#bonds: volo

[pokemonvillage]

Title: Birds of a Feather Characters: Volo, Akari AO3 Link: (Here) Word Count: 2868 Warnings: Shippy! My take on Akari. Spoilers for events after defeating the Fifth Lord and Mission 13, and if you squint/know what you're looking for, spoilers for the whole game.

In a ‘harsh, cruel world’ where you had to struggle to survive, fit in, or get tossed out to the ravenous fangs of the wilds… Who could trust you if you were deemed an outsider? Who could you trust?

The first day of her exile had been spent wandering with no recourse, turned away by those she hoped she could trust. The first night had been little better; she’d wasted the day supplicating for aid and couldn’t make even the most basic shelter, despite those red skies casting an eerie glow over everything.

And then Volo found her, sometime in those hours between late and early. His familiar smile, his kindness, the ready way he spoke to her without fear, blame, or reservation… The dam broke, the tears came, and embarrassingly (in retrospect) she couldn’t stop herself from hugging him. When was the last time she’d hugged anyone? Other than her Pokemon, months. She used to give her mom a hug every time she saw her! Her friends, too. Needless to say, people in Hisui weren’t exactly used to such sudden displays.

He accepted it kindly enough though, touching a hand atop her head and saying nothing as he let her have her moment. Where would she have been without him? Yes, she had her Pokemon, she could have found a way to survive, but it’d have been hard and time-consuming, and would wear her down in every way possible.

They made their way to Cogita’s hideaway, made introductions, settled on the most basic accommodations. Exhausted as she was, Cogita opted to wait until the morning to speak on the weighty matters of duty and what must be done next.

So her second night in exile -the first at Cogita’s retreat- Volo set up his little tent bedecked in Ginkgo Guild colors. It was no bigger or more elaborate than the ones the Survey Corps used, but plenty enough for them both to sleep, he assured her. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t offer much in the way of even polite resistance, or ‘worry about the implications’. 

Volo sat just under the further edge of the tent, a variety of papers and old books splayed around his lap. He poured over them by the light of the campfire with a weighty focus she could feel, but was too tired to comprehend before she inevitably dozed off. 

The third night, however, with a clearer goal in mind and a renewed sense of purpose, she sat up under the tent, hugging her knees and staring into the campfire. Haruki was curled up at her side, one of his long ribbons curled loosely, almost idly -but certainly with purpose- around her ankles as he lightly snoozed. 

“Shall we get an early start in the morning then? I’m afraid I don’t think that red sky will give us the luxury of taking our time,” Volo mused as he moved to hunker down beside her, words never accusing or harsh, always with an air of levity. 

“Yeah, probably a good idea to get a move on it,” she nodded, not taking her eyes away from the fire for a moment. But then she turned her gaze towards him with a smile, feeling that innate relief and comfort that always seemed to come with his presence. “Thank you again, Volo. You know, if this really works, you’ll be a hero,” she said with complete honesty, but also a hint of playful teasing. He blinked at her, eye wide and brow raised high.

“How exactly do you imagine that? You’re the one who’ll be having to face these trials, might I remind you.” 

“And it’s not as if anyone else would have been able to point me to Cogita’s doorstep, and gotten me the information on these trials,” she gave a firm nod of her head, “Nope, it’s all thanks to you.”

“Haha… I suppose that is true,” he chuckled quietly, thoughtful for a beat before he continued. “Though I’m more than happy to leave all future accolades to you. After all, I’m merely interested in-”

“The ruins,” her voice overlapped with his, laced with a laugh. His own laughter followed suit. 

“You know me too well,” he said praisingly, but in the back of her mind there was a blip of a thought: that she didn’t know him well enough at all. Not nearly as much as she wanted to, at least. 

Though, that was probably for the best. All of this stuff with the rift seemed connected with her, of course, but once this was solved, and she’d sought out all Pokemon as she was told… she’d be going back home, right? It wasn’t like she was avoiding making friends or any close connections, and she didn’t think she could have stopped it if she wanted to, but she was constantly aware that one day she would go home and leave all of this behind. At least, that was what she hoped. Or what she thought she hoped… 

For a while there, she’d been getting very comfortable with life here. She thought she was a part of Jubilife Village now… But now she had to wonder, how much of it had just been polite masks of friendship and civility, and how much doubt and mistrust had still lived on beneath those masks? Living in exile definitely made it feel a bit easier to want to go home these days. 

Part of her didn’t care so much about having her name and deeds slandered, she knew what she’d done, and why she’d done it, even if she didn’t always have the best answers or reasons, none of it had been out of malice or ill intent. But it still hurt… To have fought so hard, to have so many wounds marring her body for these people, and to be so easily cast out, as if on a whim. Even if she told herself ‘she understood’ why, it didn’t change the weight or the feeling of betrayal. 

“Vee…” Haruki nudged his head against her thigh, the ribbon around her ankles hugging her, soothing away some of the dark clouds in her heart. With a wry smile, she reached over to stroke her hand between his ears. 

“You alright? You got really quiet…” Volo spoke softly, and she nearly started at the sensation of his fingers delicately brushing the strands of her hair back from her face. 

“Oh, sorry…” shaking her head, she felt her cheeks warm as she sat up straighter. Yeah, she’d completely zoned out there for a minute, though maybe she could just chalk that up to the exhaustion and trauma. “What were we saying?” 

His lips slightly pinched, he tilted his head at her with a thoughtful hum. “Nothing important, I’m more curious what’s on your mind now.” 

It felt gently like concern, and she both appreciated that and… felt apologetic for it. He had already done so much for her, after all… 

“It’s nothing, really, just… still kind of coming to grips with it all,” she shrugged and stretched her arms out over her knees, trying to get fully back in her body as opposed to in her head. “There’s not really any time for that though, I know.” 

He was quiet for another brief moment, before he shifted a little, in a way that seemed almost to accept what she’d said and move along. His hand reached up to remove his cap, the other smoothing over his hair briefly before he fiddled with the hat in both hands. 

For just a split second, she instead made a different realization: he was fidgeting. Was he nervous about something?

“It’s a harsh, cruel world, isn’t it…?” he said very softly, and she couldn’t make out much from his expression in profile, that one silver eye locked on the simple patterns and threads of his cap. “No matter how much you do for them, how presentable you are to their expectations, you’ll always be an ‘outsider’ first.” 

And then, she had the sudden inkling that she was on the precipice of understanding… Just why he kept very carefully measured distances between himself and others. Polite, smiling, friendly, quick with a joke or a helping hand, but rarely did it seem to go much deeper. The people of Jubilife or the Celestica people, or even the other Ginkgo Guild merchants… Cogita, too, or so it seemed. 

She remembered when he’d found her napping in the Fieldlands that one day, not long after she’d first arrived. He’d extended cautious concern to her, but now she realized… He understood how hard this world could be. He had at least half expected her to be dead. 

And in a ‘harsh, cruel world’ where you had to struggle to survive, fit in, or get tossed out to the ravenous fangs of the wilds… Who could trust you if you were deemed an outsider? Who could you trust?

Suddenly, she felt very cold, and very lonely, and hugged her knees tighter. 

 “I think… that’s why it’s important to stick together,” she spoke in an almost helplessly small voice, her words feeling more like a desperate, foolishly hopeful prayer rattling coldly in her hollow chest. They were supposed to be warm, kindling to chase away the chill. “When we find the people we really connect with.” 

It was a simple, straightforward sentiment, one you could find anywhere. But she was talking to him, and she knew she was talking to him, because in this moment there was recognition. That all along, perhaps, he’d seen a bit of himself in her, and maybe that was why he’d always been a little kinder to her. Maybe that was why, even though it made him fidget with some discomfort, he opened up and gave voice to one tiny sliver of himself he didn’t allow others to see or hear. 

She felt him looking at her, and shyly raised her gaze to meet his. Again, she couldn’t quite make out what he might have been thinking, except that he seemed to be thinking deeply. Maybe he’d call her naive, or foolish. 

It wasn’t like she expected much… Almost all she wanted was a friend, someone who could accept her. And she would do the same, she’d never had a problem making friends after all… But she couldn’t help fear that he would laugh, or dismiss her, or turn her away. That she would lose the last warm, human connection she had.

The cool tips of his fingers touched the side of her face, and a shiver ran down her spine. For just a minute she couldn’t process this gesture or the reaction; some part of her brain tried, but failed. But then he was leaning closer, and her heart suddenly thudded against her rib cage as all parts of her brain were instead scattered into a frenzy. Surely he wasn’t- Was he? 

His eyes closed, and she felt his lips touch hers before her eyes fluttered shut as well. So sweet and soft - brief, but the moment lingered lazily around them. He didn’t push deeper for more, but instead slowly drew back, his hand drifting lower to rest against the side of her neck, thumb brushing her chin. 

“I…” his voice cracked slightly for how small it was, before he swallowed and gave a small shake of his head, close enough that the strands of his hair tickled her face. “I’m sorry, that was…” he mechanically pulled his hand back, and sat straighter. 

But she grabbed his hand and leaned back in, kissing him again. She didn’t want him to apologize, she just wanted him to keep kissing her. And she knew damn well she shouldn’t have. Hadn’t she just been telling herself she was going to leave after all of this, that it was better not to get too involved with people? But she also knew there wasn’t any helping matters where the heart was concerned. 

And how… How could she want to leave if she was falling in love with him?

Then, however, she felt what he’d probably felt; a rise of embarrassment at how sudden and forward this all was, and jerked back, face red. 

“Sorry- uh, I mean…” she shook her head, and he laughed - bright and jovial. 

“Perhaps we’re both getting a little ahead of ourselves?” he suggested with a smile, his hand holding onto hers. “Though I suppose I am the one who started it,” playfully, he gave a wave of his other finger. “I’ll accept any punishment you deem fit, Miss Akari.” 

Right, it was probably a rather serious offense in these times, wasn’t it? But she just laughed and shook her head, grateful for his levity, feeling a very real weight lifting off of her heart. Though, he was probably right, they were probably getting at least a little ahead of themselves. 

“Hmm, I’ll have to think up an acceptable punishment to fit the crime,” she grinned teasingly. No, she wasn’t going to call attention to the fact she’d kissed him back so they were pretty much even. “I’ll be merciful though, so don’t worry too much.”

“Truly, you are too kind,” he placed his hand over his chest and gave a bow of his head, and she laughed some more.

“Syl…!” beside her, Haruki chirped up, and Akari blushed as her laughter turned sheepish, petting him.

“Oh geez, I forgot we had an audience here,” she chuckled, “Don’t worry about me, Haruki, I’m feeling better now.” Which she said naturally, as Haruki was often very in tune to her emotions, and she wanted to simply reassure him. And not thinking at all that she was giving a rather obvious confession to just how happy that simple kiss had left her. 

Haruki was appeased though, giving her a happy little cheer and nudge of his head before settling back down to snooze. 

“Maybe he’s worried I’ll put him out of his job,” Volo teased musingly with a smirk, and Akari blinked back at him, taking just a moment to puzzle what he’d said and what she’d said together, before she felt that heat return to her face. 

“Haha, don’t be silly,” she shook her head, “Both of you are irreplaceable.” It was a simple enough thing to admit, even if it was still a little embarrassing. 

“Irreplaceable, huh?” he repeated, that surprised look on his face again, almost like she’d said something truly bizarre. For just a split second he went still again, gaze shifting away, and she thought it felt very similar to when he’d been fidgeting with his hat before. 

“Well, regardless… I had just wanted to say…” he spoke haltingly for a second, before he found his stride, “I agreed with what you said before. That we should stick together. After all, with my knowledge and your skills, I daresay we’ll accomplish much.”

“Like saving the world,” she said with a laugh and shake of her head, hugging her knees again. He was so close, she wanted to just… lean over against him, but managed to refrain. 

“But before we can hope to accomplish anything, I think you ought to get some rest. It’ll be you and your Pokemon facing the trials of the lakes, after all. Though, of course I’ll be cheering you on.”

Her gaze turned to the red skies as he spoke of rest and trials, sobering her slightly. 

“Mmm, yeah, all right,” she sighed and started moving to get herself laid down for sleeping. Yawning and half-asleep, Haruki followed suit. “But,” she spoke as she shifted around, “just you being with us is more than enough… It really does mean a lot to me, you know?” 

After all that exchange about outsiders and acceptance and sticking together, she was pretty sure he did. 

“I know,” he answered quietly, and she gave a small laugh to herself.

“Maybe you’re my good luck charm.”

“I’m afraid buttering me up won’t get you any discounts, my dear.”

She gave another laugh, curled up on her side with Haruki curled up against her stomach, watching as he pulled a book out from his bag. Though she might have told him he ought to get some rest too, it was probably for the best, or her thoughts and nerves might get the better of her. The former were already bouncing all over, thinking not about trials or red skies or exile, but kissing him again. Holding his hand again. Butterflies in her stomach thinking about him lying close to her, despite them each having their own bedroll. 

But rather than him falling into that steady focus while reading by the campfire she’d witnessed a few times by now since she’d known him, he shifted around towards her, leaning on one hand. Her heart thudded quietly once more, awed by the sight of him silhouetted in the glow of the fire, and that faint red glow from the night sky. 

“Rest well, Akari. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

That was obvious, of course, but the sentiment behind those words weren’t lost on her. Perhaps she presumed too much, but what else could she read from them? ‘I’m here. And I’ll be here. You can count on that.’ One of the few things that she could rely on, and the comfort she took in hearing it was not small as she hugged Haruki a little tighter to her with a smile. 

“Mm, you get some rest too…” she replied softly, and with a faint smile he turned back. “Good night, Volo.”

[esprei]

a closer look at the Togekiss and Togepi cards I did for the September magma session as well! i wanted to showcase Volo's close bond with his Togepi/Togekiss here ^^

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

Colress, exploring some ruins: *to the kids and Grimsley* They say that, 150 years ago, the ancestor of my cousin Cynthia cursed these ruins.

Volo, 150 years ago: Fuck these ruins.

[loki-ioki]

Volo but he's a Silvally (tech still a Type: Null but i couldn't be bothered to draw the helmet. so he "evolved" only for this)

[eev583]

Just Volo holding his daughter :3

I promise I'll draw more than just Volo and Kieran, just that they're my obsessions rn XD

[sexysilverstrider]

cynthia is so pretty and volo is so petty

[kazz-matazz]

i have never played PLA but i think volo is cool. also ive seen MANY spoilers ha

[swordofruln]

[mun] yall ever worry u dont fulfill expectations

[fairymint]

@gcd-fcrsaken replied to your post “PLOTS owo”:

LISTEN. LISTEN! HE HAS THREE ALREADY WHAT'S ANOTHER ONE

On one hand, Volo won't have to worry about having sole custody, or his kid being in good hands- On another, Felix can't exactly just raise a baby on a pokemon journey- gotta get a house for the little one to be protected in growing up-

[grismavessel]

Vessel AU: Pecharunt's Rot

The vessel au is about powerful legendary/mythical pokemon taking up human hosts/confidants e.i like Resirham and Zekrom would want hosts that embody their ideals for comfort and human connection or e.i like Arceus needing a helping hand in the form of turning someone into a puppet and guiding them along. Could be malicious, could be co-habitable and comfortable.

Kieran draws the short end of the stick.

Kieran finds Pecharunt before returning to the blueberry academy in Unova and strikes a deal. A devil's bargain.

Kieran is given strength and more willpower to become the best and strongest trainer, in turn, Pecharunt in brought to new lands and hitches a ride with Kieran.

Pecharunt isn't strong enough to just dip in and out of physical reality, it's no legendary, but it takes the form of Kieran's hair band and a 'scarf' instead to stay close.

While Kieran trains to become the champion, Pecharunt spread's the toxic chain to the pokemon in the terrarium. It corrupts the pokemon and infects the pokemon with malice and poison. The pokemon get stronger, but they also get weaker.

So does Kieran. He sleeps less, eats less, he's so unlike himself that Carmine can't even recognize her little brother anymore.

Unbeknownst to both Kieran and Pecharunt, their bond and traits are so similar, they blend into one another. Fusing into an amalgamation of toxic mentality of winning and never accepting losing, of take take take until they're nothing left.

Kieran starts to look stranger, act stranger.

(Also I threw in Volo because the main story of the vessel au has him getting no attention whatsoever from any cool possessive dieties so I had to give him more L's)

(feel free to use the design with credit!)

[lesbianralzarek]

if the tadfools played smash or pass with volo's guide to monsters, i really dont think wyll would answer "smash" on nearly as many monsters as he actually thinks are fuckable. i dont think he wants to open up his psychosexual stress + loneliness response that hes developed from monster hunting over the last 7 years for discussion. i think he was willing to share that mermaid thing because he assumed everyone wants to fuck mermaids

he'd say "smash" on gelatinous cubes thinking that surely, surely this is a relatable thing to say in a bonding moment with your party. fortunately for him, everyone else at camp is also weird, so he gets out unscathed

[leggerefiore]

When and what was the moment that made the characters realize they wanted kids? Not counting Ingo, who was probably listing baby names the second he fell for his partner.

cw: mentions of starting families and pregnancy

characters: Emmet, Cyrus, Volo, Grimsley

▽Emmet△

○ He simply felt he reached an age where settling down was just a thing one does. Well, that, and if Ingo had one already before him somehow, he simply had to follow after his brother. Truly, he had sporadically thought about kids in his life – mostly in the context of when Ingo would wax poetic about his simple dream of being a father. He decided he had very specific wants over the years – identical twin daughters. Logically, that was very much an improbable thing to occur, but he did not care. Speaking solely in terms of wants, it was that. Of course, he would try his hardest to make that a reality even if it was extremely unlikely. Ingo finds his strangely specific wants a bit disconcerting but supposes he should allow his younger brother to simply dream. Granted, after Emmet reaches a certain age, he really does start to seek out those things.

○ For his partner, it likely either comes up at random or after Ingo's partner has a child. Emmet becomes a bit whiny in the latter case, nearly pleading for a child. For the former, it is more of a casually serious discussion about future plans in life. He does understand that children are not always desired, but he does truly hope his partner feels the same way. Somewhere deep down, the younger twin does want to be a father. Of twins. He is very determined to have twins. His bond with his brother is something verrrry special to him that he wants his precious children to have as well. It was impossible to sway him from twins.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He only realises he wanted a kid far after he has one. Honestly, he never let the thought of becoming a father even cross his mind. It was simply too terrifying to consider. His childhood left him with many mental scars that he clearly was in no place to face or deal with healthily. Well, until after, he was forced to confront them and give up his insane goals of creating a world without spirit. Then, another incident would naturally follow, causing him more distress. To say he was beside himself at the news of his partner's situation would be putting it lightly. He found himself staring blankly into space, trying to figure out just how to handle such a terrifying and foreign situation. Cyrus never expected such a thing to befall him – He was always so careful and calculated. But, unfortunately for him, he, too, was a human man and allowed the same breadth for errors as anyone else.

☄️ Yet, in the end, as he holds his newborn daughter, his worries and panic come to a close. Yes, there will be far many challenges ahead to face and things he must finally address to come to terms with. In that single moment, as he stares at her sleeping face, he finds peace. From every terrible thing he faced in this world – and the irrationality of feelings – this sole being has put his heart to rest. When she unconsciously nuzzled into his chest, seeking either warmth or food (or perhaps just comfort), he allowed all his reservations to drop. He did not just want a child. No, in fact, he needed one. Now, he feels as if he truly can begin again.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ There was always a lingering desire for children in him – At least, there was since a certain painful moment in his past. Of the ancient Sinnoh people, only he and Cogita remained. One of his greatest desires, aside from that of earning Arceus's favour and thereafter subjugating its power, was to continue on his bloodline. It was desperate wish – One born of a perceived responsibility and need to find others like him. He was looked at strangely for so much of his youth, othered and treated as an oddity. There were many things that he needed to preserve from his culture. Myths, rituals, beliefs… He desperately needed to share these with someone he believed worthy. It would be the worst nightmare for him if these things fade into an obscurity and grow lost to time. But Volo struggled horribly to ever make a connection with anyone truly. Let alone find someone that he could deem worthy of carrying such a responsibility alongside him.

⭐️ Though, that was settled when Arceus's “chosen” appeared to him. Naturally, they were someone who dared oppose him so easily – even stopping his plans. It was frustrating to him, but at the same time, there were thoughts and unwanted feelings that bloomed inside of him. For all his struggles to find anyone that he may deem worthy of being with him (someone like him – someone who understood the horrible mistrust and pain of being othered), you seemed to fall out the sky to torment him in various ways. In the end, with everything said and done, you were the only person he ever could desire a family with. Despite his disappearance, he will reappear to you to offer such a thing. Volo can only hope that you say yes.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ Kids were seriously the last thing on his mind for many, many years. The gambler does not exactly have a lifestyle that meshes well with children running about. Really, his finances being constantly up and down would be a terrible thing for any kid to grow up in. And, he really was not ever sure there would be a circumstance in which one partner would ever hold his attention long enough to make him vaguely interested in a kid with them. Really, even if they were his children – he was not exactly the most hands-on and attached type in general. Though, when he finally did find himself in love. Well, now… Suddenly, there was a more appealing side to having children. Granted, it does not truly enter his mind until after his fall from “grace.”

♡ At his lowest point, with only his partner at his side, he finally feels as if he understands truly the appeal of a family. Whatever troubles he had with his own and their expectations for him, he felt he would never have that for his own kids. They would be free to be whatever they wanted. He only would be their to mentor them and remind them what happens when you play the game and lose. Suddenly, yes, a family has a big appeal for him. Settling down with his partner and finding peace from the din that was his life previously… Yeah, he feels. That is a nice change. Exactly what he needed. A certain Alolan police officer nearly has a heart attack during a call with Grimsley when he mentions wanting children. There is an attempt at swaying him not to follow.

[jadeazora]

Honestly, imo, Volo is the scariest mainline villain because, unlike Ghetsis, his nice guy act feels a lot more convincing.

Ghetsis may have had creepier actions with how he manipulated N from childhood, but given he just looks like a villain, I don't think the player would be inclined to trust a word he says about being for pro-Pokemon welfare, even before he starts letting the mask slip and we see how fucked up he actually is. (Not to mention he's just unconvincing to the player character too, with that "I--I mean, Team Plasma" thing.)

While a player might suspect Volo (since if Cyrus's ancestor is nice, it would be a good mirror to that to have Cynthia's be evil), the player character has no reason to distrust him. The game builds us having a bond with him, up to him initially being the only one there for us when we're completely helpless and banished from the village. He's nothing but kind and friendly to us, just like his descendant. It makes that betrayal much more effective, like no wonder Rei has PTSD from him in Masters.

It's even more unsettling when you realize that there's numerous times we're basically all alone with him, nobody else around for miles, like the only thing keeping us alive is we're getting the Plates for him. And we're none-the-wiser to that until the end of the story.

[ethanharmonia]

Volo showing off his worm to Emmet

Tw : Lore /hj

With Volo having severe dementia i do think that he would forget everything about pokemon battles and such as he used his powers for a very long time and slowly forgot about how pokemon battles worked. He is also not used to human interaction which makes it hard for him to understand what others are saying to him and hard to bond with humans as he strongly despises them. Volo currently doesnt have a main pokemon team but he brings along the ones that he has a good bond with (example, his Togekiss that he raised since he was a little goober), he doesnt use his pokemon for battling but rather just spending time with them, like ya know, like a family? (ah yes, bringing Arceus, Giratina, Palkia and Dialga as if its a completly normal thing for god himself LMAOOO)

Volo is just a single mom, leave him alone, he just wanna be with his kids than some goofy ahh humans💔

i might edit this later cuz my eyes are about to close like the gates (might also fix the drawing cuz i was in a rush)

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)

[colorful-bees]

When Volo talked to Cynthia about Pokemon who haven't fought out of desperation aren't as strong as the ones who have, I wonder exactly what he's referring to with that statement. He talks about how bonds forged in those life or death situations create Pokemon that can serve their wielders better and he's talking from personal experience.

Referencing exactly what he says, his words are, "You lack desperation. In this place, Pokemon battles are treated as friendly competition. You could never hope to win against people and Pokemon who have battled through harsh environments with their lives at stake. As a Pokemon wielder, I give my own Pokemon orders so that we can survive. Pokemon honed through life-or-death situations can better serve as swords and shields for people!"

I want to point out his use of "Pokemon and people," and "I give my own Pokemon orders so that we can survive." He's not only talking about Pokemon fighting through harsh conditions, he's referring to both people and Pokemon in those situations; the human is also in life threatening danger in this scenario. Even more interestingly, he uses a personal anecdote. He's talking about himself, at least partially.

In P:LA, we never see Volo fighting in a desperate, life threatening situation. The only time I can think of is Spear Pillar but not even that really matches up with the way he chooses to phrase this, nor would I exactly call him desperate in that moment. He's talking about "harsh environments" and "surviving" and "life-or-death." So whatever he's referring to here, it was before P:LA and I'm willing to bet it relates back to whatever vague, horrible event(s) that happened in his past that's occasionally alluded to and I'm once again curious about what exactly that could be.

If he's being truthful, this is actually such a big insight into how he got into this mindset of "Pokemon are tools to be wielded, I'm not friends with them ect." We obviously don't know the specifics of what happened to him in the past but we have more clarification than we once did. Survival is now introduced as another factor into why he treats his Pokemon the way he does and it honestly makes a lot of sense with Hisui being the region it is but the question still remains of what specifically happened to him that caused this world view to form?