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midnightbrushandquill · 3 years ago

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The Mind Fills in the Blanks.

There is a blind spot, in the vertebrate eye. A small patch where there is nothing to catch the light and transform it into a signal, only a bundle of nerve fibres, passing through the retina. The brain smooths this spot over, filling it in until it is unrecognizable that any patch of info was ever missing at all. This blind spot can be perceived, but only if one actively looks for it.

(Or, my friend last weekend made the comment of ‘What if Emmet forgot Ingo when he got pulled to Hisui’ and the thought has been rattling in my mind ever since).

Word count: ~4800

(The entire fic has an overall touch towards unreality, fair warning)

The first time Emmet thinks something might be wrong, he doesn’t notice it as such. It is a fleeting moment, a wayward thought that not so much strikes him, as gently builds; almost imperceptible among other thoughts and tasks demanding his attention, until it is undeniable.

He is manning the Singles train, waiting for a challenger to reach the requisite number of uninterrupted victories when, as the train pulls to a stop at a station, a small growing unease manifests into a singular thought.

I am not supposed to be here.

A wave of panic follows the thought. Was he on the wrong train? Did he read the schedule wrong? If he wasn’t supposed to be here, where was he supposed to be? Who was supposed to be manning this line instead?

He manages to pull the emergency brake on the train of thought before it can derail him completely. He is Emmet. He is the Subway Boss of Gear Station. He would not mess up his schedules. Besides, he is already a third of the way through the route, and if he had somehow boarded the wrong train, one of his employees would have radioed him to let him know. He has received no such calls, ergo, he must be in the correct place.

If the train leaves the station a half second behind, the only one who knows is Emmet.

The second time it happens, the thought that something is wrong is a conscious one, but he has nothing to link it to.

He is on the Multi Line this time, finishing a battle with Cameron at his side. He has just finished the first two sentences of his prepared script (“I am Emmet. I won together with Cameron.”) when he is almost overrun by a wave of intense sadness. He does not understand why he is sad. There is nothing to be sad over. They won the battle, and Emmet likes winning more than anything else! And yet, he is indescribably, unbearably sad.

He almost stumbles on the rest of his prepared response, but it is a script, a script he has said so, so many times since he became the Subway Boss, and he is able to finish it. If he seems more subdued than usual - if there is something of a peaked underlay to his already relatively flat tones - the two trainers disembarking as the train pulls to a stop do not notice. They wave, promise to come back and beat them (one of them makes a joke about coming on a week when Cameron is not there; an empty threat, Emmet knows this trainer only boards the trains where Cameron is on the schedule), and step off.

Just like that, the sadness is gone, but the memory of it is not. Emmet too, steps off the train in what he feels is a perfectly confident manner and makes his way towards his office. He hears Cameron’s call about taking care of disembarking procedures, and lifts his hand in an acknowledging wave as he climbs the stairs up from the platform.

He is supposed to be doing paperwork, but he can’t get his mind off the strange feeling. What could possibly have caused it? He has no reason to be sad. The Battle Subway is doing well, it is just as popular as ever, Emmet has only lost two battles today when he was on the Doubles line in the morning. All in all, it has been as normal a work day as work gets, and Emmet loves his work.

Given the onset of the feeling, it seems reasonable to link it to battling with Cameron, but, no. That doesn’t make sense either. Emmet has battled alongside Cameron countless times before. Cameron is a good battler; not quite on Emmet’s level, but he holds his own, and meshes well with Emmet’s tactics, as they have trained. Emmet may be the only Subway Boss, but his depot agents are formidable in their own right. They have to be, in order to cover for him on the lines where he is not working, as he moves around the schedule.

He wonders, sometimes, why they have so many battle lines. Emmet is only one person, and his love for the subway does not make up for the fact that the workload is far too much for one person. He could close some down, convert them to normal transit, but, no.

That doesn’t feel right.

He could promote one of his agents? None of them were on his level, but surely he could use the help of another full-time Subway Boss?

The thought of another Subway Boss who isn’t-

The thought of another Subway Boss makes him sick.

He grabs one of the pieces of paperwork from the stack and forces himself to focus on it, taking sips of water to settle the nausea. That was unfair of him. His Depot Agents are all good people. It is verrrry rude of him to react so poorly to even the thought of one of them sharing his job.

He chalks it up to an after effect of that weird feeling from earlier, and focuses on the feeling of pen moving across paper instead.

By the time Cameron comes to check on him, he has no answers for his slight derailment earlier, and the feeling that caused it is as good as forgotten.

V-VI

It is a long time before anything else occurs out of place enough for him to truly notice, and this time, it happens twice in 24 hours. He is visiting his Uncle Dryden for Iris’s birthday. He is not keen to leave the Battle Subway if not necessary, but even he knows that he needs to take a break for maintenance, and it is good to see family again. Uncle Drayden, and by extension, Iris, are the only family he has left (well, besides Elesa, who has become as near to a sister as he can imagine over the years).

The league is throwing a proper party for her, all fancy outfits, and important trainers meeting at the same station to network (there are no cocktails, Iris is still a child after all). Even if he wasn’t family, Emmet would have been expected to make an appearance anyways as the head of Unova’s battle facility. If Iris had not been family, Emmet probably would not have gone. He does not like parties. He was not good at conversation, and he is afraid of making a scene if the lights and noises overwhelm him. Elesa, as a gym leader, is there, of course, but it is rude of him to expect Elesa to stay with him to make up for his lack of skill with words.

But Iris is family, so Emmet is standing at the side of a large event space, wearing a fancy outfit Elesa has picked out for him, and watching as Elesa steps away from his side to converse with a visiting gym leader from another region. He does not really want to be here, but Iris has agreed to have a double battle with him the next morning, which is at least something exciting to look forward to.

As he watches Elesa flit from guest to guest with an ease he wishes he could mirror, a waiter passes by with a tray of canapés. Emmet takes one. It is good, and, on what seems like instinct, Emmet turns to his right, raising a hand as if to gesture, his lips slightly parted with unplanned speech.

The words die on his lips. There is no one there. Of course there is no one there, he already knows Elesa is across the room. Why had he expected someone to be standing there? He lowers his hand and munches on the canapé. The strange occurrence settles over him in a funk that he cannot shake.

Emmet skips the rest of the party.

The next occurrence happens the next morning, after his battle with Iris. He had lost to her, but it had been verrrry fun, certainly much better than the formal party. They have relocated to a much more private setting; a private party just for family. Emmet is bringing food and water to their Pokémon outside, and as he steps back inside to grab some more dishes, he catches the tail end of a conversation Dryden and Iris are having in the kitchen.

He does not hear all of it, does not even hear anything significant. All in all, he hears only five words, buried in a sentence that blurs to nothing as static settles over him.

“...it's lonely at the top…”

He does not know why the words have such an effect on him. It is not a saying he is unfamiliar with, and Emmet is not lonely. Maybe, he does not have a large circle of friends, but his current circle is a manageable number. Sure, he would not say he is close to any of his employees, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? They work well together, keep the trains moving on time smoothly, day in, and day out. The Depot Agents put up with his eccentricities; if anything, he would say sometimes they find them almost endearing.

Emmet is not lonely, so why can he suddenly not breathe? Why is he filled with such a gut-wrenching feeling over a simple saying?

Grasping at the wall, he manages to stay upright, and turn himself around. It is Iris’s birthday, and he will not let unwanted feelings ruin the moment.

Outside, his Pokémon are happy to comfort him as he collapses among them; happy to fill a hole in his heart he cannot explain.

Emmet is not lonely. He has Elesa, and his Pokémon, and-

When Iris and Drayden come out to see what is taking Emmet so long, the static is gone. He is not even sure why he was upset in the first place.

He is with Elesa this time. They are sitting on the couch in his apartment, watching a bad movie, the kind of movie he would normally provide brash, biting commentary for. His heart isn’t in it. He is still thinking about a moment earlier at work. One of the agents had brought up the idea of renovating the empty office across the hall from him, and Emmet had all but shouted him down. He had been required to switch tracks, excuse himself and end the meeting early before he fully derailed. He could not explain the outburst, Emmet never went into the office. It was not even in use for storage. It made sense to renovate it, to make efficient use of the space.

And yet, Emmet could not stomach the thought of it changing. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the layout: a perfect mirror to his own, the decorations in dark colours where his were light, but a similar collection of books and manuals stacked neatly on the shelves. He could imagine sitting across the desk, working on paperwork from the visitor’s chair.

The image made no sense. Why would he ever do that? He could not ever remember doing such a thing when his own office was available. And yet, something about the image was so natural and comforting that he could not shake it.

And he could not allow the office to change.

The conviction of his feelings, the raw emotion that had caused his outburst were gone. He could not even locate their tracks if he tried. But the memory of the outburst was real and fresh, and embarrassing. He had not meant to shout at his agent.

“Emmet, if you stare any harder you’re going to burn a hole in the TV. Everything Goodlett?”

Emmet does not bother responding to the extraordinarily bad pun except to sigh.

“I am Emmet. I am sorry Elesa. I am not feeling well.”

There is a hand on his forehead. “Hmm… You don’t feel warm.”

“I do not think I am physically ill. It is the circuitry in my cab that has gone awry.”

“Bad day at work?” He nods, and Elesa continues. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Does he? He is not good with words, but Elesa is like a sister to him. He is comfortable with her in a way he is not with strangers. He knows she will be patient if he stumbles over his words. He is not sure he can explain, but Elesa is good at understanding him (Not perfect, not in the way In-), maybe she will be able to make sense of the things that have been happening.

It takes him several minutes to put together the words he wants to use. Elesa pretends to watch the movie the entire time, as though she is not waiting for a response to her question.

“I do not want to change the empty office at Gear Station.”

Elesa looks over at him and makes a small hum in the back of her throat. “So don’t. It’s not like you need the space for anything right?”

Emmet nods.

Elesa scrunches up her face at him. “I��m definitely missing something here. This shouldn’t derail you that much Emmet.”

Emmet sinks into the couch. His smile falters. “I... yelled at Furze when they suggested it. They are on schedule for the Multi line with me tomorrow. Our coupling may come undone.”

Elesa reaches forward and grabs the take-out boxes off the coffee table, handing one the Emmet. He takes it, hurriedly putting food in his mouth as Elesa speaks around much more careful bites. “You apologized, right?” Emmet nods. He does not mention the cut-short meeting, or the fact that it had not occurred to him that he needed to apologize to Furze until hours later, because they should have known that changing that office was not an option.

“Then I’m sure it’ll be fine. Ask Furze tomorrow if they want to switch schedules, if you think you can handle that,” Elesa is continuing. Emmet lets her speak.

“Don’t feel you have to answer this Emmet, but why is it such an issue? It’s just an empty office, right? I mean, you’re blunt, and to the point - anyone who knows you knows that - but you don’t yell. You barely even raise your voice, not like-” she cuts off, a strange look passing over her face. Emmet freezes, and forces himself to swallow. Was she feeling it too? Experiencing one of those strange, inexplicable moments he thought only plagued him? The look passes and Elesa continues, no sign of oddity in her voice. “You must have felt very strongly about it to yell.”

It is the question he has been dreading. The one he cannot even answer to himself. He puts the takeout box back down, appetite gone, and stares down at his hands, playing with the edge of the blanket that is spread out across their legs. He cannot meet her gaze, and when he finally speaks, it is in little more than a whisper. “I do not know.”

Elesa does not say anything, and he does not look up at her, but he knows, all the same, from the years they have known each other, the worried expression on her face. He knows she is waiting for him to say more, but is giving him the time he needs to find the words. He knows too, that Elesa will not blame him, will not be mad if he says nothing more, if he cannot find the words. For this reason, and many more, he wants to be able to explain further. So he sits, willing his mind to find the tracks that led to his outburst earlier.

“Did you want me to pause the movie?” Elesa interrupts his thoughts only once. He shrugs, then nods his head, still lost in his thoughts. The background noise of the movie stops, replaced by the quiet beeps and pings of Elesa fiddling with her phone.

He does not know how long it takes, but finally he finds the tracks that lead to the station he has been searching for - or at least ones that lead somewhere close. He remembers the thoughts he had earlier, about the strange recollection of events that never happened, the way the thought of change had filled him with such an intense nausea.

He relays this, shaky and stuttering over his words, to Elesa.

She does not respond, and when he looks up at her, she is staring at him with that same strange look on her face. “It’s oddish,” she finally says, turning to stare over the back of the couch, in the direction of Emmet’s bedroom, “But I know what you’re talking about. It’s like with your spare room. I don’t think I’ve ever been in there, but when you were talking about the inside of that office, I realized I know exactly what that bedroom looks like.” She frowns, her expression twisting as she places a well-manicured hand over her heart. “I don’t normally even think about it, but you have a perfectly serviceable spare room, and yet you sleep on the couch when I stay over.”

Emmet says what he knows they are both thinking. “That room belongs to someone else.”

It is a thought that doesn’t make sense - a train on a solitary track, unconnected to the rest of the system. Emmet lives alone, has lived alone since the day he moved to Nimbasa…. and yet it feels right. That room, with its black duvet, and trinkets that are like Emmet’s, but not quite, belongs to someone who isn’t Emmet.

Elesa is nodding rapidly now. “Eggs-xactly! It’s like that mug I have. You know, the black one, with the trains on it?” Emmet nods. He has seen the one she is talking about, he gave her one with the same pattern but in white some years ago, “Every time you come over and I pull that white cup down, I find myself wondering why I have the black one. You don’t use it, and yet, I feel like I’m supposed to be pulling it down at the same time. I have no reason to still have it, yet the thought of getting rid of it breaks my heart.”

Finally Emmet has someone else to talk to about the strange moments that seem to keep happening. About the little pieces he cannot explain of a life he has not lived, a person he does not know, and yet misses wholeheartedly.

They never un-pause the movie. Elesa has an early morning at work the next day; Emmet has an early morning at work every day of the week but one. They promise to talk more about strange feelings, to tell each other the moment one happens, before they can forget. Elesa hugs him goodbye, and Emmet goes to bed.

In the morning, neither of them remember what they had discussed the night before.

When he finally breaks, it is an accident. He is running late. A delay in his schedule caused by an unexpected communication breakdown between his Pokémon over who would join him on the Singles line that day. It is an easy argument to resolve, but it causes enough of a delay that he needs to rush in order to arrive at the station on time.

As he is sweeping through the apartment, grabbing everything he needs for the day, the edge of his coat catches on a photo frame and sends it crashing to the ground. Emmet stoops, barely breaking his movement to pick it up and set it back on the shelf where it belongs, but when he does, the glass has cracked, and he feels that static settle over him again. The cracked glass should not be a big deal. He can get it replaced, and it is not as though the crack, although large, is actually obscuring anything important in the photo. It is a photo of him and Elesa, his arm over her shoulders, hers around his waist, smiling brightly in front of Gear Station. The crack stretches from the top of the frame, above Elesa’s head, and down over her shoulder; splitting as a point just beside her to fork out to the left and down. The two of them can still be seen clearly, so why does the crack bother him so much?

He squints, peering down closer at the photo. Why was it taken at that distance, and with that framing? They are standing in front of Gear Station, which he knows because of course he knows what Gear Station’s entrance looks like, but the station is not the focus of the shot. The shot is too tight for the subject to be anything but Elesa and himself, and yet…. It is framed in such an odd way. There is only the two of them, but Elesa is centered in the frame, and enough space has been given to her right for an entire other person to be there. Emmet's field of knowledge is not photography, but even he knows it is a bad photo, so why does he have it displayed so prominently in his home?

He brings the photo closer to his face, as though that will somehow erase the crack and let him see what is beneath it clearer. It doesn’t, of course, and yet, there is a strange feeling as he moves the photo around. As though his eyes are sliding off of the frame, away from where the crack is, even when he centers it in his field of view. It is as though his mind does not want to look at what is to the right of Elesa in the photo.

His mind urges him to put the photo down, to stop delaying his schedule any further and to get his cab moving. His heart has locked his fingers on the frame, locked his feet to the floor, unwilling to let go of even the faintest hint of-

Of-

Of something. No, someone. Someone who he misses with an intensity so hard it is blinding. Someone who he is profoundly lonely without.

He sinks to his knees, his schedule abandoned, clutching the frame to his chest.

He is reminded, suddenly, of a moment in science class at school. Of the teacher handing out sheets of paper with a spaced out ‘R’ and ‘L’ on them. Of being walked through the process of closing one eye and focusing on the paper, moving it back and forth until one of the letters disappeared. ‘The physiological blind spot’ the teacher had called it. A spot where the eye doesn’t have any way to receive the light that comes in, but that the brain fills in so it is not noticed.

It is not the same thing. He is not trying to make a letter disappear on a paper, he is trying to see a cracked spot in a photo that his mind refuses to acknowledge. But…

Maybe it will work all the same.

Emmet closes his left eye and holds the photo up, staring intently at the crack in the photo, willing his eyes to stay stable, to not slide away. He moved the photo back and forth, in and out from his face in varying distances, and-

There.

It is a man.

There is a man standing to Elesa’s right in the photo. The split in the crack is right where his face is, obscuring it from view, but Emmet can make out the rest of him. He is Emmet’s height. He is wearing a version of Emmet’s uniform, but black, where Emmet’s is white. Like Emmet, he has an arm wrapped around Elesa’s shoulders, their arms over-lapping behind her, their gloved hands resting casually on each other’s arms. How… How had he not noticed that before?

Both Emmet and the man are pointing towards the camera. Emmet with his left hand, the man with his right.

The photo blurs, but this time, it is because his eyes have filled with tears. He cannot make out the man’s face, but he knows, with a certainty that rises from the depth of his soul, that the man shares his face. He can see, maybe not in his mind’s eye, but in his heart, the frown on the man’s face that is not at all indicative of the happiness Emmet can see in the rest of it.

Emmet is not the Subway Boss of Gear Station, he is a Subway Boss of Gear Station.

He does not live alone.

He is one of two. A twin. A two-car train, permanently coupled, only separable at the yard.

Someone had separated them. And he had forgotten.

He still cannot remember the man’s name. (His older brother, his other half, his twin), but other memories flood his mind, no longer hidden behind a blur of unknowing. Memories of the two of them setting off on their Pokémon journey, nervous, excited, but together. Of late nights spent studying together in a dorm in Nimbasa, preparing for a future on the subway lines. Of the three of them (Him, his twin, and Elesa) sitting in cafés, or wandering the amusement park, Casteliacones and cotton candy in their hands. Of his twin’s exuberant joy at the puns Emmet found so disappointing.

Him and his twin, congratulating Iris at becoming champion.

Waving to his brother as he boarded the Singles line, and Emmet the doubles.

Late nights spent discussing Pokémon, and battle tactics, and trains.

Standing side by side with his brother in the Multi lines; a battle style that flowed together with such fluidity, that it seemed hard to imagine he could ever battle alongside anyone else.

His voice, loud, where Emmet’s is soft. Expressive in a way people frequently tell Emmet he is not.

“We make a good two-car train, I- and Emmet. This time, we worked together toward a victory.”

The strange moments, the sudden feelings uncoupled from the moment at hand, the memories and surety of things that would be gone if he stopped thinking about them for too long, all suddenly make sense.

His twin is the one that runs the Singles lines.

His twin is the one who owns the office across from him.

His twin is the one who should be sleeping in the second bedroom of their apartment.

His twin is the one who is always at his right, who talks for the both of them when Emmet cannot.

His twin.

Of course Emmet is lonely without his twin.

“I am Emmet. I won together with In-”

In-

Ing-

“I am Emmet. I lost together with Ingo.”

Ingo.

How could he forget. What cruel fate could have torn them apart and erased him so thoroughly from the minds of those who loved him?

How could Emmet have forgotten him?

Emmet realizes that, if he stops thinking about Ingo, he will forget him again.

He does not realize how much time has passed until Elesa comes by, letting herself in because he does not answer her knocks or calls.

When she comes in, shouting his name, he is only able to respond with the sound of knocking over the pen holder on his desk, but the sound of pens scattering, the worried chirping of his Pokémon as he refuses to respond to them, is enough for her to pinpoint his location.

When she enters the bedroom, she finds Emmet sitting at his desk. He is surrounded by worried Pokémon, pens scattered around him, and his coat has been discarded on the floor. His right arm is stretched across the desk, clutching a cracked photo frame, the sleeve of his shirt rolled back. He is writing desperately on his skin with a pen.

“Emmet?” she calls. He does not answer.

She places a worried hand on his shoulder and looks at what he is doing. It is only three words, but it floors her in the same way a broken photo frame had shattered Emmet.

Don’t forget Ingo.

It won’t be until years later that Emmet has the glass in the photo frame repaired.

#Pokemon #Submas #Emmet #subway boss emmet #pla #writing #fanfic #third-person #blankshippers dni #unreality #if there are other safety tags I should add please let me know #midnightquill

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midnightbrushandquill · 2 years ago

Text

Linear Alternator - Chapter 3

Linear Alternator: Chapter 3

Tags: non-graphic injury, PLA protagonist is not DPPt protagonist, Gaslighting, its not done on purpose (except maybe volo) but it does happen, Tags to be updated as we go, Free-range POV

Summary: When Ingo disappeared, Emmet lost his spark. Elesa was doing her best, but it wasn't enough. Even as close as they were, she wasn't his brother, and Emmet needed his brother. So she was going to get him back, no matter what.

With the rift closed, Rei really thought things were starting to get better. He hadn't seen Ingo for three weeks now, which shouldn't have been abnormal, given the circumstances, but then, normal circumstances didn't include everyone seemingly having forgotten his existence, did they? And if Ingo had never existed in Hisui, then who is the real warden of Sneasler, and how come Rei is the only one who cant remember her?

First || Previous ||

On AO3

The evening sun draped the Alolan landscape, painting it with bright swatches of yellow-orange, accentuated by the deep shadows that claimed where the sun's gaze was obstructed. In a small cottage on Melemele Island, the west-facing window of a small study provided the perfect target for the sun's light to change from a brush to an arrow. Tiny packets of energy, crossing 152 million kilometers to strike with what could almost be mistaken for a vengeance, if their current target hadn't been sure she had done nothing to anger the legendaries of Alola in her time there.

Reaching forward, the occupant of the study twitched the curtain more firmly in place and returned her attention to the laptop in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Akemi, you were saying?”

The figure on the other end of the call frowned. "It's not too late where you are, is it? I should have caught you before you headed back to Alola."

"Sun's still up here. How was it you thought I could help? You understand fashion is far from my area of expertise."

Akemi nodded enthusiastically. "I suppose it is a good thing, then, that fashion isn't what I need help with! I had hoped, instead, that you would be willing to consult on the history instead."

"Oh? Any particular period?"

"My current collection is focused on the late-Sanshyuu, early-Shinpi period, particularly the intersection between the mythology of the clans and the birth of Jubilife during the period."

"I understand now why you're reaching out to me."

Another nod. "Well, you are 'the Researcher of Myths', are you not?"

Cynthia leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Indeed I am. Colour me intrigued at the very least Akemi. Send me some more details and I'll look over it. Even if I can't commit, I might be able to direct you to some descendants of the clan themselves."

Akemi's eyes positively sparkled at this news. "Would you? I actually have heritage from the Diamond clan myself, but I've struggled trying to find an expert for the Pearl clan. It's almost as though they scattered to the winds as Sinnoh developed."

Cynthia made a non-committal noise of acknowledgement and tapped her fingernails against the desk. Akemi's observation wasn't far off from the truth, but if what Cynthia had found over the course of her research was correct, the Pearl clan likely wouldn't have agreed with the implications of the why.

On the other end of the call, Akemi finished typing something and gave a definitive nod. "There, I've sent you the overview package. Let me know when you've had a chance to look over it."

On cue, Cynthia's computer pinged with an incoming email. She leaned forward to click the notification. "If you give me a moment, I can skim over it now."

Akemi nodded their agreement, and Cynthia navigated to open the attachment on the email.

Briefly, as she flicked through the images in the attachment, the ghost of a thought crossed her mind. In particular, an image of a young woman playing a vertical flute twinged at her concentration. Hadn't she had a conversation about something similar recently? Something about Hisuian mythology surrounding the association between the flutes used by the clans (and the Celestica people before them) and some other, far more ancient artifacts? It had been a rather extensive one, she was pretty sure, and yet…

The thought slipped her mind, whatever conclusion it was hinting at refusing to go any further than the tip of her tongue. Shaking the thought away, she continued to flip through Akemi's well-thought out proposal. While she didn't linger on any particular details, it still took her several moments to flick through the entire document. At the end of it, she sat back in the chair at the desk.

Despite her attempts to dismiss it earlier, that ghost thought had refused to stay gone, constantly pulling at her attention, but frustratingly, refusing to ever manifest into something concrete. She privately thanked Arceus that years as the Sinnoh champion had taught her to school her expression, especially to hide frustration that was entirely internally directed. It wasn't fair to challengers, who wouldn't necessarily be able to discern, when faced with the frustration of a powerful and accomplished trainer, that it wasn't them that frustration was aimed at. The skill came in handy now as Akemi's face waited patiently for her verdict.

"This looks quite good, as a base," she finally decided, once again pushing that aggravating, yet persistent thought to the side, "I'll have to check with the Legends about my schedule here, but if you're fine managing the timezone difference, I believe I can offer my assistance with this project."

Akemi's face lit up with delight. "Oh good! Thank you Cynthia!"

"Thank me when we've actually made this official. I'll let you know as soon as I can."

Despite her protest, Akemi rained several more instances of thanks, before their on-screen movements telegraphed that they were about to hang up. "I'll just get out of your hair Cynthia, thanks again."

"Akemi, wait." Cynthia said, her mouth moving faster than her brain. "Out of curiosity, do you have any ideas on models you'll be working with?"

Akemi hesitated and a frown flickered on their face. "Nothing concrete. The usual suspects, I imagine. My agent wants me to bring in someone with a little more presence in the industry, especially outside of Sinnoh, but I don't really have those kind of contacts yet." They paused. The frown shifted into a hopeful smile. "I did get lucky to swing a meeting with a model from Nimbasa though." They laughed, "It would have been around the time you were in Sinnoh, actually."

"Elesa?" The name was out of her mouth before she could properly think about it, but this time she knew why she had said it. Elesa had been in Sinnoh recently. She had stayed longer than Cynthia had, but they'd had the opportunity to meet with her while they were both in the same region for what had felt like the first time since Cythia had officially succeeded the Championship to Dawn.

She… couldn't quite remember what they'd spoken about. A bit odd, for such a recent event, but she had been very busy on that trip, and their meeting had been more chance than planning. The details must have slipped her mind among the myriad of work meetings she'd had with Palmer and the other Frontier Brains.

On the screen, Akemi looked confused. "Elesa? I… don't think I'm familiar, no."

Hmm… Elesa had been on vacation she supposed, and while she was undoubtedly the most famous, she wasn't the only model who lived in Nimbasa. She would have thought Akemi would have recognized her name at least, though. "Who then, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, sure. Ingo. He hasn't actually committed yet."

Cynthia felt as though her mind had just skipped a beat. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

They were only too happy to oblige. "Ingo? He's a gym leader too, if I remember correctly."

It was now Cynthia’s turn to be confused. “In Nimbasa?”

“Yes? I thought you knew most of the Unovan gym leaders, Cynthia.”

Cynthia’s experience as an ex-Champion (this time, experience in dealing with reporters) saved her once again. “Only about a third of them, actually, although I’ve likely met many of them in passing at conferences, or world tournaments. I just didn’t realize Ingo was also a model." She flashed a smile. "I’m not exactly up-to-date on the world of men’s fashion.”

Akemi nodded in understanding. “Yes, it does tend to draw less attention outside of the industry itself, doesn’t it? This time I’ll really get out of your hair though. Thanks again!” They hung up, and Cynthia deflated into her chair.

Scrubbing at her face, she desperately tried to make sense of the strange turn the (otherwise completely ordinary) conversation had taken at the end.

She hadn't been able to visit Nimbasa on her first trip to the region, and had not spent much time there on subsequent visits, but she knew the Subway Masters by reputation. Everything she had heard about them suggested that them being a pair was part of their whole shtick. Like the Battle Chatelaines, much of their facility marketing (whether on purpose or by serendipity) painted them as a set. It wasn't an uncommon approach for facilities with more than one Frontier Brain at the head (the Battle Tree did something similar, with the Legends), but it seemed more prevalent when those facility heads were related. It was especially egregious in Unova though, where twins were so deeply entwined with local culture and history.

Ingo and Emmet had always seemed to lean into the depiction, so why would one of them…

But Cynthia didn't know them personally, for all that they were friends of a friend. There was always the possibility of there being much she wasn't seeing, and if there was, she never would have heard of it from Elesa.

She tried to think of the last time she had heard any news about the Subway Masters. Even if news of one (or both) of them leaving the Battle Subway hadn't made news outside of the region, it should have at least spread throughout the battle facility community fairly quickly. A facility head change going unannounced, within the community, would be like a league not communicating a change in Champion.

She couldn't remember any such report. Had it only gone out to the facility heads (of which, she was not)? The news had to be public, or Akemi wouldn't have mentioned it, but maybe they were saving the industry announcement for inclusion in an official newsletter?

But… what about Elesa?

Were they sharing the gym?

Had she retired her position?

If the news was public, why hadn't Elesa mentioned it those few weeks ago? Or had she, and Cynthia just couldn't remember?

Why couldn't she remember what their conversation had been about?

Why…

Akemi hadn't seemed to have recognized Elesa's name at all.

The pace of her fingers tapping against the desk accelerated as Cynthia drew closer and closer to a conclusion she already knew she was not going to like. Her stomach felt as though it had oriented to a gravity different from the one she lived in, and a feeling hovered menacingly over her shoulders. One that she hadn't felt since a disillusioned man had blown up a lake and tried to conquer two gods.

Something was terribly wrong.

The door to the office creaked, and the firm weight of a dragon was soon pressed down on her shoulders, while feathers surrounded her from the other side. A gentle aroma infused the room, replacing the sour taste filling her mouth.

The fingers stopped tapping and reached up to stroke at the pokémon surrounding her instead.

Several moments, a few deep breaths, and a fortifying glass of ice-water later, Cynthia returned to her desk and leaned over her laptop. Thinking you knew the facts was not the same as actually having those facts. She needed proof, evidence. She was a researcher, and a researcher didn’t stop researching just because they thought they wouldn’t like what the truth was.

She started with the Unovan league and Gear Station staff pages.

Just as Akemi had said, Ingo was listed as the gym leader for the Nimbasa Gym, but the dates reflected that he would have been a gym leader during both incidents with team Plasma. He wasn’t on the Gear Station page at all. There was another figure as the second Subway Master instead, Cilan. She put him aside for the moment, the base information she could see about him remained accurate to her recollections.

She dug a little deeper. Eventually, she found record of Ingo at Gear Station, but only as part of promotional events, and exhibition matches, or in social media posts where he posed as a challenger. The characteristic coat was lacking in most of the images she found.

She couldn’t find Elesa on either site. She wasn’t on the Nimbasa Gym’s direct site either. Her online portfolio didn’t exist, nor did her social media.

It was as though the stars had gone out, and Elesa had ceased to exist.

How long ago had this happened? If Cynthia had let Akemi hang up the first time, how long would it have taken Cynthia to find out? She considered Elesa a good friend, but they were not in constant contact with each other.

Whatever was going on, it would take more than some cursory research to get to the bottom of.

The next step, or one of them, would be to reach out to the other Unovan gym leaders; to figure out just who did and didn't remember things as they should be. She would have to figure out exactly how to ask that question first though, and she did not have the mental fortitude to dive into that at the current moment. Besides, her instincts told her that something like this had a legendary (or mythical) pokémon involved, and if that was the case…

She needed to talk to someone else who had experience and exposure with such beings.

Hopefully she wasn't in a match right now and would be able to take the call.

Cynthia was in luck. The call rang only twice before the stock phone image on the screen was replaced by the view of a camera pointed at a young woman's face. "Cynthia! Hi!" She smiled, "One sec, I'm going to have rotom float."

Sure enough, the view quickly shifted as the phone re-oriented itself, providing a better view of the scene.

Dawn was currently kneeled next to a Luxray, flanked on the other side by a second. Beside the second Luxray, a man with spiky blonde hair was applying a potion to it. "As you can see, Volkner is here. We were just doing some one-on-one work with our Luxrays."

Cynthia eyed the electric-type specialist, giving him a wave. He nodded back. "Good to see you both. Do you have a moment, Dawn? I know it's peak season for league challenges right now."

Dawn shared a glance with Volkner, who had pulled out his own phone in response to the question. He gave her a thumbs up. "Current challenger just lost to Flint." He stood up, taking the unspoken hint, and returning his Luxray to its ball. "I should probably get back to work myself. Dawn, let me know if the League ever changes its mind on letting me remodel."

Dawn laughed, waving him off from her spot on the floor, but waiting until he was gone to speak again. "Everything okay Cynthia? You have that serious look on your face."

"Yes-" Cynthia cut herself off, and pursed her lips. "No, actually, but I don't want to burden you until I'm more sure of exactly what I'm dealing with. You already have a lot on your plate."

"Hey! I'm the champion, I can handle it! I handled Cyrus and Team Galactic, didn't I?" Her tone was jovial, but her expression belied something far more stressed, and almost desperate.

"I know. You're very capable Dawn." As she spoke, Cynthia studied the Sinnoh champion. She looked stressed, she decided, but no more so than when they had spoken last. "Once I'm sure, I'll tell you. And I promise, if I think you can help, I'll let you know."

Dawn smiled sadly before turning to press her face briefly into her Luxray's fur and muttering something that sounded like "at least someone will."

Cynthia decided not to press on that. Yet. "I do think you can help a bit now, actually. That's why I called."

Dawn perked up and turned to look back at the camera again, gesturing for the rotomphone to hover closer. "What can I do for you?"

“How much do you remember of what happened at Spear Pillar?"

"Given I was ten at the time? Probably more than you'd like."

"So you remember the feeling then, just as Giratina showed up?"

A shiver ran through Dawn. "When the world started to shift? How could I forget?"

"You haven't felt something like that recently, have you?"

Dawn gave the question several moments of thought before she slowly shook her head. "No. You don't think Cyrus…?"

Cynthia shook her head. "I'm not sure, but no. I don't think so."

This news seemed to be of no relief to Dawn. "Do I need to be looking for someone else chasing after them?"

"If I find anything that suggests so, I'll tell you, but right now it's only instinct that a Legendary is involved in what I'm researching." Cynthia's fingers tapped at the desk as she tried to decide how much she could share without pulling the Champion into the same rabbit-hole that she found herself in. Dawn looked stressed enough without adding this to it. "It may not even have happened in Sinnoh."

Dawn's expression turned thoughtful in a way that had little to do with the current conversation. "Legendaries acting outside of the region… Do you think they would do that? It's not like Dialga, Palkia or Giratina are bound to Sinnoh exclusively."

The tapping of Cynthia's fingers paused. "Legendaries are called such for a reason. They don't act very often - with some exceptions - and it can be hard to determine which tales were actual events they had direct involvement in, which were just tales, and which fall somewhere in between, but…" The tapping resumed, "I don't see why they couldn't. Other legendaries in the area would likely prevent it, depending on the specific ones involved, but they may also avoid each other to minimize the risk of conflict. Even resting, as many Legendaries have been until recently, I'm sure their presence holds weight to those who can sense it."

Dawn nodded along with her explanation. "But a region without any significant Legendaries…"

This definitely wasn't about the conversation Cynthia had started anymore.

"Dawn, is everything alright there?"

"Yes-" Dawn made a strangled sound that may have been a laugh as she realized she was mirroring Cynthia's earlier response, "I mean no, but I'm managing it."

"Anything I can help with? You didn't mention anything when I was there."

Dawn ran her fingers through Luxray's mane, shaking her head in dismissal of Cynthia's concerns. "It's a million little things that I technically can't tell you about since you're not league anymore." She sighed, long and heavy, and turned away to press her face into Luxray's mane again. Her rotomphone had to drift closer to catch her next words. "Mostly I'm worried about Lucas and his sister."

Ah. "No news then?"

Dawn shook her head. "Not that I've heard. I wish I could help more, but my offer of assistance was already politely declined by the local police." She pulled her face away from her Luxray's side, her eyes going wide. "If a Legendary is involved though…"

"Dawn." Cynthia let the warning tone fade from her voice. Dawn was responsible, and besides, wasn't Cynthia heading down the same route herself? "Be safe, okay? Try to leave the impulsive decision making to Barry."

"Hey!" Dawn protested on behalf of her best friend, "We're not ten anymore Cynthia!"

"Of course not. I should let you go. I'm sure you're busy."

"Okay. Is there anything else I can help with?"

Cynthia weighed her options. Anything she said here would surely lead Dawn to her own searches, but…

Cynthia needed to know.

"Is the name Elesa familiar at all?"

Dawn's expression looked like genuine consideration, with no sign of recollection, and for a moment, Cynthia felt her heart plummet.

Finally, Dawn spoke.

"I… think I heard the name when I was doing the contest circuit? She's a… model? I don't remember where from."

The relief Cynthia felt was an escape rope, pulling her from the pit. "Yes. She's a friend of mine, from Unova. She had been visiting Sinnoh, although I think she would have left by now, and I couldn't remember if you had a chance to meet her."

"I don't think so." Dawn grimaced, "there's something else, but it's sitting just at the tip of my tongue."

"I'm sure it's not important," it was enough for now that she remembered Elesa at all, "but do let me know if you remember. Good luck on any upcoming matches!"

"Okay, thanks Cynthia, bye!"

Cynthia clicked the disconnect, and the video screen went black.

Instantly, she deflated into her chair, her team pressing into her on all sides for support.

Someone else knew who Elesa was, if even only slightly. Cynthia was right, something terrible had happened.

Flipping the laptop closed, Cynthia looked out the window, where the sun had fully set.

'Elesa… by Arceus, I swear, I'll get to the bottom of this.'

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

The closing of the rift above Mount Coronet had swept a sigh of relief across Hisui. The tear in the sky had brought no one comfort, and as such, its mending had filled everyone with a profound measure of relief.

Everyone except one.

Stepping up to the entrance of Galaxy Hall, Volo gave a cheery wave to the guard outside, and slipped through the doors.

He was immediately greeted by the hushed sounds of a terse argument coming from Professor Laventon's office.

Pointing an ear in that direction, he tried to make out what was being said, but the argument had not yet risen to the volume of being easily overheard. Even if he couldn't make out the words, what he could hear sounded like Rei and the Professor, from their voices, but any others that were involved remained quiet in the brief span he listened.

Humming low in his throat he flashed a smile at a Security Corps member milling by the stairs. "Is Captain Cyllene not in?" He gestured to her empty office.

The man followed Volo's gesture with his gaze. "She should be." His eyes flicked, briefly, in the direction of the Professor's office. Volo noted the movement with interest, but did not react. "Are you looking for her in particular?"

"Oh, no," Volo shook his head, "I was simply surprised, I'd gotten used to her always being so diligently at work when I stopped by!" The man gave an understanding nod, so Volo pressed on. "I've actually come to see if my favourite-"

He was cut off by Rei's volume jumping to the point of making any decision on the subject of eavesdropping moot.

"Cripes, Professor, you're not my Dad!"

While that seemed to be the extent of the outburst, the voice that responded was undoubtedly Cyllene, which gave answer to where she was.

“Well,” Volo finished, flashing the guard another grin, “I can tell they’re busy. I should check in with your esteemable Supply Corps while I wait.”

The guard nodded, still frowning in the direction of the arguing Survey Corps, but made no moves to stop Volo as he set off in the direction of the voices, and, ostensibly, the stairs down to the basement. He was careful to walk softly, so that his approach wouldn't be heard by those in the office. He didn't have to try particularly hard, the carpet lining the halls of the building already muffled much of the noise of those passing through the space, likely by design.

The door to Laventon's office was mostly closed, giving Volo only the briefest glance inside as he passed. What he was able to make out in that glance was Rei, drawn up and defensive on the Professor's couch, and said Professor hovering to the side of the kotatsu, as though he was afraid to approach any closer. Akari and Cyllene were completely out of sight, but their presence was assured by their voices filtering through the doorway.

“You really overdid it yesterday Rei, and I know you said you didn't get hit by a psychic attack, but I really think you did."

"You should be resting Rei, don't make me make it an order."

"I told you Akari, I didn't get even close enough to a Stantler for one to attack me. And I did rest Captain! Have been resting! I just-" Rei cut himself off and made a strangled, frustrated sound that definitely wasn't helping whatever case he was trying to make.

Volo paused his steps and cast a glance over his shoulder. With the argument fading once again to reasonable levels, the guard by the stairs had turned his attention away. There was no one else in the hall. Good.

Settling against the wall, Volo pulled his guild logbook out of his pocket, and flipped it open. With a stick of charcoal clutched loosely in the fingers of his other hand, he pretended to work, while zeroing in on the conversation happening in the room behind him.

"Rei, my b-” The Professor cut himself off, stuttering, “Rei, you likely wouldn’t have known, given the apparent effects. It is not as though-”

“Apparent effects?” Rei’s harsh, biting, tone, accompanied by the displeased chirp of a pokémon, indicated that the Professor had chosen the wrong thing to say. "There's nothing apparent because there's no effects. I didn't get hit by anything. You should know that, you were there. Almost the entire time."

"I feel like almost is the key word there Rei."

"Really Akari? You what, think a Stantler ran up, attacked me, and then ran off, all in the span of the, what, five minutes I was away from camp on my own? And Ka just let it happen? Or the rest of my team? And then what? I didn't show any symptoms for the rest of the day? Or knew it happened? Is that what you-"

"It was more than five minutes Rei."

"It was more than- Do you hear yourself?"

"Well something happened Rei! You keep talking about someone who doesn't exist" Rei made a strangled noise of protest, which Akari buried by speaking above it, "and you can't remember anything about-"

"Enough."

There was another displeased squawk from a pokémon, and a low, persistent grumble, followed by several murmured apologies from Rei, the only sound in the silence of the Captain’s interjection.

Interesting.

Volo wasn't quite sure what was going on yet, but he was absolutely intrigued.

Intrigued or not, however, whatever was going on was clearly going to pose a problem in getting Rei to collect the remaining plates unless he found a way to do damage control. Push come to shove, he was fairly sure he could convince the boy to sneak out of the village in pursuit of this task, especially given the current conflict evident within the Survey corps, but such a course would also burn some bridges he could not yet afford to, should the origins of the action be traced back to him.

He needed more information.

Thankfully, as the displeased squawking gave way to chirps, Cyllene continued. "Rei has made some poignant points. He is not un-defended, even without a guard nearby. Is that not part of the point to the invention of pokéballs, Professor?"

"Well, yes. Yes, that is true. But if one managed to sneak up on him? Before he could release one of his team?"

"A Stantler though? I fought literal gods. Two of them, and you think a Stantler got me?"

"You're not invincible, Rei. I know you're capable, but you don't always have the greatest situational awareness when you get focused on something."

"Better than you, I bet, miss got-"

"Rei." The warning was evident, even in the captain's flat tone.

"Sorry. I had Ka out with me, okay? The entire time. He can sense-" Rei paused, stuttering, before seeming to find his stride again. "He would have noticed if I got attacked." An acknowledging bark told Volo that the Typhlosion was currently loose in the room.

Professor Laventon sighed audibly. "Even as a Cyndaquill, he was very vocal. If Rei had gotten noticeably injured, it is unlikely we would have missed it. I must concede, it is unlikely Rei was attacked by one of the wild pokemon who live between here and the Heights camp."

"Thank you."

Cyllene ignored Rei's muttered outburst. "It is undeniable, however, that Rei has been afflicted in some way. Professor, you're the expert. What else within Hisui might have been responsible?"

Laventon was silent, except for a slight, pondering hum, for several moments. "Well, given Rei's unfortunate pre-existing situation regarding his memory, it could be related to the rift. Perhaps an effect of it closing, or of his being in such close proximity?"

"Only manifesting a week and a half later Professor?" Akari sounded incredulous.

"Ah, yes, well. I was thinking more we hadn't noticed? It does sound rather preposterous, saying it out loud, doesn't it?"

"Any other options?"

"Have you all considered that maybe my memories aren't the issue here?"

After a beat, Laventon continued as though Rei hadn't spoken. "We've made quite significant progress on the Pokédex, but it's certainly far from complete. None of the current pokémon we have listed would be capable, at least not without being noticed doing so, but…" He sighed, "I have been struggling with knowing how far to go in pursuit of some reports. Certain pokémon have only been mentioned in Hisui’s legends, after all.”

Volo straightened up and quietly closed his book. An opportunity.

Akari’s sigh was far quieter. "With how little we know about Hisui’s history and legends, it seems a tall order…" as she trailed off, Volo checked if anyone was watching (they weren't), strode lightly towards the stairs, turned, and walked back with a heavier gait. "but if there are any other pokémon here like-"

Volo knocked on the door.

There was a beat of silence as the conversation dropped, before the door swung properly open to reveal Laventon. "Oh, Volo!"

Volo took in the rest of the scene quickly. Rei, slightly hunched on the couch, had Rowlet in his arms; Typhlosion lounged at his feet between the couch and the kotatsu. To his left, Akari was seated on the ground in front of a chalkboard filled with Galarian writing, Laventon's no doubt. Captain Cyllene stood with her usual stiff posture across the kotatsu from Rei, although her gaze was currently fixed on Volo at the door into the hall. Her Abra floated next to the tank containing the creature Laventon called an Oshawott, giving all indication of being asleep, even as the Oshawott clung to the side of the tank and watched the scene with interest.

Volo gave the captain a nod, and flashed the entire gathering his brightest smile. "I had heard rumours that my favourite customer was properly back on his feet! So of course, I had to come verify! Couldn't help but overhear though. If it's Hisuian history and legends you want, then I'm your man!" Wagging a finger, he pressed onwards, leaving no break for objections, "Why, I've spent plenty of time studying such things instead of-" no, reorient, too honest, especially for someone with Cyllene’s work ethic, "Ahem. I mean while also tirelessly doing my work for the Ginkgo Guild. And I've visited many of the ruins and whatnot here in the Hisui region already! I imagine I could teach you a thing or two about any pokémon of legend in these parts!"

Laventon was immediately enthusiastic about the idea. "Oho! Music to my ears my good fellow!"

Cyllene was clearly more hesitant as she considered. Akari and Rei appeared to have no comment, although both of them watched the three adults with cautious expressions. "If your knowledge of legends is as extensive as you claim, perhaps you can solve a quandary for me."

"I would be more than willing to offer any assistance I can!"

"Is there any creature, pokémon or otherwise, within Hisui that would be capable of altering one's memories? Without their knowing?"

Well, that was easy, but he made a show of considering it anyways. "There is indeed! And one we know exist without question, even! Rei has met it after all, when he was forging the Red Chain. The stories certainly don't say anything about it changing memories - only erasing them, but it is said to be the guardian of human knowledge, so why limit itself?"

"Uxie…"

Cyllene’s sharp eyes turned to Rei and he cringed. "Why was this not mentioned before?"

"I- wh- I did!" Rei sputtered, "I told Akari and the Professor all about meeting the lake spirits! All it did was ask me about eyes anyways! It didn't-" He sucked in a breath, straightening up in a defiant posture. "My memories aren't the problem! Something is wrong, and I'm the only one who can see it, apparently! Ingo is real. He is. He's supposed to be okay! You all- you- you told me he was okay, and I believed you and-" Rei's voice, which had been steadily increasing in volume as his tirade progressed, suddenly fell silent, and even from the door, Volo was hard-pressed to make out what he was mumbling. "He- he was like me. He was the only one like me, and he-" his breath caught, hitching, but Rei pushed on, "-he understood. I had time to think about it, all last night, and- And maybe she would too, but it’s like you’re keeping me from so much as talking to her."

From the look exchanged between the rest of the Survey team (minus Cyllene, whose expression remained unchanged), this was exactly the case.

Cyllene turned back to Volo. "And where exactly do the stories say this 'Uxie' lives?"

"Why Lake Acuity, of course. Right by Snowpoint Temple."

The captain shook her head. "I cannot condone sending Rei on a survey to the Icelands yet."

Rei's head twitched up at this. "I have the star rank!"

Cyllene ignored the outburst "Nor am I comfortable sending someone else if this pokémon may be responsible for his condition."

"It's not a condition!" A displeased chirp accompanied this statement, as Rei put Rowlet aside to rise to his feet. From the floor, Ka voiced his support with a loud call, although the Typhlosion's fires remained un-kindled. Crossing his arms firmly, the skyfaller glowered at Cyllene. "And, okay, fine, I don't actually want to go to the Icelands right now. Moving across the ice on my ankle sounds terrible actually, but there's still survey work I can do in the fieldlands, since apparently I'm banned from the training grounds now!"

"Rest is important, Rei." Akari didn't rise from her spot on the floor, but she did lean forward to try and catch Rei's eyes with a pleading gaze. He twitched, and turned away. "I got pulled from the field too after I got electrocuted. Remember? I couldn't go help the Professor with his pokémon because I was just coming off of bed rest."

Rei continued to avoid her gaze. "You were fine the next day. During my trial."

Akari flicked her eyes between Cyllene and Laventon. "That's not the point." Her intonation was flat, but Volo could read the hidden plea of 'later, not here' being passed to the other teenager.

Rei seemed to read between the lines just as well as Volo did. He deflated, flopping back down on the couch and finally twisting to look at Akari, Rowlet hopping back onto his lap as he did so. "You could at least let me battle… what was her name? Elsa?"

"Elesa." Akari corrected, "Warden Elesa"

Rei wrinkled his nose, muttering something too low for Volo to catch, although he noted Laventon twitch in response. "Okay, yeah. Elesa. I was fine enough to be in the field yesterday, and yes, fine, I overdid it, but I've rested! I can at least manage a pokémon battle!" He paused and huffed an annoyed sigh, his fingers smoothing over Rowlet's feathers. "I'll stay at the league approved safety distance and everything! I won't even-"

Ka sat up silently, partially crawling onto the couch to place a paw on Rei's knee, and bury his head into Rei's side.

Rei suddenly took on what Volo thought was a rather haunted look, and his eyes flicked between the four other people in the room, and the two doors.

Oh.

Volo blinked, carefully schooling his expression so that none of his immense curiosity at what had just happened bled through.

Rei was looking for an escape route.

Subtly, Volo shifted to the side, widening the gap between himself and the now-open doorway.

When Rei's eyes met his, Volo smiled, and after a moment, Rei returned it.

Laventon seemed the first to recover from the moment. "Rei, my boy, are you able to expand on that thought?"

Rei shook his head. "No," he said, voice strained, "it's gone." Dropping his head in his hands, he muttered something that sounded to Volo like a foreign language. It was a little like the Galarian he sometimes heard Laventon speak, but with something different to the pronunciation that Volo was not knowledgeable enough to distinguish. Beside him, Laventon drew back, clear surprise on his face.

Taking note of the Professor's response, Volo stepped further into the room, pushing the door fully open on its hinges and clearing the doorway entirely. As much as he wanted to press, on either Rei’s strange statement about a ‘League’, or Laventon’s response to his speaking of a foreign language, Volo gathered his patience, and waited. He had learned, in his acquaintance with Rei, and particularly while they had travelled together with a red sky overhead, that despite his apparent lack of memories otherwise, the skyfaller would sometimes seem to act or say things instinctively. No amount of pressing in these moments - despite Volo’s certainty that they proved some remembrance of the world beyond (and within) the rift remained in the boy’s mind - would draw forth any explanation or continuation.

How cruel, of Arceus, to leave its chosen hero with only a fractured recollection. To dangle fragments in front of him without ever revealing the full picture.

Even if he could not save Rei from it, it was another thing Volo would ensure never happened, in his new world.

Ka pressed his head once again, firmly, into Rei's side. It was an action Volo had seen from the pokémon before, when he was looking for affection, but it seemed far more insistent in this moment, not pulling away or properly leaning into Rei's touch as Rei lowered his hands to scratch behind the pokémon ears.

Volo saw the moment, in Rei's face, when he raised his head and registered that, with Laventon having drawn back, and Volo moved out of the way, there was a clear path (once he rounded the corner of the kotatsu) to the door.

Rei stood with such speed that Rowlet was dumped off his lap, the small pokémon squawking in protest before fluttering up to roost on his shoulder. "I need some fresh air." He announced, stepping past his Typhlosion and beelining for the door to the hall. Ka followed in his wake, small purple sparks collecting at his neck as if to threaten anyone trying to stop them.

No one did.

As they passed Oshawott's tank, the small pokémon scrambled up the side, and took a flying leap, landing on Ka's neck, and immediately digging in claws to stop from sliding off. The Typhlosion flattened his ears, but didn't shake the water type off as the group of four escaped into the hall.

The sound of Rei’s steps, muffled against carpet, faded; silence descended on the room, and was just about settled before Cyllene turned her eyes to Akari. The teenager scrambled to her feet.

“Right, I’m gonna- I-,” she stuttered, “I’m going to go make sure he’s alright, Captain!” She managed something that resembled a salute before she, also, took off into the hallway, her steps hurried.

With both teenagers gone, Cyllene let out an almost-imperceptible sigh, before collecting herself and turning to face Volo.

“As you can see, we’re dealing with a situation here.”

“Indeed! I knew Rei had gotten injured while quelling the Pearl Clan’s almighty Sinnoh, but I had thought they’d only been physical!”

Laventon sighed, shaking his head. “Right you are, my good fellow. We’re quite unsure what to make of it all. Rei is convinced there is no problem,” he paused, his mouth twisting, "or, well, as you've seen, he sees there is a problem, but does not believe it is with him."

Cyllene nodded sharply. "Under normal circumstances, I would not hesitate to ask Rei to work with you for the sake of the pokédex, but these are hardly normal circumstances."

"How long, do you think, until he recovers?"

"That is a question better posed to our medical corps." It was also, Volo knew, a question they would not answer.

It was interesting, however, how the two adults were obviously so reluctant to divulge more of what was happening than Volo had already seen. In fact, if he knew captain Cyllene at all - had it been entirely up to her - Volo would have been kept entirely in the dark, her question to him a mere hypothetical.

He didn't worry about it. Rei clearly didn't feel the same.

"Well, I would be more than happy, as a friend, to impart my wisdom to my favourite customer, but it really is a topic that requires a visual. It would be much better if he could accompany me to some of the ruins. I'm afraid I'm a terrible artist." He kept his tone casual, himself a third party in whatever argument was going on. The convenience of his presence would be called into question if Cyllene even caught a whiff of his ulterior motives.

Laventon shook his head. "Oh, well I don't know."

"He won't be alone, certainly, if that display by his Typhlosion was any indication. If his pokémon partners could handle Dialga and Palkia, I'm sure they can take on anything else Hisui might have to offer."

The Professor turned from defensive to considering. "My little Cyndaquill has grown to become quite protective of the lad once he took over his care…"

Volo nodded a swift agreement. "Precisely! And I myself am not defenseless! I can't possibly hold a candle to Rei's prowess, but my two partners can hold their own."

"The strength of his partners may mean little if he gets surrounded." Cyllene cut into the conversation, and Volo watched as her words patched Laventon’s crumbling resolve. "Having a partner pokémon does not guarantee safety out there. Rei may be skilled enough to manage a large number of pokémon, but I have never seen him actively command all of them at once."

Volo was tempted to point out that this hadn't seemed to be a concern when she had allowed the Commander to exile Rei, but doing so would earn him no favours, even if pointing out the hypocrisy would be immensely satisfying.

"Between the two of us, I'm certain that wouldn't be a problem! Besides," Volo smiled, directing the force of his argument on Cyllene, "Rei has the approval of the Clans' blessed pokémon! One of them would be more than willing to help, I'm sure. In all our previous travels together, I never once saw them deny him aid."

Laventon jolted in a way that said he hadn't considered Rei's connection with pokémon that usually only worked with the clans. "Volo does make a point, Captain," he said after a moment, "We should have thought about it yesterday, really."

"I'm not sure about letting him roam outside the walls without someone close by."

Captain Cyllene didn't quite look convinced, even if Laventon was all but ready to argue Volo's point for him. His next argument was, perhaps a bit of a low blow, but, more importantly, Volo expected it to produce results.

"Are you sure being outside of Jubilife isn't exactly what he needs, Captain? I don't mean to be untactful, but other than yesterday, from the sounds of it, he hasn't left since the rift closed! And after the relatively free-range to come and go he had before that? It must be terribly frustrating for a boy with so much energy. Stifling. Imprisoning, almost." Volo shook his head, and let out a sigh that was only partially preformative on his end. "And then to have the people he's closest to in Jubilife all but tell him they don't trust him. I'm a little surprised he hasn't tried to climb the walls yet."

Laventon looked struck, and Cyllene's already stern expression immediately darkened. His words hung in the air, balancing their outcome precariously on a razor's edge. For a beat, it seemed one of them would ask him to leave, but then the moment fell in his favour, and Cyllene raised a palm to press at one of her temples. She didn't quite lose her firm stance, but her shoulders did seem to droop slightly.

"I'm going to speak with Pesselle. Professor, tell Volo what he needs to know, if he will be travelling with Rei."

Lowering the hand, she regained her stance and spun a tight circle to march out the door to her office.

The moment she was gone, Laventon deflated, espousing something morosely in Galarian. When Volo turned to him with an inquisitive smile, he switched back to the Kantoan used among the Galaxy Team and Ginkgo Guild. "It's all gone to pot, hasn't it?"

Volo deciphered Laventon’s turn-of-phrase based on context, and shook his head. "Come now Professor, surely it can't be that bad!"

Laventon shook his head. "Let me put together the list of things you need to know and you may very well change your mind, my good fellow."

He shuffled over to his desk, picking through the array of papers on it. "Now where is it, I know I wrote it down…"

Volo followed the Professor over as he trailed off, watching him until he let out an exclamation of "aha! Here it is!" and brandished a page.

Setting the page back down, Laventon pulled an ink-well and quill over, and fetched a blank page from one of the desk drawers. He spoke as he began to write, entirely forthcoming now that Cyllene had given the okay.

"He seems to be moving fine this morning, but he should be keeping weight off that ankle of his. If the Captain says you're clear to head far afield, or you have to traverse any difficult terrain, do your best to have him wait for one of the ride pokémon to assist?" Laventon shook his head, "I can't believe I didn't think of that yesterday."

"No need to be so harsh on yourself Professor, they are rather prideful creatures when it comes to those outside of the clans."

"I suppose so. The bigger concern is what came up yesterday. The poor lad seems convinced that Sneasler’s warden is, in actuality, a man named Ingo. He has extensive memory of the man, but not a single recollection of Warden Elesa. Described him as wearing a strange, rather frayed striped coat and hat. It is not a name or description that any of us have any familiarity with…" he trailed off, his tone taking on a hopeful edge.

"Ah, entirely unfamiliar to myself as well, I'm afraid."

"Of course, of course. Thus far, this confusion with the Warden seems to be the extent of it, but if he exhibits any confusion or uncertainty about something he should be familiar with, you are to remove him from the cause immediately."

Laventon finished his note, and after applying the ponce to dry it, handed the sheet to Volo. He skimmed over it, and tucked it away in a side pocket. He would read it more thoroughly later, but it did not appear to contain anything substantially different from what he had just been told.

It was not lost on Volo that the subject of whatever was afflicting Rei happened to be the other person who had been, Volo was certain, drawn into Hisui by his and Giratina's machinations. Even if that one did not bear any indication of Arceus's favour.

Instructions completed, Laventon sat heavily on his couch. Volo remained standing.

"I'm mucking it all up with the dear boy, aren't I?" The Professor lamented, "I thought we were protecting him this time, but you're right, my good fellow, he probably thinks we don't trust him."

"I'm sure you'll make it up to him, Professor. He already thinks highly of you, or well, he did. He was very concerned for you and Akari when we were traveling together."

Laventon looked up from his dead-eyed gaze at the table. "He was? Oh. I hardly think we deserved it."

"Deserved or not, that's just the kind of person Rei is, isn't it? Besides, I'm sure you tried your best. You must be close, if he's picking up on your Galarian." Volo smiled down at the man. "That was Galarian earlier, was it not Professor?"

"It.. it was. I didn't know you spoke it " Laventon's hesitance to answer told Volo there was definitely something the professor was leaving out.

"I don't, unfortunately. It doesn't come up much in these parts. But I've heard it a few enough times, and I figured there weren't many other places Rei could have learned another language. After all, other than the Celestica the Clan Leaders have been teaching him, he only speaks Kantoan, I thought?"

"You've been cleared to head out into the field." Cyllene's voice from the doorway cut off any response Laventon may have had. "Be sure you inform the Security Corps when you head out of Jubilife, as well as when you depart one of the base camps."

Volo turned, keeping his smile even to hide the disappointment at the interrupted conversation. "Wonderful! We'll keep to the fieldlands today, to ease your esteemable medical corps concerns."

Laventon rose, and began gathering supplies. "Well, if you're headed out there, I'll at least come to the base camp with you. Could I trouble you to find Rei and let him know, Volo?"

"Oh," Volo adjusted the straps of his bag and offered one last brilliant smile on his departure, "I assure you. It's no trouble at all."

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