#submas dreamshare fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kittyburger · 2 years

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Hey look I remembered! :D

Read it and weep >:)

Search up the "submas dreamshare fic" tag to find the rest, and Chapter 4 is also below the cut for anyone who prefers reading on tumblr. :)

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Their battle had indeed been formidable. Even as he settles deeper into his bedroll, the rush of excitement at the true competition is still pumping through his veins. There’s an unexpected dose of nostalgia paired with the memory, too. In particular, the ground shaking with Machoke’s Rock Smash combined with the sight of violet flames scattered across the battleground from Typhlosion’s Overheat made his eyes well up with tears and his heart ache with overwhelming homesickness.

Mid-battle, he turned to his right side to inform… someone of his emotional state only to find that the person he was expecting was simply not there. He thinks the person who should have been there is the person who shares his face, his maybe-brother, but the battle had stolen his attention away before he could identify them.

He resolves to capture and build up a full team of pokemon with renewed fervor. Before now, he had only been training his current team as a means of survival. But now that he has an opponent who can give him a true challenge… well. The best way to move forward would be to get stronger. The battle was so exhilarating. He had felt so at-home discerning Akari’s strategies and determining his own in response, and as the battle concluded he couldn’t help the BRAVO!! that came out of him, hands clapping enthusiastically. It had been the highlight of his week, no, his entire month!

Here now in his tent, he wants to clap again at the memory of it all. He refrains, however, conscious of the ambient sounds of wild pokemon around him, their nightly cries easily heard through the thick canvas. Even with his now-healed Gliscor standing watch for the night, it would be wise to remain quiet so as to not draw unnecessary attention to themselves.

Reminding himself that the memories of his battle would still be there in the morning, Ingo decides to switch his train of thought to his plans for the following day. Travel would be much slower now that Akari would be needing Sneasler’s services. Despite strongly debating going up with her to quell Lord Electrode’s frenzy, only one of them could be carried by Lady Sneasler at a time. The extra passenger combined with the speed Akari planned to travel would most certainly exhaust his noble, and he fears too much interference on his part would disrupt the tentative peace currently held between the clans.

He’s reminded of the quiet confession Akari shared in the quarry: “And everyone’s counting on me to fix this.” The injustice of relying on a child for such a dangerous mission hurts, especially with his own powerlessness. There has to be something he can do, right? Should he switch tracks and demand a diamond clan member to allow him to help?

He grumbles in frustration. It won’t work and he knows it. Even if he somehow got permission to help quell another clan’s noble, there was no way he would be able to make it on time.

Why must the people here be so incompetent with their pokemon that a child is the only one that can help them?

Oh.

Idea.

Two Starly, one stone.

He could build a full team and help these people be strong enough trainers that they wouldn’t be reliant on children to do such dangerous tasks. Perhaps Commander Kamado and Zisu would allow him to use the training grounds in Jubilife to instruct the locals on how to care for and battle with their pokemon? It was certainly worth asking!

He knows Irida would support this decision wholeheartedly, but it would do well to involve the Diamond clan as well. The more people who could learn to understand pokemon, the better.

And he just so happens to know where Adaman will be in the very near future.

With a route in mind, he commits himself to travel with haste come dawn and allows himself to drift off as he drafts internal blueprints to map out his tracks ahead, battle strategies in their own right. And who knows, maybe future battles– or future dreams– will allow him to glimpse into his own past once more. Maybe tonight he can get some answers. Maybe one day he’ll learn who that man with his face was to him, or what pokemon he conducted. Maybe he’ll learn who he truly was before his arrival in Hisui.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

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Soft grass. Soft breeze. He’s dreaming again. I’m here!

The sleepy haze over his thoughts clears instantly at the thought.

In a fluid motion that would probably make his muscles ache in the waking world, he stands up and turns around to face the translucent wall, ready to get some answers.

Except… green. There’s green grass and blue sky instead of the looming monolith or wall of frost he was expecting.

He glances over his shoulder to check that he’s facing the right way, but sure enough the endless grassy plain he’s used to seeing night after night is behind him, too.

Is the wall gone?!

He turns to face forward again, to where he expected the wall to be. Cautiously, he starts walking forward, moving each foot as slowly as he would when avoiding the detection of a wild pokemon. After several steps, his right foot is stopped abruptly right about where he expected the wall would be, and even the soft touch sends a pattern of golden ripples outward much like those created by a pebble being thrown into a pond.

Wanting to confirm his suspicions, he reaches both hands forward like someone trying to find a light switch in a dark room, and–

There.

Sure enough, his fingers meet as much resistance as his foot. Slightly larger waves of light expand outward and cross through each other from their points of contact on the flat surface.

Interesting.

He spends the next few minutes poking, pushing, and prodding it, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out that this new barrier is just as unsurpassable as the one he is accustomed to.

He can’t help the mix of disappointment and relief he feels at that. On one hand, he feels put out that there’s still a barrier between him and learning about his previous station. Or rather, he certainly hopes that the person was someone who knew him before. Someone from his past. On the other hand, his inner sense of reasoning that has kept him alive this long tells him that maybe it’s a good thing that there’s still something separating him from a mysterious figure he knows next to nothing about.

Speaking of… would that figure return again tonight? Maybe this has all been one big fever dream and things would go back to normal in a few days. But no, his day had been entirely too normal– aside from a very epic pokemon battle– for that to be true.

Assuming the figure from last night wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, the logical conclusion would be that he just hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

Maybe the mysterious figure was his mind’s way of trying to bring up his past memories? If that were true, the figure would be nearly as blurry as the night before, transparent barrier or not.

The only thing he had left to do was to wait, really.

Then, between one blink and the next, a man in striped white pyjamas appeared on the ground opposite of where he himself had arrived. His chest rose with one breath, two…

And then the man abruptly sat up, ramrod straight. Just as abruptly, he turned around onto his knees to face the other way, and wow, we really do share the same face.

The man’s eyes blow wide and a dazzling grin takes over his features. Something settles in Ingo’s gut in a way that feels so right about that smile, even though he’s never seen it in his own reflection. The man opposite him elatedly shouts… something, and Ingo thinks he hears his own name on the breeze.

Ingo watches the man scramble to his feet and begin running full tilt towards him.

He realizes what will happen much too late, but in his panic he throws his hands up in his best HALT gesture and screams "WAIT!!”

But he was too late.

With a resounding GONG, the man smacks face-first into the wall, too-bright lines undulating outwards from the site of impact.

Ingo squints at the sudden brightness coming from the wall, and makes out the figure of the man staggering back a few paces behind its golden shine. It doesn’t take him long to recover, so just as the light begins fading to a more tolerable level the man steps up and begins pounding against the wall with his fists, not unlike how he did the previous night. He seems to be shouting something, but his words are lost to the endless expanse around them.

Hm. That will not do.

He stuffs his own need for answers in a mental back pocket, and pastes on a calm and collected facial expression, relaxes his shoulders, and takes a couple of steps forward– steps he had not realized until that moment that he had taken back, most likely in his panic before the impact.

Meeting the frantic banging with a calm face– albeit with squinted eyes– and relaxed demeanor doesn’t seem to work at first, so he brings his finger up to his lips in a shushing gesture. That calms the man some, and once Ingo knows he has his attention, he gives a pointed look to the side, where from this angle he can see the light radiating off into the distance, away from them.

Once it seems the man understands that hitting the wall won’t help, Ingo sends him his best reassuring smile.

He must be more out-of-practice than he thought, because in return man gives him a perplexed look as if he’s the weirdest thing here, not the changing dreams and walls with strange rules.

Instead he drops it and lets his sheepish embarrassment show through at failing a smile once again. The man’s shoulders relax at that, and instead of pushing against the barrier again, he takes a step back and begins pacing back and forth with erratic hand gestures as he goes.

Upon closer inspection, though, the hand gestures seem less like wild movements and more like precise, defined gestures.

The man on the other side starts signing something, eventually simplifying it to two signs over and over again. Up… train... up... train. Ingo realizes suddenly what the sign means. It's his name! How did I know that?

Now that he knows the hand signals are words, he wants to sign back. Nothing comes to mind, however. It’s as if the muscle memory to communicate in this way is just as shrouded as his other memories.

He desperately wants to tell the man on the other side Yes!! That is me!! Did you know me?!, but even those simple words feel just as obscured as the rest of his mind.

Instead, he gives the wall one firm smack to get his attention. Once the man’s pacing and gesturing was at a full stop, Ingo carefully began tracing out letters against the barrier.

“YES,” he writes, “THAT IS ME.”

His response is met with a befuddled expression. “Why.”

Ingo isn’t sure what exactly he was asking, but luckily the man picks up on his hesitance and clarifies, “Can’t you sign back?”

“DON’T KNOW. MEMORY GONE.” Ingo answers.

A myriad of expressions, almost too fast to catch, cross over the man’s face before he simply cocks his head in confusion. “What do you mean ‘gone?!’”

“WHEN I WOKE UP 3 YEARS AGO, I ONLY KNEW MY NAME.”

Ingo's heart sinks as he sees the man's whole body tense up and eyes go wide with despair, as if he had to carry Lord Electrode on his shoulders.

The person stiffly signs back, “Do you remember anything more now?”

He's torn for a moment over what he should say. 'Not much’ would be the simplest and most honest answer, but he knows deep down that such an answer would leave his doppelganger in shambles.

He recalls a precise phrase that came to him before. One that will hopefully show that there is hope, that he does remember this man at least a little.

“I KNOW YOU LIKE WINNING MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE.”

As he finishes tracing out the second half of the phrase, he watches the man's jaw clench into a pained grimace. Ingo puts his hand down, a signal that he's done writing, causing the man to shift his gaze away from where he was tracing and back at him with a heartbroken expression, the first tear of undoubtedly many running down his cheek.

“I am down-train. E-M-M-E-T.” The hands pause for a moment, enough for Ingo to notice the slight tremble in them before they swing back into motion. “I've changed my mind. I took you for granted. I want my brother back more than anything else. Remove the wall.”

Emmet. His brother, Emmet. The name feels right in his mouth as he mutters it, just as natural as his otherwise out-of-place phrases about tracks and engines.

He was right. The man that shares his face is his brother.

The realization hits him like an avalanche. Almighty Sinnoh, I have a brother. I have a family.

The man– his brother!! He wants him to remove the wall, though.

He writes back, “I DON'T KNOW HOW.”

“You’ve done it before. Once. The wall was very different that time. Do you know why it came back?”

He thinks back to his conversation with Akari earlier that day, and the way she described her own memories.

“I HAVE AN IDEA.”

Despite noticing Emmet’s intense expression and recognizing his I-need-to-know-right-now face, he takes a moment to gather his thoughts; speaking concisely has never been a strength of his. The explanation he wants to give would take all night with his invisible letters, but he tries to shorten it for the sake of his brother across from him.

“ONE OTHER PERSON FELL FROM THE SKY. AKARI. HER MEMORIES ARE ALSO GONE. SHE DESCRIBED A BARRIER IN HER MIND MUCH LIKE MINE. SHE HELPED ME REMEMBER MORE OF WHERE WE CAME FROM. THE WALL HAS THINNED TWICE SINCE THEN. WE THINK THE BARRIERS IN OUR MINDS ARE INTENTIONAL.”

There’s so much more he wants to say, but writing the letters is so painstakingly slow and Emmet, noticing his hesitation, butts in with "You fell from the sky?! Where are you?”

“YES. HISUI. THE FOOT OF MOUNT CORONET.”

Before his brother has a chance to interject he asks, “YOU?”

Emmet signs "Home.” Then, probably noticing his continued confusion, he resumes with "Unova. Our home. In our apartment on 41 street. Where is H-I-S-U-I?”

Ingo doesn’t have an answer to that, so he just shrugs. Hisui is Hisui, he knows nothing of the surrounding lands. He wishes he did, now. He’s learned more about his pre-Hisui life in the past two days than he has in the past three years.

He can tell his brother is getting frustrated with the unhelpful answers. It makes him desperately want to cheer Emmet up, so he adds more to his previous explanation instead of departing deeper down their previous track. For now.

“I THINK THE WALL HERE IS CONNECTED TO OUR MEMORY BLOCK. CAN YOU HELP ME REMEMBER?“

His brother’s face perks up at that, but it seems muted in comparison to the one that had been sent his way only a few minutes ago when the then-mystery man had spotted him.

“Yes! Let’s depart from the beginning. What else do you remember?”

Ingo wants to give him a distinct memory or some names or something concrete, anything.

But he has nothing good enough to give.

Instead, he replies “MOST LIVE ONLY IN MY HEART. SUCH AS TODAY, I TURNED TO CORRESPOND WITH SOMEONE AT MY SIDE WHILE BATTLING, BUT NO ONE WAS THERE.”

While Ingo had still been writing, Ingo could see Emmet reach for his upper left arm in an unfamiliar gesture.

Putting two and two together, he adds, “WAS THAT YOU, BEFORE?”

Whether he had noticed Ingo looking up at the half-hug, or because he needed both hands to sign, Emmet dropped his hand and nods before answering, "Yep. We were a two-car train. I am Emmet, and I like double battles, and you single battles. But together, we were unstoppable. Do you remember multi battles?”

Ingo thoughtfully considers the question. He instinctively knows what each of those words mean, but thinking back to his own battles in the waking world, he knows the people of Hisui follow their own unique rules of battle instead.

Emmet seems to take his hesitation as its own answer, and continues, “We would battle side-by-side. We were a very strong team. When we put our minds to it, only perfect combinations of trainers could defeat us. The best!”

Battling side-by-side? Was that what he was yearning for earlier that day?

He nods pensively to show that he understands Emmet’s description.

He’s reminded of a nagging thought he normally pushes away. When wondering where he learned all he knows about pokemon, he often wondered if he had a team before as well. How convenient would it be if some of his previous pokemon found him and reminded him of his past?

Now he can find out!

Even better, he can show that he remembers something else.

“MY TEAM? I REMEMBER ONE WHO WIELDS FLAMES WITH MASTERY.” Remembering his conversation with Akari earlier and the way the battle unfolded, he adds on, “PURPLE?”

It seems that was the right thing to ask because with that, Emmet launches into a detailed description of each of their pokemon: how they got them, how they raised them, how they trained them, and their strengths in battle.

The descriptions are both heartwarming and fascinating, but it’s a painful reminder that having family– something he’s secretly longed to have for so long– also means he left loved ones behind. It means he isn’t the only one that will mourn his lack of memories.

He vows, then and there, to do everything in his power to regain his memories. He has to figure out how. For his brother. For his pokemon. For all those he left behind.

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kittyburger · 2 years

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One of these days I'm going to remember to post my fic chapters on tumblr on the same day as I update them on Ao3.

And hopefully that day will be today because I was just about to publish chapter 4 before realizing I hadn't done this yet. I still need to mess around with the formatting on A03 itself for chapter 4, but it is otherwise finished. :D BUT here's a very belated chapter 3.

Link to chapter 1 [X]

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Ingo tucks his hands into his coat to keep them warm as he leans against the rocks near the entrance of the ancient quarry. The night’s chill is already fading as the pre-dawn light grows stronger, but he still feels a bit of the brisk air seep through his coat.

He and Akari had made plans the previous night to meet here before continuing towards Lord Electrode’s seat, but he had arrived extra early in the hopes of having more time to talk to her about their possible shared past.

That, and the early morning hours are prime time to travel undetected by wild pokemon as the nocturnal ones settle down and the day-dwellers are just waking up.

He takes the time while he waits to sort through his thoughts. The way Akari had responded to his unique poses and phrases the previous day made him feel like they were familiar to her as well.

And the way she interacted with her pokemon! It felt so familiar. Anticipation runs through him like a river at the thought of maybe seeing her capture a few more pokemon today. Or even better, they could battle against each other!

Lady Irida, too, had acted a little strange when informing him of Akari’s need to traverse the Coronet Highlands, especially when she suggested that he share his story with the young girl.

He really hopes today will end with more answers than questions.

Thinking back to the pokemon who wielded her flames with mastery that feels so achingly out of reach, and the man in white from his dreams the previous night leads him to wonder, could that man possibly be the same man he remembers, the one who shares his face? Or someone else close to him?

His thoughts are interrupted as he spots a figure in dark clothing lightly jogging his way, her features becoming more distinguishable as she approaches.

“Good morning Miss Akari!”

Her jog falters and she skids to a stop in surprise as if she only just then noticed him. “Ah! Ingo! I didn’t see you there!”

He feels his cheeks heat up a little at that, so he lowers the rim of his hat to hide his face. “Apologies, Miss Akari. I did not mean to spook you.”

She laughs lightly and shakes her hands in a gesture of denial. “It’s okay, Warden Ingo. I just wasn’t expecting anyone’s voice to call out so suddenly! I’ll try and be ready for it next time.”

“And I will try and let you see me first next time. But for now, are you ready to depart?”

She snaps her heels together and brings her hand up in a mock salute. “Yes sir!”

He feels his eyes crinkle at her playful gesture, but his face falls into a scowl just as fast when Meili’s voice echoes out from the entrance to the quarry beside them.

“What’s the big idea, putting back all the torches I spent ages tidying away?”

Both he and Akari turn to Meili as he walks out of the archway and up to them. Well, that’s certainly one way to sour his day. He mindlessly counters with his same argument as always, but this time Akari is determinedly holding her ground next to him. It’s a welcome change of pace, really, to have someone back him up like this. Familiar, almost, especially when she so readily rises up to Meili’s challenge to battle.

Watching her battle is a breath of fresh air and she has no problem defeating Meili’s Skuntank with a single critical hit. Impressive. Ruthless, too. While he’d never admit it out loud, seeing Meili get knocked down a peg or three was quite satisfying, especially when he leaves like a Poochyena with its tail between its legs.

Verrrrry satisfying, his mind supplies.

…where did that come from?

Determined to keep his mind on track, he turns to Akari and introduces the area and the safe places to hide from wild pokemon. He takes his warden duties and the safety of his passengers seriously, after all. He hopes the information about the quarry will be of some aid to her, or at the very least help her become more familiar with her surroundings.

He considers broaching the subject of their past as he and Akari enter the quarry together, but before he can, Volo arrives and calls out to him.

It’s a little surprising that he calls Ingo by name instead of “my best customer” or “my valued friend”; he suspects that Volo uses the platitudes on everybody, but only when interacting one-on-one so they feel special.

While he’s still unsure of his career before arriving here, that is one of the many reasons he’s sure he did not pursue a career in marketing.

It seems that word of Akari’s origins– and consequently the similarities to his own– has been going around, because Volo immediately jumps to asking him about the rift.

He reminds the merchant that he has no memories from before arriving here in Hisui, but it isn’t until he tells Volo that he doesn’t even remember his own family that it occurs to him that the man with his face probably is family. The thought fills up a space in his heart that, until now, he hardly realized was empty.

He redirects Volo’s attention to Akari to give himself more time to process that thought. Her own arrival from the rift was much more well-known, anyways.

His family… who in a family could look just like him? He’s seen a few families where the children grow to look just like a parent, but that thought doesn’t feel right. Maybe the man in white is his brother? Or a cousin? …no, brother feels more right.

He remembers a time when two young Pearl Clan siblings bombarded him with questions about his Gliscor with unguarded enthusiasm. The older one had reprimanded the younger for asking a particularly candid question. The experience had left his heart hollow in a way that he couldn’t explain at the time, but now he thinks it could be because they reminded him of his own family.

He hopes it’s not all just wishful thinking.

“...remember what you saw before you fell out of that rift? Was there anything inside?” Volo’s question pulls his attention back to the conversation. Ingo turns to better face Akari, also curious about what it might have been like.

“Maybe something…” Akari trails off, eyes going distant as she gets lost in her memories.

“Indeed!” Volo earnestly gestures with his hands in his enthusiasm at the small tidbit of information. “I did some digging and found records indicating that this space-time rift also appeared in Hisui in the distant past!”

Volo crosses his arms as he continues to speculate. “Now what kind of world do you suppose stretches out on the other side of the rift? And why has Akari fallen through to us?”

And me, but that’s a good point, he wonders. Was our arrival through the rift intentional? “I fervently hope you unravel this mystery, Volo.” And he truly, truly does. Some closure would be nice, even though the knowledge wouldn’t change much in the present for him; his priorities are still to his warden duties and his overall responsibility to assure the safety of the people of Hisui.

He makes sure to tell Volo as much, saying, “And while you investigate, sir, I’ll continue to prioritize the safety of the people living in this world. All passengers must arrive safely.”

After that, Volo bids them both farewell and it’s just him and Akari again.

Announcing their course through the quarry with an attached “Let us move with speed, but not haste!” they finally embark.

He’s grateful for the silent stone walls and the protection they provide. Like the wall of his dreams… although he gets the feeling he doesn’t need protection from the figure on the other side.

What if… what if that man really is his brother? He’s never let himself dwell on the possibility before because the hope without a destination only ever left him comfortless.

But if Akari has a connection to the other side of the rift…

“Lost in thought, Ingo?”

He blinks in surprise as he notices Akari leaning forward beside him and looking up with a curious shine in her eyes. It was quite the wonder that she could come to stand so close to him without him noticing or feeling the slightest amount of danger.

He clears his throat to give himself time to disperse the last few cobwebs from his brain. “I– yes, actually. Volo’s questions about the rift have me thinking. I know, logically, that I had a family at some point. I do not know if they were still… around when I first arrived in Hisui. But my heart tells me that my cab is a part of a whole. Somehow, I know that I am a part of a multi-car train, even if nobody in this region recognises me.”

He stops walking for a moment, knowing that this is a quieter– and therefore safer– corner of the quarry. After taking a quick glance around to check, he asks, “What about you, though? You and I arrived here in a very similar way. Do you remember your own family?”

As her steps slow to a stop, her head swivels around with her own safety check. She lets out a thoughtful hum before answering, “Yeah, kinda? It’s weird. I remember little pieces of my life before coming here, but for the life of me I can’t remember details like my phone number or my mom’s name or face. But I do remember my pokemon team, and quite a few things about pokemon in general.”

She pats the satchel on her waist. “Like, I know enough to help me work through the pokedex. Little bits of information and ideas on what foods every pokemon will enjoy.”

“But it’s weird. See–” She turns around suddenly and releases her Typhlosion from her pokeball. The fire-type takes a quick look around, prepared to fight, but is swiftly calmed when Akari begins scratching her under the chin.

“Some of the stuff I know is different, too.” She continues, “Like, I’ve been right enough times for me to know that whatever I knew before is credible, but then everything I know is brought to question when something unexpected happens. Like this little curryhead evolved with purple flames and ghost-type moves!”

Were purple flames not normal? That can’t be right… right? Were the flames he remembers– hopes he remembers– all in his head?

His thoughts are cut short by Akari’s bitter laugh. “It’s like I was only allowed to remember things that would help me finish my mission here and nothing more.” Switching from chin scritches to long, shaky strokes down the pokemon’s neck, she croaks, “I don’t even know for sure if Akari is my name, or if it was just the first name to come to mind when Professor Laventon asked for one.”

The Typhlosion must have recognized the distress in Akari’s voice, because she gently nudges the girl’s shoulder with her nose. In a warbly voice, she finishes, “It’s like my mind is a river but my memories are held behind a giant dam. Everything that comes through almost feels calculated, while everything still behind it is hidden. I know the memories are there but I can’t get to them. ”

Ingo puts his hand to his chin, considering Akari’s story; there’s definitely a lot to unload.

“It’s terrible that you have to go through that, miss Akari, though I’m glad to hear that you have been able to remember enough to thrive amongst the pokemon.”

His gaze shifts to stare past an arbitrary section of the wall, focusing instead on his inward dilemma. “I must admit, my own memory troubles are very similar to your own. Aside from my habitual practice of escorting people through this region safely, it’s no wonder Lady Irida requested I talk to you about my past while I guide you.”

Akari’s eyes widen at that. “Irida talked to you, too? I mean, it’s no secret that I came from the rift, but I didn’t know why she insisted I talk to you about where I came from until now. That was such a Scrafty move! Plus, Volo coming to ask you about it must mean that people are hearing about your own history as well.”

He tries to send her an admonishing look, but any heat behind it is broken when a short huff of a laugh escapes from his mouth alongside it. Still, back talking someone he owes so much to will not do.

He clears his throat to make sure no laughter will come from his tone before replying. “Please do keep in mind that Lady Irida is an honored and respected leader of mine. Calling her a Scrafty is not befitting of her position.”

Akari rolls her eyes at that, the serious moment broken. “It’s funny and you know it. You can’t deny she set us up to open up to each other. It’s not like Scrafty are bad, anyway.” With a smirk, she adds, “Unless you have another suggestion?”

At that, he snaps his mouth shut. She’s not wrong. Yes, Lady Irida orchestrating this is a little devious, but despite how much his leader respects the privacy of her clanmates he knows she had his wellbeing in mind. There’s a reason she is one of the few people he has confided in about how much his missing memories bother him, after all.

Akari takes his silence as her answer. “My point exactly! Now, you mentioned that your own memories are acting the same way? Let’s figure it out together, then.”

“That would be very well appreciated.” Remembering his idea from earlier, he rests his hand on Gliscor’s pokeball. “As a matter of fact, I had an idea! Once we arrive at our destination, will you battle me? Seeing you battle Meili made me nostalgic for a life where stronger trainers such as yourself are much more prevalent, and it would be exciting to have a real challenge.”

She gasps, “It’s not only me?!”

Typhlosion startles a little at her sudden excitement, so she takes a moment to soothe her pokemon before finishing the thought in a softer voice. ”I would love to. Did you do much battling at home? I don’t think many people did a whole lot beyond completing the gym challenges as a kid.”

The new information makes him pause. It wasn’t normal to battle all the time? Even if he lacked the context and memory of what he had before, the severe lack of battles against other trainers here in Hisui compared to what he expected had been distinct.

“I… I am unsure. I thought it was normal to battle much more frequently.” He lowers his eyes in thought. “Although, thinking about all of the professions that must be filled, it makes sense that not everybody would do so. Everyone has their own work stations to attend, after all. I only wish I could remember what mine was.”

She lets out a thoughtful hum at that. “The whole process of receiving stars through the Galaxy Team reminded me of a system back home where strong trainers would battle you and give you badges as a reward. Maybe you were one of those trainers? They got to battle pretty much all the time!”

The idea is familiar, but it doesn’t settle in him the same way his few previous memories have.

It’s not like he can think of any other profession where one would get to battle so often, though, so instead he brings the conversation back to what they do know. “If nothing else, I am sure Lady Sneasler will be impressed with your skills. We are counting on her to provide the transit you will need to arrive at Lord Electrode’s seat safely, after all.”

An inscrutable emotion clouds her features. “And everyone’s counting on me to fix this.”

Ingo is reminded of how shocked he was at the ruthlessness of this world when he first arrived, and his horror when he discovered how quickly children– all children– had to grow up in order for the clans to survive.

He swallows down his disgust as he realizes how numb he has become to that feeling. Resolving to at least ease the burden of the child in front of him, he reminds her of one thing he knows will cheer her up. “Regardless of what happens after, I have no doubt our battle will be a formidable one. One strong trainer against another.”

He must have said the right thing because she grins– a bright, real grin– and her eyes sparkle with excitement, the light in them stark against the dim ambiance of the stone walls. “I can’t wait!”

#submas #submas au #submas dreamshare au #submas dreamshare fic #submas fic #my works #my fanfiction

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kittyburger · 2 years

Text

Chapter Two of my Dreamshare AU fic

I meant to wait a day and not, like, two weeks to share this on tumblr but here's the next chapter!

PLUS bonus excerpt from chapter three because I've kept y'all waiting long enough. CW: overstimulation/panic attack Link to chapter one [X]

╭╭<^◕°ω°◕^>╮╮

Emmet whistles happily as he exits the busy downtown station nearest the café. Today has been a verrrrry good day. More battlers than usual made it all the way to his train, and he and his pokemon teams threw themselves into their work with newfound gusto.

Not even the verrrry annoying hag that arrived just before his lunch break could dampen his mood.

When the pedestrian light ahead of him signals for him to stop, he takes the opportunity to check the map on his Xtransceiver to confirm which road he should turn on, noting the street’s name in his head. He looks up to verify his route but–

Oh no.

Nope nope nope nope noooope!

A duo of news reporters are across the street he needs to cross, buzzing with excitement over their fortune in snaring the local Subway Master outside of work. One is frantically pulling out her notebook from her side purse, a Plusle cheering her on from her shoulder. The other has a camera mounted on his shoulder, and Emmet watches as his hand lowers away from a switch.

The too-familiar red light is blinking.

Oh no.

He will not deal with this today.

They didn’t even ask before turning the camera on!

All the adrenaline of a pokemon battle kicks in and Emmet needs only half a moment to decide on his strategy. Aim for victory. All aboard!

He sends the reporters his best fight-me-if-you-dare smile, knowing they’ll recognize the challenge.

Then he runs.

Just as he sticks his heel out to pivot to the right, the pedestrian light switches to WALK and the race is on. He expertly weaves through the crowds of people, many giving way when they notice the tall man with a manic smile dashing down the walkway. A "Watch it!” and a "‘Scuse you!” are shouted over the crowd, but he’s gone before the words have even fully registered.

He takes a glance at his wrist. Left, left, then straight for three blocks. Got it.

The light ahead of him turns red just in time, causing the pedestrian light on the left to turn to WALK. Before pivoting to cross the road, he hastily looks around, checking for pokemon and vehicles alike.

Safety checks are still essential, after all, nasty reporters or not.

Another left and a few painful blocks more, he spots Elesa sitting in a quiet corner of the café’s outdoor pavilion. “ELESAAAAAA!” he calls, trying to both warn her and ask for help.

Her head snaps up from her phone. Their eyes meet as he arrives at the first table, heaving for breath.

“Reporters. Here. Followed me. Yup!”

She’s up in an instant, hand on a pokeball and working her way through the tables and chairs. He can tell the moment she spots the reporters because her expression goes from worried to recognition and then to furious in the blink of an eye.

She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t quite catch every word of, but he gets the sense that she’s met these reporters already.

As they get closer, she takes an extra step to stand subtly between him and the reporters. It’s not unwarranted, but he feels slightly miffed that she wants to take them on alone.

“Sorry, we’re not taking any interviews today!”

Ha. As if that’s going to stop them when these people just chased him for seven blocks.

Almost as if to prove him right, the reporter only grins wider and rushes closer in response, barely even winded. Her cameraman is not far behind, except Emmet can hear him huffing for breath behind the camera. Serves him right.

“Ah,” she says with a disarming smile, “but doesn’t your friend Emmet here always say he never backs down from a challenge?”

He takes a step forward, his shoulder to Elesa’s.

“I am Emmet. I do not run from a challenge! But you are not a challenge. You are a nuisance. A headache. A pain in the–”

"Emmet!" Elesa sharply intervenes, then gives a pointed glance at the camera. Right. That red light is still blinking. He snaps his mouth shut but replaces it with his best stink eye.

Elesa swoops back in with practiced ease. “We’re not taking any interviews today. Isn’t there a tree you need to go apologize to?”

“For using the oxygen it’s made? I’ve heard you use that one before. It’s a good thing we’re not here for you!” Her plastic smile is temporarily marred with a wrinkled nose and a haughty glance at Elesa while conveniently turning her face away from the camera.

It’s gone again in a blink.

Elesa takes it in stride, replying, “The correct word is ‘wasting the oxygen,�� and it’s your cue to leave us alone. Can’t you people see that our situation isn’t entertaining?”

The woman’s smile turns predatory as she counters, “Don’t you know anything? It doesn’t have to be ‘entertaining,’ dear. It just needs to be eye-catching . When we’re the ones to catch Emmet admitting his responsibility towards his brother’s death, it’ll be our claim to fame.”

His-

My what?!

“How DARE you–”

He barely registers Elesa’s outrage and the reporter’s words.

The world around him fades to the sound of his ears ringing.

His head reels.

His blood rushes to his feet.

His heart pounds in his ears.

“Isn’t it obvious?! Your friend here has been leaving the clues we need all along. You should have seen how happy he looked earlier today. We got pictures! But why? Why was he so happy?”

His legs are jelly beneath him.

He-

Bolstered by their shocked silence, she continues, “Well, the results are in! Nimbasa’s number one popularity poll marked him as number one this year. The last time the results were this clear was when dear brother Ingo scored first place the day before his disappearance!”

She turns and points her mic into Emmet’s face in a mock conductor’s signal.

Bile rises in his throat.

“What do you say to that, mister ‘I love winning more than anything else?!’ Was it worth the price of taking Ingo’s–”

Hearing Ingo’s name flicks a switch within him. He closes the distance between them with a step, roaring, “DON’T YOU DARE SAY HIS NAME EVER AGAIN!!”

Elesa’s hand grabs his arm. No. No. Too much.

Too much.

He’s suddenly aware of everything around him again.

Too much!

All at once the sounds of the city storms his ears and the sun is to bright and the city is too shiny and his chest is too tight and his feet are too heavy and people are looking right at him and his ears are ringing and–

And he runs.

His heart pounds as loud as his feet as he runs, barely registering Elesa’s “Hey!” and the reporter’s “Looks like someone’s feeling guilty~!”

No. No. No no no no no. He needs to get away. Verrry loud. Too Loud. Too much. He needs to get somewhere safe. Where is quiet?

He sees a familiar sign right up ahead. A subway station entrance.

Huh, when did he run that far?

Doesn’t matter. He knows the station means he can find a safe place. Somewhere quiet.

Down the stairs, left, left again. Staff utility room. Fumble with his keys, which one, which one, this one! Open the door. Close the door behind him.

The machines are loud, loud, too loud. But at least they’re not people. They’re not nasty nasty reporters with brand-new terrible, terrible assumptions.

He sits on the floor. He covers his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Breathe, he tells himself through the haze of too many emotions. You know what to do.

And he does. He works himself through a breathing exercise before switching tracks to an anchoring one.

He doesn’t know how long he was in there, counting breaths and listing his surroundings, but eventually the buzzing of the machines go from grinding to grounding and his heart settles to feeling a little more normal.

He very belatedly registers the feeling of something moving in his pocket. He sticks his hand in and gently fishes out a fuzzy little Joltik.

“Cheese! How long have you been in there?” He waggles his finger at him in mock anger. “What did I say about sneaking into my pockets? You could have gotten hurt!”

At that, the little bug lets out a series of disgruntled 'Tiiiiks and squeaks. It would feel more like he was reprimanding the trainer if he wasn’t also looking at him with those too-cute eyes.

“I know, I know. That wasn’t fun for me either, you know!” He brings a finger up to pet the bug pokemon gently despite the slight tremor in his hands. “Next time, follow the rules and remember your safety checks!”

A soft knock interrupts them from the door.

“Emmet? You in there?”

Ah. Elesa.

…

…oh no. Elesa. He left her with the reporters.

Even after quickly stashing Cheese back into his coat and trying to clear the tightness from his throat, it still takes him a few tries to voice his answer, "Present! I am Emmet."

"Oh, thank goodness! Can I come in?"

Well, she doesn't seem too mad, but she's fooled him before. He weighs his options before deciding that the safest route would be to let her in now instead of making her wait again.

"Yep, yep! Come in!"

The handle jangles, but the door doesn't move.

"Uh… it's locked."

Right. He had only used the keys to open the door, not fully unlock it. Oops.

"Coming! Coming. Yep."

He slowly stretches his legs out from where they were curled up to his chest, gritting his teeth at the soreness from holding them tight for so long. And probably the running.

…definitely the running, he decides as he gets to his feet, his body protesting as his knee pops sharply.

He cautiously opens the door, always unlocked from the inside because safety first!! He's not sure what he was expecting, but for some reason the distressed look on her face and the concerned way she babbles in the doorway as she scans him up and down was not it.

"Are you okay? Actually, no. Dumb question. Are you feeling any better? Than earlier. With the, uh, out by the- out there?"

He blinks. She's not mad? He had left her alone with those verrrry nasty reporters. She should be mad. Is she just hiding it really well? Oh, she's talking again.

"...and I tried to get my pokemon to zap the camera to destroy the footage, but that devil of a Plusle has lightning rod! That's just so rude! I am so sorry, Emmet. There was nothing else I could do."

That reporter’s Plusle has lightning rod? Clever. Verrrrry clever.

Squaring his shoulders, he ignores how it makes the door bounce against his shoulder and challenges, "Then let's prepare a new strategy! The reporters are getting stronger! So must we." He shoots her his best post-battle smile. "I don't like to lose. Keeping a Plusle with lightning rod is an interesting tactic, yup. But we're both stronger trainers. If we put our heads together, next time we will win!"

Instead of matching his excitement over the challenge, she takes a deep breath and then asks, almost pleadingly, "You're not mad? They got away with the footage; they're gonna have an absolute field day Weedle -ing every last bit of scandal they can get from it!”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to find the right words to answer her. He doesn’t want to think about what made the footage so incriminating; that would mean talking about the accusation. Is he mad? Yes, but at the reporters. Not her.

If only this could all be solved with just a pokemon battle.

She must take his silence as his usual difficulty with words, because she starts the guessing game instead.

“Are you mad at the reporters?”

A wave of relief goes over him. They’re good at this game, even if it’s through sheer amount of practice.

He gives a vigorous nod. The nasty, nasty reporters had preyed on him like a Mothim to a flame the minute he had left the Gear Station and its regulations against unscheduled interviews.

“Because of what they said or because they practically jumped you after you left the station?”

He makes a face at that.

“Both?”

A nod yes.

“Understandable…” She trails off, and he can almost see the gears turning in her head as she thinks of her next question. “Did I do anything to upset you? Is that why you wanted to talk this morning?”

A vehement shake of his head. No, no, no. He tries to word again, this time successfully. “No! You saved me.” He gives himself another moment to gather his words. What would Ingo say?

The thought doesn’t hurt as much as it would have yesterday.

Instead, he can almost picture his brother beside him, and the words come easier. “Thank you, Elesa. Thank you for rescuing me and for answering my call this morning!”

His grin turns a little sheepish as he continues, “I will try to check the schedule first next time.”

When her shoulders relax a little and a relieved smile replaces her worried frown, Emmet resists the urge to pump his fist in success. Yes! Mission make-Elesa-less-worried successful.

The elation doesn’t last long, though, because the next question she asks is, “Speaking of…, do you still want to talk about the call this morning? Or, if nothing else, can you promise to try to get a better rest tonight?”

Emmet’s face pulls into a knowing, much more genuine smile. He’s going to see Ingo again tonight!

“That won’t be a problem.”

Elesa gives him a wan smile. “Tired?”

“No. Well, yes, I’m verrrrrry tired, but that’s not it.”

He takes a look around outside the doorway, suddenly feeling more exposed than before despite being back in the station. What if the reporters try to take more pictures? Or record his words and manipulate them into sounding like something else entirely?

A quick solution comes to mind. He steps back and opens the door farther, gesturing into the room with a slight bow. “This is no fancy café, but it will do. All aboard?”

She takes his invitation in stride and walks in. This time, he takes more time to observe his surroundings. The room is nice and clean aside from a bit of dust, so he mentally files a reminder to praise the maintenance and cleaning crews before he considers Elesa. He knows she’d gladly jump in the mud and get her hands dirty if the need arose, but there are no chairs in here and she does try verrrrry hard to keep her outfits pristine.

So instead, he shrugs his overcoat off and spreads it on the floor like a picnic blanket with a dramatic flair, ignoring his body’s complaints at the movement. Elesa obviously approves because she doesn’t hesitate to plop down and shrug off her purse.

Once he’s joined her on the coat, she asks, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

He’s had all day to figure out what he’s going to say, but he fixes his gaze on the wall to her left to try and focus. It still comes out all wrong, gibberish.

“I am Emmet. There was a change in schedule. I had a dream! What I do. What I dream. It’s always the same! It has been since Ingo disappeared. I mean, before he did, too. I liked our old dreams. But then it changed! And last night was not the same. It switched tracks! The track is open again. Just a little. But it was there, yup! The schedule changed! It was verrrrrry exciting. The wall is not the last stop! Things are getting better!”

At that, he looks back at Elesa, but she just looks lost. Oops. You goofed it, Emmet. Good job.

"Emmet, can you try that again? I didn't understand that. You… want to tell me about your dream?"

He fiddles with his hands, trying to find the right words. With a sigh, he admits, "I miss Ingo. He knows how to say what I mean.”

Elesa slumps a little at that. “I know. I miss him too. I think we’re doing pretty okay, though, right? Your Exeggcute-tion may be off at times, but I’ve gotten better at understanding!”

He sends her a playful glare at the pun, but she only continues with an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you try again? Maybe start with the point this time, and then you can explain after.”

He takes a breath, then another. Start with the point. The point… the point is that they share their dreams. He almost locks up at the thought of saying that again, remembering the harsh treatment they got for it years ago. But no. He trusts Elesa. She needs to know. Besides, she took it well a few moments ago despite not really understanding him. What was the most exciting part that he wanted to share with her this morning? Right! Ingo’s alive!

The happy reminder gives him the courage to try again.

“I am Emmet. Ingo is still alive. Yep! I am verrrrry tired of people telling me he's dead. My brother is alive.”

Now to explain how he knows. Elesa is giving him an encouraging smile, but it’s bordering on pitying. She’s heard him say this part before. Gotta tell her the rest. I need to tell her how I know.

Clenching his fists, he continues. “What I do. What I say. What I dream . What we dream. Always the same! Ingo as well.” He looks her in the eyes, hoping the gesture will communicate his sincerity. “Our dreams are shared, Elesa. Our whole lives, we dream the same, yup. Even now! That is how I know he is still alive. He’s still out there. Yup. I know it!”

Elesa looks… surprised? Confused? He’s not sure. He belatedly registers his heartbeat pounding in his ears at the confession, but he’s not sure where to go from here. What to say.

Thankfully, Elesa picks up on this. Her words are hesitant yet sincere as she replies, “That’s more than a little Farfetch’d, but-” she rests her hand on top of his, maintaining eye contact. “I believe you. You wouldn’t lie about something like this, Emmet. I trust you.”

I trust you. Relief floods through him. He flaps his spare hand, needing to express the excess energy. She believes him! He said the right thing! Yep!

“Besides,” she continues, “you two have done strange twin-connection things before. Remember when Ingo got lost in the woods? You made a beeline to him as soon as you convinced the search team you knew where he was.”

Emboldened by her response, he eagerly picks up the story. “Yep! It has helped us out of some verrrrrry sticky situations. That was one of them! The officer lady was confused why I wanted to sleep while they assembled their team. But it worked!”

Elesa’s eyes widen at the realization. “That’s how you knew where he was?!”

“Yup! Ingo was verrrry smart, even as a kid. Yup. I looked up to him. I still do! He found a strange tree. It was easy to recognize and stood out from above the rest. He climbed it and fell asleep in its branches. Then he showed me the tree in our dream. When I woke up, all I had to do was find that tree! It was verrrrrry easy to see from the officer’s Staraptor.”

“Oooooh.”

“Yep!”

“Oh! That time the power went out and you were stranded in the middle of a subway line. Ingo took a power nap! I thought he was just overwhelmed with the Torkoal chaos and went to find somewhere quiet after the crowds were settled, but I found him asleep at his desk. Was that why?”

Emmet winces. “Yep. I was too busy leading my passengers to safety to join him that day, but he told me he wanted to be there in case I needed to contact him. It’s our super-secret safety protocol!”

He looks up again. “Remember when Team Plasma raided the battle subway and took over Ingo’s train?”

“Yeah!” she replies. “They knocked him out cold. He had a headache for days! ” She freezes for a moment as the realization hits her. “Wait. They knocked him out! The depot agents said you went into your office and locked the door to make a plan after they hijacked that train. Ramses was so mad you didn’t include him in the planning. Were you-”

“Yup!” He interrupts. “I talked to Ingo. Team Plasma boasted about their plans before knocking him out. So we made a plan together! The inside knowledge was verrrrrry helpful.”

“That makes so much sense! What about that time Ingo got sick, and I invited you over to get out of the house? You passed out on the couch after dinner.”

His grin turns sheepish once again. “Ah. I- um… Nope. Not that time. I was tired. It had been a verrrry long day. We both got the same flu just a few days after! I was probably just sick already.” He scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. “...Sorry.”

Elesa lets out a laugh and elbows him teasingly. “I’ve known you for years and you two are still full of surprises!”

Emmet looks down at that. Right, the Donphan in the room.

“Sorry for never telling you, Elesa. Ingo and I swore to each other that we would never tell anyone about it years before we met you. Then there was never a good time. We were scared. We didn’t want to mess this–” he gestures between them– “up.”

“Oh.” She shifts a little at that. “What made you change your mind?”

“I… I am Emmet. I needed you to understand. I don’t have a better way of telling you what I know. Ingo might have, but he’s not here. You’re taking this sudden detour verrrrrry well. Yup! He’ll probably forgive me. I hope. But. But. I don’t know how else to help. I am lost. Ingo isn’t here. But you are a great friend! You deserve to know. And I don’t know what else to do besides continuing on as normal. But that’s not working.”

He turns to rest his back against the wall and finds a spot on the ceiling to stare at. “What I say. What I do. Always the same. But then verrrrrry nasty, nasty people come and say mean things, and do things that hurt anyways.”

He grabs his forearm with one hand in an attempt to ground himself but uses the other to gesture to the empty space at his side where Ingo should be. “I just wish Ingo was here. I know he’s alive. But he’s not here. Ingo would know what to say to those nasty people. They try to make everything worse but he knows how to improve any situation. He would know what to do.”

The confession hurts a little, but it feels good to let it out.

“You've been doing great so far! But now I know you can talk to him whenever! What advice has he given you already? I assume there’s a reason your dreams haven’t been able to bring him back, but what has he said to help you? How is he? Is he okay?”

“I-.”

“Does he know where he is? Is he lost? Is that why you keep searching? Does he have any messages for me?

“Elesa.”

“How has he survived the past few years? What’s keeping him from getting home? Is he hurt?”

“Elesa!”

She jumps a little at that.

“Too much?”

He nods.

“Sorry. I just- I’m so happy to hear that you’ve been able to talk to him this whole time! I wanted to believe you before, but now… Emmet? What’s wrong?”

Right. The wall. He didn’t tell her about the wall. He needs to tell her about the wall.

He pulls his knees up to his chest and takes a deep breath. “The day Ingo went missing, a wall appeared. I couldn’t see him. I could barely hear him. Our dreams were divided in two. We were separated there nearly as much as we are separated here.”

He continues to explain the past few years to her in a voice he knows is too stilted, too tight. He tells her about how impenetrable the wall was. Everything he’s tried. He recalls the too-distant SOS whistles and the ways he saw the world change that told him Ingo was still there.

He tells her why he dreads sleeping, night after night. How there is no escape from the reminders that Ingo is not here.

Elesa listens in silence, evidently struggling to take in all the information.

“But! Last night was different.” He feels his face soften as his smile changes to something happier. “The wall changed. It was like those frosted windows people use between offices, but verrrrrry thick. And he was there! I saw him.”

He lifts his arm up in memory of where it was the night before, Ingo’s hand rising up to match his own. “Last night, he was there. I haven’t seen him in years, but he was right there!”

“Oh, Ingo.” Elesa voicing his brother’s name startles him out of his memory, and he looks over to see her hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes. *** it all, he made Elesa cry again.

“He saw you too, didn’t he? Please tell me he did.”

He nods.

“He must miss you so much! You’ve been struggling with that all alone, haven’t you?”

Another nod.

Before he can even hope to think of a way to comfort her or fix the situation, she throws her face into his chest and her arms wrap around him. He tenses for a moment, then forces himself to relax into the hug as he brings his hand up to rub her back.

They stay like that for a few moments before her head shoots up. "OH! Is that why you called me this morning? Because you saw him?”

His smile grows. “Yup!”

She narrows her eyes and pokes right below his collar bone, hard. Ouch. “You jerk! I thought something terrible had happened! You had me worried about you all day!”

This morning’s phone call must have been more of a disaster than he thought. Why must communication tactics be so much harder than battle tactics?

“I am sorry. I wanted you to be the first to hear the happy news. But I went full speed ahead and forgot my safety checks! It was verrrrrry irresponsible. I am verrrrry sorry.”

She holds her narrow, red-brimmed gaze at him for a few more moments before burying her face into his chest again. He can almost swear he hears a muffled “I can’t stay mad at you” from her, but he has the wisdom to not ask for confirmation.

Instead, there’s one last Donphan in the room that he needs to address.

“Elesa,” she tenses a little and lifts her head to look at him. “I need you to promise not to tell anyone about this. This secret is not only mine to tell. I cannot– it will–” he lets out a huff as he gives himself another moment to finish the thought, “If other people know, it will only hurt us.”

She sits back with an accepting smile. “I understand, and I promise.”

With that, she gives his arms a quick squeeze before wiping her eyes one last time. She stands up, brushing off imaginary dust from her skirt, then plants her feet and offers him a hand. As he takes it, she continues. “Thank you for trusting me, Emmet. Despite everything, I’m sure Ingo would be proud to know that you talked all this through with someone.”

Even after the incredibly draining the events of the past few hours, he can’t deny how relieved he feels. He’s sure he’ll be busy guilt-tripping himself later over breaking his promise, but maybe she’s right. A huge weight is off of his shoulders. Maybe he made the right choice. Maybe. Hopefully.

Elesa pauses as she puts her hand on the doorknob. “...and hey,” she’s speaking in a softer tone, now. “If you figure out a way to talk to him, tell him I say ‘hi,’ alright?”

This time, he very gladly agrees.

~~~~~

BONUS EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 3:

~~~~~

Can’t you sign back?

DON’T KNOW. MEMORY GONE.

What do you mean "gone?!"

WHEN I WOKE UP 3 YEARS AGO, I ONLY KNEW MY NAME

Ingo's heart sinks as he sees the man's eyes go wide with despair, his whole body tense up as if he had to carry Lord Electrode on his shoulders.

The person stiffly signs back, Do you remember anything more now?

He's torn for a moment over what he should say. Not much would be the simplest and most honest answer, but he knows deep down that such an answer would leave his doppelganger in shambles.

He recalls a precise phrase that came to him before. One that will hopefully show that there is hope, that he does remember this man at least a little.

I KNOW YOU LIKE WINNING MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE.

He watches the man's jaw clench into a pained grimace as he finishes spelling out the second half of the phrase. Ingo puts his hand down, a signal that he's done writing, causing the man to shift his gaze back at him with a heartbroken expression, the first tear of undoubtedly many running down his cheek.

I am down-train. E-M-M-E-T. The hands pause for a moment, enough for Ingo to notice the slight tremble in them before they swing back into motion. I've changed my mind. I took you for granted. I want my brother back more than anything else. Remove the wall.

Emmet. His brother, Emmet. The name feels right in his mouth as he mouths it, just as natural as his otherwise out-of-place phrases about tracks and engines.

He was right. The man that shares his face is his brother.

The realization hits him like an avalanche. Almighty Sinnoh, I have a brother. I have a family.

#dreamshare au #submas dreamshare au #pokemon fic #submas fic #submas fanfic #submas #submas ingo #submas emmet #ingo #emmet #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #nimbasa trio #Am I allowed to tag it Nimbasa trio if Elesa and Ingo don't interact?#fanfic #writers of tumblr

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