still here and could help, but he's… we were raised together. He's my brother. We think too similarly, and I was hoping to get someone who's a little different to help me."

"Help you do what? I'm no Gym Leader, I have no idea how to even begin to run a Gym."

"I just need you to help me be a judge of character," Maylene blurted out. "And maybe to bounce ideas off of you, just to help me think."

"Ah yes, Denzel is the same." Cecilia felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought of her friend, still in a medically induced coma because the pain would have been too much for him to bear if he were awake. Hopefully they would wake him up soon. "Very well. I will stick around, but I want something else in exchange," Cecilia said.

Maylene was clearly eager to help. "What is it? If it's within my capabilities, I'll do whatever I can."

"I need to use your arena if I can; an empty one is fine," she said. "If you can guarantee me privacy, I would appreciate it. If not, I'll find somewhere else."

A nod. "I can."

"And is it alright if there is some… damage dealt to the field?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's not like anyone's using it anyway. Knock yourself out."

"Thank you, Maylene," Cecilia said, leaning forward. She crawled on all fours toward Maylene, who squealed and reddened when Cecilia snatched her by the wrist. "Now, your aura. Show it to me."

Maylene must have blinked twenty times within five seconds. "W—what?"

"I want to see color again, and this is the perfect opportunity. Show it to me," she deadpanned.

"You can't just ask that so openly—" Maylene cut herself off and looked up at her, breathless. She wasn't short by any means, but Cecilia might have made her feel cornered due to how irritated she was at their previous conversation. "F—fine. Just be quick about it."

"This is a favor you owe me; I'll be as quick as I want to be."

On Maylene's slender finger, a flame of aura flickered to life, dancing with ethereal hues of ever-changing light blues. It gently radiantly pulsed with a mesmerizing cadence, casting subtle shadows that played across the office. Even the light it emitted basked the room in color, akin to some kind of lightshow. Cecilia stayed fixated on the flame for Arceus knows how long, her hand clamped down on Maylene's wrist that was growing sweatier by the second. The flame was growing more agitated too. Wilder, fraying right beneath Cecilia's eyes like a living thing cowering from her gaze. She could barely remember when something had her undivided attention like this. The sight was just so tantalizing that she almost wanted to touch the flame despite knowing it would burn her like last time. It was as if she'd been entranced.

"Can you make it a different color?" Cecilia asked.

Maylene took a bit to answer. She was still blushing and breathing harshly, as if she put any significance in this other than Cecilia needing to remember what seeing a color looked like.

"I—I don't think so? I mean, if it is, I've never heard of it. It's always just been blue," she mumbled, occasionally mixing up her words.

"What's with you?" Cecilia asked. "I grab your hand a little and you're squirming and stumbling over words. Legendaries." She let go of the wrist, and you'd think Maylene had been drowning, with how greedily she sucked in air. If Grace ever did this to her, the girl might actually die. "What's next, blushing if we ever drink from the same cup?"

"Wh—what, you asked me to see my aura! That's a— that's a very private part of my being! It represents who I am! You don't just—"

"Who cares, I've seen it already anyway," she dryly said.

"That's different!" Maylene clamored. "You asked me— you asked directly! In a room while we were alone!"

Cecilia ignored Maylene's antics and spoke again, "thank you; we can get to work, now." The Gym Leader gripped her shirt where her heart should have been, causing Cecilia to roll her eyes as she loomed over Maylene, who was heaving with each breath. "Listen, it doesn't mean anything. You're making stories up in your head out of nothing. I just used you to see blue again; it's as simple as that. I am not interested in anything further in any way, shape or form. Got it?" She glared, slightly angered at the idea that she'd asked for something culturally significant without knowing. If Maylene was going to be weird about it and make her uncomfortable, she wouldn't do it again, lest the girl get any ideas. Ri would be out of the Pokemon Center sometime this week, after all.

Maylene gulped, finally having recovered from her little crisis. "Got it. It was just intense and so out of nowhere… I'm straight."

Intense? All she'd done was look at a finger.

"Whatever you say; I believe you." Cecilia sat back down on the mat opposite of Maylene a little further, now. "Now, you wanted to bounce ideas off of me for your Gym. Bounce. Them." She might have let her frustration into that, from the way Maylene winced.

"Sorry, um, yeah, let me just get my thoughts in order." Maylene straightened herself against the wall and adjusted her collar, calling Arceus' name more times than Cecilia could count. "Um, you know, we can do it again. I won't be weird if I'm prepared—"

"No."

"But I—"

"I said no." She finally found it within herself to be loud and forceful, this time. "Are we going to work, or are we going to linger on something that doesn't matter? Because if it's the latter, I'll see myself out." Cecilia would lament the fact that she wouldn't be able to use an empty arena (all the ones at the League were closed or not built up yet, even for her), but she'd make due without it. If Zolst had been open to letting her fly on him to some wild mountain this wouldn't have been an issue in the first place. They needed a place in private where they could talk.

"Sorry, I'll stop bringing it up."

"Good." A small silence settled in, as if Maylene didn't know how to begin, so Cecilia took the lead. "Let's start with your father. Beyond the leak and his desperate, yet futile attempt at relevance, has he done anything else?"

"He was still logged into the Gym's email and he was still answering stuff for me, so I had to change the password. I haven't told it to anyone else, so it should be safe," Maylene said with a hint of annoyance. "Aside from that, I'm pretty sure he's in contact with some of my Gym Trainers."

Cecilia scoffed. "Childish pranks beneath his standing, as expected of people like him when they lose all leverage— well, not all leverage."

"I was getting to that. Cecilia, I— I don't know how I should take back control of my own Gym," Maylene heartily confessed. "He's gone, but it's like his shadow just suffocates and looms over everything."

"One can't undo decades of building a cult of personality with one order," the Unovan said with a tilt of her head. "Tell me, when do you plan on reopening the Gym?"

"Two weeks, give or take. Once Snowpoint is at least back on its feet, we can start opening up for a few hours per day, then we can ramp up until we're back at full capacity."

"This leaves you with a prime opportunity for some spring cleaning."

Maylene's expression went from nervous to confused. "Spring cleaning?"

"A purge, if you will."

The girl instantly denied. "No, no, I can't fire people! They have jobs, and families to take care of, especially now! And, like, logistically it'd be a nightmare. I'd have to replace them little by little, but people would catch on pretty quick, and good luck motivating people who know they're going to get fired to work."

"How purehearted," she dryly said. "But fair, you know better than I do and what you've said makes sense. Continuing on this angle, though, how many new people have you hired since your father left to Alola?"

Maylene held out a hand and counted on her fingers. "Um, let's see. I guess three new people— eight if you include replacing the people that quit since then."

"And how many Gym Trainers do you have in total?"

"Eighty-two. We have other people on payroll like technicians, janitors, PR people— but they're nowhere as involved in Gym Life as the Trainers."

Cecilia tapped a finger on her arm. "So you're telling me that the vast, vast majority of these people are from your father's administration of the Gym?"

Maylene's head jerked back. "Well— I didn't want to upstage my dad because he—"

"I'm sorry, I phrased that wrong," Cece said, instantly stricken by guilt. Her brusque wording could use some work, especially with someone as emotionally tender as this. "It's not your fault."

The Gym Leader nodded with a pained smile stretched across her visage. "With the power of hindsight I would have hired more people and maybe weaned out some of my dad's most ardent supporters sooner. We have the least amount of employees in a Sinnohan Gym anyway because— well, dad used to handle most things himself and wanted me to do the same."

Maylene went on to talk about Gym hiring practices and how her father would have the most demanding requirements if you wanted to get hired, which was something she had since changed. As it turned out, Volkner also had the most Gym Trainers by far and Maylene didn't hesitate to complain about how Sunyshore was a money sink because he was too lazy to do the job himself. Cecilia was content to let her talk so she could cheer up after her blunder.

"Why don't you look to hire more people, then?" Cecilia asked.

"I considered it— but, like…" she groaned and threw her hands up. "I don't want the Gym to be a burden on Sinnoh's finances. In Sinnoh, we all run at a loss and our costs are covered by the government, but right now? The country doesn't need any more on its plate."

Cecilia peered at her, almost like she was dissecting Maylene. She was starting to understand who she was, and who she'd been. Of course, she'd known the big picture. Maylene had been raised and abused by her dad to fill in his shoes, and as a result she had burned out in a desperate act to please him et cetera, et cetera.

What was new was that she'd never really stopped to think how that had just killed her confidence in any decision-making. Cecilia could empathize given that she was plagued with doubt, even if today was one of her good days again due to the fact that she was helping a girl win against her abusive father. Motivation was something she was rarely short of, in cases such as these, but even before her death, back when all of this had started, she'd been content to just let her father rule her life until Grace and Denzel had stepped into the picture and changed her life for the better.

"I think we need to find another way. A way to manage with just the resources I have, at the moment." She rubbed her face with her hands and groaned. "Ugh, I just want to be the best Gym Leader I can be. I love this job. I want to make it work."

"Hesitation isn't always bad; it's a sign that you're giving something enough thought, and that's important. Especially for a Gym Leader," Cecilia said. "But you're beyond that. You're stuck in decisional paralysis and it's hampering your ability to run this Gym." She let the words sink in and kept going. "You don't want to fire anyone— even the people responsible for the leaks— you don't want to hire new people to shift the balance in your favor slightly, so what can you do? Find it. Consider this, Maylene. Your inaction now might cost more resources in the long term than incurring a short term loss right now. In an effort to please everyone, you might please no one at all."

Maylene wanted to fight her; Cecilia could tell from how her shoulders hunched up. "I think you might be right," she said. "I—I have an idea, then. A step one of some sorts. It'll need your help, still."

"Sure, what do I have to do?"

Maylene smirked. "Just stand behind me."



The third of who knew how many Gym Trainers hesitantly stepped inside of Maylene's office. This one was the youngest yet, which was still a man in his thirties; the most unique part about him was his droopy eyes. He sported the usual Gym Trainer uniform for Veilstone, a short-sleeved shirt with an orange and white motif with a Pokeball embroidered on his chest, and orange jogging pants that were so baggy Cecilia couldn't see the outline of his legs. The moment he stared at Cece, he tensed up and swallowed the words he'd been about to say. She was standing with her hands behind her back behind Maylene's desk, her body unmoving.

Cecilia was content to be a human Intimidate, if Maylene needed it to negotiate. Apparently word of her attempting to choke Oscar to death had gotten around the Gym and had given her quite the fearsome reputation, not because they thought she'd be able to actually kill him (though some people were saying that she might be an actual ghost, somehow), but that she had dared in the first place. It'd be annoying if it ever got out of the Gym's ecosystem. It looked like she was a few inches taller than this one; height worked well for fear-based tactics, she had found.

"Darius, welcome, welcome. Sit down," Maylene said, gesturing with her hand. She'd even put on her fingerless gloves for this to appear as official as possible. "Don't mind Cecilia, she's a friend. I bet you know her, though."

The so-called 'Darius' cleared his throat, dragged the chair they'd brought up here and plopped himself into it. He plucked at some dead skin on his thumb— a nervous tic, no doubt. Every so often, he would glance back at her and she would stand there, unblinking, unmoving, until he shrank into his chair like having her here was just uncomfortable.

Was she really that bad?

Regardless, Darius was one of the oldest and most long-worked Gym Trainers at the Veilstone Gym, given that Oscar had hired him at the ripe age of sixteen straight out of his first Circuit. Maylene already had his file open, which she was idly looking through as a pressure tactic.

"Darius, how have you liked working for me these past… coming up on two years, now? A year and a half."

"It's been fantastic. Really, Leader Maylene." He dipped his head in respect, something which was usually only done for Oscar. Cecilia caught Maylene's displeasure, but the Gym Leader couldn't cut him off now that she had the momentum. "You're so young, yet with your skill and upbringing, you've been able to steer Veilstone and its Gym through troubling times…"

Maylene closed his folder and threw it on her desk. "My upbringing. Let's talk about it, then," she said with a smile as fake as plastic. "Oscar handed me the reins when he decided that knocking someone up was more important than people like you. People who live here. In fact, he was so obsessed with his new wife that he let Team Galactic build a base under our feet. So let's talk about why you're making it so difficult to run this Gym without any interference from outsiders."

"A house divided against itself cannot stand," Cecilia added. She noticed that Darius relaxed slightly when she spoke and made a note of that; it was the second time it had happened. It appeared she was more effective when silent, as if speaking made them remember that she was still human.

"Leader Maylene—"

She clicked her tongue. "No, I'm not finished. Medicham overheard you talking about how you hope you get back to the 'good old days' with some of your colleagues the day after my father came back. Coincidentally, our cameras have shown that you've been texting a whole lot lately. You're usually so focused on your job that I had to wonder what was going on." She paused and drummed her fingers against her desk, as if she was in her element. She was gentle, yet stern. In charge, yet not overbearing. "My father's been trying to put down roots here. Let me ask you straight up, would you rather see him as a Gym Leader? You're free to speak your mind; I won't fire you no matter what you say despite what my friend here thinks." Maylene nudged her head toward Cecilia.

Honesty and mercy, Cecilia had learned these last interviews, went a long way to make people honest in turn. There were few things more loyal than a man who you'd spared despite having every right to kill him— though in this case, it was fire.

"It's complicated." He rubbed his chin in contemplation. "You have to understand that I— he's the one who taught me everything I know. I understand that you're the Gym Leader; I don't want you to step down, but I thought that he could help around the Gym. That he'd be what we needed to cheer up the place. I figured he'd be the— yes, glue's the word. The glue we needed."

"And now you are aware that he's trying to undermine me at every turn," she said, her tone somehow still warm. "My father's no man for compromise. With him, things always have to go his way. You know that."

Darius grimaced, but nodded.

"So you understand that your childish need for some sort of nostalgic, non-existent golden age has jeopardized my ability to run this Gym."

"That's… I guess so, Leader Maylene. I accept full responsibility for my actions."

"Good! Now, I am giving you one last chance," with each word, she tapped her desk with her knuckles. "Stop trying to get Oscar back in, and this'll all be swept under the rug. I will catch on eventually if you do. Just be what the Veilstone Gym needs right now: a good employee. Am I clear? Don't make me regret this."

"Yes, Leader Maylene—"

"And stop bowing down to me. This is your job, not some old Kalosian court," she groaned. "We're all people here."

Once they were done, Maylene told Darius to call in the next person on her list. Darius hastily left the office, thanking her five times for this chance. When you'd worked somewhere as long as him, Cecilia guessed, the prospect of quitting or being fired might as well have been a death sentence. As soon as they were alone again, all of the fake strength and poise Maylene had been projecting left her body, and she lay down on her desk with her head on her arms.

"Ugh, I hate ultimatums like this, but at least it went well." Her voice was muffled by her speaking face down against her desk. "How did I do?"

"Just like last time, I believe it went well. Better than how you fumbled with Joe, at least," Cecilia said. Maylene had let the first person she'd called in walk all over her until Cecilia had forced her to get her wits about her.

"Once the older Gym Trainers stop pushing to replace me with my dad or trying to get him involved in the Gym, it'll diffuse down the ranks. Or hopefully it will, they have a lot of influence," Maylene said.

Cecilia inclined her head in acquiescence. While Maylene hadn't taken much of her advice, she couldn't deny that she'd been of use here today. Hopefully Maylene would be able to do this without her from today forth. The goal was independence for her. The Unovan was learning here as well. Learning how to handle positions of leadership first-hand in a way that couldn't be imagined in her notes or daydreamed in her head.

Yes, Cecilia thought as she smiled, this would do just fine.



Afternoon waned when Cecilia made her way to the Gym's arena, two Pokeballs on her hip. It felt odd, being here without the crowd filling the elevated bleachers on each side of the field. Maylene's arena was a simple one: a relatively flat field of earth and rocks. Cecilia had heard that she was planning on renovating it next Circuit to better represent the fighting type, though Cece had no idea what that implied. Her mind wasn't built to be a Gym Leader, but Maylene could talk on and on about it.

The arena was silent; there wasn't even a Kadabra in sight. Instead of making her way up the stairs toward the metallic, raised platform trainers stood on, she kept walking into the arena. The earth felt hard underneath her feet as she traveled all the way to the center, basking in the sight her Pokemon had seen many times before. There was a small stirring within her; the embers of a passion for battle that still remained. Maybe once she figured out how to fix things with her team, she would start training again. The Conference would be good experience, if anything.

Talonflame's Pokeball filled her palm, but it did the same for her heart, only with waves of guilt so powerful they were nearly debilitating. It was different now that they were out of the Distortion World. Things were normal, now. She had no excuse not to confront her mistakes when she let her Pokemon out.

She sharply sucked in the warm air through her teeth.

"I better put my money where my mouth is," she said, almost so quiet she would have been inaudible to anyone next to her. She'd given Maylene advice about decisional paralysis, yet it was that same paralysis that haunted her. Not just for her team, but for her other issues as well. "Okay. Okay, let's do this."

Talonflame would be a little easier to handle, if anything. Red bled into the world; shaping itself into her until she was out of her Pokeball. The flying type blinked a few times, yet her gaze softened when she saw Cecilia alive and well. She tried to bring a hand closer to Talonflame to scratch the hot skin beneath her feathers, but her Pokemon flinched away and the moment was gone.

Much work had to be done. An apology, no matter how much she meant it, would not cut it.

"Remember this place?" Cecilia asked. "This is Veilstone's Gym. I figured it would be needed for the conversation I'm about to have with Zolst."

Talonflame nodded sagely, as if to commend her for the good idea. She chirped, something soft she rarely showed to people she wasn't close to. The worry in it was palpable.

"I'll be fine, he won't hurt me. He'll be careful," Cecilia said. "But I need to talk to you as well. I will ask you right away, do you no longer want to be with me?"

The fire type squawked indignantly, flapping her wings with enough strength to propel the small pebbles on the ground. The wind felt slightly sharp against her legs and arms— her stitches felt tight on her face as she grimaced. Cecilia could not help but think that she did not deserve her. Talonflame had always been level-headed to a fault— able to analyze the pros and the cons of a situation. Her responses were rarely so emotional, which meant that she truly wanted to stick around.

"Then how do I make it up to you?" Her voice was so small. So weak. Desperation gripped and shook her enough to bring her to her knees. "How do I fix things between us? I so desperately want to?"

She had asked them to work in tandem to get her killed.

She had asked Lehmhart to kill her, and made Slowking work to convince him.

She had thrown it all away without hesitation. Without a modicum of regret until the end came.

"Can I even fix things?" she asked. "Or will this shadow haunt us for decades to come? My entire life?"

Talonflame tilted her head and pecked at Cecilia's knee. A strict coo coaxed her ears, as if to tell Cecilia to not let defeatism grip her so, or something akin to that. Deep down, Cecilia knew Talonflame wouldn't have the answers she sought. There was no pros and cons list to be made, no apology powerful enough, no way to twirl a wand and make it all go away. The flying type extended her wings and took to the air; a bright ball of fire and feathers whose colors Cecilia could no longer appreciate, and Talonflame sang. The flames carried her voice, which was accentuated by their roar. Dust and rocks picked up in a flaming cyclone below the flying type. Cecilia felt the heat wash over her, yet it still did not warm her core.

"I think I understand," she said. "You are asking me to see you."

Her voice had been quiet through the fire, yet Talonflame's hearing was just as good as her eyesight.

"To make time for you. To live with you. To train with you. To travel with you," Cecilia said, finally understanding "You want me to be a trainer again, with all the banality that entails."

The flames cut off, winking out of existence like a candle between two fingers. With small embers still flickering on her wings, Talonflame rushed back down and wrapped her wings around Cecilia. The heat still emanated from her feathers, but not enough to burn.

Cece caressed the side of Talonflame's face with a smile. "I get it. I will be better from now on, and as soon as the rest of the team is out of the Pokemon Center I'll—"

Her throat tightened.

"I'll—"

It wouldn't come out. The promise to go out on her own with her team was stuck, unable to be vocalized.

"I'll see what I can do to get them to agree." A lie smothered in half-truths; she had learned well from Grace. "Allow me to speak with Zolst next."

While Talonflame wanted to stay out in case the dragon got too rowdy and she needed some wind to knock back debris, Cecilia was convinced a one-on-one conversation was what they needed for them to ever begin to see eye to eye. The respect lost if Cecilia had a protector with her would be massive.

"You mustn't forget that he's also mad at all of you for accepting the plan to kill me," Cecilia said. "While he would never hurt me, he might attack you if provoked."

Satisfied with that answer, Talonflame accepted her terms and melted back into her ball. With a deep breath and a countdown, Cecilia released Hydreigon far enough for her to be certain there would be no accidents, but not far enough as to be too distant. The dark type was a hulking mass of scale and muscle, a creature that embodied raw power barely contained that you could see pulse out of him in thin lines. Each of his six wings moved individually, sometimes bumping into each other. From Zolst's central head, a menacing growl rumbled while his two other heads roared with a barely contained rage that sent spittle and the smell of dragonfire wafting throughout the battlefield.

Cecilia's hair flew back, and she wiped saliva with her thumb. "It's me again, Zolst. The Nurse Joys said you gave them trouble—"

Instantly, light built up in the right head's mouth. Before Cecilia's brain even registered what was going on, a burst of energy hit to her left, digging and digging into the earth until all that was left was smoldering mud.

Cecilia did not flinch. Dying once came with losing that fear, for better or worse— not that she thought the dragon would ever hurt her. If she had, she wouldn't have been doing this.

"Which one was that? Ten percent? No, eight, maybe." She circled around Hydreigon as she questioned him. "Dragon Breath, surely. It's difficult to tell without color, but it was less orderly and wilder than a Dragon Pulse. It's been a while since you've had to use that, Zolst."

Another Dragon Breath hit where she would have walked in ten steps, this one slightly stronger. The left head snapped and tried to attack the right, as if to bite its neck and get its attacks to be stronger. They were conscious, but animalistic, Cecilia knew. Nothing like the central head which was the one in charge. They usually didn't fight this hard— Cecilia's death might have affected them all, not just Zolst. The bickering continued until Zolst blew another weak Dragon Breath on his left head, which grunted in pain and was left somewhat burned.

Slowly but surely, Cecilia was circling, yet approaching Zolst. "I won't tell you I'm sorry, even though I am. I spoke with Talonflame before this." Cecilia explained the flying type's plan as quickly as she could, not even getting interrupted by each strike growing closer and more intense. The remaining heat of a crater left next to her was a painful singe on her legs. He wasn't on board. "I'm not telling you to forgive me now. That would be foolish— I just want you to give me another chance. I know you're angry at the others, but you should focus on me. I gave the order. I let it get to that point. I promise I will never betray you again. So please."

She was close enough, now. Standing on her tiptoes, Cecilia outstretched a hand and slowly brought it over Zolst's head. She could see the doubt in his eyes— not that doubt at his anger, but the doubt at what he should do next. Hydreigon opened his mouth and a brighter, fiercer, unyielding force burst from his skin. The flames, she knew, would have been turquoise once.

This was a test. He was asking her if she was worthy of his respect, and therefore a second chance. The draconic energy was not painful, not beyond the feeling of touching hot pavement, but the true test was the insidious need to bow her head; the defeatism spreading through her; the feeling that she was about to be conquered.

Standing around him when she'd been an aspect of Willpower had been much easier. Cecilia's knees buckled, but she steeled herself. A sharp inhale, then—

She never got to touch him.

All of his head whirled to the side and the fire intensified until Cecilia fell to her knees, which scraped against the earth. Hydreigon lunged forward, and it took Cece a few seconds to gather the courage to turn her head, she saw the three-headed dark type halfway through the field, barrelling toward a Lucario. Her head, still foggy from Zolst, went to Ri first before she realized this was Maylene's and that she was standing right there. The possibility of a looming accident got her to think straight and she whipped out Zolst's Pokeball and recalled him before he could get to Lucario and his trainer. Aura had been surging around the steel type's skin, blue yet dimmer than what she'd come to expect.

Her throat was dry with the taste of defeat.

This had been her chance, and she'd blown it.

It was however many seconds later that Maylene ran up without Lucario with her. "Cecilia, are you okay?" She tried to give Cecilia a hand, but the Unovan knocked it away.

"What," she slowly said, her voice frigid, "are you doing here?"

It was only then that Maylene must have realized she'd done something wrong; her face fell into a million pieces. "Lu—Lucario was passing in one of the nearby hallways and sensed something wrong," she scrambled for an excuse, and Cece slowly stood up. Her body felt limp. "Then he told me that you were getting attacked—"

"You spied on me!" Cecilia lashed out.

"No! I wanted to make sure you were be okay!" Maylene yelled. A sorry excuse. "You can't just— it looked like you were in danger! I thought you were going to talk to your Pokemon and maybe train—"

"I. Was. Talking!" Cecilia took a step forward, her face twisting into a menacing scowl. Then another. Then another until Maylene's back was against the wall and Cecilia slammed her hand right next to her head. "Zolst is my Pokemon," she hissed. "What gives you the idea that you would know how we communicate? What gives you the right to assume that there is a correct way to do it or not?!"

"Lucario heard explosions and sensed aggressiveness that was way too real to be—"

"And now my attempt at rebuilding the bridge is ruined," Cecilia sighed, her domineering ways rapidly disappearing. Her hand slid off the wall and went limp against her side. "So utterly ruinous," she muttered to herself. "I don't know if I will get another chance like this any time soon."

"I'm sorry, Cece. I really thought you needed help—"

"Don't call me Cece," she snapped. "I'm leaving. I'll wait for Kadabra in front of the Gym." She hastily turned and began to stomp away. "Text me if there's anything else with your father. Have a great rest of your day and good luck with your employees," she tersely said.

More work was needed to mend what she'd broken.

Hard choices would have to be made, but for now, she wanted to see Grace.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap
 
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Chapter 321
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 321

No matter how much food you made, a Tyranitar would make it look like a small portion. It had taken me all morning, but I'd baked a hazardous berry-based cake (as it turned out, baking was in a whole other ballpark than cooking, and I was not great at it), bought out a crap ton of raw meat south of the city that Buddy had carried for me with Extrasensory, and a bunch of random Pokemon-friendly sweets— or at least the label said it was friendly for all Pokemon regardless of species.

Sweetheart had finished it all in a minute and a half. She'd eaten so much of it that I'd needed to slow her down so Honey could get some. Luckily, he ate nowhere as much as her. The rest of my Pokemon with me either couldn't or didn't need to eat, though not for lack of trying. Once Meltan saw Sweetheart and Honey eating, they got jealous and tried to have a piece of Cheri berry that they quickly spat back out ruined and full of rusted metal. I did learn that they could do little shocks through their tail, though it had been an accident; they'd released a tiny spark from the sheer amount of disgust they'd felt, barely enough to feel a jolt up my arm.

That had been thirty minutes ago. We were out of the city up north close to where Jasmine took me to talk and recount the stories about her colleagues, where the sea met steep, jagged knife-like cliffs and waves battered the island day in and day out. You could smell the salt in the air, hear the ocean constantly to the point that the occasional stretch of silence without a wave to crash into the bluffs was odder than not. Jellicent was flattened into a disc above the picnic blanket, shielding me from the sun and ejecting cold air down so the heat wouldn't affect me too much. Cassianus hovered next to us with two of their eyes on a certain battle and the rest focused on analyzing each fiber on the straw hat they currently levitated in front of their face. Oh, that hat was mine; it was the one Mira had bought me for my birthday that I'd worn today. They'd wanted to 'study its structural integrity' to see if it could be worn in fights, somehow, and I'd answered that I could probably find a steel cap for them if they wanted one so bad.

As for the rest of the team? Sweetie and Honey were playing tag in the distance, hence the 'fight'. The rock type was always the hunter due to Honey's agility making things unfair for her otherwise.

Another rumble beneath me. Tyranitar let out a guttural roar and stomped a foot against the ground. It rose, rose, rose until it looked like it would burst open and spew the world's innards out into the world; instead she sent the protrusion forward as if it was a wave of solid earth. Mimi rode atop her head and cheered, though they made sure to hide behind one of the spikes on her back whenever they got scared. Electivire was not idle— he never was. With a teasing grin, he hopped left and right before blurring into golden lightning, easily avoiding the wave which exploded behind him with heated mud and shards of pointed stones. He was speed incarnate, and he was growing faster by the second as he got going.

But! She'd laid a trap for him. The earthen wall had obstructed his vision, and she'd begun to wrap rock from the ground around her tail. With a swift movement, she turned and swept her tail toward Electivire. The rock around it shattered into a thousand pieces of shrapnel that would have torn through me like paper, and it exploded in Electivire's general direction. Fast or not, Sweetheart had sent the rocks in an arc too wide for him to dodge through movement alone. He slid on the grass until he came to a stop, leaving scorched plants behind him, and held up his hands with a hefty grunt.

The rocks never touched him. Through magnetism, he held them back as if he had a psychic barrier to pull on, and a ring of electricity burst through his fur, throwing them back at Sweetheart. The dark type snorted when they helplessly bounced against her and tapped the ground below her with another foot. With a rumble, pillars of rugged stone answered her command, already sharp and ready to cut and crush whatever was in her way—

"She's getting too into it," I complained. "Tell her off."

Claydol looked smoother now that they were out of the Pokemon Center, their crags and dents having disappeared under a new layer of clay. One of Cass' pink eyes swiveled my way. But my King, the Jester looks like he's having the time of his life. It would not be efficient to stop their battle now, according to my many calculations. The hat rotated under their careful gaze and their turret-like hands levitated to touch the straw. Such wonderful material… I wish to dissolve and study it. No, I wish to wear it on my head forever. And the ground type did so, placing the hat on their head and spinning it around with pleased eyes and a cheer from their soundboard.

Cute. I was—

My heart dropped when Honey laughed as he ducked under a slab of rock that might have sent him straight back to a Nurse Joy, and then he weaved around another, and another, and another. They all buried themselves behind him and made the earth shake, sending plumes of dirt high into the sky— some even went and fell into the ocean.

"You just don't want to be distracted from your fun," I said, rolling my eyes. Still, I was glad they'd come out of their shell and actually refused things now. "It's okay. We might have to fix this up before we leave, though. Trainer étiquette and all of that." Glancing at the state of their playground, Sweetheart kept upturning more and more earth while Honey's electricity burned some of the grassland when he got too carried away.

Case in point, the electric type placed a hand on one of the massive slabs buried in the earth and sliced through it like butter with another electrical barrage. He gathered the debris around his fist as if it was covered in glue and started punching the rocks Sweetheart kept sending. Each strike brought with it a brilliant, blinding explosion of energy that rendered the smaller rocks red with heat and the larger ones broken by his side. Sweetheart argued that counted as contact. Of course, never to be outdone by his baby sister, Honey cackled and said he'd give her the win if she was so desperate for one, targeting her competitiveness as he beckoned her with a hand encased in cracking electrified stone.

It obviously worked, and rules were adjusted.

"These kids have so much energy, it's like nothing happened at all," I said. We were really kicking nature around here, with how the place was starting to smell like cut and burned grass.

Buddy sighed, saying that just looking at them was making him tired.

"Kinda," I agreed. "Well, better Sweetie tire herself out now so she naps later in the day."

The game of tag continued in earnest, with Honey having to work for his buck. In a straight fight, I imagined Sweetheart would handily win, but this was a game to both. Or at least I thought so until Honey, close to losing through a surprise patch of liquified earth which bogged him down and spread far enough to stop him from quickly escaping, began gathering up energy around his fist as the stone around it crumbled.

Huh, that was interesting. She hadn't rendered the solid dirt to mud through TE manipulation, but used ground water instead with Surf for a slower and more discrete trap. She was really getting into this ambush predator thing we'd pushed for in the fight with Byron.



Argh, this was annoying. There was so much potential there, potential that I didn't have the energy to think about at the moment. My Pokemon might have recovered well from Coronet thanks to not having gone through the Distortion World, but it was me who was holding them back, now. Even after the meeting with Mallory and Rood, the spark was still missing. Something was still missing. Was it because I wasn't involved in the actual fight? If I was out there, giving out directions and actually battling, would I find the motivation that had made me go through countless sleepless nights to study each and every single tactic employed by my opponent?

While I was deep in thought, in order not to lose, Honey snapped a finger from which electricity coalesced, and with a harsh motion, he sent it flying. It was a weak blast, barely thicker than a Thundershock and dimmer than even that, but the goal wasn't to harm.

Sweetheart's left leg jerked back as soon as the electricity hit her, and she tripped before she could send another set of rocks barrelling toward Honey. With a loud crash, she tripped and fell back, carving a Tyranitar-shaped hole into the earth. The rock type screamed in anger in frustration and called for my name, which made a bunch of wild Pokemon which had gathered a few hundred feet away to watch the fight run off. Starly, Furret, Sunkern and the like. Honey was still panting from how he'd exerted himself near the end of that training session.

I jogged my way toward the two, carefully avoiding craters, ravines or even small hills created by the earth-waves Sweetheart had made. Once I reached her, she was still thrashing around and whining about how it was unfair how she'd lost. It was so cute my lips nearly involuntarily smiled, really. I crouched next to her and ran a hand over her hardened plate after motioning for Honey to come over.

"C'mon, I know you can get up on your own," I gently said. "Don't be a crybaby, now."

She clamored that he cheated, that he sucked, that he deserved to fall off the cliffs and a million other things. That was good news. When she was actually mad at someone, there was rarely any meaning to her screams. I kept soothing her and waited for Honey to get here, even if he was obviously taking longer than needed. He could have been here within a second if he wanted to, but he was dragging it out because he was nervous.

"Where did Mimi go?"

The metallic blob squealed from somewhere in Sweetheart's vents.

"Ugh, get out of there! That's— that's not meant for you!" I put my head near one of the vents on Sweetheart legs and called out for the steel type. "She's going to forcefully kick you out if you don't get out of there. Right?" I waited for an answer from Sweetie, but she was too busy whining to care. Mimi squeaked and I saw a glimpse of metal at the edge of the hole. I quickly snatched the Meltan with a victorious grin and watched them squirm in my hand.

"Don't go in there, alright?" I scolded.

Mimi echoed a sad mewl with something akin to tasty.

"Were you munching on the grains of sand in there?" I asked. There were minerals in them. Upon closer look, the blob was covered in a little sand. My answer was a metallic burp that smelled like iron and rust. "Well that explains everything. Using the fight as a distraction? You little devil! I thought you were scared!"

Sweetheart slowly got up and patted herself down, having finished her tantrum. Mud, grass and dirt slid off her armored plating and she asked for Mimi to get back on her head as her cheerleader, which the steel type hastily obliged after I warned them not to sneak into her vents again.

I'd missed this. The chaos, the personalities clashing. We'd all had a heartfelt reunion when I'd released them for the first time out of the Center, of course, but now it was like everything was back to how it usually was, and for once it did not feel like the world was leaving me behind, but I was being dragged along with it.

Not fully, however. As soon as she'd been done eating, Sweetheart had asked me when we'd start training again because she was eager to fight and keep growing. Despite Buddy calling it mildly insensitive, Honey trying to silence her by putting a hand over her mouth, Cass calculating the best way to respond to this was silence (they just didn't want to step on anyone's toes) and me dodging the question by saying we'd have that conversation when everyone was back from the Center, it left the question turning over in my mind like a seed had been planted.

An annoying one, not that I'd ever tell her that. The real answer was that I didn't know. I would fight Byron again because I had a fiduciary duty to Poketch to give the Conference my best shot, but I truly didn't know.

"Took your time there," I told Honey.

The electric type scratched the back of his head, not bothering to find an excuse. Instead, he shied away from Sweetheart's glare.

"So, were the rules of this game of tag actually established before you started, or were you just bs'ing it?"

The two agreed that they agreed on a framework of rules mostly based on Honey's fight with Volkner's Electivire. That was what I'd figured, but they added that they both had to hold back, relying on simple attacks because it would make the game unfair.

I crossed my arms, ignoring the vibrating phone in my pocket. "So what constitutes a simple attack?"

Honey shrugged, and Sweetheart called him stupid. I thought they'd start bickering, but the rock type added that him forcing her to move with his electricity obviously went against the spirit of the game, which was something I could agree with. Honey countered by arguing that using the water underground wasn't simple either, but she said he'd upped the ante with that electrified stone fist thing he'd done. He grunted noncommittally and whispered with twisting tails that if he hadn't done anything, he would have lost.

"Hon, it's a game. You could have let it reach its natural conclusion," I gently scolded with my hands on my hips. "Would you have liked it if she just created an earthquake under your feet and opened a rift there to trap you so you couldn't win? And let's be honest here, she would have won if this wasn't a for fun thing. You can't fly just yet, kiddo."

The electric type nervously shuffled toward her, head hung low in shame, and he offered her a genuine apology for breaking the terms of the game without warning. When he was done, he kicked some dirt and looked away. Sweetheart huffed and blew some darkened grains of sand in his face, which made him cough and shake his hand to clear the air. That reaction had her grin, but I had to intervene again to tell her not to do that when he'd just apologized. Really, it was all in good fun given that Honey gave her the win and asked for a rematch— a best of three.

"Yeah, and when you lose the best of three, you'll ask for a best of five," I teased.

Sweetheart stuck out her scaly tongue at him and snorted, and he gave her a thumbs down while he complained that she was getting too cocky; he would prove her wrong very soon. She grinned, all sharp and menacing, ready to rise up to the challenge. As a final jab, she brought up that there was a reason Mimi was on her shoulder and not his, which the steel type gasped at. They loved being the center of attention while acting all innocent. While they went back to take their place, I finally checked my phone. It had vibrated three times while I'd been mediating this 'conflict'. What greeted me were three notifications from a panicked Maylene.

Maylene - Im so sry

Maylene - I messed up with Cecilia

Maylene - I interrupted her conversation with Hydreigon and now shes super pissed at me im sry i rly fucked up

Maylene - It was an accident i thought she was gonna get hurt

I winced and bit my lip. With how Cece spoke with Zolst, it was easy to see how someone could get the wrong idea. After what she'd done against Jupiter, that dragon was going to be a lot. I stared at my phone for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. Already, I could see Cece had left the group chat, which was whatever. So long as she wasn't going to run away somewhere so she could be alone…

You - Is she back?

Maylene - I teleported her w Kadabra. She didnt want to talk to me and i knew trying to mend things right now would make things worse so idk if i should have intervened i didnt

You - Alright, thanks. Talk to you later.

You - Don't beat yourself up over it. It's not really your fault.

I called out to my Pokemon and told them playtime was over for now, something that both were annoyed by but understood when I explained the big picture. While Cass was fixing up the terrain as best they could and teaching Sweetheart in the process for a change, I gathered our supplies and made sure we wouldn't forget anything. This morning and afternoon had been fun, but my girlfriend needed me.

If only I'd had Princess, the trip back would have been so much faster.

I missed her. And I missed Sunshine and Angel, too.



I'd recalled Cass only when I'd made it inside the hotel. Cecilia's flats were in the entryway to our condo when I came back, hurriedly thrown off and not placed orderly to the side as usual. The place itself looked normal without an object out of place, which was good news. I figured maybe she would have trashed it again like she had at Lake Valor, but that appeared to have been a one off. Calling out for her, I made my way deeper into the apartment. Usually, Cece would have been sitting at the dinner table typing away at her laptop doing research, or maybe browsing the forums on her phone while watching the news.

"I'm in the bedroom," her voice called back as loud as it could be, which wasn't very much outside of specific circumstances.

It was hesitant, and most of all it sounded defeated. Almost as defeated as it had been shortly after she'd died, but not as bad. The way my legs immediately started running her way without my conscious doing was no longer a surprise; Cece was just that important to me. I nearly tripped on the little ledge up the corridor leading to our bedroom, scrambling my way forward until I found myself facing her. She didn't just sound defeated, she looked like it, too. Not on her face, for it looked like she would nearly always vacillate between pissed or pissed outside of the little rays of happiness that occasionally shone through, but in the way she carried herself. Her head hung low, eyes avoiding contact and staring blankly at the ground. Her shoulders were tightly wound inward, and while there were no traces of it left on her face or in her eyes, there were dried tears on her cheeks. Hydreigon's Pokeball sat alone on the bedside table, dents and all.

Talonflame was with her, a wing carefully laid on her foreleg. I gave the flying type an appreciative look— Arceus knew that her presence had been needed.

"I was gonna call you," Cece quietly said, her hands sinking against the mattress. "But then I remembered you must have been having a good time out, and I didn't want to get in the way of that, so—"

She was in my arms before she could finish that sentence. "Stupid," I berated her, carefully running a hand through her hair behind her head. After a few seconds, our foreheads touched and her trembling breath brushed against my face. "I will always be here for you, okay? Always, no matter what happens. Understand?"

Her lips thinned; for a moment, I thought I'd have to fight her on this, but she nodded. "Yes. The truth is…" she trailed off and quietly gasped when my thumb caressed her cheek, just enjoying the moment. There was a certain harshness when it passed over one of her stitched up scars. "That— feels nice. Your hands are so soft."

"Mhm. Perks of having new skin, I guess."

"The truth is," Cece repeated herself, "I probably would have ended up calling you anyway. Chase is busy, Denzel is asleep, Mira and Maeve are… gone, but they've got issues of their own and we aren't close enough. Pauline and Emi… they wouldn't work. Louis, maybe." After a short sigh, her eyes widened a smidge. "Oh. I assume you know what happened, then."

"The big picture," I confirmed. "Maylene messaged me— she feels horrible for what happened, okay?" Maylene was probably still kicking herself despite my message; I'd have to call her about it later and try to mend things between these two. It'd be a shame to have gone through such a story and let something like this get in-between our friendships. Coronet and beyond had linked us for life. "It's fully within your right to be angry, but you have to understand. Maylene's a good kid, sometimes to her detriment, even. The world wounds her again and again, yet she tries her best to do right by it, still. So of course if she thinks you might be in danger she'll do something about it." Cecilia's mouth twitched, and her jaw clenched. "It's okay to depend on her, too, like she's been depending on us. She's seen what you've seen."

It was difficult to tell when her eyes moved, but an attentive person could do it, still. When Cecilia glanced away, I kissed her forehead, then gently dragged her to lay down on the bed with me, our faces still close. She was clearly still vexed at what had happened, and that was okay. Talonflame hopped on as well, quiet and well-mannered. You'd almost think she'd been raised to be a 'proper' lady. Meltan had already crawled away from my wrist, intrigued by Talonflame's natural bodily warmth. Their little tail wagged as they approached the flying type, who seemed unsettled at their constantly changing body. Cecilia looked up at me, and a wordless agreement passed between us; she wiggled closer and put her hands around me, taking a deep breath against my chest.

"Want to eat something? I can cook you some food," I whispered.

There was a beat of silence before she answered. "I'm okay. I'd like to stay like this for a while."

Cute enough to make me melt. "Okay; if you're sure. Tell me what went wrong today, then."

We stayed like this while she told me not only about the incident with Zolst, but everything that went on today from start to finish so I could get all the facts. Admittedly, Cece describing Maylene as flustered at her for nearly pinning her against the wall while she demanded to see her aura was hilarious, though I got it and kind of wished that had been me. Still, I'd already known she was gay or bi with how she fell in love with Virtuous me— here she just didn't know it yet, it seemed. Hopefully this wasn't anything like an unrequited crush and she'd just gotten caught off-guard, because that'd just be so messy; Cece having to break her heart would suck and I'd miss our friendship too much. It'd be smothered, extinguished before it could even properly bloom.

If it was a crush, maybe it'd be better to just say nothing, wait and let it fade when we went to Unova so we wouldn't have to mess things up. The distance would be of great help.

But then, things got serious. It was easy to see where the misunderstanding had taken place— Cecilia had asked for privacy, but not gone into much detail as to why, which was entirely within her rights; Maylene, who was still admittedly pretty normal, freaked out when her Lucario told her about how Zolst was feeling such rage toward his trainer, and she acted accordingly to prevent a potential accident.

No one was at fault.

"What if you…" it was difficult to find the right words. "And you think he won't let you speak to him one-on-one again?"

Cecilia's fingers clenched my shirt behind my back, her nails digging slightly through the fabric and sending tingles down my spine. "I don't know, I can't do anything right," she sighed. Talonflame protested by scolding her for giving up too quickly. "I know, I know. I can't let defeat cloud my reasoning, I'll have to try again. It's not like it'd be good to keep him in his Pokeball for too long anyhow, and he needs to eat, and—" Cecilia cut herself off, squeezing me tighter. "He'll think I had a protector there and it's set me back weeks. Possibly more than that." Her voice was muffled in my chest. She sniffled. "I considered just ripping off the band-aid and trying again immediately, but it's best to give him some time to cool off or it might actually be dangerous, especially without Slowking here."

My hand streaked through her hair. "You're right. Better safe than sorry, we don't want you in the hospital again." A flicker of doubt flashed on her face, and I could immediately tell what she was thinking. That a trip through the hospital would be worth a repaired relationship with her starter. "Baby, look at me." I gently grabbed her face with my hands and looked into her pale eyes. "What you need is to talk to him, not let him hit you until he's satisfied— and he wouldn't like that anyway, Zolst loves you! No matter how long it takes, I'm sure you'll have him back to his silly antics in no time."

"I hope so." Her heart was in it, this time.

"Hope is good," I said. "Hope is what keeps you alive when the chips fall and the knives are out."

"Ugh. I love you."

I snorted, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. "What was that groan?"

"Nothing," she said with a hint of a smile. "Anyway, how was your day?"

Beaming, I launched into everything I'd done today, and she was happy to listen. Eventually, when all was said and done and we continued talking about anything that came to mind, we must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, the sky was filled with the orange hues of sunset. The fact that I'd actually had an interrupted streak of sleep took a few moments to sink in, even if that had only been for… three hours according to my phone. Talonflame had fallen off the bed with her back to the floor and her talons up in the air—

Arceus, where was Mimi? They must have sneaked off somewhere while we'd been asleep. Rubbing my eyes, I turned toward my girlfriend. Cecilia's body was twitching and she was mumbling in her sleep, as if distressed by something.

She must have been in a nightmare.

I poked her in the cheek, and when that didn't work I lightly shook her shoulder until she woke up with a deep, raspy gasp of air that woke up Talonflame. The fire type's sudden scramble to her feet bumped her wing into the bedside table, knocking the lamp over and shattering the bulb. There was a familiar squeal, and Meltan crawled from under the bed, intrigued by the shards of glass that I'd have to clean up later.

"It's me," I softly said, clasping at her shoulder. "It's just me, baby. We're okay."

Her face slowly scrunched up, as if she remembered what she'd just seen. "Thank you for waking me. Were you—"

"I was fine, no worries. Hungry?" Her head tilted to the side, then nodded. "I still got some groceries leftover from earlier. 'Guess I'll make some food and let my team out." I slid away from the bed. "Falling asleep wasn't the plan."

Sweetheart was too big and heavy to be out in the condo, but I released the rest of my team and got started on something simple. There was still enough rice to last us days, and the raw meat I'd bought included chicken. While Buddy took over in Mimi-watching duties and was having what looked like a good time talking to Talonflame about her favorite sights when she went off flying who-knows-where, Honey and Cass helped me around the kitchen. The psychic liked giving me utensils or spices whenever I asked for them like a sous-chef, and they were very curious about them, too. Supposedly all Lakhutia had was salt from their cavern; they were an isolationist bunch that didn't let many traders in.

When they asked what cumin was made of exactly, though, I came up empty other than the fact that it was a plant of some kind.

The kitchen was pretty wide open to the entire condo, so I could see Cecilia sitting on the couch in the living room, her laptop on her knees. The fact that she was working again was good; I'd need to keep an eye on her in case she went into a self-depressive spiral again. Having this Role was enjoyable and it was important to not get hyper focused on my conversation with Rood and Mallory. It'd be a while until I'd get another one of those, and while I'd learned a whole lot about systematic failures and Team Plasma's endeavors, I hadn't actually gotten anyone's numbers or names for the original goal of the conversation: connections.

Speaking of, I needed to go to a Unovan embassy to get started on my Trainer Visa soon. Better early to get it out of the way. I'd go get the process started when Princess was out of the Center. She was the next one supposed to be out.

"Grace," Cece called from the living room. "Sarah Newman is in Sinnoh again."

Unconsciously, I stopped lathering the chicken in spices. "Oh. Oh, shit. She must have heard. Has she… spoken out to anyone yet?"

"She was never one for publicity, apparently," she said. "She's in Jubilife and has demanded to speak at the ceremony to celebrate Craig's life."

It was rather morbid, that this ceremony was now stated to be the day after Justin's funeral; we'd have to go through this sorrowful process back to back. Craig's funeral would be later, and as we weren't close, we wouldn't be allowed to come in.

Time was ticking… hopefully Mira would find Lauren before next week; I wanted to believe she wouldn't miss her brother's state-mandated ceremony and funeral, but—

I shook my head, chasing those thoughts away. If anyone was capable of finding her, it was Mira, and maybe Newman would try as well. They must have known each other.

When dinner was finished, Cece and I ate face to face in a comfortable silence often broken by bursts of chatter. Honey was eating by the TV to watch one of his cartoons with Mimi on his shoulder, Cass was still on their research binge about spices using my laptop, and Buddy was hovering behind me, nearly finished with his newest book that he sometimes told me about if he came across an interesting history tidbit. His latest obsession was a series of wars between the petty kings and queens of Kalos shortly after the collapse of the Chivalric Age: a stretch of a century and a half from the 1100s onward where conflicts were decided with Pokemon battles between chosen fighters instead of the bloodshed of war. Honestly, it was a wonder it had lasted that long, but honor was everything, back then. Eventually, the region would unify under one kingdom, creating a dynasty which lasted until the Great War.

Charles III Montreuil was the last of his line. His children and family were killed along with him. History was crazy like that, and I was learning a lot just through osmosis from Buddy's rants.

My feet poked at my girlfriend's legs under the table, and it felt good to see her body-language soften at each instance of contact. Eventually, when we were close to finished, Cecilia took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

She let go of her fork, which clinked on the side of the plate. "I was thinking… if I'm going to take my time to fix what I've done to my Pokemon," On the floor at the side of the table, Talonflame's eyes flickered my way cautiously, "I might need to leave. For a while."

It took a—

It took a bit to make sense of the words in my head. My body suddenly felt like it had been trapped or squeezed in a tight space. Somehow, it was like when you woke up after falling in a dream.

"Leaving. Like…" I probed for more information, trying to keep my voice still.

"I don't know where exactly," she continued. "Probably on one of the wilder routes like 220 or 211."

I tried to scrounge up memories of those routes from the maps Denzel used to buy, remembering I'd never actually been there. These were rarely sought after because they lay south of Twinleaf, one of them being composed mainly of ocean and islands in the strait between Johto and Sinnoh down south. There would be no reception, meaning I wouldn't be able to contact her for however long she stayed either by text or call.

I wouldn't be able to see her.

To touch her.

To hear her voice.

To talk to her.

She must have seen how morbid I looked, because she added, "only when all of my Pokemon are all out of the Pokemon Center, and I wouldn't miss Justin's funeral, either. We still have time." She leaned forward and reached toward me.

I flinched away. "Did— did I do something wrong?" My voice came as a stammer with a nervous, incredulous laugh, and my hands clenched below the table.

Pain flickered across her face. "That's not—"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." A sigh left my lips, and I realized my hands were beginning to sweat. "I shouldn't have said that."

"But you said it."

"I did."

"And now doubt is creeping in." Cecilia touched her heart and closed her eyes. "Now I don't want to leave. My heart. It aches. This wasn't… the goal, but maybe this will do us some good. To help return to normal again, like the last time we had to deal with this—"

"The last time was never this pronounced." I cut her off. Why did I cut her off I didn't want to cut her off I should shut up I should shut up. "I don't even know what normal is! I've never had that! We've never had that." My eyes felt wet. "At least let me come with you. I won't get in your way, just… please."

At this point, the commotion had reached the ears of even our Pokemon in the living room, who were all watching us with bated breaths.

"Maybe not normal, but just unable to live without seeing you for twenty-four hours is—" her defiance evaporated from one second to the next. I could see it written in the way her body lay about. "Fine. Maybe you can come with me. Maybe it's fine."

Talonflame chirped worryingly at her side before shooting me an unappreciative stare.

I realized what I'd done immediately. I was taking away her freedom to act; her need to be a trainer; her independence. The three things which she had internalized and desired since she had been a young child yearning to escape from the dark clutches of her father.

"I gotta— wait, I have to just go in the bathroom and clear my head. Don't leave, okay. Please," I spoke at a rapid pace as I shot up from the table.

When I passed by Honey, I asked him to shout for me if she left. I locked myself into the bathroom and ran the tap to wash the tears off my face. When I cut it off, it continued to drip into the sink, each drop a hollow echo that had reverberated in the silence of the room.

"Get a hold of yourself," I muttered, staring at my tired face in the mirror. "You're better. Be better. Don't twist yourself into the Role of a villain."

Cecilia was right. This wasn't even about being normal, this was about being healthy. No person with a healthy mindset would have reacted the way I have. She wasn't even leaving yet, but what about the future? What about Unova, where she would most likely have to spend days or weeks away from me on jobs with Professor Juniper or talking to whatever politicians or Gym Leaders she needed to? What about my own goals? We wouldn't be joined at the hip twenty-four seven like we could be these days.

"Legendaries, I'm pathetic."

I loved her. I loved her so much that I hurt her, because it felt like she'd been abandoning me.

The door swung open, and I barged through back into the living room, then into the kitchen. She was still here, staring at me with a blank look on her face. Electivire gave me a discreet thumbs up, meaning that she hadn't even tried to leave.

"I'm sorry; I was completely wrong and I hurt you." It was difficult to look into her eyes for too long without feeling like shame was dragging my head down like an anchor around my neck. "You should leave whenever your team is ready and rekindle your relationship. I'll be…" I swallowed. "I'll be fine. Don't hold yourself back because of me."

The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"I—" her breath caught in her throat. "If you're sure."

"I am." I wanted to tell her that I was happy she wasn't leaving yet, that we didn't need to speak like she was going to slip away any day now, but I didn't. It might influence her decision, and I'd now learned that my words had more power over her than they ever had.

I just didn't know how she could be so strong, still.

"So, um." I awkwardly shuffled in place. "Can we— go back to normal, or do you want me to leave for the night? I can stay at a Center or something; I'll basically have the entire place for myself." Deep inside, I was praying she'd say no.

"Stay. Of course, stay," she said, and I couldn't help but breathe in an immense sigh of relief.

I hadn't fucked up to catastrophic levels.



It was the next day now; the thirteenth of May. While Cecilia and the others had gone to visit Chase in the hospital, I'd left his room early to go see someone else. Denzel looked peacefully asleep, even with a mask keeping him asleep on his face. His chest rose up and down slowly, and his body was nearly sinking into the mattress below him. According to the nurses it was made of specialized material— an air-fluidized bed, one of them had called it— to minimize the pressure on his back as much as possible. He'd already had all of the dead skin removed and gotten a skin graft two days ago across his entire back, but it was still healing. His arm was hooked into an IV from which fluids continuously pumped into his body.

If he'd been awake right now, he'd be in agony, but he'd be up within the next few days, or so the doctor said. I smiled as I held onto his hand and brought it up to my cheek. It was warm. He'd done so much for us; without him the world might have ended. He was just as much of a hero as the rest of us, and he would get none of the credit he deserved.

The reason I hadn't come here as often as I should have was…

Well, his parents were allowed on the island by the League, even through the lockdown, and they visited often. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with his mother. Emilia had warned me of her ire, and to be honest, I understood. All of the warnings she'd heeded Denzel, everything she'd said, her holding him back from journeying for a year— all of that was now vindicated within her mind. She might have thought that maybe if I hadn't come to Twinleaf at the start of the Circuit, she could have convinced him to stay.

God, I needed to see my dad again, or at least talk to him beyond a good morning and good night every day. My mom, too.

Hm. I wondered if they'd find Froslass by the end of the week in Coronet. Recovery operations were still going on there.

After gently lowering my best friend's hand back on the bed, I grabbed my phone and dialed Maylene's number.

"Hey. Sorry I took so long to call." The truth was, I'd gotten distracted yesterday trying to salvage my relationship from a pivot toward disaster. "Yesterday got busy. Oh, I hope I'm not bothering you, I know you're working hard."

"No, it's okay," she said, clearly nervous. "I'm sorry, I must have ruined your night with this stuff."

"No, actually. Um, it was me who fucked up, completely unrelated. I think I salvaged it, though. Barely." It had been awkward after. Very awkward, but at least she'd stayed and Talonflame had forgiven me already. Awkward was better than cold.

I must have been quiet longer than I thought, because Maylene spoke up again. "So, what's the— the verdict?"

"She's spiteful," I explained. "But give her a few days and she'll be back to normal. Plus, she's still willing to help with your dad and stuff, and you know, your aura was apparently better than your Lucario's, so we'll see what she thinks about Chase's. If it's the same she'll probably want to see you again. It's sort of therapeutic for her. Reminds her of what she's lost, but in a good way."

Maylene exhaled on the other end of the line as if a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Thank the Legendaries. I thought I'd ruined things. It's good that she still wants my help; I can't be the one always taking from you both. I need to give back." I heard a bump of some sort on the end of the line, and then a soft scrape, as if she'd laid her head on the table. "Should I message her another apology or should I give her some space?"

"I'd say give her some space for now and message in a few days when she thinks better of you— I'll keep you up to date on the vibes." A moment of silence passed, and I leaned against the backrest of my chair with an analytical frown. "You really care about her, huh?"

Carefully, I listened to see if there would be any sudden movements. Instead, all I caught was the pausing of a breath; one held half a second longer than usual.

"Yeah, she's nice in her own way. Like, an 'it can't be helped, I'll help you' kind of way, but obviously I didn't know her before she died," she slowly spoke, attentively choosing each word. "I didn't ask before, but why're you so quiet?"

A hasty change of topic.

Man, I could read her like a book. This was going to suck.

"Oh, I'm just in Denzel's room right now." I smiled at his sleeping face. "I guess I unconsciously get quiet even if he can't wake up. Plus, my friends have been saying I speak too loudly sometimes 'cause I'm still not used to not hearing properly, so I'm tempering it. Anyway! How's work?"

"It's going pretty well! I got a really needed boost in my confidence and it looks like my Gym Trainers are coming to the idea that I'm in charge, so I won't have to do anything radical like fire people," Maylene said. "No news from my dad yet, but he's lost a lot of his leverage. Anyway, uh, if you want I—I should have the time to ha—hang out pretty soon this week-end for a few hours." Now she was the one who'd gotten all quiet. Maybe what I'd said had gotten to her and she was self-conscious.

"Sure, why not." If I was supposed to survive without Cece, I might as well give it a try soon and use the opportunity to go check on Bella and Night and spend the entire day away. "I was actually in need of someone to get me into shape again, so maybe we can make it a semi-regular thing." I was actually planning on going on a run with Honey after I was done here, just to get started on my own like old times. I silently chuckled and stared at my unconscious friend. He was the one who'd gotten me into it all those months ago north of Jubilife. "Though I doubt you'd have the time—"

"I'll make time!" she screamed. "I—I mean it should be fine, haha…"

"Woah, so passionate," I said with a teasing laugh. "Chase is like that! He'd get excited at any opportunity to get me to work out with him; I bet he'll be pissed I'm doing it with you now after I ignored him for so long."

"Okay— Arceus, I need to ask so many questions! But first if you want to get into shape we need to talk about your diet." Holy crap, I'd never heard her speak to quickly. "Then we can move on into what kind of muscles you want to develop— I'm assuming legs, 'cause trainer, duh! We actually have an indoor gym for people and Pokemon we can use underground, so we won't need to go somewhere else…"

Oh, boy. She was even more into this than Chase was, wasn't she?



Perhaps it was thinking of Denzel's own parents, which had me contact mine as soon as I was out of the hospital, or maybe it was getting a figurative cold splash of water on my face yesterday evening when I'd nearly done something I regret— manipulating the girl I love into doing what I wanted to her detriment. Maybe, more simply put, I just missed them and decided I'd had enough of avoiding them.

They'd been staying in a hotel a twenty-minute walk away from mine, this one a lot more humble and affordable. You could still see traces of the old architecture much of the actual, official League Building was made of. Cecilia had called it gothic, a style much more prevalent in Solante, the continent with Kalos, Paldea and Galar. They probably would have met me anywhere and gone out themselves, but I'd only messaged them once being in front of the place. Honey was with me, a boon of reassurance and kindness in case I blew up at them again, and as always, Mimi was there, around my neck this time. Honey also served to soothe my endless worries of a sudden, lethal attack: he would always react faster than them with Protect. Cassianus and he worked in shifts.

I winced when I saw them step out of the empty establishment, already prepared for the worst, but relaxation came easier than I thought when Electivire placed a hand on my shoulder and I saw something else—

My parents weren't angry about me blowing them off; they were genuinely happy to see me again.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A.
 
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Chapter 322 - Ozymandias
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 322 - OZYMANDIAS

Seeing my parents together sure was an oddity. In my mind, they remained two separate entities never to be in the same room simultaneously. I was under no illusion that they'd get back together or some other nonsense; my father had never been one to forgive large slights. Sure, he'd look you in the eye, smile, shake your hand and overall be civil, but he'd never, ever forgive you. He'd lost more hair this year than the last five, it felt like. It usually had just been on his temples, but I'd seen it thin on the back of his head on the way to this bench right next to their hotel. As for my mom, she was hollow, still grieving from losing my grandmother to Galactic. It was mildly terrifying, how hollow she looked when she'd been so peppy and bubbly before. It was almost like staring into a mirror.

Dad's arm wrapped around my shoulder, and he pulled my head on his. "I hope you've been doing better, Grace." Hearing him speak like that was enough to have guilt tunnel through my skin and into my heart. "Your mother and I…"

"We missed you," she exhaled, grabbing one of my hands. "We know you've been through a lot, and we—" Dad glanced at her with a warning in his gaze. "It's okay if you don't want to tell us right now. We'll wait until you're ready."

The tightness within me slightly loosened. "Thanks. I missed you guys too." I gripped the side of the bench and forced a smile. It was the truth, I had wanted to see them again despite how we'd had an argument, but… "Sorry for yelling at you last time. I understand that you're my parents and you want to know what's going on with me."

Everything just felt so stiff. Like I was speaking to acquaintances I hadn't seen in a while, not the people who had brought me into this world. It saddened me greatly, weighed down on my soul like an anchor, to understand that things weren't supposed to be this way, yet to know that there was nothing to be done about it.

My father cleared his throat. "So, Sam and I, we were thinking about what comes next."

"Hm?" I didn't like the sound of that. My instincts were clamoring to get out of dodge like alarm bells. "What do you mean by that?"

A beat of silence passed. "Please don't worry, we won't actually force or pressure you into anything, kiddo," he said. "It's just that you won't be staying on this island forever, right?"

"Right…" I murmured, glancing at the passersby to distract myself. This late in the evening, there were more people than usual, but not that many. It was good enough to have a conversation of this nature in public. Not wanting to intrude unless I gave him a signal, Honey was currently engaged in some conversation with a Raichu a few dozen feet away. I didn't know what it was about, nor if the Raichu was trained or wild, but he kept glancing my way every few seconds.

My mother ran a hand through my hair, which felt nice enough. "We think it'd be good for you to stay home. Not for good, only for a while," she quickly specified. "Maybe see someone like Aliyah again; they have good therapists in Jubilife." Mom raised a finger, as if she'd expected a rejection. "You could come by to Twinleaf if you need to get away from all the noise in the city; I—I'm just about done finishing the paperwork to inherit the house." Her skin paled, in that moment, like even thinking about this was sickening her.

"We think it'd be good for you to get some routine back into your life," dad said with a saddened smile. "I've been looking at getting you some piano classes for the summer, maybe. Meet some new people."

I sighed.

We were just;

Not operating on the same wavelength. They were looking past me, and I past them.

But given everything that had happened—

Maybe it was a good idea. Not that a therapist would work; Aliyah had been the best the League could offer me and I doubted even she would be able to help me as I was now. Maybe I'd say yes anyway to get them off my back, but I wasn't sure.

"Can I think about it?" I asked.

Both of my parents became joy incarnate, in that very moment. Pressure bled away from their faces, leaving only the happiness that could only come from thinking your child was on the road to recovery.

Maybe I was. I was in a better spot than I was two, four, six days ago. It was always one step at a time. Aliyah had told me once, that recovery was not a straight line, but a tumultuous path full of twists and turns. That it was about the destination and the work you were willing to put in.

Yeah.

Yeah, I'd think about it.

"Can we hang out a little more?" I asked, suddenly feeling a little shy.

My mother knelt in front of me and held both of my hands in hers. "Honey, your dad and I would want nothing more than that."

Dad rubbed his chin. "You hungry, kiddo? What do you say we go grab a bite from Arlyle's? They've got one a few streets away."

I wasn't hungry, but I wasn't going to say no to those fries.

"Sure."



The week-end.

"You know," Gardenia said for what she felt was the thousandth time, "the next time you need me here, it'd be nice if you didn't text 'I NEED HELP' in all caps."

It was the middle of the night, and Maylene had basically summoned Gardenia to her Gym— accidentally, according to her. Normally, Gardenia would be sleeping at this hour, trying to get her three to four hours of rest before starting work again, but life had other plans. The grass type Gym Leader yawned as she lounged on the mat in her friend's bedroom, resting her head on her palm. Usually, Maylene would have said something about not putting her hand in front of her mouth, but the younger girl was currently busy rummaging through her closet. Her laptop sat in the corner of the room, half-closed and dimly lit.

"I never said you had to come over!" Maylene protested, looking deeper into her closet. "I thought you'd just call me."

In the corner of the bedroom, Lucario groaned and curled up into a ball. Gardenia figured there was no way he was going to sleep tonight, with how panicked his trainer was.

"I thought you needed help with your dad, not that you needed help to pick clothes for your… hang out."

"If it was an Oscar issue, I just would have called Cecilia— sorry, that sounds rude."

"No, no, I get it," Gardenia lied. It hurt a little, that her little sister wasn't relying on her any longer, but to be fair, she had failed to actually show up when it mattered and Cecilia Obel knew more about handling situations like these than she did. Gardenia frowned, realizing something. "Wait, Oscar?"

Maylene nodded, still facing her closet and relentlessly tapping an anxious foot against the floor. "Yeah. She doesn't call Clarence 'dad' either. I took that from her." She shrugged nonchalantly. Gardenia wasn't used to seeing her talk about her father without shrinking in fear; she had made a lot of progress quickly.

Maylene threw a slew of clothes back, all of them landing on the mat-covered ground that served as her bedding. First to go were the martial arts gis. She pulled out a white gi, its fabric soft and worn from countless training sessions. She hesitated for a moment, fingers tracing the familiar material, before throwing it aside. Gardenia internally sighed in relief; what a horrible choice that would have been. Next came a variety of tank tops and sleeveless shirts. Bold reds, deep blues, and stark blacks fluttered through the air, landing haphazardly on the floor. Then came the athletic shorts, the sport bras, the jogging and yoga pants, the t-shirts—

"I don't get it," Gardenia said. "Aren't you just doing sports stuff together? Just wear something other than your Gym Leader uniform so you can be more casual and call it a day." She waved a dismissive hand at Maylene, who glared at her.

"I need to pick something that makes me look good. Obviously, I don't know what that is." She ran a hand through her short, pink hair and bit her lip. "Just help me out? Sorry for making you panic, I just— I was a little overwhelmed."

Nia sighed. "I can't be mad at you for long," she said with a slight smile. It wasn't like she couldn't relate to this; she had been nervous about what to wear when meeting up with Candice for… at least a year and a half after they'd met, and she still fished for compliments all the time. Gardenia sat cross-legged and hummed, grabbing a pair of gray shorts off the ground. "What I said does still apply, though. You don't have to overthink it, unless you want to ask the kid out somewhere else after or before."

"N—no! I don't. This is something to help her, nothing more."

Gardenia tilted her head, happy to tease her. "But you want to look nice."

"I do! But I don't know— I look too much like a kid and I hate it! I mean, they…" she trailed off, and her cheeks reddened. She looked down at her feet, as if ashamed of herself.

Gardenia's gaze softened. That was a new one; Maylene had never complained about her figure before.

"C'mon, Maymay, you look great, and you are a kid. So are… they?" Gardenia wasn't really sure about what was going on, but her time as a Gym Trainer and Leader had taught her to go with the flow of things. "Where is this coming from, anyway? The times where Candice would bring this up, you usually said a bigger chest would be annoying because you move around so much and it'd get in the way." It wasn't unusual for a teenager or even young adults to worry about these things. Maylene just had never been that kind of teenager.

Granted, she'd never been in love with anyone else before. Grace Pastel was somewhat average, as far as things went. That Cecilia Obel girl had… grown up fast, which happened sometimes.

"And even if you don't get any bigger, it's not the end of the world," Gardenia added, thinking of Candice— who was obviously the most beautiful girl on the planet, and it wasn't even close. "And hey, I'm not saying looks don't matter for… relationships of a vague nature." She gestured at Maylene. When she realized what Gardenia had alluded to, she told her to shut up through clenched teeth. "Okay, okay! Anyway, they do, but not as much as what's in here." She pointed at her own heart. "And you've got a heart of gold, Maymay. How sweet you are is your strongest asset. I'm sure your friend will think you'll look good, anyway; who wouldn't?

Maylene groaned. "Ugh, you're right; I'm just feeling insecure, I guess. I haven't been thinking straight these past few days." When Gardenia barely managed to contain her snort, Maylene squinted at her. "What's up with you? You were angry at me and now you're laughing at me."

"Hey, I'm not laughing at…" wait, she was laughing at her. "Anyway, if this is just to help her, why go through all of this?" Gardenia asked. "You know, you never worried about stuff like this before."

Maylene stayed silent for a few seconds and had that flabbergasted look she sometimes pulled when she ran out of words. Gardenia was having way too much fun with this, but she couldn't push that hard. Better let her realize that she liked Grace on her own without her doing— and honestly, that idea was still so weird and foreign to her that it left a strange taste in her mouth, even after she'd let it percolate there for a few days. She didn't know Grace Pastel much, but what she did know should have had Maylene less than satisfied. Maybe she was looking at it wrong.

She'd kept it a secret, of course; normally she would have told Candice already, but she was… struggling with Craig's death.

Gardenia would have also laid it all on the table and told her about her feelings, had Craig not died and they both hadn't been swamped with work. There was only so much she could delay it by, but now wasn't the right time. Odds were, it'd just scare her off when what she needed was her closest friend, not to have to rethink and reframe all of their interactions since they'd known each other. All she could do right now was be there for her until she finished mourning, and then Gardenia could finally get the feelings she'd been carrying for years off her chest. She had waited for four years; she could wait a few more weeks.

Normally, she'd only act if the odds of success were ninety percent or higher, but screw it. It might ruin everything, or it might make her the happiest woman in the world. Either way, Gardenia was done wallowing in the self-pity of being in love with her straight best friend. A perfect opportunity with the highest chances of success would never come. She had to take matters into her own hands.

"Because… just because!" Maylene finally answered, threw her hands up and then jabbed a finger toward her. "Plus, you want to look good when you hang out with Candice, too! You always go the extra mile when you're with her outside of a work setting!"

Ouch. That was true enough, but in the most hilarious way possible. "'Guess you're right, Maymay, sorry about that. Here," Gardenia grabbed a blue top from the ground. "Wear this tank top— leave a little stomach exposed. That's always nice, and yours is great; your back, too. Wear the black yoga pants. Or I guess you could call them dark gray. They highlight your form nicely." She threw the clothes at Maylene, who caught them flawlessly, as always. Her reflexes were top notch. "There, you're all set. You don't need my help for underwear, do you? Though you know, if your friendship ever veers that way, I'm open to help—"

Maylene turned as red as a tomato. "Ugh, Nia! I've—I've told you a million times it's not like that!" she silently hissed, mindful of Lucario. "She has a girlfriend!"

"I'm just joking around." Gardenia snickered and went up to side-hug her friend, right before doubt began to creep in. Doubt at what if she was doing was okay. Grace had a girlfriend, one she was apparently very close with. She didn't know much of what had gone on in Coronet, yet it was evident both girls had gone through much with Maylene.

Was she a bad person for this?

Gardenia stared at the ceiling to think, pursing her lips as she debated her inner self. She didn't know enough about Grace or Cecilia to know if Maylene had a chance or not; she wasn't doing this with the goal of sinking their relationship, and to be honest, thinking about it a little longer, she remembered that both girls were supposed to leave the country in a few months, so her friend's odds were actually low. Chances were, the distance would turn this endeavor to a hopeless one, which meant that Maylene had to at least get a foot in the door and make this Grace girl notice her romantically before she left Sinnoh if she wanted this to be anything more than a passing summer crush.

Maylene had her work cut out for her, even if she didn't know it quite yet. Gardenia wanted to help more than she was, but going too fast might ruin things before they could take hold, and micromanaging a bunch of traumatized teenagers sounded like a bunch of work she couldn't deal with right now. Plus, getting involved involved would make her question her own actions even more.

It was just…

Gardenia knew what it was like, to pine for a girl with a hopeless crush— she'd known how that felt like for years. It hurt, even now. She could relate to what Maylene was going through, or what she was going to go through very soon. Gardenia knew Maymay well enough to understand that at her core, she preferred avoiding tough issues instead of tackling them head on, but it was only a matter of time until she realized her own feelings, anyway, and then the hurt would begin. It was why she was still pretending with this whole 'she's just my friend' shtick despite being emotionally smart enough to know better. She had blinded herself, hoisted her inner feelings onto a throne of lies, hoping it wouldn't collapse, hoping it would last forever.

Still, Gardenia decided there was nothing wrong with a little push. She watched Maylene hang her clothes back in her closet, humming a happy song to herself now that she knew what to wear. She couldn't have been more obvious if she hung up a sign spelling out 'I'm in love' on her back. Honestly it was a wonder the other girls hadn't figured this out already, with how often they saw or spoke to each other.

Ah, this is so confusing, she thought with a heavy breath. At the heart of it all, she just wanted to help her friend, the strangeness of the situation be damned. If it petered out or led to a preemptive rejection because Maylene couldn't be more obvious if she tried, then Gardenia would be a shoulder to cry on. Again.

"You know— what if I don't know what to say?" Maylene muttered as she closed the closet hidden in the wall.

"What?" Gardenia scoffed. "Don't you two text and call and stuff? There's gotta be a dynamic already established, right?"

"I mean, I guess? Everything feels kind of formal because I'm scared to overstep. I used to do it with Cecilia too, but she's a little angry at me at the moment and we just started talking again." Was that her way of reassuring herself that Grace was just another friend? Probably. "Anyway, it's not the same over the phone… don't look at me like that! We haven't been on our own since— well, since we got our hearing aids!"

"Ah, yes, the time where she asked if you wanted to get matching pink ones," Gardenia deadpanned. Not exactly a sign in and of itself, but it at least meant Grace considered they were close. "Wasn't that like slightly over a week ago? Just act natural."

Maylene's arms dropped limp to her side. "You don't get it."

"No, I do! You'll be nervous at the start, but hey, once you start talking to her about working out, you'll get into the groove of things and you'll be able to go with the flow."

Maylene's face went through a myriad of emotions, in that moment. She wanted to fight her, Gardenia knew. To go into every detail, as if they could plan everything she was going to say. In the end, she relented. "Yeah, that probably makes sense… wait, what if I talk too much and weird her out? Because I already talked to her about that stuff for way too long on the phone until she actually had to hang up and go see her parents. What if she gets bored of it, Nia?"

"I mean, she listened to it the first time over the phone, no? Did she sound bored then?"

Maylene fiddled her thumbs. "I don't think so? She always sounds super interested in stuff, I think, and she's really excited to get her body moving again."

"Then you'll be fine."

"…what if I make her work too hard on accident? My standards are way too high because I mainly work on myself and Pokemon…"

Legendaries have mercy on her soul. She wasn't even involved in any of this, and she was more mentally tired here than she'd been after work today. While Lucario snored, having finally fallen back asleep, Gardenia spent the next ten minutes reassuring her friend that things were going to be okay. That so long as she didn't overthink things, she'd live through tomorrow fine and hopefully have a great time. It felt good to see her be a normal kid and worry about crushes, for a change. After the shadow that Galactic had hung over Sinnoh, talks like this were welcomed.

Maylene quietly crawled to her laptop, typed a short sentence and started rhythmically clicking on the trackpad. "Thanks, Nia. Sorry for calling you over so late, I'll make it up to you somehow. You can give me some of your paperwork, if you want; if you give me the right info I'll fill it out for you."

"Nah, don't worry about it, just have a good time on your… whatever this is."

"It's a lesson. She's my student and I'm her gym coach." She sounded slightly miffed, just like every time Gardenia had tried to hint that maybe there was something more to this. "Alright, I'll call your Kadabra over; he must have gone downstairs to exchange knowledge with mine when he realized this would take long." Maylene slowly got up and tiptoed around Lucario. "Feel free to stay here in the meantime, I'll bring him."

So;

It hadn't been Gardenia's goal to look at what was on Maylene's laptop screen. She'd just gone to look out the window to get some fresh air. Veilstone's was noticeably worst than Eterna's, and Gardenia believed they should have started working on a green city program to solve some of their pollution issues, but one thing at a time—

Anyway, when she turned back around, all disappointed in the air quality, she noticed something in the corner of her eye, and it really wasn't her fault that Maylene hadn't put her laptop to sleep or turned it off. Gardenia had always been observant. You could put something at the edge of her peripheral vision for a split second and she'd be able to tell you what it was in detail nine times out of ten.

'How to know if you are gay'. There were a few tabs open of articles or blogs about this, along with a test that would probably ask really obvious questions with really obvious answers that really, only gay people in denial took in hopes of getting a different answer. Gardenia would know; she had been in the same position three weeks after meeting Candice and she realized that maybe she'd been looking at her lips and thinking of kissing her a little too much, let alone having her on her mind so much to the point that she started having weird domestic dreams about living together with her. Getting a home somewhere next to a boreal forest to combine both ice and grass, getting married, growing old together—

Three weeks. "Damn you, Candice. You had me wrapped around your finger so quickly and you didn't even know it," Gardenia whispered in the night.

Anyway…

The point was: Maylene wasn't completely clueless. She would most likely spend the next hour or so scouring through this, though Gardenia doubted her nerves would let her fall asleep right away anyway. It was only a matter of time until that domino fell, and once that began, the revelation would be sooner rather than later, as predicted. Gardenia didn't stare for long, deciding to act as if she hadn't seen anything.

Knowing Maylene, there was a way she'd remain in denial even after this. Gardenia would strike a conversation with her about it the next time they spoke to at least get that first hurdle out of the way.

When Maylene came back with Gardenia's Kadabra, they shared a short hug.

"Let me know how it goes, okay?" Gardenia said. "Keep me updated on this; I'm rooting for you."

Maylene scoffed. "Wha— okay I guess? You're being weird."

"No I'm not." Nia squeezed her shoulders. "Good luck, Maymay."



Maylene's Gym was a lot more active this week-end than before, which made sense considering they were going to be the first one to reopen. I could see them filtering through the lobby, sometimes carrying heavy cardboard boxes or transporting Pokemon to other areas of the gym. I'd been waiting for a few minutes for Maylene to get here, but she was late. Maylene was a busy person, and though she did have the next few hours free, normally she would have thrown herself into work anyway, so she was using this time just because I'd asked her to help. My phone rang with a message from Cece— a picture of Sweetheart having fun out of the League with Scizor looking annoyed at all the noise she was making and Talonflame flying over her. I'd handed her over for the day so she'd be able to do something other than stay in a Pokeball all afternoon. Her size made it difficult to accommodate her and have her out at all times like the others, so making time for her like this was something I'd wanted to do for a while.

My body shivered, and I hugged myself. It was a little cold— I'd dressed with working out in mind, not thinking about the fact that Gyms had air conditioning on during the summer. It was the worst on my legs and neck. I had tied my hair up into a ponytail so it wouldn't get in the way, so my nose was starting to get a little runny. There was a change of clothes in my bag (along with the rest of my team; Mimi was around my wrist, as always, content to observe until they fell asleep) because of the plan to see Bellatrix and Nightstalker after this; even so, it was a little too late to get changed when Maylene would get here any minute now.

I spent the next two minutes scrolling through my phone until she got here, peeking her head into the lobby from one of the hallways leading upstairs to her room and office. She sighed in relief to herself when she saw me, and then responded to my wave with a timid one of her own. Nervousness was plastered all over her when we walked up to each other. The way her eyes darted around, unable to stay fixated on one spot; her need to take a deep breath before meeting me; her uneven steps when she was usually more confident in her stride.

Hopefully this wasn't too much pressure on her. I didn't want to get in the way of her work.

"I'm so sorry, I was… busy," Maylene said. She wiped her hands on her yoga pants and then hid her stomach by crossing her arms. I could relate, as someone whose palms sweated often when I was nervous. "I hope I don't look weird or anything…"

"Hm?" I looked her up and down. Honestly, I'd expected her to be in her official Gym clothes, but this was kind of typical for the kind of activity we were going to do as well. "I mean, you look great like usual? You're rocking those clothes for sure, they look good on you." Honestly, I didn't think she'd show this much skin, but it genuinely did look nice.

Maylene beamed, making a little Dedenne-like squeak. She must have really liked compliments.

"And hey, just letting you know, I really appreciate you doing this, okay?" I wanted to reassure her that I didn't have any kind of insane expectations, or anything. "We can just hang out and have a good time. Really, I just wanna take my mind off things."

Maylene slowly nodded, digesting my words with a huge grin. "Cool, um, working out is great to do that. We should go then." A little nervous laugh escaped her. She was so much more at ease than moments ago.

Instead of going up the stairs this time, she led me down. The Gym was a lot less polished down in the lower floors. Paint was chipped here more often, and boxes of stuff littered the ground everywhere— the few ones that were open had anything from unopened packets of Pokemon food, to electrical wires to extra light bulbs. The lights here were a little dimmer than upstairs, but overall this wasn't that strange of a place. It was just surprising, because when I pictured a Gym, I pictured something pristine.

I glanced at Maylene, who was still smiling. "You know," I walked up to her level with my hands behind my back so we were side by side, then tilted my head at her, "I didn't know you had a thing for praise."

Maylene's soul jumped out of her skin. "W—what do you mean?"

I nudged her arm with my elbow a few times. "C'mon, don't play coy with me! I get it, you know." Plus, she must have not gotten praised much growing up with her dad, so it made sense. "I'll keep that in mind from now on."

"I mean, I won't stop you… do whatever you want." Maylene turned away from me.

I grinned. "Yeah, 'cause you like it; it's fine."

"...maybe I like it. But who wouldn't?!" she hastily protested.

"Did I ever say people wouldn't? I even said I got it!" My laugh reverberated through the basement, and Maylene was forced to admit defeat. She was a fun one to tease, but I couldn't go overboard with it, or I'd get too focused on 'winning' the conversation instead of having fun. "Woah, look at that."

The space opened up into a vast chamber, its ceiling high enough to make me forget I was underground. Rows of equipment, some familiar and others I'd never seen before, filled the area. Iron weights, punching bags, treadmills, stationary bikes… there really was a lot here. The floor was a patchwork of different surfaces—rubber mats, grippy tiles that fit together like a jigsaw puzzle and smooth concrete.

"What're you doing? C'mon, it's just a gym," Maylene said. She dragged me over by the wrist, then froze and took her hand away as if she'd just touched a stove. "Uh, anyway, usually this place would be filled up around the mornings or in the evening, but it's been unused since the bombings for obvious reasons." She led me to a small expanse of soft mats. "We should have the whole place to ourselves this afternoon."

"Great! So, how do we start?" My eyes wandered toward the treadmills, which were nearby—

"No, before doing anything, you've got to stretch. It's important; always stretch before doing any strenuous activities."

"Right, sorry. I guess I thought that was, like, optional."

My friend stared at me like one would a helpless child. "Oh, boy…"

"I'm not— I'm not stupid! I just needed a little refresher, that's all." Legendaries, was there anything more embarrassing than looking clueless in front of an expert? "I get it…"

"No you don't. First and foremost, stretching helps to increase blood flow to your muscles so you warm them up and prepare them for your workout. You reduce the risk of injury by making your muscles more flexible and less prone to straining and tearing…" Maylene continued rambling about the importance of stretching for at least thirty seconds until she stopped. "Why're you making that face at me? Did— did I bore you? I'm sorry."

Ah. Most likely, it looked like I'd been studying her.

I held my hands up. "Not at all! I like listening to people talk about what they're passionate about. It's really cute and it lets me pick their brain a little. You wouldn't believe how many times I've had to listen to my friends rant." I started counting on my fingers. "There's Emi with contests, Pauline with fashion, Denzel with streaming and celebrities… Maylene?" The Gym Leader had turned away from me and was starting to heave and muttering to herself. "Are you okay?" I went to touch her shoulder—

"I'mperfectlyfine!" She spun and clapped her hands, though her face was a little red. "Anyway, stretching! Since today we'll be focusing on legs, we'll do leg stretches."

Maylene directed me to sit on the mats, and I followed her instructions. Maylene introduced me to something called sitting hamstring stretches, demonstrating in front of me. After sitting, she extended her right leg forward, flexed her foot and slowly bent at the hips, reaching towards her toes until her hands easily touched them. Even if her back was bent forward, it remained completely straight, and she took a series of deep breaths as she moved. After holding the position for thirty seconds, she switched legs, repeating the motion with the same careful precision. There was a certain grace to her movements. The subtle tension beneath her skin coming from her lean muscles exerting themselves; she might not look it at first glance, but she was really fit if you looked a little deeper. It was kind of like seeing a gymnast at work.

"You're really flexible," I noted.

"You've got to be, if you want to fight," she said, as if this was as easy as breathing to her. "Oscar used to say my body had to flow like water. He's a shit parent, but I think that advice was sound— anyway, you start as well."

It was a lot more difficult than it looked. No matter how much I pushed, my back wouldn't bend as much as Maylene's, and it felt like someone was pulling the tendons out of my thighs. When I said I'd be tapping out, Maylene came over and kept her hand on my back to push me.

"Ow, ow, ow."

Maylene scoffed. "I'm not pushing that much; don't be a baby. Just hold a little longer—"

She cut herself off, for some reason. After a while, I spoke up again. "Hasn't it been thirty seconds?"

"Y—yeah. Switch legs." I heard her audibly swallow. Was she nervous again? I hadn't said anything odd.

After those stretches, we moved on standing hamstring stretches, which were even harder somehow, but Maylene said it was better to ramp them up. Luckily, that was it for my thighs, because they were already on fire; somehow, sweat was already accumulating on my skin, and I hadn't even started to do anything workout related yet! The next set was easier and focused on my lower leg. Maylene had me push against a wall and fully extend my leg until I felt a pull in my calves. This pose, she had me hold for a full minute for each leg.

"There, see? That wasn't that bad!" she exclaimed with a triumphant smile. "You did pretty okay, for a first timer."

"My legs already hurt a little…" I whined a little more than what was necessary.

"That's good; that's what makes you feel alive, right? Now, the actual warmup isn't done. You've got to do a little cardio before we get into the meat of things. You were looking at the treadmills earlier, so set up a run for ten minutes. Here, I'll do one with you." Again, she was speaking twice as fast as usual. She reminded me a little of myself when I'd dump all my knowledge about the ways Gym Leaders fought after studying them. "Oh, drink water first, though. I assume you've brought some?"

"Mhm." Bending over, I pulled the water out of my bag and started drinking.



Maylene couldn't stand to look at Grace drink water.

Her eyes kept gravitating somewhere they shouldn't have because Gardenia put some weird ideas in her head yesterday. At least she'd come in clutch, and thanks to her Grace had told Maylene she looked great. Great! She was on cloud nine right now; this would be able to sustain her all day tomorrow when she got back to work. She was cute! Cute! And she looked great, and was cute, and great, and cute, and everything was going well! So well it was hard not to smile all the time!

"So do I just go on the treadmill now, or?" Her friend (and there was nothing more than that) had come over wearing gym shorts she had bought the day prior, according to a message she'd sent, and she was wearing another one of her simple t-shirts that was more baggy than not. It was so large in fact that it basically covered her shorts. Maylene figured that maybe that was for the best for her soundness of mind, even if Grace looked really good in anything. It was one of her merch samples with her Togekiss flying into the sky on it; a little corny, but in an endearing way. Maylene knew she missed her starter, and this was a way to feel closer to her until tomorrow when she'd get her back.

The Gym Leader decided to turn away from Grace for the safety of her own mind, but it'd be impolite not to look at someone who was talking to you, or at least in their direction. Maylene had tried her best to keep her eyes from wandering, which meant that ninety percent of the time she was looking at random stuff around Grace instead of at her. She'd allowed herself to slip when she'd helped her stretch, but had no idea necks could be that…

That what?

Maylene internally shook her head. This was Gardenia's fault. "S—sure." She averted her gaze again, sheepishly scratching the back of her head. "Keep it at a light jog for now, you don't want to exhaust yourself."

Grace gave her a lazy thumbs up reminiscent of her Electivire. "Sure thing."

Both girls got started on their treadmills, with Maylene deciding to go at a sprint, which was her warm up. Plus, going fast would help clear her head from the thoughts that shouldn't be there. The girl shut her eyes, closing herself off to the world. It was only the blood pumping in her legs, the sound of the treadmill and her feet stomping on the ground every split second.

It wasn't just because of Gardenia.

Yesterday, Maylene had discovered she was most likely some shade of gay. She'd never thought about liking people until she'd met—

Better not finish that line of thought.

Anyway, she found girls attractive, which was what gay meant. Not any girls in particular, just girls in general, of course. Maylene had believed that maybe there'd be some nuance to it or that every girl felt the same way, but apparently not. This was something she'd never felt with boys, but then again she'd never had friends her age until now, so maybe it'd be different at some point. Maylene had gone to sleep with that knowledge in her head and hadn't even told anyone yet, not even Lucario. What was the point, anyway? It wasn't like it would lead to anything. It wasn't like it mattered; she could just keep going as she was now and be happy with what she had. It was important not to get greedy.

Breathe in, breathe out; Maylene was a machine who rarely got physically tired. She was on top of the world right now, and she would remain so as long as she didn't let her mind wander. As long as she kept her eyes shut and didn't look to her left for too long. As long as she told herself that this was nothing more than a desperate need for friendship with someone her age she'd lacked her entire life.

Once the ten minutes ran out, Maylene opened herself up to the world again. The treadmills beeped continuously, and they slowed down progressively until they came to a stop over the course of another two minutes.

"How was it?" Maylene asked.

"I'm okay," she heaved, leaning against her knees. "That was the warm up, though?"

Maylene couldn't help but admire her for trying so hard when she was so weak and fragile… like glass, really. Scarred all over, even if you ignored that half her body was burned. Sure, there was her arm from the raid, but Maylene had recently discovered one on her back— a Paras bite, Grace had nonchalantly called it. It made Maylene want to protect her.

"Yeah, it was." Her throat felt dry no matter how much water Maylene drank. "Ready for the next thing? We're doing squats next."

"Whaaat? Don't I get a break?" she pleaded in that sweet, higher pitched voice.

"You can get a break after the leg press." Maylene pointed behind her with her thumb. "That's after the squats, now come on. I assume you know what those are like."

Grace pouted; it was difficult not to be enthralled by the way her lips moved. She did a lot of stuff with her lips, come to think of it; Grace was a very expressive person. Pouting, smiling, lip-biting, pursing, tightening— really, you'd think that she'd run out of ways to move them, but Maylene was pretty sure she got to see a new one every time they spoke. Today it had been the hint of a smirk when she had complained about her legs hurting. One new one was good; Maylene didn't need to covet for any more today, or she'd get greedy.

Don't get greedy.



As it turned out, my squatting form was awful. I had no idea why until Maylene told me I had to keep my chest high and my heels on the ground, and it instantly became twice as difficult. Luckily, she was going to go easy on me after those because it was important not to go too hard for my first time in the gym, so I was looking forward to that. My legs already felt like they were on fire and I was dripping with sweat. Not only that, but every breath of air I took made my lungs feel like they were on fire by the end of my sets. I was a little ashamed, but hey, this was what I'd come here to do and my stamina would slowly improve the more we did this.

Having Maylene here was a godsend, really. She was here to tell me when I messed up, but she also made the experience a lot of fun; if she hadn't been there I'd probably either have given up or fucked up with the machines, somehow. To help me, she put a moderate amount of weight on the leg press and then I finally got my break. I was lying flat against the mats where we'd stretched, and she stood a little ways away from me.

"You know," I exhaled. With each breath, I sucked in air like every breath would be my last. "Going to the gym is tough, but I kind of get it."

"Hmhm. It's a lot of fun, and it can make you feel like you're progressing toward a personal goal you set. Or, you know, you can push yourself to vent out your frustrations." Maylene crossed her arms, but not shyly like she'd done earlier in the day, covering up her stomach. "Usually I'd blast a motivational speech in my headphones or something."

"Motivational speech?"

"Yeah… like those videos online of people telling you that you can achieve your goals or to keep pushing. It's a little embarrassing." Her voice was quiet, and she blushed a little.

I pushed myself up to sit. "Not at all. If that's what got you through your childhood, then I'm glad you listened to those. You know," my head tilted to the side, "I believe in fate and stories stuff." Talking about stories with her wasn't something I felt comfortable with, especially since that part of me had hurt her so much. I still felt guilty over that, during sleepless nights where all I had for company were my thoughts. I didn't feel like I deserved forgiveness, but I was done arguing about it. "If you hadn't, maybe we wouldn't have met. It's like that with everyone I know; every little action they took in their lives led them to this, the specific combination of things they needed to do to meet me and save the world. It's a little mind-boggling, really—" I blinked, then covered my mouth. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I just think the sum of the little things that make the world is beautiful, I guess."

"You don't have to hold yourself back, you know? You can just speak your mind with me," Maylene said.

"I know. Just not… that."

She squinted at me with suspicion and slowly made her way toward me. The Gym Leader sat in front of me cross-legged, and suddenly I felt very, very small.

"You're feeling guilty again, aren't you? About our Gym Battle."

I couldn't bear to look at her in the face at times like these. "I know you've forgiven me and that we're friends, I just haven't forgiven myself."

"How long until you do?"

"I don't know. I just know I won't until it feels right, and I don't know when that moment will come," I muttered, tapping the floor with a finger. It was worse now that I'd gotten confirmation from seeing Virtuous help Maylene directly. I could have had an effect.

Maylene grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. "I'll stay by your side until you do. And if it takes longer than a few months, I'll call every day when you… leave." Pain flashed across her face for a moment. "Maybe I'll take a sabbatical when Sinnoh's back on its feet for like a month. I'm sure Cynth can find some work for me to do there, even if I'd need to get diplomatically trained. The point is, I won't give it a rest until you feel like you have nothing to atone for."

Smiling, I glanced up at her. "Thanks. Sorry for souring the mood."

"I mean, I was gonna ask you what kind of videos you look at, but this was okay, too," she laughed. "You have… soft hands. Can I say that?"

"Why wouldn't you? I've gotten a bunch of compliments over them lately, it's pretty sweet." Our fingers were interlocked; I hoped she didn't mind the sweat too much. Actually, I probably smelled terrible right now. Her hands were a little bigger than mine. "Yours are kind of coarse, but I like it. Must be from using them so much; it's an interesting texture."

She snorted. "An interesting texture? Who talks like that?"

"It's not weird! I'm sure people say that sometimes."

"Yeah. Just you, you dork." Then, as if Maylene had realized something, she went quiet and a shadow began to loom over her face. "I think that's the end of your break." She stood up, and I let go of her hand. "Let's get you started on the second half. I'm gonna go pick up some dumbbells, and you're going to do lunges."

"Huh."

For some reason, from this point onward, Maylene looked a little restrained. She gave short answers for my questions, not sounding anywhere as passionate as she had minutes ago, and when I tried to steer the conversation away from gym stuff to see if that was the problem, she got even worse. It was odd, considering I thought things had been going really well before; we'd had a fun day and for a little bit, things had been so much lighter. Maylene had adjusted to post-Galactic life so quickly, and I had let myself get swept up by her inner strength. It had been… mindless fun. Something I couldn't experience with anyone else, as things stood right now.

So why? Why had she closed herself off and deprived me of that?

The question had frustrated me enough by the end of our session, while we took a bit of a break on the mats, I was willing to throw one final wrench into her plans to just get back into her shell. Sure, every muscle in my body was aching (somehow, focusing on legs had made even my arms hurt), but it was going to be a joke, anyway.

Not a serious attempt at sparring.

"Hey, check this out." The corner of my lip stretched into a smirk, and I put my hands up. I threw a jab in the air— "Ow, ow, my arm. Ugh." My left bicep throbbed a little, pulsating with pain.

Maylene chuckled. "What's with you?"

"Hey, I made you laugh. C'mon, let's spar!" I kicked forward so clumsily than Maylene laughed again at the fact that I nearly fell over. "Blegh. My legs feel like jelly."

"You're silly, you know that?" she said with a sigh. "It's kind of a new side to you."

"Believe it or not, I used to be a lot like this; I just grew up this year, I guess." That was for obvious reasons. "You kind of bring it out of me." That, and I wanted to cheer her up again. More jabs, this time slower so I didn't accidentally pull something. "So are you gonna fight me, or not? Show me what you got."

Maylene pondered for a moment;

She put her hands up. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

I froze up. "W—wait, what?"

"Three, two—"

"What?!"

"One."

Maylene blurred forward—



Her form was so clumsy it looped back to kind of being adorable. She was wide open, hadn't centered herself and her hands weren't actually covering her face. Was Maylene a little unfair, moving so quickly she'd barely have time to react? Yes, maybe. Her reaction was priceless, though. The way her face slowly moved from smugness to disbelief, then how her hands moved to protect her face. The human body was easy to provoke like that; it wanted to protect the brain above all. Maylene wasn't actually going to hurt her, she'd just wanted to scare her a tiny bit and knock her down. Instead, she swept Grace's feet—

Huh. The grip on her soles felt wrong. Maylene continued sliding a little more than she was used to, and it was then that she remembered these mats were the usual commercial stuff gyms usually bought, not the tailor-made ones that covered the Veilstone Gym's training rooms. She tripped, but she managed to catch herself before she could actually fall on Grace.

Maylene was still on top of her, though. She was now hovering over her friend. Her arms were extended, palms pressed firmly into the ground on either side of the girl's head beneath her.

"Crap," Grace groaned. "Maylene, are you okay?"

"Am I okay? Are you—"

Her breath caught in her throat.

Power over your own mind was never eternal; all misapprehensions of this scale were eventually bound to disintegrate into dust, either through your own reasoning, by getting dragged into reality or a mixture of both.

Maylene had tried.

She'd tried so hard. But there came a moment where one could no longer keep spinning a web of lies they wrapped themselves in; one where delusion would crumble apart from the tiniest moment like an avalanche started by a single pebble. Here, with Grace below Maylene, her golden hair splayed out around her head, radiating like the sun's corona; here, where her pale, sweaty skin and her freckles glittered under the ceiling lights; here, where she panted and stared up at her with her beautiful green eyes; here, where Maylene was close enough to catch her intoxicating smell.

Here, where she had asked Maylene if she was okay after she'd been the one to risk hurting her on accident.

In this single instant;

The grand facade Maylene had built, convincing herself she felt nothing, lay in broken fragments shattered beneath her feet. Every protective layer of this cocoon she had weaved around herself collapsed with but a single thought that spread within her mind like a drop of dark ink in water. A deep longing from far within that she had desperately buried within the deepest reaches of her mind and tried to keep under lock and key.

It hadn't been enough. All of that, undone by one mistake; one fraying notion that would both brighten and darken her world.

Ah, I want to kiss her.

This moment; it was perfect. Too perfect, and that made Maylene want to rip her heart out and beat it up for having a mind of its own. With this revelation came clarity. The truth now stood stark and undeniable. Every lie she had told, every facade she had upheld, every thought she had interrupted, unraveled in an instant. That feeling she'd had when looking at Grace and Cecilia had been jealousy at what they had. The constant need to look at her, the anxiety, the yearning, the dreams, the way she loved her so much that it fucking hurt.

It was all out there for her to see. No longer could she pull the wool over her eyes and ignore the obvious.

And with that clarity came the pain, because it was hopeless. Unrequited love that gnawed at your heart, leaving her hollow inside. Where every interaction would be laced with the sting of impossibility, and yet, she knew she would still cherish those moments, even if they led to nowhere. This pain, it was relentless, it was excruciating, it was agony.

It was love.

"Maylene?" Grace asked. She was frowning, now.

"Sorry," she said, feeling strangely calm. Her skin was tingling with warmth and cold. It was as if an hour had passed, yet it had only been seconds. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Grace didn't say anything, so Maylene took that as her cue to leave.

She wanted to run.

Why did it have to be her?



The pace of her steps quickened the further away she got from me. My back lay against the ground, and I stared up at the bright, fluorescent lights on the gym's ceiling. If you focused and let it get really quiet, you could hear the ventilation chugging along in pipes right above the room.

I hadn't stopped her from leaving. Couldn't stop her. I'd been blind to it until now; the fact that she liked me, and not Cece. With the way she looked at me, things were undeniable. I'd only seen Cecilia stare at me that way, and for a moment I thought she'd actually go for it and I'd need to stop her.

Why?

Why, why, why, why why, why, why? Why me? I wasn't— I wasn't right for her— the timeline— I didn't embody virtue— this couldn't be real— it didn't make any sense— it wasn't supposed to be this way

Maybe I had misread things?

No. No, I had not.

I exhaled, letting my hands cover my face. "What the hell…?"

I just couldn't make sense of it. The pieces didn't fit right. Even if she'd forgiven me for what I'd done during our Gym Battle, I had murdered dozens in front of her, thrown the entire world under the bus just to get my daughter closure, and if it hadn't been for her, I might have done so much worse and she knew it. I was just a sick, sick person who got lucky Cecilia even bothered to look her way. Who was lucky she'd even gotten another chance.

My eyes were tearing up. Sniffling, I slowly rose to the ground and stared around the empty gym with a vapid, empty feeling inside of me. When had things grown so complicated? Since when had she felt this way? It couldn't be before Coronet. Maybe after? During? No, that felt too soon. Things would just be so much easier if she thought of me as a friend instead of this.

To be honest, it'd be easier to pretend not to have noticed anything. To act clueless and greet her with a smile when she came back as if nothing had happened. She'd probably go along with it, too. It just wouldn't be fair to her, would it? I'd be using her. A finger hovered over my metallic bracelet, but I decided otherwise. None of my Pokemon would be able to help me with this.

What an unmitigated disaster.

"What do I even do?"

Talk to her right when she came back and let her down gently? But then she'd take her distance from me, just like when Louis had gone off on his own after realizing he'd had no chance of rekindling things with Cecilia, and it took months for us to actually be friends again. Cece would be leaving after Justin's funeral, and if I couldn't depend on her and Maylene was also not an option, then—

I wasn't going to survive without some major pain, even if I went back to my dad's.

Arceus damn it, what was I going to tell Cece? I had to tell her; it wouldn't be right to keep this hidden.

There were no clean options, nothing that would leave everyone unscathed and allow us to go back to how things were before. It was all different shades of how selfish I really was. One had to be, to not want to reject a girl she didn't love back romantically just for her own well-being.



Maylene barely made it back in time to her room before aura started whipping up around her like a storm. Her body felt tight. Untempered. Tears began to stream down her face and wouldn't stop. She curled up in a ball, rocking herself back and forth as the cold blue light encompassed more and more of the room, lashing out at anything it touched. Like the crack of a whip, sparks and arcs of blue energy flew out in all directions. Each strike left a faint, smoldering mark on the walls and furniture, as if the room itself was being etched with her pain.

She recalled her lessons; the many times she'd had to calm herself down from exploding at work because of how overwhelmed she got. Maylene took a few deep breaths, muttering assuring words to herself. She couldn't close her eyes, not when Grace breathless below her was still imprinted on her mind. Little by little, Maylene's aura receded within her. Her breathing steadied, her sobbing grew more controlled, and at last, her heart stopped beating against her chest like a prisoner trying to escape by breaking through their cell.

It wasn't fully contained; it still coated every inch of her skin, but it'd be enough to let people touch her, and that meant it was enough to grab a phone without breaking it, at least. Immense guilt wracked her when she glanced at Cecilia's contact information— more blue flames burst from her hand and cracked the center of her phone screen. Biting on her tongue to focus, Maylene called Gardenia for help.

Help with what, she didn't know. Maybe all she wanted were reassuring words that everything was going to be okay.

It took two calls for her friend to answer. On the other end of the line, Maylene could hear a bunch of people talking. Gardenia must have been in a meeting, but she'd answered the phone anyway, and thank Arceus, because Maylene couldn't stop herself from saying it.

"Nia…" she quietly sobbed. "I think I'm in love."

"Oh. Uh, wait a sec," Nia whispered Maylene heard a chair rasp against the ground. "If you'll excuse me, I have to make myself scarce," she spoke, louder this time. "Yes, yes, I know— It's a family emergency! Roland, you keep things running around here, I don't know how long I'll be gone. Arceus, don't be an ass. Five minutes. Ten!" As soon as a door closed, Gardenia sighed. "Yes. What happened, Maymay?"

What even had happened, in truth? What had made her have this thought, this malignance that had spread so fast it now encompassed every inch of her consciousness?

"I—I don't know, we were just… having fun and then I saw her. Really saw her. And now I just know that I love her, and it hurts, and I can't handle this." She clenched at her heart through her shirt. It was fluttering, confused as to if she should be happy or sad. "I ha—have no chance; it's utterly doomed."

Another door closed; keys jingled as Gardenia locked it shut. "Okay, now breathe, alright? I know it's hard, but you need to calm down and take a deep breath for me. Come on." The Gym Leader did so too, as if to guide Maylene through it. "Good job. Now, this is important. Did you tell her anything?"

"Wha— of course not!" She wanted to scream it out into the world, to tell her so desperately, but she wasn't going to ruin things. Maylene sniffled and wiped her eyes with her arm. "I don't think she knows."

"Can you describe the moment for me a little bit, if it isn't too hard?"

"Okay. Okay, uh, I was," a hiccup interrupted her, "She goaded me to spar with her, 'cause I think she knew I was feeling down. I held her hand before then, and I just— it was so right, but it also wasn't, so I stopped myself and kept my distance the rest of the work out." Maylene couldn't break her promise to Cecilia, especially when she'd been forgiven and they were talking again. Plus, it was just… getting in-between them wasn't something a good person would do, nor did she want to. "Anyway, the mats were wrong and I was running on auto-pilot, so I fell on top of her, and it was like the most beautiful sight I've ever seen, and she immediately worried about me, and—"

She clenched at her phone with a groan, suddenly wishing she had some tissues.

Gardenia whistled. "Oh, you fell for her harder than I thought—"

"Than you thought?!" Maylene's mouth gaped for a split-second, and she shivered. "You knew about this?"

"Maymay, of course I know. I've known since the day your dad came over and I saw you staring longingly at her and her girlfriend. At the time, I just thought it was a crush, not… all of this. I'm sorry for not telling you, I thought it'd be better if you figured it out on your own."

"I'd rather not have figured it out at all," Maylene moaned. "I probably knew, deep down. It was just easier to pretend it wasn't even there, because now it— now I know that I'm way in over my head." A short silence sunk in, and Maylene finally reined in her aura for good. "Nia?"

"Remind me again, how long were you on top of her and making eyes at her?"

Maylene pondered it for a moment, and the longer she thought about it, the more she realized it had been a long time. Ten seconds, maybe? Twenty? "Between ten and twenty seconds?"

"Shit."

"Do you think she knows?" Panic surged within her, turning her breaths shallow, and her leg anxiously bounced. She decided to stand up and pace around the room to distract herself, walking around her kitchen island. "She doesn't know, right? Right?!"

"Maybe? Let's look at this logically. She definitely didn't know until today, or she wouldn't have hung out with you and spoken to you that much when she already has a girlfriend, unless they have something like an open relationship or are poly or something, but I mean there's no way to actually know that. They haven't shown any signs of this, so let's just assume they're like an average couple."

Maylene nodded along, though she had no idea what the hell any of that meant. She was a lot more preoccupied with figuring out if she'd ruined things with Grace and Cecilia right now.

"If she knows, I'm sorry Maymay, but it's probably over? If she doesn't, you'll know because she'll probably act like nothing happened— you'd have to have to be insane to be that dense, but if she hadn't figured it out before now, then maybe it's possible." Maylene heard Gardenia tap something against her desk. "If she doesn't know, then the question is, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is your goal with this?" Gardenia's tone was a little stern, and she put emphasis on each word. Maylene knew why— she had known exactly what she'd meant, yet had acted like she hadn't because the question was difficult to answer. "I know what you're going through. I've been doing this song and dance with Candice for years— though she only had a one-sided crush, she wasn't actually dating anyone— the point is, if you want to give up, you'll need to take your distance. It'll be more painful in the short term, but better for your long term mental health. Think of it like ripping off a band-aid."

Even thinking about it was making her nauseous. "Do I have a choice? I mean, I have no chance— and I don't want to be a homewrecker. That's not who I am. So logically, I should…"

Yes, she should give up. Maylene needed to send Grace on her way and distance herself from her. Work would be a convenient excuse; she would probably throw herself into her Gym and work longer shifts anyway to distract herself from the pain, so it wouldn't even be a lie.

So she needed to.

She needed to…

Maylene winced, collapsed on her couch and screamed in a pillow.

"You don't want to," Gardenia guessed correctly. It was hopeless, it was meaningless, but she still couldn't give up. "It's going to hurt. It's going to feel like someone has reached into your ribcage and is crushing your heart," she warned in a grave tone. "I won't lie, the odds aren't in your favor, but if you really want to give this a go, all you can do now is act like your usual self, stay restrained no matter what you want to say or do to her, and wait for an opportunity. Play the long game like I did. Not that you have to wait for Cecilia to die, of course! That's not at all what I meant…"

"An opportunity for what?" She was genuinely asking, this time. "I don't want them to break up. They'd never be the same again and I'd feel at fault anyway."

Gardenia sighed. "Oh boy, this is complicated. Okay, then irrelevant of all of that, you've got to at least make Grace notice you as like, an option, and it has to be before she leaves. Plant a seed in her mind, so to speak."

"How do I do that? I already told Cecilia I would back off…"

Gardenia was seized by a wild coughing fit. "Excuse me?"

"I think Cecilia knew before me." Thinking back, it would explain a lot of her actions. The question was, why hadn't she gotten more angry at her? Why was she even speaking to her? The drama with her Hydreigon would have been the perfect opportunity to poison the well and make sure Grace would keep her distance. Maybe she was just that good of a person, unable to cut Maylene off in her hour of need even if she'd be able to do it with a single word. "I told her I wouldn't get too close."

"...Maymay, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"



Euuuuuuuuugh.

This sucked. I was both physically and emotionally exhausted. My head throbbed with a nascent headache, pounding against the walls of my skull.

I checked my phone again, noticing it had been twenty minutes since Maylene had left. Part of me wanted to run off, but that was probably the worst thing to do, at the moment. Instead, I waited in the gym, looking around at the machines to distract myself from the sinking pit in my stomach.

"If she isn't back in another ten minutes, I'll try to find her," I whispered to myself. There was no way that bathroom excuse was real; she was most likely in her office or room. I crouched next to an inclined platform of gleaming metal and thick padding Maylene had called a chest press and pressed my face into my hands. "What a mess."

It'd be another six minutes until Maylene was back. I didn't dare to look her in the face, not when I knew. Instead, my eyes fixated on the ground, where her feet shuffled uncomfortably from side to side.

"Sorry I dipped for so long," Maylene muttered. "I had to call Gardenia because of work stuff."

I was too drained to try to figure out if that was a lie or not. "It's alright. I needed rest anyway because my legs still hurt."

"They're going to hurt a lot longer than this, trust me." She cleared her throat, grabbing her own wrist with a hand in a self-soothing motion to close herself off. "I probably have to get back to work; we were together longer than planned anyway and I have a lot of stuff to catch up on, so…"

Thank God. This place was so suffocating now when it had felt so liberating earlier. "Yeah. Thanks for the help."

"You okay?"

I did my best not to freeze up and forced myself to look her in the eye. "Yeah! Don't worry about me. I learned a lot today; it was great."

"I'd— I'd walk you out, but I need to clean up here first. Put the dumbbells back in place and all of that." She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced away. "I'll text you later."

"Yep. Talk to you later." I grabbed my bag as calmly as possible. "Uh, do you guys have showers here, actually? So I can wash up and change."

"Yeah, just go back down the hallway and turn immediately to the left; they should be empty," she quietly said.

I took a step forward—

If I was going to tell her no, now was the time.

It had to be now.

Do it.

I pivoted on my heel.

"Maylene?"

She stared back at me. "Hm?"

"I can't—" I can't reciprocate your feelings. I don't like you like that, I'm sorry. Say it! "—wait to do this again."

A timid smile stretched across her lips, followed by a relieved sigh. "Thanks. Me— me too."

I left and opted to go shower at a Pokemon Center instead; this place was doubly unbearable now.

Fuck me.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A.
 
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Chapter 323 - Turning Point V
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 323 - TURNING POINT V

My head against the wall of the shower. The usual comfortable caress of the water against my skin felt cold, empty and void of any safety. The sound reverberated through my tiny stall, so quiet behind the ringing in my ear. The endless blare usually wasn't this loud. Noticeable, yes, but this was the loudest it had been since my eardrum had burst. It was there, constantly nagging, pestering me even if I plugged my ears. Sometimes I'd close my eyes and try to imagine today hadn't been real. If I hadn't gotten ahead of myself and not offered to spar, Maylene wouldn't have fallen on top of me. Our eyes wouldn't have crossed for so long, and I would not have seen the love take shape within her right then and there.

The problem still would have remained, yet I would have been ignorant of it. Sometimes, that was best. Maylene probably would have kept hurting, which… wouldn't have been ideal, but it wasn't as if she wasn't hurting right now, was it? Forced into what I'd realized had kind of been a date, from her point of view. That must have been why she'd been so nervous near the start and asked about how she looked.

And my actions, God, my actions. Complimenting her looks, holding her hand that long, indirectly calling her cute— and that was just today. So many of our interactions since we'd come back from saving the world had been laced with these… innocent games from my point of view, but hope from hers. Odds were I'd given that crush life when I should have smothered it from the beginning. Instead, it had been watered, cultivated, tended to, and allowed to grow unchecked; fuck me, I was dense! If I'd stopped it from the beginning, then it would have been so daunting to burst. Not so damaging to all of us.

I clenched a fist, contemplated slamming it against the wall before figuring that would be really fucking stupid. If I'd been in Maylene's position— actually, I didn't even have to shape it that way. Back in Eterna City, when Cece and I had been on the cusp of dating, I'd believed she hadn't liked me back, but it was the little ways she'd go out of her way to stay with me and her actions that kept the ball rolling in the back of my head, that told me that maybe, just maybe, I had a chance.

Though our circumstances had been different, given that I'd known her engagement to Louis had been a sham rather early. Still, how long would I have contented myself to get crumbs of her affection if it hadn't been? To bask in the occasional ray of sunlight she'd afford me before turning back to Louis every day if it had been real?

Weeks? Months? I would have given up, eventually, or at least I believed so, but not right away.

The water from the shower cutting off interrupted my train of thought— I must have gone over my allotted ten minutes. I wrapped myself in a towel and paced toward the Pokemon Center's girl's changing rooms to put on my new clothes, ignoring the glances and the murmurs from the other girls who'd been using the washrooms. Not like I could hear whatever they were saying without my hearing aid in, but I imagined they must have been surprised to see me here. Cecilia had told me about some of the speculation about our involvement in Coronet, but 'luckily' the trainer community had settled on the narrative being that we'd only been there as support in Coronet's lower levels and that Craig, Cynthia and the Elite Four had been the ones who had made the real difference.

Normally, I would have found this irritating. To have done all of this with none of the credit, when I would rather have my Role within this story ignored than misconstrued. Today, I was too preoccupied to care. Once I was changed into traveling clothes (thick pants, boots and a simple blue shirt) and had my hearing aid back in, I found myself sitting in the Pokemon Center's lobby, contemplating what to do.

I'd dressed to go to route 215 and see Bellatrix and Night, but part of me wondered if I shouldn't just text Cecilia right now and go back to the League. The awkward part was that I'd have to go back to Maylene's Gym to ask to use her Kadabra, but maybe I'd manage to avoid her and get a League Trainer to help me instead. As Cecilia had learned from communicating with Maylene, current protocol meant that only the Gym Leaders had the authority to move their Kadabra around due to their current scarcity, but I was hoping I was a common sight and that they'd just sweep it under the rug, maybe…?

"Hello?"

No.

No, that was stupid. One, it'd get that particular employee in trouble, and two, Cecilia had just gotten Scizor and Toxicroak back from the Pokemon Center. I'd do well to let her have these few hours of peace before I dropped all of this on her. Arceus, tonight was going to be miserable. My body was already shaking at the uncomfortableness that was to come. How was I supposed to tell Cecilia that I wanted to keep seeing Maylene regularly and that I didn't like her back? How would she take it, if I told her the truth? That Maylene was the only person who currently could give me pure, carefree and unadulterated happiness not weighed down by how broken we were? It hadn't been set in stone before today, but now I knew.

I couldn't.

"Are you okay? You're Grace Pastel, right?"

Could this girl take a fucking hint?

Lanky, short brown hair, doe-eyed like she hadn't had a bad day in her life, and with a Dratini coiled around her neck. That last bit gave me a pause. Those were extra rare, even in Indigo, their country of origin. Denzel had wanted one, once.

"Sorry, I'm preoccupied right now." I was short and to the point, allowing a bit of frustration to leak into my tone.

"I bet you are!" The girl laughed, petting her Dratini, who cooed back at her. "You were looking at that phone like you wanted to kill it."

"Right," I grunted. "Anyway, I'm leaving."

I shot up and made my way to the exit—

"Wait! Could I please have an autograph? My little brother's a big fan!" she asked, pulling out a badge-case from her backpack. "It'd mean a lot to him."

Groaning, I speedwalked toward her, snatched her badge-case and a marker out of her hands and signed its back. She smiled as if I'd just made her day, which was enough to get me to calm down, if only slightly. Normal. This was normal. I had fans. It just was unusual after so long.

"Sorry for bothering you! If you see Denzel, you tell him Ashley hopes he's doing okay!" she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.

I hesitantly nodded before remembering that there'd been a girl Denzel had gambled with at the Game Corner back when it had still been open. One who had beaten the odds and gotten a Dratini. In fact, he'd told me they'd helped each other because they'd both wanted one.

Small world. He'd probably be glad to see she was doing fine after the bombings.

Now that I was free from the shackles of social interaction, Cassianus popped out of their Pokeball with the device's familiar hiss. The fact that I'd been so panicked I hadn't walked to the Pokemon Center with them spoke volumes of the gravity of the situation. What if someone had attacked me? With bleary blinks, the psychic observed the world around us. After rummaging through my bag for a moment, I handed them my straw hat. With a happy, artificial cheer, the Claydol levitated it on top of their head.

The decision had been made. I was going to see Bella. While I doubted a Pokemon as wild as her would have any advice for human relationships, we hadn't seen each other in a long time and I missed her and Night. My leg muscles were strained, but just walking shouldn't be that bad, especially after that long break in the Center.

Once we got to a more deserted street, I spoke up. "Sorry I've been silent. Something happened… something really difficult to deal with."

It is true that you appear preoccupied by something. I wanted to wait until you brought it up on your own. If you hadn't, it would have meant you did not desire to speak of it, Cass said. Clearly, they had a lot of learning to do about people, still, but they were doing their best. It is difficult to quantify emotion, but I would say you appear 68% more morose than usual. May I know what happened?

Hesitation gripped me for a moment, but what was the harm in telling them, anyway? I explained the entire situation from start to finish, including the fact that I'd had no idea of it until an hour ago.

Cass' hands rotated and hung close to their body. Ah, I see. Well, my King, your predecessors would sometimes take concubines that they would see romantically even while being married. Occasionally, you had women who all got along very well despite—

"It's not like that with her," I interrupted. "Also that's just not… I don't think I get those, anyway, but yeah, it's not like that."

Pauline, Emilia and Denzel's attempt at polyamory and it collapsing, taking Pauline and Emilia's relationship down with it was still fresh in my mind. I'd still rooted for them despite not exactly getting it, but one couldn't ignore the fact that these things were dicey and dangerous. Imagining Cece with another girl made my skin crawl with doubt. I assumed it was kind of taking a leap of faith. As I was now, would she even stick around? Especially after tonight?

Sure, I had believed Maylene to be romantically interested in Cecilia, but that hadn't bothered me because I already knew Cece just did not look at her that way at all. On the contrary, before 'figuring it out' and even after that, I'd wanted them to get closer so Cecilia would have someone else to rely on.

"Even if I was in love with Maylene, I definitely wouldn't do it. Cecilia wouldn't agree to it, and I've seen what forcing two people who don't want this leads to. There'd be three, in this case; that was a hypothetical."

Of course, Cassianus said, their eyes dimming. It was just a suggestion, you do not have to think anything of it. The vast majority of the time, this arrangement was forced on these women anyway. Some of them led miserable lives! That would be your right, of course, but—

I softly clicked my tongue. "You're thinking like these are old times again, Cass. We don't do that anymore."

The psychic hummed. My apologies. Updating memory banks.

"No worries, pal, you're still adapting to modern life." I patted their body and smiled. At least it was only my human relationships which were on fire.

Then I remembered Cecilia would have to deal with both soon and guilt tunneled into my heart. It was a claw digging through my chest, almost painful enough to make me physically react. I adjusted my collar and gulped.

The rest of the road to route 215 was largely silent, save for Cassianus asking about a few new things they saw on the way there. Perhaps they knew I didn't feel like talking, or that they wouldn't be able to offer much help, or a combination of both. Still, there was companionship in silence, and that was the kind of support I needed right now. Anyone other than Buddy would have been desperate to dig into my worries to find a solution to my issues right this instant instead of letting it simmer in my head. Honestly, I wished I could just ignore it, but it wouldn't be right. I had to be a good girlfriend to Cece.

Stepping through the gate brought back a lot of memories. It was this very moment, where I'd brought hundreds of wild Pokemon only a few hundred feet away from Veilstone, that had set me on a collision course with Maylene. Without the pride, ego and the fae ways my first stay with Bellatrix had offered, our battle might not have been anywhere as harsh. I did not fault Bella for this, for Pokemon were fundamentally different from people, and she had offered me guidance when I had been lost in the wake of Solaceon. She had allowed me to rediscover myself as a person.

Rain softly pattered against the barrier Cass had raised encompassing both me and them. They hated any form of water. Even rain proved too much for them. The deeper we stepped into the woods, the quieter things became. The world felt heavier, as if I was wading through thicker air. Bella's domain was in full effect, here. Occasionally, Pokemon would stop to look at us. A group of Burmy hanging from a tree branch to our right greeted us with a cheer, a Spinarak scuttling across the floor crawled up to me to ask if I needed directions, a Spearow asked to land on my shoulder to speak about her troubles. Here was where my title was at its strongest, but it wasn't the only reason why Pokemon were so friendly.

Bella's route was simply a lot more communal than most. Possibly more than any route in Sinnoh. Word about me had spread and basically every Pokemon here knew of me. Bellatrix had practically turned this place into another home for me, and I felt so at ease. The quiet, which I thought would be disconcerting, allowed the ringing in my ear to nearly fade. It was as if this whole thing with Maylene had just been a nightmare and the world was right again.

They remembered.

"You've never met her before but she's nice," I continued explaining to Cass. "Or, I guess she's nice if you're on her good side. Strict, but follow the rules and you'll be golden!" I raised a finger. "Just follow my lead. Since you're with me, you should be safe."

The ground type wavered in the air. Should be? May I get the odds in number, please? I would like to know how likely I am to cease existing today.

"Will be! You will be safe!" I quickly rectified. "Sorry, I worded that weird. You have nothing to worry about, Cass! She tolerates Sunshine, and you're a lot more easygoing than he is."

Ah, then I shall survive the afternoon. A cheer, dulled by the domain, emanated from their body, and multi-colored light shone out of their eyes. Anyone who can handle the Enforcer for more than twenty minutes has a tempered soul.

"I wouldn't go that far…" I muttered. "Where is she, anyway?"

It'd been forty minutes since we'd entered the route, which was twice as long as it had taken Bella to get here last time. I wasn't worried— if something had happened to her, then the effects on the route would have fallen as well. We meandered through the woods without a goal in particular, crossing into off-route territory while I recounted the many lessons the Hatterene had afforded me in the time we'd known each other. Cassianus seemed interested enough, though the more I spoke about her, the more terrified they got. If anything, it kept my mind off Maylene for the time being.

It took another twenty minutes for Nightstalker to show up. The Decidueye first announced his presence by letting sunlight peer through the canopy and wresting the rain clouds away from us. With a loud thump that left a pit in the earth, Night landed as suddenly as ever. Cassianus' hands jumped away from them and an alarm sound blared out of their body. Their hat slid in front of one of their eyes, as if that would hide them at all.

I supposed that if someone hadn't been expecting that, it would have been scary. "Relax, this is Nightstalker, the Decidueye I spoke to you about." Though their nerves were clearly frayed, they blinked and bobbed their head, slipping their hat back on.

Night's tight, leaf hood was more tattered than usual, and his gaze wasn't as piercing as I'd grown used to. His feathers weren't as well taken care of, either, as if he'd stopped grooming himself. The ghost type nudged his head at me with a deep caw that resonated through the woods, welcoming me into these Sacred Woods once more.

"Thanks." I walked up to the owl and wrapped him into a tight hug. His feathers were prickly. "Night? Everything okay?"

His gaze grew softer as he told me that everything was more than okay.

Bellatrix was expecting.



The Fae were creatures fueled by belief. With mental strength and the ability to trick themselves into believing something, the world followed along with them. In a way, they had learned to use the inherent rules of the universe and push that to their advantage further than any other type. That was why they were most familiar with domains and how they worked, though even then, trickery and subterfuge would bring them nowhere. Attempts to pierce the veil and to game this system would not bring them anywhere closer to immortality and power. Artisans of stories, they were, but just like everyone else there was a limit to how far their skills could bring them.

Nightstalker warned us, lifting one of his wings up ahead. Feathers dotted the area in front of us, sharpened like glaives and embedded in the dirt, tree bark or bushes. They glowered with a menacing purple that was unsettling to look at for too long. It was reminiscent of the Distortion World, but obviously nothing compared to that hell. It was easy to see how ghost types drew from that world now that I'd been there and back. I glanced at Cassianus, who looked half fascinated and half terrified of those feathers.

"What's that for?" I asked in their stead. "Some kind of protection for her?"

Night nodded, explaining that he'd arranged his feathers in a ring around Bellatrix. Should anyone cross the threshold without his permission, even from above, countless spirits under his authority would swarm the intruder and render them unconscious, giving him time to fly over and inspect them to see if they were an actual problem or a wild Pokemon who had made a mistake. Normally these would have been invisible to the naked eye unless you were in tune with Distortion as a concept, like Honey was, or a ghost yourself. Fortunately for us, turning it off required Night to gather the spirits back into his feathers, which gave them that nefarious purple glow and had them emanate that smoke. He'd done all of that without breaking a sweat when the perimeter he'd set was huge. Such fine control, both over TE and what must have been thousands of spirits. It was another reminder that there was a reason why he was Bella's partner. Noticing my impressed stare, Nightstalker hooted, saying that we were lucky Turtonator wasn't present, or he would have demanded a battle right this moment.

"He's not with us today, I'm afraid. He's getting healed at the Pokemon Center, as are Princess and Angel, though I'm sure you're right. It would have fired him up to fight you. I'm actually getting Princess back tomorrow."

The grass type nodded, smiling with his eyes, after which he crossed the threshold without an issue.

"Is this a good idea?" Claydol asked out loud. "Can you confirm that this is one hundred percent safe? Should you not disable it fully?"

Decidueye shrugged and explained that it would take too long to set it up again if he collapsed the entire structure.

"Come on, Cass. Night's trustworthy; if he says it's safe, then it's safe." I jumped over the boundary, and while it made me feel a little queasy, that was that. The vibration around my wrist signaled that it had woken Meltan up, and I soothed them with a pat. Outstretching my arms, I added, "come on, see? If I made it through okay, you can— actually, do you just want me to recall and release you?"

"No, of course not. I am your sworn protector, I must be able to do something like this…" Cassianus' head and arms retracted close to their body, they closed their eyes, and they rushed past the row of feathers. "I—I did it! I'm alive!"

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Of course you are, silly." When Nightstalker quietly noted Claydol's… peculiarity, I nodded. "They're a little skittish, but I mean, it's what makes them special. They've saved my life countless times from the moment I met them, and they know when to get serious. A weird side is cool, too. They used to be all computer-like and stuff."

"I can still detect your vocalizations." Cass' eyes turned to X's and they shivered in the air. "Your actions are suboptimal and not conducive to our survival in the presence of a Pokemon capable of terminating us with mere cognitive effort. Recommending the recalibration of behavior immediately."

"Well, they still do it when they're angry or they're being petty, as you can see," I confirmed.

It took us another twenty minutes to get to Bella, which was welcomed given how tired my legs were. She hadn't gone that far away from the route. Nightstalker directed us toward—

My first reaction seeing her was to gasp.

She was upright, but unconscious and looked so hollow. Her pastel pink and blue hair had dimmed as if someone had drained the life out of her. Glamour— near-transparent pink dust— swarmed everything around her, clinging to her skin, hair, the dirt, trees and even turned the droplets of rain above her pink. While Nightstalker had ended the rain around us, a tiny cloud remained above her head, pouring on her continuously. It was loud, and deafeningly so. The sound of rain hammering against nature to give her the quiet she needed to give birth to a child.

Hatterene, as a species, were all female. They did not mate with any Pokemon to lay eggs, but created one through their desire to have a child. The egg was nearly finished forming in her dress-like hair, with only the top edge remaining empty. Bringing forth a new lifeform through belief took so much out of her she was barely recognizable.

"Is— is she going to be okay?" Beauty was something that made you grow quiet when you saw it. Like stepping into a cathedral, or walking through Spear Pillar. It was something that you were scared to touch, lest you tarnish it with your impurity. She was… beautiful. "Will she survive?"

Nightstalker wrapped a comforting wing around my shoulder. If it had taken a few days longer, he explained, she might have died in exchange for her child's life. As it stood right now, however, the egg would be finished today and she would awake soon after. With her being so strong, she would be back on her feet within a few days. The reason why Night was so disheveled must have been because for a while, he must have doubted if she'd survive or not. It must have rattled him, and he'd been alone the entire time. After hugging him again and telling him how sorry I was for what he'd gone through, I took another look at Bellatrix.

This egg;

I knew this Pokemon. This was Theodora, the Hatenna Bella had given Beast before she'd left route 215. Just like her mother, it was a mixture of white, pale pink and blues. Even in this timeline, things were consistent.

So why could Maylene not be?

Decidueye leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. He too, was quiet in order not to bother his partner, but he asked me what was on my mind.

I gulped. Normally, I would have wanted to maybe speak to Bellatrix about this, but it wasn't like she'd be available. Of course, I'd stick around until the egg was finished forming and she was awake again; I wouldn't miss this for the world, but it was kind of… weird to speak to him about these issues. Sure, we were close enough to, but that had never really been the shape of our relationship.

There was a first time for everything, apparently. After laying a towel on the wet dirt, I sat down and patted the area next to me. He sat down and began to pick at his feathers, waiting patiently for me to begin. I told him everything to the best of my abilities, though I did not talk about the different timelines and merely glanced over what happened in Coronet. Nightstalker already knew I'd been given the Plume according to Bellatrix's story— that I'd been chosen to save the world from calamity, but he still found it difficult to believe that I'd been in Coronet and lived. The world being ripped apart atop Coronet, its spine and highest peak, was the reason why Bellatrix had managed to push herself far enough to have a child.

"Now I'm dreading tonight," I sighed, hugging one of Claydol's hands. They'd given one to me to hold onto for support. "I don't even know what I'll say. Why did this have to happen…"

The grass type hummed, placed a feather in my hair and asked a question. What do you think about this Maylene girl? He knew of her, though according to him, they'd never met in person because of how young she was, so it was only Cynthia that came by to negotiate sometimes. Her and her so-called horrible Garchomp or friendly Togekiss.

With my body curled inward, I closed my eyes and lay my head against my knees. "I mean, she's a good girl. She's one of my main drives to do better, because I don't want to hurt her again. She's pure-hearted. I guess that's why the thought of her liking me somewhat just repulses…" I bit my lip. That wasn't true, but using the strongest word was my feeble attempt at putting some distance between the concept that she could love me. "No, that's too harsh. It's not like I don't like her personality, or that I don't find her attractive." I wasn't blind. Maylene was extremely fit and pleasing to look at. "It just doesn't compute. Like, I don't want to taint her. And that makes it impossible for me to reciprocate what she feels. I think it'd be the same way without Cece, honestly." Even without my girlfriend in the picture, I doubted I could bring myself to love anyone else. It'd feel phony. "Maylene should just find someone who'd do right by her."

Nightstalker sagely said that the heart wanted what the heart wanted. That it wasn't anyone's fault she was into me. He followed up by warning that if I kept being so wishy-washy about this, I risked losing both Cecilia and Maylene, in which case the answer was right in front of my face.

"It is, isn't it?" I sighed, which slowly turned into a frustrated groan. "I honestly think it might just be relieving to reject her. To be done with this whole thing." Air flowed in through my clenched teeth. "Here's the thing, though. I need her."

Both Cass and Decidueye stared at each other. I raised both of my hands, and the former let out a sad beep when their turret-like hand rolled onto the floor. "Stop it. Don't go there."

Nightstalker shrugged, saying that it sounded like I wasn't helping my case.

"No. I know what it feels like when I'm newly in love with someone. I get tongue-tied, and I get nervous around them, and I blush, and I can barely look that person in the eye." Each time I listed a new element, I raised a finger. "I get butterflies in my stomach when we touch, I think about kissing them and cuddling and— anyway! It was like that with Cecilia, and it's always been like that even the two times I've had a crush in school. I have none of that with her. I just can't see her that way because— well, I told you already. It's just not my shape."

Cassianus chimed in as quietly as possible as their hand stuck back to their side. "Is she merely a friend, then?"

"No. She's… more than that." A best friend? No, Denzel was my best friend, and the vibes I had with him were completely different. "But she's also less in some ways? I mean, I know a lot less about her than I do my other friends because we haven't known each other as long, but I care a lot more about her? It's like, more intimate?" My head bumped against the tree behind me. "Is there a word for someone who's more than a typical friend but less than a girlfriend?"

Neither Pokemon knew, though Night insisted Bellatrix would know, given that she was good with words.

"Anyway, thanks for hearing me out, Night. It kind of helped putting it all into words, and it helps to have done a practice run to know what I'll say to Cece." Bellatrix would have been far less direct than he was in his questioning, but putting me on the backfoot was what I'd most likely face. "The crux of the issue is that I'm a selfish girl who wants to have her cake and eat it too."

Decidueye hooted, saying it wasn't wrong to be selfish, if you knew what it would lead to.

"Well, for now I hope I still have a girlfriend at the end of the day. That'd be nice." Shivering, I hugged myself and allowed Night to wrap me in closer. "My parents said they'd see about getting me a therapist. Maybe instead of everything else, I can discuss all of this crap. Throw one of my problems at 'em."

I got to hear all about how Nightstalker didn't understand how therapy even worked until he froze against me. All of our eyes converged toward Bellatrix, whose egg rolled out of her hair— Nightstalker cradled it in his arm, and it was only when I registered that he was somewhere else that I felt the cold wind from his movement flow across the woods. I rushed to follow him and knelt at Bella's side. The glamour slowly disappeared around her, as did the rain, but she was breathing, even if she looked like she was in pain. As he'd said, she would be fine.

Thank the Legendaries. I couldn't take any more loss.

Nightstalker stared at the egg with so much love he looked like a different person. His piercing irises were now soft and blurry at the edges, as if he was about to cry. He brought it close to his face and cooed, feeling at the outer shell with his beak as the pink dust bled away from its outer layer. Seeing him like this was honestly making me a little emotional.

"You did good." I ran a hand through Bellatrix's hair, which was as coarse as what I imagined a bale of hay would be like. I laughed at her sleeping face as my heart burst with joy. "You're going to have a daughter."

She wouldn't wake up for a while yet, but the worst had passed.

Both Bella and Theodora were going to be safe and sound.



When the Keeper of the Sacred Woods awoke, she pulled herself upward with the massive claw attached to her head. Night immediately handed me the egg— which was so light it might as well have been a helium-filled balloon— and rushed to his lover's side. It felt odd, holding her. It wasn't just that her egg felt fuzzy like cotton instead of the hard shell I'd expected. I was already attached despite not knowing this little baby because I'd seen her grow up through Beast's perspective. Strangely enough, Bellatrix hadn't struggled anywhere as much to bring Thea to life in that timeline, but from what I'd understood, me sticking around for longer and getting a larger dose of fairy TE had made her wish for a daughter really badly. Maybe that had been enough?

At first, Bella hastily chastised Nightstalker vocally for acting like she was a damsel in distress, which considering I'd never seen her actually speak, spoke volumes about how close the two were. She was bent forward as if the act of standing straight was painful for her, and her eyes, which were usually so full of starlight and a reflection of the vast firmament above us, were darkened and cloudy. Her mind must have been foggy from how much she'd imposed her beliefs upon the world and won. With a sudden panicked shriek accompanied by her lashing out with her claw, she demanded to know where her egg was. To know if she had succeeded like she'd seen in her dream.

Then Nightstalker pointed at me, and all was right in her world again. The power of love for your child truly transcended species. Just like Night, I'd never seen her look like this. So non-threatening. She nearly looked affable, if you ignored the fact that she had too many teeth for her mouth and her grin was too wide to be natural.

"Hi," I said, before realizing I no longer had to whisper. I was still cradling the egg in my arms as gently as could be. "I swung by to visit."

It seems the strings of fate knew when to make you show up, sister. Her voice was distorted and far weaker than usual, but she was still coherent. And who is this? Bellatrix eyed Cass, who I introduced to her before handing her egg back.

Nightstalker kept hovering over her, clearly terrified she'd be so weak she would accidentally drop it, but she paid him no mind.

I'm sorry, my King, but that is a horrifying creature. You lied to me, she does not look nice at all, Claydol spoke into my mind while simultaneously greeting her. "Well-met. I have heard many good things about you from my liege Grace Pastel, and they did not disappoint! You look like a very trustworthy individual, and congratulations on the new egg."

Bellatrix stared at him long and hard until inch by inch, the ground type found themselves behind me.

Containing my giggle proved impossible. "Cass… she can read minds."

"Error detected. Please disregard the previous eighteen point six seconds, Keeper of the Sacred Woods. A malfunction in my programming occurred. Initiate reset protocol." Their eyes darkened, and they fell upon the ground a lifeless doll.

"Sorry about them, they're silly!"

While Cass 'reset' themselves, Bellatrix noticed the presence upon my wrist. Oh, and this one. Such a powerful mind brought before me, she hummed curiously and brushed her claw against Mimi, who squealed in fear. I'm happy to see you've added two more members to your gathering, sister, she said with an ever-widening smile that never ended.

"And so am I for you." I eyed the egg. "Congratulations."

It took a lot from me, and I will remain weaker for a while yet, she said. Childbirth is not an easy task, for us Hatterene. What brings you here, my dear sister?

"It's nothing," I muttered, glancing at Night. "I just felt like seeing the two of you." He did not respond, yet I knew he would keep my secret.

Better not ruin the moment.

Bella stroked my hair with her claw. If you ever want to speak of it, I am here. Even through the distorted voice, I could tell how gentle she was being. I am not one to steal secrets, unless it's for the right price of course. Now, her eyes shimmered as stars began to slowly gather there again, why don't you tell me why you're looking at my child with such knowing eyes?

"I really can't hide anything from you, can I?"

We kept exchanging knowledge deep into the evening, I about Coronet and her about old stories and how she would allow her mind to slip in and out of them as needed to not grow too predictable or lost within a world of her own making that no longer represented reality, and I assured her I would come back for Theodora's hatching (and sooner than that, of course). She would need to wait until July for one last push of belief to get the child out of the egg. Should it have cracked right now, Thea might last a few hours before fizzling out in a puff of glamour as if she'd never existed.

How I already knew her daughter's name?

That, she could not pay enough for quite yet.



The dreaded hour had come. I'd recalled all of my Pokemon for this, even Meltan.

I had manage to get home by asking for a League Kadabra instead, since they were freer in the evening. Honestly, once the ones from Kanto-Johto would be there sometime this week, navigating the region and getting places would be so much easier without that bottleneck on teleporters.

I heard her coming in first, and it made me feel like my entire body was being squeezed out like a cork. My hands lay flat on our dinner table to stop them from trembling, and I took a deep breath before calling her over. It crushed me seeing her so happy knowing what I was about to do to her. She must have had a relatively good day with her team. Phone still in hand, she snaked her arms around my neck from behind, and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek as she slipped Sweetheart's Pokeball back onto the table.

Fuck.

"Is something wrong?" She must have noticed I hadn't been as into it as usual.

My heart was going to explode. I was going to die. "Hey. You should, uh, you should sit," I dryly said. "I have… news regarding Maylene." This was the right thing to do. I couldn't chicken out this time, or it would be ten times worse when she figured it out on her own and realized I'd kept hanging out with Maylene.

She hesitated, grabbing onto her arm and squeezing it tight. "I was talking to her earlier." A void formed in my stomach, and nausea took a hold of me. "She told me you had a good time. Are your legs okay?"

"Cece, this is important."

Once, she could ignore, but twice? Cecilia steeled herself with a hardening gaze that felt like a thousand pounds laid upon my shoulders, and she sat opposite of me with her legs crossed under the table.

"So it is," she declared with a defeated sigh as if she'd known this had been coming. She moved her arm subtly next to the purse she'd been carrying, and Scizor was summoned with a flash of red. "For tough conversations, I need someone to tell me if I'm slipping. I hope you understand." Scizor looked at me with a few confused blinks, but settled into his role immediately, fitting in behind Cecilia like a missing piece of the puzzle despite his clear, lasting ire toward her.

"Yeah, I get it." My words had too much power over her, after all. Each breath was tougher than the last. The effort to open my mouth, a herculean one that made sweat pour through the pores of my skin. My palm, already slick with sweat, slid against the wooden table. It was as if every instinct, every part of my body was screaming at me not to do this, but it was too late. I had jumped off the metaphorical plane, and now I could only hope I'd stick the landing. "So, um." Teeth sank into my cheek so hard I tasted metal. "Maylene likes me. She's in love with me."

The tension was so thick you would choke on the air. "Did she confess to you?" Cecilia asked with rising anger.

"No. I just figured it out because of how she kept looking at me," I quickly said. God, the last thing I wanted was for Cecilia to blame Maylene for this. She relaxed, if only slightly. "Long story short, she… looked at me in a way that only someone in love with me would. I've worked it in my mind over and over, but that's the only way this situation makes sense to me, even if I wish it wasn't real. But that's the thing, Cece. I don't— I don't see her like that."

"So? What did you say? She seemed quite unphased this evening."

I licked the blood off my inner cheek and bounced my leg against the floor. "I don't like her like that," I repeated. "But I didn't say anything."

Cece's eyes widened, but then she broke into a sad smile. "...I figured it would come to this." Her legs uncrossed, and she rose from her chair.

I shot up from my seat. "Cece, let me explain—"

She laughed. "Clearly you like her. You just don't realize it yet—"

"No! Listen to me. I am dense, I admit it. I should have figured this out sooner and done something about it, but I know my heart. I know what it's like to love someone. I feel it every day with you. If I loved her, I would have told you. I'm laying all the cards on the table, aren't I?"

Narrowing her eyes at me, Cecilia stayed there, her hand flat against the table as she contemplated leaving. Scizor hissed at her, telling her to say something, and she shook herself out of her stupor. "You're telling the truth. So then why?"

"Because I—" How I phrased this was going to be the difference between disaster and not. "Look, no matter what I say, I don't want you to change your plans to leave, okay? I need you to promise me that."

Cecilia drummed her fingers on the table, but thankfully sat back down. "That depends on what you say. I can't in good conscience agree to that."

Scizor and I shared a look, and he nodded behind her. Good enough; he would push her to leave regardless. "Right now, I don't think I am capable of not rotting away in my bed in a depressive spiral if neither of you are here for me."

"I knew it." She angrily jabbed a finger in my direction. "I knew it was worse than you wanted to show—"

"Of course, Cece! Because I have to hide it, because you'd stay if I didn't and I want what's good for you!" Both of our tones were rising, edging close to the point of no return. Desperate to find a compromise, I gripped my shirt in an attempt to calm down. "And listen, I know this is selfish of me. I know I'm kind of leading her on; I'll try to stop doing stuff that can be interpreted wrong. Maybe when you come back, I'll have gotten better and I'll be able to tell her that she should give up on me."

Another deep breath as she gathered the strength to answer and not fold with a soft, yet irritating buzz from Scizor. "Look at this situation. Really look at it. Tell me that if things were reversed, you would be completely okay with this," she demanded, her voice a low, threatening whisper.

"Honestly? Yes, though I can't know because I'm obviously not in that situation, but I thought she had something for you and I wouldn't have minded you getting closer." I meant it from the bottom of my heart, too. If I knew she needed someone else, be it Chase, Maylene or anyone, I'd let her do it so long as it didn't get beyond that. Granted, just like her, maybe I'd start doubting, and it'd nag at me until I broke. "At the end of the day, this is your decision. If you want me to tell her no, I'll tell her. I'll tough it out for the weeks that you're gone. I'll have my parents, and Denzel is waking up soon."

Cecilia looked at me;

Shook her head;

Rose again.

"Oh, no. I understand."

I blinked, incredulous. "I told you it's not like that!" Was she really going to do this? "I don't like her. It's entirely platonic from my side, at least!"

"I… acknowledge this, as I acknowledge your right to crave her presence. As I said, I understand." She turned away from me and strode toward our bedroom. I followed her, calling out her name louder and louder. "That doesn't mean that I'm not hurt by it." She opened our closet and ransacked through her clothes, shoving them in tight bundles inside the bag lying next to the bed.

"Then ask me. Ask me to never see her again, and I won't!"

"No. If I have to ask you, Grace, you will grow to resent me for it. If she can give you something I can't, then I have clearly failed somewhere along the line. I suffer for my sins. I suffer for waiting too long. It is what it is."

I scoffed, struggling to register what I'd just heard. "It is what it is? You can't just sum up this past year with an 'it is what it is' just because you like to distance yourself from things that hurt you, Cecilia. You can't."

When she did not respond, I threw everything at the wall. Everything. Said I'd do anything to keep her, said that we were leaving soon anyway and that the crush would fade, that I would rebuild myself, that I thought Maylene liked her instead, forgetting I'd already told her, that I would block her—

"No need. She shouldn't suffer because of us. The decision has been made, no matter what you do. Do me a favor and help her with her father when I'm in the wild. I will keep helping her until then; do not tell her about this, she will blame herself."

"W—what? That makes no fucking sense! You're speaking in tongues right now!"

Did she want me not to talk to her, or did she want me to help her? I couldn't wrap my head around her thought process. So then, desperate to cling to her, to understand her, I gave in to anger.

"Don't be all holier than thou, anyway. I saw it on your face when I told you!" I yelled so harshly my throat hurt. "You knew about this, and you didn't tell me anything! This isn't just on me!"

Mistake. Scizor stood in-between us, threatening me with his claws, and I nearly let my powers flare up to get him the fuck away. Nearly.

"I know," she replied, zipping up her bag. Her shoulders hunched together and she kept not wanting to look at me. "This isn't just on you. I never claimed it to be. This is what I believe is best for the both of us."

"Then talk to me—"

"I can't do that, because every time I go against you I get the urge to drop to my knees and beg for your forgiveness, and I have grown tired of it." She shrunk as soon as she realized she'd raised her voice. "This isn't even just Maylene. This is just the straw that broke the Camerupt's back. I can't take much more of this, or I'll lose myself forever. I'll just become a puppet whose only goal is to please you."

I broke down into tears. "Are you saying I'm like Abel to you?"

Just when she'd been about to give me the time of day, Scizor bumped her back with a claw. "That's not— it's not what I said. Don't put words in my mouth."

I tried. Tried, tried, tried until I was empty. Nothing ever worked. I wish I could know what she was thinking so I knew exactly what to say to get out of this unscathed without breaching her privacy. Desperately, I threw in a last ditch effort when she was nearly gone.

"Is this it, then? Are you abandoning me? After everything?" I sobbed. Snot had joined in the mix; I must have looked terrible, but it didn't matter.

It was difficult to tell with how blurry everything looked, but her gaze softened. "I—I could never do that." She held out a hand toward my cheek. It froze in mid-air, and it retreated back at her side before it could touch me. "I think it's best we… go on another break, Grace. Figure ourselves out."

"Don't do this. Don't do that thing where you take a drastic decision because it makes you feel in control, please," I begged, unable to stop the tears. "We can talk this out. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it. I'll fit into that Role." I collapsed on my knees at the entrance of our condo, unable to gather the strength to stand.

"You need this just as I do, love." She crouched at my side, grabbed my hand and placed it against her cheek after kissing it softly. "I love you, Grace. But loving you hurts, sometimes." Her tone was as unwavering as a glacier, but tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, but maybe this is for the best. Even if I want to rip out my tongue for saying such words." She stood back up, opening the door. "You can stay in the condo. I'll—" she sniffled, "sleep in a Center. Talk to the others; focus on your team; I'll have Chase to help me. Again, I'm sorry."

The door slammed shut.

Yeah.

Against the floor, I stared at the ceiling.

"Did I just… get dumped?" She'd called it another break, but it felt so much more serious than that.

It was so quiet. I could only hear my heart, defeated and bleeding, against my ribcage, the blood pumping in my ears as the adrenaline slowly drained out of my body, leaving me a tired heap barely able to twitch.

My ears started to ring until they encompassed everything within the confines of my head.

Today felt like it wasn't real.

"I gotta pick up Princess tomorrow."

My voice was so vacant it was barely audible.

Maybe sticking around with my parents for a while wouldn't be so bad.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A.
 
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Chapter 324
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 324

I awoke against the cold, hard floor with eyes still bleary from having slept for so long. Again, I'd been bound by incessant nightmares, but they weren't about what lurked in our reflection within Distortion, just beyond our reach. These were far more typical. This was the third time I'd gone to sleep, and the third time I had been wrecked by nightmarish visions of Cecilia. I'd see things that had not happened, like her berating me before leaving and calling me worthless, all the way to her deciding that she'd be better off without me after spending months apart and finding fulfillment with another girl in Unova.

I felt sick. My stomach roiled, yet I hadn't eaten in so long nothing but acid came up my throat. My entire body hurt from having slept on the ground for this long. I glanced at the analog clock on the wall near the turn toward the living room and saw that it was three in the afternoon. Of the next day. I'd done nothing but lay there, drifting in and out of sleep for eighteen hours straight. I'd run out of tears, having cried too much to start again, and there was no energy to be found within me.

Yet I had to stand up anyway. For my daughter. For my other Pokemon.

With a heave, I pushed myself off the ground. Clumsily, at first. Stumbling and bumping into walls as if I'd been inebriated. There was still dried drool on my chin that I slowly wiped off as my legs carried me to the bathroom. Collapsing on the toilet like a puppet whose strings had been cut off, I finally stopped holding back and allowed myself to pee.

I hated this place, I realized as I looked up at the darkened bathroom's ceiling. The circumstances we'd been given the home hadn't been ideal, but there were too many memories there. Waiting for Cecilia to come back with food nearly ready and her kissing me good evening. How we slept at night sharing each other's warmth. Cuddling on the couch under a blanket while watching TV. Looking at her work with a dumb grin on my face and watching her slowly find herself again, along with her goals. Clearly it hadn't been enough. I was nothing but a herald of misery and pain whose mere presence had clipped her wings and kept her shackled to the earth.

I flushed the toilet and slowly watched the water drain and turn clear again. Shower. I needed to wash myself next. Change my clothes. Then eat something. Drink water. Go outside and pick up Princess. A very direct and simple outlining of tasks for the day that drained me just thinking about it. It felt monumental, slightly out of reach, but I knew it was my mind playing tricks on me. It wasn't— I was going to be fine. I just needed to make it through this. I dragged my feet back to the bedroom where I'd left my Pokeballs and grabbed Buddy's. Subconsciously, I glanced toward the gouged out closet.

It was still open and nearly half empty, but some of her clothes were still in here. Immediately, I shot down using bringing them back as an excuse to see her again, but it didn't help that the idea popped up in my head in the first place. I ran a hand through the remainder of her clothes, bringing one of her few shirts' sleeve up to my face so I could smell—

Ugh.

Stop it. Just stop it. My grip on the sleeve slowly loosened until I got a hold of myself and slammed the closet shut. I needed to get out of this house.

Back in the bathroom, I spent five minutes leaning my head against the wall to mentally prepare myself for this shower, which was built into a bathtub. Lethargically, every piece of clothing on me fell to the ground. I released Buddy out of his ball, and instantly he figured something must have been wrong; my face must have looked worse than usual.

"I had a fight with Cece; I fucked up with her," I dryly explained, unwilling to spend too much time dwelling on yesterday's events. The more I spoke it into the world, the more tangible it became. Like a story taking shape. "I won't be seeing her for a while. Can you help me wash? Please?"

He answered with nothing but a nod and a pained, dimming stare, knowing to stay silent. I sat down in the bathtub, hugged my knees and waited for the heated water to wash over my skin. With a glow in his eyes, he lifted the liquid soap and washed me, ever so slowly. His mastery of Extrasensory had improved leaps and bounds. Once my hair was wet, he used the water to lift each bundle, slowly untying them as he ran shampoo through the loosened strands. He'd tell me when to close my eyes, when to open them and he was just… what I needed.

Moping was well and good, but I needed some sort of plan to get out of this rut. My teeth sank into my bottom lip to use the pain to focus, causing me to taste some shampoo of the in my mouth. Blegh. Disgusting, just like me. Both my body and mind had to catch up with what I needed already.

Maylene. I had to keep my distance from her. As Cecilia had said, it wasn't on her. It was me. It wasn't so much a punishment for her as it was something that was needed for all of our well-beings. The… argument yesterday evening had been the splash of cold water I'd needed, and while I couldn't claim I knew what the hell I was doing, this was a whole lot better than going to see her as soon as I could. That would be a betrayal. Knowing her, she would ask me to work out again next weekend, which was when she'd make time for me, but I'd find an excuse to say no. Usually, either of us would call or text, but I'd cut back on those to merely check in on her work and her father as well and disallow anything veering past the usual small talk.

My nails dug into my wet palms strongly enough to leave marks. That resolution was unfortunately hurting as much as I thought it would, but it was one I should have taken right away as soon as I'd figured Maylene out, anyway. What I'd done, putting it off, had just delayed the inevitable. Plus, Cece would be here this week and they had an actual normal friendship going, or at least it looked that way from the outside.

Okay. This was good. Better than being a lump of flesh sleeping on the floor. More painful, but better.

Once the shower ended and Buddy put conditioner in my hair, I released Honey next, whom I gave the same, short yet to the point explanation of what was going on. The electric type wrapped me into a hug which Jellicent distorted himself to join, and the tears I thought I'd run out of came out flowing again. Buddy told Honey I hadn't eaten yet, and he immediately got started on a meal. Something with eggs. Mimi came next (the Meltan found themselves at home on my shoulder, whispering metallic chimes in my ear) and then Cass, who clumsily asked how my conversation with Cecilia had gone.

Had they not despised water, Buddy might have sprayed them with some. They realized quickly enough when my eyes glanced down at the floor in defeat, though.

"After I finish eating, we're picking up Princess from the Center and I think I'm gonna go for a flight once she's all caught up," I droned emotionlessly. "Maybe stay someplace in Sunyshore for a bit, I dunno. I don't think I can stay in this condo. Come back when Sunshine and Angel are ready to be picked up."

In what I assumed was an attempt to cheer me up, Mimi jumped off my shoulder and onto the couch. Mimicking Jellicent, they split off a part of themselves you could barely call a clone and started piercing it with a needle at the end of their arm you could call a sword if you were generous. Play-fighting. With a saddened smile, I dragged them back toward my shoulder after kissing their little head. Mimi pulled at my hair, resonating with a curiosity that had their eye spin around in a lazy circle inside their golden gear. More seriously, however, Jellicent asked if I was certain this was a wise move.

"I could find a Pokemon Center here Cecilia isn't in, I know. It's not like there's just one." I rasped my knuckles against the couch, idly browsing through my phone. Nothing from her, obviously, but just having her contact information there was agonizing to see. It was like my phone was taunting me. Aside from my parents, there was only the usual daily check-in from Melody and Jasmine to see how I was doing. The former had also asked me if I wanted to give a speech about Craig during the Poketch after-party once his ceremony was done— which I answered with a resounding no. I simply wasn't capable of it. The latter was a lot of complaining about work and all the proceedings needed to get things done. "You know, maybe Pastoria or Floaroma would be better. All that open air where Sweetheart would be able to join us more often."

This time, it was Honey who chimed in from the kitchen asking about my parents while he beat some eggs. I had told them I'd think about staying with them, and according to him, if open air was what I was after, Twinleaf would be a great option, especially when I'd have my mother with me and my dad a mere flight away. Buddy nodded along, adding that perhaps my father had been right when he'd said I need something new to focus on. If it wasn't going to be training and badges, then it better have been music. I could at least give it a try.

Subconsciously, I winced at how much sense they were making. "Yeah. 'Guess you're both right. I need to focus on training again sooner rather than later," I sighed, leaning back against the couch so much my body practically sank into the pillows. That was going to be a whole lot of work. Honey yelled again, asking what I'd do about Denzel. I wanted to say he had Pauline and Emilia, that just like usual I'd hurt him unintentionally as I did others, but I ended up nodding. "Yeah… I should stick around for at least a few more days so I can stay with him. He's going to be utterly lost."

"A good king does not leave those in need, especially not in their darkest hour," Cass helpfully said before turning their attention back to the window.

Meltan demanded to see what was so interesting, so I used them as an excuse to keep moving— part of me believed they'd done so on purpose, too. There was a balcony I'd only been on once, the day we'd gotten this hotel condo. Cece would use it far more often, especially at night to see the lights.

After struggling to get it open due to how weak I still felt, I leaned against the railing, inhaling the fresh afternoon air. I wringed my hands together tightly and stared at a pair of Starly which had perched right to the side. The slightly larger bird was grooming the other, with his beak deep in the scruff of her neck as she kept letting out loving coos.

"None of that!" Cassianus yelled with glowing eyes. "Shoo! Shoo, you abominable little creatures!" The air around the two Starly vibrated enough for them to fly off, but not before hurling a few insults our way. "It appears the world itself was trying to taunt you. Luckily, I was here to intervene. I must apologize for being so slow."

I laughed silently, exhaling air out of my nose. "Cass, they're just birds. It's fine. I'm not gonna freak out every time I see two people… I mean, I don't know if they were together, but you get the gist of it."

There was a chill when Buddy followed close behind, noting that his presence most likely would have had them flee anyway. The Jellicent extended his limb, wrapping a tentacle around my shoulder. I leaned into the cold touch, squishing myself against his face as he warmed himself to mimic the temperature of human skin. My legs suddenly felt as if they could barely support my weight, and I sniffled, wiping a bit of snot off my nose with my arm.

I missed her so much. Sure, seeing the Starly hadn't made me angry, but it did mildly remind me of her, like everything else. Everywhere I looked, I saw pieces of her.

I could make it through this. Surely.

When Honey called out to us with scrambled eggs, potatoes and cheese, he'd also grabbed Mimi's scrap metal to feed them and made another meal for himself. We all ate together, and I had Buddy discover his hatred of anything egg-related. Despite not needing to eat, I'd thrown pieces of it at his head in a competition with Honey to see who could aim at its center. The ghost had recoiled, collapsing on himself like a dying star and nearly exploded all over the room. That was sheer disgust. Honey took a bit of offense until I reassured him that his eggs tasted really good. It was mindless fun, really. Playing with food like we were ten years old.

But any distraction was welcome—

A vibrating phone was something I'd learned to ignore; it was inconspicuous enough now for me to nearly forget that meant I'd gotten an alert the moment it happened. After yesterday, I was subconsciously foaming at the mouth for any word from Cece. It wasn't her, and it wouldn't be for quite a long time, but it was easy to get drunk on false hope that she would take me back. Just seeing someone else's name on my screen made me want to sob; there was something deeply wrong with me. My stomach dropped when I actually registered that Maylene was texting me.

Maylene - Heyyy

Maylene - I wanted to thank u again for hanging out with me ytd sry I was a little weird at the end

Maylene - Should have told u goodbye after ur shower.

This was exactly what I didn't want to happen, and since she'd know I'd seen her message, it'd be weird not to answer. I needed to be short and to the point with this to cut off any avenue of the conversation going somewhere I didn't want it to. Worst-case scenario, I'd use the convenient truth that I needed to pick up my daughter from the Center.

You - It's no problem. I was fine and ended up going to a Pokemon Center anyway.

Maylene - Oh, rly? I guess theyre more familiar than gym showers, I get it

Maylene - Wyd? Did you pick up Togekiss yet?

Just when I'd been about to get my out and say I was just about to leave, meaning I'd have little time to talk today, she added another text.

Maylene - It'd be cool if you came over tmr too. I know it'd be busy but work would probably zoom by when you're both here.

Both.

Both here.

Cecilia was coming over—

Maylene - You probs cant though. Thats ok, ill wait until saturday. We're still on for that, right?

Why in the world was she throwing all of this at me? I was exhausted just reading all of these—

No. She was just clueless, it wasn't her fault. Mostly, I was surprised Cecilia was already out and about, functioning and planning things with others while the simple act of going out for me felt like the most difficult thing in the world, at the moment. Something I had to mentally prepare myself for for hours before I could even take a step outside.

You - I can't come by tomorrow, sorry. I'll see about this week-end, but it might be dicey since I'll be back with my parents.

Maylene - Not even sunday? That sucks, but i understand.

I felt guilty. Why did I feel guilty? All of it was literally true— she was still typing.

Maylene - Unrelated, but even though Cecilia hasnt asked me again ive been toying around with aura in my free time to practice different shades. I was thinking if i manage different blues then other colors arent out of reach. Maybe ill figure it out before she comes back from her trip down south

Maylene - probs not but itd be good to pay her back. shed probably say its unneeded and that she just comes over for experience at leading tho

You - Im sure you will manage. You two have a great time.

You - I gotta gopick up Princess. Good luck today at work.

I had to keep my distance, especially when I wasn't in the right state of mind to see her again. These texts confirmed it, I still craved the normalcy she afforded me, especially after getting basically dumped. Something was wrong with my head. Not only that, but she'd be able to read me really easily. Hopefully she hadn't already seen through me, but if the last two weeks and yesterday had confirmed anything, it was that Maylene was as clueless as I was, so things were probably going to be okay. Stalling would work. If she knew she was in love with me, there was just no way she'd consistently act the way she did. Not only that, but there was the possibility she was as dense as the one in the Virtuous timeline was. And why not? She'd somehow fallen for me, so maybe things would remain consistent.

Not like I could do anything about it anyway, so I'd rather reassure myself with these meaningless platitudes.

I placed my phone screen down against the table, dragging it into my pocket without wanting to see it any longer. After a long exhale, I looked around at my team and spoke up. "Let's go get Princess."



It was difficult not to be anxious when I took my first step in the Pokemon Center. Silly worries of running across Cecilia swirled around my mind. They were meaningless; there was just no way she would have chosen this one when she knew my Pokemon were in here. Sure, hers were in here as well, but she'd most likely chosen one as far away from me as possible to minimize the chance of us crossing paths. Knowing her, she'd picked one closer to the port where the busiest part of the city was.

My mind wasn't very rational lately, so I'd still prepared something I'd say in my head should we meet. It wouldn't be begging to get her back, not anymore, but an apology for some of the things I'd said yesterday night and a promise to try to do better.

Maybe tell her I loved her again.

Wait. Had I forgotten to say that yesterday?

I scrounged through my memories of our fight despite how painful it was and realized I had. She had remembered, but I hadn't said anything. I hadn't… what if that had been my last opportunity to ever tell her that? Pain struck my chest, and breathing grew more and more difficult and shallow. Should I text her that? No, that would be pathetic. Would it be? Would the patheticness outweigh how terrible not telling her that I loved her too was? Maybe if I told her—

"Ms. Pastel?"

One of the Joys had come out in front carrying Princess' Pokeball in a tray, and she'd obviously noticed me breaking down in tears in public.

"I'm fine, thanks," I sobbed and grabbed the ball. At least no one was here to see me; it'd be humiliating otherwise. "Just thinking about stuff, it doesn't matter."

She placed a hand on my upper arm and squeezed. "I want you to know that our doors are always open to speak, okay? About anything. Don't hesitate." She gave me a polite smile and returned to her post with her tray.

I'd had a Nurse Joy therapist once, in Floaroma and for a few weeks online. I wondered if she was doing fine. After wiping my tears and washing my face in the bathroom, I nearly ran out of the Pokemon Center, making my way up north with Honey by my side. The electric type was luckily too excited at the prospect to see his sister again to notice I'd cried.

It was too late for regrets. I just had to keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking.

When I regained my awareness, I was at the edge of the city up north, the perfect area to meet Princess again. Honey was back into his ball, too. Sure, I'd spent the last forty minutes on autopilot or so, but at least it was easier to breathe now. Even here, at the edge of the League; the boundary between civilization and the wild, buildings were tightly packed, though most of these were empty. Houses and apartments to be rented out for the summer by the government to civilians to make up for the massive costs of running the Conference. Not only did it make them money, but the last thing they wanted was to run out of housing space. It had happened before a few years back and that had been a hassle for them to deal with.

As soon as I was out of city delimitations, I clasped tightly Princess' Pokeball in my hands. Worn down from a year's use and so much time in the wild, there were little chips in the paint. It was the same for all of my Pokeballs save for Cass' and Mimi's. Some trainers liked to keep their Pokeballs new, often swapping to more expensive models like Ultra Balls when they could afford to like my Poketch colleague Ramon. Others like Craig and I just got attached to these.

They were our first, and it was easy to get sentimental about that.

Princess's fur glimmered in the sun when I released her, and she shook herself as she slowly opened her eyes. Stretching her wings, yawning with a high-pitched whine that was still somehow soothing to my frayed nerves. Her veneer of royalty quickly disintegrated when she noticed I was here and she wasn't in the Center again. Her eyes widened, disbelieving, and tears accumulated in the corner of her eyes. I crouched with my arms wide open and the largest smile I could muster—

"Ack!"

She tackled me back with an elated squeal, saying 'mother' over and over again. I was pretty sure she'd bruised my ribs, though I was too happy to care. I stroked the back of her head as she snuggled against my skin and told me how much she missed me.

"Oh, my little Princess," I gushed as I put my hands around her. "I missed you so, so much."

Needless to say, we stayed like this for a while. The spoiled little baby complained about her treatment from the nurses, not because they'd actually been abusive or hurtful in any manner, but because this was the longest she'd gone without seeing me and she had demanded to be let out early. I, the clear paragon of stability that I was, softly told her that they were just doing their jobs and making sure she was safe from any long-term effects of Glalie's ice. The ice type had done a number on her while she'd bought time for us to deal with the rest of Saturn's team, and he'd used Regice's power.

But then, Princess asked what she'd missed, and that meant starting from Coronet after Saturn. If I wanted to do the story justice; if I wanted to tell her everything, I'd need a lot more time and a better setting than this—

No. No, she deserved to know, and now. I slowly explained it all to her, telling my daughter the story in full— that included skimming over the Distortion World. As much as it pained to say, I'd rather have nightmares about Cecilia leaving me for someone else than have to relive through that nearly every single night. The mere act of describing it filled me with a sense of impending dread that had me breaking into a cold sweat by the end.

That meant I needed a break. And a break meant Princess seeing her family again.

I released the rest of the team, and the welcome backs were as warm as I'd expected them to be. Sweetheart clammored for her older sister, though I had to warn her about her strength so she didn't accidentally crush the Togekiss under her suffocating hug. Honey started with a teasing welcome: a jolt of electricity as soon as they touched. That made her throw a bunch of mud on his face that Cass helpfully cleaned off with their own Ancient Power, garnering some of Princess' ire until the playful tension broke. With a huff, she declared she couldn't stay disappointed in her faithful student for that long. Even Buddy joined in the pranks, getting the side of her wing a little wet with a spray of cold water. Electivire cackled, a finger pointed at her until she threatened to lovingly end his bloodline.

All jokes, of course. They loved each other. In fact, he teased back that he had no bloodline, mimicking her haughty tone in a mocking manner.

I tapped Mimi awake, and the steel type made a gurgling, metallic scream at the sight of Princess. Sure, they had missed her, but the first thing they did was demand to ride her for a flight to see more of the world. Sweetheart jealously grabbed them and said she'd be a better sister until both her and Princess started bickering about who'd take better care of Mimi. They'd kind of inserted themselves as the team's baby, though I knew they mostly did it to be spoiled.

Jellicent struck from nowhere, saying that if Princess wanted to play at being mother she'd do well to eat her veggies without whining for thirty minutes straight.

Yeah. I'd let them hang out together a little before our flight.



I held myself steady on top of Princess, who slowly floated up without so much as a single motion of her wings. Then came a small wobble, as if she was no longer used to flying. Before I could even speak, she haughtily said things were fine; she just needed to shake the rust off. She had, after all, spent a long time held still in a Pokemon Center between the care of the nurses and her Pokeball. My fingers ran over her head, gently stroking her fur as she got more and more comfortable with hovering in the air.

"Getting the hang of it now?" I smiled at her even though she couldn't see. Princess nodded, landing again softly against the ground. "Ready?"

Her wings shivered in excitement. She turned her neck slightly to her left, side-eyeing me before telling me to brace myself. I gripped at the saddle and patted her back one more time.

She pushed herself up so fast that my innards felt like they were being squished down. Within seconds, we were high in the sky above the League. The world fell beneath us, now rendered small and insignificant in the face of the greatness that was the freedom afforded through flight. For a moment, my body felt alive. That tiny jolt of fear at the fact that you weren't made to be up here before your brain adapted and remembered you were safe. Each breath was cold and dry. Reinvigorating. My hair which I'd forgotten to tie up whipped around my face, and the wind clapped in my ears. It was so intimate, the way it surrounded your very being as if you were at its mercy. Princess laughed, climbing ever higher until we were past the ring of League patrols making sure the skies were clear, until the air grew thin and the orange evening sky seemed close enough to touch. Princess flew right below a cloud, allowing me to raise my hand to run it through. It was cold and wet and humid and I could barely feel my fingers by the end of it, yet I was grinning either way. My daughter zoomed past the Lily of the Valley Island, reaching the ocean. Neither of us knew where we were going— I did not know if this was north, south, east or west. This freedom; my ankles unchained from the human worries in the world below; the burdens of life gone with the snap of a finger. It was liberating, it was salvation; flight was magic. Enough to bring me to the point of tears that froze before they could fall off my face.

It did not last.

The human mind could adapt to much. Exhilaration at flying was one of those things. It was nearly gone by the time we reached another coast— somewhere north of Veilstone, if I had to guess from the rocky, grey shores and how Coronet stretched even higher than we were far in the distance, turned into a vague blue by the atmosphere's hue. I remained far happier than I'd been hours ago, steady enough within to face the rest of the day, but the realization that my problems were so small and yet had still hit me like a truck was a lot. The reframing of issues was a helpful beat. The world was beautiful enough to take joy in the small things, the world was saved and nearly all the people I loved alive. It could have been so much worse.

But when I landed, I would still be poison to Cecilia's mind. I would still remain a tool awaiting a purpose or another story to insert myself into. I would still remain embroiled in whatever the hell was happening with Maylene. I would still need to try to learn to enjoy the little things in life, as Jasmine had told me. Flying was a good start with that one, but it was the first step of many.

Still;

"The sunset's beautiful…" I muttered, my voice inaudible due to the wind and the deafness in my ear.

It was a masterpiece of colors not unlike what I'd sometimes see with my empathy. As the sun dipped behind the western slopes of Coronet, the towering peak stood silhouetted against a canvas of vibrant hues— fiery oranges and deep purples blending seamlessly with soft pinks and golds. Wisps of clouds caught the light, glowing and bending the light across the horizon. In just a few minutes, darkness would be cast across this side of Coronet.

I leaned close to Princess, telling her to turn back toward a route. The last thing I wanted was to land off-route without my entire family there to defend me, and even then, it'd be best to avoid it entirely when unnecessary. It took me a few minutes to orient myself and figure out where exactly we'd ended up. Somewhere south of Veilstone. That smooth concrete road running down south was unmistakable.

It was, however, a route that held too many memories for me. The difference between this and the two Starly was that this path echoed with the past. So many times, we'd come here to train and share moments together, and I didn't want it sullied with the current and hopefully temporary state of affairs between us. After settling on the route to Sunyshore, Princess landed on the beach with tired breaths. She'd really pushed herself, for a Pokemon right out of the Center. My legs swung over her, and I hopped on the sandy ground.

It still felt like I was moving, so it proved somewhat difficult to keep my balance. Like getting off a boat after a long ride.

"Thank you, Princess. You were flawless in the sky, as always," I cupped her chin and scratched it, and she said she'd do even better on the way back to make me happy. "Oh, you sweet little thing." My arms wrapped around her as best I could. "My baby's back. Of course, I'm happy."

She nuzzled her face in my chest and we watched the ocean for a good while. The waves crashing against the darkening beach. I used the opportunity to further catch her up on what had been going on lately, this time focusing on the post-Galactic events. Of course, she already knew a bunch of things, but most were disjointed things I'd just blurted out, like being on break with Cece or Craig dying. There was no point if it wasn't told to her properly.

Eventually, one would run out of words. When that happened, we sat in silence for a while against each other in total darkness save for the bright red flames Princess had dancing around us. It was as if we were on an island of light and we were the only two people in the entire world. Us on a beach. Maybe if I had the rest of my Pokemon with me, it wouldn't be so bad. I hurt everything I touched, anyway—

I noticed how Princess was looking at me, wings tightly wound and eyes shadowed with worry.

No. There would be no catastrophizing nor spiraling tonight. An idea to improve the mood sprang in my mind. I patted the top of her head, lulling her into a false sense of security until I sprinkled sand on top of her head—

Sand below my feet jumped at me as if it had a mind of its own. "Wha— puh!" Some of it had even gotten in my mouth! That little— "You're in big trouble, young lady!" I dug my fingers into the shallow beach and threw sand at her too, but it seemingly slipped off her fur as if she was meant to stay pure. "That's so unfair!" I groaned. She threw another ball of sand at me, which I blocked with my hand, but it hit my wrist, meaning Mimi, who dissolved into goop before reforming on the floor.

Princess laughed with a wing in front of her mouth, saying I'd been the one to start it as soon as the steel type complained. Princess followed up by calling Mimi to her side, and they wobbled over—

"Mimi!" I gasped at the sheer treason. "You sleep on my wrist or neck all day and this is what I get?!"

They shrugged and jumped into Princess' fur, burying themselves under it. Like it was a giant blanket that, I had to admit, looked comfortable.

I, however, had a trick up my sleeve.

With a motion of my hand faster than I thought it'd ever be, the rest of my team appeared around me. They were confused, at first, and Honey's subtle glow along with Cass' shining eyes was welcome this late at night. Princess blinked, calling me an unfair traitor. She knew what was coming.

"Guys, I think Princess needs to be knocked down a peg. Cover her body in sand!"

Somehow, the game might have devolved into a free for all that reshaped the landscape. Honey, traitor that he was, joined in with his little sister to fight Sweetheart and I. Cass was with me, of course, and they stopped me from being seriously hurt at least ten times that night. Buddy had been forced to join the other side due to ours having two Pokemon so good with ground TE, and he got surprisingly into it, even if he started to rule lawyer us when they began to lose.

The point was that there were no rules!

I was certain I'd heard Mesprit giggle in the back of my mind at some point, too. I wished they could have joined us, but I'd go visit them when I went to my mom's. I knew they were staying quiet right now in order not to… wound me with their words, which could sometimes be ruthless.

The game might have also gotten a pair of rangers to check us out due to a noise complaint.

Sweetheart was really loud. They must have been really confused when they came up to a team of Pokemon covered in sand.



If there was one thing to be said about heartbreaks, it was that while one day could slowly ramp up and end fine, the next could be the opposite. Today had started out well, with me keeping busy by spending time with my team. Hell, I'd even gotten over the desperate urge to leave this place and put on a couple of my old battles on the television for my Pokemon and I to look at and reminisce. Arceus, my eyes were so innocent, especially before Solaceon; before the world had wounded me irreparably and launched me down this path. Of course, I skipped over Maylene's battle, much to Princess' displeasure. It was easy to pick out mistakes now despite my older self thinking this was as close to perfect as I could get at the time. I was too tired and lazy to actually vocalize these flaws, so I let my Pokemon do the work. Most efforts were led by Princess, who kept screaming at herself in the TV every time she fumbled something. Even Sweetheart got to watch, though we'd needed to put her on a giant stack of pillows and blankets and she needed to not move off from there, lest she make a hole in the ground or something and fall through.

But then, once I decided to pick up a snack, I saw this random pineapple candy in the pantry and my mood cratered in an instant. 'Cecilia loves pineapple' turned into memory of her eating that candy, and that led into her smiling at the taste of the candy—

The energy evaporated from my body like water poured onto Sunshine's shell, and I decided that was the end of everything that day. I allowed my Pokemon to stay out so long as Buddy watched Sweetheart so she behaved, but my words at that point were more of an incoherent whisper. I called for Princess before collapsing on our— my bed. Cece's side of the bed. It still smelled like her. Breathing through the fabric was difficult, but it wasn't like I felt like moving. I felt another weight on the mattress; Princess snuggled in close to me and said she'd warded off the others for now, but that they were worried. They thought I'd been improving.

"Let's just stay in bed and do nothing all day," I mumbled through the mattress, ignoring her.

She asked me about eating, about getting some sun by going on a flight, and about a million other things that went in one ear and out the other. If I didn't do anything, look at anything, remember anything, then maybe I'd stop reminiscing about her.

"I'm sorry; I'll try to do better tomorrow."

She let out an annoyed huff, but recognized that was the end of that. My arms wrapped around her, dragging her closer until there was no space left between us.

We stayed like this for… I didn't remember how long as I clinged to my couple's ring we'd gotten in Sunyshore. Sweat eventually soaked into the bedsheets because of how tightly bundled I was, but my body wouldn't move. Time passed so quickly, when you did nothing. Rotting in bed barely even helped me not think about Cecilia, given that I kept thinking about how today was going with Maylene. I had turned off my phone so I wouldn't see any texts from her or anyone else. My good times were unfortunately interrupted by the doorbell; who the hell was even here?

No energy to go check.

"Can you tell your siblings not to open the door? Thanks—"

The bell rang again at least ten times in quick succession, causing me to cover my head with a pillow. Princess floated away from the bedroom, and around a minute later I heard the door open— Arceus fucking damn it.

Guess I'd have to face the music.

I dragged myself up on the bed, nearly breaking down at how difficult it was to even do that. The funny thing about breaking down is that it could come in the form of crying laughter, which meant that when a particular redhead showed herself in the room, I was sob-laughing with my face in my hands.

"Oh. Uh, awkward? Legendaries, it's dark in here." Pauline walked up to the bed, wrinkling her nose. "Have you opened a window— you know what, nevermind," she sighed, sitting down at the foot of the bed. "Grace. Cecilia told me about what happened this morning."

She had? That must have been after I turned my phone off, unless it wasn't in the group chat. Actually, that made a lot more sense; there was no way she was going to text a group chat I was in. Did they have one without me?

"What's up?" I got a good look at her. She usually never let her hair get this long, but it was tied up in a messy updo with loose strands she could still twirl around her finger. "Where's Emilia?"

Her twirling finger slowed. "She was with Cecilia for a while, but your gal had to leave for Veilstone to help the Gym Leader with some stuff, like you both usually do. Kind of wild to me considering your history, but you do you."

"Did she tell you… why?" I asked.

"Why you're on break? Codependency stuff again, isn't it?" She scooted a little closer, allowing me to see the wide open door. Mimi crawled into the bedroom until something wrested them away, leaving tiny sparks behind them, and Cass' massive head poked out of the doorframe. Meanwhile, I could hear Sweetheart in the living room asking what we were saying. They were all horrible at spying. "She wouldn't go into much detail— God, you don't have to look so relieved at that!" Pauline flicked my forehead.

I covered my forehead with both hands. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"For not keeping up with me, gremlin." There was a sudden fondness within me at the old nickname. "You're in a sorry state right now, so yours truly will forgive you. Having to deal with the aftermath of Coronet and now this, but this is a one time deal."

"Ugh. Fine, sorry for not speaking much outside of hospital visits. Happy?"

"Words you don't mean are better than nothing. I won't get on your ass over it; I know things difficult and that you're trying, okay?" She touched my wrist and squeezed. "I guess it's hard seeing people turn away from me when… well, I've never been the best at helping. I kind of mess up everything, but I still want to try, you know? They don't say 'do your best' for no reason."

I watched her silently, then nodded.

"Not the talkative sort today, hm? I get it." She had a purse with her that she opened on her lap. "I bought you a bunch of tea; I don't really know which ones you like, so I kind of filled my bag with them." She pulled a package out, the rustling of the paper filling the quiet space between us. "This one's chamomile; I thought it might help you relax if you're anxious. Or that's what the clerk said," she nervously laughed.

"Oh. Tea actually sounds really nice right now…" I whispered. "Could you…?"

Pauline pointed at herself with widening eyes. "Me? Grace, you know I can't handle kitchens for shit."

It was true that she'd never handled any of the food-related duties on the road when we'd traveled together. Frowning, I replied, "I mean, I won't get on your case because you bought these for me and it's a huge favor, but it's literally just heating up water."

"I'd mess it up somehow. I have people for that; even mommy doesn't know how to make anything, so I never learned."

"Just give it to Honey. Thanks a lot, by the way." Already, I was finding it easier to speak a smidge louder.

"No prob!" She grinned, and when she walked out the door, Honey had to awkwardly act like he'd just been passing by. It looked like the others had thrown him under the bus. "Do you want to vent to me? I don't think I'd have great advice, but I'm a good listener these days. Some might say I'm the best," she joked. This time, Pauline was leaning against the massive closet with her arms crossed.

I wasn't willing to tell her everything. One, it was mighty embarrassing and I'd probably cry again, and two, I wasn't sure Cecilia would be okay with that. "I guess… this might sound a little harsh."

"Shoot. I'm a big girl, I can take it." She brought up her arm and flexed as a joke.

"So I mean, how did you handle…" I gestured weirdly at her. "Everything collapsing under your feet with Emilia and Denzel."

"Ahh." She glanced up at the ceiling with a misty-eyed look. "I mean, there was never a big fight like you both had. It kind of just fizzled out without anyone having a talk about it, but it wasn't like we had much time for that stuff," she said with a heavy breath. "I was kind of in denial about it, hoping we could fix it when Team Galactic was over, but I guess not."

"Did you try?" I asked.

"I mean, Denzel's asleep, but even if he wasn't it's not like it'd work. You don't try something that failed again without changing anything, and really neither of them were really that into it. They tried, especially in Sunyshore and when we traveled to Pastoria, but nothing ever sparked. They're good friends— really good friends before Pastoria— but that wasn't enough. Even ignoring how Denzel and I fucked up at various times and the pressures of Galactic, the relationship probably would have limped along and dissolved eventually." Again, she started twirling a strand of hair around her finger. The closet doors creaked behind her. "I spoke to her recently about if we could try again, just the two of us, if I spoke to Denzel when he woke up and told him about it, but nah. Doesn't look like it's in the cards."

"Doesn't that— doesn't that crush you?" How was she even here talking to me right now? How was she not staying in bed all day, crying her heart out?

She leaned forward, the pain now obvious in her eyes. "Of course, it does. I fucked up something great with the greatest girl and guy I know because I couldn't choose and I tried to stick them together as if that'd fix everything." She shrugged. "Life goes on, at the end of the day. It's time to grow up." Pauline jutted a hand forward. "Not that I'm minimizing your problems. It's just, like… sorry, I'm still rash with words."

Somehow, this had ended up with her talking instead of me, but it was helping somewhat. Come to think of it, she'd denied Denzel at some point when he confessed and they'd kept being friends. What made me think Maylene wouldn't?

Right. Denzel was often just the gold standard of a human being, meaning he needed no time away like Louis did. Meanwhile I'd been plagued by fear, indecisiveness, possessiveness, terrified that she would leave me. Yet I felt like if I was in the same position with Maylene on top of me today, I'd talk to her about it right away. Unfortunately, time only went in one direction for us mortals, and now I was stuck in this rut. After Cecilia came back from her trip, I would tell Maylene. This way, the Gym Leader would have her to fall back on in case it hurt her more than I thought.

I… had to.

"Wow, I guess I struck a nerve. My bad," Pauline apologized.

"No, no," I said. "Go on."

The tea kettle whistled in the distance. "Okay," she softly said. "This is gonna sound really corny, and I'm not usually one for cringe bullshit, but hear me out." She waited for a signal, so I nodded in response. "No matter what we end up as in the future when we're adults— Close friends, normal friends or heavens forbid, acquaintances who see each other like once a year, ugh." She sneered, shaking her head to chase those thoughts. "What we shared with each other, the batshit crazy experiences we went through, ill or good?" Pauline looked down at her hand and clenched it into a fist. "Those will be ours. You know when you just get someone in a way that's like knowing the back of your hand? You don't have to be dating to share that. Not that I'm saying your relationship is toast like mine!"

"I know, I know." Sighing, I looked at Honey slowly trudging into the room and straightened my back. The electric type handed me the teacup, warning about the heat. "Thanks, kiddo." He left quickly after that, even though no one had asked him to. I blew on the tea, inhaling its comfortable aroma and continued. "What you said." Pauline and I locked eyes. "I get that. I get that very well. The problem is… I guess you could say we did too much together and I got addicted."

"I thought it was cute, looking from the outside," Pauline said. "But I mean, Emilia and I spent all the time together and she was so dependent on me. To dependent to speak up for herself, to talk to her parents, to even go outside in crowds sometimes. But then, she left and found her own way, right? Contests, content creation, hell, she investigated corruption in the industry on her own! That's her most viewed video! I watched it a million times." The redhead grinned. There was no denying it, she still loved her, but she was strong enough to attempt to move on. "See where I'm getting at?"

"I know Cecilia was right," I mumbled under my breath. "I just don't know how she's so strong and already out and about. Doing things."

"You were out yesterday, weren't you? You were spotted next to Sunyshore; we all heard about it."

"Damn it. I can't do anything without people going crazy these days," I complained after clicking my tongue. "And I did nothing all of today. She's already moving on…"

"And according to her, she did nothing yesterday but stay in a dark musty Pokemon Center room, and if it hadn't been for her Pokemon, she would have come back—" Pauline sucked in air through her teeth. "Wasn't supposed to say that. But don't do all of this morose 'she's better off without me' bs." Pauline waved a hand dismissively. "You just gotta learn how to function without each other."

"Right." I sipped on my tea and nearly burned my tongue. "I'm trying. It's just… hard. I look at everything around here and it all reminds me of her. I can't even go five minutes before she pops up in my head again and I get depressed. At least today. Like, the reason I was doing nothing in bed was because I saw this pineapple candy she loves. I mean, she loves pineapple in general, but she really likes that candy; it's a Unovan brand."

Pauline scoffed. "Pineapple? She likes feeling her tongue get shredded by acid? Arceus, what a weirdo."

I placed a hand over my mouth to snort. "I know right?"

Once Pauline realized the conversation slowed, she smirked. "So, uh, wanna play cards?" She pulled out a pack from her bag. "We could gamble some money over whatever game. Sounds fun, doesn't it?"

"I'll be honest, I'm not feeling it, but we might as well try, I guess. Without the gambling, because I'm not exactly financially secure." I had no idea what would happen with Poketch if I didn't make it to the Conference, so I needed to save every penny. Sure, I had signed a contract, but realistically if they went against me, they'd just be able to outlast me with an army of lawyers at their beck and call. I wouldn't even have Mel anymore.

After settling on Crazy Eights, Pauline continued talking about her own experiences in a bid to help me with mine. Along the way, it sort of turned into a venting session for the both of us.

"You know, like five months ago I'd daydream about traveling with Denzel and Emi, just the three of us for a whole year," she said with a saddened look as she browsed her cards. "I figured Hoenn would be a good pick. Birthplace of Pokemon Contests, the biggest scene and all of that." She placed an eight of hearts above a two of hearts. "Dreams are dreams, though."

"What are you gonna do now, then?" I drew from the pile; I'd gotten seriously unlucky when she only had three left. "Another Circuit next year? You can get to eight badges, I'm sure of it. You're a little simple as a fighter outside of your Gothitelle, so you'd have to change that if you want your eighth, but you'd have a whole year to figure it out."

"I dunno, I'd have to think about it. Consult my team and the like," she said with a shrug. "These days… what do I even do? Meditate, train, yell at Denzel's parents so they let us visit, but like, what comes after that, when we're all out of here?"

I frowned. "You like battling, don't you?"

"Oh, I love it," she grinned. "And the way it makes me feel. But it's like, a hobby. It's not what I'm gonna be doing the rest of my life, you know? My mother's been trying to get me to handle the Sandgem branch of the company. Small, low stakes, easy to rack up experience. I'm thinking I take the offer."

My heart sank. "But why?"

"I mean, it's like Louis playing volleyball in school, right? He loved it, but he didn't make it his job. I gotta get ready for real life and stuff. Mommy's getting old; she wants to retire and enjoy life. If I can rack up a few years of experience, I'll be able to take over. Fashion's always been my number one passion." She scratched her cheek. "You gonna play?"

Oh. I had forgotten to keep drawing. It took three more cards to be able to play an eight of spades, to which Pauline made a little cheer. "I guess… I don't get it?" Even in this state, with all my motivation gone, I couldn't imagine putting battling out of my life forever. I was hoping, deep down, that I'd get my passion back sooner rather than later, and I had even planned to go attempt to train later today before getting hit by depression. "I thought you'd be at it for a few years. Attempt the Conference at least once to get the full trainer experience."

"I thought so too," she spoke with a saddened smile. "Turns out most of the fun came from traveling with you people, but what else is left? Denzel's going to be in chronic pain when he wakes up and probably won't be able to do any of this shit for months, and even then it'd be weird between us; Emilia's going to refocus on herself and set up camp in Hearthome soon; Justin is dead; Maeve's an entirely different person and seemingly wants nothing to do with us; I don't even know Mira's deal; Chase and I would kill each other and he can't walk anymore; you and Cecilia are leaving… you are leaving, right? Even if you aren't back together by the end of the summer?"

I gave it some thought for a few moments as Pauline slammed an ace of spades on the card pile with an exaggerated hoot, as if this game wasn't pure luck, anyway. Always so extra, this one. "I am, yeah. I have a calling there," I said, thinking of that mysterious Pokemon whisperer. Even then, doing good would help. Looking back, the emotional turmoil Swoobat had warned me about was obvious now. "And you know, I have Poketch obligations."

"True enough."

"Gotta sell those damn phones," I chuckled. "And laptops. And watches. And everything else."

Needless to say Pauline won the card game. She stuck around for another few hours before she had to head back and feed her team. Maybe she'd go and battle some League Trainers if she had time as well; apparently they were allowed to battle to train. Part of those lax rules was why Sinnoh's armed forces were known to go for a quality over quantity approach, at least according to her. There was so much experience I could soak up here—

Oh. Nevermind. I was probably better at killing anything than any of them.

"What are you saying?" I quietly chastised myself. "You won't need to kill anything anymore. Probably."

And finally, at the grand hour of six in the evening, just when I gathered the energy to stand up and shower with Buddy's help, someone else rang the doorbell. At first, I thought Pauline had forgotten something, but as it turned out, Emilia had come to visit, now. There was a spring in her step that had been missing in everyone else, and she carried herself like she had a good head on her shoulders. Her nose piercing glinted under the lights Honey had turned on, and she smiled at me. It was like I was looking at a well-put together adult instead of… well, a kid who had no idea what would come next.

She wrapped me in a tight hug. "Ooh, you might need to shower. I heard the bad news from Cecilia; I'm sorry."

"Where's Pauline? Did— did you two coordinate this?! Is this an intervention?"

"Come on, we aren't tied at the hip, you know? I didn't even know she was supposed to come here, I thought she'd either be at Denzel's or down in the city with her team fighting some League Trainers on break like usual."

Damn. She was right on the money.

"I just came to check in on you." She looked around the apartment, greeting my Pokemon one by one, though she had a confused look when she saw a dent next to the couch.

"That's Sweetheart— she had an accident with her tail, so I had to recall her. The League will fix it."

"Oh, Legendaries. You have her out indoors?" She laughed, cackling so hard she complained her stomach hurt. "I'm sorry, I know you need them to help you, Grace; it's just so you."

I shuffled in place, a little ashamed of myself. "Don't make fun of me."

"I won't, don't worry. It just took me off-guard, you know? Do you want to sit?"

I squinted at her suspiciously before nodding. "Are you here for advice?"

"I am; I guess Pauline got here first, though. I was busy today helping Louis with some extra stuff for the funeral. You know how I used to plan parties?" Emilia stepped around the couch, smirking at the dent in the floor. "You're gonna have to stop this kind of stuff in Unova, you know that, right?" she gently warned. "No more League to bail you out. You'd actually need to pay for damages and it'd have a seriously bad effect on your image." She sat down, hands below her so her dress wouldn't crease or bend.

"I know, I know." God, if the League hadn't had my back all these months I'd be in prison for life at this point. I plopped myself down the couch, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. "So?"

"So." Emi cleared her throat. "I've been made aware of…" she vaguely gestured at me. "Your situation in detail."

"In detail?" She'd told Emilia everything, but not Pauline?

"Well, as it stands, Cecilia believes she is in a similar position I was in, though she says you're not actually in love? It's strange, because to me it sounds like love in everything but in name and I do think if it is, you should tell Cecilia right away, but hey, I'm not in your head. I'll believe you."

I exhaled in relief and stopped gripping the edges of the couch. If I needed to explain this for a millionth time this was platonic, I was going to blow up. "Any words of advice? I know the best I can do is to hunker down and try to be better. How did you do it? You were so dependent on Pauline."

She closed her eyes, recalling the past with a melancholic look. "Yes. Yes, I was. But not anything as bad as this, with the high stakes you both went through and whatnot. I'm not qualified for this, but here's what I told Cecilia: you have to have a life outside of your partner!" Emi was talking more akin to a teacher than anything else. "Look, before Contests and I made new friends and acquaintances, it was all Pauline, Pauline, Pauline. The thing is, it's tough with all of us because we're all so… tightly knit, right? We all know each other and all spend time together all the time, even now, like a monstrous amalgamation of trauma unable to separate. Honestly, we're all kind of co-dependent on each other. We could use a little more time apart."

"Hmhm." That was true enough.

The Coordinator held out a finger. "Hobbies. You've got battling, training and watching battles et cetera, but you used to do all of that together, even if you added in some people sometimes." Then, a second one. "With piano, she was the one who taught you how to play, and now that you do know, you don't really do it anymore because you're so focused on her." Finally, a third finger. "Pokemon rights? That's yours." She pointed at my heart. "You were actually starting to know people outside of our circle in Pastoria when you volunteered. It's too bad that… well, you know, the raid happened."

I brought my legs up on the couch and hugged my knees. "You sure got wise."

She flicked her chestnut hair back like Pauline used to do. "Well, I'm no flawless girl; this is just my input on things. I know putting it in action is a lot harder than acknowledging the problem. Which you've now both done, so great!" Emi clapped her hands together. "That's the first step to any issue."

Her optimism was honestly a little infectious; it was difficult not to feel slightly invigorated. "My dad kind of had the same idea before we even took that break. I was going to take him up on it." That was partly to avoid Maylene, but I was basically fully on board, now. "Piano lessons, meeting new people and such. Maybe I can make summer friends who have nothing to do with Pokemon. If I remember how to be normal."

What would Cecilia do? Reconnecting with her team was a must, of course, but after that? A cold dread crept up my skin when I realized this was going to take a whole lot longer than our first break after the raid.

"I actually tried to do more Pokemon Rights stuff recently, which intrigued me too," I said, thinking of my meeting with Mallory and Rood. "It was before the fight, but I kind of messed it up."

She snapped her finger, leaned against her palm and grinned at me. "See? You're already doing well, it's just about the little steps."

"I just have to keep walking," I echoed. This time, it was more positive than anything. "Thanks."

Emilia scooted her way next to me, wrapping a hand around my waist in a side-hug. "I know this is tough, okay? But you have to realize this, Grace. Cecilia sees you as her entire universe. You came out of nowhere and offered her a hand when we were either too scared to act, ignorant children or in on our parents' schemes. You pulled her out of a dark place, showed her hope, and essentially became the only person or thing who made her truly happy. For nearly nine months straight. It got even worse after this ghost TE stuff. Honestly, I know this hurts to hear, but it was only a matter of time until something gave."

I would not have said anything if Cecilia hadn't, but Emilia was probably right. While Cece had been worried about losing herself to me, another moment would have made her take the leap.

"Both you and Pauline have been a great help today. I hope all of this works to get me out of bed."

"Well, you're out of bed speaking to me right now, right?" Emilia squeezed my shoulder before letting go. "Here, why don't you take your shower, I'll change your bedsheets and clean around a little bit."

"Sure. Cass can help you."

Emi stared at the looming construct behind us. They were currently harassing Jellicent about his book. Not about the contents, but about what kind of paper it was made of. "Hm. Haven't spoken with them much, but I'll make do," she said.

And hey, I'd even try to shower on my own today.

Not that I told her that out loud. There was a limit to how low I'd let myself look in front of my friends. I reflected on the day as I showered, feeling slightly guilty at the fact that both Pauline and Emilia had immediately come to help me while I'd kept contact to a relative minimum. They were both too good for me—

A knock on the bathroom door made me realize that so much time had passed in an instant. I'd been in the shower, soaking in water and brooding for so long that the skin on my hand was wrinkly. I called back out to Emilia so she wouldn't worry and quickly finished washing (I hadn't even used soap yet). I came out in PJs and both of us stuck together for a little bit. Again, I mostly let her talk about herself. Emi would throw herself fully into Contests next year, this time trying to use her fame online to connect with the best coordinators in the region. Unlike Pokemon Trainers, Coordinators didn't have much of a culture for random, unofficial performances outside of Contest Halls because they didn't want their techniques to leak before any future contests. It was as if every coordinator was as paranoid as Craig had been.

"I don't care for it," Emilia said with a shrug. "I'm not good enough to win enough ribbons to make it to the Grand Festival anyway. The curve is like, exponential." Speaking of, the Grand Festival this year was fully canceled, which was the first time that had happened since that apocalyptic weather event in Hoenn when I was a kid. Even the waters in Sinnoh got agitated enough to have mild flood warnings down the southern coast. "I'll rack up as much experience as I can and distill it all at the end of next year to start my true run on my third. That's when I'll be aiming for the Grand Festival."

"Will people even accept your challenges?"

"Probably not at the start," she admitted. "I'm hoping to use my platform to start a movement with people in my predicament— the ones who aren't good enough to win a ribbon from the top dogs. Maybe Denzel can help; his reach is bigger than mine."

First Louis and Chase, now Pauline and her. Everyone was moving on with their own goals while I was stuck down here in the mud. It was a little shameful; the type that makes you want to berate yourself for being so useless.

"Arceus, I hope he can handle the pain when he wakes up," Emilia added, hands tense on her lap.

"Yeah…"

She checked her watch (for some reason, she was the only person I knew who still wore an analog watch sometimes) and gasped. "Hey, it's nearly eleven pm. I should probably go."

"I get it. No need to look so apologetic." Her face had contorted as if she'd looked for an excuse. I knew it was probably exhausting to keep me on the right path when she had other things to do. "Thanks for stopping by."

"And hey, whatever I said here about Cece," she said in a cautionary tone. "It applies to Maylene Suzuki as well. Don't use her as a temporary crutch to fill the gap left by Cecilia's absence. That would be the way to turn this break into an actual break up, and it'd take advantage of the girl who has a crush on you."

"I'm already keeping my distance— relax, I'm not ghosting her!" I could tell the retort had been coming from a mile away. Innocently, I raised my arms. "I'm just distancing myself. I'll still help her out when Cece leaves if she needs it. She's been doing great lately, so…" I trailed off and kicked the floor. "Plus, I'll be in Jubilife. That's a little far away to be Teleporting back and forth with limited Kadabra." Sighing, I continued, "I plan on having an honest conversation about things when Cecilia comes back."

Emilia nodded. "Good. Finally being honest is good. If you feel yourself slipping up around her, then you'll need to do it earlier. You're…" she looked me up and down. "Emotionally vulnerable right now. You could make a mistake while you're not thinking."

"Like?"

Emilia was near my front door, now. "It could be as simple as giving her more signs— I know you crave physical contact. You were fidgeting around me like you wanted to hug me." Damn, she was spot on. I must have been really obvious about it. "I'd do it, but it'd feel wrong, you know? I don't want to be a substitute for Cecilia." Honestly, it'd probably be disappointing for me as well. "Anyway, it's possible you'd ask her to cuddle, or, I don't know, accidentally tell her 'I love you?' when she'd most likely just be a short rebound until your girlfriend came back? Or tell her that platonically like you do to us by mistake? Accidentally kiss her? There are a lot of ways this can go wrong; you're kind of a mess."

My nails dug into my palms, and I felt my jaw clench in outrage. "For the last time, I know I'm fucked up, but one, I don't want to do any of that, and two, I'm not straight up evil—"

Her face fell. "Oh. I'm sorry, I— it was just a genuine warning. It felt like since you were avoiding her so much, you yourself felt like you might make a mistake— yeah, I won't bring it up again."

My muscles relaxed, though the anger ended up leaving me mildly sweaty again. Great. After I'd spent all that energy to shower. "I'd like that, thanks."

The silence that followed was mildly awkward, so she ended it with a short wave. "I'll see you… probably not tomorrow, but the day after unless they wake Denzel up. We can text though, and don't hesitate if you need anything."

Legendaries, I appreciated her, but it felt miserable to be doubted this much. "Yeah, I will. Thanks for stopping by."

As soon as my friend left, I sat down with my old, tattered notebook I used to write on regarding battles, repeatedly tapping a pencil against my lips. All of my Pokemon— even Buddy— looked on with excitement, though they acted as if they didn't. Honey even started whistling like we were in a cartoon.

It was going to be slow. It was probably going to all be scrapped when I was in a better state of mind weeks from now.

But it was time to brainstorm new techniques for the team.



I woke up the next day bright in the morning from my phone blowing up.

Denzel had been brought back from his coma.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A.
 
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Chapter 325
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 325

Fire in his back.

Denzel winced as he shifted slightly in the stiff hospital bed, the sterile sheets offering no comfort. The skin graft stretched taut across his shoulders, a patchwork of agony borne of something that wasn't his. Every breath he took seemed to ignite the raw nerves, sending ripples of pain cascading down his spine. The nurses had told him the pain would subside, that the burning sensation was just a part of the healing process. Hell, they'd even put him on a dose of painkillers that had dulled it to a manageable level, even if they made him feel like his stomach was turning inside out and it withered away all of his hunger.

In the few hours it had been since he'd awoken surrounded by doctors, who had then monitored him to see if he would be stable, Denzel had learned many things. One, since he'd woken up in the first place, the world had evidently been saved— this was the most obvious conclusion, but a huge fucking relief that had him sob the instant he woke up. No matter what lay in front of him now, it was over. Then, a cascade of good news. His friends had all lived through Coronet, as had his Pokemon. Froslass was being looked for in Coronet at the moment, but knowing her, odds were she'd left already and had begun making her way here on her own. Not only that, but the majority of his Pokemon were ready to be picked up from one of the Pokemon Centers on the island, which his dad had gone to pick up with his permission. Only Roserade would remain in the care of the Nurse Joys, but even she'd be healed within the next few days.

It was the little things like that, which could keep him smiling and thinking that life was going to get better from here on out. Honestly, he was just happy to be alive.

But he'd brought up his father, hadn't he? Life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, even if he'd hopefully never have to worry about anything of this scale ever again. At his side, his mother— Casey Williams— sat by herself, knitting some sort of mitten on her knee. An innocent activity, no doubt, but her mere presence loomed heavily in the room. She'd always had a big personality, and Denzel expected her to scold him any time now.

She hadn't changed since he had last seen her. His mom was somewhat pudgy around the waist, with his same light brown hair and toothless smile showing genuine happiness to be here, a stark contrast to her usual less-than-friendly resting face. She had wrinkles at the side of her eyes and lips. That was new, something Denzel assumed had been brought on by stress. It hurt to see his parents aging. It kind of reminded the teenager they wouldn't be here forever.

She hummed a song quietly, one he recognized from an advertisement for milk on the radio he'd heard countless times growing up. It was one of the tunes that really stuck in someone's head. Denzel occasionally spotted her glancing at him and grinning from ear to ear. She was, he noticed, uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, his mom would be nagging at something. His posture, his messy hair, his ambition— or, you know, the fact that he'd burned off his back. Really, it was odd seeing her just not say anything. Oh, they'd spoken, of course. Denzel had caught up with her, and while she'd tried to get some information out of him with his father, he had refused to give her any.

Casey had retreated after that, which was a welcome, if odd change. Maybe seeing him like this, unable to move without wincing at the pain jolting through his unfamiliar back, had made her turn a new leaf. Or maybe she'd come to terms with his condition after having been there for so long, watching over him

"What's the mitten for?" Denzel's throat rasped with each word. It had been unused for too long, and it was as if his body had forgotten how it felt like to speak. It was alien. "Just curious."

She laughed, hand covering her mouth. It was a tick she'd gotten as a child to hide her crooked teeth before eventually getting them fixed when he was around ten. "It's supposed to be an oven mitt. For the bakery."

"Ohh. Maybe I can help out a little bit; how's business lately?"

Ah, there it was. Her face scrunched up like wrinkled paper. "You shouldn't be standing right now, let alone 'helping out' anywhere; you should focus on your recovery for the foreseeable future."

Those words made him clench his fists, and that pulled slightly on his arms, where his back followed. Another bout of pain, although this one was dull enough to mask. She was right. Denzel knew she was, but she… she could have worded that in a way not so soul-crushing. Yeah, the immense strain of getting entirely new skin on his back meant he wouldn't be able to be independent or out of here for a while. The doctors had already explained it; they had a way of just talking to people that was just so fucking heavy. Like delivering the darkest news of someone's life as if it was just another day, and then immediately moving on to what to do next.

And yeah, it was another day for them. It was work.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

The graft would have to be monitored for weeks and taken care of as well. He wasn't just going to walk out of here tomorrow with a piece of candy like a kid going to the dentist. Hell, Denzel was certain that just walking right now would make the pain unbearable. The fabric on his clothes brushing against his back and the mere motion— the act of walking— pulling on it would be too much to bear.

Denzel was just someone who had to keep moving. He had never not done anything. He was always busy to the point that it had nearly blown up his team with Sylvi going crazy. The prospect of being stuck here watching the days go by was a terrifying one.

"That reminds me," she continued, hands working diligently. "I'll need to bring you food over, now. Arceus forbid you're stuck eating that dreary hospital food. You'll lose too much weight. You're still growing."

"Thanks. Can you bring cookies and pastries and stuff? Homemade?" he asked.

Her knitting paused as she considered his request. "I'll do my best. The hotel we're staying at doesn't have an oven, but I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Thanks mom— Oh. Oh." If he could have done so without pain, he would have slapped his forehead. "You guys are paying to stay here?" Had the League not let them do so for free? After everything? "If that's the case, I can help—"

Casey clicked her tongue. "That's your hard-earned money, Denzel," she softly said. "Keep it. I'm just elated to still be able to talk to you. Trust me, in a few months this will just be a bad memory."

"Yep. Hope so." The words led into a long exhale.

It wasn't as if he didn't have the money to pay. Being sponsored by so many companies plus streaming had made Denzel very wealthy this year, so he was sure he could have gotten his parents a rented home near the edge of town. Granted, his mother most likely would have refused because then they'd be so far away. Thinking about money reminded him about sponsors and how many backed-up emails he must have had. Finally, work to do.

"Hey, mom, can you do me a favor?" Denzel asked. He waited until she made a sound, signaling him to continue. "Do you know where they keep all of my stuff?"

She nudged her nose toward a small, narrow door that looked like a locker without a lock. "Some of it is in here, most of it is in a dedicated storage room for patients, like your big camera. If you want something from there, I'd have to ask the staff."

"Just my laptop. I need to talk to some sponsors—"

"Denzel, what you need now is rest," she insisted in that very annoying 'I know better than you' tone. "You woke up this morning. Can you take a break for a single day, at least? For your poor mother's nerves?"

But doing nothing literally felt like countless bugs crawling right beneath his skin. It was as if he'd been sprinting for a year and now everyone was asking him to stop. The finish line was literally nowhere in sight!

"This is actually important. I need to let them know I won't make the Conference this year so they can… adjust accordingly." That question was one of the first things he'd asked his doctors, and they'd said that while it wasn't impossible, they recommended he stay with them longer and take the L. Not like that— it had been said in more traditional doctor-speak. Basically, while it killed him to admit it, he would rather be safe than sorry and come back stronger than ever next year instead of risking permanent damage to his back besides the chronic pain that would remain. "Just that and I'm done, I swear."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "If you say so." She stood up with a dreary sigh, placing her knitting tools on the counter before shuffling over to the locker-thing. "Legendaries, where is that thing?" It took her a bit to locate the laptop. Denzel saw a bunch of the stuff he'd been carrying in there. His old backpack, notebooks, some clothes, some of his merch, potions, full heals… it was so mundane to look at now, but in a comforting way.

Laptop on his lap, he finally got typing, making sure he didn't have to extend his arms too far. Finally, something to do. The hospital's wifi was somewhat slow, but at least it was functional, and emails barely needed anything at all. Denzel would check those first while messaging his friends, and then he'd check the news.

Immediately, he opened his messaging app. From a quick scroll, the group chat's activity had basically evaporated the last two days, which was odd. Maeve had even left it last week, and Mira hadn't sent a message at all.

You - Yooo everyone. I'm up. When are yall coming over to visit?

He slowly sorted through his emails afterward. First things first, rehiring his manager. She'd been a great help and had aided with his promise to spend more time with his team, but he had given her a 'break' the last month— in reality, he'd just wanted to focus entirely on dealing with Galactic and had stopped anything content-related, so he would have been paying her for no reason. His video editor came next. If he wasn't going to be out of this room, then he would need to move his work in here. That was to say, streaming. Of course, he wouldn't be able to stream battles or training anymore unless he gave Lopunny his camera and let her commentate with some kind of TTS while he was on a call— holy fuck, that was a wonderful content idea, he'd need to put a tab on that; it would play a lot better than the react streams he was planning. Though maybe as a favor, he'd ask the League for streaming rights to the Conference. That'd be an earth-shattering stream. With that kind of juice and legitimacy, getting battlers on his stream for pre and post-battling interviews was well within the realm of possibility. Hopefully he'd be rehabilitated enough to walk by then—

So many concepts for content. Denzel's mind was going a million miles an hour to compensate his lack of agency. One idea led to another; endless branching paths of opportunity for growth. It was almost enough to distract him from the constant prickling in his back, but he'd nearly forgotten about his sponsors.

So;

Sponsors next… sponsors… okay, he had a lot to go through. First, a general message about his health and apologies for being so nonresponsive after his loss to Byron. Sure, his manager had picked up the slack, but that was until she'd been let go. Some would drop him, and that was fine. Having eleven companies sponsoring you left you a lot of leeway. He'd grovel and beg. Again, that was fine. Denzel wasn't above that; he'd never had much of an ego outside of battling and trainer knowledge, anyway, and the onus of being paid by so many businesses meant that your relationships weren't as tight as they could be unless you were a legend like Craig.

"Goodness," his mother nearly gasped. "I've never seen you like this. You look halfway mad and passionate."

His mom snapped him out of the zone. Irritating. "Well, I did tell you countless times this was my dream job…" it slowly sank in that this was the first time she'd ever seen him work. His eyes glanced to the bottom right of his screen at the flurry of notifications.

Cece - We have much to talk about and I am elated to see you awake again. I will be coming later tonight at 8:30pm if possible.

Emi - :)))) omw! looking forward to it!

Hothead - Your first message back is this bs? get a grip you ass

Hothead - Ive been at the hospitaal for hours already the docs told me ur mom wont let me in the room again talk to her or ill beat her ass and ur ass and ur dads ass there wont be any asses left to beat on god

Denzel barely reacted outside of his curling fists at what should have been a humorous statement. His nails scraped against his palms as he struggled to make sense of what his mom's reasoning was. He couldn't… blow up at her. No, he had to be level headed about this. He'd confront her when he was caught up with the texts.

Hothead - super happy youre up though ngl

Chase - Beating people up? Ill join in on that.

Hothead - Ok wheels

Hothead - Sorry was that too far im trying to be responsible and set boundaries

Huh? Denzel didn't really understand that… joke?

Chase - Got a chuckle outta me.

Chase - Kys tho. Louis

Louis - ?

Chase - Fatfingered. Mb bro I meant Pauline

Louis - I don't think that's something you should say regardless, and I feel the same way about this 'wheels' joke. Denzel, I'm still very busy planning Justin's funeral for this week, I might not make it this morning. My best wishes to you.

Denzel found himself blinking a lot faster than before, chasing away nascent tears. Right, he'd been asleep for so long that the funeral was soon. Would he be able to attend in this state? Again, he looked at his mother. Would she fight him on this? Because one issue, he could forgive. Twice? She had better not start with telling him he couldn't go.

Every man had his limits.

Cece - We should go together, Louis.

Bff - Just woke up. I'll be there. Sorry.

Louis - If you don't mind, of course, Cece.

Hm. That was weirdly monotone of a message from Grace, reminding him of the days after the Backlot raid. Anxiety rippled through his next few breaths, and he struggled not to grip the side of his laptop. He had most likely missed a lot, and it would take hours for them to go through everything. He still had no idea if all his friends' Pokemon were safe. If Abomasnow was safe. Chase being upbeat in texts meant nothing, given his reticence at showing even a sliver of weakness.

You - Ill talk to my mom

"Hey." He'd begun to speak before even sending that message, making sure to keep his tone steady and calm. Evidently, he was struggling at it. "Is it true that you've barred all visitors today?"

His mother poked one of her fingers with the needle and cursed under her breath. She licked her wound before blowing on her finger. "Yes, I did," she calmly said without an ounce of regret. "Pauline King has been a thorn in my side the entire time you've been here, and usually I'd be too tired to fight her. The little hellion has endless energy to argue." Casey shook her head dismissively, placing her knitting set and half-made oven mitt on the table next to Denzel. "Have you—" her eyes narrowed at the laptop on his covers. "Ah. She messaged you, didn't she?"

"Her and all of my friends!" Denzel snapped. The anger rose faster than expected, and pain joined in as if the two were linked, flaring behind him. "What the hell is this about— about not letting her in now that I'm awake? About having tried to stop her before?"

"Watch your tone with me, young man." Her voice was firm and unyielding, enough to make him reconsider himself, yet he didn't flinch. "I have told you that I respect your choice to be a trainer, that I accept this is what you want to do. But these…" she gestured toward the door, "people have put you in danger time and time again."

"Mom, they're—"

She shot up, and her chair raked against the floor. "Do you know how worried your father and I were, when every few months it feels like you're getting yourself into another death trap?!" Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she took a sniffling breath. Denzel had only seen his mother cry once, and it was so striking. The guilt within him was nearly physical. "Do you want me to count, Denzel? Because I. Will. Count."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing—"

Her verbal assault was too relentless for him to get a word in. "Mount Coronet; you get lost for days trying to save your crazy suicidal friend and break your ribs. Solaceon; you get involved with some cultist conspiracy because that Pauline kid lost a tournament? Really?" She laughed, as if she could barely believe it. "Then, oh my God, then you join the LTIP and have secrets you can't tell me, and the next incident is you fighting poachers with ACE Trainers in Pastoria!" She was red with anger, and her voice was so raw it was barely held together by the urge to scold him after this year. "And now this? To hear that you were in Coronet again fighting Team Galactic? And that's— that's not even counting the involvement with the Bianchis and the Obels! I heard it all on the news! You are sitting in a fucking hospital bed, Denzel! Your whole back was burned and again, you could have died! I don't want to hear about how I'm the problem for making things a big deal!"

Casey Williams' entire body slumped, the energy now sucked out of her. She took a trembling breath. She stood there, her arms extended forward, hands open and palms facing up. Her fingers were slightly spread, trembling ever so faintly, as if they weren't sure whether to reach out or withdraw. The gesture seemed to plead for understanding, a silent question hanging in the air: 'What am I supposed to do with you?'

"These people are your friends, I won't deny that," she admitted. "But I am your mother, and it is clear as day to me that they have been a horrible influence on you and your safety, yet I don't think you realize it."

Denzel knew deep down that she was right.

Years, she had warned him about the dangers of being a trainer. 'It'd be different if we lived in Galar or Unova', she would say. That hadn't stopped him. Even now, passion to be the best trainer he could be and the need to educate others about it still remained, burning hot in his chest with enough intensity to make him so excited he constantly had to work to better himself.

But after this year? To his mother, his state meant vindication. Time and time again, he had come close to death, remaining too far away from Twinleaf for her to do anything about it.

"Look, I'll put it simply." Denzel wanted to get angry again, but it was difficult when your mother was still drying her tears and she had a point. "Yes, you're right that if I hadn't met any of them, odds are, my journey would have been pretty ordinary. Eterna Forest would have been the worst of it." He might have met an entirely different group with Grace, without that tournament in Floaroma. "But I promise you that it's the end of it, okay? No more life-risking endeavors."

He would do it all again, if given a choice. Usually, Denzel wouldn't have been bothered to admit it, but now wasn't the time. While yes, fifteen year olds were allowed to be trainers and travel and be independent, they were still minors who required parental consent to let visitors into their hospital rooms. Policy was a little different if you were in a Pokemon Center (like them allowing visitors in with consent from the patient if no legal guardian was present), but this was a human hospital.

Casey scoffed, disbelieving. "That's what you always say."

"I didn't say it after Backlot—" You know what, that was probably a bad line to take. "Anyway, I mean it this time. No more fighting for my life. Hell, I'll quit the LTIP if that's what you want!" It wasn't like it'd be needed as an excuse for his involvement with the League anyway. The income would be missed, but it was pennies compared to what he was making now. "I'll be totally uninvolved with the government. Just… I need to see my friends again, mom. You're just delaying the inevitable."

"What?"

"I hate to do this to you," he said with a wince. "But if you stall and don't let them see me now, I'll just go when I'm out of the hospital. You're my mom, yes, but that, you can't stop. So just… I'll be safe from now on. I promise."

"Look me in the eyes," she demanded, kneeling next to him—

"Mom, your knees—"

She gripped his wrist tighter. "Promise me and look me in the eyes. Every time you've said it before, it was over the phone. I want to look at your eyes when you say it, because I know you."

He nearly shuffled back in his bed, but remembered the torrent of pain it would bring. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, because the truth was he had no idea if sometime in his lifetime, his friends would need that kind of help again. If they did, he would answer the call, just as always. He'd be the stalwart, level-headed person in the room they could rely on in a time of crisis.

But right now? At this moment?

"I promise you."

He fully believed everything was over.

His mother locked eyes with him, searching for something. She stared deep within him for a moment and sighed, nearly stumbling with a pained grunt when she stood back up again because of her bad knees.

"I'll believe you," she said, turning away. "Legendaries, children. They grow up so quickly…"

"Thank you. And I'm sorry."

He really was.

She left the room to allow visitors soon after and said she'd wait in the hospital lobby.



Denzel had missed a lot.

It was tough for all of us to approach the news of what had happened to us in his absence in a way he wouldn't blame himself for 'tapping out early'. For the second time since Pastoria, he'd needed to be caught up on everything going on, but this time, he wanted it all down to the very fine detail. First came one of the biggest-hitting news: Chase being paralyzed from the waist down and his Abomasnow being on life support for the foreseeable future.

He blamed himself, of course he did. It was all about what he could have done better, how he could have prevented this, how he could have stopped Mars earlier. Not about how it could have been so much worse and he had burned his back off to save Chase's life. While Chase wasn't there to set him straight, Emi and Pauline did most of the heavy lifting in that regard to get Denzel's head out of the pity gutter. I would have helped, and I did, but it just… I wasn't in the best state of mind to give out advice compared to those two.

I took over for basically all of the recounting of Coronet. He reacted especially strongly to me noting that Cecilia technically died. He'd paled and immediately stared at his laptop at previous texts before I could even tell him she was fine, at least physically.

"I don't want to speak for her, though, so… yeah, you'll see when she comes back."

Denzel frowned, and for a moment he did not look bothered by the pain, but distressed by how my face must have looked. Sometimes I wished I could be as selfless as him. Here he was, bound to a hospital bed with his back burned to a crisp and built back with new skin, and he put all of his worry in me instead of himself. Maybe if I'd been like this, I would have managed to fix Cecilia's and my issues instead of it coming to a head. Maybe I'd still have her. Maybe I wouldn't have ruined—

"Grace?" Denzel leaned forward with a slight wince. "What's wrong?"

I bit my lip. "Later. There has to be an order to things."

I continued with Coronet, and while I went further here than I ever had, telling Pauline and Emilia for the first time that Cecilia, Maylene, Mira and I had all been to the Dusk with Cynthia, I refused to tell the reason why that was or what had happened in there.

"Is that why… why you're so… faded?" he had asked me.

I'd answered 'partly', and that was when his surprised expression turned to pity and he clenched his fists.

The final piece came with Craig's death to Regice; it was another gut punch for Denzel, given that he'd been the closest to the man. That was when he'd broken down crying, curled up on himself and desperately asking why? Craig Goodwill had been his mentor and idol, the one who had set him on the path of a Pokemon Trainer and also the one who had taught him the way he now battled in Sunyshore. The man Denzel went to for advice whenever he had the time; a kindhearted individual who wanted nothing but good for the world and yet who had been ruthlessly ripped from its plane.

The world was an unforgiving place. Beautiful, yet unforgiving. With how Melmetal seemed like a force of nature in Lakhutia, a Pokemon larger than life who embodied metal, I could not imagine facing down Regice and not immediately withering away to Winter.

"And yet he, Flint and Aaron saved us all," I insisted to Denzel. "They survived the Hoarfrost— Winter— long enough to tire it out and keep the mountain's temperature stable. His death was not in vain!"

"And he's getting the recognition he deserves," Emilia added, far softer in her tone. "There'll be a ceremony for him Friday."

"The day after Justin's…" Denzel didn't finish the sentence.

"Yes." Pauline nodded with her arms crossed. "Hopefully your mom and the hospital lets you go to both. We have beef."

Denzel let out a sad laugh. "Beef? With the whole hospital?"

She huffed proudly. "Yep. They get mad at me for arguing with your mom over visits." Her pride wavered, however, something I still wasn't used to seeing. "Though I guess I'm a bitch being rude to the hospital staff who just want to do their work…"

Emilia gently nudged her arm. "You just wanted to see him, we don't hold it against you. Maybe apologize now that the issue's solved, though."

The redhead nodded. "Hmhm. Wait, will they even care?"

"Odds are, probably not?" Emilia tilted her head and hummed. "It's a good thing for you to learn, though."

"Learn? What am I, your pet? Arceus." Pauline rolled her eyes as they both chuckled.

Ah, they were having a great time, weren't they? They were kind of fun to watch. I didn't want to interrupt. I let them explain the majority of what went on after Galactic, with us all sticking around the Lily of the Valley Island. Even I learned some new things about what they'd been doing in their every day lives. Eventually, and unfortunately, both of their heads turned my way. It was my job to deliver the news about Cecilia.

Even days later, I despised speaking it out loud. Childish, really.

"Cece and I…" my thumbs fiddled together, "we've always been close. Too close. And it got a lot worse after all of this, so…" I took a deep breath. It was like jumping in a cold pool. "We're on a break."

He relaxed, as if he'd expected me to tell him we'd broken up. "Oh. Like— like after the raid. Okay."

"It's more serious," I muttered. "The problems were magnified, like, tenfold. It's going to take a while for both of us to fix them, not just a few weeks. And she's starting from a worse spot than I am because her team is mad at her for killing herself."

"Yeah. That makes sense." His lips thinned, and he shifted in his bed. He did that a lot. Like he couldn't find a comfortable position, which made sense considering his condition. I wondered how he was going to sleep tonight. On his stomach? "I'm sorry you both have to go through that. I guess that's why she wanted to show up later." Legendaries, I'd nearly considered not texting in the group chat because she'd gotten to it first. In fact, just seeing a sign of activity from her had made me want to leave the chat because I feared I'd try something. Luckily I managed to stay the course and not interact with her. "And hey," Denzel continued. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here, yeah?"

"Thanks. But I'm gonna be leaving soon…"

I told him about my plan to go to Jubilife and live both there and in Twinleaf for the time being. Granted, we'd hopefully see each other again at the funeral and the ceremony… but maybe asking him for advice about Maylene would be good beforehand.

Come to think of it.

Even if I managed to avoid the Gym Leader successfully, we'd still both be at the ceremony for Craig in Jubilife. Every Gym Leader would be, along with the Elite Four and the Champion as well.

Arceus fucking damn it. Well, I'd manage to avoid her somehow. There would be thousands of people there, after all. The real issue would be avoiding Cecilia in the much smaller-scale Justin funeral. I'd held back over text, but who knew what I'd do if I saw her?

Maybe I'd just skip. She deserved to be there more than me, since she'd known Justin for far longer—

No, I had to be there. No catastrophizing. I would manage, somehow. My Pokemon would keep me centered.

"...lost in her thoughts, just leave her be."

Oh. They'd been trying to talk to me.

"Sorry, what was that?" My eyes suddenly felt dry. When was the last time I'd blinked?

Denzel raised his eyebrow. "Um… Pauline said something about Maylene?"

Was she fucking for real? The glare that came her way was unintentional, but it sure made her shrink. "How do you even know that? I thought Cecilia didn't tell you?"

"W—well, she did last night a few hours after we spoke, alright? She felt guilty about not telling me everything after all we'd been through." So I had no say in this? I couldn't help but not like that. The redhead raised her hands innocently. "Look, I—I didn't know it was a big secret? You guys are best friends? I thought we were telling him everything!"

Emilia pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "My goodness."

"Look, you don't need to talk about it if you don't want to," Denzel hurriedly said.

"No. Hey, Pauline, Emi, could you give us five?"



Look.

Honestly, I was sick and tired of this judgment over this Maylene thing. Recycling the same conversation over and over and over; there was just no end to it. It felt like rehashing the same points again and again, and people's reactions were always the same. Like they knew better than me.

"Are you like… positive you don't like her?"

It was like I was being put under a microscope again and again. It was annoying to say and feel one way and have everyone doubt you and not take you seriously. 'Oh, are you suuuure you're not in denial about this whole thing?' Well, I don't know, Denzel, I'm going to reject her when Cecilia comes back when her relationship with her Pokemon is fixed, so you tell me! I was going to! It was going to suck, but I was clear-headed enough now to know that our friendship might survive that, especially with long distance making coping easier. Plus, she hadn't even liked me for that long!

Anyway.

Of course I didn't say all of that; the last thing I wanted was to get angry at him when he had no idea I'd been asked the question so many times. He was just waking up, and his eyes were still red from having cried about Craig. If none of us had been here and he'd found out online, he might have still been beside himself.

"Yep," I said. "Certain."

"Oh. Okay." The way he'd said that felt weird, but I had no energy to fight him on it.

Actually, fuck it. "I mean, come on. You were there when I was into Cecilia; you know what I'm like," I said with an exasperated sigh. "You saw it in Floaroma! I was nervous and I could barely hold it together in front of her!"

His expression shifted to one of thoughtful acknowledgment. "I mean fair, but I haven't seen you around Maylene at all— I still can't believe that, by the way. Maylene? She hates— hated you. Hard to wrap my head around." He blew a raspberry as he shook his head. To him, the last time he'd been awake Maylene and I had a tense alliance at best. "But like, you know there are different… ways to love someone, right?"

"Oh yeah! I mean, for example, I love you, but in a family sort of deal. I'm sure Maylene's the same; I've given it some thought lately—"

"No," he interrupted. "I mean different ways to fall in love romantically." He glanced at the door. "You saw me with Pauline back in the day, right? Did I look nervous around her at all?"

"N—no, but that's because you're you. You're like, a master at handling people, you don't get nervous. I'm different." I had to be. I was three for three.

"What do you feel when you think about Maylene?" he asked.

"Anxiety. Discomfort. Anger. The need to stay away from her."

"Okay. How about two days ago?"

I threw my hands up in frustration. "What's the point in any of this? You can guess from what I told you anyway." It was the way he wanted to make me speak it out loud, to wrangle it out of me as if he could get a confession that got to me. This was why I hadn't wanted him to know just yet, because I was sure he'd be the one to push this the most. He had been my wingman with Cecilia, and while I doubted he would try anything here given his… experience with these types of forced situations with three people, he most likely would keep digging and try to give me advice I didn't need. There was, however, no way I'd be able to resist that look. The sparkle of interest in his eyes. "Ugh, fine. I guess she was relaxing to be around and… whatever. Like she could give me something that was missing. It was mindless fun, at least until I realized everything. Plus I learned it'd be best not to rely on a single person for that kind of stuff. We're better off like this."

"Fair enough. Sorry for pressing you." We shared a slight smile at the apology. Denzel added, "Getting back to me, do get nervous sometimes, though I guess my sample size is a little low; I haven't really been in love that much." He shrugged, then winced, remembering the state of his back.

"How many times?"

"Twice. The first one was when I had a bit of a crush in school on this girl, Cori. You know, the usual. She left on her journey and I couldn't go. We don't keep up anymore, but I hear she's in Hoenn these days." He tapped his thigh with a hand and stared out the window. The weather was beautiful today— Wait, twice? That was once less than me! "I was a little nervous around her, but I chalk that up to inexperience more than anything. Anyway, I won't harass you about it, I just don't believe you."

"You what?"

"I don't believe you," he repeated as clear-cut as could be. "You can reject someone and still feel something for them. You can love someone while still being in love with someone else, especially if she gives you an escape like you've described. It's not a big deal, and I'm not telling you to pursue it or try to make it work, especially not now."

"It is a big deal!" How could he not get it? Wouldn't he be hurt if someone he liked fell in love with someone else? "It would mean I betrayed Cecilia, and if you can't understand that, then we're better off not talking about it at all."

His brows slowly creased into a frown. "I'm sorry. I just think that I know you well enough to figure this out and that your actions speak otherwise, but I'll stop—"

No. Enough of this. "I have to go. I'll see you later."

I was up before even realizing my legs had moved. I couldn't deal with this. I was better off trying to get in the groove of training again and visiting later when Cecilia was gone. I was done with everyone not believing me. Sooner or later, they'd see. I sent Emilia and Pauline back into his room before leaving and made my way up north.



"Oh. I get why Pauline called you wheels now. Sorry about her. They didn't tell me you were out and about in a chair already."

Chase rolled his eyes and inched forward into Denzel's hospital room. At least he'd had the decency to keep his pity and guilt to a minimum. "I'm not soft enough to care about that bullshit."

"Obviously. She wouldn't say it to a stranger, anyway," Denzel said. "Not anymore."

Chase looked around the room. All of his friends had left, but his Pokemon were apparently back. Lopunny was crouch-sitting in the corner of the room with her phone, browsing through whatever the Chatter algorithm was feeding her. That creepy little shit Sylveon was laid down next to Denzel on the bed, a flurry of ribbons wrapped around his left arm. It looked like he was asleep, at least.

Milotic kept poking Denzel's face with his, softly squealing in joy every time he realized his trainer was actually real and Altaria used Lopunny's head as a substitute for Denzel's now that he was hurt. The normal type didn't seem to mind. This place was a whole lot livelier than his, with how his mother had decorated the place. Denzel's pillow was clearly not from here, given the Pikachu-covered casing. There were flower pots all over, along with a picture of Denzel as a kid on the bedside table. He was smiling like there was nothing wrong in the world with a big gap in his teeth, firmly sitting on a tree stump next to an unwary group of Bidoof. It was as if they were the most interesting thing in the world to him.

He'd also been fatter than Chase thought he would have been, but his growth spurt probably had stretched him out.

"Huh. How old were you in that?" Chase asked, nudging his head toward the picture frame.

"Oh, this picture? I think I was eleven. Maybe twelve."

"What? You look six."

"Fuck off, no I don't!" Denzel protested. "You're late, by the way."

"Yeah, my bad."

Chase had been out in the last few hours practicing moving around on a wheelchair. Mostly, he'd gone to pick up his team, being now confident enough of his ability to be independent on his wheelchair to actually let them see him. They'd met again and spent the entire morning together, though the news about Abomasnow hit all of them hard. They were a unit. One that trained and stuck together through thick and thin. It hurt to hear that it would be years before they could even hope of seeing him again.

Of course, they'd thrown themselves into training right away with this new plan of his to speak to Byron through battle. Ri had been especially hungry to start again, and Chase had used the opportunity not to work out his arms— that would come later— but to work out his mind. The fight would be a delicate one where messaging would be key and all eyes would be on him; he could not afford to be rash and reinforce this idea the mainlanders had of Iron Islanders just being stupid, poor people who didn't know what was for their own good.

No. He would do them justice.

"You're looking fired up over there," Denzel said, snapping him out of his thoughts. Chase realized he'd nearly bumped into his bed and woken up that abominable fairy. Heavy sleeper, that one. "What're you thinking?"

"Thinking about beating Byron's ass. That always gets me out of bed in the mornings," Chase said, cracking his knuckles.

A beat of silence passed. "You know, I thought you'd be taking this a lot worse." Denzel looked him up and down, his stare lingering on Chase's now defunct lower body. "But it looks like you're picking yourself up."

"Look, I've been dealt a shit hand, it's true. No one can deny that," Chase admitted partly to himself. No matter how much he worked, no matter what he told himself, no matter what his actions would be from now on, at the end of the day he couldn't walk. "But that's all it is. A shit hand. And hey, we nearly killed the bitch for it in the process, I'd call that a fair trade even if it's bullshit." His finger twitched at that. Damn it, he couldn't even fully believe it himself yet. There was another few seconds of silence, and he took a steady breath. "But yeah, at the end of the day, the house has been spitting in my face since I walked in. My mother died bringing me into this world." God, he had never met her, but he missed her so much. He needed to visit her grave again. "But hey, what can you do but keep your head down and keep going?"

Denzel stared at him in awe, as if he hadn't expected such introspection. Come on, at least don't make it so obvious. Chase's friend carefully itched his arm, each movement slow and deliberate. "I don't know. I thought you'd be angry. Not at me, but at… everything."

Chase scoffed. "Oh, anger. You know a year ago, I'd have thought that would have been the play." His hands gripped the side of his wheelchair. "Rage against the world for being so unfair while pretending none of it hurt me before crying myself to sleep at night. Be an ass to everyone around me."

"To be fair," Denzel said with a shit-eating grin, "you're still kind of an ass."

"I get to be a little bit of an ass, as a treat," Chase cackled, his laughter mixing with Denzel's. Lopunny heartily nodded in the corner of the room. "And to be honest, you're the exception to the rule, you fuckin' creep. I've never seen you get mad. Frustrated, yeah, but never that angry. What's up with you?"

"I do get mad; I got mad at my mom earlier today. You're right, though, it doesn't happen very often. My dad's the same," Denzel said with a shrug. "I mean, we're all people at the end of the day. I can't see myself yelling at anyone, ninety-nine percent of the time, really."

Chase squinted at him. Even after all these months, he couldn't figure Williams out completely. "You weirdo. Anyway, I can't do any of that anymore, or no one's going to take me seriously. I'll look like a loon who doesn't know what he's talking about." Chase snapped his fingers. "Funny thing about politics is that people look at you weird if you're that angry unless you're an Arceus damn Kalosian."

"Very… expressive people," Denzel acknowledged with a nod.

"Y'know I read they have fistfights in their fucking legislative bodies sometimes. Shit's crazy, but they're my kind of people— anyway, the point is that you shouldn't worry about me. I'll be fine, Williams. Focus on your own thing; you're good at that." Chase had rarely seen such a dedicated, disciplined person. According to that asshole Pauline, Denzel had been working right out of the gate as soon as he'd woken up. Meanwhile, Chase had taken nearly days of wallowing in his own self-pity to get moving again. "I hope you'll be at my battle with Byron, though."

His friend smirked. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Thanks. Trying to get all the gang together for it," Chase said. It still felt surreal to him, to be angling for a position as Byron's Gym Trainer, but he could get more change done from the inside.

Ri had better train up his steel type quickly, as had the rest of the team. Even Wimpod had gotten a fire lit under her— not that he would let her participate in the battle, she was too precious. God, he couldn't wait to give that fucker Byron his job offer.

"Any news on Mira?" Denzel worryingly asked.

"The shrimp's busy on her quest for love. I'm not one to get in the way of that, I'm glad she's moved on from me." Their dynamic had been fun, but he'd discovered more of himself these past few months. Romance was a fucking bother and a worthless time sink, and one look at all of his friends proved him right. "I hope she'll be at Justin's funeral, at least."

"Hopefully. I hope she's at least got a lead."

"Cheers to that." Chase raised an imaginary glass. "Anyway, got any advice for this Byron fuck? Since you lost to him and all." It'd do him well to last the longest amount of time possible for his pitch.

"Yeah. You're still a bit of an ass," Denzel repeated to himself. "But sure, I've got tips. Here, let me pull up footage of my battle…"



The main way Cecilia had of judging people was now their initial reaction to her. People were divided into two categories. One, the people who shied away or were terrified of looking her in the eye. These were prey, from whom she took great pleasure from. Cecilia knew this was now as instinctual to her as breathing. Ghosts took great pleasure from negative emotions, given that was what they'd been born from. Alas, she hated that jolt of pleasure and the sliver of a smile she had every time someone was unsettled or at least shook or taken by her appearance. It had not been supposed to be this way.

Yet it was.

There was a second kind of pleasure, brought by the human half of her which thankfully remained. The way eyes and faces danced with pleasure at the sight of her whenever she met with her friends. She had been nervous about Denzel's initial reaction to her, but her old friend was thankfully too good for this world. The moment Cecilia and Louis stepped into his room after knocking, he beamed at them with such a bright expression she figured she might have been going blind. He looked as if he'd been struggling to make any movement, however, and they knew a hug wouldn't be possible.

"We missed you," Louis said, clearly relieved. During the way here, he'd made his opinion about how Denzel must have been hiding how bad he truly was heard, but their friend looked at least to be functioning. Granted, he was on painkillers. "How has your first day back been? Have the others caught you up?"

Cecilia enjoyed letting Louis speak. He was a kind man with more sweetness than he knew what to do with. She opted to let him catch up with Denzel for a while, instead retreated into her own thoughts—

No. She could not. Or she would regret her choice again, and her phone was only a mere gesture away. She'd needed to use Scizor to snap her out of a trance with a loud buzzing sound before she could text Grace once she saw her in that group chat. Luckily she hadn't used it since, and neither had Cecilia. Things would hopefully get easier tomorrow once she got Slowking back, but…

The number of times she had nearly slipped was more than ten at this point. The sooner she was off this island, away from anywhere with reception, the better. And yes, it was getting easier. Slowly. Each day, the water drowning her was an inch lower than the last. The problem was there were countless inches to go through.

Instead, when the time came to tell Denzel about herself and her death, she did so, making sure to express regret at what she'd done. He could barely believe his ears, and sometimes even she couldn't believe she'd survived. To not only have learned Perish Song, but to have used it to bring her back? Lehmhart had always been good at music, but he was a true prodigy. The impact of the news was a little blunted by the others having told Denzel earlier today.

"And Cece?" Denzel spoke up. "How are things going? I heard about the break and… everything else surrounding it. Sorry about everything, I hope you guys fix what you've got going on."

She opened her mouth, but realized it had fallen too far down to make the sound she'd wanted. Instead, a strange, low-pitched grunt came out. "S—sorry." The way her body worked was cumbersome, sometimes. "I hope so as well. It's… difficult, but I count each day I survive as a blessing."

A sad smile stretched across Louis' lips. A smooth expression Cecilia had been able to make, once. Now nearly everything on her face was sudden and violent. "We're all here for you, Cece. And look, you've said it yourself, right? This is for the better."

Yes, she had said that a whole lot these past two days, mostly to convince herself.

"I'm surprised about the Maylene thing," Denzel said. When Louis stared daggers at him, he raised an eyebrow. "What? I can talk about it. Wait, can I talk about it?"

"I'll tell you if it's too much." Cecilia inclined her head, making sure to catch it before it went too low. A mild success, she'd found.

"I kind of pissed Grace off earlier by bringing her up. She came back later, but… yeah, she was still stewing," Denzel said. "Should have known to not insert myself into this stuff. It's a flaw of mine."

Ugh. Just hearing her name was— "Maybe don't mention her by name," Cecilia muttered. "It's… tough."

"Shit. Sorry, you were right, Louis—"

"No. It's my fault for being so emotionally weak," the Unovan lamented. She rose from her chair and walked around the room. There were signs of Pokemon here. Lopunny's fur scattered across the room; the floor slick with water from Milotic; an impression on the bed where Sylveon had been. "The truth of the matter is, Maylene isn't a variable in this situation." She stopped to look through the window. It was so dark, yet it felt like she should have been able to see regardless.

"Isn't she?" Louis asked. Even he was surprised.

"She was the catalyst for everything, but the issues ran deep. Maylene will be fine regardless; her crush on her is an unsustainable one. Immature." Cecilia had seen it even more when they had spent the afternoon together yesterday. Luckily, the Gym Leader hadn't brought up Grace too much, focusing instead on what both she and Cecilia could learn from each other.

"Gra— her crush on you started as an immature one. Mostly based on your looks," Denzel said. "But you are leaving, so I guess you're right— wait, what's going to happen if you two don't get back together by Unova?"

Cecilia wanted to collapse as a pile of body parts on the floor. How should she know? "I am uncertain, but she has her own part to play and I have mine. That doesn't change whether we're together or not; this is how relationships are supposed to work." At least Emilia had told her so. The truth was, Cecilia wasn't really sure about what normal relationships were like.

"Things will work out before then, I'm sure," Louis reassured. Cecilia hoped so too, but there was a lot of work to be done. So much toiling. "Let us move on to more positive matters. Denzel, I saw that you posted on Chatter on our way here…"

Ah, Louis. Bless his soul; he was trying even if it wouldn't work for her. It did not mean she couldn't try. She threw herself into the conversation, which devolved into a social media training course from Denzel. Her friend was adamant she needed to be more active if she wanted to be a politician, and he was right. Unovans were very active online on their own version of Chatter run by X Technologies, including Gym Leaders and the Elite Four. She would need to build a following and post about her activities, along with her pleas.

Cecilia had been so reluctant to come here tonight, but…

This place;

It was suffocating, but things were getting better. Inch by inch.



A/N: Kind of a bridge chapter filled with conversations and character interactions, but it had to be made. Next chapter is finally the Mira Interlude…s? Idk it it'll take a single part or two.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Iota, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A.
 
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Interlude - The Search
A/N: Missed it by a day, my bad team, but it was very long.

INTERLUDE - THE SEARCH


"I need you to find someone."

Mira jolted awake in the middle of a quaint café. A handful of wooden tables were scattered across a polished floor. Each one was topped with a flickering candle, casting a gentle light that danced over the delicate porcelain teacups and saucers as if they'd tried to make this place as Galarian as possible. After a quick look around, she heard the bustling activity outside, which could only mean they were back in Jubilife or the more modern parts of Hearthome.

Wake the fuck up, processing Mira yelled in her head. I got you your man.

In front of Mira, Carlos loomed over the table. His body was so large that it was as if he'd been sitting at a toy set rather than an actual establishment. His only eye lodged in the intact part of his face was in the process of narrowing in confusion, most likely at her reaction. Mira's eyes were heavy. How long had she been asleep for?

Three hours. Could have been more, but I'm not handling any conversations. Fuck you, processing Mira clamored so loud it worsened her headache. Usually, a quick flick within her mind would have sent it to her pained self, but Mira had gone over her quota for the day. Any more, and the damned prick would sabotage her.

Pained Mira huffed with a feral smile. She could visualize it so clearly. That's right; you watch yourself.

Arceus damned unionizing personalities. The worst part was that they could never be shut out. She had kept them alive for too long, and they had grown far too large and independent to be merged ever again. She'd learned her lesson. No more Miras, or things would degenerate and the last thing she needed was to get worse instead of better.

In the time it had taken for her to introspect and listen to her other selves berate her, Carlos had finally focused his gaze on her. She'd gotten used to his face by now, but the public was another matter entirely. His left side retained the rugged features of a once-handsome man, with a strong jawline, a high cheekbone, and a dark, intense eye framed by a thick brow. His right was another story. The skin was grotesque and disfigured, melted away by acid, leaving behind a patchwork of scar tissue that twisted and pulled into a patchwork of faded pinks. Within the socket, only an empty, hollow hole could be found. The corner of his mouth on the damaged side was pulled upward into a grimace, and you could see his teeth all the way to his molars.

Needless to say, Carlos attracted attention wherever he went. "I'm someone who kills things efficiently," he said, emotionless. "If you want to figure out where someone is, I'd be awful at it."

He says this, but look at him. He wants to help, Cold Mira said, the permanent shiver in her voice still clearly present. Regice's influence had seeped far into her, and the cold she'd felt would be permanent. Without Uxie's power, her actual body would have had to deal with it. And it was. Mira just didn't have to actually process the frigidness spreading through her. As a result of this, Cold was often the slowest speaker due to how she'd stumble through every word, second only to Anxious.

Anxious Mira was also shaking, yet for an entirely different reason. I don't know, Mirs. What if we never find Lauren? What if she's already on a ship to Johto or something, and we never see her again?!

That was… a possibility. Not the boat to Johto part, but the 'disappears forever' part. The truth was, if a trainer of her caliber wanted to disappear, there was very little a person like Mira could do to stop her. Since she'd come back from the Distortion World, Mira had looked up and down Sinnoh, with Alakazam and Gardevoir working in tandem to Teleport her across the Region. She had posted online about her and scoured every city, but of course, despite her five minds, she was confined to only one body. Fleshy, weak and unable to go off-route where Lauren's team would be able to keep her safe.

F-focus, Anxious Mira stumbled, still reeling from the thought of losing Lauren. Don't close yourself off again.

Ugh, she needed to stop getting lost in her thoughts like this. Mira was thankful Mirs was taking the majority of her worries away from her, though. She wouldn't have been able to function without…

Well, without any of her other selves, no matter how much she complained.

Oh. Right, they'd come up with a name system. Better than them being titled, after all; they were quickly outgrowing their primary reason for existence anyway. Anxious was Mia, Cold was Mirs, Processing was Mims and that jackass Pained had decided to claim their full name of Mirabelle, which they hadn't used since writing their names on school tests and assignments.

Maybe that was why they were coming into their own so quickly—

"Mira," Carlos gruffed. He waved a hand in front of her until she blinked and remembered where she was before grabbing onto his teacup. It looked minuscule in his hands. "Focus. I'm on break, so I'd like to be enjoying myself instead of helping brats."

Arceus, sometimes it feels like you want to fuck up on purpose, Mirabelle scolded.

Swallowing, she grounded her feet under the table. "Sorry," she quietly apologized both to her and Carlos, though the ACE knew how she easily got lost in thought. "I just… I haven't found a trace of her, and I've been looking for over a week! Her brother's ceremony is on Friday, and I'm terrified she'll miss it! Plus, there's the funeral afterward, and her family's been looking for her too! They can't lose two kids."

We should have gone to see them, Mims said as she inhaled air into Mira's lungs and blinked with her eyes.

You were outvoted, Mirs said, teeth chattering. They barely know us. It'd be weird to just show up while they're mourning Craig. She was cold physically, but cold in spirit as well. A defeatist at heart who would rather wither away instead of fighting for their friend.

She could almost picture Mirabelle rolling her eyes. Who cares, anyway? You should have knocked her out again, Mims; we know better—

Quiet!
the real Mira yelled to herself, pushing them down to the edges of her subconscious. They'd be quieter there, but never truly gone.

She refocused just in time, given that Carlos had begun speaking again. "Look, there are guys in the ACE force who could probably track her better than I could." He clicked his tongue when he saw the flicker of hope in Mira's eyes. "No, Mira. I like you. I like you more than I should, but the extent of our contact is over. An ACE Trainer… shouldn't get attached. This is it between us; I hope you grow up to be happy. I shouldn't have come."

"What— hey, wait!"

Carlos had already stood up, putting money bills down on the table to pay for both their drinks. Mira tried to grab his sleeve, but she felt a cold shiver of magnified dread shoot down her spine. Prickles right beneath her skin, poking to burst out at any moment. She hugged herself and gritted her teeth while Mirs noted that she had to deal with worse every day, every hour, every minute.

Fucking Mismagius. It was a good thing she hadn't had Gengar out, or he would have come out to 'play' with her and gotten himself killed in ten seconds tops in the middle of a damn public café. Mira's shoulders sagged as she slumped back in her chair, slowly sipping on her bottled water as she contemplated what to do. She was effectively at a dead end here. Carlos had been her last hope, and he'd hung her out to dry.

There's nothing left to do, Mirs mumbled, stumbling over her words. Let's give up and go home.

For once, the rest were quiet. Mira clasped her fingers together and leaned against her linked hands. She could head to Canalave and find her parents' address with a little sleuthing, given that her father was a public servant. She just didn't want to intrude on their space and… disappoint them in any way. It was a stupid, nonsensical thing to do, but Mira was far from a perfect being only driven by logic despite the gift she'd been given. The tip of her fingers felt cold until Mirs sniffled in her head, sucking out the icy touch from Mira's mind. She'd promised Craig to take care of his sister if anything happened to him, and now that he was dead, she couldn't even find the damn girl.

"Is there anything else I could do for you, or will that be everything?"

A waitress had come by to check up on her. Mira hadn't bothered paying attention until now, given that Mims usually handled all the background stuff like that, but an eye-catching thing about her was that a strand of her hair was dyed white.

Mira shook her head. "No, we'll take the check, thank you." Mims had taken over her mouth to speak.

The waitress frowned, but hesitantly nodded before leaving. While Mirabelle fought with Mims over the usage of 'we', Mira's eyes slowly widened as an idea wormed itself into her mind.

There was another way.



Finding her had been easier than Mira thought.

Sarah Newman had arguably been the second most famous trainer in Sinnoh, right behind Craig. Their rivalry was legendary, with Craig almost claiming victory over her during the Conference finals last summer—a battle so intense that pundits still call it the best Conference Final ever. Even Mira, despite her usual disinterest, had watched that match. Unfortunately, their tale came to an abrupt end afterward. Sarah left for Kanto after losing to Bertha during her Elite Four run, leaving Craig as the undisputed front-runner to win this year.

That was until he died. Now she bet everyone was scrambling to be a winner, using the extra time to push their teams to the limit.

All of that to say that, again, it was easy to figure out where famous people lived. Sarah Newman, it turned out, had lived just a few blocks away from Mira in the poorer, eastern side of the city until she'd gotten enough money to move her foster family to the posh west. It wasn't a mansion akin to what Pauline or Louis would own, but it was still a home in the most expensive parts of the city. Mira had basically never been here outside of when she'd hung out with Grace for a while inside and near Poketch Headquarters, but she'd seen the effects the bombs had on Jubilife to get here. The remains of collapsed or damaged buildings, upturned pavement or asphalt roads, and shrines built to commemorate the dead that left the scent of candles permeating throughout. The city government had passed a bill to get started on a monument to remember the dead by, like the ones you'd see for the Great War or the famine in Sinnoh that followed due to Articuno's Ice Age. It'd be built in the center of the city and have all the names, and nearly every city was looking at creating something similar with their own spin on it.

Now that she was here, Mira hesitated when her finger hovered over the doorbell. What was she even going to say?

Hello, I'm looking for Craig's sister, and I'm pretty sure you knew her decently well. Not only that, but a trainer of your caliber would be able to go anywhere in the country, so I'd appreciate your help, Mirabelle droned sarcastically. How's that?

Not bad,
Mims said with a nod.

We we could show her our phone for pproof, Mia added.

Mirs sighed. We need to, or she'll think we're worthless.

As always, the quartet felt the need to push their input. Mira pressed the doorbell and heard the sound reverberate in the house. She took the time to get a good look at it. It really looked like one of those old places from the 19th century, where Jubilife underwent a massive reconstruction after being ravaged by a combination of diseases, civil wars, and famines caused by bad harvests and wild Pokemon attacks on farms during the Troubled Century. As a result of this, the buildings older than this were few and far-between in the city. Emilia's parents owned three, being real estate people.

"Who is this?" a muffled voice came through the door. Upon closer look, Mira could see the peephole darkened a smidge. "We've already said no press. Do we need to call Dragalge back? Or do you want Weavile this time?"

That wasn't a girl's voice. Maybe one of her foster siblings? "I'm Mira Compton. I'd like to speak to Sarah Newman if she's here, please? If she isn't, could I leave a number to contact her? It has to do with— I'm a friend of Lauren Goodwill who's worried about her and who's been looking for her for over a week. I have proof if you need it."

The voice hummed as if intrigued by her words. The darkness behind the peephole disappeared, but he'd gone too far for Mira to hear what he was saying. A minute passed, then two, then five, but that was okay. Mira could wait. She listened to her inner selves strategize while she stayed quiet and leaned against one of the pillars supporting the overhang above their porch.

Eventually, she heard a few voices again, and Mims hastily put her back in front of the door with a polite smile, wider-opened eyes, and a good posture. Mira's heart jumped when the door opened right away.

There was this thing about some trainers. People who could capture anyone's attention without even trying. Maybe it was just because Mira had never seen Sarah Newman before other than on television or online, but she had it while people like random trainers you found off the street did not. Craig had owned it as well.

Sarah Newman had been born with naturally white hair. Usually, she wore it long, but this time, it had been fixed into a bob cut that looked horrible on her. She had long bangs that nearly hid her bright hazel eyes behind thick strands of hair. She straddled the line between gaunt and thin, though with how tall she was, there was no way she wasn't underweight. Not as long as Cynthia and Cecilia were, but still decently taller than average for a woman.

As thin as Sarah was, she was larger than life in a way that held Mira's gaze for longer than she would have given to anyone else. Even Mirabelle was breathless. Sarah bent slightly forward, eyes narrowing at Mira.

"You don't look like much." Her voice was loud but flat. It was like listening to a robot speak, though it was nowhere as bad as Justin had once been. Just odd. "You say you know Lauren?"

She wasn't as depressed as Mira thought she'd be, but then again, everyone had their own way of grieving, and it wasn't like she'd show herself so vulnerable to a stranger.

"I—I do, and I have proof on my phone if you want." She hadn't used the thing much lately other than to check if Lauren was seen anywhere on her megathread or to send her a few messages. "We're friends. Good friends, even." Or at least Mira hoped so.

A dark-skinned teenager with a buzz cut came up behind her. "Who's this gal, Sarah?" he asked. Every word was laced with a tint of irony. "Want me to kick her out? Not like she'd amount to much; she looks pretty scrawny." He drew out the last word in the most obnoxious way possible.

The white-haired woman pushed her foster sibling back inside the house with an annoyed, yet love-filled groan, closed the door, and opted to speak to Mira alone. "Sorry about my brother. He's at that age, and he's a little lonely."

"Lonely?" Mira asked.

"Shaun's the second youngest, and he only has his sister left. Everyone else has moved out. Become a trainer, gotten into a trade, or are prepping for college. Plus, he's still pissed at me for leaving for a year no matter the amount of money I throw at them," Sarah droned. "Enough about my family life. Show me this proof."

Mira scrambled to grab her phone and would have dropped it without Mims backing her up. She quickly scrolled to Lauren's name on her contacts and showed Sarah her texts. It felt a little wrong to show so much to her, especially when the woman had started scrolling through everything, but if it was what it took to find Lauren, Mira would swallow her pride.

"Hm, yes, this seems legit. That's her number," Sarah whispered to herself. "I believe you."

She threw the phone back into Mira's hands, which she again nearly dropped. "W—will you help me find her, now?"

"Hm. Why don't you come in, first?"

What? Any second wasted here was a second Lauren could be in danger! "Are you sure we can't just talk on the road?"

"Yes," she deadpanned.

Mira supposed she had no choice, then.

She stepped into the old home, whose entryway was full of old shoes of all sizes. There were plenty of pictures on a drawer showcasing their entire family. Children of all creeds and ages, with Sarah being the oldest, along with their foster parents. A chubby woman with mid-length hair and a burly man whose body was somewhat like Crasher Wake's. The so-called Shaun, who looked to be around thirteen or so, was sitting in the living room with his feet up on the couch's backrest, playing on some sort of console upside down. A war game of some sort with all kinds of futuristic guns and two Pokeballs on his tooltip. His sister looked like a typical native Johtoan, somewhat like Maeve, and she was nose-deep in her phone, not even sparing the stranger in her house a glance.

"That's Mei. Anyway, pay them no mind. Want something to drink?" Sarah didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she made her way to the kitchen and got started on coffee. "I guess that's a no. Sit somewhere. Anywhere. I'll get to you."

If Sarah was making her wait, she'd do best to at least form a strategy or something. Wasn't this girl supposed to be super good at reading people like Gardenia or Grace— or at least for the latter, when she was in the right state of mind? Mira had heard that Sarah was even better than the grass type Gym Leader at getting in people's heads and that she never, ever lost twice to someone.

Mira wondered where their parents were. Work had started up again for the majority of people, though, and she'd heard they both worked different jobs at hospitals, so it made sense they wouldn't be here, especially now. They probably spent entire days away from home.

Sarah came back with a huge coffee mug, and Mira started to notice the bags under her eyes sloppily hidden by foundation and concealer. Had she not slept? Was she grieving after all? The trainer took a chug of the scorching hot coffee as if that hadn't burned her mouth off completely and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Where have you looked?"

The question was so sudden Mira wasn't sure she'd heard it right. She'd wanted this, but had expected some random small talk first.

"I don't beat around the bush," Sarah said. "So again, I ask, where have you looked?"

"Every city except Twinleaf— I have two Teleporters, so I can cover a lot of ground fast." Mira didn't miss Sarah rolling her eyes when she mentioned psychics. She ignored her and continued. "Lauren has a pretty rabid fanbase that she hates, but I was able to put them to good use and organize search parties and stuff, but all of that came up empty. I've looked on a lot of routes as well, though obviously I can't cover everything there. I considered Coronet because it was where her brother went to train, but it's closed off, so there's no way she would have made it through without anyone hearing."

Mims took a breath and allowed her to continue.

"Battle Frontier permits take months to get approved, so there's also no way she would have managed to get there. Even illegally, she has no flier and has never been, so she couldn't have had her Reuniclus bring her. She could have gone south of Twinleaf, but I couldn't check there because I'm also in the same boat and I can't fly. Route 216 and 217 are really long and it's where we really bonded for the first time so I spent a lot of my time scouring the route and I found nothing and—"

"Remember to breathe," Sarah warned. Her deep voice cut through Mira's rambling like a knife.

Damn it, what the hell was Mims even doing?!

I'm just as invested in this as you are, you bitch! she yelled back. Sorry for being fucking human and not your breathing machine. Maybe you should learn how to function on your own again!

Mira winced. Point taken.

Yeah, she got you there, Mirabelle acquiesced.

"You've been diligent; you clearly care for her." Sarah's hands wrapped around her warm mug tightly. "Lauren and I were never that close if I'm being honest with you— she disliked me because I kept beating her brother, and she'd never admit it to herself now, but she was and remains his biggest fan. Plus, with all of my little siblings, I was tired of kids, especially if they were going to be rude to me," she said.

"Fuck you too, Sarah!" Mei yelled from the living room.

The trainer shook her head with an exasperated sigh. "I'm not ordering pizza tonight."

"What? But why?" her sister whined.

"Just be quiet and you'll get it. Cheesy crust, pepperoni and everything." Sarah waited for both of her siblings to agree, though they demanded soda in exchange for their cooperation. She accepted and turned her attention back to Mira. "Lauren and I were never close," she repeated, "but I know her. I have an idea of where she would be."

Every single Mira beamed, and more happiness permeated through her right then and there than she'd remembered feeling in months. "Then we can go?"

Sarah gulped down more coffee. "Mm. I can go."

"What?"

Sarah slid her coffee mug across the table. It was already empty, but Mira could still feel the heat radiating off of it. "It's easy to see you care about her, but I don't know if I can trust you. I don't know if you'd be the best person for her to see in her current mental state."

What the fuck? Mirabelle clicked her tongue and stomped a foot, which gave Mira a headache. This girl has her head so far up her own ass!

"You don't understand. I have to see her."

"Why?" Sarah tilted her head.

"Because I—" Something she'd been about to say had made Mirs cut her off. It would have been too warm. "Look, I'm a thousand lies packed into a body that pretends to know what it's doing, I wouldn't trust me either," Mira admitted, her eyes downcast. Suddenly, the little creases and stains on the table were the most interesting thing in the world. "But I made a promise to Craig before we both headed into Coronet. I told him that if anything happened to him, I'd be there for Lauren. So I don't care if you don't want me to be there, I will be there."

Sarah smiled. "There you are."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

The tall girl stood up, her hands against the table. "You were talking like a meek little child who was so uncertain about herself, not someone who wanted to save her friend from grief," she said. "This is who I believe can reach Lauren's heart. It'd have to be you, after all. Lauren hates me."

"R—right." Mira blushed, and her mouth felt dry all of a sudden. "Where are we going, then?"

"Where Craig and I used to train after we reconnected," Sarah murmured, slightly misty-eyed. "Victory Road."

"Wha—"

She then turned toward her siblings, leaving enough money for pizza on the table. "Tell mom and dad I'll be out on a trip for a bit. Be back in a few days."



Two things about Sarah Newman.

One, she did not speak much beyond the bare minimum. This made sense, considering they were strangers, but even Lauren would speak your ear off about battling or music to someone she didn't know if they weren't weird to her first. It made Mira wonder how in the world she'd been Craig's best friend and possible girlfriend, once? There were a lot of rumors about their relationship online, though it'd never been confirmed, and eventually they went their separate ways until their last year, when they reunited. Craig Goodwill was someone who'd never leave a person to stew in silence; he'd always find something to talk about and make you feel right at home. There was this warm aura about him.

Or had been.

Two;

She was fucking insane.

Sarah's team was well documented, and she hadn't caught anything new in her time in Kanto. Her Swanna was larger than average and could fit two people with a little room to spare, especially a kid like Mira. Her Ditto was known to be able to transform into many Pokemon as well— including many flying types such as Staraptor, Pidgeot and Fearow— though the only ones it had truly mastered were Pokemon on her team. Unfortunately for Mira, Sarah preferred to use her Mantine for transportation.

Mantine. The Pokemon that swam and sometimes managed to hover for a few dozen seconds out of the water, or maybe a few minutes at most? And that was after building up enough speed? Hers could fly without a hitch, and instead of sitting safely in the center of the water type's body, Sarah's legs dangled over her Mantine's wings— fins! They were fins! Her messy bob cut danced in the wind, and she looked down at the world passing her by without a single flinch even when Mantine abruptly moved, repositioned itself, or flapped its… fins.

Ju—just call them wings, Mia muttered. Easier to stomach.

They were— she was strapped on tight to a saddle, but that still didn't help, even when Mia was handling most of the fear. It was when she'd seen footage of Barry Lane's Rapidash fly; some things just weren't intended to be tried, and not only that, she was on top of this experiment, riding it instead of just watching from afar.

But Sarah was a professional. A crazy professional, but she knew what she was doing, especially since she hadn't fallen yet, so Mira took a deep breath as Mantine sang and pivoted upward, flying through a cloud that left her cold, wet, and miserable. Sarah Newman was a shivering mess, hands gripping the side of her Mantine's wings as she'd nearly slipped, but it was not fear that took her.

It was laughter. She was giggling like a little girl at almost having slipped off her Mantine and died. Was she a thrill seeker? The water type seemed to pay her no mind besides some kind of knowing sound. A gentle, whooshing noise that carried whispers of the ocean with it, but still sounded animalistic enough not to unsettle her.

It was beautiful up here, even if the air was thin. Actually, shouldn't they be passing out right now from the lack of oxygen, or the decrease in air pressure? They were far beyond the safe limit recommended for flight! A sea of clouds lay beneath them, a veritable ocean that filled the sky as far as the eye could see. Above them lay the endless blue sky, as if you were above everything and only emptiness remained between you and outer space. At least until the illusion was dashed and you looked in front of you— to the east— and saw Coronet peaking through the clouds and going further than even that.

She'd climbed all of that.

"Do it again," Sarah said with a wild grin.

What the fuck? Did she forget Mira was on here? She was starting to think that was entirely possible. Mantine acquiesced, and Sarah repositioned herself to lay flat on her stomach while her hands were wound tightly at the edge of the flying type's wings. Wings that it pulled in as it dove— holy fuck. It was nosediving toward the clouds at speeds so high the air whistled past Mira's ears. She shut her eyes when Mantine entered the clouds and held her breath as if it were anything other than vapor.

Feeling silly, she reopened them and saw that Mantine was slowly diving and jumping in and out of the clouds like they actually were in the ocean. Behind them, it left trails of clouds that stretched for miles. Mira's eyes darted to Mantine's wing—

Sarah wasn't there.

She wasn't there!

Mira knocked on Mantine's back, finding it a lot tougher than she'd expected. Like dense rubber. "Hey! Hey, your trainer fell!" she shrieked as loud as she could. Oh, Legendaries, was she going to have to be the cause of Sinnoh's second most famous trainer's death too?

Mantine seemed unbothered, and it took a few seconds for her to get it. Out of the clouds came Sarah Newman, arms outstretched as if she were a bird with wings and cackling like a wild woman. She was flying.

Flying.

"Wooooooooooooo!" Her voice ripped through the air, echoing across the sky and clouds.

She's going to get us killed in Victory Road, Mirs said. For once, they all echoed the sentiment. If Mira squinted, she could see the subtle shift around her. This was no psychic move. She floated weightlessly beside her Mantine, cradled within a shimmering bubble of air that clung to her like a second skin. The bubble was a translucent sphere, faintly glimmering with iridescent hues, reflecting the soft light of the sky.

Such mastery of flying type energy was…

Fucking unheard of in this region.

Her hands were moist. It took another six minutes and thirty-six seconds by Mims' count for Sarah to land back on her Mantine, sweaty and out of breath. At least it explained why she seemed not to fear falling off the damn thing— Mantine would simply pick her back up before she could go splat on the ground. Newman ran a hand through her messy hair and looked alive, for a moment, before her face returned to her neutral, flat expression reminiscent of Justin.

What was going on inside her head? Mira could have known, had she been empty of morals. Maybe she was thinking about how it'd been a while since she'd gotten to do that? Or maybe about Craig and what he would have said to her. He'd been a pretty safe flier compared to her, though even Chasey qualified as a safe flier if Sarah was the standard.

"We'll be flying for a while." Sarah's voice made Mira jump out of her skin, and all of her selves screamed in her head. "Have I given you enough time yet?"

"Time for what?" Mira stammered. Her voice seemed louder now, unaffected by the strong winds around them.

Sarah scrunched up her nose. "About what you're going to say to get Lauren back. About what you're going to say to her beyond 'Craig told me to take care of you.'"

Mira nodded. Oh, she'd had something in mind for days alright, though today had put many things in perspective. "I might have something to add here and there. I don't know how she'll react, though. Like, I don't know how she'll be grieving."

Mira couldn't believe Lauren might have been right under her feet. She'd put everything off, be that her uncle or her friendships to scour the region in order to find her, and it turned out she'd forgotten to look at Victory Road. Under the Lily of the Valley Island. She'd been so stupid not to think of that, especially when Craig had trained there as well.

"Lauren is an angry girl," Sarah explained, patting Mantine's wing. "She will be angered beyond reason. You'll have to reach her heart if you want to convince her to get back."

Right. Mira had seen Lauren cry, but that was almost always accompanied by anger. Her mind whirled at the thought of having to face her mad again without flaking, but she knew deep down that she'd find the power to. It was her duty. Mira looked at Sarah out of the corner of her eye. She was talking to Mantine about him— Mira had finally figured out his gender— being hungry.

"Wait until we get to the open ocean," she reassured the enormous beast. "You'll get all the plankton you want."

Ah. Mira assumed they'd be stopping on the coast or swapping to her Swanna sooner rather than later, then. Now a little less anxious, she settled into her saddle and relaxed her muscles, which had been tense for at least twenty minutes straight.

Eventually, the silence got a little too awkward. "Can I ask what Lauren was like as a kid?" Oh, Mira wanted to know as well, but the uncomfortable silence was a convenient excuse.

Sarah worked her jaw for a moment. "Do you know how sometimes you look at someone and know they're destined for great things?"

"Um. No?" Mira hesitantly said.

"I've got a knack for it, I think. Saw it in Craig when we first met; he was just…" she sighed, her mouth twisting in a saddened grimace, "so focused on a battle he was looking at on his shitty flip phone, but not because it was flashy, or because he just liked to look at it. He was learning. It drew me in."

Ah. Mira could get that a little. Sometimes, when she looked at her friends, she saw a passion for battle that she'd never had, with each fight they looked at being a learning moment. She nodded and hummed, letting Sarah know she finally understood.

"Do you have any idea how weird it is to see a seven-year-old fight battles in her own head? Ask her brother to use his Pokemon to train? Know more at her age than we did at fifteen?" Sarah said with a prideful smile. "She was a terrifying little thing. So small, yet so eager to learn." Sarah paused, running a finger below her nose. "But there was a soft side to her as well. Lauren loved taking pictures and drawing Pokemon she found anywhere. Sometimes, some would pose for her, and it'd make her day. Even the wild ones in the city."

"She still draws." Mira remembered the moment they'd shared in that tent on the way to Snowpoint. "Though they're more moments she enjoyed in battle, these days."

"Glad she still has that hobby," Sarah said with a caring nod. "What else? She'd wear Craig's merchandise to school before puberty hit her and she started growing angry at him. She once threw a tantrum because the usual flavor of milkshake she ordered every week was out. One time her parents were out on date night, she blasted music so loud she got the cops called on her house…"

"You do know her well," Mira muttered.

Tears flickered in the sunlight. "I did, but Craig was the one… who told me most of this." Her voice was hoarse when she uttered her dead friend's name.

"Oh." Way to put her foot in her mouth. Sarah hadn't processed his death either, had she? She was just hiding it beneath everything. "Sorry."

"S'alright. Wish I could show him the flying trick," she laughed and sniffled right after. "I learned it while in Kanto— Legendaries, they're fun down there. He'd have looked at me all gobsmacked and— and I'd have asked him to try it. He would have said no a few times, but then he'd do it anyway. Because he was Craig." Below them, Mantine echoed with the sound of the sea. "Thanks, buddy. I'm alright."

Eventually, the Mantine swam past the clouds again, diving under them slowly but surely. This time, the frigid cold didn't hit Mira as hard, and wind whipped around her clothes, causing them to dry immediately. With a happy cry, Mantine continued down toward the water. They were already near the coast somewhere up north, possibly around Veilstone. What was surprising was that they weren't actually going to stop near the beach. Already, Mantine had rushed past it, wind sweeping below them and annoying a bunch of Krabby and Shellos. One of the crabs was even swept off its feet and thrown into the sea.

"Um, the League is still under lockdown, right?" Mira asked. "If you stop, I can call them and let them know you're coming."

Sarah ignored her. She'd been quiet since reminiscing about Craig; a return to the norm. Mira felt a pit form in her stomach the closer Mantine got to the water. Another minute, and they were ten feet above it. Another, and Mantine's wings were grazing it with every movement. Mira was done underestimating Sarah Newman, so she thought there must have been a plan to not get immediately shot down by the League. She knew that lying low helped to not get picked up by radar, and maybe they had a technique to stay hidden from psychics and to turn invisible.

Or maybe, Mantine showed, they were just going to dive underwater. The water closed over her head, cool and enveloping, but there was no fear— Mantine was with her, and she could feel his reassuring presence beside her, him telling her there was nothing to fear with a gentle sing-song cry. As they descended, Mantine's wide, graceful fins carved through the water, propelling them deeper into the ocean's grasp. The light above grew dimmer, the world around them a serene expanse of endless blue. With a soft, almost inaudible hum, Mantine exhaled, and a large, shimmering bubble of air formed around her, drying her instantly. Her mouth felt parched, as did her eyes and skin, but more importantly, Mira could breathe.

The bubble expanded gently, enveloping both Mira and Sarah's entire bodies. Inside, the water receded, replaced by warm, breathable air that filled her lungs with each steady breath. The pressure of the deep sea remained at bay, the bubble acting as a barrier between her and the crushing depths as Mantine went deeper and deeper into the water.

Schools of Goldeen and Magikarp darted past them, curious but unafraid, and she could see the shadowy silhouettes of larger sea creatures in the distance. The outline of a Wailord, illuminated by the few rays of sunlight which ever made it this deep; a pair of Lumineon which glowed like stars within the endless night of the ocean; a Sharpedo prowling at their side until Mantine sent it careening away with a current akin to a strong hurricane.

Mira spoke, but her voice was muffled, unable to be carried toward Sarah's ears. So it had its limits, still. Not that she would often travel with others; Sarah was a solitary trainer at heart. Mantine was a lot faster under the water than in the air, and they zoomed through the ocean so quickly that Mira's bubble of air grew unstable enough to have bits of water touch her arms and face.

But there was no time to worry. They had a sea to cross. And cross it, they did, until Mantine reeled up and jumped up a waterfall.



Back in the day, tradition dictated that anyone who wished to challenge the Elite Four and the Champion must make it through Victory Road. This was before the Conference had been set in place, before the gamification of battles. Make it through here with proof that you'd beaten the other eight Gym Leaders, and you'd get a shot at running the country. It was a tradition taken from Kanto, which had spread to all corners of Shinwa. It had come to Sinnoh through Johtohan immigrants at first, displaced from their homeland by the countless wars between the nascent clans thousands of years ago.

Today, Victory Road was a vestige of what it once had been. Sure, Mira doubted it'd ever been a bustling small town like the Ranger Stations flanking Coronet or at the edge of Eterna Forest, but no one came here anymore save for a chosen few. Even the Pokemon Center was in a state of disrepair, having been shut down a few years prior. Its resplendent orange roof was now chipped, dull orange paint, and had been caved in by a falling boulder from up in the island.

"Huh. That's new," Sarah noted. She stretched with a satisfied moan, arms up in the air as she stared at the caved-in roof. "Guess there was a small landslide."

"...I had a friend who wanted to come here to train to ensure he'd get to the Conference," Mira said. "Well, he's dead now."

"Obviously. No way he would have lived if he was that inexperienced. My condolences." Sarah climbed back on Mantine's wing— the water type was still in the water— and rummaged through one of the large bags on his back. They'd been behind the saddle and protected from getting wet as well. "Let's eat something before we head into the caves."

"No, he— he died in the bombings." It had taken Mira a while to correct her, because this was still a difficult topic to approach. She hadn't even had time to process his death before she'd started running around the region in search of Lauren.

"Oh."

"Yeah. We stopped him from coming here," Mira added. "We saved his life, and he died anyway." Life was ruthless. Sometimes, someone just got unlucky and taken early before they could be great. "I miss him."

They listened to the sound of the waterfall for a little bit. Gallons upon gallons of water coming out from higher up in the mountain. You could see the mist forming at the point of impact with the ocean, rising back up into the sky and dissolving into nothing. The air was moist and humid, clinging to Mira's throat.

Newman grabbed a portable coffee machine. Compact, sleek, and designed for convenience on the go. It was about the size of a large thermos. Next, she grabbed a stove— the same brand that Grace used on the road— and a pack of instant spicy noodles and small chunks of ham. Mira watched her slowly set everything up. Every time she asked if she could help, Sarah would shake her head and grunt. With the press of a button, the coffee machine whirred to life, quietly brewing a rich, aromatic cup of coffee within minutes that Sarah couldn't help but guzzle down. This time, she burned her mouth and yelped, heaving for fresh air that Mantine supplied to her until she recovered.

"'Guess I'll get started on the noodles. You mind spicy food, kid?" she asked, crouching at the stove. She poured some water inside and turned it on. Mira shook her head. "Good, because that's all I have."

What? She only had spicy noodles with ham? Or spicy food in general? The trainer served Mira a bowl first, and she helped herself to her first meal of the day.

Actually, I had you eat breakfast. You were asleep, Mims said.

Second meal of the day, then. Even so, she was famished. The heat spread throughout her mouth— holy fuck, that was spicy. Not just mildly, but possibly the spiciest food Mira had ever eaten. Mira knew she was reinforcing the stereotype that Sinnohans couldn't handle spice, but this was just too much. All of her selves screamed in a panic as she scrambled to drink water from her flask. She downed the entire thing before her mouth got tolerable. Mira glanced down at the orange noodles with a grimace. They tasted good, but would she be able to finish this? Meanwhile, Sarah was slurping them up with metallic chopsticks like they were just your average noodles.

Mims gasped, this is an… assassination attempt. She wants to kill us.

She can't kill us using spicy food! She's just a dick!
Mirabelle whined. And don't you even think about making me deal with all the pain of this! Distribute it equally!

Mira believed what might have happened was that Newman's spice tolerance was so high she'd forgotten what it was like to have a normal mouth. She refilled her water with Mantine's help (she was in no position to complain about where it came from) and slowly started working on getting food in her system. As Mirabelle said, if she distributed the pain, it was at least tolerable enough to eat without a fuss.

Sarah finished her food far before Mira did. Once she did, her finger pressed on one of her Pokeballs, and an amorphous pink blob slumped to the ground with a pathetic gurgle at her side.

Sarah looked at the Ditto writhe on the floor. "Sable, you're on lighting duty today; we're going into Victory Road."

The blob sighed as one, exhaling throughout their entire body. Within three blinks, they were already changed into a Magnemite. Even their eye, which was a Ditto's biggest giveaway during their transformation, was impossible to distinguish from a normal Magnemite. This Ditto was as good as Abel's at transforming into things.

"This is Sable. They don't speak very much, and they won't be annoying, just don't touch them in any way, shape, or form. They don't like it." The Ditto's magnets twirled at their side, and they settled on their trainer's lap, as if to say 'except for you!' They changed again, this time mimicking their trainer's appearance exactly as their legs happily tapped the ground. "If you're going to be heavy, get off my lap," Sarah complained.

Ditto huffed, instead opting to go chat with Mantine. The way they moved their hands instead of speaking— yes, that was sign language, Mira was sure of it.

"Intrigued?" Sarah questioned as she sipped on her coffee.

"Kind of?" Mira admitted.

"The Game Corner had them battle in their fighting rings. They were one of their most famous fighters, with all the transforming and whatnot, and they could trick viewers into thinking another Pokemon was fighting." Sarah gripped her cup tightly. "At some point, Sable just… got tired of it. They just laid down and stopped fighting. They threw them out in a dumpster like they were a broken appliance and not a living being." Her usually deep voice was even lower, almost threatening, until the moment passed and her face lit up again. "I'm glad that place finally shut down."

"So they're a rescue?"

When Sarah just nodded and decided that was the end of the conversation, Mira slowly finished her noodles. Sarah cleaned up their makeshift camp, putting everything back on Mantine, and told the water type to wait for them here and to go eat again if they ever got hungry. She'd brought too much stuff for two people to carry inside a cave.

Then;

She let out her starter.

The Dragalge drifted through the air like a queen in her domain, her movements slow and deliberate. Her dark, kelp-like fronds flowed behind her like a flower, and it pulsated with a bright red. Her dark pupil swiveled toward Mira, and she felt the instinctive need to bow her head. The edges of her body were akin to tough driftwood, still supple enough to bend and flow with the air and water, and if Mira squinted enough, she could see the poison shimmer beneath Dragalge's air sack. Sarah smiled at the poison type, explaining the situation at hand.

"I'd let out Weavile, but you'd pass out," Sarah added, unbothered. "We've trained his Pressure to the highest level."

Mira wanted to say she could handle it, but the truth was, she had no idea if diffusing it between her other selves would work properly or if it'd just hit each of them with the same strength as the Distortion World had, to the point where they had all cowered and left her.

"Fine. If you're sure you can handle the wild Pokemon?" Mira shifted across the ground, clearly nervous as the reality of the situation set in. Sure, she'd been in awful situations before— Solaceon, the raid in Pastoria, Coronet, and beyond— but she still wasn't used to how nervous it made her. "You have more Pokemon, don't you?"

Sarah didn't respond. Instead, the thin woman hoisted her bag on her back and made her way into the cave. Mira hastily followed without a word, as did Dragalge and Ditto. Unlike Coronet, whose entrances were wide, cavernous maws that seemed to whisper in your ear with the wind, Victory Road only had a single entryway, and it was tight. It was almost hidden, a narrow, jagged opening carved into the face of the mountainside. It was no grand gateway, but a dark, winding crevice, just wide enough for a single person to squeeze through, forcing them to turn sideways and duck beneath the rough stone. Sable turned back into a Magnemite and flashed light deep into the corridor, showing that it'd remain this claustrophobic for at least one hundred feet forward. Dragalge, meanwhile, easily fit through the narrow passage, eyes scanning the pathway ahead and with a subtle, turquoise glow around her skin.

At least the ground was even and easy to walk on. Mira slowly pushed herself along the facade, her hands touching the rough, bent stone. The jagged rock jutted out at odd angles, catching the light and casting sharp, shifting shadows that danced upon the walls.

Denzel had told Mira about a first-year who had decided to come train here after her eighth badge, shortly before the bombings. One of the few who'd gotten that far. A certain Marley, whose starter was an Arcanine. Mira figured anyone must have been insane to go here of their own volition, especially if they were that green. Even Sarah had agreed, in Justin's case.

At last, they made it past the tight entrance. Mira sagged against her knees and took a few deep breaths. It had gotten real tight near the end to the point where she could barely take a full breath. The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and salt. With Sable's help, they could see far and wide within Victory Road. Unlike Coronet, this was a cavern of winding paths and ever changing elevation, like it had formed naturally instead of being crafted as a throne.

Pokemon here were not as self-contained to their spots, either. Whereas in Coronet, she would have stumbled on Machop, Geodude, Graveler or similar weaker Pokemon, here in Victory Road, she found Golem, a Machamp, Golbat by the hundred clinging to ceilings and even an Aggron, all spread throughout the cave and screaming at the light brought upon them. Instinctively, Mira released her Alakazam and Gardevoir, who took to their roles easily given that they were used to being released in dangerous situations without context.

"We're just passing through," Sarah tried, unbothered by all the attention.

Few attacked. Most eyes were glued to Dragalge, who simply exhaled and somehow managed to still be threatening. Those that did— the Golem and a group of Golbat— were immediately choked out by poison so thin Mira could barely see it and immediately rendered unconscious. The noxious air had wormed its way up their lungs, making sure they wouldn't even need to breathe to feel its effect. A dozen Golbat rained from the sky, and the Golem fell on its back, eyes rolled up into its head.

"What can you do?" Sarah scratched her head, looking at her Dragalge's work. "I haven't been here in a while, so I guess they were going to attack. Follow."

Mira jogged behind her large strides as she talked to Alakazam and Gardevoir. The latter found herself neatly nestled in her head, spreading a cold feeling through Mira's brain. Here, she could chat with her other selves and get as much attention as she craved. Mia especially was soothed by Gardevoir's company. The feeling diffused into her, and she hung onto the fairy type's arm as they made their way deeper into the cave.

"Usually, you'd train by challenging Pokemon open to a fight. That way, you both get something out of it," Sarah explained. "Things don't always work out that way. Anyway, it's good that you're here, you're going to use your psychics to ask the Pokemon around here if they've seen Lauren."

"Are any open to speak?" Mira asked, looking around. Most had run off when Dragalge had shown off her power.

"I'm sure we'll find one eventually. Knowing Lauren, she's deeper in the cave, anyway. She has eight badges, these Pokemon would challenge her some, but not much. She'll be looking for something harder than this."

So they made their way down, spending hours traveling through Victory Road. Mira knew that if she'd been alone, this experience would have been harrowing and torture, but Sarah's presence made it a walk in the park, save for the tough parts to navigate or climb. Luckily, Pokemon served as a good substitute for climbing gear.

Most Pokemon did not want to give them the time of day, mostly due to Dragalge's menacing presence. It took them nearly a full day to stumble upon a nice Probopass that Gardevoir and Ditto managed to charm, very deep into the cave. Luckily for them, they'd not only stumbled upon the remains of a camping site a few hours earlier, and Probopass had seen a human girl with jet black hair walk through here. In exchange for information, the steel type demanded to test itself against Dragalge, a battle which it handily lost, but Sarah made sure to help him up with potions, at the very least.

They were willing to put off sleep, if it meant finding her faster. Mira punted off her tiredness to her other selves save for Processing, which for once they didn't complain about, and Sarah hadn't slept a wink since they'd met, but the woman seemed to sustain herself off caffeine. Probopass led them deeper into the cave in the direction Lauren had gone in until they made it to a cliff.

It was only when Sable illuminated the area that Mira saw the way forward. A river system continued to another waterfall inside the cave, its splashing audible even from up here. There was only one path that remained— a straight, narrow trail hugged by the cliff and the wall. Probopass made its way back to its home, and they proceeded deeper in. All Mira could do was hope they'd gone in the right direction.

Twenty-eight hours after they'd entered Victory Road, they found her.

Lauren was a mess, as expected. Dirtied clothing, tangled hair, bloodshot eyes, and a face smeared by dirt and dust. She was huddled next to her Sceptile, who was the only Pokemon with her. What caught Mira's eyes was the scarlet red on her hands. Dried blood from wounds in her nails, probably from using them around the cave too much. Not only that, but her glasses were cracked, and one lens was gone entirely.

She had headphones on, meaning she hadn't heard them yet, but Sceptile quickly caught wind of their presence. He warned her by shaking her a little— she seemed catatonic— but after a few attempts, she raised her head and looked at Mira and Sarah. Lauren flinched, nearly deciding to run away right then and there, but she stood her ground when she realized who was there.

A confused "what?" was all the teenager could muster. With a sluggish movement of her legs, she slowly stood up as her eyes narrowed. "What in the world are you doing here?" Her gaze seemed antagonistic, particularly toward Sarah.

Mira looked up at her benefactor, but she shrugged and nudged her forward.

This was her job.

"Thank the Legendaries, you're safe." Mira found herself gasping. Now that she knew Lauren was at least alive, she could at least relax a little. "I've been looking for you all over ever since I came back from Coronet, Lauren. It's not safe for you here—"

"I'm training. Leave." The interruption was sharp and brutal, as if Lauren couldn't afford her a care in the world.

It hurt like hell.

"You're clearly unwell. You've lost weight!" Mira insisted, fists clenching. Her cheekbones were more sunken in than usual. "I'm sorry for your loss, Lauren. I understand what it's like to lose someone close to you. I understand and can help you. But you're hurting yourself. It's time to go home, or you'll miss the ceremony and the funeral—"

Lauren lashed out, face reddening with anger, "I don't want to go there! I don't want to!" Ah. Was she was burying her head in the sand, unwilling to acknowledge that her brother had died. "Nearly all of the people who'll be at the fucking ceremony, they won't have known him! They were just fans! Fakes! They're all using him; he doesn't… he doesn't deserve this," she sobbed, face hidden in her hands.

It was true. Poketch, the government, and many people were going to use Craig's death for their own gain. That was how the world worked. It was unfair, unjust, and miserable, but that was how things went.

But she couldn't say that.

"What about his Pokemon?" Mira softly asked. "What about your parents? They're worried sick about you, and they're all grieving too."

"Roxie…" Lauren muttered. "No. No, get out of my head!" she snapped, wildly gesturing with her hands. "Enough of this."

Damn it. "I won't leave until I get you out of here." Worst case scenario, Sarah would have to do something about this, not that she seemed particularly inclined to. "What can I do to change your mind?"

Lauren's back slowly straightened, and she ground her teeth and hoarsed out a single word. "Battle."

"...what?"

"I was doing well until you showed up. I want nothing to do with you," Mira felt like she'd been stabbed in the heart, "or Sarah Newman, or any of you. You abandoned me, left me alone, and I nearly died to a bomb! And you still won't tell me what really happened in Coronet, I bet!" Lauren's tone rose the more she talked. "You showed up here, so let's battle so you weren't a waste of time."

Disheveled, crass, dirty and standing like she was just so exhausted, yet possessed enough to keep going. Lauren breathed battling, nourished herself through battling, existed through battling, grieved through battling. She was a born fighter, thrashing to free herself of the pain she was continuously feeling at the demise of her brother. Teeth gnashing, hands bleeding, and with every shivering word was enough anger to burn this entire cave to smithereens.

"I'll arbitrate," Sarah said.

Lauren let out some kind of feral, annoyed growl. "Acceptable. Volis, get ready."

Mira nodded, not knowing what to say. She wasn't a full-fledged, committed trainer; she couldn't win. Lauren already had her starter out, the lean Sceptile whose leaves Mira knew were sharp enough to cut through stone. The grass type wasn't wounded at all from his time in Victory Road, and he gave Mira an apologetic stare. He knew what he had to do. Sceptile crouched with a reptilian hiss that grew raspy and pointed the longer it went on. Lauren raised a hand, and he silenced himself as soon as she closed a fist. She tweaked her earphones, and Mira could hear her music blasting from here, reverberating through the cave even through the device. A cacophony of screams right at home with heavy metal.

"This will be," Lauren gasped, "a six-on-six battle with no switches. Send out. Your Pokemon." She gnawed at her overgrown nails, tearing at pieces of it, and Mira flinched when their eyes met.

It was as if she'd been looking at a beast. There was nothing but dark anger at the world in them. A desire to see it all blown apart, piece by piece, for taking Craig away from her. Mira shared a knowing look with her psychics and recalled Alakazam.

She'd forgotten what it meant, to be a trainer.

It was to speak through battle.

"Gardevoir," she rasped out. "You're up."

At once, the fairy said, gliding a few feet ahead.

Drip. Drip. Drip. The constant echo of drops of water, seeping into the ground high above and raining through the cave's ceiling. Everything was so quiet, save for the subtle muffled music, the river and waterfall far below, and Mira's every breath. Sarah raised her arm, and sweat dripped down Mira's neck. Understanding drifted through her, one where all of her selves would have to work together in tandem to not crash and burn and have a chance at mending things.

Then;

She brought it down.

Mira was no full-fledged trainer capable of standing up to the best, but she had a few tricks of her own.

"Nature's Wrath!" Lauren barked out.

When Sceptile howled at the sky, the cave glowed green, pulsating like veins in a body. Vines creaked through the floor, old vegetation that had been hidden away, greedily sucking onto the cave's moisture for sustenance. Mira knew Lauren, and she'd known that she'd start with arguably the strongest move in her arsenal. Every single inch of the cavern hummed, yet Mira had a precious resource to ready herself for what was coming.

Time to think. Nature's Wrath was, at its core, unlike Frenzy Plant due to how it had been adapted specially for Sceptile. It had been a move she'd been working on to fight Candice for her eighth badge, and the mere act provided Sceptile not just thorny plants to batter his opponent with, but a resource to use whenever he was obstructed by the weather.

"Let's reach her heart," Mira whispered. "Lance."

Gardevoir's foot grew hot, bursting in flames as she kicked the floor. Rocks erupted, glowing hot from the fire as they coalesced around a pink baton that grew from the fairy type's hands. They formed into a sharp, elongated pointy end that glowered and vibrated with glamour and psychic energy, along with a counterweight near the end of the shaft for balance.

With a menacing hiss, Sceptile prowled low, jumping forward so quickly he turned into a blur of green and red. Fast. So fast Mira had only seen Grace's Electivire go faster. Her thoughts were quicker, still, but her mouth was a human's. Gardevoir found herself under assault from hundreds of coiling vines bursting from the wall to her right and the floor, yet she cut them apart with a deft move of her lance. With every movement, the weapon emitted a high-pitched, humming sound that had a continuous, oscillating quality, akin to a powerful electrical buzz, and it left trails of light in the air.

It was a distraction. Sceptile was already there. A neon green blade grew from his wrists, and he cut through Gardevoir's robe, bleeding her. It splattered on the walls of the cave, yet the psychic's lance caught fire, and she started dodging. Narrowly, at first, so much so that Sceptile grazed her cheek, arms, legs, and neck with each strike. Her eyes shone with the power of Future Sight, and a slice upward from her lance stabbed into Sceptile's gut, predicting his dodge to the left toward the cliff.

"Mystical Fire!" Mira yelled.

Sceptile caught ablaze; a brilliant torch of blue flame that had spread from the tip of Gardevoir's lance to his entire body. The grass type croaked in pain, but neither the heat nor the stab wound stopped him from moving. His hand went for Gardevoir's throat, sucking her energy with Giga Drain until she managed to Teleport away.

Seeing a second into the future didn't matter if she didn't have time to react.

He's trying to throw you off the cliff, Mira warned Gardevoir. If I have to recall you, you're done.

She was done talking, at least with her. It'd put them at too much of a disadvantage; her mouth was too slow.

The fairy type brushed against her throat, where she found seeds growing around her and feeding Nature's Wrath directly. She attempted to burn them off or rip them off her, but they were attached too well for her to use her hands and they blew up on her head as soon as they burned. Fuck. Gardevoir shook her head, burned and smoking with spores and dust, which sent her into a wild coughing fit. Low powered spores, unlike Roserade or Tangrowth's, but powerful enough to bother her nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Sceptile cut apart one of the vines, regenerating the damage from the burns. Scorched scales turned as good as new, and his eyes snapped open with renewed vigor. Every second, she'd have to strike down another vine bursting from the wall, trying to keep her still by clenching around her ankles or just straight up stabbing her.

"Attack, attack, attack!" Lauren yelled, stomping a foot down. "Don't let them collect themselves!"

Try Psychic to land some hits! Mira thought.

Gardevoir snapped her lance over her knee, dividing it in two, and pink light took over her eyes as another pointed end grew using more rocks from the cave. Sceptile slowed when he got within ten feet due to Psychic, but his momentum carried him enough for him to tackle Gardevoir to the ground. Now on top of her, he once again seized her throat, but the psychic threw half of her lance into the overhang above. The implement lodged itself into the ceiling, creating a spiderweb-like crack that spread throughout the rock until it collapsed on both of them.

With an annoyed grunt, Sceptile turned and brought his hand up. Vines stabbed through the debris that would have fallen on him, keeping the stones afloat, and he finished the job with Gardevoir, throwing her over the cliff—

Until she snapped back to where she'd once been with Teleport, skidding across the rock. Mira's hand had already beelined to her Pokeball, but Gardevoir was a fighter. With half her lance remaining, she commanded the rocks closest to her, snapping them into a hundred weapons to throw at Sceptile.

It didn't matter. He was too fast, too agile, he too easily cut them apart with Leaf Blade, and the few of the moves that hit, he just regenerated using Nature's Wrath. The focus required left Gardevoir open to more hits, and the grass type had nearly rewritten the entire battlefield to his advantage. There was not an inch of ground under his influence without a vine to use, a seed to explode, or spores to unleash. Sceptile was a hit-and-run fighter meant to outlast his opponents, not a Pokemon meant to fight head-on without a plan like her Magmortar.

They were going to lose. We have to go big. The next fighter will use your work as a stepping stone, Mira quickly communicated. Moonblast!

Concentration was not something easy to come by, when fighting Lauren's Sceptile. At times, it seemed like the gecko was everywhere at once. Gardevoir used a few of the rocks at her disposal to turn her pointed lance into a blade. Scaffolding. Mira's sworn knight and protector allowed the blade to grow to twice her size, and it fell upon the ground with the weight of her belief, stabbing through it like butter. Lauren wasn't in the best state of mind to strategize, so Sceptile was still on the attack. With one smooth motion, a push of his leg against one of his vines, he rushed toward Gardevoir in hopes of finishing her off.

The moon materialized, wrapping around her sword. Like steel folded hundreds of times into the sharpest and sturdiest of blades.

She wielded the moon as a weapon. Despite its size, the hilt was slender, elegantly curved, and shimmered with a silver light, as if forged from the purest moonlight. The blade itself was sharp and sleek, its surface a mirror of the night sky, reflecting the stars that dotted the heavens above. Even Sceptile looked unsure of himself for the first time, and the mere energy wafting off the sword was enough to cripple his plants.

Gardevoir was her ace. She would not go down without a fight.

Land a hit, Mira pleaded.

Blade slung over her shoulder—

Gardevoir Teleported inches away from Sceptile with her sword already in motion. He ducked under the blade, but he found himself still gouged by the sliver of power wrought by the cosmos and was sent careening off to the side. He slid against the ground on all fours and threw himself back into the fight, wrist-blades dimming with darkness. Knock Off or Throat Chop? It was masked too well to know. The tip of Gardevoir's sword zapped with lightning that flew in an arc toward Sceptile. With a grin, he jumped and twisted mid-air. He arranged his vines like a rubber band anchored into the ceiling that he used to go so fast Mira barely registered the Throat Chop hitting the back of her Gardevoir's neck.

The knight fell on one knee. Cracks of light appeared along the blade until it dissolved. In that moment of rapture, the blade exploded with untold power that washed over Mira and made her see stars until she blinked them away. Lauren was seemingly in the same boat, rubbing her eyes with a savage grin at her first win. There were no psychic barriers here.

Just fighting.

"Gardevoir is unable to battle," Sarah said, tone finally gripped with interest. "Mira, send out your next Pokemon."

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she had a look at the state of the battlefield. Rocks hung like satellites from the ceiling, and thorny plants littered the entire floor. It was similar to Vine Terrain, but different in the way it served to give Sceptile far more mobility instead of swarming opponents with more vines than they knew what to do with. The hair on her arms stood on end as she racked her brain for an answer.

Exeggcute was a no-go; they were too weak to do anything to Sceptile. Alakazam, she'd rather save for the last leg of the fight as a force multiplier. It'd have to be anyone else.

Like an old-school trainer, Mira threw her next Pokeball up, releasing Magnezone onto the field. His bulk and flight would give him the advantage, and he too, could use fire type attacks from Tri-Attack. Lauren cracked her neck, a sound that the cave carried, and she licked her lips.

"Enough holding back," she decided. "Dragon Dance into Low Kick, let's go!"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit! "Reflect and keep your distance! Hit and run!" Mira yelled.

Turquoise light overtook every inch of Sceptile's skin as the grass type allowed himself to come under the influence of draconic energy with a wild, yet short ritualistic dance. Speed that once was at least manageable turned to out of this world. Sceptile flickered in and out of Mira's field of view, each movement creating a veritable storm of leaves that harmed even Magnezone's tough shell. Everything was so confusing; Sceptile was barely visible, camouflaged behind his Leaf Storm. It was so loud she could barely hear herself think, and that was what she was supposed to be good at.

Lauren cackled wildly, her hands tracing the contours of her face, and Sceptile jumped just as the thin layer of reflective light finished coating Magnezone.

He'd used one of his plants as a trampoline. Magnezone fired rays of electricity and fire at him, but he was so fast he was already there before they could fire off. Sceptile used his momentum to carry enough strength in his kick to dent metal. He'd gone so fast in fact that his feet and skin sizzled from the heat born from the friction in the air. Magnezone crashed higher into the ceiling, where he was assaulted by plants and beaten with rocks until he fell to the ground unconscious.

Without future sight and Teleporting, that was where she was left. The gap was too wide to hope to close with her usual tactics. Mira pushed the back of her teeth with her tongue and wondered how in the world she was going to beat this thing? She wasn't a good trainer, all she had were feelings and hope.

Feelings and hope had never won her anything.

"Are you watching me, Craig?" Lauren asked the cave, turning in every direction with each word. "I'll do it. I'll win it in your name!"

Mira never knew shivering in pity was possible, yet she'd done just that. She wanted to win the Conference in her brother's name to carry his legacy, to bring his will over the finish line. She'd given up her individuality for this, as if it would bring her brother back. She had let herself be wounded, lost weight and possibly not slept in days. This was self-harm. Mira shut her eyes to stop the avalanche of tears and recalled her Magnezone.

Focus, every single one of her minds thought. A closer look at Sceptile showed the grass type breathing heavily. Even if he could regenerate faster than they could deal damage, eventually, exhaustion would catch up with him. It had to.

"Oh, shit. I nearly forgot." Sarah scratched the back of her neck. She'd been so interested in the battle she hadn't announced Magnezone being defeated. "Magnezone is unable to battle. Mira, send out your third Pokemon. Gosh."

Mira released Porygon2 next. The digital Pokemon was so small as it hovered in the air. It wasn't specialized for fighting, but Magnezone was and it had done nothing to help. Mira had to think outside the box, if she wanted to claw at least one victory away from Lauren.

"Download!" Mira ordered.

Within the next second, Porygon2 was faster. She'd stolen Sceptile's hastened speed and made it hers. Sceptile crouched on one knee, closing one eye to aim little shurikens toward the normal type, but all he hit was the wall behind her. The little leaves lodged themselves deep into the rock.

Mira continued with haste, "attack mode." Porygon2 continued to avoid every attack like the wind, but something in her eyes changed. Intent. The intent to harm, the intent to fight, the intent to attack. "Conversion into grass."

She shimmered green, and the deed was done. When Sceptile finally landed a hit, having come closer to corner Porygon2, it had minimal effect on her new outer coat of grass TE. Mira ordered for a Lock-On followed by Tri Attack, and the electric, ice and fire beam all converged on Sceptile's chest. The grass type's Dragon Dance was so well-honed that even Porygon2's attacks went faster. However, the Leaf Storm was still raging, and it was difficult to be delusional enough to think they would outlast Sceptile.

Lauren pointed up at Porygon2 "Jump again— Brick Break, this time!"

Sceptile's entire arm turned bright white as the floor bent to accommodate him. In a blur, he propelled himself onto the wall and then had another jump toward Porygon2. Mira knew that Brick Break would have a chance to break past Conversion, yet she was undeterred.

"Glitch through!"

She'd barely had the time to finish that sentence before Sceptile found his hand an inch away from Porygon2. Just before the attack made contact, Porygon2's form began to shimmer and distort, its smooth, angular body breaking into jagged, pixelated fragments. Like a game character phasing through a wall, she made it through the Brick Break unphased and exploded in a burst of ice that clung to Sceptile's scales. The grass type let out an annoyed hiss as it cut into another vine and garnered the scant energy, making efficient use of it to heal himself. A seed exploded on the wall Porygon2 was closest to, a signal to keep away from anywhere Sceptile might influence.

Porygon2 followed up with another Lock-On, eyes narrowing toward her opponent—

"Change of plans," Lauren growled. "Leaf Tornado."

The storm suddenly intensified in a circle around Porygon2, and the normal type struggled to tell where exactly Sceptile was, from the way the Tri Attack went horribly wide and beyond the cliff. The Leaf Tornado was slowly bringing the normal type toward the walls, where Sceptile would be able to use his Nature's Wrath more efficiently to hit her. Even now, the cavern was rumbling with the advent of more vegetation. Was his stamina fucking bottomless?

Once, twice, thrice, Porygon2 tried to break out using a burst of flames, but hers were even weaker than Gardevoir's. She attempted to glitch out of it, but that was like trying to swim against the current in a river. It was just delaying the inevitable. Now close to the wall, Lauren again let Sceptile climb up the same facade. This time, it literally ran along it like it wasn't even affected by gravity, arm glowing with the power of Brick Break.

"Discharge, now!"

The air around her began to hum with a growing intensity, charged with the anticipation of the imminent attack. The hum escalated into a sharp crackle, radiating pulses of electric yellow light that rippled across the cave. Sceptile still managed to easily break through the Conversion, which shattered and crumpled to dust as the Brick Break bore down on Porygon2's back.

That was it, Mira thought as Porygon2 fell to the ground. One clean hit, and they were out. Sceptile landed without a hitch, but when he tried to loosen his muscles again to be ready to dash at anything Mira sent out, electricity coursed through him, making him freeze up for a second until it disappeared.

He was paralyzed.

This was their chance.

"Porygon2 is unable to battle…"

Their chance to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

"...send out your fourth Pokemon."

"Alakazam!" Mira screamed. With a brilliant flash of red, the psychic type appeared right in front of Sceptile. "Battle!"

Alakazam did not have Future Sight, but it was the smartest species on this planet behind Metagross. Countless possibilities lay before him as Sceptile raised his hand and the leaves on his wrist took on a wicked sharpness and an emerald glow. If she'd been able to see his eyes, if his back hadn't been to her, Mira would have seen it within him. Calculating.

Power Trick came first. A subtle glow, a coil of energy within his arms as his muscles bulged large enough to grow to three times their size in an instant. Then, a touch of fire around his fist as one of his spoons moved with a hypnotic bend in his other hand— Kinesis. Sceptile's eyes mellowed as he stared at the spoon, and a fiery punch buried itself deep in the grass type's gut.

He was not finished.

Psychic to pull him in, then another hit. Another psychic, then another hit. Another, another, another, another until his belly was scorched by the touch of fire, blackened to a charred, smoldering crisp.

"Focus on my voice!" Lauren asked, no, demanded. The power in her voice snapped Sceptile out of this loop, and the grass type's tail rustled as bug type energy diffused from the appendage. The endless noise snapped Alakazam from his focus, and Sceptile finally slipped away.

So even if Gardevoir had managed to grab him, he would have had this to get out?

Fuck.

"Transition to speed," Mira muttered. She hadn't needed to; they both saw it was the best move.

What had gone to boost his strength now went to his legs, and Alakazam found himself quick enough to keep up with a usual speedster. While Sceptile was no usual Pokemon, the paralysis would work well to give Alakazam the edge. Spoon sharpened with Psycho Cut, he dashed in and out in an attempt to finish off Sceptile, keeping his contact with the ground at a minimum to narrow the window the grass type had to use Giga Drain through the floor. The only times they managed to hit were when Paralysis sprung to action and made Sceptile freeze for a moment. Combine that with Teleport, and now they were cooking with gas.

His left shoulder.

His right thigh.

His back.

Slowly but surely, Sceptile was getting hit. He tried retaliating with X-Scissor, but Alakazam was faster—

"Now!" Lauren swept her arm with a mad grin.

Mira knew her friend. She only had this particular smile when something was about to explode. She was vindicated when every single area began to swell and grow. Every plant, every vine, every seed expanded like a cancer until they reached critical mass and—

A flash of light. Golden like the sun. The cave walls, lined with jagged rocks and ancient crystals, momentarily turned to blinding white as the energy surged forward. The cave erupted into a violent explosion, shaking its very foundations. The blast wave roared through the cavern, shattering rocks and sending debris flying in all directions. The explosion's roar echoed off the cavern walls, a thunderous sound that reverberated through the tunnels and crevices and amplified the destruction. Smoke and debris filled the air, obscuring Mira's view, but her heart sank for Lauren.

The explosion was massive, and it would have hurt them had Sarah's Ditto not been here. They'd transformed into a Kadabra and shielded both Lauren and Mira. A rock had been hurled right into her face, but it bounced off the barrier like a pillow and fell off the side of the cliff. She heard it land in the river below with a loud splash, followed by the faint, echoing ripples fading into the distance.

So Lauren had made her Sceptile into a beast nearly impossible to take down, and once the situation became untenable, she just blew it up? That was new! She'd really put the wrath in Nature's Wrath. It wasn't even over. The remaining spores and energy all coalesced back on Sceptile's body— no fucking way this was happening. His scales started to shimmer as they began to mend. The cracks gradually filled in, the damaged patches smoothing out and blending back into their original texture. The burnt spots faded, and the scorch marks dissipated as new, healthy scales grew to replace the lost ones.

All the resources they'd gathered from the ground, all the energy they'd stolen from Mira's Pokemon had exploded and reentered Sceptile's body to heal him as if nothing had happened.

Was this thing even beatable? Mira had seen it train and go toe-to-toe with Magmortar, constantly regenerating through his flames, but this was an entirely new level of bullshit. Mira was so out of her depth that it felt like she could barely keep her head above the water. Her ears were still ringing, but the worst of it had also been contained by Sable.

"One last ride, Volis." Lauren almost sounded rabid.

The grass type's chest puffed up, and he took a deep breath. The paralysis was still there, as was the tiredness. Most of it, anyway. Meanwhile, Alakazam had brought up a hasty shield around himself, but it had shattered under the force of the explosion, and he remained on the ground a smoldering heap. Once Sarah had her spiel about Mira sending her next Pokemon, she took a little time to allow the tiredness to set into Sceptile's bones. Her friends often did this, but this was the first time she'd applied it in a fight.

Thirty seconds. The cliffside was utterly destroyed, with only a narrow stretch of ground to fight on. The space between the cliff and the wall had been utterly ravaged, leaving behind a jagged, hollowed-out expanse bent nearly forty-five degrees to the side. Ordinarily, Sceptile would have good footing even here, but not after so many battles fought. Not after so much struggle.

Mira released her Gengar.

A raspy cackle that spewed noxious air wherever he went. Teeth upon teeth, needle-like and unsettling enough to send a chill up Mira's spine, even now. The grin was almost too wide, stretching across too much of his face, and Gengar was transparent enough for Mira to see it through his back. As he floated, the shadowy aura around Gengar pulsed with an unsettling rhythm that carried with it whispers of the dead. The surrounding shadows seemed to respond to Gengar's presence, elongating and shifting in sync with its movements. The gaseous Pokemon looked back at Mira, as if to ask if he could have fun and fight the tired Sceptile.

"Behave; this is a normal battle," Mira warned. "Poison Gas."

With each cough, more of the toxic fumes billowed out of Gengar's mouth. A cold wind swept across the cliffside to carry it toward Sceptile, but the grass type countered with another Leaf Storm. Gengar disappeared, spreading himself thin across the poison until his blood-red eyes popped up right in front of Sceptile, and he bit into the grass type's arm. His teeth turned to a putrid-smelling purple that Mira could distinguish even through the barrier, and Gengar injected poison directly into Sceptile's bloodstream.

The grass type's arm was corroding. Slowly but surely, more and more veins turned to a menacing purple below his scales. Without Nature's Wrath here to be a third set of limbs, Sceptile's influence no longer reached every inch of the battlefield. He was fast, but Gengar could instantly travel through his poison. His Leaf Storm wasn't enough to send all of the poison away when Gengar was continuously producing more.

So they switched strategy.

"Don't lose lying down!" Lauren raged. "Exploding Bullet Seed!"

Combining Seed Bomb and Bullet Seed— a common high level move, yet destructive nonetheless. There was a reason it was so widespread. The force of the explosion would risk Sceptile falling off into oblivion beyond the cliff, but they would do a better job at clearing away the gas. Like a machine gun, seeds came out of Sceptile as he swept his tail, each blowing up in succession. Gengar groaned, and his was a cacophony of pained spirits, but he followed up with a Will-O-Wisp whose flames were solid enough to get through the explosions, and the purple flames entered Sceptile's body with a jubilant scream.

Burned. Paralyzed. Poisoned.

Mira snapped her fingers, and Gengar brought forth the most powerful of Hexes Mira had ever seen. The ghostly energy wrapped around Sceptile like tendrils, ransacking through his body until he was brought to his knees. His body smoked and smelled like burned grass as he slowly slid down the cliff, but Lauren recalled him before he could fall down.

"Sceptile is unable to battle. Lauren, send out your second Pokemon."

Lauren's hands froze above her Pokeballs. Some kind of clarity returned to her eyes behind her broken glasses.

Her starter, her brother's gift, was gone. Unable to fight and unconscious.

It had…

It had an effect.

The thirty seconds passed without Lauren moving an inch.

"I think the battle's over, Mira," Sarah said.

It was. Five Pokemon to take down one of hers, but Lauren had lost the fight on a technicality. Mira's legs felt like jelly, and she was so exhausted she could barely keep walking straight. Arceus, she fucking hated battling. Mira slowly made her way across the thin ledge that remained from their battle. She nearly slipped a few times, but Sable was there to keep her safe.

Lauren looked right at her with a mixture of pain and anger. Her starter, whom she had clearly believed indomitable in this battle, had lost. Just like her brother. She must have believed Craig would always be here, that she'd always be able to chase after him until they finally had a battle where she'd finally surpass him.

Lauren burst into tears as soon as Mira grabbed her. She collapsed into her arms, and Mira gently stroked her back until she started sobbing too. Arceus, she was horribly dirty, but that didn't matter in the moment.

"I'm sorry," Mira said. "I'm so sorry."

Lauren's words were incoherent, but Mira managed to make out an apology of her own. She cried for a good while, finishing long after the adrenaline had drained from Mira's body. Mira knew she was back to being at least functional when she started pushing away from her hug. She'd never been a fan of physical contact, unless it was limited and in specific circumstances like this one.

"Let's go home, now."

Lauren sniffled. "Okay."

Mira was whole again, and she loved this girl so much she thought her heart was going to burst.

"I love you too."

What.

What?

Mira looked up at her friend and saw her usual intense stare, although softened by grief.

Had she said that out loud?

Fucking. Mims.

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Chapter 326 - The Funeral
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 326 - THE FUNERAL

The only memories of a funeral I could conjure were vague blotches and images from when I was a child. If I remembered correctly, one of my father's colleagues in his department had died from some kind of disease, though I had been too young to remember exactly what it was. They had been close enough to be invited, but not close enough for my father to be deeply affected for more than a few days afterward— or maybe dad had just been good at hiding his feelings from his daughter who perpetually needed him. It was lucky, in a way, that I'd never had to go to one. My grandparents on my father's side had both died before I'd met them, and it didn't sound like they'd had the best relationship with him. My grandma on my mom's side was an option, but honestly, I didn't feel like going.

Justin's family had rented out Jubilife's largest cemetery for the day. It was sunny, not at all overcast like it had been the last few days. At the edge of the sprawling cemetery, nestled among ancient oaks and rows of headstones, stood a few wide, white tents. Their heavy canvas flaps swayed gently in the breeze, offering shelter to the mourners gathered beneath their canopy. Food and drinks were offered within as well, though no alcohol from what I had seen.

Justin had a decent number of family members. Unknown uncles, aunts, cousins, and family friends whom I had never met. The attendance was generally around forty people, give or take. Seeing all these people grieve for him made me realize there was a side of him I had never really known. He had family troubles too, but those had largely been ignored after Solaceon, when he had cut off most contact with his dad.

Justin's Pokemon were here as well, as sullen as his closest family members, and all huddled together next to Justin's casket. Even the hard-to-read, stringent Corviknight couldn't bear to see his trainer's coffin. Audino's ears were droopy, and his usual cheerful self was nowhere to be seen. Arcanine kept licking the casket and bumping his nose at the wood as he whined; Ludicolo's hat-like plant was faded and drained of its vibrant green; Toxapex had cried enough to flood a small area they were in, but a hired Natu kept channeling the water away before it could seep into the soil; Krookodile had grieved himself to sleep.

All of his friends had thankfully come by as well. I'd seen Mira over by the tents with Lauren, who had new, slightly rounder glasses instead of her sharp, rectangular ones. Mira's recalling of her adventure to go save her had made my heart beat in excitement, especially the battle near the end. That was the stuff a good story was made of, with a happy ending and everything.

But it was also just… genuinely a good thing, if I took a step back and stopped thinking like a fairy for a moment. With how loyal Lauren's Pokemon were, they most likely would have followed her deeper and deeper into Victory Road until she was seriously hurt or worse.

Denzel was there too, with his mother and father closely supervising him, much to his annoyance. He was confined to a chair, forbidden from moving to avoid straining his back or stretching the skin. It was probably for the best; otherwise, he might have dragged me back into the group. Chase stuck by his side, relentlessly teasing him about being less mobile than a guy in a wheelchair. I overheard a few of the jokes and couldn't help but laugh to myself, but I knew it was important to keep my distance.

The few glances I'd caught of Cecilia made my eyes unconsciously gravitate her way and my legs move in her direction. She'd sequestered herself within the tents with Pauline and Emilia to keep her company, along with Slowking. She'd gotten all of her Pokemon back from the Center and was leaving tomorrow, or even maybe tonight. She hadn't told me.

Hell, even Maeve had come. She'd stuck around with Louis with a dead look in her eyes for a little bit, but was now by herself with her Infernape by her side and Gligar on her head, eating at her hair. I supposed we were both sticking out like sore thumbs.

There was a row of dark chairs arranged near a central aisle where friends and family would gather to listen to further speeches. I'd hastily left after Justin's father had spoken there to thank us for coming, unwilling to be exposed to Cecilia's presence. Here I was, crouching on some grass a ways from any contact and holding a single blade of grass up to Princess' face. The fairy's eyes were sown shut as she groaned in concentration. Her wings vibrated with focus, and pink dust wafted off her fur in small quantities. It was barely enough to notice if you squinted.

The blade of grass was cut in half at its base. Even though the object being lacerated was so fragile, the act of cutting was still loud and clear. A distinct slicing noise reminiscent of a sword drawn from its sheath with a swift, metallic hiss, loud and startling, cutting through the stillness of our isolation and leaving behind a sharp, ringing echo that hung in the air.

"Nice one." I celebrated with a whisper. Before I could keep going, Angel smothered her in vines and squished her cheeks to congratulate her. His new eye was perpetually closed because of its sensitivity to sunlight.

My lips couldn't help but smile when he dragged me closer by the wrist to join in on the hug. Partly soft as a pillow, and partly tough, yet supple. The entire team was nearly reunited; it was only Sunshine left to pick up tomorrow, and we'd all be back together. Angel was wearing a tiny, itty bitty crown of metal atop his head— a concealed Mimi who had jumped for joy at his return. Occasionally he would pat them with a vine, and the steel type would squeal happily in return.

Refocusing my attention on Princess, I noticed she was looking quite smug and proud of herself for cutting the blade of grass. Her chest fur puffed up to make her appear larger, and her wings were neatly folded at her sides. In the days before the funeral, I'd gone back to visit Bella once, and it was an exercise she'd given us reminiscent of the first trick she had attempted to teach Princess with glamour. Whereas before, the goal had been to make the leaf move due to her core Belief being gravity-focused, she had made Princess' goal to cut.

We had Moonblast already, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. I had plenty of ideas workshopped for slicing moves. First, we'd need to get her to consistently work her way up from a leaf to actually useable. Moonblast was somewhat of an implement. A tool that made any fairy using their core Belief far easier. What we were asking of her was essentially like getting her to actually create something out of nothing. Squeezing water out of stone.

"A little too close to the finger, so don't get too carried away." My nails dug into her fur, raking past her skin near her crown. "You could have cut it off, young lady." In her concentration and desperation to slice through the grass, she might have gone a little too hard, even while holding back.

Princess countered by saying that I was the one who'd decided to hold the grass up in the first place, and I told her it was easier for her to focus that way and it'd up her precision. Angel helpfully signed that he could hold it if needed, but what was training without trust in your Pokemon, anyway?

"Here, wanna do another?" Between two fingers, I grabbed another blade of grass, but Princess said she wasn't in the mood anymore and would continue later. "Fair," I said, dropping the grass. "You've done well for today anyway."

I was… a little excited about it, is all. I'd seen how Cynthia's own Togekiss had suppressed his presence in the Distortion World, and that showed there were more ways to use Belief than with merely Moonblast. Bellatrix had known this, but claimed that I would have needed to pay to access such knowledge before that day. Stingy, but fair. I did pay her in stories from Coronet and how the mountain functioned. Thankfully, she gave me a discount.

Ordinarily, I would have had Cass or Honey out, but it was important not to have too many Pokemon bothering the funeral. Plus, Justin's father had hired a few psychics for security. Now that Indigo had pulled through and sent Sinnoh many of their Kadabra, people couldn't get their Pokemon pressed into service anymore. The entire country was starting to breathe a little easier.

I allowed the minutes to pass, watching people mingle from afar while Tangrowth curiously read out the names of the tombstones around us, growing sadder with each one. It was Princess, who gently distracted him by throwing a bit of mud at his side with Ancient Power, though I had to stop her before she upturned the entire cemetery. It was odd to see her having fun in such a gloomy setting, not that she'd cared much for Justin, anyway. Cecilia and dad were the only other humans she cared for. Honey might be saddened— I'd let him out when we were called to the rows of chairs to sit down.

Deciding I'd had enough of standing around, I decided to slowly trudge toward Maeve. She was alone, and I wanted to learn what had been going on with her anyway. She was sitting under the shade of a large tree, face largely emotionless as she flicked her Gligar's face every time he bothered her. Like everyone else today, she was wearing black. A dark-colored knee-length skirt paired with a black jacket over a white blouse. It was surprising she wasn't dying from the heat, especially with Infernape next to her, but Maeve had always struggled with cold. Maybe her tolerance for heat was higher as a result. Her face was still marked by countless faded scars going up, down, and sideways— a lasting and dark reminder of what had happened in Pastoria. They gave her a hardier appearance.

Her expression soured when she saw me and my Pokemon approach. Angel's vine wrapped tighter around my ankle— a sensation I'd missed all too much— and Princess reflexively sneered.

"If I'm bothering you, I'll go." There was no point in talking to someone who didn't want me near them. Since Cecilia had cut things off, I'd begun to think that maybe I was too reliant on people for support, anyway—

A few steps in the dry grass rang out behind me, and then there was a pull at the back of my shirt. "No. I mean, it's fine. I just didn't expect you to talk to me," she said, voice all quiet. By the time I faced her, her eyes were downcast. Now that we were closer, I could see they were puffy and red from crying. "I made a face, didn't I?"

Infernape, who was still below the tree's shade, sat down and looked at me with a curious gaze while he kept Gligar under his armpit like some sort of annoying child.

"Oh. I mean, it's okay," I tried, desperate to rid us of this awkwardness. I found myself scratching my arm that didn't even itch just so my hands would be doing something. "It was just a little… lonely."

"Lonely? You?" Maeve smiled and shook her head. "All of your friends are… wait, I guessed I missed a lot, huh? Did you guys have a falling out?"

"It's just better if I take my distance for the time being while I figure some things out about myself," I explained to resume Emilia's advice. As rude as it may seem, Maeve had always been mildly out of our orbit, so I assumed speaking to her for a while was fine. "How are you holding up? It's been a while."

She had not spoken to us since Coronet, and was keeping her distance even with Louis.

Maeve shrugged. "Doing alright, I guess. I'm kind of like you. Trying to figure out where to go from here."

In the background, the hired DJ changed songs; she was playing a playlist of Justin's favorite. They were mostly low-key songs you could easily study or read to, most of them without lyrics.

"He didn't listen to much music after Solaceon," she continued with a sigh. "I didn't know any of his taste."

"Me neither, admittedly." We were shoulder to shoulder now, watching the small crowd mingle. "It's…"

"Depressing. Every time I go over it in my head, I go, 'I should have asked him this or that,' but I'll never get that time back." Maeve's voice quivered near the end of the sentence.

"Mhm."

In the deepest recesses of my heart, there was pain at that idea. Agonizing, twisting, and desperate to show on my face.

But it was more manageable than yesterday. And that day had been more manageable than the day before it. I believed I was through the hardest parts of processing Justin's death, and as Sunshine's own experience with Kamaile and his team leaving him early, that was okay.

We stayed there for a while, and I mingled with her Pokemon as she did the same with mine. Her Gligar was a curious one, always googly-eyed at anything new. Maeve had to chase him away before he could land me out of fear that he'd rip my dress. Infernape was a lot more normal. He told me he'd long admired Sunshine's prowess at using his frames, and though he had found his own fighting style now, he'd wanted to emulate it for the longest time.

Maeve, meanwhile, got along great with Angel— to be honest, you'd have to be really odd not to like him at least a little bit. Princess warmed up to her a little, but one aspect of raising these kids I rarely noticed was that they were too used to speaking to me as if I were another Pokemon. That meant that Maeve got confused really fast at the flurry of words the Togekiss offered her. Hell, Angel had his own makeshift sign language that didn't adhere to any rules but the things he'd made up.

"You know, I was scouted," Maeve mumbled under her breath. "To join the League and train to be an ACE Trainer."

"Huh— what?" My head whirled toward her so quickly that my neck ached. "When was this?"

Usually, people were often scouted to join the League first, mostly during the Conference where the government would hone in on who would be useful. From what I understood of the system, you basically never went straight to ACE from a normal trainer.

Maeve replied, "after Coronet. They came and spoke to my parents about it and everything, but I still haven't made a decision. They lost a decent amount of people fighting Galactic and are looking to fill out their ranks again. I'd just be a candidate with a bunch of other people some a boot camp; it wouldn't be a sure thing."

"I mean, if— if I hadn't known so much about how horrible being an ACE Trainer was, I would have been super happy for you, Maeve." I gulped, imagining the ruthless training she'd be put through. "But it's a horrible job, even if you don't have to guard a bunch of snotty kids twenty-four-seven. They beat the emotion out of you until you become a tool—"

My mouth stopped. Wasn't that what I wanted?

"I dunno. I killed like a hundred people in Coronet— Pokemon included— and I feel nothing about it. Not an ounce of regret, but not even joy at some sort of revenge or anything." Maeve chewed on her lip. "Just nothing. Like it was just work. Got no dreams, no guilt, no signs of PTSD… apparently, that's rare in people, and it's part of something they seek."

"I understand the 'just work' part." After a while, it was just going through the motions. Like getting frustrated at doing too much homework and just wanting to get through it. And to be honest, while I'd tried not to kill people, it was because I was trying to emulate what a good person would do thanks to Mimi and Maylene. Of course. there was part of me that thought I could fake it until I made it. "You're sixteen, Maeve. You have your whole life ahead of you; this would be seriously rash."

"It would be, wouldn't it?" she agreed. "I've been turning it over in my head for the two weeks and a half we've been out. My parents were fooled by the officers' smooth words and were all in on me joining. My team's good with whatever I do except for my Yanma, but I'm sure she'd come around."

"Maeve… why does it feel like you want to justify doing this? What about Louis?" I turned to see if I could find our friend

"Because it's something I'm good at," she said with a grim smile. "Also, Louis is… he's sweet, but he was just a crush. I'm over it."

"Over it, like…?"

"I confessed to him a few days before Justin died. I figured that if we were going to die fighting Galactic, why the hell not, right?" She laughed bitterly. "He rejected me on the spot. Said he couldn't see himself with anyone after what he'd done to Cecilia and that it wouldn't be right."

Damn. That sounded just like him. "I'm sorry."

"Eh. As I said, I'm over it. Anyway, it's not a sure thing like you think, I still don't know if I'll join or not." Maeve looked up at the clear skies, and wind swept past her mid-length hair. "If I don't, I think I'll join the army, though. I just feel like I need… a fresh start. And structure."

I couldn't help but exhale in relief. She'd nearly thrown her life away. "Good. Look into that. That's a far better prospect than being an ACE, trust me. I've spent hours upon hours with them and they're broken people. They're broken down and molded to what the League wants them to be. You—"

My phone vibrated in my pocket. My stupid brain instantly went for Cece even though that made no sense and she was literally right there.

"You're good under pressure; the army fits your shape," I added as I pulled it out of my pocket. "Of course, you don't have to do either, but it's your decision." Arceus, it was so odd seeing everyone pulling themselves away from the Circuit. Months ago I thought they'd all be going at it for a few years at least. Just like Pauline, I thought she could have gotten eight badges next year.

I'd been about to say something, but forgot what it was when I saw Maylene's text.

"Don't let me bother you," Maeve said. "And thanks for talking with me. I really appreciate it."

She returned under the shade, no doubt waiting for the proceedings to begin, while I scrolled up and entered my phone's password. Princess, the little rascal, tried to pretend she wasn't looking at the screen. Angel pestered her by placing vines in front of her eyes until she nearly cursed him out but stopped herself.

It wasn't like I hadn't heard her cursing. Like Honey, she snuck one in every now and then, just never in front of me. Or Buddy. Or Angel, but that was for entirely different reasons. She just didn't want to sully his innocent ears.

Maylene - Sorry if im bothering u, I just hope the funeral is going okay

Maylene - Im always here if you need to talk, and ill be there tomorrow for craigs ceremony

It was nice of her to check in. The truth was that we hadn't really spoken much since Cecilia and I took our break, and most of that had been relegated to small talk or surface-level stuff. Dry. There was no doubt in my mind that she must have noticed the shift in my eagerness to talk to her, and yet she was still…

"Damn it," I moaned. "This is needed. It's needed." Escape from dependency on any person was my mantra, these days. Angel soothed me by stroking my head, and Princess rubbed her head on my side and chirped worryingly. Mimi decided to jump back on my shoulder for support.

They weren't really hiding anymore; they were just lazy. We'd made the decision yesterday, and Meltan no longer would have to stay disguised.

"Thanks, guys."

It honestly felt like every time I texted her was a battle where I had to choose my words as carefully as possible to not give her any renewed hope. At least it was far easier over the phone than face-to-face. It wasn't like friends couldn't speak for hours about whatever sprang to mind, but she had a crush on me, so distance was warranted. Whereas I might have wanted to answer 'you would never bother me,' for example, I couldn't. Because I knew it was the kind of thing that'd make her heart skip a beat. Every time I needed to know if something would go too far, I'd picture myself and my unrequited crush on Cece. How would I react if Cecilia had said this at the time? It had worked pretty well so far.

I just had to hold on until Cecilia came back, and then I'd let her down easy. Tomorrow would be the hurdle to clear.

Oh. Right, she could see I'd read this and was waiting for an answer.

You - It's going alright. Waiting for the proceedings to start, which should be in thirteen minutes.

You - Thanks for offering your help. I appreciate it.

Maylene - Want to hang out tomorrow?

What the hell?

In one fell swoop, she'd ruined my plans to conveniently avoid her without committing to anything! Now I'd have to deny her instead of being a flake and hoping the world would bend to my desires.

You - Won't you have duties? As a Gym Leader? I wouldn't want to be annoying and waste your time.

Every Gym Leader would be there, after all. They'd have to sit around and do… Gym Leader stuff, surely. Plus, it'd be weird if she was hanging out with someone else and possibly having a good time while people would be sad all around us.

Maylene - cmon. I would never find hanging with u annoying, grace. and after some procedural stuff ill be able to roam freely.

Why was she so forward lately? With an annoyed huff, I gathered my courage and typed up a response.

You - I think it'd be best not to.

There. Right to the point, and without avoiding anything. It was about time I put my money where my mouth was. Maylene started typing, then stopped for a good while. Two minutes, by my count.

Maylene - hey did i do something wrong lately? feels like youve been avoiding me this past week and it kinda hurts

Maylene - and i miss u kinda

Instantly, my bravado collapsed, and I scrambled to give her an answer. Of course, there was no way out of this without hurting her; I'd been stupid to expect anything less. At some point, I would have to stop hiding. Her adding 'kind of' here didn't do anything to hide the strength of what she was feeling. Arceus, I was so stupid. Stupid, foolish, moronic!

You - I'm sorry; I haven't been right to you lately. You're right. Tomorrow we'll talk. I'd rather be in person for this.

I had no choice but to be straight with her, at least to a point. To tell her about the fears of dependency on her. If Cecilia hadn't told me not to reveal the state of our relationship, I would have gone further and spilled everything, but this would be a good start. If I told her how broken I was, how I would latch myself onto her like some kind of parasite and hurt her if she gave me the opportunity, then surely she would understand. She had a good head on her shoulders, but it would be unhealthy for me, and I'd just drag her down with me. I was in no state of mind for this weird thing we had going on.

Maylene - well u just made me super nervous but im still thankful

You - I know that this is a useless statement that most likely won't have any effect on you, but you shouldn't worry. It won't be anything drastic.

Maylene - if thats a lie u better make it up to me, u dork

"I mean, it's not a lie, but I might be wrong. I don't know," I whispered to myself. In my point of view, it'd just be a needed readjustment of our situation, but what about hers? If she took it badly, I'd need to fix it somehow.

You - How would I make it up to you? I'll do anything you ask.

It took Maylene a bit to answer, so I reread my text and realized how awful this sounded in context.

You - I'm so sorry that sounded really bad; I didn't mean it in any creepy way.

Maylene - haha no worries i know.

Maylene - i gotta go back to work. see you tomorrow.

Maylene wasn't one to end a conversation so abruptly, and this was her lunch break! Something I'd told her countless times not to skip with Cecilia until she finally relented. She didn't have to go back to work at all, I had just most likely flustered her enough for her to want out of the conversation.

There was no time to lament my fuck-up. The music ending and people filtering out of the tent meant that the funeral proceedings were about to begin. I recalled Princess and Angel, but kept Mimi on my shoulder while I released Honey out of his ball. The little blob of metal garnered a few odd looks from people wondering what in the world they were, but these were nearly always passing glances at most. This was Justin's day. We all made our way toward the chairs, where I'd been given an assigned seat.

"Funerals are how we say goodbye to the dead," I explained to the steel type with a whisper. "Usually, in most of Sinnoh, people are buried underground. Justin's going to be burned after this, though. Like in the Iron Islands." Only Louis and his family would be able to see it done. Mostly, Mimi seemed intrigued by an island being named after iron. "How did your people do it?"

If I understood correctly, they answered with something about being wrapped with thin sheets of metal and then being encased in a sarcophagus. That kind of sounded like treatment only a monarch would get, but I doubted Meltan knew much about the common folk in Lakhutia.

Luckily for us, my seat was a ways away from Cecilia. Louis probably had something to do with this, or perhaps Emilia. She'd helped with some of the funeral as well. I was sitting next to a pair of older gentlemen at the edge of the row of chairs so Honey could stand next to me. One of them was crying and continuously patting his eyes with a colorful handkerchief. They spoke to each other in whispers, reminiscing about how Justin had been a good kid and how he'd been taken from them too soon.

Albert Gardner took to the small podium wearing a dark suit and tie. Elegant, yet simple. It was my first time seeing the man in person, and it was remarkable how much he looked like Justin. He was tall and lanky, shoulders hunched over like he hated being here, hands gripping the sides of his lectern until his knuckles turned white. He wore his hair in a neat, old-fashioned combover, and the way he cleared his throat as he slipped his finger between his neck and collar gave the impression of someone being more comfortable on his own in labs than a man who'd give a speech to people.

Justin's father awkwardly scratched the side of his ear and patted the sides of his suit. "Thank you all for—" The microphone peaked, and the uncomfortable sound spread throughout the audience. Albert clicked his tongue and tapped on the microphone with his finger a few times. "Thank you all for being here today. And a special thank you to Louis Bianchi for helping me put all of this together. Justin was lucky to have you as a friend."

We all politely clapped for a few seconds, and while I couldn't see Louis from where I was sitting, it was easy to imagine him looking around all embarrassed.

Albert's hand rested on Justin's coffin. "It's said that the relationship between a father and his son is one of the most profound and lasting bonds in life." He exhaled, fingers gone limp against the wood. "I was… not a very good father."

He allowed the words to sit with us before continuing.

"I was preoccupied with my research and the company. I didn't give my son the attention, love, and care he deserved. I made him go on this journey for monetary reasons, and because of that, Solaceon changed him down to the way he thought about things." Albert turned toward the coffin. "It might be too late to say this now, son, but I'm sorry, and I love you. I've always loved you."

Honey, as soft-hearted as he was, was tearing up already. I was too. It was echoes in time like these that really got to me. I reminisced about our time in Eterna Forest where Justin lay depressed and defeated, sitting on a fallen log of wood, asking himself if his father had ever loved him.

I hoped he was seeing this.

"I apologize," Albert sniffled into the microphone. "I've never been that great at public speaking. My son was— my son was a shy little boy, as I was and still remain in many ways. Restrained and scared of opening up to people. But he was good, he was kind, and most of all, he was passionate, whether that was in his friendships or his career. I remember it like it was yesterday, when he came up and bugged me about everything Pherzen could be doing differently, more efficiently, or what we could do to save costs. He was a real businessman at heart, even as a young child…"

Albert's speech continued for around ten minutes, with each word coming out growing more and more confident, yet somehow wracked with regret all the same. He talked about how proud he was that his son had gotten so many badges in his first year, and how he believed he might have gotten all eight should Galactic not have taken Justin away so early. He talked about stories of him as a child struggling to speak to people at school, and him overcoming that. He talked about his life, struggles and how he so wished he could have been better to Justin every step of the way.

The applause that rang out was thunderous when he was done. So loud it made my hearing aid go into a feedback loop that turned into a loud, high-pitched screech.

More family members went next. The crying old man next to me had been his grandfather and mostly focused on Justin as a kid, especially with how he'd spoil him with gifts and snacks when his father wasn't looking. A cousin in his early twenties spoke about how he'd answer so many questions about business when Albert was too busy. A middle-aged woman not in the family talked about how polite and well-spoken he was whenever they met at galas, fundraisers, parties, or whatever gatherings. It all went on for an hour— a beautiful elegy of Justin's life, filling in the blanks and coloring the person who I had been so happy to call one of my closest friends.

But then, at last, it was Louis' turn to speak. He made a point to have all of Justin's Pokemon behind him, and I saw a new facet of my friend just then. No, perhaps not a new one. An older Louis which had been buried for months. He carried himself confidently, his shoulders squared and his gaze steady as it passed over the crowd as if he had finally shed the weight of doubt that had shadowed him for so long. The familiar fire in his eyes that had once been a mark of his endless ego now was tempered and matured. Louis the boy had grown into a man.

"Justin was my best friend."

To me and to my friends, this wasn't surprising, but to the others? To the people who hadn't been with us this past year? They knew Louis Bianchi as a selfish manchild who couldn't see beyond his own nose and who wouldn't give a quiet kid like Justin the light of day unless it was to make himself shine brighter.

He slowly arranged his tie and inclined his head among the doubting crowd. "It took me a while to realize it— until the Darkest Day struck and he left, and I realized what his absence meant— but he was. He centered me in my immature days, and because of that, I vowed to bring him home after the Darkest Day."

He'd succeeded in Sunyshore after a battle where his newly evolved Vespiquen had nearly drowned Corviknight in honey. Yet the steel type, stalwart behind Louis, did not react negatively to memories of the fight.

"He was out getting a book for me when the bombs took him from all of us," Louis said, still somehow calm. "And for that, I apologize to you, his family and friends." I heard Audino cry out behind him, his little voice picked up by the microphone telling Louis it wasn't his fault. "I have been haunted day and night by 'what ifs', and while I have forgiven myself, I don't think I'll ever shake that little nagging feeling in my head. The little voice telling me that things could have been different."

He swallowed, wavering for the first time, and took a deep breath.

"I was not a great friend to Justin the majority of the time I knew him. I met him at a gala, the sort you're all very familiar with. I was loud, boisterous, and dragged him wherever I wanted. I was nine and he was seven years old, and I could tell he admired my outgoing nature. Yet I made unwarranted jokes at his expense to make myself feel better, made fun of him for being so quiet, and still, he stuck around. It wasn't until this year, through many of our shared experiences, that I realized how flawed I was."

It was easy to forget how he'd behaved when I'd first met him. Louis outstretched his hands and smiled thinly.

"Yet we are all born flawed beings, and we either grow or get worse as we age. I believe that without Justin in my life, I would have grown up much worse if you can even believe that." There were a few chuckles in the crowd at the self-deprecating humor. "My friends were instrumental at getting my head out of the sand I had buried it into," he glanced my way, then Cecilia's, Denzel's and at the others, "but Justin was my first genuine friendship, the first step out of that hole. He was also the last." He looked at the coffin with a fond smile. "Thank you for everything, my friend, and may we see each other again one day."

He was done.

There was another round of clapping, and Honey patted me on the shoulder as if to say it was going to be okay.

We'd sent him off well, hadn't we?



Justin's casket was available for viewing by the public after the speeches. It had been moved to one of the wide tents because of how hot it was out. Summer was in full swing, and it was 28 degrees Celsius. Cecilia probably would have laughed about how that wasn't hot at all, actually. Legendaries, I missed her.

It was carved from rich, darker wood that gleamed with a strange luster. Along the edges, intricate floral motifs were delicately etched, each petal and leaf rendered with meticulous detail. I was pretty sure that all of them were different. I had to hold on to Meltan because they wanted to look at the metallic hinges on the casket. Their little head was poking out of my dress. Usually, it'd be open for viewing, and people would be able to say their goodbyes. Instead, there were numerous pictures of Justin from his time as a baby in his mother's hands a few hours after his birth to the present.

"They must have paid a fuck ton for this, huh?" Chase spoke next to me in a melancholic tone. His voice had nearly made me jump. "Do you think he's happy?"

I shrugged. "I think we did all we could. I hope he is."

Chase rolled a little closer to the coffin and nudged his chin toward one of the pictures. "What's this one? First day at school?"

Little Justin looked like he'd been crying until he'd run out of tears, and he was being led by the hand of one of his attendants with a backpack full of Growlithe motifs and other canine Pokemon on it. Rockruff, Lillipup, Yamper— just the conventionally cute ones.

"I think so," I said. "Must have been a hell of a day, huh? What about this? Tenth birthday?"

The next one; a slightly older Justin surrounded by people and family.

"Sure, it makes sense with the amount of candles. He looks… not that happy." Chase squinted at the picture. "I guess it's because there were too many people there."

"Or maybe the cake was— you know what, your reason makes more sense."

Chase could only muster an incredulous expression as he looked up at me. "Were you about to say the cake was bad?"

"N—no."

I didn't know why we got into this conversation. He'd just come up behind me and begun to talk without any goal in mind, but his presence was a welcome one anyway. We stayed and went through nearly every picture until Cecilia and Louis barged into the tent. The way both froze, they'd had no idea I was in here. Seconds seemed to endlessly stretch until Chase groaned and yelled to garner our attention.

"Come the fuck on, what is this wishy-washy shit? You're on a break, not sworn enemies who can't even be in the same room. Now stop being weird. Not at my boy's funeral. Louis, say something."

"Right. Right." Louis nodded, then ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Neither of you need to leave, you can just look at the casket and the pictures together, if need be."

My eyes felt dry. I'd forgotten to blink. "R—right," I agreed. "Feel free to… do whatever it is you're doing." I love you, please take me back. My heart was nearly leaping out of my throat, like it used to when we'd first met and I'd been helplessly crushing on her. "I was going to leave soon, anyway."

Chase clicked his tongue.

"What?! It's the truth!" I pinched his shoulder until he yelped and nearly jumped out of his chair. "Asshole. My dad's coming to pick me up at four. That's in…" I looked at my phone, "twenty. He's already sent me a text. Apparently, traffic is really bad."

"Well, Jubilife is synonymous with traffic," Louis said.

"I could ruin the vibes and start trauma dumping about how the Iron Islanders wish all they had to worry about was traffic," Chase joked.

"You've effectively done so already," Louis snarked. "Anyway, if I don't see you again, thank you for coming, Grace."

We shared a short hug, and I just… nodded at Cecilia. She did the same for me, though she itched her neck when I looked at her like I was giving her an allergic reaction. Not even close to back to normal, huh? On the way out, I told Louis to talk to Albert about Ditto cell research for humans. To this day, the topic was what Justin had been the most passionate about, and it'd be nice if his father could realize his dream, even if it was post-mortem.

I swung by to tell the others goodbye, too. Denzel (his mother kept sneering at me with disgust like I was a blister on her son's life), Pauline, Emilia, Maeve, Mira, and Lauren. There was something off about the last two, like they were more nervous around each other than usual. The final thing I did was speak to Justin's team to thank them for being here for him until the end and to ask them of their intentions. They fully agreed to be under Louis' care from now on, but it would take until his sanctuary opened that they'd be legally owned by his 'business'. Until then, they'd be Albert's.

As soon as he got there, I entered the front seat of my dad's car and put the seat all the way down. He smiled at me, staring as if he was just happy to see me, and in a way, I supposed he was. It was too bad that other than Mimi, none of my Pokemon could ride in the car. It was small and ergonomic. One of those cheap, local Sinnohan cars that basically lasted forever, unlike those expensive Galarian ones.

"How were things, kiddo?"

"Actually good," I said. "It was… closure for everyone." Things could also have gone far worse with Cecilia than they had.

Dad shook his head as he turned on his signals. "What a waste. All this death." A sigh took him. He didn't know Justin, but anyone would react that way to a sixteen-year-old dying. And Justin hadn't been the only one. "I'm glad things went well for you. Do you want to stop and grab some ice cream on the way home? Milkshake?"

"Milkshake sounds good, thanks."

"I'm guessing fries as well, then. Two Larges."

I snorted. "Yup. I haven't eaten yet."

We ended up spending a lot more time out than originally planned, first to grab a bite to eat since I had left the funeral with an empty stomach, and then to stop by a park to let my Pokemon hang out a little bit. Angel was in his own personal heaven, getting all of the attention, and a few children had stopped around Mimi to see what Pokemon they were. Buddy was thankfully keeping a careful watch.

"I found a good piano place; it has a bunch of people your age as well for the summer," dad said, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. "Still okay with that?"

"Sure, when do I start?"

"The day after tomorrow." He sipped on a can of beer and let out a satisfied sigh. "And for your therapist— that's the day after that. And don't worry, I'll pay."

Huh. It must have shown on my face that I'd been about to say something. "Thanks." At least I'd be able to talk to someone for this co-dependency stuff. Or just a risk of dependency from me, in Maylene's case. That was a relatively normal issue to have. "I guess… I should tell you something."

He frowned, worried about what to expect. "What is it?"

"Cecilia and I are on a break. Long story short, we've been through too much together and never learned to disconnect. We need to learn how to live on our own from now on. That's it."

"Ah. I can tell you don't want to talk about it, so thank you for telling me." He stroked the hair on my head, and I leaned into the touch. "Breaks are… tough, but I've never been in a situation like yours. I hope things work out for you two, you were cute together. Remember when we baked poffins?"

Warmth filled me. "Yeah! That was so much fun…"

"Don't look so down. We'll do it again someday."

"I hope so too," I whispered and leaned forward, supporting my head in my palm. "You know, sometimes I wonder how in the world did I manage being so alone all the time?"

"You had friends…" he tried.

"Dad, I think that's the first time you've tried to insinuate the amount of social interaction I had was fine." I rolled my eyes at him, and he mimicked me as a fun jab. "Ha. Ha. Very funny. Anyway, Lynn and Clarissa don't count."

They'd tried to contact me and my dad, back when I'd gone back to Jubilife to deal with Poketch politics. I'd refused to meet them. Honestly, lately I might have said yes, but I figured it was too awkward to bring it back up when I'd said no the first time. Most of what I did was follow them around anyway; I was kind of like an adopted pet more than anything.

Oh yeah. Lynn had been my second crush ever, too. The one who'd made me realize that maybe having liked two girls meant I was gay. Even if it went nowhere, and by the time school was over, it had long faded into an old memory, but it was because of her that I'd come out to my dad, so I was thankful anyway.

"I don't know, I could spend hours in my room browsing the forums or watching battles, or in the living room watching TV, and I wouldn't care for anything else," I continued. My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip hard. I hadn't cared that Clarissa and the others hung out outside of school without me at all, except when Lynn was here. "I guess you never know what you have until it's gone."

I had to yell at Sweetheart to quiet down when she demanded Angel's attention away from the others, and a dozen vines wrapped around the Tyranitar to soothe her.

"You're doing okay," he tried. "Putting one foot in front of the other without tripping."

A silent laugh escaped me. He only said that because he didn't know what was going on inside my head. "Yeah. I guess lately I wish I could go back to that state of mind. It'd make the next few…" weeks? months? Probably months, "months a lot easier, if we even get back together."

"Come on, Grace. No matter how bad things are now— no, maybe that's a bad way of phrasing it." He'd always been careful with words. He was the kind of person who liked to gather his thoughts in his head before talking in a debate or an argument. I'd gotten more of my mother's side in that regard. "Look, if we see relationships and your dependence on them as some sort of slider— which is certainly not how those work, but I'll humor you— then you don't run back to one extreme because you've gone too far the other way. There's a middle ground you can strike."

"I know, I know. I was just brooding."

"Won't let you brood on my watch." He messed up my hair.

"Dad! I spent so long fixing that for the funeral! Ugh!"

I started jabbing him in the stomach until he dropped his beer can in the grass.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 327 - The Ceremony
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 327 - THE CEREMONY

"We should have gone on foot," my dad complained.

Even for Jubilife, the amount of cars on the road was extreme. We'd moved three blocks in the last thirty minutes because of the sheer amount of people who were going to Craig's ceremony. The event was set to take place in and around Poketch Headquarters because they were paying for most of the event at a time when the government had to pinch every penny. Luckily since I was a sponsee and I knew a lot of people, I'd be able to access and move throughout the actual building, which was open only to a select few.

Ugh. That kind of sounded elitist, didn't it?

"You can always pay for parking, and we can walk the rest of the way," I suggested.

He scanned the surroundings and shook his head. "Nope. No parking spaces anywhere, we'll have to wait until we get to Poketch." As an employee, he had a special parking spot reserved for him below ground. It would just take a while to get here.

"Good thing we left so early, then," I said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him smile. "Only after I told you to finish getting ready for the millionth time."

"I didn't take any longer than yesterday! Now you're just being annoying on purpose."

I was wearing the exact same black knee-length dress, though I'd styled my hair in waves instead of straight like yesterday. My finger felt strangely naked without my ring, but I'd never worn much jewelry anyway save for Mimi. Not like I could wear a couple's ring without being in a couple, even if it hurt. Speaking of them, Mimi was sitting on the car's dashboard and was enthralled by how the car moved and responded to dad's steering wheel.

"I'm just joshin' ya," he said.

"I know. Sorry."

Dad glanced my way with a worried look. "Come on, no need to apologize."

He was also going to be at the ceremony, and as an employee, he would also be allowed inside. I was glad he was going to be there; I had learned yesterday that even if he couldn't understand or know what I'd been through, he was a soothing presence for me. As it turned out, I had been mostly wrong. So long as he didn't press me on anything, he was essential in returning to a sense of normalcy. I'd missed these times. Back when I used to be a normal kid.

I leaned against the car window and sighed. Sweat permeated through my palms. It was difficult not to be nervous about this event, especially when such a difficult conversation was coming up. The nightmare I'd gotten last night about me making Maylene run away crying certainly didn't help. Hopefully, I'd get through to her clearly and without causing some kind of disaster.

"You look anxious, kiddo," he noticed, looking at me. "What's wrong?"

It took me a few seconds to find an excuse. "Well, I knew him, you know? Craig…"

"Don't lie to your dad, now," he said in a tone dripping with concern. "You—" he stopped when someone suddenly merged into his lane without any turn signals. "Legendaries, you won't get there any faster," dad complained. I watched him as his eyes narrowed, likely passing silent judgment on the driver of the oversized Unovan car. He was probably thinking about how someone who drove one of those huge Unovan cars must have been an asshole. It wouldn't be the first time. "Anyway," he resumed, his tone softening as he glanced at me again, "you don't have to tell me if you're not ready, Grace. I'm just worried about you."

"It's fine," I sighed. "I guess I'm meeting a friend."

"Isn't that a good thing? Who is it, one of your co-workers?" he asked. "That Bobby kid who undermined you?"

"No, no, it has nothing to do with Poketch." My head turned even further away from him in embarrassment. "It's a Gym Leader. Maylene Suzuki."

"You're… friends?" Dad had seen our Gym Battle, and while he hadn't said anything of its brutality, he knew how strange the concept that we'd ever get along was. "That's surprising." He nudged the side of my arm. "Look at you, making more friends in high places."

"Focus on the road," I groaned. "Anyway, we're going to have a really tough conversation, and it's going to suck. That's it."

"Ah. Well, I hope it goes well between you two. Want me to be there?"

"Absolutely not!" While I appreciated him not digging to figure out what was going to be said, I couldn't help but snap, already imagining that misunderstanding waiting to happen. "I'll handle it, you just go do your thing. Whatever that is!"

Dad laughed. "I wasn't going to actually listen in, just be close in case it went wrong."

He had told me that he'd be with some of his co-workers. Some men and women I only knew by name, but who had apparently been cheering for me during the Circuit. I'd been a big hit in their department because I was his kid, and he was pretty well-liked. It was mildly embarrassing to imagine him touting my every win like I was the second coming of Cynthia, but dad had long prided himself as my biggest fan.

It took us another hour to get to Poketch. On our way to the parking garage, we slowly drove next to the building, which meant I saw how it had all been set up. The outside was full of people swarming in, giving their tickets to get past both League and private Poketch security. I even saw some men in Kanto-Johto uniforms. Unlike the dull orange— almost brown— Sinnoh had adopted, theirs was a mess of greens and khakis. Tickets to the ceremony were not free (the country had to make its money back somehow), but it was cheap enough to have thousands of people swarming in. With the amount of people coming in, I was certain they were sold out.

Around the Poketch Building had usually been an empty stretch of concrete pathways framed by minimalist vegetation that guided visitors through the space in a way that was reminiscent of Veilstone. While that hadn't changed much save for a little bit more greenery around the edges to appear more presentable, more benches and chairs than I could count had been added around the space, all facing toward a podium adorned with the Sinnohan flag gleaming in the sun. Maylene had told me that was where the Gym Leaders, Elite Four, and Champion would sit. It'd be my first time seeing Cynthia again, and I sincerely hoped she was doing alright. She probably was, given that the country hadn't collapsed in on itself. Behind the podium was a huge projector screen on which I assumed they would show pictures or videos of Craig. We could hear the anthem softly playing through the slightly-opened windows of the car.

"They went all patriotic for this one," dad said with a touch of sarcasm. "Kind of funny, considering you've got people from Kanto-Johto here."

That statement made me raise an eyebrow. Dad usually wasn't one to get political, or at least not with me. I knew the basis of his beliefs, though. Mostly, he despised dictatorships or authoritarianism of any kind, which was why the presence of the Indigoan army in the streets of the city he was born in made him so uneasy.

"I know how it looks, but it's a good thing. Without them, we'd be in a much worse spot. They gave us money, Teleporters, medicine, hospital beds—"

He cut me off. "I know, I know." A sigh escaped him, heavy enough for me to notice his chest visibly sink. "I just fear for the future."

That was something I couldn't fault him for. Even Jasmine had told me that they hadn't done this only out of the kindness of their hearts. While she was here, she'd most likely be too busy to see me. She'd told me that while she'd wanted to speak due to becoming good friends with Craig this year, the League had refused her request. The optics were already bad; they wouldn't make it worse with having a foreign speaker at an event meant for Sinnohans and to celebrate a Sinnohan life. Personally, I didn't care, but that was how the world worked. Jasmine wasn't too bitter about it.

I was just starting to take note of the food and drinks they were offering when the car eased into a tunnel and descended into the parking area. Dad noted how even this place was unusually full as he neatly guided the car to its spot. Before I got out, I decided to text Maylene and the rest of my friends about my arrival. Save for Cecilia, who was gone; Maeve, who hadn't bothered to come; and Chase, who'd said he didn't want to watch the government waste so much money on a party for rich people, they were all here. Even Denzel. I'd made note of a few other acquaintances I knew who would be here by scouring the net, such as Professor Rowan, Dawn, Lucas, and Barry. Hell, some famous people I didn't even know were here, too. Buck— Flint's younger brother— had interrupted his work on the Battle Frontier to get here. One of Sinnoh's most mysterious figures and few aura users, Riley Ansson, was somewhere here as well. The same man Beast had tried to kill and been beaten back by on the Iron Islands. If you were anybody at all, this ceremony was the place to be.

I wasn't sure I was going to see much of my friends, considering they weren't allowed inside. While I was going to go out there when Cynthia and the other important people gave their speeches, there was no way I'd go out there in this massive crowd. I needed the relative quiet to focus. Last night, I had rehearsed the way the conversation with Maylene would go so many times it was still ringing in my head. I had backups too. So long as the conversation didn't derail too much…

"Getting out?" Dad loomed over the car with his hand on the hood.

"Y—yeah." I scooped Mimi up in my arms, and the steel type decided to turn into a looser choker resting on my collarbone. "You all set up?" I whispered. When they vibrated, we finally got going toward the elevators.

Even if the underground was relatively free of people, there were plenty here, either taking refuge from the hordes outside or inside Poketch Headquarters or just making their way up just like we were. Once we got to the elevators (and they took years to get here), I noticed that they'd put a plaque on the wall saying they had blocked basically every single floor unless you were high up in the company. Melody had brought a keycard to our apartment the other day to access the private elevators that would bring me up. For now, though, we stopped at the ground floor.

Even in here, with only employees and close associates, there was a sea of people. Thankfully, it was far easier to navigate, and there were plenty of areas with fewer people around all over this floor.

"I wonder if there's going to be overflow issues," dad pondered. "Are you gonna be alright?"

He'd grabbed my hand out of habit. Even now, he still had his old instincts of not letting me get too far away from him in crowds. When he noticed, he let go with an apologetic nod.

"I'm gonna be okay; I'll just go upstairs." My eyes kept glancing left and right, as if I'd be accosted by Maylene any second now, but I already knew where she'd be. Backstage, waiting for the speeches to begin. After that, we were supposed to meet right around here. "What about you? Gonna get lost?" I teased, trying to cheer myself up.

He snorted. "Think you're slick, eh?" He hovered his hand up over my hair, as if to threaten he'd mess it up like yesterday, and I nearly jumped out of the way. With another laugh, he added, "see you later, kid. Remember, I'm just a phone call away if you need it."

I waved at him until he disappeared into the crowd, and now the reality of the situation was really setting in. Checking my phone again, Maylene had answered with a cute thumbs-up sticker of a Ducklett. Was she not nervous like I was? That answer didn't really give the vibe of someone who was anxious. Why did it even matter if she was or not? It wouldn't change anything, anyway. What I needed to say would remain the same.

Maybe micro analyzing texting patterns wasn't the right idea to get my mind off things.

After calming down with a few deep breaths, I made my way toward the next set of elevators deeper into the building. The floors had recently been cleaned and were so sleek you could see your reflection in the dark tiles. You had to go through another layer of security, whom you had to show your pass to. I fumbled around my purse, feeling around my Pokeballs for reassurance that they were still there before I pulled out the keycard. It was odd, not having them around my waist. Plus, dresses were nice, but this one having no pockets to shove my stuff into was really annoying.

Mel had told me there would be a lounge of some sort on the 21st floor of Jubilee Tower, so that's where I was headed. It took me a while to figure out what room HEC1229 was, it was nothing a few minutes of searching and asking around didn't fix. The room had been filled with snacks like chips, cookies and charcuterie, and with drinks including champagne. It felt weird to me that this entire thing felt more like a party than someplace to mourn; I hoped Craig's family wouldn't be too offended.

Across the room were plenty of sponsored trainers I only knew by name, or I'd seen their faces on the website. There were also people familiar to me, like Bobby, Ramon, and Sharon. Even Aubri was with them, which meant the sky must have been falling. Just like me, they were all dressed like this was a funeral. Dark colors without too much flashiness, save for a golden watch around Bobby's wrist. They'd all been close to Craig— closer than even me. Aubri, in particular, still seemed utterly destroyed by his death and was quiet, her usual stoic confidence vaporized from her face. Aside from the numerous scars and the missing fingers and eye, you'd think she was a different person.

They seemed to be engrossed in some deep conversation, or at least that was until Ramon noticed me grab a bottle of water and I was met with his toothy, juvenile grin.

"Grace!" He waved and beamed as if he was genuinely happy to see me. Wait, maybe he was. We were kind of friends, and it had been a while. "Come over here and sit with us!"

Right. Right. Socializing. Okay, Grace, you're a person. You're just a person just like them. You can do this.

"H—hi!"

My voice cracked.



For what felt like the thousandth time, Maylene peeked her head around the wall of the stage entrance and scanned the sea of people ahead of her. Even as a Gym Leader, she'd never fathomed being in front of so many. This was a big jump from a few self-contained press conferences and doing her job in front of a few hundred to a few thousand at best when the battle was really interesting. Even if she wasn't a designated speaker and all she'd have to do was stand or sit respectfully at appropriate times, it was still a little intimidating. Not that this was her main concern at the moment. Maylene's suit felt a little tight around the neck, and she couldn't help but loosen her collar every minute.

"Didn't you say she'd be inside?" Gardenia's voice rang out behind her and made her jump a little. All of her fellow Gym Leaders were backstage with her. The Elite Four and Cynthia would arrive later, though she'd been informed the latter was taking a thirty-minute power nap, at the moment. She was being worked to the bone. "You poking your head out like that kind of makes us look unprofessional. Today's all about image."

Maylene straightened her suit around her waist and fixed up her tie. "I can't help but look anyway."

"Even if she was out here, you wouldn't be able to find her in the crowd no matter how good your eyesight is, Maymay." Nia wrapped a hand around her shoulder and dragged her back in. "Now come on, have some patience. I said I'd help you, right?"

"Yeah…" she trailed off. "And I'd be able to find her aura, it's very distinct." That might have been the wrong way to put it. "Or I guess I just know what it feels like by heart now."

"Oooh, how romantic," Gardenia teased.

Maylene growled in a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. "Nia. Not so loud!" She was still the only Gym Leader who knew about Grace.

They were back in the waiting room with their colleagues now. It had been built up in the last few weeks as a luxurious retreat, adorned with plush seating, soft ambient lighting, and plenty of drinks and food. Even the ground below their feet was velvet carpet. Poketch must have splurged so much money on today that the League was going to owe them a huge favor. There were conversations happening all around, but they were all respectfully quiet. Even Wake. He was speaking to Fantina about the state of Hearthome and listening to her vent about retirement as she sipped on some champagne. While her Pokemon were hidden well from the naked eye and exuded no cold, Maylene easily parsed through her shadow and noticed the multiple ghosts hidden within.

Byron was sitting with Roark in silence. His usually wild hair was neatly combed, a stark contrast to his typically disheveled appearance. Even here, he had his trusted shovel with him leaning against his leg. He asked his son if he was doing alright, and Roark just nodded as he nervously adjusted his glasses.

Since Volkner's social battery had run out long ago, he was just lying down on one of the couches, not caring about his suit getting all wrinkled. Plus, today was a bit of a double-whammy for him. Not only had he been close friends with Craig, but he was also sulking about breaking up with Jasmine.

She'd come to talk to him earlier, and they had parted ways amicably. They'd both known this would happen eventually, but it had been earlier than he thought it'd be. Maylene remembered how he would look so pleased at plans they'd made to spend the majority of the summer together in a resort on the Battle Frontier, even going as far as saying he would skip the Conference after the first day to spend as much time with her as possible. Of course, that had been before Team Galactic had begun to ramp up, and far before the bombs.

Wake had told him about how there were plenty of fishes in the sea, that he'd find another girl sooner rather than later, but that hadn't helped Maylene's defeatist friend much. Still, she was sure he'd get over it within the next few weeks.

Gardenia took her seat next to a sullen and downtrodden Candice, gently rubbing her back. She pushed her best friend's head back on her shoulder and kissed her forehead, telling her everything was going to be okay. Ever since Maylene had realized she was in love with Grace, she'd looked at the two a little differently. Gardenia reminded her a little of herself, especially when it was obvious she'd restrained herself at multiple opportunities in the years she'd seen the two girls interact. It kind of looked like Gardenia was in love with her, but Maylene wasn't a hundred percent sure just yet.

The Gym Leader took a seat on the opposite side of Candice and looked up at her friend's face. She hadn't cried in days and had been doing really well, at least until today had come to remind her what she had lost. Craig had been her first crush, and while he hadn't reciprocated at all due to her age and having known her since she'd been just a little kid watching her grandmother's Gym Battles, Maylene would be the first to know one did not choose where the heart decided to take them. Candice's eyes were red and puffy. Every couple of minutes, she would start sobbing and struggle to take full breaths. Where she would usually be laughing, throwing out jokes, and being the heart of the room, here she was quiet, desperate to blend into the background and just get through this day.

Since Gardenia had 'operation help Candice grieve' under control for now, Maylene grabbed her phone again. There was no new text from Grace, of course. Maylene found herself getting greedier and greedier with her crush's attention, but things had been weird lately. She'd racked her mind the entire night, desperate to know what could have been the reason for the sudden distance between them, and gotten nightmares about Grace figuring out she was in love with her and reacting in all sorts of horrifying ways that were completely out of character, like calling her disgusting for falling in love with a taken girl.

They were stupid dreams, but they terrified her nonetheless.

Maylene contemplated sending another text, but decided to put the phone away for now. One hour remained until they had to go on stage. Then around an hour and a half of speeches, and finally, she'd be able to have this conversation. It wasn't like she hadn't liked Craig— who hadn't? What Grace was going to tell her had just consumed her mind to the point where she found it difficult to worry about anything else, at the moment.

Time was ticking agonizingly slowly, but eventually the Elite Four got here. Lucian first, with a long, confident stride and a polite greeting addressed to them all. Accompanying him was his one-eyed Alakazam, bitter and sour-faced as always. Maylene knew the psychic was coordinating security, but maybe he was on a break. Aaron followed soon after, his usual childlike wonder gone and having been replaced by a hardy look. His body was wracked by the occasional shiver. Flint seemed the same as usual, loud and boisterous to the point that Gardenia had to glare at him to quiet down. Maylene didn't know how one could have fought a literal God, seen Craig die, and remained in such high spirits, but that was probably just a Flint thing. Bertha, the last due to her aching bones, had always made Maylene somewhat nervous because of how strict she was. Her scarf, a memento from her father who had died in the war, clashed heavily with her dark frilly dress, but she never went anywhere without it.

Bertha wrinkled her nose. "Volkner, do us all a favor and get up." When he replied with a tired groan, she shook her head in disappointment and phrased it another way. "Don't you see how old I am? A frail woman such as I needs a place to sit."

"There's plenty of space to go around." Volkner's voice came out muffled due to the pillow. It was true that there were more couches all over the room, some of them even empty.

Unbothered, she adjusted her brown scarf and sat on his feet until he finally decided to sit up with an exaggerated howl of pain. "Goodness gracious, young people these days. And fix that hair, will you?"

"Does he need to, really?" Flint came up behind him and ruffled a hand through his hair. His friend didn't even have the energy to fight back. "It wouldn't be Volkner without a horrible bedhead."

"Alakazam can do it for him," Fantina said, her accent thick as she clasped both hands together around her glass. "Poor thing."

Fantina, I hold a great deal of respect for you; however, I must convey with complete sincerity that I would rather die a horrible, agonizing death, Alakazam said without an ounce of hesitation.

"Wow! Thanks, Alakazam," Volkner sarcastically whined. "Much appreciated!"

I didn't ask, he said.

"Well, what's this, his second-ever breakup?" Byron chimed in. He placed his chin on his shovel's handle and smiled. "Those always tough, when you're a young'un."

"Hmhm. You think you'll do better than your first, and you're dejected when they end early anyway." Flint nodded with a pensive look and a hand on his chin.

Bertha clicked her tongue. "That's just because you're a slob. I ought to get a cane one of these days to whip you up into a proper man."

The fire type specialist chuckled. "What's the saying again? If they can't handle me at my worst, they don't deserve me at my best," he said with a hand on his chin.

"Your 'best' is like putting an anchor around your would-be girlfriend's neck," Bertha said, unimpressed. "Back to the topic at hand. Volkner, no matter how dejected you are, this ceremony is about paying respects. There are news crews from foreign countries here, and the League's image will not suffer because little Volkner feels sad."

"I get it, I get it!" Volkner got up as he waved an annoyed hand. "I'll fix myself up." He shuffled toward the bathroom with a seemingly endless sigh. The room quieted down once he left, something Gardenia was endlessly grateful for.

Maylene was, too. All this talk about breakups was making her uncomfortable. For no reason at all. Once Lucian finished checking in with the event organizers on his phone— they were going to run out of a certain type of cheese— he made his way to Maylene and spared her an apologetic look.

"Maylene, my dear; I must warn you." He crouched and looked up at her, his purple hair glistening with every subtle movement. "Your father is here."

Byron's grip on his shovel tightened. "What's he want?"

They'd all heard about Oscar's behavior lately. While Maylene mostly vented to Grace or Cecilia, her support system was a wide net. Their opinions of him had lowered considerably since he had been back in Sinnoh. The older Gym Leaders had only known Oscar as their coworker. Tough, but fair, and most of all, reliable. They hadn't known Oscar the father. Even when she was seen with him, he never acted out or lashed out in public; he'd curated his image well.

"Officially, to pay his respects to Craig. He fought him numerous times and found him an excellent battling partner," Lucian explained. "I doubt you'll have to interact with him. As he is no longer a Gym Leader, he does not have access to this area. I do believe Poketch has given him a pass to their building, though."

Maylene shared a worried glance with Gardenia. With his aura, he'd be able to find her wherever she went.

"It's a pressure tactic," Roark said. "Just by being here, he ruins her day. He might have thought that she'd be a speaker and that he could make her mess up."

"Well, I better get going, then." Byron stood up and hoisted his shovel over his shoulder. Maylene looked at him like he was crazy. "What?" he asked. "I just want to talk to him, that's all."

"Don't get into a fight," Bertha warned without as much as a second glance.

Maylene wrung her hands together so strongly she would have broken any other human's. "You'd lose handily. I appreciate the sentiment, though."

"...I'd get at least one good hit in." Byron sat back down and scratched the back of his neck.

"You would need a hospital in seconds," Bertha said.

What could Maylene do now? It wasn't like they could force him out without creating a scene. A confrontation was probably coming, one she could avoid if she stayed holed up in here until she could go back to her Gym. Part of her thought she could call Grace over here instead, but would she bail at the sudden change of plan, or think it was a trap of some kind? She knew Grace was weird with the spots she liked to have important moments or conversations in. What if this was the last opportunity Maylene would get—

"Well, Maylene was planning on meeting a friend without all of us bothering her about it here," Gardenia made Maylene panic. For a moment, she thought the grass type specialist would reveal her crush. "It kind of throws a wrench into her plans."

"A friend?" Fantina smiled. You didn't have to let her continue to see that she was curious.

"J—just a friend, yeah. Nothing special." Maylene had stuttered and slurred a few of her words, which made Fantina even more curious. "I'll manage, somehow."

"I'll go with you." Candice's voice was so low that Maylene was pretty sure she was the only one who'd caught what she had said. "Your dad's a creep; I'll beat him up." A little louder, this time.

Nia nodded and ignored Bertha's japing. "I was going to say the same thing! The thing about abusers like Oscar is that they want to preserve their squeaky-clean image. As long as you're in public and you have people around you, it should be fine."

The conversation would have continued had Alakazam not cleared his throat. The Champion is up and will be arriving shortly, he said, idly staring at one of his spoons. Get ready.



"The day I met him, he showed me around the place. Told me it didn't matter if I had really common Pokémon and that we'd get far through hard work." Ramon's face was softened by a hint of nostalgia, his eyes distant as the memory had shaped him deeply. "I still can't believe he's gone. I'll miss him."

"Yeah…" I whispered.

"He was the model we followed to strive to be better." Bobby spoke of the dead in hushed tones, I had learned. It was no different for Craig. "Especially Aubri—"

"Shut it," she snapped. Even now, the rasp in her voice due to a lung injury was surprising. It certainly made her capture people's attention easier. "I'm not here because I want to be involved in these conversations."

"Then why are you here?" Ramon asked.

"Because… because I just enjoy listening. It makes it feel like he's still here."

The elevator dinged, and we all made our way toward the lobby. While they had talked my ear off, it had been fun to listen to old stories about Craig. Even years ago, he'd been dependable enough to have made a mark on so many trainers. Others I hadn't known had joined in upstairs to chime in with their own experiences with him. He'd touched so many lives it was difficult to fathom. That was the tale of a man whose story would resonate for generations, whispered among the lips of those who sought to embody his spirit or his perseverance. He'd be a beacon for all Sinnohan Trainers for decades to come.

I wanted my own life to leave a similar mark on the world. Alas, so far, I hadn't done a great job, and instead of going out there and making the world a better place, I was stuck in a prison of my own making, and I had thrown away the key.

Fingers constantly twitching around my waist at the lack of Pokeballs there, we exited the building and were met by thousands of people navigating the plaza. I was lucky my hearing aid was actually the right one, or it would have acted up the entire time. Attendants carrying drinks on plates, guests speaking among themselves, news crews darting between clusters of people— all contributed to the cacophony that filled the expansive space the company had set up.

Things weren't just rosy, though. Despite having my empathy under control, the need to consciously keep it at bay surged in my mind. Like having to keep a hand pressed on an old wound.

That sure is a sad way to put it. That was my gift to you! One that saved your hide multiple times! Don't you go calling it a wound!

Today of all days? Okay, maybe I didn't need to compare it to a wound, but the mild headache all these people brought me wasn't helping things. Luckily most of the attention was kept by Aubri's sombre, scarred visage and not me. Under any other circumstances, I would have been up to talking to reporters. Melody and my time with Poketch had given me a decent amount of media training; the issue was that it just wasn't a good day. Mesprit should have known this.

Oh, don't mind me, I'm just watching! Mesprit started to hum a little song that reverberated around my brain. Good luck today, Grace! It sure will be enter— err, I mean, I hope you manage to get through to that other human girl!

You know that just because you caught yourself doesn't mean I didn't understand what you were going to say, right? I thought back as I bit my lip. Whatever. Just stay quiet today, and you'll be able to harass me after. Things should only start improving from here.

Sure! The sarcasm was almost physical and nearly made me miss a step.

It was Bobby who caught me by the arm, his grip strong despite his thin stature. I ignored the urge to pull away, one so harsh I might have bruised my arm. "You okay, Grace?" Due to how loud everyone was, it was tough to parse out his words. "You've seemed off since we met."

I frowned. What was up with me? That wasn't how I usually reacted to touch— and it had nothing to do with intent, or the fact that Bobby was a guy. "I'm okay." I could only muster a whisper none of them heard. It wasn't at all a feeling of repulsion, but a want to keep him safe. As if he'd just touched something radioactive. When glancing at the palm of his hand, it seemed dark. Sullied.

"Maybe it's because you orchestrated a palace coup to fuck her over, fucking me in the process." Aubri shoved her hands deeply into the pockets of her jacket, and her lips pressed together.

"No, no, we already worked out all of that. It's just a mild headache," I said. To me, that had been a lifetime ago, but to Aubri, it was still a fresh event she was still bitter about.

"Let's get to our seats quickly, then," Ramon said.

While seats in the venue cost way more than your usual ticket, we'd gotten ours for free. They were organized in three rows, each one growing larger the further back you got from the stage. The first was free and reserved for Craig's family and friends. His parents were already there, as were Lauren and three older people I assumed were grandparents. Professor Rowan was also sitting there, so I assumed they must have known each other well. Craig's Pokemon were to the side— even the massive Gyarados, whose serpentine body stretched for dozens of feet. There were plenty of other people I didn't know, but the only one I knew by name was Sarah Newman, easily spotted due to her white hair and her getup. It was as if she'd just gotten out of bed and still wore whatever she'd slept with— comfortable shorts and a shirt bigger than she was.

"Yikes. She sticks out like a sore thumb," Ramon whispered.

She did. A dot of colors among respectful, dark clothes that made her stand out and garner a lot of attention. She was currently ignoring a pair of reporters I recognized from the Solaceon Tournament. It was funny how small the world was.

The second row of seats was ours, and would be filled with Poketch sponsees and high-ranking employees. This was where the company's founder— Remington McMillan— would sit along with the rest of the board, including his son Landis. One of them, whose name had slipped my mind, was being pushed in a wheelchair toward his seat, and he looked utterly lost. This was one of the esteemed board members? He looked practically senile!

Either way, this was where we'd be sitting. Bobby and I were pretty far up there due to how important we were. He looked in his element here, far more comfortable than I was. Next to me was Craig's liaison, whose name I only knew thanks to Melody. Jonathan Pierremont. He looked to be in his fifties and had followed Craig along his entire career within the company. Needless to say, the death had hit him hard. Unfortunately, while dad was an engineer for Poketch with a decent amount of responsibility, his seat would be in a third row.

Which was basically for everybody else.

Chairs had been set up on the stage where Cynthia, the Elite Four and the Gym Leaders would sit while people spoke of Craig. I was pretty sure the only person who was going to speak in that group besides Cynthia was Volkner.

Five minutes to the first speech by Cynthia. My phone dinged, which wasn't unusual. My friends were talking to each other through our group chat and had sent numerous messages since we'd arrived—

Maylene - just a heads up my father is here somewhere. If you see him dont threaten to kill him. he wants attention

Maylene - to make a scene and be seen as the victim to better his position and make people who would defend me look bad

Seriously? Did that piece of shit have no limits or what? I knew he wouldn't learn his lesson after only being pushed out of the gym, but didn't he have another kid on the way? A pregnant wife to take care of instead of playing these meaningless games? If he wanted to be a leader so bad, someone people looked up to again, he could start by volunteering to help Snowpointers get back on their feet. Someone with Pokemon of his level and with aura would be a great help to rebuild the city's port.

Obviously, Oscar wanted none of that. Because he was a pathetic narcissist who deserved to die from mysterious circumstances.

You - I wouldn't threaten to kill him.

Maylene - YES U WOUDL U DINGUS

You - Maybe just a tiny bit.

You - Are you going to be okay? Do you need help?

Maylene - its fine just stay put. he wont start anything with you so close to the ceremony starting. and after that well be together anyuway. Candice and Nia r bringing me inside.

You - Okay. Be safe.

By the time we were done texting, an organizer hastily walked onto the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Protector of the frontier, Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces; the first Champion of the Sinnohan Republic, Cynthia Collins, along with her Elite Four and Gym Leaders," he announced in a respectful tone. He couldn't sound too excited.

The nascent applause disappeared the moment Cynthia showed herself. The Champion's steps rang true; she commanded absolute silence over the crowd. There was not even a single word spoken. Cynthia walked in long strides, her familiar black coat billowing behind her in the wind. Following her first was Togekiss— she didn't go anywhere without him anymore— then the Elite Four in pairs of two in their order of perceived strength. Lucian and Flint first, then Bertha and Aaron. Finally, the Gym Leaders by their seniority— how long they had held the position. That meant Fantina was first and Maylene last—

Anxiety seized me to the very core of my being when I saw her. She was wearing a black suit, its lines crisp and sharp. It clung to her shoulders and was tight around her waistline. Somehow I hadn't expected her to wear one of those, but then again, she didn't really like feminine clothing. It looked quite good on her.

She scanned the crowd, and somehow she found me in an instant. Our eyes locked for a moment before she loosened her collar, and then she looked forward and filed into the final chair left for her.

Only Cynthia remained standing on the podium. She moved the microphone attached to it up and began to speak. "Citizens of Sinnoh." I was struck by how clear and confident her voice was, nothing like how it had been when she'd left the Distortion World. She began by thanking both Poketch and Kanto-Johto for having made this event possible, followed, of course, by her own League employees. Knowing dad, he probably would have grumbled at the ordering there.

"Of course, we gather here today to celebrate Craig Goodwill's life. It is so important for us to all remember that without him in Coronet to stop Team Galactic's nefarious plans, devastation would have befallen our beloved country." Almost as if on cue, the row of flags on back of the stage all glistened and flapped in the wind. Was Togekiss the one doing all of that stuff? To be honest, I'd nearly forgotten the fairy was on stage, and that was probably the case for everyone here. "I will not mince words with you all, this year has been a tough one for all involved. Your rights were sacrificed, the economy is still reeling, and over twelve thousand people died in the largest scale terrorist attack Sinnoh had ever known since the Great War."

She paused, eyes gleaming with determination, hands gripping the side of her lectern. "Sinnoh reels, but it remains standing. We remain standing. It is perseverance that defined much of Craig's life, much like it encompasses Sinnoh. A land marked by its harsh, unyielding terrain, where the biting cold winds sweep across the landscape, and little of our land is arable. Like everyone else, he began at the age of fifteen…"

Cynthia went into much of Craig's life, focusing on the greatest moments and qualities. Negotiating with a known herd of aggressive Hippowdon off-route to capture his own, charming them over many days. His prowess at bringing people together and networking, his incredible victory over Candice's grandmother and his viral clip that followed, his negotiating skills that always had both parties winning something

Nearly all of it was new to me, but she basked his life in love and reverence possibly never before given to anyone other than another Champion. I met eyes with Maylene a few times during the speech, and each and every time, it felt like my soul was trying to jump out of my skin. I used to be able to have her look at me or talk to me and be fine. It was fine. But ever since I'd realized she liked me, things hadn't been the same. Beyond the obvious reasons of 'it wasn't like that with her' and 'today was going to be a super difficult conversation,' I just hated this constant anxiety wrapping around me like an Ekans.

"And I want to extend my deepest gratitude to Benjamin and Lilianna Goodwill for raising a man of such unwavering moral fiber," Cynthia said, gesturing at the two parents. "I am sorry for your loss, I truly am. Your son was a great man, and Sinnoh will find itself lacking without him." She turned back toward the audience. "Thank you."

Thunderous applause and whistling erupted, mostly from behind us in the third row. While his family did clap, it was more of a polite applause than anything, from what I could see if I craned my neck. It was a hell of a speech, but it was tainted by the context in which it was given. Draped in the flag, fundraising, and most of all, the fact that it was obviously being used as a common loss to unite the country in a time of crisis.

But what could you do?

Next came Craig's family. Both of his parents went onto the stage, followed closely by Lauren and her grandparents. His father looked a lot like him. Chubbier and older, but the same. It took me a while to understand that Lilianna wouldn't speak. Couldn't speak. Her breaths were a quivering mess, and she looked like she was about to burst into tears. Lauren looked dejected and slightly angry. Her face occasionally twitched, her jaw was clenched, and her eyes had narrowed into a mild glare directed at the crowd, piercing enough for even me to feel guilty.

Benjamin's approach was a more somber speech. One of loss and how he'd miss the little moments with his son. The way he heard him work in his room every time he passed through that hallway, a constant in their lives, as if Craig had vowed to snatch his destiny into his own hands and molded it into his own. How it had eroded at his mental health like waves worn down a cliff. The weeks where nothing had gone right, the days where he argued with Roxie, the sheer toll that being great had brought upon his body and mind.

How he learned sign language for hours on end as a child just in case Lauren was mute to the point that his grades started to slip— just for her to speak her first words at the age of three and a half anyway. The way he always refused to swear around children, and how he loved imparting knowledge to them. The nights as a young child when he'd kept his father and mother up, forcing them to watch footage of the battles he found interesting. He got mad whenever it looked like they weren't paying attention. How he dreamed of fighting and besting every Champion and how giddy he'd been watching footage of the Galarian Champion's battles because he was certain that a few more years would see him become the greatest the world had ever seen in competitive battling.

It went on. And on. And on. The little things that made a person whole, each note driving the stake further into our hearts. While Cynthia asked Sinnoh to remember Craig the symbol, his family was asking the country to remember Craig the person.

And damn it.

That got me. That really got me.

I wiped my eyes with my arm and sniffled. It was never fair. This one didn't get as much applause, but it was the most effective on Craig's fellow trainers. I was pretty sure the majority of them had burst into tears, Bobby included. Not just a few tears, either. He was ugly crying, sobbing into his hands at the devastating loss.

I wasn't sure his death had actually hit a lot of trainers that knew him. Until this very moment.



Maylene had never seen Candice cry this hard. She thought her friend might have needed to be taken off the stage, at least until her nails sank into her thighs through the fabric of her pants, and she gently closed her eyes. The pace of her breaths took a slow, deliberate rhythm as if she was trying to steady herself, to pull back from the edge of overwhelming emotion. By the time Craig's family had stepped off the stage, Candice had brought herself back from the brink.

Both Gardenia and Volkner checked in on her, being the ones sitting on both her flanks. The latter was going to speak soon, right after another one of Craig's friends went through.

"I'm fine. I'm gonna be okay," Candice said. Without a microphone to carry their voices further, they could speak freely as long as they kept it down and they didn't do it while someone was giving their own eulogy. "Eugh. That would have been a good cry to let all of the feelings out."

"Can't look bad in front of the crowd," Volkner said with a familiar sigh.

"These things are hard on your heart," the ice type Gym Leader said. "Grandma used to say that."

Maylene had gotten teary-eyed, but her childhood had trained her to keep those in, or it'd make Oscar angrier. Of course, sometimes the dam had to break, and it just didn't work. That was what had happened at her Gym when she'd tried to take all of the work for herself. Recalling the memory made her glance at Grace again, and Maylene found her crying. Her entire body tensed, and alarm bells rang in her head— like she was going into fight or flight mode. She felt a hand on her arm, and the buzzing in her ears slowly faded into the background.

Gardenia looked at her with a gentle smile. "Relax, the next speech is starting."

Maylene's eyes flickered to the lectern, where she saw Sarah Newman lean against the polished wood, her grip relaxed and hand scratching the back of her head as if she didn't know what to say—



"Um. I didn't really come here with a speech in mind, or anything," Sarah Newman said, her voice nearly void of emotion. While I knew about her, this was the first time I'd heard her speak. A small commotion stirred through the crowd as people stared at each other as if this was a bit of some sort. "I'm not really good at these."

Why would you go up there and not know what to say? Just having her up there was giving me mild second-hand embarrassment. Especially when I knew from Melody that she'd demanded to be put on the speaking schedule.

"Do you know her?" I asked as I leaned toward Bobby.

"Not really. She has her own friends, but I never knew her as anything more than Craig's old flame," he whispered. "She wasn't really involved in the Poketch orbit."

Sarah Newman tapped her finger against the wooden podium. "My name's Sarah Newman. I'm Craig's best friend and rival." She took a breath, slowly finding her footing. "Craig and I, we watched a lot of battles together, and we battled too, of course. That's when we were the closest. Pokemon Training and battling was our common ground."

Another round of murmurs, this time probably from people asking themselves why she was introducing herself or stating the obvious. But there was something special in that, or at least I thought so.

"When we were kids, we used to fight over who'd be the Champion and who would be our second in command in the Elite Four." Sarah looked behind her; at Flint, Bertha, Lucian, Aaron, and Cynthia. "We didn't have plans or anything, you know? But, uh, we were children. It was just throwing a bunch of stuff that sounded good at the wall."

There was a pause, like she had lost her train of thought. All of a sudden, she changed the topic. "Craig— Craig was the kind of guy whose mere presence could just breathe new life into you. Having him at your side just made you more confident. You know, if you were anxious, or you were scared, he'd always be there to smile at you and give you a hand. I think there's something beautiful about that." Sarah shook her head with a snort. "It's silly. He'd always say to just see things through no matter what. That by the end it wouldn't seem as bad, and what you learned from failing more than made up for how shit you'd feel for a few days." There was a slight gasp in the crowd at the swear. This was televised. "Of course, more often than not, he didn't apply that to himself. It took him a while to learn, but the words— he, uh, he truly meant the words. I think. I know."

She pulled at a strand of her hair in front of her nearly-covered eyes. "He was outgoing. He was loud. And— and he could be really funny. Sometimes. And there was—there was something about him; he could walk into a room and immediately read the pulse of it, you know? He could just tune right in. He would know x, y, z, what they wanted and how to make them walk out of there happier than they were when they'd entered. He was just that magnetic." Sarah adjusted the microphone a little closer to her mouth. "He was my first true friend, I think. Pushed me to heights I would never have reached without that competition. Made me want to be a better person who helped people for the sake of helping them and to see them as more than little sock puppets I could punch to soak in more battling experience."

"And you know, I didn't— I don't really like how we drifted apart for so many years." Her bottom lip quivered. "All because of some fight. I could have texted him sooner, you know? I mean, I needed time to cool off, but then he blocked me, and things just got so complicated. And I had— I just— I don't know. It's like— okay, we fought. Who cares? I love you." A nervous laugh left her lips, and a few tears rolled down her cheek. "I love you," she repeated. "That's it, I guess. I'm done. Thanks for listening."

She released her Swanna, hopped on her back, and just… flew off.

I was one of the few who cried for that one.



An hour and a half of speeches had never felt so paradoxical— swift in passing, yet somehow drawn out. When Remington McMillan finally delivered his closing words, Maylene, the other Gym Leaders, and the Elite Four formed a solemn line behind Cynthia, hands clasped behind their backs. Cynthia stood at the front, the Elite Four following in her wake, and the eight Gym Leaders in a final row behind them. All, except Cynthia, bowed in unison, a gesture of gratitude to everyone who had come to honor Craig's memory.

Maylene's legs were numb from sitting for too long. She eyed the crowd leaving in front of her. Most of them would slowly filter out while a minority would stay behind and enjoy what Poketch had to offer them. Supposedly they were going to replay Craig's run of the Conference last year on the projector screen behind them for those who wanted to see. The Gym Leader couldn't see Grace anymore, but she felt her leave and reenter the building.

She'd be waiting.

Back in the waiting room, Cynthia gave them a short spiel about a job well done. Work never stopped for her, even in the wake of Galactic. She'd be going back to the Lily with the rest of her Elites to keep running things, but had given the Gym Leaders the rest of the day off.

Finally, Maylene could go see Grace to hear what she had to say. Both Candice and Gardenia walked at her side, keeping an eye out for her dad. Wherever he was, Oscar was either masking his aura or too far away for her to be able to distinguish him from the crowd.

"So what's this 'bout meeting a friend?" Candice asked, in slightly higher spirits. She was not back to her usual self yet, but this had been closure for her as it had been for many who had come. "Maymay, you look like someone's going to eat you whole. I've never seen you this nervous."

Gardenia shot Maylene a look as she adjusted her hair again, as if to ask if they should tell her. Maylene wasn't sure how to answer. She'd always considered both girls her best friends— people who she rarely hid things from. Unfortunately, Candice was a blabbermouth who couldn't keep a secret to save her life.

"You don't know her," Maylene lied.

"Ooooh, her?" She leaned forward, grinned, and wriggled her eyebrows. "If I don't, then what's the issue? Do you think yours truly will embarrass you?" She placed a hand on her chest in faux indignation. "Does she have a name?"

Okay, she was getting way too curious about this. Maylene could lie about the name and say the first thing that came to her mind, or she could spill the beans to satisfy her. "Gr—" Oh, God, she'd nearly actually said her name. "Hope? Hope." When Candice squinted at her, Maylene finally relented. "Fine, okay! It's Grace Pastel. Happy?"

"Come on, do you want me not to know so bad? I won't tell anyone about your crush, gosh!"

Still focused on the thinning crowd, Gardenia helpfully chimed in. "She's telling the truth, Candice."

"Oh." Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Wait, what? Excuse me?! Did I miss something— I missed something big, didn't I? Doesn't she have a girlfriend already? Oh man, this is so dramatic!" She clutched her hands to her chest, a look of disbelief and excitement spreading across her face.

"I've been helping her deal with it in my own time," Gardenia explained. "You were… well, dealing with your own issues. Sorry."

"I get it. At least I'm caught up now— wait, how did this happen? Spill the tea!"

Somehow, Candice didn't have to reconcile the fact that the last time she'd regularly spoken with Grace had been to plan her apology to Maylene. Apparently, the last text message they'd shared was Grace sending her condolences about Craig, but communication had been spare post-Coronet, with Grace dealing with all of her issues and Candice having to deal with the massive crisis in Snowpoint. Sure, she'd known that they had ascended Coronet together, but she'd still believed that had been the end of their relationship. Somehow, Candice didn't care at all that it turned her understanding of Maylene's rapport with Grace upside down.

"What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic," Candice said before barking out a loud laugh. Maylene wanted to shush her, but seeing her friend have such a good time after a tough day was too good to pass up. Her happiness was infectious. "So? What's the plan; come on, fill me in, gals!"

"There's no plan," Maylene said. "Pretty sure I'm about to get rejected prematurely. Not that I was going to even confess." Nothing good could come out of the coming conversation, that was for sure.

They'd almost made it inside the building, now. No signs of Oscar. "Aw, shucks. I thought you two had a date or something."

"Why would we have a date when she has a girlfriend?" Maylene asked.

Candice opened her mouth, but exhaled as she lost her retort. "Fair point. Well, that's a bummer, but you should try to remain optimistic! Maybe things won't be catastrophic!"

"Let's— manage her expectations here," Gardenia cut in.

"Ahhh, Nia. Always the pragmatist to rein me in and ruin my fun. Wait, we should be, like, the devil and angel on her shoulders giving her love advice."

Nia couldn't help but smile and look at her fondly. "Your advice would just be to confess immediately."

"N—no. My advice would be to lock all three girls into a room and not let them out until something happened," Candice said. Maylene felt her face grow warm. "Not that. Come on, I wasn't actually making an innuendo, okay, don't yell at me!"

"I wasn't going to yell…"

"What's this?" her friend poked her in the arm. "Maymay no longer gets mad at those? Nia, this is a transformation of the highest order! I'm liking this new gay Maylene already."

The teasing was relentless, and Gardenia enjoyed it too. Or maybe she just enjoyed whatever came out of Candice's silly mouth. Maylene was pretty sure she was in love, now that she'd gotten a better look at the two. Was that why Nia had felt so compelled to help her, even when it got in the way of work? They'd known each other since they were fifteen, and they were both nineteen now. Maylene hoped she would know Grace just as long; just being by her side and here to support her was enough for her.

At last, they were face to face with the wide glass doors of the entrance. Maylene could feel Grace's presence thrumming inside like a bonfire.

"Are you sure I don't look stupid?" Maylene desperately asked.

"What, no! You look dapper!" Gardenia clapped her back and pushed her forward. "Go ahead, Maymay. You can do this! And remember, if your dad somehow finds you, just ignore him and call us. We'll come inside a few minutes after you and keep an eye out."

"We'll be rooting for you!" Candice said. "Turn up the charm! Wink at her and speak with a sultry voice—" she yelped when Gardenia pinched the side of her arm. "Ow, ow, ow. Okay, don't do that! Be yourself!"

Security let her in without a fuss thanks to her ranking as a Gym Leader. Breathe in, breathe out. Okay. Maylene felt nervous, but strangely, now that the moment had come, she felt a lot calmer than she'd been stewing up on that stage with only ideas of what could happen to keep her company. As planned, Grace had been waiting at their designated meeting spot— a sort of waiting area inside of the Poketch building with a bunch of couches and magazines years out of date. 'Cynthia's Democratic Reforms: What You Need To Know' and 'New Economic Boom: How Free Trade Brought Riches To Sinnoh' were on top of the pile.

Grace wasn't sitting. She was so focused on her own thoughts that she hadn't seen Maylene coming. The short necklace she'd been wearing earlier was no longer there, meaning she had recalled Meltan. Her leg was repeatedly bouncing beneath her dress. It was a simple dark dress that flowed down to her tibia, right above where her burn scars ended. The fabric swayed slightly with each restless movement. Her hair was different; it cascaded down her back in curls instead of being straight, and—

Was she wearing lip gloss?

She was. Her teeth were firmly clamped down on her glittering bottom lip. Maylene froze for a few seconds, hypnotized by the sheen that caught the bright lights in the ceiling. Don't just watch her like a weirdo. Say something. But Maylene wanted a moment to take it all in, just in case this was the last time they'd see each other. To sear the image into her brain so she could recall it every time she closed her eyes.

No. She had to speak up.

"Uh—"

"Gah!" Grace jumped, causing a few faces to turn her way. With a hand halfway into her black purse, she sighed in relief. "S—sorry. I wasn't expecting you to get here so fast. I—I thought you'd have Gym Leader stuff to deal with or something."

Maylene noticed that Grace struggled to look her in the eye when it was usually the opposite. Was it okay to act how she usually did? Should she be serious? Candice had said to be herself… "Sorry for sneaking up on you. Are you alright? I saw you cry earlier, so I was worried."

"Oh, I'm fine. I just— some of the speeches got to me, I guess. I'll miss Craig and the weight he had on this world. It was a very nice shape," she quietly spoke.

Maylene didn't really know what the whole deal with shapes was. She knew what it generally meant, but it was a cute way to phrase it and was shaped by Grace's view of the world.

"Nothing about Oscar?" Grace asked. She clenched her burned arm and squeezed.

"No. I think he's actually laying off, at least for now. So I doubt we'll be interrupted," Maylene said.

For a moment, Maylene thought she was going to start speaking about her texts, and she braced herself with a wince. "So. A suit, huh?"

"Oh, this old thing?" She let out a nervous laugh, and her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah. Never been comfortable in dresses; I know it's weird—"

"It's not, it fits you really well; you should wear what you like."

A warm feeling fluttered up her stomach. Maylene hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, "your lips look nice too. I mean you look nice too." No answer. She quickly cleared her throat to get through the awkward silence. "I like the hair. Your hair's nice. Uh. Sorry."

"Oh. Right, the gloss." It was as if pressure stopped choking her when she found out why Maylene had commented on her lips. "I was wearing some yesterday too, so… it's not special or anything. I figured I'd come in the same outfit." Grace looked at herself, then pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. "Uh, we should get going."

"Where?"

"This isn't a great spot to talk. Too many people," Grace said. "Let's go upstairs; I'm pretty sure they'll let you through. There are some employees and trainers up there now that the speeches are done, but we can find an empty room somewhere. I wish we could do it at your Gym, though…" she finished with a murmur.

Maylene followed her in a silence so thick she found it difficult to take full breaths. Grace wasn't looking at her. Not even when they were in the elevator, or when Maylene called out to her to tell her about Candice doing okay in an attempt to make small talk before they'd have to start the big conversation. She wanted to delay, to ask her to spend a little time with her with no strings attached, to tell her that actually, everything was fine and she didn't need any clarification if that meant she would never be close to Grace again. They struggled for a bit to find a place they could use. Grace tried some kind of private room for sponsored trainers, but there were people there talking already.

And so, they found themselves not in the cushy executive rooms Maylene had expected from Poketch, but in a bathroom near the ends of Jubilee Tower made for high-ranking people in the company. She released her Electivire and Togekiss, instructed them to not let anyone in, and then closed the door.

There would be no delaying. That was the sentiment that sank into Maylene's mind as Grace turned toward her, eyes fixated on the floor. She remained right next to the door, clinging to it as if she'd need an escape route.

Maylene hoped she was ready to take whatever came next.



It was so quiet.

It was a certain kind of quiet. Not the one where you literally couldn't hear anything— I could, even though I was deaf in one ear. It was a quiet that ate away at you and wanted to forcefully drag the words out of your mouth. There was the quiet, constant dripping of a leaky faucet in one of the sinks. The faint hum of the air conditioning whispered through the air, one that grew louder and louder as if to demand retribution for my lack of honesty. My ear rang deafeningly loudly as I let go of the door handle. The bright, white lights shone over Maylene, but I didn't see her. Couldn't see her. For the past ten minutes, all I'd seen was the lower half of her body.

"There's—" the words died in my throat. Stick to the plan no matter how painful it is. "There's something I have to tell you before we begin. First, I'm sorry for avoiding you this past week while keeping you in the dark. It was wrong of me, and I should have been better." The apology came easy after the first bump in the road.

"You already apologized," Maylene said. "It's okay."

Why was she speaking to me like that? Why was she never angry at me? Not even her body had reacted negatively beyond the subtle, nervous movement of her fingers. "I still felt the need to say it in person. Texting it is a coward's way of doing things, and that's what I was for a week. A coward." I saw her shuffle her feet. Dark men's shoes that looked a little too big for her. "Anyway, I guess I should start at the beginning."

I waited to see if she had a question. There were none, so I followed my mental flowchart.

"There's this thing about me. It's hard to explain— no, it's easy to explain, but it's difficult to say." Damn it, I was already tripping up over my words. "I think that the fact I never experienced any true friendships or love before this year began, combined with everything that happened with all the danger and the death, it makes me get attached to people very easily. To an unhealthy degree. To the point where not having them in my life can drain me of all of my energy and can be physically painful."

Again, no reaction. Was she waiting until I was finished entirely? That was the best-case scenario due to having so few deviations.

"Last week was when I realized how bad it actually was. And, uh, Cecilia kind of figured it would be best for us to take a break." Maylene tensed up at that, and I nearly looked up at her before reining myself in.

"A break?" she asked. "Was— was it my—"

"No!" My fists clenched as I yelled. My voice echoed on the walls and mirrors of the bathroom. "No. It wasn't because of you. The decision was Cecilia's, and at the time I thought my world was ending, but I see now that it was the right decision. So— so I've been taking it one day at a time. Healing. The first two days were the hardest, but my friends pulled me out of that dark place. I'll be talking to a therapist in a few days to fix myself, and doing things away from them. So I can learn what it's like to be normal."

Maylene's hands gripped the side of her pants. "What does that mean for us?"

"I don't think we should see each other that regularly until I am fixed," I hesitantly declared. Every word felt like someone was pulling nails off my fingers.

"But— how long will that take?" she asked, desperation leaking through her voice. "You're leaving in a few months! I—I can help you, Grace. I can teach you what it's like—"

"No. You can't." The taste of metal spread through my mouth. "Maylene, I don't think you understand. I'm a mess, okay? I'm broken. You've been doing so well lately with your Gym, and I would just drag you down. Chip away at you like some kind of disease. Slow at first, but then you'd blink and realize how I fucked up your life. You'd be even worse than most, really, because you're special to me. It's like if I have you, I'd need to have all of you. All the time. I wouldn't be able to slam the brakes. I can't live without having someone, and it'll feel like any time not spent with you might be wasted, or maybe I still feel like I only have a set amount of time before the world ends, or both, or… or…" I finished, nearly out of breath. I had nearly veered off-course; distractions weren't something I could afford. Sweat dripped down my forehead and onto the pristine floor.

"Why won't you look at me?" she asked. Why did she ask that? That wasn't— what was the relevance in that? "You're not even talking to me. You're just… it's like you're reading off a list." She knew me too well. "Let me help you, Grace."

"No. It wouldn't be fair to you; you would be a replacement for Cecilia." My mouth tasted like ashes. That was a lie. "I can't do that to you."

Maylene started to walk forward—

I took as many steps back as I could until I hit the door behind me. I watched her black shoes take long strides until she was so close to me that our feet nearly touched. Maylene grabbed me by the hand— or tried until I pulled again.

"D—don't," I whimpered. "I'll taint you."

"Then taint me," Maylene declared, fingers interlacing with mine. She crouched, and her face entered my field of vision. There was not a trace of anger, disappointment, or disgust on her. "I know this is selfish of me to say, but I won't give up on you, Grace. Not until you love yourself."

Not until I loved myself.

Was that possible? Maylene seemed to ardently believe it.

Seeing her like this, as bright as a star, an angel reaching down to pull me from the murky depths of my own mind, I couldn't help but wonder why. It might have seemed absurd at first— I knew why. She was in love with me. But that was only a fraction of the truth of it all, a piece of a larger picture. The real answer lay in something deeper, something that could be summed up in three simple words. The essence of who she was; the shape she took as she interacted with the world; the way she made others feel.

She was Good.

Goodness in her wasn't just a matter of kindness or morality; it was an intrinsic part of her being, woven into the very fabric of her soul and packed into something beautiful. It was the way she looked at you, not just seeing, but desperate to understand so she could help. The tenderness in her voice when I deserved nothing but scorn. And I tried, oh, I tried to do it like her, yet I only found myself struggling against myself. Where killing and wounding came easy, mindfulness was an uphill battle, a war within myself that I couldn't seem to win. She made it look effortless, as if compassion was as natural as breathing.

Maylene was better than me. The truth was, every chance to interact with her was a stroke of luck I did not deserve. I nearly ruined her once and would ruin her if we kept this going. Yet she had forgiven me in full and was still waiting for my answer with that precious innocent smile of hers, like a Lillipup looking up at me. She had done it all expecting nothing in return. Yes, she wanted to spend time with me, but no matter what happened, I would still be leaving. We stood upon a bridge half-collapsed, unable to support both of our weights, but she still wanted to remain here and hold me. She refused to give up on me because she genuinely believed in me, even if she would join me in the crumbling of the flimsy foundation I stood on in the hope of repairing it.

She was a Hero. My Hero. Anointing me in this ceremony with the belief that I could be just as Good as she was.

"It'll be difficult," I muttered. A feeble attempt, when I knew the answer anyway. "I'm a high-maintenance person."

"I know," she said. "But you can't just isolate yourself from everyone you know and think that things will go better. It's— it's like addicts, right?" she stood up and placed a finger under my chin to get me to look up at her. Her other hand still held onto mine. "You can't just quit cold turkey, okay? Or the majority of people can't anyway. You'll either relapse really hard or just be unable to do anything. There has to be an… off-ramp."

"But I'll hurt you."

"You won't. And if you do, I can take it. I'm a big girl, okay?" she said. "Let's start with the obvious. What's with this tainting stuff?"

"Did you ask me to taint you without understanding what I was saying?"

She blushed. "M—maybe. How was I even supposed to get it? Only you say stuff like that."

"That's… fair."

Even now, I could see it. Shadows writhing on her hands where she touched me. They were fading now, just as they had with Bobby, but… I hadn't gotten those when my dad ruffled my hair or accidentally held my hand. "I don't know. It's new." I explained as best as I understood the phenomenon, which wasn't much. "It's probably nothing. Just a weird vision I'll talk to my therapist about. Maybe I'll sleep it off, and it'll be gone tomorrow."

"It's not nothing. You only say that because it's tough to talk about, and you want to brush it off. If you can see it, it's a lot more literal than I thought, though," Maylene said. "Do you see it now?" Her hand touched my upper arm, thumb gently caressing the side of my shoulder.

"Yeah. I—I don't like it. I think it's actually just because getting close to people scares me, now. Like I'll drag them down with me."

"Are you scared right now?"

The subtle pressure of her fingers rested against my naked shoulder, warm and light. "I'm terrified," I exhaled. "Like you're in danger. Like a horrible fate is going to befall you."

"Okay. Then how does practice sound?"

"Practice?"

"Yeah, like what we're doing now. Light touching, and then we can slowly ramp up. To whatever." What did 'whatever' even mean in this context? A hug? When I nodded, she continued. "And for your co-dependency issues, if I'm the closest to what it would be like with Cecilia, you can also practice on me, okay? We can…" Maylene thought for a few moments; I could see the gears turning in the head. "We can keep you on a schedule and stuff. Keep your life nice and orderly so you don't rely on me too much, but you're not dropped off the deep end, either." Realization hit her, and she quickly added, "You can do that with your other friends, too, it doesn't have to just be me! Same for the touching!"

What would Cecilia say? It wasn't like I could send her a message and ask her; she was already gone. I could justify it however I wanted— that I'd do this with my other friends, that it was to fix myself and the way I thought— at the end of the day, Maylene still liked me, and I was interacting with her. Not that she'd asked me not to, but there was a difference between helping her with her dad and being friends with her and whatever this was going to be. Touching was okay, but hugging for however long? No.

Still, I continued, hoping to bring this up later. "I think that might work," I said, struggling not to shake her hand off me. How strange, to crave her touch yet want to rid myself of it at the same time. "Plus, you live really far." She could always Teleport, but not being in the same house all the time would help.

"See, now you're starting to get into it!" she cheered. "This, combined with therapy? You should be back on your feet in no time! Since it's the week-end, we can start all of this stuff on Monday. I'll ask Nia to help me with the scheduling stuff—"

I winced and interrupted her. "Please, no. I know it sounds weird, but I don't think you should tell her. I just don't want her to think ill of me."

"Fine, but if it doesn't work out, I'm still asking her," Maylene said. "I'll deal with the scheduling myself— just the moments I can see you or not, of course; I'm not about to micromanage you, that'd make it worse. It'll have to be around my work hours, but Veilstone's doing okay enough now for me to take more time off. We're only doing, like, ten battles a day right now."

"Thank you, Maylene." Already, I felt a little lighter, like I was seeing light at the end of a very dark tunnel. There were still many steps required to make it there, but at least it was visible when it hadn't been since Cecilia left me.

"I said I'd help, didn't I?"

"Mhm. So, what's this practice going to be like?" I glanced at her hand. Not the one touching my shoulder— she'd since removed it and started typing at a Notes app on her phone— but the one holding onto my very sweaty hand. "Is there a time limit?"

"I mean, I haven't thought about that yet," Maylene said. "You're doing pretty well."

"It's still unpleasant. We should set out the rules of this first." I wrangled my hand out of hers and stilled my trembling fingers. It still felt warm. "This is therapeutic first and foremost."

"Right, right. It is."

"How about… ten minutes?" I threw a random number up in the air. It had to be long because we wouldn't see each other every day. "Every time we meet. We can set up an alarm, and everything. We don't want me to go into touch debt."

She giggled. "Touch debt? What the hell is even that?"

"Something I just made up for the purposes of this process!" I said, slightly frustrated.

"Okay, you dork."

I was beginning to like it when she called me that, at least according to the smile creeping up my lips and my mild anger instantly evaporating. "I just want strict guidelines; it's important to not lose sight of the goal here," I sighed. "When you said 'ramping up,' I assume you meant… like, nothing like hugging." Two lies in one day; she was really making me act out of habit.

"Oh. I just meant touching with two hands or pressing a little harder. Or more surface area," she said. Of course, she had meant that. I could breathe easy, now. "We can try hugs, too, whenever you're ready. Not for ten minutes, though, that'd be too long. Maybe thirty seconds."

"N—no. That's too far."

She nodded. "Yeah. That's fair."

Okay, thank the Legendaries, I managed that.

After painstakingly making a list of rules that we both wrote on our phones and double-checking every single line, I had her sign it like a contract. Verbal pacts were the backbone of the fae, and I'd be foolish not to cement this further. By the end, I was feeling a whole lot better. It was impossible to know how long this good mood would last, but I felt more ready to face the world and fix my issues than I'd been since Cecilia left— hell, Maylene had even gotten me somewhat pumped to get a therapist again.

"Thanks again for the help, Maylene." When we talked now, I could face her. How could I not, when she had seen me for who I was time and time again; the deepest recesses of what made me? She had witnessed my naked soul and given it another chance. There was no need to feel ashamed. "I feel so refreshed."

"Me too, believe it or not." She glanced down at her phone. "You know, it's been ten minutes, but I didn't actually touch you that long. We should start today."

I hesitated. "You know what, sure. Might as well get it over with. Set the alarm. We'll go for six minutes."

"Okay. Uh, here I go?"

Her hand hovered in the air for a moment, the warmth of her palm lingering just above my skin. I could sense her hesitation, the way her fingers wavered before finally descending toward my neck. The sensation was at first jarring, almost violently unpleasant. The shock of it coursed through me, sharp and unwelcome, like watching her push it down a path lined with razor blades. Once I witnessed that it did not hurt her, the sensation slowly subsided. My body felt warm, like I had some kind of fever, and it was difficult to sit still. Occasionally, her thumb would graze my cheek, and I would find it difficult not to make any noise.

Her hand slid up my face—

"Maylene— not the face. Not now." It had instantly become intolerable. I could see it through when it was just a finger under my chin, but it was too much, too soon.

Immediately, she took her hand off me like she was touching a hot stove. "S—sorry. I got carried away." Her face was red, and she was nearly out of breath. Her eyes were magnetic; I knew that was the gaze of someone who loved me.

She loved me; I was using her to get better, and she knew it.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, it's me. This is our first session, I should have taken it slow. Here, let me—" the alarm rang out from her phone, an uncomfortable blare that ripped us away from our little bubble. "Already? I—I guess it's over, then."

"Yeah." I could still feel her hand where she'd touched me. "We'll resume in… what is it, three business days?"

"Yup. Seven pm, I'll send a Kadabra to Teleport you to my Gym. We have more than one now, so you won't be bothering us."

It'd be a short stay— only an hour and a half, and we would alternate who came to who each time. The purpose of it was to teach me that having people to depend on was okay, but not always to the point where I'd be emotionally and physically stunted without them. As dad had said, going to another extreme wouldn't work. I had agreed, but now it was time to put it into practice.

Maylene and I left the bathroom and thanked Princess and Honey for keeping watch. When I saw them in front of the door, they were playing rock paper scissors— Princess somehow had gotten a bit of dirt to use as a tool to shape and play the game. At first, I thought she'd damaged the building somewhere, but she told me that she'd grabbed it from a flower pot down the hall, her face full of indignation. It was when I'd been about to recall her that Maylene's eyes turned from satisfied to alert, narrowing as she squinted at something down the hall.

Oscar, trudging down the empty corridor with his familiar swagger. Had he used his standing to get up here? Sensing ill intent, Princess' rock turned into scissors dusted by glamour to render them sharper than hardened dirt could ever get. Honey understood a few seconds later and stood a few feet in front of us, causing Oscar to innocently raise his hands as Maylene quietly used the electric type's body to hide and wrote 'I GOT THIS' in all caps below all of the notes she'd taken.

My hand ran through my daughter's fur. "Princess, no violence," I whispered to her. Her scissors dissolved, the dirt collapsing on the ground without form. A feint. I knew she'd be able to reform them within half a second if need be.

"I come with no ill intent," Oscar announced. "No need for threats."

"You being here makes me ill, so I don't know about that," Maylene said, not looking at him.

He faltered for a moment, body tensing. He hadn't been expecting that retort, had he? Just those words— his daughter standing up to him— were enough to put him off-balance. "I just came here to talk. And to apologize."

His mouth was saying these things, but his body showed that he didn't mean it. There was no regret etched on his face, just a cold, indifferent stare that betrayed nothing. As if this was just a process for him that he needed to get through to get another chance to influence Maylene. The fact that Oscar only showed feelings whenever Maylene stood up to him spoke volumes.

"My behavior as of late hasn't been great. The truth was, when I saw Sinnoh in such disrepair, I felt an urge to take back the reins—"

"I know what you're doing," Maylene said, now facing him. "So stop."

He raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me?"

"Cecilia taught me this thing called the cycle of abuse," she said. The word 'abuse' made her dad scoff.

"You think this is abuse? Wanting to speak to my daughter?" His tone rose, spreading through the hall. "My father would beat me black and blue every time we trained; you should consider yourself lucky that—"

Maylene spoke over him, aura carrying her voice. "How every time there is an incident that puts the victim out of the abuser's clutches, and they realize they won't crawl back to them with their head hung low, they swallow their pride and apologize. Promise it'll never happen again. And for a while, they stick to it. Things are better for a few weeks, and you think things will go better, but eventually, they do it all again."

Oscar's face was wrought with disbelief. He could hardly believe it. "Now you're just putting words in my mouth." Was that all he could muster? Had he expected things to go his way so much that he could barely come up with anything else?

"Maybe you don't do it consciously. I don't know. I hope so," Maylene said. "But at the end of the day, you're still doing it. I'm done with you, Oscar. And so is the Gym. Do me a favor, and please raise your new kid better. Please."

That was it. Maylene didn't wait to hear his answer, not that he had any. She asked me to follow, and I did, walking past her flabbergasted father, who had nothing to say for himself but to mutter how she'd changed and was like a different person. I recalled my Pokemon once we reached the elevators, and Maylene leaned against the wall. Her legs and hands were shaking.

"Ahhhh, I thought I was going to pass out," she lamented.

"But— what was that?" I asked. "You did it. You told him everything you wanted to say!"

She smiled, clasping her hands together so they wouldn't shake. I'd felt a need to grab them in her place, but hadn't. Not outside of our ten minutes. "I did, didn't I?" Maylene let out a long, drawn-out exhale. "Legendaries, today's been tough for my heart. I thought I was gonna have a panic attack."

"I'm so proud of you. I— he's going to take a while to recover from that one."

"I had to put my money where my mouth was, right? If I'm going to help you, then I should be able to deal with my own problems," she said. "But I only managed this after Cecilia helped me. That's an important lesson."

"What's this? You're acting like a teacher." I found my tone to be more teasing than I thought it'd be.

The Gym Leader put her hand on her hips, looking all pompous. "Well, I'm like your guru, aren't I? I've got to lead by example."

Arceus, she was so silly.

When the elevator doors opened, we found the lobby far emptier than it had been when we'd gone up. We'd spent what, an hour in that bathroom? To complete what had happened and wrap it up in a neat little bow, I brought Maylene to the exact spot she'd picked me up at to scratch the invisible itch.

"So…" she drew out the word.

I was leaning against the same wall. "So. I guess this is it for today."

"Yeah." She kicked her feet, putting her hands behind her back. "Or. How about you come and meet Nia again— actually, I'll bring her. Just her." Maylene shivered, for some reason.

Meeting Gardenia? My favorite Gym Leader who I wanted to emulate and whose battles I had watched more times than I could count? I couldn't help but burst out smiling at the idea; goosebumps ran up and down my arm and neck. Already, I was nervous at being a mess in front of her. The last time, I'd only spoken a few words with her and barely had time to interact, but now? It'd be a proper meeting. Did she even remember our battle? Legendaries, I hoped not. I'd fought it so badly and made a million mistakes. But at the same time… I hoped that she did! What if we talked about it together?

No, no, I was getting ahead of myself. I couldn't go over my assigned time with Maylene…

Well, if Gardenia was going to be here, it was probably fine if I sent dad a message about waiting a little longer. He didn't know about any of this.



The time it took for Maylene to go get Gardenia had been enough for me to start getting second thoughts. What if she thought I was weird? All she knew about me was that I'd killed a bunch of people and watched a man get tortured. Plus, given that she knew I'd been in Coronet doing something, she probably thought I'd killed more. And she would be correct. What these thoughts brought was a different kind of nervousness. Not the one I'd gotten before talking to Maylene, the familiar pit in my stomach, the gnawing, twisting tread, and the relentless thoughts that things were going to go in the worst possible direction.

Instead, my heart raced in a way that was almost painful, a rapid thudding that echoed in my ears. My palms were slick with sweat, and I found myself shifting nervously, unable to keep still. Every possible outcome of the encounter flashed through my mind. What if I stuttered, what if I said something stupid, what if Gardenia didn't like me? This anxiety was closer to excitement, akin to what I used to feel before fighting in Gym Battles.

I could see them making their way toward me, chatting about something. Like every Gym Leader, her clothes were dark and muted. A simple skirt that flowed down below her knees, nearly touching the ground, and some kind of top that was nearly a whisper against her skin, thin and see-through on the sleeves. Her heels made her look taller than she already was.

"...things are going good. Anyway, Nia, here's Grace," Maylene finished a sentence.

Oh God. Already?!

"H—hello. Nice to meet you." Was that fine? It was fine right?

Gardenia smiled. "We already met, remember? Inside Maymay's Gym."

"Nia, she means that this is like, a proper meeting," Maylene huffed. "Stop being so matter-of-fact about things!"

"Sorry, sorry," Gardenia chuckled. "You can relax, I'm not going to eat you, okay? Here, why don't we sit." She gestured at the array of couches next to us.

We each took a seat, Gardenia sitting in front of both of us with an analytical stare that made me feel like I was being disassembled. Was she looking for something? Trying to figure me out? After three seconds or so, she leaned back and crossed her legs.

"First, I want to thank you for keeping Maylene safe in Coronet, Grace," Gardenia said. "I know that she lost her team in there."

"Oh, she saved me more than I saved her. Obviously, I can't go into much detail, but I wouldn't be here without her." There was no stutter this time, so I was making progress. I couldn't shake the feeling that I sounded weird, though. "There was a mutual give and take."

She paused for a second. "You helped her with her dad, too, while we were all too busy to be there when she needed it."

"Thank you, but that was mostly Cecilia."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know how to take a compliment, do you?" Gardenia noticed. It wasn't an aggressive statement, just a thoughtful observation. Her tone was even warm.

"Nia! You said you'd be nice, gosh!" Maylene yelled. She hadn't noticed.

"Say, why don't you swing by my Gym sometime," Gardenia asked. I thought I'd been hearing things, and I was stuck looking at her like some dumb kid. "No? Maylene's told me about your struggle to return to normal life, and I know I'm your favorite Gym Leader. We could share a few words about battling, tactics, and the like. Plus, I can tell you all about my journey, too."

"Y—yes!" I practically screamed. "Of course I— yes!"

Gardenia continued speaking about how she'd used Volkner and Roark to lose Candice— why had they not wanted her to be here?— and I soaked it all in. I'd honestly believed that my door with Gardenia had closed forever, that it would only remain open in Virtuous' timeline, but here I was, talking to her.

Well, mostly listening and enjoying myself.

When the day had begun, I thought I'd be going back home in tears.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 328
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 328

My head rested on my palm as drowsiness began to creep in, the steady drone of the teacher's voice blending with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, the frantic clicking of laptop keyboards, or the scratching of pen on paper. Below me was the book for this course dad had bought me, and I had a few notes scribbled down on a notebook about different musical symbols and whatnot. This place was pretty full for a summer class. By my count, there were twenty-two people here, all teenagers.

"Let's pause here," Ms. Arden said, her tone gentle but firm as she closed the large book of sheet music resting on the piano. The students looked up, some blinking as if emerging from a trance. "You've all done wonderfully so far. I know this can feel like learning a new language—and in many ways, it is—but you're already starting to grasp it."

She walked over to the board, where a simple staff with a few notes had been drawn. "We'll take a short break now. When we come back, we'll start putting what we've learned into exercise at the piano. But before you go," she paused, letting the silence settle, "while you're on break, I want you to think about what you've just learned. Imagine the notes, see them on the staff, and try to hear them in your mind. And it's ten minutes, not one more! If you're late, you aren't getting back in."

Ms. Arden was an interesting teacher. In her forties, shorter than me and a little puffy like a Dedenne, but stern enough to have garnered a reputation among those who'd taken her classes before. She wasn't just a really good piano player, a professional who often played at huge venues for the highest echelons of society; she also played the violin, the harp and the cello. She moved over to the whiteboard to erase some of the notes she'd taken.

Most students filtered out of the room. Some had their Pokemon with them— a boy with a Starly sleeping on his head as if it was her nest. Another with an Aipom who Ms. Aiden had forced back into his Pokeball after the normal type had sown too much chaos in class and thrown a bunch of paper balls at a girl's Kricketot who'd been just as interested in learning as she was. I would have had Angel here had he not been far too large for the classroom. He certainly would have enjoyed it. Instead, Mimi was soundly sleeping around my wrist.

I wonder what Lehmhart would have said if he'd been here. My fist clenched around the fabric of my jeans under my desk, and I held my breath until the hurt passed.

"Sheesh, it's a summer class! She should relax a little bit. You'd think we're taking exams next class." A girl to my right snickered at her own remark.

Her name was Jess. She wasn't really a friend—this was only my second class here, which was way too early for that—but I'd consider her a classroom acquaintance. She had light brown skin and super long tresses. Her parents were apparently Alolan and had come to Sinnoh this January. Usually, you heard about people moving to Alola, not from there, but at least it meant that she was totally tuned out of the trainer culture here. The main reason we'd kind of bonded was because one, she'd sat next to me and just decided to talk, and two, she had no idea who I was.

In the first day of class, numerous students had grouped around my table when I'd arrived. The most all of them could ask were questions about fame, or corny things about how they liked the way I fought because it was entertaining on TV. They were fans, so I responded as best I could, but the image they had of me was just not at all who I was. They saw me as this cool, calm and collected girl who was as brutal as possible to make sure she'd obtain victory at all costs. Only the last bit of that was true.

I assumed those who vehemently disagreed with that assessment already wanted nothing to do with me. They'd gone for someone else instead: the other acquaintance I'd made, though I hadn't paid any attention to what they'd asked.

She was—

"You're far too easygoing," Marley nearly murmured. "You're sending your laziness my way; it's contagious."

"That's how we do it back in the islands. You should try it for a change, Marles." Jess put her feet up on her table, leaned back against her chair and winked at her.

Marley was kind of the other side of the coin. Thin, the kind of pale that got sunburned by spending an hour in the sun, timid, and nearly always quiet. She was a diligent student whose pages were somehow filled with notes even though this was the second class of this summer course. I was pretty sure she was studying on her own time as well. We'd literally just begun and there was like no material we'd seen. Marley was just the kind of person to look ahead in the book before the teacher even got there.

She gave me rich girl vibes with how this was the second time she'd come here in extravagant dresses, but from what I knew, she actually lived in the rougher parts of the city and commuted here via bus. I'd never even seen her with a phone. She had short black hair parted a little to the side and seemingly always had a ribbon somewhere in there. Today's was white and on the side of her head.

"Please don't call me that." Her voice was a little deep— especially whenever she got loud. I noticed her flush in embarrassment, as she always did whenever her tone slipped. Sometimes, I'd see her open her mouth, consider saying something, but shut down with a saddened look.

She probably had a lot more to say a lot of the time, but just didn't like the sound of her own voice. Part of me wanted to call Melody to give her advice, but I just didn't know Marley that well, and I didn't know if she'd be offended or something. I'd had enough of accidentally hurting people.

"Fine. Marley," Jess enunciated the word in an obnoxious way. She probably hadn't caught it, since she didn't seem like the kind of girl to pay attention to her surroundings. "It's a cute nickname. What do you think, Graces? Oh, never mind, she's back on her phone again."

"Hm? Oh, I mean I'm just here to pass the time," I said as I scrolled through my messages.

"You're in a classroom with one of the best musicians in Jubilife, and you're here to pass the time?" Jess raised an eyebrow, holding it there for a few seconds and snorted. "You're weird."

"I mean, I do want to learn the piano—" a smile crept up my face when I saw Maylene had messaged me. She hadn't been sure if she'd be able to make it today because of work, but she had managed to finish most of what she needed to do today.

She wouldn't be picking me up or anything. She was still a Gym Leader, and it was bad optics to have her just walk the streets, having fun in public, while many people were still having a tough time in hospitals or had lost loved ones. Instead, she'd be discreetly Teleported to my apartment complex, where we would hang out for an hour and a half and practice. More complicated plans would have to wait at least another week.

"Secret boyfriend, ain't it?" Jess shot Marley a look, and my mood immediately soured. "Okay, I guess not?"

Marley cleared her throat. "You should learn to keep your mouth shut once in a while," she said, her confidence now returned. "Also, stop leaning back like that; you're going to fall."

For once, Jess listened. And when I said for once even though I'd only known this girl for one class and a half, I meant it. She was… a little annoying, if a little fun as well. Obviously, I wouldn't have stuck around if I hadn't liked her. Plus, she was kind of the glue between me and Marley. There was often this dynamic in school groups where if one person left, the others suddenly didn't know what to talk about and just shuffled there awkwardly until they returned.

I had been the victim of this too many times to count. Hell, last time when we'd just met each other, Jess had kind of decided that we were her friends now. She'd left to go to the bathroom while we'd been talking about our history with the piano after class, and it had literally happened.

"Can't stick around after class this time," I said. "I've got to do stuff."

"I get it. You trainers are always too busy for us civvies," Jess lamented with sarcasm dripping into her words. "I'll just stick around with Marley so we can bond over how we're going to practice—" I felt my heart jump at the word, "—the piano together and leave you behind in the dust while you go do whatever."

Marley shook her head as she pulled a simple spam sandwich from her backpack. "No. I have to go train, too. I've been slacking off too much lately." She began to eat at it, taking bites so small I wasn't sure she'd be done before the break ended.

I blinked. Marley was a trainer? She didn't seem like the type, but that had been my fault for judging a book by its cover. It was difficult to imagine a frail girl like her going out in the wild for days on end, but then again, my picture of what a normal Pokemon journey was like was colored by my own experiences. You could pretty easily go through Sinnoh without many problems if you knew the places to avoid and waited to go there until your team was powerful enough. And maybe she was like Erin, only going to the outskirts of her city.

Or maybe she was super famous and that was why people had swarmed around her on the first day as well. I did assume she was well-known, but not because she was a trainer. Maybe she played another instrument, or she modeled or something.

Meh. What were the odds, right? Looking at her again, she didn't finish her sandwich, instead deciding to save the other half for later.

While these two were just casual acquaintances— maybe loose friends—who most likely weren't going to last in the long run, dad had been right when he'd said this would help. My new therapist (who I had only seen once so far) had said the same thing. Sometimes, it was good to just be struggling to stay awake in class and to be bored out of your mind learning sheet music instead of actually playing the instrument I'd signed up for instead of spiraling like I had been before the ceremony.

I was still ugly inside, concealed beneath a veneer of smiles and pretenses. These people just remained blissfully unaware and looked at me like I was normal. The effort to maintain this façade was suffocating, leaving me feeling queasy as I forced myself to fit in as if I wasn't a scar etched upon the world. Maylene was the only one who could see my real self without feeling disappointment—in the case of my friends—or disgust in the case of these two girls.

And probably Cecilia.

"Are you okay, Graces?" Jess worryingly asked. "You sick? I can take you to the infirmary."

"I'm fine. Thanks."

It was going to be okay. I would see her soon.



My Hero had been waiting by my door, chatting with her Medicham. Even though this was our third session, seeing her in casual clothing was still strange. The only other time it had happened was when we'd gone to the gym—that was one of our planned sessions eventually since there was no point in not being consistent with working out. Maybe she'd wear the same clothes. Thinking back, that crop top looked really good on her. And those yoga pants... would it be fine to ask her to wear them again?

Today, Maylene wore a simple, fitted gray tank top that showed off her toned arms; baggy shorts with a deep shade of blue that hung just above her knees; well-worn sneakers with plenty of use, which was kind of charming due to the fact that I got easily attached to things too. She could have had a new pair with her Gym Leader salary, but here she was, wearing these.

Ah, but she'd seen me coming. Casually inserting myself once there was a lull in the conversation wasn't going to work.

Maylene had already been smiling at some joke Medicham must have made, but there was something different about the way she looked at me. I knew what it was, of course, but one couldn't help but notice. Denying I'd missed someone looking at me like that was a fool's errand.

"There you are," she said.

"Hey. Sorry, Ms. Arden kept rambling for an extra ten minutes." Luckily I had avoided traffic by having Princess fly me. Unfortunately, one had to follow the law, so I had to walk to the nearest landing platform first and land at the one closest to my apartment. "You two been waiting long?"

Good day, Grace! Medicham saluted and winked. Thank you again for the candy the other day.

"She ate way too much," Maylene said with a hint of disapproval. "Medi has no self-control."

Oh, Maymay, life's too short to worry about self-control, Medicham huffed. Maylene and I glanced at each other for a moment.

My keys jingled as I grabbed them out of my jeans pockets and let both girls in. The rest of Maylene's team was either still working at the Gym or helping in Snowpoint, but she liked bringing at least one Pokemon with her. The two times she had come here, that had been Medicham. The psychic was a riot; she was immature in the best ways and got on well with Princess and Honey. We both took off our shoes, but she preferred to stay barefoot whereas I had a pair of dad's slippers to use.

They were way too big for me, but they did the trick.

"Hungry?" I glanced to the right, toward the kitchen embedded in the corner of the apartment. "I can make you guys something."

Medicham beamed. She'd already jumped and claimed the couch for herself. Yes—

"Don't, it's okay. We don't want to be a bother," Maylene said.

My shoulders sagged a little as if the wind was taken out of my sails. Every time I tried offering Maylene something—like making food, lending her stuff, or even paying for takeout—she always refused or split the bill. Even the candy I'd given out had all gone to Medicham. Did she not want me to do her favors? She'd been helping me so much, making me her priority to the detriment of her own life. She'd accepted me fully and given me hope. I knew I'd said I'd be using her, but could I truly give nothing else in return?

"Hey. Stop whatever you're thinking about." Maylene turned toward me, and her hand twitched. She'd wanted to touch me. That would have been a breach of protocol. "How bad was it this time?"

"It's—uh, I thought that you might not want me to treat you. 'Cause I'm… me," I mumbled.

"Nope. I already ate before coming here; you know I track what I eat and stuff. Feeding me's a hassle because I plan all my meals ahead of time." Oh. Of course, that was it. That made sense. "Feel better now?"

"Yeah. I'm kind of stupid, huh?" Something tugged the corner of my lips.

"Kind of, or very?" she teased, her lips curving into a smug grin as she leaned in slightly, as if she was daring me to challenge her. "Come on, I have something fun for us to do today— ah, Medi, get off the couch!"

Maylene jumped on the unsuspecting Medicham, and the situation quickly turned to playfighting. Sometimes, I'd wince when it looked like Medi got a hit in that would have broken basically every bone in my body, but Maylene would just shrug it off and laugh. Hell, I was sure Medicham was holding back, but even when fooling around, Maylene was strong enough to pin her down. It looked kind of fun. Once the fighting type finished, I released Honey and Princess so that she would have company, and the Electivire zipped Mimi away from me through magnetism.

"Do you have Streamix on this?" She snatched the remote on the coffee table and turned the TV on. Dad had left the news on this morning before heading to work.

"Oh, we do. We watching a movie?" I sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning against the armrest.

She brought up the menu and clicked on the streaming service. "Yeah. I hope that's fine? It's not new or anything, but Candice recommended it to me for us to watch. Apparently, it's horror?"

"Huh. I might know it, what's it called?" Her eyes widened a smidge in surprise. "What? Believe it or not, I'm a bit of a movie buff. I went to the cinema with my dad all the time and I watched a bunch, growing up."

"I just didn't expect that. You never brought it up."

"There was a lot going on. I guess now that routine's returning to my life, I can start watching movies again." My fingers tapped idly against my cheek. "I actually had this series about a mute trainer I was watching with…"

With Cecilia.

A heavy silence settled in, at least until Maylene broke it. "You two will manage, I'm sure of it. You've made a lot of progress, and it's only been a week!" The way she always tried to cheer me up didn't consistently work, but it made my heart feel warm. Was having someone to believe in you this powerful? I'd forgotten what it was like. "Let's just have fun today. The movie is called…" she scrolled through the options until she found the horror genre, and then through those movies as well. "There it is! The Frozen Trail!" The movie's poster was a group of five people, a Monferno and a Charmeleon, trudging through a snowstorm with large red eyes looming in the darkness behind them.

"Did you forget the name? You could have typed in the search bar and saved like 2 minutes." We only had an hour and a half together, so every second counted.

"N—no," she stumbled over her words. "Anyway, I'm pressing play—"

"Wait! If it's horror, we should get into the vibes of the genre." I quickly jumped off the couch and closed the curtains everywhere in the house. Then, I barged into my room and interrupted Medicham attempting to ride on Princess' back while Honey was on the ground, laughing and out of breath as Mimi mimicked him with a weird, high-pitched metallic whine.

Grace! Medicham clamored. I've always wanted to fly on a bird!

Princess countered, hurriedly saying that she was too important to be called a mere bird, but once Honey latched on to the word, she started getting relentlessly teased until she dropped Medicham on the ground with a huff.

"You… you three just don't break anything, alright? Have fun."

I snatched the blanket on my bed and left the room, running toward the thermostat to set it to the coldest temperature possible. The entire apartment was dark when I jumped on the couch again, with only light from the television flickering across the living room, casting shadows that danced across the walls and floor.

"The name was related to cold, so I figured I might as well." After burying myself up to my neck under the covers, I passed some to Maylene, who did the same even though she wouldn't be bothered by the cold. "You good with that?"

"Yeah!" she said. "It's kind of fun, I've never watched a movie like this."

"It's immersive, right? C'mon, press play!"

Maylene laughed, her head tilting back slightly. "Someone's excited. I hope you're good with horror." She put the movie on, and a bunch of logos flashed on the screen. "Candice usually just laughs at them while Gardenia hangs onto her for dear life. I'm happy I won't have to be a third wheel for once."

"What about you?" I asked, unable to resist my curiosity.

"Oh, me? I mean, I clear them easy peasy!"



Maylene, as it turned out, was not good with horror.

Her entire body tensed, and she instinctively curled up on the couch, drawing her knees to her chest as if making herself smaller could somehow shield her from the terror on screen.

She screamed for dear life as a Garchomp suddenly burst from under the snow. Rows upon rows of sharp teeth the size of my fingers dug into the movie's first victim, and the dragon shook their head until there was nothing left but a mutilated corpse with limbs and organs splattered across the white expanse that was northern Sinnoh. Maylene's hands flew to her face, her knuckles white as she clutched the edge of the blanket and dragged it over her eyes.

Sometimes, I'd feel her brush up against me on accident. The blanket was big enough for the both of us to share enough space, but Maylene jumping in terror every time there was tension in the movie made her move around a lot. Luckily, I was wearing jeans to shield myself from what the contact would do to me most of the time, and her hand had only touched my arm twice.

It was fine whenever it happened by accident. I wasn't going to deduct time for it if the instinctual action of responding to fear led to the contact.

The movie was real good, too. The basic plot was that a helicopter crash off-route had stranded a group of five, with their only Pokemon being a Monferno and Charmeleon which conveniently kept them warm enough not to die from the cold. I assumed the Garchomp had lived on Coronet, had made their way out of the mountain, and was now stalking their victims, killing them one at a time and leaving them alive to come to collect whenever they got hungry. They were easy prey; both Monferno and Charmeleon wouldn't be enough to fight back unless the plot pulled some strange shenanigans.

It was scary for sure, especially the tension-building scenes where you could hear subtle rumbling mixed in with the score that was actually Garchomp moving through the snow. Was there anything scarier than getting stalked by a Garchomp with no way back to civilization but your own two legs? They went really hard on the gore, and while the characters were just meh besides the obvious main couple that would survive at the end, at least the Garchomp was a real actor and not CGI. I assumed they'd actually filmed this in Snowpoint or close to it, so nearly everything was practical effects. The city and its surroundings were excellent for filming winter scenes all year round.

Garchomp, Monferno and Charmeleon. They sure must have paid their trainers a whole lot of money to get such a rare lineup of Pokemon who could actually act.

"I can't believe they'd just kill Mitch like that… we're only twenty minutes in!" Maylene complained with a lasting whine. "I thought we'd see the Garchomp first, and they'd manage to escape, at least for a while."

"Well, he was the one with the least amount of backstory and talked about his wife and kids in the opening act, he was basically condemned to die," I said, glancing at her.

The subtle glow of the TV flashed across her face, and she was already preparing herself to shield her eyes at the next jumpscare. Normally, I'd be hoping there wouldn't be that many— not because being scared wasn't fun, but because too many really cheapened the impact and kind of ruined the movie. They'd handled it perfectly here, revealing Garchomp for the first time after having left clues for attentive viewers to catch without holding their hand.

But this time, I figured I'd be kind of okay with it.

Part of me wanted to ask her to practice right now, a desperate idea that hung on the tip of my tongue. It would technically be fine because she'd be the one touching me. Plus, Gardenia and Candice did it when watching movies, and they were friends. It was normal. The issue was that I couldn't be the one to ask because that'd breach a line and go past a point I was unwilling to cross. There was this tense feeling within me, a subtle squeeze that made me conscious of every breath. A warmth bubbling within me despite the cold temperatures that had spread throughout the apartment.

It wasn't a bad feeling.

The movie finished with a runtime of one hour and ten minutes with my expectations completely subverted. The main couple who I thought would live actually died, along with every human in the movie, leaving only Monferno and Charmeleon alive for the last forty percent of the film as they desperately clung to life, the flame on their tails dimming as the movie went on. As it turned out, they'd been the two main characters all along, and their scenes were devoid of any dialogue or subtitles, meaning people had to use body language and guess what they were telling each other. Even I couldn't understand, since my empathy didn't work through screens.

It was extremely enjoyable to watch, even if only Monferno survived Garchomp's onslaught in the end thanks to Charmeleon's sacrifice. He'd evolved into a CGI Charizard and bought just enough time for Monferno to jump into a half-frozen river that washed him up in Snowpoint with only a broken arm, leg, and hypothermia.

"That was fun!" I said as the credits rolled. "Honestly, one of the best horrors I've watched recently. I wonder if Candice watched and recc'ed it because it was a locally-made movie. What'd you think—"

Ah.

She was crying. Not full-on tears, but her eyes were wet and she sniffled as she dragged herself out of the covers and wiped her eyes. "That was depressing. Good, but depressing."

I sighed. "Right."

I understood her. It was the kind of movie I'd usually cry at, but it just hadn't… made me feel as strongly. Yes, I was sad, and yes, I'd gotten scared, but maybe movies were just that, now. Movies. Fake. The veneer of reality one could pretend was there when watching just hadn't hit me at all. Nothing had immersed me enough to make me think 'these are people, not actors.'

"I really thought they'd escape together. Why did Candice recommend this? It completely killed the vibe…" Maylene grabbed her phone to check the time, and then I almost thought she'd start texting Candice before she put it away. "I bet she was laughing when she texted me about it! She knew it'd make me cry!"

"Maybe she thought you'd enjoy it anyway, right?" I scooted myself a little toward her. "It was good. That scene where Garchomp destroyed their camp and bit off that guy's leg and he had to bleed out for miles over the snow? It's so good!"

Maylene rolled her eyes. "You'd get on well with her for any horror flicks."

"Probably, but watching with you was… cool; your reactions were fun." I found myself tightening the covers around me. "I wish we could do this more often. Hanging out."

She gave me a knowing smile. "You know we can't. It has to be other people pulling you up, not just me," she explained as she had numerous times. "If I'm your answer for everything, then I'm just turning into your new Cecilia. Without the dating part," she was thankfully quick to add.

"I know. I'm the one who actually has to swim to shore; you're just keeping me from drowning."

She snapped her fingers. "Exactly! God, you're good with analogies."

I was bummed to hear it, but her knowing when to stop was a good thing. I was horrible at self-control while she actually enforced the limits. That was what I needed. While Maylene went to readjust the thermostat, I opened the curtains again and went to check on our Pokemon. Medicham, as Princess explained it, had enjoyed the cold so much she'd started napping after stealing my bed. The Togekiss and her brother had started taking bets on what they could do without Medicham waking up, which, as it turned out, was a lot. I assumed Honey was the one who had squiggled the lines on her face with permanent marker while Princess had been in the midst of tickling her nose with the tip of her wing just as I'd walked in. Mimi had been staring out my window with a fascinated look and looking at Jubilife's afternoon life passing them by.

I apologized to Maylene for their behavior when she walked in behind me, but she didn't seem to mind. Even Medicham took it all in good fun and enjoyed having stars drawn around her eyes.

"You guys can take the living room," Maylene said. "Grace and I are gonna use the room for a bit."

All three Pokemon slowly walked out— I rubbed Princess' head and Honey's arm when they did— and Mimi remained transfixed by the city. Maylene closed the door behind them. My throat felt dry when she turned toward me. Her mouth opened, and she asked in a whisper that carried across my bedroom and tickled my ears:

"We have enough time; want to practice today?"



Practice was odd.

During our second session after the first in the bathroom, Maylene had backed off due to the reaction I'd had when she had tried touching my face and done my wrist instead. It was a gesture I appreciated greatly; it'd be better to slowly ramp up instead of jumping to the most extreme options right away. The problem was that while I was always anxious before it happened, and the start was always unpleasant, making me fight my instincts to not pull away out of fear of sullying Maylene, part of me couldn't help but look forward to it.

It was in moments like these, right before we began, that the tension was at its highest— so thick I struggled to take anything but shallow breaths, and I had to stay focused by biting my lip. Maylene loomed in front of me, face slightly red and looking right into my eyes. Where was she going to do it today? The hand? Maybe my shoulder? My thighs? No, she couldn't— I was wearing jeans. Or could she, anyway? What if she asked me? My mind raced at every possibility as I pressed myself back against the wall and gripped the side of my desk with a slick palm. She was kind of cornering me, yet I could barely look away; I was caught in the intensity of her gaze.

"Are you ready?" she asked, slightly breathless. She was nervous just like I was, something that reassured me slightly. "Remember the safe word."

My head bobbed up and down without my doing; I was in no state of mind to speak right now. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw both of her hands moving in unison toward my waist. They slipped under the hem of my shirt—

My entire body shivered, knocking over a cup full of pens and pencils all over my desk and floor. It was as if a jolt of electricity surged through me, setting my body alight. I could literally feel my heartbeat in my ears. Maylene stopped, waiting to see if I'd say anything to stop her, but I didn't. Instead, I held strong as she moved deeper under my shirt up my waist and then kept her hands firmly in place. It had to be skin-on-skin, or it didn't count. The treatment was obviously working. The period of time it took for it to go from me worrying about Maylene's safety to whatever this feeling was grew tinier and tinier, and today was no exception. To her credit, Maylene stayed very professional. She kept far enough away from me to need to have her arms fully extended to touch me, and…

"Is this good?" she softly asked.

Maylene squeezed a little harder, and I forgot what I'd just been thinking about. Her fingers traced lightly along my waist, their warmth seeping into my skin. I could feel her other hand draw contours along the edges of my scars. There was no way the thermostat had already adjusted the temperature enough for me to sweat, yet I was anyway. An unknown amount of minutes passed when a dangerous little thought wandered into my head as Maylene's hands snaked further behind me and onto my back, meaning she had needed to get a smidge closer.

Was I enjoying this?

I was. There was something freeing about being so vulnerable with her; something freeing about showing her all of me, countless flaws included, and yet still having her look at me like this. Like I still deserved to be loved. Touch me like I still deserved to be touched and wasn't poisonous. Was it okay to like this? Did it go too far? I'd enjoyed my therapy with Aliyah and looked forward to speaking with her; wasn't this just another form of therapy?

Maylene was close enough for her hands to touch behind me, now, and finally, I found myself looking away from her intense gaze. She let out a little sound, almost demanding, to tell me to keep staring so I could keep my confidence, and it was impossible for me to consider not locking eyes again. The ends of her breath tickled my face—

The alarm rang in her pocket.

"Annnd, done," she sighed.

Immediately, her warmth left me, leaving only traces. Imprints of purity where her fingers and palms had sunk into my skin to fix me. Soon, it'd be as if it had never been there in the first place. I could see the darkness lurking on her fingers, palms and forearms. They were already fading; they always went quicker, these days. The ten minutes did as well; I couldn't believe that was it, already. My legs were numb. I used the last of my energy to shuffle over to my bed and fell on top of it as if I'd just ran a marathon.

"You did good today," Maylene said behind me. "You nearly looked at me the entire time and everything; good job. I'm proud of you." My stomach fluttered. "You thirsty? I'm feeling a bit thirsty." She glanced at the door. "I can get you some water."

"Yes, please." I stared down again so I wouldn't see her, and my voice was muffled through my pillow.

I heard her open the door, letting in our Pokemon's chatter, but I was too out of it to focus. My head was spinning. Surprisingly, she closed it behind her, and for a moment, there were no steps. It was like a bucket of cold water dropped on my head. Had I fucked up in some way? Made a sound that had creeped her out during practice? I—I needed to fix this. I—

It must have taken nearly ten seconds for her to start walking toward the kitchen. Hearing her move soothed my nerves enough to stay seated on the bed instead of barging out there in a panic and apologizing for whatever it was that I did wrong. Maylene came back with two glasses of tap water, though she'd already been drinking from hers. My hands pressed against the cool glass to center myself, and I took a sip of water.

"Thanks for helping, as always," I said now that I was well enough to speak. "What time is it? How long do you have left?"

After downing her glass, Maylene started picking up my knocked-down pen and pencils. "I took a look at the time in the living room. We've got thirteen minutes left, but I think I'm gonna head out early."

My body froze; the glass nearly slipped out of my hands. "Was it something I did, or…?" I asked, unsure of myself.

Maylene smiled. "Good. You asked this time instead of thinking the worst all on your own." She finished putting the cup upright and looked at me like someone would a wounded child. Full of care and a desire to help. "No, it was nothing you did, but I think it'd be good for you. Sometimes, things happen, and people have to leave early, y'know? It'd be good for you to learn. Better to get you used to it; it's just thirteen minutes. Less, now."

"That's fair." I stood up to see her out. "Thanks for swinging by. Kadabra gonna pick you up?"

"...I guess I'll have to stand in front of the door until he does," she slowly realized, hand drifting up to her forehead. "No talking to me, though. Sorry. Oh, and by the way, I was thinking."

"Hm?"

Unwilling to leave them unattended, I scooped up Mimi in my hands before we left my bedroom.

"You know how I told you that you should have other people to practice with?" she asked. Right. I hadn't even told anyone about this problem yet since I'd been hoping it would go away just with Maylene's help. "Since you haven't really gotten started on that, I figured that the session after the next one should be done by someone other than me."

I could only muster a weak "yeah," however my displeasure must have shown on my face even though I knew she was right.

"I know it's gonna be tough." She grabbed my hand and squeezed—

We both immediately pulled away. She had forgotten that wasn't supposed to happen.

"Shit. Sorry." Her expression looked uneasy rather than apologetic. Like she was unsettled she had actually fucked up. "Um, as I was saying, it's going to be hard; I know you're in a bad place right now. But I'm giving you a session's warning in advance so it doesn't feel like the world's falling underneath you. This has nothing to do with anything you did or what I feel, okay? It's just better this way, yeah?"

"No, no, I get it." I did get it. But how could she make me feel these weird things and then tell me I had to get it from someone else? How was that fair?

Maylene's hands touched one another, as if she needed a distraction. "You look like it hurts a lot, though."

"I'm sorry. I'm trying, and it's genuinely gotten a lot easier since we talked at the ceremony. Thanks for sticking with me, still." It was difficult to believe that she was still here helping me after all of this. That she still loved me. Yet I knew she did. "So… see you in four days at eight pm?" I'd memorized the schedule, so there was no need to check my phone."Don't forget, it's in Twinleaf."

"It's gonna be tough finding a Kadabra who's been there," Maylene jokingly complained. "I'll figure it out, though." She turned toward the living room. "Medi! Time to go!"

After Medicham told my Pokemon her goodbyes, Maylene and I stood there awkwardly for a few moments. This always happened when one of us had to leave; we kind of didn't know how to do it without feeling like something was off. This time around, it ended with two stiff nods and a wave on my part. The door closed, and I waited in the living room, glancing at the clock occasionally as I caught up with Honey and Princess' games and what I'd missed with Medicham.

It seemed a little more difficult to do things now that Maylene was gone, and I had a few hours until dad came back home. Honey poked my shoulder and asked what we were going to do now, and I smiled at him.

"Guess it's time to wash you guys. You haven't taken baths in a while."

Princess immediately screamed at her sibling for getting her into this mess, which reminded me of some kids' reactions to the people who'd tell teachers they'd forgotten to check if the class had done their homework. To make herself feel better, she threw Sunshine under the bus and demanded he be subject to this 'torture.'

Honestly, she just hated getting wet because it made her lose all of her volume, and it exposed how skinny she was to the world. She sure looked a lot less majestic that way.

"Don't worry, Sunshine's gonna get his share too!" I laughed. Yeah, he'd just gotten out of the Center and didn't really need his scales cleaned, but it'd be fun to bond. "Then we'll go out."

This time, it was Mimi who chimed excitedly, though the other two were also intrigued.

"I don't know where yet. But… maybe we can go train again, yeah?"



It was always difficult for Maylene to go to work as if nothing had happened after spending time with Grace. Her mind would always be weighed down by guilt, as if leaving Grace behind was somehow wrong, even though she knew it was for the best. There was something in the way Grace looked up at her, a look so vulnerable, as if her entire world would crumble if Maylene walked out that door. It was a gaze that tugged at her heart, making her want to stay just a little longer, no matter how many responsibilities awaited her.

Those eyes were almost hypnotic, and in that moment, Maylene could fully grasp what Cecilia had gone through. It wasn't just a look; it was a silent plea, a tender vulnerability that was impossible to turn away from—especially when you loved her. That was why Maylene had grabbed her hand on accident. She'd wanted nothing more but to call Grace a good girl for reassurance and to tell her she'd stay until her father came home from work in exchange for having other people practice with her as if that would be some kind of compromise and not just giving in to her.

And it would probably feel really good. Giving in to her. For a while, at least, until it inevitably blew up.

Saying no felt like a betrayal, a cruelty she wasn't sure she could ever inflict until Maylene stood there for long enough, snapped out of her trance, and remembered this was for Grace's own good.

Now, it was back to work.

Luckily for her, she'd finished helping the 7th badge Pokemon train today in hopes of pushing more of them to be usable for 8th badge battles. As Veilstone was the first Gym reopened, and they took more and more trainers every day, Maylene expected the Gym wouldn't have enough to tackle the flurry of 7 badgers hoping to make it to the Conference who had saved her for their 8th badge in hopes of getting an easier fight. Now, all she'd need to do for the rest of the day was refresh her email, look into getting some new fighting types in Maniac Tunnel tomorrow, and harass the League for more money to pay all of her employees on time this Friday.

It was boring, idle work, but that was also part of a Gym Leader's duties and could be enjoyable if you saw it as taking care of your community. Any distraction was better than reminiscing about today's practice. If Maylene thought about it too much, she wouldn't be able to even read right.

She was mildly melancholic that other people would have to be involved soon. It was for Grace's well-being, but practice was… it was their thing. Maylene would be sad to see less and less of it as the weeks went on. For their next session in Twinleaf, she'd have to make her ten minutes count.

It was okay to be a little selfish, right?

A subtle vibration from her phone on her desk snapped her out of her thoughts. Luckily, it wasn't Grace relapsing—they weren't supposed to contact each other outside of emergencies (if Grace was getting really bad thoughts; she had revealed her history of self-harm), set hours or to facilitate meetings for their sessions—it was Candice. Reading her name on her screen usually would have made Maylene smile, but the ice type Gym Leader had been relentless in getting 'updates' on what was happening between Maylene and Grace this past week.

Maylene was somewhat to blame. She'd kept telling her about some things to cheer her up, even more than Gardenia sometimes. Maylene had obviously respected Grace's wishes and not told them how deep their bond went; all they knew was that they'd 'mended' things at the ceremony and were now sometimes hanging out and talking, but less than they had before.

Maylene exhaled before answering. "Candice. Aren't you supposed to be meeting with some—"

"Yes! The Kanto-Johto reps to assign them to different jobs to help fix up the port. I finished all of that already!" she yelled so loudly it was as if she was trying to eat her phone. She was surprised it had gone that quickly, but despite how Candice acted, Maylene knew she wasn't the kind of person to not take her duties seriously when she couldn't afford to. "How'd it go with Grace? Did she enjoy the movie?"

"Why'd you give us a movie like that, anyway?" Maylene asked, dodging the question. "I thought it was gonna be a cheesy kind of horror, not 'ruin your day' horror."

Candice snickered. "You don't know what it's like to rizz someone, my dear apprentice. First of all, Grace loves movies—"

"You knew that?!"

"—and I figured you'd jump in her arms, or she'd comfort you while you were crying or something," Candice spoke over her. "Second of all, it's also just a great movie?! Like, hello?! Real boon for the Snowpoint movie industry these past few years! We're no Pokestar Studio, but I'm hoping to get there in my tenure!"

Maylene sighed as she forwarded an email to Sunyshore's Gym about some issue about a reported herd of Ponyta arriving from off-route onto route 214 within the next week or so. It was a situation the Rangers would most likely deal with, but they were better safe than sorry. Just knowing wouldn't hurt, and Sunyshore trainers were so coddled a few might do something stupid in hopes of getting their hands on a new fire type and get burned.

"She did like the movie," Maylene admitted. "Really like it. Thanks for the suggestion." Most of her commentary had been about the technical aspects of scenes or the themes behind the story, though. A little funny to hear when someone's body was being shredded by a Garchomp's teeth. It was endearing in a way, and nice to listen to her talk about something normally and not berate herself for just existing. Maylene was sure she would have paid more attention if she hadn't been fighting for her life. "Since I have you here, I want to talk to you about something."

"Sure thing, Maymay. Shoot."

Her fingers traced the edge of her laptop. "I… I don't think you should keep pushing this narrative about Grace and me becoming a thing. It's not happening."

Sure, Grace and Cecilia were temporarily broken up, but the temporary was the important bit. The thought of it being final terrified Grace constantly to the point that she'd vent about maybe not being good enough even when she was 'fixed.' Her intention was to get back with Cecilia eventually, and Maylene encouraged that. Sometimes, especially during practice, Grace would look at her in ways that gave her ideas that maybe, just maybe, there'd be a chance if Maylene pushed for it. If she just leaned in and took her lips right then and there. But she didn't want to be a homewrecker. She wasn't doing this to take advantage of two broken girls, and so far, she'd found restraining herself from going that far to be easy.

"If you want me to, I'll stop," Candice finally said. "But it's giving a little bit of mixed signals, yeah? You're literally having dates with this girl every few days, and her girlfriend's nowhere to be seen. She helped you a lot with Oscar, right? And the three of you talked and spent a decent amount of time together. Aren't you practicing to show her different colors of aura? I honestly thought something had happened here, like a big ole pile of lesbians. You never did that for me when I asked you."

"S—slow down. You asked me that out of curiosity, and you say a bunch of unserious stuff all the time!" Maylene fought back. "And yes, she was the main reason I stood up to him back at the ceremony," Maylene said with a slight smile. "Cecilia's just busy, at the moment. She's reconnecting with her team on her own." That was the official narrative Maylene was going for, at least.

"Well, if you want to lie to your dear friend Candice, I'll let you off the hook for now, missus," she spoke with a huff. "I'll stop bringing it up. Just… if what you're saying is true and nothing's changed in their relationship, then you ought to back off, right? Like I know I joke around a lot and stuff, but…"

Maylene felt a pit form in her stomach. "It's not what you think, okay? There's—there's a reason for all of this; I just can't get into it; it isn't my place. If she's ever fine with me saying this stuff, then I'll tell you, 'kay?"

Maylene hoped her friends wouldn't think she was a bad person because of a misunderstanding. If it came to that, she'd have to ask Grace to tell them again. Grace was really worrying about their reactions for nothing. They didn't have to go in-depth; they'd just have to briefly mention the break, the co-dependency issues, and their practice sessions. Then, they would understand easily.

Candice let out a long, curious hum with a hint of suspicion. "Just don't get hurt, and try to not hurt others, okay?"

Maylene couldn't muster a verbal response. "Mhm."



There were plenty of areas to train in Jubilife. Hundreds upon hundreds of arenas to make use of, filled to the brim with hobbyists and professional trainers alike. Sometimes, they'd hold tournaments that dad used to bring me to, and I remembered being so excited to see them— as if my eyes were so transfixed on each fight I barely remembered to blink— until I held Princess in my arms for the first time and I pictured her in that situation, taking hit after hit until she was a bloodied heap on the ground with her Togepi egg fractured to pieces.

Times changed, and quickly. One year after that, Princess would be fighting her first battle against a trainer with a Shinx south of the city. The feeling of ecstasy after a win was one I hadn't felt in a long while. Not when all of my recent fights had been to kill people, most of them just because they were in my way. I hadn't come here to fight anyone yet. The odds of finding someone who'd give me a good battle here were basically zero, given that anyone with eight badges would probably rather hide what they were developing for the delayed Conference.

Instead, I'd come here to watch young trainers give it all they got on battles with no stakes to remember what that was like. The thrill of a fight; the way your body felt so electric when one of your tactics paid off, and you could just bask in the moment; how you forgot that the world around you as it bled away, and you forgot anything else existed and could only see the stretch of arena ahead of you and nothing else.

The results were… mixed. Not because the battles were boring, or anything—Sunshine and I were currently watching a girl's Staravia lose to another teen's insanely skilled Venonat, who would leave clusters of Rage Powder to lead Staravia astray. I was pretty sure the bug was somehow combining this with a form of Confuse Ray to make the Staravia see things, given how it was throwing Air Cutters at nothing while his trainer constantly yelled at him in an attempt to aim toward Venonat while Psybeams constantly attempted to shoot him out of the sky. It was kind of a baby's first illusion, which would be incredible given that both these kids had three badges.

I did still get excited when I saw things like that. People finding different ways to use moves, or how no two Pokemon fought the same. For example, this girl's Staravia; he was obviously newly evolved, by the awkward way he sometimes overshot the distance he planned to fly or struggled to stop. That meant that his trainer mostly relied on moves at a distance out of fear he'd mess up. Things like Air Cutter, Gust, or Whirlwind. The issue was that he'd spread the Rage Powder all over the arena due to this, but I assumed his trainer thought she'd be able to make quick work of a Venonat before it became an issue. She had been wrong.

Anyway.

I'd seen another Staravia fight earlier (the species was one of the most popular flying types a Sinnohan trainer could have), and that Pokemon had been turned into a complete berserker whose only goal was to get as many hits in by getting up close and personal. If that wasn't enough, Endeavor would do the trick, and I assumed it often turned a loss into a one-to-one trade if it caught opponents off-guard. The move was one of the relatively easy to learn but much more difficult to master, yet that trainer had put all of his time into it and defied the odds.

There was beauty in that. How people and Pokemon's way of fighting was so shaped by their experiences that none of them were the same. Sometimes similar, maybe, but never the same. Sunshine snorted when Staravia was finally brought down by a final Psybeam, and I nudged his arm to tell him to be respectful in public, at least. His scales were so clean and smooth they were nearly shiny, something he didn't like. According to him, it made him appear weaker because it looked like he didn't regularly fight. Like some kind of 'pet' Pokemon.

His words, not mine.

It had been easy to settle back into a rhythm with him, and he didn't care much about any of my relationship drama besides the fact that it made me feel bad and slow down. He'd told me that I should focus on fighting instead of all these childish impulses, and it was at times like these that I remembered he was a bitter old dragon who'd only known violence and fighting for over seventy years. One couldn't just ignore what they were feeling by throwing themselves into something else and giving up everything else, or at least it wasn't sustainable.

I still loved him dearly, though. And I knew this was a partnership, and he wouldn't want to stay idle. Not just him, either. Nearly all of my Pokemon were eager to get back into the groove of training again but just hadn't said anything because they hadn't wanted to distress me. He was just the only one who didn't care about being blunt, and unlike Sweetheart, Buddy couldn't rein in his words.

The dragon asked me if I had gotten what I wanted by coming here, which mainly was inspiration. My notebook was full of ideas scribbled down in the last week or so, but none of them had clicked like the ones I'd come up with before Coronet. Like Vine Terrain, the different ways to utilize Night Shade, or Dark Sandstorm. The closest I'd gotten back to that feeling were concepts for Princess' cutting moves, but that was far off.

"Not really; it was fun, though. I actually have something I want to talk to you about regarding training."

He perked up at the notion, shell brightening a smidge. The glow made a few people behind him give him a wide berth. At the side of the battlefield, the two trainers we'd been looking at shook each other's hands, and the girl bitterly handed her opponent a few thousand Pokedollars. Must have been a high-stakes match.

I sighed. "Let's head out."

Unfortunately, Sunshine was one of those Pokemon not exactly allowed on most streets of Jubilife, so he'd have to make do with waiting in his Pokeball for now. Princess and I would be flying down south for this one, close to where Angel had first unveiled his Vine Terrain at full force. He actually was one I also wanted to speak to regarding training as well.

The thing about flying was that you saw so much more of the world, spread out below you, and that sometimes included spotting intriguing events. Like a gathering of dark clouds above a slightly wooded area followed by a flurry of bolts of lightning slamming into the ground below. The sound hit me a few seconds later, and I soothed Princess by rubbing a hand on her head. It wasn't the first time we spotted an attack like this from above, but it was certainly the largest of its kind. Was some big-shot training in our spot? That looked like something someone with eight badges would come up with, especially if it was sustainable. I was a little anxious about the woods catching on fire, though I suspect I used that as an excuse to go check out who this was. Any trainer this powerful knew to not damage the area they were in too much whenever they trained. They drilled that into you in school, and if you got caught, you'd get a hefty fine depending on how much land you ruined and what the Rangers had to do to fix it. Already, I noticed someone in uniform on a Tropius keeping watch of the area.

A thick barrier appeared around Princess as she waited for an opening to dive down. When she did, I found a familiar face among a clearing. Marley from piano class with an Electrode brimming with energy, the electricity around her pulsating like a beating heart. A Floatzel was a few hundred feet away, extinguishing the few fires that had appeared before they could damage the woods. The air still smelled like ozone and tickled my nostrils.

Marley from piano class…

Marley from piano class?! Again, the technique on that Electrode was definitely some high-level stuff! The electric type looked a little exhausted, heaving for every breath as she subtly rolled back and forth. The storm above us ended, and Marley's eyes narrowed until she was glaring at me.

"Are you spying on me?" she asked. What? She was the one who was in my spot— "Damn it, I knew I should have waited to train at night." Electrode sneered at me, her species' familiar smile nowhere to be seen, and she asked her trainer what they should do.

I swallowed, forcing myself not to go for my Pokeballs, and I kept petting Princess as I whispered to her to relax. That we were safe, that they didn't mean that they'd kill us; no one who was normal thought like that. Floatzel was… hiding behind one of the trees. Not very well, given that I could see his anxiety-ridden tail writhe around.

"I'm… sorry?" I hesitantly said. "I'm not here to spy; I came here to train with my team. I usually swing around here whenever I'm in Jubilife, and I've never seen you."

Marley huffed, turning her head away—she'd been looking at my Togekiss. "Train? How many badges do you even have?"

Did she really not know? How offline was she? Was it possible to be even more offline than I was? I'd never seen her with a phone, and I could see the edge of a rolled-up paper map past her backpack's zipper like this was the 90s or some other ancient time.

"Seven." Her eyes widened slightly when I answered as if she was surprised a trainer of my caliber was just hanging out in her piano class. That was my line. "Like I said, I didn't come here to spy on you," I continued and took a step forward. "I wanted to talk to my team and come up with some new stuff."

"Uhuh," she said, clearly not believing me.

"Your Electrode sure packs a punch, though," I added. If her Pokemon were this strong, why did she save food and live in the worst part of Jubilife? She could be rich if she wanted. "What's that move called? Is it, like, an ultimate technique?" Maybe something like Vine Terrain was for Angel? "It's a sustained thunderstorm that just keeps hitting with continuous Thunderbolts all over the field, right? I assume they hone in on your opponent, too. It's pretty sweet, especially since it's scaleable with Thunder and eventually even Zap Cannon. Hard to imagine so many of those, though. You might melt any battlefield off."

Her arms shot straight down to her sides, fists clenching so tightly that her knuckles turned whiter than they already were. "You said you didn't come to spy on me, but you fish around for what move that was?!" Her voice turned deep again when she yelled, and her hands covered her mouth. "Ugh. Whatever," Marley muttered. "I'll leave you this area. I thought the fact that it was nearly off the route and the giant thunderstorm would be enough not to come across anyone, but clearly, I was wrong."

"Wait! Do you have a phone number or something? We should train together; this is like, the perfect opportunity!" I asked as she recalled her Electrode and Floatzel (by aiming at his tail), then released an Arcanine. Her fur gleamed in the sunlight like a coat of molten gold, and I could see the dense muscle beneath it. She was far bulkier than Justin's. You'd think she was part fighting type.

The fire type immediately rolled on her back, paws up in the air and tongue hanging from her mouth as she demanded pets. "Arcanine, not now. You're embarrassing me in front of a potential opponent…"

Princess and I just blinked at her, not knowing what to say. Eventually, Arcanine got the idea, and Marley climbed up on her back, face red in embarrassment and anger. "Don't tell this to anyone. Especially not Jess!" Her voice got a little louder just then. "Act like none of this happened in class."

She touched Arcanine's neck twice, and the fire type began to run at a trot, slowly speeding up until she became nothing but a smear of red and gold against the world. I sighed as I released the rest of my team.

So much for a training partner.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 329
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 329

Every time I flew over Twinleaf, I couldn't help but notice how empty it really was. A few hundred inhabitants at most, one building that acted as pre, primary, middle, and high school, a single grocery store—local and not one of the big chains you saw everywhere else—and houses so spread out you'd think people hated each other. I pressed down on Princess' fur, almost a reflexive motion to soothe my nerves. Things had gone well with dad. We weren't back like old times, but all of the tension had gone away and relaxing around him was easy. The same couldn't be said with my mother, considering I hadn't seen her since leaving the League. We'd texted some, but that was different than talking face-to-face. I had no idea how things would go or how she would react to having a Gym Leader in her house for two hours.

At least Denzel's parents weren't here, and while this was morbid to say, my grandmother wouldn't be able to make snide comments every five minutes any longer now that she was gone. I wouldn't go as far as to say that it was good that she died, never that. That would have been the old me. But I wasn't going to lie to myself and say that I'd be grieving in any way, shape, or form like mom had. I hadn't even gone to the funeral.

Leaning in close to Princess' ear, I whispered, "remember which house is hers?" Mom hadn't yet inherited the house, but I was calling it hers anyway. The legal process to do so was really slow and would take months, according to the texts she complained in. Something about the people in Sandgem taking their sweet time getting here.

Princess heartily nodded, zipping past the world at increasing speeds. Part of me wanted to tell her to go as fast as possible, but I wasn't wearing my goggles, at the moment, so I wouldn't be able to enjoy the earth below just becoming one big blend of smeared colors. She circled around Twinleaf until she reached the southern tip of the town, which, according to Denzel, had once been where Lucas, Dawn and Barry used to live. Ours was just a little ways off, green-roofed with a modest stone chimney for winters and walls made of smooth wood paneling, both of which bore the marks of weathering from being an old structure.

According to Buddy, Twinleaf had been originally founded as some sort of summer retreat for rich people from Sandgem and Jubilife, built to get away from the high paced culture of life that dominated those two cities. You could see how it'd make sense. It got apparently hot down here during the summer because it was far inland enough not to be a coastal town. It was over thirty degrees Celsius today, which was basically heat wave territory. The area was dominated by a small lake that led to the ocean to the south, with a small wooden pier and a few tiny boats docked to it. The location had fallen out of favor and stopped growing after a while, but some of the descendants of these rich men and women had stuck behind, leaving the Twinleaf of the present.

While history was no passion of mine, it was nice to learn about my country. It was important to know the context of why things were the way they were, and it was just another hobby that could stop me from being co-dependent with anyone else.

Princess landed in front of our house with a dull, nearly silent thud, and my legs swept above her as I unstrapped myself and jumped off. For a while, I stood there all nervous, imagining that maybe I wouldn't be able to touch my mom, and she'd look at me like I was some sort of failed product. I pictured Maylene calling me stupid with that smug, frustrating yet delightful smile of hers, and I managed to gather the courage to walk up to the front door. There was no doorbell, so my knuckles rasped against the wooden door.

There was a muffled bark behind the door warning that I was here, and a familiar voice saying she was on her way. Mom's steps grew closer behind the door until she was right there and opened it, and right when she looked at me, blue eyes full of love and care, I was sure I'd been worrying for nothing. I was going to stay here the whole week-end, so being able to withstand being with her would be a blessing—

Mom snatched me in her arms, making me seize up in fear of tainting her, but just like dad, there was no darkness seeping into her. With a relieved sigh, I wrapped my arms around her as Herdier greeted me by licking my leg. I couldn't figure out why there was nothing. Part of me wanted to think it was because they were my parents, the people who had made me using half of themselves and allowed me to flourish. Maybe I just knew part of them would love me no matter what happened, but Maylene had said—no, she hadn't said that, but she'd basically implied it. Did I just not believe her, deep down? Or did I just think I'd taint her but not my parents? Or maybe the treatment with Maylene was just working that well, but considering dad had touched me before we'd begun, that didn't make much sense.

No matter what the answer was, one thing was for sure: my brain was weird.

"How are you, sweetie?" She grabbed me by the shoulders to get a good look at me. "Legendaries, I missed you."

"Missed you too." Was I tearing up? Maybe a little. "I've been getting better slowly; I found a system that really worked for me, so…"

"That's great! I'm glad the classes and therapy are going so well." Mom beamed and dragged me inside. "Come in, come in, I baked a key lime pie for you!"

While Princess squeezed past the doorway, her fur easily bending to let her through, I crouched and pet Herdier behind the ear. "How are you, little man?" I smiled at him, and he jumped on my knees to lick my face, saying he was so happy to see me again. "I'm happy too, okay? Come on, let's hang out."

For a while, I spent some time chatting with Mom and Herdier about piano lessons, telling her about Jess and Marley. The latter had acted like nothing had happened last class, and not wanting to press or worry her, I'd just let it go and done the same, something she seemed very appreciative of.

"Look at you, making friends," mom praised as I shoved more pie in my mouth. In a way, it was kind of sad that she had to praise me for that. "I'm glad you're adjusting well. Just having a normal life is important."

I lifted the tiny fork at her. "And I understand that now. Dad and you were right." It had only taken like, a week of convincing me. Grace Pastel, as it turned out, could be very stubborn. "You know, speaking of friends, is it okay if I have one over tonight?"

Okay, maybe asking her now wasn't the greatest of ideas. If she said no, I'd be kind of screwed and possibly mess up our meetup with only just a few hours notice.

"One of the new ones? Sure, if they know how to get here. What time?"

"Eight in the evening, and she's staying for two hours—"

Mom's eyes widened, and she chewed a little too hard on her fork. "What? I need to make dinner for her! Why do you only tell me these things now—"

"No! No, it's fine!" I quickly cut in. "She'll have eaten already; I asked her a few days ago." One day, I was gonna trap Maylene and get her to eat something I made, even if I had to go through fifty steps to make it good enough for her diet. "And no, it's not Jess or Marley…" my foot idly tapped the ground. "It's Maylene. You know, the Gym Leader?"

"What?"

"What?" I said back.

"We're going to have a Gym Leader." She paused, fork dropping onto her plate. "In here?"

"Yes?"

"You're friends with a Gym Leader?" my mother asked me as if I was delusional.

"Yes!" I yelled. "I'm friends with Candice too, okay? Can you stop being weird about it?"

"Of course, she can show up." Her agreement came with a glance around the house to probably figure out how to make everything perfect and clean for Maylene's arrival. "I'm glad you have people with good heads on their shoulders to guide you, Grace."

"Yeah." When one thought of Candice, they couldn't really say that, but it was true for Maylene, at least. "Thanks. I know it's a lot."

She stood up, looked around and said, "I'm gonna be… vacuuming around here. And cleaning up. And redecorating a little. And—yeah, I'll be busy most of the day. Is that okay with you? If you need me, we can do something. Meet some of the neighbors."

"I'll be fine." I waved a dismissive hand. The answer kind of surprised me, honestly. I'd be alone with just my Pokemon, and was… pretty sure I'd be okay? "I'll probably just hang around the house or with my team."

"Good. You let me know if that changes." She picked up my empty plate and got started on doing the dishes. I could see a panhandle and a big pot peeking above the sink. It was utterly full. Usually, mom wouldn't let it get to that point. She was still hurting because of grandma's death, but just hiding it so well it was as if nothing had happened. "Oh! And I volunteered to help at the school tomorrow. Want to come with, since you're staying for the weekend?"

"Sure." I slowly stood up from my chair. "Volunteer as like, a teacher?"

"It's a special event for Renewal Day. All of the kids and some of their parents are going to go to class for a party, and I volunteered as a cook."

Right. Renewal Day was June 1st and usually meant the first day of the Conference, where there would be massive festivities on the Lily of the Valley Island and end with the declaration of the start of the tournament. Since it was delayed, people were taking to their own way of celebrating all over the country; I just hadn't thought a small, slow town like Twinleaf would do it as well.

"Sure. I'll help out. Honey can help, too."

"Great!" she beamed. Had she expected me to say no? "It's going to be a lot of fun."

I stuck around a little bit to help Mom at least do the dishes, but she refused any other help and sent me on my way. First, I went back out, released my entire team, and woke up Mimi from their slumber. The good thing about Twinleaf was that Sweetheart could be out no questions asked so long as she didn't terrify the populace. I had to warn her about not wandering off too far, but she seemed pleased by the location and the fact that there was a lake in view.

I stuck around for a few hours, which were mostly focused on helping Cass improve their Teleporting capabilities with moral support and practicing with Princess' cutting. Eventually, thoughts of tonight started to get way too overwhelming for me to focus on anything else, so I left my team out and climbed up the stairs to the guest bedroom. It was a tiny thing, with a small one-person bed and a single nightstand beside it whose legs were uneven. It held a dim-looking lamp that was way too small to light up even this tiny room.

"Oh."

There was also a tiny closet. Good for me, I guess. There were even a bunch of free hangers for my clothes. Herdier followed me inside around a minute later, and I smirked as I reached down to scratch his chin. He went to lie down beside the bed. Mom said most of what he did these days was sleep, so he was kind of like Sunshine.

Grandma's room was available and a lot bigger, but obviously, I wasn't going to use a dead woman's room. Plus, this place being more cramped was a good thing. Maylene liked small spaces; she would feel a lot more comfortable and at home here. After dropping my backpack on the ground, I sat on the bed, hands feeling at the tough mattress before I had to chase away thoughts of Maylene staying overnight. It wasn't going to happen, even if I asked. Moreover, the bed was too small, stuck against the wall in the corner of the room.

I checked again, just to be sure—a harmless thought exercise.

Yeah. Too small to sleep without going into touch debt.

After downing some water from my gourd, I placed all of my clothes for the week-end in the closet and grabbed my phone. Service around here was pretty bad, but it was enough to send messages and place calls. A small laugh—nearly a breath—escaped through my nose when I saw that mom still hadn't put a password on her WiFi. I quickly scrolled through the messages I'd missed on the way here. A selfie from Jess with her tongue hanging out with a piano in the background. I answered with a simple 'Are you taunting me?' and she asked for a piano duel after our next class. Well, sure, that sounded fun; she was on. Emilia had sent a video of a new routine she was working on and had asked Denzel if it was good for content in our group chat.

Denzel was actually streaming right now—or his Lopunny was. She was training in one of the public arenas at the League with the rest of his team since they were still empty. Even Froslass was back, having traveled from Mount Coronet to the League on her own and gotten nearly killed again as soon as she crossed the island's perimeter.

Anyway, he was commentating from his hospital through a call and was mostly on entertainment duty. I stayed around and watched for a few minutes, dropping a few comments until people noticed I was in there and started pinging my username and being annoying. Maybe I shouldn't have made it literally my name, but it was what Poketch wanted for my official account on every site.

This was really just delaying the inevitable, though. There was something in particular I'd wanted to ask Maylene to do with our hangouts. I clicked on her name and looked at our last message—a sticker of Crasher Wake doing a thumbs up a few days ago. She really liked his stickers; she was close to Wake and his husband, and he'd been the one to convince her to start therapy after…

Ugh. Before the bad thoughts could take over, I kept thinking forward.

Since we couldn't text much, sometimes I'd scroll back to our past messages and read them again when things got tough. I'd hold on to texts of her saying nice things about me whenever my thoughts went to a dark place and started telling me I was worthless. These days, there were fewer of those. I considered what would be a proper beginning until I realized I didn't need an excuse.

All of it would follow protocol.

You - Hey.

Maylene - hii

Hm. Only two 'i's today; she must have been busy at work, so I'd try to keep things short. Wait, I was supposed to keep things short anyway.

You - I have a question if that's okay.

Maylene - depends on the reason. R u relapsing or does this hav to do with later

You - It's technically allowed in the rules. It has to do with our next session after this one at your Gym.

Maylene - alright

Taking a deep breath, I began typing the message. My fingers were slower than usual; there was some kind of self-doubt creeping further and further into my head the longer I looked at what I'd written. My body felt heavy, sinking into my bed's mattress. This must have been because I hadn't had enough sessions with her.

You - So we're going to the gym to work out, right? I know we won't practice that day but I was wondering what you were going to be wearing?

Maylene - oh i havent thought about it yet

Maylene - whjy

Why? What did she mean, why? It was important to know all of the information in advance; this was a very serious process. We needed as few variables as possible, or something might happen to make me relapse—

Maylene - I mean I can just throw on whatever

You - What about what you were wearing last time?

Maylene - at ur dads apartment?

Was she going to make me spell it out?! This was so frustrating… but a fun kind of frustrating. I rolled over on my stomach, legs kicking in the air as I took a deep breath.

You - The clothes you were wearing at the gym looked nice.

You - Easy to move in and stuff. I'm just saying it might be efficient for you to wear them again for the best experience possible. And you wearing the same thing would be nice in a symbolism kind of way. It would rhyme. I like it when that happens. It's how I see the world. You can ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you the same thing.

I dropped my phone on my bed, eagerly waiting for her answer. I peeked at the screen a few seconds after it vibrated again.

Maylene - oooooh

Maylene - dw I know. I'll wear it.

My throat released a breath I'd apparently been holding, and I couldn't help but feel mildly lightheaded. It was going to be a good day to have eyes—which would be a bonus to all of this. The primary concern was exactly what I'd said to Maylene. I rolled over again, this time on my side, and continued texting her.

You - What about today? It's pretty hot down south; you might want to not wear that much fabric. I know you're resistant to heatstroke and things like that, but maybe you should be careful.

Maylene - thx for the warning ill wear something light like my tank top the other day

For a long while, the chat bubble with three dots flashed on my screen, and I eagerly awaited what she'd say. Eventually, Maylene must have deleted what she'd been typing because the bubble disappeared and reappeared after a few seconds.

Maylene - see u tonight! no more texting, ok?

You - Okay!

My hands clutched my phone against my heart. Wow, that had been tough. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if she'd called me creepy for it. That was a constant fear of mine with her, to be honest, even if she was being nice about it and catching the look on my face nearly every time I was about to launch into a self-deprecating spiral. Maylene was just so normal compared to me that I was terrified of scaring her off because of something I'd say or do, even if it was mildly irrational, and she'd already accepted the sum of things that made me—both the ugly and the good. Because there was good in me. That was what I had to believe if I wanted to make it, and she was teaching me that every time we interacted.

Oh. And 'official' therapy too, I guess; I've only had two sessions so far, though. Admittedly, it was just going… okay? I found it a lot less reliable than what I was doing with Maylene, but again, I couldn't rely just on her to get better. I imagined things would ramp up eventually on that front.

Anyway, now that the situation was dealt with, all that remained was to pick what I was going to wear. I glanced out the window at my Pokemon, making sure Sweetheart was still close to the house and not scaring the town's inhabitants by wandering off wherever she pleased. So long as she stuck close and didn't scream, we'd be fine. Right now, Buddy was spraying her with water, and I wasn't certain if it was due to the heat or just because she enjoyed being wet. Leaning against the open windowsill to get a better view, I saw Princess teaching Cass how to… make sharp objects with Ancient Power? No, were they playing at sword fighting? She was obviously way more into it than they were. I chuckled when the ground type kept screaming that she was way too into it and that it was terrifying. She had them on the ropes, and them floating away wouldn't hurt, considering she was considerably faster.

Sunshine, as usual, had found a tree a few hundred feet away to snore under. Sleeping helped him think a lot better, so hopefully he'd give some thought to that technique I'd brought up a few days ago. By the way it looked like he was smiling—it was difficult to tell from here—he was probably just dreaming about ruling vast swathes of territory and holding onto Mount Wela's seat of power by snatching a story away from the hands of its domain holder.

Honey and Angel weren't there; they must have brought Mimi exploring somewhere. Maybe by the river with all those Bidoof we'd helped with relocating their dam the last time I'd been here? Oh, Legendaries, Mimi would go crazy seeing a Bidoof-made dam. Hopefully, that was it!

Since they were all behaving, I tiptoed around Herdier, who was lying down with one eye open and one ear up, and grabbed the three options I had brought for tonight. This wasn't going to be our last practice session, but it was going to be the last where it was just our thing, so it mattered. That meant I needed to be… well, accessible if Maylene wanted to try somewhere new. I was pretty sure she was going to.

So;

A pair of light blue denim shorts with a ripped aesthetic near the hemline. This, I could pretty much pair with any top, but I'd been planning to use one of the two camisoles I owned. The problem was that these were basically tank tops, and there were odds Maylene would show up in shorts, too. Part of me thought matching would be cute, but it'd also be weird. So weird my mother might get ideas. I could do t-shirts as well, but… meh. They didn't feel special, and I had a million of them. The other issue with these shorts is that they were a little tight around the thighs, which docked points for accessibility. It'd probably look nice on me for sure—not that it mattered—but the goal here was to be as practical as possible.

A sundress. Sundresses were nice; they felt like water on your skin, so light it was as if you were flowing in the wind. This one was a soft shade of blue reminiscent of a clear, cloudless day. It was a mild low cut and long enough to nearly reach my ankles. Now, it wasn't as if she wouldn't be able to just lift it up like she'd done to my shirt—if she went there, of course; the option was hers. The problem was that if she wanted to go for my waist or my stomach again, that might be too much. There was no way she'd get her hands all the way up there without it breaching a serious line. She might as well be undressing me at that point—

I swallowed wrong, sending me into a mild coughing fit that had me nearly doubled over. I hadn't imagined it. Even if my head spun and my next full breath trembled. It'd be wrong in every single way.

Not happening. Not happening. And I didn't want it to happen.

The skirt was next, a little above the knees but wide and flowy enough to have zero obstructions. It was a mix of white and pastel pink, and had a flowery pattern all over, which was really good summer vibes. There was something about pastel or pale colors on me that I enjoyed. Again, I could pair it with any top, and I really liked flower patterns on clothes, but I was finding my lack of good tops kind of limiting, and I really didn't have good shoes, either. Did I need to buy more clothes? That thought sat with me for a moment as I looked down at the skirt. The good thing about pairing it with a top was that it'd make everything easy to reach under, unlike the dress. It really was about the pros and the cons, at the end of the day.

Both of them had desirable features and faults. The dress was genuinely the one I thought looked the nicest, and I wouldn't need to worry about a top. It was, however, limiting her options to my legs, my thighs, my neck, or my face. Sure, there were my arms, hands, and wrists, but tonight was special; she wouldn't limit herself just to those. And the point of the process was to ramp up until I got used to being touched everywhere. Repeats just weren't optimal as of now; those needed to come after my entire body was used to her touch.

One had to consider every angle before these things.

The skirt left the most body parts open, so it was a practice-focused choice and not a hanging-out focused choice. Maybe Maylene would want to spread out the touching in some kind of final test for me to see what I'd learned these past sessions. Sure, it wouldn't be final, final—we'd still practice, but just a lot less often—but again, this one was special. But what top was I gonna wear? The camisole?

I must have stood there for eight minutes, glancing between the skirt and the dress, considering every possibility before…

Hm.

"I think I'm gonna go with the dress," I declared with my hands on my hips. "What do you think, Herdier?"

He whined out a sigh, got up, and crawled under the bed as if I was annoying him.

"Fine, don't be any help," I grumbled. "Gotta trust my gut on this one." Better focus on the areas we hadn't studied yet; it would be a tougher test.

My phone said there were only four hours left, so it was about time I got ready and made sure everything was in order. There was nothing in the room to clean up since I'd just moved in, so that was a plus. I must have spent over an hour and a half in the bathroom showering, washing my hair, blow drying it with the most scuffed hair dryer, shaving; it was honestly a lot of work, especially when it took like ten minutes for the water to change from cold to lukewarm. Maybe I should have just called Buddy over for help. I had a few piano guides going in the background on my phone while in there, but it kept buffering even worse than Denzel's stream somehow. Mom had probably been using the internet.

Back in the guest room, I waited as the hours ticked by and the sun slowly set. It always took longer than expected during summer. When there were twenty minutes left or so, I considered putting on the same lip gloss I'd had during the ceremony and funeral, but decided against it. It was too much and probably would make my mom look at me weird. With so little time remaining, it felt difficult to focus on anything else, even if I tried to keep myself busy. Was that odd? Did that mean I was slipping into bad, old habits again and growing too dependent on someone else? That was what percolated through my mind as I ate some chicken soup my mother made and eagerly stared out the window.

Of course, I brushed my teeth after. Bad breath would suck.

Once the clock struck 7:55 pm, I made my way downstairs, and my mom took a long look at me. "You look nice," she nonchalantly said.

"Do I?!" I exclaimed, then cleared my throat. "I mean, do I?" The words were a little subdued this time.

She frowned for a moment. "Yep. We should go shopping for clothes together in Sandgem sometime this summer; I've always wanted a little mother-daughter bonding time."

"That'd be nice!" I smiled and leaned against the counter. "I was thinking that I needed more clothes earlier."

"Let's make it happen!" she said with a clap of her hands. "Do you like what I did with the place?"

Looking around, I honestly couldn't tell anything was much different. The house looked cleaner and free of any dust, and… maybe the table had been moved a little? And was the television a little closer to the couch?

"...yes?" I tried.

Mom sighed and would have said something else had one of my Pokemon called me to say Maylene was here. I lifted my hands to my head, fingers spreading wide as I combed through my hair before walking out the door and yelling at my mom to stay inside even if she thought it wouldn't be polite.

As it turned out, I had been correct—Maylene was wearing shorts, though they weren't the baggy ones she had worn last time. These were a little tighter, a little shorter, accentuating the toned muscles in her legs. Her tank top was different, too—dark, maybe a deep blue, and I could catch glimpses of her sports bra straps peeking out from underneath. My friend waved with a bright smile, and as her arm lifted, her tank top rode up slightly, revealing a glimpse of her stomach.

I jogged over to her while my team greeted her. "Hi!" I said, barely containing my smile. "Not too difficult finding the place?"

Maylene scratched the back of her head. "Um. We might have Teleported to another house and spooked some neighbors…" she glanced down at the v-cut in my dress for a moment—but only for a moment. "You were our second try, though."

"Eh, that's not too bad. The last time I came here, Sweetheart scared the living hell out of these people 'cause she'd just evolved, and she would scream all the time." I glanced down at her hands. "Oh." Her nails had been done recently, polished in a soft, glossy color. "That looks really good! I didn't know you were into nails!"

Maylene brought both of her hands closer to my face, and I felt my cheeks warm. "I think it's fun," she said. "Nia took me once, like two years ago, and I've been into it ever since. Usually, I can't do it because I use my hands so much, but I figured that maybe for tonight, it'd look good."

I nodded, wishing I could grab her hand to see it up close. "Yeah. It looks really good."

"Um. You look good, also."

"Oh." I couldn't help but glance to the side, and somehow, my gaze ended up holding at the sliver of tummy again. "Th—thanks."

"Yeah, I really like the dress." Maylene pulled at the fabric next to my leg—just the fabric—nearly giving me a heart attack. "It's really soft. I'm not that good at fashion, but it's great. That's more Nia's speed."

For a few moments, there was silence. Not wishing to let it become awkward, I beckoned her. "Come on in; let me introduce you to my mom."

"I'm a little nervous about that…"

"Psht, what? She's great." I waved a dismissive hand before turning to my team. "You guys are gonna be good out there? If you're hungry again, get Buddy to come in, and I'll bring you something, okay?" Mom had stocked up on a lot of food for my arrival, and at least she'd let me pay for it, even if she was super guilty. One had to be wealthy to feed my team, and she didn't really have a job. We climbed up the porch, and I let Maylene in before me. "Mom, this is Maylene Suzuki." I closed the door behind us.

She walked up to Maylene, looking slightly on edge. "It's nice to meet you, Leader Maylene," she said. "My name is Samantha—Sam for short. I'm so sorry we didn't make anything for you; Grace insisted you wouldn't be eating. Not even a snack."

Maylene blinked at her for a moment, and shook her head. "Oh, no, no, it's completely fine! I—she was right, I'm not gonna be eating anything."

"Okay, well, if you change your mind, I'm always here," mom said with a wink. Embarrassing. So embarrassing I wanted to drag Maylene up to my room and away from her.

In fact—

"So we'll be upstairs?" I probed. Mom's eyebrows rose a tiny bit as if she'd thought we'd stay downstairs for at least a while. "I mean, we only have two hours." That seemed to confuse her even more. "We'll just be upstairs," I confirmed firmly.

While we were climbing the old, creaking stairs, Maylene whispered, "are you sure that was okay? I don't want to be impolite or anything…"

"Don't worry about it, she'll understand." A pause. "Probably."

Maylene let out a small 'woah' when she entered the guest room, and I couldn't help but feel happy at her noting how it was such a good room to have. "Cozy," she added. "Kind of my style." She plopped herself down on the bed, feeling at it before her eyes widened. "Wait! Stay right there!"

I froze. "What?" I asked with a tilt of my head. The Gym Leader pulled out her phone; before I could react, she whipped it up, and I heard a snap. "A picture? I—I wasn't ready!"

"That's what makes a good picture, Grace." She smiled smugly before looking at what she got. With an excited gasp, she turned the phone. "Look! It's so good!"

It looked… was that how I looked? I was radiating happiness in that frame. "It does look good…" I admitted.

"See? I told you—" I tried snatching it out of her hands with a laugh, but of course, she was too quick to move her hand up. "Wha—stop it, you dork!" We 'fought' over it for a while, though using that word was doing me a favor. She was so good at dodging I couldn't even graze her. "Fine, I'm making it my background now!"

My legs stopped in their tracks just as I'd been about to give up and crawl on the bed to get a better chance. "You are?"

Maylene hummed. "It's supposed to be a punishment, but you look way too happy about it. I feel like it anyway." She fiddled with her phone for a few moments. "There, the job's done."

It was true. And it was both for the lock and home screen. "You're lucky I was mindful of whether I could touch you or not, or I would have had a better chance," I grumbled with a pout.

"No. No, you really wouldn't have," Maylene giggled until her laugh faded. "But, um, if you really don't want me to, I'll—"

"It's fine. I like it." My hand twirled with a strand of hair. "What was it before?"

"Oh, just the Veilstone skyline. Basic stuff," Maylene said. "Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to show you a really funny meme!" She patted the side of the bed. "C'mere." I silently slid close to her, but made sure to keep enough distance for our shoulders not to touch. My nose tingled with some kind of really good smell. Was that soap or shampoo? Or both? I mean, Maylene smelled really good in general, anyway. "Okay, okay," she mumbled. "Hold on, I had this bookmarked."

She scrolled through Chatter for a few seconds. "I didn't know you used socials," I said.

"Oh, I only do on my alts—there it is!" She enlarged an image—a collage of what each Gym Leader would do if they came across a crying child alone on the street with captions under their pictures.

I snorted. "Pfft. That's so stupid." The only ones I knew were pretty correct were Crasher Wake and Candice trying to make the child laugh. Gardenia giving detailed instructions to the parents was really funny, though.

"Yeah. Like you," she teased.

My stomach fluttered. "Um. Anyway, there's no way you'd be in 'is the reason the child is crying' with Roark! You'd be in something nicer."

"Eh, I mean probably, but it's funny anyway." That was true enough. Maybe harmless memes were fine. "I try not to let that stuff get to me anymore."

"So what's the alt for?"

"Candice recommended it to me to blow off some steam. She has like eight, and that's just on Chatter. Wait, seven, since she got one of hers banned recently." Banned? How in the world had she even managed that? "Sometimes she'll find someone who really pisses her off and hone in on them. Like recently, there was this post that blew up about how she was messing up the situation in Snowpoint, but the poster was like, completely wrong about everything. It got nine thousand likes or so, but Candice got into a really long reply chain with the guy where it was literally him arguing with her seven alts and thinking he was talking to different people."

"Arceus… I mean, it's hilarious, but I don't think I'd have the energy for that. It sounds like so much work." Especially when there was a block button.

"I know, right? It's why I only have one. I don't even use it much to reply to people; it's just an account where I can follow and like stuff without people reading into every little thing." She inhaled sharply. "Actually! Maybe I should follow you. It'd be weird if I did it on my official account."

"I mean, I don't use Chatter much."

"What's your account?" she asked.

"GracePastelofficial," I said. She looked it up and was met with corporate post after corporate post, most of which had been tweeted by Melody or Poketch. The most recent, I had made, however. It was a farewell Chat about Craig and what he meant to me I'd made a few hours prior to his ceremony.

"Oh, you were kind of right. This looks like Cynthia's account; it's just official stuff."

I kicked my feet. "Told ya. I mean, what would I even post? I have a bunch of pictures of my team and stuff, but it's so annoying. Everything I do and say has to be approved, and it's nearly always reworded. Not that I'm the biggest fan of social media in the first place. Like ninety percent of these posts aren't even mine." It was just so restrained. Like I was constantly being held on a leash because they were scared of what I could say.

Though I guess when a Chat could potentially lose them millions, that was fine.

"Should I follow you? I wanna see the fun stuff you like," I suggested, fingers digging into the mattress.

"I—I mean, that would be really cool," Maylene stuttered. "I'd have to really curate them, then. I don't want you to think I look at unfunny stuff."

I grabbed my phone, and Maylene couldn't help but laugh at the fact that I'd forgotten my Chatter password and needed three attempts to log in.

"I just don't remember where the caps go, okay?!" I protested.

"Oh, suuuure," she said, all pompous.

"They forced me to have a really tough password! I have to change it every month!"

"Uhuh. I bet you'd have the same password for everything if you could." The mischievous undertone dripped from her words like honey. I… I did use Princess' birthday for everything. "See?" Maylene added.

"How did you even—how did you know?"

"You're easy to read when you're flustered," she said.

Ugh. Sometimes, she'd say stuff like this that I'd turn over in my head when going to sleep with a dumb grin. I mean, I knew it was true. Zachary, the teen I'd battled all the way back in Veilstone, had told me I was easy to read after my loss (and it was something I'd greatly improved on), but it was different when she made fun of me for it. And if it wasn't enough, Maylene balked when she saw that I only followed Poketch and my friends' accounts.

"Grace, are you crazy? If you follow me when you follow so few people, the community's gonna talk."

"But they don't know it's you?" I asked, tilting my head. "I'm sure if I ask Poketch, they'll let me. Hell, I didn't even ask to follow my friends; I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Oh my God." Maylene took a deep breath. "You're so bad at this that it's kind of cu—endearing." She audibly gulped and looked at me for so long—was it hot in here? The house didn't have air conditioning. "Um. Yeah. Uh, I know that's the case, but people will speculate and talk about who this is."

"Ah." I wanted to slap my forehead. "Yeah, that makes sense. What if we do it anyway?"

"Wh—what?"

"Doesn't it sound kind of fun? People going wild over basically nothing? Letting them guess for a while?" I leaned toward her, and our eyes met. My hand and fingers were so close they were less than an inch from touching hers on the bed. "Come on. Please? For me?"

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her body tensed—it looked very good when it did that. Like, objectively, from a non-biased standpoint, Maylene was an attractive girl. "If you're sure it doesn't get you in trouble," she relented.

"Yes!" I tapped the follow button before she could change her mind. "No takebacks!" I was sure Melody was going to take this well. She'd be mildly angry at best, but it'd be fine. I turned toward Maylene again before realizing we were still so close; her breath tickled my face. It was—so warm, with a hint of citrus. "S—sorry." I scooted myself away, deciding that maybe looking at her face so close wouldn't be the best idea.

"It's alright, thanks for the laughs. I needed that," Maylene said, a trace of worry threading through her tone. She rarely let it show unless things were truly serious, and seeing that she was still holding up, I felt a bit of tension ease from my shoulders. Instead, her voice would become meek and small like it currently had.

"Something wrong?" That had been a rather quick switch.

"Blergh. Just work stuff." Maylene smiled at me as if to tell me not to worry. "No need to bother you with it; I'll deal."

"I can listen?" I tried. "I mean, I don't think I'd be great for advice—I don't even know what I'm doing most of the time." The urge to grab her hand and tell her I wanted to be here for her was so strong my fingers twitched as if they had a mind of their own.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I know you're dealing with a lot, and I guess you could call it low-stakes stuff…"

I turned toward her as much as I could, stopping right before our knees would touch. "Maylene, you've been—you've been here for me so much since the ceremony, and I know I said I'd use you, but I don't want to just take. I want to give, too. So this… partnership is more equal, eventually. Because I don't want to be unhealthy forever. That's the goal, right?"

Maylene nodded. "Right."

"Actually, you know what?" I shifted slightly away from her and pushed her onto my lap, touching both her head and opposite arm in the process. I felt her body tense at the contact, a contraction that sent something akin to a jolt in my fingers. "There. That's like two seconds taken off our practice time later," I said as best I could, trying to act like the contact hadn't bothered me. "Your head's only touching my dress, not my skin, so it's okay."

I'd definitely made the right choice. There would have been a risk of further bodily contact if I'd gone with the shorts.

For a few seconds, she didn't say anything; I feared I'd fucked it all up, and unabashed horror rippled through me like a wave, seizing my throat and making it hard to breathe.

"S—sorry!" Maylene shot up, and we nearly bumped foreheads. "It's not you—your thighs are just really soft. I wasn't—wasn't ready." Was that good? That was good, right? "Can I do it again? I just need to brace myself."

"Oh." I glanced at the door; it was shut, and the stairs were so old we'd be able to hear if mom came up. That was close; I'd nearly forgotten to actually check. "Yeah, go ahead."

The Gym Leader muttered, "Okay," under her breath, exhaling and inhaling for a few cycles until she dropped her head on my lap again. Her breathing went from frantic to slow and steady, and her eyes stopped fluttering, relaxing until they were half-closed. The hem of her shirt slipped above her stomach, and there was an urge within me to just run a hand through her hair. Instead, I leaned back, pushing my hands against the bed, and gripped at the fabric.

"Can I start?" Maylene asked. "Like I said, it's not really a big deal. Like, it's not my dad or anything." She was looking directly at me, pink gaze locked and held onto mine, drawing me in like an unbreakable pull.

"Yeah." My response was meek. This felt like a less intense practice session.

"Okay, so there's this issue where the Gym's really been struggling with money, but it was fine until we reopened," Maylene sighed. "Now we have to spend more on our Pokemon because they're the ones doing the fighting, and it means I couldn't pay the cleaning staff on time today because the League wouldn't give any more. The cash flow's too tight." Her lips pressed together in disappointment directed at herself. "And I'm the one who had to make the decision on whose pay would be delayed. I'm the one who had to make that final call, because like, if the trainers or engineers are unhappy, or if we don't spend enough on taking care of our Pokemon, then there's no Gym, and I can't close again because it would fuck everything over—weeks of prep—and it was just… a lot. It was my first time having to deal with that."

I… didn't know what to say. All of this time, she'd helped me deal with my problems, and I hadn't even considered she might be hurting because of things outside of my control for one second. And that was fine. It took a moment to readjust the thought of it in my head because—she was perfect, and yet she wasn't. Maybe that was okay. Maybe she was my Hero, but also just a person.

"I'm sorry," was all I could muster. I didn't know how to run a gym; I didn't know about handling employees; I didn't know the first thing about cash flow. Yet I wanted to be here for her anyway. "How long is it gonna take to pay them?"

"Probably in two weeks," she said. "I'll hand them a bonus whenever I can and additional paid sick days, but it still sucks, because like, I assume a lot of them need money now." Maylene rubbed her tired eyes. "Y'know, sometimes it's like, I wonder if I'm a bad boss, still."

"I mean, you improved a lot after…" after the event. And there were so many better ways to go about that, but this remained unsaid. An apology tried to force itself out of my mouth, but I couldn't. Because then she'd stop venting and focus on me for catastrophizing. This was about her. "I mean, I'm not there a lot, but there's no doubt in my mind that you're doing a better job."

"Thanks." She smiled and lifted her hand, but it lingered close to my face instead of touching me. She dropped it soon after, and we ignored it just like we always ignored everything else. "It's just that I still get these thoughts whenever things go wrong, or a trainer messes up a Pokemon's training regimen, or something. That things would just go so much better if I could do all of it, and a little voice inside my head calls them useless." Her face scrunched up in disgust at herself. "Like my father's will is still trying to control me and make me do his bidding even if I got rid of him."

"But you don't act upon those, right?" I tried reassuring her. "People get bad thoughts all the time. The difference, I learned, is when you actually do them. That's when it becomes an issue." Maylene didn't look that sure of what I'd said. "It's what I learned and some of what made me try to grow as a person. There's a lot of growth left, though."

She breathed a laugh. "I guess we both do. Whatever my intentions, I screwed up by opening too early. I knew it'd be tight, but I miscalculated. I wanted to give the country hope by returning to normal."

"I understand. Just… try your best to do better next time?" I tried. "Sorry, was that too—"

"No, that was good!" Maylene exclaimed before her smile turned impish. "Could have been better, though. Like: 'Next time, don't underestimate how many hours Pokemon will have to be trained to shake off the rust, you idiot!'" She tapped her chin. "Or something like that. I'd rate yours a six."

I scoffed. "Six out of ten? Come on."

"Six out of a hundred."

I shook my legs, nearly throwing her head off me. Of course, she was Maylene, so while she was caught off-guard, she recovered pretty easily. One day, I'd get her. The Gym Leader flicked me on the nose—there was something so charming about how soft it was despite how strong Maylene could get—and she stood up, her head leaving the comfort of my lap.

"We're even, now—don't make that face at me; you touched me first. What, are you gonna take point one second away from practice?" she challenged.

"Yeah, I am." I poked her side, finger digging into the soft tank top. The yelp that followed was so sweet. "What're you gonna do about it?" Another poke. Then another, though now that she'd been expecting it, they were less effective at drawing out any noise.

One thing I had learned about this girl since coming back from Coronet was that she was very combative. Maylene's eyes widened in surprise as she let out a playful laugh, her earlier challenge melting into a grin. "Oh, you're asking for it now," she smugly spoke with terrible intentions dancing in her eyes.

Before I could react, she suddenly lunged toward me, her hands reaching for my sides. I barely had time to brace myself before her fingers started to tickle my waist, their quick, deft movements sending waves of laughter through me she couldn't help but draw out. I squirmed, trying to escape her grasp, but it only made her laugh more, her fingers finding every vulnerable spot. It was impossible to mistake the spark when our skin touched while I struggled, but… it was accidental. Thrashing around was a very human reaction to being tickled. I couldn't take time off for that. "S—Stop! Maymay, stop! I give up, okay!" I gasped between fits of laughter, though my protest was more playful than serious.

I'd expected her to keep going for a while, but she slowly came to a pause. I could still feel her fingers on my waist through my dress, even if they were gone. Twice, she'd been on top of me like this. The first time at her gym, what I'd felt had begun with worry for her well-being, which had led to horror as realization dawned on me, and I could no longer deny what had been in front of my eyes for weeks. Tonight, well—

Well, it wasn't bad. Now that we'd put up limits to this therapy. I hadn't had the time to appreciate this before. Her eyes were still sparkling with the remnants of our laughter; her defined shoulders were tense above me; her stomach poked out of her shirt from our tussle; loose strands of her short hair hung above me. If she'd been closer, I would have been able to feel her sweet breath on my face again.

"Sorry. I was worried your mom would hear; the walls are pretty thin." She glanced toward the door, still unmoving.

I just about panicked—I'd completely forgotten my mother was even downstairs! "What's she doing? Can you hear her?"

Maylene closed her eyes and focused for a few seconds. "Hm. Doesn't look like anything's changed. I think she's watching TV? Might be radio… yeah, I think it's radio."

The tendons in my muscles loosened, and my head hit the edge of the pillow behind me. I noticed that Maylene hadn't gotten off yet. She was looking at me with that same gaze she held during practice that I couldn't help but shy away from until she reminded me that I was supposed to look at her. "We probably shouldn't—do it yet, right?" I whispered.

"Hmhm."

We always practiced near the end of our assigned time together. Doing it before… well, it was tough to have to go back to normal like nothing had happened after that. And structurally, well, it just made more sense.

"If you want to keep looking at me from this position, that's fine," I said.

"No." Maylene finally got off. "That position's dangerous. I might do something bad." Something bad? She must have meant touching outside of practice time for more than a split-second. "You… used my nickname."

"Oh. Oh, sorry. It kind of just slipped out; I've heard Candice use it all the time lately, so I guess I unconsciously said it."

"It's fine," she said.

"Names are important; I shouldn't have used it without your permission." Maylene's friends did use it a whole lot, so it wasn't like it was—okay, maybe it was a big deal, but it wasn't that bad.

"I meant you can call me that," Maylene said, cheeks dusting with a slight tint of red.

I blinked at her really fast. "That makes sense." I wasn't certain I would do it much, though. It felt like a line crossed. "Oh! You know, speaking of nicknames, this girl from my piano class is just so weird with them! She just adds an 's' at the end of everything—her name is Jess…"

Things continued going pretty well after that. I spoke to her about piano class until I ran out of things to say, though she seemed pretty proud I'd made two friends-acquaintances-whatever they were. I couldn't tell her much about wanting to train with Marley because I'd kind of promised I wouldn't say anything about it, but it was going to be a work in progress. She asked about therapy next and kind of… pushed me a little, saying that it sounded as if I didn't care. I did care, just not as much as this. Me and my therapist just hadn't clicked yet like I had immediately with Aliyah. Luckily, mom came by to save me and asked if we were sure we didn't need anything else.

The atmosphere remained light afterward, and much of our time was spent just browsing through Maylene's Chatter feed or looking at people asking who it was I had followed. Melody had already sent me a worried message, but apparently, Poketch had just… figured out it was Maylene's alt? It was creepy how they could just do that. Anyway, it was all fun and games until she said I needed to unfollow that account. Apparently if no one said anything, most people would just think it had been a missclick, and the rumors would die down.

She had said I could follow Maylene's official account if I wanted, so I did that, along with Candice's. I wanted to go for Gardenia's as well, but was worried it would come off as stalkerish until Maylene pressed it for me—without my permission! 'A joke,' she called it. She was lucky I couldn't stay mad at her long.

Now, it'd be odd to unfollow her. I hoped I would be able to go to her Gym soon, but she was still busy.

Time always went faster when you had fun, and these two hours were going by so quickly. It wasn't until 9:30 pm that we shared a knowing look, instantly recognizing that it was time to get serious and dive into our practice session.

"Where do you want to do it?" For a moment, I thought she'd been asking me where I wanted to be touched and nearly blurted something out, but she was asking where I wanted to be. Her voice was a low whisper, as it always was before we started. Mine was, too.

The room felt a lot more cramped now. "I guess I can stay sitting on the bed," I mumbled.

Maylene stood up, then eyed me for a second. "I—I think it's too low; it wouldn't be comfortable for what I want." Upon further reflection, I understood what she meant. She'd probably have to lean in really close if she wanted it to work.

"Against the wall is fine, then," the words slipped out.

"Okay." Maylene fiddled on her phone, no doubt setting up her alarm. "I actually—since this is kind of our last session before you branch out, I was thinking that we both get five minutes." I could tell this was something she'd been trying to figure out how to bring it up. "If you're fine with it."

"Me? Doing the touching?"

"I'd go first. And if you aren't comfortable, we don't have to," Maylene reassured me.

The thought of it sat in my head, spinning around my brain as I considered every angle. I wasn't supposed to be touching her, though theoretically, nothing in the contract on our phones said that. It only mentioned 'contact,' and that was from either party. It had been more of a moral objection than anything else on my part. Yet here she was, offering herself up to me. I hadn't been the one to ask. And if it was just for tonight… this might be my final opportunity.

"Can we see how I feel after yours?" I said, unsure of myself.

"Sure. I put two alarms this time," Maylene said.

We got into position, with me again close to a structure to support myself on. The nightstand wasn't that stable, but it would do. I flinched, whimpering when Maylene brought her hand close to me until I realized she'd been grabbing the lamp and putting it on the ground.

"We don't want it to fall off, right?" she breathed out. "Are you ready?" A nod. "Remember the safe word."

Another nod to signal her to start, and she began. Maylene's hands moved in two different directions. Her right went down, and her left went up—oh my God, she was going for the face—the leg?—this was so overwhelming—

The first point of contact sent a shiver through me, her touch firm yet delicate as her fingers brushed against my skin. Her left hand traced the line of my jaw, her thumb lightly brushing my cheek as her fingers cradled my face. It was a tender, almost reverent touch that made my breath hitch in my throat. The next touched my thigh through the fabric, at first. It was nearly a grab that made it difficult to stand straight because of the tremor it sent down my leg.

While her right hand slid down my leg, her thumb traced the corner of my lip. There was barely any pressure—it was just a graze, probably accidental, but it made me hyperaware of hers. The subtle curve to them was gone; she was entirely focused on this. On me. Right now, they were relaxed. There was a delicate sheen to them, as if she'd unconsciously moistened them in thought. Each of the harsh breaths she took made them part just a little more.

Maylene leaned in, not close enough to be near my ear, but— "Remember to breathe," she whispered, and I inhaled what felt like the largest, shivering breath I'd ever taken. Her voice diluted in my ear and made me bite my lip in desperation to stop my voice from leaking uncontrollably.

My face felt so hot I thought the skin was going to burn off and meld with her hand. Every time my head would move, she'd bring it back up with a finger so I could look at her, and it was burning, and it was intense, and it was demanding, and it was everything.

But something changed on her left hand. She grew more confident as the dozens of seconds that seemed so long yet so short passed. I was left with a moment—just a moment of respite as Maylene quickly crouched and grabbed onto the bottom of my dress. The light, blue fabric shifted up under her touch. Up and up and up, her fingertips leaving a trail of heat in their wake and goosebumps across my legs. She brushed up against the burned skin right above my knee and stayed there until—

Until the alarm rang. My head was so foggy I thought ten minutes had passed, but that was just five. Just five. What if it had been ten? What if she'd kept shifting ever closer to me? My heart was hammering against my ribcage like an animal begging to be let out. Her hands immediately got off me, and for a while, we just stood there as the feeling faded, heaving for air to recover from the fervor of that half-session.

"Sorry. I thought two places at once might be too intense," she paused to take a breath, "but I went for it anyway."

"It's fine. It's like, a final test." I wasn't in a much better state. "The darkness on you is fading really fast. It was a good session." The few slivers that remained were on her fingertips and bleeding into the world. In a few dozen seconds, there'd be nothing left.

"Good. That's good. It's important to stay focused."

"Yep. Focused," I mirrored.

"Are you good to go for your turn?" she asked. "Or should I keep going?"

"I think I—I think I can handle it. Can I do your stomach?" I blurted out.

"Oh. Sure, you've been looking at it a lot. I thought maybe something was wrong." She'd caught that? Wait, of course, she had; her vision was top-notch. "I guess I'll sit on the bed for this one. If that's okay?"

"Sure. Do whatever you want," I mumbled.

Maylene sat on the bed, fingers digging into the side of the thin mattress, and I got on my knees. She was staring down at me. There was something about that look that just—something about it just got me. Maylene lifted her tank top and revealed her full stomach, keeping it under her chest. The skin was smooth and taut, with faint lines of her abdominal muscles subtly outlined beneath the surface. Even if the lighting here was garbage, it glowed from the nightlamp, and the sweat on it glistened almost invitingly.

There was no denying that the hints of it had caught my attention all night long. It was just—when you looked at it from a non-biased standpoint, it was…

I lost my train of thought.

Shit, I was wasting time. "I can—I can go, right?" I asked, impatience leaking through my shaky voice.

"Yeah." The reply came breathless.

My fingers hesitantly reached out, but I didn't even manage a slight graze before a soft, blue glow started to leak out of Maylene's skin. My hand didn't flinch back. The aura felt cold, yet hot at the same time, a confusing blend that I was in no mind to try to even think about. It wasn't—wasn't hurting me. I looked up at Maylene, who nodded, and I kept reaching out until I managed a graze, gliding over the defined lines and feeling the slight give of her muscles under my touch. She was so warm. Her stomach pushed against me with every shaking breath. And while her being on the receiving end wasn't usual, it wasn't bad, either. Even if me touching her tainted her far more than her touching me. I angled my hand up in an attempt to get my full palm to touch—

Maylene's head whirled up, and she inhaled sharply. Too sharply for it to be a result of what I'd been doing. "Crap—your mom! Your mother's coming up the stairs!"

Immediately, panic sent in; it was an easy transition. The quick breaths went from some kind of yearning and exhaustion to stress, and the excitement of my beating heart turned into anxiety. Part of me wanted to double down and say we weren't doing anything bad, but I knew how it would look if she came in and I was on my knees in front of Maylene while she was lifting her shirt—and she was already putting it down anyway. We scrambled into whatever would seem natural positions. Maylene was fastest and just sat on the bed, so I followed suit, making sure to be as far away from her as possible.

We were lucky Maylene had one undamaged ear left and had good hearing, or it might have been too late. Mom knocked, and while Maylene didn't look ready at all, we needed to answer and tell her to come in, or she'd get worried and do so anyway. Telling her not to would just make her suspicious. Maylene whispered to tell her to enter.

Okay. Deep breaths. Nothing was happening. "Come in!" The door opened, bits of torn wood raking against the floor. "Mom," I exhaled, each breath long, loud and drawn out. "What's wrong? Did my Pokemon need something? I told you we didn't need any snacks." My head subconsciously turned toward Maylene, who was as red as a tomato. At least she'd stopped leaking aura.

"I heard something rattling up here; I thought there was a problem." Fuck. Fuck! The Arceus damn nightstand? Really? "Is everything okay up here?" She glanced between me and Maylene, a constant dance that grew more and more suspicious every time her gaze passed over us.

"Yep. Yep. Perfectly okay," Maylene said in the most apprehensive way possible. "I was just going to—I was gonna leave soon, Ms… is it still Pastel?"

"It is still Pastel," mom confirmed in a pointed tone and crossed her arms. "You'd better come downstairs."

I did my best not to glance toward Maylene or not to show disappointment that we wouldn't be able to finish practice today. All I could think about as we all walked down the stairs was the shape of her abs on my palm and how her aura writhed around my hand like a living, breathing being without even hurting me. At least just getting yanked back into the real world had done wonders to recover quicker than usual.

Once we all entered the living room, Maylene spoke up again. "Actually, I think I'm gonna leave a little early." I eyed her as if my eyes could throw out knives. Don't just abandon me here with all of this, you ass! I knew she'd just have to hide out there until Kadabra came back, anyway. She met my gaze with an apologetic look. "Or—or maybe not?"

"Oh, we wouldn't want to hold you up here." Mom was saying this, but I could tell she wanted her to stay. "Unless you have something to tell me?" It was odd to hear her speak this way. In all of our time reconnecting, she'd never, ever sounded like she might scold me. Scold us.

"Not at all; but Kadabra will take a bit to get here anyway." She echoed my thoughts as mom motioned at us to sit on different parts of the couch. "I—I could tell him to swing by early, though."

"That won't be necessary—now listen, girls. I don't want to imply anything here, but on the off-chance that something might have been happening upstairs, I feel the need to mention this. Leader Maylene, you do know my daughter is dating another girl—"

"Oh God, why are you being so weird?" I interrupted her as I threw my hands up. "Nothing was happening, and she does know! We're just—friends." That hadn't come out as easily as it once did. Something to worry about later.

"I've been helping Grace with… therapy." Maylene was looking down at her feet, refusing to meet my mother's stare.

"And are you a licensed therapist, young lady?" Mom's voice was a sharp knife.

"Well, no, but—it works for her," she tried.

"Look. All she does is touch parts of my skin for ten minutes because my head is so fucked that I think I'll make people worse if they even graze me. People who aren't my parents." It was humiliating to say it out loud to anyone who wasn't Maylene. I wasn't meant to be exposed like this, to step out into the spotlight and to be seen as the freak that I was. "And I hate the idea of making my friends sink down to my level, so it's intense for me. I sweat and breathe harshly and stuff."

"Does your actual therapist know about this?" mom asked. I couldn't tell if she believed me or not; I hadn't known her for long enough to know her tells.

"Yes, okay? He does!" I groaned. He knew about my condition, not what I was doing to fix it. "And it won't be just her doing this." From now on, at least. "If you really need reassurance, I can bring you to one of my friends the next time I do this."

I hadn't even given thought to who would be helping me. Denzel would be my first choice, but his parents made things really uncomfortable. Pauline or Emilia might have too many questions… maybe Chase? I felt like he'd do it no questions asked. Just keep a hand wrapped around my wrist for ten minutes, call me a weirdo, and then be on his way. It would be a lot more transactional, less intimate, and part of me thought that would blow.

My mother drew out a long sigh and closed her eyes, whispering Arceus' name under her breath. "Okay, Grace. I'll come and see what this is about, but I'd like it if you dealt with it only with professionals." Thank the Legendaries, she was letting this stupid idea go, though I didn't think she would actually agree to look at me practicing— "But I'll leave you with this thought, okay? And it's for both of you. Oh, and I'm telling your dad."

I leaned against the armrest with an exasperated sigh as she launched into her story. "When I was younger, I made a horrible, horrible mistake. I cheated on my husband." She paused, letting the idea sink in. I couldn't bear to look at Maylene right now. "For a while, it was emotional. Flirty comments, and going shopping, and restaurants, and bars…" she shook her head, face scrunching up at the memory. "It hadn't escalated yet physically, but it was still cheating, even then." A pit started to form in my stomach, and my hands grew moist. That wasn't me. It wasn't. Couldn't be. "As a general rule of thumb, you should never do something if you would need to hide it from your partner."

Ah.

Okay.

Everything was fine. It was still under control.

"I would have told her already," I said. "But she's off-route with no service, and I don't even know where exactly beyond the fact that she's south of here. The plan was always to tell her when she came back."

I wasn't delusional; I knew Cecilia wouldn't be indifferent to the time I was spending with Maylene. But she would understand, right? She'd left me, and I accepted that. I knew she needed time for herself to work through our issues. But I'd been at my lowest point. I wasn't like her. Once, I might have been capable of running away and figuring everything out on my own. And maybe, eventually, I could have managed without Maylene's help. But there was no denying how quickly things had improved with her. Without her? I turned toward the Gym Leader, relieved to see that she'd relaxed as well. Seeing her calm made me feel even calmer in turn.

Without her, just reaching this point might have taken months. There was no doubt in my mind now that my mental health would have cratered had I actually managed to reject Maylene at the Ceremony. I still got goosebumps when I closed my eyes and saw her there, saving me like a damn prince, telling me to taint her and that she could take it. It might have stopped me from ever starting to train in hopes of getting into the Conference. It might have made me start skipping piano and therapy lessons so I could lay in my bed all day—it wasn't like dad would know; he was always at work. It might have stopped me from making new friends—I was ready to call them that, now.

And then Cecilia would come back, all fixed or on the road to being fixed, and where would I be?

I'd be useless. A lump of flesh rotting in my room for days with just my Pokemon to support me.

I wasn't like Cecilia. I needed people. Bellatrix, Jasmine, Aliyah—I needed people to hold on to be myself.

Herdier broke the silence with a whine, and my mother followed suit. "Then why did you hide it from—" she clicked her tongue and bit her lip. "I'm just glad you'll tell her, and I hope to Arceus you're telling the truth. I think it might be best if you got going now," she told Maylene, still in that same pointed tone.

"Right. Thanks for having me over, Ms. Pastel. I—I'll message my Gym so they send Kadabra over—"

Maylene's alarm rang throughout the living room, signaling that another five minutes had passed. My mom paid it no mind, but she looked extremely confused at the face we both made. Lately, I'd begun to associate the alarm sound with practice, so it was weird to have it just out in the open.

When Maylene turned off the alarm and finished sending her message, I shot up. "Ah—I'll see you out."

We set out into the warm night air. Sweetheart was sleeping soundly in the grass, snoring like there was no tomorrow with her head against a bundle of Angel's vines for a pillow. The grass type leaned back and forth like a living cradle, and Mimi's golden gear poked out of the sea of vines on his head.

"How's he doing that while he's sleeping?" Maylene whispered at me.

Oh, thank the Legendaries, things were normal and not awkward. "I dunno. I think it's kind of built into him."

Cass and Buddy were standing watch, their eyes glowing in the night, and Princess was drooling all over Sunshine's arm while she cuddled next to him below that same tree he'd been sleeping under the majority of the day. The only one who wasn't asleep was Honey, who waved at me with an ever-widening grin, sparks flying out of his fingertips. I waved back and whispered that I'd come by to talk soon.

Mom was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and waiting for me to come back in. I'd wanted to hold Maylene's hands, since I technically had like four minutes left even if the alarm had rung.

So instead, I just stood in front of her. "Sorry. My mom kind of ruined our special practice." It was still astonishing to me that what had made her climb up was the stupid nightstand. I wanted to kick that thing. "She kind of ruined the…" what even could I call this? It wasn't— it wasn't a mood, that implied something more than this was. Vibe, maybe? Coming up empty, I let out a frustrated groan. "She picked a really bad moment."

Maylene let out a little embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, she did. But you don't need to apologize, it's also my fault. I was kind of intense because it was our last… well, you of all people would get it."

"Hey," I whined in faux-offense. "What's that mean?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Do I need to pull out today's texts and read them out?" Before waiting for an answer, she did. "And you wearing the same thing would be nice in a symbolism kind of way. It would rhyme. I like it when that happens—"

"No!" I laughed. "Wait, stop, I was joking!" My face was warm. Everything was so warm.

She didn't finish reading the text. "You're so easy to fluster, y'know?"

"Sure." I drew out the word and glanced back at the door. "If mom wasn't watching, I would have touched you to make it easier to grab the phone." Maylene stewed with those thoughts, hand clenching around the device. "Who's easy to fluster now, hm?"

"Whatever. It would have been a repeat of earlier, anyway. You're so slow. Like a Shuckle."

"That's just called normal human speed!" I protested a little too loud. Mom had probably heard that one.

"No, even for a normal human, you're really slow," she teased, teeth shining in the night as she smiled. "You're gonna need that treadmill."

"One day, I'll surprise you if you don't watch out."

"Yeah, when Lechonk grow wings." The playful atmosphere faded away a little as Maylene's stare turned tender. "Um. Listen, I know we won't be practicing for a while, but next time," she leaned in and whispered, "just as an exception, we can do fifteen minutes to get your time back."

I stood there stunned as Kadabra popped into existence. "Wh—wh—"

"See you later, dummy." She leaned a little further forward toward my forehead, which I couldn't help but bow, feeling a slight shift in the air.

Nothing came of it. Maylene disappeared in the wind, along with the psychic, and it was only now that the things she'd said registered in my mind.

D—dummy?

Dummy?!

How was I supposed to go to sleep now?



I hadn't slept.

My mother had thankfully not been weird about things when I came back in that night, but I'd gone back in my room rather early anyway to avoid the possibility.

I yawned as mom, Honey and I shuffled toward the school. I'd seen it while flying over Twinleaf, but it was my first time actually getting a good look up close. The school stood quietly in the early morning light, its brick facade catching the soft, golden hues of the morning sun. I was kind of too out of it to pay much attention, especially when it was so early. Even then, some kids were already here with their parents. People of all ages, from the little five-year-old pre-schoolers to the few jaded high schoolers hanging out in the corner of the schoolyard to adults moving out and about the school. I wondered if a few of those teenagers would be becoming trainers next year.

Part of me wanted to go and say hello as some kind of exercise in being more social and maybe make a few friends for the rest of the weekend, but I was too tired to do so, and I was needed in the kitchen anyway. The party hadn't officially kicked off—it would only do so at nine in the morning, so in two hours—but what we were going to do was essentially mass-produce food for the hundreds of people that would come.

"The thing about small towns like this is that everyone knows each other," mom had explained before we entered the yard. People kept greeting her on the way inside the building, accosting her at every turn, asking her how she was holding up with grandma's death, or asking to get to know me.

They knew she had a daughter—today was just the first time seeing her. Seeing me.

"You know, I'm sorry I never asked you," I said. We stepped through the school's entrance, the wooden double doors creaking slightly as they swung open. The foyer was welcoming and warm, a stark contrast to the crisp morning air outside. The floor was a mix of polished hardwood and well-worn tiles, their surfaces reflecting the soft, natural light that filtered in through the large windows flanking the entrance. Directly ahead, a wide staircase with sturdy banisters led to the upper floors, its steps worn and slightly concave from years of students hurrying up and down. "About grandma. I'm sorry."

"Oh." A sad smile stretched upon her face. "I'll miss her. She—"

"Sam!" a woman, maybe ten years younger, walked up to my mother. A small boy was behind her, pulling on the fabric of her loose skirt. "And who's this? Wait!" She gasped. "Your daughter? No way! And with an Electivire?"

Another round of introductions, of smiles, and of pleasantries, though this conversation was lasting longer than usual. I walked down the hall a little bit, feeling nostalgic for school—something I never thought could ever happen. Yeah, I had piano classes, but they weren't the same.

The little kid, who must have been five, six at most, pulled on my sleeve. "Hey, miss! Why is your face and arm like that? It's weird!" He pointed up at my burns with that big, wondrous curiosity only a child his age could have.

I smiled, crouching in front of him. "Well, you see, I have a Pokemon called Sunshine who I fought in Mount Coronet, and he nearly burned me to death when I caught him." Something shattered on the kid's face, and he started to tear up, glancing up at Honey a few feet behind us. "W—wait! That's not him, this is Honey! Honey! And it doesn't actually hurt in the moment! Because you have this thing called adrenaline, okay? And that tricks your body into not focusing on the pain so you canrespondtothethreataswellaspossible—"

Man, he was already crying. Someone tapped my shoulder behind me—my mother and Honey, the former of which looked to be very angry at the fact that I'd made a kid burst into tears while the latter was horrified that he'd been compared to Sunshine.

"Sorry?" I tried.

Was I bad with kids, now?

A/N: Up next, the Cecilia Interlude…s? Maybe there'll be two.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Interlude - Hollow Vessel
INTERLUDE - HOLLOW VESSEL

The curtains open.

Something blinds her; Cecilia grips the armrests of her theater chair as light overwhelms her entire being. It is dazzling, bright enough to have a weight. Like when the sun shines on your skin on a scorching summer day, or the glare of fresh snow catches your eye and makes you squint in reflex as you groan at the coming headache. She inhales sharply through her teeth and flinches back as it basks all around her, but soon, her eyes adapt to the light.

Color. She sees color, a kaleidoscope of hues flooding her vision, each one sharper and more vivid than the last. Reds, blues, browns, yellows—shades she'd only ever imagined in her mind since Coronet—now burst to life before her eyes, and it is so overwhelming that she has to shut her eyes and brace herself before opening them again.

A theater. Cecilia is inside a theater. She doesn't know how she already knew this—even before she had come to, the knowledge had just wormed itself into her head the moment she came to consciousness. Sparkling letters spelling out 'FIRST DEATH' shine high above the stage, glittering in every color. Her legs and arms twitch, but her body feels impossibly heavy, as if anchored by a weight she cannot lift. It's as though her very flesh is bound by the force of a hundred tons, the weight of the world pressing down on her, immobilizing her to a standstill. Yet, despite the crushing burden, she breathes, she lives, she sees. Every sensation that defines life pulses through her, reminding her that she is still here, still alive, still whole, even as her body remains trapped under the invisible weight. Cecilia tries her neck next, realizing that she can actually move it. All around the Unovan, filling every single seat in the theater, are other… Cecilias. They come in all ages, from her as a newborn, to a toddler, to a child, to a teenager. Each version of herself stares forward, motionless, as if waiting for something.

There is a loud sound that comes from everywhere around her, an obnoxious blare that grinds her ears like a malfunctioning microphone. Lights dim, leaving the stage blank for a few seconds until headlights far behind her shine down on something that leaves Cecilia trembling in terror. The kind of fear that made you hyperaware of the flesh and bones in your body, a reminder that at the end of it all, you were nothing but a neatly packaged bag of meat who could die any second; a reminder that you were weak; a reminder that you were just a girl despite having saved the world and seen the realm of the dead. It is the primal fear of death.

She thought she'd lost that fear, but she had not. Not when her childhood was playing itself out before her very eyes. The stage had changed from wooden to a garden Cecilia recognized very well. It sits on the top floor of one of her father's apartments and oversees much of Castelia. It is here that she sees herself, a little seven-year-old child leaning against the protective glass as she stares down, down, and ever further down into the city below her.

She remains alone for a good while, sniffling by herself among the flowers. She hiccups and sobs and whines and sniffles and asks herself what she needs to do to be better? To be the kind of person who fits her father's view of a perfect daughter? Listening to herself go through this was like having nails hammered into her wrist, looking at it like having salt poured into her eyes.

Cecilia squirms in her seat. She tries to turn her head away, but it's stuck there, transfixed on what is about to play out. As a last attempt, she tries to yell, but there is only an empty, desperate gasp of air that comes out of her. There is nothing, absolutely nothing she can do.

So with an internal, crushing sigh, Cecilia resigns to the inevitable and prepares to take it.

This has been a common theme, as of late.

Amy Saunier and her brother Mark walk out of the roof access door, and hatred surges within her as they approach her younger self from behind. Don't trust them, she wants to yell. They are snakes, slithering through the grass with forked tongues and venom in their words. They coil around your heart, squeezing until you can't breathe, whispering sweet, comfortable lies that seep into your mind like a slow-acting toxin and keep you domesticated. Yet, again, nothing but hot air comes out of her burning mouth. Amy is her age, but she's a tiny little thing. Her little Pichu, her mother used to call her. Her hair is golden blonde like the sun in the sky, and she looks genuinely sad. Mark is a teenager by this point—seven years older than her. He's twitchy, nervous, and uncomfortable in his own skin like he has been for the last fourteen years of his life.

Fourteen.

He will be leaving for his journey soon. Already, he is being accustomed to his Deino, and it is not going well. Father always had plenty to say about that, and he's been pushing himself given the bandage around the old bite mark on his arm.

"Cece! What are you doing alone up here?" Amy asks, hand stroking her hair. Back then, she hadn't lost her Kalosian accent. It is fading but still thick.

The sudden presence makes her younger self jump, but the love and care in her eyes when she sees that it is Amy touching her makes Cecilia sick to her stomach. Years. Years of this song and dance, years of comfort, years of love, years of friendship, years of safety—fake. All fake. Rage is followed by tears that well in the corner of her eyes, yet she cannot close them. It is different when seeing them so young. Harder than when she had her confrontation with her in Veilstone to cut her out of her life like a limb undergoing necrosis.

"I'm hiding," the younger Cecilia whimpers. "Father was lecturing me." Ah, the lectures. Dozens of minutes of uninterrupted screaming, calling her worthless in every way possible until he ran out of energy and told her to get out of his sight. "I messed up in my tutoring; I forgot what the capital of Oblivia was."

Amy pats her head and gives Cecilia a smile that gives her the strength to stand. "Your dad is always so strict. He sucks. I'd make my mom adopt you if I could! I'll ask her tonight!"

"He—he wants to see you again," Mark says. Always, that spineless little worm. She couldn't see it then, but she sees him now. Lackey. A slave to their father both in childhood and in adulthood. "He made us go look for you. He was—" Mark flinches, and the hate within her melts away, like she's looking at a fellow survivor of a war she's fought. "He was really loud." He clenches his left arm, and his eye twitches.

The younger Cecilia freezes, and trembling like a newborn Deerling, she asks, "w—what time is it?"

"It's 2:34 in the afternoon, Cece," Mark replies. "You're late for your piano lesson."

The hope shatters in her eyes as it already had a thousand times before. She turns toward Amy, dejected and resigned to what she knows will probably come next. "Can your mom take me now?"

Mark interrupts whatever answer is coming. "It'll make things worse, Cece," he says. "And he'll take it out on m—" he clenches a fist. "I'm sorry. I—just come back down. Just go along with him, and it'll be easy. I'll be in the room with you, okay?" He crouches and holds onto her hands. "I'll stay with you. So let's do it together. And we'll talk to mom, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise." He smiles at her. It is hollow.

The younger Cecilia nods, and her older self's nails dig into her armrests.

Everything goes dark, and Cecilia hears rattling on stage. How is this happening? It felt too real to be a dream, but it couldn't be real. She can't even feel her Pokeballs on her belt, and she can actually see color. Something she hadn't even been able to focus on.

The stage suddenly brightens, and Amy is gone when she can see again. All who remain are Cecilia and Mark, standing beside her mother on a balcony on one of the lower floors. She doesn't even look at their faces as she sits on an old leather couch with a twirling glass of red wine in hand and watches the city through the protective glass. Cecilia faintly remembers when she used to point at all the little things they could see from up here. They would almost make a game of it where the one who won was the person who found the most interesting thing.

That woman is gone. Cecilia doesn't know exactly what happened to this day, but her mother is empty. Stress lines run across her face, and strands of her hair are already turning white. Her cheeks are gaunt, the life has died in her eyes, and she wears long sleeves even if it's a hot summer day and she's on a balcony—

Something clicks.

Something just clicks.

Cecilia remembers months ago, when she told Grace in Eterna City about her mother and father in detail for the first time on that tram ride, minutes before they confronted Amy. She remembers telling her that her father had never gotten physically violent. With her, that was still true to this day.

But what about her mother? What about her brother?

As Mark and his sister beg their mom to talk to Clarence, memories she had buried beneath the sand come to the surface as a giant wave that Cecilia cannot stop. Sunglasses, scarves, gloves, long sleeves, tights—had she suppressed everything? Had she just not wanted to see?

She was still there. Living with that pig to this day.

Her mother's voice is barely a whisper when she says no, as if she cannot even fathom going against Clarence's will. It's like staring into a mirror—

Cecilia flinches back when the lights turn off again. The bright letters from the beginning turn on again, spelling out 'INTERMISSION,' and Cecilia regains control of her neck and mouth as a darkened, writhing shadow and six red eyes appear on the stage. It is purple gas given form, writhing, shaking, vibrating with every breath.

"What is this?" she screams for answers. "Where am I?!"

The being makes a noise as if it's clicking its tongue. "Don't interrupt the intermission now." The voice is heavy and grave. Like it is being spit out of something old who has weight in this world. It is somehow three things at once. The creaking of old wood, vulnerable yet somehow stable after decades; the groan of ancient stone shifting in caverns, always larger in scale than you think you can fathom; droplets of water falling a hundred thousand times just to carve through an inch of rock—persistence, perseverance given a voice.

It is obvious now that this was a ghost's doing. Cecilia struggles against the invisible force keeping her still until she needs to heave for every breath like it's her last.

"Are you done?" It asks, and there are two distinct whispers that follow, echoing the same statement.

There's nothing she can do.

There's never anything she can do.

"Frustrating, is it not?" The beast stands completely still on stage, and every nerve in Cecilia's body tells her to run. Had she still been able to register the fear of death, she wouldn't have been able to think straight. "To be such a passive actor within the world."

It's at times like these that images of Grace flash in her mind. She always knew what to do next, even if it was stupid and shortsighted and strange and every little thing that made her, her— something snaps her attention back to the creature, and Cecilia's eyes sting.

"Like mother like daughter. An interesting thought," it speaks again. "It is true that children take much after their parents—and I have had many. A shame that this is what you learned of it, but it isn't your fault."

"Just… tell me what's going on," Cecilia begs. Somehow, she hates it here more than Coronet. "Please."

The six-eyed being shakes its body as if to mimic shaking its head. "It wouldn't do to give you all the answers, Cecilia Obel." She cringes at the last name like she always does. "For once, you will not be led to water; for once, you will not be made to drink. You will forge your own path."

That's what she had been trying to do for the last two weeks in the wild with her team. She didn't need any of this!

"Please," it scoffs. "If there's one thing you like to do when you're out of answers, it's to run away in hopes of dying or being saved." The words feel like a sword has been lodged through her heart, like she's being gutted like a Magikarp. "Even now, I bet a tiny part of you hopes that the girl is going to come chasing after you atop her fairy and that everything will go back as it once was. No more of this. I have seen enough."

"How long have you been watching me?" Cecilia knows that the ghost would be able to figure out that she wanted information, given that it could read her thoughts. Is this a mass illusion of some kind? Like that Mismagius in Eterna Forest? This feels like it's going to be a whole lot worse.

It ignores her. "You saw your mother grow to be a shell of her former self; how she made herself subservient to your father. It was the only relationship you knew." One of the echoing voices makes a heavy sigh akin to someone mourning. "I've parsed through what makes you. I know that what you had wasn't the same; there was no violence between you two, physical or otherwise." There's a pause. "It is, however, your subconsciously learned normal. And who can blame you? Poor little thing."

"Don't pity me," she tries to fight back. If there's one thing that can still light the fire of opposition in her, it's her family. "I freed myself! I—"

"Is one ever free from their parents' burden, I wonder?" it says slowly as if to ponder. As if it actually didn't know. "But you didn't even do that, did you? You came up with a plan, yes, but—" it pauses, "don't worry, we'll get there. For now, answer me this question: what do you like to do in your life?"

What did she like? What kind of game was this? Who was this?

"I like Pokemon Battling. Cities. Politics. Dancing. Spending time with my Pokemon." Even if that had been difficult, as of late. "I like… I—" she thinks back to the fun things she's done with Grace before she shuts down those thoughts. "Isn't that enough? That's enough, isn't it?!"

Red eyes squint and all converge at her. "Did I ever say it wasn't?" it says, and her mouth goes dry. "The doubt was already there. It festers in you, growing little by little."

"Shut up."

"You like dancing because those were the only times your father ever smiled at you." Crushing. "You like cities because they hold onto the remnants of who your mother used to be." It hurts. "You like battling and spending time with your Pokemon! Good job! Every trainer is the same as you. And to you, it will always be a means to an end first and foremost—a method of gathering political power. Speaking of politics, you want to get into a high position of power to get revenge on your father, even if perhaps you might obtain the betterment of Unova along the way. It would be a nice bonus, wouldn't it?" That—that wasn't true—how did it know all of this? How had it dissected her? "All of your life, you have been defined by one, then two beings. First your father, and now that girl has been added to the mix." Cecilia isn't sure what that emotion when it says 'girl' is, and she is in no state of mind to be able to tell. "You are a pale reflection of what she wants you to be, and without even her, what are you? What remains? A hollow vessel." The words hang in the air and singe her ears, for she knows they are the truth. "Today, I will teach you to break those chains."

"Why?"

"Because I am weak to pathetic beings in need of help, especially kin," it says after a long pause, two eyes softening at their edges. "Because you remind me of someone." Two others glisten with something that can only be described as nostalgia. "Because seeing you flailing around when there is so much potential within you angers me." The last two offer her a rage so potent she finds it difficult to breathe.

She says nothing. Can't say anything.

"The damage will not be undone with just this," the ghost says in a warning tone. "Your hand will not be held; I simply allow you the opportunity to free yourself. And trust me," it mutters menacingly, "it will be painful; I do not coddle. But do not fret." The ghost smiles. "Being empty means that you can be anything; it is better to be empty, if one wishes to be reborn."

It disappears, leaving her with a few answers but ten times more questions.

The scene shifts once more. What remains when the lights come back on is her father's office—and the sight of it is still so triggering she wants to dig out her eyes. She can't look at him, can't take the sight of him in, even if she can't close her eyes. He is in the shape of a human, but might as well be a monster. A thing.

"Get out of the room, Mark," his voice booms so loudly that Cecilia wants to get up and leave the theater.

Mark doesn't even try to fight, because how can he? He abandons her there, breaking their promise.

That day, something in Cecilia died—not her body, but the spark of her mind. The childlike wonder that was in every glance, every smile, evaporated as if it had never existed. The imaginative fire that once danced in her eyes grew cold and distant, leaving behind an emptiness where dreams, love, and curiosity had once flourished.

And she has to watch.

She has to watch all of it alone.

She isn't hit. For an hour, she is pushed, she is screamed at, she is berated, and she and her mother are threatened; the individuality is ripped out of her, piece by piece with every scream, and never returns.

Cecilia never misses a lesson again. Subservience is all that remains.

Time fast forwards, yet she somehow registers all of the foggy memories she had suppressed or forgotten, like the vast majority of her childhood. What had been impressions, images, blotches, and stories are now so vivid for her to see. Months pass in minutes, and again and again, the pattern forms.

Mark leaves to become a trainer and answers the phone less and less. He almost never visits. One taste of freedom, and he has abandoned her.

She is broken.

Cecilia can't go to a normal school anymore; she can only get educated by private tutors. All of her friends are lost save for Amy. Sometimes, they go months without seeing each other.

She is broken.

Her mother looks at her like she doesn't exist every time she tries to get close. One day, she screams at her to leave her alone and to take a hint. Cecilia never tries again despite the sincere apology that comes that night. The words 'I love you' feel hollow when she hears them.

She is broken.

Clarence compares her to the children of his business rivals and constantly calls her useless unless she does everything perfectly. Sometimes, rarely, that happens, and the affirmation he gives sustains her another month.

She is broken.

And she is broken.

And she is broken.

And she is broken.

Until there is nothing left but the fragments of her spirit, scattered like shards of glass that have long since ceased to reflect light, nearly ground to dust that was spread across miles and miles of time.

She has to move to Sinnoh, away from everything she's known, to marry a boy three years older than her. She has never spoken a single word to him. It is overwhelming, but she manages to keep it in by taking refuge in Amy's friendship. Those phone calls are her lifeline.

She tells her to have sex with him.


She is broken.

Again.

Again.

Again until—

"Did he send you?"

"Did what? Who are you even talking about?"

"Don't act dumb! My father! Did he send you?!"

"Why would your dad send me? And to do what? I don't even know what you're talking about; you're making no sense!"


The Floaroma memory in the bathroom stall. It fills her with nostalgia and happiness at what once had been, and agony and melancholy at what was lost. There Grace was, so young, innocent, her heart full of kindness; without a blemish or scar on her skin, with the eyes a fifteen-year-old girl should actually have.

Cecilia gets it, now.

She understands that she had been dead until this moment. That Grace had come in the form of hope had given her a new lease on life—


The transition from sleep to wakefulness was lethargic. For nearly two minutes, Cecilia lay in her sleeping bag, tears in the corner of her eyes and unable to blink the image of the theatre away from her mind's eye. Rain pattered gently overhead above a barrier Slowking had created, and thunder boomed overhead.

The colors were gone, leaving the world a desolate wash of monochrome grays, whites, and blacks. The sky above was a heavy shroud of dark gray, thick and unyielding, with no hint of the sun behind it. The clouds hung low, swollen with rain, their edges blurred by the steady downpour that seemed to merge sky and earth into one seamless, sodden mass. The rain fell in endless sheets, a constant drumming that muted all other sounds, turning the world into a depressing blur of wetness and shadow.

It had been raining for the past two days on route 221, the southernmost route in Sinnoh. The route itself was a patch of isles much like the Iron Islands, isolated from the outer world with rarely any trainer venturing here. That did not mean that there weren't any human settlements here, however. Plenty of fishing towns dotted the islands, most of them with a hundred to two hundred inhabitants at most. Cecilia knew that Sinnoh was far more efficient with their land, so humans were nearly all grouped into the largest cities, but in a few places around the country, these small settlements—most of which weren't even on any maps, she had checked—managed to carve out a life for themselves and forge their own paths.

Cecilia groggily woke up from her dream and sat up in her sleeping bag. She'd settled in a small beach cove for the night, away from any civilization or unsuspecting wanderers. The ground was strewn with a soft blanket of sand and fallen leaves, and a faint mist lingered in the air as the waves crashed against the beach like a song that barely broke through the endless rain.

Up early today, aren't we? Slowking was sitting a little ways away from her against one of the many stone outcroppings that lined the cove. The dull rays of light passing through the thick clouds were hitting the lower side of his face. You were squirming in the last hour or so; I was considering waking you.

"It's alright, thank you, Slowking." Cecilia rubbed her eyes and frowned. "I just had the strangest of nightmares."

Looked like it. That was it. There were no helpful comments, no puns, no worried looks, or a hint of a smile. What shall we do today? Scizor and Toxicroak are out training; Talonflame and Zolst are out hunting… I don't know where Lehmhart is, but he can't have gone far like last time. Didn't hear any engines.

"I know where he is." The Unovan sighed as she got up and crawled from her sleeping bag. "That's the first thing I'll do today. That we'll do today," she corrected. "Then, we'll try to get the team together for tonight." Every time she tried to make them stick together, only Talonflame and Slowking remained. The former because she genuinely wanted to try, and the latter because even after everything, he didn't wish for Cecilia to die to some wild Pokemon.

The others couldn't bear to look at her. The wound of betrayal was still fresh, and every time they looked at her new state—the empty eyes, the scars, her voice, her body language—it was a fresh reminder of how she had thrown her life away for revenge. And she wanted to try to fix it so desperately, but she didn't know how to take that first step. How to make everything normal again.

Things were progressing at a slow pace, but they were progressing. The problem was that at this rate, it was years that she would need to reforge her bonds with her team, not months as she had hoped. This trip was supposed to be the first step in all of that, but she only had a set amount of time before she had to head back—

Though if she couldn't succeed, there was no point in coming back in time for the Conference. She wouldn't even win a single battle. It would have to be for Chase. To accompany him when he would face Byron and give his pitch.

And Grace…

Cecilia chased away those thoughts, putting them in a box to open later. That skill no longer came easy, but after weeks of this state, she'd had enough practice, even if its capacity was shallower than before.

Not another round of apologies tonight, I hope, Slowking pleaded with a yawn. Even I get tired of those.

Cecilia bit her tongue as she grabbed a cereal bar and water from her backpack. "No. I just want us to spend time as a team for one night. Just one night."

Well, I'd be a willing participant, but the others probably won't be, especially not Zolst or Lehmhart. You know this.

She looked at him, eyes shut as emotional pain coursed from her heart to her extremities. "I know. I'm… I'm trying my best," Cecilia said with a little sad laugh. "I just want to atone."

Slowking's eyes narrowed with guilt. I know, my lady. I know.

She ate breakfast in silence, like every morning. Usually, Slowking would have led with topics of conversation, or she would have talked to him about Gr—

No. Not now. She'd been doing so well not thinking of her; that dream must have put her in a weird state of mind.

Oh! Also, a child came over earlier in the morning, the psychic said. He was crying and lost, so Talonflame took him back toward the village west of here—the one you warned about sticking around for a bit. I thought it'd be best if you knew. Apparently she got him back to his grandfather safe and sound.

Her heart eased at that, but she couldn't help but notice none of them had woken her up for this. Yet Cecilia said nothing of the sort. "That's good," was all she could muster. If her Pokemon thought she shouldn't be woken up, then that meant she needed to work harder to get them back.

"Should we go?" Cecilia asked. "To that village, I mean."

The water type shrugged as they began to walk. He waved a hand, playing with the water along the beach as they traveled. I don't know. I'm surprised you want anything to do with them; you said we'd stay away from civilization.

"It'd be something different, at least. I'm…" she was bored. Bored out of her mind. Two weeks in the wild with her team shunning her and absolutely nothing to do. "You know, in small towns like this, Pokemon of your caliber can be a great help. I saw it in the Iron Islands. Just having a competent psychic could do wonders."

Slowking inclined his head. Well, it is something to do.

Cecilia kicked at some sand. "I—I don't know why, but I'm thinking about horrible things today." She laughed dryly at her own predicament. "Clarence, and my issues with Grace."

Must have been that nightmare, he tried. How much do you remember?

"I was in a theatre…" she mumbled. "And—and I was being shown my life by this… this ghost." Her voice grew more and more assured as she went on. "Yes, I remember now! It was—it was so clear I thought it was an illusion!"

He placed his hands behind his back and let out a pensive hum. Do you think it has to do with the Dusk? You've had nightmares about it before.

Cecilia tapped a finger on her crossing arms. "That could be it, but none of the nightmares were like that." She exhaled long and hard. "I'm just glad it's over."

They traveled out of the cove, up a hill, and toward the more mountainous parts of this nameless island. Sand gradually gave way to fresh soil, and trees began to populate the landscape as the rain continued to pour relentlessly on top of Slowking's protective barrier. Cecilia knew Lehmhart; she had seen him leave her side for hours on end, and they had exchanged few words since he'd agreed to fly her here. While in the air, she couldn't help but notice the intrigue in the ground type's body language as they passed over the ruins of what seemed to be an ancient settlement.

As she walked past the remnants of broken wood and crumbling stone, Cecilia squeezed the wrapper of her cereal bar into a tight ball and shoved it into her pocket, her thoughts drifting to the history buried beneath her feet. Golett and Golurk were attracted to defunct, dilapidated places, and Lehmhart was no different. Music was in the air—a long string of lament that prickled Cecilia's skin and forced her to try not to cry as her own Pokemon was doing. Not with tears, but with a song.

The Golurk was kneeling with a pair of Starly perched on his finger, a Furret coiled around his feet, a Poliwag and a Psyduck dancing together next to the remains of a collapsed home, and a Krabby closing and opening its pincers to the rhythm of the music. They all looked at her when she stepped closer to them and fled in an instant, flying, skittering, or running away as if she didn't belong here.

No, not as if. She just didn't.

Lehmhart's head rotated toward her, and the light went out of his eyes and runes. The ghost type collapsed on the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, sending dust and debris into the air and a gentle rumble below Cecilia's feet.

Looks like he's not in the mood to talk, Slowking so helpfully noticed.

"I made his audience flee as well; that didn't help." With another defeated sigh added onto the endless pile, the Unovan calmly treaded toward Lehmhart. Her fingers traced the dusty remains of a destroyed wall. She paused for a moment, almost absently, and began to rub the dust between her fingertips. Delay, delay, delay. Always these meaningless actions to avoid getting to the heart of things until they could no longer be ignored, and she took actions far too drastic for everyone around her. She'd had enough. "Lehmhart."

He didn't even react to his name being called. Cecilia had apologized to him more times than she could count, but as Slowking and Talonflame had said, it mattered not that she truly meant it. She needed to show it through her actions, and yet none of them were giving her the opportunity to.

"I didn't know you were going to have an audience today; I would have waited if I had." Her hand went to touch the side of the ghost type's arm, but it stopped mere inches from making contact. Inhaling through clenched teeth, Cecilia pushed and put her full hand on the construct's body. "Do they come by often to listen to you?"

Nothing.

"I wish I could have been there to listen."

Finally, movement. The gentle churn of internal industry, a delicate hiss as his eyes and runes flickered back to life. Cecilia let go of a shaky breath while Golurk slowly sat up, revealing an indentation in the ground where he had let himself fall. A single, massive finger came to poke her in the stomach, pushing her back a few steps as she clung to the digit with a soul full of love. Whenever Lehmhart spoke, he did so in song. Hisses and hums, low rumbles, the grinding echoes of ancient gears and woven string.

"You would like that?" she asked.

He replied with a tentative yes, and Cecilia felt lighter already. Not everything was lost. Even Slowking was trying not to look happy.

"I assume it's too late now, given that I messed it up. I always—" she didn't finish that sentence. "I'll try my best to make them like me next time."

You haven't always been the best with the wildlife, Slowking said. There's a horrible joke to be made here about Talonflame and Zolst's activities while this was happening—

"Slowking!" Cecilia yelled with a huff.

The Golurk looked down, making a little dejected sound. Not only did Zolst still despise him, but Cecilia just—she couldn't pack enough food for a Hydreigon and the rest of her team, all while staying here for weeks. Both Lehmhart and Zolst had refused to fly her back to Sandgem to buy more using her LTIP salary, and so both the dragon and Talonflame had started hunting for their food in the last two days.

Ah. Sorry, buddy. He patted Lehmhart on the leg.

"Here's what we're going to do," Cecilia declared, putting as much determination in her voice as possible. "Why don't we go to that village so you can cheer up and play music? Then Slowking and I can stick around and see if any of the people there need any help. Afterward, we'll go and buy food in Sandgem—if that's okay?"

The construct gave it some thought, but nodded.

"Talonflame will stop killing things without an issue if she's asked, and I'll try to convince Zolst. You don't have to worry," she soothed him. "Your friends will be fine after today."

Another agreement, this time stronger, louder, and more assured.

Progress was being made, even if it was at a snail's pace.



They said Unova had more cities and towns than any other country. With so many refugees coming in from Orre after the war and immigration booming in the decades since, the region had catapulted to the most populous on Earth, eking a little ahead of Kanto-Johto and Galar.

It wasn't… good. It came at the expense and suffering of others. Outside of a few designated cities, Sinnoh, meanwhile, only had towns this small. The fishing village clung to the edge of the coastline, nestled between craggy cliffs and the restless sea. Weathered wooden cottages dotted the shoreline, their roofs thatched and worn by years of salt and wind. Narrow dirt paths wound through the village, connecting homes to the small, creaking docks where fishing boats bobbed gently in the tide. The air was thick with the scent of brine and seaweed. There was a bigger dock as well, a long pier that stretched further than any others where bigger boats from Sandgem could anchor and unload supplies.

The villagers knew of her already—she had made herself known when settling on this island as soon as she'd arrived—but they still looked at her like she was an alien. Young children hid behind their parents' legs, adults glared at her as if she did not belong, and even the Wingull on the roofs looked like they were stalking her. She had not waltzed in with a massive Golurk at her side—just with Slowking—but it looked like playing music was going to be a little difficult. Cecilia knew nothing of the countryside. All she'd ever known were cities and the life of the ultra-rich.

"I feel their stares like daggers pressed at the back of my neck," she whispered.

You're a stranger in a land where there are probably five strangers a year at best, Slowking nonchalantly said. I'd like to see you try to get close to these people. The sarcasm in his tone was impossible to miss.

Cecilia sighed as they made it to one of the long piers stretching across a beach. She tried to imagine the blue of the ocean, but she'd already forgotten what that looked like. The memories had left her so quickly. "One thing's for sure, it's not going to take a single day. Poor Lehmhart…"

How did someone even approach people and meet someone new? Cecilia wondered as she sat at the edge of the pier, legs dangling above the low tide. Come to think of it, she had never done any of that. Not since she'd been taken out of school. Clarence had forced friends upon her, friends who she was glad she'd met now. Grace, Denzel, Chase and Mira had been the ones to approach her first. Even after that, she had never branched out and done anything else. Never tried to meet anyone else.

Like in the dream, she began to hug her knees as she stared at the endless ocean. "It's so hard, Slowking. It's so hard to be a person."

She did not look at the face he was making, but felt his dull claw on her shoulder. I know, he said.

"You know, that dream?" Cecilia asked. "I feel like it meant something. And I feel like it's been left incomplete."

If you're willing to talk, I shall listen. He sat down next to her with a tired sigh after having walked for so long and lifted up a trail of water to play with. Lately I've rarely seen you so focused on something that isn't—never mind, just go on.

"I don't know if it was my subconscious trying to talk to me or an actual ghost… but if that was the case, you would have felt it, no?" To a psychic, ghosts felt like holes in the world. Like looking at a missing part of a painting.

Surely, he said with a nod. It would need to get close to trap you in some kind of dream.

Cecilia didn't like it either way. When she closed her eyes, she could still see that theater. Still see the last embers of herself extinguished. For a while, she told Slowking about the details of the dream, vision, or whatever it was, and the psychic offered her more support than he had in weeks. She'd also released Lehmhart in the water, which was shallow enough to barely reach the bottom of his stomach. It felt good to have them both speak to her for once.

"It's a test of some kind, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do or what I'm supposed to look for," Cecilia said. "I—I have never known what to do without someone to take charge. Someone for me to follow. It's how my brain works."

Or at least how it had been taught to work. It was easy to see why Azelf hated her now. She must have had potential when she'd gotten her half of the Shard (which should have been around Eterna City, by her estimate), but had squandered it completely.

There are no easy answers to this, he said. But first—why don't you start by going to talk to that child on the beach?

Cecilia glanced to her left and saw a young boy sitting in the sand, watching a freighter boat pass by the island. The Indigoan flag on its hull signaled that it was possibly on the way to Sandgem or Pastoria from Kanto-Johto. "Is that the one who was lost this morning?"

I think so, he said, squinting. Yep, that's him— Lehmhart interrupted Slowking with an angry hiss as smoke vented from his joints. What, kid? You're the one who was gone, don't blame me for not telling you!

Cecilia was already standing up and shuffling in the beach's direction, and both of her Pokemon followed her. Water dripped out of Lehmhart's body as he rose from the sea, and the boy looked up at him with wonder in his eyes while the nearby inhabitants—

She'd made a mistake.

Already, people were running to grab him as if she'd been about to attack him with her Pokemon—and maybe it did look that way. It was no longer only hate they looked at her with, but fear. Trembling men and women ready to protect their own at any cost, posturing as if they stood a chance. The few of them who owned Pokemon had them out already and prepared to attack, including the wild Wingull she had spotted earlier. Go away, leave us, you don't belong, nasty fucking ghost—in that moment, they hated her more than anything in the world, even when she tried apologizing and recalled her Golurk. Cecilia wasn't sure they even heard her.

Her voice didn't carry far enough.

They all went quiet when an older man with wisps of… white hair on his head? Either white or very clear. He slowly trudged through the gray sands, his hand raised in the air as if to signal them to be quiet.

"Young girl," he said, hand ruffling the boy's hair. He was short in stature, which his hunching did not help, but he commanded the respect of every villager. Cecilia guessed he must have been a leading figure of some sort—she didn't know how this place governed itself, even if it was legally Sandgem's land. "Would you kindly tell me what you were about to do with my grandson?"

Cecilia opened her mouth, but struggled to make a sound. So many hateful, suspicious gazes; so many people who didn't know her just like she didn't know herself. "I—I'm sorry," she finally said. "I just wanted to talk to him to see how he was doing. He got lost this morning."

"Ari, did you bother her?" He looked down at his grandson, who quietly shook his head. "Is the Talonflame who brought him back here yours, young lady?"

"She is."

"She lies!" someone in the back Cecilia couldn't make out yelled. And of course, she didn't have Talonflame with her to prove it. "You can't trust her, not when she has one of those." The statement was obviously aimed at her Golurk, who thankfully wasn't here to get his feelings hurt any longer.

"She's not lying—" the child tried, but was silenced by the others.

"He—" he's not a threat, she wanted to scream, to burn into this world, to defend his kindness, his honor, his tenderness. But how could she blame them? She'd come out of nowhere without a word because she didn't remember how to do anything alone without the comfort of texting or having her… girlfriend to have as a lifeline in case things went wrong. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"I'll ask that you forgive us as well." A decent amount of people protested at that, but most stayed quiet. "We've had a bit of an issue with ghosts these past few months. Little pranks here and there at first, but they've grown a lot more unrestrained these past two weeks." The last two weeks? That was when she'd landed here. "When you arrived," he echoed her thoughts. "We all heard that massive Golurk land; the sound is difficult to miss."

"It's because of the bombs," someone else—a young woman—said. "Got a bunch of spirits fleeing south to avoid the bad memories, and they're taking it out on us."

Cecilia wasn't sure that was correct. Ghosts generally took much longer to form, but perhaps the scale of the death had sped the process up. She wouldn't see why in the world they would linger here, though, especially if the best they could do were pranks. Newborn ghosts who had not settled into themselves were often the most violent.

"I have nothing to do with this," she tried. "But if you don't want me here, I'll leave."

The old man's eyes widened a fraction. "Well, sorry for the insults thrown your way. I suppose we won't be seeing much of you, then."

Cecilia didn't answer. Instead, she left with her head down until she was back in the woods, walking until her feet hurt with Slowking silently following behind her. She walked, walked, and walked until she ended up back in the ruins of that previous town whose history she had no energy to figure out.

"I hate this," she quietly mourned.

I know, Slowking said, his inner voice just as muted as hers.

Cecilia clenched her fists, and her face contorted in rage. "And I hate myself and I hate the way I look at things and I hate that I don't see color anymore and I hate the way that I can barely feel anything but negativity and I hate that the world is so cold now and I hate that I feel so lost without her and I hate that everything I do feels hollow, that every smile, every word, is just an echo of what it used to be and I hate that I feel so invisible that a breeze could make me disappear and I hate this place and I hate my father and I hate this year for what it did to me and I hate that I look at my reflection and there's nothing behind my eyes and I hate that it feels that the last sixteen years of my life just happened in an instant and were so miserable and I—" she broke down into tears, wrapping Slowking in her arms just to feel something. "Oh God, what was it all for?" The abuse, the despondency, the pain, the hope, the love, the struggle, the fighting, the begging, the nuggets of happiness, the fighting, the fun, the fighting, the memories, the fighting, the fighting, the fighting, the fighting! Oh God, what was it all for? she asked herself again. "Sixteen years of nothing. Of whimpering, scared in a corner, followed by vacuum," she sobbed. "I hate that I'm alive, but I'm not."

Outside of her friends, what was she? She was a passing glance, a fleeting thought, the briefest flicker of something almost remembered and then forgotten a moment later.

She'd helped save the world. None of it mattered.

Wh—why don't we take it slow for now? the psychic tried. I'm sure Lehmhart won't be angry. What happened was our fault, but we had no way of knowing they'd have ghost problems.

If she'd been more personable, she would have gone into that town like Chase in the Iron Islands and been able to hold a conversation with anyone, meaning she would have figured it out eventually. It was her fault for thinking she could just bring a giant golem into a small town and think everything would be fine. As if a Golurk wouldn't terrify people who had never seen one before.

"Fine," she said. "Let's go to Sandgem."

That ghost, or that dream, or whatever it was.

She needed to see it again.



But nothing ever came.

Not when she went to sleep that night with her team either staring daggers at each other for actions she'd forced them to do, or trying their best to act normal, or ignoring her. Not the next day, nor the next after that. Cecilia even tried to sleep more throughout the day in hopes of plunging back into that dream, but while it was seared into her mind, she never managed to enter it again, even after an entire week. Not only that, but while she had progressed with her team, Zolst still wouldn't speak to her or anyone else on the team, and he wouldn't even eat the damn food that she'd bought. The most he cooperated with was sticking around and not just running away, so at least Cecilia had that in her favor. He wanted to stay, but she didn't know what it would take to bring him back. Not anymore.

She'd been so focused on it that she hadn't even asked to meet Chase in Sandgem—though she was in no mood to after how she had royally messed up her interaction with rural folk compared to him.

And on the seventh night of this—

Cecilia was woken up by a dull psychic spark within her mind. Of course, still no dream, but her awful mood was alleviated by the fact that her entire team was still here, sleeping or strewn about the beach. Like usual, Slowking was watching over her, keeping one eye open while he slept. Talonflame was snuggled next to Cecilia's sleeping bag, her warmth seeping past the fabric. Toxicroak and Scizor were speaking in hushed tones on the beach, and the poison type kept prodding at his shell with her claws to see how resistant it would be to her strongest of poisons, a game she'd had for weeks with him. Lehmhart was with them, watching from a distance as he quietly hugged his knees. Even Zolst was lying against the sand, occasionally growling at what must have been a dream.

Sorry to wake you, but someone's approaching, Slowking said. Pretty sure it's that same kid.

He was no empath, but he had learned a few tricks up his sleeve to know when people other than ghosts were coming by. Tripwire barriers so thin and light no one would ever know they stepped over them was one. Sure enough, the boy—Ari—showed himself in the alcove and froze the moment he saw the number of powerful Pokemon within it. Immediately, Cecilia sobered up from her half-asleep state and recalled her starter before he could wake up and scream the fear of death into the child.

The rest of her team were more curious than anything, save for Talonflame, who had already taken a liking to Ari. Now that she could focus on him, even in the dead of night, he was short-haired, somewhat tanned—though it was hard to tell with her vision—and looked like this was his first ever delve into the world outside of his village. Talonflame wrapped a wing around Ari's back and gently cooed at him while Cecilia got up and prepared to face him.

She wouldn't have been nervous had that dream not put these thoughts into her head. She'd come here to heal the bond with her team and figure out how to not depend on one person so much, but this trip had turned into a real existential mess.

The Unovan crouched in front of Ari and gave him her best smile, but all that got her was a fearful look. "Are you lost again?" she asked.

"Nuh-uh," he whispered as he shook his head. "I was grounded for a week, but I managed to run away again 'cause I wanted to see your ghost."

Her head turned toward Lehmhart, still sitting silently in the distance, one of his fingers shyly poking into the sand and tracing random shapes. "You're here without anyone knowing?" He answered her with a nod, and she sighed. "That's… bad." Cecilia's fake smile turned genuine, and the fear melted off the child's face. "But since you're already here, you can meet him." Her hand brushed a tiny prickle off his shoulder and a leaf off his hair, and he beamed so brightly that she hyped herself up for not messing up the interaction. "But only for five minutes, okay? Then I'm bringing you back. If your parents are awake, they must be worried sick."

Ari's eyes gazed down at his feet. "I don't have parents. I only have grandpa."

"O—oh," Cecilia said. "That's—it's—" Goodness gracious, she was horrible at this. "I'm sure your grandpa loves you very much."

Ari pouted. "He does, even if he's annoying about not letting me leave."

"You want to leave here?"

"Yes! This place sucks, and nothing ever happens!" he yelled. "It's why I keep running away! I tried getting on one of the boats that deliver us stuff from Sandgem once, but I was caught midway through the trip, and grandpa had to come and pick me up!" Cecilia hid her wince. That sounded like one hell of a day. Still, it made sense that he looked at the horizon in Sandgem's direction so yearningly now. "I was super duper grounded for that one, nothing like this week. And then I had to go to church and pray to some stupid sea God called Lugia all the time when I was usually allowed to skip. Let me tell you, if Lugia was a good Sea God, he'd let me ride on his back and take me to the mainland! One day, I'll make it with or without his help!"

Talonflame chittered out a laugh, and the glint in her eye told Cecilia that she was thinking about carrying this child into the sky. He was small enough, but there was just no way. They had no saddle; he would most definitely fall and his body would shatter against the unforgiving earth below.

Cecilia started to lead Ari toward Golurk, who waved—each movement of his hand created a small gust of wind that blew away minute grains of sand that glittered under the clear moonlight. For a while, Ari just touched him all over while Toxicroak mocked the golem for being so bashful about being admired. Slowking tried to distract him with horrid jokes, and Talonflame showed him tricks using her well-coordinated fire feathers. Scizor didn't seem that interested and watched from afar, but still—

It felt like the night she'd wanted a week ago, even if Zolst couldn't participate.

"Why is Lehmhart your favorite, I wonder?" Cecilia asked.

"His name is Lehmhart?!" He slightly mispronounced the word. "That sounds so cool! I bet he's strong as heck!" Ari started to punch and kick the air.

If only he knew that he could also fly.

"I like ghosts!" he said. "They're my favorite type, but everyone's scared of 'em. One day I'll have a team full of happy ghosts and show my village that there's no reason to hate them." Then, he looked up at her. "You kind of look like a ghost, lady. Wait! I never asked you your name!"

"It's Cecilia," she said with a smile. "And I think it's about time we bring you home—"

At the mention of the word "home," Cecilia's eyes narrowed, catching sight of a glowing plume in the distance where Ari's village should have been. Her team immediately sensed the shift, their playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. This feeling, Cecilia knew all too well. Despite all the soul-searching, the struggle to understand who she was, and the mistakes she had made at the village, the looming disaster felt all too familiar.

A threat.

And with the first ounce of familiarity in three weeks, Cecilia felt her inner self grow comfortable—something she had nearly forgotten. It was like coming home after a long day at work. A satisfied sigh left her lips, and her cold hand wrapped around Ari's.

"Listen," she said, pointing up. "Do you see that?"

The little boy squinted until his eyes widened. Not in panic, but in awe. "Woah! What is that? The lights are so cool! It's so purple…"

"I want you to stay here with…" she glanced toward her team. There were odds that this was a ghostly phenomenon and that the pranks that elderly man had spoken about had now turned lethal. The problem was that she wasn't sure if leaving him here with one of her Pokemon would be safer than taking him with her and keeping him within the safety of Slowking's barrier.

He should stay behind, Slowking said as if he could read her thoughts. What he might see could traumatize him.

Right. People did not normally see so much death. Mangled body parts strewn feet away from torsos; the endless screams and faces of people who begged not to die as they soiled themselves; the liters of blood pouring out of every wound; every decapitated head; every amputated leg; every body folded into shapes that shouldn't have been possible; the snapping of broken bones— her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes snapped open.

She'd thrown herself back in Coronet for a moment. She looked at her right palm and found it bleeding from how tightly she'd clenched her fist.

"You should stay here with Lehmhart," Cecilia finally said, meeting her Pokemon's eyes. Her next look went to Talonflame, who immediately blurred into the air with an enormous burst of wind that scattered sand in the wind and went to scout ahead. "I'll go check out your village. Now stay put, okay?"

"But I wanna see the lights!" he whined, all cute and pouty.

"If you do, I'll let you go on a ride on Talonflame's back when we come back. But not too high off the ground."

"Can I go as fast as she just left?"

"We'll see," Cecilia replied with a smile. At least she was so used to death that she could appear calm in these moments and not make Ari panic. "Now, go play with Lehmhart. You can call him Lehmy."

Cecilia's face hardened the moment she turned toward the village. When they made it out of the alcove, she recalled all of her Pokemon save for Slowking, who raised a platform and brought them high into the air. She could see it better from up here, but the plume was obscuring everything around and within the village.

"Do you sense anything—" her eyes swiveled to Slowking, whose mouth was agape. She had only seen the psychic afraid once, and that was when she'd been about to die. "How bad?"

Very bad. Astronomically bad. 'We stand absolutely no chance' bad! he yelled. You have to leave.

Down below, she could hear panicked screams and people running through the smoke, desperate to escape whatever had come down to rain terror upon their town. She could see hints of Gastly, Shuppet and other weak ghosts chasing them out of the smoke, whose smell was reaching them now even if they were in Slowking's bubble. It carried the stench of decay, like rotting vegetation mixed with the metallic tang of burnt chemicals. The odor was thick and suffocating, curling in her throat and making her eyes water. Cecilia pulled her shirt over her nose as Slowking doubled, tripled, quadrupled his bubble, but it only barely helped.

No one escaping it was dying. Their skin wasn't rotting or melting off, nor was blood pouring out of their mouths, eyes or noses. Was it a delayed poison that would only kick in minutes or hours later like they'd been working on with Toxicroak? The question lingered in her mind as Talonflame burst out of the smoke, her eyes closed and a brilliant flame glowing around her. Once she got close to them, she hacked out a few coughs, but otherwise remained in the air without any difficulties.

"Could you see anything in there?!" Cecilia asked. Talonflame shook her head. "Try blowing it away!"

With a powerful flap as loud as a thunderclap, Talonflame sent a gust of wind surging forward, her wings slicing through the air with precision and force. The gust collided with the thick poisonous smoke, creating swirling slices that briefly parted the toxic cloud. Yet it resisted. Like a living creature, it moaned and screamed and yelled in defiance. It was a tree rooted against the ground and desperate to cling to this village for reasons beyond Cecilia's understanding.

She saw a hint of six glowing eyes in the smoke.

We should leave! Slowking repeated again. Take the kid with you and alert the authorities in Sandgem. We can't handle whatever ghost this is!

The Unovan licked her lips, hand brushing against Slowking's barrier. Her eyes focused once more on the village, and her mind went to her dream.

"Do you trust me?" Cecilia asked.

Don't, he warned. Don't throw everything away again. I know you feel like you've hit rock bottom and it's not looking good with Grace, but we've been making progress—

"Listen to my voice and look at me." She stared directly into his eyes full of tears because of the poison and leaned forward. "Look at me," she repeated. "I'm not throwing anything away; I want to learn how to live, and I understand that I have people who care about me despite not knowing how to yet. Do you remember the dream?"

A beat of hesitation followed. I… do.

In front of them, Talonflame once again tried to blow away the poisonous haze with a wider but less focused Hurricane, and while it was slightly more effective, it too did nothing to budge the smoke.

"This is what I was talking about," she said. "I feel it in my bones, Slowking. The one at the source of all of this could have had us killed right now. Talonflame could have died. It could have killed the people fleeing instead of scaring them away. It's calling to me. Do I sound like someone who's given up?"

Slowking gnawed his teeth together. I can't—you can't expect me to just throw you in there on a hunch!

"Slowking, I understand your worries, and I know you love me," she paused and patted him on the arm, "but I want to learn how to love myself, too."

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. If that thing tries to kill you and we survive by the grace of Arceus, Zolst will leave the team. I won't keep him in the dark; there will be no secrets.

Her heart sank, but she stuck to her guts. "I'm not throwing my life away; that dream was just so much more than that. I know it now." Cecilia steeled herself and pointed down at the village. "Whatever comes next will be in there."

Fine. We're coming with you—your entire team, save for him.

It took less time to convince Talonflame, especially when Slowking was on board and there was an understanding between them. Not willing to risk the noxious smell hurting his concentration, the water type lowered them to the ground, where more and more people were fleeing past them. There couldn't be more than two hundred, maybe two hundred and fifty people in there, and Cecilia was certain she'd seen almost a hundred leave running. Toxicroak and Scizor burst out of their Pokeballs and also needed to be caught up with the plan, and while the former was especially adamant about running away, having three of her Pokemon on her side and seeing that so many people were alive gave her the push she needed.

With her shirt still pulled tightly over her nose, Cecilia plunged into the pillar of smoke. The world around her became a thick, swirling haze, the acrid air pressing against her like a suffocating blanket. Each step felt heavy, the ground beneath her feet uncertain and hidden by the toxic fog. The smell was overwhelming, seeping through the fabric of her shirt and clawing at her senses with every breath. It stung her eyes, blurring her vision with tears that mingled with the sweat dripping down her face. It was so pungent that she nearly had to stop to throw up a few times, but she swallowed the bile and kept going. Even Toxicroak, a poison type, found it difficult to take a full breath in this place.

She saw hints of weaker ghosts at the edge of her vision, whispering in her ear in a way that she somehow could hear through the fading screams of the fleeing inhabitants. There were far fewer of those, now; they were nearly all out. Like a guiding hand, Cecilia followed the numerous Gastly, Misdreavus, Duskull and Drifloon. The Litwick, the Yamask, the Shuppet, the Sandygast— there were too many of them to count. Cecilia had never seen so many in one place save for the Distortion World.

And in the middle of the village, where the smoke was the thickest and the odor the foulest, she saw it. Six eyes she remembered were red, floating in the air without a form—no, there was a form. Strangely enough, she thought it'd be easier to tell when she couldn't see color.

At first, it appeared disembodied, staring at her with an unsettling intensity. But as she squinted through the dense fog, she began to make out a shape—a vague, shifting form that seemed to blend seamlessly with the surrounding smoke. The ghost was amorphous, its edges undefined as if it were made of the very fog that enveloped the village. It flickered and wavered, constantly shifting and reforming. In fact, it was the source of the smoke. Cecilia could see it billowing from the ghost's form.

A fanged mouth opened, wider than the body Cecilia could see. The teeth were so numerous it covered the inside of its mouth, and they were sharp, like needles dripping with poison. "You found me," it spoke, and when Cecilia realized it was the exact same voice as the theatre but slightly more distorted, her entire hunch was vindicated. "Instead of fleeing in hopes of not disappointing your team, a paltry apology that wouldn't have meant anything and gone against your desires, you negotiated with them, came up with a compromise, and you found me." One voice cackled, one sighed, and one growled with low, guttural intensity. The laughing voice, sharp and mocking, echoed through the smoke like broken glass, nails across a chalkboard, an unpleasant vibration in the air. The sighing one was weary, almost sorrowful at the fact that she had to go through this to get here. The growl was deep and primal, burdened rage held on a leash, yet furious at her for taking so long.

That last one made Scizor threateningly raise a claw, but every other Pokemon told him to stop unless he wanted to get them killed.

"Did you or your underlings kill anyone?" Cecilia demanded. If they had, then—

"Not everyone is as barbaric as you can be, girl." The retort made her flinch back, but she was glad she'd been correct. "No. They were just scared away. Not a single life will be lost—and my entourage are no underlings." The creature somehow changed shapes into the form of a humanoid thing with way too many arms and bowed. "They simply crave interest. Entertainment. And I give it to them in exchange for their services."

"Enough games!" She had to admit, the spectacle of it fit whatever theatre nonsense it had used to show her the dream. "I passed whatever this was; I need answers." Each word out of Cecilia's mouth came with the risk of vomit spewing out of her. "And I need them now."

"Oh!" It… he… they? mockingly huffed. "One bit of praise, and you're back to taking charge. Alas, if it were anything else, you would be horribly incompetent, just as you've been this past week."

They'd been watching her? Rage bubbled within Cecilia. The idea she was being watched at the worst point of her life by this bastard of a ghost, and that they were just observing her like she was some sort of captive in a zoo—it made her want to blow this entire island away. "I—then show me! Stop being cryptic and make me dream again! Allow me to see the rest of that vision!"

"You are missing the forest for the trees, child," they spoke as one. "What you see will not just give you the answer; it will give you a thesis. It is up to you to figure out the rest. I told you, did I not? You will not be led to water, and you will not be made to drink."

"So now what?" she said with a hint of irony. "These people will all think I brought this upon them, and even if I can just leave, what will have changed? What will I have learned? Why have you traumatized all of these people for this?"

"One who wants a journey of a thousand steps to be complete in an instant is no traveler at all," they said. "You have done better than what the majority expected; that is prize enough, even if you have failed."

She took a reckless step forward. "I don't even know what I'm failing! If you want to help me, you are doing it in the most asinine way possible!"

"What do we do when we fail? We try again," they declared, almost a mantra that Cecilia could imagine had been said countless times.

A spear of poison passed through Cecilia's head like a scorching knife would through butter, and she died.


Cecilia awakens back in the theatre with a gasp, her hands scrambling to touch her face to see if she is still whole. When she realizes she can breathe and that there is no massive hole through her forehead, the fear subsides. In a way, the sheer terror she feels reminds her that through it all, she retains the fear of death even after having thrown her life away. That is progress; she understands that it is a facet of what it means to be human. While light slowly dims on the stage, the Unovan realizes that she can move her arms and legs, even if she still cannot stand. The other hers still fill every seat like silent vigils, and when she tries to touch the one closest to her—one who is around thirteen years old—

Her hand touches ceramic and not skin. They're dolls. Her attention goes back to the stage and the sparkling letters hovering above, spelling out 'SECOND DEATH.'

"Did I die?" she asks herself, feeling a pit form in her stomach. This would make sense, considering the fact that her brain was dissolved by poison, but she had literally died once before, and it had felt nothing like this. The aftermath of it, anyway. "No. That was—was it all fake?"

The purple shadow appears on the dark stage, and Cecilia sees the shape of ghostly hands clapping without the noise to accompany it. The six eyes gleam in delight, and a toothy smile stretches across their face to greet her. "Wonderful. Simply wonderful," they slowly speak as one. "Rare are the ones who can see themselves dying in such visceral detail and be unphased. I am not surprised, given it's you."

"What happened to my Pokemon?" she demands, leaning forward in her chair as her skin bubbled with hot rage. "What did you do?"

"I'm sure that you can figure it out if you give it enough time." The ghost's form shrugs, and two of the eyes close. "She can," he strongly adds. He, she assumed, because he kept referring to himself as 'I'. "She did rather well for the first act after her breakdown."

"Now you talk about me like I'm not here," Cecilia hisses through her teeth before her hands go to cover her mouth. She should have let them talk, but everything is so frustrating right now that she speaks without thinking.

The two eyes open again, and all six glint with a menacing glare. "Right. My apologies; let us get on with the second act—the shortest of the three; there will be no intermission. Oh, and do not fret. Your Pokemon are well."

She manages to calm herself at the news. Once again, she is blinded by the sudden flare of the theater lights, their intensity overwhelming her senses. The darkness that had enveloped her moments before is shattered by a barrage of brilliant white beams, sharp and unyielding, that pierce through her vision like daggers. The lights are so bright that they seem to burn into her eyes, leaving behind a haze of afterimages that dance across her sight.

But when she opens them;

Her life is back on display, right where they had left off: Grace and her fighting in the bathroom stall. She accuses her of being a spy, yet when she denies, denies, denies and Cecilia realizes that she has potentially threatened an innocent trainer, her younger self breaks down into tears and begs Grace not to tell anyone, lest the news get back to her father.

"You don't understand, this— this isn't about money."

There it is.

The first crack in her facade, one that threatened to bring down the entire wall she had put up around herself. In her eyes, Grace is the first one to ever not screw her over, or at least it feels like it. Even when the next time they go into the bathrooms, she demands more information out of her that Cecilia feels compelled to give because she'd thrown the fight against Louis to let him win.

"I won't leave until you tell me," she said, crossing my arms.

"Or what? Going to blackmail me?" Cecilia said.

"No. I'll just follow you around and keep asking."

"What if I go back to my group? Then what?"

"Then they'll know you throw games because your boyfriend's ego is too big to take a loss."
She smiles with a smug look and crosses her arms, as if she knows she's won the argument, and Cecilia remembers feeling so enthralled by that expression that she felt her heart throbbing.

There's tension there, tension Cecilia forgot had ever even existed. But now, it's all smoothed over, too comfortable. Both the good and the bad blend together in a way that makes everything feel stagnant, like there's no point in changing anything. They're both too scared of what the other might truly think, too afraid to disrupt the fragile balance they've created because of the pain it would bring. It is easier to stay in this safe, predictable space than to face the uncertainty of what might happen if they dared to confront the truth.

So what is the point?

Cecilia scoffs at her own train of thought. What's the point? She tried to make it work! Break after break, yet nothing ever changes. They put band-aids on open gashes and hope the wound won't worsen, and it's gotten to the point where Cecilia can't even think of her without feeling like she's made a mistake for running. Running. She always runs, doesn't she? It's like the ghost said—but she didn't have a choice, this time. She had to disconnect, or nothing would have ever changed, and she would have forever been locked into Grace's orbit like a tiny planet permanently stuck around a star until it died and destroyed everything with it. Now, the wound was festering beneath the surface, a deep, aching rot that no bandage could ever heal. It was a gaping chasm that stretched wider with each passing day, filled with bitterness, regret, and the slow poison of unspoken words.

The words from their confrontation in their condo echo in Cecilia's head. She'd waited too long, and she now suffers because of it.

Time fast forwards, and she sees herself learning what it means to allow a little happiness into a life that had once been dull and gray. It's odd to see her friends as they used to be. Grace, happy and optimistic even after the incident with Galactic; Emilia, shy and meek, scared of everything that moves; Justin, alive and free of darkness, learning to be sociable; Louis, egotistical and hiding his fear behind a mask of fake masculinity and bravado; Denzel, struggling with self-worth; Pauline, so abrasive it was difficult to ever take her seriously. It was also strange to see herself learning, changing in different ways. Her first time telling Grace the entire truth about her father, her first time bantering, her first time telling Denzel about Unova, and him getting defensive because he's a true Sinnohan at heart.

And it is in these moments, between Floaroma and Eterna City, that Cecilia sees the beginning of something great that never arrived. Like someone who missed their train, she let slip the opportunity to learn what it means to be a person, even though the potential was right there in front of her. She was learning, truly learning, to confide in those close to her, but also to stand on her own two feet. The first time she decided to go all out in a Gym Battle against Gardenia, Cecilia saw more fire in her eyes than she ever had before.

It wasn't done with no mistakes. She still feared her father, back then, and hell, maybe she still does, and she still restrains herself socially because of the fear of spies. She still trained her Pokemon the only way she herself had been trained since her very birth.

But progress was still being made. That was, until—

It all came crashing down with Amy showing up at their hotel. And here, she tried to put everything she's been through, everything she's learned to stand up for herself, and she is so utterly crushed by a single threat of Malamar that none of it ever even mattered.

It is ruinous; it is soul-crushing; there is no escape to be had here, or at least that's what she thinks. This is the moment that defines her, the moment where she dies a second time. The fragile hope she had finally tasted after so long is ripped away, draining from her like lifeblood from a mortal wound. In its place, only despair remains, a hollow echo of what once was—no, what could have been—leaving her empty, lost, and unable to reclaim the light she had so desperately sought.

Cecilia writes a letter and runs in hopes of dying.

But again—

Her friends come to save her—even Chase tries to stop her, but the nascent crush on Grace means that she's the only one Cecilia can focus on, and it turns into a mixture of deep love and obsession.

The theatre freezes. The lights dim. The ghost reappears.

"What do you think?" he asks. It is a simple question with a simple answer that Cecilia doesn't want to even think about. "You're giving it some thought already—spit it out."

"I was learning," she answers, her voice laced with pain. "Learning to be a person. But it was all thrown away because Amy came back, and I fell in love with Grace. I saw her save me twice and started to think she would save me forever. That she would always be there, by my side, to make the pain go away." She wants to ask what she should have done, but doesn't. Instead, she thinks, remembering that of the other timelines, she'd been the only one who had given up this way. So instead, all she can muster is, "if Amy hadn't come, would I have learned?"

"I cannot answer hypotheticals; I just know your memories—most of them, at least. But you see the thesis forming, now," he says.

"I see it. I see it all too well." She could, in fact, already tell what the final act of this play was going to be. "Wake me up, then."

The ghost gives her a prideful smile—


Cecilia calmly opened her eyes, waking to the sound of crashing waves. The sky was dull and gray, as usual, as was everything else around her. Rain pattered down a psychic barrier above her.

Up early today, aren't we? Slowking said, leaning against a stone outcropping with his eyes half-closed. I'm not surprised. You were shaking a little in your sleep in the last hour or so, but I figured it'd do well to finally let you sleep. You haven't been getting a lot, lately.

Instantly, she shot up with her eyes wide. She was back to one week ago—no, no, some kind of temporal loop was beyond anything non-Legendary. This was an illusion of some kind; she was trapped in a dream of that ghost's doing. He had said he had access to her memories—had she lived through this before more than once? And if it was a dream created by his powers, how in the world did all of her Pokemon act so right? Had that come from her memories as well?

Cecilia had too little information to make anything other than an educated guess. A mass illusion within her own head was the best she could do, at the moment.

Um… Cecilia? Slowking managed to mask the worried look on his face well. Are you well, my lady?

Her hand rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes, and she smiled. "Slowking, I love you. I've never said that, have I?"

If he could blush, he would have. W—well, I'm certain you've said it at least once, he stammered. What's with you today?

"I should have said it sooner." Cecilia crawled out of her sleeping bag with more energy than she'd had since she set out to kill Jupiter. To be absolutely certain, she checked the date on her phone; she was indeed one week in the past. "Hey. Would you believe me if I said this was my second time going through this week?"

I would ask you if you've had a strange dream.

"Zolst and Talonflame are out hunting; Scizor and Toxicroak are out training on that cliff up north; there was a child who came by earlier this morning and Talonflame took him home to his grandfather. His name is Ari."

Slowking's normally serene expression shifted subtly. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and the corners of his mouth drew downward in a faint, almost imperceptible frown. Ah, he admitted defeat. I see you're telling the truth. I guess stranger things have happened to us.

While eating breakfast, Cecilia explained the logistics of this illusion to Slowking and everything that had happened to her in her first attempt at this week. The theatre, the mistake at the village, the attempts at bonding and the nominal successes, and the attack on the village in seven days.

Sounds like one hell of a puzzle, Slowking pondered with his hands behind his back. You know, the thought that I might be a fake dream me that's going to disappear at the end of the week isn't great. I'm getting a stomachache; I don't like getting all existential.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get an answer during my dream." Cecilia affectionately patted him on his smooth arm, then slid to the fabric-like material around his neck. "I would have gone through this alone, once, but I want you all to be involved. We're a team."

Don't be mistaken; I am glad you told me. He cleared his throat and waved a hand, scattering the grains of sand off her sleeping bag. What's the plan now?

Thunder boomed overhead. It would keep raining for another few hours. "There's no use forcing things." She scrunched up the plastic wrap of her cereal bar, shoving it into her pocket before stretching and wondering what would be the test this week. "If I try to force the team into gathering again, it'll most likely push them away." Mostly, that meant Scizor, Toxicroak and Zolst. "Let's go get Lehmhart."

Do you know where he is because of the loop?

"No. I know where he is because I watched him grow up," she replied with a spring in her step.

She had taken much longer now, so when Cecilia made it to the ruined town, Lehmhart was alone and arranging bricks together to make little shapes and house-like cubes that were too small to fit anything in them. The Unovan watched him for a moment; he crushed a brick in between his fingers, letting out a distressed, violin-like sound as his eyes flickered in a panic.

"Lehmhart?" Her voice carried across the desolate path, and while the construct didn't flinch, he froze, head slowly rotating toward her. "Are you in need of help building a home? Slowking and I can join in—a psychic would be a great help." This was what would have happened last time had she not shown up early.

Don't worry, little guy! Slowking cheered. We'll help you out!

Cecilia stood beside the towering Golurk, her eyes focused on the task at hand. The desolate path around them was littered with rubble, remnants of old structures that had long since crumbled into the earth. Lehmhart flicked the brick pile with a finger, tearing the majority of the stones to shreds in the process. Cecilia coughed up some of the dust until Slowking blew it away, but all she could do was laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here they were, a sixteen-year-old and her two 8-badge level Pokemon, playing house.

Lehmhart's heavy, stone-like hands carefully lifted large, weathered bricks from the pile, setting each one into place while Slowking applied a thin layer of adhesive barrier between each one. They'd figured out different barrier properties long before she'd sent their bond careening down the hill of suicide, and they'd seen Jupiter make use of it as well during their fight. While Cecilia couldn't say she had helped Slowking with any ideas given their strained relationship, he had practiced in his own time because his goal was still to keep her alive at all costs—barriers that lasted long hadn't been an issue for a while. Cecilia tried her best to help as well, though she'd been put on brick-finding duty. These were all different sizes, after all, but the closest ones could be adjusted using Water Cutter.

By the end, the trio stepped back to admire their work—a hollow, brick cube that was as bland as toasted white bread. Cecilia couldn't help but wipe the sweat off her brow and feel a deep satisfaction. They'd been at this for so long that it was no longer raining.

"What do you say we move camps and I sleep in here tonight?" The 'house' was large enough to accommodate at least her and maybe one of her smaller Pokemon. Lehmhart gave her a happy thumbs up, and she added, "great. We'll move our things later tonight. Plus, it's close to the village."

She wasn't going to go today, not when there was so much to do with her team. Maybe tomorrow or the day after would do. Plus, they still needed to go buy food again in Sandgem. Illusion or not, Cecilia didn't want to see Lehmhart sad at the circle of life. There were also a few tests she needed to run to see how far this dream truly extended.

And she would also need to text Chase.

"By the way, Lehmhart," she looked up at his bright eyes and saw a person where there once had been a vapid soul shoved into a golem. "Would you believe me if I told you I've lived the next week once already?"



It was as Cecilia thought.

While Sandgem itself appeared normal, Cecilia kept flying north on Lehmhart, expecting to reach Jubilife, but instead found herself back on Route 221. If this was indeed a case of dreams within dreams, the effort required to maintain such a facade over the entire region would demand an immense amount of technique and power. The people in Sandgem had been strange, almost hollow—no one spoke to her except for the store clerk from whom she had bought food and supplies. They existed, yet they didn't; they were mere apparitions, ghosts crafted to fill this world, deceiving her into believing it was real. The realization that she'd been so lost in her own mind, so out of touch, that she hadn't recognized the illusion the first time around sent an unpleasant feeling coursing through her skin, like something was crawling under there. She supposed that making realistic personalities for that many people would be too much to simulate.

She hadn't known what to expect when texting Chase. Would he even show up? Would he be another empty sack of meat without a soul? Or would her memories of him be enough to…

Her train of thought halted as she sat on the cold, stone bench, watching the silent world of Sandgem unfold before her in shades of gray. A child and a Mankey kicking a pebble back and forth between each other on the sidewalk, leading to a man silently telling them to bugger off and leave space for people to pass through. A mother, hand in hand with her son, walking out of the very store she'd just been in with a bag of groceries around her arm. On the road, a transient walked from car to car with a cup, begging for money. That one, she made due, placing two thousand Pokedollars in his hand after gesturing him over.

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head to her. "Arceus bless you and your days."

Cecilia was so surprised to see he'd gained a voice that all she could muster was a flustered thanks before he left.

She had to focus on the people, or she'd remember what she'd lost. But maybe it was fine to acknowledge it. The way she had to identify red or green lights by their position instead of their color, or how she couldn't tell a lot of Pokemon attacks by their hue anymore, but only their intensity. How she could no longer rely on color when she went shopping for fruit. The difficulty she had reading maps. The death of the lights of a city at night, or how vibrant a sunset was. It was like moving through a dense fog, all the time.

Cecilia glanced left, where two girls on the next bench listened to music, one earbud in each ear with their hands laced together.

That one hurt.

Cecilia knew she was in a world of smoke and mirrors; she still didn't like thinking like nothing was real. It would lead her to believe that there were no consequences to anything. She'd still followed flying rules, making sure to land outside of Sandgem with Lehmhart and recall him before stepping inside the city. She'd still paid for her food, respected laws, and treated people with respect. It would be dangerous to slip into the mentality that nothing mattered so long as she brute-forced through these trials—that only a singular goal would make her whole. That was the mentality that had nearly taken her life away.

What had she been thinking? She knew the answer—revenge for Justin, a concept she had tunnel visioned on for days trekking up the mountain. But really, why on her own? Why had she considered revenge to be hers and hers alone? Why had she not given thought to what her Pokemon would think, or kept Maeve there to help? It was an interesting thought because Cecilia had never considered herself to be selfish. She'd rarely paused and tried to guess at what made her beyond needing to be different for her relationship with Grace to work out.

That relationship was still part of the reason she'd come here, after all, but it had transformed into this—not that she minded. What do you like, the ghost had asked, but maybe Cecilia could start with what she was like in the truest sense of that question. An echo in an abandoned room, a faint trace of what perhaps could have been, but she was also—

"Looking deep in thought, there."

She looked up at Chase, who approached her in his wheelchair. Even now, he still wore his old cap that neatly covered his short hair. His thick eyebrows were raised, as if he was pleased to see her. No, he was. They were best friends.

"Chase," she said with a smile. "I've been through a lot, lately."

He was getting better at navigating the world in his wheelchair. With a strong grip on the wheels, he turned and positioned his chair next to the bench as he spoke. "I can tell," he said. "But you look kind of different, too."

"How so?"

"Dunno. There's a fire in your eye that's usually not there; I like it." He grabbed his cap off his head and began to trace the ridge with his fingers almost affectionately. "So. How's your trip going?"

"It's been confusing; I'll keep it a secret, I need to go through this on my own." Cecilia leaned against her palm with a sigh. "That doesn't mean I can't ask for help, however."

He chuckled. "You'd do well to internalize that before you get back. Shoot."

"What do you think it means to be a person?"

The question lingered in the air, and Chase stared at the gray skies for a few seconds. "Getting all philosophical on me, aren't ya?" He rubbed the back of his head, then groaned. "I dunno. So long as you're breathing, eating, sleeping, and shittin', you're a person in my book, but I can tell that's not the answer you want."

"It's come to my attention that I'm largely empty. A hollow vessel, I've been called." Their eyes met, and she knew Chase wanted to chastise her in that moment for kicking herself down, so she preemptively continued. "I don't even feel bad about it. It is bad, yes, but this isn't to wallow in my own self-pity. I'm trying to figure out how to fill my soul."

"Hm." He idly cracked his knuckles, then each finger one by one. "Listen pal, can I be real for a sec?"

"Always."

"You're not hollow. Whoever told you that can go shove it." She couldn't help but smile at the fact that he had no idea that ghost would wipe the floor with the both of them. "You're just shallow sometimes, especially when you get in your own head about what you need to do to fix whatever needs to happen for you to be with Grace. And that's been eating at you ever since Coronet."

She'd been about to ask if there was any news with her but remembered that one, it didn't matter now, and two, he wouldn't know. He was borne of her memories. Anything he'd say would be fabricated on the spot.

"And look, you've just been through a lot this year. It's been tough."

"For all of us," she added.

He snorted. "True that. Fuckin' look at my dumb ass." He waved annoyingly at his legs. "But it's tough to ask someone to go through all of your bullshit and come out the other side whole. We all have ways to cope; I just thought you'd figure yourself out now that it was all over."

"Did you think I wouldn't come to you for advice?" she asked, finger tapping her cheek.

"Cece, I think that if the entire group came to me for advice, then all of their problems would disappear," he boasted and pointed at his chest with a thumb. "Anyway, continuing. You're not empty. If you were empty, you wouldn't have that quirk in your eye when talking my ear off about whatshisface who lost his election by three hundred votes in the year whogivesafuck—that enjoyment you get when you hear about people who sometimes get fucked over."

"Only those who deserve it," she specified. "That's an important addendum."

"Sure. Whatever. That night on the Iron Island? Our pact? It wouldn't have happened. You wouldn't have changed your ways with Scizor or tried too hard to fix things with him. You wouldn't have actually tried to change anything with your girl, even if it came so late." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's just that lately, your entire existence feels like one big apology. Like you're scared of actually being someone. And like, you can ease into it. It's not like I'd know how to just become whole immediately. But—you know, I don't want to tell you to just stop being depressed, but just stop being depressed. Run some fucking laps or something; scream at things. Get angry, be selfish, make fun of some fucking loser. I don't know. Just… do something. Anything."

Hm. Ease into it. Like stepping into a hot bath. "I think I get it now. Not all of it, but more than what I knew before. I… will not be making fun of anyone."

"Lame."

"Unless they deserve it," she added again. "And right now, I feel the need to tell you how moronic it is that your first piece of advice to me was to run some laps."

He scoffed, straightening his back against his wheelchair in outrage. "Bro, come on. You said the advice worked!"

"Not the running, you absolute dolt. That bit was useless for anyone who isn't you." She stood up from her bench and patted down her clothes behind her. "I'm leaving; thank you for the advice, as always."

"What else was I supposed to say? See a therapist?"

She blinked a few times. "Yes. Yes, I think I'll be doing that as well when I come back."

"Wha—you told me you didn't want—hey, don't just start walking away! God, I hate when you do this cryptic ass bullshit!"

"Let's go eat out or something." Legendaries, she wished she still had the money to eat out at the most expensive restaurants just for the spectacle of it all. "Hey. Call Louis and get him here."

He followed behind her, and then made sure to stay at her side. He hated following. "Sure thing, why?"

"We need his ID for alcohol—and you know, I also just want him here. It's been a while."

"I ain't drinking," he said.

"I know. You'll be the responsible friend tonight."



One night out was plenty; one vice could not be replaced with another. There was much work to do, even if getting drunk once in a while was fun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten drunk—maybe in Eterna City, at one of the parties Emilia used to organize? Where Louis sneaked in alcohol into their hotel rooms and Pokemon Centers, and they would enjoy themselves deep into the night.

"Of course, the dream world can't help with hangovers." A groan left her mouth as she dragged herself out of bed. For a moment, she got scared at the unfamiliar ceiling before remembering this was the house Lehmhart, Slowking, and she had built. Part of her hoped to see her entire team when she crouched to fit under the short entrance, but only Talonflame, Slowking, Toxicroak, and Lehmhart were there.

She was lucky it was overcast again today, because the mere rays of the sun filtering through the clouds was enough to give her a headache so painful it was nearly impossible to open her eyes. She took refuge back into her 'house' and popped a painkiller from her bag into her mouth, sticking inside until the sun became tolerable again. Slowking let her know that Scizor had actually been with them this morning, but had been baited by Zolst with rumors of a strong ghost somewhere that they decided to go and find to battle.

Cecilia had no idea whether those rumors were artificially disseminated by her captor to make her life harder, or if the wild Pokemon had actually learned that information naturally through the ghosts stalking the island. She was honestly surprised she hadn't come across any, but they were most likely avoiding her so she couldn't get any information out of them.

"I've made some progress regarding myself, but I'm still stalling with them," she whispered to herself.

At least she'd made it back safe and sound thanks to Lehmhart. Memories of last night remained crisp and clear. Louis and Cecilia made for a terrifying drunk pair, given that his old self returned when he was under the influence, becoming horribly loud, boisterous, and most of all, obnoxious. Meanwhile, Cecilia somehow knew the exact words to hurt people as much as possible and found pleasure in it.

Needless to say, Chase had an awful night and was the subject of many terrible jokes.

Cecilia made a vow to try this again when she was out of this dream world for good; now, what would come next?

The village whose name she ought to learn by now.

Again, she went with Lehmhart safely tucked into his Pokeball, but this time, she came with Talonflame. Their stares were still judgmental, piercing glares picturing her as a horrible monster instead of a lost girl trying to find her way. It was early in the afternoon when she found Ari sitting by the beach, this time with his grandfather by his side. Did he come here to watch the horizon every day? Cecilia remembered desperately trying to find herself beyond that line. To see what other Champions saw.

He reminded her a little of herself. The yearning for freedom, to go out and escape the shackles of your family and home. His grandfather gently stroked his hair; the gentle sound of the waves crashed against the narrow beach.

She cleared her throat. "Good afternoon; may we sit here?"

Ari looked at her with a wide smile stretching from ear to ear, making it difficult to remember they technically hadn't met. He was just fascinated by outsiders.

The older man—clear-haired and with a bald spot atop his head—made a gruff sound. "Plenty of space to go around." He gestured at the entire beach. "Why here, stranger?"

"Your grandson got lost yesterday; it was my Talonflame that brought him back." The flying type squawked in agreement, flapping her wings excitedly. "I wanted to know how he was doing—he has a bit of an exploring streak, doesn't he?"

"I love exploring! I wanna go across the sea!" Ari yelled out until his grandpa quieted him down with a gentle click of his tongue.

He still wouldn't say anything to her, which was somewhat surprising considering he had calmed the crowd she'd brought upon herself last time. Perhaps he felt less inclined to be friendly when the entire village wasn't ganging up on her and she didn't look like her entire life was collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

"Is there something on my face?" She smiled, already knowing the answer. Slowking snorted and sneaked in a 'nice one' in her head. "I promise you; I mean no harm."

"You do look quite gnarly," he said. "It makes you look violent—like you get into terrible fights—and violent people are untrustworthy."

"I'm sorry, many mistakes I've made in the past have led me to this, but I ask you not judge a book by its cover." Cecilia sat on the beach with her legs stretched out before her, the sand cool beneath her palms as she traced absentminded patterns in the grains. "I'll leave if you really want me to, I'm just also here regarding another issue."

"Please, grandpa?" Ari made big eyes at him. "I want to ask her stuff about the mainland."

The old man hesitated. "It'd make Ari sad if you were to just leave."

"What's your name? Mine is Cecilia, and it feels like I was born a week ago."

He looked at her, all baffled. "Jaime."

They spoke about everything and anything. How tough life was for their village—Seabrook, it was called. A little unoriginal, but it did the trick. The way they struggled with brain drain and every teenager leaving for the mainland and how Jaime feared that it would eventually die like a dozen fishing villages before his. Sandgem was good to them in most ways, unlike Canalave and the Iron Islands, but they were still a rural village without much going for them. Sometimes, the large boats the city sent near the coast made Pokemon in the water collapse the pier out of anger, and they'd had to rebuild it time and again.

The nearest hospital was in Sandgem, an hour and a half away by boat, and the aging population felt this the most. There were no official schools—one person who'd taught on the mainland just did the same here to the best of her abilities and had to use old, outdated textbooks. Seabrook's entire livelihood depended on the sea, where they fished for Magikarp and other weak water types, but fishing was hard and dangerous work. Deaths were rare in the shallow waters, but injuries from a feisty water type were not uncommon.

One bad storm could wipe out their livelihoods in a single night. Their infrastructure was crumbling, with roads barely maintained and electricity prone to outages during the harsh coastal storms that rolled in more frequently than ever. Hurricanes from Hoenn rarely made it up to Sinnoh without losing a lot of their oomph, but just those winds were enough to send the town reeling. Cecilia knew that Hoenn had legions of Castforms to weaken or stop the worst of them, but go against nature for too long, and it would be sure to bounce back in uncontrollable ways. A lot of them, they let through.

These were very real, human problems with very real solutions. Cecilia had seen it at first in the Iron Islands, but she hadn't given it anywhere as much thought as Chase had. Back then, she'd been taken by thoughts of her Voice, Zolst's evolution, and her break with Grace.

"My Pokemon can help a lot with your issues—mostly Slowking and my Golurk," she said, not missing the wince in Jaime's eye.

"We've had a bit of an issue with ghosts these past few months. Little pranks here and there at first, but they've grown a lot more unrestrained these past two weeks." These were the exact words he'd told her before.

Oh. Right.

This was fake. Cecilia had nearly forgotten.

"They've ramped up, then?" she asked. "Do you not fear that something big might be coming?" She wished she'd been at the village when the entire attack had begun—if only she had more information, she'd be able to more accurately gauge the threat.

"Bah!" he scoffed. "Even then, what can we do? Abandon our homes?" He ignored a happy 'yes' from his grandson. "If it gets too bad, I'll send a missive to Sandgem. Usually, they respond within the day, though we've rarely had problems with the wildlife requiring their assistance. We have a good relationship with the Pokemon not in the sea."

"I'm a trainer with eight badges," she said, earning a little gasp from Ari and a balk from his grandfather. Was it that surprising, given her Pokemon? Just like in the Iron Islands, it didn't look like they had a frame of reference. "I can offer you help, either to negotiate with these ghosts or fight them back should they do something violent." Cecilia knew they wouldn't kill anyone, but the act of scaring them away from their hometown was rather violent. Violence as a concept came in many more forms than just physical harm. "And if that doesn't work," like she knew it wouldn't, "I can at least help in the evacuation efforts."

He shook his head, then turned it toward the pier. "I've lived here half my life; this will pass like everything else." Then, he snorted. "Nothing can be as bad as that really bad storm ten years back. Came from Hoenn, but flooded us all to hell."

Cecilia had been too young to remember, but Hoenn was still scarred by the event. That storm that flooded so much of their land, accompanied by earthquakes all over the region that led to tsunamis and eruptions. Hundreds of thousands had died. The region's current isolation was proof that they still bore the scars of that event. She just hadn't known Indigo and Sinnoh had felt it as well on a smaller scale.

"At least let me help around town. I won't be in your hair all the time, but I can offer to reinforce your pier with barriers that should last a few weeks after I leave." They'd be weak, made to last longer, but it'd be enough for the vast majority of what lurked underwater. Cecilia caught the want in Jaime's eye at that idea. "I can help pave new paths, repair things—and I suppose I can also just help you as I am now."

"What does that mean?"

"Do things with my own two hands and learn what it's like, for a change," she said.

Again, he frowned at her, probably confused at the words she was using. "I'd be a fool to refuse." He sighed and gave her his hand.

She shook it.

The week went by in a blur.

Cecilia threw herself into the rhythm of Seabrook, her Pokemon by her side. In the mornings, she'd help not only repair but expand the old, worn pier, hands raw from hauling planks and hammering nails. Lehmhart lifted heavy beams into place with effortless strength, his once despised presence slowly growing more welcome—he was even allowed to play music while he worked. With her nimble hands, Toxicroak helped secure the smaller, more intricate pieces, working with a precision that surprised even the seasoned carpenters. Maybe they were extremely skilled, maybe not—it wasn't like Cecilia had any experience working with carpenters before now.

While she refused to take part in the act of fishing itself because it'd make Lehmhart sad, she tried her hand at learning to mend old frayed nets. Slowking would sit beside her, his fine psychic control making the work easier as he guided the threads through the stubborn fibers. By the end of the week, she wasn't great at it, but she could at least do it.

She and Lehmhart used materials from the old ruined town—which had apparently been abandoned forty or so years ago—to turn some of the dirt paths into paved ones. Scizor and Toxicroak sparred together to entertain, and there were even betting pools about who would win. Cecilia had the pleasure to learn that most of these people barely knew anything about Pokemon Battles, or they wouldn't keep betting on Toxicroak because she was closer to them than Scizor was.

The Unovan became a steady presence in the village. Not one they could fully trust, but one they had at least grown accustomed to. Jaime even let her take Ari on a day trip to Sandgem, where the boy met Chase, and the two spent the day playing together. To her surprise, she discovered a quiet joy in making children smile, and with Ari, it came effortlessly as she told him about the whole wide world beyond Seabrook.

She tried her best to reconnect with Zolst and Scizor, but only the latter made a full effort to see her progress. The dragon, while happy that she was standing up for herself and doing things, still gave her the cold shoulder when she asked about anything further than talking, but at least she got his presence instead of him running off to blow his frustration on things.

She learned about them and their stories. About Danna's leaky faucet, how it dripped incessantly through the night, keeping her awake with the constant reminder that there was no one left in town who could fix it quickly. About Wren's creaky front porch, which groaned under the slightest weight, threatening to collapse each time he stepped outside. About Marcy's bad vision due to her breaking her glasses a month ago and Sandgem only giving her an appointment in four. Cecilia rediscovered ideologies, cliques, drama that spanned generations, the pain of old lovers taken by the mainland—and when she once again asked herself what was it all for, and what purposes did this trial serve, her mind went to all of this.

Humanity. She had not forgotten that she was human, but forgotten the small gestures that made people. The dozen aches in their bones, the favorite meal they could only eat once a month, the way their faces softened at the scent of something familiar. The quiet, unspoken connections between neighbors—a nod of understanding, a shared glance of relief, a hand reaching out to steady someone on uneven ground.

Mercies so small in passing, and yet they were and remained everything.

And on the dawn of the seventh day,

Ghosts started appearing.

A slow trickle at first; then, by the evening, it became a veritable avalanche. Pots were knocked over, gutters destroyed, wooden chairs shattered, and the air grew thick with an unsettling chill. Shadows twisted unnaturally in the corners of every room, and the village was filled with the eerie sounds of disembodied whispers and echoing footsteps. Doors slammed shut on their own, windows rattled as if besieged by an unseen force, and the very walls seemed to groan under the weight of restless spirits.

It was harmless; Cecilia did not understand why it had sent the townsfolk in such an uneasy panic when their troupe leader hadn't even shown up quite yet. Or, correction: she knew that objectively, having items in your house come alive was scary; she just couldn't comprehend it. Their leader had, Cecilia knew, quite the taste for a grand entrance and theatrics in a way a Pokemon would take after their trainer.

She was knocking on Jaime's door, now. Three Wingull stood on the roof of his house, standing guard and firing Water Guns at any ghosts who showed occasionally showed themselves. By her count, there was an hour and some change left before the smoke started appearing, and that was if the ghost would go for the same trick. This time, she had gathered her entire team with her, all waiting in their Pokeballs save for Slowking.

The door nearly slammed into her when a giggling Misdreavus disappeared into the night faster than the Wingull could act. Cecilia yelled out for Jaime's name, but it was Ari who came by. She crouched until their eyes met, one hand sticking on his shoulder. "Where's your grandpa?"

He might have been the only one who wasn't scared in all of Seabrook. She had to snap her fingers in front of his face to get his attention away from a Gastly Slowking chased away behind her. "Uh… he said he was going by the church to pray the ghosts away with a bunch of other people."

Was that why they'd fled all at once last time? Cecilia pinched the bridge of her nose and allowed herself to get angry at this for a few seconds. The anger was benign, not the one she was used to. It was the same feeling she'd get when she forgot something really obvious and it was at the tip of her tongue, proving that she knew the answer, or when Grace left her room dirty for no good reason beyond laziness. Of course, that had been before she got hampered by all of the pressure and responsibilities saving the world would bring, and had forgotten how to get frustrated at her.

It had just been easier to take refuge in her arms and close her eyes.

It felt good to feel something so small, yet so raw all the same. "Praying won't work here," she said. "We have to get all of you out; something horrid is coming. Do you smell that?"

He sniffed the air a few times. "Ew. Yeah, it kind of smells like… I don't know what it smells like, but I hate it."

"It's going to get so much worse you're all going to throw up and it's probably going to stick in your throat and nostrils for days and affect the taste of food. You don't want that, don't you?"

Panic seized his eyes, and his body tensed. "No!"

She gave him her hand. "Then let's get everyone out of here."

He followed.

Until she'd spoken to these people, Cecilia hadn't known that there were enclaves like these islands—religious minorities who worshipped Lugia, the Guardian of the Sea. Seabrook's church was the largest building in town, and it was nestled on a cliff at the edge of the village, its weathered walls blending seamlessly with the rocky landscape. Their ways required it to be built as close to the ocean as possible; you could see how the stones were weathered by the waves that occasionally reached high enough to have battered them over the decades. The entrance was marked by a heavy, featureless wooden door. Clarence had never been a man of the Unovan Gods, the deities of Truth and Ideals, but all of the churches she'd been to had been grand and imposing, a testament of Man's service to their religion.

But this place was different.

There was no grandeur here, no sense of awe inspired by architecture or artistry. The stone church was humble. The inside was cool and dim, lit only by the soft glow of candlelight flickering against the stone walls. Despite the massive crowd, the space was small and lead to an altar at the church's center with a hole in the ceiling where rain would be allowed to fall. An almost misshapen carving of Lugia, with its raw, ragged edges and fraying lines, was etched into stone at the altar.

Dozens upon dozens of people, all packed like the Magikarp in the very nets they caught them with, knelt in quiet reverence around the altar with their hands in the air, so focused on their prayer only a few had noticed Cecilia walk in.

"Excuse me," she spoke, her voice snapping the rest of them out of their faithful stupor. So many eyes on her made Cecilia's hand around Ari's tighten. "It's not safe here. We should leave."

Jaime was the one who rose to meet her words, eyes full of ire and tension that coiled around him like a tightening spring. "I thought I was clear." He glanced down at his grandson, and frustration turned to something more. "Ari!" he yelled. "What are you doing here—it's dangerous!"

"If it's dangerous here, then I don't think it would be wise to stay." She was facing them all, but her voice carried far. Purpose could be found within where there had been nothing in it the last time she'd confronted this many people.

The boy flinched, clearly not used to the calm man screaming his lungs out at him. "I—Cecilia says it's not safe to stay in the village," he muttered.

Jaime's steps parted the crowd like water. "You do not get to tell me what my family should do!"

A question.

This world was fake; why help them? Cecilia doubted the ghost had even wanted her to do this, and she didn't think he would keep her trapped forever. This was a chance he was giving her, not torment or torture. No one in this church or village was real. They were imitations—good ones, given her Pokemon, but imitations nonetheless.

Because fake or not, she had learned to live with these people and heard their names, likes, dislikes, and pleas. Because she had learned that connections to people were most important, she did not want to get lost in the ghost's game and wait until the end of his test.

"Stop being so foolish!" she yelled. "Can't you see it's all getting worse—" the church shook as if an earthquake was rippling through the town. "You're blinding yourselves with faith because you think that if you leave, Seabrook will be abandoned like—"

"Let go of my grandson," he demanded.

She almost violently tapped her forehead with a finger. "Think about what you're doing here!"

"I've given it enough thought. You cityfolk don't know what it's like. To see your town grow decrepit and to just watch it happen." He scoffed, and Cecilia heard a hint of a Gastly's laugh behind the rattling church doors. "If we abandon this place, we have nothing left."

"What if Ari dies?" She knew no deaths would come, but she couldn't imagine being like this. To be willing to throw it all away thanks to faith and because of bitterness at change. To stare disaster right in the face and avert your eyes because it was more convenient to pretend nothing was happening—

Oh.

Well, that was a bit on the nose, now, wasn't it?

"He will not. Lugia will keep us safe."

She could see it now. The mirror, the metaphor, the allegory, the reflection. And by the Legendaries, she hated staring at herself. "Nothing I can say will change your mind," she realized. "Not until it backfires so much you can no longer bury your head in the sand, and the consequences can no longer be ignored."

"I think it'd be best if you left," he said, ignoring her.

Cecilia walked out that door, and she could see the haze starting to form. That was too soon; the ghost was speeding up his last act.

"We're facing the ghost," she said.

I know you said this isn't real, and you did prove it throughout this week, Slowking said. But it sure as hell feels real to me. I don't want to rain on your parade, but you did everything you could; we should leave. You've done enough, both to help these people and to pass whatever strange test you've been given.

"Not with physical violence," she sighed, pulling her shirt above her wrinkling nose. "With words."

Hm. That's not in the top five of worst ideas you've ever had, but it might as well be the sixth. You know what? I'll take it, though.

"No point putting in a barrier around the church; they'll start running pretty soon," she muttered.

One by one, her Pokemon popped out of their balls and followed her as she made her way toward where the ghost would be. Apologies had been needed, yes, along with an attempt to try, but the Unovan understood now that she had also needed a change of character. They'd seen her personality bleed away into nothing as she remained the same person who had killed herself and forced them to squeeze the trigger, yet had been told that things would be different now despite no change coming from her character. Rancid smoke entered her throat and nose, a smell so horrid she could taste it all over her tongue. Was it worse this time around, or was her mind playing tricks on her?

That was fine. She'd been through Azelf's mind, a maze of physical pain she had willed herself through for the good of the world, even if she had failed to get them to open the door to their little irritating heart. Arceus, she fucking despised that Pokemon, God of Willpower or not. Toxicroak lent a helping hand when her knees faltered and her skin started to sting, and then tried to absorb the fumes before they could reach her. Talonflame, Scizor, and Slowking abated the poison as best they could with wind or barriers. Lehmhart pushed her forward with a finger so gentle it might as well have been a caress, helping her up the hill.

Zolst…

Zolst just watched and followed. But the fact that he wasn't at Lehmhart's throat and was with them was kindness enough.

There, on that little hill, stood her captor, her teacher, her tormentor, and her key. Six eyes within the thick fog, converging toward her in unison, three beings' whispers caressing her ears with praise, either slightly mocking, mildly raging or with a brush of compassion. From three, a whole was made and became this. A shapeless horror that would have sent any other into a panic, but someone whom she somehow felt at home with.

"I remember a few months ago," she started. "I was asked what Willpower was."

"Were you?" he said, two parts curious and another furious. His voice was far more distorted than before. "I'm afraid I didn't have access to those memories."

Cecilia breathed out a laugh. Even now, she was still minutely a Shard and those memories were protected. "I didn't need to make the villagers evacuate, did I? There was no test—or there was. It was just whatever I wanted it to be. You made me think, and with that trial, I did something. And doing something is better than nothing, even if I failed at what I wanted."

He grinned, all narrow, poisonous teeth. "Good. You shall be let into the theatre one last time."

A lance of solid poison pierced Cecilia's head, exploded, and she died.


Cecilia gasps for air—she's back in the theatre, but alone this time. "You really need to stop killing me," she sighs, hands grabbing at her face to see if it was still there. "There's this visceral element to it. I feel the tip of the lance piercing my head before everything blacks out. You could have just dissolved the dream."

On top of the stage shine letters spelling out 'THIRD DEATH', flashing in every color. This time, she can take her time to appreciate it. Her eyes stay transfixed by the lights, taking every shade in until the ghost speaks.

"Come on, now. Where's your love for flair and elegance?" He starts hovering in the air. "After seeing your entire life, you can't tell me it doesn't tickle a particular part of your brain."

Cecilia snorts. "You're right. I think I want to try theatre one of these days." She relaxes and realizes she can stand and move around the room. Yet she doesn't do so, instead remaining firmly seated with her legs crossed. "Getting into the life of someone else and feel what they were written to feel, really getting into character; it sounds interesting."

"Sylvestia loved the theatre," he speaks as if she is long gone, and Cecilia realizes she is. "It's what made her stop being a tool after the war."

Sylvestia, Fantina's predecessor. These were—her three Gengar. There was no doubt about it. "Was she the one I reminded you of?"

"Yes." He opens his mouth again, but the rest is left unspoken. "But I'm afraid I am a selfish ghost; knowledge about that part of her life will remain forever mine and my former teammates." He spread out his gaseous hands and exclaimed, "rejoice, girl, for you have reached the final act of this play!"

"You did not do everything perfectly," he says as he drifts in the air toward her. The gas coalesces around the seat next to hers. Light shines down on the stage, and her life plays in the background, yet they continue to speak. "Many opportunities you didn't see were lost, both with your Pokemon and with the people of Seabrook. Learning moments that would have served you well for your goals."

Cecilia speaks up. "But it's the attempt that counts." Her fingers drum against the armrest as she watches her first kiss with Grace, deep in the guts of Coronet. "The rage against the dying of my inner light."

"The candle's only just been lit; it would only take a breeze for it to vanish again."

Her hands clench into a fist. "I know. Sixteen years worth of damage can't be undone in two weeks." It was going by so fast. Snowpoint, now, and her battle with Candice, where Zolst evolved into a Zweilous and got his first two names. "I think I know what must be done."

"Do you know, or do you know?" Cecilia felt the chill from the roiling ghost. "That phrasing you used—what must be done. It is passive in nature, as if you aren't sure you're going to do it."

Cecilia stays silent for a long while.

The reunion with her friends in Eterna. Louis' departure. Grace's capture of Turtonator in Coronet. Her teaching Pauline to be a better battler. Her time in Hearthome, where she decided to capture Lehmhart. Meeting Grace's father—

One line sticks out to her.

"When I asked you to tell me about yourself," he specified. "You couldn't say anything, like there was a lack of identity there. That dancing answer felt like a cop-out too, although I'm sure there was some truth to it. I'm rather straightforward, so I'll tell you that overdependence on one person is never a good thing, dating or not."

"I owe her a talk," Cecilia says. "Maybe a few, even. Just to see where we stand."

"You still hope you can make things work, don't you?" the three Gengar turned one mind said with a hint of disapproval. "Don't you get it? My thesis—"

"I know it!" she snaps. "I know that you think that Grace has been the cause of everything, but that's not entirely true! My life isn't a play; you can't just put her at the center of everything and wrap it all with one neat little bow. I love her, and this year was just the worst, and I've made so many mistakes of my own that worsened both me and her and me and her and me and her in this endless fucking cycle, and I just want to try to start over from zero. With boundaries and communication and effort." The Unovan takes a deep breath as she watches Abel confront her in Hearthome. "But it might be too late." Tears well up in her eyes.

"Poor thing. You want to wear your heart on your sleeve, don't you?" Cold shadows wrap around her shoulders. "So young, so emotional deep down; it pains me to see kin like this."

Cecilia wipes the corner of her eyes with her fingers. "There's no harm in hoping for the best, is there?" She wants to unlearn that expecting the worst at all times; she wants to believe that Grace waited. "Disappointment will come either way; you can either pretend it doesn't bother you or cry about it."

Veilstone. Her first loss to Lauren. Cecilia sees how intensely Grace studies Maylene—further than any other Gym Leader she's ever done, down to her micro-movements, and tells her about it as advice. Cecilia remembers being so displeased with that both during the fight, and to a lesser extent after. Such interest paired with such dislike—or was it dislike? Cecilia can't tell; she realizes that she's become horrible at reading Grace when she isn't depressed.

"It is your life, not mine," he acknowledges. "But you already know deep down. That is why you nearly broke up with her."

She ignores him and keeps watching, making sure to take everything in. And by the Legendaries, her past self is so happy until Sunyshore that she barely recognizes herself. It speeds by in a flash like it's trying to make a statement about her life. The play goes faster, ever faster, until she dies on Coronet to Perish Song and the first thing she sees—

"Three times your savior after three of your deaths," Gengar says. "So it is, and so it will be, that you've been conditioned to never function without her."

"I know."

"You think you know," he pauses, and six eyes go in front of her as the play freezes in time, "but you do not know it entirely. She revived you once, twice, but not thrice. You might breathe and your heart might beat, but you're still dead."

"And let me guess," she chuckled, "you're the one reviving me this time?"

He cackled, growled, and sighed at the same time. "No. You're saving yourself. One small step, followed by another, and another, until you build enough momentum to stand on your own two legs. Let me ask you this, Cecilia. What have you learned the last two weeks?"

"I learned that I hate how sand feels in my shoes. I learned how to make a Magikarp edible." She wrinkles her nose at that one. "I learned how to repair a pier and use my hands for manual labor. I learned that I hate manual labor. I learned how to watch the ocean and enjoy myself in the little quirks in the waves. I began to focus on the nuances of shapes, shades, and textures, and eventually, I made peace with the fact that I'd never or rarely see color ever again—even if—even if it's going to be difficult. I learned about shipping supply lines and small town economies. I learned about…" she continues to list everything she learned in Seabrook, each experience that made her just a little more human each time. There's something new stirring within her—a hunger, a need to experience everything she's missed in hopes of leaving no stone unturned.

"Then there is nothing left to be said."

"Then there is nothing left to be said," she echoes. "And I think I did a damn good job, all things considered. You gave me barely anything."

Gengar chuckled, three distinct laughs that she couldn't help but grin at. "Do me a favor. When you see that dangerous breeze, tell her Elekid that we miss him, but that just like I won't be seeing you again, I won't be seeing him. Get Cynthia off my back so she stops looking for me."

She blinks, feeling mildly confused. "If that is your choice, I will. But why?"

"Because I help once and never again. I will not be showing up in the real world to attack Seabrook; you must take your experience gained here and use them in new circumstances." The amalgamation of Gengar stares at her with satisfaction. "I hope you grow into a fulfilled person, Cecilia. Do not tell anyone of the details of this dream."

The play ends.

"Go forth and be born into this world for the third time and hopefully the last."

The curtains close.


Cecilia woke up to the sound of rain pattering Slowking's barrier above her, and she felt like she'd slept for twenty-four hours straight. Her muscles felt sluggish and taut, her throat felt the driest it had ever been, and she was absolutely famished.

Her entire team was staring at her and looked to have been in the middle of a heated debate while she slept. Scizor patted her on the head with a claw while Toxicroak jumped onto her sleeping bag. Lehmhart let out a celebratory song and the ground below him shook with his excitement. Talonflame rubbed her head on her trainer's neck with a gentle coo, and while Zolst acted like he didn't care, he'd been floating there in worry.

Slowking looked at her with an expression that can only be called sheer relief. Oh, thank God! You're up late, he noticed. I was going to wake you up, but every time I was about to try I felt this primal fear within me, like I was about to die. I pushed through anyway, but you wouldn't wake. That might be why you're a little wet.

She looked at her shirt, which was completely soaked, and shivered. "That's okay; I love all of you." Their eyes widened at those words. "I've just been through the longest and strangest of dreams."

Good things, I hope? Slowking said. Something's different about you.

"Only the best." She did her best to give her attention to every Pokemon with pets or kind words, and even a kiss on Talonflame's forehead. "Things will be different from now on—I think we should stay around here a week before we go back. Oh, and Slowking?"

Yes, my lady?

The clouds above her thinned as the skies cleared, and the rain gradually slowed to a stop. The scene felt like an old film—the grays of the sky lightening as the clouds parted. The landscape, once blurred by the downpour, now stood sharp and clear, a quiet moment of peace. There was a certain beauty in the simplicity of the contrast, like a fresh page turning in her life.

Or curtains opening once more.

For the third time, Cecilia asked herself what was it all for?

To learn to be true to herself.

"I think I never liked dancing," she laughed.

A/N: Okay. Before my power scalers start going insane, here is a little rundown so I can get ahead of these and just in case there are questions.

Are the three Gengar domain holders? No, not every powerful Pokemon holds a Domain. They are normal Pokemon.

Why are they combined into one being when Honey said he was raised by three? They can meld their minds and bodies together and separate at will, it just takes a while. Usually a few days.

How did they create such a realistic, wide dream? They belonged to a Gym Leader once soldier (Interlude - Fantina) who specialized in illusions. Long story short, they were hanging out on the route before Cecilia ever got there because Grace asked Cynthia if she could find them. They're good enough at infiltration to hide from a Slowking while they spent days looking through her memories. When they were ready, they put Cecilia under an advanced form of super-advanced Hypnosis. Like Fantina herself, Sylvestia was the most powerful of the Gym Leaders and was what I'd call Elite Four level when she died; her Pokemon have had decades to grow since then. They also have a troupe of around 150-200 ghosts following them around these days for entertainment (the number varies a lot) to help them support that illusion without it collapsing in on itself. People in Seabrook are real, though Gengar might have taken some creative liberties with a lot of their personalities. It does take a lot out of the Gengar, even if it doesn't show in the dream because, well, it's a dream where they appear at their strongest.


Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Interlude - Through Their Eyes
INTERLUDE - THROUGH THEIR EYES

"So I just gotta grab your wrist for ten minutes?" Chase asked, finding it difficult not to stare at Grace like she was a moron. "That's it? Nothing else?"

His friend kept shifting uncomfortably like she'd been condemned to the death penalty, and the glances she kept giving her mother, who stood there cross armed, didn't help. It was Chase's first time seeing one of Grace's parents, and they looked so similar you could have thought they'd been cloned. Yeah, Samantha Pastel was about an inch taller, had blue eyes instead of green, and had more freckles, but other than that, she was like what Chase figured Grace would look like in her forties. Honestly, he was surprised she'd come all the way to Canalave for this, all the way to his Pokemon Center room. He was glad that he hadn't been the one to get to Twinleaf, of all places.

He hadn't even bothered to ask why Grace's mother was here. His friend had made sure to tell him not to ask a million times, nearly beating it into his skull. He rolled forward in his chair and outstretched his arm.

"No need to look like I'm about to torture you," he said.

"Just grab it."

Sheesh, she was annoyed today. Well, he wasn't going to ask any questions; he had a bunch of shit to do because Cecilia wanted to meet him and Louis in Sandgem in around a week, and if he was going to spend parts of a day not hard at work, then he was going to make up for it in the days before. Of course, Cece had told him not to tell Grace, and that she was going to text her to talk things out right afterward.

Things were progressing along quite well with his team, even if they'd had to pivot entirely on the type of moves they used to train. The delay had really helped buy him the time he needed. The Conference was supposed to begin on the fifth of July, now, and already, Roark had been the second to reopen his Gym. More would follow soon enough—hopefully Byron soon.

Chase grabbed Grace's arm, and she immediately shut her eyes, making a weird ass sound that made him want to call her a weirdo. She reopened them a few seconds later with the most disappointed look Chase had ever seen from her. Her lips went flat, and she let out a little 'huh'.

Chase raised an eyebrow. "What's that mean?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised." She twisted her wrist in his hold a little and hummed again.

"Why are you so fuckin' sweaty?" he asked, ignoring the displeased look in Samantha's eyes when he swore. So what? Get over it, lady. "Is it working? Are you tainting me?"

"Yeah… it's a lot less than I thought, though." She stared intently at his hand with widened eyes. She was seeing something there, so at least Chase knew she wasn't full of shit. "See, mom? I told you it was working, and you made a big deal out of nothing!"

"Then why not do this with your therapist instead of unqualified people?" Samantha foot tapped irritatingly against the ground.

Why was he catching strays? He hadn't asked for any of this.

"Because it works better with her!" Her wrist shook violently in Chase's grasp. "Can you finally stop? I showed you proof, but now you're just moving the goal posts!"

"I'm just worried you might be making a mistake." She shook her head. "I do believe you more now, but this reaction is a lot more different than you had with Maylene." Samantha sighed. "I just want you to be happy."

"Look, it's a new experience for me too. All of this." She stared down at Chase's hand and let out a little laugh. "When Cecilia comes back, we'll—we'll talk. It's all I wanted, but she left, and—and it crushed me. I'm getting better, aren't I? Compared to before?"

"You are."

"I just wish you believed in me—" Grace cut herself off. "Sorry, that sounded kind of guilt trippy. I'm trying to get better with that."

Her mother's eyes softened, and the argument stopped. Arceus help him. Ten minutes was a fucking eternity to hear. That name did activate a few alarms in his head, because—well, no, she wasn't the cause of the break, but she sure as hell had added onto the pile of reasons for it.

He'd tell Cecilia about it when she came back.



Three days later.

Denzel's back went through phases now. Sometimes, especially during the early mornings right after he woke up, it hurt so much that it felt like the end of the world, making it impossible to focus on anything else. He literally just had to sit there and endure it. Luckily, the pain was more manageable at other times of the day, and there was no denying that he was getting better. He had walked for the first time a week ago and could manage to move around without a wheelchair when it wasn't morning, even if he was slow about it. His condition was improving, and because of that, his parents had given him a little room to breathe.

They didn't know Grace was going to arrive any minute now. They hadn't seen each other since Justin's funeral, and while they texted a lot—she seemed much happier now than before—they hadn't met in person at all. He had to admit, he missed her. It was odd to spend so little time with her after traveling together for so long, but he got over it by taking it as training for what would happen when she flew to Unova.

Okay, it wasn't that bad. There was no time zone difference, and she was one Teleport away, but he was allowed to be a little dramatic.

Denzel heard footsteps beyond his door, along with two voices. One, he recognized easily. The other—

He didn't have time to think about it. There was a soft knock on the door as Grace called out her name, and he yelled at her to come in. Denzel instinctively felt the need to straighten his back when Maylene Suzuki followed behind her and instantly killed the shitty joke he'd prepared telling Grace that he thought she'd forgotten about him. The two of them were all laughs and giggles as they entered his hospital room—Arceus, it felt weird to see a Gym Leader in casual clothing and outside of their Gym. The closest example Denzel could think of was when you ran into your teacher outside of school, which in Twinleaf had somehow happened less than you would think.

"Nice to meet you—I guess?" Denzel tried. It was his first time actually seeing her in a casual setting. "I'm Denzel Williams. Uh, thinking back, our battle was pretty fun. If you remember it."

"Ew. You're so stiff," Grace complained, wrinkling. "Don't talk to her about work. Relax, okay? She's not going to eat you; she's just a person."

Maylene dragged two chairs close to his bed. "I've heard a lot of cool things about you! I did kind of forgot our battle, though." She inclined her head a little at Grace, who thanked her for the chair. She then sat on hers—backwards, leaning against the backrest. There was this weird thing they both did with their knees, slowly letting them drift toward each other until they swiftly took them away. "I hope that's okay? I go through hundreds and hundreds; it gets a little difficult to remember."

"Oh yeah, that's totally fine; I didn't actually expect you to remember." Denzel had spoken to enough new people that he knew to brush off any awkwardness if he was offered a lifeline. "What does bring you here, actually?"

"The dork and I were hanging out." She nudged her head sideways. Dork? Maylene was a lot less formal than Denzel thought given what he'd heard—wait, why in the world was Grace looking at her like that? "She told me she doublebooked and forgot that she'd planned to go see you, so here I am."

"I didn't doublebook," Grace whined. "I just thought you'd be available at night. You know, like the other days you work?"

"You'll have to forgive me, Grace," Maylene said, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "I sometimes take my breaks early so I can see you during the day because I like it when the sun shines on your face. It just brightens my day."

"That's not why—" she bit her lip and blushed. "I'll let you win this time, you knave."

"This time? I win every time. I should honestly get a prize for the amount of times I've rolled you," she boasted with an air of smugness around her.

What. The fuck?

Okay, yes, he had said he believed that Grace liked Maylene from what he'd heard about her, but he hadn't expected it to be this blatant. He felt so out of place here and in business that had nothing to do with him that he felt like he had been the one invading their privacy, and they were the ones in his room! The two kept bantering a little bit until Grace apparently remembered he existed and that maybe she shouldn't make fuck eyes at Maylene or flirt when he was literally right there.

"See how fun she is?" Never mind, she didn't have a clue. "That's why I wanted to introduce you! Plus, she told me that it'd be nice to meet one of my friends, at least."

"Erm. Have you—have you told Cece about this?" Denzel had to assume they were dating and that she'd broken up with Cecilia before she left, or something that wouldn't make this horrible. "About you two, I mean."

"Oh, she knows we're hanging out," Grace said. "And I plan to tell her the details when she comes back. I—I know how it might look, but there's nothing going on." The words sounded almost rehearsed.

Could he have misjudged—no, there was just no way. "And Cecilia knows?" he asked again.

"I mean, she's out in the wilderness down south who knows where; I can't keep her updated on every little action I take despite wanting to." Grace bit the inside of her mouth, and her hand tensed on top of her shorts. That had come out a little bitter. "I hope she's doing well; I just wish we could have talked, you know? Or that she would talk to me. But I was toxic to her, and you can't go back in the past. No matter what state she comes back in, I have to tell her. Hiding our friendship would be wrong."

He knew she'd struggled to come to terms with Cece leaving. She'd ranted about it in their texts in those early days, but those had largely stopped after Craig's ceremony. There was a heavy silence that made Denzel want to crawl out of his skin. These were the bane of his existence. Not only did Grace look a little regretful, Maylene's expression, while hard to read, couldn't be described as positive, either.

"Sorry for killing the vibes," Denzel said with a slight, apologetic smile. "So, what's up with you, Grace? Anything I missed?"

He could have pressed for more information about the nature of this weird entangled relationship, but he couldn't.

Not when he couldn't recall seeing Grace this happy in months.

So long as Cece and she spoke, it'd be okay.



Two days later.

"Alright, are you ready?" Maylene asked. She was all smiles and could barely contain her excitement. "You didn't peek, right?"

"What? Me? I would never go against the sanctity of surprises." Candice wrapped an arm around Maylene's shoulder and looked right at Gardenia. "I wouldn't say the same about her; she can be devious, as you know."

"Very devious," Maylene added.

Gardenia rolled her eyes, noting to herself that Maylene had gotten a lot more combative lately. Maylene had always been this way, especially with Candice, but she'd rarely goof off like this with Gardenia, especially when she was about to present her brand new battlefield. Gardenia knew how much she'd been thinking about reworking her field, and back in the day she would have been incredibly nervous about her and Candice's opinions. She used to always seek validation from her seniors because of how unsure she was of her own capabilities as a Gym Leader. It was just nice to see her confident and happier, especially after Coronet.

Maylene wormed herself away from Candice's hold—Gardenia somewhat wished her best friend would do that with her as well—and placed her full palm on the double doors leading to her side of the battlefield. "Here goes."

They swung open with some oomph, and Candice sprinted over like a little kid, arms swinging wildly at her side. She hadn't really needed to run because they could already see spires of stone rising high in the air.

The heart of the battlefield resembled a small, ancient city of stone, with narrow alleyways, towering stone pillars, and uneven, cobblestone streets that crisscrossed in tight patterns. The walls were high and imposing, constructed from large weathered gray stones, and they created a labyrinthine effect, limiting visibility and movement for both trainers and Pokemon alike. The ground was uneven, with cracks and small boulders scattered throughout, making it difficult for Pokemon to gain any significant speed or maneuverability. If there were a common theme here Gardenia would describe this with, it was dense and oppressive.

Maylene's fighting types were generally Pokemon who you really didn't want to get close to, or you would just lose nine times out of ten. This was going to make any speedsters who weren't fliers or incredibly agile have to work for their buck to keep away from Maymay's Pokemon who would maneuver easier within the dense towers. Sure, you could destroy them, but that was a lot of dense stone to go through unless you brought some serious firepower, and she'd be able to counter you really well while you were doing so. Most of Maylene's Pokemon knew at least a few rock type moves to counter flying types, so using the shattered stone to their advantage would be easy.

Gardenia allowed herself to digest the sight and figured that this would make Maylene a really tough early Gym to tackle, and one that would get more manageable the later you battled her thanks to having more tools at your disposal to deal with the sheer advantage she'd have on the field. She wouldn't be a walk in the park either, but it would be relatively easier to fight her later on.

"So you made your choice, huh?" Gardenia noted amidst a million compliments from Candice. Months ago, shortly after Maylene's breakdown after her Gym Battle with Grace, Gardenia had called her to ask her to decide what kind of Gym Leader she wanted to be.

There were plenty of options beyond the simple slider between 'easy' or 'tough.' A Gym was a spectrum with plenty of attributes to define it, be it its Leader, arena, Gym Trainers, et cetera, et cetera—and other regions with more complicated processes to actually battle Gym Leaders were even more in-depth. Gosh, Gardenia wished she could turn her Gym into a hedge maze full of puzzles, riddles, and ambushes. She hoped Sinnoh would adopt the Unovan model within her tenure.

"I want to have a reputation." Maylene nodded along. "I mean, it's like you said, right? It's all about consistency. I want to be a consistent pain in the butt and force people to adapt to me," she declared with determination in her voice and a clenched fist.

"Oh, she's in fire!" Candice joked. "On a serious note, though, I really like it! It's probably the most unique Gym design after Wake; I might rework mine before the next Circuit too, whenever I have time. What are the costs like?"

"I've run it for three battles so far as a test run; it's not as bad as you'd think," Maylene said with a hint of embarrassment. Gardenia remembered her talking about some money issues, but she'd never gone into much detail. "You don't have to rebuild it the same every time—in fact, it's better to have variation. Roark's already said he'll lend me some rock types so I don't have to train up some of my own to fix this up, and I caught some a few weeks back down south when I went to look for more fighting types. They were very nice about wanting to work with me for a few months."

Candice's mouth fell open. "What?! That hard-ass lent you something for free?" She crossed her arms and stewed in place for a few seconds. "All I got was that fossil for my birthday…"

"Candice, that was an extremely generous gift," Gardenia sighed, still admiring the towers. "An Amaura costs a lot, and they're only found in Kalos and northern Paldea—"

"I know, I know!" she groaned. "I just wanted to complain about him for fun! This is inspiring, Maymay!" Gardenia noticed Maylene frowning a little at the nickname. "I think we've all been resting on our laurels for too long; we got too comfortable in keeping the way our boring predecessors did it! Except grandma; she was awesome."

"Sofia was pretty great…" Gardenia mumbled. Eterna's old Gym Leader had been exceedingly strict to a fault, but that had been because she'd seen potential in her. She needed to call her one of these days so they could catch up.

Candice shrugged. "Meh. She hated me." They had been co-workers for a year, since Candice had ascended to her position earlier than Gardenia.

"That's probably because you're so unserious," Nia shot back with a wry smile. "I like that about you."

"Look at you, being all flirty. What's with that?" Candice tilted her head.

Hm?

Hm?

Hm?


"It's far from the first time I've complimented you," she said, as calm as she usually was. Deep inside the recesses of her brain, she was having a massive crisis. Candice had never, ever picked up on any signs. "Do you want me to be flirty?" There, simple and easy to back out of. Nia was giving her the opportunity to take this further should she want to.

Candice elbowed Maylene in the arm and nudged her head toward Gardenia. "Heh. She's shitting bricks right now."

"Can you two just date already?" Maylene sighed. "I'm tired of this."

Why in the world would she—Gardenia had never felt such betrayal! For one, she had no idea if Maylene knew how delicate the situation was in Craig's death and the literal years of slow build-up and planning. Two, people didn't just say that out of the blue. What if you ruined things between the two people you were trying to get together?

"That's a pretty good idea." Candice had her hand pensively on her chin, nodding along. "We should go ice fishing and make out in an igloo or something."

"Are—are you serious, Candice?" Nia stuttered.

"Oh, don't worry, we'd release the water types afterward; it's just a secret hobby of mine." It wasn't secret at all. Gardenia had already documented all of Candice's hobbies and color-coded them from the ones she'd be willing to try to the ones she wasn't okay with. Ice fishing was in the orange category, which meant 'only if she really wants to,' which were next to red for 'never do this,' and yellow for 'maybe, depending on my mood.' "Well, it'd probably have to wait; I'm a busy Bidoof these days, as you know. So, Maymay, you've got to tell me about what inspired you to build this sick battlefield. I want to squeeze your brain juices so I can change mine too."

Maylene scratched the back of her head. "It was actually kind of Grace. Well, she didn't actually give me the idea; I've just been thinking about our fight a lot lately and liked the idea of obstructing vision for both the trainer and the Pokemon to see how they'd adapt…"

Gardenia let the explanation fade into the background as she froze in place and tried to make sense of the enigma that was Candice. Even after years of knowing each other, she'd never wholly figured her out, which was part of why she was so into her. Gardenia had been planning to confess for weeks. First, she'd ask her to 'hang out' on something that would actually be a date when they had time off work in Eterna City. First, a drink out at a bar to loosen her nerves up a little, followed by an hour or two at a manga café so they could read some sappy romance thing Candice was into—not because she actually supported the main couple, but because she really liked some side character who Gardenia knew had very little screen time. Then a stroll outside the city to collect some flowers for her personal garden, a round of bowling, and so on and so forth so they each got to do something they were familiar with and liked in turns while the other could partake in the other girl's hobby. They would have spent the entire day together until the sunset, where they'd stroll through the Eterna City Gardens, and when the sun hit the flowers just right in the central plaza, Gardenia would have confessed—

"Nia? You look on edge," Candice so helpfully noticed. "Did me asking you out dazzle you that much?" She pushed herself into a spin before planting a foot on the ground and making a 'V' sign with her fingers in front of her eyes and a shining smile. Gardenia couldn't help but laugh. "There you go; that's better."

It would have been so perfect.

But maybe this could be fine too.

"So, are we girlfriends now?" Nia asked.

"Sure! Not like there's much that'll change. I guess I have more excuses to hang out at your Gym and leave your closet in shambles."

"Congrats, you two. Now you can stop circling each other, and you can actually enjoy yourselves." Maylene said with a hint of sadness. "Anyway, I better show you two this sick new spreadsheet system I came up with to track the Gym's Pokemon—" her phone rang in her pocket. She picked it up, stared at it for a split-second with the screen angled a little away from them, and any sign of negativity disappeared off her face as if it had never been there. She was obviously trying to contain a grin. "Oh—I gotta pick this up, girls, sorry!"

She hurried back through the double doors so fast that she moved more like a superhuman than a fifteen-year-old girl. Gardenia heard her say, 'How's my favorite dork doing today?' before the door closed behind her.

"Wha—did we miss something?" Candice whispered, slowly walking close to Gardenia. The grass type specialist had to take a conscious breath to stop herself from taking a step back. She was so hyper-aware of her… girlfriend now that it was tough to stick too close.

Honestly, it really hadn't sunk in yet. All of that build-up for… this?

"I think we might have?" Nia said, her tone rising near the end. "Her voice is completely different on the phone. Loud and a little higher. There's also, like, genuine joy. Joy, joy, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Do you think that's Grace? It must be, right?" Candice squinted at the door as if that would help her see through it. "Should we listen in?"

"Absolutely not."

"Aw."

"We should ask her about it when she comes back instead."

Candice grinned, flashing her very nice teeth. Her canines were so sharp. "You're the best, Nia!" She dashed in and hugged her, making Gardenia freeze in place for a moment before her hands wrapped around her… girlfriend's body. "That feels nice," Candice quietly said. "It's a little different now, actually."

"We should talk more about this. A relationship is complicated… we'll have to disclose it to Cynth and the League, but I'm sure she'll approve. In terms of public perception, it'd be better to hide it until Snowpoint's port is fixed, at least. It'll be important to remain unbiased in decisions having to do with our cities because there could be conflict of interest issues; we might have to recuse ourselves from decision-making entirely to our City Councils when making decisions that have to do with each other's cities—" she stopped for a moment, expecting a joke of some kind, but Candice was actually nodding along and giving Gardenia her full attention. It was reassuring, in a way. "Are you going to remember all of this?"

"I have a really good memory, so yeah."

Gardenia could attest to that. "We should take it slow for now. Breaching the boundary between best friends and girlfriends is dangerous; we should take it one step at a time. Instead of your making out in an igloo idea that would obviously lead to something else, why don't we do this date I had planned for us in like three weeks?" Okay, the truth was, even if Gardenia believed what she was saying, she also didn't want all of that planning to go to waste. "You'll love it. Promise."

"Hm… fine, but if I don't, you owe me something."

"You're just gonna say that you didn't like it anyway—" a laugh from Maylene through the door interrupted her. "We should probably wait to talk about this."

"Agreed." They let go of each other. "She never laughs like that with us."

"Well, she's obviously in love; we know this," Gardenia said. "I just didn't know they were on a 'my favorite dork' basis. That's pretty insane."

"She must have found a way to break up with Cecilia Obel, right?" Candice asked, and when Gardenia just stared at her with a defeated, resigned look, she grimaced. "Legendaries, they're so fucking messy."

"I think we might not know the half of it."

It took another minute for Maylene to come back out, and Candice whispered that it was as if someone had looked up 'happiness' online and put it in the images section. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed with natural warmth, and a wide smile stretched across her face—but that specific kind of smile you made when your cheeks hurt from laughing too much.

"Had some fun in there?" Candice asked, wriggling her eyebrows.

"What?" Maylene asked. Genuinely asked. "Stop being so weird; it was just a phone call."

"With?" Gardenia pressed.

Maylene shuffled uncomfortably, hands flat at her sides. She clearly didn't like where these questions were going. "Grace. Why?"

Candice shrugged. "It just sounded awfully chummy."

"Wha—did you spy on me?!" There was a genuine glint of panic in her eyes, along with anger.

"No!" Nia yelled. "You started to talk before you closed the door."

"What did I say?"

Candice spoke up again. "Your face lit up like the night sky when she called; you called her your favorite dork, and she was seemingly fine with that. It looks like you're more than so-called friends."

"We're not. I wish we were, but we're not, and we never will be." A fist clenched at her side, nails digging into her palm. "I thought I told you to stop talking about that stuff." One didn't have to be Gardenia to tell Maylene was feeling so uncomfortable she wanted to jump out of her skin.

Gardenia sighed. "Maymay, look—if she likes you back, you can just… wait until Cecilia comes back. Stop all of this for a while. Then Grace can talk to her and decide what she really wants."

"You're the ones who egged me on! I was ready to give up!" Maylene yelled, her voice carrying further due to her ire. That was partly true, but honestly, Gardenia never expected a taken girl to be willing to go so far. She thought Grace would just ignore Maylene for the most part, and there was no way to know Cecilia Obel would just disappear into the wilderness and go no contact. "You two don't—you wouldn't understand!"

It was easy to forget that Maymay was a teen sometimes. The situation might be complicated, but there was no way it was as convoluted as she made it sound.

"We just don't want you to make a mistake," Gardenia said as gently as she could. "And you're right. I apologize for keeping you on this path."

Maylene shook her head almost violently. "I can't. She needs me. I've been helping her with her issues, and she's been getting so much healthier. I just—she's not ready yet. It would crush her."

Gardenia searched deep in Maylene's eyes and saw a partial truth. Her friend wanted this, too, no matter how much she denied it. The Gym Leader walked up to Maylene and clutched her shoulders tightly. "This girl isn't leading you on while her girlfriend is away, is she? Because if she is, I'll have some words—"

"She isn't! God, you're being so weird!" Maylene shook her hands off. "You better not be weird when she goes to your Gym!"

"I won't be." She wouldn't be weird, but she would have questions.

"We're going to tell Cecilia when she comes back, so we're good on that front. And we aren't actually doing anything physical like… kissing, okay? We just hang out and talk on the phone sometimes; it's not a big deal. I talk to her less than I do to both of you!" Maylene groaned. "I'm seeing her again tomorrow so she can show me how she practices the piano. She has an important test coming up."

Gardenia was honestly really proud of Candice for not making a joke about Grace serenading her with music. Instead, they shared a look of acknowledgment at how horrible this was all going to be when it inevitably blew up. They weren't her guardians, just friends. All they could do was give advice and hope she'd take them up on it.



One day later.

It was interesting, Maylene thought, to see Grace so focused on something as banal as piano. The Gym Leader tried to search her memories for another moment she'd seen her so profoundly focused, but the only ones that ever came up were the unpleasant ones. One of these instances was the first time they ever met face to face during her Gym Battle. Maylene didn't really remember what she'd thought of Grace at first—before the fight even began, and she'd been walking up on that platform. Memories of before she'd gotten a hold on schedule, job, and life in general were a little blurry.

Then, there were the days and nights where they climbed Coronet together with the fate of the world uncertain, and anything in front of Grace barring them from that goal became an obstacle to be eliminated, and her eyes became sharp with an air of resignation about them. Like this was just what needed to be done. Some nights, the young girl still found it difficult to imagine those days had been real. That it had been her climbing that coffin. She wasn't sure she would have been able to do it as she was today. Coming back from saving the world and seeing a fraction of these beings' power had a way of making you more scared of things, and she actually was doing well in her life, now. Relatively speaking.

Maylene shook her head and shut her eyes at the queasy feeling thinking of Coronet still gave her. Even now, staring in the mountain's direction made her nauseous. It was just so large, so all-encompassing, so impossible to understand—

"Maylene? You okay?" Grace's fingers hovered uncertainly above her electric piano which was actually called keyboard for some dumb reason. The focus on her face melted away—her brows raised a smidge, and her mouth evened out because she stopped biting her tongue or bottom lip. All that remained was worry.

Maylene tried to give her the best smile she could manage, but she knew it wouldn't fool her, so she just gave up halfway anyway. Her mouth just ended up making a weird lip twitch. "Yeah. I'm just thinking about…" Maylene didn't want to sour the mood, nor did she want Grace to recall those memories either, but then her 'friend' would get angry at her. Maylene knew Grace already must have had five retorts ready for when she tried to brush it off. "I was thinking about Coronet."

"Wanna talk about it?" Grace put away her piano for now. They were alone in Maylene's room, so she was just sitting on the mat-covered floor. Well, Maylene was actually lying on her stomach, legs dangling in the air and leaning against her palm as she watched Grace practice piano for some test at her next class. The Gym Leader found it weird, given that she couldn't focus unless she was alone without much noise, but she wouldn't say no to the girl she had a crush on offering to play music for her.

Oh, and she'd come in the cutest fucking overalls. Pale blue denim over a baggy white shirt. They were just normal clothes, but she was so, so adorable in them! Maylene wanted to poke her puffy little flushed cheeks and pamper her so badly…

"You look like, way happier than thirty seconds ago," Grace noted. "What's going on inside your head?" Before Maylene could answer, the blonde groaned. "Ugh, shut up."

"Mesprit again?" Maylene asked.

"Another unneeded comment, yes. They like stirring the pot," she said with a drawn-out sigh. Maylene had noticed that she'd spoken to Mesprit more frequently these days. "Anyway, talk to me, Maymay."

Her heart squeezed at that nickname. Grace didn't use it often—six times, including that night at her house; Maylene had counted—but she managed to utilize it in the best moments to get something out of her. "You're good, you know that?" Maylene sat up.

"The best," she smugly said as the Gym Leader sat next to her. "At least when I'm not trying to learn this partition by heart."

"Partition? What's that mean?"

"Oh, it's like—the score or music sheet." She tapped on the thin piece of paper on her lap, which had been sitting under the piano. "My teacher calls it partition because she's obsessed with Kalosian music terms. I guess it slipped into my language." Her eyes widened slightly, and she gently pushed Maylene's shoulder—Maylene had started wearing clothes with sleeves for this. "Hey! Don't try to avoid the topic!"

"I wasn't!" Maylene yelled. "I swear!"

Two piercing green eyes squinted at her. "I'll believe you," Grace huffed before her shoulder touched Maylene's. And stayed there. "Therapy not going okay? How's your new guy? That guy with the fake-sounding name."

"Doctor Jack Jones isn't that bad!"

"I'm not saying it's bad or making fun of him; I'd never make fun of a name. I'm just saying that it sounded fake when you told me."

Maylene snorted before pausing, fingers tapping her leg. Grace's hand trembled and moved less than an inch toward hers but stayed put like always. "I mean, it's going," Maylene said. "I talk a lot most days, and he always gives me things to think about before our next session; it's very helpful. It's just tough to… put everything behind me. I get reminded of Coronet by the most random stuff; you wouldn't believe it."

"Oh, no, I believe you," Grace said with a saddened look. There was a short quiet where Maylene could only hear herself breathing. Things were just so… comfortable with her. "Want to lay on my lap?"

"...sure." Her voice was so small at times like these. "Only for a little while, though. I don't want to disturb your studying."

Grace made a little pout. "That didn't sound very enthusiastic."

"Oh, my bad." Sarcasm dripped out of Maylene's tone, and she cleared her throat in the most exaggerated manner possible with a fist in front of her mouth. "May I have the privilege of lying my head on my lady's lap?" she asked in the most terrible of Galarian accents.

"What in the world was that?" Grace laughed—and Maylene loved to hear that sound. It was part of the reason why she tried to be so silly with her. "Do that again?"

Maylene took a deep breath, bracing herself before she placed her head on Grace's thighs. She could feel their warmth even through her clothes, a gentle sensation that made her heartbeat slow and made Maylene want to close her eyes and drift off to sleep.

"Only if you ask nicely," Maylene said.

"Maylene, can you please—actually, wait." The blonde grabbed her phone from a pocket, tapped her code, and clumsily hovered the camera over Maylene's face. "Could you please do that silly accent again? Please?"

Well, there was no way she could say no to those eyes, and this was harmless. "What if I did this and sang along to your piano thing?" It was difficult not to cringe at her own awful accent, but luckily no Galarians were nearby to take offense. "Oh, God, this is awful, innit?" The 'innit' made Grace break into laughter again, and Maylene felt her face flush. "I'm done!" she hastily declared in her normal voice.

"I was just starting to get immersed. I could almost imagine the streets of Motostoke—the smell, the sights, the sound of humming machinery—" she giggled. "It was really horrid, but in the best way."

"You're taking after me too much; your banter's getting better." Maylene was smiling so hard her mouth hurt. "One day, my little Grace will be all trained and ready to go toe-to-toe with the best in the nation."

Grace blushed—Maylene could see it so clearly. Grace's golden hair fell down toward her face, framing her flushed cheeks like a delicate curtain. The strands caught the light, glinting softly as they swayed with every subtle movement. "I'm already learning from the best." Her hand absentmindedly ran through Maylene's hair for a few seconds before her digits froze. There wasn't even any panic, just a subtle acknowledgment that they'd gone too far, followed by a needing stare, and finally, the removal of her hand. "Sorry."

Maylene swallowed. That had felt so good. "It's okay."

Things were a little awkward after that. How could Maylene stay on her lap after a breach of protocol? There were more and more of these every time they hung out; it was impossible to avoid. Here was the thing: Maylene was in love with Grace, and by now, she was pretty certain that she at least had a thing for her, too. There was just no way she would be doing all of this without feeling at least a spark. There had just been so many signals sent her way, and a lot of the time, it was Grace who went further than needed.

And it hurt to think about. Because there was just no way it was going to go anywhere. And she'd resigned to this since she realized her feelings—maybe even since further than that. Cecilia was going to come home, and sooner rather than later, according to what Grace had heard from Chase Karlson, and that would be that.

"Feeling down again?" Grace asked. "My lap's still available."

Maylene's jaw clenched. She could be so unknowingly cruel sometimes, and none of it was only her fault. "I'm fine." She lay back on her stomach. "Do your piano thing, you're—" so cute when you focus, "you better get a better grade than Jess. I don't want her to show you up again; I'll be rooting for you."

There was a little disappointed look on her face, and Maylene allowed herself to see if it would pass or devolve into catastrophizing. To her relief, Grace recovered rather quickly and grabbed her electric keyboard. She was steadily improving these days, even if Maylene still struggled to make her take therapy seriously.

Grace took a deep, consistent breath, and the focus came again. It was odd to see her stare down a piano like she wanted to murder it twice over. Fingers completely still; eyes narrow, intense, and barely blinking; her entire body seemed coiled, like a predator ready to strike. And it was so weird, because she wasn't even getting ready for an important battle or anything. She was just practicing the damn piano for a test worth ten percent of her grade!

Yet, her heart throbbed. A weird part of Maylene wanted Grace to look at her like that.

Then, she struck. Each note she landed was like a command, firm yet flowing, as if she were drawing the music out from the piano. Maylene mostly just listened, but she snuck in a video that she'd look at later. Her camera roll had started to be half Grace, half other things. She was just really photogenic, and Maylene liked to take silly pictures of people living in the moment without any time for them to try to adjust their faces with fake smiles or other expressions. Sometimes, she'd change her background to whatever picture of Grace she'd taken at the time. Right now, it was her running on a treadmill, her ponytail flowing behind her and sweat glistening on her skin.

Ah, that day had been so much fun, even if it was hard to focus because Grace had been looking down at her tummy half the time. Maylene didn't mind, though. She'd known that was the reaction her outfit would bring this time around, and she could have refused to wear it. Grace had worn something pretty revealing too—

The Gym Leader was snapped out of her thoughts by a groan and the end of the music.

"Fuck." Grace sighed, and her fingers tensed. "Arceus, I had it." She stared down the partition like it had hurt her personally.

"Did you mess up?" Maylene asked. "I couldn't tell."

"Yeah, I mistimed a note. I'll go again."

She went again, and again, and again, but she kept getting stuck at that same spot to the point where she was starting to get seriously frustrated with herself.

"You want to take a break?" Maylene asked.

Grace nodded. "My fingers are kind of tired. I wish I had Jess', she can just practice all day. Must be all that Alolan food her dad makes her."

"Hey, I'd never get tired either." Maylene wriggled her fingers in the air, and Grace averted her eyes for whatever reason. "I do wonder, though, why do you stop when you make one mistake? The last forty minutes I've seen you practice here, you've never made it past that spot. How close is it to the end?"

"I just—I have to get it right. It's about halfway."

Arceus, that was a long song. The class must have been an intense one. "But you run the risk of getting a lot less practice than needed."

Grace paused, wanting to fight back, but then she relented with a sigh and sagging shoulders. "I guess it's true that I haven't really done any work on the second half. And if I mess up during the actual test, I'll just have to continue."

"See?"

"It just feels wrong if things don't go perfectly, but I guess I should treat this like a battle. Things are going to go south eventually. No plan survives contact with the enemy." She nodded along to herself as if what she'd posited wasn't ludicrous. That was part of what made her so loveable.

"You're such a dummy," Maylene softly spoke.

Grace beamed like a little Lillipup at the name. "I'd really like to get full marks, though. Ms. Arden said the top five scorers by the end of the course can get referrals to her contacts and stuff, and she knows people in Unova."

"Damn. Kalos and Unova? She's pretty well-connected." Not that Maylene knew anything about the world of classical music, anyway. "Why don't I try and play you a little serenade while you cool off?"

"Maylene, you're going to play something really bad."

"Psht. Me? No way." She waved a hand dismissively. "Pass it to me."

She was horrible. Her playing was an abomination that had no right to be called music. In fact, it was so bad that Grace didn't even have it in her to shit-talk her. The weird part was that logically, her dexterity meant that she should have been good at piano, but it didn't matter when she had no idea what she was doing.

At least it made her laugh; that was always fun. Seeing Grace happier and better equipped to face her eighth Gym, the Conference, and Unova every day was worth everything in the world.

Eventually, their hour and a half came to a close. Maylene struggled to imagine the next time they were going to meet up. It would be at her Gym again, but this time, they were finally going to practice for fifteen minutes. Fifteen. That was such a long time, yet ten was too and it felt like it went by in a flash every time. It had been so long since the last time they practiced, and Grace had been really unsatisfied by the two times she'd done it with Chase. They had planned to watch some other movie, this time recommended by Grace, but Maylene wasn't sure they'd be able to wait until the end of their assigned time together this time.

There was just nothing to say about it, she'd told Maylene. It's just unpleasant, and it feels transactional. It's so weird with him, but I love it with you. It's special. Her mother staring at her so judgingly didn't help, along with the questions that followed.

Needless to say, Maylene was incredibly nervous, especially when there was one special request she wanted to make. She'd wanted to send it over text originally, but that would have felt… wrong. It needed to be face-to-face. So with Grace ready to leave her bedroom with her piano safely inside its case and strapped around her shoulder, Maylene garnered every bit of courage she could scrape within herself and called out.

"Grace, I have something to ask." She fiddled with her fingers, and her eyes constantly alternated between her feet and Grace. "And it's going to sound weird."

Grace blinked at her, all innocently. "I'm pretty sure nothing you could do or ask would weird me out."

"No, this is really weird. Like, I'm weirded out at myself just thinking about it."

"Now I'm curious," she said, leaning slightly in.

Maylene couldn't help but look at her lips. They were so plump—gah, focus! "Okay." She took a deep breath and continued. "So I've already said I've forgiven you for our Gym Battle, but you still struggle with that notion, right? Like you still feel like you have to atone even after all this time. And even after we've gotten so close."

Grace deflated. "Hmhm," was all she could muster.

"I feel like—like you need closure of some kind. And to be honest, I've thought about it a lot, and I think this might be the only way for you." For weeks, Maylene had wracked her mind trying to figure out a way to make Grace reach peace, and it had taken knowing her to figure out that the key to that lay in symbolism. "I think that—that it'd be good to talk about that day in more detail and what our thoughts about it are. And what we were thinking before, during, and after that day as best as we can remember." Maylene's voice turned into a near-inaudible whisper. "And maybe we should both wear what we were wearing that day, too. You know, so it's proper—"

"Wha—" the words died in Grace's throat.

"It's super weird right?" Maylene quickly said, accompanied by a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, forget I ever brought it up—"

"No!" Grace yelled. "No, I—I was surprised, that's all. To be honest, I think it's a really good idea." Her foot kicked air, and she began looking away as well. "I don't really remember what I was wearing, to be honest. I've done my best not to think about it. Like, I thought about what it did to you, how horrible that was, and how I needed to apologize, but I wanted to avoid the actual battle as much as possible. I can look at the video—"

Words spilled out of Maylene's mouth immediately. "You were wearing that dark pleated skirt you have with those thick winter tights and a gray cotton sweater that was a little too big for you. You had your old white sneakers on because I'm pretty sure those are your most comfortable shoes, your hair was down like today, and you had your Poketch Watch on your right wrist."

"O—oh. You remember it." She slapped her forehead. "Wait, of course, it had such an effect on you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. And I'll just be wearing my Gym Leader outfit." Words came easy now that Grace had agreed. "Oh, I guess it might be too hot outside; you can change when you get here. In the showers downstairs, or whatever."

"That sounds good." She gave herself a few seconds to think, eyes looking at the ceiling. "Yep, that sounds good," she repeated. "Emi has a decent amount of those clothes, but I should be able to get them from her easily."

Maylene raised an eyebrow. "She has your clothes?"

"Hmhm. We used to move around a lot while she was pretty stationary, so she kind of carried all of our clothes for a decent bit. Mostly, I just forgot to ask her for them back. I could have put them all at my dad's and my mom's by now."

"Ohhh," Maylene said, long and drawn out. "Yeah, I guess traveling with a million clothes is tough. You don't really think about this stuff when you don't participate in the Circuit."

"Now, who's the dummy?"

Maylene reached out to smooth the wrinkles from Grace's overalls she'd gotten while sitting, making her freeze up like a Deerling. "Don't try to turn that nickname back on me; I know you enjoy it way too much." She finished fixing up Grace's outfit and played with a strand of her hair. "You looked really good today, by the way."

"Wh—whu—" She was obviously too tongue-tied to say anything. "Thanks you."

Maylene chuckled. "Thanks you? Come on, try again."

"I—I mean thank you." Grace audibly gulped, and Maylene could tell she was looking at her lips. "See you next time?"

She let go of her hair and smiled. "Yep. Kadabra should be waiting for you outside." They had gotten good at letting the psychics know when and where Grace would need to be Teleported ahead of time.

Maylene guided Grace out of her bedroom and through her living quarters. For a moment, she thought about escorting her all the way out, but Grace knew her way around by now, and lingering too long might overextend their assigned time together. Maylene knew Grace enough to know that it was important to still be punctual and not be sloppy, or she would see it as a sign to start depending on her further. She needed people to keep her centered because she had no self-control. Or at least far less self-control than Maylene did.

"Um. Can I hug you?"

Case in point. She turned toward Maylene with that pleading look in her eyes, as if a refusal would utterly crush her. The 'yes' nearly flew out of Maylene's mouth like it would have been a prayer finally answered, but she bit her tongue, and her foot began to bounce on the floor.

"It'd kind of be a breach of contract, but like, if I'm the one hugging you over your clothes, our skin won't touch." Her pleading look turned almost rapacious, as if she wanted to jump Maylene's bones. "I just want to feel you. Because it's been so long since we've hugged, and I kind of miss it." They hadn't since Grace and Cecilia had come to her Gym to help her out with Oscar. "And you know, it'd be good for you too—"

"That's probably a bad idea," Maylene interrupted her, because she knew Grace would end up cornering her with words. Her restraint was already fraying as is. "I'd like to, don't get me wrong," she added as Grace's face fell. "I just think that—" Maylene really didn't want to say it out loud. "You get it, right?"

"I get it," she sighed, clearly disappointed. "Don't work too late?"

"No promises."

"You've got to take care of yourself," Grace said. "You're lucky I can't check in on you outside of our texting hours."

"You'd just use it as an excuse to chat," Maylene teased. "The last time, you just used it to complain about Ramon being annoying at that lunch." Grace had gone with Ramon a few days ago to train, since she'd been looking for a training partner and that Marley girl was giving her the slip. She had gotten pretty trashed, but she didn't really mind.

"Well, yeah! He doesn't know when to turn off his sarcasm setting! It was just getting mildly annoying when he kept shit-talking my Turtonator and making him angry for getting destroyed by his Delibird. You're way better at banter than he is."

"Grace, I could call you anything, and you'd probably like it." Maylene smirked when a retort didn't immediately come to shut her down.

"Not everything. Just most things," she finally said. Just then, she leaned in a little, her body spry and full of expectation. She wanted to be called something mean.

"You could at least hide how eager you are."

"Just say it."

Maylene snorted. "You're so such a weirdo."

"Hmhm." Grace closed her eyes, taking the words in.

"And you're my favorite idiot."

"Am I?"

She was so close now. Their knuckles and fingers grazed against each other, each point of contact lit aflame by the unspoken tension that crackled between them. Maylene contained the urge to cup her face and do something else, because while she was certain it would lead to what she wanted in the moment, it'd blow up in both of their faces. She couldn't do it.

So she played it off with a joke. "I'm actually serious—like sometimes, I wonder how you got this far."

It had the desired effect, drawing a little laugh and making Grace aware of how close she was so she would take a step back.

"Oh, and also, I would totally not use checking in on you at work as an excuse," she countered in that sweet voice she used when she wanted something. "I'd just check in on you occasionally, like once or twice throughout the day. It was just an idea, though; I wasn't actually serious."

"Uhuh. I believe you," Maylene lied. "You better get going; we don't want Kadabra to be angry."

"See you next time?" Grace asked, almost a question that Maylene thought was meant to ask, are you okay with this? Can we keep going?

She was, and they could. "See you next time."

Maylene fondly rubbed her fingers where she'd been touched. She wanted to cry, to call out her name and tell her everything she felt.

It'd probably be the last time they would see each other like this.

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Oh yea this is definitely a healthy thing Grace and Maylene have going on between them, and NEITHER of them are in denial. Definitely a stable and healthy way to build a DEFINITELY NOT ROMANTIC friendship. Uh-huh.

First, a drink out at a bar to loosen her nerves up a little, followed by an hour or two at a manga café so they could read some sappy romance thing Candice was into—not because she actually supported the main couple, but because she really liked some side character who Gardenia knew had very little screen time.

How fucking meta Candice. If anyone we've seen so far can 4th wall break ala Deadpool, it would be Candice & the whole Regigigas thing.
 
Chapter 330 - The Sowers, Reaping
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 330 - THE SOWERS, REAPING

It was late at night as I skulked into Maylene's Gym, feet uneven against the ground. In my backpack, I carried the clothes Maylene had told me to wear, neatly folded so they would wrinkle as little as possible. Getting them from Emilia had been as easy as saying that now that I lived with my parents, I had enough space to store them. Having access to League Kadabra as our personal taxis was a Godsend—though now I needed to go through Maylene to get them because we weren't at the League any longer. If we hadn't, then Emi would have needed to either send them via mail, or I would have had to fly all the way to Hearthome on Princess and carry them back home.

The Gym was usually closed at this time, so a trainer needed to let me in—one of the few on night shifts. I recognized the one who pulled up near the wide glass doors. He was a relatively older trainer in his thirties with red-orange hair, and he'd seen me come into Maylene's Gym countless times at this point. Her employees were used to seeing me around.

"Fabian—sorry for bothering you so late." I nervously stepped into the lobby. It was difficult not to feel like anxiety was eating at my skin, considering how significant tonight was going to be.

He closed the doors behind me and locked them. "No worries, Grace; I'm on security duty tonight, anyway. I've passed through the lobby like twenty times already." He cleared his throat with a fist in front of his mouth. "May—" he cut himself off. "Leader Maylene's been waiting for you. She should be in her room upstairs; she had a little bit of work to finish. I'm sure she would have come down to greet you otherwise."

I gave him a silent nod and a little sound of affirmation before going on my way. The Gym's hallways seemed longer at times like these. Narrower, too, like they were attempting to suffocate me. The dim lighting allowed shadows to dance at the edge of my vision, and I'd occasionally hear a cough or a voice between the minutes of silence from the few trainers or janitors who worked the night shift. The gentle hum of air conditioning filled the air, and I couldn't help but quicken my step. I jumped up the stairs and practically broke into a jog by the time I reached Maylene's room, my backpack bouncing on my spine. The broken hinge from her father's outburst had been fixed a week ago.

My knuckles knocked against the door. "Maylene?" I whispered, knowing she'd hear me thanks to her superhuman capabilities. "I'm here. Sorry, I'm a bit late."

It took a few seconds for her to answer the door. Already, she was in her Gym Leader outfit. A thin, dark blue tank top that left her well-defined arms and shoulders exposed; fingerless blue gloves; white jogging pants with a thin, pink stripe at their sides; a thick band-aid on the bridge of her surprisingly delicate nose. She was also barefoot, with her long pants covering a part of her feet.

She looked just as nervous as I was. Her fingers fidgeted together, and she couldn't bear to look me in the eye, doing that trick she did where she stared at people's foreheads instead. Even that didn't work. Her irises kept darting between that and everywhere else like she just had no idea where to look. Even when nervousness was eating her alive, she was pretty. There was something about seeing her so exposed, so unguarded, that made me feel as if I were glimpsing the truest version of her.

We'd met each other like this a million times, but in this instance, it mattered more than any other. Fifteen minutes of practice, and finally addressing the first time we ever met instead of burying it under the sand while wearing the exact same clothes. It was as if she knew exactly what made me tick—what tickled the right parts of my brain. She knew what I loved: stories, mirroring, symbolism, and she didn't…

No, she probably did think it was weird, but that was okay. Because she loved the good, the bad, the strange, the ugly—everything about me, anyway, even if she still wanted me to change for the better.

"Hi." My voice was so meek I could barely recognize it. "Um, sorry I'm not dressed yet. I figured it'd be good if you first saw me in those clothes when we go to your arena." I'd come as differently and simply dressed as possible, so it'd really pop when she saw me, and my hair tied up in a simple ponytail.

Imagining what we'd feel when seeing each other in the exact same position I'd hurt her in made me bite my lip, and her darting eyes suddenly honed in on them. Like she couldn't focus on anything else.

It took a few seconds for the spell to break, and Maylene forced herself to smile. "No, I get it." She pointed back into her living room with a thumb. "Do you want to come in, or… how are we doing this?"

"We should probably talk in here first, right?" I asked. "About what we were thinking and stuff."

She let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah. Sorry, I'm—I'm really nervous. And excited? Does that make sense?"

"I'm the same. I think part of me always yearned for this, but I was just too—" I didn't exactly know how to phrase this. "I was too focused on atoning instead of, like, communicating. With you."

Her fake smile turned real in the most subtle of shifts. It stretched a smidge longer across her face, and there was a hint of teeth. "I'm glad I had this idea, then." She scratched her arm—God, I wanted to touch her so bad. "We should probably stop standing around like two statues and head in."

"Right."

Maylene's living quarters were the same as always. Instead of stopping on her living room couch, or her asking me if I wanted anything to eat or drink like she always did, a wordless agreement passed between us, and we went straight to her bedroom. Lucario, along with the rest of her team, were in their Pokeballs tonight, as were my Pokemon.

We were alone.

"Beautiful ladies first," Maylene said, outstretching her hand to lead me in.

I breathed out a laugh as I entered her bedroom. "You just made that up."

"No, it's a thing. Or I'm pretty sure it's a thing? Candice says it sometimes."

"I wouldn't rely on Candice for common idioms."

"Well, you are," Maylene muttered, face flushed with blood. "Beautiful, I mean. And you should go in first. So."

My toes curled in my shoes. I wasn't really wearing anything special yet. Just jeans and a shirt. Despite the effects her words had on me, I wanted to taunt her for not being as smooth and confident as usual, but couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. "I—you too."

"You can't just say 'you too!'" Maylene sat herself down and patted the ground next to her. My spot. "You gotta get better material, Grace."

"You catch me off-guard every time!" I complained in a high-pitched whine. "I can't just instantly recover and find the perfect words like you do."

"They're not perfect. Actually, they are, but just because it's you hearing them."

I could have asked what that meant.

I didn't. Because I—I couldn't.

Sitting down next to Maylene, I made an effort to scoot myself close to her as I grabbed my laptop from my bag, making sure to snag it away quickly so Maylene wouldn't see— "No peeking!" I grumbled, clutching my bag against my chest so she couldn't see. "That would be cheating."

"I already know what you looked like! It wouldn't be."

"Yes it would!"

"No, it wouldn't!"

"Oh, you want to see me in them so bad, don't you?" Somehow, I found myself teasing her, and for once, she was the one reduced to a stuttering, blushing mess. "Behave; there has to be a proper order to things."

"I—I know, I was just curious, gosh." Her fingernails dug into her sleeping mats strongly enough to leave a fading mark. "Where should we start, then?"

"Let's look back to that day," I said. "What do you remember, what were you thinking—things like that."

"Oh. I guess I'm going first, then?"

"I mean, I don't know." My fingers drummed anxiously against the back of my laptop, where I'd saved all my notes about Maylene when I'd studied her. The truth was, I was terrified what she'd think about them. From what I remembered, they were pretty brutal. "It'd probably be better."

The confused look she gave me was proof she didn't understand why—and that was because there was no reason—but she nodded anyway. "Okay. So that day… is kind of a blur besides our battle. I can't really remember details. Everything this year is kind of a blur until that day, to be honest." The shaking of her trembling breath, followed by the shivering of her fingers, made me want to grab her hand. "I thought I found a good groove, but it was the kind of schedule I just couldn't keep up. That would burn me out."

"Was it like that the entire year until I arrived?"

"After the first month, pretty much." She nodded with a somber expression. "The longer it went on, the worse of a person I became. Yelling at my employees, threatening to fire them for any minute mistake, taking more and more workload for myself… I wanted to do everything myself because I thought I'd be a terrible Gym Leader otherwise—but you already know that."

"Hmhm."

"So I guess that when you came through, I thought it'd just be another fight. I already knew who you were—kind of. You were involved with the Darkest Day, and I remember feeling really sad when I thought a group of kids had been lost in Coronet and really happy when they were confirmed alive in Snowpoint. Candice talked a little about your Gym Battle and how she went nuts with her Darmanitan during the fight." Maylene laughed. "I remember scolding her about that."

"I would have loved to hear that call." The corner of my lips crept upward.

"She was really sorry, for what it's worth."

"Yeah. I remember her saying she would have given me the badge even if I lost." Everything had been so much simpler back in those days, even if Coronet had nearly chewed us up. I missed it. "To be honest, it was a fun battle. Not as fun as Gardenia's, but I literally passed out because of how intense it was."

Maylene's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "What?! She never told me about that!"

"Yeah!" I chortled—the laugh made me move an inch to the side, and my shoulder touched Maylene's. We shared a glance, but we both pulled away—her faster than me. "I was really nervous about losing because I didn't want to stay stuck up in Snowpoint all this time and hold everyone back. It was just such strong catharsis that my body just gave way."

"Arceus, you're so weak. You're basically made of glass."

I laughed. "What? Passing out after intense battles is a documented phenomenon! I looked it up after!"

She rolled her eyes in a far more exaggerated manner than was needed. "Sure," she said, drawing out the word with irony. "Whatever you say; I totally believe you."

I restrained the urge to shut her up by doing something that I put away from my mind the moment the idea appeared. "If you were well-researched enough—you know what, this is off-topic! This was supposed to be a serious conversation, you goofball!" I bumped her leg with my knee.

She did the same, always so softly despite her strength. Then I did. Then she did. And I wanted to push her—

"Okay, okay, I'll continue," Maylene cut in before more nefarious ideas to worm their way into my brain. "So. The months pass, Team Galactic gets worse, and Cynthia's methods to hunt them down didn't help my mood. I was immature, so I take all of my frustration out on my employees and challengers—then you get there. I'm pretty sure I remember having a good day before that fight. Relatively speaking."

I did remember her looking slightly more relaxed than I had hoped when stepping on the podium.

"What'd you think when you saw me?" I asked. To be honest, I'd always been curious.

"Well at first, it was just work, you know?" I deflated immediately. "Hey, don't look so sad; God, you're so extra! You were just another challenger, how was I supposed to know you were going to be special?"

I pouted, half serious, half joking. "Whatever," I sighed, containing my smile at the notion that I was special. It just would have had a better shape if she instantly was drawn in by me.

She—honestly, thankfully—decided to ignore my mini-tantrum. "So yeah, I got really annoyed you weren't attacking and just running away and changing the field. It just made me feel like I had no control, and I couldn't stop wishing I had my actual team there to stop you." Maylene cringed, her body tensing—I sneaked in a look at her arms. What was wrong with me? She was pouring her heart out, and I couldn't stop looking at her. "Honestly though, it wasn't worse than usual until you… until Infernape."

It was my turn to cringe, now. "Yeah. Sorry."

"You should apologize to her one of these days…" the Gym Leader trailed off, and grimaced for a moment. "I instantly hated you after that." She snapped her fingers. "It was like you flipped a switch in my brain. I thought you were…"

"Speak freely," I said.

"I thought you were disgusting. And a sociopath who took pleasure from tormenting others. It's why I spoke out immediately."

My fingers slid against the spine of my laptop, almost a self-soothing motion. The cold metal felt good on my skin. "You were kind of right. Actually, not kind of. It—it felt good doing that to you. I felt so righteous for no valid reason—because it felt like your reaction was proving something. And I've done my best to change since then."

"I know," she whispered, staring at me with a genuine smile. It was so soft, so gentle that I felt like I wanted to tear up. After all of this, she still believed in me. And I'd started to believe in myself in the last few weeks thanks to her too. She had pulled me out of the deepest levels of my self-hatred. "You—you really knew how to push my buttons. Just—it was like you were in my head, and I hated how that made me feel. The entire time, I'd tried to pretend nothing could get to me, that I was invulnerable, but you just tore down that wall in a single twenty minute fight and left me feeling the weakest I'd ever felt in my entire life. And it was so hard to reconcile that."

"You recovered in the end, though," I remembered. "When you used aura."

"I was getting to that. I did recover, because in a way, it felt good to finally stop pretending to be someone I wasn't. It's why I found the end of that battle fun despite everything you did." Maylene pulled her knees close to her chest and rested her head on top of them. "And you know, that was only temporary. Because after the battle, I tried to get back to how I used to do things, but I just—couldn't."

When she stopped, I couldn't help myself. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. Her legs went flat again, but she didn't pull away. "Do you still want to continue, or do you want to take a break? I can go, if you need to."

"No. I can do this," she said, thumb caressing the side of my hand. "One, I was used to reading everything people said about me, and it was a lot." I remembered seeing the threats, the call to fire her, and the countless insults going her way after our fight. From the public's perspective, while what I'd done to Infernape had been considered scummy (they only knew that I'd stopped Maylene from recalling her), she'd been the one to be unprofessional and who had gone too far. "And I couldn't stop thinking about our fight after that. I kept playing it over and over in my mind, coming up with ways to expose you if I could ever have a do-over. I didn't want to think about you, but I couldn't stop."

That was a surprise. "I thought you'd put me out of your mind and try to move on, especially when you took that one month break and started therapy."

"It's what I wanted to do. Again, I just couldn't. And—is it okay to talk about Dialga and the timelines?"

My throat squeezed, making it difficult to breathe for a second. "Sure."

"The point at which my timelines diverged. It was our Gym Battle," Maylene revealed. I struggled to even comprehend that notion; I'd thought it would be something from her childhood, or an incident with her father. Not me. "More specifically, the way you approached the fight."

I blinked at her. "What?"

As she explained how each Grace that came up to her was different—and there was a timeline where she didn't come at all—I slowly began to understand that for some reason, we'd basically seen the exact same events, but from a different perspective. Our fates had somehow been linked, but more than that, it meant that I was the defining moment in her life. That notion alone took away the half fake annoyance and made my heart throb instead. It beat against my chest like a drum even more than it already was. I followed suit soon after, telling her about Virtuous, Anguished, and Beast. It felt liberating to finally speak of Beast and how terrified I still was of the fact that I could have been her to someone.

"You made names for them?" she asked.

"I didn't… make them. I felt them in the moment where they were reborn as new people." Maylene not having any names for hers was somewhat surprising. I honestly thought it was something everyone had gone through. Since Cecilia hadn't told me what happened in hers, there had been no way for me to know until tonight. "You know… you were actually in love with me. Uh, I mean, Virtuous me."

Maylene glanced down at her legs. We'd stopped holding hands at some point. "I kind of figured, now. She was really dense about it, though. I think it's a trait we all share—or shared. I'm not dense anymore."

"Really?"

"Really," she assured me. "I know a lot of things. And with that knowledge comes freedom, but also pain."

Again, there was silence. The beating of hearts, the exhaling of breaths growing shallower and shallower, as if the very air itself had been siphoned from the room. Eyes locked, words lost, and all that remained was a herculean effort to return to normalcy. Maylene was the one to take charge by clearing her throat. Twice, so I would break out of the spell.

"Moving on!" she exclaimed, sweat dripping down her tense, luscious neck. "I just mentioned this because I wanted to tell you how important that battle was to me. So…"

My throat felt dry. "What comes after? Like in between the fight and when we met again at the lake?"

"Just more of the same. I told you when I blew up at you, didn't I? That I'd pictured that conversation in my head a thousand times and that I thought you'd be monstrous," she said. "I mean you have your faults, but… that's okay. You're doing better."

My face warmed. "Thanks."

"Feeling a little better?"

"I am! And I'm not lying." Talking this out with her was what had been missing instead of just brushing it off with the notion that she'd forgiven me. I did believe her, but it felt more… tangible if we could bring it up openly despite the hurt. "Should I go now?"

"If you're ready."

"Okay. So I guess I should start by saying that Solaceon kind of fucked with my head." I'd just told her about how it had defined my entire life up to this point, so she knew the gist of it. "I'd just killed for the first time, Justin had gotten screwed by Shiftry's darkness, Cecilia's leg got mangled by a Krokorok… I discovered that Princess had accidentally been influencing my behavior for months because of the way she trained with Fairy Wind. I needed some space to find myself again. Travel on my own a little bit." The difference was that I'd actually spoken to Cecilia about it instead of just—never mind. "Anyway, I stumbled upon a Hatterene…"

Maylene knew about Bella, which I expected given her position as a Gym Leader. She'd never met her before since Cynthia's Togekiss still handled those meetings, but she had heard a few things about her. Mostly protocol about what to do if she ever went rogue, along with her known behavior.

"I was lost, and she found me," I fondly spoke with a smile. "She accepted me for who I was and made me feel like I belonged—and while it helped a lot with my confidence and stuff, it kind of—well, not kind of. It made me into a worse person, because I started to think like her. I wanted to be like her."

"You look up to her anyway?" Maylene guessed.

"I do. I love her," I said. "She just thinks differently than we do, and that's okay. Plus, I'd like to think I changed her a little bit. I should take you to meet her." It'd have to wait until her kid was born, but I'd love for them to speak. It was technically a part of Maylene's job.

"I don't think we'd get along much…" she mumbled, unsure of herself.

"If she can get along with Sunshine, she can get along with you." I held back a grimace when I remembered how their first interactions had gone. "You'll need to meet her at some point for your job anyway."

"Cynth probably thought I was too hardheaded for it."

"You were," I confirmed.

"Don't just agree!" she yelled—but I could see her holding back a smile.

Ah, being with her was so much fun, even in tense conversations like these. "So… I was very full of myself coming into Veilstone." That confidence was something I did miss, though I hoped that when I'd regain some of it, it wouldn't be at the expense of others. "I had a lot of pent up anger within me. When I heard about trainers being pissed at you for being too difficult of a challenge, I started looking into you." I lifted my laptop screen. "Um, a warning. This is gonna look weird."

"That's okay."

That reply was so… nonchalant but in a good way. I ignored her giggle when I typed in Princess' birthday as my password. The notes I'd taken about her were already stored in a tab I hadn't opened since beating her. "Here. I started researching you."

Maylene squinted at the screen. "Gosh, why is the font you use always so tiny—" a pause when she realized what she was looking at. "Grace…"

"I told you it was weird!"

"I said that was okay!" she exclaimed, a little frustrated. "I just didn't expect… all of this."

There were pages upon pages of documented behaviors from previous battles of my badge level at the time, from the way her body moved at certain events to what she tended to say when she enjoyed or hated a fight. There were even behaviors recorded outside her Gym like press conferences with Cynthia about Team Galactic. Most of the notes were actually about her and not the Pokemon she used, though those took a large chunk of the document as well. I flinched when she read past my documentation of her apparent issues with her father, making sure to tell her I didn't know about the abuse, but she didn't blow up at me for it. She just paused, hand hovering over the trackpad, let out a little "huh," and continued scrolling. She had to lean my way to maneuver the laptop, since it was still on my thighs. I could have handed it to her, but she hadn't asked, so there was no reason to.

She smelled so, so good. It'd be weird to inhale too much, but I really needed to figure out what the perfect blend of Maylene and whatever washing products she used was. Right now, it was obvious she'd showered before my arrival, so it was mostly artificial. There was something missing, given that I really enjoyed her natural smell as well. There was probably—like—a Goldilocks zone of smells I could figure out if given enough time. Was it weird to think like this? I stared at Maylene, who was focused on the screen, and internally sighed out a whatever. She'd find it weird if she ever found out, maybe make a few jokes about it here and there, but that was fine.

"A lot of these I haven't even noticed," she whispered. "You—you kind of dissected me, huh?"

"Yeah. I—my goal was to make you realize you weren't handling your Gym properly, but I went about it in the most roundabout and obtuse way possible."

Her eyes were still transfixed on the screen when she asked, "do you do this for every Gym Leader?" The question sounded almost… wanting.

"...not to this extent. At least I don't focus on the person as much, mostly their Pokemon."

Maylene played with a short strand of her pink hair. "Oh."

"It's part of why I can read you so well, even if your body language has changed a decent amount since then. It's actually kind of fascinating how people unconsciously change the way their body moves—actually, let's not get lost in that tangent."

"You almost sounded like Nia there," Maylene noted. The eyes she was making at me—wide and a sign that I had her full attention—made me feel so accepted in that moment. She was probably the only person in the world I could talk about this stuff with and not feel like I was walking on a minefield. "Give me an example?"

"Of what?"

"My body language. It doesn't have to be something I'm doing now."

I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the request. "Your body language?" I repeated, trying to organize my thoughts. "Um, the evil glint in your eyes every time you have a really good come back prepared for me. But there's not just your eyes—your head kind of gets a little lower, like you're just about to pounce. You also try to stop yourself from smiling to not give it away, but you fail horribly like nine times out of ten, but whatever you say catches me off guard regardless—I just know it's coming. Also, your lips get really crooked because of it—you're doing it right now."

Her constrained smile turned devious. "You're so obsessed with me. You're such a creep."

Unlike her, I managed to hide the coming smile very well, but not the flutters in my stomach that always came when she playfully called me something bad and made me squirm in place. "You can read me pretty well, too," I countered. "And don't act like the obsession doesn't go both ways."

"Prove it," she challenged.

"I could. Easily. I know what makes you tick," I said, leaning toward her with my voice low.

"What I'm hearing is that you're too chicken to actually say it."

"Maylene, you literally—you played with your hair when I said you were the only one I looked into that much!" Obviously, she didn't enjoy the battle itself, nor the aftermath, but maybe a part of Maylene enjoyed having someone look into her that much. "Don't pretend."

"Technically, that just means I liked the care you took when looking into me. It doesn't mean I'm obsessed."

She was looking at my lips. The lips I'd started to bite out of habit whenever she stared at them like that—like she was practically begging.

I repeated what she said, but in a voice clearly mocking her, and this… whatever this was fizzled out.

"During the fight, I was kind of disassociated. Like it's this thing I used to do where I became kind of a machine whose only purpose is to get to her goal—and that goal was beating you in a specific way." Maylene stared at me in disbelief. "What? I grew out of it."

She couldn't really make sense of what I was saying. "Grew out of it?"

"Yes. It makes me too prone to making mistakes." Not in the sense that I might screw up in a fight, but in the sense that I might accidentally kill too many people or not value the lives of the people I love. "It was too dangerous. I think it was the first time I did it fully, though. Bella's the one who taught me; she sometimes uses it to be completely impartial for deals."

"So I was like your lab rat?"

"Kind of. Granted, I broke out of it at some point and started actually enjoying the fight—that's the thing I don't like about it also. Like, you can't enjoy a battle if you disassociate." That was why I hadn't done it with Volkner, Wake, or Byron. Gym Battles were meant to be fun. "Um, like I said, the fight is kind of a blur to me because I've tried not thinking about it much. I considered watching it tonight with you, but I—I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"That's okay. We don't even have to do it—or we can do it whenever you want. I've watched it plenty."

"What?"

"What? I told you I was imagining comebacks I could have said, didn't I?! They were angry rewatches!"

"I never stated otherwise!" I raised my hands up innocently. "I was just surprised you'd subject yourself to that."

And she said she wasn't obsessed with me. Hmph!

"I told you, didn't I? I'm a big girl." She pointed at herself with her thumb with a smug expression. "I can take it."

"After the fight… well, it hit me right away that I'd gone way too far, especially with torturing Infernape. I hid that one from my friends for a while." I'd even only told Cecilia during our break when I confessed everything to her over the phone in Solaceon. Backlot, the powers—everything. "But, um, then Cynthia summoned us, and there was the entire end of the world stuff, so I couldn't really focus on it. Not until after Pastoria, anyway."

Maylene's lips went flat. "The raid."

"It's when I finally pulled my head out of the sand and decided I couldn't keep going like this, or I'd end up like Mars. Or Beast—though I didn't know about her existence at the time. And I started thinking about how to apologize to you over those weeks of soul-searching. Candice actually wanted to help me…"

"Yeah, I knew about that." She scratched the back of her head, averting her eyes. "I wasn't ready to forgive you yet."

"That's fine. I'm just happy you forgave me now."

She wasn't wearing sleeves, and I wasn't about to breach protocol again tonight, but I desperately wanted to lean against her shoulder. Instead, we just stayed quiet for a minute or two, letting everything we'd said settle in for good. We'd made it. We'd pushed past that day and come out stronger for it. Now, all that remained was my outfit to perfectly end this tale.

"Do you feel better now?" Maylene asked.

"So much better. I know this is a common saying, but it's like a weight's been lifted from my shoulders. I feel so much lighter now." Now that we'd gone into detail about that day and the weeks and months surrounding it, I finally found the will to forgive myself for what I'd done. I had fucked up. Seriously fucked up. But I'd atoned enough, and she'd forgiven me. "And look at us now, all chummy," I noted with a quirk at the corner of my mouth. "Who would have thought?"

She snorted. "Not me. Like, at all."

"Oh! I forgot to ask, but how was work today? Fabian told me you were finishing up something before I arrived."

Her face soured. "That snitch."

For a few minutes, she told me about her day like usual and how the reason she'd been working this late was because she hadn't been able to focus throughout the day and she still hadn't finished. I enjoyed hearing about the small stories she had to tell about incidents with Pokemon or internal Gym drama—the nonserious kind. It kind of made me wish I had as many little happenings to report on, but my daily life wasn't nearly as interesting yet. I was still finding my footing; it was a lot more stable than it had been weeks ago. It was nowhere as crippling to be away from Cecilia or Maylene, and I was actually doing things on my own these days.

I did have old stories about my journey to tell, but I was kind of running out of those. The interesting, non-depressing ones, at least.

"It's been nearly an hour," I said after staring down at the time on my laptop's screen. "I should go change. Unless you want to talk more?" I'd never be against that; she was just so much fun to be around.

"I don't mind starting now; it's up to you."

"...then I'll go change."

"You can use my bathroom if you don't want to go all the way to the basement." Maylene stood up and went to open her bedroom door, and there was a squeeze around my heart. "I'll be waiting down at the arena anyway."

"Sure. That's convenient." I followed suit and left her bedroom with her, making sure to turn off the lights.

When we reached her bathroom, she spoke again.

"Then I'll see you in a few? The doors to the arena will be unlocked." Her eyes drifted across my body, like she was taking the sight of me in one last time before I became Grace from the past. It felt so good when she looked at me.

"Yep," I said, accentuating on the p.

She didn't wait to leave, practically running away before I could even enter her bathroom. It was, I realized, my first time in there. Every time we hung out, we only did for at most two hours, and somehow, I'd never needed to use the bathroom before at her Gym. Maylene's bathroom was as minimalistic as it got—clean, uncluttered, and quietly functional. Really, it was just like her. The walls were a soft, neutral beige, with no artwork or decorations to break the uniformity. A simple white sink sat beneath a frameless mirror. The countertop was clear, save for a single soap dispenser, a toothbrush in an empty cup, citrus-flavored toothpaste, and a neatly folded towel. The shower was enclosed in plain glass with a few cleaning products on the ground neatly arranged against the wall. I spied each brand out of the corner of my eye before I started changing.

I slid the tights above my knees, then my waist, the fabric tense and warm against my skin. The pleaded skirt followed, its edges settling around my thighs, and finally, the sweater. Maylene had called it a little too big for me, and she was frustratingly still correct—It draped loosely over my frame, a subtle reminder that I hadn't grown much, if at all, in the past few months. I pulled my old sneakers from my bag, and my feet slid into them without any resistance. Finally, I untied my ponytail and ran my fingers through my hair, letting it fall naturally over my shoulders just like that day.

It felt both wrong and right to stare at myself in the mirror. It was like I'd been transported back to that day. My body thrummed with a mix of excitement and shame, and somehow, it felt almost as if I'd been about to battle her again; it was so weird. After a few final adjustments with my hair, I put my Poketch Watch around my wrist and started making my way down. When occasionally crossing paths with the Gym staff, I felt the urge to hide as if they'd somehow know what I was doing.

So stupid.

When I got to the Gym's waiting room for challengers, I sat on one of the long wooden benches along the wall with my eyes closed. Besides just… mirroring what had happened with Maylene, if I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and let the silence overtake me, I could almost picture the subtle noise from the crowds that spectated Gym Battles. The sound, albeit fake, made my entire body feel warm. I'd missed this feeling. Being on edge, the way the stakes felt so high for a digital badge. Something given value through society, or more precisely, the countless stories of trainers who had trodden this path before me for hundreds of years. Walking the steps of my ancestors, all with their different goals and dreams and pains and vices—it was a feeling only this room could give you.

And I had kind of missed it, even if no battle was going to take place tonight. I had… considered asking for it, but there was a reason I hadn't asked to train my team with Maylene despite knowing that Princess could potentially delve into aura. It just felt like a step too far. The way I battled hadn't changed at all since Coronet. In fact, during my training with Ramon, my brain had constantly reached for kill angles and opportunities to win through murder instead of through knockouts.

I had never actually done so, of course, and my Pokemon wouldn't have stooped that low even if something had slipped. It just made battling not as enjoyable as it could be. The exciting edge had gone from the fear of loss to the fear that I was fighting someone out to kill me.

I was working through it. Slowly.

But I was getting sidetracked. I'd nearly missed the loud blaring sound of the battlefield's lights turning on one by one. My hands slowly felt at the wood below me until they gripped the bench with anxiety. One more minute, just to be sure she'd be in her spot, and it was time to go.

I was almost in a trance when I pushed the doors open. Usually, a trainer would open them after outfitting me with a microphone. They were heavier than they looked—I heaved against the metallic handle and was met by two rows of hundreds of empty seats. I was so used to seeing them at least half-filled that it felt so alien. Like I'd entered another room and not a Gym's main arena. My steps reverberated across the enormous room, and there were no claps, no hoots, no snide remarks or words of support. I slowly climbed the stairs and was met with a battlefield lower than I remembered—

She'd changed it, with spires that almost looked like buildings—

I… it didn't matter. The moment I saw her, she was all I could focus on. A jolt shot down my spine, sharp and undeniable. My eyes locked onto her like I had no control, and hers never left mine either. The air between us felt charged, like something unspoken but powerful was holding us in place. I could barely breathe, each exhale shallow, every inhale tighter, as if the room had suddenly shrunk around us. My heart pounded in my chest, and yet, somehow, everything felt right. The tension wasn't crippling—it was electric, alive, writhing, like a living thing, like something just waiting to happen.

It was easy to focus on Maylene. Somehow, as small as she was from this far, she managed to fill every corner of my vision as if she was the only person who would ever matter. My eyes narrowed at her as if we'd been preparing to battle, every muscle in my body coiled tight, and my teeth clamping down on my lips to help me focus. Her legs trembled beneath her like she could barely stand upright. For a moment, I thought I'd screwed up, but then I noticed how harshly she was breathing, how flushed her face was despite the fact that she was shaking like some cornered Eevee, and I realized that she was enjoying this like I was. And how could I not? This felt so cathartic, like a loop finally closing, or a ribbon neatly tied together after a hundred attempts. The climax of a story right before the denouement could begin.

Time had no meaning here. We could have been standing like this for a minute, or maybe it was ten, or twenty. The world outside didn't exist. It was just us—her eyes darting, her mouth partly open, her breathing uneven—and I wished she'd worn a microphone so I could hear it—her body twitching and shivering in uncontrollable ways, changing with every little action of mine. I could feel the tension between us tightening with every second, an invisible thread wanting to pull us closer, making everything more intense. Each subtle reaction of hers felt like a spark within my chest, fueling this silent exchange.

Then;

I took a step back, unable to wait any longer. She knew what it meant—she followed suit and started walking down her platform. I was so lightheaded I nearly tripped on my way down, but I caught myself and jumped the last few stairs. Don't run. Don't run. Don't run. The notion had to be beaten into my legs so I didn't just make a mad dash toward her as we walked along the edges of the arena. Intentionally or unintentionally, we were replicating exactly what had happened after my victory against her—walking up to each other so she'd hand me a badge. But there was no badge. Neither victory nor defeat, but a quiet understanding that this was the perfect moment to practice, precedent be damned. For my part, at least.

Precedent, not rules. Nothing in the contract said that we weren't allowed to practice even if we had slightly under an hour left tonight—

I blinked at Maylene, my eyes almost fluttering. She was so sweaty—I was so sweaty, and it certainly wasn't just because I was wearing winter clothing. The sweat clung to her skin, making her glow in the bright industrial lighting. Beads of it traced down her temples, slipping past her jawline and down her neck. Her hair stuck in damp strands around her face, framing her in a way that somehow made her look even more alluring. There was a sheen in her arm outlining her muscles—but my eyes couldn't stray from her mouth for too long.

"Was that—" she asked.

"Should we practice now?" Words spilled out of me faster than I could register them, and heavy breaths followed suit.

Maylene was having difficulty breathing too. The fact that I'd rendered her this way by just looking at her was… I didn't know what it was, but it was pleasant. "H—here? I thought we'd go back in my room."

"Think about it. Isn't the moment perfect?" I flashed a ravenous smile at her and licked my lips. "Months ago, we stood in this very spot, and you handed me my badge with only hatred in your eyes. Isn't this perfect?" I asked again, still speaking so quickly that my words were barely coherent. "I really don't want to lose that thread; it would be so unsatisfying. If we just walk away now, the story'll be gone."

She gave me a tightened nod, her chin barely moving, and said, "I'm ready, then—wait, the alarm!"

Fuck, I'd nearly forgotten. Maylene quickly set up the alarm. She messed up a few times, her sweaty fingers slipping on the screen, but eventually—

"Remember the safe word."

I was the one who'd said it this time.

There would be no order to it. No turns. Maylene touched me first, and I felt her fingertips glide up the fabric of my skirt, the gentle pressure of her palm following the curve of my thigh. The warmth slipped through the tights—we stumbled around, barely able to stand still until I pushed her toward a wall under the stands. Where she'd been slow and deliberate before, hers was a fraying and desperate movement now. Forceful, demanding, yearning for me in a way that made me feel so loved. At the same time, her other hand found its way to my neck, fingers grazing the skin just beneath my jaw. The touch was light at first, almost tentative, but it lingered, warm and steady. Her thumb brushed the side of my throat in slow, deliberate strokes, sending a shiver down my spine. It wasn't forceful, but there was an undeniable weight behind it—a quiet intensity that rendered me nearly breathless.

Her aura flared up when I started touching her moments later, enveloping the both of us in flashing blue fire that was both so cold and so warm and just so hypnotically her. One of my hands had already slipped under her shirt, fingers pressing against the tight skin of her stomach, feeling the rise and fall of her uneven breaths beneath my palm. Sometimes I moved too far up and felt the edge of her sports bra, but I—I barely controlled myself, instead enjoying the little noises and bursts of aura I could draw out of her like she was my instrument. Not that I was any better. My other hand tangled in her hair, fingers gripping tight as my nails dug against her scalp. Every pull, every press drew her closer to me. There was no taint anymore, no darkness wherever I touched her. She'd accepted me fully as I was and as I would become.

The flickering blue light reflected in her eyes, wide and searching; her chest rose and fell in rhythm with mine. My heart pounded in my ears as the tension between us tightened, every second stretching out as her face hovered just inches from mine. Closer. Closer. Maylene stared into my eyes as her hand somehow made contact with the skin of my thigh, and I could barely stop myself from looking at her lips. The curve of her lower lip seemed to tremble ever so slightly with each sweet breath reaching my nose. They were soft, slightly parted, and glistened faintly in the dim light as if they'd been waiting to be—to be—

I couldn't—

I—

Looked at her in the eyes. Stars sparkled around her.

I closed the final inch and lunged at her mouth like a starving animal would jump at Ambrosia.

The moment we connected, everything else fell away—the tension, the hesitation—it all dissolved into the heat of the kiss. My hand kept dragging against her scalp; my nails under her shirt scratched against her upper back with strength that would have made anyone else bleed as I tore away their skin. Her body pressed against mine so strongly that it was as if we'd melded into a single being. I'd wanted this for so long. Needed this. So I pushed against her as she tumbled on the ground and then fell on top of her.

My knees painfully hit the ground, but—whatever. This was so electric I nearly forgot to breathe, so a little pain was low priority. Her eyes practically begged me to continue, and I certainly wasn't going to wait, so I licked my lips and took hers again. Maylene was so clumsy, but eager. Was I her first kiss? Sometimes our teeth bumped awkwardly against each other, but even that felt right. Like the imperfections were part of what made it so perfect. Her lips moved against mine with an intensity that left me dizzy, her breath mixing with mine in frantic, uneven gasps that passed for breathing.

I bit and licked and smiled against her—and everything I could. I was on top of her, and then she was on top of me—I wrapped my legs around her to keep her close—and then I was on top again and over and over in the never-ending dance of bliss and desire that left us rolling around on the cold hard floor like it was the most comfortable bed in the world. I ignored the pesky alarm of her phone that had fallen out of her pocket a dozen feet away and pushed for more. I had to keep going. I had to squeeze every single ounce of pleasure from this moment. Because if I stopped for even just a second—

"Epi—epilogue!" Maylene forced out against me, shattering the illusion.

I stopped immediately, my hands retreated to stay all by their lonesome instead of creeping further up her shirt, I pushed my mouth off hers, and she crawled away from me. For a moment, we just stayed there, sat on the ground and breathing harshly. She was—radiant; there was no other word for it. But—

It slowly started sinking in. I'd known we were kissing of course—I—I—there was no way to deny that; I'd just been so into it, and it had been so good that I couldn't stop and it had stretched for longer and longer until I still wanted more and—

Ah.

Of course. It was because I was in love with her.

Oh God.

Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God—no!

My hands gripped at my hair, an agonized grimace grew on my face, and I took step after step backwards as tears welled up in my eyes. I could barely see straight; my head was spinning as if I was drunk, or what I imagined being drunk was like—I couldn't have kissed—that wasn't me! I wasn't who my mother used to be! All those words I threw at her, all the animosity, the venom, the years of avoidance and calling her every insult under the sun while my dad wasn't listening. If I was her, then those would apply to me and I…

I just couldn't.

"We can't—we can't do this," Maylene cried. "You have Cecilia. I can't be doing all of this if I'm just gonna be—" a hiccup interrupted her. "I know I said I could take it, but I'm sorry. This is too much. I can't be your secret you just give up on when Cecilia comes back."

"That's not what I—" I let out a frustrated groan, not at her, but at myself. "I can't… it wasn't supposed to be like this." When we'd first forged the contract in the ceremony, I had warned her that I'd taint her! That I'd make her worse. Maylene had helped me so much, but it had come at the expense of her own morals. It was all my fault. "I'm sorry I made you do this."

She laughed, bitter and slightly angry. "You didn't—Grace, I am in love with you." I knew that already, but the statement hit me like a truck. "I wanted to kiss you. And to go on dates with you, and to hear your stupid laugh every time we met, and to see you get healthier, and to hear you rant about bad movies because of their unrealistic death fights, and…" Maylene sighed, wiping the never-ending tears off her face. "I also wanted to help you. So, so bad. And I thought I'd just be able to keep my distance throughout those weeks, but I didn't think that being with the person you loved could be so fulfilling but also so painful—I've never even been in love before!" she said with a frustrated scream that made me wince. "I shouldn't have gotten selfish," Maylene finished in the smallest of voices. "I should have kept you at arm's length."

She would have.

If I hadn't kept pulling her closer.

I'd made her cry. I'd make Cecilia cry. Oh, Legendaries, what would she even say? I couldn't hide the kiss from her; it wouldn't be right. I had to come clean. "I'm not going to keep this a secret; I'm going to tell her. Everything." Every fibre of my awful existence was telling me not to. It was just one kiss; it would do more harm than good to tell her when we could just sweep this under the rug and whywasIthinkinglikethis? Stop it. Stop. It. It would just hurt both girls even more, which was the last thing I wanted when I loved them.

I just deserved neither.

"I—I should go," I sobbed. "I'm sorry. For kissing you when I shouldn't have."

Something died in her eyes, and I wanted to comfort her, but what was there even to say? It'd be better if she was cut off from my toxicity. If she could start hating me again, then she'd be better off…

I didn't want her to hate me. I wanted her to love me just like I loved her. But that wasn't possible. We never should have seen each other at the ceremony; I shouldn't have allowed myself to feel hope. If we hadn't made the contract, then my life would have withered away like it should have.

I love you would make it hurt more. "I'm sorry," was what came out again.

Maylene only nodded.

I didn't bother getting my stuff back from a room. The world was a haze when I left, and by the time I came to, a car honked at me for crossing the road when the pedestrian light was red. I'd made him slam the breaks. "S—" I couldn't even apologize. There was a disgusting taste in my mouth that made it difficult to speak.

He lowered his window and screamed at the top of his lungs. "Just get off the fuckin' road!"

While waiting in front of Maylene's Gym for the assigned Kadabra to come back would have been an option, I didn't want to spend another second looking at that place. It hurt, but the pain barely registered. My body felt numb, like I wasn't fully there, as though the connection between my mind and flesh had frayed. The skin on my muscles and bones was distant, unfamiliar, as if I were a ghost drifting across Veilstone instead of a human. Eventually, I found myself sitting under the heavy luminescence of a streetlight, watching the time pass me by. To my left, an old convenience store stood, its windows dimly lit and streaked with the residue of countless raindrops, the faint buzz of a flickering neon 'open' sign cutting through the gloom. Beside it, a narrow alleyway stretched into darkness, littered with forgotten debris. From it emanated the faint stench of damp concrete and old discarded trash. On the right, a row of apartment buildings loomed tall, cold, and impersonal. Their façades were cracked and weathered, with the occasional balcony cluttered by laundry left out too long or a neglected potted plant. Above, faint shadows moved behind drawn curtains, as distant and indifferent as the world passing me by. My hands sometimes would graze my lips, trying to recall the feeling of kissing Maylene, but then I'd catch myself and remember that I didn't deserve to remember.

Every time someone walked next to me, I would shrink.

Could they see how dark my soul was, how I struggled to keep it from spilling over and ruining everything? How vile and twisted it had become? Their gazes felt like blades, sharp and unrelenting, grazing the surface of my skin wherever their eyes landed. Every time I moved away, I could feel their judgment, their silent cuts, leaving invisible wounds behind. A text broke me from my spell, and I considered just not looking at it. Just staying here for days until I became one with this bench.

Three weeks ago, I probably would have. Today, I grabbed it from my pocket, eyes bleary and tired from having cried for so long, and I looked at who was trying to contact me.

Dad - Hey kiddo. You said you'd be home by 10:30, and it's nearly midnight. Just checking in, so let me know if you're staying over with your friend.

God… damn it. My hand clenched my phone so tightly that it went white. What would dad say? The few times he'd talked about mom cheating on him, he'd kept his cards tight against his chest, but the sheer pain in his eyes had been undeniable. So much time had passed, and it still hurt him like a fresh wound. How would he even look at me? How would he talk to me? Would he even love me anymore?

I couldn't—deal with this alone. Despite not deserving anything, let alone good memories with her, I thought back to my many moments with Maylene. The lessons of not isolating myself to feel the pain I so rightfully deserved. If I didn't apply them here, then when would I ever?

Honey and Angel popped out of their Pokeballs with a hiss, their forms taking shape at my side. The few passersby spared them a glance at best—it was not uncommon to have trainers releasing Pokemon out at any time of the day, even if one was an Electivire. Months ago, I'd designated them as my conscience. My two pure-hearted children who wanted nothing but good for the world, yet who had me for a trainer and mother.

Angel was distracted by the warm lighting of the neon sign nearby, but a tap from Honey on his vines made him pay attention, and he instantly figured that there was something wrong with me. A couple of vines cradled my face and wrapped around me in a gentle hug while he signed a 'what's wrong?' at me, and Honey sat himself down next to me even though his frame was far too large for the bench.

The first thing he asked me was if someone died again.

I let out a sad laugh; I hadn't been the only one who'd been hurt by this year. "No. It's not that bad." Though it certainly felt that way. "Relatively speaking, I mean. It's just… I fucked up again," I said. "I keep fucking up. Over and over. I can't stop."

Angel's eyes met mine, full of pain and worry, and he asked if I wanted to go see Bella since he noticed we were in Veilstone.

I shook my head. "No. She wouldn't understand, and I don't want to disturb her and her egg with this fucking… drama." An exhausted sigh left my barely parted lips. "I…" Legendaries, just say it. "I kissed Maylene tonight."

Their reactions couldn't have been more different. Honey's eyes widened, and his hand covered his mouth as he let loose a swear that I didn't have the energy to scold him for. Angel jumped for joy, two clumps of vines clapping together as he signed that he hadn't known why I'd waited for so long when I clearly liked her. Honey brought his arm down in a swift, chopping motion, his hand slicing through the air as it connected harmlessly with the grass type's head, before telling him that I wasn't allowed to have two girlfriends.

"Technically, you can, but that ship's sailed," I mumbled. "It wasn't even just the kiss, it was everything preceding it. From the ceremony… maybe even earlier than that. I don't even know where I started liking her exactly." Going over this was making me tear up again. I leaned against Honey's warm fur and sniffled. "I did something terrible, and now I—I don't know how to proceed. Dad messaged me, but I don't know if I should go back on Princess, or get a room at a Pokemon Center." The flight would no doubt take hours, so I'd probably need a room anyway; I wasn't going to fly at night while I was tired. I just didn't know how long I wanted to stay away for. "I'm scared of how he'll look at me."

Angel's eyes gently squeezed shut with sadness, and he signed that dad would always love me no matter what. Well, he didn't call him dad, he called him 'progenitor,' but that was the same thing.

"I don't—I mean, maybe. But how can he reconcile that his daughter's done the one thing that has caused him the most pain in his life?"

Again, the Tangrowth signed while he wiped the tears off my face with a vine, saying that while my father would no doubt be disappointed and maybe even hurt, I was his only daughter. He'd forgiven me for killing people; he must have known that I'd killed even more in Coronet, or at least he could infer it. He commented, adding that this would bring a pain more personal, but he surely would forgive me again.

While he didn't know I had murdered so many I couldn't remember the actual number, what was the difference between someone who'd killed twenty and someone who'd killed over a hundred? The scale, yes, but both were monsters anyway.

Honey chimed in and gave me his best smile; his teeth shone in the night, even under the streetlight. He agreed with his sibling, but added that if I needed to, I could wait and gather my thoughts for a few days to speak to dad. The most important bit was to not hide it from him.

"Yeah." I nodded, fist clenching. "That's the kind of thing that would make him take… maybe even years to forgive me. I wouldn't." The electric type patted me on the shoulder. "I think I'll sleep at a Pokemon Center tonight and then… face the music." My hands cradled my face as I sighed. "Damn it… I hurt Maylene really badly."

Peeking through a crack in my fingers, I could see Angel ask what I wanted with her. Honey whispered not to be so direct, but instead, the Tangrowth tickled the underside of his arms until he relented. Then, he asked a broader question. In your ideal world, what would happen following this night?

"I don't know," I said. "I don't even know what I want half the time, Angel."

He asked me to please think about it.

"...fine. Let me go buy some juice or something first. I'm thirsty."

After standing up, I pushed open the door to the convenience store and was greeted by the familiar ding of a bell. The harsh glow of the neon sign outside spilled into the dimly lit interior, casting an eerie tint over the shelves. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering every few seconds. I glanced at the half-asleep cashier, who was leaning against the counter. I couldn't imagine working here without getting a headache.

She looked down at my legs with an intrigued look and a raised eyebrow, and I realized that Maylene had torn apart my tights in the excitement of practice. I'd been so out of it that I hadn't even noticed. The fabric clung to my skin in jagged strips and chaotic webs. Normally, I would have cared, and Melody would probably send me an angry text about it tomorrow morning, but I just couldn't bring myself to.

The faint hum of the refrigerators pulled me toward the back, where rows of drinks stood lined up, and I saw my reflection in the glass. The girl in the mirror looked—I looked so defeated, and my hair was a mess. I. Me. I had done this; I had cheated. My palm touched the refrigerator window until my face was no longer visible, and a smile tugged the side of my lips.

I grabbed a bottle of juice—citrus, something with a hint of sweetness to cut through the tiredness that would come tonight—and turned toward the snack aisle where I grabbed a bag of plain salted chips. The total came up to barely eighty Pokedollars, far cheaper than it would have been in Jubilife.

Back on the bench, I struggled against the bottle cap for a bit until Honey popped it open. I inhaled the top of the juice bottle and let out a relieved sigh. It smelled a little like Maylene's breath after she brushed her teeth—

I had to stop. It was over with her; I hurt her too much and I didn't deserve someone like her. She needed someone kinder. More normal. Like—like any other trainer. Or maybe soon enough, Fantina would retire, and there'd be a nice co-worker her age available for her there. Anyone but me.

For a few minutes, I sat there silently, munching on my chips and drinking my juice, until I was finally ready to answer the question.

"In an ideal world where I couldn't change the events that had taken place today," I began before licking my molars clean, "I'd want to run back to Maylene's Gym and tell her how much she means to me and that I love her. I'd want to speak to Cecilia to see what changed. If anything changed. And then I'd bring the three of us together to talk. But this isn't an ideal, utopian world. This is real life, where every action comes at a cost." I wouldn't be surprised if Maylene wanted nothing to do with me now, and if Cecilia still wasn't in the correct mindspace to realize that I was scum and she should break up with me, then I'd need to be the one to—

The one to—

Deep breaths.

I'd need to be the one to end things for her own good. Cecilia also deserved someone better than me who she could feel happy with. Maybe some prim and proper or whatever Unovan girl she'd find there, one who would be able to fill the void I was going to leave. Was I sick if part of me hoped I'd leave a void? A little one that she could still function with? I certainly knew she'd leave a void in me. Nearly a year together, all ruined because I was a selfish girl who couldn't control her desires. So selfish in fact that my heart couldn't help but ache when I imagined her happy with someone else who wasn't me—erasing myself out of the picture completely. Imagining Cecilia with someone while I was still there to be her girlfriend was fine, but without me? There was a seed of jealousy growing, its vines coiling around my heart until it hurt to breathe.

The fucking nerve of my brain.

I'd never imagined us not together; it felt like we'd be able to make it through any difficulties and come out… not stronger, but tighter for it. It was like—like a story cut short. If I'd talked it out with her like I always did with Maylene, then would we have reached this position?

But she'd run. She'd run because I had ignored every problem rearing its ugly head through the year and let her become this warped by my presence.

"Yeah. I'm going to sleep, and then I'll go home tomorrow morning," I said. "Thank you guys for understanding. The others… well, I love them, but they wouldn't understand."

Honey side-hugged me and said they just wanted me to be happy.

"Yeah. Me too."

Me - Dad I'm staying at Veilstone for tonight, sorry to worry you. I have something to tell you when I come back.

I crumpled the bag of chips and made my way to the nearest Center.



When you were nervous about something, morning somehow managed to come incredibly slowly and quickly at the same time. What felt like an eternity spent tossing and turning on your bed passed in a flash when you blinked one last time, and the Starly were chirping outside. It was difficult to breathe when I came to, as if I was being slightly suffocated—

"Mmf!"

With a gasp of air, I pushed Princess' wing off my face, and she screeched indignantly like I'd just force fed her carrots. And she looked at me like I'd destroyed one of her statues.

"What?" I said, bleary eyed. She huffed and jumped on Sunshine's shell—the fire type had been asleep, curled up beside the bed—and he groaned at her. I shook my head at the fairy. "Stop being a baby, okay? I'm sorry for not having you out last night; I just thought you wouldn't have… well, I guess you could have listened to us speak."

I'd told the rest of my Pokemon about my predicament before going to sleep (I'd needed to do it with Sweetheart separately), and while they all understood, or just… didn't care much in a certain dragon's case, Princess hadn't taken it well. She considered it a betrayal of some sort. The flying type huffed again, saying that she'd also keep a bunch of secrets from me from now on.

"Come on, I didn't keep it a secret. I just—I told Honey and Angel first, because I was in a really bad state of mind, and they're better equipped for that kind of stuff." I pushed myself off the bed, sitting at its side. I'd only slept with these two tonight—and Cassianus, who hadn't spoken up yet. "I still am, to be honest! I just waited a little bit because I don't think I could have handled the kind of advice you would have given."

There was a slight, sharp shiver in the air, and a few strands of my hair fell to the floor.

"Cutting won't do anything about this, young lady," I scolded, before smiling. "That was great control, though! So close to the neck, but you were still confident enough to go for it; I'm proud of you. You're getting better." I knelt next to her and ruffled the fur on her head.

That was that. The anger evaporated, and we were back to normal.

I abhor these… training methods, Cass said, their eyes half-closed to show us how judgy they were being. What if your head fell off? The Advisor has been telling me about Kalosian monarchs as of late, and I wouldn't want the same fate to befall you…

Why was Buddy telling him about that when he knew Cass thought we were a court. Was he pulling some kind of prank? He did somewhat enjoy scaring people… "No worries, the cut would be too shallow to actually kill me," I said. "Thanks for worrying about me, though. No incidents last night?"

No incidents to report, your grace. Ah! they mimicked a gasp. Actually, I saw a Pidgey and a Starly fight for dominance out the window at approximately 5:36 AM—wait, is this one of those things that are of no importance?

"You can tell me about it if you found it interesting." I gave Sunshine a gentle kick in the arm, and he finally woke up, warm tail sweeping across the carpet. "Mornin', Sunshine. Ya hungry?"

My morning routine was… not easy. But it was more manageable than I thought it'd be, especially after last night. That was, of course, because I hadn't turned on my phone yet or looked at my messages. Was being able to ignore the problem and act almost as if nothing had happened an improvement over just lying in bed all day? Part of me wanted to say yes, but another part wanted to berate myself for daring to chat with my Pokemon like I didn't deserve the sky to collapse on my head.

I didn't delay much—only one hour. I chatted to Sunshine about my workshopped plan for his progress, something I'd dubbed 'Star Theory,' and Princess had a drawing competition with Cass that I was the judge of. Truth be told, while she had the best psychic control of the two so far, she was horrible with crayons and kept drawing things I couldn't even make sense of. I'd ask her what it was, she'd tell me because she was too excited to wait, and then I would smile, nod, and give her the win after shooting Cass a discreet wink. I'd finally released Mimi out of their Pokeball, but they were giving me the silent treatment for staying in there too long and had morphed into a spiky bracelet to reflect their mood.

It was only when I stared daggers at my blackened phone screen that the heavy weight of dread settled deep in my chest. My thumb hovered just above the power button, frozen, as if pressing it would unfreeze time and shatter the peace. But time was still going. The world still moved despite wanting to avert my gaze, and so I turned it on.

A thumbs up from dad.

Nothing from Maylene.

An angry paragraph from Melody.

A text from Cecilia—

I nearly threw my phone across the room. How? Why? I'd known she'd be coming back soon, but now?

Of course, it had to be now. The second most likely moment for her to contact me was the morning after making a relationship-ending mistake—the first would have been while I'd been kissing Maylene. Stories were useful to anchor myself within the world and navigate its treacherous waters, but they also sometimes fucked me over like this.

I peeked at the phone screen again, but it was like staring at the sun. The light threatened to blind me; it was nearly enough to make me give up right then and there in hopes of handling this later. Later felt good. It was a nebulous term that theoretically meant soon, but was always delayed, delayed and delayed until the problem could no longer be ignored, and you had to forcefully be dragged into the scorching light. My Pokemon looked at me, clearly wondering what was wrong, and I told them the issue.

If you want, I can read it out loud for you, Cassianus helpfully said. I'm very good at reading. The Princess sometimes forces me to read her bedtime stories—

"I know," I said, voice trembling. My fingers were tight against my phone case. "I have to do it myself. I deserve this."

Enough stalling. I'd made a horrible mistake, but she didn't deserve to be ignored, especially when I'd cheated on her. Hiding wouldn't work. Eventually, she'd ask around about me ignoring her, or we'd obviously bump into each other as stories often went. The best plan of action here was to contain the situation and to not let it slip out of my control. A confrontation was coming, but if I could get ready for it…

I looked at my screen through a squint.

Cece - Good morning, Grace.

I've done a lot of soul searching these past few weeks, and I'm back on the mainland. While I would like to talk to you right away, I'm willing to give you as much time as you need. There are a lot of issues in our relationship that need to be ironed out. It's going to be a tough conversation, but I'm confident we can get through this together and start from zero. Until you answer, I will be waiting in Canalave with Chase, but if you want, I can also come to meet you.

Please remember: I love you, and I'm sorry I had to run, but I'm ready. I can wait as long as you need.


Tears fell onto my screen, and I silently sobbed for a minute or two. Her text was so—warm. She had no idea what I'd done, and I was about to break her heart, shattering it into a thousand pieces. If she'd done to me what I'd done to her, I wouldn't be able to keep going. All of the progress I'd made since the ceremony would have been wiped out in a single conversation.

But I had to tell her. She would find out eventually; it would be better if it came from me.

"When should I meet her?" I asked my Pokemon. "I—I could delay. I don't know if I'm ready; I feel like I'll burst into tears the moment I see her."

Sunshine already knew his love advice was unappreciated around here, so he shrugged and said whatever made me feel better. That was in line with Princess' answer, and Cass had never been one to direct me to do anything. I tapped Mimi, who was still brooding around my wrist, but there was no reaction.

"Come on, Mimi…" I breathed out. "I'm sorry, okay? I was—I was so out of it last night; you can't keep giving me the silent treatment. You guys complain that I don't ask you for advice, but you don't want to help me? I could just ask Angel and Honey again."

Sunshine growled out that he didn't appreciate being lumped in with Princess' antics, and the two devolved into bickering. The Meltan sighed, which sounded like an uncomfortable, quiet screech, and they pooled in my hand until they turned back into their original form. They wriggled their nubby arms, a signal I'd learned meant that they wanted to go on my shoulder, and they crawled close to my ear. There was a subtle, nonsensical whisper. It was like trying to make sense of the turning of gears, not the vocalization of a living being.

"My dad?" I asked. They followed up with their sound for affirmation. "Yeah, I'm going today, but… I can't just ask him about it. I doubt he'll even want to talk to me for a while after I tell him everything."

Their eye flattened in a line, and they wrapped around my neck as a necklace of gold and silver. They were apparently done for this morning, but I let their advice bounce around in my head while I cleaned up my room and recalled my team. I needed… direction on how to handle the conversation, and he'd been on Cecilia's side of it once. If I could ask him what to say to hurt her as little as possible…

Then maybe—

No. It was always going to be ugly; she was always going to despise my guts after, but maybe at least I could stop myself from wiping out whatever progress she'd had with herself during her trip to route 220.

"Thank you, Mimi," I said with a sad smile.

My comeuppance would come soon, but right now, I needed to fly back to Jubilife and let my father set the stage.



It was the afternoon when I made it back to my apartment. I hated being around so many people now; I couldn't help but think they were judging me for what I'd done every time I came into their field of vision. Like they could somehow see my blackened soul, and as soon as I stepped out of view they would start whispering among themselves and wish for my misfortune or death.

They were stupid, self-harming thoughts born of my desire to isolate myself, but knowing that they were wrong didn't mean that the thoughts didn't bother me. I'd taken off my ripped tights and smooshed them in my bag in order to stop turning as many heads. Melody had been quite angry at how it affected my image. Someone had taken a picture of me shambling across the street like a zombie and it had spread online. The board was getting quite angry with my actions as of late; I needed a big win in my rematch against Byron to get them off my back and remind them that I was in my position for a reason. That I was good.

A dominant win seemed far out of reach right now, however, as was a good performance at the Conference. My keys jingled as I opened the door and stepped inside my apartment. Incidentally, since it was a saturday, my dad was already home, sitting on the sofa with a can of cold beer in his hand. He was watching some… well, it didn't matter. He turned my way with a smile, which fell when he saw what must have been an awful look on my face.

"Grace?" His voice was so gentle. He must have thought something had happened to me, instead of the opposite. I had been the one to do something wrong. "Something happen?"

I bit my lip and failed to hold back tears as dad shot up from the couch and moved to wrap me into a hug I shouldn't have gotten. Awful as I was, I allowed it to happen and sank into his arm until it ended and he asked me what had happened again.

"Um, I need to—I need to tell you something I did that was really bad." I was barely holding it together. There was nothing but kindness and worry in his eyes. "And it might make you never look at me the same again."

The softness in his green eyes turned sharp in an instant. "I'm sorry to ask this, but did you… kill someone again?"

"No!" I yelled. "I didn't! Not since Coronet ended, at least." It hurt. The fact that this had been where his mind had first gone hurt so much I wanted to go to the nearest Pokemon Center and sleep the day away. "Sit down. Please."

He relaxed for a moment, but still looked slightly on edge as he slid back into the couch. My mother had told him about 'practice', or at least the fact that I was having my friends touch me to build up my tolerance, but he'd never brought it up or acted any different.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"I should be the one asking you that," he said, looking up at me. "You look like I'm about to pull out your fingernails."

In a way, he was. I didn't need a note this time; the plan was to just say it outright. I owed him that. I owed everyone that. "I… I kissed," every instinct in my body was screaming to shut the hell up, "a girl who isn't my girlfriend last night."

Another subtle shift in his eyes—disbelief broken down brick by brick, inch by inch; followed by the build up of rage. It was the flexing of muscles, the tensing of his neck, the wild glint in his eye that nearly made me run right then and there.

But he didn't scream.

Instead, he let out a long exhale that made his anger bleed away all at once. A trickle, followed by a torrent that left behind only sheer disappointment.

I'd never really known what it was like to see a parent look at me that way. Disappointment—true disappointment that cut through me, sharp as a blade, and left my heart in shreds with its bleeding remains seared into my chest. Just… there was nothing I could say. It left me frozen there without any words, because what could I say, really? That I was sorry? That he didn't actually understand the context of what had led me to this? I would have laughed at how pathetic that one was if I'd been in any position to. Another exhale, longer this time. He stared away from me and muttered something under his breath.

My father ran a hand through his thinning hair and stood up to stare out of the window. "It was that friend you were with." He wasn't asking, just confirming. His voice was cold.

"Yes."

"Sam told me that she thought there was something fishy between you two. I didn't want to believe her—I didn't want to believe you would…" he groaned and gripped the windowsill. "I thought she was just seeing things. That this would never have even a one percent chance of happening."

So that was why he'd never said anything. Why he'd continued acting as if nothing was wrong. I felt Mimi vibrate against my neck in reassurance. "I'm sorry."

"Sit down," he said.

Oh God. That tone, I—

Not listening wasn't an option. It took him another two minutes to even look at me. I couldn't bare to do the same; I was too terrified to see disgust or hatred in there and if that happened, then I would truly, truly never recover.

"Cecilia's still away?" I heard him rub his stubble as he moved closer to me. His steps were so heavy—unsurmountable.

"Yes—no," I corrected quickly. "She came back this morning."

"You're going to tell her. You can't wait; if she finds out by someone other than you, it will be ten times worse for her."

"I know. That was what I wanted to do."

He groaned like I was peeling off his skin. "Grace… why?"

"I don't know. I—I shouldn't have, but I couldn't stop and—"

"No. No, don't say anything. I can't—listen to this." Dad paced around the room, stopping only once he went around the couch nine and a half times. He crouched, and his face entered my field of view—I closed my eyes— "Look at me."

I couldn't.

"Open your eyes, Grace."

"I can't."

His hands gently gripped my shoulders. "Listen. I—I haven't handled this the best, but know that I will always, always love you."

"But I did the worst thing you can do to someone you love," I cried.

"You did. You can never make things right again, but you have to make them as right as they can be."

"How do I tell her by hurting her as little as possible?"

"You can't. There's no hidden way to just make it feel like a tiny cut you put a band-aid over. You need to understand, kid, this—this is going to destroy her."

A sob. Then another, until I finally opened my eyes and faced the truth of how much my actions would not only affect Cecilia or Maylene, but everyone else as well. My father, mother, friends—would it get out further than that? Would I get in trouble with Poketch? I'd given Melody an excuse about having trained last night on route 215, where my tights had gotten torn up in the dense woods, and while she had believed me, if she figured out that I'd lied and it got out…

Arceus, I'd lied. There was still an awful taste in my mouth; every time my tongue touched my lips, it felt like I was sampling toxic chemicals.

But my father, as disappointed as he was, did not look at me with the rage that had since simmered down within him. "I understand that sometimes, relationships are… they're tough," he breathed out a saddened laugh. "Especially with the year you've both had? No one deserves to go through that, let alone a teenager. But that's no excuse. You understand that, don't you?"

"I understand," I said.

"Your mother and I, we were going through a rough patch," he said. My eyes widened slightly; he had never spoken about his past relationship beyond how it had ended. "I worked long hours at Poketch back then to support us, and we rarely saw each other. And—I don't want you to blame yourself here, but having a baby… it's a lot of work. We rarely ever fought, but at some point it felt like we were just living in the same house. Not like we were actually married."

"So she cheated."

He nodded, shoulders tense. "I thought things would get better eventually. They never did, and she betrayed me." That wound cut him deep. Even over a decade later, it was still bleeding. "I don't know much about your relationship or what went on, but for any future ones, hear this, Grace." Dad stood up and sat down next to me, and he wiped the sweat off his hands on his shorts. "It will always hurt someone less to be broken up with. To be talked to straight up, with straightforwardness and honesty. Don't try to do things like 'sparing their feelings' by keeping your infatuation with someone else hidden."

I gave him a little affirming noise. "I honestly… well, I just didn't want to see that I liked Maylene. I think I'm an expert at lying to myself. At justifying things." I had known at some point, but I'd just buried it under tons upon tons of excuses or protocol I could jump at and hold onto for dear life. "I knew at some point, but I blinded myself to the truth. Because I thought that just the act of falling in love with someone else would be a betrayal as deep as the act of cheating itself."

Then I'd turned that concept in on its head and tricked myself into believing it wouldn't be cheating until something physical happened, and even that line had been breached. Every time my mind recalled that kiss, goosebumps ran through my arms and my face couldn't help but heat up.

"Technically, there's nothing wrong with it, though it might hurt your partner's feelings," he said. "But the most important part is that you've got to communicate. Let your partner know that you're catching feelings for someone else, and then decide how to go about it together. Tell her when you're feeling unsatisfied in the relationship, and take steps together to fix it and relight that flame. There's nothing more doomed than a relationship where no one tells each other anything."

For a few seconds, there was silence. The TV was still playing in the background—a tennis game being played somewhere in Sunyshore where people played with their partner Pokemon.

"I just wish I'd known beforehand," I sighed, pressing my face into my hands. "Before she left. I was too scared. Too scared to say anything."

"It's always scary at first," he said. "But it's the right thing to do. Both on a personal level, and if you want to go the distance." He exhaled, his chest rising and lowering to the sound of the television. "Are you ready to talk to her?"

"I—" was I ready? What would I even say? "I don't think I'll ever be ready. But I have to meet her."

He smiled at me. "You do."

"I'll go tonight."

I owed it to her and to myself.



You - Hey Cecilia. I'm up for a talk this evening, and there's something I have to tell you. I'll be in Canalave at 6:00 pm. Does the Canalave Bridge sound good?

Cecilia - That sounds perfect, I'll see you there. Gym-side, near the edge.

I must have read these same words over five hundred times in the last hour. Princess had flown me to Canalave an hour early, and I was waiting for Cecilia to arrive while looking down at the canal. Boats of all shapes and sizes filtered in and out of the narrow channel, though most were docking in for the night after a day in the safe, shallow waters near the city. Pedestrian and cars alike crossed the wooden bridge like a continuous stream of water that never ended. This place was the only way to travel between the two sides of Canalve, and I knew it was Cecilia's favorite spot in the city. I'd listened to her rant about the significance of bridges enough to know what each of the five Unovan Bridges meant. I waved at a couple of Wingull perched on the bridge's thick cables, and they cawed back—though one of them asked me to mind my own business. Princess stuck out her tongue at the flying types and blew a raspberry at them until I cut in and told her to stop.

"No need to bother the locals," I said. "We're guests here—guests who are intruding."

The fairy slowly nodded, saying that she'd hoped to cheer me up by acting silly. With a smile, I ran a hand through her fur and scritched her forehead. She leaned into the touch and cooed.

There was barely any time left. Any minute now, Cecilia would show up, and I would tear down months of history with her with a catastrophe of my own making. I felt… empty. Numb. Not terrified like I thought I would be. The anger at myself had mostly faded, leaving way to whatever this was. Acceptance, maybe?

Princess must have noticed something on my face, because she asked if I was okay.

"I'm as okay as I can be," I quietly answered. "Isn't it calm? The world, I mean."

It was. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm, orange glow that refracted on the few clouds in the sky onto the city. There was a slight wind blowing north toward the Iron Islands, carrying with it the smell of sea and salt. Maybe it was because I wasn't used to Canalave, but the sounds of the city were so quiet. The cars, the boats, the waves, the conversations—everything felt so much slower and more relaxed than Jubilife. Princess agreed, allowing the soothing sounds to sink in.

But then, she asked, if you could choose between the two. If the cheating hadn't mattered, and you could pick either Cecilia or Maylene. Who would you pick?

"I can't—"

No. I could answer that.

I gave it to her.

The corner of my vision caught Cecilia moving past two teenagers that parted to let her through, and then toward me. The illusion of numbness shattered immediately, giving way to a crippling anxiety and somehow happiness at the sight of her. I'd expected her to come looking her best and wearing something fancy like she usually did, but instead, she'd come with one of her old hoodies she'd outgrown this year over a simple dark shirt and what I knew was her only pair of jeans. She didn't look unkempt, never that, but she did just look like a person. Even if everyone looked at her like she was a terrifying creature because of her eyes and facial scars.

One look at me.

One look at me was all it took.

"Ah," she said, pain flashing across her eyes, anxious wrinkles forming like rivulets across her smooth skin as her face contorted with worry. "How bad is it, Grace?"

How bad? What did she—no. I had to stop pretending I didn't know what she meant to buy time and twist myself into a pretzel to find whatever excuse would buy me more time. The issue was that there were plenty of people walking out and about, and I'd let the story blind me instead of asking her to speak somewhere in private.

"Do you think we could go under here?" I asked, voice weaker than I'd wanted it to be. "I went under the bridge once with Justin along the marina—it was nearly empty at this time of day."

She shut her eyes. "Very well."

There was a flying platform close to the bridge, so all we'd needed to do was go there and have Princess fly us down one by one. It wasn't like she couldn't fly the both of us—we'd gone on a flying date at the beach in Pastoria a few months ago—but I just couldn't. I didn't deserve to have her pressed against my back for safety. The Canalave Marina was usually crowded where the river gave way to open ocean, but under the bridge, away from the sun, and in the evening? There was no one here but a Wooper dozing off on a bench. There were a lot of these benches lining the marina; each was framed by potted plants and something that looked like a palm tree I assumed was imported. Princess disappeared into her Pokeball, and Mimi was either asleep or silent around my neck. It was just us.

We didn't sit. When Cecilia looked at me now, it was as if she was a different person. No, maybe that was an exaggeration. She'd just… changed in a way I hadn't even expected, and it made who she'd been before stand out far more. It was just—there was a little confidence where there had once been none, and it made her so much more imposing that I struggled to look in her direction.

I wanted to ask her how her trip went. What she'd gone through, experienced and everything in-between, but that was not what I was owed.

"I'm so sorry, Cecilia," I said. "I cheated on you."

The statement hacked her to pieces. Her jaw clenched; she made a pained groan like I'd just driven a stake through her heart; she burst into tears and started to sob.

I was crying too, unable to come up with any more words. I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I could say.

"How far did it go?" Even through her tears, her death had allowed her to speak as if she was fine. Yet I knew how hurt she was.

"Kissing—" no, that made it sound like a quick, one and done peck. "I made out with her yesterday night; I left when I realized what I was doing. But it was—dates, too. Or basically dates." I stopped to see if I could keep going. She nodded at me. "Did Chase tell you about practice?"

"Yes." Anger was barely contained in her tone.

"I did that with her too. And it was—it was more than just grabbing my wrist. It wasn't cuddling either; it was more intense than that. But it also wasn't sex."

She wiped her tears, her eyes full of rage, rage, and more rage the deeper I looked. Had I ever seen her angry at me? Genuinely angry? "I came here to apologize to you." Her voice trembled with the weight of contempt. "To tell you how I'd screwed up our relationship and how I wanted to start over again from zero." A step toward me, then another, and another until I flinched when she was right next to me. "All those days spent telling me about how much you struggled with the idea of reconciling with your mother because of what she did to Arthur—and you do that to me?!" she hissed. Her breath collided with my face.

I'd never thought she could be intimidating. "I—I'm sorry. I fucked up." Her eyes were an ocean of anger and sorrow. "I don't know what to say."

For a moment, I thought she'd continue raging at me, but she started pacing around like my father had, as if she couldn't even put her feelings into words.

"I hoped. I really hoped that we could have made it work," she said. "Why—no, not why. I know why. It's because I—"

"Don't blame yourself—"

"Let me speak!" she screamed before looking at me as if she'd been about to apologize. None came. "I hate what you've done to me. A small part of me thought it could be a possibility, but—I know you, Grace. I know you're going to take this conversation in and think that it's all on you."

"Isn't it?" I said, bitterly.

"Before this? No, it was mostly my fault. Now?" She clenched her fist. "I want to say yes, but there's no point in making it a competition." Cecilia looked at the sky, where orange and blue mixed into a beautiful tapestry of color she couldn't see. "I'm breaking up with you."

I inhaled sharply through my teeth. "I know."

"I can't even look at you without feeling angry."

"I know."

"You owe me something," she pressed.

"I'll do whatever you want."

"I wanted to speak about our mistakes when I came here—about the problems we had that were always left unspoken. I hoped this would lead to new kindling in the relationship, but it would be a beautiful final act, don't you think?"

The most depressed of smiles flashed under the sunset as she outstretched her arms. A Wingull cawed overhead; the calm waters crashed against the canal's walls; the light reflected off her tear-filled white eyes and danced across her face.

She was beautiful.

"Fine. Then… can I be frank?" I asked.

"Of course. It's not like there are going to be turns; I have gripes as well."

"Gripes? How many? You're the one who—" it was odd to be on the offense. Wrong. "You said it was mostly your fault." I struggled to sound confident. The statement had been a probing one, something to test the waters. "Tell me a gripe, then."

"You cheated on me," she said as smooth as water. "That's the first one."

"That one is obvious."

"Oh, are you getting angry I'm pointing it out?" she asked in a harsh, mocking tone. "Should I keep going?"

"You—if we ignore—" I had no idea how to phrase this! "All of this could have been avoided if you told me to just leave her be! You told me to keep seeing her! I thought you were genuinely worried about her!"

"I was. But I was also blinded by my hatred of her father, because I saw herself in me and I didn't want Oscar to win," she explained. "But let's be honest here, Grace. You'd just told me she was the only person you could have fun with, and I was about to break your heart. I was worried about what you might do."

"You? Worried?"

"Yes. Do you think I don't worry about you?" she pressed.

I laughed harshly. "Cecilia, you killed yourself." The statement made her recoil for the first time as if I'd physically struck her. "You committed suicide, and we never even fucking talked about it!"

"You never even asked!" she yelled.

"Because I thought you wouldn't like it!" I lashed out. "I thought you wanted to move past it! But do you know how it feels to have your girlfriend kill herself? To have to relearn the way she speaks, moves, sees things, and how you interact with her? Did you even think about me before having Lehmy use Perish Song?"

Cecilia squinted at me, and she readied to yell, inhaling like an Exploud. "Of course I thought about you! I always, always think about you to the point where I can't—couldn't do anything else!"

I scoffed. "Oh, so now it's my fault for just fucking existing, then?"

"It's not. It's my fault for never separating myself from you and learning to become a person!"

"Don't change the subject. I can keep doing this all day." For so long, I'd suppressed all of this. Buried my head in the sand to bask in her love and the comfort she afforded me. "We never talked about it. And then you just run. Again! Because we never fucking talk! About anything!"

"Do you think I never wanted to say something?" she asked.

"Then why didn't you?! It's all I ever wanted, Cecilia!"

"Because I thought you wanted me as I was! I thought that if I changed or shackled you with too many of my issues, you'd drop me for someone else! And evidently, you fucking did!"

"Wha—that's what I felt!"

"Well only one of us shoved her tongue down another girl's throat." The smile she gave me was so vicious I wanted to both run away in tears—not that I wasn't already crying as she was—and to blow up at her even further. "I wanted to be… whatever you wanted me to be. I just wanted to be with you, Grace. And to be there for you."

Well you did a horrible job at it was the horrible thought that wormed itself into my mind. "You weren't. And I also wasn't for you. I—I couldn't help but feel like I was walking around eggshells after Coronet." What if I said this, and she tried taking her own life again? Or that, and she ran away again without a word? "And can I—I'll be real for a second, you made me feel so abnormal sometimes!"

"What?"

"Like—I wanted to be normal for you. I wanted to be an average girl that wouldn't embarrass you, and whenever I failed, you made me feel like worse than dirt."

She looked at me like I was insane, the sheer non-understanding on her face so exaggerated that I'd never seen her so emotive, even before her death. "Are. You. Kidding me?!"

"No! Obviously I would not be kidding in this very awful fucking moment!"

"Grace, I love you because you're abnormal," she said. "I'm the furthest thing from normal—look at me!" She stared, white eyes wide and hands pointing at her scarred face.

"I wasn't a person until a few weeks ago!"

"What does that even mean?!"

"It means I didn't know how to live without you! And I still don't!"

"So a few weeks away from me and everything goes so well for you?" I bitterly noticed.

"Don't you even start," she said.

"You told me to start! And now I can't stop! You said you like that I'm not normal, but I—I can't be my full self around you!"

"How? I have seen you at your worst and best. Engulfed within the depths of stories, revenge, symbolism and everything else, and every single time, I have stood by you!"

"Well—maybe in practice!" I faltered. "But it didn't feel like it. It felt like you were pushing me a certain way. Like—random one off comments you said to me that I'd turn over in my head for days."

"Grace, do you really think I had the inner strength to actually mean any of that?"

"I wouldn't have known!"

"Why didn't you—" why didn't you tell me, she'd wanted to ask, but we both had the answer to that.

"And it felt like you never trusted me. Not truly, anyway. Like when you asked me not to look at your emotions? I mean, I get it, okay? I fucking get it!" I threw my hands up in frustration. "And I know I'm prone to addiction, and that it's within your rights, but it hurt me, okay? It hurt me so, so bad to think that you thought I was some kind of… some kind of monster."

Again, the story was much the same. "I didn't mean for any of that. I just couldn't—I didn't even get a day to let knowledge about your powers sink in! And that was while learning about Backlot and the full extent of your Gym Battle with Maylene!" Cecilia yelled. "It was hard for me to—after Malamar—" she sat down on a bench with a sigh and ran her hands over her face. "I never thought you'd actually do anything. I just wanted to set… boundaries. How could I have phrased that better?"

"I don't—I don't know!"

"Should we scroll through the text? I remember being as gentle as possible. I told you I trusted you, that I forgave you. That I loved you despite everything."

"Well it's difficult to tell over text—"

"You were the one who wanted it to be a text, remember?!" she cried out. "We called, then you hung up, and you decided to text! I didn't want to pressure you!"

My teeth clamped down on my inner cheek. "I…that's not the part my mind focused on."

"I can't read your damn mind, Grace!"

Again, it was the lethality of silence that did us in. So many instances where worries that had festered could have been dealt with by using a single sentence, sometimes a single word. The fight kept going for a while. She brought up how uncomfortable me fixing Louis' fear of the end of the world made her; I brought up her reaction to the ring I'd gotten her for our birthday party and how humiliating her reaction had been. She brought up how jealous me talking to her about the ins and outs of Maylene in Veilstone made her at the time, and I brought up how I'd tried to change for the better after Backlot while she'd thrown herself into the throes of revenge and how her path up Coronet had left a trail of blood behind her because of how obsessed she'd been with the idea of killing. Of course, she told me that she thought I'd agree with revenge when she'd revealed Justin's death, but it was never that simple, was it? I'd expended all this effort to be better, and she'd just done the opposite. She complained I'd never told her about what I'd seen with Dialga, and I did the same. I asked her when the last time we went on a date was, and she just looked at me in disbelief before wondering out loud when, exactly, since the bombs, would have been an appropriate time to go on one of those, and that was when I realized we'd never really seen eye to eye.

It was painful, it was raw, it was everything we should have done before today. It went back and forth and back and forth like a never-ending merry-go-round, each word spinning us deeper into a cycle we couldn't break. The heat of frustration rose with every exchanged glare, every bitter remark. We both knew we were circling the same issue, but neither of us wanted to stop, to let the silence fall when it had engulfed us for so many months before. Each time there was a moment when it felt like one of us would give in—just a breath, a pause—but then the stubbornness crept back in, pushing us to speak once more.

Everything was aired out within that single hour, and we were left exhausted by the end. Like we'd been battling. Cecilia was sagging against the stone bench, and I was lying on the floor, struggling for every breath. My voice was almost dead, as was hers from all the yelling, but the situation felt strangely cathartic. Even if we both were crying again, and she now despised me for what I'd done to her. Even if I hated myself for cheating on her. Even if I so desperately wanted to embrace her in my arms, kiss her and to start over again in the moment. I wanted to see her growth as she learned what she liked, hated, and who she wanted to become.

I wanted to be a part of her life. I wanted to matter to her. I wanted her to hug me and tell me that all was forgiven.

This wasn't that kind of story.

Catharsis also didn't mean it was bittersweet. It wasn't even just bitter; it was acidic, poisonous, ruinous. A calamity ignored, the build-up of tension no longer able to be contained after so long, lest we both withered away and lost each other again just after having caught a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel.

Cecilia sniffled on the bench. The sun had set now, and our only source of lighting was flickering street lights and a dim, half-moon.

"It's over, isn't it?" she said.

Yes. Not over in the sense that she was breaking up with me—that much had already been said. There was just nothing left. No trust, no connection, no life; the remaining embers of love churning in the furnace would never be enough to sustain this. We'd both hacked away at the rotting wood that was our foundation, using emotional lethargy as our weapon, and I'd given the last kick to send the whole structure tumbling down.

"It's over," I said.

"Do you think we could have made it work if you hadn't cheated?"

"I don't know. I hope so. I want it to be so." Then, a pause. "Will you ever forgive me? Like… years down the line?"

"Probably not—I do not know. The rancor I feel for you is deep—I resent you."

A prickle in my eyes. I'd run out of tears. "Yeah."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I know. I'm sorry too."

I rolled onto the bricked floor, turning to stare at a boat passing us by. There were so many lights. When it was gone, Cecilia spoke up again.

"A word to you," she said. "It's going to be tough with… our friends." She was obviously going to tell them; that was fine. "I doubt you'll find much refuge within the group. Denzel will stick around." He probably would, even though I didn't deserve it. We were tight. "You already did the deed, so… don't isolate yourself from the other people in your life."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm not going to spell it out for you," she rebuked me. "Just… go be happy. Don't smother your own hope to death."

I shot up, clothes dirty from lying on the ground for so long. "Are you sure?"

"Why are you asking for permission? It's not like you did while I had my back turned," she said, her voice full of venom. "Just—just go."

When I checked the time on my phone, it read 7:23 PM. I adjusted my collar, patted down my clothes and looked at Cecilia one last time. She was splayed out on the bench; you'd be able to mistake her for a corpse rather than a living, breathing person with how little her chest and stomach rose with each breath. Her eyes had taken a tint of red from crying so much.

"I'm—"

"One last thing," she interrupted. "I met Honey's parents on route 220; they told me that they wouldn't meet him again and that you should tell Cynthia to stop looking for them. Or him, I suppose."

"Wha—"

Her hand grazed the side of one of her Pokeballs, and Slowking appeared with a familiar pop and hiss. "Do me a favor, darling. Please carry me back to the Pokemon Center; I've no energy left to walk." Something was said between them, but I wasn't included in the psychic link. "You could say that would be severely underselling it," she said. "I'll tell you when we're back home."

The water type glanced at me for a moment, but a wave of his hand, and Cecilia was encased in a transparent bubble where she lay curled up into a ball. I tried calling out to her, but she didn't even react—he must have cut off sound from the outside world.

Just like that, she was gone.

Gone forever.

I stood there in a daze—cheating or not, the topic of Honey's parents wasn't something Cecilia wouldn't have lied about. She knew it was too important, and he had nothing to do with my actions. So she'd… met them, and they'd said to stop looking?

No. No, I would not do so unless Honey himself told me to, even if it took years to find them. He was owed.

But right now—

I unlocked my phone screen, sending a message to Maylene. It was just her name, nothing long-winded yet, but the red circle next to the chat bubble meant I'd been blocked—fuck, fuck, fuck. What could I do? I didn't have access to Kadabra now that I was out of the Lily, and Maylene had been the one to constantly supply me with Teleporters during the past few weeks.

There was only one option remaining.

I needed to fly back despite the fact that it meant I'd arrive in the middle of the night. I loved her. The others would judge me for the brazenness of it, and I didn't deserve happiness, but I sure as hell wanted it! With renewed determination, like a second wind at my back, I released Princess and hopped on top of her before even explaining anything or putting on a saddle on her back.

She smiled up at me, not even needing to ask me where to, and burst through the air eastward. I placed myself flat against her, gripping her fur tightly as she sped up until the world below us became a blur. The wind whipped past, cool and sharp against my face when I realized that we'd just broken a law by taking off from there.

I glanced back to see if any Rangers would show up and follow me, and only relaxed when there were none tracking me out of the city. Mimi vibrated against me, their form loose against my neck.

"I know what I want!" I yelled, though I wasn't certain they could hear me at this speed. I could barely keep my eyes open. "Now I just have to hope she gives me a chance!" The clouds swallowed us whole, thick and damp, until they parted like curtains to reveal the stretch of horizon ahead.

Please wait for me.



My clothes were damp by the time we landed in Veilstone right in front of Maylene's Gym. I shivered as I got off Princess, who shook herself off like a wet Herdier, but it didn't do much to dry her. She still looked thin when all her fur clung to her skin, and to not embarrass herself in public, she demanded I recall her this instant until she could be dried.

I acquiesed before checking my phone. Maylene was set to wake up in a few hours, since she did so every day at five in the morning for work. I'd be waking her up early but—but if I waited any longer, I'd get cold feet and lose myself in a self-deprecating quagmire that meant I would never have been doing this. I already knew I was awful; repentance for that could come later, or at least an attempt at it. With a spring in my step, I jumped from stair to stair up to the entrance, and I knocked repeatedly until my knuckles hurt.

A sleepy-looking short woman named Jenna frowned at me through the glass door before opening it. "Grace?" She gave me a questioning look. "Are you here to see Leader Maylene again? We weren't informed—"

"I need to talk to her; this is urgent," I said. "Please, let me in."

She stared at me as if she'd been about to tell me ten reasons why that was a bad idea, but a good look at my resolve told her it'd be too much work, and she shrugged, sighing out a defeated "okay."

If I hadn't spent enough time here to become a common sight, she never would have let me in. It gave me a little sense of belonging that made me feel warm as I climbed the stairs and made my way to Maylene's room. I stopped at the door, taking a sharp breath. I'd come this far; stopping now would be idiotic. Once again, my fingers violently knocked against the newly-repaired wooden door until I heard slow, lumbering steps behind it. Oh, Legendaries. What would I even say? I hadn't come with a plan or anything

Maylene opened the door.

Tired. She looked tired like she hadn't slept since we'd kissed, and all she was wearing was one of her khaki tank tops and a blue pair of boxers she probably slept with. She froze in place when she saw me, like I was the last thing she'd expected.

Her face turned away and stared at the doorframe. "Grace. What are you doing here?" she asked, the life and usual joy sucked out of her tone. What remained was a withered, flaky voice that I barely recognized. I'd seen her angry; I'd seen her sad; I had never seen her crushed.

"Maylene!" My voice was a little raspy from all the yelling. "I—I—" just. Fucking. Say it. "I came to talk to you about yesterday. And that—first of all, you should hear these words from me. I love you. Like, I seriously, seriously love you."

She blinked at me. "What?" she uttered in disbelief. Had she expected me to break things off officially with her if I ever came back?

"Can I come in?" Please."

She leaned against the doorframe and sighed. "I'm… not sure that's a good idea, Grace."

"Then I'll say it out here, okay? Cecilia and I broke up—well, she broke up with me, but there was just… so many issues in the relationship that it—it kind of felt mutual by the end? Obviously I'm the one at fault, though." There was no denying that we would have tried again without Maylene in the picture. "And I know how this looks, okay? You might think that I'm only coming back here for you as some kind of cheap rebound because she left me—"

"Isn't that what's happening?" she asked.

"No! I—okay, listen. Before the argument even began, Princess asked me a question. If I could choose between you two, who would I pick? And I said you. And the answer felt so—it felt so right that I didn't know what to think." I grabbed her wrist and touched her skin; it felt like fire against my palm. "Look at me, Maylene. I would never… I want to hope that I would never use you like that. I want us to be rock solid."

She started tearing up. "Grace, I ruined your—"

"It was already ruined," I interrupted. "And yes, you and I both did wrong. We were both horrible people." A sad little laugh escaped me. "But we can't take it back. We opened the box, and we can't put our feelings back in. Or at least I can't. I love you, Maylene," I said again.

Maylene wiped her eyes with an arm. "So what are you asking?"

"I—I'm asking if you would want to at least try things out with me. And I'm—I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm ready for labels yet." I was determined to make this work, but… "So soon after… it would feel so unmerited. I'd like to take things slow, but if you want, I can just take that leap. If you think it has a shape that's more solid, and it reassures you."

"No, it's fine—" she paused and exhaled in defeat. "Just come in." She dragged me inside and shut the door behind me. Her dimly-lit laptop sat on her coffee table in front of her couch. "Do you want anything?"

'You' would have been a good answer here, and the absolute truth, but now wasn't the time for comedy. "It's fine."

She didn't keep talking, instead making her way to her bathroom. A few seconds later, she brought me one of her towels and gently placed it on my head.

"I'm just going to ask straight up, Grace. Is this real?"

"What? Yes it is!" I forced out, feeling a little anger rise within.

"It's hard to tell sometimes. Sorry." She started drying my hair—she was so close. "Even I get swept up in your stories. You're very… good at bringing people into your own train of thought. And very good at masking the truth to yourself. I just want to know if this is another façade that's going to collapse in a month and leave me even more hurt."

"It's not!" I grabbed her hand and placed it on my chest so she could feel my heartbeat. "This is real. I'm so anxious I feel like I'm going to die, Maylene. I want this to work out so badly with you that—that it's difficult to breathe."

She was blushing. I could tell even if her living room was dark because of her breathing pattern.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in like, a pervy way," I mumbled, letting her hand fall from my chest. ""I love you so much that it hurts, Maylene. I love how silly you are and how you try to make me laugh when I'm feeling down. I like how combative you are and how banter feels like verbal sparring with you. How vulnerable you let yourself be with me. I love your strength, not just in battles, but in how you face everything life throws at you with that quiet determination. You let me see the parts of you that no one else gets to, the raw and real side, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. I don't just love the good moments—I love the messy and the quiet ones, too. The ones that remind me how real we are, how real this is."

She smiled at me, genuine and slightly misty-eyed. "Then I—I think I'd be willing to try with you. And I'm okay with taking it slow."

My heart danced in my ribcage, and I couldn't help but grin at her. "I promise you won't have to wait long to call yourself my…" the final word was already implied. "Thank you for believing in me."

"Don't make me regret it, 'kay?" she asked.

An awkward silence settled in, and I kicked the air, unable to stop smiling from ear to ear. In a few hours, the high would probably pass, and the bad thoughts would come again, but that was okay. She was here to help me stand on my own.

"We should probably—go over the contract again, no?" I asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea," she immediately said.

We sat down on the couch, somehow more shy about being so much closer than we'd ever been before. I was so hyper aware of her that I started to think about how amazing her fingers looked when she was using her phone and how soothing the sound of her breath was in the total silence of her living room. As we shared a single document, and she was better at typing when she focused on making no grammatical mistakes or abbreviations, she was the one who'd update the contract while I watched.

"Even though we're kinda sorta… dating, it doesn't change your predicament," she said. "You're prone to self-justification to breach boundaries, and to co-dependency. And since I'll still be working a lot, especially ahead of the Conference, our schedule will have to stay pretty rigid. I don't know what it's going to be like with your friend group…" she trailed off with a hint of guilt.

"Oh. Well, I'm pretty sure Chase and Pauline are going to hate my guts," I sighed. "Emi and Louis? We'll probably be on speaking terms, but not friends anymore. I think. Denzel… things will be awkward, but we'll be fine."

"Are you okay?" she asked. "I mean, you've known them for a long time."

"I don't think it's sunk in yet, honestly. I'm not… comprehending it yet. I probably will when I start getting their furious texts and get kicked out of their group chat."

"Okay. Well—you'll have to rely on Denzel, Marley and Jess, then. And maybe the Poketch people? You need more friends."

"Hey…"

"I mean more close friends, jeez," she said. "You only have Denzel right now. I have Nia, Candice, Volkner, Roark—wait, they're probably going to hate me for this."

"Hate's a strong word."

"Right… they'll be disappointed, at least. And the older Gym Leaders too, 'cause I want to be honest with them. Whenever we go… public. That's fine, right?"

"Yeah." I grabbed her hand and smiled at her. Never would I have thought that she'd be the one wanting to tell the world we were dating. "I'll tell Melody right away so Poketch makes some preparations." That seemed to put away all remaining doubts Maylene had about this.

She smiled at me. "Okay… well, I don't think Cecilia would say anything, but what about the others?" Her fingers interlaced with mine.

"I don't think any of them would, honestly," I said. "They're good people." Unlike me.

"Okay. So I guess our meetups will be the same, we can schedule more of these later." We hadn't really, given that Cecilia had been coming back soon. "Maybe we can go to the arcade or something."

"Oh, I'll definitely beat you at the arcade." The last time I'd gone had been with Emilia, so I was experienced, and Maylene never played games.

There it was—her competitive streak I'd grown to love. "You're on. The winner's the one who wins the most games overall, and she gets one favor from the loser."

"Be careful what you wish for," I threatened teasingly. "Sounds good to me, though."

Next, Maylene moved on to the biggest topic on the contract: practice.

"Honestly I—I kind of like practice?" I shyly mumbled under my breath. "When we were doing it yesterday, the darkness entirely disappeared, but… can we keep it? It kind of keeps me grounded, and it gives me something to look forward to. Not that just being with you isn't great!"

"Only if you ask nicely," she said, all smug.

Ugh. I knew she wanted to keep it just as badly as I did, or she would have voiced her disagreements already. Still, I'd entertain her for now. "Can we please keep practice in our relationship." I made sure to accentuate the word to press her buttons and make her blush and fumble pathetically. "Heh."

"Heh," she mimicked to mock me. "Fine."

Maylene did make sure to include that we'd only practice once every two meetups. She'd gone for three originally, probably hoping to entice me with that number, but she wouldn't fool me!

"Oh. Y'know, I kind of graduated, didn't I? We should make every session fifteen minutes," I said.

Another win, and that one came far easier, since she seemed just as eager as I was. We also decided that every greeting and farewell would warrant one free hug that couldn't go above ten seconds. There were special clauses for a bunch of different situations, like handholding when out and about, or small, innocent touches I liked to make all the time. There were limits, especially when compared to my relationship with Cecilia, but we were still far freer now than we'd been before.

"Um. Wh—what about… k—ki—"

"Oh, kissing? Sure, let's talk about it." I beamed at her, fingers playfully grazing her arm. She froze at my touch. "I mean, while I'd love for there to be no limit—"

"Grace. You would kill me."

"What? Not at all!"

My protests fell on deaf ears. "You were terrifying yesterday when you kissed me," she said, finger fondly tracing her lip. "It felt… really good, and it was a good kind of scary, but it was scary nonetheless. I felt like I was being hunted…"

I waved a dismissive hand at her. "Don't exaggerate; there was just a lot of pent up desire in that kiss. Not every single one's gonna be like that—wait, that was your first, wasn't it?"

"I did tell you that you're the first person I fell in love with, so yeah…" she was so cute when she was bashful. "I'm not really experienced at anything."

"That's fine! You were honestly great," I said. Maylene discreetly smirked at the praise. "Sorry about how forceful I was; we'll take it slow from now on. What about… I don't know, five kisses every time we meet?"

"Five?"

"That too much? Give me a number."

"I was thinking two!" she exclaimed. "Maybe one when we see each other and one when we leave?"

"How about three? It's a nice, clean number."

"Oh, so now you like threes." She scoffed when I stuck out my tongue at her. "Give me your argument for three."

"Well, obviously I want to kiss you, I mean, look at you," I said. I kept going, ignoring her flustered reaction. She was always used to doing the complimenting, and not the other way around. "It's true that three is satisfying in terms of numbers, but I think your framework is too rigid. Knowing when the kisses come takes the fun out of it, I think we should be allowed to do it whenever."

"Hm. That's… pretty fair."

"Also, does this mean three per person or three total?"

"Let's start with three total for now—and I assume you're going to follow the spirit of the rules and not just take them all for yourself every time." She made expecting eyes at me, and I was forced to agree. "Good. If you behave, then maybe we'll think about making it three per person. Now let's go over…"

We continued to define the length and intensity of what would be a proper kiss. Obviously, as much as I wanted it, what had happened yesterday wasn't something that could count as one kiss. That was in the Making Out Clause, which was TBD until we settled into the relationship a little more. Overall, we must have spent nearly an hour going over every nook and cranny of the contract, and I gave both my verbal and written signature on the document. Of course, all of this would have to be reworked when we went long distance, but hopefully we'd be able to make that work. She had said she'd probably be able to go to Unova for a month at some point if she proved herself capable of handling the responsibilities of a diplomatic mission, and worse-case scenario, maybe I'd be able to go see her on a trip. Like, for a week or two maximum if I had the time. Unlike this year, it wasn't like much was going to happen.

Maylene really pressed on the point that I needed to meet new people there, though. Without Cecilia with me, I'd only have Melody. That was a big step for someone like me, who 'needed a big support network.' Maylene's words, not mine. Not that I disagreed with her.

"And… one last thing, Maylene," I said. "I—I want us to communicate well, so I need to tell you this." Honestly, it should have been said far earlier, but I'd been so swept up in the joy of her accepting me that I'd forgotten to say it. "I still have feelings for Cecilia. Now that doesn't mean anything for us!" I quickly added before her expression soured too much. "I'm not gonna try and get back with her or anything. Even if she wanted to, I'd say no. I just want to be honest."

She let the thought sit with her for a moment. "That's okay. I can't expect your feelings to change just like that." Maylene snapped her fingers. "Thanks for telling me."

"Thanks for understanding. And for trusting me. Arceus knows I don't deserve that after…"

Maylene cupped my cheek and looked into my eyes, not to kiss me, but just to reassure me. "We fucked up," she agreed. "But I love you, dork. Let's try and make this work."

I nodded and put my forehead against hers with a smile. "Let's."

A/N: Well, that's the end of this… arc. I'm sure this won't be controversial whatsoever! Cecilia fans, don't fret; she'll keep being a main character even if she's stopped dating Grace. That's kind of like, the whole point, really; the break up has been foreshadowed since Solaceon, where they talked about the longevity of their relationship, and cracks continued showing up all throughout. Also, a reminder that I abhor cheating, and none of what happens in the fic means I approve of Grace's actions. Byebyee.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 331
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 331

"Excuse me?" Melody's tone was akin to a coiled Ekans waiting to strike out from the underbrush. "Did I understand that correctly?"

I grimaced, barely stifling a groan as my fingers curled into my bedsheets. Outside the window, Jubilife stretched before me, the sunlight flickering onto its buildings in the distance, while Mimi dozed peacefully on the windowsill, completely unaware. I hadn't stayed long after working out all of the details with Maylene and I's relationship. Instead, we'd taken the collective decision to send me on my way with the help of one of the usual Kadabra, who was pissed he'd needed to wake up for this. With the emotional highs of last night, we could have gone too fast and made a mistake. After having a long talk with my dad about potentially dating Maylene—who he only knew as the girl I'd cheated on Cecilia with and a Gym Leader—things were a little tense around the house, but he promised that he'd try to look past this if I never made such a mistake again.

Regardless, I'd called Melody the morning after to tell her about everything, and I had not slept for even a minute. "Cecilia broke up with me… because I cheated on her with Maylene," I hesitantly said again in between yawns. It still didn't feel real. Like I was going to wake up from this any second now. "And we're going to go public soon, if possible?"

There was a long sigh at the end of the line, followed by an almost silent curse. "This explains so much; I was going to call you in a few hours."

"Huh?"

"Check your messages," she ordered dryly. I'd rarely seen her like this; she reminded me of my father. Cold, focused anger, with the need to explain exactly where I'd gone wrong.

My laptop was still charging on my desk, so I moved over, pushing the notebook I'd planned to study stars on away. There was already an alert when I flipped it open—a message from Chase chewing me out and calling me every insult under the sun for hurting his best friend so badly. He had ended it with 'don't ever show your shitface to her or talk to me again, jackass.'

I hadn't replied, instead taking in the pain and diffusing it with the help of my Pokemon, who had kept me company deep into the night. They were mostly all asleep in their balls, save for Mimi and—my eyes flickered upward—Buddy, who was, as usual, a pool of water shoved in a nook of my ceiling.

There was nothing else from the others, but I'd been kicked from the group chat without warning as predicted earlier in the morning. I took the phone away from my ear and whistled to Jellicent until he slid into my sleeve and became slightly warm. The heat would help with the courage needed to get through this conversation, but it'd also be good to keep him hidden like a knife in the dark should someone try to kill me—

Oh.

Right, that was done and over with. People weren't after me anymore.

"There," she said.

Right. Messages from Melody. Blinking the tiredness from my eyes, I clicked on her name and saw three new pictures other than the one of me shambling through Veilstone with ripped tights. The first had been clearly taken in Canalave, and was one of Cecilia curled up in a ball as Slowking levitated her back to the Pokemon Center within a barrier. The second was of us talking on the bridge before leaving to fly on Princess slightly over an hour earlier. The third was a little tougher to tell. I squinted and zoomed in until I figured out it was a blurry picture of me on Princess in the sky.

"The third one is you flying away from Canalave," she pointedly explained. I waited to see if there would be any more coming, like me and Cecilia screaming at each other, or me breaking the law by taking off outside of a designated platform, but there was nothing else. "It's easy enough to piece together now. People are already speculating online that something broke the two of you up—I just never thought it would have been cheating!" she yelled. "What compelled you to do this?"

"I dunno. I shouldn't have, I know." My foot started to tap on the ground. This conversation never got easier no matter how many times I had it. Good. "Th—the relationship was just in a horrible place. It had been for a long time, but we were so private that none of you knew. And before you say I should have told you, Cecilia and I also… didn't really know."

"Look, I don't know Cecilia; I understand you two have been through a lot this year, but this… okay, it wouldn't be catastrophic if it came out, but it sure would be horrible. Another grievance the company would have with you to add to the pile."

A lump formed in my throat. "Am I gonna be demoted? Fired?" Maybe I hadn't paid enough. Maybe the world would keep coming to collect for what I'd done, equalizing the weight of my sins and paying it back in hurt.

My liaison sighed—I could almost picture her cradling her forehead at the coming headache. "Not yet, but you're toeing the line, Grace. I can't keep protecting you forever, you understand?" I nodded as if she could see me. In truth, I hadn't been what Poketch needed for a long while. "With Cynthia breathing down the board's neck, they understood not to rock the boat, but that protection is largely gone. That means you're going to be put to work."

"What does that mean in detail?" I asked.

"Since you came out of Coronet, you haven't been doing much of anything for the company," Melody said. "And I know that you were coping; you've been through a lot, but the board doesn't see you as a living, breathing person. They see you as a money printing machine who's run out of ink, and you don't keep a broken printer, Grace, especially not anywhere where everyone can see it. You replace it with a new one and either throw it out or put it in the attic, away from any eyes."

I chewed on the inside of my mouth and felt Jellicent wrap around my arm, telling me to keep my head on my shoulders. All wasn't lost; there remained an opportunity to hold onto my position. While I didn't really like Poketch as a company, at least I liked my co-workers. Even Aubri, to some extent! And I wanted my name to be sung far and wide to audiences that would remain unreachable without the company to push me to those heights, or at least right now.

And if—

If I lost Poketch, I would have nothing left. I needed structure in my life.

"Now, I don't want that to happen to you no matter what I might think—far from it." That surprised me. Genuinely, it took a moment for the statement to sink in, and I stopped myself from scoffing. I honestly thought she'd… yell at me for cheating? She didn't really care for any moral quandaries. "Not only do I genuinely like you even if you're tough to work with, whatever happens to you reflects on me and my position."

"So what are we going to do?" I asked, my voice small.

"Do you have a calendar?" When I answered yes, she continued. "You are going to work your ass off."

"Okay."

"Before saying okay, let me lay it all out for you so all of our cards are on the table. You're supposed to be one of the main faces of the company, but what have you done, really, to warrant that?" Besides Craig pushing me to the board… not much besides growing quickly as a trainer. "Exactly," she said, taking my silence as an answer. "You don't go out in public to meet fans, you don't battle in public, you don't do tournaments, you don't do interviews, you don't post on your socials beyond the bare minimum and your account reads like corporate spiel—" That was their fault! They were the ones who shackled me and controlled whatever I wanted to say! "—people know the idea of you and how you fight, but no one really knows you besides a few people inside the company. So tell me, why should we invest more in you when you're barely giving anything back, especially ahead of the Conference?" Melody paused for a second. "That's what the board is starting to think, at least."

"I get it," I acknowledged with a long exhale.

"We're going to thrust you into the public limelight in a way you haven't been… ever, really, even if we count that Veilstone interview with Mallory." There was a hint of displeasure at that name I shared with Melody. "To start with, your merch is officially releasing next week. June 13th. We're going to set you up at a public booth where you can meet your fans at one of the venues we own—they've been selling Craig merch like cookies there." Arceus, I did not need the remember that the business I worked with was exploiting their figurehead's death for profit. "You'll meet your fans, interact with them, take pictures, and probably sign a bunch of stuff. It would be nice if your Pokemon could as well."

The idea of so many eyes on me was uncomfortable, not because I was shy any longer—Poketch had been pretty good at beating that out of me—but because I hated the fact that they might be able to see the evil in me, and my interaction with that kid in Twinleaf didn't bode well with my public speaking capabilities should any unpredictable questions be asked. Part of me wanted to negotiate a better deal with Melody, but it was far too late for that. There were no more favors for me to trade in; this was where the rubber had to meet the road. Either I put up and showed I was worth something, or I'd be pushed out of the limelight.

"Uh. I don't have a signature." I grabbed one of my pens and twiddled with it. "Well, correction. I do," I'd signed a bunch of stuff from the few fans I'd actually interacted with, which had mostly been in Sunyshore when I'd been at my happiest. Helping Erin and her club… gosh, that had been fun, "it's just that it's not proper. Like—Craig's signature's really nice, smooth, and professional and stuff. I just write my name weird."

Her fingers snapped. "Perfect! That's something for you to work on—a nice-looking, recognizable signature is important marketing. Can you come to HQ today?"

"Yeah." I'd definitely need to sleep the rest of the day.

"Great."

"So… that's it, right?" I scribbled down June 13th on my calendar, making it in red with a bunch of horrible circles to remind myself of how it was going to be a shit day.

Melody snorted. "Are you kidding me? I said you'd be working your ass off; this is just the start!" She typed something on her keyboard and hummed. "You haven't given an interview since Veilstone—you're going to give a few more ahead of your eighth Gym Badge. Tell battling-focused channels how you're feeling on your rematch with Byron, et cetera, et cetera. They eat that stuff up; Craig used to give these all the time before he got all paranoid. Speaking of! You'll be challenging Byron at most a week after his Gym opens. That should be… from June 20th to 27th—"

"Wait, what?!"

"I told you, Grace. The Board's putting their foot down," she gently rebuked.

"But what if—what if I'm not ready?" I sputtered. "I've been working on this awesome move and we've been making slow progress, but—"

"It's a hard deadline. They actually wanted it to be the day of reopening because that sells better, but I gave you a week of breathing room. And when else were you going to do it, anyway? The Conference is on July 5th! You don't have time to be meandering; it'll be full throttle from here on out."

"I guess I'll try my best…"

"Use the opportunity to train in public and give out advice to those who need it, why don't you? Well, obviously keep whatever new stuff you have ready hidden." Most of that stuff was for killing things, Arceus damn it! Not that they couldn't be adapted for battle, but still. "We don't want Byron to get the jump on you. Ideally, the board wants this to be a dominant win. 4-6 is—"

"4-6?!
Are they fucking insane?!" I screamed, making Mimi glare at me in annoyance on the windowsill. "That's just like… impossible!"

"I said ideally. It's not a hard line; a win is a win, but it would make them look at you far more favorably." A long, drawn-out groan escaped me no matter how much I'd wanted to keep it in. "Keep your chin up, Grace," Melody said. "We're kicking things into high gear, but you'll have to work just as hard in Unova to get our feet off the ground there. Can you swing by the Poketch Building at 12:30? We'll take a lunch there and talk about your worries before we work on your signature with the team. It'll be the same people that helped you prep for your interview—I know you prefer to work with familiar people."

I had known that eventually, I would have to get back into the swing of things, but this was more than I'd ever, ever done. And it was all at once! It was far too late in the year to have any build-up to it. I felt the confines of my bed calling me, but I shook my head and dug my nails into my palm. Maybe if I worked, then I'd forget to be depressed about losing all of my friends.

That was not… exactly a healthy state of mind.

But we all had to start somewhere.

"Now, this leads us to the final topic I wanted to approach today on the phone—we're going to need to send a team of lawyers to your friends to talk about signing an NDA—"

I balked, shooting up from my desk as adrenaline immediately diffused through my veins. "What?!"

"Grace, obviously we're not going to hope they don't say anything. Don't fret the details, the company will handle it. We can do monetary compensation to sweeten the deal, along with favors or vacations or whatever the hell they're gonna throw at 'em. I don't speak much legalese."


"Me—Mel, you can't!"

"What do you mean I can't? It's out of my hands; I literally have no power over this. And this is to protect you and your reputation. Someone who maims and battles like a brute? Very marketable. A cheater? People hate that because things stop being that cool thing you see on TV and things suddenly become real." I started packing my laptop into my backpack— "And before you think about confronting someone high up in the company, stop. It'll just make a scene." I froze.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! Not only would they hate me, but they might think I had something to do with this! I knew them well enough to know that none of them would sign that NDA, no matter how much money they threw at them. Hell, half of them were filthy rich already! I'd already hurt Cecilia enough; she didn't need to go through the pain of confronting that we were over by getting bullied by some legal team…

"Sorry, Grace. It's just the way things have to be."

"Melody, you doing this literally makes it more likely they leak everything!" I exclaimed, thinking of Chase. A bunch of men and women in suits pressuring him to do something he didn't want? He was going to blow up! "Let me—what if I speak to them, at least before they send the lawyers, so they don't get ambushed?"

"Hm, I might be able to sell that," she muttered under her breath. "Tell them about how abrasive Chase Karlson and Pauline King can be and how it'd be better to prime them for those negotiations… yeah, I'll see. By the time you get here, I should have an answer for you."

I released a tight breath. "Thank the Legendaries. Okay."

"You gotta move fast."

"I will!"

Contacting any of them directly was out of the question… though maybe Emilia or Louis were doable. Emilia especially knew a lot about law—she and Pauline had been the ones to coach me when that first company had tried to sponsor me by flashing big numbers in Eterna City. It'd be better and safer to go through Denzel first, given that I didn't want to step on any toes, but…

But the problem was that he hadn't actually messaged me yet.

Managing to keep my nerves calm throughout this morning was one thing, but if he dropped me too?

I—I wanted to call Maylene, I—

Another soothing sound from Buddy who slipped out of my sleeve. Our eyes met, mine meeting his red glow, and I bit my lip.

Not now. Not unless I was literally on the verge of lying on my bed and doing nothing all day.

He'd contact me eventually. For now, I needed to get ready to head out and start working.



Everything was so uncomfortable.

Skin that was hers and yet wasn't. Muscles she could move, but felt sluggish like they belonged to someone else. Eyes she could see through but were like looking through a screen. Cecilia had learned to cope with her new body after death, but the fact that her future would be one without Grace was difficult to reconcile, especially now that the rage from their confrontation had… not abated, but only been somewhat tempered. The ache for Grace was ever-present, a dull pulse beneath her thoughts she couldn't shake, a knot she couldn't untie. Yesterday, the anger had burned so fiercely she feared it might consume her entirely, but today, it simmered beneath the surface, waiting. It wasn't gone—it would never be gone—but it had quieted, leaving behind a sort of hollowness in her, however ironic that may be.

She still remained shallow, and without anger to fill that empty space, what was she?

Nothing yet.

Yet what could Cecilia do but put one foot in front of the other, pressing ahead until she learned to go from a waddle to a confident stride where she would never stumble? A fist clenched, just to snap herself out of her thoughts, and she opened the door in front of her.

A door closed behind her, both real and metaphorical; a dozen more had opened. She'd been freed, but freedom—true liberation—was so much more terrifying than she thought it'd be. She had believed herself free since she'd escaped from her father's physical clutches, but she had just moved on to a bigger cage.

Inside Cecilia's Center room were all of her friends.

Chase stewed in anger in his wheelchair, teeth clenched and hands wrapped tightly around the armrests. His knuckles were white, the tension in his body making the chair creak ever so slightly under the force of his grip.

Denzel looked… guilty, his eyes finding the floor to be the best of companions. His arms were crossed, and he was recoiled in on himself, shoulders pulled, as if the weight of his own consciousness had forced him to retreat inward. As soon as he noticed Cecilia, he shot her an apologetic look for reasons he had already told her. Denzel had known something fishy was going on, but hadn't said anything because of how happy Grace looked. It would have been enough to make Cecilia lash out had she not vented everything out the day before. Besides… it wasn't as if she hadn't wished for Grace to be content as well once everything had been said and done.

Louis was next to him, and they'd evidently been speaking in hushed tones before Cecilia had come back. Her old fiancé gave her a tight nod that was a little forced—he was uncomfortable with this entire situation. What Grace had done… it shattered the view he'd had of her. Odd and violent, yes, but he'd found her to be dependable, sweet, and someone who would never betray the people closest to her. Alas, even Grace had her limits to the pain she could take.

Pauline was uncharacteristically quiet and had been the entire day since Cecilia had broken the news. She'd expected the redhead to blow up much like Chase had. While she'd remained unquestionably angry, it was deep within her and masked by a thousand questions running through her mind at all times.

She'd considered inviting Mira in, but the girl was busy these days with her uncle and Lauren. She'd sent a few messages in support, but Cecilia was under no illusion that she wanted any involvement in this when she was on the path to a relatively fun and healthy life. Maeve had never been that close to Cecilia, and she wanted to amputate herself from the group anyway.

Emilia had come to hug her, something Cecilia eagerly returned. The embrace was warm, grounding in a way she hadn't realized she needed. She clung to Emilia a little tighter, as if trying to draw strength and warmth from the contact, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt.

"Cleared your head?" she asked.

"As best as I could," the reply smoothly came.

Her friends had let themselves into her room for some sort of emergency meeting on the topic of what to do about Grace, and things had gotten so heated that Cecilia had decided to leave for a walk. There had been many unsavory questions by her fellow trainers in and around the Pokemon Center, but a glare from her sent most who approached her the message, and they'd mostly left her alone after that.

Most of the shouting had been between Chase, Denzel, and Emilia. Chase had wanted the entire group to never speak to Grace ever again, like dropping her off the face of the earth, and considered any non-obligated contact to be a betrayal of some sort.

Emilia felt the emotional weight of Cecilia's anger and could somewhat relate even though she'd only been through a fraction of the pain. She'd said that she would support her no matter what and do whatever Cecilia needed of her to make the transition to her independent, single life as smooth as possible. Single. The mere thought of it felt odd, like Cecilia was missing half of herself, but Arceus knew she needed it.

Denzel wanted them to clear their heads and reevaluate things when the anger and shock subsided. He posited that they'd all been through too much to let this admittedly horrible event cut Grace off forever.

Cecilia thought it to be nonsense. She never wanted to see that girl ever again; it would be too painful, akin to running her heart through a meatgrinder just to make him feel better about the fact that their group wasn't as tight as it used to be when the world was ending. Denzel was many things, but he was no agent of great change. Cecilia was, however… not against them talking to her or remaining friends with her, even if the idea left a bad taste in her mouth.

Chase scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, Cece. I got a little heated, I—" he winced. "I didn't know it'd affect you like that. I forgot people don't just… get as angry as I do. I mean, she—she tried justifying that shit by using me." He lifted up his wrist and slapped it. Practice, Grace had called it. "Fuck her."

"You're fine—" she crushed the words worming their way out of her mouth. Voice your discontent; cease being subservient. "No, you aren't fine. I told you to stop focusing on throwing out insults and fighting with anyone who disagreed with you when the focus of this meeting was for us to communicate about what we were each going to do. The next time, please listen."

He sighed out a small "yeah," accompanied by a nod.

"Now that we've stopped fighting and that I thought about how to proceed for a while," Cecilia began, "I've decided to afford all of you the freedom of choice. I will be honest and say it would hurt me terribly to see you talk to Grace as if nothing had happened—as if she hadn't extinguished the embers that perhaps could have been reignited." Though that was a little unfair of her. If Grace had wanted to break up with her—fine. Cecilia just wished she'd waited. "But I won't force my feelings on any of you. You each have your own hearts, your own judgments to make."

Cecilia cast a heavy gaze across the room, waiting for each person to make their decision.

Chase was first. "I'm with ya all the way." He'd clearly wanted to say more but restrained himself for her. Good.

"I still have to think about it," Louis said. "I'll—I'll have to let you know when I come to a decision. I just can't fathom… Legendaries."

"She was hurting," Denzel tried. "Hurt people hurt more people." Chase just about piped up, but Denzel pressed, "you of all people should know that, Chase."

"Wouldn't hurt the person I care about the most. It'd be like me stabbing Ri in the back! The people I hurt were strangers I didn't give a fuck about because I was an asshole to everyone I met. And I still am an ass. Just be fuckin' honest, Denzel. The girl's your best friend, so you want to forgive her for fucking up. Whatever." Despite brushing it off, it was easy to tell that Chase clearly wasn't 'whatever' about this.

Cecilia glanced at Emi. "Like I said, I'll take it slow and try to hurt you as least as possible," she said, pushing a strand of her auburn hair away from her eyes. "Right now, that's staying in your corner—not that I'm eager to speak to Grace either. I just… you know, I also figured she had a thing with Maylene; I just never thought she'd go that far. This is also on me, not just Denzel." He gave her an appreciative nod. There was a short stretch of silence until she cleared her throat. "But if we're being honest, I'm of the opinion that this is a good thing in the long term. You two breaking up."

"Huh?" Chase sharply questioned.

"I think they both need to be single for a while—but if I'm only getting half of that, them not being together is going to help them." Emilia smiled at Cecilia. "It hurts right now, and it will for a long time, but you'll find your own path like I did, I promise you. Er, no offense meant, Pauline."

"None taken. We spoke about this," she said.

"Speaking of. What about you, Pauline?" Cecilia asked. "You've been quiet." Pauline had shrunk more and more the further Emilia had gotten into her point of view despite her words.

She let out a little groan as if she was a cornered animal waiting to be snatched. "I dunno. I mean I—I saw directly how fucked she was when you left, Cece. She couldn't even get out of bed. She was just decaying."

Cecilia felt a pang of guilt that grew and grew until she barely kept it at bay with deep breaths. That was part of why she'd left the door to Maylene open. Because she knew how Grace got when the world hurt her.

And Legendaries, she'd hurt her a whole lot.

"I can't get myself to feel too resentful. And I really tried, y'know?" Pauline said. "I was angry when I learned the news, and I'm still angry, but every time, I picture her just… lethargic on her hotel bed, her room dark and damp. And I think—she needed someone there, and if that someone was Maylene, well, it fucking sucks for you, and it doesn't make your pain worth any less, but it's what she found to survive."

"Grace is like a lightning bolt," Emilia added with a nod. "She needs a conductor to connect with, something or someone to channel her energy, or she'll just fizzle out. None of us offered that because—"

Well.

None of them wanted to say it, but Grace was just… a lot of work—Cecilia was as well, she knew, but that wasn't the point—even if they all loved her deep down. Either they'd been too busy with their own lives or dealing with their own trauma, but none of them really had the time or the will to put facets of their lives on hold to keep her centered except for Maylene. Cecilia ignored the furious jealousy bubbling inches beneath her skin, ten times that of the worst she'd felt when she'd been friendly with the fighting type Gym Leader and seeing the two of them interact right beside her.

Cecilia would get over it eventually. She had to. The love she had for Grace was like a deep, unshakable root that had grown this past year. It was a love that had weathered storms, one she thought was unbreakable and would last forever. And yet, that same love was tangled up with a fierce enmity and disgust, a bitter sting that came from the betrayal of Grace's infidelity. She'd left the argument somewhat satisfied, if not hurt, but it felt like there was still so much left to be discussed. So much to yell at her about, and to be yelled at for.

Oh well. It was too late now.

That love had to disappear eventually, right? It was just too early.

Arceus… how could she feel both love and resentment? And the fact that she still loved, still wanted what was good for her. She hated that her heart refused to let go, that it clung to the idea of Grace despite the betrayal, despite the pain. And the more she realized how much she still cared, the angrier she became. It felt like a betrayal of herself, like she was weak for not being able to simply cut her out and move on. And Cecilia knew she just needed time to process everything, that she should allow herself to grieve and give herself time, but she was just—

So angry.

"We have our verdicts," Cecilia said before faking a smile. "Thank you all for coming here today; I'm glad to still have all of you in my life." That depressive, self-deprecating part of her had thought that maybe they would abandon her as well, but it was just foolish conjecture from her inner self who wanted to push her to always remain miserable. "Chase, shall we go train and prepare you for Byron—"

"Grace messaged me," Denzel interrupted. Cecilia had noticed him looking at his phone, but had made nothing of it until now. "She wants to meet me? Like, ASAP?" He gave Cecilia a look.

The Unovan shrugged, trying to act as if it didn't bother her. "Do as you will, Denzel."

"Can I come with?" Pauline asked.

He nodded. "If you're sure."



By His grace, stop fidgeting! You're making me nervous because I'm in your head all the time! Mesprit whined in my head. Ugh, your name shouldn't even be Grace. You humans should have stayed in your lane.

"If you're nervous, just cut that off," I grumbled. "It's not like you're the literal embodiment of emotion or anything."

Where's the fun in that? I want to feel everything at once at all times! You're just unbalancing things! they whined. Keep playing with the Ingot and entertain me until your fleshy friends get here.

"Haven't you been entertained enough in the last few weeks?" I quipped, feet tapping anxiously against the floor.

Oh, you've been a riot! Mesprit giggled. I hope you feel better soon, though!

I brought Mimi up to my eyes and squished them like dough, stretching and prodding until they let out a chime-like giggle. The meeting room I'd been directed to was sleek and impersonal, designed for business, not comfort. The long glass table at the center gleamed under the cold, bright lights, reflecting the chrome accents of the minimalist chairs arranged around it. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, interrupted only by a large screen and a single abstract painting that I didn't really understand. Originally, I'd wanted to meet my friends in public or maybe in an available Center room, but Poketch had voiced their displeasure immediately and shoved me into one of their offices in Canalave instead.

Admittedly, it was safer this way. Away from the curious eyes and cameras of the public seeing us interacting now that the rumors about Cecilia and I breaking up were going wild online. It was even trending on Chatter, though thankfully nowhere near the number one position. The trainer community was swirling with endless speculation about how often Maylene had been seen in Jubilife and me in Veilstone as well, though that was a lot more hushed and kept to confined circles. I'd grown better at browsing Chatter since Maylene had shown me how on multiple occasions.

The things that specific subgroup was saying about me… well, it was mostly true, if not greatly exaggerated, but I didn't care. What a minority of them were saying about Cecilia or Maylene? Super fans of mine putting all the blame on them for my relationship collapsing—you know nothing about us or any of what we've been through! I wanted to yell, yet I couldn't. Because I was a public figure.

I really needed to make that alt, didn't I?

We should browse this website more often, Mesprit commented as I scrolled through my phone with Mimi on my head. I enjoy seeing what people have to say—oh, wait, scroll back up! Arceus, I could feel their excitement buzzing about my head. 'That Cecilia bitch didn't deserve our Grace anyway knife emoji, knife emoji, knife emoji—wow! The human mind is so interesting!

It didn't have any likes or any replies—again, these were just a few people my mind couldn't help but focus on. The username was Tyler Galloway with a bunch of numbers at the end. I put my phone on sleep mode before a mistake could be made.

Aw. I wish I had my own cellular device!

"I wish you wouldn't harass me about looking at the worst minds the internet has to offer." Sometimes, it was cute. Others, well… it was annoying, especially when I was still so emotionally raw from my breakup.

Hmph! I'm being nice because you're my friend!

There was a slight upward quirk in my lip. "I know; you can tell when you're going too far anyway. Honestly, talking to you is helping keep my mind off things—"

There were footsteps in the corridor behind the door, then voices growing closer and closer. My breath hitched in my throat as I scrambled to stand up and put my phone back in my pocket. Mimi followed suit, jumping in the opening for whatever reason when I'd told them they didn't need to hide anymore. It must have been a habit. I'd planned out what to say and how to say it, but plans I made tended to go off the rails quickly. Sometimes, that was welcome, like my talk with Maylene in the ceremony leading to us somehow getting together…

My train of thought stopped for a moment. It still made me feel guilty to be happy about it.

There was no time to dwell on those feelings. The door to the meeting room swung open, and two women in sharp suits ushered Denzel and Pauline inside. Their nervous energy mirrored my own—fidgeting hands, uneasy glances. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing us in. Suddenly, we were alone.

"Um," Denzel started as he grabbed a chair; he was nearly inaudible, "we should probably sit?" He was the first to do so, making so not to put himself against the backrest.

I plopped myself back down on mine, ignoring a giggle from Mesprit about how nervous I was when the stakes were so low. Maybe on the scale of what we'd faced before, they were, but to me, these friendships mattered. I'd tried to ignore the fact that they were collapsing just like I'd ignored the world ending that day with Cecilia at the lake, but now that they were right in front of me, it took everything I had not to prostrate myself at their feet and beg for forgiveness. There was a certain… space in between us. On the one hand, it was physical, with Denzel and Pauline sitting on one side of the table and me on the other; on the other hand, it was emotional. I'd hurt them so much that everything felt distant now, from the way they looked at me to how their eyes darted around the room. It was like they were looking at a stranger.

And that stranger was me.

"Ah—shit, no need to cry, I—" Pauline stammered. She circled the table and placed a hand on my shoulder while Denzel clenched his forehead.

"It's just so difficult…" I sobbed. "I'm sorry fo—for fucking up."

I cried for… probably a good five minutes. I was just tired, really. Part of me was happy that I was even surviving this day, but deep down I just didn't believe that was allowed under any other circumstances. When Denzel gathered his thoughts and joined in to hug me, I was well enough to speak again. I would have returned it had his back not been delicate; the progress he was making with walking again was astonishing, even if he was still slow.

"I know I have no right to ask, but how is she?" I made pleading eyes at my… I didn't know what they were, now.

"She's doing okay. Chase knows the most," Denzel said. "Obviously, she wants nothing to do with you anymore. At—at least for now," he added, slightly hopefully.

"I already know," I said. For now? That was enough to nearly make me laugh. He was as optimistic as always. "And the others?"

"Shellshocked?" Pauline guessed. "That's a good word for it. I mean, we never really thought you guys would… break up this way. We always thought you were the kind of couple who'd stay friends even if you separated—"

"Pauline," Denzel said through his teeth. "Not the best moment to say that stuff?"

She looked at him apologetically and raised her hands. "Ah. Sorry."

It was true. If I'd waited, if we'd split amicably, then this would have felt so much better.

Unfortunately, in life, there were no takebacks.

Not without Godly intervention, anyway, Mesprit so helpfully commented. It's out of my purview; don't get mad at me. Take it up with Celebi!

Cele-who? Blegh, whatever. Probably some other deity whose mere presence could kill me. I sniffled a few times and wiped my tears with my sleeve.

"So I would have explained more in my text, but they were adamant to keep it as ambiguous as possible," I hesitated before continuing, shooting them an anxious look.

Pauline nodded and crossed her arms as she walked back to her seat. "They had us sign some sworn-to-secrecy nonsense before going in here," the redhead spoke before sitting. "We did it because we trust you, even after everything."

"She still gave it an extensive look. We were down there for like an hour and a half." Denzel patted me on the back and smiled. "And look, things are gonna be awkward—hell, they're awkward right now, right?"

I let out a sad laugh. "I feel like my flesh is trying to crawl out of my skin, like my body's rejecting itself. "

"That's a nice way to put it." He said, squeezing my shoulder. "But I still want to be your friend, Grace. And even after you leave, I want to keep in touch despite the fact that it's going to be weird for a while."

"Me too!" Pauline added. "Though y'know, I also want to be here for Cece." I cringed at the nickname I was no longer allowed to refer to her as. "It's a tough balance to strike, but I want to make it work because we don't want you to be on your own. It'll just… take a bit to get used to this."

"Speaking of that, how have you been doing?" Denzel asked.

Telling them about my day so far was a little fun and relieving, especially when going over how much of a struggle coming up with a new signature was. I'd ended up with one I liked, with sharp lines, and that was easy to replicate en masse. This did lead perfectly to the main issue I'd come here for.

"The company wants to make you guys sign an NDA," I explained, tasting ashes in my mouth. "I told them that I trust you guys not to say anything, but I won't be able to stop them from at least sending a million lawyers at you. I figured it'd be best to warn you guys before you were ambushed."

"That makes sense." Pauline drummed her fingers on the cold, glass table and crossed her legs.

"They'll try to bribe us," Denzel said.

"Not bribe, Denzel. Bribery is illegal; this would be negotiations for settlement," the redhead corrected. "I mean, I'd have to get mommy's lawyers to represent us and look over whatever—I doubt Emilia wants to be involved with her parents beyond the minimum politeness she affords them. Personally? I wouldn't mind signing it?"

"I don't think any of us would except for uh, Chase," I winced at the name, "and maybe Cecilia? I'm not sure."

My throat tightened, and I gripped the sides of my chair. "Do you think she would—"

He cut me off. "No. It might just be because of the principle of the thing, though. She wouldn't leak anything." Denzel reassured me with another pat. "But she's really angry, Grace."

"Conflicted," Pauline corrected. "Angry makes it sound like she's out for blood; she just… well, she's hurting, but she's trying to move on and failing. Emilia's already told her she's going too fast…" she trailed off, and I knew why she'd gone silent. Pauline just didn't want to speak about Cecilia's anguish while I was in the room.

Had she asked them to keep quiet because she didn't want me to hear anything about her?

"Well, we're here for her, so you don't have to worry," Pauline added with a smile as she leaned forward in her seat. "Focus on yourself. And we'll—we'll tell them about the NDA, but it shouldn't be much of an issue. Even Chase didn't suggest sabotaging your reputation by leaking your affair. I really thought he'd go nuclear, and we'd have to stop him!"

"Thanks." I wanted to breathe out a sigh of relief, but couldn't bring myself to. "Err, they'll probably send lawyers to Mira. Can you guys get in on that too? I don't want to ruin her—her happiness, I guess." That was half of the truth. While I knew she was happier with Lauren these days, I also was too exhausted from everything I'd done today to set up another meeting, and there was a time limit Poketch had given me for this.

"We'll do that," Denzel said.

They didn't stay long afterward. Things were still stiff between us, and it would take a while for them to return to the way they were, if at all. I'd been… completely wrong about Pauline's reaction. She'd been so friendly to me when I'd expected only screams and bitterness that it made me smile when I remembered what her reaction might have been if this had happened when we'd first met.

I stretched in my seat and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Maylene was calling me—

It was her lunch break!

"How's my dummy doing," she gently said. I cradled the phone against my ear and took refuge in her voice. That was me. I was her dummy. "Tough day today, huh?"

"Ugh, the worst," I smiled. "I miss you, Maymay." I hoped that was okay to say.

She stammered a bit at the sudden nickname. "I—I took an extra long lunch break to talk with you because I knew today would be the hardest," Maylene said. "Remember, if things get out of hand, you can come by."

I loved her and wanted not to disappoint her enough not to abuse her kindness. "I'll be fine. I have nothing else going on today, so I think I'll just go out and train with my team before heading home. The excitement and anxiety from today's keeping me awake."

"Need me to send a Teleporter?"

"Nah, Poketch has it handled," I said, playing with my hair. "Anyway, let's start with the happy stuff first—did you know that making a signature you like is sooo hard? I mean, I needed Princess' help…"

I went about my day with her, and she went along with hers when I was done. I laughed when she talked about a feisty Tyrogue who had declared himself her rival during their sparring session today. "Kept rushing at me during sparring, never letting up. I'll give him credit for his persistence, though," she recounted. "He'll make a good fighter for people with one to two badges; I'm glad he agreed to come with me." She went on, talking about the gossip about us at her Gym, and to be honest, people talking about us, but in… a positive manner made me feel giddy inside.

"You know," Maylene hummed, "I know you're gonna be busy this week with Poketch stuff, but if you want to decompress tomorrow, I have an idea for you."

"What is it?"

"Why don't you go see Candice in Snowpoint?"



Friends were important. They were the ones who stuck by you through thick and thin, helping pull you up in harsh times until you were elevated to heights you never would have reached on your own. To this day, part of me wondered how I'd survived fifteen years of my life without a single real connection. Times hadn't been as hard back then—nowhere near what they were now. The most I had to deal with were laziness, loneliness, and fear of the prospect of the future. What would I do if I didn't go on the Circuit? Many roads were open to teenagers with this quandary, whether that be to get an apprenticeship somewhere immediately or to continue on to secondary schooling until they graduated. That then opened the road to university or better work prospects—so many doors opened it was nearly dizzying.

Fifteen years was a terrifying number to reach. It meant making a decision that would affect the rest of my life, and the tingles I'd felt every time I'd watched a battle back then had always been ignored, with Princess' delicate self chirping and waving her arms in my embrace. What if she got seriously hurt? It was a fear I'd only truly gotten over after my loss to Byron.

Walking in the midst of Snowpoint was odd. It was warmer than it had been in winter when I'd last gone after our escape from Coronet's craftiness, but it was still cold and blanketed in a thick layer of snow that reflected the harsh sunlight back into my eyes every time I stared too long. Military trucks drove throughout the city, distributing supplies to whoever needed them, whether that be water, rations, or medicine. Oftentimes, I'd see Indigoan men and women accompanying Sinnohan League Trainers as they rode on the backs of the trucks, their faces hardy with the weight of duty strewn on their visage. It wasn't rare to see annoyed Kadabra shivering in the cold, Teleporting things to and fro throughout the city. The ones belonging to Kanto-Johto all donned an armband hewn in gold and silver.

Snowpoint was a lot more somber than the rest of the region. The people here still wore the toll of the bombings on their expressions, and off in the distance, ginormous cranes moved tirelessly in the city's port, participating in the ginormous effort to get it repaired by the next month.

I made my way toward the Gym, which was a little smaller than I remembered. It was nestled in one of the corners of the city, away from the brutalist, dreary architecture that easily put even Veilstone to shame. The Gym Trainers were expecting me, so once I showed through the glass door, they let me in. I took a few warm breaths and blew hot air into my hands as one of them led me to wherever Candice was. Snowpoint's Gym was a lot less narrow than Maylene's. The hallways were wider, and many areas had more windows that allowed natural sunlight to filter in. It was something you'd expect out of Gardenia's Gym.

Candice was in one of these many sunrooms, sprawling on a beanbag with a laptop on her lap. She'd opened the windows to let the cold in, but even then, she was wearing a T-shirt and a short brown skirt. The only thing that might have protected her from the cold was the puffy high socks she had on.

Her Gym Trainer cleared his throat twice to get her attention, but she beamed when she saw me.

"Grace!" she dashed toward me and nearly suffocated me in a hug that barely lasted a second. "Thanks, Art!" Candice saluted sarcastically. "You may return to your duties!"

"Sure thing," he deadpanned—he must have been used to this. "Don't forget. You blink once or twice, and June 25th is right around the corner."

"Blegh." The Gym Leader pulled out her tongue. "The standards they put on our Gym is a tragedy, my dear Arthur." I blinked, surprised that he shared my dad's name. "We'll get it done, though."

The older man grinned. "Damn right, we will."

They shook hands with a firm, open-palmed slap, hands colliding with a solid clap, and the trainer was on his way. It was interesting to see the different dynamics Gym Leaders had with their trainers. Maylene had spoken about how Candice was basically friends or at least friendly with a lot of hers, though I distinctively remembered her slacking off whenever she could afford to.

Which right now, was never.

"Grace! My favorite blonde!" Candice grinned at me. "Don't tell Cynth I said that, though. I was waiting for you to get here. Come on, come on, follow me."

"What about Volkner?" I questioned, more idly than anything.

"He's moved down the rankings recently due to a severe case of broken heart," she said. "You don't want to bother him when he's like that; he gets all antsy and acts like the world's ending until you light a fire under his butt. He's kind of a hopeless romantic."

Candice led me into one of the hallways again. Compared to how it had been when I'd last been here, her Gym was night and day, with the corridors bustling with activity everywhere I looked. Two engineers looked over a tablet of some sort and talked about problems with the lighting… somewhere; a Trainer carried with her a tray full of minimized Pokeballs; a group of Gym Trainers huddled near a door, deep in conversation about the latest strategies to handle challengers that would soon be pouring in. The hum of voices and the faint sound of Pokemon training in the distance gave the place a pulse it hadn't had before.

Candice seemed to glide through it all, nodding at familiar faces as we passed. "It's been hectic lately," she said, glancing over at the engineers. "We've been having issues with the heating system in the battle arenas—frost is great for battles, but not when it starts messing with the equipment and we need to keep our staff warm. We've been going a little too hard on the training to prepare for the rush of challengers."

As we turned a corner, a team of maintenance workers rushed by, pushing a cart full of tools and cables. "Maylene's had a bit of those issues," I said.

Candice practically squealed. "Gosh, you and Maymay! Can you believe it?" The ice type specialist elbowed me. Maylene had informed me that she'd be telling both Gardenia and Candice because they were her closest friends and confidants—whom she had also informed of the… kissing the night it had happened—so this wasn't a surprise. "And to think you weren't even on speaking terms before all this Galactic B.S., huh?" She leaned toward me with a sly expression. "How's it going with her? Give me the deets!"

Blood rushed to my face, and I ignored her teasing at my blushing. "I mean, it's been like, two days," I said with a nervous laugh. "We're taking it slow, I guess. Haven't seen her since I confessed, but we'll be having a date at—"

"Ooooh, you confessed?" she exclaimed. "Just joking, I knew that; Maymay's told me already. Anyway, you two have basically been dating for like, nearly a month at this point. Tell me what you like about her."

Why'd she have to put me on the spot like this? It wasn't like I didn't know what to say; it was just embarrassing to say it out loud to someone who wasn't her. "It's not just a big, sweeping thing. Uh, it's a lot of little things added together—the sum of her parts." I launched into everything I loved within her. Her competitiveness, her drive and diligence, the way she showed she cared for me like planning this whole day out just so I had a friend to hang out with! Each time I listed something, I'd throw in an example of something she'd done in line with that to accompany how great she was. Some of it, I kept to myself. Like how vulnerable she looked under me, or the eyes she made when she wanted to be kissed—I stopped those thoughts before they could go too far. And yeah, she had flaws, but that was okay. I really wanted this thing with her to last—

"Okay, okay! I get it, sheesh," Candice faltered.

"Oh. I kind of rambled on, didn't I?" I sighed, shaking my head. I needed to be better about these things. "Sorry, I—"

"It's fine! It was really cute!" she laughed. "The truth is—this was a test."

"A test?"

She opened a door and let me in. It was kind of a waiting room with a bunch of thick snow shoes and winter Gym uniforms lying on coats lining the walls. I sat on one of the benches which were wet with melted snow.

"Yeah, you know." She sat next to me. "Like, when the gruff old dad tests his daughter's boyfriend before letting them date in the movies—put on the shoes."

I took off my boots, which looked puny compared to these. "Did I pass?" I painstakingly began putting them on.

"With flying colors! Nia's kinda sorta worried about you two still. Expect to be tested whenever you visit her Gym! That's next week, right?"

"Early next week, yeah." It hurt to think that my idol was still wary of me, but I hadn't really given her a reason not to be. She'd been the one to tell Maylene to block me when I left that night. She'd called the grass type Gym Leader in tears, desperate for direction.

"Anyway, Maylene's smoothed things over now, but Nia hates how cagey she's being about some kind of contract?" I audibly gulped. "She really thinks it's weird—Legendaries, you should have heard how fiercely Maylene defended you. She's really into you! Me personally? I think being normal's boring. Nia kind of has this blind spot where she thinks she's your average Jane, but she's such a weirdo too." She'd already finished putting two of her boots on when I wasn't even done with one of mine. All of this velcro was annoying… "It'd be nice if you two got along. We could watch a movie or something, the four of us. Horror, of course." Candice shot me a thumbs-up.

I snorted. "You got any more good suggestions—"

"It'd be like a double date!"

A… what?

A double date?

Date? Were Candice and Gardenia dating? Since when?

"You two are a thing?" I probed with hesitation. Maybe I'd gotten it wrong—

"Ah, yeah. We started dating just a few days before you guys officially did, actually. Both Maymay and Nia are scaredy cats when it comes to horror, so you know, I was thinking it'd be nice for the both of us. God, she's so hot…" her eyes flicked upward as if she was recalling Gardenia's appearance. "Sorry. Sometimes I think about her 'cause she's like my fuel to get through the day. Anyway, just be yourself like today with her, and it should be fine. Need help with those boots?"

"I'm fine." I was still a little shaken by the nonchalance of that revelation. "What are we gonna be doing?"

"Well, you're good with Pokemon, right? We have a bunch out there that we need to take care of, and I'm on duty today. We're gonna feed 'em, solve disputes, ask if there's anything we could improve for their well-being, things like that."

"Oh, that's cool!"

She grinned. "Isn't it just?"

Once my boots were finally on my feet, I decked myself out with one of the coats, which Candice couldn't help but note how I rocked it before making a joke about how I should come and work for her. We left the room, and the cold hit my face like a truck. As much as I complained about the heat all the time, I missed summer and feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. What lay in front of us was, well, the wilderness. Endless stretches of snow and ice, as far as the eye could see. The ground beneath was a hard, icy crust, crunching underfoot with each step. Snow-laden trees loomed in the distance, their branches bending under the weight of fresh snowfall. A few trainers were out and about patrolling, though most were flying on Staraptor high above us.

Off to the side, a group of Snover shuffled around a cluster of frost-covered bushes, their icy exhalations hanging in the air like small clouds. A Glalie hovered silently above them, and his signature hardy expression turned soft as Candice passed them by. She was leading us toward a wooden cabin of some sort at the pen's center.

"Like I said, we keep basically all of our auxiliaries out here—that's the wild Pokemon who're only working in the Gym for a while. Either because they want safety, or a change of pace, or want to train and improve in a short period of time. Those are the big three anyway; every case is different. Our Gym's a little special because of how many of these we have, but I mean, that's the advantage of living in permanent winter." There was a small pause that lingered in the air. "Wanna bond over how it sucks that we can't see our girlfriends all the time?"

The sudden change in topics made me stumble in the shallow snow, but she grabbed me with a chortle. "Sorry, sorry," she sheepishly said. I'd even let her calling Maylene my girlfriend slide, not that it didn't make me feel all fluttery inside.

"What? I mean—is that okay?" It felt wrong. Within me lay the belief that I just had to bear through with it, that any complaint would just mean I was too dependent on her. I just… really didn't want to fuck everything up. "I mean, Maylene told you about, uh, my issues, right?"

"A little; she said that you'd tell me if you wanted, but essentially, it's co-dependency."

"Hmhm." I awkwardly shifted in my coat.

"Silly Grace. Missing your girlfriend's just being human," Candice chided in a teacher-like tone. "No need to deal in absolutes. Boundaries are well and good, but you don't need to pretend it doesn't bother you and bottle everything up. And we have it really hard, y'know?" she whined as she stared at the sky. "I mean, Jean-Pierre gets to live with Wake, that lucky sonuvabitch!"

"How's he like? I mean, I've seen some interviews, and I know he runs some of the day-to-day stuff…"

"Oh, he's a sweetie—he wouldn't hurt a Cutiefly! And he makes the best fried shrimp I've ever had—you know, you guys should meet one of these days. I could take you. He might dislike you because of how you and Maylene got together."

"Aren't you all busy?"

"Pfft. Once this Circuit's over, we're all free! Though some of us will have a lot of work to catch up on." She whistled innocently and kicked some snow, whispering a complaint about how hot she felt in this coat. "You're… struggling with your friends, right? Maymay told me. If you ever need to, you can hang with us. Volkner, Nia, Roark, Maymay, and I always hang out during the Conference. And hey, you can meet the others too."

Excitement prickled beneath my skin like bugs crawling all over me at the idea that I would maybe have the possibility of hanging out with so many Gym Leaders. It was tempered by the part of me that nearly always recoiled in disgust whenever I allowed myself to have fun.

"I mean, is that—is that okay?" I asked.

"Sure, why not?"

"I mean, they know about Backlot and stuff."

"Meh." Candice tried to brush it off, but I could tell she didn't like thinking about it. "Roark's never cared—he's a 'he had it coming' kind of guy. Volkner's depressed and probably will just want to have fun to keep his mind off Jasmine and work. For Nia and I, it's nothing new. Plus, you're making Maylene really happy."

She kept talking about the dynamic of their friend group as we stepped into the small cabin. Immediately, I was struck by the crisp, almost biting scent of frozen berries neatly stored in crates along the walls. The air was just as cool as the outside, deliberately kept that way to preserve the special blends of food for ice type Pokemon. Near the back, there was a faint herbal note from powders and berries mixed into the feed—blends shoved in rows upon rows of cans on shelves.

"Y'know I don't know much about ice types," I noted. "I'd like to do work in Unova helping Pokemon, so I guess… uh, do you have tips and stuff to take care of 'em?" Ideally, I'd know as much as possible for every kind of Pokemon. I would have been able to study with Louis if I hadn't fucked up.

Candice beamed as she wiped her feet on the thick carpet. "Sure! Glalie, for example? They're total predators." She grinned and flashed her sharp teeth. "They love frozen fish—stuff like Magikarp or Remoraid, straight out of icy waters. Sometimes, I feed them chilled meat, too. They need the protein to stay strong. Obviously, we feed them animal products though, not Pokemon…"



Meeting fans was a lot more repetitive than one would think.

Sure, the first few interactions were fresh and new. You smiled at the fact that people could tell you their favorite moments from your Gym Battles from memory, their favorite Pokemon of yours, or how much you inspired them to try something new with their own Pokemon. That I could be used as inspiration was something that made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside I had to send a text to Maylene gushing about it.

But after hundreds came by, it got a little old, and the queue wasn't getting any shorter. I'd been set up at a booth—a simple setup with a long rectangular table draped in a bright cloth featuring my name and samples from my merch. The metallic folding chair was uncomfortable; the sun had a vendetta against me specifically and kept making me sweat bullets. The table was also cluttered with sharpies, stacks of glossy photos of my Pokemon for autographs, and a few gifts from early visitors—everything from handmade bracelets to tiny sculptures made of papier mâché, to fan art. To my left, a small stand held a tablet where people could register for photos or order merchandise from every other Poketch Trainer. We'd been set up right in front of a Poketch Store a few blocks away from HQ, and of course, it meant that people tended to head inside to buy stuff when they were done with me or while someone in their group was waiting in line. That 'stuff' included my brand-new merch.

It felt really weird to see people walking out of that store wearing or carrying my merchandise.

Besides security guards who seemed too weak to matter, Melody was standing beside me with the fakest of smiles on her face. I'd known her for months, so it was easy to tell that this was just work for her. Occasionally, she'd discreetly tap my back with a finger in various patterns if I was doing something wrong. Smile more, be more cheerful, be less cheerful, stand up straighter, dodge that question, stop veering into killing talk—I'd memorized all of it in an afternoon. Honey was also behind me, grinning and making sure to take pictures with the people who wanted them. He was my most personable Pokemon, after all.

And it was good to see him genuinely happy at the fame when the news about his parents had hit him somewhat hard. It was nothing new for him—he'd known that they'd abandoned him, but the fact that they were still doing so despite knowing that he wanted to talk to them again had left him reeling for a few hours. I also used this opportunity to introduce Mimi to the world. They were sitting on my shoulder and bashfully hiding behind my hair; they were too shy to take a picture, so whenever someone wanted one, they turned into an accessory.

Buddy was also hidden away in my sleeve for obvious reasons. I told myself I'd stop, but I couldn't. Not when these 'guards' were strangers I had to rely on—Arceus, they were wide open. Buddy could literally kill them in less than a second.

I perked up when I saw a familiar face approach next in the queue. Edith's hair was different—it had been dyed a mix of bubblegum pink and sky blue—but there was no way I'd forget them when I'd saved them and their other friends from Eterna Forest. They were basically hiding behind their friend June and oozing anxiety. It was basically spilling out of their every fraying movement.

June looked at her friend, who I remembered had a celebrity crush on me, and said, "Err, hi, Grace! Sorry about Edith, they're—well, this is like a dream come true to them—"

"June!" Edith screamed. The sudden sound made Mimi shrink and turn into a thin necklace. "What even is that? I've never seen one before."

"A Meltan—their name's Mimi." Both teens stared intently at my neck. "Think of them as a traveling companion and a team mascot—"

I felt Melody tap my back twice, press on it, then tap it another two times but faster. Her sign to speed this along.

"Anyway, I'm glad to see you guys are okay! How are the others?" I asked. Edith poked Honey's arm, and the electric type let out a boyish giggle.

"Doing great! They would have come if they weren't obsessed with staying in Eterna to get their badge. I mean, the Circuit's basically over," June complained.

"I see you have… ah, the Sunshine shirt for you," my eyes flickered toward June, "and a knife and the Princess hoodie for Edith. If you want, I can sign 'em and take a picture?"

Signing on fabric was actually a lot more difficult than doing so on paper. Sometimes, the point of the pen got caught and I had to pretend like nothing happened, smoothing things over as best I could. This wasn't one of those. The lines were sharp and led into each other as I signed the clothes and the handle of the knife—Edith wanted to keep the blade clear. I was still miffed it wasn't actually metal.

"C—can I have a selfie?" Edith asked.

I smiled at them. "Sure thing."

They logged their request on the tablet—I still didn't know why we couldn't just do without it—and once it was approved, I grabbed their knife, pressed the fake blade against my cheek, and found myself genuinely smiling as they snapped a few pictures.

"I'll see you at the Conference," I said.

"We're rooting for you!" Edith finally found her voice. "Kick Byron's ass!"

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Just exhausting.



Applause and cheers rang out around me.

Sunshine roared out all of his anger as he scrambled and failed to stand up while Delibird patted and extinguished his still-burning feathers with a gust of chilled wind. The cold had made Sunshine nearly lethargic. Each movement came slow and steady as if he was learning to move again, and the frost clung to his scales like a malignant growth, only chipping bit by bit every time he flexed and blue flames exploded out of his scales. Delibird hacked out a laugh and emptied his gift bag—which was his tail. Out flew a couple of Dragon Pulses, Flamethrowers, Fireblasts, Rock Tombs, Flash Canons and Focus Blasts he had so helpfully returned as 'Presents.' Next came out Sunshine's ambient heat, which had been cut by around… I'd say sixty to seventy percent at first, but even then, somehow, he'd managed to focus all of his efforts on freezing the Turtonator's body until barely any could squeeze past the frost.

What a ruthless fighter truly embodying the concept Regice had shown me on my way up Coronet. Delibird was less of a direct battler and more of a presence you had to take out before it was too late. Ice would spread to your Pokemon's very bones, leaving them frozen and easy pickings if you didn't, and if you fought back hard and fast, then Delibird could stall by pocketing your own attacks and throwing them back as presents as he slid across the ice and sped himself up with Rapid Spin. It was tough to move around with consecutive Shell Trap explosions when he could barely move his tail due to the cold.

We'd been getting better at fighting him, but Sunshine was still nowhere near a match for Ramon's Delibird, who had been nicknamed by Ramon as 'dragon-slayer' as a joke. "When I was first starting out, I'd sometimes fight these kids with dragons, a decent amount of them rich," he had told me during one of our training sessions. "They'd smirk all confidently when I let out Delibird, and then that'd slowly collapse as my little slayer ran circles around their dragon and kicked them in the ass."

It was, I had to admit, a nice and heartwarming story. Ramon had grown up poor, catching the most common of Pokemon often by feeding them, and he always got a kick out of beating people with 'conventionally' stronger teammates. Granted, that myth largely disappeared from a trainer's consciousness the more experience they got and the higher they climbed. Every Pokemon could be strong, and Ramon Casaus was living proof of that.

My friend and colleague had made it up to me now, so I recalled Sunshine. While he probably would have shit-talked me if we hadn't been in public, this time, we just shook hands and let the audience's applause wash over us. I didn't miss that coy smile he made at me as he tipped his blue cap; I rolled my eyes and squeezed his hand as much as I could.

Which wasn't very much.

"Good match," he whispered. "I dunno why you're so obsessed with the Delibird-Turtonator matchup, but hey, the first time we fought, you didn't even touch us. I'll give you another fifty-six attempts, and maybe you have a chance of bringing it to a draw."

"Fuck off," I playfully groaned. "I'm using you as inspiration, nothing more."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, when your Turtonator starts shitting out ice, I'll believe ya. See you in a few days, little prodigy. Maybe I'll let you fight my Mightyena next!"

He waved to the captive audience one last time, somehow in sync with their cheers, and I used his social magnetism to slip out of the training arena. I'd had enough of interacting with rabid fans the last week and just wanted to be on my own for a while. Somehow. My Pokemon would serve as a balm to keep away the awful thoughts that always came when it was quiet and there was only me and my conscience.

Arceus, I…

It felt odd. Not knowing what Cecilia was up to.

I had Princess fly me out to Marley's training spot. In the last few days, I'd convinced her to talk to me about Pokemon Training through texts and calls, but she was still nowhere near ready for us to prac—to train together.

God, that word was ruined for me now that it was Maylene's. I ignored the flutter in my stomach and hopped off my starter's back. The meadow was empty save for a few flying types perched on a tree around a hundred feet away, so I released Sunshine once more. He was clearly pissed at his fourth loss to Delibird on a one-on-one, and the taunts the ice type kept throwing at him while sending his own Dragon Pulses back in his face didn't help.

"No need to look at me like that." Princess nodded with teasing of her own, making fun of him for losing to an 'ice chicken' until he blew smoke in her face, and she started fake crying. She could have stopped it with a barrier, but Princess wouldn't have been my daughter if she hadn't been as dramatic as possible. "A loss is just a loss. It doesn't matter, especially when there are no stakes. We survive, and we learn from it."

Turtonator grunted, complaining that I wasn't the one who had to be ridiculed in front of hundreds by a tiny little bird. He didn't like this mindset. To him, every loss had to count because it cemented weakness within himself that he wanted to purge.

I spoke while applying a Hyper Potion to his wounds. "I know, I know. Losses are scary, especially when my brain's still telling me that it equals me dying." Luckily, I was getting so used to training with Ramon that this had basically stopped being anything more than a tiny little worry with him. "I'm so close to this breakthrough, though. I can feel it in my bones. It's going to happen today."

Princess chimed in and said that just like I could feel the breakthrough in my bones, Sunshine could feel the cold in his, and the dragon growled at her, saying that he'd like to see how she would fare against Delibird.

"Oh, she'd get rolled." The fairy let out an indignant gasp. "Honey would be the one with the best chance." The potion now emptied, I threw the empty can back in my bag and sat on the ground, releasing the rest of my team in a circle around me. "Listen up, everyone. I think I have it."

The answer behind Star Theory.

Princess went and cuddled up into Angel's vines—the grass type grabbed Mimi and put them on his head, his eyes shining with interest. Cassianus set the mood with a foreboding pre-recorded song, switching between their stored data until they settled on one they liked. Sweetheart instantly asked if she could become a star too, yelling until Buddy silenced her with a gentle click. Honey scooted himself close to Sunshine, hugging his knees like a little boy excited for presents.

I had their full attention.

The first thing I did was show them a recording of every single spar Ramon and I had at double speed. The details weren't as important as the concepts I wanted to pull from, here.

"See that little monster?" I pointed at Delibird. "What does his way of fighting remind you of?"

There was a flurry of answers, most of them wrong. Buddy and Princess were the ones who had come closest, with both of them trying Cynthia's Glaceon.

"Technically true. They fight similarly, though Glaceon's mastery of cold is unparalleled and Ramon definitely stole that from them." We'd watched as many of her matches with Glaceon as we could these past few weeks for this moment. "It reminds me of a little version of Regice."

There was uncertainty in their eyes; they hadn't expected me to bring up Coronet. I never brought up Coronet.

"Obviously we didn't see Regice fight, thank the Legendaries." That would have been a one-way ticket to my death. "And Delibird comes nowhere close to the Legends. I'm saying, though, look at the effects it had on us. Cold unable to be chased away even by the strongest of flames. A slowed mind, visual and auditory hallucination, the desperate want to lay down, give up, and die. That, my friends, is Winter, and we only got a fraction of a dose. Even then, it still nearly won against us."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do not believe the Turtonator species to be capable of making use of ice type moves," Cassianus chimed.

Sweetheart and Princess snickered among themselves, most likely a whispered joke I hadn't heard.

"You'd be correct, Cass." My legs crossed, and I ignored the grass prickling my skin. "I also don't think Sunshine could use Winter to his advantage."

Angel signed that he was sure Sunshine would be able to if he tried really hard, and Mimi kicked his vines for more head pats that came expeditiously. Honey suggested that maybe we should dress him up like a Delibird, and that even drew a laugh from Buddy, who, as usual, pretended he hadn't chuckled at the mental image. Instead, the ghost type clicked again and told the team to remain serious. Princess stuck out her tongue at him and said she could feel his humor from here.

"That doesn't mean we can't take that concept and flip it on its head," I said. "We've seen people do it for ice, why not do it for fire?"

Ambition gleamed in Sunshine's eyes. He'd known this, of course, but every time I'd told him beforehand, my heart hadn't really been in it. And to be honest, it wasn't fully. It was difficult to put one hundred percent of my focus in this when Poketch was working me like a dog and I'd ruined all of my friendships.

But it was manageable. I would not crumble under the weight of my sins. Momentum was on my side; one could do nothing but keep moving forward with the tools and support they were given.

"What is a star?"

A ball of fire in the sky, Sweetheart said; a tiny sun, but really far away, Princess said; that thing that came out whenever it was daytime and gave him tasty sunlight, Angel said—Arceus, he was so dumb, but in a good way. It was also a little cute. I grabbed my textbook on space from my back and tapped it twice.

"This thing over here would tell you that it is a massive, glowing ball of gas, mostly hydrogen and helium, held together by its own gravity. At its core, nuclear fusion reactions produce immense heat and light, which is what makes the star shine, bla, bla, bla." I dropped the book in the grass. "The physics of it is nice; it's not what I'm after." A few in my team grinned, especially Princess, though both Cass and Buddy were displeased by this. "I ask again, what is a star? Let's go with the sun." I pointed up with a thumb.

No answers came.

"The sun," I began again, "isn't just some ball of gas. It's an untouchable, unimaginable force. You can't look at it without being blinded, and yet everything in our world depends on it. It's power beyond comprehension, a blazing titan that rises every day, giving life but never asking for anything in return. We revolve around it, helplessly caught in its grasp, like planets tethered to a God we can never truly understand. It burns with such fury that even from millions of miles away, it rules over us—lighting our days, deciding when life begins and when it ends. And when it dies, the entire world will die with it."

I could see the shape of it, and so could they, now that I'd put it in terms they could work with.

"You were already a fraction of this," I told Sunshine. "Untouchable heat capable of evaporating water within seconds, stone into molten rock, or turning sand into glass. So bright it was impossible to look at you without getting spots in our eyes, yet—we can go further, can't we?"

Not in terms of heat or power—Sunshine in particular already had enough of that to stand up to opponents who were stronger than we were, as Byron had told me. Sunshine's gaze flickered, the light reflecting off his shell like distant solar flares.

"The sun makes you feel like you can't win, but not because you accept defeat, but because you're simply overwhelmed by what you're looking at," I said, my mind drifting to Cynthia's Garchomp, the way her mere presence seemed to tilt the battle in her favor. "It's crushing, unstoppable—too far beyond anything we can grasp. The sun's so powerful that people around the world built religions around it and worshipped it like it was a God." I thought back to the story Cecilia had told me about that old Unovan myth of a Volcarona acting as a civilization's sun after a supervolcanic eruption had blanketed the world in ashes for years. "And maybe they were right."

I glanced at Sunshine, his shell shimmering faintly, absorbing the comparison. "When you face something like that, something so immense, it feels like it could crush you or burn you out without effort, and yet you can't help but look. To gaze into the only light in the abyss in a desperate need to understand." I paused, watching him. "That's what you can be. Not just fire or heat, but something that makes your opponents realize they never stood a chance—like looking at a Pokemon and knowing you're already beaten."

I'd gotten carried away there; one had to pace their expectations, but it was exciting, wasn't it? We'd been working on this since I'd stumbled upon Marley in this very spot, and it was finally coming together in a coherent idea. I had a lot of concepts for this technique—like how it actually got extremely cold in space when shielded from the sun's rays, and how different types of stars acted and appeared, but the first goal was to get our baseline in order.

"Now, concepts are well and good, but we actually have to make it work through technique. That means practicing with dragon TE in hopes that you can force Pokemon to step away from shelter and look at your grandeur, attracting them like moths swarming to a flame, all while refining the way you move fire and heat around. And light. It's already been a lot of work, but it'll be tougher from now on. It's way more technical than what you usually do, but are you up for it, big guy?"

I stared up at him, and he grinned, tail slapping excitedly against his shell. I patted him affectionately on the arm. We'd already trained a decent bit for this, but now that there was a clear path, I expected progress to speed up. Shell Smash, which he had finally learned, would be instrumental.

"One day, I'll be able to utter the words You Are A Star in battle, and not just you are a star." My throat felt a little hot at those words. "Speaking of concepts, I wanted to talk about stories next—"

Both Sweetie and Princess clamored, asking what would they be if I came up with a move like this for them.

My nails scratched the top of my head. "Well, let's see. It'd be, like, the essence of who you were. Sunshine basks in attention and adoration at his strength, and he wants to own an entire mountain. Plus, there's also his name. Befitting of a star, I'd say. Princess… maybe 'You Are A Knife'—no, that's too restrictive," I muttered, shaking my head. A knife was something specific, something limited. It was a tool meant for close, singular action—a precise strike in the dark, hidden until the moment it was used, meant to stab someone in the back when they least expect it. "A blade. A blade's broader, more dangerous in its ambiguity. It could be anything—a sword, a razor, a scythe. Even a needle."

I turned toward my favorite rock type, who made puppy eyes at me. "For you… well, a huntress, maybe? I'll give it some thought." She whined, and I comforted her by promising her good meat tonight for dinner. Raw and bloody, just like she liked. "Anyway, as I was saying, I want to use stories in battles."

Buddy's eyes dimmed; he told me that it would make me—

"Predictable after a while, yes, especially if I always pick the same type of story," I said. It was true, however, that this type of thinking would lead me to think in terms of threes, turning points and building every attack around crescendos, and saving the biggest moves like You Are A Star for those narrative pivots. All of that might become a detriment—but fuck it. "Worst-case scenario I'll have to remember to pull away from that thread if needed and to transition into normal battling. Hell, we could even use that to trick people. I just think that… y'know, it just makes the world so much brighter; it makes everything make so much sense." I looked up at the lazy clouds drifting across the sky, and my fingers dug into the grass. "Do you know what my favorite Gym Battle of the entire year was?"

They all answered Gardenia in unison. Even Cass, who was a newcomer.

I snorted, my head thrown back a little. "That would be my second favorite. No, the one where I had the most fun by far was my fight against Wake, because it was a story. I was the heel—the antagonist to Wake's Hero. And I won," I said with a hungry smile. "What I would give to recapture this… energy when battling," I mused, eyes distant. "It wasn't just about winning. It was the thrill, the narrative. Every move felt like part of a bigger story, like we were characters in something grander than just a fight. I miss that. The stakes, the tension, the way we felt like moving pieces on a board."

I shot Sunshine another look.

"And guess what. You're going to be the protagonist of the next fight."

Passion wasn't reignited with a snap of a finger. It never was that simple.

But the last few weeks, I'd—

There were sparks.



"So you've never been at an arcade before? Never?"

Maylene made her 'are you stupid' eyes at me, and a short, flabbergasted breath left her throat. "Grace, you know my childhood. I literally had no time for any of this."

Ah. That was fair enough. "Sorry," I said. But it was a playful sorry, not a catastrophizing sorry, and she could tell the difference. "It should be easy enough to kick your ass, then."

The flame of competitiveness was lit in her gaze. "Hearing you whine about losing in an hour is going to be so sweet."

Maylene crouched next to the coin machine and inserted a few Pokedollar bills in it after flattening the paper. The arcade hummed with life, a blend of soft neon lights and the familiar chime of game machines. Rows of games flickered in every color, their screens drawing players into quick bursts of fun. The air smelled faintly of popcorn, and small groups huddled by the more popular games, tapping buttons and steering joysticks with quick fingers. There were even a few Pokemon here and there fooling around. Needless to say, Maylene's arrival here had sparked a lot of stares and people walking up to us, but it was actually less than I'd thought.

We still didn't have any labels, but I was close to taking that leap. Denzel and Pauline had managed to get everyone, except Chase, to sign an NDA, and surprisingly, there weren't many hard feelings. It was hard for things to get any more tense than they already were—though with some of them, the distance between us was just as difficult. Rich people like Emilia, Louis, and Pauline dealt with these happenstances all the time, and the others, well—

It was like I was never going to be friends with Chase or Cecilia again.

An uncomfortable shiver, followed by something crawling all over my skin. My fingers dug into the tough hem of my jeans as Maylene pulled a crap ton of tickets from the machine. I pulled on the remaining strands of warmth from the hug we'd shared when I'd come to her Gym, taking solace and refuge with how safe I'd felt with her arms around me.

By the time she turned back in my direction, I was almost back to normal, but her eyes flickered to my hand with a piercing gaze, noticing it just as it left the comforting pressure that always came with squeezing my clothes.

Maylene reached out, her hand hovering for a heartbeat before finally closing around mine. A gentle warmth traveled up my arm, and despite how public this was, I couldn't help but smile at her. The colorful lights danced across her features, softening them in the glow. She'd gone out on our date with a low key T-shirt and shorts, but if I squinted, sometimes I could see the outline of her stomach through the fabric, and it made the inside of my mouth dry.

Thanks to Poketch's correspondents, both Cecilia and I had announced that we'd broken up yesterday. While our posts hadn't gone as far as to refer to it as 'amicable,' we'd both said our lives had been heading in different directions and that this was for the best. The truth of it was she just wanted to be done with me and to never think about me again, which meant revealing this would be better for her sooner rather than later. Either way, while Maylene and I being out together so fast might bring questions, Poketch had avoided the worst of the allegations and none of the cheating rumors had gone mainstream.

And I hadn't complained at all even if they were working me to the bone. It was narrow-minded, it was selfish, and maybe short-sighed, but I'd asked Melody about it and gotten a mild approval beforehand.

Once she made sure I was okay, Maylene asked, "what game first? Not that it matters, anyway."

"There's this fighting game I used to play with Emilia." I scanned the arcade with a quick look as she let go of my hand before it could breach the contract and become Unnecessary Contact. "But I don't want you to claim I'm cheating because I already knew the controls or whatever, so we should find something else for now."

"I would never say that." I shot her a look. "Okay, maybe I would say that."

I leaned against her for a second and laughed. "You would. Now let's go and look; we only have an hour. Arceus, I can't wait until the Conference."

"Excited to have me all to yourself?"

I ignored the warmth invading my face. "I wouldn't put it like that. But I am excited to spend a little more time with you and slowly ramp up as I get better—oh! Wait, this is PokeKart!" I made a mad dash toward the two gaming machines, which were surprisingly available. "My dad had one of the older ones on a console we used to own! How did I miss it the last time I was here?"

"Might be a new one," Maylene glanced at the side of the machine, turning slightly away, though I could tell seeing me excited was making her happy. She tapped the side of it with her knuckles, the back of her hand sliding against the colorful plastic design. "I've never heard of this before. Do you want to play? I wouldn't actually mind."

"You bet! Prepare to be dominated."

She inserted the tickets into the machines, and a colorful splash art of a bunch of different baby Pokemon appeared on the screen, accompanied by an announcer who was way too loud and way too into this. We quickly selected the two player mode, and I tried to guess which character Maylene would go for. Riolu would be too obvious—

"I wish I knew what character was the best," she complained.

"Maylene, I've never met someone as tryhard as you. You've never played the game; just go for whatever Pokemon you like. Even I don't know."

Her picking of Magby was accompanied by a smug hum on my part, exactly as I'd predicted. The fire type had been stylized to look focused, and had fire that flew out of their mouth and ears whenever they got hit by an item. Since she hadn't picked Riolu, I selected Cleffa instead of Togepi, and the race began in earnest once we selected Jubilife City as the map.

Maylene was doing a lot better than expected—it would have been cute to have her complain about what button did what, but she was in the middle of the pack, so to speak, for the entire race until the end. I snagged second place due to getting hit by an NPC's Thundershock on the final lap.

"Let's play another?" Maylene immediately said.

"I don't know… what if I wanted to play another game—"

She begged at me with her usual eyes, soft and tender; they reminded me of how she'd been when I'd kissed her for the first time, and my body tensed. There was no way I could say no to that.

So we played again. And again. And again, until I realized that Maylene was learning a lot faster than I thought she would. It got to the point that I had to lean in and fake that I'd kiss her to get my fifth win, but that kicked her competitiveness into high gear, and she zoomed past me the next race, making sure to wait at the finish line and hit me with a few Embers before she reversed and ended the race.

She pumped a fist and celebrated. "Hell yes! I fucking dusted you! You suck!"

I could have told her that she'd only won once out of six times, but…

I liked seeing her boast. The silence couldn't last for long, or she'd realize what was happening and she'd get all shy on me. "I mean, I won more games in total. That favor's still going to be mine; one little win doesn't matter."

Maylene looked down at her phone. "We probably have time for a few quick games to give me a chance to equalize things. I'll go to the bathroom first." She looked at me with expectant eyes.

"Let me come with," I said. Not like I wasn't going to anyway.

The bathroom was small but clean, with tiled walls reflecting the soft hum of overhead lights. A faint scent of artificial sweetener hung in the air, and the sinks gleamed, polished and spotless. The floor, a pale gray, was slightly damp from earlier visitors and a little dirty in the corners. It was quiet, save for the soft echo of footsteps against the tiles and one occupant reapplying her makeup in front of the mirror.

"I'll wait for you out here." I noticed that Maylene was acting somewhat strange; she stuck next to me instead of actually going to the bathroom. I'd just been about to ask her what was wrong when the other lady left the room—

She pulled me into the nearest stall, and our lips met in a brief, clumsy kiss. My eyes fluttered shut as I sank into her, but she quickly pulled away, a sly smirk playing on her lips.

"That's one," she said, her voice teasing, with eyes gleaming with triumph. "For how you baited me during that game. I would have won if… uh…"

Focus. Focus. I couldn't just pounce on her, not when we were taking things slow. She was so focused on the rules that she'd even made sure not to go above the Appropriate Kissing Time. Her faux-confidence had been replaced by a mildly threatened look.

"This stall is kind of small, isn't it?" Maylene said with a nervous laugh. "I—I don't actually need to go, I just wanted to surprise you. Uh, let's get out of here."

"Let's," I agreed. Before I take the other two that are owed right now.

Maylene could learn fast, but I still ended besting her in the amount of games I won, meaning that I'd gained a singular favor from her. It was while we were walking back to her Gym—we'd forgone Teleporting when possible just to spend more time together—that I brought up the topic I'd been dreading.

"So, uh, about our deal. Let me cook for you?" I'd wanted to do so for so long, but with her strict diet, it was difficult to find an opening. "You owe me. I'll make sure it's something you like to eat."

Maylene wanted to fight me on it, but it had almost been involuntary. Like a reflex she'd been trained to do and say instead of a genuine reaction. "Sure."

"You don't sound that enthused."

"I guess I'm just not used to it?" she said with a hand scratching the back of her neck. "I'm happy you asked; I know you've wanted to do it for a long time. And, uh, I'm ready. Probably."

"Cool! What's your favorite food?"

"I guess I'd have to say… tofu stir-fry with quinoa and steamed veggies—uh, with ginger soy sauce."

Okay, that was literally unlike anything I'd made before, but I was determined to make it work.

"The next time we meet, I'm making it for you," I declared as I linked my arm in hers.

It wouldn't be for long, but we were allowed to enjoy the contact, at the very least.

"What about yours?"

I blinked up at her. "Hm? Fries from Arlyle's—"

"I'm making you eat the tofu with me."



How did one meet new people?

No, seriously. How?

Was it as simple as going outside and accosting whatever stranger caught your eye? If that were the case, Cecilia would have a lot of difficulties making this a reality. Oh, people didn't flee her. Most weren't even scared of her. The issue was that she unsettled. Talking to her, looking into her eyes and scarred face, combined with how she towered over most like a silent vigil, nearly always put people on the back foot. She made them uncomfortable, and any conversation she tried to strike would be smothered before it could even get off the ground. The consequences for her death were not nearly confined to the people she cared about, but to strangers as well. Emilia had helpfully offered to come with her so she didn't have to jump into the deep end of the pool so quickly, and Cecilia had agreed, but only should she fail horribly today.

This could have been solved if she'd been personable. If her voice had been soft and high, if she'd been able to dazzle people with a smile and keep them wrapped around her finger with words that she would have been able to spin for hours. Unfortunately, that wasn't her. She was threatening; her motions were awkward and forced, like a puppet; she loomed over strangers like she was about to snatch their soul and take it to the Dusk herself.

That was only the first step. The main problem was—

She stared blankly at a slightly trembling, dark-haired girl and a chubby Bidoof cradled in her arms. Perhaps it was brown hair.

—she did not have much to talk about to people she barely knew, and so, she had no social acumen.

"Woah! You look weird!"

Cecilia had stopped by a public food court in the middle of one of Canalave's many plazas to recuperate and rethink her strategy. What she hadn't expected was for this girl to indiscriminately approach and holler at her.

"Can I take a pic? You're Cecilia Obel, right? People are always talking about you online because of how striking you look," the girl continued, squeezing her Bidoof. Was that anxiety? Cecilia stopped herself from grinning with teeth and leaning forward to scare her further. These ghostly instincts would be the death of her. "I—I mean, only if you're cool with it." The teenager took a step back. "Uh, I'm—sorry?"

Oh.

Cecilia had not spoken in quite a while; she had forgotten.

"Feel free to take one," she commented like a passing gust of wind. She stayed quiet—

Wait.

Was this not a prime opportunity to gather knowledge in socializing with strangers? Why stay quiet, when this person could be the start of an upswing? It wasn't just enough to plan, research, and have pages upon pages of notes on her laptop. She was tired of floundering here like a Magikarp on dry land. Cecilia needed to get better at speaking to people if she wanted to be a politician.

"Let's start over." Cecilia gave the girl the best smile she could, but not too wide. She'd come to find that she wasn't great at those when they were forced. "What's your name?"

She relaxed a little, and her Bidoof heaved in her arms, glad it could finally take a full breath. "Rose," she said. "Um, sorry for calling you weird. I guess my brain forgot you weren't just a girl on TV or on a screen."

"What a nice name. Very fitting." She'd always liked shorter and simpler names, even if she did not have one. "You're forgiven, Rose," Cecilia said.

The girl blinked a few times before snapping out of her stupor, and placed her Bidoof on the ground. She asked for a selfie, but her arm was too short, so Cecilia snatched her phone from her hand and took it in her stead, squeezing the girl against her. It felt odd to have… well, was she a fan? Maybe Rose thought of her as a cryptid of some sort. A creature she could look at behind iron bars and point at for her amusement. It was up to Cecilia to prove that this was not all she was.

"T—thanks," Rose stammered. "I guess I'll go, sorry for bothering you—"

"I have a few questions, if you have time?" the Unovan said, finding the will to actually sound like more than a woman resigned to her fate. Rose looked up at her, finding it difficult to stay focused on her eyes. More fear, then. "What do they say about me? Online?" Cecilia had never been one to ego search like Denzel did every week or so. Sure, she didn't really care—not for what the people of Sinnoh said about her, anyway—but it was practice for conversing.

"Oh. I mean, they're saying a lot; it'd take like an hour to get through all of it."

"We are in a food court, Rose," she noted. "Have you eaten lunch?"

"N—no?" Even the girl's Bidoof stomped a foot on the ground, its fur bristling.

"I know this is forward since we don't know one another, but why don't we go out and eat something?" Cecilia stopped her head from tilting too much; her hair brushed across her cheeks. "Then you can tell me all about it. If you're free, of course."

Rose looked at her, mildly star-struck and blushing until Bidoof headbutted her in the ankle. Why was she reacting this way? "I—I—are you asking me out?" She was beside herself, eyes darting, face flush, skin moistening with a slight amount of sweat.

Cecilia's face fell. What a bother.

She sighed, limbs going limp at her side. "Never mind. Have a nice day."

One quick turn by pushing her heel off the ground and Cecilia was gone. It took another thirty minutes for her to actually start meeting people, this time trainers who knew she was friends with Denzel. Cecilia knew they were probably using her to try to meet their favorite content creator, but a start was a start, and seeing as they were experienced trainers, her scars and affliction did not scare them as much, even if she remained unsettling. Nevertheless, Cecilia couldn't help but think back to Rose as she leaned against a restaurant table. A thought slithered its way past her skull and into her mind, insidious and just so lethal.

Maybe if she'd been fair-haired, she could have imagined her to be blonde.



She couldn't spend all day sharpening her dull social skills on the whetstone of unfamiliar faces, no matter how tempting it was. There was an important online meeting looming in just ten minutes, and she needed to prepare. Now back in her Pokémon Center room, she sat at a desk that had shrunk over the past year, or rather, one that she had outgrown. Slowking hummed softly beside her, a steady presence amidst the creeping anxiety she refused to acknowledge.

"Would you stop that?" she asked, a little brusque.

Oh. My bad. He placed his hands behind his back. Still nervous, then?

Grace would have been able to tell immediately, but Grace wasn't here anymore. Cecilia's teeth clenched. How dare she take up this much space in her mind after what she'd done to her? She slammed her laptop screen down with a frustrated grunt and began pacing about the room—a quest in futility to attempt to forget.

No. It wasn't Grace's fault, it was hers. In the words of Emilia, she'd been far too attached, and it would take a long time to get her ex-girlfriend to only take a reasonable amount of space in her train of thought.

If you want to take your mind off things, we can talk about that new battling style you were cooking up, the psychic slid in. He moved out of the way when she continued pacing. Cecilia? My Lady?

The Unovan stopped by the window and blinked, looking at the streetlights of Canalave starting to turn on as the evening crept in and the sun began to set. "I'm sorry." Her hands pressed down on her face, going from her forehead, down to her nose and mouth. "You're right. Let's keep brainstorming this."

She sat back at her desk, opening a slew of other tabs with her old Gym Battles to look at. Since she had little time, they all played in fast-forward. "Boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, okay—" it took until her seventh and eighth Gym Badge that she finally found something worth looking at. When she'd started weaving together strategies of her own instead of relying on overwhelming strength—that type of thinking had caused her first loss against Wake. "These are interesting," she pondered, tapping a finger against her desk.

Against Byron, she'd used Zolst and Slowking to create a circular ravine filled with water from which the psychic could wreak havoc behind his multiple layers of barriers. Against Wake, she'd carefully calculated her and his switches, Disabling the veritable storm the water type master had summoned with Slowking and cutting off the rain like she'd turned off a tap. Through this, she'd managed to evaporate his makeshift sea with Talonflame and had scraped together a win.

"Interesting," she repeated. "But are they me?"

Isn't the point of this that you can be whoever you want to be because you're starting from a metaphorical zero? Slowking questioned, a pondering hand prodding at his colorful ruff. If you want it to be you…

"No, no, it needs to click." Cecilia didn't want to just limp along into something that would ultimately not work for her, especially when she wanted to put up a decent showing at the Conference. Focusing on battling away from Grace would surely clear her head. "Come to think of it… what about plays?"

Plays?

"Plays," she repeated. "Like dividing battles into acts." There was a subtle squeeze in her chest. "Broadly speaking, it would mean that each stage of the fight would be a different setting, a performance to entertain. But also something with flair, like how Fantina fights when she has fun. I'll have to watch her high level fights."

Sure… that plays, I think, Slowking muttered within her mind.

Cecilia squinted at him and smirked. "Five out of ten." Maybe she needed to add dad jokes into her Raison d'Être diary, where she kept track of the new things she liked and disliked.

I'll take it. I need to get back into the swing of things, or my Chilly Reception won't be as good.

"Think about it; picture it. Lehmhart has music, and I'm pretty sure we can figure out a way to make it stick when he's gone. Like you and your barriers. Talonflame can help with lighting if needed—" was she going too far with this? Was it even viable? Cecilia let out a little laugh; she sure as hell wanted to try, failure be damned. Her worries about performing well had now fallen off the wayside, leaving only a desire to rediscover herself. "I want to tell something through the fight. A statement of some sort, something that reflects me so I can build myself up into something more. With each fight, I'd grow. Stitch myself back together until I become a full person, and then more than that."

She wanted to be larger than life. She wanted all the air to be sucked out of a room when she walked into it as Cynthia could do, and not just because of how she looked and she unsettled others, but because she wielded soft power. Because she was an accomplished politician. Because people had heard of her feats. Because she swam against the current and shaped the world instead of getting swept by it. Because she mattered.

Arceus, you're quite excited about this, aren't you? Slowking noticed. Oh well. I'm not sure if we can make it work, but we can try. What would you be in this? The main character?

Cecilia snorted and said, "oh, darling." She leaned back into her chair, slightly short of breath. "I'd be the Narrator."

The two of them kept workshopping this idea until the clock struck 6:55 pm—nearly 9 am in Unovan Time, and tabbed back into her online meeting program. Professor Juniper had sent her a link via email to join in to 'break the ice' ahead of her arrival in Unova so they'd be able to get along. There wouldn't be many, but it would help her make a decent first impression.

Hopefully.

There were three names when Cecilia joined in. Professor Juniper was already here, of course, with her signature bright smile and upbeat energy. Her light brown hair—Cecilia remembered from the pictures she had seen before dying—was swept up into a voluminous style, almost like a wave frozen mid-motion. She wore bold earrings that contrasted against her pale skin and a loose lab coat over her casual wear. Cecilia knew she had a reputation for being somewhat of a relaxed professor.

Though relaxed did not mean this job would be easy. She was estranged from the wider community, but she was still among the best in the country.

Cecilia had only heard of the two other names, but she was seeing them now for the first time. First was Cheren Harmont. His dark hair, neatly styled and slicked back except for a small, rebellious tuft at the top, framed a face marked by sharp glasses and a keen, focused expression that morphed into a befuddled look when he noticed Cecilia. Second was Bianca Barnett, whose short light hair peeked out from under a beret-like hat. She'd evidently been smiling until Cecilia had joined the meet, after which her bright eyes widened, and she promptly yelled out a rodent-like squeak and nearly fell off her chair.

"Ah, Cecilia! You made it!" Juniper cheered, clasping her hands together. "And ten to five minutes in advance, unlike a certain someone," the professor's expression hardened.

Cheren cleared his throat. "Hilbert stayed up late yesterday because of some wild Pokemon drama—"

"Oh, by His Truth, please tell me he isn't making them participate in tournaments again; the lab's reputation will take a hit if he gets arrested by the Rangers for creating a commotion ag—you know what, we're getting distracted. Cheren, Bianca, this is Cecilia. Your fourth and final colleague of the year."


"Um. It's nice to meet you." Legendaries that had come out stiff. "The Professor's told me a lot about you."

Cheren raised an eyebrow. "Professor?"

The older woman let out a nervous laugh. "Just a little here and there, Cheren, no need to get your knickers in a twist."

"Are you sure that this is a good thing to say in front of your probable new employee, Professor Juniper?"

"My God, you're such a spoilsport."
Her eyes glanced to the side. "What about you, Bianca? You've been quiet."

"It's true. Usually, you'd be talking her ear off and asking about how life is in Sinnoh,"
Cheren noted with a bit of a smirk. "I'm surprised you even made it, considering your awful sense of time."

"I—I'm just surprised, that's all. I didn't expect her to… Legendaries, I'm sorry. I've never seen something like that! Is that okay to say?"


Cecilia nodded. "I am aware of how I look. I don't mind; treat me as you would just another person."

"I can't believe I'm talking to Mark Obel's sister…" Cheren muttered with a glimmer in his eyes, and Cecilia winced. "It's so difficult to get information on your Sinnohan battles; I'm looking forward to seeing how strong you are when you get here! I've never spoken to anyone with eight badges before. It's not like they have any reason to stop in Nuvema, much less pay attention to me until I prove myself powerful enough."

There was a bit of an awkward silence—the last thing Cecilia wanted was to be compared to her brother.

Juniper clapped her hands. "Anyway! These two—or three, I suppose, are getting their starter Pokemon in a few days! They'll get the rest of summer to bond so they hit the ground running when the Circuit begins. Any advice you'd like to give them?"

Cheren looked at her eagerly like this was the only thing he'd ever wanted, eyes clearly expecting the best advice he'd ever gotten, while Bianca awkwardly shifted in her chair. That was such a broad question with a million answers. Grace would be so much better at this than she was—

"I actually passed my Trainer Certification exam with a 97." Cheren preened like an Unfezant. "I would have aced it had grammatical mistakes not docked off points."

Cecilia hid her surprise well, but couldn't help but be impressed. Even her brother had only gotten a 92 after years of readying himself for the exam with the best tutors Unova had to offer. Results above 90 were exceedingly rare and were considered excellent. Acing it was basically out of the question.

"I barely passed…" Bianca muttered before perking up. That must have meant a 50 or right above that. "What about you, Cecilia—uh, Ms. Obel? Did you have to take Certification Exams in Sinnoh?"

"No," Cecilia simply said. "They don't have any of those. And please," she lamented, "just Cecilia is fine." She was glad she wouldn't have to go through that hassle even when she came back. There were shortcuts in place for proven trainers like she was.

Both soon-to-be trainers looked at her with abject horror. "So you can just—go out and be a trainer? They let anyone do that?" Cheren asked. The distress in his tone was palpable. "What if there's something you don't know about?" Cheren questioned, leaning forward in his chair. "Aren't some Sinnohan routes dangerous?"

"Oh, there are mandatory lessons for you to take in school," she explained, remembering what Grace had told her. "If you still lack knowledge, you can look it up or ask a fellow trainer for advice," Cecilia said. "Or you screw up, and the Rangers yell at you. Or you or your Pokemon get critically injured. Or you die. They take a bit of a trial-by-fire approach, though it's nowhere as bad as Indigo…"

There was another stretch of awkward silence—Cheren even laughed until he realized she hadn't been joking. Luckily, the third and final participant's arrival saved her from would-be disaster.

The boy's bed hair was one of the most horrifying ones Cecilia had ever seen; there were wild tufts of dark hair all over the place without any direction, and his webcam had the worst quality of the four, making him jitter with lag and blurry.

"Sorry, I'm late! You guys wouldn't believe the way my tournament ended last night—a little Patrat won against a Herdier—the reigning Champion of the last six tournies! She was so scrappy! She got a bunch of Orans as her prize, and I soaked up a bunch of experience just watching them fight. Plus, everyone had so much fun. I couldn't play trainer this time, or it would have been unfair." It was only then that Cecilia realized he'd organized a tournament for wild Pokemon to participate in for a prize. "Maybe I'll ask her next time—"

"Maybe you should introduce yourself?"
Juniper suggested.

Something about his eyes made her frown; even through her screen and his pixelated video feed, they burned bright.

It was the flame of ambition.

"Oh, right. The name's Hilbert," he said in between a wide, long yawn. Another grunt from the Professor made him add, "uh, Hilbert Cassidy."

There was still drool on his chin.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Interlude - The Other Side of the Ocean
INTERLUDE - THE OTHER SIDE OF THE OCEAN

Hilbert Cassidy loved people, but love itself was a vice, dragging behind it a thousand tangled problems that came with it. He knew it, had always known it, and would always know it, and yet he pressed on, convinced that the world was worth the struggle.

Hands in his pocket, his red cap tightly wound on his head, the teenager walked through the streets of Nuvema, a Patrat following closely behind him. Every glance at the little rodent made Hilbert's heart squeeze in his chest. The Patrat's whiskers quivered slightly as he padded along beside Hilbert, his usual energy dampened by a heavy tension in the air. His sharp eyes were narrow with the weight of anticipation and still wet with tears. They passed by a large poster plastered at the side of a building. A row of Rangers looking toward the future, bright smiles with perfectly white teeth set upon their faces and hands stretched outward. Behind them was a massive, colorful Braviary—the Rangers' mascot and symbol. 'Join the Rangers today! Keep your communities safe!' the poster read. Hilbert had seen it a million times already, and therefore paid it no mind. His attention was Patrat's.

"This way?" Hilbert pointed toward another street. They'd navigated away from Main Street, and toward the less dense parts of their small hometown.

He pointed to many houses, each an island among the wilderness that was Nuvema. Once you got away from Main Street in the city center, that was what much of this town was. That was part of why Hilbert loved it so much, even if Bianca found it to be suffocating and Cheren thought it to be a dead-end town with no opportunities to study good trainers up close. That was a distinction his friend liked to make—the difference between good and bad trainers. Hilbert liked listening to him ramble on about what's his name and so and so, but he found him a little condescending sometimes.

His train of thought now finished, Hilbert realized that Patrat wasn't answering. The normal type was frozen in his tracks, trembling like a newborn Deerling. They must have been close. Hilbert crouched in front of Patrat, ignoring the few people around them. The little Patrat, barely four months old, started to sob, and Hilbert seized him with a warm hug, his hands caressing the tough fur that prickled his cheeks.

"We'll get her back. I promised you, didn't I?" His voice was a gentle thing, because how couldn't it be in the face of such loss and grief? He barely held his own tears back as Patrat bawled on his shoulder.

Hilbert Cassidy loved people. With that came the fact that he could feel the pain and loss of strangers he barely knew.

It was easy to find the house. Hilbert thought it to be nothing special. Peeling paint and a sagging porch that looked like it hadn't seen much care in years. Bare windows that revealed dull curtains inside, and a well-mowed yard with a few chairs strewn about. "Stay here," he said to Patrat as he walked up to the stranger's house. Nuvema was a small town, but it still was comprised of ten thousand souls.

Hilbert was scared, for how couldn't he be? The boy had never trespassed before—

Correction: the boy had never intentionally trespassed before. He hopped the white picket fence and skulked through the yard until he made it to the worn wooden door. First, his hand hovered in the air, unsure of how to start this—unsure of if he should even do it, but one look back at Patrat behind the fence, little paws wrapped tightly around the wood, and his resolve grew ten, a hundred, a thousand fold.

He slammed an angered fist on the door. "Hello? Anyone home?!" Hilbert called out.

There were steps, and an irritated voice that hit him back and told him to stop breaking down his door. Hilbert made sure to comply, though he was ready to cause as much ruckus as needed to get face-to-face with this person—or more precisely, this person's son. The adult who answered just screamed rambunctious, with wild, unkempt hair that seemed to have a life of its own and a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of some forgotten band.

"The hell is your problem, son?" he loomed tall over Hilbert's wiry frame, but the teenager stood his ground, giving the man the widest of smiles.

"I'm here to see your son, actually!" Hilbert yelled with a nervous laugh. "I'm Hilbert Cassidy? Gemma's kid." His mother had been one of the town's few doctors before retiring early because of the strain of the job. These days, she worked at a café near their house as a waitress. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

He rubbed his chin and glanced up at the afternoon sky. "Ah. Gemma's kid, huh?" he said. "You friends with Darryl?"

"No, but I bet we could be!" Hilbert earnestly said with a snap of a finger. "I promise this'll be fast; I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Just make sure he gets back by six." Hilbert relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Y'know, Darryl caught his first Pokemon yesterday, so he's probably going to want to stay out late. I keep telling him the Circuit starts in September and to take it easy, but… bah," he sighed, not seeing Hilbert's clenched fist. The man in front of him—he really should have gotten his name—turned toward their living room and screamed, "Darryl! Hilbert's here for you!"

"Hilbert who?!"
a voice called back. Hilbert felt the hair on his neck rise with anxiety.

"Cassidy! He wants to talk!"

Legendaries, they were loud; the fact that Hilbert himself thought that meant that Cheren would despise being around this house. Darryl was sandy-haired, and his skin was tan from staying in the sun all day. Hilbert wished he could get tan instead of sunburned. He noticed a bandage around his forearm as he ran down the stairs with a Pokeball clumsily attached to his hip. He shot Hilbert a confused look, then looked at his dad.

"Um, hi?" Darryl tried, and then walked up to Hilbert. "Do I know you from school, or something?" Then, he squinted at him. "Wait! You're that guy who got arre—"

"Well, thank you for your time, sir!" Hilbert yelled over Darryl and dragged him by the wrist. "We won't be out for long!"

"Whu—wha—what are you doing?!" Darryl yelled, yelled, and yelled as Hilbert forced him through and out of his yard. "The hell is your problem?" He forced his wrist out of Hilbert's hold and patted his bandaged arm with a slight wince—

"Shoot! I'm so sorry!" Hilbert winced. "I forgot about your injury, I—do you need to see my mom? She has a bunch of first-aid stuff—"

"I'm fine! God, what's up with you?" Darryl grimaced; his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "Are you kidnapping me or something?"

That would be stupid. If Hilbert had been kidnapping him, he would have called upon his wild Pokemon friends and distracted Darryl's father while they did the job for him, meaning there would have been no witnesses. Maybe Petilil knew Sleep Powder by now… he hadn't seen her in two weeks.

"Not exactly." His answer came perfectly in sync with a bristle behind Darryl—Patrat had sneaked up on them, though he quickly went and hid behind Hilbert's leg, his teeth gnawing at the fabric to distract the normal type from his anxiety. "Do you recognize this Patrat?"

"Psht, I dunno." Darryl shrugged. "Ain't he just another Patrat? They all look the same—"

"No, they don't!" Hilbert cut in. "Every Patrat's different, just like every Pokemon!" Was Darryl blind? Could he not see the slightly narrower eyes, the tougher fur, the smaller frame and that little notch in his ear? "Anyway, that doesn't matter right now!" Hilbert pointed at the boy's waist. "You caught another Patrat yesterday!"

Darryl beamed excitedly. "Yeah! It was tough, 'cause I had no other Pokemon of my own." He showed his wounded arm. "Luckily she looked like she was tired, and she was distracted by carrying a bunch of Oran Berries in a bag…"

The words hit Hilbert like a truck as he continued listening. It was his fault. All his fault. He'd known this, and yet hearing it from the culprit's mouth made him tense as if he was going to explode. He had healed her with a potion, but so much fighting meant that she still was too tired to fight back. Patrat's claws raked against his worn pants. If he hadn't run his tournament, then she would still be free right now.

"That Patrat is this one's mother," Hilbert said. "Release her."

Darryl snorted. "Come on, dude! I need a Pokemon for the Circuit, and Patrat are good for beginners. Didn't you pass your Cert Exam?" He shook his head as if Hilbert was stupid. He had passed! With a 79! "I'll take good care of her, okay? I brought her to the Pokemon Center, and I've been getting to know her—though that hasn't been going very well—"

"Release her," Hilbert repeated.

Darryl's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Release. Her."

Hilbert Cassidy loved people. That made him want to right their wrongs.

The punch was clumsy as it came flying toward Darryl's face. Hilbert wasn't a great fighter, but the suddenness of it caught Darryl off guard. He barely had time to react as the fist slammed into the side of his face, and the impact sent him tumbling into the ground. Hilbert cried out, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as he instinctively cradled his throbbing hand. The impact reverberated through his knuckles, a stinging pain radiating up his arm, sharp and unrelenting.

"What the fuck—"

Hilbert jumped on top of Darryl and hissed like a wild animal. "There is so much potential in you," he said, voice full of kindness. Punches hit back, most of them hitting his chest as Darryl thrashed below him. "I love you, Darryl. I love you. Understand that this is for your own good."

Hilbert grabbed the boy's Pokeball. He knew that a trainer could release a Pokemon permanently if they kept the button pressed for thirty seconds straight, but he wasn't certain he would still be conscious by the end of it. Instead, he immediately released Patrat, winner of his tournament, and yelled, "run! Take your kid, and don't come back for a while!" Eventually, the trace from the Pokeball would fade after a few weeks, and Patrat would be considered wild again by their systems.

Darryl was a bigger kid. Four inches taller and broad-shouldered. It had only been a matter of time until Hilbert was pushed back, but he continued smiling as Darryl started swinging at him.

Hilbert Cassidy loved people. Sometimes, that meant taking a beating.



"You have to put yourself together, kid," the mousey-looking Ranger told him. Hilbert remembered her—Harley, she was called. Field Ranger Harley, she'd always correct you. "What is this, the sixth time? Seventh? You're lucky the Professor keeps bailing you out."

Ranger Uniforms were different throughout the country depending on where they operated, but Hilbert had only seen these. A muted mix of olive and deep green made to blend into the plains with its grass-like patterns. Their boots were dark and sturdy, and they wore a beret-like hat. On her chest sat two medals—one for graduating from being a cadet, and another for handling a violent Pokemon once two years ago before it could do anything more than material damage. Not in Nuvema, but another, smaller town down south that this branch was also responsible for.

Thank the Legends for Professor Juniper indeed, along with the clout his mother had. The Rangers had so much authority, especially in small towns like these, that they often did the police's job for them. That was why Hilbert was currently waiting in a practically empty, sparsely decorated waiting room, the walls lined with faded posters of public safety notices and a few dangerous Pokemon reports—those that sometimes 'encroached' on routes during the summer when the Rangers weren't churning along at one hundred percent capacity. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and worn leather. A few mismatched chairs were scattered around the room, and Hilbert had chosen the one closest to the window, though the view outside was just a stretch of dirt road and a few scattered trees. The faint hum of an old ceiling fan did little to stir the stale air. A single desk at the far end of the room separated him from the busy hallway, where Rangers in uniform occasionally strode by, their radios crackling with updates.

Hilbert tried not to move his face or body too much. Everywhere on his upper body felt like one big bruise, and he could barely see out of his right eye because of how swollen it was. "Hmhm," he grumbled. "Thanks for fixing up my face and stuff."

Harley sighed, then gave him a tired smile. "You're gonna have to behave on the Circuit. Stuff like this can ruin your rep, and then say goodbye to getting a sponsor!"

Hilbert masked a groan and just decided to stay quiet. He wasn't like all the kids or even Cheren hoping to make it big by getting sponsored by one of the Big Five. He didn't care for the fame, the money or the connections it would bring, even if it'd make his goal of becoming Champion easier.

Because he did want to be Champion. Hilbert was tired of seeing Unova squander its potential for a better society, and Mark Obel might as well have been the embodiment of everything holding it back. Stagnation, complacency, subservience to those who wanted to do nothing but loot this country for all it was worth

"Ow. Ow." Getting fired up about this stuff made his body tense up, which was bad news considering how badly he'd been beaten up. Pain throbbed on his face and arms.

"You're going to need to rest a few days for the swelling to get better, but it shouldn't affect you much besides the pain." Hilbert breathed a sigh of relief. He was supposed to be meeting his first potential friend tomorrow! "Arceus, what's going to become of you out there?"

"What?" Hilbert groaned.

"I'm worried about you, you know? Out in the big cities, they'll chew you up!" Harley said, though he figured it was to scare him. "None of them are gonna have time for a goody—" she raised a finger. "'Guess a goody-two-shoes wouldn't try and beat up someone and steal their Pokemon."

"I wasn't stealing; I was freeing her!"

"Now you're sounding like one of those plasma goons."

He would have argued that they were nothing alike, but he saw his mother out of the corner of his eye. Gemma Cassidy immediately winced when she saw Hilbert's face, and she briskly made her way toward him. Her long, dark brown hair flowed down her shoulders in messy curls, and her bright blue eyes pierced through him. She held out a hand, but he leaned back to avoid her touch, scared that it'd hurt him. Hilbert really hated pain; his tolerance was so bad that his mother loved making fun of him for it sometimes. He was the kind of kid who cried every time he had to get his blood drawn.

"Goodness gracious," his mother sighed.

"You should see the other guy," he lied.

"I quite literally saw him; Darryl's waiting for you outside with his dad." Oh. Yeah, that made a lot of sense. "You're lucky they're not pressing charges, Hilbert." She glanced toward Ranger Harley, who was busy radioing about some nonsense, and whispered, "did he deserve it?"

"Yes," Hilbert mumbled.

"Was it worth it?"

"For sure. I saved Patrat and reunited her with her son."

She gave him a smile and ruffled his hair. "Then I'm proud of you, my little hero."

His mother always dealt with the fallout whenever he got a little too big for his boots, and today was no different. She chatted up Harley and said that yes, he would never do it again; yes, she would have a talk with him; yes, she knew that she'd said the exact same thing last time. To be honest, the Rangers were quite nice to him, at least. They'd given Hilbert chance after chance, even after that really bad time when he'd helped a new Cottonee in town. Supposedly, inexperienced kids like him weren't supposed to deal with fairies and he shouldn't have brought his other friends from school to see her, but she'd just been the nicest little thing! It was too bad they chased her out of town.

They were nice and wanted the best, Hilbert knew, but they were quite heavy-handed and there were…

A lot of bad apples souring the whole package. Especially when Mark Obel was at their head. A flicker of a pencil and a bit of political lobbying, and he'd be able to bring about the winds of change! A society that was better for all. So why? Of course, it was never that simple, Hilbert thought as he and his mother left the Ranger Station. He kicked a rock and watched it tumble off the dirt road. A nation-state, especially one as large as Unova, had a lot of moving parts, and one couldn't influence a tiny, itty bitty part of it without kicking the ant hill and burning support and political capital everywhere. The problem was that Mark Obel just wasn't doing anything with said political capital anyway! What was the point in him even getting to his position if he didn't even want to steer the darn ship?

He felt his mother push him forward, and he met Darryl's eyes. Seeing the tanned teen look at him so pitifully when Hilbert had been the one to throw the first punch kind of left a bad taste in his mouth, but it also meant that the potential for kindness he had seen hadn't been for naught. Every living creature could be kind; it was just a matter of finding the right approach. Meanwhile, Darryl's father glared at Hilbert and made him glance down at his feet. Darryl asked to speak in private, and Hilbert followed a few dozen feet away.

"Hey."

"Um," Hilbert grabbed onto his arm and squeezed. "Hi."

"I kind of gave it some thought. What you said." He shuffled in place. "I mean, I'm still pissed you released my Pokemon, and fuggin' punching me! But seeing her run away like that with that sheer relief in her eyes… kind of made me realize I was being a dick."

Hilbert beamed and grabbed onto his hand, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm. "You see it!" he brightly exclaimed. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you! Pokemon are like people! Your dad sure wouldn't like it if someone took you away from him, right?" He waited for the nod and continued. "It's the same here! Though I guess you took the parent in this case." Hilbert scratched the back of his head. "Just be better from now on! That's what I strive to do! To do good no matter what and leave the world a better place than it was!"

"God—I said that I was sorry, not that I wanted to hear your entire life story!" He shook his hand away from Hilbert's. "But yeah. I still have until September to get a Pokemon; I'll go about it better and try to meet one. And, uh, get it to agree to join me."

"Excellent." He patted the teenager's back. "I'm sure you'll be a wonderful trainer; maybe we'll even see each other on the road."

The conversation didn't last for that long afterward. They mostly spoke of plans on tackling which Gym first. Darryl went over this entire intricate plan to skip Nacrene because of the difficulty and the knowledge required to pass the written test to actually get to battle Lenora, and Castelia because of how crowded it was throughout the year. Darryl shot Hilbert the same stupified look Cheren always had when Hilbert said he didn't have any plan. What was the point of traveling if he was going to stress about deadlines and sponsors and strength and networking—at that point, it sounded more like a fulltime job.

Hilbert got in his mother's car, and she began to drive them home. It was late in the afternoon, so knowing his two friends, Bianca was making her way back to her parents' because her curfew was at five, and Cheren was probably busy looking at win rates, synergies and whatnot in his spreadsheets. Their home was close to Main Street, and Nuvema was pretty spread out, so it'd be a while until they got there. Hilbert half-listened to the news crackling over the radio, the familiar voice reporting on the Plasma Organization ban that Mark Obel had just signed into law. Apparently, a prominent congressman called Ghetsis had resigned in protest, calling it an egregious example of government and corporate overreach. His statement, 'Unova doesn't have a Champion in charge; it has a boardroom pulling the strings,' was probably going to stick around for a while.

"Hilbert."

The boy felt his heart squeeze in his chest. The tone was one his mother rarely used—a mix of worry, anger, and sadness that always ended up prodding at his feelings. "Hrmrm." He did not manage to answer anything but a nonsensical grumble.

"Don't look out the window like that. This is important."

"I thought you were proud of me," he defensively said, looking at her. Her eyes were still on the road, but she occasionally glanced his way. "I did the right thing—"

"I know you did," she cut him off. "But the world is a big place, my little Sewaddle." He cringed at the nickname. "Harley has a point when she tells you that stuff! Rangers aren't always going to be as nice as the ones here; you could get in trouble and get your license revoked if you keep doing this! And you have a responsibility to Professor Juniper, now."

"I know…"

"And you're—" his mother slowed the car down and took a deep breath, "—I never want to say you're too kind, because that's not true. One is never too kind, and I'm so proud of how you're growing up. It's just that… people might take advantage of you, Hilbert. Like in school?"

"That was like five years ago. I know better," he gruffed. How was he supposed to know those kids hadn't actually needed money because of how hungry they were? That had gone on for nearly six months until his mother realized what was happening. "I'll be fine on the Circuit! I'm fifteen!"

"You need to stick close to Cheren, okay? I know you three aren't traveling together beyond the first route to Accumula, but if there's ever any doubt about something being fishy, you call him. Or Bianca!"

"Yes, mom."

She outstretched one of her hands to pinch his cheek before remembering it'd hurt him, and it went to ruffle his hair instead. "I still have you to myself for a little over two months. Legendaries, you grew up so fast—"

"Mom!"



Hilbert hadn't slept.

The excitement at the prospect of getting a Pokemon friend had built and built and built until he couldn't stop himself from pacing deep into the night. That, plus the pain made it pretty difficult to sleep, let alone toss and turn in his bed. The clock struck six before he decided to start getting ready. Shower, eat some buttered toast and eggs, kiss his mother goodbye before she went to work—she would only work the morning shift today—and finally, wait for his friends to get here. He saw them arrive through his bedroom window and met them at the door. Bianca, as always, wore her signature green hat, but today she paired it with a white dress layered under an orange top, bringing her usual cheerful energy. Cheren, on the other hand, stuck to his typical dark clothes, never one to fuss over his appearance. He'd always been popular in school because of how pretty his face was despite not trying at all—he barely even had to deal with acne!

Still, Cheren knew he needed to start caring more about his public image, even if it wasn't something that came naturally to him.

Both balked when they saw him. "What the heck happened to you?" Bianca gasped, grabbing him by the shoulders—

"Ow! Don't—it's still sensitive."

Cheren carried with him a large, blue gift box wrapped neatly with a bright green bow. On top of it was a note. He shuffled his way into the wide living room. "The Professor told us you got in trouble again, but I didn't know you were beaten up that hard. Are you going to be okay?" He placed the box on the dinner table and sharply exhaled. The box must have been heavier than it looked.

"I will!" Hilbert exclaimed. "Are the Pokemon in there?"

"Yep. Leave it to Professor Juniper to make receiving our starters so extra." He laughed and patted the top of the box. "But seriously, like, are you fine? I know we're all excited, but this can wait—"

"I'm fine, Cheren." Hilbert moved close to the box, and nearly vibrated with excitement. "Oh, there's a note."

"The prof asked us not to fight over who'd get what and to have fun—you know, the usual. Then we gotta go to her lab after," Bianca said. "Do you guys already know what you're picking?" When they both looked at each other, her voice trembled. "I mean, I'm fine with whatever! I can go last! So long as I can actually go on this journey…"

Both Hilbert and Cheren understood where she was coming from. Bianca, a year older than them, had fought tooth and nail to even get the chance to start this journey. It had taken two years of relentless pushing from Professor Juniper, Gemma, and Bianca herself to convince her father to let her go. He thought the world would eat her alive, much like it had with Gemma—but his concerns carried a condescending edge as if he expected Bianca to crumble the moment she stepped outside of his orbit. He just plain didn't believe in her.

"Maybe we should wait a little. Let it sit in Hilbert's room while we let the fact that we're going to be trainers settle in for an hour or so just so we don't make any impulsive decisions," Cheren suggested. "It's not like they're going anywhere."

"I guess," Bianca said, clenching the sides of her dress. "Oh! I know! We still didn't talk about Cecilia Obel," she said as soon as he came back.

They kind of had, but not much. Hilbert always spent less time with them in the summers because of how involved he got with wild Pokemon, and Cheren was busy cramming a crap ton of information in his head so he had the best chance of becoming the Champion because he desperately wanted to be the strongest trainer in the region.

"I dunno. She's not what I expected." Cheren sat down at the table and ran a hand through his hair. "Though her quiet demeanor kind of makes sense, since our Champion is the same."

"She was kind of mysterious, wasn't she?" Bianca glanced up at the ceiling and put her hands behind her back. "Makes you want to know more about her."

"She wouldn't answer my questions." Hilbert had asked her many things, but she just looked blankly at him with her strange, mildly scary stare.

"You overwhelmed her, clearly!" Bianca huffed, arms flattening at her side.

"And I apologized!" Hilbert yelled. "It looks like she's been through a lot. Those scars looked kind of fresh, didn't they?"

"I honestly thought she was blind for a bit because of the eyes. The way they look, she shouldn't be able to see, scientifically speaking," Cheren said. "I'm sure we'll get along eventually! Unova will do her some good after the year Sinnoh's had."

They'd all heard the news of that rift opening above Coronet. According to Professor Juniper, Cecilia Obel had been a part of the Sinnohan military and had fought Team Galactic terrorists inside the mountain.

"I wonder if there's something we could do to make her feel at ease," Bianca whispered.

"It starts by treating her no different, just like she asked," Cheren said. "And not pushing her boundaries with questions. Okay, Hilbert?"

"Fine! I was just curious!" Mostly, he'd wanted to get a read on where she stood with her family. He knew there was a lot of drama there, but he was horrible at keeping track of that stuff.

"That—that applies to you too, Cheren!" Bianca said.

"Huh?"

"She clearly didn't like it when you asked about her brother! You know what her family says about her on the news." Speak of the devil. Maybe he'd be able to find out more. Hilbert leaned forward in his seat. "My dad's been totally brainwashed by that stuff about how she's a foreign spy because of that nasty stuff Crescent Global keeps showing on their channels."

"Does he know she's going to work in our lab—"

"Yes, Cheren," she interrupted him. "I let it slip on accident and now he's doubly against me leaving. He won't convince me, though! I'll move in with Professor Juniper if it gets unbearable. She sees potential in me; it's not my fault he can't see that."

Hilbert's eyes widened at the sudden burst of confidence—

"Uh. I got—I got carried away. Sorry." She shrunk back.

"Bianca!" Hilbert pushed himself up and laughed. "What was that? You were great!"

With a supportive nod, Cheren added, "you're right. You do have potential; a Certification Exam grade isn't everything. You've already been helping the Professor around more than we have—"

"Stop it!" she lashed out. Her voice was sharp and reverberated across the living room.

That soured the mood for a while. Most of the talking stayed between Hilbert and Cheren following her outburst, given that even apologies wouldn't get her to open up. They couldn't do anything to help her when she got like this—it was like she herself thought she'd flown too close to the sun and decided to retreat behind someone's shadow where no one would see her. This time, it was Hilbert's. When she recovered a little, she steered the topic away from herself and toward his arrest, and they had a good laugh about it. Hilbert was glad his two friends understood Pokemon should be caught through bonds and nothing else—even if Cheren was a little prickly about having to find the 'right' Pokemon for his annoying power agenda.

Eventually, it was finally time for them to make a decision. Cheren had agreed for Hilbert to go first because he felt bad for how beaten up he was, and Bianca was still content to go last. They all climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

Cheren had set the box on a desk against Hilbert's wall—the one he always stood at, because sitting for too long was unhealthy. The bedroom was big but still cozy, with a single window letting in the soft light of the early morning. An unmade bed sat against one wall, one Cheren couldn't help but complain about. Its purple covers were strewn about haphazardly. In the other corner was another desk with a chair and the laptop Hilbert rarely used. Then a trashcan next to that desk, and a TV in the other corner, its back facing the same wall as the window. Next to it was Hilbert's library, a dresser, and a console Cheren and Bianca used more than he did.

His house was the biggest, so they always hung out here. Less so in recent years, but still.

Hilbert grabbed Professor Juniper's note and chuckled at the silly smiley she left at the bottom. He took off the gift box's cover, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of the three, gleaming Pokeballs. They were so polished they might as well have been brand new! One last glance toward his friends; they nodded at him, and he released all three Pokemon onto the ground one by one.

Tepig was a small, pig-like Pokemon with a round body covered in bright orange fur. The fire type immediately started running around in circles in the room, oinking like there was no tomorrow. Bianca yelped when it dashed under her dress and around her legs, then Cheren's, then Hilbert's, and again and again in a never-ending burst of activity that seemed just a little forced.

Snivy was sleek and elegant, its green body adorned with darker stripes that traced down its back. There was something peculiar about it, Hilbert thought as he watched the grass type look around nervously with none of the confidence its species was known for—like it was all a front to appear more powerful and well put together than it actually was.

Oshawott perched quietly at the edge of the room, its round, blue form a stark contrast to the energetic chaos Tepig brought when it tried ramming into the water type. Oshawott just calmly moved out of the way—no, there was more than just calm. Its eyes weren't that expressive, and its breaths were so shallow it was like it was barely there. Its shell that would typically be well-maintained for the species was spotty with dirt and scratched.

Hilbert didn't want to pick one of them. He wanted to make the decision with them.

So he spent some time with each.

First, Tepig, who was a bundle of joy and kindness. His body, he had learned, felt warm when he lifted him in his arms, but his ears drooped as soon as he put him back down. There was this real pressure inside of him—the need to be picked. Self-esteem issues, maybe? Where had Professor Juniper gotten these Pokemon? Hilbert asked many questions to the little Tepig. What's your favorite food? Has Juniper been treating you well? What do you want to do in life? Would you be okay with traveling for an entire year? What's your first impression about me? The fire type answered honestly to all of them earnestly with a hint of desperation—not that Hilbert could understand it well, but they made it work through hard work and gestures. Once he was done, he patted Tepig on the head to cheer him up and moved on to Snivy.

Snivy's back snapped into a rigid posture the moment Hilbert's eyes landed on it, as if it were trying to sculpt itself into a perfect frame. He, Hilbert had learned from Bianca prior, gave him his best smile and flicked one of the yellow leaves on his neck back. The same round of questions followed, but Snivy did not answer as truthfully as Tepig. Hilbert thought he gave him whatever answer he wanted to hear.

Oshawott… she was odd.

Cheren had not at all connected with her, not even coaxing one word out of the water type, and Bianca just found her to be awkward. Hilbert crouched in front of her and met her eyes, right at the edge of his carpet, and asked, "what's your deal?"

It wasn't mean-spirited, nor was it accusatory. It was genuine curiosity born of a heart that had never been left satisfied by missing answers. Oshawott's barely blinking eyes stared up at him, and she let out an amused squeak. So she could feel something; she was just bad at expressing it.

"What's your favorite food?" Hilbert asked.

Oshawott pulled out her tongue. She didn't like to eat at all, yet forced herself to because she wanted to live.

"Has Juniper been treating you well?"

A shrug. Sure, she had, but Oshawott didn't really care.

"What do you want to do in life?"

Another shrug.

"Would you be okay with traveling with me at least for a year? I could release you afterward if you're—"

A shrug. Hilbert knew this line of questioning would go nowhere.

"...what's up with your shell? I've read that Oshawott usually maintain them very well."

Oshawott pulled her shell off her chest and demanded Hilbert outstretch his hand. It was heavier than it looked when she placed it in his palm. The scalchop was worn, yes, but he looked closer at it and realized something. The chips, the marks, the damage were too uniform for it to have come naturally. Too perfect.

"You're keeping it like this on purpose," he guessed. "Why?"

She gave him a look as if to say wouldn't you like to find out? She grabbed the shell back in a swift motion that betrayed her size and shape and squeaked again, this time with a lower pitch. Hilbert tried to guess at what she meant, but she wouldn't help him.

"I guess you're done talking," he said. "Wait! It's true that you've been answering everything and I haven't told you anything about me! Sorry!" He slapped his forehead and groaned in pain when it hit a bruise. Oshawott smirked. "Uh, my name is Hilbert. People say I'm a bit of a blabbermouth, but I just really like learning about people and Pokemon! I'm horrible at fistfights, as you can see from my sorry state…"

He continued speaking uninterrupted for a full ten minutes before Oshawott pushed his leg as if to say she'd heard enough. Hilbert looked at his friends, who had disappeared from attention since he'd begun talking to Oshawott, and saw the both of them talking with Tepig and Snivy.

"I've told you a lot about myself, but I have something else. Something that burns deep within me. Desire." His eyes glimmered with the power of a dream, and Oshawott's mouth widened a mere inch. "I will turn this world upside down and pull it into the light it so desperately deserves because I know we are capable," he declared. "One person at a time."

He gave her his hand.

She merely touched his finger.

Hilbert's mouth quirked up. He knew he had his starter, now.

Once he let the others know, Cheren settled on Snivy and Bianca took Tepig. His friends were just as happy as he was, but Hilbert sincerely hoped Tepig wouldn't feel too bad for not being picked first. With the three Pokemon back in their balls, Cheren adjusted his glasses.

"Since we're now trainers," he began, "why don't we have a battle?"

Bianca didn't look that into the idea, but Hilbert laughed with glee. "Heck yeah! Though I have to ask Oshawott first… I hope she'll want to."

"I might just watch at first," Bianca stammered. "I—just to see how you two handle it."

"Got it," Cheren said. "And I bought potions before coming here in preparation for this with the money my parents gave me to heal up after." He released Snivy, who looked around the room. He hadn't expected to be released here again. "Don't worry, Snivy; we're going to be battling—"

"In Hilbert's room?!" Bianca interjected.

"—Hilbert's Oshawott. Don't worry about winning or losing for now."

The grass type nervously nodded as Hilbert did the same with his Oshawott.

"Hey. You up for a battle? Don't feel forced to say yes." Not that he thought she'd feel forced to do anything for him regardless. She would shrug at best—ah, there it was. "You're indifferent. Fair, but how about this? It'll help to see how well we can work together."

The little blue Pokemon followed with a brisk nod and an emotionless squeak.

"She's ready!" Hilbert beamed—Oshawott seemed to glance away like he was as bright as the sun.

The two Pokemon took their position, each standing at the edge of the carpet. It was mildly concerning to Hilbert to see Snivy so anxious when fights were meant to be fun for both the trainer and the Pokemon, but he figured he would let loose once it began. Cheren was so focused and brimming with the need to win despite what he'd said to the grass type that Hilbert couldn't help but feel a jolt of electricity shoot down his spine. Bianca had agreed to referee and count down, so she raised her hand and slowly uttered the words.

"One—uh, I mean three—"

Hilbert had battled many times before, starting from the age of six.

"Two—"

Many wild Pokemon had let him play trainer, and he had plenty of experience with it.

"One—"

But this? This felt different. Hilbert looked at his Oshawott's back, and still felt this was his first.

Bianca's hand dropped down in the crisp air. "Go!"

"Snivy, go in and use Vine Whip!" Cheren instantly said. Knowing him, he had probably studied what moves each of the three Pokemon most likely had or asked Juniper.

Snivy was fast. As fast as Hilbert was when he sprinted at full speed. The snake-like Pokemon scurried across the carpet, a pair of vines bursting and elongating from his neck, and he slammed the two into Oshawott's stomach before she could react. The water type went tumbling, rolling until she gently hit the wall, but Cheren wasn't done.

"Leer and Vine Whip! Keep them cornered against the wall, but keep your distance! We have the range advantage!"

An excellent strategy, Hilbert noted. Snivy had the range advantage and could keep them pressed there, unable to escape. Each strike left a red brand on Oshawott's skin and sounded like the snapping of a whip. His eyes darted around for anything that could give them a leg up—

"The trash!" Hilbert yelled.

Oshawott cried out with something that must have been Growl, making Snivy hesitate for a moment. She jumped behind Hilbert's red trash can, narrowly avoiding another Vine Whip that left a small dent in the bedroom floor near the carpet's edge. Snivy let out a frustrated hiss and moved in closer.

"Snivy, no! Keep your distance! You have the range, but they don't—"

"Throw!" Hilbert yelled.

Not what was in the trash, but the entire trash can. Oshawott lifted up the aluminum with a huff, and threw it at Snivy, who narrowly threw himself to the side to dodge. Pieces of ripped paper, plastic cups, and cutlery went tumbling on the ground. Snivy's landing was turbulent; he'd gone in with so much speed that he slammed into Hilbert's library, knocking a bunch of books down on his head and body.

"Now! Go in!" Hilbert asked.

The water type had taken a few hits, but her face was not marred by pain nor excitement nor ambition. It was duty. Oshawott clumsily jogged across the carpet as Cheren clamored at his Snivy to get up—

"Water Gun!" Hilbert tried.

To his relief, a small jet of water flew out of Oshawott's mouth. Snivy coughed when the water got in his mouth and closed his eyes, crawling away in an attempt to get it away from him. Hilbert felt a pang of guilt at all the books his mom had given him over the years getting ruined.

"It doesn't hurt, Snivy! It's not effective against you!" Cheren clicked his tongue. "Focus!"

That snapped Snivy out of it, but Oshawott was right up in his face, now. She slammed into Snivy with a Tackle. Then another. And another, each knocking the air out of his lungs and making the library behind him vibrate. The grass type lashed out—a Pokemon wouldn't just let itself get hit—with Vine Whips and hits with his hands and tail, and Hilbert knew Oshawott would lose if this kept going.

There was this concept in fights Hilbert had found to exist in his nearly a decade of experience battling, at least in these low-leveled fights.

Momentum.

Keep up the pressure, keep making good moves, and more would follow in turn as the opponent scrambled for a response, even if they had the advantage on paper. Both Snivy and Cheren were frustrated that Oshawott and Hilbert hadn't gone down without a fight, even though she was basically on her last legs. Could they even see her fraying breaths, her sluggish movements? They were blinded by the insidious glow of expectations like children attempting to gaze at stars in the bright light of day.

Hilbert would be a fool not to take advantage.

"Throw him toward the carpet!" he said with a maddened, joyous cackle.

Oshawott didn't look it, but she was strong. Certainly stronger than a gaunt Snivy. The water type slapped her opponent with her shell, shredding the plant-like fiber that was his skin slightly, and used his bafflement to lift him up on her head. She threw with a pained squeal that tore Hilbert's heart in half, and Snivy let out a hurt cry of his own. Oshawott's body was marred in red marks and bruises, and she could barely stand.

She was having fun, wasn't she? Grinning just like Hilbert was despite her apprehension earlier.

"Water Gun again. Aim for the eyes," Hilbert said. A weakness of theirs. Snivy hated not being able to see and the pressure of the water against his delicate eyelids.

"Like three more hits, and they're down!" Cheren yelled, finally realizing. "Come on!"

Another jet of water as Oshawott limped toward Snivy. Hilbert knew that the carpet would weigh a lot more once it was wet. Vines were thrashing out and about in every direction in hopes of actually getting a hit off. Hilbert figured they should have used their vines as rapid whips to slow the water's advance so Snivy could take a breath and recover, but they'd lost the forest for the trees.

The opening would be tight.

"Grab the edge of the carpet and wrap it around him," Hilbert said. A second, then— "Now!"

Oshawott rushed in with another well-placed Growl and brought the carpet over Snivy's head, but she took another hit for it right in the shoulder. His vines retracted in a panic and tried pushing against the sudden cover, but Oshawott was quick. She wrapped it tighter as she pushed him against the wall, and then down the stairs! Both Hilbert and Cheren ran to see how the battle would conclude, hearing the grass type thump against each incline. Oshawott pulled up her scalchop and jumped, tearing an opening across the carpet deep enough to hit Snivy upon her landing. Hilbert's eyes widened in admiration. She'd used the momentum from the fall to cut that deep, but her timing needed to be just right! He hadn't even expected for her to do any of that!

She was so… scrappy. He loved her already!

Oshawott heaved for each breath, lying back against the ground while Snivy was unmoving within the torn and wet carpet. Hilbert ignored complaints from Cheren about the fact that in a 'real' battle, there wouldn't be a carpet and scrambled down the stairs, grabbing Oshawott in his arms and spinning her around while he called her every compliment he could conjure up.

Cheren? Cheren was busy being cheered up by Bianca, but also—

Cheren, Hilbert noticed out of the corner of his eye, was thinking.



Natural Harmonia Gropius turned seventeen today, or at least that was what his father said.

N knelt beside the trembling Woobat, her wings torn and fur tangled with dirt. She flinched as he drew closer, wide eyes brimming with fear. Each time he raised his hand, she recoiled, as if expecting the familiar sting of pain. That was how it always was with Pokémon who had known only the cruelty of the outside world.

"It's okay," N gently whispered. "You're safe here, at the estate. No one will hurt you anymore."

"Is—is that true?" Woobat asked. N smiled as he sprayed a potion on the bat's bruised wings. She winced but didn't pull away. "They always lie to me…"

"The world is full of liars and crooks," N began. "Yet I do not reject it, little one."

"But why?" Woobat asked. "There's nothing out here but suffering and anguish and pain and it stings it stings it stings it stings I'M SORRY I'LL BE BETTER I'LL BATTLE I'LL BATTLE I'LL—"

N wrapped the Woobat in his arms and squeezed tightly enough to make her feel seen and loved, but not tightly enough to hurt her delicate, just-healed wounds.

"I see the ugliness; I understand how it has dealt you the most terrible of hands," he said. "But one must not look away from the rot. The first thing a person who wishes to change the world for the better must do is to acknowledge the truth of it. To see how broken the very foundation we stand upon is."

Throughout his life, N had listened to the haunting tales recounted by the Pokemon his followers and subjects returned with. Stories of abuse, kidnapping, and the brutal compulsion to fight against their will filled his ears, painting a grim portrait of the outside. N knew nothing of this world, for he had spent his entire life in this private estate nestled west of a place his father called Floccesy Town, but he had seen and heard the stories of thousands of Pokemon.

It had to stop. All of it had to be scorched clean and rebuilt anew with new rules, and he would be this country's King. His father had long railed against whichever 'Champion' was in charge at the time. Alder, Iris, and now Mark Obel—they were all the same no matter what their personal agendas were. They still kept the same rules that allowed for this.

He glanced down at the trembling Woobat. "Are you hungry, my dear?"

"Is that—is that okay?" she meekly asked against his chest.

His heart burned with cold rage. "Yes. Of course."

N stayed to keep Woobat company, feeding her Oran and Pecha Berries until there was a knock on his bedroom door. His childhood bedroom was grand and large, but it had always been empty. Perhaps Darmanitan had come to pay him a visit, or Zorua, or Minccino—

Two Sages entered the room. One of them, Zinzolin, bowed immediately. The other, Rood, glanced at Woobat while his Swoobat flapped around him, then did the same. N told them to get up. They did. They'd always been subservient since his coronation. He asked them to state their purpose. Zinzolin took charge. He told him happy birthday. He told him about his time in Sinnoh. He told him about Plasma being banned from the Unovan parliament. He told him that there was no other choice now but to defer to 'street-level' tactics while Ghetsis planned a new approach. N noticed Rood wince.

"What of you, Rood?" he asked. "What do you think?"

Zinzolin swallowed a protest and took a step back.

"Good on ya," Swoobat huffed with a snort.

Rood told N that he was against this new plan. He explained that it was an escalation. That it would lead to violence, and that he is opposed to it.

N stared around the bright room. "Pokemon must be suffering by the millions out there. A little violence is not ideal; make sure my subjects are on their best behavior, but we must proceed however possible. Anything else to report?"

Rood nodded and told her something else.

About a girl who could understand Pokemon like he did. She would come to Unova this summer. Grace Pastel, her name was. A sixteen-year-old.

N leaned forward and smiled. "I demand to know more about this girl."

With every line came a crushing disappointment.

She battled for fun, and violently. Far more violently than any stories he had ever heard from abused Pokemon.

She was opposed to their goals, not willing to even entertain them.

She wanted to help Pokemon, but every idea of hers was a half-measure that refused to stare the world in the eye and see the facts.

How could a girl who understood Pokemon like he did not see?

She was blind to the truth.

She did not understand.

He would not entertain her delusions.

Rood finished his story, and N felt more bitter than he had in years. Truth be told, there were a lot of these Sages N barely knew and that spoke with his father more than they ever did to him, but they were needed to make Plasma—and his future kingdom—successful.

At least that was what his father said.

Before leaving, a few of Zinzolin's words cut through N like shards of glass, a heavy contrast that outshone everything else he had said so far. "Your father wants to see you in his office." He followed by bowing again and leaving N in his bedroom.

"A—are they gone?" Woobat asked.

"They are," he said. "They will not harm you either—no one here will. Here, I will bring you to my sisters. They will take care of you while I go see father."

N walked through the grand halls of Team Plasma's estate. The cool stone walls echoed with each measured step. Shadows danced in the dim light, punctuated by the soft glow of ornate sconces and chandeliers. A few Plasma members moved through the estate. They were fewer than one would think. Only a select few were allowed to see him. The rest only heard of N in stories of an ascendant king. One that would lead them to glory and salvation. Each bowed as he passed them. They uttered his name with reverence and love.

He turned a corner. N entered an open space where the sound of water trickling filled the air. The fountain at the center glimmered under the muted late afternoon light. There, beside the fountain, stood his sisters, feeding a lone Ducklett.

Familiar faces. He could focus on them and hear their voices.

Anthea spotted him first, her faded pink hair catching the soft light as she turned. "Lord N," she said with a gentle smile. "I see you've brought another stray."

"This is Woobat. She was hurt, but I've healed her with one of the potions in my room," he said. "I'd like for you to watch her while I go see father."

Concordia's face twisted with worry; she ran a hand down her golden locks, taking the Woobat in her arms. "Is it important?"

"It always is." N gripped at his necklace, a reminder of who he was and what he needed to achieve. A King did not show fear.

"We would have loved to celebrate your birthday, Lord N," Anthea lamented. "It's been so long."

N answered half-heartedly. "Birthdays are just a date; they're of no importance." He glanced toward the Ducklett. "How are you doing, my dear?"

"Just dandy!" the duck exclaimed with a squawk. "I'd love to stick around!"

"Feel free to. We have plenty of space here at the estate." N cleared his throat. "And with that, my dear sisters, I must make my way to father. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon and evening."

"Thank you, Lord N," they answered in unison.

N wasn't… scared of seeing his father. Perhaps he was tense; perhaps he gripped on his necklace until he made off to the door a lot quicker than he would have liked; perhaps he took a deep breath and wished one of his friends was here with him—Darmanitan's warmth would have been welcomed in such circumstances—but he—he wasn't scared. His father had rescued him from the wild, where he might have died from a disease or accident at a young age, and given him a life and an opportunity to change the world for the better.

Before he even needed to knock on the door, Ghetsis' voice boomed. "Come in."

Every time one spoke of his father, or his father spoke to him, their voices had a physical weight to them he couldn't ignore or rush past. That he had to focus on like he did with Pokemon or his sisters.

He didn't want to go in.

But it was what his father had said, and therefore, he had to listen.

Opening the door, N was met with the sight of his father, Ghetsis, hunched over his imposing desk, the room awash in the warm glow of a brass lamp. A plush rug covered the polished floor, muffling any sounds N made as he stepped in and closed the door. His father's office was far bigger than his bedroom.

"You're late," Ghetsis noticed. N instantly detected the cold rage within him, much like his own when he heard of hurt Pokemon. "Has Zinzolin told you the news?"

N gulped. "Yes, father."

Ghetsis glanced up at him with an emotion N couldn't read before slowly getting up. Ghetsis was an imposing, lean figure that towered over N as he got closer and closer, eating up his personal space until he was cornered near the door. His long hair was a faded shade of lime green, slicked back and framing a sharp, angular face. Piercing red eyes met N's, and his scarred arm touched the teenager's shoulder.

"You good-for-nothing worm." He squeezed just strongly enough to make N uncomfortable and smiled. "All of your life, you've stayed here playing house and doing nothing to further the cause I have been relentlessly pushing. Your cause. To save all Pokemon from the clutches of trainers and the League. And you can't even muster an ounce of rage?!"

Spittle flew in N's face as Ghetsis yelled at him, and his father pushed him back—N barely missed the wall.

"Years upon years of work, all burned to smithereens because of that puny little Champion." Ghetsis raged as he paced around the room. "My position, gone. My power, gone! I had to abandon all of it! I'll have his head one day." He stopped for a moment, then gripped the backrest of his chair. "N."

"Yes?"

"It's time for you to be put to work," Ghetsis said.

"Wh—what does that mean?"

"This was my plan B," he explained. "The first was to become Prime Minister and slowly gain influence within the League by controlling Mark Obel, and to then slowly push him out and push you in, but now—we'll have to rely on you and the word of Legend. Relying on fable and prayers displeases me greatly, but…" again, he rushed toward N so fast that the boy flinched back. "You're going to join the Circuit."

N had lived all of his life here, but he knew what the Circuit was. His eyes widened in outrage. "And battle? Father I can't—"

N heard a clap, and then the sharp sting followed as it always did. The slap had been so hard that the entire right side of his face hurt.

"You will do as you are told," his father hissed. His teeth flashed like an animal. "I cannot afford to wait; we have a year at most until all of Plasma is destroyed. Perhaps less. Or you can do nothing as you have your entire life and kiss your dream—our dream of saving Pokemonkind goodbye." When N stayed quiet, he continued. "You will be like any other trainer on the Circuit, and you will gather the badges, just in case this plan also doesn't work. They are not necessary—the only legitimacy we need is to beat the Elite Four and Champion, and we can bring that fight to them—but they will be a cushion."

N's nails dug against his palm. He would… he could do so, but he would refuse to catch Pokemon. Pokeballs were horrifying little devices that deserved to be destroyed or remade entirely. "I will do as you ask."

A smile, genuine but still so impersonal. "Good. Let me tell you about Syncretism," Ghetsis said. "About a particular branch of our religion that says Reshurem and Zekourom—Reshiram and Zekrom, according to the old texts we've found—have split."

N listened, the sting of the slap now forgotten as he found within these religious stories a way to put Mark Obel away for good.

He would reshape the world in the image of kindness and mutual understanding, crafting a sanctuary where Pokemon could thrive in peace, and humans would have to put away their greed, abuse, and selfishness, or he would die trying.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 332
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 332

"Graces, how long do I gotta be your mule for?" Jess' whines behind me were thankfully somewhat masked by the constant hum of cars around us. "Couldn't you just look at these in the library?"

"Libraries make me uncomfortable," I deadpanned ahead of her. A flicker of heat prickled at my skin—the shadow of a bomb, a phantom explosion that made me shut my eyes and shake my head to remind myself that I was safe. "You keep saying that you're strong anyway."

"I was just mindlessly boasting!" she sighed.

"You're lucky I'm not making you go all the way to Marley's spot south of the city." Unfortunately, the loop wasn't perpetually going to be maintained. I could have kept it going, but figured it was better to break it now so I didn't have to fly out in that exact same spot every time I needed to train this specific facet of my Pokemon and battling style.

"She has a spot?!" Jess exclaimed. "Friggin' trainers. I wonder if she'll be on time."

The plan, as Jess had endlessly complained about, had been to go to one of Jubilife's many libraries to grab a bunch of books—mostly short stories and fables—to study. Marley had suggested she'd come along, but she was often one to bail a lot of the time. Of course, I knew it was to train for the Conference; Jess just thought it was family drama or something. She still had no idea Marley actually had eight badges, just that she was a trainer.

"Wish your dad would have picked us up," Jess complained again.

"He has work. We're almost there, come on. Unless you finally find your courage and accept flying on Princess."

My Alolan friend audibly gulped at the idea, freezing for a microsecond before settling into her air of confidence once again. "Yeah, I'll carry the books."

We stopped at a red light, and I glanced her way. "Hey. Um, thanks for hanging along, I guess." It was challenging to look at her when we broke the dynamic; I simply wasn't used to people outside of my usual friends wanting to stick around. It was silly, but maybe I hadn't gotten over my school days and had begun associating piano class with them, thinking that at some point, Marley and Jess would eventually drop me like a scorching piece of rock.

"I'm no sore loser," she lied. "You beat me in our latest piano duel; you get one favor. Plus, you're fun to hang out with, Graces."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You're weird! And that's fun, even if I barely get you. Sometimes you say really strange things like 'libraries make me uncomfortable,' I mean, I've never heard that."

"It's not that weird," I grumbled. Buddy vibrated in my shirt, wrapped around my shoulder and back. He made everything easier to get through, and that meant I didn't have to make people uncomfortable with Cass asking every passerby about a million things. Sensing the vibrations, Mimi sent one of their own coursing up my arm, and they began talking through me. I could get the vibes of it somewhat—it was a debate on what weird even meant to humans—but the details were lost on me. I didn't speak whatever coded language Buddy had come up with in the last few months playing guardian with the steel type because of how crushed I'd been, so it was just starting to register in my head. "I'm weird, but I'm not that weird," I finally added after that long pause.

"Sure you aren't." She innocently batted her eyes at me.

"You don't even believe that."

"You're just my super famous rich friend who's fought in the military against terrorists, who looks on edge half the time, and who looks like she never sleeps. No biggie."

We were pleasantly surprised to see Marley waiting in front of my apartment complex, fiddling with some necklace she was wearing. True to form, she wore one of her signature dark, frilly dresses, making her look like she'd stepped out of a cosplay convention. And Jess thought I was strange? Marley was on a whole other level, with her guarded secrets and odd dressing habits. We exchanged waves, and Jess, without hesitation, offloaded half of her stack of books onto her. Marley's face went pale at the sheer weight, and she mouthed a silent prayer for an elevator. Thankfully, one was just inside.

I unlocked the door and let them in. "Make yourselves at home; just don't make a mess."

The last thing I wanted was for dad to get here and realize he'd need to clean everything up, not when things were still a little tense. I… still hadn't spoken to my mother much since I'd kissed Maylene for the first time. It wasn't fair to her—I just needed time to process. Both girls looked at me like I was the source of all insanity in the world when my Jellicent crawled out of my shirt, but I paid it no mind. The clock struck eleven in the morning when we all sat at the dinner table. Marley didn't care for Buddy, but Jess kept looking at him with wide, terrified eyes despite the fact that I said she had nothing to worry about; he wasn't going to kill her.

"Why would you say it like that?" Marley laughed.

"How else would I say it? He's not going to kill her, so he's not going to kill her," I said. "He's here to help with the books. The more of us there are, the faster we read."

With the ghost's agreement and their doubts sorted out, we finally decided to start.

"So what are we looking for?" Jess asked, grabbing her copy of 'The Clever Pidgey and the Proud Murkrow.'

We were looking for two things, I answered.

It was clear that I couldn't rely on my narrow understanding of stories forever. That was where the worry of being too predictable came from—and while mastering different types of narratives might not be enough to outwit a determined adversary with time to analyze me, it would at least help obscure my intentions. For example, my journey so far could be described as a Coming of Age, a Redemption Arc, and maybe a Hero's Journey, all without the satisfying ending at the end. Through these lenses, I had navigated Mount Coronet and beyond, but there were more stories than this.

The other facet I was looking to identify was tropes embodied by characters. The Reluctant or Fallen Hero, the Mentor Figure, the Comic Relief, the Loyal Sidekick, the Damsel in Distress—not only would this help me navigate the waters of battles and make them more fun, but by identifying these Roles, stories, and tropes in my opponents, I could anticipate their choices and how they fit within the world.

Now, I knew Byron, for example, wouldn't play around with this stuff. Honestly, no one would. It was all a matter of deluding myself into seeing these patterns. Kingambit, for example, could easily fit into the role of the protagonist of Byron's team, and his fight a Hero or a Villain's last stand depending on what lens you viewed the battle through. There was a hint of truth behind it, too. There was a reason stories had helped me survive Coronet. Why domains worked the way they did.

Reading a bunch of children's short stories was a lot more fun than I expected, especially when I was parsing through them line by line. Marley was a lot more helpful than Jess was in literary analysis—that meant she had basically more skill than us both combined due to her actually paying attention in school—but at least Jess easily sorted through each book, reading fast enough to let us know if the current one was going to be a waste of time or not. While Buddy did not know the exact trope names, if they even had one, he was also great at identifying these patterns and was a godsend to have here. He'd sift through books faster than Jess was, lifting them up with Extrasensory.

"Hm. Something's bothering me," I whispered, partly to myself and to my friends and Pokemon. "Do you think anyone on my team can act?"

"Act?" Marley scoffed. "What is this? It's a battle, not some show."

"It's a story," I shrugged. "And stories are meant to be viscerally experienced, or they might as well not exist at all." It had been easy, when my life was on the line, but now that there were no stakes? "I had this thing back in the day where I wanted to fool my opponent with facial expressions," I said. This could somewhat be considered an evolution of those urges. "So I practiced a little bit, but there's a difference between a few seconds used to trick someone and an entire, coherent narrative."

Though…

I did think I could act in a few narrow roles like a focused killer or perhaps a character desperate to be loved and accepted by others, but that wasn't acting—it was who I was. Arceus forbid I had to act like a naïve princess or any kind of cheerful hero; that would be the embarrassment of a lifetime. Unfortunately, one didn't get good at something without doing it.

"I've got no time for acting classes with my Poketch obligations, but maybe you guys can be my lab Rattata." Them and Maylene, but I wasn't ready to talk about her with them yet, no matter how much I wanted to gush about her. "But anyway, who do you think could act, Bud?"

We ended up agreeing on basically everything.

With Princess, it'd depend on the role. She'd go ham if she had to play a psychotic killer, for example, but trying to shove her in a box would make her complain like it was the end of the world. We'd have to deal with that and push her boundaries later, but I did genuinely believe she'd be able to put herself in a character's mindset the easiest out of everyone.

Cass would do it with no issues and would have a crap ton of fun doing it. They wanted to experience as much of the outside world as possible, just like Mimi, and if the steel type's exaggerated bows said anything, it was that Cassianus would live to act and might even get so into it they'd forget it was fake, which was precisely the kind of energy I needed. Immersion.

Sunshine would have the most difficulties with this pivot. He'd probably consider it below him, but I could easily sell him on evil roles, and it was only a matter of time before he slowly accepted the rest of the process. Unlike Princess, I couldn't actually convince him with words, but by showing him how fun it might make a battle. He might have considered himself serious, but he was basically as much of a drama queen as I was, deep down.

As for the rest of the family? We figured they'd try and would just need practice. Angel, Honey and Sweetheart were beings who were very true to themselves, but I knew they'd be into it and try their best. And who cared if it was a little cringe on our first few attempts in public? If we had fun, that was all that'd matter!

"What about you?" Marley nudged her head toward Jellicent. Jess hissed a few hushed whispers at her, but she ignored her. "How's your acting?"

The water type's body rippled for a moment, and I translated, "He thinks he'd be terrible at it because he's too stoic." I raised a hand next to him, which he gently wrapped a little water around. "Don't worry bud, you have great strengths already. I bet you'd make a good stalker or monster in a horror-themed story." I awkwardly cleared my throat. My mind needed to stop going to antagonistic forces right away. "Or, um, mentor. Yeah!"

With an amused glint in his red eyes, he noted that mentors often died or were crippled for life in the stories he'd been reading.

"Eh, you can take it," I snorted.

To weave a cohesive narrative from a battle, I needed my six Pokémon to collaborate like never before, especially in utilizing the battlefield to our advantage. I already had a vision for how to incorporate Sunshine's move, "You Are a Star," into the story, along with what tale I even wanted to tell, but I still needed to refine a few details to ensure everything fit seamlessly together. Motivation didn't come easy, but it came easier, and time was short.

"Wait. What time is it?" I asked.

"Uh, 12:03—"

"Crap! I'll be right back!" I scrambled on my feet, ignoring Mimi's indignant squeals when I nearly accidentally knocked them over the table. God, they'd take at least twelve hours to forgive me for that one because their sense of time was skewed to a Legendary's, but I was late to call Maylene! "You girls order pizza or whatever!"

"You're rich! You're paying!" Jess clamored.

My door slammed behind me and I instantly called the Gym Leader. I wouldn't actually have missed her lunch break entirely—she was most likely working and had forgotten to keep track of time, but she would have eventually realized and called me—I just didn't want for her to always be the one to call, because it might make her feel unwanted or like she was bothering me. It had taken me a bit to get over the fear that wanting to speak to her was wrong because of my vices with Cecilia, but Candice had helped me realize that it was fine.

"Hey dummy." I could hear the smile and playfulness on her lips. "Thanks for calling me, actually. I forgot it was my lunch break already—how are things going?"

"Really good, believe it or not? I'm hanging out with Jess and Marley like I said…"

I loved telling her about my day because it felt like I could talk about it for hours and she'd still be here to listen and ask about every little thing, like—like she was genuinely interested in me.

"I'd love to see you act—and how bad you're going to be at it," she teased.

"You've never even seen me try!" I groaned, legs kicking on my bed. "What if I totally sweep you off your feet?"

"You don't need to act to do that."

Wha—I swallowed a stammer and allowed the blush to pass. "I bet you feel safe over that phone, don't you," I bit back.

"What?" She let out a disbelieving and embarrassed laugh. "Grace, I was complimenting you!"

"What can I say, you're rubbing off on me. Felt like I was letting you win something." I shrugged and put a strand of hair behind my ear. "Any new openings on when I can see you?"

"Yes, actually! There's this big fundraiser tomorrow night at the Contest Hall in Hearthome soon to celebrate Fantina's Gym opening and raise money to help rebuild the city. I originally wasn't going to come, but Cynth said a show of unity would do the region some good, so Volkner and Wake are gonna be there too. It starts at six-thirty in the evening?"

I bit my lip. "I can't make it. I have Poketch stuff that night. Interview prep."

"Oh. Well, that's alright." She paused. "It is alright, right?"

Surprisingly? "Yeah. I'm taking you go-karting later this week, then."

She chuckled. "Go-karting? Are you saying that just because we played Pokekart?"

"Maybe I just want to see you crash into a bunch of tires."

"You're on. You can hang at my Gym after—finally make me that tofu we talked about."

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"I figured we could just go grocery shopping. Usually my Gym staff handles that stuff. We have a few cooks on payroll."

It hurt not to be able to see her tomorrow, but also…

It was fine? Not a crippling kind of hurt, just a 'that sucks, I really wanted to see more of her' kind of hurt. I hadn't even gotten any urges to cry about it or to desperately ask her if I'd done something wrong, or anything. Sometimes, schedules just didn't line up.

"Anyway, picture this—Princess as a damsel who has to be saved by a Heroic Knight—"

I heard a subtle beep on the end of the line, then a constant dull hum—most likely a microwave firing up. "Your kid would rather play hero than do any of that."

I laughed. "I know, but I can't help but imagine how embarrassed she'd be; it'd be so funny! Oh, what are you eating today? I think my friends are ordering pizza."



A pen tapped paper and began to write.

On my Enjoyment of Rollercoasters

It is unbelievable what these people call 'rollercoasters.' What I went on should barely qualify as a thrill ride, let alone an experience worthy of the long lines and absurdly priced tickets. The structure, if one can even call it that, was a simple loop of predictable turns and gentle dips, designed more for the stomach of a child than for anyone seeking genuine excitement. Emilia and Louis screamed the entire time and made me feel out of place, and the vehicular device used to transport us was cramped and cumbersome. Alas, I must conclude that I most likely do not enjoy rollercoasters, but perhaps what was lacking was simply its scale. Sunyshore leaves a lot to be desired, especially when it keeps reminding me of my happier times with her.


The ball-point stayed on the period until ink started to spill over the page.

My sample size is too low to truly know if I like it or not, but so far, the rating is at a pitiful 4/10. It is more of a social experience than anything; being with my friends is fun.

Cecilia glanced up, closing her Raison d'Être diary as Louis and Emilia stepped out of the gift shop. The former's legs were still a little wobbly from the rollercoaster ride, and he nearly tripped on the sidewalk. Taking her to the Sunyshore Amusement Park had been their idea, one that Cecilia had in no way been opposed to. The park was run by the city of Sunyshore itself, unlike the many private enterprises that ran Unova's, and that meant that the city was creating a serious drive to funnel people to spend money there not only to recuperate the costs of repairing the boardwalk, but to turn the page on all the doom and gloom that had plagued the country for a year. Emilia carried with her two bags full of souvenirs while Louis had a tray of drinks.

"Sorry, there was a long queue inside the store." Emi smirked and slid next to her, as did Louis. "Here are our surprises for you."

"You go first, Emilia," Louis sighed, a hand on his forehead to hide himself from the sun. "I still need to recover; I feel like I'm going to barf."

Cecilia chuckled. "Louis."

He glanced at her.

"Nothing," she said. "You're just a bit of a coward."

He made a grimace that slowly twisted into a genuine, although constrained smile while Emilia laughed, pulling out a little keychain shaped like a Pichu making a silly face. "That's my gift. Honestly, I figured something small you'd be able to keep around would be nice."

Cecilia dangled it in front of her face by the chain, looking the plastic Pichu in the eye as she blinked. "Thank you, Emi. It's cute." She placed it in her fist, and then in her pocket. Cecilia couldn't find it within herself to dress up as she used to, so she was doomed to these plain ones for now. "And Louis?"

Emilia pulled out a cap with Volkner's signature woven with a thunderbolt, which… "Louis," Cecilia said. "Do you think I'd wear a cap?" The Unovan gave him her hardiest of faces, eyes wide open.

He gave her a confused look. "Cece—I'm sorry? I thought you wanted to try new things, I—"

Cecilia snorted, head lowering for a moment. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Louis. I'll try it out. In fact, I'll wear both of these right now."

"You should stop bullying him," Emilia joked.

It was friendly. She just found it easy to draw joy from the fear within him whenever he thought he might have messed up, but it was true that she shouldn't do it much, or he might take it to heart. Once she clipped the Pichu to her purse, Cece put on the cap, finding it a perfect fit around her head, and Louis handed her a drink. She took a sip through her straw—

"What in the world is this?"

"Is that another joke, or…" he trailed off.

"No. It tastes like—is there coffee in this?" Cecilia didn't hate coffee, but it was so sweet that it made her mouth feel like it had been coated in a layer of thick sugar. "No, I can't drink this."

"If it's coffee, I'll take it," Emilia said. "Louis, what else did you get?"

They swapped cups until Cece ended up with a bright smoothie. She took a cautious sip, relieved to find that this one was mostly fruit with just the right amount of tartness. "Much better," she muttered. She considered writing it down in her diary, but this was something she'd already known.

There was a reason pineapple was her favorite fruit. She couldn't do sweet without something else like acidity to reign it in. Cecilia watched Emilia nonchalantly sip on that awful drink while she idly browsed her socials, and her mind went to Grace. Not because they were anything alike, but because Cecilia couldn't help but think about how the earliest version of Grace she'd known—before everything had begun tumbling down—would have gotten so flustered about it. Yeah, Cecilia thought with an angered shiver. She would have taken a sip, or maybe a few, then she would have stared at the straw, unblinking for a few moments, and her face would have gone as red as a ripe strawberry.

Cecilia waited.

And waited.

Emilia kept browsing, and the Unovan smiled. They indeed were nothing alike, neither in appearance nor in behavior, and that was a good thing.

She despised the fact that she missed her. Craved her like a drug.

There were another series of screams in the background, and her eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.

They spent the next thirty minutes or so chatting about the ride and what Cecilia thought of it. They always asked her as many questions about whatever activity they did to squeeze as many opinions out of her as possible. They were baffled at her thought about how unexciting that rollercoaster had been, especially the so-called 'big drop,' which might as well have been a child's slide. Cecilia did think that perhaps the subsuming of the fear of death had something to do with being unable to feel anything—perhaps she would talk about it to Slowking and Lehmhart later tonight. What did make her burst out laughing, however, was the snapshot picture Louis had gotten from the store. Her blank, emotionless look in the middle of such excited faces had something about it that was nearly magnetic. She took a picture of the Polaroid and henceforth decided to make it her phone background. It wasn't perfectly in frame, and her fingers were visible, but that added character to it. Flair, so to speak.

The background used to be Grace until Chase made her change it to one of the default ones until she settled on something else. She was glad she'd found that something—a picture of her and her friends in the midst of a fun activity was a perfect replacement.

She spoke to Louis for a bit about being somewhat experienced enough with manual labor thanks to her time down south, and that she would be capable of helping him with construction of his sanctuary. He balked at her in disbelief, assuring her that he had a team of people for it until Emilia told him to just take the hint that she wanted new things and to let her help.

"Oh, by the way, Cece. Check this out." Emilia whipped three tickets out of her own purse, holding them between her fingers. "You said you wanted to go look at a play for inspiration, right? There's one tomorrow; it's a really big deal. A lot of important people are going to be there because it's also a huge fundraiser to celebrate Fantina's Gym opening again and raise funds for the city—"

"You know Hearthome and their fundraisers," Louis grumbled, memories flashing within his eyes.

Emi patted him on the back with an affectionate smile. "Yes, yes, you won't have go. I know you're busy." That, and it brought back bad memories for him.

"Who's the third?" Cecilia asked.

Emilia pulled her tickets back into her purse. "Pauline."

Besides some unintentional bitterness, Cecilia was okay with their friend coming with them. She'd been spending a little time with Grace, as of late. It was good, actually, that she was still giving Cecilia her friendship. The Unovan truly meant what she'd said during their meeting in Canalave, even if it was taking her heart longer to catch up to what her brain was telling her was the right thing to do.

"You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get these tickets. Luckily I have some clout in the Hearthome scene," Emilia complained. "Even Fantina's going to be there—she's actually an actress in the play." That intrigued Cecilia even more than she already was. She wasn't one to show much outward excitement, but how could she not now that she'd get front row seats to what had become her main inspiration the past few days? "You don't even have to stay for the fundraiser before and after, honestly."

"We'll see," Cecilia said. "Thank you, Emi. I'm grateful."

Her friend shrugged. "We're all here to help you." Her eyes flickered at Cecilia's cap with a hint of amusement. "Even Louis."

"Do you have to put it like that?" their blond friend sighed, scratching the scar on his cheek.

"Louis has made his support known," Cecilia rescued their friend. "And I think I'll keep it, actually," Cecilia chuckled. "Imagine me and Chase wearing this and his own hat? We'd make quite the duo."

Chase and Emilia hadn't been close, especially when he'd been against her involvement in Coronet, but seeing her help Cecilia with the others had given him a new appreciation for her.

"I just think it'd be funny to see you dressed like a football mom, honestly," Emi said. Cecilia ignored her urge to correct it to soccer.

"She'd be quite the sight in the bleachers," Louis added with a nod.

"Please. I don't want to terrify strangers." Cecilia rolled her eyes, something that you could barely see on her these days. "Just my friends, I think."

Scaring people, at least when she was close to them so they knew she meant nothing by it, was fun.

Another note to add to her diary. If things kept going like this, she'd need to buy another quite soon.



The lobby of the Hearthome Contest Hall exuded an air of grandeur, its high ceilings stretching upward like the vaulted halls of a palace. Cecilia had heard of its famous pink glittering carpet many times, mostly from Emilia, but all she could see was a bright grey that occasionally sparkled. The hall was packed, filled to the brim with the highest echelon of Hearthome's population. Socialites, businessmen and women, influencers, and coordinators, all dressed in their finest, mingled in tight circles with glasses of expensive champagne, exchanging pleasantries that rang shallow to Cecilia's ears. Legendaries, she could have gone for a glass right now, but unfortunately they always checked for ages.

She'd gone to many events like these in her childhood, acting as a silent follower who nodded and smiled at whatever people said to her. No opinions had been allowed to drip out of any word of hers, lest she accidentally offend someone and cause Clarence trouble. Smile, be demure, laugh at jokes even if you don't find them funny, dance with men who were too old for you—she wasn't allowed to be a person. From her days as a debutante, she'd been a tool for her father to wield, a girl to wed to a stranger to advance his goals.

Her fist clenched, followed by a breath so silent neither Pauline nor Emilia noticed. It had been a while since Cecilia had dressed up; it was always difficult now that she needed Slowking's help to parse through colors and outfits. Supposedly, her dress was a deep sapphire blue, though to Cecilia it was just another dark grey among a sea of similar colors. The fabric hugged her form, flowing effortlessly from her waist, but it was the slit along the side that gave the dress its edge—a sharp, precise cut that started just above her knee, revealing a glimpse of her non-scarred leg with every step she took.

Her hair was done into a chignon, and she'd needed Pauline and Emilia's help with her makeup, but.

Cecilia had to admit, it felt exceptional to look this good after so long. It was like going back home after a long day at work. She instead focused on the music softly playing in the background—she'd been trying to find her favorite genre recently and failing—classical was fine; good, even, but not… it didn't click like she wanted it to. Her eyes couldn't help but wander around, glancing at each girl her age who had fair hair. Twice, she had recognized a hostage from the Backlot raid.

"Arceus, this place is more packed than I thought it'd be." Pauline needed to raise her voice a little higher just so she was audible through the constant chatter. "Didn't think contest folk would like plays."

"They're not at all the same, but there's some overlap," Emilia said before placing a hair behind her ear. "Me, personally, I've never been that interested, but I can probably learn a thing or two tonight for next year."

Cecilia was glad Emilia would be getting something out of it; she was tired of being a burden on her friends and wanted to come into her own as fast as possible.

"Oh! That's Vince!" Emilia beamed and pointed at a short boy in the crowd. Cece vaguely remembered him; they'd met in Hearthome when Emilia introduced them to her first friend in the scene. He'd been the one to make a big deal out of Grace's burns like she was some animal on display, but had grown from it quickly. From what she remembered, he was also the one who edited her videos as well, and they split the revenue fifty-fifty. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Eventually, she brought him back over, and they made small talk about this and that, and so and so. Vincent Campbell had a plethora of stories about coordinator drama; he was tapped into the very core of Hearthome's culture even more than Emilia was. Cecilia did not consider herself above this, she was just anxious about getting as much from the play as possible. She'd definitely go and see Fantina's high level fights in her Gym Arena after this—illusions could serve her well for sets, but the issue was that Lehmhart was completely inexperienced in the matter and did not even have a clue of how to begin. Perhaps Spiritomb…

Those were ideas for the future. She ought to worry about what was in front of her before thinking about the thousandth step.

Her attention was stolen by a glimpse of clear hair—perhaps silver, though Cecilia figured she'd call it blonde anyway. There was a slight gradient to it, becoming darker closest to its roots. It shimmered under the light, not with the warmth she'd expect but with an almost icy sharpness. The girl's bob cut framed her face in perfect, straight lines, neat and deliberate. She had glitter for skin, fake flecks that made them look like freckles on her cheeks. Cecilia blinked as she passed by surrounded by friends and admirers.

"What's her name?" Cecilia asked.

"Huh? Who?" Emilia looked up at her, slightly confused. Cecilia discreetly nudged her chin forward, and her friend's face soured. "Ah. Temperance Porter, remember? One of the best coordinators in the region. I've lost to her, uh, a bunch."

Her eyes never left Temperance's body until she slipped through the crowd too far away to keep track of her. She was a little tall and slightly too shapely, but her hair color was perfect, as was the intensity in her eyes.

"You okay?" Pauline asked.

Cecilia tilted her head. "Hmhm. What color's her hair?"

"Silver, almost blonde—" Vincent was interrupted by Emilia's glare. "What the hell did I do?!"

"Cecilia, come on." Emi shook her head. "You're better than this; don't just go after the first girl who catches your eye because she's like your ex." She made sure to accentuate the word as much as possible. "Plus, Temperance's never dated anyone; we don't know if she's gay."

"Sure," Cece said.

"She's eighteen. You're probably a little too young for her."

Another, "sure."

"Just—" the coordinator groaned and dragged Cecilia close by the arm, or at least tried to. She wasn't as physically weak as Grace, but Cecilia was a lot to move. "You're supposed to be single, remember?" she whispered. "A whirlwind relationship is the last thing you need right now, with Temperance or anyone else." Then, she cleared her throat and addressed the entire group. "The play's starting soon; we should get going. Cecilia, I'm talking to you when it's over."

The ceiling arched high above, vanishing into a shadowy expanse, as if the space itself stretched endlessly. Rows of seats, uniform in their rigid arrangement, seemed to cascade down toward the stage like a sea of dark, polished wood. According to Vincent and Emilia, the room had been repurposed for this play; it was usually used for performances. The stage stood at the room's heart, a stark contrast to the dim surroundings, bathed in a spotlight's artificial glow. All of a sudden, it was as if she was back in Gengar's dream. High above, Cecilia saw private boxes from which the richest guests would observe the play—

Her eye twitched. Was that—

Crasher Wake.

Volkner.

Maylene.

Hidden away on their heightened throne, chatting and laughing as if the world below them didn't exist. What in the world were they doing in Hearthome? Was this to present some sort of unified front? All of the Gym Leaders of Eastern Sinnoh brought together to support Hearthome, the city the worst affected by the bombs? She noticed Maylene looking down at her… phone, probably, and smiling. Cecilia stewed in her confusion and anger as she sat not at but close to the front row. She could see Temperance two seats above her, slightly to the left. Both Pauline and Emilia kept shooting glances at Cecilia, which she ignored.

Did that mean Grace was—

No. She couldn't even fathom it. Better to chase those thoughts away and put them in the box.

The dim lights turned dark, snapping Cecilia back into focus, and the play began.

The thing about plays was that there was a veneer of fakeness—an unshakable awareness that everything unfolding on stage was, at its core, a carefully constructed lie. No matter how skilled the actors, how convincing their voices, there was always the sense that it was just a performance. The scenery, though meticulously crafted, remained painted wood and fabric, never quite transforming into the worlds they sought to mimic.

And yet—

Cecilia was captivated the moment the fog began to creep along the stage, curling around the imitation stones like a slow-moving sickness. Three men—actors portraying Craig, Flint, and Aaron—moved cautiously through the winding, cavernous depths of Mount Coronet, their every step heavy with purpose as they sought to ascend the summit and save the world. The scene felt alive, the artificial mist and painted rocks fading into the background as immersion took over, pulling her into their desperate journey.

Cecilia knew this story; she also knew it was fake. They would not be fighting Regice here, but ascending Coronet to help Cynthia save the world, as was the official story told to the masses. There was no doubt in her mind that the summit would not be Spear Pillar either. As of now, however, the story or statement the play was trying to make was secondary to learning how to actually make this work. So she drank the knowledge afforded to her, desperate not to focus on Maylene.

Cecilia paid attention to the narrator's voice, low and foreboding as it boomed through the stage and made her feel like she was right there with them. Somehow, through everything, it managed to be so commanding she couldn't help but pay attention to what it was saying. A disembodied voice, commanding the eyes, ears, and minds of hundreds of spectators. Her mind drifted to other elements of the play, the way each movement on stage felt deliberate, almost choreographed to match the rhythm of the narrator's words. The actors' faces seemed alive with fear, determination, and exhaustion as if they were as bound by the voice as she was. Had she ever sounded this imposing without Azelf's gift? Cecilia knew the answer to that already.

She might need to get herself a thesaurus.

Each part of the play was crafted to make the actors shine; the entire production existed solely to elevate their presence. Not only did the simplicity of the set draw focus to them, letting every gesture and expression become the center of attention, but Cecilia noticed other technical aspects as well. The lighting, the sound, the way the music lowered in volume right in sync with every flurry of voice lines without feeling out of place.

It was then, Cecilia understood, that a play was industry. Each part—every actor, prop, and beam of light—was like a cog in a vast, intricate machine. If one piece faltered, the entire system could grind to a halt and take the audience out of the play completely. It was not the turning of pages in a book where the mind could easily fill in the missing gaps.

"I get it," she whispered to herself.

Besides her needing to learn public speaking, her Pokemon needed to shine through carefully built sets she would create, sets that would be thematically relevant and also help her win the battle.

Slowking knew how to make things last post-mortem—post-knockout or after he was recalled. She had it; Cecilia had been right.

Besides everything else she needed to work on, besides the lessons, stories and logistics, the theme would henceforth be this:

Her entire team needed moves built to last that each Pokemon would be able to make use of to shine ever brighter.



Once the first wall fell, the breakthrough was so immediate she'd instantly started to take mental notes of everything she would transcribe in her diary. Not only was she learning a lot, but Cecilia had found she enjoyed plays a great deal. One might say she might even love them. The certain corniness that they fully embraced was just excellent and a taste she'd instantly acquired.

This was a short play, and one with no intermission, but she decided to use a lull in the moment—the only fight scene she'd seen so far against a few Galactic members guarding the way to the summit, using real Pokemon actors who in most cases were not their fully evolved forms—to run off toward the lobby and write her ideas down. Better that then forget half of them by the time the play was over; she wouldn't be able to forgive herself in such a case. Cecilia excused herself, whispering to her friends that she was going to the bathroom before she left. As soon as she was under the lobby's bright lights, she began to write notes in a frenzy. She was two pages in when she noticed Temperance Porter making her way through the lobby.

Alone.

The silver-haired coordinator shot her a single glance before heading toward the bathrooms.

Cecilia frowned. It was not an inviting kind of stare but more of a competitor's. But why? Cecilia was no coordinator, and they'd never actually seen each other before today. She was not nervous. Even if she was more 'conventionally' attractive to the masses, Temperance was no Grace, and only Grace could make her heart trepidate like an army on the march.

Cecilia hummed and crossed her arms under her chest.

What did she have to lose, anyway?

Cecilia strode into the opulent bathroom with quiet confidence, the marble smooth beneath her heels. The space was pristine but impersonal, the kind of luxury found in high-end hotels. Everything was shining so much that it might as well have all been worthless. Temperance was there, waiting for her with a curious expression, a finger twirling in her hair.

Her eyes were lightly colored.

"You interest me," she declared with unabashed confidence. Her voice was too low, too sultry. Her voice far too self-assured. It shattered the illusion for a moment, but that was fine. Again, she was no Grace.

Cecilia blinked, turning to look at one of the spotless mirrors. There, she met her own blank eyes and her scarred visage. "Is that so?" she said, feigning curiosity. "Perhaps you could explain further."

"I like people like you. People like us, who can just capture a room the moment they walk in it," Temperance said. Cecilia thought her to be wrong; the only reason the coordinator had noticed her was because she looked like a ghost. Temperance's fingers snapped. "I saw you out of the corner of my eyes, and you immediately caught my attention. Do you know how rare that is?"

She reminded Cecilia of how Vincent had treated Grace at first.

Cecilia sighed, and Temperance faltered. As if she hadn't expected her reaction. As if she could get anyone eating from the palm of her hand with nothing but a few words equivocating to 'you interest me; become part of my entourage.' "Explain." Cecilia's voice boomed. The demand matched Temperance's own confidence; it was a challenge of the authority she thought she might have. "Now."

"I thought the eyes were contacts at first." Her breaths were slightly quick. Anxiety, maybe? Probably frustration, much to Cecilia's disappointment. "But they look far too real. You tower over the crowd, and you look like you belong in an art museum, Cecilia."

No last name. That earned her some points.

"You know about me?" she asked.

Temperance laughed dryly, having become comfortable again. "I know you're Emilia Lussier's friend, and we haven't talked much, but she has talent and is a bit of a rising star, so obviously I'd keep track of the people around her; I know that your face is practically made of stone and that few things make it react. I'd like to be one of those things." She took a few steps toward Cecilia. "I know that you caught my attention when I walked in." Had she? Cecilia hadn't noticed the coordinator even stop. "I know that you looked at me pass you by. I know that you're into women and that you had a girlfriend, according to one of my friends."

Temperance was sufficiently close to touch her now. Her hand went up to graze Cecilia's cheek, but the Unovan grabbed her by the wrist when it was less than an inch away from her. She looked at Temperance's painted nails glittering in the light and squeezed a little tighter than she needed to until her would-be seductress somehow smiled and winced at the same time.

"You're mistaken," Cecilia said. "I've no interest in you."

"You followed me here."

"Because you vaguely remind me of someone." For a moment, Cecilia thought she'd ask who. She almost wanted her to ask who. Instead, Temperance's lips curved into a grin, sharp and knowing, with just the faintest touch of smug satisfaction as she stared up at her. Cecilia threw her wrist away, and she shook it. "That'll be that, then," the Unovan said.

Her face fell. Did she think Cecilia would take the bait? "Take my number, at least," she said, almost begging.

Cecilia considered asking what color were her eyes, but it was better not to. To pretend.

Cecilia tilted her head just a little too far. "Maybe if you ask nicely and keep your hair that way the next time you find me, I'll give it to you."

"The next time," she repeated, as if chewing on the thought. "And when would that be? After the play during the fundraiser?"

Cecilia didn't answer; she was already gone, humming as her fingers traced her diary. She had come here to take notes, after all—her eyes widened a smidge when she noticed Emilia waiting against one of the massive pillars sprouting up from the carpeted floor, finger tapping against her elbow in irritation.

"I saw you go in there with Temperance," she said as soon as Cecilia got within earshot. "Cece…"

"I'm surprised you didn't listen in, considering you followed me."

Emilia scoffed. "I wanted to, it's just—I didn't want to step on your toes. And it's Temperance in there." She leaned to the side and watched to see if her colleague would walk out of the bathroom any time soon. After all of this, and despite going up against Temperance a few times in contests, Emilia could still be a nervous fan. "What even happened?"

"Nothing that important. I rejected her—"

Emilia cut her off, eyes and mouth widening in a mix of surprise and horror. "She came onto you?!"

"Somewhat, yes. I did leave the door open to something more should she want it."

Her friend pinched the bridge of her nose, and her foot tapped the ground. "Look, Cece. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know Maylene would be here tonight."

"It has nothing to do with her."

"It has everything to do with her. You saw her, you got jealous, and now you want to prove… like, you want to prove that you can be wanted by going after some other girl. Bonus points if she vaguely has some qualities resembling Grace!"

Cecilia stayed quiet.

"I get that it's tough, but it's been like a week. Give it time; I promise it'll get easier. You can't lean on whatever this is going to be," she vaguely pointed toward Temperance, who was finally walking out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened, "to make it through, or you're just falling into the same vices."

"Are you quite done?" Cecilia asked. "I told you it wasn't going to lead into anything; we were just playing some messed up game of cat and mouse. I'd like to get back to the play."

"You're still starting therapy next week, right?"

"I am."

"Good. God, what am I going to do with you." Emilia sighed. "Now come on, you're missing Fantina as Commander Jupiter."

Cecilia side-hugged her friend, but out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Temperance looking at her as she walked back into the auditorium.

Maybe if she squinted and kept pretending, Cecilia would be able to feel something.

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Chapter 333
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 333

Cecilia got Temperance's number the moment she'd been allowed to leave the party. Her pursuer had needed to run and nearly beg for it, hissing in hushed whispers to not humiliate herself in public that she'd dye her hair blonde and not silver so she could get Cecilia to bite. The Unovan had just smiled and nodded, appreciating the feeling it gave her for the first time that night. She didn't care much for Temperance, but as Emilia had warned, it felt good being desired to the point that she nearly had to break her calm and collected public persona to get her.

So had Cecilia heeded Emilia's warnings and decided to cut whatever this was going to be with Temperance?

No, not exactly.

What did it mean, to be at the top of society? It meant constant, endless parties and meet-and-greets, where your presence was a commodity and your absence a scandal. The weight of every conversation bore the pressure of silent judgments, each smile a calculated maneuver, each laugh a transaction. To climb higher meant more eyes watching, more expectations to fulfill, and less room for missteps. It was a life where leisure became work, and every relationship was a performance staged for an audience.

Perhaps she was letting her trauma shine through a little bit. This was, after all, a simple gathering in Temperance's Hearthome penthouse filled with other coordinators and whatever other jobs they held who were part of her retinue that followed her around constantly. From one look at them, learning each name and face that she would most likely forget come morning, Cecilia could tell these people were actually close friends who could mostly be themselves around each other. It was just that she was new, and since they all competed for Temperance's favor, Cecilia was a threat. Someone their idol had met just a day ago and who was already getting invited to these exclusive gatherings they'd worked for months or even years to get into.

Cecilia crossed her legs on the velvet couch and sipped on her mimosa. There were around twenty people here, give or take—Temperance's closest confidants, some of whom had their Pokemon out and about. There was a Vivillon chatting with a Lilligant under the sun's rays on the balcony, a Squawkabilly perched on a chandelier overhead, a Flareon lounging on a beanbag with Temperance's Dragonair snuggled against it for warmth. On, and on, but that wasn't what she was looking at most of the time.

Cecilia observed the blonde laugh and smile as one of her male friends nervously wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close for a picture that he'd no doubt post on his socials. He liked her, Cecilia guessed, yet it was her that Temperance kept glancing at. Once again, their eyes met. Temperance kept the stare going for one, two, three seconds, until she glanced away and focused on the picture they'd just taken.

She hadn't been looking at the camera, her friend complained.

"How long are we going to stay here?" Emilia asked by her side. She was clearly cross, eyebrows struggling not to knit together. Her body was tense; it had been a while since Cecilia had seen her off balance.

"Have you assigned me a time limit?" Cecilia discreetly whispered back, her mouth hidden behind her glass as she stared at her. The sweetness of the orange juice and acidity of the champagne mixed together perfectly.

"No, it's just that—Legendaries, this is making me want to tear my hair out." She'd just been about to do it before remembering that it would have humiliated her and wasted an hour of work. Emilia took a deep breath and eyed Cecilia's drink; she had vowed not to imbibe any alcohol should 'things go south.' "You know, when I was first starting out, being here… it was my dream," she whispered and glanced around the penthouse. The windows were so large they might as well have been the entire wall. "And now it's just—it's just this."

Temperance had needed little convincing to let Emilia swing by. It had just been a matter of calling her, telling her to let her in or she wouldn't show up, and then ignoring her until she'd relented.

"Enjoy yourself," Cecilia said. "Isn't this an opportune moment to further your career?" When Emilia's face soured, Cecilia's smile flattened. "I suppose you've come here for me, not for them. Sorry."

The apology helped her find her usual calm again. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again, Cece." She leaned forward, grabbing a handful of delicate hors d'oeuvres from a nearby platter, the tiny pastries crumbling slightly between her fingers as she spoke. "But at the same time—I don't want to hold you on a leash, because you've been on one your entire life. So it's tough."

"No matter what happens with her," Cecilia glanced at Temperance again, "I wouldn't get hurt. I don't actually care about her."

"But you see how that's bad too, right? Using her?" Emilia munched on her snacks, then swallowed before continuing. "Don't you want to… I don't know, not get tangled up in this crap?"

"She's using me as well; she went after me because I look unique and she enjoys looking at me. It's mutual."

"Meh. It always starts with no strings or feelings attached, and then what? I'm pretty sure she's into you anyway; she's been staring daggers at you. A mix of daggers and wanting. You aren't making any friends here."

"Who cares?" She stopped herself. "No, not who cares. I just don't want these people to be my friends. There's nothing wrong with them; I simply didn't come here to meet new people. Here, look at this."

Between the idle chatter of the party, Cecilia waited for Temperance to look at her again before she sipped on her glass and wordlessly beckoned her with a single finger, the simple motion somehow cutting through the countless conversations she was a part of. The coordinator's eyes darted around her friends for a moment, as if she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she then excused herself. Cecilia pursed her lips.

"Are you really doing this?" Emilia sighed.

"I don't know much about her," Cecilia said. "This is a party, isn't it? I ought to ask her about herself."

Temperance's hair was a little darker today, looking nearly identical to Grace's shade to Cecilia's eyes. She'd come without the glitter on her cheeks that looked like freckles, as if to challenge Cece and show her that she wouldn't fold just because she'd asked a little forcefully, but the Unovan wasn't bothered. There was time.

She'd asked that same boy to follow her—Ronaldo, Emilia whispered in Cece's ear. A Paldean from a minor house who had graduated from the Mesagoza Academy recently. Who was desperate to put a ring on Temperance and to bring her back to his country. The Squawkabilly was his—he fancied himself a bit of a flying type expert. It was a common tactic, to bring an ally with you whenever you were about to enter a conversation outnumbered in one of these settings. Cecilia was glad she had Emi to remember everything about these people.

Cecilia tried giving him a perfectly innocent smile when she stood up and looked down at him. She could sense his Squawkabilly's sharp glare from above like needles against her forehead. Her fake smiles most likely still needed practice.

"Emilia Lussier," Ronaldo respectfully said, nodding at her. "And… pardon me, I didn't quite catch your name?"

"Cecilia."

His eye twitched. "Cecilia…?"

"Cecilia," she said again. "No need for anything else. Temperance, I was wondering if we could have a chat? You invited me here after all; it would be considerate for you to check on every guest." Cecilia paused. "Unless you were expecting me to come after you?"

"I was just getting to you. You aren't the center of the world, Cecilia," Temperance retorted—a clear effort to hurt her that failed as much as a pebble thrown by a child would succeed in destroying a building. "I can make time for you now. Should we sit?"

"Of course." Cecilia smiled and paused, a hand slowly sliding over her own thigh. "Send him back; you don't need a babysitter."

Both Emilia and Ronaldo exchanged wide-eyed glances, their brows lifting in unison as their mouths parted slightly. Temperance linked her arm with the Paldean's and stuck closer to him.

"And why would I do that?" she asked.

Cecilia sipped on her glass and placed it back on the coffee table. "Then don't. I'm leaving. Let's go, Emi."

Temperance thought it was a bluff at first, but when Cecilia walked out the door, she called out behind her. Loudly. The sound cut through the idle discussion of the penthouse, and over twenty pairs of eyes were stuck to Temperance like moths drawn to a flame. More if you counted the Pokemon. The desperation was like a drug to Cecilia, but she didn't even glance back. She'd just been about to walk out with Emilia—who at this point looked extremely displeased—when Temperance grabbed her wrist from behind.

Like always, she blinked first. Cecilia looked down at her flushed face, her skin tingling with glee.

"Fine," Temperance said. "Let's talk, but—you have to send her away too." Temperance looked at Emi.

"Excuse me?" Emilia balked.

"It's one for one. It'd be an equal exchange—"

Equal exchange.

Equal exchange.

Cecilia's heart throbbed as the words percolated in the confines of her skull, being hers and hers alone to enjoy. Temperance and Emilia kept arguing in hushed tones, but she was certain the former had no idea the torrent of endorphins and warmth she'd just unleashed in Cecilia's system. The fact that it was unintentional just made it so much better. But—

"No. Emilia stays."

It'd be best not to get carried away and let Temperance get leverage, especially when she already had a favor to ask.

Emilia exhaled a huge sigh of relief, putting a hand above her heart while Temperance stewed in her own incompetence, fists clenched beside her legs. She knew she should have said no; she knew there was no good reason to entertain this farce beyond her own desire, but Cecilia looked down at her and grazed one of her clenched hands with a lingering finger, and the last thread of self-restraint within Temperance collapsed like a fading star, the very last embers smothered by a single touch. Cecilia gave her a triumphant smile, declaring her victory, and that was the end of that.

Few came to 'rescue' Temperance as they made their way back inside; all were rebuked by the woman herself. So back they were, on the couches that now seemed so much more comfortable, with Temperance's Dragonair shooting her worried looks from its beanbag, tightening around the Flareon who grumbled uncomfortably.

"So," Cece began, "thank you again for inviting me here, Temperance. It's been quite the party."

She rolled her eyes. "This? A party? It's just where me and my friends hang out." Speaking of her friends, Temperance couldn't help but make herself small at their piercing gazes. They'd have many questions for her after this, Cecilia was sure. "It's not a big deal."

Emilia's eye twitched. "I mean—it is. It's the first time you've invited someone you've barely met."

"Sometimes, there's just a spark, don't you think, Emilia?" Temperance stated more than asked.

"That's what I do wonder about," her fellow coordinator said, crossing her arms. "Why Cece and not… I don't know, anyone else at that play?"

Emi shot Cecilia an apologetic look, but the Unovan knew she hadn't meant it in an insulting way. She was simply invested in the answer, just as Cecilia was, despite knowing parts of it.

Temperance scoffed. "Have you seen her?"

"I have eyes," Emilia said. "You know plenty of attractive people."

"Now you're just being obtuse; you see how unique she is. How she strikes importance into your heart the moment you set your eyes on her." Temperance made a mild gesture Cecilia's way. "Either way, looks are only part of it. It's how she interacts with me that's interesting."

"Ah. I get it." Then, she shook her head. "I mean, I don't get it—but I understand what you mean."

Temperance nodded, then leaned forward a little further that was needed. Cecilia didn't give her the glance she no doubt wanted. "When do you think the last time someone… disagreed with me was among my friend group?" she whispered, eyes yearning. "Talked back to me? It's been like two years!"

"That's because if—you put so much pressure on them to be perfect; I've heard of it! You've excommunicated someone from your group for not being up to your standards. You cultivate that culture!" Emilia countered.

"Hm, yes, that interview you had with Yuki and uploaded was very cute," Temperance said, though Cecilia knew she meant it in a demeaning way, "I hear you're still friends."

Cecilia was a little out of her depth here—there was more history between these two than met the eye. Temperance seemed to… not be threatened by Emilia, but perhaps to think of her as a Carvanha nipping at her heels in hopes to see her fall. What Cecilia knew, however, was that Emi was and had always been a massive fan of Temperance. Sure, she'd stopped idolizing her as this flawless, cold, and calculating goddess of performances, but she still watched all of her content religiously and routinely gushed about her skills as a coordinator.

"We are. But anyway—you could have more of what you want if you weren't such a social tyrant," Emi said.

"If there's no risk in pining for me, then how will I know you're worth a damn?" She shrugged with a smirk before glancing toward her friend. "Take Ronaldo, for example. He's a handsome man. Good family even if he lies about their importance in the grand scheme of Paldea's politics. He's a little dry, but there's a funny quality to that. There's a cute, shy side to him because he has next to zero experience with women and he has to push himself to even bring himself to touch me, and seeing him brave that fear is endearing. I could see myself dating him for… I don't know, a month max, maybe."

Emilia nodded along, though Cecilia couldn't see the appeal of a man at all. Or any other girl who wasn't Grace, for that matter. "He's too… vanilla for you, I guess."

Temperance snapped her fingers. "And it's not really his fault. I've just had too many Ronaldos in my life. I got bored of them when I was fifteen."

"I thought you never dated," Cecilia interjected.

"I'm good at secrets, and the group's tightly-knit, so it never got out beyond rumors. Dear Yuki was a bit of an exception—not that I actually dated her. I knew she had a crush on me, and she got a little pissed off when I didn't reciprocate," Temperance said, staring daggers at Emi. She stood her ground regardless. "So that brings me to you, Cecilia." The Unovan didn't react, instead continuing to stare into Temperance's eyes. "Again, beyond how unique you are, you look at me like I'm… worthless." Her face flushed. "You don't even look at me, you look past me, and that makes me want to matter to you."

"I barely know you," Cecilia said, slightly confused.

"See?!" Temperance shivered in her seat, but her face blanked once she realized how loud she'd been. The coordinator turned toward one of her friends and snapped her fingers. "Um. Sandra, a drink for the three of us, if you would?"

Emilia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Cecilia, she's basically asked you to date her."

"I know."

"So?"

"I have something to ask you, Temperance," Cecilia did not sidestep the topic as much as she leaped across it. "I've been trying to develop a new battling style recently. One mixed with plays and such…" she went on to explain the blueprint and framework of what she thought the endgame of her new style would be like, all of which was new to Emilia as well. "Here is the thing, though. The Conference is in less than a month. On my own, I won't be able to develop it enough to perform."

The sheer glee in Temperance's eyes told her she'd made a mistake—she had given her leverage, real leverage, for the first time since they'd met.

"And what does that have to do with me?" the blonde smugly asked as her friend brought three more mimosas for them to sip on. "Do you, maybe, have something to ask?"

Cecilia considered saying no. Telling her that perhaps she'd just wanted her input on the idea and nothing else, but if she said no and Temperance didn't blink this time, then she'd have to come crawling back to her. Who else with as much experience in contests and who was a coordinator of her level could Cecilia ever get access to?

Unacceptable.

"I need you to help my Pokemon and I train. There's overlap in plays and contests, so I believe you'd finally be of use to me for something other than looking like my ex-girlfriend."

The truth was, Temperance didn't really look like Grace at all beyond the hair and maybe the shape of her face, but the words were effective enough to make Temperance's fingers tremble around her slender glass.

"Cece…" Emilia muttered. "That's a crazy thing to say—"

"No, no, it's fine," Temperance said through a trembling breath. "I'd be willing to accept—I can clear my schedule tomorrow, even. It's not like I have a Grand Festival to prepare for." Unlike the Conference, that tournament was canceled and would only be back the following year. "But you forget yourself, Cecilia. You need me. Who else are you going to ask?"

"Uh, me?" Emilia said.

Temperance laughed—a hearty chortle that had her nearly doubling over. "With all due respect, Emilia, you do not hold a candle to what I can impart on Cecilia. In fact, yes, I believe you would only hold her—hold us back. I think this needs to be a one-on-one lesson. The distractions you would bring are unnecessary."

"Excuse me?"

"And think about it—you're a rising star. I'm not about to give you all of my tricks." Temperance shrugged. "I'm sorry, but it would be better if it was just us." The triumphant grin she sported contradicted her apology. "You can come pick her up when I'm done with her, though—"

Emilia rose from her seat, face red with anger. "Cecilia. We should go." A moment stretched into a second, then a few, then five until Emi's eyes met Cecilia's, and realization dawned on her. "Oh."

The Unovan felt her friend's pain, and it made her stomach knot. "I'm sorry, Emi; I need this."

A stare could convey as much as a thousand words. There was mistrust—an idea that she needed to be there, or Cecilia would slip and fall into Temperance's arms and latch herself onto her. Pain at the mild betrayal was secondary, but it was there. For a moment, Cecilia thought she'd storm out and leave, and she was pretty sure Emi herself thought she'd do it, with the way she peeked at the door like it alone would bring her liberation, but she sat back down and closed her eyes, as if to soothe herself back to a stable calm while Temperance's triumphant smile and the high of victory faded.

"I get it," Emilia grumbled. "It's whatever. Just don't come crying if you ever get hurt."

Honestly—

Part of Cecilia wouldn't have been against getting hurt again. At least it meant she would have moved on sufficiently enough to feel something.



When you were rich, truly, extravagantly rich, you could commission a secret underground arena built just for yourself with a dedicated man on staff to maintain it when it was used. There was a lot of money to be made in the coordinator business in Sinnoh. Not only did they have access to the same sponsors trainers had, but money prizes for contests were far larger and they happened far more frequently than the, at most, eight gym badges you won in a year as a trainer. Combine that with Temperance being a massive content creator who had launched a beauty product company last year for both people and Pokemon that her fans had swarmed toward, and it was fair to say that she had the kind of opulence that was rare in this country. She wasn't as rich as Louis' family had been, for example, or Emilia's still was, but she did have money to throw around while still being able to live in luxury. Of course, in Unova, she'd be a minuscule fish in a very big pond.

They didn't linger in small talk much—not that Temperance didn't try to pry about Cecilia's life. To keep her under her thumb, Cecilia needed a carrot and a stick. The carrot, well, was Cecilia herself, or at least the idea of finally obtaining her before she went and fled to Unova. When Emilia had brought up that Cece would be leaving yesterday near the end of the party, Temperance had said she wouldn't let a little distance stop her and that airplanes existed for a reason. She'd stopped when Cecilia had glared at her for daring to be that forward and hadn't brought up the idea again. Cecilia bet she was still letting it smolder within her.

The stick? It was actions such as these. The threat that one day, she would leave and never come back, leaving her forever wondering what could have been.

"So, Cecilia." While the Unovan had come dressed casually, Temperance had again come wearing expensive and revealing clothes that failed to garner any attention. "I genuinely believe your play idea is good, even if there are a few kinks to sort out. I had never heard of a trainer actually putting that amount of effort in their battles beyond Fantina! So lo and behold, I went and took a look at your Gym Battles last night to see if there was a foundation we could work on." Her face twisted in sheer horror and disappointment, and she gestured at Cecilia as if she wanted to grab her and shake her. "What is wrong with you?!"

"What? I know it's not my best work, but it got the job done for a while," she deadpanned.

"Not your best work? Even if we count the last two which had some things of note, there was no individuality to anything you did!" Cecilia wanted to smile at that complaint. If only she knew. It was true that she had just… mimicked Grace rather than strive to find her own path against both Byron and in her second attempt against Wake. "But you had a good idea with the play thing, so it's still salvageable. Thank God you asked for help before it was too late; you'd be useless without me."

"You wish," Cecilia said. "So tell me."

"Er, first, the good. Your Talonflame and your Slowking have potential. Your Golurk, a little less so, but it's still there. The rest of your team would have been lost causes without us crossing paths." Temperance snapped her finger. "The bad? Literally everything else."

Cecilia laughed, eliciting a surprised smile from Temperance. "I know right?" she chuckled.

"The way you battle feels like you're trying to… convince yourself that you are more than you are. It feels like looking at someone who's desperate, yet who's hidden it behind big explosions so she can still feel big and strong."

"There's truth in that. I was dealing with a lot of issues."

"Obviously. Do you take me for some kind of amateur? Psht." Temperance raised her already-short skirt, revealing five shrunken Pokeballs attached to a strap around her bare thigh. "Made you look," she boasted in a sing-song voice.

Cecilia's nose wrinkled. "What a petty trick."

"There's more of that where that came from." She winked before tapping her Pokeballs. "Aw, you stopped looking already."

"Behave and I might stay for a few hours after this," Cecilia said.

Her eyes shone with desperation. "Really? Okay—before we start talking about your Pokemon, let's talk about you. You said you want to make a statement about yourself through these fights, battle according to your mood, and so on and so forth, and that's good. Battles are the ultimate form of self-expression for trainers, and there's so much wasted potential in your community that it pisses me off." She sniffed haughtily. "If you battle in a boring way, I'll think that you're boring in turn. The same goes for coordinators."

And her standards were high enough for people to be desperate to prove themselves to join her group despite failing time and time again.

"At least you're attempting something better now. You're lucky you caught my heart before I saw your battles, or I never would have given you the time of day," she added.

"I suppose I am," Cecilia had to admit.

"But! Here's the deal about what you want to do. It's really fucking complicated and convoluted. I mean, the amount of time you'd need to change and reset or severely change the field to make it work is crazy, but that's where your caveman urge to make your Pokemon as strong as possible comes in handy. It makes it easier to rip things apart." She hummed in contemplation for a second. "Turning your orders into some fancy narration type of thing is interesting, but battles are fast. You can easily get lost in the weeds of the statement you're trying to make while your Pokemon are getting rolled. As for your voice, I can teach you how to make it a tool. It's all about practicing with pitch and your larynx. The Conference is on the fifth… it's going to be tight; you're lucky you can train with me. If you want to be ready, we'll have to see each other every day to train."

"That is an acceptable arrangement, even if I'd appreciate it if you didn't look this happy."

Temperance rolled her eyes, smile unfading. "What's up with you? I mean I know about your ex, but you've got a beautiful catch throwing herself at you and you keep ducking. I've never been with another woman before, you know? You should just give up on her and indulge."

She was pushing her advantage too much; Cecilia needed to knock her down a peg. A single step was all it took to close the distance, and Temperance froze like a Deerling caught in headlights. Cecilia's gaze lingered, intense and unwavering, as she leaned in just close enough for her breath to ghost over Temperance's ear. "Careful," she murmured, her voice low, teasing, dripping with power. "We both know you have leverage, but you wouldn't want to forget who's really in control, would you?" Temperance's breath hitched with a choking sound, and for a fleeting moment, the air between them crackled with an unspoken tension—half challenge, half surrender. "You're certainly helpful, but I do not need you. I could leave and go back to Emilia, and I'm sure I'd be able to at least hold my own in groups. It wouldn't be ideal, but I'll be going to Unova hated by half the nation already, good performance at the Conference or not."

It was mostly a lie, but it worked. A meek, miserable nod was her only reply.

Honestly, she was so fucking easy.

"Wear fake freckles tomorrow," Cecilia ordered. She pushed her back a little harder than she needed to, and Temperance wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

"Hmhm."

"Come on now, get your thoughts back in order; we shouldn't keep wasting time with these worthless games."

"I was—I was going to ask if there was a Pokemon you wanted to work with first." She cleared her throat, as if to reset her own tone. More confidently, she continued, "your Pokemon need to have tools to make themselves shine, and only Talonflame even has an inkling of that so far."

"Hydreigon," she said immediately.

"Hm. A tough but fair choice. Probably the hardest one you could have made, really. I thought you'd ease into it. Err… your Hydreigon is… tamed, right?"

"Hm?"

"I don't have to watch for danger?"

Ha.

Hahahaha! Cecilia's laughter burst out of her like an unstoppable wave, her body doubling over as she clutched her convulsing stomach. Tears welled in her eyes as each laugh became more breathless, more wild, spilling out in gasps between uncontrollable fits.

Really? One of the best coordinators in the region, scared of Zolst?

"It's not funny!" Temperance yelled.

"Oh, Legendaries." She exhaled, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. "I haven't laughed like that in months. That was such an unexpected and pathetic thing for you to say."

Her eyes widened. "Pathe—Not everyone can be a fucking brute like you. Your Hydreigon looks like some wild uncontrollable Pokemon every time he fights."

"The truth is, I have had issues with him recently; he tried to mimic killing me a few times." Temperance looked like she paled—it was difficult to tell. "But the worst is behind us. He might scare you if you annoy him, but—"

"I think we should stick to my Dragonair today, then," she cut in, shuffling uneasily at the edge of the arena. She grabbed her Pokeball and clasped it tightly. "I've seen how you use Dragon TE, though it's crude at best. You cloak your Hydreigon in it to weaken attacks before they hit him, and that makes its already tough hide nearly impossible to penetrate unless he's hit by something that can see through the fakeness, like fairy or dragon, or an opponent's firepower outclasses yours." Cecilia nodded; she'd already been certain of that second part, though she'd never tested it out exactly. "Every type of energy interacts within the same system, which is why you can mix and match them. Basically, you're puffing up your chests and saying 'you can't hit me!' and it works."

"It's fake. A trick."

"It's bullshit," Temperance snorted. "It makes you realize that the world's a whole lot more bullshit strung together with a bunch of tape than anything else, but it lets you toy with it as well, which. Is. Fucking. Incredible. That's why I'm a coordinator. That's what gets me up in the mornings."

Cecilia couldn't help but see flashes of Grace in that passionate speech, but now she knew she was just seeing things. Anyone would sound excited at the prospect of telling someone about their passion.

She bitterly sucked in air through her teeth. "I wish I knew what got me up in the mornings."

Temperance's eyes fluttered at the brief moment of weakness afforded to her, and then grinned, her face sharpened by ambition. "With a little bit of luck, this'll be it. That's what living means. You find what's your fire in life, your one flame, and you shove your hand in it. You grab onto its very essence, and never let go even if it burns. Everything else can come later. At least that's how I did it." It looked like she wanted to say something else. Like she wanted to ask another question, but she didn't. "Anyway, I'll start for now. This is a little trick I learned in my first year, and it's the basis of everything Dragonair does, so keep your eyes peeled."

With the Pokeball she'd been holding, she released Dragonair onto the flat, rocky field. The blue-scaled wyrm lazily stared around itself and then glared at Temperance, eyes lit with none of the gentleness its species was known for.

"I know we trained earlier today already," she said. "But this is for… well, this is Cecilia, actually. A new friend I made recently that I want to date." Dragonair rolled its eyes while letting out a judgy whine. "Yes. Another. But this one's different; I swear she's going to last for more than a month if I get her!"

"Could you not talk about me like some prized item?" Cecilia sighed.

"My bad. Things can get out of hand between us two; you'll have to forgive us. Anyway, 'Nair, can you give us your little attention-grabbing trick? I'll let you have a sip of gin later."

Dragonair's eye twitched, and it instantly took to the air without another complaint. Its flight was one of reverence and awe-inspiring silence, almost reminiscent of Cynthia's Togekiss. It made Cecilia's trainer heart warm to know that even Coordinators looked to her for inspiration.

"Atta' girl," Temperance whispered to her Dragonair. "Focus, Cecilia."

"I am." The reply came quiet and breathless.

Her eyes were glued to the hovering dragon, her body elongated to its maximum length as she fluttered the wings on her head. They took an eerie light that Cecilia couldn't help but look at.

One second, the air above her was still and lit only by the bright ceiling lights.

The next, it erupted into a pulse of draconic energy. Light bled from Dragonair's form in sharp flashes, weaving through the air in smooth, hypnotic arcs, illuminating the space like a living storm that crackled with a singing roar. Cecilia wanted to sear the image into her mind, to imprint it upon her eyes so she would only be able to see Dragonair when she closed her eyes—it was nearly hypnotic, and yet they were just that. Lights. For thirty seconds, they spun, stretched and roared around the room, carrying with it the smell of scorched earth.

"Show off." Temperance's voice was so quiet beside Cecilia that she nearly missed it. "They look pretty, but that's just draconic energy that she made hers by arranging it in pleasing configurations. It kind of looked like aurora borealis, didn't it?"

"It did," Cecilia muttered, though she couldn't see the color. "It was beautiful. Genuinely."

"It doesn't have to look this pretty with yours—that took me at least a year and a half to perfect. It's not like you're going to have judges hounding you if it looks like the sky's uncontrollably on fire."

"I would like it to be on fire," Cecilia said, "but I would also like it to be as pretty as yours one day."

Temperance drew a sharp breath. "Thanks. Uh, anyway, this is just a basic trick. You said you wanted these attacks to last, right? First we gotta teach your Hydreigon how to let that energy linger in the air even when it's back in its ball—"

"Then you have to teach us how to make it get everyone's attention."

"Hmhm. Which TE are your Pokemon most familiar with?" Temperance asked. Cecilia had the answer to some of these, like ghost with Lehmhart but others were a tossup. Talonflame, for example, was just as good with fire as she was with flying. "So long as there's no fairy in there, you mix those to dragon so they can move it around, and then you've got six Pokemon the audience can't help but look at. Of course, it's easier said than done—dragon energy's tough to work with, even if some TEs have an easier time. Each Pokemon has to have the right mixture, because what x might be able to use, y might not, but you also can't dilute the dragon TE too much, or you've got useless energy soup on your hands. It's also tougher when you have six Pokemon to worry about at all times with switches instead of one or two for the entire thing, but figuring that out is your job, not mine."

"I'll manage," she declared for herself. She had to.

"Now, Dragonair. Show that to Cecilia one more time will you?"



Cecilia hadn't planned to stay with Temperance this long, but training had run late, and now she was back at her spacious penthouse. Seeing it empty in the evening was night and day when compared to the party yesterday. The Unovan herself had never trained as intensely as she had today, never pondered the way type energy worked as coordinators often did. Temperance was a good, but ruthless teacher—she was relentless in quizzing Cecilia in the mixing and matching of different energies and working backwards with how exactly she thought Dragonair had made a certain move. She was reminded of her many tutors back in Unova, which she didn't know how exactly to feel about.

"I'm going to take you to see more plays, since one isn't enough for the kind of show you want to put on," Temperance said, bringing some expensive bottle of wine back in the living room with two glasses. She poured a few drops of the red in one of the glasses. "Taste."

Cecilia spun the glass around and inhaled the rich, fruity smell before taking a sip. "It's good. Though I've never been one to fuss over wine."

"Well it cost a fortune, so it better be." Temperance smirked, and poured them two glasses. "I've booked another play in the city in two days—one with a lot of scenes I think will be of help to you because they use Pokemon for it instead of artificial, human techniques. Of course, what you want to do is orders of magnitude more than that, but it's a start."

"How many tickets?" Cecilia asked.

"Two."

Ah. She was excluding Emilia again.

"Fair enough. I'll have to tell her about it, then. Thank you for the help—genuinely. It'll make a distant project into a reality."

Her teacher sat down a little too close for Cecilia's tastes, but a simple glare shooed her away. Temperance bit her lip. "Uh, anyway. If we're spending time together not in secret like my past partners, it's going to trend online. I don't want to brag, but I'm one of the most famous people in the country."

"I know that already?"

"Pfft. You never know with you trainers. You wouldn't know the number of snotty kids who challenge me just because I have a Dragonair."

"We would do that," Cecilia acquiesed with a smile. "But it… doesn't matter. Rumors, gossip, whatever it brings. I don't care."

"Hm. You obviously do care; look at your face."

Cecilia hadn't realized she'd been grimacing at the prospect. She hid her face behind her wine glass and took another sip.

"It doesn't matter. We aren't together anymore."

"I've seen plenty of people who struggle to get over their ex," Temperance said. "And every time they say it doesn't matter, it does. Not that it bothers me, I mean, I'm going along with it." She pointed at her blonde hair. "Believe it or not, but I'm not just good at talking; I'm good at listening too. We can talk about it if you want."

"Careful," Cecilia muttered. "Don't push your luck."

"I said if you want. No need to make murder eyes at me." Temperance crossed her legs and downed her glass in one go. So little self-restraint. "That hits the spot. I mean, I did look into it and read the statement you put out, but now that I saw how in love you still are with her, it reeks of PR. Sounds to me like she—"

"Stop."

"—left you, maybe? And you loved her still, but she didn't want to be with you. I mean, there are rumors of Grace Pastel and Maylene Suzuki dating. I say rumors, but it's all but confirmed at this point. She moved on so quickly, huh? She's not even bothering to look back—"

"Enough!"

Cecilia gripped Temperance by the collar and pulled. She whimpered, and the glass she'd been holding went tumbling down the couch, and then shattered against the ground. She held the coordinator close, face contorting with barely controlled rage. Imagining the two of them together—she couldn't—she couldn't yet she had dreamed of it ever since Grace had revealed cheating on her.

"Shut your mouth and be quiet," she ordered. "You've burned a lot of accumulated goodwill tonight; don't think I won't still leave you whenever you bother me too much."

Temperance's skin glittered with a nervous sweat; her skin was flush with blood, even up to her ears and down to her neck. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Cecilia let go and grabbed her own hand as what she'd done dawned on her. "No. I'm—I'm the one who's sorry." What was she even doing? Getting violent with someone? "I don't usually do this. I—I should leave—"

"It's fine. I'm the one who intentionally pushed your buttons," Temperance quickly cut in, smoothed out her top. "I wanted to provoke a reaction—and it was fine. I liked it. Being scared."

It wasn't fine. She should never do this to anyone. Cecilia cradled her face, feeling tears well up in her eyes that never fell.

"She really did a number on you, huh?" Temperance murmured.

"I hurt her too. So many times. But it's too late for take backs, now. I'll never hold her in my arms ever again. Never even see her again, beyond maybe the occasional passing glance whenever we cross paths."

"...I can try to make you forget about her," she tried, taking her chance to scoot herself closer. "I can try to show you what it's like to date someone else. To make you think of me instead of her."

"You can't."

"I said I can try. I didn't say I would succeed."

Temperance's hand went to touch Cecilia's face, and it traced the long scars from Jupiter's Skuntank. She'd had her stitches taken out recently. The contact felt cold and devoid of meaning.

"Tell me about her," Temperance said.

So Cecilia did. In a rare moment of weakness, she told Temperance everything, from the moment she'd met Grace properly in Floaroma to all of their adventures and times together for hours on end as they slowly got tipsy on her wine. She amended a few parts, of course. The classified information she couldn't go over, along with the way Grace cheated on her. In the end, she came out of the story looking like the main cause of their relationship collapsing, but it was… whatever. She wasn't about to compromise Grace just so she could feel better about herself.

"First relationships often end up in disaster," Temperance said with a saddened smile. They were leaning against each other now, though the blonde was doing ninety percent of the work. "Mine ended because I got jealous about my boyfriend's skills as a coordinator and blew up at him. I couldn't handle the fact that he was better than me when we were first starting out." She laughed. "Ah, man, I remember. It was before I settled on Temperance for my name."

Cecilia blinked, then stared at her. "Is it… a stage name?"

"No, it's my actual name that I'm in the process of changing legally. Only a few people know this because most actually just don't bother to check, or bother bringing it up, but my actual name right now is Pamela. Pam, for short."

Cecilia couldn't help but laugh, and both women chuckled for a few seconds. "One of the most successful coordinators of our age," the trainer snorted. "Pamela."

"There's a reason I changed it. It never felt—it never made me feel right in my own skin. It took me like eight months after I started my career to settle on Temperance, and oh boy, was that name big shoes to fill. You know, people hear it and it's just…" she outstretched her hand, as if she was reaching for the stars, and she snatched them. "They think you're going to rock their world. So it's tough when all you have is a Cottonee who only knows how to do fancy powder moves."

"Ha. I'd bet." Cecilia's fingers intertwined in Temperance's hand. Hers was sweaty, and the Unovan's was not. "Is that a common thing? In the few contests I've been to, you see a lot of those."

"It's like the first trick any rookie with a grass type learns. Make your powder moves glow certain ways by infusing them with different TE—most judges swat down that type of stuff. They would rather see something botched and unique than the same cookie cutter stuff over and over, but most rookies don't want to risk humiliating themselves on stage by fucking up."

"You know, it's a shame there are no more contests this year. I'd sign up for one."

"You'd do terrible."

"I know. It'd be fun, though," Cecilia said. "I need to go see Fantina battle as well, since her Gym is going again."

"Hey. You know what else would be fun?"

Temperance turned toward Cecilia and made yearning eyes at her. Cecilia could smell the wine on her warm breath—Grace never drank. She could see how eager and expecting Temperance was—Grace's eyes would be closed or barely open. Temperance herself slowly leaned forward—Grace would have gone in quicker.

Cecilia placed her index finger on Temperance's lip before she could get too close. "Temperance."

"You're ruining the mood," the girl said behind her finger.

"I can't like you. Not romantically, at least. I can see us being friends, but I won't fall in love with you."

"Ow. That genuinely hurt more than I thought it would—mood ruined," Temperance sighed and leaned back. "You know, you wouldn't be my first friends with benefits, but it's like—meh. I want to try to make you fall for me."

"Will you?" Cecilia asked.

"I want to."

She made Temperance shiver with a piercing stare that practically seized her by the throat. "This is not a rhetorical question; it is a request. Make me fall for you." Cecilia wasn't certain she would ever be able to stop loving Grace, but if she could find a girl she liked just a little bit, then maybe, just maybe, she will have cleared the first bump in the road. "Until then, we won't be dating."

"Come on. If you want me to make you fall in love, then we have to date. Doesn't have to be exclusive and all. I tend to get possessive, but I can share with Emilia Lussier."

"What? Emi? I'd never date her."

"Damn. No hesitation, huh? You're pretty ruthless—not that I didn't know that."

"She's my friend. I don't hurt my friends—at least not consciously," Cecilia corrected herself. "It doesn't matter what she might think."

"Pretty sure she wants you."

"I don't want her."

"Music to my ears," Temperance smirked, once again sneaking closer. "Now, can I kiss you?"

"You can try," Cecilia sighed.

Temperance leaned in, and their lips met. It was underwhelming. She was a good kisser who fought for control until Cecilia bit her lip and made her whimper with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Yet, Cecilia felt nothing, so she pushed Temperance down, closed her eyes and imagined Grace under her.

Finally, her heart was alive in her chest; her veins flared with warmth and blood; she found herself smiling against Grace—Temperance's lips as the girl's voice leaked out and she wrapped her arms around Cecilia's neck.

There's my fire.

The next time, she'd ask her to turn off the lights.



"You were up there late."

Back when Cece had first met Emilia, she'd never have thought that her friend could have so much suspicion and ire in her voice. Little meek Emilia, turned into a strong and independent voice that rarely let others trample upon hers.

"You didn't have to actually come pick me up," Cecilia said. Emilia walked next to her as they made their way toward the nearest Center. "I could have stayed."

Emilia exhaled. Her eyes were half-closed under a streetlight. "What happened up there?"

Well, for one, Cecilia was certain Temperance would have to wear a scarf tomorrow, but Emi didn't have to know that. "We trained for a good while—Temperance is an excellent teacher who I'll be seeing basically every day, now." She waited to gauge Emilia's reaction, of which there was none but a nod and a warning to not get too dependent on her. "Then we went back to her penthouse and discussed life over wine." A pause. "Long story short, we're dating now. She'll announce it to her fans tomorrow."

That got a reaction, however subtle. Her time with Grace had long taught her to watch her friends' body language, and while she was nowhere as good, she caught the sharpness of her next breath and and flattening of her lips. She waited until a lonely car passed them by to continue.

"I figured there were good odds of that happening," Emilia said. "I just didn't expect it to be this fast. You two don't even know each other—you literally met three days ago."

"Sometimes things happen fast," Cecilia said.

"Do you even like her?" Emilia asked. Never did her tone rise, but the judginess was impossible to miss.

"Not at all, and she knows that. I'm trying to communicate with her, at least. Learning."

Her friend let out a long sigh and threw her head back. "This is a horrible idea."

"I don't think so. I can end it at any moment, and she'd understand. So can she. There would be no hard feelings."

"I'm just saying that Temperance… isn't… like, I have a bunch of girl friends I can introduce you to if you need someone."

"There's nothing wrong with her. I've actually learned a good amount about her; she's more than meets the eye."

"I—obviously I know that. No one can be their online persona twenty-four seven. I'm just saying that if you're so desperate to date someone else, she's not the girl you should be looking at. Here, Yuki, for example—"

Her tirade was interrupted by a text on Cecilia's phone. She'd forgotten to put it on silent.

Temperance - I miss you already babe.

You - I don't. Stop messaging me, Pamela.

Temperance - Cece, we're dating. Girlfriends message each other. Also, don't call me that.

You - I don't care. Message me again and I'm blocking you until tomorrow.

The message got a heart react under it, which made Cecilia squint at her screen and smirk.

"I'm going to try things out with her. It is what it is. Now, if you have something else to say that perhaps pertains to your likely attraction to me—"

Emilia raised and shook her hands in a mild panic. "Legendaries, no! You're pretty and all, but no. I have—a lot of other people that are flirting with me that I could probably get with at any time." She let out a nervous laugh. "I mean, not a lot. A decent amount. Uh, like three. Vincent, Lena—"

"I believe you."

"—Raine. I just don't think I can handle one right now. Anyway, you're my friend. I would never look at you from that angle."

"What about Temperance, then?"

"I mean, she's pretty too. I did have a crush on her when I didn't actually know what she was like, but that's gone."

"Then there's no problem," Cecilia declared with a smile and a clap of her hands. "Don't worry, I know I'll be with her every day, but if I ever feel like I'm growing dependent, I'll let you know."

"You probably won't be able to tell, Cece," she said. "And you should tell me about what you feel before things start going haywire."

"That's fine by me as well."

"Then we're in agreement."

"This won't be an issue?" Cecilia asked. "Because if it is and it's going to disrupt the already-fragile group, I can always br—"

"It's fine. I get it; I'm not gonna get in your way. Just keep me updated on everything, and it'll be fine. I will."

"And you're sure about it this—"

"Yes! Fuck, Cecilia, I'm not made of glass." Her tone rose slightly. "I told you I only cared because I don't want you to crash and burn."

"Okay. Thank you."

Well.

Cecilia thought that could have gone a lot worse, all things considered.

A/N: There was also supposed to be a Grace POV in this, but it would have been too long (probably like 15-18k words), so it'll be split.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 334
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake, Ice Fang, Flamethrower

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol/Cassianus (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport, Earth Power, Sandstorm, Scorching Sands

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 334

"It's been so surprising to see you at all these public events—let alone an interview with SNN! People have long struggled to squint past your… elusiveness, but it really feels like you've begun to step into Craig Goodwill's shoes recently. What do you have to say to that?"

I stopped myself from noticing Mimi vibrating around my neck, and stopped myself from gulping too loud into the microphone as I brought it closer to my mouth. In front of me was a live audience of around fifty or so who had paid Poketch and the Sinnohan News Network—a different news channel than the SGNC—to be here. From high-level trainers to regulars of the show who had money to spend to whoever would be interested in seeing me talk on the Paloma Show live instead of on TV. In front of me was the woman herself, Paloma Kier. Dark-skinned, long-legged, and short-haired, she was a young rising star in the news industry thanks to the long-form podcast-like interviews she did with any personalities she deemed interesting. Tonight, that was me.

"I owe a lot to Craig." There was a lot to keep track of. My face, if I was smiling enough, if I was smiling too hard, the pace of my breaths, the twitching of my hands around the mic—I had to be tailored for television but not seem too unnatural. I still had to be myself, to some degree. Worthy of the position, but still a person. It was a tricky line to walk. "He offered me guidance when I was lost and just out of Mount Coronet, and he's been one of the trainers I admired the most, not only because of what he represented, but because I saw who the man was first-hand. His work ethic was second to none…" it felt good to finally be able to be real in this interview and talk about what I admired about my predecessor. There were only a few windows to say what I really thought here, like how I, for example, would have rather been doing literally anything else.

But at least one could say it was kind of acting practice, which I was trying to pack a lot of in my daily life these days.

Paloma beamed at me, waiting for the round of applause at Craig's accolades to diminish before she straightened her back on her comfortable couch. I tried not to wince at the loud feedback loop in my hearing aid, but I could tell from Paloma's apologetic stare that I failed. The studio was arranged somewhat like a lounge and a fireside chat in a cabin during winter, so it looked pretty cozy. It kept reminding me of how tired I was. Being a Poketch mule was hard work; I could almost picture myself drifting off to sleep next to the fire…

"We've talked about your work within Poketch and the way you train, but let's talk about you," Paloma said, before turning toward the audience. "Do we have any Grace fans in here tonight?" Around eleven people raised their hands, which was more than I expected. "Excellent, excellent! Does anyone have a question for her?"

A few hands went down, then nearly all of them—were they nervous to speak to me? Two were left, and one of the crew members discreetly passed them a microphone from behind before the camera feed switched to a trainer in his early twenties. I figured he was a trainer because he just had the look about him.

"Uh." He cleared his throat; he was clearly nervous. "My name's Andrew. Been following your Circuit since you disappeared into Coronet and were presumed dead and came out with a Larvitar. I guess that's relevant to the previous question about Craig." Andrew anxiously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "My question is—it's been a while since we've seen you battle. Seriously battle, not just train with your colleagues or fighting people in public arenas." That was true enough. There would always be a difference between training with no stakes and an actual Gym Battle or a fight to the death. "A lot of fans are nervous about your rematch with Byron, since it's going to be your last try. I guess I wanted to ask how ready do you feel?"

Oh.

That was tricky.

On one hand, the real answer was that I was utterly terrified because the consequences went beyond a badge and the Conference, beyond being demoted within the Poketch hierarchy. If I failed to reignite something here, if I screamed out into the world and all I heard back was the faint echo of my own tired voice, then—

Then what else was left?

But I couldn't just say that, could I?

"Of course, I'm always going to be nervous with such high stakes in a single thirty-minute match," I replied with an honest smile. "I mean, getting to the Conference in my first year's the kind of stuff dreams are made of; I'd love to make it a reality. I've been preparing as hard as I can in order not to disappoint myself and my fans."

I hated that answer. It was vapid and felt untrue to myself. I liked having fans, even if interacting with them wasn't my favorite thing to do nor my forte, and I didn't want them to think ill of me, but they were not the reason I was worried here. They didn't even occupy one percent of my anxieties.

"But my first loss to Byron taught me a lot of things," I added. "Hell, it basically saved my life—" I swallowed my next word when Mimi pricked me in the neck. Crap, I was not supposed to say that. "Um, that was a figure of speech. I get really into battling, haha…"

That salvaged it a little. I could have spoken about Coronet—the official story the League had peddled anyway—but that was the last thing I wanted. I'd had enough of things reminding me of that mountain; my only desire was to move past it.

The next question followed, this time from a chubby teenage girl. She was even wearing my merch.

"Is—is it okay to ask personal questions?" she asked, not introducing herself.

I resisted the urge to make eyes that may or may not have had fighting intent at her and kept up my not-too-forced smile. There was no Melody with me to tell me yes or no to this, but I'd been vetted before this interview to take these whenever possible. Poketch was done coddling me, and Craig had taken a million questions about his life, even if he ended up dodging a good majority of them. With a restrained sigh that thankfully didn't make it through the microphone, I nodded.

"I think I speak for a lot of us when I ask: what exactly is going on with you and Maylene?" Her voice went quiet by the end of that sentence. She wanted to go on, but this had taken all of her courage.

Unfortunately, I was no Craig, able to dodge and weave in between questions that I didn't like all while satisfying my inquirer. I stayed silent for a moment, freezing while I recalled what Poketch had coached me to say.

"I've had a rocky relationship with Maylene in the past." Because of my own mistakes, which I wasn't allowed to say. They shouldn't have—shouldn't have been looking at me like we were somehow equally at fault. I swallowed the bile at the back of my throat. "Obviously people aren't blind," I forced myself to laugh. "We've gotten closer recently, but I'd like to keep that private."

The girl looked a little unsatisfied with that answer, but she sat back down after thanking me for my time. The interview continued in earnest for another fifteen minutes until I was finally freed, and I met Melody and the rest of my crew out of the SNN's Jubilife studio lobby. It wasn't as expansive as the SGNC's, especially when Jubilife was a lot more expensive. The SNN lobby was smaller and more straightforward, with clean lines, glass walls, and a few plants for decoration. It felt efficient but a little cramped—nothing like the wide halls and Magikarp pond of the SGNC in Veilstone. From her slightly crooked smile and quiet cheers from her colleagues, I knew I had done okay. It wasn't until we got back in one of the cars that Melody found it fit to speak to me in detail.

"You did a good job out there. Some hiccups, especially near the end, but overall it was a great interview. Paloma will be pleased, I bet." Melody looked in the rearview mirror directly at me. "Grace. Sit up and put your seatbelt on."

Maybe I'd lied down in the back of the car and curled up to ready myself to go to sleep. Just maybe.

"If there's a car accident, Buddy will keep me alive. Uh, I mean us alive. Probably," I quietly spoke with a sigh. I felt the water type rumble against my skin, telling me to put the damn seatbelt on. "Fine. But you're like a warm blanket, so you really aren't helping."

"Don't make him get out in the car!" Melody nearly shrieked.

"I won't! Arceus, relax."

Sitting up was tougher than I'd expected. I had to slowly push myself off the seat and blink away the tiredness. The moment my head hit a pillow, I'd be out like a light. My teeth chattered a little bit—that was a really bad expression for me to use these days.

"I can't believe you had your Jellicent there during the interview," Melody exhaled, her hand tapping the steering wheel. She was a little like my dad when she drived. "Well—I can believe it. As long as he's well hidden, I guess it's fine."

One of my fingers tapped my necklace, and Mimi dripped down, pooling onto my lap. I gave the steel type a gentle smile. "Thanks for helping me out there."

Their eye turned into a smug 'U' and they chimed.

"I don't have any snacks on me. Wait until we get home—I'll get you the rusted scrap you like." They didn't really like the taste as much as they liked purifying the metal and cleansing the rust.

"You had your tetanus shot, right?" Melody asked with a hint of worry.

"Yeah. I mean, it's in the vaccines they make you take when you sign up to be a trainer." I'd heard Unova had more on the list I would need to get. Back in the day, that would have terrified me, but today it was just a needle.

Melody continued speaking about the areas I could improve in while I distracted myself with my phone. There were texts from Denzel and Pauline—I had a pretty long conversation with the former about interviews and how he'd bring me on one of his streams again when I felt ready. He even made fun of how stiff I was for the first few minutes of the show. It was… good that he was comfortable enough to go back to that. There was also Jess and Marley, my parents, Bobby and Ramon—hell, even Jasmine, though her text was less about the interview and more about the stuff I had sent her about acting. As it turned out, that was out of her area of expertise, but she was interested in what I had prepared.

She said she might be able to make time for one training session for me to prepare against Byron. Normally, I would have been against this, wanting to do everything myself, but the stakes were just too high for me to refuse.

As I'd said before, it wasn't just about a badge.

Maymay 3 - Good job today! U gave some great answers

I sent her a sticker of a Pikachu holding a heart.

You - I tried my best, thank you. Was the answer about us fine?

I'd been typing an entire essay about the reasons why I'd answered that way—a combination of me being deathly terrified that I'd overstep boundaries and go too fast if I put a label on us and Poketch wanting at least a little bit of a delay before I confirmed anything despite the fact that people basically knew already, but—

Maymay 3 - It was! Jsut take ur time. I can wait, ur worth it

I sent her an 'I love you' and clutched my phone against my chest.

"It's hard work, isn't it?" Melody said all of a sudden. "All of this."

"It is," I agreed.

It took a lot of effort to have your story told, I was finding out.



Twinleaf was quiet at this time of day—

Actually, Twinleaf was always quiet. It was just what I needed after how hectic the last few days had been. Relaxing in the quiet lakeside town would also help me get ready for my date in Veilstone tonight. Poketch's rhythm had infected every aspect of my life, including my sleep schedule (not that I slept very much), so I'd spent the first few hours of the morning flying south from Jubilife and seeing my mother for the first time since I realized I was cheating. She had acted like nothing was wrong, given me a wonderful smile and hug that exuded warmth as she always did. Yet there was a gaping emptiness between us—the chasm always left by words left unsaid.

I needed to talk to her. Not next week, not tomorrow, but today.

But for now;

"You're doing it all wrong!" I gently scolded Sweetheart. The enormous mass of shifting stone plates stared at me, her eyes furious at my eighth rebuttal of her performance. "No yelling," I firmly added. The last thing I wanted was to scare the neighbors, and Denzel's parents were back in Twinleaf for the time being. Even from afar, I could see shifting behind curtains.

"You can't have Sunshine's role," I said. "Be happy I haven't given you Buddy's or Angel's!" I patted her arm, standing on my tiptoes. She growled at me and angrily glared at Turtonator, who was working together closely with Princess around a hundred feet away. All of my Pokemon were out, but I was spending the most time with her. "Come on, baby. I know it's tough, but you can do it."

It was difficult for Sweetie to be anything but an excited toddler or a violent beast. The silence and solemnity I would demand of her didn't come easy. It wasn't that her acting was bad—all of my Pokemon's acting was currently bad save for Cass and Buddy. Expecting them to be professionals when they didn't even have a month of training would be asking for the impossible. It was that after a while, she just lost focus and got bored of making faces and practicing attacks with the right… attitude. We were telling a specific tale that was meant to flow like water; it would completely break immersion if she got too excited during the fight and couldn't conceal her excitement at fighting an actually fun fight after so long.

Granted, she had fought a decent amount lately, most recently another kid with seven badges who had challenged me, but it wasn't the kind of fight that got your blood pumping—if I even was capable of feeling that. I always kept these battles to one on ones because I couldn't afford to have a huge chunk of my team in the Pokemon Center at a time when I had so few days. He had been very confused when I'd looked frustrated after winning—it reminded me of the Solaceon Tournament days before everything had gone to shit.

"Why don't we do this." I stepped around her, jumping over her tail and climbed on top of her back, grabbing on each of the jagged spikes behind her until I could speak into her ear. She giggled at me, flashing sharp teeth the size of my face. She was still growing. "Emotions are a spectrum; they bleed into each other easily. There's a reason they say hate borders on the frontier of love. Sure, they're opposites, but the obsession needed for both is one and the same."

The rock type grunted, and I felt her entire body vibrate against me. She asked if that meant she could be more herself.

"Not exactly," I said. "But ideally, you'll represent an element of transition between two states of mind." It would either be her, Honey or Angel. The thing about turning battles into stories out of my own volition was that it was so difficult. Battles had so many variables that every Pokemon needed to be ready to act out different scenarios just in case things didn't line up correctly. Save for Sunshine—and Sweetheart because I knew she wouldn't be able to handle two of these quite yet—all of my Pokemon were working on two to three roles that would need to lead not perfectly, but at least well into each other depending on how the fight went. "That means that you aren't a static character."

I saw her eyes squint in confusion.

"Like Sunshine, you're going to change during the battle—that's called character development. Slowly but surely, you'll become someone else." I explained my plan, and her mouth slowly spread into a toothy grin. "That feel better to you?"

Sweetheart gave me an exaggerated nod and thanked me.

"See? Compromise feels nice, doesn't it?"

She began her work earnestly again. It was interesting to see what kind of actors my Pokemon were. There were method actors like myself, who with prep work and mental exercises became someone else like Buddy. Classical acting with exaggerated gestures, laughs and voices, like Cassianus or Princess. Those who enjoyed improv and essentially winged it like Honey and Angel, or Pokemon who just stayed true to themselves and tried their best like Sunshine and Sweetheart…

The truth of the matter was, so long as it worked, so long as things stayed cohesive and I succeeded in making this fight the match box upon which I would be able to strike myself, then I'd achieve everything I wanted.

I just hoped I hadn't bitten off more than I could chew.

Once I was sure Sweetheart was on a good path, I sent her over to Buddy and promised that I'd go and buy her steak she'd eat before heading to Veilstone this evening. Everyone was working well—it was a thing of beauty, like watching a bunch of cogs help each other spin. The only one who needed to pick up the slack was me.

But right now, I needed to talk to mom.

"Hey."

My mother sat on the couch in front of the small TV with a book about home decoration. Herdier was lying next to her with his head on her lap, his body rising and lowering with each calm breath and his eyes half-shut. It was a lazy week-end in a sleepy town. Honestly speaking, I'd for sure go for a nap right now if I could afford to waste the time. I was jealous about many things Pokemon had, but their energy was probably near the top of that list.

"Grace." Mom smiled at me and placed her book next to her. "How's your training doing, sweetie?"

"Pretty good, all things considered. Could be going a lot worse." I took a few steps forward. "Can I, uh, sit? So we can talk?"

Her smile didn't fall, but it did falter. A simple twitch at the corner of her mouth followed by an unnatural stretch to put it back where it was, but it simply wasn't. It went too far. Not ideal, really. "Always."

"I can tell you're expecting the worst! You shouldn't be," I said. "I just want to talk about a few things." The usual comfort found within a couch was nowhere to be found when I sat. I glanced toward my mother, who I had only seen this nervous a few times. Usually, always when she thought our relationship hung in the balance of a single conversation like when we reunited in Twinleaf or in Veilstone. "I'm not gonna ghost you again."

She let out a nervous laugh. "I know."

There was this thing with her, I noticed. She wanted to stay positive around others and hide away her pain. It was why I'd rarely seen her grieve her own mother save for the first few days after I'd come back from Coronet, or why the last time I'd asked her about it she had only answered with 'I'll be fine, don't worry about me.'

"You were worried!" I pressed. "Because I didn't text you much. I needed space to just digest everything, so…"

She cleared her throat and ran her fingers through Herdier's fur. "And have you? Digested everything, I mean."

Would I ever untangle the mess of a person that I was? Maybe not ever, but at least I had come to terms with my actions and what had happened with Maylene and Cecilia.

I gave her a nod. "I guess I should start with—with an apology. I'm sorry I kind of dropped off the face of the earth recently, and I'm sorry I lied to you about Maylene. It wasn't… an intentional lie, but it was a lie. I wanted to hide myself from the truth that I'd fallen in love with someone else."

Mom grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Thank you."

"Can we talk about my—my childhood for a bit?"

"Of course, Grace."

"Okay. I guess… well it wasn't too bad, but it was kind of empty before I got Princess?" I tried to look out the window for her, but she was too far away for me to see. Instead, I saw Honey and Angel throwing Mimi between each other like the steel type was some kind of ball. Slackers, I thought with a slight smirk. "I dunno. For a while dad just worked long hours. I'd hear about promotions or whatever, and we'd move to a better apartment, but I don't remember much. At some point his eyes got brighter again and he started taking me somewhere most weekends. Eating out, bowling, the movies, watching battles—it was fun, but there was something missing."

"Me," she guessed.

"I'd see moms pick up their kids in a car after school while I had to take the bus because dad was working. I'd hear girls complain about how annoying their mom was or just talk about them sometimes. I'd see mothers taking their kids to their Little League battling club or football practice or whatever. And you know, it wasn't—it wasn't a big deal, you know?" I was far from the only kid who grew up without a mom. It was far from a unique circumstance to be in. "But it wasn't nothing, either. It was something. It was an itch. There was a certain uncomfortableness to it that I tried to hide by hating you instead."

It wasn't like she hadn't done anything deserving of scorn. But I'd done it too, now. I put myself through what she'd done and I could understand far better than I ever thought I would. Not condone it, never that, but understand. And while dad had told me I could see her whenever I wanted from the getgo, I kept saying no and making up my own image of her in my head. Because it was easier to hate than to confront the reality. Easier to hate a fake when you were so deathly afraid that you would also hate the real person and that you truly, truly would never have a mother to hold you in her arms.

"I could have kept trying to contact you," she said, hand squeezing tightly. "At some point I just gave up trying as hard. It just hurt every time no answers came. Every time Arthur said you didn't want to talk. And he—he just has this way of talking to you that makes you so sorry for disappointing him that he hadn't lost then and still hasn't lost now."

Ah. The tone.

"The point is—I don't know. I don't even know if there is a point to any of what I'm saying, which is rare for me." My foot tapped anxiously against the floorboards. "I'm a lot. I'm just a lot. And I think I put you as the blame of everything wrong in my life before I became a trainer. Why dad looked so broken when he thought I wasn't looking, and how I felt like he had to force himself to take me out. Why I had no friends. Why I couldn't get interested in anything like clubs at school. Why I just felt like going straight home every time the bell rang and I kept denying invitations until they just stopped coming. Why I was just lost in life like a fleck of dust drifting in the wind."

My mother sniffled—she cried very easily, as did I. "I was the cause."

"Maybe. But then it's like, for how many years can I keep blaming you for everything wrong with me, you know? Like… I can't just put that on you. I could have done more, but it took dad getting me a Togepi and basically lighting a fire under my ass—butt—crap, sorry."

Her laughter broke the tension. "You can swear, Grace. I'm not going to get on your case with that."

"Dad doesn't like it. But I guess you aren't dad." I could almost hear him yelling language from the other side of the room.

"You've sworn in front of me before."

"Did I? I completely forgot," I chuckled. "Uh. Anyway, I don't know. I just… wasn't doing much of anything until dad forced me to go on the Circuit. God, he was so happy when I brought Denzel back." He had tried to hide it by being mad I had just forced him to accept Denzel would be staying with us—and to be fair, he was plenty angry—but he had accepted without much of a fight because it had literally never happened before. I'd just never brought a friend home. "There's no… no grand ending to this vent, I guess. No way to neatly tie it all together. I'm just… I've been wanting to talk to you about it."

"We can talk all you want," she said, pulling me close and kissing the side of my head.

"Cool." I tried ignoring how fuzzy my chest felt. "I have a lot of time until my date tonight."

"Ah, this Maylene!" mom said. "You know, she came into our house and I expected her to be… this figure grander than life, but I realized pretty soon that she's just a kid like you." We both laughed at that, and I teased her for having been so nervous she'd literally rearranged the entire living room. "Tell me about her?"

"Sure!"

Once I started, it was nearly impossible for me to stop.

Mom came to regret it as the minutes passed by the dozens.



The grocery store was cold and empty like the hearth that was my spirit, an extinguished flame that had died long, long ago. The frigid air from the freezers washed over me in waves determined to keep me down, keeping my body lifeless and broken. To keep me dark and quiet, with only faint echoing whispers from eons ago hinting of the girl I used to be. Passionate. Driven. Ardent. My fingers grazed the cold glass, carrying with it air that was apathy distilled down to its very essence, making its way into my lungs with every breath. Each inhale stung, the cold air settling deep in my chest like shards of ice.

"That is your idea of me." Each word was like pushing against a mountain. The eyes staring back at me—my dear reflection—were as dead as they could be. There was empty, and then there was empty. The death of an idea, the end of the light in my gaze. "The whispers are here for a reason, aren't they?"

I was my worst enemy. The cold was heavy, smothering ambition in its crib, but fire could be born from nothing. A single spark, swallowing all of the oxygen for miles and miles. It burned so hot, yet went out so fast. It had gone out within me, too. Flame demanded sacrifice, and I was not sure I had anything left to give.

But.

All you needed was a breath—a moment, a chance—for the spark to catch again. Just one flicker of courage, of will, to set it all ablaze. I could feel it, faint and trembling, like a heartbeat just beneath the surface—

"Hey."

The world brightened, and I became someone else. No, I turned back to my true self.

Maylene gently booped my nose with a flicker of amusement. "Take a break. You can't be training all the time; I sent you here to get some vegetables!" There were plenty of groceries in the cart she was pushing. Soy sauce, garlic, fresh ginger, sesame oil, water—

Oh.

Right. We were in a grocery store because we were grocery shopping.

I smiled. "Sorry. I'm trying to find a thread—really, it's like spinning yarn until you finally get something that lasts. I was getting really into this one." I noticed a few people looking at me weird as they passed by. By now, the emotions clouding my mind from acting were nearly all gone. "Uh, so what was I supposed to get again?" I glanced at the refrigeration unit.

Smiling, Maylene shook her head with an exasperated sigh. "Broccoli and carrots. You had, like, the easiest job."

"Sorry," I said.

Maylene grabbed my hand. "It's okay. It's why I love you," she said, sending my heart into a frenzy. "I've got these." She opened the freezer and grabbed a packet of frozen carrots and broccoli. "Could have gotten them fresh, but this is easier and cheaper."

"I'm surprised people here don't even spare you a glance." In the ten minutes or so we'd been here, no one had even tried to accost Maylene besides a small kid who had vowed that he would be a fighting type specialist just like her one day. His dad had embarrassingly apologized for the bother, but Maylene made sure to talk to him for a few minutes at least. I had steered clear, unwilling to repeat the many incidents I'd had with kids back in Twinleaf for Renewal Day. Maybe I'd ask her about it. "I thought you'd get more… fanfare."

"They're used to seeing me here," she said. "I come by at least once every few weeks to buy stuff in bulk for meal prep. I'm actually here earlier than planned because of this." She nudged her head at the cart.

That made sense. This was the closest grocery store to the Gym, and it was the same I'd seen Candice in back when I'd been consumed by the want to apologize to Maylene. Legendaries time sure flew by fast. It was nice and quiet, though. Peaceful enough not to make my hearing aid flare up and destroy my ear like it sometimes did in crowds that got too loud. Plus—

Mimi warbled, like the sound of scrap metal falling on the ground, and I had to once again tell them to sit still on my head.

"Wait! Don't change the subject," she caught on. "I'm serious; you've been working too hard."

"Not that hard," I grumbled. She put the carrots and broccoli packages in the cart, and I followed her deeper into the store. "It's just… putting myself into a different mindset. I get really focused and I lose track of where I am sometimes, but it's not, like, exhausting."

"You train all the time, and you've got your Poketch stuff, so you have zero free time. Then, even outside of training when you should be taking time for yourself, you keep prac—you keep doing this."

"Well, there's not a lot of time," I said. "And you saying that is kind of funny. I literally have to call you so you remember to eat on time."

"That's—fair," she had to admit. "I'm just worried about you. I just don't want you to burn out. You went from zero to a hundred pretty quickly."

I leaned against her, head lying on her shoulder. The sleeve of her t-shirt felt so comfortable. "Come on, I wasn't at zero." It was true that before Poketch had forced me to get active, I hadn't been doing much, but… "I was still doing stuff."

"I'll give you ten."

"Twenty!" The edge of her breath brushed against my head as she laughed, and my knuckles bumped against her hand. I wanted to hold her so bad—these little touches and grazes constantly kept me at attention.

"I'll give you twenty," she relented near the end of her laughter. "The point still applies! No more acting tonight; we have a date." The telling smirk on Maylene's face let me know that a jab was coming. "Also, it'd be awful if you got in the zone and messed up dinner. I mean, I'd make fun of you—"

I pulled my tongue out at her. "Careful. I could always poison your dinner tonight."

"Meh. I could take it."

"Tofu with a hefty dose of Buddy's Poison Sting sound good to you?"

"Maybe if it comes from you."

"Ugh. Stop sweet-talking me," I said, unable to the pull on the edge of my lips.

"I can't be bantering every time. I gotta keep you on your toes," she said. I stopped sticking to her not to encroach on the Small Touches clause, and she perked up. "Hey, since we're already here, I might as well keep buying stuff so I don't have to go again until the Conference. You don't mind?" I shook my head. "Cool. What about you, Mimi?"

The steel type chimed happily, wriggling on top of my head. We continued talking about anything that came to mind as Maylene gathered the stuff she usually had someone make for her—chicken, oats, yogurt, avocado, fish, nuts—I made sure to make a mental note of it all. Mostly, I just let her rant about nutrition and asked her questions about it because I knew she loved to talk my ear off about how I needed a good diet if I was going to live a long life. Somehow, that got me to bring up my research about method acting again and living through a character's head.

"When you found me in the frozen aisle again, was I convincing?" I asked.

"Scary convincing." We were making our way to the last thing Maylene needed now—oranges that she pressed to make juice in the mornings. She was a lot better at picking the best fruit, so I just held the plastic bag open for her. "My brain actually started panicking a little before I remembered it was probably just you acting again."

"I mean—it's kind of intuitive to me. I'm not becoming someone else—I'm not good enough for that yet. Just finding a facet of myself to give everything to."

"Hm. That's pretty scary, honestly." She paused. "Make a face at me. An angry one," Maylene asked. I tied the plastic bag and put it in the cart, which was now so full I'd find it difficult to push around if she wasn't there. Once finished, I made an angry, pouty face at her. "Ah," she sighed with a hand over her mouth. "That's so cute."

"Hey!"

"What? You are!"

"Don't make me do the killing eyes at you," I threatened. She squirmed in place as if her whole body was tied down.

"Don't call them killing eyes."

"That's literally what they are."

"They're battling eyes. Completely different."

They made her feel good regardless of what she wanted to call them. "Anyway! I need at least a good minute to get into the mindset. Ten is ideal, really. Maybe I'll need more against Byron," I explained as we made our way toward the checkout line.

"Uh, and this is how you're going to be fighting in every battle?" Maylene asked.

"Maybe not every, but like, ninety percent of them? Actually, scratch that number. All of the ones that matter, at least," I said, feeling my heartbeat quicken with anxiety. "Why? I mean, I know I tend to get lost in stories, but I—I've been getting better—I wouldn't make a mistake or seriously injure someone or kill—"

"No, no!" Immediately, she grabbed my hand and let her warmth diffuse through me. Sparks of blue light diffused through her palm. "Arceus, I'm sorry. I don't mean that; I was genuinely wondering for—well, never mind. Just—you're okay. I didn't mean anything by it."

I took a deep breath. "I'm okay. God, it's been a while, huh?"

"Yeah. Let's make the next streak two whole days; I'm sorry for breaking it."

"Sorry enough to let me cook something for you once a week?" I wriggled my eyebrows at her.

"You sure recover quickly now," she noted. "Maybe! We'll see…" I made puppy eyes at her, and her eye twitched. "Uh, sure. But only when the Conference starts and we're at the League."

I made a little choking sound, part disappointment, part confusion. "Hey."

"Hm?" She started putting our items on the belt, and a slightly wide-eyed clerk scanned each item, glancing at her every few seconds. She must have been new here. "What's up?"

"Sorry if I'm stepping over the line here, but—is there, like… a reason beyond my issues you don't want me to cook for you?" Maylene blinked a few times, her movements growing slightly slow. "I mean, I kind of noticed," I added. "Like, back before we were… trying things out, you'd refuse a lot of things. Like buying you things, or me wanting to bring you somewhere. That's all changed, but the food stuff hasn't."

She raised her hand, signaling me to wait until we were out of such a public spot. I felt a little ashamed of how much I enjoyed looking at her flexed arms with four bags balanced on each forearm. The subtle definition of the little amount of strain Maylene needed to carry such weight. Usually, I'd just ogle her without a second thought, but the coming topic would probably be hard on her, so I shut my eyes and willed myself to glance up at her face.

"Not too heavy?" she asked, looking at the one bag I was carrying. We could have Teleported back to her Gym instead of walking back, but it was the little moments like these that were everything. Plus, Maylene loved Veilstone. She enjoyed watching the people go out and about, because it gave her job meaning it wouldn't have if she spent her time Teleporting between her Gym and wherever she needed to go.

"Come on. I'm not that weak."

"Grace, I saw you struggle to open a juice bottle last week."

I ignored her totally hurtful but admittedly truthful jab. "So? The food thing?"

"It's just… I don't know. It feels like breaking my routine. That's scary." Her tone was pointed and short, and her usual air of confidence was gone, leaving only a certain smallness to her that was rarely seen. "For as long as I can remember, I've been on this program. I eat the same stuff every week. On monday, it's yogurt and oats for breakfast; chicken and steamed vegetables for lunch…" she went on and listed her entire schedule which she had committed to memory.

Every day.

Every week.

Every month.

For years.

It was the exact same thing. How fucking dull was that? Nothing to look forward to, nothing to savor—just the endless repetition of what she had to eat to stay as healthy as possible. No exceptions, no cakes on her birthdays, no ice cream, no sweets, no pizza, nothing. Eating for the sake of honing your physique was fine, but this was torture. Even the tofu I was making today was just her Wednesday dinner moved to Sunday!

Admittedly, that last fact hurt me a little. I thought I'd been making something she genuinely loved, not her favorite thing she picked off her rigid meal plan! But I also knew from the way she looked and acted that this was a difficult topic for her. Maylene would definitely focus on me if I showed any signs of weakness out of genuine worry, and she'd gotten good at spotting those. I'd keep my complaints for later tonight when things were stable and calmer.

"Maylene. Have you ever eaten something for fun?"

She balked at me, her eyes narrowing as if I were crazy. "For fun?"

"Yeah! Because it's tasty?"

"Food's not meant to taste good; it's fuel," she said, and I could tell she was parroting something her father had imparted upon her. "I'll be fine. It's honestly not bad—you shouldn't make it into this whole thing."

"I'm not. I'm just saying that… an exception once in a while would do you some good?" I tried. "Is—is this something Oscar did, or—"

"It was! But it's also me," she cut me off. Her pace quickened slightly, and she nearly left me behind before she realized she walked too fast for me to keep up. "Sorry."

"I don't mind. Just—give it some thought, maybe?"

Her lips flattened, and her brows creased into a pensive frown. "Okay."

"Promise?"

Now, she winced. She knew I had her. "Yeah."

"Say it out loud, or it might as well be smoke and ash. You've got to speak it out into the world."

"I promise that I'll give it some thought."

Beaming and yelling out a joyous "Yay!" I grabbed onto her arm—which was awkward with all of the grocery bags she had with her—and hummed.

"What are you, an extra bag?" she teased.

"A bag that loves you very much, maybe." There was a short pause as we waited for a light to turn green to cross the street. "Hey, random question. When you talk to a kid, how do you… like, what's your angle of approach so they don't end up scared of you? Your plan?"

Maylene clearly held back a laugh; her eyes diffused pure unabated joy, and she dragged me close into a quick hug—quick, not because of the contract, but because she got embarrassed about physical contact in public. Even holding hands. It was mostly fine when I was the one initiating, but she rarely did the same except when I was visibly distressed and needed reassurance. The plastic of the bags touched my back and was generally weird, but the warmth and love seeping from her skin made up for it.

Maylene was a blushing mess when she was done with the hug. She pulled a strand of hair down her forehead and fiddled with it, using the bags to hide parts of her face. If she'd tried saying anything, she'd be sputtering out nonsense.

I still had two kisses left, but—

Not yet.

She was just so cute about touching!



"So? How is it?"

I eagerly leaned forward on the table as Maylene pinched another piece of tofu dripping with sauce in between her chopsticks. Honey was to the side, staring as intensely at her as he would look an opponent in the eye during a fight—had he gotten that from me? Maylene let it sit inside her mouth for a second before she chewed. She knew she held our attention in the palm of her hands, that little scoundrel, because she smugly looked at the two of us and stayed quiet for as long as possible.

We could have tasted our portions first, but it wouldn't have been proper. I'd never had tofu before and I'd followed the recipe to the letter in hopes of impressing her, but…

"It's good!" Maylene finally said.

I deflated. "Just good?"

Honey instantly dug into his own meal, which looked way too small for his size because of the size of the bowl.

"Come on." Maylene pointed her chopsticks at me. "Yeah, it's good. But if I acted out and pretended like it was the best thing in the world, you'd see right through me, wouldn't you?"

"I probably would. Is it—better than what you usually get?"

"...yes?"

"What was that about not lying?" I exclaimed. I shoved a piece of tofu in my mouth with quinoa and… the taste was okay, but the texture felt wrong? The quinoa and the sauce were pretty good, at least, but the tofu was too rubbery. "Oh. Yeah, that's pretty meh. Not even good, really. Sorry, Maylene."

Honey nodded with a slightly apologetic grunt, saying that it was our first time cooking that type of food and that we'd do better the next. He had already inhaled all of it, though, unwilling to let his own cooking go to waste or to be given to someone else.

"No, it's genuinely good! I think it's because I looked at how hard you worked when you made it?" she said, taking another bite. With a mouth full, she added, "I can tell it came from the heart. I'd eat buckets of these."

"So I can cook more for you? Uh, sometimes we," I said, glancing up at Honey. The electric type gave me a hearty thumbs up. "You have quinoa stuck in your teeth." His smile fell, and his tails curled up in embarrassment. A tiny whir came up his throat.

"Sure! You know what, whenever you come over or there's an opportunity to, you can make us something. And hell, I don't want to make you do everything. I could help eventually; I never learned how to cook."

"Actually, on that topic. You kind of hurt me today."

Her face fell. "Oh. What did I say?"

Once I explained to her that I thought tonight would be unique and not just some other routine meal she always ate, she digested my words for a few seconds in silence, twirling her chopsticks in her bowl in what I assumed was a way to assuage her anxiety.

"I can see how—" she stopped herself. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't think of it that way."

"It's okay. I mean, it was technically your favorite meal, even if we botched it." We both chuckled at that. "Just… you kind of sold it as something… not routine? And I felt a little blindsided."

"I totally get you—I won't do it again."

Wow.

That was so easy. The sliver of anxiety I'd felt at her potential reaction fizzled out into the wind, and I took another bite of this horrible tofu.

"Wanna watch a movie or something when we're done? I need one where there's a character who's lost their drive so I can learn," I said.

"I can call Candice. She'd be the one to know one of those," Maylene said. "I'm surprised you don't, actually."

An amused scoff left my throat. "I haven't been regularly watching movies in like a year, and those were never my type."

"Sounds like excuses to me."

"Don't make me come over there," I warned.

"Don't make me come over there," she mimicked in a mocking drawl. "What're you gonna do about it anyway?"

My hand twitched against the table, and she froze—unfortunately, Honey cleared his throat to remind us of his presence, and the moment was gone. We finished dinner and put our dishes in the wash before Maylene went and grabbed a big blanket from her bedroom and I called Candice for movie suggestions.

"Uh. I guess I can give you one or two names off the top of my head," the ice type Gym Leader said. "Uh, A Star is Born, Flyingman, Unovan Beauty—"

"A Star is Born?!" I yelled. "I'm picking that one!"

"Damn. I was gonna list off more—"

"Thanks, Candice. I really appreciate it!"

"Grace, I think you're probably misunderstanding the point of the movie…"

That title was too perfect not to pick it. I ignored Candice's jokes about 'keeping my hands off her sister' and hung up when she ran out of steam. It was date night, so for Honey, it was back into his Pokeball, and Mimi was already asleep as a loose bracelet around my wrist from all the excitement of the grocery store. Now that I was in a better place mentally, I'd better show them more new things. Like… bowling, maybe. They'd probably get a kick out of that and it'd make a good date, even if it was kind of soured by being Cece and I's first.

My Streamix account was already hooked up to her TV from a previous date, so getting the movie was simply a matter of finding it on the list. It felt good to be cuddling with Maylene under the blanket. I was mostly clinging to her under there, tucked into her warmth like I was trying to absorb it while she whined about my cold feet even though I knew for a fact they didn't bother her. I was curled into her side, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist as if I could hold on forever. My head rested on her chest, tucked beneath her chin, and I could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, the rise and fall of her body, and the subtle drum of her heartbeat. Maylene held me with a firm yet gentle grip, her arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, fingers resting lightly on my upper back. Occasionally, she'd play with my hair a little—she could go all out now that we were alone.

It was explicitly allowed in the contract, too, just not every time we saw each other, and there was an opportunity. There was a difference between this and practice. Practice was—intense. And harsh. And…

Well, better not think about that right now.

Tonight was just a lovely experience. One of the things that just made everything worth it was having a partner to rely on at the end of the day. One you could say anything to, really. That was the difference between this and Cece, even if I still missed her so, so dearly and it hurt to remember her. It was also comfortable with Cecilia, just like it was now, but maybe too comfortable. My eyes shut for an instant as I recalibrated my mood. This was date night; there was no use crying about a love I'd—we had ruined. Plus, Mesprit always complained when my mood got in the way of movies.

The past was the past. The present was what needed to matter.

So—the movie. It wasn't what I expected.

It was… really depressing?

It followed Stella, an aspiring coordinator working a dead-end job in Floaroma, who was discovered by Eric, a once-legendary Pokemon trainer ala Craig whose career was fading due to the death of his Staraptor. He spotted her during one of her routine practices after work and was instantly grabbed by her potential. He mentored her as they traveled from city to city, helping her hone her skills and guiding her rise to stardom.

Ironic, considering he was trainer and she was coordinator, but nowhere was it written that they weren't allowed to help each other.

Stella's fame grew, but Eric struggled with his own declining relevance. Stella's success culminated in her reaching the top of the contest scene in a single year, while her mentor, though proud of her achievements, accepted that his time in the spotlight was over, finding peace in passing the torch to a new star.

It—kind of made me tear up, really, even if I'd gotten a lot of good information on how to behave myself if I were to be a fading star. I really thought he'd use her intricate knowledge of TE that quickly surpassed his to reignite his passion for battling, and he tried, but there was just nothing.

For my acting, I had the body language down but not the voice he'd used. The desperation had been there, but it needed a mixture of agony and vapidness that I hadn't owned quite yet. Not only that, but the way his Pokemon acted would be of great help to some in my own team; I would need to get them to watch this tonight when I got back to my mom's. She had a projector I'd be able to use outside.

The movie just hit all the right notes to get to me—Eric's story ended, and he instead used the last bits of himself that could be lit to fuel another.

I needed to stare that fate in the eye and deny it with my full chest. To prepare my utmost to rage against it, I had to gather every ounce of strength and passion that remained within me.

The next battle would either be my firestarter or the final ember snuffed out.

"I didn't think we'd actually get one that made you cry," Maylene muttered. "You were so quiet."

"I was studying."

"I can tell it got to you. Sensitive subject—I can't believe Candice suggested this! She knows you well enough to—"

"I might have gotten too excited at the significance of the title to listen."

After a short lapse of realization, she breathed out a laugh and kissed my forehead. "Dummy. Need any tissues?"

There was a slight buzz where she'd kissed me. The lingering shape of her lips branded onto me. "Let me use you as a bed."

"I'm pretty sure that goes against Cuddle Time's rules."

Rules could be bent quite easily with the right words, especially when the language we'd used in that section of the contract was so vague, but I nodded and remained against her for the time being as we watched the credits roll. We had a good laugh at the after-credit scenes that had Stella and Eric bond over funny moments in their lives past the movie's plot.

Maylene's head turned toward me. "Sad or not, that was really good. Candice knows what she's talking about—"

I lunged in and kissed her.

Sometimes, she was too irresistible to ignore—especially after she'd gone in with that forehead kiss. I smirked when she got a little red and struggled to find her words for a few moments.

"I—um, that—was nice—"

And another—my last one, just to catch her off guard again. I made sure this one was extra long, skirting right below the usual time limit, and had my hands wrapped around her under her shirt with my nails slightly digging into her back just like I knew she liked. My lips twisted into another smirk as I licked them as soon as they parted.

"I get it!" she mumbled, slightly breathless as her lips struggled not to quirk into a dumb grin. "Legendaries." She looked a little cornered on the couch, given I was kind of crawling on top of her. Her stomach peeked under her shirt, and there was a perpetual tug of war in my eyes to either look at her mouth and face or her tummy or her arms or her legs or her—maybe everywhere, actually.

"Maymay. We need to figure out the Making Out Clause soon," I simply said.

"...yeah."

I'd said that we'd take it slow and that we wouldn't have a moment like our first kiss again for a while, but by every Legendary, holding back was tough. Thankfully Cuddle Time was over now that the movie or whatever activity we were doing was as well, so I wouldn't have to worry about going too fast and making a mistake. There was only around twenty minutes left in the date before she Teleported me back to Jubilife, so things winded down and I just did by obligatory scrolling through Chatter to track what people were saying about me or to occasionally reply to a fan message Melody had approved and sent me via link. The algorithm had kind of filtered most things save for fan art or things Maylene's alts, Candice's alts, Gardenia, or Denzel retweeted out of my feed.

"Hey." Maylene straddled the backward-facing chair, her arms draped casually over the top of the backrest as she leaned in. "Are you ready to see Nia tomorrow afternoon?"

I raised an eyebrow and glanced up at her. "I think. I mean, Candice gave me some pointers that ended up being just be myself."

There was a nervous tint to her eyes. Gardenia was the person she was closest to; she most likely didn't want me to royally fuck up.

"Maymay, you being nervous is making me nervous too. I thought I'd worked through that stuff."

"Sorry!" she sputtered. "I'm sure you'll do great and have a great time."

"I hope so… I wonder if she could give me acting tips." Gardenia wasn't someone who became another during a fight, but her mastery of the human condition was second to none in this country. "Plus, knowing how others react to things would help me read the flow of a fight better. I still need to get better at body language." I could probably nab some advice from her depending on how things went—

"You'll be fine," Maylene repeated, almost as if to soothe herself. "Nia just needs to get to know you—the real you. I talk about you a lot, but she won't approve until you meet in person. It'd be really important to me for her to support us."

Okay, now I was really anxious. "I—I won't disappoint her. Do you have any pointers beyond 'be yourself' now I don't know if that'll be enough. Should I dress casual or fancy—"

A post caught my eye—and it made the fact that Cecilia Obel had been trending make a whole lot more sense. I'd tried to ignore, focusing instead on my job, but this was…

What was this? It was a video of her and Temperance Porter. I wanted to scroll past it—I wanted to. But the thumbnail had them so close. Temperance was looking at her with something in her eyes—admiration? Passion? Love? My thumb hung over the play button like a herald of death.

I pressed it.

"Grace?"

My volume was low enough not to hear what they were saying beyond a few words, but their body language told me all I needed to know even if the captions announcing Temperance's new girlfriend hadn't been there. They were dating. Dating. The idea didn't compute in my head, like I couldn't ever have imagined Cecilia with someone else. Had I ever seen her laugh or smile this much with me? Why did she look so happy? Temperance was—she must have been something else. Better than I was both in her career and looks. Her face was basically flawless as if she was made to be looked at. Not only that, but she was one of the best coordinators in the industry. She must have been used to life in high society, too; I bet they were a way better match than we ever were. She'd be good for Cecilia. Good. Good. I bet Unova would find it a lot more palatable, which went hand in hand with Cecilia's goals. Temperance was a better fit than a worthless monster like me could ever hope to be. If Cecilia hadn't met me—

The tears dripped down my cheeks and onto my lap. My phone fell face down on the floor.

Maylene hadn't understood. Not yet. But she hugged me anyway, staying quiet with her arms wrapped around me until I was well enough to speak between the sobs and the hiccups. It felt like Cecilia was breaking up with me all over again.

"What happened?" Maylene asked.

I wanted to brush it off and to say nothing, to act like I'd never found that post, but I had already told her I still had feelings. Lying would do us no good, especially when she wasn't stupid.

"Cecilia," I sniffled, "is dating someone else."

I wanted to call her and to say 'already?' To berate her for acting like I didn't exist. But I knew that would be the epitome of hypocrisy and made no sense coming from me. Maylene stayed quiet for a long while, allowing me to hold her back. How was she so nice to me all the time? Even when tears flowed down my face because of another girl, she just…

held onto me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know it probably hurts."

Ugh. I'd gotten tears and snot on her T-shirt. Maylene looked into my eyes and smiled. "I'm not gonna lie and say that I'm not at least a bit jealous," she whispered. "But I know it's tough for you. It really isn't about me."

"How is it not about you?" I cried out. "It's—we're… together, and I'm crying about Cecilia moving on! Like I'm—I'm sick," I slowly realized. "I would have felt better had she never gotten with someone else while I was enjoying myself with you! How awful is that?"

"I mean—Gardenia would have the answers. Not that you should tell her about this!" Maylene quickly added, her body tensing. "But I think that… I don't know, maybe it's normal? I already said that I don't expect you to move on that fast."

"Then why is she?" I asked.

"Maybe she isn't? Maybe she's like you—we won't know." Her hand gently rubbed my back. "Either way, it's… it's okay to feel things. Just—don't leave me?"

My eyes widened. It was a rare hint of insecurity from her, and her arms tightened around me.

I steeled myself. "I won't."

"Even in Unova?"

"Hmhm. I love you."

"...wanna stay an extra hour?" she asked, her voice meek. "We can talk some more. About happy stuff."

I smiled. "Yeah. Let me text my dad."

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 335 - Genesis New
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake, Ice Fang, Flamethrower

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol/Cassianus (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport, Earth Power, Sandstorm, Scorching Sands

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 335 - GENESIS

My fingers tingled as I sat on the Eterna City tram that would bring me to Gardenia's Gym. The most direct line still wasn't repaired from the bombs, so I'd needed to take a large detour. Flying there would have been quicker, but the long tram ride would give me what I needed: time to soothe my nerves by going over my plan—not that it was very detailed, anyway. Mental flowcharts would just get me in trouble and make Gardenia think I wasn't respecting her, or at least that's what I figured would happen. I mumbled under my breath, imagining the responses I would give to different questions. Just be yourself, they said, and yeah, that was a good idea in theory, but Maylene had put the fear of Arceus in me, and now I was terrified I wouldn't be enough. Did I have qualities I could push forward to make myself look better? I was supposed to spend the entire day with her; masking my flaws the whole time wasn't going to be possible for that long, especially when it was Gardenia we were talking about.

What was this, a job interview?

There was a trace of a smile pulling my lips upward. I just really wanted her to like me. Hell, I didn't even have Buddy on me today; it was just Mimi around my wrist. The steel type missed their usual companion.

I could see the Gym from the tram window—a large, open dome that allowed the sun to shine through its main battlefield. Back in the day, I'd sometimes see the weather change above it, be it an artificial sun or dense rain clouds pulling tightly together until they would pour onto the battlefield as rain. That had been Gardenia's strategy for low-level Gym Battles. Being able to transition between sun and rain throughout a battle and forcing trainers to adapt to not having control of the weather by either competing with her or working to pull a win another way.

"Now stopping: Eterna City Gym. Now stopping: Eterna City Gym."

Pushing past other people, I got off the tram, taking a deep breath as I stepped in front of the empty Gym courtyard. It doubled as another one of the city's countless green spaces and gardens, with numerous species of plants and trees giving ample shade from the scorching summer heat, but it was early in the morning, and people had few reasons to go to the one in front of a closed Gym. After messaging Maylene that I'd made it and clutching my phone against my chest once she'd texted me encouraging words, I hesitantly took step after step toward the wide front doors, rubbing a finger against Mimi's smooth form.

They vibrated back, and the sensation traveled up my arm and fingers.

Things were going to be fine.

Unlike Maylene or Candice's Gyms, I didn't have to knock or wave for someone in the lobby. I had arrived exactly on time at ten in the morning, and three League Trainers were already waiting for me. Two of them were raven-haired and short—ah, they were probably siblings now that I could get a better look at their faces. Maybe twins? They were just so similar it was like looking at two reflections. The final one was—

"Ah, Grace." The final one was named Roland, though according to Maylene, Gardenia and the people around the Gym always called him Roro. He was her right-hand man at the Gym. His pale skin was covered in freckles, including his hands. "You're as punctual as we were told you'd be."

"Come in, come in!" one of the other girls said. I could tell she was the kind of person who always brimmed with excitement, which looked like the polar opposite of her exhausted-looking sister. "Leader Gardenia's in her room doing some last-minute work while waiting!"

"Oh. I wouldn't want to bother her—"

"Nonsense!" she yelled over my voice, pulling me by the wrist. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight, and she pulled it closer to her face. "Oooh, nice bracelet. Is that real gold?"

I blinked at her, not knowing what to say. "Uh—"

"Shina, stop harassing our guest," her sibling said.

They kept bickering for a few seconds until Roland reigned them in, scolding them for being rude in front of me. He sent them off to help with some soil-enriching work upstairs, leaving only the two of us.

"Sorry about those two. I told Gardenia we should have sent someone else," he said with an apologetic smile—almost sheepish. "Any requests before I bring you to her?"

I discreetly bit my inner lip. Shina and that other girl—had that been a test? And the request? Was Gardenia trying to probe for flaws in how I'd react to her employees or what I would request? Maybe that was why she hadn't come to greet me. She was an analytical person, but was I looking too deep into it? Logic dictated that this way of thinking would be insane, but I did not think I could afford the risk—

"You okay?" Roland asked with a hint of worry.

Legendaries, what the hell was I doing? Just be normal!

"I'm fine. I think I'm ready." The nervous laugh that slipped through by the end of that sentence didn't help assuage Roland's apparent worries. "You—yeah, lead the way."

His brows creased. I was going to die.

Gardenia's Gym was much like Candice's: vast and open, with wide halls that invited the sun to pour in through tall glass windows. The light seemed to flow into every corner, casting patterns on the polished floors and giving the entire space a feeling of warmth that I felt struck by even in the midst of winter when the streets were laden with snow, and you could see your breath. It was also a lot less busy, but somehow more organized. Like every trainer knew their tasks and few moments were wasted—but I was too nervous to keep track of everything around me. Each step brought me closer to the woman who would… well, even if she disapproved of me, I didn't think it would sink my relationship, but it would certainly cast a heavy shadow over it.

And—to be honest?

It would just make me really happy to have her approval. Not only because Maylene was basically her little sister, but because I admired Gardenia a great deal.

The walk to Gardenia's room—the Solarium, as Roland called it—was quicker than I'd anticipated. A set of doors opened to reveal an inner chamber where an entire room made of glass stood beyond. From the outside, you could see lush greenery spilling from every corner, the space teeming with plants of all shapes and sizes. This was apparently where she lived. I'd find this place suffocating if I had to spend more than a few days here; it was basically Eterna Forest without the trees or the cold. While Gardenia herself was deeper in the Solarium, a wide-eyed Roserade drifted among the plants, watering some of them with a brilliant liquid that dripped from her blue bouquet. Life Dew, probably. She was so engrossed in her work that she hadn't even noticed us until Roland had to knock on the door repeatedly.

"Roserade will take you in. Gardenia's probably engrossed in knocking some redundancies out of Eterna City's budget." He laughed. "Trimming the fat out of it so we can save wherever we can." He paused for a moment. "Hey, can you do me a favor?" Roland turned toward me with an expectant stare.

"I can try. I mean, I'll do my best!"

"Nia's never had this much control over city policy before, and well—" his lips flattened, and he let out a little scoff. "She's someone who likes to have a lot of control over things, so she's been working hard. Juggling the city, the Gym, and her own personal projects with, uh, Candice."

Oh. He knew about them already; they weren't close friends without a reason. Or maybe best friends now that Candice had slid over to 'girlfriend.'

"Basically, this is a long-winded way of asking if you can try to make her have a good time today. The Gym will be fine without her for a few hours." He clapped my shoulder with a sliver of a smile while Roserade pushed the Solarium door open. "Hey, Rose. This is Grace."

The grass type made googly eyes at me, putting her hand forward. A strange, multicolored vine slid out of her flower and wrapped around my hand. I yelped, jumping a little at the sudden touch—it was warmer than I thought it'd be, almost like a surface left exposed to the summer heat for hours—and she shook my hand. Her voice when she said she'd heard of me was a little intense despite the quiet. She confirmed what Roland had said, that Gardenia was working to squeeze as much time in as she could before we could spend the day together. The difference was that Roserade clearly did not approve of this, but this wasn't a new phenomenon.

Roserade continued mouthing her own trainer off before she cut herself off and giggled. Her voice had a calming quality to it, soft and melodic, the kind of sound you could listen to for hours without ever growing tired of it. Her laugh was like the gentle rustle of leaves in a breeze. Familiar, soothing, and endlessly pleasant.

Okay, then. Time to face the music.

A breath to soothe my nerves.

A caress around my wrist from Mimi to make me feel loved.

The clenching of a fist to remember that this was real and not a dream.

I followed her into the garden.

Plants prickled at my skin with each step. Some were beautiful, and I'd ask Roserade about what kind of plants or flowers they were to break the ice. She said she was the primary caretaker of the Solarium while Gardenia was working and that they were always ordering more plants from abroad. Recently, they'd been looking into getting some native to Driftana, the massive continent in the southern hemisphere that was uninhabited by humanity save for the three Ranger Nations that clung to its coast.

It was interesting to learn more about the place from Roserade. People had gone to explore the interior before, but it seemed to change every year. It was a continent blasted by deathly winds and reshaped its landscapes as if the earth itself was restless. Mountains would crumble, rivers would vanish, and vast stretches of forest would appear where none had existed before. Not only that, but the Pokemon there were aggressive because of how unused to humans they were. Roserade had a bit of an explorer streak in her, something we could fully bond over, and she hoped her trainer would take a year off at some point within the next few years like Jasmine so they could explore as much of the world as possible. To be honest, if I could… reignite whatever I was lacking during the Byron battle, traveling sounded like a whole lot of fun.

I'd sworn that I would do it long ago; it was a dream taken from a man who was now dead.

Unfortunately, words were easier than actions.

In the midst of the makeshift jungle, Gardenia sat curled up in a ball on a wrought-iron garden chair, her legs tucked beneath her as she typed away at her laptop. There was no clearing where she'd be able to have more space, just a chair and table shoved in as well as possible. Tendrils of green brushed against her from nearby vines, and sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling. I'd expected her to look tired, but she wasn't. She seemed nearly rejuvenated, her fingers typing deftly on her laptop and her eyes wide open.

There was a giant coffee mug next to her, though. The steam still rose and brushed against the leaves above her. She was surprisingly wearing her Gym Leader outfit and not casual clothing. Orange cargo shorts, green boots, and a cropped, forest-green cape draped over a long-sleeved black shirt which left her midriff exposed. Strangely, seeing it just made me miss Maylene.

Ugh. Get it together.

Like clockwork, her laptop closed. The expression that met mine was a smile, albeit a polite one. "Hey. I'm glad you made it," Gardenia said. She stood up and took a few steps toward me. "Sorry I couldn't go down to get you—"

"It's fine. I know you're, uh, busy. Roland told me."

She looked down at me, her smile never leaving her face. It felt like my skin was being prickled by needles. "Hm. I've noticed this about you—I told you back at the ceremony, right? You struggle to take compliments, but it looks like apologies are the same."

"Oh."

"When I say I'm sorry, I mean it," she added. "Don't put yourself down."

"I'll try."

"You don't mind if we stay out here?" she asked, and I shook my head. Gardenia gently grabbed at a large leaf from some plant I didn't know—slightly purple at its edges—and smiled as she smelled the greenery. "Great. It's the only place I feel truly at ease in; I could work here an entire day and not notice." Her eyes softened a little. "How did you find the city?"

Glancing back, I noticed Roserade had already left, most likely to keep taking care of the plants. Such a garden was most likely a full-time job in and of itself.

There was more small talk to be had, and more pleasantries exchanged while Gardenia finished her coffee. This talk did matter; it just wasn't going to be the meat of today's topic and was more of a gateway to what Gardenia really wanted to talk about.

"Maylene's a pretty big fan of this city—though you'd be hard-pressed to figure out a place in Sinnoh she doesn't like," Gardenia said with a short laugh. "Even Snowpoint." I studied the way she moved, but her body was nearly still save for occasionally bringing her mug to her lips. "I've been trying to get her to add more greenery to Veilstone, but she's had a lot on her plate lately." There was a short pause, and her eyes flicked up. Here we go. "She's been a lot happier lately. She's gotten a lot more confident too."

I nodded, hands relaxing slightly. "Yeah, I'm glad she's… finding fulfillment in her job now. Making it her own thing instead of letting her father's abuse influence her."

For the first time, there was weakness—no, it wasn't weakness to let your emotions show; this wasn't… a fight like how I'd handled Rood and Mallory. Pain flickered on Gardenia's face for an instant, making her expression sour. "I should have been there for her," she said. "It's been tough on all of us, but I should have. Thank you again, Grace."

It felt odd to be thanked when I'd been the one to push Maylene over the edge in the first place, like an accolade laced with poison. I took the compliment anyway. "I—yeah. I guess." My finger twirled around a strand of my hair. "I really want her to be happy."

"She's something else, isn't she?" Gardenia smiled, and finished her coffee. The mug gently clacked against the iron table. "Can I show you a plant?"

"Sure?"

Gardenia led the way to a tall, graceful pot by the window, where there, under the summer sun, stood a striking plant. Its broad, deep red and green leaves fanned out dramatically, catching the light in a way that gave them an almost metallic sheen.

"This is a Castor Bean," Gardenia said, gently touching a leaf. "It's beautiful, isn't it? But you have to be cautious—it contains one of the most toxic substances in nature—this is what you make ricin from. You wouldn't know it just by looking, though." It looked pretty menacing to me, but I didn't say anything. "It thrives in the right conditions but can be dangerous if mishandled." She looked over, her expression neutral and head utterly still, but eyes sharp. "Appearances can sometimes be deceiving."

It was… a pretty-looking plant, for sure, but I was more focused on what she was actually trying to say. I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably and pushed my tongue against the roof of my mouth to focus. "It looks nice. Does it grow in Sinnoh?"

"It doesn't grow in Shinwa at all. It's native to southern Unova—and southern Orre, once upon a time." Her fingers kept touching the red-tinted leaf with enough gentleness and care you'd think she was handling a child. "You know, despite its danger, the Castor Bean isn't all bad. If you know how to work with it, it produces castor oil. Useful in skin care, hair care, and back in the day before common medicine, it was a widespread anti-inflammatory."

"You keep it here anyway," I stated, trying to keep the uneasiness out of my voice. "You care for it."

"It took me a while to actually get one, and longer still to decide if I could trust myself to handle it," Gardenia finished, her voice steady but thoughtful. "When Maylene called me in tears after you ran away, I told her to block you and never speak to you again."

My throat felt dry. I hadn't expected her to swing away from the metaphor so quickly. "It was the right thing to say. I handled that… awfully."

"She was devastated in a way I'd never seen her, and I've known Maymay a while," the Gym Leader added. "And I'd noticed this a few weeks back, but when she was sobbing over the phone, I thought, 'wow. She must really, really love her to be this heartbroken.' And that's been sitting with me. Percolating in my heart, spinning and spinning like a thought I just can't get rid of." My back straightened, and I grabbed onto my wrist to feel Mimi. "You're going to be leaving; she's going to be staying. Long-distance is far from impossible, but it's hard. There are going to be challenges—but I suppose I'm circling the point. Do you love her as much as she loves you, or is this just… temporary."

"I do!" I yelled, fist clenching. I was surprised at how offended I'd gotten at the notion that Maylene wasn't important to me. Feeling naked due to my outburst, I made myself small and bit my lip. "I do," I repeated. "I want this to last; I'm not using her. I want her to be happy just as much as you do, and we've made plans for the distance, and we talk about things, and—I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize."

"I don't want to yell at you." I was the last person who should have been yelling at anyone.

The grass type specialist snorted. "Maymay said you could be snarky. She called it cute." She had? I knew it was the way she felt, but her talking to others about me made my body feel warm. Gardenia stepped toward me and poked my chest. "That fight you have in you lets me know you do care about her," she added.

I was blushing, wasn't I? "I guess so."

Gardenia breathed out another laugh. "Why don't we go to my office? I barely use it, but it'd be more convenient."

"What for? I mean—sure, but what are we going to be doing?"

"It's a surprise," she said. "Tell me about Maymay on the way. She acts completely different with you than she does with us."

That?

That, I could do.



"What do you see when you look at this trainer?" Gardenia asked.

She was playing old footage of her Gym Battles on her television. She had called it her office, but really, it was more of a living space that was also filled with plants, though these were some I recognized as Sinnohan even if I wasn't knowledgeable enough to know their names. The footage was crisp and clean, netting a far higher quality than what I was used to or what was usually released to the public. This was the second eighth badge battle she was showing me, and each time, rather than focusing on strategy or the Pokemon used, she narrowed her focus to the people.

Not that I wasn't looking to the tactics used, either. It was still incredible to me that no fight would be the same. There were far more subtleties to the manipulation of wind from this Pelipper than I'd ever seen. They managed to speed up their attack to near sound barrier breaking levels through a wind tunnel, all while slowing Gardenia's Shiftry to a crawl amidst the turbulent rain.

But that wasn't the focus, nor was it the trap Gardenia had sprung. It was a masterclass in patience; she'd been willing to be behind by two Pokemon to feed confidence like you would give drywood to a fire. Shiftry seized control of the winds from Pelipper, who was weakened from their previous fight with an Abomasnow, and stole it for themselves to use as a weapon against the remainder of her challenger's team.

Shiftry being able to use wind was common sense. One controlling it as well as a flying type to the point of being able to steal it from them, using their own strength against them was not.

"He's nervous, but trying not to be," I said, leaning closer to the screen. "He's gotten better at hiding it as the battle went on, but he's still clenching his jaw after each order, and there's a little waver in his voice that's grown more noticeable since he fell behind.."

"That is accurate, but it's a surface-level read." Gardenia grabbed the remote and went back in the footage all the way to the start of the battle. The challenger sent out a Mamoswine, and Gardenia followed suit by releasing a Victreebell. "Always go deeper. Figure out why he feels the way he feels."

"It's his first eighth, isn't it?" I asked. He looked a little old, maybe a third year. "Obviously, he doesn't want to lose."

"A simple but again accurate read on him. You can go deeper. He was a third year," ah, I had been right, "there was pressure mounting on him to actually get to the Conference. Look at the clothes he's wearing; he's sponsored by a sportswear company. This was going to be his last attempt—look at the date." Gardenia pointed to the top right of the screen—it was the final week of May. "It's the little things that add up to the final answer that 'he doesn't want to lose.'" She crossed her legs, head tilting slightly to the right. "That's how I get a lot of my challengers. Sandbag the start via setup to make them come into their own. To see who they really are when they think they're winning and confidence returns to them. Then," she slammed a fist into a palm, "you strike. That moment when everything collapses before their very eyes. You seize it and see how they respond to catastrophe."

Arceus.

She was so cool it was impossible not to make starry eyes at her. Of course, I knew the result of this battle. The challenger lost and failed to make it to the Conference that year despite his Pokemon being powerful enough to stand their ground. Again, just like in my battle against Byron, it was the trainer who often lagged behind their team.

"He made it this year before the bombs, though. Learned a whole lot from his loss," Gardenia added with a nonchalant wave. "I hope he goes far."

For a good while, we analyzed more footage together, and I got to ask her as many questions as I wanted. This would have been a dream a mere month ago, but here I was, gaining knowledge from Gardenia. She even offered me tea, and it was just as good, if not better than Aliyah's. If I had been in a better mental space, I would have been able to soak up so much more information, but even I got mentally tired eventually. Still, this information would be useful to weave narratives out of nothing. To either figure out someone's way of thinking, or to trick myself into believing they were feeling something else to carry the story.

"At the end of the day, everyone's different, even if there are some common denominators. People express their emotions differently," she said. That was true enough; Denzel loved to clench his fists when he was nervous, while I bit my tongue or lip sometimes to the point of bruising, and I sweated gallons. Someone else might have also clenched their fists when they were excited, for example. "There's no real science to it. Sometimes, your reads are wrong, and it bites you in the butt."

"Has that ever happened to you?" I asked.

"Oh, plenty, especially when I was starting out. Less so today, but the rare fuck up does happen. I can always recover and offer a proper challenge." Gardenia offered me a helpful smile. "Remember, the strategy at play's the important part. Reading someone's body language comes second, even if it's a great help. No need to take needless risks."

Ah. I wondered what she'd say if she knew I was reworking my battling style and literally taking a million risks while doing so, especially so close to the Conference—if I even made it there. Gardenia struck me as someone who wouldn't like unknowns or straying from certain conditions she'd set in fights.

"This is going to be a lot of help to me. Thanks a lot, Gar—Leader Gardenia." Stumbling over my words like a child made my cheeks turn rosy.

"Gardenia is fine."

"Oh. Gar—Gardenia," I forced myself to finish the word. How in the world had Virtuous done so well when meeting her for the first time?

Nevermind. That question answered itself; she was her, and I was me.

"Say. I have a question," I said.

She turned off the television and stretched on her couch, groaning slightly. "Go ahead."

"I've always been curious. What made you want to decide to battle the way you do? And uh, why did you become a grass type specialist? And a Gym Leader?"

"Those are three questions, but I'll answer anyway." Crap. That was three questions. "I met Candice pretty early in my journey. In this very city, in fact," she said, a look of fondness on her face. "And for a while, she was impossible for me to read. I could never tell when she was serious or joking or angry or—anything, really. There was just a veneer of irony around her all the time—and trust me, she used to be worse."

"Worse?" I repeated, disbelieving.

Gardenia nodded. "Worse. It was as irritating as it was captivating. And from there, well…"

I could see the shape easily. She'd wanted to get better at figuring people out to break through Candice's walls.

"For as long as I've lived, I've been a fan of grass types," Gardenia continued, her voice carrying a warmth that matched her smile. "There's a resilience to them, a quiet strength that often goes unnoticed among inexperienced trainers. To them, they're just Pokemon who for the most part are cheap to handle because a portion of their nutrients will come from the sun or the soil—but I'm rambling," she quickly added. "Let me paint a different picture."

There was a short pause, and the sun seemed to radiate off her, casting a soft glow. "Plants are always the first thing back after a catastrophe," she said, her voice steady. "No matter how much destruction there is—fires, storms, or rampaging Legendary—plants are the ones that return, quietly reclaiming the land. They rebuild the world without fanfare—it's just so quiet. You see a barren wasteland, and then, almost out of nowhere, a small sprout emerges, and then there's life again. Just look at Orre!" she nearly laughed, a slight glee in her eyes. "Not even five years after Moltres, plants were growing among the desert and rocks! That's what makes grass types so special. They're a reminder that no matter how hard you're hit, you can always come back stronger than before."

A "woah" escaped me, and she laughed again, this time more steadily.

"That's why I joined this Gym as a trainer. I wanted to become the best grass type trainer I could be. Plus, I fell in love with this city." Gardenia looked out the window, her eyes full of love and care. "There's no place like it."

I asked her where she was born, and she surprisingly answered Pastoria—though she'd flown to Jubilife to start her journey in her first year. Floaroma would have just fit so well…

I spoke up again, returning to the topic at hand. "I don't know if I'd be able to stick in one place that long. One country, maybe when my wanderlust's gone. If it ever leaves." Even now, I couldn't shake the anticipation I had to explore a brand new land a whole continent away. "But years at a time somewhere, always in a Gym? I don't know."

"It takes a very specific mindset to give your life to this job. The hours are grueling, the pay's good, but you can basically never use it anyway, and trainers always complain about you. But you can easily find fulfillment in the work. Seeing your city grow for the better, meeting your constituents, meeting all kinds of different Pokemon, fighting really good battles once in a while… it gets tiring very quickly, but it's also fun." She glanced at me. "You'll have to figure yourself out. I doubt Maylene has ever given moving or retiring any thought."

I fondly smiled. "I know. She lives for this." It wasn't like I hadn't thought about our relationship beyond the next year. I figured that if the long-distance stuff went well, maybe I'd try to spend a few months at a time in Sinnoh after or while traveling to whatever region, and she'd be able to take more frequent breaks. Of course, there was always Poketch to consider, but we had time to figure things out. "We'll make it work. Or at least I'll try my damndest to."

"Good." She inhaled. "Now—"

Out of the open window, clouds blotted out the bright sun. A shiver swept through the air, and it thickened until it grew suffocating; Gardenia's eyes sharpened, cutting through the moment that seemed like it would stretch on forever. Her plants writhed around her as one, and despite knowing it must have been a gust of wind or a coincidence, I couldn't help but think she was making them move as one. Each breath grew shallower and shallower as if a vine was slowly constricting around my throat. For all Gardenia had touted grass types' survivability, they were creatures of slow death. A Tangela striking from behind a bush, sucking the life out of a Bidoof over the course of minutes through a constricting Mega Drain; a Rattata stuck in a Victreebel's acid sack slowly being digested to death; a Leavanny keeping a Cinccino in a bundle of silk to save them for consumption for a later day.

It was a terrifying look, a nearly haunting stare that heralded disaster. I forced another breath through my tightened throat and gulped as a bead of sweat dripped from my forehead to my chin, then fell on my lap. It wasn't that I wasn't used to being stared at this way; it was just so unexpected from Gardenia that I'd needed to completely reframe who I thought she was as a person, and that was disturbing enough to send shivers down my spine.

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked once I recovered. My voice was tiny like prey trying to make itself small.

"Nothing at all. I'm just curious, you see." The Gym Leader spoke quietly as she stood up from her couch and stared down at me. "I've learned a lot about you these past two hours—but I can't help but think… do you have what it takes?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know Maylene loves you, and I know you love her just as much," she continued. "But you're… hm. I'm the kind of person who thinks two people in a relationship should push each other to greater heights they would never have reached alone. You've been on a steady climb so far, but there's…" she trailed off and snapped her fingers a few times, "there's something missing. Maylene speaks, and she's brighter; you speak, and you're dimmer. You're doing better, but you still haven't bloomed, Grace. And I fear you may never do so. That the season's passed."

"What are you saying?" I asked, again not knowing what she meant.

"There's something about you I can't figure out, and this is the only way I can think of to drag it out of you." Gardenia took a deep breath. "Grace Pastel, I challenge you to a Pokemon Battle."

There was a jolt, a jerk that was so sudden within me it was nearly painful. My heart skipped a beat, then pounded in my chest, a mix of shock and something else—anticipation? Fear? It was hard to tell. I hadn't expected this, not from her.

The sun peeked out from behind the cloud, and the room was illuminated in sunlight again. As if on cue, Gardenia's expression brightened with nothing but kindness, and she clapped her hands twice.

"I'll give you twenty minutes to decide. Should you accept my challenge, I will be waiting for you in my arena. Preparations must be made."

Before I could even answer—

She was gone like the wind.

What the fuck had just happened?

Twenty minutes? How the hell was I supposed to prepare in so little time. I'd gotten zero ways of studying—no, wait. She'd let me watch her battles with other seven badgers. Had it been just for this moment? Was this why she'd been wearing her Gym Leader outfit? My eyes widened, and my fingers trembled at the fact that I'd walked into a trap from the moment I'd stepped into Gardenia's Gym. I was now ensnared within her grasp, and there was nothing I could do. Did I have enough information? Even two hours wasn't enough to know the ins and outs of Gardenia's Pokemon or the person herself. If I said no, would she disapprove of me dating Maylene? If I said no, would my flame be extinguished and never return? If I said no, would I—

Enough! My breathing sped up in line with my racing thoughts, and I placed a hand over my clamoring heart. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, feel it pulsing down my arms with each beat against my bones.

The challenge was made. Now, I needed to either accept or run with my tail between my legs.

The latter was not an option. Not with so many risks involved.

Time was quickly running out. Instead of doing some last-minute cramming I already knew wouldn't be effective, I released my Pokemon—my entire family—out in Gardenia's room, and Mimi transformed back into their original form after crawling up my shoulder. It was large enough to accommodate all of them, even if it was tight and Sweetheart needed not to move, just in case. They all balked in surprise once I gave them the news, some with more joy than anything else, but all had that underlying ball of anxiety in their gut. I could tell.

"I have to accept," I said as Angel caressed my head with a clump of vines. "But our planning's all gone to waste. It's—it's what I'm good at. Maybe the only thing I'm good at outside of killing!" I bit my lip to keep quiet. It wouldn't do to have someone overhear through the door. "Do I even stand a chance? This is Gardenia we're talking about."

Princess hopped closer to me and patted my side with her fluffy wing, saying that they were with me no matter what. Sunshine grunted out that it was now or never. That I would get all depressed again if I refused, and it screwed up everything. Buddy followed by saying better a loss to Gardenia than that again as he hovered closer, but the dragon growled at his defeatist attitude. Who said we would lose? he said, planting a heated foot on the ground. Sweetheart grinned, her tail swaying from side to side and nearly hitting Honey in the leg. The electric type nodded at me with a silent look of approval, and wherever the team went, Cassianus followed most of the time, still. Angel wrapped all of us in a tight hug.

We had to do this. Together.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "We need a new thread to spin," I whispered. "A new story to tell—no, wait. Not completely new. I can do this. I can make it work." If there was one thing I was good at doing, it was tricking my own brain into believing something else. After two minutes of brainstorming in silence— "I have it." A maddened smile stretched across my mouth. "I'm recalling all of you. Be ready for a fight the next time you're out—I don't know who I'll be picking yet; it depends on how the story's going. I have to rush to the waiting room to get into the right mindset."

They responded with their own noises of approval. Growls, squeals, whistles, grunts, whirs, et cetera. Even a celebratory chime from Cass and a little dance from Mimi. They all disappeared, melting into a red light as their Pokeball absorbed their essence.

Everything I had come up with to beat Byron. Plans and a narrative burned to smithereens, ground to dust, and thrown into the winds, and for what?

For a single chance at redeeming my sense of self.

Okay.

Okay.

Yes.

This was an—



Ambush.

Across me stretched an endless expanse of verdant green as far as the eye could see. The grass swayed like a whisper in the wind, a hypnotic motion that had captured my attention for as long as I could remember. The sun above me was scorching, a blasting heat that warmed everything it touched, yet the ground below was cold and hard. I remembered now, how I had stayed here since my spirit had been smothered and how I had vowed to remain here for the remainder of my puny little life.

However;

Beyond the plains grass undulating like Ekans slithering in the ground, beyond the shallow lakes that mirrored the sun's light in brilliant, shimmering rainbows, beyond the few oak trees that stood tall and unyielding, each old and worn by time and the elements, was a woman. It was difficult to discern her from here, especially when I could not look at her for long. For the woman was change, and change was an uncomfortable, terrifying unknown. Better to stay here and keep looking at this unchanging land for another countless amount of years.

There was desire in every glimpse of her eyes caught in my peripheral vision. Her orange hair flared up like a flame as she spoke and challenged me. Six on six, three switches, just like the Gym Battles of old. For months, she had heard of me. Of the person I should have been. A creature of passion for fighting that was overzealous in nature, always eager for the next bout.

This Adventurer had come all the way here to find me. To lay a trap—an ambush to catch me off-guard and see what I was worth. And oh, how the once brightened light had dimmed; how the mighty all-encompassing thirst for battle had fallen.

Running was an option; when was it not? All this time, I had run away from responsibility, but I owed it to the select few who knew the truth of me to try. The Pokeball felt alien in my hand, not because of its shape or function, but because of the now unfamiliar intent that filled my heart. I tried to muster up a grin, and it didn't quite reach my eyes. I wanted this once. Yearned for it. There was something familiar about this ambusher, a need to reignite myself for her and everyone else I cared about.

My hand tightened around the ball, its smooth surface cold against my skin.

"Fine," I said, my voice a ghost of what it had once been—a decrepit whisper that rasped against my throat. "Don't be disappointed."

Lethargically, I pointed the device at the field and allowed my first Pokemon out of his ball.

With silence, I released my Jellicent, and with a deathly silence, he answered in turn. Like forgotten memory, he hovered a few inches off the ground with a transparency that made it feel like he wasn't even there. Plants and grass near him froze, withered and died as if he rejected the very world of the living. Mist coiled around him, thick and carried by purple wind and distortion from another land where souls went to die.

"We've been attacked," I whispered to a piece of him. There was nothing in my voice. "Send her away."

The woman frowned, confused and unknowing, but I paid her no mind. She cleared her throat and threw a Pokeball up, releasing one of her own Pokemon. A floating ball of cotton lighter than the wind, its body a brilliant blue that seemed to shine with the sun's luster. Sheer joy radiated out of the creature, for she enjoyed the way air carried her wherever she wished. Jumpluff, the woman called her, but I knew what her Role would be. I glanced away from the Pokemon with a glare, realizing she had been the Scout to find me here among the endless prairie.

Without a signal, seeds exploded out of the Scout, all uniform and carried by the green-hued winds. They were white and fluffy, almost like Dandruff, and they began littering every inch of the field. Trap, I instantly knew, yet mine Reflection's reaction was one borne of reluctance. With a sigh that seemed to warp the spirits around him, his body turned to ice, and not with a moment to spare. Seeds around him bounced off or froze before they could sprout and take hold.

The mist was still rolling upon the field as my challenger pointed forward, her cape billowing behind her—

Arceus, damn it, she was so cool—no. Don't fucking break character!

She pointed forth and ordered a Cotton Spore and a Sunny Day; quicker than I could blink, the rays intensified, yet were still a gentle warmth perfect for plants to grow in. Seeds around Jellicent beyond his aura of death and cold sprung to activity, erupting in—

A continuous explosion. They swelled with the fire of life beneath them and burst, spreading more seeds that exploded in turn. Chunks of Jellicent's frozen form went flying, but right from beyond the mist came a scream of agonizing death. Night Shade after Night Shade rushed forth, forcing the Scout to redirect itself upward with the wind as they exploded, bruising the grass type slightly.

With a bit of luck, they'd have run. Too bad we were anything but lucky. They had traveled too long, gone too far to find me to give up now.

"Water and Freeze," I whispered. We would fight at a distance.

Still just as sluggish, just as slow, water surged out of every crack formed on my Reflection's surface by the explosions from the Cotton. My opponent called out to her Scout, and the seeds around Jellicent turned poisonous and exploded in purple, roiling smoke. Somehow, even through the thick mist, they knew where we were; they must have been using the cotton seeds to keep track. Still vapid but undeterred, I watched as countless gallons formed up in rotating walls around Jellicent, each a thickened barrier of ice. Just like I, he would reject the outside world and refuse to move. Instead, he sent out more clones to do his bidding. It was easier to shut out the outside world than to take a step out and allow the flying ball of cotton to take hold.

I could see it within the mist. The field was overlapped with each Pokemon's influence—the limitless seeds our opponent could call upon that had disseminated to every corner, and the spirits who had spread among the fog. From the vapor, water could be called upon, forming ice around the Scout. Lances of ice that they could not melt, icy rain that pierced through her body, beams that arced toward her in awkward angles. It was difficult to tell exactly how many Night Shades Jellicent had called upon. He had, after all, broken past the limit of two weeks—long ago.

Don't break character. You've been here since time immemorial.

However;

The Scout brought with it unbridled joy and whimsy that seemed to make the ghosts under my Reflection's dominion cower in fear. Instead of fearing the pale beyond, she laughed and laughed and laughed, leaving trails of explosions in her wake as a concentrated Tailwind hastened her to speeds that warped the air around her. Directly above Jellicent's unmoving body, his form surrounded by rotating walls of ice, the grass type glowered with the power of the sun above, its glow like an angel's halo behind her.

Light unyielding, it bore down on us like a hammer, parting the mist in a column below, shattering our five ice walls, and tearing through the earth. The stalking shadows wavered as their master was left a broken pile of liquid and vapor among the smoldering crater, but we were not down for the count. Greedily, Jellicent found within himself an idea—not the will to fight, to show this challenger that we were worthy of our reputation, but the will to survive.

We had, after all, lasted this long through every trial, every wound, every shattering.

"Dissipate," I muttered.

And thus, he fizzled out into vapor. Yet the Adventurer—she smiled, her gaze intense—would not let Jellicent escape and recover through the ambient mist that remained. She swiftly ordered for her Pokemon to intensify her Tailwind, and it turned green with the essence of life that choked out the spirits that had haunted our mist for so long. They rasped in agony, each scream reverberating across these endless plains. This technique was unknown to me, but I figured out soon enough that it was destroying Jellicent even though he was disembodied into vapor.

But here lay the truth of it;

Gone from eyesight, he was, but he had not moved. Because how could he? Jellicent was my Reflection, and tiredness had seeped into my very bones. The green wind sparkled with energy stolen by the Scout, and life bloomed where it had died around Jellicent, even within the smoking crater. Flowers of every creed and color bloomed, vines slithered on the earth, cotton was born and once more erupted in a cacophony of explosions.

"Don't count us out," I said. "Mass Freeze."

The remaining mist liquefied in an instant; water froze in the air. Enough to fill a lake, enough to drown our problems and sorrows under the weight of frigid waters. How dare this little puny blue thing look at us like this? How dare she laugh as the world around her became encased in ice and her very innards threatened to freeze solid? How dare she push onward despite our attempt to stop her in her tracks? Through determination, she fought the world itself, frozen, crackling, and groaning like a slowly shifting glacier, weaving thick, warmed pollen around her like a coat.

Palm facing upward, I closed my fist and clenched, almost willing for the ice to crush her into entropic paste. Spirits rallied into shades, spitting clumps of Acid at Jumpluff in hopes of destroying her Cotton Guard, but just like everything else, it was all for naught.

Mist dissipated.

Shades wailed as they shriveled up and ran back into Distortion.

Jellicent reappeared, a tiny pond among the flowers on the ground.

The Scout heaved for air—I could still see her breath in the quickly-dissipating cold, each one labored and tired as frost flaked off her—and spat out a Bullet Seed at the ghost-turned-puddle. He did not go down with a bang, but with the most pathetic of whimpers—the only sound he had made this entire fight.

He had, however, not left without a trace. Behind him, the air was still, and a hollow cavern of frozen ice remained, etched into the otherwise flowery landscape like a scar and using the plant-covered crater as a base. Life refused to take root here as if it had been warded with a curse. It was thin, yet open on both sides of the field; entrances faced both I and our Challenger.

His sculpting training with Princess had paid off—

"Jellicent is unable to battle! Challenger, send out—"

Gah! Cut the referee out of mind; he didn't exist! Focus. Focus!

Deep breaths.

For the first time, I faced my challenger—this Adventurer. Her hair burned like the sun; her clothes were green like nature; she was the herald of change, whereas I was stuck and forever immutable.

There was, however, the tiniest of embers. Warmth on my hip, not eager to get out, but not crippled as my Reflection had been. Was now… no, it wasn't. But was it? I unclasped the Pokeball from my belt and stared down at the bumps and crevices in the metal, a knot forming in my stomach. He would perhaps not be ready, but a fire needed time to get going. Hesitantly, hesitantly, I let out Turtonator into the ice cavern. Here, he would be shielded from these life-giving winds carrying seeds, but more importantly—

If my fair Jellicent had been my outer Reflection, my flesh, skin, bones, and thoughts, then Turtonator was my Soul within. The empty furnace left barren without even embers to keep it warm. He did not announce his presence with a roar or a sky-bound Flamethrower, but with a deep growl that reverberated all over his hollow chamber. His shell glowered with a dull red instead of our vibrant blue that would wipe anything close to him clean. He had been asleep for longer than we could remember, lying on his stomach with his tail curled up.

Yet just like every time action was demanded of us, every time we had to fight,

The dragon stood.

With a hasty command, our challenger ordered her Scout to float away, up and up through the fading mist that was now but a thin, see-through veil. A sad smile stretched upon my lips, for I knew it meant she had heard great histories of my dear sun.

Yet no great fire came, nor did we snatch their Sunny Day and turn the world into an unlivable hell.

The following words came out smoothly. "Rock Tomb, Dragon Pulse."

Heavy steps followed, each one just as slow as the last as the Adventurer asked for the grass type to swap the winds from grass to fairy. With a ripple across the air, it turned pink and intensified around Turtonator, who had to take a step out of his cave to attack. From the earth rose countless rocks that flew upward with flowers still attached to them. I could see it in the woman's eyes, how she expected me to spring a trap. Would the rocks explode in great works of flame and ash? Would we superheat them until the air itself caught ablaze? The seeds remaining across these rocks turned to great thorny vines that squeezed and crushed many of them as they made their journey upward, and the Scout kept flying back—

However.

"Flash Cannon."

It was but a distraction. A bright light gathered on the dragon's snout before turning pinpoint, their essence tearing through the very wind that had kept battering us. With a tired sigh, my Soul sent it flying—it cut through the air like a knife, its light spreading so quickly the already-tired Scout had scant time to dodge. With an upward swing, it streaked across the flying type's body and cotton balls, causing her to scream with an ear-shaking shriek. The rocks that were still in the sky, albeit falling, landed all across the field with loud crashes.

Unsettled, the Adventurer told her Scout to use Stun Spore. She hadn't before because she thought we'd just burn them anyway, but she'd seen through us now. A heap of yellow spores exploded around Jumpluff and were carried directly toward the ice cave by their Fairy Wind. These spores were thick, clinging together as they gathered momentum, swirling in the breeze like tiny soldiers on a march.

Turtonator shot me a look. My instincts as a trainer and his as an expert battler were screaming something else. I shut him down with my vapid stare and a head nudge. There was an advantage to this, even if—

Shut up. Keep your head in the game.

"Smokescreen and Smog," I added. The following Flash Cannon did not need to be said.

Darkened, poisonous ash roiled throughout his cavern. This was an old trap of his he had sprung on us many times while training when he had first joined the team. Just then, spores entered the Smog. It was my hope that most of them would degenerate from the poison.

But more importantly.

This attack. It was important; it was memory; it was warm. There was a warning from Garde—from the Adventurer, but her Scout could no longer absorb as much energy from us through the wind, not that we had anything left to give. They were on their last legs. Another light, the tiniest of points, came to life within the ashes, and then once again sliced through the air. This one singed the grass type, who was a smoking mess as the woman recalled her before she could hit the earth below. The smog cleared, and beyond the sluggish, half-paralyzed movements, I noticed that my Soul was glowing just a little brighter, exuding just a little more heat, standing just a little taller.

My breath hitched in my throat as our challenger considered her options. That Flash Cannon had been warmer than it should have been.

What followed was—

A living continent. Massive in size, large enough to make each of her movements shake the very foundations of the earth. She was so large, in fact, that she was covered in moss and plants and spiky rocks and a massive tree. Torterra, the woman called her, and for a moment, memories of Harry Rodriguez flashed in my mind. The urge to let the story go to waste and to order a killing blow was only a passing one, but it was an urge nonetheless.

"Dragon Pulse—"

The adventurer interrupted me with an order of her own, her voice dominant enough to overtake every inch of the field. I took a step back as seeds from Jumpluff still floating around the field, landed on the Guardian's back and bloomed into a set of brown flowers covering her entire shell, drawing nourishment from the fertile land beneath. The large, earthy, brown petals began to pulse with energy like a long-held breath as they curved inward and rotated toward our cavern—

"Retreat," I corrected. "Retreat and Iron Defense."

Gardenia grinned, and the world exploded.

In perfect unison, each flower released an earthy blast of mud and life. The field seemed to sing in harmony with the strike, surrendering all it had to fuel the Guardian's attack. The dragon glimmered with the power of steel as he retreated into his shell, and the blast slammed into his cavern. It rended the ice into a million pieces, shattering it like a broken mirror with strength that rattled the barrier in front of me. This Torterra, I realized, was ancient. She had labored in nature's service for so long that the earth itself answered her call, giving everything it had to power her attack, a testament to the deep connection she shared with the world beneath her feet.

From the broken world above him, my Soul rose, each movement sluggish. He had been buried in ice and mud, the latter of which clung to his scales like a cancer. He had turned around and retreated into his shell to resist much of the damage, but it was slightly damaged. Swirling turquoise energy peppered by heat swirled around his snout, the birth of a Dragon Pulse, but Gardenia ordered a world-shattering Earthquake, and the world held its breath. The blast of draconic energy hit the grass type head-on, but all it got us was a pained grunt—she did not even waver nor slow her attack. The Guardian pushed herself off, standing on her two hind legs, and when she landed, she showed us the meaning of power.

The moment her massive limbs struck the ground, the world beneath us heaved and groaned, as if the very bones of the planet were shattering beneath her weight. What followed was not a mere tremor but a cataclysmic upheaval—a rolling, thunderous quake that surged outward in violent ripples as if the earth had liquefied.

I recalled Turtonator before it could reach him. It would, after all, not do me any good to witness my Soul fall in battle. What surprised me was that the rending of the earth did not destroy it, but bring about more life. Yes, it had been upturned; plants and trees had been ripped apart, but following the Earthquake came a veritable wave of flowers. Again, the seeds from Jumpluff served their purpose, and there were so many still multiplying I feared they would never run out.

My eyes scanned the field for a moment. There were still rocks from my Soul about the plains, though a lot of them had been shattered by the earthquake; the flowers atop the Guardian had all wilted and fallen. There were really two options here that would not bleed into the narrative, and who would be able to take down this Torterra—no, I was thinking far too narrowly. A story was not a straightforward affair but a river with twists and turns. Have faith in your team; see where it takes you. There was one particular aspect of myself whom I could follow with. My Soul was not ready to be reignited yet, so perhaps…

A little faster this time—just a little faster—I sent Claydol out of their Pokeball. The psychic beeped, their eyes constantly blinking as they scanned the field below them. Their turrets were reclined in on their body, waiting for a call to action, and whenever they weren't blinking, their eyes were half-closed. One look at their opponent, and there was an understanding between us. Yes, I thought with a heavy heart. For Sacrifice was Claydol, and Claydol was Sacrifice. A desire to fulfill their duty as strong as unbending steel, whether that be protecting me or fighting to keep us alive. Harm and death might cast their ominous shadows in our path, but they would always see things through.

Our challenger shot us a curious look—she must have expected us to respond with something else, like Togekiss or Tyranitar. Those who would be able to go toe-to-toe with the Guardian she had unleashed upon us. What we needed, however, was control.

And while Sacrifice still was not an offensive powerhouse like my other aspects, they were no longer a pushover. The Adventurer bellowed out an order with a grin, and leaves and flowers and moss and plants and grass and dirt peeled off the Guardian's body and the ground, carried by winds only slightly weaker than Jumpluff's had been. The Leaf Storm was deafening, a careening dissonance that made my head feel like it was spinning. The vibrant greens and earthy browns spiraled upward in a chaotic dance, an orchestra of nature at the Guardian's beck and call.

I bit my lip. "Go forward and Wide Guard."

Before the words were even out of my mouth, a transparent point of pink light materialized in front of Claydol, then spread as they molded the psychic shape into a wide screen. They slowed in the air when the storm hit them; the winds and objects it carried repeatedly slammed against the wall with a grinding screech, like nails scratching against a chalkboard.

It tilted, cracked, wailed under the strain.

But it held.

Growth, the Adventurer ordered, but with a snap-order, I had Claydol summon a Sandstorm to mask the sun and slow the Guardian's recovery. Leaf Storm took a lot out of a user, and now that we were in range, it was our time to strike. To pull them down with us and allow apathy to seize their soul. Where Claydol lacked in power, they made up for it in finesse. Sands roared, thick enough for me to only make out the two Pokemon because one's eyes were glowing and the other's body was doing the same.

"Imprison and send them down," I said. What was this I was feeling? This nascent tingle, this need to pull through no matter what? Better bury it like we were going to bury this living island. "Make them a tomb."

Four transparent walls appeared around Torterra where the Sandstorm grew at its most intense, not to harm, but to obscure vision and to snatch the sun away from her. Wood Hammer, our challenger called out, and the grass type's tree grew, grew and grew until it broke against the barrier and splintered it. We were blessed with the fact that it took a lot more to make a Wood Hammer or an Earthquake than an Imprison and our enemy was slow, so we trapped them again and again as the earth below them shifted into Scorching Sands. They had power, but we had control over their own element until the Guardian was half buried in her grave and—

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Obscured by a grave of our own making, the Guardian was changing. Beneath her dense, gnarled, and scorched bark, bulging muscles rippled to life, swelling with nature's song. The roots in the earth. It must have been less efficient than the sun, but it worked regardless. Growth, Bulk Up, Synthesis, a triumvirate of techniques meant to hold on. They would not go down easily. Nature, as I'd come to learn, was a resilient beast.

The next order cut through the whispering, contained Sandstorm, and made my eyes widen in shock. Wood creaked with every movement, and the Guardian jumped. How? They had been rendered immobile, but they tore through the churning superheated sands and soared through the air, smashing into our Imprison with Superpower. She soared into the air, leaving a trail of rock, mud, and plants behind her. Taken aback, Sacrifice whirred, and beneath them, a pillar of stone rose within an instant. It hammered on the Guardian's stomach but broke against her body—a hastily erected barrier came next, and it too, broke apart under the weight and strain of the grass type's charge.

Ah.

I saw it then, as wood hurled itself against clay at speeds that should have been unheard of for her species. As six eyes closed and attempted to assault the Guardian's mind with Psychic as a last-ditch effort to stay afloat, all of that for naught.

The adventurer and her party… it was about pushing themselves beyond the possible.

One blow, and Sacrifice went flying, rolling onto the ground like a spinning top when they landed. The Guardian attempted to carry her momentum, though she tripped the moment she started running. Superpower had put a lot of strain on her body, which meant time for us.

"Imprison and Earth Power."

Could they do it again? That was the question. Another set of walls encased the Guardian, albeit slower this time due to the sheer amount of damage Superpower had done. Claydol's body was almost falling apart; the structure was caved in, its form grotesquely warped in a way that said they shouldn't even have been able to function. My eyes glanced at the orange-haired lady, and I suppressed whatever feeling made the hair on my arms stand on edge. Maybe we had learned from her, just a little bit.

Concentrated within the relatively tiny space, the ground below Torterra pulsed with a menacing hum, then bulged outward, then the earth itself came alive with a superheated geyser. The Guardian groaned, but alas, there was a reason we had not done this in the first place.

Our offensive power was still lacking when it needed to take out bulky Pokemon like Torterra. So much so that the Guardian could sustain herself through much of the damage; I could see her form healing through the burning earth. It came as no surprise when the Imprison broke apart once again, and although no other Superpower came, the Leaf Storm was still a threat due to the constant Growth the grass type was undergoing. It surged with a fury that defied nature, a twisting, howling vortex of razor-sharp leaves that tore through everything it touched.

It swallowed up Sacrifice, chewing them and spitting them out like one of the many rocks the storm carried. Eyes flickered on and off, and my heart jumped in my throat when they all converged toward me. Their voice was a distorted mess—a high-pitched warble that crackled with static—yet I heard their following words cut through the crisp air around me.

"Grace. Have you not given enough? Do you not want more than this?"

I blinked, eyes rapidly fluttering as the world seemed a little… not brighter, but more authentic. Like the transparency around it that had gripped even Jellicent was gone.

Were they right?

Had I given enough? I'd nearly forgotten what it was like. The endless toil of a terrified girl being shoved around by her own people in hopes that she was the answer to the world being under threat. What else could I do but accept, when my refusal might mean everything I had known and would ever know would end? And so you threw yourself under the weight of duty, forgetting to take care of anything else.

In other words, you gave. You gave, gave, gave, gave, gave, and gave, and it was never enough.

Maybe it was time to take.

She was a hulking, shifting mass of stone platings, each one more immutable than the last. She towered over even Torterra, rolling her shoulders as she smothered a grin and instead flashed her sharp teeth with a cold, almost unseeable anger. Her form radiated a raw, oppressive power—the kind that could crush small hills underfoot. She was Tyranitar, and she was the all-consuming Desire to be better. I want to be kind I want people to sing my name I want to be strong enough to be safe forever I want to never worry about money I want to trust myself with my powers I want to be forgiven I want to be loved I want to remember how to have fun I want this I want that I want EVERYTHING.

But did I deserve it?

Desire made herself tall, and my body shivered. The Adventurer stared back pensively, but allowed the Guardian to stand her ground. Earthquake, she bellowed, and once again, the world held its breath as the grass type pushed herself up on her hind legs with strength she had accessed through the soil. Grains of darkened sands slipped out of Tyranitar's vents, slowly at first, and then a deluge of void and silence tore through the world, swarming the Guardian just as she landed and broke the earth below her.

The plains rippled, shattered, and glowered with energy summoned through the soil and a mighty roar. Desire's plates took on a metallic sheen, but she kept trudging forward, her steps muffled by the darkened sandstorm until the Earthquake hit her. There was nothing but a tiny wince—she stood her ground, her feet planted firmly in the ground as the earth shifted around her and let out muffled screams as if the terrain itself could wail in agony.

"Stone Edge."

There had been rocks spread around through both Claydol and Turtonator, and she would put them to use. They were broken shards, yet she brought them together and created enormous pillars of sharpened stones that she sent barrelling toward Torterra. Her bark softened by Superpower, they easily dug into her and made her bleed, the dark red creating a heavy contrast with the darkened sands. The Guardian was dizzied and distracted by pain she was unfamiliar with; now was the time to strike.

"Rock Polish," I followed suit, my voice cutting through the storm, "and Ice Fang."

Desire's movements sharpened, her steps growing quicker and aided by the occasional expulsion of sand behind her, each greedy stride devouring the distance between her and her opponent. Mist formed around her fangs as soon as they opened, and the rock type slammed into the Guardian with a roar that was swallowed up by the storm. One could not hear the huntress thrashing against the Torterra, the hush of the wind drowning out the sounds of heavy plating meeting flesh and bone, but they could see her. Her claws gouged into the Guardian's massive shell with savage force, cracking stone and uprooting bark with each strike. Her fangs, now jagged and frostbitten, sank deep into Torterra's side, tearing through layers of bark and flesh in a violent flurry. The Guardian fought back, limbs smashing the earth in desperate retaliation, calling upon nature to come to her aid, but Desire was relentless—slamming, biting, slashing, each strike eerily silent. The fight was brutal. Primal. Her movements efficient as her teeth found the walking continent's throat and tightened.

Yes, I thought as her movements grew more and more joyous. As she grinned after each blow, be it dealt or taken. She wanted to fight, to feel the blood pumping in her veins, to feel the pain every time she was hit, to taste the blood in her mouth after a triumph. The heat of battle. I could feel it, too—her exhilaration coursing through me like a fire desperate to start; she was me, and I was her, Desire intertwined.

The Guardian fell limp against the ground, her body battered, gouged and bloodied in a way that made the Adventurer wince.

She did not even have to wait to allow out her next Pokemon. The decision was nearly instantaneous; she released the mass of metal further away, a clear sign of respect. He was a ball of spikes and death with eyes so sinister you would think he had come here to kill us and destroy all we loved. Had he come to take away nascent desire, to smother our fire in its crib? This steel type, this Ferrothorn, this Blackguard; he pushed himself up, balancing himself on balls of spikes that could easily navigate the broken terrain.

Leech Seed, Gardenia called out, and I hunched over, the Embers already snuffed out at the idea that someone would look at me like the Blackguard. Like he knew my long list of sins, and he would pick them out and read them out to me one by one. Yet, Desire fought. The Tyranitar blasted the little seeds out of the air with her storm, scattering them to the winds so we wouldn't have to worry. My challenger frowned for a moment, and then called out for a Gyro Ball.

Going in close after having attempted to fight at a distance? Desperate to shake off my nerves, I looked to the future.

The Scout had seeded these rolling plains with life, and the Guardian had used and replenished it in an endless cycle of withering, death, and rebirth. The ground was upturned, messy, and unorderly, like someone had thrown as many colors as they could onto a blank canvas. Where there was life, there would be water—not in the already-ruined lakes that had been present at the start of the battle, but within the confines of the earth.

"Ride," I ordered, surprised at the loudness of my own voice.

There was a rumble below the ground, and then water took to the surface, flooding these lands and turning them into a shallow bog. The closer the Blackguard got to us, each step calculated to be as efficient as possible, the more agitated it got. Desire kicked the wet mud, summoning beneath her an enormous slab of stone. She gathered the remaining fragments from her predecessors she could find around her, and then—

Water swept her forward, her momentum just as powerful as the Blackguard's Gyroball. For a brief moment, she faltered, slipping in the rush of momentum; my heart stuttered in time with the misstep, and the steel type threw himself into a spin faster and fiercer than even the gaze burning in his dark eyes, turning him into a whirlwind of metal and malice. Around him, a disc of searing light began to form—a luminous, deadly ring, the beginnings of a Flash Cannon that whirled like a saw blade. The light grew, expanding with every rotation until it became a shining edge that extended far beyond the steel type's form. It cut through the battlefield like a scythe, evaporating water, slicing through Tyranitar's towering stone as though it were nothing but paper, the echo of shattering rock resounding in the air. The light scraped against her plates, screeching as metal met stone, sparks erupting in a brilliant, furious display.

And so, Desire and Blackguard clashed like two mountains crashing into each other. It was much the same story that had befallen the Guardian, but our opponent this time was more equipped to deal with physical hits. Each clang that made its way through the darkened storm seemed to reinforce the idea that he was a solid wall, and while his Power Whips failed to do anything but crack my Desire's armor at best, the Leech Seed he had finally managed to attach to her was pulling its own weight—

Wait. Was it?

I squinted, eyes struggling to parse through the details of the two's obscured surroundings, but that Leech Seed was not up to par with what I'd come to expect from such a magnificent grass type trainer. Instead, it seemed sluggish, the tendrils that sprouted from them nearly anemic relative to the previous ones.

No matter; there was no time to think. Another Flash Cannon buried itself deep in Tyranitar's chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her eyes widened, and I ordered her to pull away the Blackguard's feelers. The first one, she got immediately and threw away, but the orange-haired woman barked out another order, and Acid burst out of Ferrothorn in waves. It did not do much, but the drops that slipped through the cracks made Desire screech and attempt to pull the second vine off the steel type's body.

But then, something clicked.

"No!" I yelled.

Yelled.

Yelled.

That was what they'd been waiting for—an opening. The rock type leaned in, claw wrapping around the Ferrothorn's feeler, but—wait, she was listening. Barely, just barely, Desire unlatched herself from the Blackguard, making the coming Revenge attached to the third and final spike ball barely scrape her.

"Now use Flamethrower!" I added.

Flames began to coil and writhe in her ever widening maw, a lighthouse within the darkness that flickered in and out. The air around her turned hazy with the sheer heat she brought forth, and the fire escaped in a single, furious torrent that swallowed up the Blackguard. An endless stream of golden flames that vaporized the water ten feet around her.

Beyond the fact that I had used a fire type move, beyond the fact that I had screamed in the heat of battle, beyond the fact that there were embers in my hearth—

This Pokemon.

I knew him. He was a faded memory, a person I couldn't place, yet I knew I had seen beforehand.

The Blackguard did not fall with a single Flamethrower, no, and I could not bring myself to utter any more words, but they kept clashing, impenetrable stone plate against sturdy steel hide, mountain against the toughest of roots. Desire, too, could not allow fire to run amock again—that little rascal sometimes got too excited and had to catch herself a split-second from another Flamethrower that made both our opponents flinch. In these moments, it felt like I had stepped out onto the world naked—exposed and vulnerable, as if my skin had been scraped raw. I had allowed the challenger to goad me, to nearly reignite me, to make me smile.

It was terrifying; I wanted it gone. I wanted it gone, gone, gone, gone. Blackguard collapsed against the swamp we'd created, only a stump remaining where one of its stems had once been. I could not help but notice how… alone Ferrothorn had been. His strategy lacked the seamless integration one would expect from a well-coordinated party. This made sense, given his Name. Blackguard was a solitary figure, a loner who only allied himself with the others in moments of desperation, otherwise preferring to forge his own path.

Yes. Giving it more thought, this was in line with everything I had foreseen.

Sweetheart was tired and wounded. She had been poisoned, battered by light and by vines. The knowledge that we could have won easier with Flamethrower than without weighed heavy on her—I could tell, but it wasn't like the Adventurer would have just let it happen. Strategically speaking, catching her by surprise had been correct. Through heavy breaths that mirrored her own, I sagged against my knees and sighed in relief. I'd flown too close to the sun; it would be better to retreat into my cold, darkened cave.

In fact—

Fingers cold against my pants, I ordered her to make a cave as our Challenger sped up her decision-making. It was nowhere as sophisticated as my Reflection, but—

From the depths of the bog, she emerged—a graceful specter cloaked in vibrant hues, a haunting vision against the backdrop of a dwindling storm. The air shimmered with her ethereal presence, two brilliant splashes of color piercing through the haze: one blue as the endless ocean, the other red like the birth of a raging fire. My throat tightened as she opened her eyes, and nature itself sang her name, for she had traveled countless miles, endless stretches of land that never ended. Roserade the Explorer, they beckoned her, and she answered in turn with a bow as the sun somehow intensified brightly enough to pierce through the Dark Sandstorm, and rain started to pour by the gallons.

Desire demanded the use of Flamethrower. "No," I answered. She asked again. "No," I answered. "Sit still, do not dare try to bite off more than you can chew. Fire is danger, and danger is terrifying," I said with shuddering breaths.

Then, she lashed out.

Would you let your, their, our sacrifices be for nothing? she yelled at me—though a laugh nearly slipped out of her—Would you—

Too late.

"Rose! Let rain and the sun befall them!" the Adventurer yelled with a laugh.

Her voice resonated like a songstress's, rich and deep, weaving through the chaos like a melodic thread in a tapestry of sound. It was my first time actually hearing it instead of processing it, and it made my soul nearly jump out of my skin.

No, no, no. The artificial sun intensified, as did the light of the actual sun, bearing down on us at temperatures more fit for a fire type than a grass one. At the same time, rain slammed into the earth, yet it did not flood. The ground itself greedily drank the liquid, using it to grow even more flowers than the Scout had wrought. This, I recognized easily, was Life Dew pushed to its absolute apex and mixed in with the rain. You could not even see the grass—it was as if each drop of rain summoned forth a bud of its own. On Desire as well, plants began to overtake her—they wrapped around her—they caused her pain by prickling her wounds and growing on her flesh—they drained her energy—they poisoned her—paralyzed her—made her drowsy—slowed her—

I got it.

I was not fighting a force of nature, but nature itself.

"Fight back!" I tried. Sweat trickled down my skin. I was ready to want, now. "Flamethrower!"

Though the plants smothered her grin and started growing inside her mouth, the rain rendered them so weak that they barely burned and fizzled out by the time they reached the Explorer. Earthquake! I tried next, and upon a bed of flowers, the poison type jumped as if she'd reached a trampoline and spun in the air. Upside down, she aimed both her bouquets toward Tyranitar as the earth split below her—nature and grass fought back to mend the gash—and the sun boomed in intensity, lowering in height until it only hovered thirty feet off the ground, and rain turned to a roaring storm.

Light of every color unfurled amidst the vapor rising from the searing heat, a kaleidoscope of hues that danced and shimmered with the Explorer's ambition and nature's call. Each color sang its own note in the symphony of life: rich emeralds and deep sapphires intertwined with fiery oranges and passionate reds, creating a breathtaking mosaic that celebrated the beauty of His creation.

Life.

The laser surged forward, a manifestation of nature's exuberance as it dispelled all that would bring darkness to His realm. Grains of darkened sands fell lifeless to the ground and were taken below by the earth, and light swallowed the dark.

One last effort. Walls of earth rose up in front of her, one, three, five layers of thickened rock while draconic energy charged within her mouth.

They were all blown away, each taking the blast just a little longer, but all for naught.

The sound of the impact was deafening, causing my hearing aid to crackle with a high-pitched ring that made me wince. How grand for a blast that signified hope to be so deadly. Desire staggered, the sheer brilliance forcing her to momentarily shield her eyes as life washed over her scales. She did not budge an inch, standing her ground, but what remained was a body overwhelmed by plantlife—enough of it not to see where the Tyranitar began and ended. In her mouth, eyes, nostrils, under her claws, within her vents.

Desire lost consciousness standing.

Holy fuck, I wanted to say, but I stayed quiet. That was—it had not been planned, but it was perfect. I recalled her and cracked each of my fingers with a satisfying pop.

Roserade looked tired as well, though nowhere near done. It felt as if that was an ultimate attack of some sort, something they had workshopped for years and perfected as time went on. Within my mind, an idea was born, overtaking every other notion until there was nothing left but a single, burning question.

Was my Soul ready?

This was not a tactical question, though the rest within his ball would have done him some good, and the sun was low and intense enough to fuel him. It was a question concerning my inner self, and by the Legendaries, endless doubt clouded my mind. Yet, Sacrifice had asked me if I had not given enough, and Desire had berated me for letting everything be for nothing, as if to ask what it was all for?

His Pokeball was just a little warmer.

Three left each.

I sent him out, again within the confines of his 'cave'—calling it that was doing Tyranitar a favor, it was more two parallel walls and a scuffed overhang than anything else, but she had done her job. While the walls were covered in plants, what lay inside was still… well, not lifeless, for the Explorer's reach extended far, but far less dense. I raised two fingers as soon as he looked back at me, and he sighed, rolling his shoulders as a dull heat exuded from his scales.

Dull, but heat nonetheless. Everything was so calm after such a display of skill by the Explorer. All I could hear was the rain pattering against the wet mud and the flower petals.

"This is her Roserade," I warned. He took one look at her and glared as she began to move, opting to fight at a close range at her trainer's discretion. At the same time, the sun rose higher again, ensuring that it would stay hidden behind the rain clouds. Fire surged from his snout; a dull red turned to an intense orange. He took a step outside the 'cave,' and water simmered on his back, turning into vapor. None but the sturdiest of flowers could stick to his body. I sucked in moist air through my teeth. "Don't let her come to you. Fire Pillar."

With a deep, guttural growl from deep within his chest, my Soul wielded the power of fire. Beats of warmth coincided with each burning spire that rose from the earth, leaving behind nothing but a smoldering hole the rain rapidly filled in and seeded once again. The closer the Explorer approached, the nearer the flames came to striking her, but she moved with a speed that far exceeded our expectations. Flowers not only helped her jump, but also made it feel like each stride carried her twice as far as it should have. Not only that, but she too could propel herself with Water Sport in short bursts, though it only came from her blue bouquet.

Wide, wide, wide, graze, wide, graze, hit, and she burned for a second before slipping out of the fire, wide—she had made it.

"Hit the chest!" Gardenia grinned.

Already, we'd put up an Iron Defense—water pressurized within Roserade's flower so tightly that half of it turned to foam on her upswing. The Shell Trap would be tight. With unprecedented agility and a measured explosion on one side of his shell, the fire type spun around, and the punch bounced off helplessly against his shell—

A massive detonation rattled the land. Fiery, intense, one that sucked in all the air around both Pokemon and left Roserade burned to a crisp until she stepped back into her rain and darkened, ash-covered leaves turned back to a healthy green. It left us an opportunity to follow, to stick to the Explorer like glue in hopes of not letting her have a moment's respite, but—it was and would be a leap of faith.

"Flamethrower!"

"Extrasensory!"

The two orders were exchanged, but our Pokemon had already begun moving. My Soul lowered himself on all fours, tail curling upward as flames gathered in his mouth and exploded in a wide arc that caught the Explorer off-guard. Her psychic powers were there, but they were paltry, and they failed to contain even the dull orange flame. Yes, we'd been ramping up, hadn't we? The Explorer laughed as more flames engulfed her, as did her trainer, and I felt my face warm.

Not the time.

They lost themselves in a song and dance of dodging and striking each other, though the Explorer dared not venture close. She brought forth jets of water that rivaled a weak Hydro Pump, and we struck her with flames and scorching Dragon Pulses in hopes of destroying her. The earth here was not ours—our attempt at Bulldoze to slow the grass type remained a call unanswered; nature ruled and would rule until at least the Explorer was off the field.

But.

Eventually.

"Let rain and the sun befall them!"

With those words came a drop in my chest and a familiar feeling of doom as the sun lowered itself beneath the rainclouds and brought with it swirling rainbows that stretched far and wide across the skies. Again. It was happening again. I couldn't—no—he would not survive the blast. With a graceful dance, the grass type called upon all under her command—everything the light of the sun touched—and ethereal light turned solid—

I couldn't.

Back into his Pokeball, my Soul went, though I made sure to wait until the blast began. This time, it utterly destroyed Tyranitar's 'cave,' collapsing the stone structure into flower-covered rubble. The instincts as a trainer I'd begun to reawaken had forced me to despite my wants and needs. Roserade couldn't call upon such power multiple times. No, she needed time, just like I did, but for a whole other reason.

I understood now. Understood what my Pokemon had been trying to tell me. But I needed to let myself breathe, to allow my eyes to open and witness something that had been lacking in my existence for time immemorial. To pierce the dense fog I had wrapped around my heart, to lift the curtains upon the spectacle that was my life.

Kindness.

Not to others, though I could use that too, but the softness I had denied myself forever. It was always my fault, my problem, my issues, me, me, me, me—and yes, that was warranted sometimes. A lot of the time. And there was a dangerous path to tread to kindness yet, but had I not been terribly unforgiving? The standard I had shackled myself to after all my sins was high, almost impossibly so, and I would meet it one day, but perhaps—

Perhaps a sprinkle of Kindness would do.

Upon one knee, Electivire appeared, and he rose so quickly, his body spry and young and eager with none of the sluggishness that had plagued my other Pokemon. Tails intertwined with excitement, fingers flexed as they formed into fists, he hopped from side to side and faced the doubly tired Roserade—

A red beam hit the grass type immediately, and Kindness nearly let out an annoyed whir, throwing his hands up before I shushed him and told him to remain, well, kind. It had been ages since he had been in such a fight, one with no lives at stakes, and he was just a little too restless for the Role. The gentleness and calm needed as if he were a balm to my Soul just wasn't there.

But he would do his best, and I would smile at him in turn. Was that not what being kind was like?

One advantage we'd gained turning the field into a wet mess—though that had been exacerbated by the Explorer—was that electricity could spread through these lands quite easily. Already, arcs of it were flying across the field quicker than I could take a breath. Strangely enough, the sun remained, but the rain quickly faded. The Adventurer knew our strengths, and any trainer worth their salt would know not to allow a storm in reach of an electric type.

My opponent waited, and waited, and waited, for the longer she did so, the more water the ground would swallow without the rain to replenish it. Thirty seconds later came a Pokemon I had never seen before.

He moved with a feline grace, sleek and poised, his body slender yet powerful beneath a cloak of deep green fur that shimmered in the light of the sun. His appearance was striking, almost theatrical—his face framed by what looked like petals, forming a mask of soft purples and greens that lent him an air of mystery. He knelt, slowly plucking a purple flower from the ground and snatched it between his teeth.

"Meowscarada," the Adventurer spoke in a warning tone, "this one is fast, faster than nearly anything you've ever faced in a while—"

"Rain Dance and Lightning Bolt!" I yelled with a grin.

Ah, the joys of having her operate on outdated information. A darkened rain cloud of our own materialized far above Kindness, up and up and up until thunder roiled within and struck us down in two seconds. It coalesced as an elongated, thin spike in his hand, and it crackled blue. This was True Lightning, the kind that two of my mentors had thrown against each other atop a mountain like summoning it was effortless, yet it took all of our concentration—

The Adventurer followed up with a "Spikes" that had me frown, but Kindness threw the electricity like a javelin.

Ah. It turned back to a normal yellow mid-flight, but it was far too fast for anything to dodge.

Yet when it hit Meowscarada—

Nothing happened. Not a single hair on the grass type's body was harmed. A thin sheet of dull, brown energy coiled around him like a second set of skin, and tiny little spikes, barely anything worth noting, littered the ground around his feet.

"Flower Trick—Yellow," my opponent ordered.

Flowers her previous Pokemon had planted rose from the earth, each a dull yellow that spun around Meowscarada. The grass type mushed them together, combining them into an abomination of a bouquet that somehow fit and looked beautiful when it shouldn't have, and then came another, and another, and—

What were we doing? I clapped my hands, snapping both Kindness and I out of our confused stupor. This was an attack we'd used against Galactic grunts, and it had done nothing? There must have been some kind of trick, and more were coming. I knew her modus operandi by now; I expected the barrage of yellow flowers to explode into spores of some kind.

The… Magician sent them forth, all at the same time. They flew in a wide arc until they suddenly sped up midway through with a flick of the grass type's fingers—

"Protect!"

Yellow pollen—not spores, it was far too powdery and clumpy—burst out of each bouquet with every explosion, and they swirled around Kindness in the form of a tornado. Undeterred, he moved, a herculean effort while still maintaining his Protect. As soon as he was out of the smoke, he fired off a quick Thunderbolt to test the Magician's defenses, but once again, a spike slid out of beneath his cape, and the attack did nothing. I could see the shape of it now, how they needed to use a ground type move to gather a second skin that shielded them from electricity.

Look at your feet, the Magician goaded.

Shit, I'd been too focused on him—a bouquet camouflaged between the countless flowers exploded in another swarm of yellow pollen, and Honey quickly flickered back with Radiant Leap before I could blink. Yet, he coughed, grimacing as he waved his hand in front of his nose and mouth and scraped some of the pollen off him.

He hurled, cheeks swelling with what I assumed was vomit, and he puked all over the ground, staining the flowers in a sickly yellow-green bile. He was so rattled that his localized Rain Dance ended, dissolving in the wind. A seed came next, landing softly on the electric type's head like a feather, and instead of the Leech Seed I expected, out burst a strange, red thorn that pricked the side of Kindness' face and drew a tiny amount of blood.

I wanted to ask if he was okay, but that would be doing him a disservice. The fun he had expected had been snuffed out, smothered in trickery and deception. We needed to find our footing, but as it turned out, making an Electivire nauseous to the point of being unable to move was a fantastic way of taking away his main advantage: his speed. He tried moving, but each step was accompanied by a grumble in his stomach and more vomit, and somehow, he kept spewing out even if he must have run out of food a long time ago. The best he managed to do was pull up a Protect to stall other Flower Tricks or Energy Balls or Magical Leaves in hopes of outlasting the nausea, but it was not letting up. They knew that eventually, we'd get too tired to keep up the Protect.

Time to improvise.

"Fire Swift! Stagger them!"

He turned his head back at me like I was insane.

Maybe I was. We'd never used that move, after all, only Electric Swift, but as it turned out, without electric type attacks, we were horribly equipped to deal with foes that kept their distance. We just had Electric Swift, which hadn't seen serious use in months.

He laughed and thrust his arms forward; a cluster of bright, golden stars erupted from his palms as soon as the shimmering green barrier fell around him. I knew the Adventurer's theme. Knew she worked well with the sun and rain, and that her next move would be water type to keep her Magician safe.

Case in point—

"Chilling Water," she said.

The burning stars carved through the air, trailing streams of fire in their wake like comets streaking across the battlefield. The heat distorted the air around them as they swirled and circled, faster and faster, honing in on the Magician at different speeds. Once again, the attack from the Magician was weak, only there to protect instead of strike. Cold, frozen waters sprouted from the ground at his feet, and the first Swift barely harmed the grass type—

I snapped my finger. "Thunder."

Electricity crackled, coiling around his tails with pulsating energy. It shot out of his hands, and the earth around him shattered with the power brought forth by Thunder. The Magician's eyes widened, and his trainer laughed, knowing that there was no time. That wasn't for lack of trying—the Magician's cape flapped, and more spikes fell through, but here was the thing about their trick.

It was fast, yes. I could see the second set of skin crawling up the Meowscarada's legs like creeping vines, slithering beneath his fur in a shimmering, translucent layer. It spread quickly, molding over his muscles, sleek and almost invisible, like a living armor that bent the light around it.

But we were faster.

The rest of the fiery stars collided with her, as did the enormous beam of electricity—

I squinted as the Adventurer recalled her Pokemon. It felt almost unfair, how quick she'd been on the draw, but the Magician was one to fight at a distance, and the space between him and Kindness had been large enough to allow them respite, though only barely. Teeth gnashing, I inhaled a deep breath to calm myself down. It was unlike me to get so excited, so taken by the idea of victory and the ultimate triumph. The Adventurer had saved her switches for a reason—it allowed her more maneuverability in the end game of the fight.

What now, dear challenger? Back into the Explorer? It was a possibility now that Kindness was afflicted by crippling nausea and couldn't move very well.

The manner in which she grabbed her next Pokeball was so casual I nearly found myself forgetting I was fighting for my very existence. It lolled in her hand, but she didn't wait long.

With a guttural groan, the Pokeball split open, and the air around us dropped several degrees in an instant. Twisted pieces of bark, blackened like obsidian and linked by the thickest of shadows. He was covered in deep cracks that pulsed with an eerie glow from within. Its eye—a single, hollow orb of crimson—flickered to life, staring forward with a gaze that seemed to pierce the soul. The creature's crooked form shifted with a creaking groan, each movement quick and deliberate; staring at its six legs was like observing an insect crawling up a wall.

I had imagined a Trevenant would be larger. This one, though. This one? He carried with him a tree half-grown, allowing him to scuttle across the field at high speeds. Wherever he stepped, flowers died—

"Bulldoze! Slow him down and strike!" I yelled.

"Phantom Force," the Adventurer countered, hands on her hips.

The earth shook, spreading cracks like spiderwebs across the fertile dirt and kicking up flowers, but Trevenant flickered out of existence, immediately reappearing leagues ahead with a screech—the sound of agony, of many men and women in pain who had gotten lost in a forest. It was enough to make Electivire jump out of his skin, and the Thunder that came out next frayed to the side and grazed the Trevenant's trunk. Fine. Fine. Let them get close, then; it wasn't like we could battle at a distance with the Magician's tricks hampering us. The ghost left behind him a trail of wilting flowers, and the essence of life itself seemed to be absorbed into the Trevenant's body. I knew what he was now, the last piece of the puzzle in the Adventurer's party. One they only used in the worst of circumstances, for they were warriors of Good who gave and shared, and he was a villain who only took, wielding death and drawing from the earth, leeching away from vitality as if it were his birthright.

Warlock.

"Dig and Confuse Ray!" the Adventurer ordered.

Dig? Once they got close, the Warlock sank into the ground as if it were a pond and reappeared only three seconds later behind Kindness, sprouting like a new tree with a light in front of his eye that hurt to look at for too long, and screeched.

Words spilled out of my mouth. "Fire Punch!"

A vicious backhand struck Trevenant, cracking and scorching parts of his tree even blacker than it already was. The Confuse Ray went wide, fizzling out in the sky, but the Warlock rooted himself with Ingrain, not in the earth, but on Kindness like a parasite. Enough electricity to blind me through closed eyes burst out of Kindness' fur, but it would take more than that to take down the Warlock. Electivire attempted to strike with Fire Punch, but the ghost's body seemed to endlessly shift around him, and all he managed to do was hit his own shoulder. He was spinning around in a dance of death, face twisting with the need to puke.

Thunder. Thunder. Thunder. By the third one, the Warlock wrenched himself free, scuttling across the field like a twisted marionette, leaving another trail of dying flowers in his wake, but not before leaving behind a second Confuse Ray that managed to enter Kindness' body and rendered his case even worse. He could barely even stand straight by now, his balance unraveling with each misstep until his legs buckled beneath him, and once again, he hurled on the ground.

I grabbed his Pokeball, unsure of whether to recall him or to save it for the last, but I had no idea whether the nausea would stay—

"Mean Look."

Mistake. My stomach twisted in knots, and the Trevenant glared; they were hollow pits of darkened crimson radiating malice and glee at the trap sprung. For a second, the world shrunk to just those eyes, as if everything else around me had never mattered, and I could only hear the sound of my beating heart. The fragility of the human condition. There was no point in even attempting to recall the electric type now.

Despite this, the damage we'd done to the Warlock was actually substantial, and he did not seem to be able to regenerate any of it unlike the other members of her team. Even Meowscarada had made use of Roserade's field of flowers to trickle in energy within himself, even if it was subtle.

Wait.

This made…

The taking of energy for seemingly naught, the endless scuttling to cover as much ground as possible, the crippling of arguably the Pokemon who she found the most difficult to deal with over the course of the last few minutes with both the Magician and the Warlock as if she'd been playing the long game.

The Trap with a capital T.

The Adventurer cackled—she must have seen the look of realization on my face. I knew it was coming; I just thought it would have been with the Explorer, her most trusted Pokemon! A final clash between her and my Soul, perfectly aligned with the story where both would finally go all out—

Therein lay my weakness.

"Remembrance!" she screamed as one with the Warlock, and a shadow came to curse the world.

Flowers and plants did not have souls, but they were living beings all the same. The air thickened with a haunting silence as the shadow consumed the field. The sun disappeared behind it first, snuffed out like a candle in a storm. The sky followed, swallowed by an impenetrable blackness that spread over the battlefield like ink flooding water. It wasn't gradual—it was instant. One blink, and everything vanished into a void so complete it felt suffocating. The earth beneath their feet might as well have ceased to exist; there was no sense of ground, no horizon, no distant shapes to give the illusion of space. The field was gone, consumed by the absolute pitch of nothingness save for them.

Everything was so quiet. I was reminded of the Darkest Day, but this was no true nothingness. Hidden in the void were moving shapes and whispering voices.

Trevenant's body twitched.

Kindness clenched at his head and began to scream until his eyes rolled back onto his head, and he fell unconscious. I did not even understand what had just happened, what he had just seen. What that attack had just been.

I waited.

Waited.

And waited.

But the void didn't clear. In fact, it didn't even diminish. Throughout this battle, our backs had been against the wall; we had conceded much of the field as soon as Reflection had fallen, even if we had fought back on occasion, and unfortunately, it looked like the void was here to stay.

It was in times like these, where the dark felt insurmountable and despair weighed you down like a mountain, that the most delusional of Hopes sprang up like a stubborn weed through cracked pavement. It was a flicker in the void, a faint glimmer in my heart that dared to defy the oppressive shadows. Had I given up in my countless fights, my tantrums against the world? The battle with Saturn, where I had been outnumbered by numbers too high to count, and it was as if I'd been but a single girl and her friends holding a knife against an army?

No.

You fought because your life mattered. You fought because the flickering flame of existence, however dim, demanded to be tended to.

And in this case, you fought because it might, believe it or not, be fun.

It was up to her to renew Hope—up to her to be Hope. You fought, you fought, you fought; your skin was cut, your bones were broken, your teeth were knocked out, your mouth was bloodied, your hair was torn out, but at the end of it all, the sun would still rise in the morning and the moon would still shine in the sky at night.

There she was. Hope sparkled the moment she popped out of her Pokeball, up into the sky, and her eyes sharpened—

"You're Hope, not Violence!" I warned her as loud as possible, hoping my voice would make it. We had prepared multiple roles. Redemption would have been the last, but the story had not progressed at all that way. "Get in character—it's just you and Sun—my Soul left!"

They didn't sharpen—they softened as she began to laugh, even in the midst of the darkness. The Adventurer opened her mouth, but I could not hear her scream out her next order. The Warlock hummed, his body brimming with whatever this void was made of, and it swarmed Hope everywhere she went. Since the color was black on black, discerning its proximity became an exercise in futility. Many shadows collided with the dense panels of psychic energy, ricocheting harmlessly away, yet others wove through the defenses with unsettling ease. With urgency creeping into her movements, she quickened her pace, acutely aware of the danger lurking in the inky void.

And yet, she laughed. A laugh of childlike wonder with every hit as she weaved bright orange mystic flames around her and her fur slicked back—

Boom.

I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. The shockwave was invisible in the void, but its sound was undeniable. She'd broken the sound barrier—Hope weaved in between attacks, growing more comfortable in the environment until she was nothing but a nearly indiscernible blur of white against pitch black.

Yet the Warlock could be anywhere and everywhere at once, traveling throughout his dominion without the usual delay of Phantom Force. He easily dodged the Mystical Fire that was sent in a concentrated jet above him and kept harassing us with the dark. Wind started to pick up, ominous and bearing with it muffled screams of the fallen. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see spirits just like they were in Distortion, all under the Warlock's command. They took the form of Will-O-Wisps, Confuse Rays, Night Shades, and nearly-invisible Hexes left as traps in the sky Hope would occasionally run into.

"Cut!" I smiled.

A barrel roll to shake off the oil-like darkness, a pass through a zone pressurized by Extrasensory, and Hope once again broke the sound barrier as she swooped down toward the possessed tree. The ghost raised one of his skeletal, wooden hands, and it suddenly grew twice, five, tenfold in length and girth, all while darkness orbited around it. Wood hammer, but ghostly, I noted. They were hoping to trade a good hit, maybe to break a wing, as Togekiss slowed down to charge up Moonblast, but—

That was the thing. We were not going to use Moonblast.

An invisible force borne of belief cut across the Warlock's joint, where his arm remained the thinnest, and it fell clean off of the grass type's trunk. Then another, and another, a dozen cuts spread across his body until Princess made a pass and rained fire on his body. The Warlock's pained shriek pierced the air, his fury igniting a furious blaze within his singular eye. The Ominous Wind intensified, swirling around him with a vengeance, as countless curses hurled at Princess surged forward, propelled not by Trevenant's own will but by the agitated spirits that answered his wrath. Just as hope swelled in my heart, Hope ramped up and kept throwing attack after attack, using her wicked cuts to keep the Warlock on the backfoot. Fire, fire, more fire, carried by gusts of Fairy Wind and riding Air Slashes and imbedded in her Cuts and by the Legendaries, her pace was unheard of for the Adventurer's Trevenant, because the focus needed to destroy her just wasn't there.

Blows were exchanged, as they always were. It was not a one-sided fight, but an evenly-matched one.

"Dazzling Gleam and Moonblast!"

It was Light against Dark, Hope against Despair—Togekiss shone, radiant and pure, her resplendence imbuing my heart with an unshakeable faith in her, and she grew blinding, banishing the darkness around her with each pulse. With a thousand screams, the void recoiled as if scorched, retreating further with each pulse of her light, and soon she stood alone, a beacon in a void that once threatened to consume us all.

And upon that beacon of radiant light, a moon was born. It started small, just a shimmering orb of pale, silver light cradled within Hope's grasp, but it grew swiftly, swelling in size with each second, greedily drinking the light afforded to it. A thousand tiny tears in the air surrounded the shimmering sphere, and void swirled around its gravitational pull until it was banished at its center.

It was pure, unblemished perfection—the fusion of two unwavering beliefs, a hope and a prayer to everything that defined us. The Warlock was pulled up, incapable of sticking to the void currently being banished. Already, I could see slivers of color, but—

"Distortion Explosion!" The Adventurer's muffled voice made it through the fading dark.

The vast remaining darkness that had smothered the battlefield began to collapse inward, sucked back into a single point in the sky, peeling off the ground and invisible walls like paint. Shadows coiled and twisted, pulling away from the earth and sky as if reality itself was unraveling. The once suffocating blackness now swirled into a vortex made of deceased flowers, tightening into a pinprick that distorted everything around it, even light.

Three orbs in the sky—the moon, having absorbed or cut ample darkness and weakening; the sun, having remained, but faded due to Trevenant not replenishing it; a black hole borne of distortion outgrowing both. They hung there for a second.

And then they erupted.

Words could not describe what I was looking at. Shapes blurred, as if the fabric of reality had been stretched too thin, threatening to unravel at the seams. The moonlight bled into the void, and the void bled into the moonlight, indistinguishable yet fighting to exist. The barrier around the fight threatened to shatter, and I heard a voice desperately call for another psychic, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. I felt the impact in my bones; the collision of light and dark seared itself into my vision, etching patterns I could barely comprehend, lingering until I blinked them away, though their afterimage clung like a shadow in the back of my mind.

The moon and black hole were gone.

The battlefield was covered in deceased flowers, though none of them were torn to shreds or had even a single blemish—they were all just a mixture of pitch black and purple at their center, and they carried with them whispers from beyond this world. Not even the corners had been spared—every inch of these plains had been covered in death. The Ominous Wind had ceased, as had any other attacks. The Warlock was left a burned and exhausted mess, his form barely recognizeable and his shadow barely clinging to his tree. Hope was very much the same, a bleeding heap on the ground coughing ghostly energy out of her lungs.

The sun?

The sun remained ever-present.

A final note.

Togekiss was unable to move, but she remained conscious and thinking. In between pained grunts were short bursts of laughter as she eyed her fallen opponent. She did not boast or make fun of him. She giggled at the fight, at the opportunity she had been given to battle a peer and see it through. And thus, with the laughs reverberating across these dead grasslands, she allowed herself to believe in me and my Soul.

Hope, battered but unbroken, raised her head toward the heavens, her once-glorious wings trembling as they stretched outward. The light of a star shimmered in her eyes, and she drew breath, though each was laced with a pained rasp. Her voice, soft yet resolute, echoed through the desolate field, gentle yet laced with purpose.

Stars above, I beseech thee! Hope yelled as the Adventurer recalled her Warlock. Let thy celestial grace descend upon our humble vessel, for though I falter, Hope itself shall not fall. My eyes widened; she tried turning toward me, bearing through the pain of a broken body. Soul, I offer unto thee this wish, that it may guide us through the dark and heal what has been torn asunder. Let this be my clarion call to fate!

With a single deep breath, her entire body began to glow from within, the light so subtle at first, it seemed like nothing more than the glint of the sun on her feathers. But then, like the first flicker of a kindling flame, it grew. It ascended, higher and higher, casting long shadows across the barren field below. The radiance pulsed gently, growing as it soared above the darkness, as if the very heavens themselves had answered her call.

And thus, Togekiss fell.

"Ha…hahaha!"

Laughter spilled out of me. I was losing, and laughing! Mirth so strong my legs trembled beneath me and I found myself running out of breath, coughing and desperate for air.

I was Grace Pastel. Pokemon Trainer.

A fire, lit.

I understood now. By the time I came to, I realized the Magician was back on the field, this Meowscarada Pokemon I had never seen before today. How fascinating his attacks and tricks were, how I wanted to learn absorb explore decipher grasp comprehend replicate embody and master everything I had seen and done here on this wonderful day. I had faced my demons, battled my inner self, and had come out so much stronger for it that every vein within me was lit with the flame of ambition; every inch of my skin flared up to a feverish temperature. My body was alive, dripping with sweat; my eyes were darting around, analyzing everything they could find; my breaths were shallow, yet my body was brimming with insatiable hunger. And it was wonderful, and it was beautiful, and it was exhilarating, and I could laugh and laugh and laugh about it for as long as needed.

Unfortunately, I'd nearly run out of time—not that it wouldn't have been the correct strategy, anyway, given Wish. Throat pained due to the throes of laughter, I released my Soul onto the field for a third and final time.

"Sunshine!" I remembered now, and his name rang out like a thunderclap as it echoed through the air. "You're the last; our backs are against the wall! A Wish is coming—"

Gardenia moved. "Flower Trick—Black!"

"Flame Charge and Shell Trap! Close the distance!"

That was what he'd been waiting for all day. Blueish-white flames erupted from his scales, tearing out in wild bursts like they couldn't be contained any longer and burning the weak paralysis out of him. They swirled around him in chaotic, unpredictable arcs, bending and snapping in every direction. The sound—oh, Legendaries, the sound of it felt like a continuous explosion of flame. It was a Soul reignited.

He retreated into his shell and blew up in a blast that carried him up, each strike of his tail making him speed up until he warped the air around him with speed and flame, and he left behind him a trail of fire. The Magician had been gathering the darkened flowers—I was still surprised at Gardenia's sheer tactical foresight to be able to use these dead flowers—but the sheer momentum at which we'd come made the dragon slam into Meowscarada like a freight train, blowing up every bouquet in his way and collapsing the ones behind him. They exploded in a burst of black pollen that shivered and spread cold throughout, but it was immediately burned away by fire.

No. Fire.

It was Fire. White and pure, flickering with blue light at its edges. Both Sunshine and the Magician tumbled forward from the collision, but the dragon refused to let go. Flames crackled and surged as he held on tight, his claws searing into the Magician's throat. The Meowscarada thrashed wildly, limbs flailing against the inferno consuming him, but Sunshine's grip was unrelenting. Fire blazed across the dragon's body, wild and merciless, as he lifted his opponent off the ground and—

"Fire Blast."

He was burned to a crisp and did so screaming, which you could barely hear, anyway. The Magician had always been more of a supportive Pokemon than anything, an anchor meant to cripple more than win, so there was no way he'd stand up to Sunshine at his peak.

Not that the Flower Trick hadn't done anything. When Sunshine let go of him, and Gardenia recalled Meowscarada, he turned his head wildly and called out that he couldn't see anything but vague shapes and lights.

Blindness. He had blinded us, and it would be perfect for the Explorer to camouflage herself as soon as she brought life back onto the field!

Out came Roserade, the explorer of a thousand lands, and who would explore another countless regions. She came back gracefully with flowers blooming at her feet, though she instantly noticed the heat and shrunk until she called forth a cold rain and the field was covered with clouds. The majority of it evaporated around Sunshine, but for the flames to be so hot, they needed to be concentrated on him. The vast majority of the battlefield was still liveable, and flowers bloomed once again wherever the rain fell.

"Take away the sun—all in on the rain—"

No. "No!" I screamed, my body drenched in sweat. "Wrest it away from them!"

It was a futile attempt. We knew Sunny Day, but they knew the Sun in and out, and our skill wasn't enough to actually keep it there. All we'd done was slow it. The Explorer held her blue bouquet forward and a jet of pressurized water hit Sunshine in the chest, speeding up the process. The artificial sun dipped further and further in the sky with each wave of her red bouquet. The jet grew more powerful as it did so, growing in intensity and width in line with the intensifying rain.

Even if we burned too hot for her flowers to take hold, it would be a slow and pathetic loss. An anticlimactic end to the greatest and most exciting fight I had and would most likely ever experience; it would be a story smothered by tactics.

We would not allow it.

What did it take to achieve victory?

It meant to push yourself beyond what you believed to be possible, even if your body broke apart. It meant letting the fire of competition devour you whole, without ever burning out—because you were endless, inexhaustible, an unquenchable force that would never allow the flame to burn out and die again. You were a boundless reservoir of willpower, capable of stoking your inner blaze again and again, over and over for as long as you needed. To stop was never an option. You were the engine of your own greatness, and as long as you moved, the fire within you would keep roaring.

Did you see it? The Wish bearing down from the heavens, carrying with it a message from each of my parts.

Yes. He saw it, a light less bright than the hidden sun, but a light nonetheless.

It was time.

"Touch the skies and reach for the stars, my beloved Soul." I held my breath. It was almost scary to utter it, like a forbidden sentence. "You Are A Star." To her, it sounded like praise, but to us? Oh, to us, it was everything.

I knew him, and he knew me, because we were each other. He understood his task immediately. It would be grueling and agonizing, but it would all be worth it. Do not go gentle into the night; do not let the flame die out.

He shot into the sky, each explosion angled nearly perfectly. Of course, to Gardenia, it looked like we'd overshot our mark. Wish was, after all, a small light that was fuzzy and easy to miss for a blind, normally landbound dragon that was heavily wounded, barely able to walk without propelling himself with Shell Trap.

We didn't need to receive it. Princess' words alone had been enough. My Soul shot past the Wish, and Gardenia's eyes widened as it fell to the ground and fizzled out. We were not ready to use We Are A Star quite yet, but what if we had a crutch?

"Remove your Sunny Day!" she cried out.

Ah, she'd been greedy, had she not? To take it out of reach instead of taking it out of the equation just in case she found an opening to use whatever that rainbow blast of life was. All battle long, she had nurtured and cultivated the sun, and it would have been a waste just to disappear it, wouldn't it have been? I waited, and waited, and waited—

"Shell Smash!"


One more explosion shattered his shell, splitting it in two down the middle, and boundless energy leaked out of him the moment he sunk into the artificial sun even faster. Where was her bloody rainbow now, I thought with another laugh, and the sun turned to a scorching orange, to an elegant blue, to a brilliant white that turned the earth below a monochrome expanse. The blazing orb swelled in size before crashing to the ground, and tendrils spread throughout the arena. Solar flares mixed in with draconic energy, each gargantuan in size as the entire battlefield caught ablaze and all that was left was a scorching, burning hell that Roserade couldn't help but look at even as she caught on fire.

Gardenia uttered something, but the words were devoured by the overwhelming roar of the sun, and her starter stood resolute. She bore the brunt of the heat as the star slowly approached and raised her left bouquet, spinning it around herself in a graceful arc, calling forth every last drop of rain and moisture lingering in the vapor, the clouds, and the earth beneath her. The air shimmered with a dance of droplets, each one responding to her call, converging into a magnificent sphere of water that grew in size, tiny at first, like a whisper of hope, then swelling larger and larger until it eclipsed the very sun itself. This aqueous shield enveloped her, a living cocoon that housed new life within its translucent embrace. Tender blades of grass sprang forth, coiling vines spiraled upwards, and vibrant flowers burst into bloom.

The moment hung in the air like a taut string, each heartbeat a countdown to the inevitable collision.

The thread snapped.

Fire met Life, and the world went white.

The sound detonated with the wrath and light of supernovae. It surged forth in waves, each pulse a violent crescendo that tore through the air as if the sound itself had a physical mass—I groaned, clutching at my ear as soon as my hearing aid went haywire, and I allowed the explosion to run its course. It seemed to lower in intensity in sync with my breaths and the realization that the fight was over. Yet I wasn't nervous about the results, not even a little bit. It was satisfaction that had overwhelmed my heart. My legs wobbled from under me, and I fell on my butt with a laugh. My clothes were covered in sweat, and my vision was still covered in sunspots whenever I blinked.

That had been so much fun that I wanted to go again.

Both Fire and Life had dissipated, now. What remained was Roserade burned to a crisp and face down in the scorched earth, and Sunshine on his back, but—

Awake. Awake and aware and conscious and whatever the hell that implied?! Had I won? I'd won, hadn't I? I threw my head up and lay flat against the ground, struggling for each breath.

And thus, the story ended. I'd lost the thread a bit as it went on, but…

A rainbow hung in the air.

It was raining.



I didn't know for how long I hung there, but eventually I heard steps coming up my platform.

"Well, well, well. Look at you," Gardenia said casually. It was actually incredible how carefree it was, even if she was radiating with a smile and she looked refreshed. "I thought you might have passed out. Heard it happened with Candice."

I groaned, eyes shutting in embarrassment. "That was once." I glanced toward the field, and she said something I didn't catch. "What?" I asked.

"Need help getting up?"

Slowly, it dawned upon me that I wasn't hearing properly.

…my hearing aid might have broken from being overwhelmed by the sounds of that explosion.

"Ye—" wait, I was way too sweaty for this. I didn't want her to touch my icky hands. "No, I'll be fine." With a grunt, I pushed myself off the ground and stared down at Sunshine, who couldn't even move beyond the smallest of twitches. His body was burned, something I'd never seen before; his scales had been charred black. "Thank you, Sunshine!" I yelled, cupping my hands, though my voice didn't sound like much. He annoyingly waved a hand—I could tell he wanted back in his ball to not have to deal with the pain as much, but didn't want to say it out loud. With a tired laugh, I recalled him and got up.

My legs felt like jelly. I noticed two Kadabra carrying a third by levitating her in the air down where the… referee had been.

It was probably about time I got upgraded to the ones they used for the Conference, wasn't it? Or maybe a single Mr. Mime—though those weren't in any Gyms.

Gardenia pursed her lips, a single hand remaining on her hip. "That was a wonderful fight, Grace. I know a lot more about you now—though I was a little confused." Oh God, she hadn't understood any of it, had she? My eyes suddenly found my feet and the ground to be the most appealing thing in the world. "Hey, no need to look so embarrassed. I needed it too—I rarely have fights this fun. I was smiling the entire second half."

The next words spilled out anyway. "I was—it's weird, I know, but I was making a story. Uh, to find myself and my love for battling again—"

"Oh, I got that. The story bit, at least, even if I didn't understand the plot much. The dragon hibernating in his cave, the names you gave them, the way you focused on ice at the start and slowly transitioned to only fire by the end as a metaphor for passion worked really well, I'd say, and both were effective against my grass types. Things like this can be contrived, but you made it work and even beat Rose!" The Gym Leader looked me up and down. "I didn't take you for a theatre kid."

"I don't do theatre…"

She threw her head up and laughed. "You don't have to do theatre to encompass what that means, Grace. Also, that was some wonderful sandbagging from you all fight. Usually the tactic's too risky, but there was a big gap in information between Byron and this battle. That Flamethrower from your Tyranitar you saved until you could secure a takedown, especially. Your Claydol was really annoying and baited us into using Superpower, which is an all-or-nothing move for us and left us vulnerable. And by the Legendaries, it was really obvious with Turtonator, but I think it made me feel too secure—and I didn't expect him to fly and jump into a Sunny Day to take it over! I've never seen that before!" She beamed at me like the sun.

Gardenia continued to praise me for my prowess, though honestly the sandbagging stuff had been completely unintentional. I'd actually caught her off-guard due to her having field control the vast majority of the fight and being able to spring her Trevenant trap on me. Once that had happened, she'd actually believed her win to be assured, and it wasn't often that she was wrong about something.

"You can date Maymay, by the way," she added. "I figured I'd let you know."

Both my hands unconsciously grabbed on one of hers, and I shook it wildly. "Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you! I won't disappoint you—I'll be good to her! And I—and I love her a whole lot, and I'll make her the happiest she's ever been, and—" The fact that I was touching her with moist hands sunk in, and I recoiled. "Sorry…"

She snorted. "It's fine."

"Do—do you have time for another fight? I still have Angel available—that's my Tangrowth," I mumbled. "Of course, I'd bring my Pokemon to the Center first… oh wait."

Would Sunshine be out in time before the Byron battle? What about Princess? I felt my stomach drop and audibly gulped. Fuck, I'd gotten way too into the fight! And I'd need a new story, too! I'd taken the one I'd been supposed to act out and adapted it here, but it'd be incredibly unsatisfying to hit nearly the same plot beats again.

"I'd wait before that if I were you." Gardenia nudged her head forward. It was only now that I realized we'd been walking toward the door she came out of and not mine. She grabbed her phone while I waited there, trying to workshop a whole new strategy and story I'd be able to use against Byron, possibly without Sunshine, until the door opened. "You're late," Gardenia groused with a hint of frustration.

I gaped at the heavy-muscled, burgundy-haired man as he scratched the back of his head and leaned against the handle of his shovel. What in the world was Byron doing here?

"Don't glare at me, lass. I'm clearly sick, as you know. It's been the nastiest of colds." He put a fist in front of his mouth and let out the most exaggerated, fake cough of all time. "And I'm a busy man. Sorry if I can't be right on time everywhere I go."

Gardenia rolled her eyes, but I didn't miss her smirk. "Well, go ahead, then."

"Yes, yes." Byron got closer to me and brusquely clapped my shoulder. "Grace Pastel! That was some wonderful battling from you; I was watching it from in there!" He pointed back with his thumb. "I see the lesson I imparted onto you during our own fight worked wonders. Pokedex and ID please."

"What? What for?"

"You defeated my substitute in combat; what do you think? It's for your badge, money, and TM."

I blinked at him.

"What?"

His face scrunched up in confusion, and he rubbed his beard. "Gardenia, did she not know?" His fellow Gym Leader let out an awkward laugh. "Heavens above!" Byron laughed, slapping his knee, and waggled his finger at her. "Oh, that's a good one! That's—" another laugh, louder this time.

Gardenia clicked her tongue, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hurry up and give it to her so I can explain!"

"Substitute?" I mumbled.

"Yes. I'm sick, you see." He wasn't sick at all. He just looked a little tired from work. "And my Gym is undergoing plenty of renovations before we properly open, so I'm afraid it wasn't useable. Now, Pokedex and ID, please." I absent-mindedly handed it to him, and he fiddled with it for a moment. "You're now the owner of the Mine Badge, and I've transferred eighty-thousand dollars to your account. You've also got access to the reusable Flash Cannon TM." When I just looked up at him in silence, he tried smiling at me. "You've got eight badges now! Be proud!"

"But I already beat Gardenia once for my second badge!" I yelled.

"Oh boy," he sighed. "My job here's done; I've got to head back to work. I'll see you later, lass." He nodded at Gardenia and waved at me. He whistled and left, calmly walking away from us as he twirled his shovel in his hand.

He just left!

"Is—is this real?" I asked. The badge was right there on my ID with my stupid picture! It had somewhat of a geometric design with three diamond-shaped facets the color of molten amber embedded in a metallic blue backdrop.

"It is. Believe me, I would have told you, but Maymay said it'd be a bad idea and that you'd either have said no because you didn't want to disappoint me, or you would have been swallowed up by the pressure of the fight and collapsed halfway through. If you would have lost, we wouldn't have told you anything. Anyway, let me explain. That Ferrothorn was one of Byron's, and Byron's Gym was registered as open for the duration of the battle, which I'm sure will have people asking questions. All of this was kind of a legal loophole…" she kept going, explaining the legality of it all, but it was all Kalosian to me. Not that I could pay attention anyway.

Maylene had come up with this?

"Now, I would have battled you anyway. What I said about needing to know more about you was true. No badge would have come with it—oh."

I was crying.

They were happy tears. And confused. Very confused.

"Why are you he—helping me?" I sobbed, wiping my face. "I ha—haven't even done a—anything deserving of this!"

"Because I—we—" she sighed, not knowing what to say for once. "I'm sorry. Oh, Arceus, please don't cry. Not now. I—do you need tissues? Wait, I don't have tissues on me. Uh, here take this." She grabbed the short cape on her back and held it out for me.

I sobbed even harder. "I—I can't use your cape."

"Uh, it's more of a cloak than a cape—but please dry your tears. I don't want to look like I did something!"

Her fear puzzled me, but I was in no state to think or care. I still didn't use her cloak, and instead resorted to the bottom of my own shirt. An unknown number of minutes passed until the door opened again.

This time, it was Maylene that came out with a smile.

"Are you guys done? Who won—" the words died in her throat when she saw me. "Nia!" Maylene ran over to us and pulled me away from her friend. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, she—"

"Nothing," I sniffled. "It's just the badge. I didn't expect…" she cradled my face, wiped the few remaining tears off my cheek, and exhaled in relief. "It was your idea?" I asked.

"Yeah. I hope you're not mad. I felt bad keeping you in the dark."

I let out an ugly crying laugh. "That's why you asked me so much stuff about today. Stupid. I should have known."

"Hey, I could have been worried about your battle with Byron, for all you knew," she said. "And you fell for it, so who's the real winner here?"

I glanced up at her pink eyes and crooked smile. "Arceus, I love you," I sighed, melting into her with a hug she eagerly returned, even while whispering a complaint about Gardenia being right here. "Thank you so much for doing this for me."

"I'd do anything for you." My heart squeezed, but in a wonderful way. "And thank Nia, too. She agreed without much convincing from me."

"Thank you, Gardenia. For, uh, everything."

She waved a hand dismissively. "It was a lot of fun."

"Arceus, what is Poketch going to say?" All of these plans and marketing for my rematch with Byron were meaningless now. "I have to tell Melody about this…"

"That's your liaison, right?" Gardenia asked. I nodded. "Those new cameras I talked about? I was recording the fight. Won't be uploaded unless you give me the okay."

Oh. That helped a lot—there being no footage would be the first hurdle to clear. Then I'd have to deal with people possibly thinking this was favoritism because I was close to Maylene. People never battled the same Gym Leader twice, and five out of six Pokemon had been Gardenia's—

Maylene gently flicked my nose. "Just enjoy the moment and stop worrying for a sec, okay dummy? I'm skipping work the rest of today to hang out with you. My Gym Trainers are handling battles."

"Fine." She was right. I'd won against Gardenia while she'd used her starter! I was going to the Conference! "Maymay." Once again, I looked directly into her eyes. I hadn't thought it possible to love someone this much. "I think I'm ready for the next step."

I grabbed onto my girlfriend's hand tightly.

A/N: Sorry about the delay. It's been a while since I've written one of these, so I was a little rusty.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 336 New
Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Elemental Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake, Ice Fang, Flamethrower

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol/Cassianus (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport, Earth Power, Sandstorm, Scorching Sands

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

CHAPTER 336

There was something uniquely unbearable about awkward elevator rides, the kind of discomfort you couldn't experience anywhere else. Maybe it was the cramped space or the endlessly looping, terrible music. Or the way I kept glancing to the side at Melody because of the tight confined space and how she kept tapping her heel on the floor. For what felt like the thousandth time, she clenched her temples, and the motion was accompanied by the muttering of a coming migraine. My mind drifted, tempted by the thought of breaking free and soaring away on Princess just to avoid the weight of today's responsibilities. Running would unfortunately get me fired, though.

"Any tips?" I mumbled, fingers fiddling together. "I mean, what should I even say?"

"Just stay quiet unless directly spoken to. Mr. Remington's not someone you can talk to without thinking," Melody warned. Out of her purse, she flicked open a tiny compact mirror and fixed up her already-perfect hairdo as if it needed to be adjusted. It looked perfect to me already; the light brown locks framed her face like they had been carefully sculpted that way without her input. A single strand dared to fall out of place, but she quickly tucked it behind her ear, her movements precise and measured. She snapped the mirror shut with a soft click and sighed. "I just don't understand how a person can be this… unpredictable."

"Haha…" I let out an awkward laugh and scratched the back of my neck. "I'm just trying my best."

Mel sighed again. "I know."

"And I mean, wasn't the battle great?" I asked with a slight lean, inching forward. I'd watched over the footage already, having downloaded it on my phone before leaving the Gym. Despite there being plenty of cringe moments—instances where I or my Pokemon had lost their character or once again missing obvious traps that could have been spotted like that Trevenant's trick, I hadn't felt the awful self-loathing that usually came from analyzing myself. Granted, there was some loathing, and it most likely would have been different if I lost, but…

Honestly, right now? Who cared if I lost? I'd do another thousand battles like these if I could. It was too bad Gardenia would be busy from now on.

Kicking my feet and lamenting at how long this elevator was—seriously, how tall was this tower—I continued, "I'm sure it'll sell… there are plenty of great moments. And Gardenia's tough! It's not like she went easy on me; I beat her starter! Kinda. I mean she was holding back skill-wise, but it's still, like, a statement." Gardenia's Roserade had been far more versatile than I'd expected her to be. I was willing to bet her red bouquet could control flames as well as her blue one could control water, which was an amazing counter to fire types if she needed it. "No one can say I was just handed a victory over."

Melody's lips flattened, and she crossed her arms. "It isn't about if your battle was of an appropriate level or not. Objectively speaking, you were given an advantage no other trainer will get," she said, her tone a little dry. I didn't blame her, considering I once again had screwed up Poketch's plans. "Oh boy, they are going to be up in arms."

I tried not to wince. "Yeah." For example, Aubri had already complained about me getting unfair advantages due to my closeness to the League a while back. This would just reinforce her worldview and make her sour on me again. "I guess there's no way around it."

"You start dating Maylene and you suddenly get to fight a Gym Leader twice? It'd be a miracle if we could even spin this any other way."

"I haven't even gone public with that yet!" Though I had been planning to today before talking to Melody about it.

"People aren't blind, Grace," she chided. "You're not being discreet at all. We let it slide because you were doing a good job until now, but—"

The elevator finally dinged, and the doors opened to a wide room made of darkened tiles like obsidian. I quickly paced behind Melody, who walked in large strides that were hard to keep up with. I'd be meeting Remington McMillan for the second time today, and needless to say, I was nervous. That was part of why I'd tried to justify myself to Melody since I'd told her the news earlier today. My hip felt light with only Angel and Buddy attached to my belt, and I adjusted my Mimi-necklace for reassurance. In front of the doors was a straight-laced secretary at a desk sitting with a bored Kadabra levitating a strange, glowing brain teaser puzzle back and forth with her spoon.

"Sadie. We're here to see the board," Melody said.

"Mr. McMillan and his son are inside and will see you in momentarily," the girl droned. I pitied her, working in this somber room all day. There were windows, but the dark tiles made it feel like there was no ambient light in the room even in the late afternoon.

My liaison's eyebrows creased. "I thought it'd only be Mr. McMillan in today?"

"Landis wanted to sit in the meeting," Sadie said in that same monotone voice. She tilted her head, a finger on a tiny listening device in her ear, and she nudged her head. "Kadabra, send them in." The words were barely audible to me due to her being way to my left. I touched my new hearing aid and lamented how much worse it was than my last, even if it was just temporary until this was dealt with. At least this place was quieter than downstairs.

The psychic nonchalantly waved a spoon, and the great double doors rattled with psychic energy. The shield present had honestly been so weak even Cass would have been able to brute force it—no offense to them. They'd done a great job against Gardenia's Torterra today; I just felt like the protection afforded to such important people wasn't up to par with the threats they could face. And only one Kadabra? What if you just focused on her, making her concentration fray and allowing other assassins into the room? Hell, she could just die from a stray attack through one of the windows and there would be no more protection. What if—

Melody interrupted my racing thoughts by stepping inside. Oh, Arceus, I was nervous. I found myself wiping the sweat off my hands before following her into the thankfully brighter room, even if it was practically empty; there were no decorations, no plants, no nothing besides the long table and a row of chairs, and the sunlight of the late afternoon basking the room in its glow. It was larger than you'd think, with a table long enough to fit the entire board and then some if need be. Small water bottles had already been placed beside what I assumed were our seats. Melody motioned to me, and I anxiously shuffled into the comfortable chair. She sat to my right so I'd hear her.

It was my second time seeing Remington McMillan up close. I'd seen pictures, videos, footage on the news—but most recently, I'd seen him from afar at Craig's ceremony.

He was just a man—frail, soft, and visibly aged. There were only wisps of white hair remaining on his head, arranged in a combover that was being asked to do the impossible. His skin was a network of wrinkles, so much so that it seemed harder to find a smooth patch than not. Yet, unlike some of the other board members I'd seen at the ceremony, his eyes were sharp and dangerous, as if the years hadn't dulled the keen gaze that once built a technological empire across Sinnoh.

Built and maintained it, even with Cynthia's rise.

Beside him was a secretary of some sort with the same earpiece I'd noticed moments earlier and a phone that I assumed was here for her to record things. She glanced toward me for a moment, then away instantly, almost uncomfortably. She was scared; fear was easy enough to read.

Sat at his side sat his son Landis, feet up on the table with a smug smile as he looked at me. He looked absolutely delighted to be here—a stark contrast to his father's solemn look. There was a laptop closed at his feet, along with a notebook and a pen. From what I knew, he was in his forties and kind of reminded me of what Louis would have been like had he never gotten a reality check in his formative years. Hell, he even had blond hair to boot, though his was more of a dirty blond like rather than Louis' pristine blond.

Melody dipped her head for a moment. "Members of the board."

I glanced at her, wanting to know if I was supposed to say anything before I remembered that she had literally briefed me on this like an hour ago and that I'd just forgotten because of the anxiety. "M—members of the board," I mumbled. Only a moment later did I dip my own head. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"Pleasure's ours," Landis said. I had to angle my head to the right, toward him and his father, in hopes of catching their words. "It's overdue, really. Dad says that it's not how we do things, but he's a little old-school."

A strange silence settled in—not awkward, but heavy despite knowing that Remington couldn't hurt me at all. I was pretty sure he wouldn't even be able to knock me on the ground physically. He had barely looked my way when I stepped into the room and was slowly drumming his fingers on the table. His son cleared his throat and sat properly, removing his feet from the table, and he muttered something under his breath I didn't catch.

"Now we can begin in earnest," Remington said with a polite smile he must have practiced more times than I could count. "Grace Pastel. In all my years leading this company—fifty-two years—I have never had someone as unpredictable as you under Poketch's employ." He stroked his chin with a contemplative look, almost amused. "It's as if you know exactly how to toe the line between talented and useful, and liability who cannot be controlled. I wonder how you do it, sometimes."

Melody spoke up. "Respectfully, Mr. McMillan—"

"The young lady can speak for herself, can't she?" he interrupted her. Melody hid her grimace well, but not her flexing fingers under the table. "Can you blame me for being intrigued?"

For the first time, he looked at me. I met his milky, baleful grey eyes and stopped myself from sputtering out some non-answer to stall for time.

"I had no idea today would happen at all. The battle was offered to me as… more of a personal affair," I tried to explain. "I had no idea the badge would come along with it."

"Yet you took it regardless."

"I did. And I'd do it again." Oh God. I would do it again, but I'd spoken without thinking. "It was the best battle I've ever had. It was far more meaningful to me than some rematch against Byron."

Theoretically, I could have refused the badge scheme, but I wasn't going to let Maylene's gift to me go to waste, nor would I allow the battle to be stripped of part of its meaning. It was reignition, yes, the rebirth of passion, but it was also a union between me and my girlfriend, along with the approval of her family. That was what the badge meant to me.

Surprisingly, he rested his cheek against the palm of his hand and hummed—a far more… youthful gesture than I'd expected. "You're speaking in feelings, not in Pokedollars. Try again."

For a moment, my eyes could only blink. "Uh. Okay?" Melody seemed tense—more tense than I'd ever seen her. I could literally hear her teeth gnawing despite being half deaf. I leaned forward in my chair. "I mean obviously people are going to be pissed when this is out, and a whole lot of interviews and preparations just went out the window. I was given an opportunity no one else has." Not that Gardenia was an easy fight at all.

I stopped to think for a moment, taking deep breaths as if to blow away the nervousness. A good method I'd found to soothe my nerves was to remind myself that we were all weak creatures of the flesh no matter what social power we amassed. I could kill him just as easily as he could end my career, really.

Besides the hardest of superfans like Edith, trainers' reactions would majorly range from indifference to hatred, especially since this wasn't the first time I'd been put ahead by something other than my own skill. Hell, I was sitting in this very room because I randomly met Craig near Snowpoint and he felt bad we'd almost died in Coronet—not that he hadn't seen potential in me. I was allowed to join the LTIP earlier and catch more than six Pokemon, I'd been given the secret to evolving Electivire, I was involved with the government, bla bla bla—you could honestly make an endless list of the advantages I'd been given. I didn't feel bad about it. Not anymore, at least. As Craig himself had once said: luck was one thing, but correctly assessing and making use of the opportunities at your feet was a skill of its own.

My bias was obvious, and this wouldn't move any numbers. Honestly, maybe trainers themselves were a lost cause, but that was the thing, wasn't it? I wasn't staying here.

"I'm leaving after the Conference," I said. "I doubt Unova will care for this at all."

"Better," he said, this time tapping two fingers at once. I assumed he already had these answers. Did he want me to get to them on my own to see my worth? I hated the way he spoke. The way he only saw me as a number to exploit. But I only saw the company he had created as a megaphone to spread my name far and wide, so I was using him as well—to a much lesser extent. He was the one with all the power and leverage, and he would be until I was like Craig. "What do you think, Landis?"

Like an unmuzzled Lillipup, or a pet having finally been given attention by its owner, he slicked his hair back with a lazy faux-grin. "I think it'd be a waste to let her go." My eye twitched. "Craig played things too by the book. She's risky, but there's also opportunity, especially in a foreign market."

"Well, if I based every decision off what you said, Poketch would have gone under twenty years ago."

Landis' cheeks reddened, but only for a moment. "Whatever you say, old man."

Their little… whatever this was had allowed me time to think. "It isn't like Sinnoh's market is completely ruined for me." Or at least I thought so. I was honestly speaking out of my ass and just trying to sound confident. "We should let time pass post-reveal to see if sales for my merch and stuff take a hit. And honestly?"

"Hm?" Remington took a sip of water.

"I don't think civilians will care as much. I mean the ones who are deep in trainer culture will," I said, thinking of forum-browsers. "But the vast majority of the people who buy my merch? They won't care beyond like, the first day, I bet." People like my dad, people like Jess from piano class? They had only gleaned the surface of what it meant to be a trainer. "They're going to think it's weird for sure, but one look at that battle, and I bet you we'll come out the other side of this more positively than not."

This, I was actually certain of, and these people were the vast, vast majority of people in the country and Poketch's consumers. The ones who only tuned into battles during the Conference or tournaments throughout the year, or for a few trainers they liked, and nothing else.

"You should use more confident words when haggling to keep your position," Remington said in an almost fatherly tone. "But you're right. If you hadn't come to these very obvious conclusions, you would have been fired immediately." My blood ran cold. Fired, not demoted? "I've no time for people who can't think. Poketch is only for the best and the brightest." The glance at his son was very difficult to miss. "Keep going."

Keep going.

I'd only saved myself from a firing, not a demotion. Was I the only person in the world whose eighth badge was considered a bad thing? This stuff only fucking happened to me!

I beat Gardenia's Roserade, her starter, and arguably most versatile and powerful Pokemon, I wanted to say, but that didn't speak his language. "Gardenia's almost synonymous with Roserade. Not as much as Cynthia and Garchomp, but when people think of her, they think of her starter too. Me having beaten her is very marketable to the masses, I th—no, it is. Plus, there are plenty of moments in the fight that can be turned into more merch, and it's already been selling very well."

"Your numbers are above what was projected now that you're pulling your weight," he admitted with smiling eyes.

I nodded. "I'd be willing to bet that the dent won't even be noticeable after a bit."

"What about your reputation?" Remington pushed. "You spin a pretty story, but Craig was beloved by all trainers and was a symbol of what it meant to tread that path. That is how he sold so well. He was simple in an extremely effective way. What if your co-workers suddenly no longer want to work with you? What trainers say trickles down to the ears of their families. This has never happened before in the history of this country. The networks are definitely going to run with it in the weeks leading up to the Conference, and your run there is now going to be tainted and bogged down by questions of whether you should even be there in the first place."

That was true. If I got crushed, then their expectations would be met and they'd laugh at me. If I did well and had a deep run through a combination of luck and skill, then every trainer who lost to me would complain and say that I shouldn't have been here. You could spin that I wouldn't have lost against Byron—though honestly, in hindsight, I was pretty sure I would have. Gardenia had just been the best at reigniting my passion in a way Byron never could have met.

I was in a lot of trouble.
"I'm waiting," Remington said.

So as you do when you were in trouble, I fought my heart out.

I could do more interviews now that I was freed from training—a blitz explaining myself and how I deserved to stand among the other trainers who had made it to the Conference. In fact, I could work twice as hard now in general, even if the fact that this meant less Maymay time just as we'd begin dating officially left a foul taste in my mouth. I could have my friend Denzel make use of his contacts in the trainer community to give me a leg up—he even knew the guy who made a podcast that was currently blowing up; Goalducc42 was topping the charts every time he and Archive released an episode. Granted, Archive being the paranoid, anti-government person that he was, would not appreciate me getting a leg up, but he wouldn't have to be included, and worst-case scenario, Denzel knew other people. I was close with the League, yes, and Remington knew they needed me, just not what for. That meant I could be used as leverage. A middleman of some sort between Poketch and the government. Getting them huge favors was a lost cause now that the world was saved, but he didn't know that and he'd been the one basically pushing me to make myself look better than I was. Mostly, I was expecting small favors here and there at most.

Like getting this man more psychics for free. God.

"You have awful security, by the way!" I was nearly panting. "I'd get at least three of those Kadabra if I were you, it's not like you can't afford it! See what I mean when I say the average person doesn't know much about battling? You just have a single psychic there to make you feel good about yourself—"

Landis snorted, nearly vibrating.

"—you can't tell the difference between a good and a bad barrier. Or one that lets sound in or not. Or one that isolates for temperature. Or a one-way barrier. Or—" I smothered the rest of my rant when I noticed Melody stare at me like I was clinically insane. Instead, I grabbed a water bottle and downed it all in one go, but I swallowed wrong and was gripped by a coughing fit. "S—sorry."

Remington's nose was mildly wrinkled, though his son was fighting not to burst out laughing. "That'll do, Ms. Pastel. Thank you for your time today; I'll relay this meeting to the other members of the board, and we'll take a vote to figure out our next steps within the next few days. For now, well… feel free to continue your work and to announce your new relationship on your socials."

Melody spoke up before I could have any hopes of putting my foot in my mouth. "Thank you, Mr. Remington. We'll be looking forward to the results of the vote." After standing up, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Grace."

"Oh. Uh, okay. Thank you, Mr. Remington."

My liaison didn't wait long to freak out at me. The moment we were back in the elevator and she used her keycard to click on the ground floor, she—

"I think you might have saved your job."

She finally allowed the lines of exhaustion to show on her face. A huge sigh slipped through, and she leaned against the wall of the elevator as her hands tightly gripped the railing.

My heart skipped a beat. "Did—did I make good arguments?! How do you know?"

"You made decent arguments. You should have been more detailed on a plan to restore your reputation instead of just plugging the holes on a sinking ship, but you did well without a plan." Her eyes widened slightly. "I'm sorry, Grace. I should have briefed you on this. Usually, Mr. Remington would have just let me speak, so I didn't know he would test you like this."

"It's okay. I mean, I figured it out. I think."

"Anyway, don't get your hopes up. It's not a sure thing, but the way that meeting finished so open-ended? I know him well enough to figure that he would have crushed you right then and there if he'd been demoting you. He's a very straightforward person with no bullshit."

She kept talking about the different members of the board until the elevator reached the ground floor, and how this was essentially a one-man dictatorship run by Remington McMillan. Hell, my suspicions about one of them being senile were literally confirmed! Essentially, this meant that whatever he said would be law, even if there might be one or two votes of dissent for flair. The conversation continued in her car. The activity of the city was too much for me to focus on, and I was finding myself having to turn my hearing aid off in busy areas so the feedback loop wouldn't give me a headache.

"What he appreciated was being spoken to straight up like he likes doing—nothing to try to justify your actions, just trying to come up with a plan to fix things. Maybe it reminded him a little of Craig," she tried guessing, holding the steering wheel with a single, relaxed hand. "Though that thing at the end was way too far—what possessed you to talk about his security of all things?"

"I just couldn't help it. It's so bad, Mel!" I whined. "He'll thank me if he ever gets attacked by some criminal."

"Usually he would have had nothing there. The Kadabra's a new addition after the bombings," Melody nonchalantly said.

My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "Huh?!"

"He hired her as a precaution—"

"A single Kadabra? For bombs of that magnitude?" That was nearly laughable.

"It's a serviceable bodyguard for the purposes of what he needs. Plus, he hates spending money."

"What about hearing damage from the explosions? What if—what if the building collapsed?" Arceus, now I felt naked without Buddy or Cass around me. "What about the inferno after the explosion, Melody? Has he given any thought about the inferno?! Does he want his skin to melt off—"

"Relax, Grace. You're not—" she stopped and blew a tired raspberry. "People don't really think like that. Just loosen up, okay? Team Galactic's gone. Today, you get to rest, but from tomorrow onward, you'll be working even harder. And remember, if things go south, Mr. Remington is still liable to drop you."

I leaned against the window. "Yeah. I know."

But the most important part was that I had survived through this, if only barely. Of course, things were never easy, but they could have been worse. I'd need to start figuring out how to approach things from now on, especially with my co-workers.

And what would Marley say?

To cheer myself up, I messaged Maylene about going public sometime tomorrow and finally getting those matching hearing aids.



The next day

Cecilia was glad her dream skills seemed to have transferred to the real world. She stood outside in the crisp Floaroma air, hammer in hand, staring at the wooden beams in front of her. The rhythmic clink of metal striking nails felt natural, as though her body knew the motion instinctively. She braced a plank against the frame and raised the hammer high, bringing it down with just the right amount of force. Despite disliking such labor, the nail drove cleanly into the wood, the impact sending a satisfying vibration up her arm.

All around her, people were working on Louis' land. They'd been hired by Justin's father to help in the construction of his sanctuary, and while Louis was more of a leading figure, organizing what should go where and rearranging plans over and over so the end product would be one-to-one to his vision, Cecilia had asked for manual labor. Her Pokemon were helping as well, or at least as best as they could. Even her Hydreigon was helping to transport materials. Cecilia was glad to see Justin's Pokemon participating as well, though they stuck to Louis for the most part. Especially Audino. The normal type clung to his shirt like a lost child in a mall.

She missed Justin. She glanced at the sky as memory of him stalked her mind, and for a moment, she felt a little silly at the thought of him observing his friends live their lives. Chase liked to imagine this with his parents. It made things easier for him, and not wanting to disappoint them was part of what gave him his inexhaustible drive.

Sweat clinging to her skin, Cecilia wiped her brow after taking off her cap for a moment and decided to take a breather. The cabin she was working on would be used to store dry foods, but right now it was just a meager wooden frame. Feeling horribly parched, she decided to make her way toward a help desk that had been set up at the edge of Louis' land.

The terrain itself was like much of Floaroma—a flat plateau covered in flowers. A few Beautifly floated lazily above, their wings shimmering in the sunlight as they flitted from flower to flower. Near the edge of a small stream, a Pachirisu darted between the trees, its bushy tail flicking with excitement. In the distance, a Roselia stood still among the petals, blending almost seamlessly with the faded colors around it. Life was everywhere you looked.

They weren't altering the landscape as much as they were adding on top of it, and most of the final project would be open-air—Cecilia had seen the blueprints a dozen times. It was Grace who had helped Louis procure this piece of land, or at least helped him look into it. As much as it hurt to see him begin to gravitate toward her again, she understood. She'd never done as much for him as Grace had, helping him not with only this, but also his struggles with the knowledge of the end of the world, his troubles with Gible back at the start of the journey, and a million other tiny things that eventually added up into a mountain.

Almost as if on cue, her phone rang. For better or for worse—no, it was clearly for the better—gone were the days where she expected Grace to call. These days, it was either Temperance calling to chat when they weren't together or Emilia checking in. This time, it was the former.

"Hi babe," she said in a sing-song voice. "Not too busy, I hope?"

"I can give you some time; I'm currently taking a break," Cecilia said. "What's your deal today?"

The Unovan had smoothly integrated herself into Temperance's group, but that meant that she'd needed to learn the politics of it, along with dozens of different names, wants, and needs. She was honestly still getting the hang of it all, but they were all mostly nice to her, and it felt good to meet new people. She'd even gotten some of their numbers and been added to some group chats that admittedly she had not interacted in yet. What this meant, however, was that Temperance had found in Cecilia a good listener. 'Good' as in she just let her talk and barely said anything back, but besides her Pokemon, Cecilia was the only person Temperance could speak about this with. Heaven forbid she didn't look or sound perfect at all times.

Cecilia could sympathize with that suffocating state of mind.

"Ronaldo's been down in the dumps since we started dating." With a pensive sigh, she paused, and Cecilia heard her rolling around in her bed. The same bed she'd been in when Cecilia had left this very morning.

The Unovan scoffed. "Did you spend all day doing nothing?"

"What? It's not like I have a Grand Festival to prepare for. I deserve a break, Cece."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Whatever. What's this about Ronaldo?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to cheer him up. Maybe I can set him up with another girl and we can do a double date thing."

Cecilia rolled her eyes so strongly they nearly receded back into her skull. "And have you hang off my arm the entire night? Are you stupid? Do you want to torture him?"

"Not like you aren't doing the same thing to your other friend," Temperance dared to fight back. "I'm surprised she's still hanging out with us. She obviously isn't coming today because you aren't."

Emilia…

Emilia was odd, really. Sometimes Cecilia wondered why her friend even looked at a person like her this way and why it seemed to get worse the longer this new relationship went on. Why even like her, and why lie about it? She'd asked twice more if there was a problem with the state of things, and twice more Emilia had said no. And she didn't even use the situation—being with people she could forge connections with to further her career—to her advantage. Instead, all she did was attempt to babysit Cecilia out of fear that she would fuck up somewhere.

Cecilia wasn't naive. She knew that this thing with Temperance didn't have legs to stand on for long, even if her girlfriend wanted it to. It was just new. Something other than Grace to experience—

However, that justification fell flat when she kept pretending it was Grace under her and not Temperance during the nights they spent together. Still, this was fun, and Temperance was good at making her laugh sometimes.

"You're right," she finally admitted. "I'll talk to her again today and try to convince her to stop coming." There were only so many hours in a day. Between training and integrating herself within a new circle, there was very little of it, but Cecilia was sure she could make time for her if she needed it.

"Did you just… relent to something? Am I changing you—"

Cecilia hung up on her. She hated that idea, now, the notion that she was being molded by someone. She let out a silent laugh, knowing that she might as well have been fighting shadows with how ineffective she'd been up until now to counter this. But little by little, she was becoming someone. A person.

She was still climbing those stairs.

One bottle of water later, Louis found Cecilia sitting under the cool shade of Lehmhart's body. She fought away memories of Grace complaining about the heat with a shake of her head. With her, she had a snack Temperance had bought instead of made. It was an artisanal energy bar, elegantly packaged in matte foil with gold accents that cost way more than it was worth.

"Doing okay?" Louis asked, patting the Golurk on the leg. Lehmhart answered with a high-pitched, satisfied sound. His range was improving massively lately thanks to Temperance's training.

He had grown into himself, fully becoming the man he was always meant to be, embodying the potential that had once only lingered as a promise. It was one thing to speak of a dream, and another to make it a reality.

"I suppose." Cecilia crouched and slowly munched on her snack. "Where's Audino?"

"With Ninetales. He's been struggling the most," he said. "What do you think about our progress so far? At this rate, we'll be ready to welcome Pokemon, both wild and trained, by the start of the next Circuit." His voice brimmed with the excitement of a boy on his birthday in a way Cecilia couldn't help but smile at.

They spoke of the sanctuary for a few minutes. Of future plans and how Louis was studying how to care for different Pokemon types on his own time with the very book Justin had planned on bringing him back from the Canalave Library before he died. Hiring was already in progress, and while his first few years would be backed by Justin's father, it was his hope for this sanctuary to run on donations sooner rather than later.

"Do you have a name for it yet?" Cecilia asked. "'The Sanctuary' isn't great."

"I haven't thought of it much, actually. I was thinking of either naming it the Floaroma Sanctuary—"

"Come on. You can do better than that," she teased.

There was a moment of tension in the air. A fist clenched at his side, and the chewing of his own tongue. Cecilia noticed his neck tighten as his next breath only squeezed past his contracted esophagus.

"Listen, Cece—" he groaned, as if speaking to her was suddenly the most difficult thing in the entire world. Feeling the rebuke suddenly come, the Unovan found her mannerisms mimicking Chase's as she lowered her cap until she couldn't see his face. "This is… this is a huge project of mine. I've been working toward it for half a year now. I—I know you're feeling hurt, but please don't… project that onto me."

"What?"

"You've been meaner ever since Grace broke up with you. And you're angry, I can tell!" She could see his arms move with his words, each gesture akin to those one would make when trying to calm down an aggressive beast. "And this new girlfriend of yours… well, I don't know. Just don't take it out on me—it feels belittling. Please."

"I—I wasn't being serious."

"The words cut all the same. I know others like Chase or Pauline can take it, but not me. And I wouldn't do it with Emilia either if I were you. She's been acting odd lately. I don't know."

The flowers at her feet swayed in the wind. "I thought—" no, that wasn't what she should have been saying. Justifications would bring her nowhere. Her eyes shut tightly, and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I should leave, shouldn't I?"

"That's not what I—"

"I get it. You don't want me to leave, but honestly, it might give you some peace of mind if I did." He'd be better off if Grace was here instead of her. He'd wanted to go back to her anyway. Cecilia finished her energy bar in one bite and shot up. Louis' face was wrought with pain. "I'll leave you my Pokemon here and come back at the end of the day."

"Hold on, I—"

"Of course, I'll have to take Lehmhart to fly. Could you change into your rocket mode, darling?" Cecilia stared up at the construct, whose eyes dimmed, and with an ethereal sigh that let her know he would eventually stop doing this, his body began to shift.

The plates along his body began to grind and shift with a slow, deliberate movement, revealing the intricate mechanisms beneath the ancient armor. He used to be slower at this, much slower, and it would still be suicide to use it mid-fight, but the sound of the change masked Louis' complaints and pleas.

Wait.

She was just—

She was just running away again, wasn't she? Doing the exact same thing that had lost her Grace.

The realization struck her like lightning, and she found herself suddenly hyperaware of every tendon, every bone, every skin cell in her body. Lehmhart stood there at the ready, his engines brimming with energy and warping the air below them with heat that made both Louis and Cecilia sweat and made the flowers below lie flat against the earth.

Cecilia exhaled. "Never mind, I'm staying." Lehmhart thrummed in relief as well.

"Thank the Legendaries." Louis held out his hand, but lowered it. "I never wanted to chase you away. I was just… you know. Just don't say hurtful things, even if I know you don't mean it." She found herself hugging Louis tightly, continuously apologizing in his ear as her eyes welled up with tears. He struggled to return it, but he did eventually. "You're trying to pretend you're doing fine, but you aren't."

"I'm trying to move on," she said, head still on his shoulder. "But I can't."

"It hasn't been very long."

"That's what Emilia says—wait, what was that about her acting odd?" She ended the hug and held her friend at arm's length.

"I don't know. It's like she's a lot less energetic than usual lately when talking, or at least that's what Pauline noticed the last time they were together a few days ago—actually, they should be together right now in Hearthome. It's unlike her. Do you know something about it?"

Louis had been so focused on work that he'd rarely lifted up his head to see what was happening around him. While he knew what was generally happening, he had no idea Emilia had decided to stick to Cecilia to watch her or that she most likely had unrequited feelings for whatever reason. The Unovan figured that being with her while she was with Temperance wasn't very fun, but if she was acting this way even with Pauline…

"I do know," Cecilia said.

Maybe it was time to speak to Emilia and tell her that she shouldn't be involved anymore.

It'd hurt her, but… they needed to talk more seriously. And if push came to shove, if no accord could be reached;

To protect her feelings in the long term, maybe Emilia was better off no longer being friends with her.

"Louis, I think I might need to leave after all."

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Chapter 337 - Turning the Tanker New
CHAPTER 337 - TURNING THE TANKER

Cecilia's ears were still hurting from her flight on Lehmhart by the time she made it to Josephine's mansion, a reminder that she ought to buy ear protection sometime soon after this. Emilia was hunkering down at Pauline's mother's Hearthome property, which was a ways away from the city center and more modern than old Hearthome. The manse was set back behind lush, meticulously arranged gardens. Manicured hedges framed winding gravel paths, and clusters of flowers Cecilia imagined were vibrant in color. She tried recalling memories of how it looked the last time she'd been earlier in the year, but those were smudgy at best. She had noticed that Sinnoh didn't have much variety in terms of homes affluent people lived in. For the most part, they were either penthouses atop high rises or modern mansions like these surrounded by gardens.

A few security guards, each accompanied by a Pokemon, nodded as she passed, already notified of her arrival. The security business was booming post-bombing; it somewhat reminded her of the raid on Backlot's mansion and his endless trainers for hire, something he'd been considered eccentric for. She didn't feel the slightest pause until she reached the stone slab steps, where a hint of hesitation crept in.

Cecilia knew what she wanted to say. It was simple, really. She wanted to tell Emilia to stop looking after her and to say that she never should have been involved in this Temperance business in the first place—and she needed to apologize for letting it go on for this long as well. The issue was that Cecilia wasn't the best with words, or more precisely at broaching sensitive topics in a way that would leave someone's feelings as unhurt as possible. If Emilia could not accept this, then Cecilia would need to keep her distance in order not to harm her further—which would mean weaning herself off the very friends she'd spent all this time getting closer to.

A calming breath, then Cecilia pulled her chin up and made herself taller. She'd faced murderers and death before—had literally died before. This moment shouldn't feel as daunting or difficult as it did. All she needed was to find the right way to navigate this sensitive topic…

If only Slowking had been here for advice. Unfortunately, besides Lehmhart, all of her Pokemon had remained to help Louis at his sanctuary. She owed him that, at the very least; the extra labor would have been missed, especially when they were Pokemon of their calibre. The Unovan pushed the tall wooden double doors open and took a step inside, glad to be out of the sun's glare. Already used to the labyrinthian dispositions of her father's numerous mansions and homes, she found herself easily navigating the wide hallways and soon found Pete—Pauline's most trusted butler—near the entrance before asking him for directions. There were fewer staff members here than she knew Unovans liked to have, with Pete being one of sixteen currently on service around the mansion, some cleaning a vase, sweeping the floor, keeping ambient music going, or fixing up the dining room for tonight. Nearly all of them were young men.

"Ms. King and Ms. Lussier are in this room," Pete said, presenting the door with a polite gesture. Cecilia could hear the faint sound of their voices. "May I be of any more service?"

"No, thank you."

He gently knocked on the door, each tap of his finger deliberate, and he announced their presence to the two before he was let in by Pauline's rambunctious voice. As soon as the "come in!" was heard, Cecilia felt her jaw clench and felt her face twisting into a faux smile before shaking her head and already knowing it would be a meaningless lie. It was difficult to unlearn gestures you'd lived with your entire life, especially if you were punished for not doing them. Only when Grace was here had she found herself comfortable enough to relax—and Chase, these days.

To Cecilia, they looked much the same as always. Pauline carried her usual expression—a hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth, her eyes softened over the past year. You might even call her calm now. Almost. Beneath that composure, though, a spark still flickered, restless as ever. Emilia was also not that rattled, though unlike her friend, she knew the reason for Cecilia's visit. Really, the Unovan was surprised she hadn't told Pauline about it during the multi-hour-long journey to Hearthome; she'd nearly expected to be verbally assaulted the moment she'd come into the room. Emilia was tense, her eyes darting throughout the room. It was as if she'd turned back to the girl she'd been when they'd met. Nervous and afraid of anything unexpected.

Maybe not that far, Cecilia thought. It was still strange to see her this unsettled these days. The Unovan still didn't really understand it. No, she understood, but she didn't get why she'd lied about what she could take and not just told her outright. If she had, Temperance would have been history, but Cecilia didn't want to break up with her now, especially when they'd gone public and she'd found the coordinator worked well for her emotional needs.

Pete asked the two girls if they needed anything—snacks, drinks, a change in music—he was denied and swiftly left the room. The door closed with a foreboding clink behind Cecilia.

"Hey, Cece!" Pauline stood up from her truthfully enormous bed with a smile and hugged her. It was an unexpected gesture she struggled to return in the moment. "I'm glad you came to hang out, even if it was sudden. Emi and I were talking about performances and stuff to cheer her up—she's been a little off lately."

Cecilia's eyes fell upon the coordinator, and she averted hers immediately. Had her crush gotten worse? Or maybe she was just nervous because of the text Cecilia had sent. Hopefully that was it. "I can see that," she said before pausing. "May I sit? I have something—"

"Hey, can I talk to you in private?" Emilia cut in, finding her confidence. Her hands were clenched around Pauline's fluffy bedsheets tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. "Sorry, Pauline. It won't be long."

"Whaaat?" the redhead drawled with a hint of humor. There was a short pause, and her slightly amused expression gave way to a frown and a look of realization that this would be serious. "Wait. What's with the cloak and dagger shit?" She was quiet, but still threatening. Like a song slowly building up to a climax. Quickly, her head swiveled back to her bed. "Emi?"

Cecilia could see the gears turning inside her head. Still in loungewear just a little too big for her, Emilia sighed. The one leg she had over the bed's edge started to bounce. "I was hoping to keep this private."

Pauline crossed her arms. "Something's going on between you two. I'm guessing that's why you've been so depressed."

Emilia clicked her tongue. "I'm not depressed, Arceus. No need to exaggerate—"

"You haven't uploaded on your channel in days, you haven't practiced with your Pokemon in that same length of time—so much so that Metang had to ask me about it," Pauline scathingly listed. "Instead of being the queen of Hearthome or whatever, you've been holing up here. With me. You didn't even bring a change of clothes!" The redhead gestured at her ex like what she was saying was the most obvious thing in the world, and to be honest, it was.

Guilt seized Cecilia's heart. She'd managed to get a hold of her ghostly self by now, so she didn't let it show, or barely enough that only Grace or perhaps Chase would have caught it.

"Just… whatever," Emilia exhaled in defeat. "What if I promise to tell you afterward? It'd be uncomfortable with you hearing." She closed her eyes and made her voice small. "And humiliating."

Pauline's eyes widened slightly before narrowing into a confused glare of sorts aimed at Cecilia. She must have already concluded her to be the villain, and to be honest, this was mainly her fault, so she wasn't wrong. "Fine," Pauline said. "Just make sure to tell the truth after. I'm worried about you. I'll go grab some chips or something. I didn't want to bother Pete, but I'm kind of hungry."

"You can grab some chips without pestering him," Emilia said, half-jokingly. "But thanks."

Cecilia said the same, dipping her head in appreciation as the redhead passed her by and closed the door. Nearly slammed it, in fact. Now that they were alone, with only Lehmhart's Pokeball to keep her company, Cecilia didn't know if she should stay where she was at a healthy distance or go sit on the bed next to Emi. Wasn't distance actually what she needed? But would she seem cold if she was too far? So many questions, and so little time to think. She decided to compromise and sit on the bed, but a few feet away or so to give her space.

Emilia kept stealing glances at her, and once again her fists gripped the bedding. Cecilia just kept unflinchingly looking right at the side of her face. Surely eye contact would showcase her honesty.

"You'll tell Pauline I'm sorry about sitting on her bed with unchanged clothes after a flight," the Unovan said. "I don't think she'll be willing to talk to me after this."

"After what?" Emilia said.

"Emi." There were no two ways about this. She needed to be direct. "I'm sorry for allowing you to watch over my relationship with Temperance. It was inattentive of me."

The girl scoffed. "Allowing me? It was a choice I made."

"A horrible one," Cecilia said. "You can't handle it. You just can't. Louis and now Pauline have talked about how it's affected you. You were hiding it well when we were together."

"I can. It's just harder than I thought."

"You can't," she repeated. "And yes. Allowed you. Because I could have cut you out of it right then and there that one night, and I didn't." Emilia stayed silent, possibly not knowing what to say—Cecilia wasn't certain. "This doesn't mean we can't be friends or that I'll stop seeing you. It just means that… that entire relationship with Temperance isn't something we should talk about at all. Or something you should be involved in at all. You never should have been in the first place."

The words hurt her. Cecilia could tell. Emilia winced, a trembling breath escaping the confines of her mouth, and she curled up into a ball, hugging her knees as she still sat. "You don't want me near you. Fine."

This time, it was Cecilia's turn to grimace; she flinched back and shook her head in disbelief. "That isn't what I said."

"It's what you mean," she bitterly laughed. "Think about it. You see her every day for the majority of the day. This morning and afternoon you spent with Louis is the first time you've seen one of us since you started dating her! Beside me, obviously."

That was true enough. Cecilia would have made time for Chase, but he had secluded himself now and was living in the wild like a hermit. They texted occasionally when he had service closer to Canalave, but he wasn't one to put his goals on hold to babysit her permanently.

"You used me as leverage to make Temperance jealous, and now you're just going away," she continued. "But it's whatever. I mean, it's not, but it is. Whatever."

"Why do you keep saying that when it isn't?"

"Because it has to be," she forced out through a constricted throat. "I'll get over it." There was a short moment of silence that seemed to stretch forever as she stared at the little plushies Pauline had arranged by her window. Most of them were fierce Pokemon like Druddigon or Charizard. "It just always feels like I come second, never first, no matter how hard I try. It's never enough."

"I'm sorry." It was half a genuine apology, half not knowing what to say. It was her first time rejecting someone she cared about—Amy could eat a bag of rusty needles. But at least now, Emilia could probably acknowledge the following instead of lying. "You like me, then. Not that I believed you when you denied it." She wouldn't have made that mistake again. Not after Grace. Fool me twice, shame on me, as they said.

The words struck Emilia like a thousand tons. Her head jerked back, and she looked at her and looked ready to fight the accusation, but relented within seconds and deflated like a helium balloon. "It was just an idea," she quietly said. "It wasn't actually serious. Not a big thing like you and Grace had."

"Why me, anyway?" Cecilia asked.

She scoffed. "Why? So I need a reason to have a mild crush on someone?"

It was a genuine question. There wasn't much to like about her, the Unovan had realized, and her friend wasn't one to get with someone just for their looks. Maybe Cecilia could fill a gimmick for a few weeks or months like she was doing with her current girlfriend, but it was only a matter of time until something went wrong with her or Temperance got bored—and it was only a matter of time until she left as well, which is why Cecilia would be doing so first. Not only that, but she was horrid at dating people. Why else would Grace have left?

"I believe you just had an idea of me in your head and thought I could be that, but I can't," she said.

"What the hell are you saying?" She shot up from the bed. "Do you realize how that makes you sound?"

"No."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I—" she evidently let the topic go and started pacing around the room. "I can't believe this. Why couldn't I like someone who—argh!" Emilia nearly tore her hair out. "Do you realize how I feel used, at least?"

Cecilia wanted to say, You could have just said no. I trusted you when you said you could handle it. But the words stayed lodged in her throat. She was even surprised at that combative part of her. People were so confusing. They could lie to your face about one thing and mean something else entirely. Lying to herself, she knew well, but why not be honest when the opportunity had been given? Grace too had lied about Maylene, and now she was gone.

It wasn't like it had been some sort of play to gain an advantage over her like something Cecilia might do when talking to someone she could get something from, it had just been a lie for the sake of lying. Why did people not realize when they liked someone? She'd realized her crush on Grace as soon as she realized that it'd be okay for her to be gay.

"I'm sorry," was all that came out through clenched teeth.

"I still think this Temperance thing is bad for you, but we can just leave it at that. I, uh," she glanced around, "might need some space? And if you see Pauline on the way out, tell her that I'm ready to talk to her. I'm sorry, but she should know. She cares about me."

Relief flooded Cecilia's veins like an aphrodisiac. She hadn't handled this very well and had nearly let anger get the better of her, but things were okay. Genuinely okay. It would probably take Emilia a while to lose her feelings, but no permanent damage in their friendship had taken hold. There were no more hugs, but instead an awkward wave as a goodbye, but before Cecilia could leave—

"One last thing," she asked. "What's so wrong with me?"

Cecilia frowned. "What do you mean?"

Emilia fell back on the bed with a little laugh, hair splayed out on the mattress. "What's so wrong with me that I'm never the one people choose?"

Never was an exaggeration here—sure, Pauline had gotten a crush on Denzel and forced all three of them into a relationship, but she'd never fallen out of love with Emilia. And this was just… she'd just never been into her that way.

"There's nothing wrong with you." Cecilia gently smiled at her. "I'm sorry I couldn't return your feelings. I'm sure you'll find someone soon who can make you happy."

Cecilia could maybe have given it a try, but there would be no point when she'd just be using her as a rebound and imagining her as Grace and she looked nothing like her. It would have been a far worse offense than what she'd done to her now, and unlike Temperance, she'd get no strange enjoyment out of it.

"Blegh," Emilia groaned.

That was hopefully the end of that whole debacle. Surprisingly, Pauline wasn't at the door to eavesdrop, something Cecilia had expected her to do. Instead, the redhead was down the hall, leaning against the wall and munching on some salted chips.

"Done?" she dryly said, scrunching up the bag. Was she already finished? She and Emilia hadn't spoken for long.

"Done," the Unovan said with a nod. "She's ready to talk."

Pauline walked past Cecilia, but stopped midway. "How is she?" she asked behind her.

"She's fine. Or at least she was fine when I left her," Cecilia said.

"We'll talk after," she nearly threatened.

"Of course."

Cecilia wouldn't run. Not only would it be cowardly, but it would just delay the inevitable, anyway. She settled into the same spot Pauline had claimed, wishing she had her Pokemon with her or that these halls were spacious enough to accommodate a Golurk. It made her recall how Grace and she used to daydream about renting some apartment in Castelia, or at least Cecilia daydreamed about it. Thinking back, it wasn't like she'd given her the option to choose the city or had even heard her input; Grace had just agreed right away.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed her head down against the wall she was facing and just existed for a few minutes. She remembered one of the breathing exercises Temperance taught her—one that was usually for singers, but that would be of use for her voice to stay steady when it was loud during a battle. She inhaled as much as possible and slowly exhaled while hissing, keeping it as level as possible. Then there was panting rapidly or gasping to build up the stamina in your throat muscles, and a million other things that had made her realize how complex a human throat was—and she'd seen multiple get crushed or cut. Innards just looked like innards to her. Red and mushy. That kept her distracted for a bit, but Pauline's conversation was taking a long time. Cecilia found her finger drifting toward Temperance's name. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction of asking for support during a tough day, but instead, she decided to keep her updated on what was happening. But keeping her updated? That felt like a 'girlfriend' thing to do—or at least, one she was willing to count as one.

She picked and chose which things fit that role, according to her own liking.

Her girlfriend answered with a 'proud of you babe! stay strong!' and it did surprisingly feel quite nice. Cecilia replied with a thanks and decided that was enough of that. She couldn't let herself get too attached or grow too close; she needed to keep Temperance at arm's length, both because of dependency fears and the fact that it was all temporary.

So as she usually did to distract herself, she found herself browsing the trainer forums. It was something she'd found enjoyment in since her physical revival post Jupiter and a hobby she hadn't lost after being revived by those Gengar. There was plenty of news about the Conference and the top upcoming trainers that she honestly just glanced over. She was looking at a 'hype' thread where 'connoisseurs' liked to theorize and power scale, though most of what they said was utter rubbish. She found a strange enjoyment in seeing people speak about her. Her relationship with Temperance had put her on the map, and it felt nice for her name to matter for once.

Cecilia should have expected to find Grace spoken about there. She hadn't looked at her ex's thread once since breaking up, but with her position at Poketch, she was famous enough to have people talk about her all the time even outside of it. Cecilia first found a post saying that Grace and Maylene were officially dating that was issued a warning for being off-topic, then another, then multiple over the course of the last few hours, and she opened Chatter and found Grace's account and read her latest Chat and—

She heaved for every breath and crouched face-first against the wall, her forehead never leaving the cool surface.

Obviously, Cecilia had known they were dating. She'd seen plenty of people online guess that fact, even. It wasn't like they'd been hiding it—they were more flaunting it in everyone's faces. But having the announcement spelled out right in front of her accompanied by a picture of Grace kissing the Gym Leader on the cheek in her room, having the entire country seeing it confirmed, having to face this certain truth on her own again?

It was nearly as painful as that day she'd found out for the first time.

Within her lay a treacherous, simmering rage. A pressure began to build in her chest, a fierce, twisting ache that rose into her throat, clawing for release yet held back by sheer will. Why was she being hurt again? Why did it even matter? There must have been something wrong with her to be still hung up on this, and it made the Unovan want to dive deep into her own ribcage and rip out her own heart so she could give it a stern talking to.

The door opened down the hall—no, it swung open and crashed into the little stopper that kept it from slamming on the wall. Emilia chased behind Pauline, calling her name over and over and telling her not to do this. The redhead approached with a determined step. Cecilia rose to meet her despite her anger still covering every inch of her skin and coiling around her like an Ekans.

"You bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Pauline yelled as she moved.

Emilia spoke up, desperation leaking into every word. "Pauline, please. We dealt with it like adults—"

"Who do you think you are, exactly?" She ignored her, her tone so loud that it washed over Emilia's small voice. Upon getting a closer look, Cecilia noticed Emi had been tearing up, or maybe crying. It was difficult to tell. Pauline pointed back at Emilia with an almost violent fervor. "What gives you the right to grab her heart and tear it into a million pieces?!" She violently jabbed a finger in her chest.

Cecilia looked down at her, ears ringing like nails scraping against a chalkboard as the pain in her heart allowed the anger to fester and grow.

"Say something," Pauline growled. "Not only did you and that other prick use her in this sick game, but you fucking used her as leverage? Really? Do you think people are just empty sacks of meat without feelings that you can string along to gain something? And you let this go on for so long—" she continued her verbal assault, recounting all of Cecilia's wrongs like she was crossing her t's and dotting her i's. Emilia had told her everything to the last detail, and none of it would be amiss.

The Unovan watched Emilia retreat back to Pauline's room, unable to listen to this beatdown. This was probably the last thing she'd wanted, and even she had her limits.

Oh, it was so easy with hindsight, wasn't it, Pauline? Saying that she should have done this, or that, or said this and that. That she should have just cut her off immediately as if Cecilia didn't fear harming her friendship by disappointing her, and genuinely thought she would give her good advice because of how mature she'd grown.

Cecilia was tired. But most of all, she feared that—that she would say something off should she speak.

"I'm sorry," Cecilia said. "I shouldn't have done any of it."

Pauline let out a comical, exaggerated laugh as her face contorted in near delirium. "You're just saying that. Look at you. Are you even sorry? Or is it just something you say in hopes of moving on?"

"I mean it," she said. "Are you done?" After each word had come a pause each more frustrated than the last.

"Oh. Getting a little angry, aren't you?" she taunted with an infuriating smirk and flicked her hair back. "Get out of my house."

Something snapped inside her—a taut string pulled too tight, finally breaking under the pressure. It was like the sound of a dam giving way, the sudden, sharp crack of something carefully held back shattering into release, leading to a maddened laugh that spread through the hall.

"And you think you're any better? You?!" she yelled. "Please. Spare me your belligerence."

Already, Pauline had turned away, but that caught her attention. "What," her eyes sharpened, and her face and body tightened like a rubber band stretched to its maximum, "the fuck are you saying?"

"I was nothing. Some stupid crush that didn't even matter. You were all she had for her entire life and you betrayed her by leading her on, lying to her about how you felt about Denzel while she was fighting to make a life for herself in Hearthome alone!" Cecilia knew how to hit where it hurt; she could even see a vein pop up on Pauline's forehead. The redhead clenched a fist, and her teeth nearly chattered in anger. "So screw you and your so-called morality. Every time, I have to be perfect. I have to read your minds! Every time I take people at their word and think they can handle me, they break! It's my fault; me, me, me!" This was dangerous. It felt so good. "Maybe Emilia should have just told me instead of hiding behind a veil of constant excuses. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, I've been in the middle of trying to turn the fucking tanker that is my life, so sorry if I can't be just, oh so attentive to every little thing—"

She felt a sharp sting on her cheek, and the sound of a slap resonated a split-second later. She grinned, the physical pain a welcome sensation and distraction. Cecilia worked her jaw as the tingling faded, fingers grazing where she'd just been hit.

"How mature," she said. "I guess that proves my point."

"That wasn't for shittalking me. That was for being so fucking dense about what Emilia feels and blaming her for what you did," Pauline muttered.

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "A wonderful little lie."

"When did you become so fucking cold?" Pauline's voice wavered, and she allowed pain to show in her eyes for the first time. "I don't recognize you."

"Sorry if I didn't immediately prostrate myself before you and beg for forgiveness," she spat. "I became someone."

She immediately answered, "Yeah, well you became an asshole. 'Guess that's why you're single—or wait, I guess you're with that other asshole now. However long that lasts."

The words hurt like paper cuts all over her skin, but she forced a shrug. "I won't even deign to answer that."

"Right. Of course, you won't, that'd go against the pretentious shtick you've got going on." Pauline paused, foot tapping against the carpeted floor. "Hey, do me a favor. When you go to sleep tonight in the arms of a woman you don't love, you should ask yourself why the girl who got cheated on is losing her friends. Now fuck off."

The shouting match had caught the attention of a few attendants, however Cecilia was already leaving. It was strange. She felt light and unburdened, like the argument itself had fueled her shallow soul with personality. Deserved or not, she'd stood up for herself, and she had to admit that felt grand even if the satisfaction was tainted. The taste of it lingered, sharp and bittersweet. It felt good, that defiance, even if it came with the sting of consequence—a satisfaction laced with bitterness, like swallowing a poisoned piece of candy just for the taste. For once, she'd been her own voice, no matter how flawed. She did not feel the urge to run and take refuge, neither to Temperance who would have jumped at the occasion, nor Chase who would have made time if she truly needed it—she knew he would forever be in her corner. Instead, she just wished her Pokemon could be here. She'd even let go of her awful reaction to that Chatter post.

She didn't get a ride back in a car to the city outskirts where taking off with Lehmhart would be allowed.

Whatever. She could walk. She had, after all, turned the tanker.

A/N: One interlude inbound, and then a time skip.

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M
 
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Interlude - Job Application New
INTERLUDE - JOB APPLICATION

Another pellet arced through the air, and Wimpod shot forward, her legs flailing with anticipation as her mouth opened wide. Her legs wriggled in the air, her mouth clamped down, and she skittled away with the food to eat it hidden away from them behind the undergrowth as if it was at risk of being stolen. Even now, her instinct as a Pokemon of prey told her that she should always eat in secret to not lure predators to her location. Chase didn't mind. He even found it somewhat cute. The little bug—he had come to realize she was smaller than average for her species—chittered, and her entire body vibrated in glee as she nestled close to a nearby rock Zangoose had brought over to sharpen her claws, savoring her prize in private. Chase watched with a soft smile, keeping his movements slow and gentle, knowing too well that any sudden motion might send her running off even further.

It was a game of some sort. He'd throw her food, and she'd catch it. It made her a lot more active and was motivation for her training; Wimpod was, after all, working just as hard as the others in her own way. Her food now finished, she slowly scuttled toward Chase's wheelchair and jumped on his lap. He couldn't really feel her countless legs against his, but the subtle pressure of her light weight was still there. Each white segment of her body moved almost independently of each other.

"Feeling full?" he asked.

The water type screeched, her antennas lying flat against her body and her eyes barely opened.

"Nap time, then." His hand rubbed at the chitin and gave his other Pokemon a knowing look, asking them to be quiet.

Not that they'd been very active in the first place. They'd trained hard enough today and deserved a break. Vikavolt crawled on a tree with his wings fanned out as he cut berries off branches with his sharp mandibles. One of them fell on Houndoom's head, and the fire type growled in annoyance. His tail curled up, and he decided to switch spots, settling in next to Zangoose to feel fur against him. It wasn't soft—in fact, Chase would call it prickly, but the dark type enjoyed sticking close to something or someone to relax. Zangoose glared, flashing her teeth as she softly kicked him in the ribs, and Houndoom started playfighting with her, biting her legs with a hint of flames in his maw until she packed up and moved a few hundred feet away. Houndoom let out a sigh that sounded almost human before settling down beside Chase, who reached over with his free hand to gently stroke the Pokemon's head. Sigilyph, meanwhile, clearly wanted to follow Zangoose to her new resting spot, but the psychic shot Chase a look—

"Don't worry about it," he whispered with a shrug. "I'll send Vikavolt to get you if I need to move around." Rolling this stupid fucking chair around in the woods was impossible; it just wasn't meant for this environment. They'd settled in the woods west of Canalave, which were relatively dense. That was why his main method of transportation levitatation by Sig. Anywhere else, though, and he'd move on his own. He hated relying on others for mobility, and he still wasn't used to not being able to move his legs.

Too late to cry about it. At least that bitch Mars was dead and her clone was in prison.

Ri shot him a passing, worried glance. He'd been half meditating, half chatting with Zangoose before she'd been chased away by Houndoom.

"M'fine." Chase loved Ri, but Arceus, he was way too perceptive at times. Sometimes, he just wanted to brood on his own without someone asking if he was okay for the thousandth time. "I'm thinking about the Gym Fight."

Byron's Gym had opened its doors to sign-ups today and would be opening fully in two. Chase had basically camped outside the Gym's doors to be among the first to register, and it had worked. Now, he could finally get the answers he'd been looking for all these years.

If you say so, the Lucario spoke into his mind. His aura felt like a bucket of ice had dropped on his head. The team is always available if you need to vent about Abomasnow or your legs. We miss him too. Every day.

Chase rolled his shoulders as if to shake an invisible hand off. "I'll be fine." He'd raised his tone on accident—his eyes looked down at Wimpod, who hadn't noticed. With a calmer tone, he continued, "He wouldn't want me to get stuck… mourning. He'd want me to keep going."

A pale blue light danced in the fighting type's palm, forming a bone that turned to solid steel. It was so pure Chase could see his starter's reflection on its surface. Weakness is not a fault. You learned that already. It is a facet of human emotion like any other.

Feeling the morality lesson coming, Chase tried not to roll his eyes and absent-mindedly agreed. He knew Ri was right—it just wasn't what he needed to hear right now. All this sentimentality and regret, when he was so close to what this entire year had built up to—Chase grunted when Ri threw the bone at his face. He caught it, though his palms hurt from the impact.

"The fuck was that for?" he whispered in a hiss. "You could have hit Wimpod."

Ri smirked and grew another bone, this time quicker. I wouldn't have. I'm far too excellent to miss, and you have a big head.

Vikavolt snorted—a sharp, crackling hiss with a buzzing undertone—and he munched on more berries.

"Fuck off, Vikavolt." Chase threw the bone at the electric type, who simply directed it away through magnetism. It was heavier than it had looked, but the Iron Islander had kept his body active since becoming crippled—or disabled. Crippled was offensive according to Cecilia, and while he didn't care, the disappointed look she had every time he said it was annoying, so he'd been trying to cut down on the usage, even if he was the one the word was directed toward.

His legs, however? They were growing smaller and smaller by the week. He was keeping them moving through physical therapy Ri helped him with that he had continued from the hospital so they wouldn't atrophy, but that was all they could do.

I meant big figuratively, by the way, Ri specified with a laugh of his own.

"What if you broke my skull? Then what?"

Don't be a baby, now.

"I'm sending you out hunting next, asshole."

Chase was completely broke, which was a familiar sight for him. All of his money, he'd spent on TMs for the Pokemon who needed it, and the only payment he got each month was the LTIP money from the League. He didn't even have money to feed himself more than twice a day, so he'd been forced to eat whatever food his Pokemon brought back. Today, it had been berries from this tree they'd found. Trees with so many types of berry like this one were relatively rare in Sinnoh, but more abundant in the south. Granted, they ranged from blegh to fuckin' disgusting to his human palate when not processed, but they were at least edible and nutritious.

Plus, they weren't that ripe, but it wasn't like they had time to waste. He could have gone to a Pokemon Center for food, but he tried to avoid wasting time, and only food for humans was free.

It was all jokes amidst his camp from that point on, and honestly, Chase appreciated the lightened atmosphere. The burden of expectations was heavy, and should he fail, he would have to wait for months or even years for another opportunity. A few hours later—when the sun had set, another round of training had been completed, and they were preparing to settle down and sleep, Chase began to hear the faint sound of an engine far above him.

It was subtle at first, so much so that he thought his ears had been playing tricks on him. The fire they'd lit to illuminate their surroundings at some point, but luckily he'd recalled Wimpod into her ball hours earlier so she could sleep soundly. He'd been burned by her scares countless times already—enough to know that Zangoose would have been pissed. And whatever Zangoose felt, Sig would follow, and then he'd have a whole situation to deal with.

The trees bent to Golurk's engines. Their branches thrashed as the giant construct descended, its thrusters casting an eerie purplish-red glow across the forest floor. Leaves scattered in wild spirals, and the underbrush trembled. Chase had to spit out a mouthful as his wheelchair was pushed a few inches back until he gripped the wheels, and the wind nearly blew off his cap. That was the annoying thing about Golurk. Having one as a flier meant you couldn't be discreet, or at least Cecilia hadn't specialized that way. The ghost's trainer climbed off his back in a single, elegant hop she had practiced a thousand times, and she held her hair still so it didn't fly in front of her scarred face. Chase's Pokemon, who were already used to such commotion, ignored their arrival, though Zangoose was probably covering her ears in displeasure. Sig wasn't great at barriers.

"Cece," Chase said. "I thought you were coming by tomorrow night. Battling pep talk and all that." The Unovan stepped close to the fire, and Chase got a better look at her. She looked neither happy nor unhappy. A little melancholic, maybe—it was still tough to tell with the eyes sometimes. "'Sup?"

"I can leave and come back if I'm interrupting," she said.

"Nah, I wasn't doin' much. Just hanging with these fucks." Chase gestured toward his team. Vikavolt landed on his head—which he was way too big for—and started gnawing at his hat. "It's meant lovingly! Arceus! Get off me!"

By the time the bug type had zipped off with Chase's hat, and he wouldn't be back for an hour at least. Cecilia was grinning. So she wasn't hiding some kind of depression behind walls. Or at least not one large enough to see her collapse before him like when she'd just broken up with Grace. Those nights sure had been long.

She replied while he flattened his hair, which had now risen up due to static, "I have something to tell you, but maybe we should do our routine first."

"Sure." Had she looked like she needed it, then he would have pressed answers out of her. "So, Cecilia. What have you done to achieve your goals since we last saw each other?"

Words spilled out of her mouth. Training, research, reading news articles—more of the usual she'd been doing for weeks at this point. It was less of a thing to prove to each other that they were working toward their dream, though it was also that, but it was just something to hold each other accountable. Cecilia had come changed from her experience down south, and she wouldn't let the light within her go out for anybody. Something was new, however: a third meeting with her new co-workers yesterday. Cecilia called all of them good kids. Innocent, yet passionate to make it far, and ready to accommodate her despite the rumors swirling around in that country. Unova was basically shit covered in gold, wheras most regions were just shit. Chase didn't really care for them. Instead, he kept asking about this Juniper woman until his friend ran out of words.

It was his turn next, and his was more boring than it had been the last time they'd seen each other. He hadn't gone to the Iron Islands again like last week to talk to the people or see how they needed help. Instead, he'd stuck in these woods, going off-route to train with wild Pokemon who were either aggressive or who were looking for a challenge. Luckily, Cecilia often came by to hand over potions he couldn't afford, so his Pokemon were in good shape. All he'd done was more training every day.

"I fear that there might be something wrong with me on the social level. It unsettles me."

"This is what you wanted to speak about?" he asked.

His friend nodded, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. "I did something objectively bad today, or at least I did according to Talonflame and Slowking." Golurk let out a booming sound of disapproval beside her. "And Lehmhart." She glanced up at him. "But parts of it made you happy too, it was fifty-fifty." The ground type patted the top of her head with a single finger, and she laughed at him.

The moon peaked in between the trees, shining some of its light on the surroundings.

Chase sighed, leaning against his palm as he stared at her through the crackling flames. "Tell me about it. I'll see if it's bullshit or not."

So she did.

Chase understood the gist of it. Romantic feelings were icky and weird, but he knew what they were supposed to be, or he thought so. Cece had strung Emilia along with her new girl Temperance until yesterday, and had gotten into a verbal fight with Pauline over it. She'd pointed out that she just wished Emilia had said something sooner so it didn't have to come to this instead of suffering in silence. It reminded her too much of her first relationship, and she hated that. As far as he knew, it was the first actual fight she'd ever gotten in with someone other than Grace when they'd broken up. He was almost proud of her—he could see why that big hulk of a golem was partly prideful as well. It must have been astonishing to see his trainer progress so quickly.

Almost.

Almost proud of her.

He also figured she was acting moronic.

"I don't think I'll be speaking to them anymore, unfortunately. And things are going to be awkward with Louis, since he's stuck in the middle of every side, but I've been rude to him. I figure he'll slowly drift away," the Unovan lamented with a deep sigh. Her hands folded neatly atop her lap. "I screwed it up. But I can't help but feel like I should be sadder, and yet the anguish isn't coming. That's why I'm saying I feel like there's something wrong with me."

It couldn't be ghost fuckery. That would have had the opposite effect—no, Cecilia was in control of her own emotions here.

"Just when I was starting to get along with her," Chase complained. They weren't really friends, but he'd enjoyed Emilia's company in the few times they'd seen each other since Coronet, even if part of that was most likely because she and Pauline had saved his life. "Sucks."

She winced, quick and hard. "Sorry."

"You're good, man. I make my own decisions on who to hang with."

Her eyes softened in relief. Maybe she'd thought he'd blow up at her and tell her to leave. The thought of it had never even popped up in his head until now. She'd done bad, yes, but she was hopefully learning. Like a child going to kindergarten and socializing for the first time, except she was leaving hurt in her wake. And in the grand scheme of things—if you took a step back and looked the situation in the eye, it wasn't much. Just some drama bullshit he'd tried to stay away from the entire year because it was honestly a waste of time. Unfortunately for him, Cecilia seemed to get involved in that a whole lot. Chase leaned back in his chair with a groan.

"You sound like an old man," she quipped.

"You sound like a bitch," he said back.

His friend chuckled, light dancing across her dark hair as it swayed with the movement of her face. "I do. I really wish I didn't. I've never done anything like this. It was always comply, comply, comply. Nod and smile, say sorry, lower your head, and act like you were worse than trash. And after reading Grace's post, I just saw red. Which is ironic, considering…" she motioned at her blank eyes.

"Who cares about what Grace is doing? Focus on yourself!"

"I was trying!" she countered, hands clenching on her lap. "I wasn't even looking at her socials! I haven't done that! People just talked about her on the forums!"

With another sigh, Chase grabbed water from the flask in his backpack, downing nearly all of its contents. "Look," he started as he closed the gourd. "You had your reasons. People always have their reasons for being assholes. I think. Some reasons are better than others, but at the end of the day, when the cards are all on the table, you're still an asshole. You've still hurt somebody, right? Or, uh, multiple people, in this case."

"Hmhm."

"And while in an ideal world, Emilia would have just told you to stop when you gave her the chance to end all of this and she technically did lie to you, people can't be expected to do what's best for themselves all the time." He waggled his finger and threw his flask back in his bag, though he missed. Houndoom grabbed it with his mouth and placed it back in. "Fucking up is a part of the human condition, I say. Some fuck ups are irredeemable in the eyes of those you hurt. No one in this world is owed forgiveness—forgiveness is a favor."

He thought of Grace, in that moment, and clenched his teeth. She'd been everything to her, and she couldn't be assed to wait a few weeks. At least she seemed to be doing well for herself with Maylene now, which was a good thing. Chase was no animal. He had principles—in this case not to hurt the one he was closest to—but he wished her to do well. Away from him.

Something about that level of betrayal just gave him the ick. He couldn't explain it.

Finally, he continued, "I don't know if this mistake is irredeemable; I'm not in their heads."

Lucario nodded sagely in his corner with that prideful look, and Chase harumphed in embarrassment.

"It most likely is." Her chest rose with a long breath. "What should I have done, then?" Cecilia asked. "Not bring her to that first party in the first place, for one. She would have disliked me for it, but it would have been better?" She paused, eyes narrowing and her brows knitting together. "Or I could have brought her but treated her better, staying only friendly with Temperance that day. Is that a fairer way of looking at it? But then would that have her think she had a chance? But I didn't know she liked me during that first party… maybe I could have guessed." She let out somewhat of a bitter laugh. "She'd been helping me so much, after all. Maybe I shouldn't have needed Temperance to tell me, but friends are always a bit of a blind spot. Goodness, it's so difficult. It feels like I have to treat everyone with kid gloves until I learn how to properly interact with them. Except you."

"Do me a favor and never say this kind of shit to anyone who isn't me." Chase didn't mind, but she sounded way too analytical. It'd come off as cold and unfeeling to most. He knew despite this that she was trying her best and that it was somewhat weighing on her, or she wouldn't have come here unprompted. "Though honestly, I don't know. I'm the last one you should come to for advice about this; I'm basically clueless. And I'd be the last one to go to some gathering of socialites no matter what I could get out of it."

"You'd be surprised at the quality of your advice. I'm blessed to have you."

"Huh. That's nice. What about your girl—Temperance? Isn't she good at that kind of thing?"

Cecilia snorted. "And to bleed myself upon the altar of dependence once again? You might as well be telling me all my work has been for naught." Her gaze softened for a moment—but just a moment. "She's nice. Nicer than I thought someone of her status would be. But I'm bad for her. I should probably break up with her tonight or tomorrow."

"What'd you mean?" Chase asked.

"You wouldn't get it if I explained to you how we interact." Cecilia drummed her fingers against Lehmhart's leg, and the ghost let out a soothing thrum. "She's told me she's fine with it, but you know, what if she's also lying to herself? What if two weeks from now, she realizes she's not okay with being used as a rebound and she blows up at me?"

Chase stayed silent for a moment. "What's a rebound?"

"Oh God." She began to laugh. "Oh, God!" she cackled and doubled over.

"What?! Don't lord over me on your throne of…" he dismissively waved a hand at her, "fucked up relationships! I don't know what it means! So what?!" He felt a little shame, but it was good to see her laugh.

"I'm—sorry. Hah." Cecilia wiped a tear away. It took her another few seconds to be well enough to speak. "It's a bit of a reactionary relationship. When you're deeply hurt by your previous breakup and you throw yourself into the arms of another for refuge. Most of them are temporary."

"And she knows this? And she's willing to date your broken ass anyway?" Chase was so surprised his mouth half-gaped. "The fuck?"

"I asked her to make me fall in love with her," Cecilia said. "I'm not that far, nowhere near, but I'm learning to appreciate her. Give it another few months, or maybe weeks, and I could see myself dating her for her. Liking her."

Chase couldn't find a response, so all he did was shake his head in confusion. Legendaries, how had he ended up in this position, giving love advice? "Does she make you happy right now?"

"Not exactly—or I should say there are some moments; they grow more frequent because we spend so much time together."

"I mean, I'm no expert, but it sounds like you could make this work, no? Just wait for time to pass and… be honest with her about it."

"Oh, I have been honest. She's giddy with excitement." The Unovan pursed her lips and crossed her legs. "I don't like it, to tell you the truth."

He leaned forward, nearly falling off his chair. He pushed himself off his armrests and gripped them tight. "You don't want to explore a potential path to happiness?"

"When you put it like that—"

"I'm putting it like that because it is that, moron."

"—I don't want to be all 'it would never be the same as it was with her,' because to tell you the truth, I don't think we were ever that. Truly happy." She paused, finding her thoughts as she looked at the moon. "There were flashes of it, yes, but it was a blessing when they came. I just don't think I'd ever be able to give Temperance my full attention. She'd be better off with someone else, and I think eventually she'll figure it out and leave—especially over long distance—which is why I think I should break things off—"

"I'll kill you."

She let out a little surprised sound, almost a grunt. "Again? Dying a fourth time would be gauche after all the help I got."

"Four? I thought that'd make it twice—never mind. Look, just give it a try, okay? Take a chance on yourself. Not just for me or your team, but for yourself. I see what you're doing." He pointed accusingly at her. "Grace cheated on you. She left you, so you think everything's going to be the same and find another person, so you want to be the first to leave so you're hurt less." Or at least he thought so. That made sense, right?

She stayed silent a long while. Chase didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. She stared at the dancing flames, eyes darting from ember to ember as they floated up and dissipated in the sky. Eventually, finally, she rubbed her face with an extended exhale that seemed to sync to her Golurk's ambient song.

"I'd fuck it up." That was neither an agreement nor a disagreement— "I can try."

"If you do, I'll be there to help ya, pal."

She left soon afterward, looking the saddest she'd been since coming by.



A whisper.

"Good luck. Don't dim your light."

Cecilia gently patted him on the shoulder and squeezed. In front of him lay the result of a year of hard work and sixteen years of internal strife. Byron Fisker, draped in his childish cape and his dirty garb as if he didn't have the money to dress properly. As if he was still a miner from the Iron Islands and not a traitor to his class, the useful idiot prop Teracore could parade around and say 'look, someone who was born there's totally fine with what we're doing!' Chase barely heard Cecilia walk down the steps of the Gym platform. She'd pushed him up there and spoken to him until the very last moment, and for that, he would forever be grateful.

He tightened his grip on the wheels of his chair, bracing himself for a moment before locking it securely, ensuring he wouldn't slip down the stairs or ramp. This wasn't the first time Chase had come face-to-face with Byron. Years ago, when he and the few survivors of Falkirk had been evacuated, he'd seen the man. The Gym Leader had come to meet them personally, hear their worries and so and so. He could remember it as clear as day. Gripping the man's wrist with all of his strength, tears in his eyes, begging for something to be done. For the islands to see justice. For them to live just as well as the mainland. After all, wasn't he one of them? How could he just look at this and do nothing?

"I'll help,"
Byron had said. "I promise."

Years later?

Nothing.

Not one new Pokemon Center. Not one new hospital. Not one new Ranger Station. Not one new reform to protect workers. Not one new policy to make it easier to move out of the islands for a better life. Not one initiative to revive the villages that were slowly dying or stagnating. Not one school upgraded or new one built. Not one investment to give their children hopes of becoming trainers instead of watching them stay in search of a future that currently didn't exist for them here. Not one bridge built. Not one program to ensure their safety, their health, or their prosperity. Just promises, empty promises, while they struggled to keep our homes from crumbling around them. Two Falkirk-tier disasters in the years he'd left since; entire small towns wiped off the map.

He had researched all of this. Cecilia had made him so he wouldn't complain or show up here without knowing the bigger picture. It was as if the islands were being perpetually kept in limbo, never changing, never growing. A prison made for his ancestors and his descendants to keep mining until their bones broke and they died alone at home because they could no longer move and their only caretaker was too busy working the mines or fishing to put food on the table and the nearest hospital was a ferry ride away with tickets that cost months of wages.

What they did get instead?

A new deepwater port to export more iron.

Fucking. Liar.

"Challenger," Byron said, "send out your first Pokemon."

Chase adjusted his suit and tie. "Glady," he whispered, before bellowing. "And this is a job application, by the way!"

Amidst confused looks in the audience and from Byron, he sent out Vikavolt and braced himself.



Holding one person accountable meant that there was no room for hesitation, no tolerance for weakness. When accountability fell on a single set of shoulders, it demanded resilience stronger than iron and a will sharper than any blade. It was a weight that could crush a person or forge them into something harder, something able to stand against pressure others would flee from. It wasn't about blame or punishment; it was about strength, discipline, and a commitment that could only be trusted by those who were tempered enough to bear it.

It meant one thing.

To be unyielding like steel.

Through weeks of training, and perhaps this past year, Chase had forged a new tempered self. One who listened instead of screamed, who looked and observed before making a decision that would be rash. His Pokemon had watched his back grow taller and taller and had thrown themselves into what it meant to be him. It did not matter what the battle was like, for its results had already been determined, but what mattered was how they had pushed themselves to their limits to learn the ways of steel.

Vikavolt's shell gleamed with the hardened sheen of iron as it barreled into Skarmory with the force of a landslide, an unstoppable avalanche of weight and momentum. The impact was brutal, reverberating through the air with a sound that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them, like mountains colliding. The force was enough to shatter and tear through the toughest steel. With every beat of his wings, a torrent of Thunder bore down on the ground, and he carried with him shards of the battlefield he could manipulate to his will.

Zangoose traded blows with a Lucario whose body seemed more bone than flesh, a skeletal figure held together by sheer will and hardened resolve. But her claws and fur were like iron, every swipe carrying the weight of tempered steel. Each clash resounded with the metallic ring of two living weapons colliding, refined ferocity, precision and speed meeting raw strength and the sheer joy of battling through pain.

Sigilyph hovered with an eerie calm, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the looming Aggron. With a sudden flicker of her rune-covered wings, she unleashed a Flash Cannon, a beam of concentrated steel energy that shot forward like a silver bolt. The blast struck Aggron's armored chest with a resounding clang, forcing the steel-clad giant back a step. Undeterred, she twisted gracefully in the air, wings glowing with metallic light as she readied a Steel Wing that coated them in a sheen, using her psychic power to gathered bits of the broken field to gather more and more material until her wings were the width of the entire arena and each strike hit like a ton.

Houndoom crouched low, his dark fur bristling as he squared off against Empoleon, whose regal, steel-blue feathers gleamed under the battlefield lights. With a snarl, Houndoom's eyes glinted with a menacing burn as he unleashed an Iron Tail, swinging his hardened tail in a swift arc. The strike clanged against Empoleon's chest armor, sparking as steel clashed with steel.

Some of these battles ended in failure. Houndoom failed to take down his foe while Zangoose was overwhelmed by Lucario's ferocity. That was fine. They were here to pitch, not to win. To eventually speak with the man who had taken so much from Chase and Ri through inaction. Even Wimpod got a little action with Metal Claw she'd learned from Zangoose, though the fear took a hold of her within a minute and she screeched enough to cut Chase's heart in two, and he recalled her.

Ri—

Ri faced a small Steelix who moved at speeds it had no right to move at, its massive body coiling and snapping forward with fluidity unexpected for. In fact it moved so quickly that the friction in the air made it glower red like one of those rockets from Hoenn reentering the atmosphere. Byron's personal Steelix, one who was hailed to be among the fastest in the entire world. Bone Rush had turned from ground type to steel, and Ri's sheer strength was enough to go toe to toe with the giant. This one felt personal. They went all out, using bursts of aura from the soles of Ri's feet to fly and ramming bones in its segments just like the old times in Mount Coronet.

In the end—

Chase lost three to six. He still would have lost had he used something other than steel type moves, but to be quite honest, he could not give less of a fuck. What mattered would come now.

"You were holding back," Byron immediately noticed when they met besides the broken up battlefield. "Using steel to fight when it's not your specialty. Your Houndoom didn't even use any fire."

"I didn't lie when I said this was a job interview, sir," Chase said. Arceus, he hated looking up at him. It was still a complex he needed to get over, having to look up at everyone he met. "I'm applying to be one of your battle-specialized Gym Trainers on behalf of the Iron Islands and its people. They're counting on me."

Byron leaned against his shovel with a look of understanding as if he'd expected this to happen one day. He gestured over to one of his Gym Trainers, asking him to take over for the next battle, and said this:

"Follow me."



It felt strange, standing behind the door Gym Leaders usually emerged from—a place typically hidden, like the back of a store counter or an office desk. It was a view Chase had never imagined he'd see. But now, with his own ambitions set on this role, he figured he'd better get used to it. Of course, he hadn't been hired yet, and even if he was, he'd be up against a dozen others vying for Byron's spot someday. Inside, rows of large lockers lined the walls, labeled from '0 badge' to '8 badge,' though there were far more of the former than the latter. It was common knowledge that as trainers rose in level, the number of Pokemon a Gym could field against them steadily dwindled.

"Do you want anything? I know a battle can take a lot out of a man, especially one that intense. You were really into it." Byron sat down on one of the chairs, legs spread out and resting his chin on both his fists as he stared at Chase. "I can make you a coffee."

"I don't need anything," he said. "Let's talk."

The man nodded, running a tired hand through his burgundy hair. "You said this was a job application."

"To be a Gym Trainer for the Canalave Gym." Chase adjusted his tie, more as a reflex than something he needed to do. "What did you think of the way my Pokemon fought? Did I show enough expertise?"

"Plenty. You taught them the art of steel types well—I was honestly surprised. When I heard you were coming to fight, I thought you'd rage at me. For everything."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to, but it wouldn't have fixed anything. You're shit to the Iron Islands. I know that, and you know that." He moved closer, fingers tightening around his wheels. "So why? Explain it to me," he said. "Please."

If Chase had to guess, Byron looked distinctly uncomfortable with the topic. The Gym Leader was many things, but restrained was not one of them. Now, he seemed to recoil inward like some sort of dying creature or a newborn ghost exposed to the sunlight. Chase couldn't help but feel satisfied at that, because at least it meant that he cared. But on the other hand, him caring and not doing anything left a taste of bile in his mouth. Had he never expected at least one Iron Islander to make their way here and demand answers? If not Chase, then someone else would have come eventually, even if it took years.

"I knew it would happen eventually," Byron forced out. His voice was tight and constrained, never losing that gravely tone. It feels like my sins have finally caught up to me. It feels like I'm staring my failure in the face."

"Well," he said, "we couldn't all stay good little pets and die ignorant."

Byron stood once more and began to pace around the room, shovel rasping against the metallic floor with each step as if it were his third leg. Behind the doors, restrained bursts of cheers could be heard for whatever battle was being fought.

"You've served this country well by being an instrumental part of ridding ourselves of Team Galactic." Byron's gaze drifted to Chase's legs. Fuck him. "I owe you answers."

Chase wanted to retort, to say that he was owed answers regardless of whatever he had to do to save this world, but he wasn't going to ruin things when he was so close. Byron went to lock the door, noting that a seven-badge battle would take a while, and with a sigh, he began to talk.

"I started working in the mines when I was thirteen. My dad busted his leg in an accident on the job, and my mother's back had always been bad, so it fell onto me to feed us."

"Happens." It was a common story among the islands. Chase had been lucky his dad had been so sturdy and had allowed him to live a sheltered life for so long. "And?"

"I was small back then. Could fit into holes no one else could, and I was a fast learner. The supervisors always had something good to say about me—"

"So you could sit and stay and give them your paw when they asked you too?" he immediately said. "Sorry. Keep going."

Byron scratched the back of his unkempt hair. "One day, I stumbled upon a fossil. Bastiodon."

Back in the day, Chase would have asked how he'd gotten the money to revive a Shieldon when he was some poor miner with no money. Today, he'd come well-researched. It was a lottery of some sort—a promise to keep them all docile, one that would keep them dreaming for years as their arms broke upon iron ore. If you find a fossil, you either get to sell it to Teracore or revive it on their Pokedollar. Of course, the odds of finding a fossil were nearly zero, but every time people went to mine, they did so with hope of a single event that could take them overseas to a better life.

Most chose to sell to Teracore and get the fuck out with their families. Records had been difficult to find because Teracore was a tight lipped operation who had cordoned off most news coming out of the Iron Islands, and these people had always stayed anonymous before selling out of fear of getting hurt or worse because someone could want to steal their ticket to a better life. He'd needed to ask actual miners for the information during his visits. Byron? Byron chose to keep his fossil and become a trainer.

"I wanted to become a Gym Leader. I wanted to save the Iron Islands." He brought up his hand, as if to grip something Chase couldn't see, and he snatched the air before sagging like a stringless puppet. "I became the Gym Leader of Oreburgh first because my predecessor was old, and that was the best opening. There, I racked up experience and improved the lives of miners in the city." He shut his eyes tightly. "I thought I'd be able to do the same here. I was so excited at the prospect that I neglected my son and made him take over my Gym so he would preserve my reforms. I was wrong."

"You tried?"

"I could not even do one percent of what I wanted," he lamented. "This position has more chains than you think it does, boy."

"Do you want to be more detailed with that?"

"You get there," he said, "You take the seat, and you look upon everything you have power over. And it's just such a tangled, complicated mess—but that's not just it." He gripped his hair. "You… get contacted by both the League and Teracore about what sleeps beneath our shores. And you get utterly paralyzed."

Chase squinted. "What?"

Despair. Byron was despairing, eyes wide with the sheer horror of the knowledge that had gripped him by the throat all these years. To see him—the symbol of his oppression—so weak, was not what he had expected.

"You already have the highest clearance beneath the Champion," he said. "You deserve to know."

He was nearly breathless. "What is it?"

Byron grimaced, and answered with a whisper, "The source of all iron within our lands; the monster who has been sleeping there for untold millennia; Registeel."



Many beasts dotted this world. Monarchs with domains, each one more different than the last. Pokemon who were simply strong, both wild or trained, like that Steelix who had flattened his hometown or Cynthia's Garchomp. But there were the true monsters—the horrors that kept you up at night and that were truly impossible to put down for good. Cecilia had told him of Dialga, the ruler of Time whose mere roar had made her see her life split in four, or Giratina who still haunted her at night whenever she deigned to close her eyes for too long.

Registeel. The Iron Pokemon. The Alloy. Source of all iron that perpetually grew throughout the islands and the reason why Sinnoh was the largest manufacturer of steel in the entire world by far. They were quite literally getting rich off a sleeping God and had been for as long as Sinnoh had existed as a political entity. Even when the Iron Islands had been independent and had been Canalave's rival!

"There's much we don't know about it, but we also do know a lot. The fact that electrical devices malfunction when you get too close—or that it gives you cancer—"

"It gives you cancer?!"

"Not unless you're within its chamber for hours at a time!" Byron yelled. "Islanders are safe."

"What the actual fuck, Byron?" Chase screamed back. "Do you know what this implies? Are we in danger?!"

"No. The two times it's woken up, we've contained it." Byron traced the edge of his shovel with a trembling finger. "Well, Cynthia and whatever Elite Four she has available with her—Flint, Bertha or Lucian. I get the reports about all that pertains to Registeel, down to whatever sounds it's made that day. Every. Day."

"You can't…" obviously they couldn't kill it. "You can't move it?"

"Even if we could do that without jeopardizing hundreds of thousands of lives—Registeel is one of Sinnoh's main economic forces. They'd never risk it moving to some other country."

"So we get that thing buried under us mainly because it's profitable?" If he could, he would have laughed at how absurd it sounded. "Why does Teracore even know about this?"

"Because they work the land. They need to, or an accident would for sure have happened. Only their higher ups know, but they need to in order to implement their mining policies."

"And you can't tell them to fuck off and replace them with another company because they have decades of experience."

"Centuries. They've existed in some form or another for 473 years, mining for whatever Champion reigns." He shook his head in dismay. "And changing the status quo becomes terrifying when you know about it all. If I for example fight tooth and nail for two years to lower the quota every miner has to bring back—the unbalance has a chance to wake Registeel up more frequently. I allow the use of machines—beyond attracting more angry wild Pokemon, what if the electricity agitates Registeel? There's a reason all we use is gas lamps and non-electric tools deep underground."

"Fuck."

"Fuck," Byron mirrored. "You have it now. The entire story."

"But wait. What if you—that doesn't change not building more schools or hospitals!" Sure, he theoretically couldn't change mining practices—which Chase would have to figure out eventually—but what did that have to do with life outside of the mines?"

Dead eyes stared back at him. "There's a balance that must be maintained. Things must remain as they are."

"Huh?"

"It's been the same way for so long. It's beyond me. Beyond even Cynthia. I'm unfortunately a cog in the machine."

Ah.

So he was an asshole.

The vindication felt disgusting to Chase. A small little part of him wished there would have been a reason for it all.

There was a reason. It was all just bullshit. Smoke and mirrors, self justification that went so far that it became a whole lot of nothing. We can't build a new hospital because of Registeel. We can't teach people how to read because of Registeel. We can't pay people more because of Registeel. Say it out loud, and it sounded delusional.

"You're a coward," Chase realized. "You're scared of putting your hands on the steering wheel because you might crash the car."

Byron said nothing. He could barely face him. "I am. I am truly sorry."

"And you want me to just accept that? To just smile and wave and say that I understand?" He scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I bet those higher ups at Teracore are lying half the time while they squeeze profit out of us! We're a fucking colony!"

Eyes wandered his way until they stayed transfixed on Chase. "Do you know how tough it is to have to make the call that our people living in squalor might be better than tens of thousands—if not more people getting killed in an afternoon? Containment is the policy that takes precedent over everything. Team Galactic even tried to worm their way into that chamber without my knowing—I—" his shoulders sagged. "My tenure has been a failure. That's why I haven't been back to the Iron Islands. I'm far too ashamed, and I see how they look at me. I don't blame them."

"So far, it has been," Chase said. "So save your legacy. Hire me."

"And make you my successor?" Byron let out a saddened laugh and slapped his knee with a sluggish movement of his hand. "This is the strangest job interview I've ever given."

"Well, it's my first. But what I'm saying is—I can handle it. The weight that comes with every decision." Responsibility was something he'd learned long ago. "I won't pretend like I don't have a lot to learn or that I'd be better than you immediately, but give me a chance. Change can come slow at first. It can be gradual at first, but we have to start now."

"I'm not sure if—"

"You can. You can, but you're a coward," Chase said. "Here. Why don't we start by doing something small. Upgrade and restaff the hospital in First Landing." It was the minimum, but Chase at least needed to get his foot in the door before the floodgates of change opened. First Landing was the biggest town in the Iron Islands and its hospital was basically non-functional half the time. "Cover the costs like the public hospitals on the mainland."

A hand outstretched.

Byron shook it and nodded. The grip was firm.

"You start tomorrow morning. You have much to learn—there's a lot that goes into running a Gym. And I suppose I could learn from you."

"I'll make you proud."

That was meant for his people.

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