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TEEN: From the Vast

Chapter 33: Home


  • Chapter 33: Home



    Each croak of the steps under Anne’s feet sent another jolt through her. Excitement, anticipation, concern about the structural stability of this dwelling, all mixed in wildly varying rates. Just a few steps later, though, all gave into relief at what this burrow turned out to actually be.

    Planks lined the room’s walls and floors alike, except for stone and gravel around the hearth at its far side. Not all the same kind, the mismatch in shades of wood looking a bit awkward—and yet, just right at the same time. Figures they couldn’t afford to be picky with building materials. The simple doors along the central room’s sides were curious, but Anne’s attention was snagged by something else before she could investigate them further.

    Or rather, someone else.

    Garret and Aria stood beside the cauldron, bathed in the bright orange light of the homely flames. As the Dark-type split his focus between working on the meal and holding his wife close, the Gardevoir took her time waking up with a few slow blinks, followed by a yawn. And then, once she’d sensed what it was that had stirred her up, a wide, tired smile aimed towards the incoming group, Anne especially.

    “Good evening, Anne,” Aria spoke with her physical voice, putting her utmost effort into not breaking out into yet another yawn.

    The mention of the girl finally snapped Garret out of his cooking duties, his toothy expression widening as he watched everyone pile in. He couldn’t spare an arm to wave at them right now, but doing so with individual loose strands of fur all around his body ought to have sufficed. “Hello everyone! Thank goodness I’ve made enough for the next couple days if we’re gonna be having guests!”

    A faint blush went through Anne’s expression at the remark—and then another one at the realization that she probably wasn’t thought of as a guest.

    The two ghosts tailing the others were unexpected, but someone ought to know them, and that was enough for Garret. His wife was more confused, though, raising an eyebrow first at the Banette, and then at the Indeedee once she’d realized her involvement in this.

    “^I’ll explain over dinner, doncha worry,^” Autumn explained telepathically, leaving her daughter-in-law with no choice but to sigh and nod along. An elaboration was in order, but Aria wasn’t rushing for it.

    “~A-are you okay, Mrs. Aria?~” Anne worried as she took a couple steps closer; the Gardevoir’s antics earlier in the day were still fresh in her mind. Even ignoring that, though, she wasn’t looking particularly encouraging—not while this exhausted.

    The Gardevoir couldn’t deny not quite being back to her usual self. And so; she didn’t. “I’m a bit disheveled, but... I’m better now. A lot better, which I suppose only speaks to how rough this morning was,” Aria admitted with a chuckle, shuddering at the tattered memories of her standoff with Cinder at the clinic as her husband held her closer. “I’m—I’m not sure when I’ll be back to how I was before, unfortunately. Slept almost all day long and I’m still exhausted...”

    “The answer’s ‘as long as it takes’, then! And we’ll be here for as long as you need us, honey,” Garret chimed in, his individual hairs caressing Aria from all around. Didn’t make it any easier for her to keep her eyes open with how pleasant it felt, but something told her nobody minded.

    There was one more thing she needed to bring up before she could let herself recede into full-on relaxation, though.

    “Anne, I...” Aria paused, shuddering as she took a deep breath. It hurt to realize earlier, just like it hurt to even think about now, but Anne deserved it more than ever. “I’m sorry for what happened at the clinic. I freaked out when I shouldn’t have and scared you all, and I’m sorry—”

    “~No no, it’s all good Mrs. Aria!~” The girl’s enthusiastic response made the Gardevoir shudder, worries about it being said just to soothe her conscience filling her body for a moment. It took only a brief scan of her innermost sense to make it clear that the girl meant it—with every fiber of her being at that.

    It was such an immense sensation it shook whatever drowsiness had clung onto Aria. She opened her eyes wider and turned to look at the girl directly. Exhaustion, shivers, surprise, comfort. Certainty. Wide, genuine eyes and a smile that only grew the moment Aria made it clear she’d noticed. Ember beside her was much the same, even sneaking in some more nods once the Gardevoir had looked at her.

    She closed her eyes once more, holding back tears. “T-thank you, Anne, Ember.”

    As the relief washed over Aria’s body, her husband didn’t waste the opportunity to chime in, chuckling, “Have a hard time imagining her holding it against you, honey, not after everything that’s happened~.”

    Sad as the hypothetical was, it was silly in how unrealistic it was, sending a wave of chuckles through the burrow, the ghosts aside. Yaksha didn’t care, attention laser-focused on Sage as he leaned on the back wall, while Sage... shuddered in fear at hearing Garret’s voice.

    The one hypothesis Anne really wished she hadn’t been correct about.

    Fortunately, the ghost girl wasn’t doomed to go through it all alone, not with Autumn quietly walking up to her and holding her hand at sensing her discomfort. Aria perked up towards the hauntling as well, but soon switched tracks back to what her husband had said earlier—and rolled her eyes. “We both know that’s not how it works, Garret.”

    “Maybe with others, sure. Who knows, maybe my imagination is just too lacking for any reasons to dislike you, honey,” Garret chuckled with the world’s toothiest smirk. As Anne and Ember tried their hardest not to giggle out loud at the scene, Aria slowly turned in her husband’s embrace and reached up; her green hand spotted only an instant before it struck.

    flick

    “Ouch!”

    And then, before she could even smirk at having dished out the foul strike, a riposte—

    flick!

    “Ow.”

    By then, the girls weren’t even trying to keep their laughter contained, to the benefit of everyone. Aria took a moment to savor the sight, smile widening as she took in every detail of this oddly large child, this little human, that just so happened to end up at their doorstep and change their world. How heartwarming it was for her to go from doing little more than shaking in fear to this, how amazing her growth outside of her cocoon had been in just a few days,

    And then; Aria realized she was the one responsible. It got even harder to hold in the tears, but she held strong—no reason to make the scene gloomy with them, even if they were of the happiest kind imaginable.

    Thankfully, a distraction from beyond came soon after.

    “Alright, seems it’s high time to prepare for dinner, everyone’s on the way. Autumn, mind helping us out?” Aria asked, prompting Anne to back off at the mention of them doing stuff around the room. As much as she wanted to help people, and especially the Gardevoir, the girl’s rational side kept a hold on her for long enough to underline the fact that she had a single functional limb, and not a strong one at that, compared to the psychics’... many.

    Anne wasn’t even certain that analogy made sense, but that wasn’t the point.

    The point was for her to get out of the way, and maybe help in the other way she was capable of doing right now. She slunk over to the little Phantump as Autumn started psychicing the furniture around. Sage wasted no time before snuggling into Anne’s front, less out of fear and more at her being a replacement for Autumn’s pleasant warmth.

    Only to then immediately switch to huddling Ember once she realized that was an option too.

    “~How are you feeling, Sage? Excited?~” Anne asked, unsure of how to chat the younger girl up.

    “~Yeah! He’s a bit scary, though. How does his hair do that?~” Sage switched tracks without skipping a beat, making the older girls turn to what she was looking at before piecing the admittedly simple mystery together.

    Ember had no answer, and doubted anyone in the entire world knew either—Garret included. Anne hazarded a guess that an explanation might be somewhere deep within a graduate-level dissertation in some university in Galar, but had not a shred of idea about what it was. Not that it mattered either way. “~I don’t know, Sage, but I agree it’s quite weird. A-and cool! Oh, and his name is Mr. Garret!~”

    The Phantump listened intently for all of two seconds before resuming using the Braixen as a portable heater; her simple, drowsy affection leaving Anne rolling her eyes and Ember chuckling. Not that the former could maintain her grumpiness for long once her friend clung to her the same way Sage was clinging to her, the soft warmth melting through any snark that might’ve been there.

    For a moment or so.

    “^Girls, could you move a bit?^” Autumn jutted in, snagging their attention to herself. And then, an instant later, to the table suspended in her green glow floating in the middle of the room, the sight making Anne gasp as they backed off. Granted, she might’ve seen a lot of various applications of psychics in her stay here already, but none were as... straightforwardly flashy as just magically moving a large glowing object around.

    Which didn’t go unnoticed by the vixen beside her.

    As the Indeedee finished adjusting the table and turned to grab the dishes, an orange glow grabbed them first, slow and shaky despite the light load. Neither girl noticed Autumn giggling under her breath as they either performed or watched the bowls and spoons being laid around. It took Anne a moment to acknowledge the change in color, but once she did, the culprit was obvious.

    Without skipping a beat, Anne kneeled and pulled her friend into a tight hug, the startle snuffing the magical light in the vixen’s eyes. Ember’s blush might’ve gone unnoticed, but that didn’t extend to the wave of warmth that went through her, made even sweeter after she had returned Anne’s embrace. It felt nice, so nice.

    The kind of nice that they didn’t have any hopes of ever savoring again just a few days ago.

    Not just pleasant, but... safe, safe in a way they were now only beginning to discover with other people. The kind of safe that kept the flames of hope burning no matter what, as long as they still had each other. It might’ve been deliberately erased, it might’ve been nigh-forgotten with time—but that didn’t matter anymore.

    They had each other again, now and forever.

    “^Hehe... I-I think I should try practicing more Fire-type stuff...^” Ember giggled telepathically, happy embarrassment dripping through her voice.

    Sweet enough to earn her another hug as Anne grew confused about what she meant. “~What for?~”

    “^Ooh, just... if anything bad ever happens, I wanna know how to protect you more! I don’t—don’t want anyone to ever hurt you again like—like your parents did...^” The Braixen admitted, voice growing quieter with each word. Both at how harrowing that possibility was to imagine and at having to think back on the cruelty they had both experienced.

    The tightest hug Anne could dish out, just moments later.

    “~They won’t, I promise, Ember. We’re safe now!~” Anne whispered, torn between wanting to just hype them both up about what she hoped was the case, and genuinely believing it herself.

    The Braixen was firmly in the latter camp by now, but it wasn’t her only motivation. “^I know, I know, b-but... um...^”

    And her human soon noticed.

    “~Oh? What is it, Ember? I-is something wrong, or...~” Anne didn’t finish the sentence, unsure about what kind of hidden motive her best friend would be keeping away from her. She doubted it was anything nefarious, but the uncertainty wasn’t pleasant.

    Ember shuddered at sensing that; gathering courage before she admitted, “^No no, you did nothing wrong, Anne! I-I just... want to make you feel e-even nicer. With the warmth and all. J-just like you always made me feel...^”

    Neither of them could hold in the stray tears that followed, needing a moment to come to once the last of the dinner preparation happened around them.

    “~W-well in that case, I’ll keep practicing drawing, so that I can keep drawing you nicer and nicer!~” Anne responded, turning her emotions into more confidence than she was used to. She doubted herself for a second before she spotted Ember’s tail wagging behind her at the idea, sending her giggling as the Braixen tried to keep her embarrassment down.

    “^C-could I watch? it’s fun hanging out with you...^”

    Anne nodded harder than ever. “Of course! I’d love to show it to you and maybe teach it to you! I hope it’ll be alright for me to watch your practice, too. I-I’m sorry for never doing any of that with you, but I wanna see how much you’ve grown since—eek!~” Anne’s smuggled-in apology was rewarded with all it deserved—an even tighter hug from her friend. Almost warm enough to make her sweat in the sweater, almost too tight for comfort—blissful all the same.

    “^B-but you’ve done nothing wrong, Anne! And my mom has taught me since, I don’t think you would’ve known how to do it, anyway. And, of course, you’d be able to watch, I-I’d love to show it to you, eeee...^” Ember squealed, the sheer fluster leaking out of her body through excited tail wags. Their little spectacle was equal parts silly and adorable to watch from the sidelines; Aria holding tight in a fight against her own desire to giggle at the sight as her mother-in-law lost, if barely.

    Thankfully, the girls didn’t notice. Which couldn’t be said for what came right after, though—

    “~I-I love you, Ember.~”

    “^I love you too, A-Anne!^”

    “^You two are adorable,^” Autumn chuckled, making them both jolt in their overlong hug. The Indeedee didn’t know which was funnier—their embarrassment, or how they still took their time unwrapping themselves from each other’s arms despite it.

    Aria spared them any further egging, turning their attention over to the now fully laid out table. “Take your seats, girls. The others are right outside—”

    creeak!

    The sound from up the staircase made them shudder as they were settling in for the meal. To their concern, Marco was already quite wet; a glimpse through the front door revealed the outside to be dark and rainy before it was psychically closed. The two bags he’d carried with him had been protected with thin psychic sheens, but he seemingly hadn’t extended that to himself.

    “You alright, Marco?” Aria asked, concern creeping onto her face as her brother placed the bags down and scooted over to the hearth.

    The Gallade took his time answering, closing his eyes as he gathered words. “^Yes, yes, I’m good. The rain is nasty, and there’s some snow mixed in that too, shudder. Elric sure won’t enjoy flying through that, hope they’re already close.^”

    “^They’re getting closer, I can feel them, thank gods. Thank you for bringing the bags over, Marco. What did Esther say about Anne’s checkup?^” Autumn asked, perking up from constantly resisting the call of the warm stew before her.

    “^Everything can wait until at least tomorrow. She mentioned that keeping her arm numbed overnight might be an issue, but said that you or Aria should be able to keep the pain in check if it flares up,^” Marco forwarded, looking up at Anne. The girl didn’t seem too concerned about the possibility of hurting. That, or she just trusted the psychics around her to help with that should they need to.

    Both options made Marco smile just a bit.

    “^Oh, Sage, are you gonna eat?^” Ember broke the silence with a quiet question towards the Phantump, catching her staring idly at an unclaimed bowl.

    The little one wasn’t expecting being talked to, blinking as she came back to and turned to the Braixen. “~I don’t know. Can I eat this?~” She asked, clearly uncertain—though much more so on whether she was permitted to, rather on whether her biology even allowed her to eat fluids like this.

    Then again, not like eating solids as a ghost made any more sense.

    “Sure, sweetie. Have as much as you want, there’s plenty for all of us,” Aria chimed, giving the ghostly girl the warmest smile she could manage. It deflated a bit once she realized Sage didn’t notice, but the Gardevoir didn’t let it get to her. “How about you, Yaksha?”

    Just like the hauntling he was watching over, the Banette shuddered at being addressed, though there clearly was more to it than just surprise. Half the room felt bitter regret spike in him as his pink eyes shifted to look at Aria; the wordless shake of his head speaking for itself.

    His loss, she supposed.

    Neither of them had the time to elaborate anymore as the squeals from outside picked up in volume, followed moments later by the front door getting slammed open. Without wasting even a moment for words, Elric swooped in and didn’t stop until he was right beside the hearth, freezing water dripping off his carapace. Cadence ran in a few seconds later, looking behind herself at the last moment before leaping down the stairs.

    Sure didn’t expect either of their current guests there, but was too cold to express her confusion right away.

    Bell came in last, shivers racking his tiny body as he finally cleared the doorframe. By tripping on it that is, squealing in fright as he was flung forward head first, the entire family’s psychics focusing all at once to catch him—

    Only for a red aura that didn’t belong to any of them to do it first.

    As everyone’s racing hearts calmed down and the Ralts was hovered down to the bottom of the staircase, those further into the room could spot a familiar, if unexpected, sight peeking in through the front entrance. Red light filled Cinder’s eyes as she maneuvered the little one down to safety, stopping afterward to look Aria straight in the eye once her aura had dissolved.

    And with a single, firm nod, she resumed her watch in the cold, dark outside, closing the door behind Bell.

    The Gardevoir considered inviting her in for a moment, but... figured it was best to not do that. Not yet, not with the tension and stress around everything she’d done so fresh in their minds. Cinder was more than strong enough to keep herself dry, anyway.

    Bell had noticed the mental grip not quite being like that of his mom, sister, grandma or uncle—but by the time he looked up the staircase, the older vixen was already out of sight. He could still feel her, if barely, squeaking out a quiet “Thank you!” and joining his sibling and de facto-sibling in huddling beside the flames.

    Ember giggled under her breath at the shaking kids, their excitement and cold giving way to comfort by the moment—especially once Autumn had tossed a large blanket over the three of them. With their small bodies blocking a lot of the flame’s light, the rest of the room was plunged into a soft shade, one that only empowered the exhaustion already pulling at Anne’s mind.

    Not yet, definitely not yet—but gosh, was she tired. Not enough to doze off on the spot, but a yawn still left her once her focus had slipped—and everyone heard this time.

    Especially the kids.

    “Anne!? Wh-when did ya get here?” Elric asked with a crack in his voice, a surprised gaze sweeping over the rest of the assorted guests right after. He didn’t mind the human girl and especially not Ember, but it still felt weird for them to just... be here. Wasn’t Anne seriously injured?

    Hardly the state to be visiting people.

    The Gligar’s call may not have earned him any immediate answers, not with the subject of his sudden question too uncertain to respond, but it pulled the other kids’ attention to their guests. The Kirlia greeted them with a “Hey Anne, hey Ember—and Sage too,” too tired and cold to speak louder than a regular indoor voice for the first time in her life. Her younger brother let out a joyful squeak that then dovetailed into a sneeze.

    “Bless you,” said everyone.

    “^As to your question, Elric, we got here earlier! And no, Anne isn’t just visiting, she’s gonna be staying with us!^” Autumn informed, her confident smile growing wider still as she took the kids’ reactions in. Surprise from Elric, first the neutral sort before warming into more positive territory; an excited gasp from Cadence; and another happy squeal from Bell. The Ralts might not have gotten the full importance of what his grandma had just said, but it didn’t matter.

    He liked Anne and was happy to see her, no matter the circumstances behind it.

    The Indeedee’s bright joy was briefly interrupted by sensing the mischief sprouting in the pink bat’s mind, brown eyes narrowing on him ever so slightly. Fortunately for everyone, for once even he had it in him to realize it’d be for the best if he kept from any pranks for now—even if because of just how tired he was.

    Guess a poor reason beats no reason.

    As he shook off the remaining moisture on his chitin, the clacking of his tail filling the room, Cadence picked up on something else, eyes going wide. “Will Anne sleep together with us?” She asked in a mix of confusion, concern, and excitement.

    Autumn looked first at Anne, then at Aria, and finally back at Cadence, arriving at as confident an answer as she could manage, “^Yes she will, sweetie.^”

    “But she won’t fit. She’s too big, right?” The Kirlia responded, worried about her friend having to sleep with her legs sticking out of their bedding.

    An obvious issue, but one with an equally obvious solution.

    “^Oh, we’ll just fix together something for her to lay her legs on, don’t worry, sweetie. Anyhow—warmed enough for dinner, you three?^” Autumn asked with a smirk, providing the jolt the little ones needed to finally scramble out from under the blanket and join everyone else at the table.

    It was time to eat.


    As wonderful as it smelled, it took Anne a while to get used to the stew’s texture. Her grandma only made soups sometimes, and they tended to be much thinner than this. Her biological parents’ cooking was... haphazard at best, and more often than not consisted of grabbing a bag of frozen food from the clearance aisle and proceeding to either burn or undercook it every time they shoved it into the oven, without fail. Little room for fluid meals in that, except by accident.

    After her tongue and throat made peace with eating a meal with so much solid stuff floating around a thick liquid, though, she could focus entirely on the flavor—and it tasted wonderful. Thick, savory, almost meaty in a way her mind associated with special occasions. She figured it wasn’t actually meat, and that meat was... unwelcome in the village altogether, but the resemblance was there all the same.

    The slices of grilled vegetables and berries only made it better, many of them preserving their crunch despite being waterlogged in sauce.

    Once Anne had settled into her eating groove, the next thing she knew, her bowl was empty, leaving her scraping her spoon against its almost-dry bottom. She was unsure whether she’d gotten caught in her thoughts again but had genuinely dozed off for a moment there, but the result was the same either way.

    And now she was even more drowsy than before.

    A look around the room let her know she was alone in that, Ember aside. The Braixen leaned on her from the next seat over, almost having slid off the pillow she sat on. Everyone else was no less content, if more alert, the bliss of a warm, filling meal in a cold, dark evening refusing to quite hold them tight with what still awaited some of them.

    Anne felt bad about not sharing their alertness once she’d realized it was likely about Sage, but couldn’t deny her tiredness either.

    Speaking of the Phantump in the room.

    The small stain on the bottom of her wooden face made it clear Sage had at least tried the meal—though the nearly full bowl before her implied that she either didn’t enjoy it or was already full. Anne could’ve sworn she never saw her eat yesterday, but had no idea how it worked with ghosts, anyway.

    Yaksha kept sulking in the darkest part of the room, pink eyes glowing dimly as they stared inward.

    Before Anne could continue her people-watching, though, someone had noticed she was done with her meal—and not anyone she expected to, either. “Anneeeeee, can you draw me again?” Bell asked, leaning towards her from his mom’s lap. Autumn and Aria giggled as the human girl sat there in flustered silence, unsure how to respond.

    She was way too tired for this, that’s for sure, but... But. No, that worked as an explanation by itself. “~I’m sorry Bell, but I’m exhausted. Maybe I could draw you some other time?~” Anne replied, giving the tyke the widest smile she could manage.

    Contrary to her worries, Bell took it in stride. “Okie! OH,” he gasped, pulling half a dozen gazes onto himself, “I know, I know!” What did he know, nobody knew; the room left confused as they watched him scramble off Aria’s lap and dash into one of the side rooms. From what Anne could make out, it was entirely dark—at least until a lit candle suspended in Autumn’s green glow followed the tyke in, prompting a squeaked-out “Thank you!”

    Cadence had no idea what her brother was up to, but she wanted to find out, following in tow soon after. Elric considered it for a while, too, before settling for getting some more warmth instead. Playing around could wait. Laying on the wooden floor three feet away from a warm, roaring fire? Now that was the stuff. Not that anyone could blame him—

    RUMBLE...

    “Gods, that’s some nasty weather outside. Now I’m even more glad we went ahead and replaced all the waterproofing last year, ugh.” Garret shuddered at the distant thunder and less-distant memory alike. He looked around the outer walls with pride, spotting only a couple of spots where moisture was building up on the wood.

    Far from ideal, but it far beat what came before.

    “If I never get woken up by a drop of cold water splashing against my horns again, it’ll be too soon,” Aria commented, glad beyond words for that unpleasant era to be over. If nothing else, it had encouraged her to cuddle closer to her husband so that his fur might take the hit instead of her, so... silver linings, she supposed.

    As the spouses reminisced, Autumn spoke up with concern, “^Marco, Yaksha, are you sure you want to head out in a weather like this?^” The Gallade’s hesitant expression spoke volumes, but he knew that his opinion on this mattered less than that of the two ghosts.

    He wasn’t blind to the original reasoning for wanting to rush this entire ordeal, either. “^Might as well. I don’t want us to be stuck waiting for the circumstances to be perfect only to have the Elders accidentally realize they haven’t ‘weighed in’ on this yet,^” he commented bitterly.

    As Yaksha nodded along and Sage idly floated over to snuggle into Ember’s warm fluff some more, Aria realized what the discussion was about, switching to telepathy. “^Are you thinking about returning Sage to her human home today?^” Once her brother and her mother-in-law answered with firm nods, she continued, “^I remember the Elders mentioning the possibility of her babbling us out to her family in case she ends up staying there. Which...^” Aria started, voice trailing off as she felt the emotions in the room shift.

    Yeah, neither Autumn, Marco, nor even Anne were oblivious to just how tenuous the odds were for Sage. She’d just be preaching to the choir.

    “^What are you planning on, then?^” Autumn asked, unnerved by the topic of keeping people from giving them away, especially with Ember’s situation so fresh in memory.

    In all truth, Aria wasn’t sure. She’d bluffed her way through that discussion back during the hearing itself, but now that she had to act, she didn’t know what to do. Her mind wracked through that dilemma; not wanting to inflict cruelty on this innocent child while genuinely afraid of the risks associated with Sage rejoining humanity.

    A situation about as likely as Winnie building a shrine to the human trainerkind, but not strictly impossible.

    After a few tense moments, she scrambled herself out of her husband’s fluffy embrace and stood up, stretching her limbs and popping joints. Thoughts churned through her mind as she approached the Phantump. Uncertainty kept her flip-flopping between a couple of options even as she kneeled and beckoned Sage over; the hauntling squeaking in joy at seeing her again and floating over to hug her.

    The way she saw it, there was only one right way to handle this.

    “^Sage?^” Aria whispered telepathically, catching the girl’s full attention. “^Could you promise me something?^”

    Firm, almost full body nods, the red lights of her eyes narrow and focused.

    “^Can you promise me you won’t talk about us to anyone? As in, all the mons living here or about Anne?^”

    As far as Sage was concerned, it was a rather weird request, one she had difficulty grasping in full. “~Why?~” She asked, the wail of her voice dripping with confusion. To Aria’s chagrin, she didn’t know how to answer it in a way someone this young would understand—or without making her freak out at how much rested on her spectral shoulders.

    At least, until she came up with an excuse, “^Because it’d be very rude. You can talk about Yaksha, though.^” Aria winced ever so slightly at the blip of worry emanating from Sage, but thankfully, it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

    “~Okay!~” Her loud response caught the Banette’s attention before it snapped over onto Aria with an unspoken question. The Gardevoir looked over at her brother, and then at her mom-in-law, before answering with a nod.

    It was time.

    Marco shuddered at the thought of having to brave the elements as he picked himself up from the table, mind racing. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to any of this, but if there was any part of this doomed plan that caught his interest, it was disguising himself as a human. “^So, Anne, what kinds of… clothes would let me stay undetected by humans?^”

    Anne blinked rapidly before her brain caught up, leaving her perking up from her seat and staggering over as she looked at the bags. “~Mrs. Graham’s coat was the main thing, it should be large enough to disguise most of you, I think. Afterwards, it’s just finding clothes that cover anything that’s still visible.~” She explained, eying out the Gallade. He wasn’t as tall as she remembered him being while bedridden, easing a lot of her doubts about the entire plan.

    Of course, there still were issues; one of them ran into the moment Marco tried to slide his second arm into the felt sleeve. Anything touching his horns was already bad enough, but the coarseness of the material somehow made it even worse than he feared. Not painful, not without additional force being applied to it, but... profoundly uncomfortable.

    He doubted adding more clothes would magically fix the issue, though, and kept quiet, deflecting his sister’s concerns with a firm shake. He’d bear through it. It was the only thing he was good at, anyway. Aria wanted to argue but didn’t have the time to speak up before Anne cut her off, “~Okay, now the buttons on the front. Does it fit, Mr. Marco? Doesn’t look very comfortable...~”

    It took the Gallade all the willpower he could gather to not respond with anything more than “It’s fine, don’t worry.” His voice was strained despite his best efforts, but Anne figured she’d just misheard him. Unsurprisingly, doing the front buttons, with Anne’s help, made the chafing even worse—still bearable, though.

    ...

    He’d still wait before doing the button directly over his horn until they got to the human territory, if possible.

    “^A-alright. What’s next?^” Marco asked, the directness overruling Anne’s budding concerns.

    The remaining spots to cover up weren’t hard to spot. Head, crest included, as well as hands and feet. The latter looked like they’d be especially tricky, their shape ill-suited for any shoes. She figured it was best they start with the top, though. “~For the crest, I’m thinking...~” she trailed off, free hand digging through a bagful of variously damaged clothes until she spotted her target. “~Th-there it is. Uh, it’ll look a bit silly, but it should cover it up.~”

    The garment was off-black and shaped like half a sphere. Marco had no idea what was it intended for in humans with a shape like that, but if nothing else it proved just the right shape to mostly cover his crest—and only crest. They’d need a lot more for the rest of the head, which—“~There! This scarf has seen better days, but I th-think it’s large enough to wrap your entire head.~”

    Marco had no idea how the humans handled garments this unwieldy without telepathy, that’s for sure. Even with his hands free, it took a good few tries just orienting the black and white strip of rough fabric to cover every bit of white skin, green hair, and teal crest, leaving only a thin horizontal slit to look out through.

    Thank the gods for psychics.

    “^Are you sure this is necessary, Anne?^” He asked, trying his absolute hardest to hide any exasperation from leaking—to mixed results.

    The girl was uncertain, but eventually responded with the world’s shakiest nod. “~Well, it’ll help, I-I think...~”

    Should’ve kept his mouth shut. “^No no, it’s fine, I’m sorry. What’s next?^” He reassured her through deep breaths and gritted teeth, the warmth making the layers he was already wearing feel increasingly uncomfortable.

    Anne wasn’t convinced but figured she ought to get through the rest of it all as fast as she could. “~O-okay, gloves go on your hands. If they don’t fit, you can have them just sticking out the sleeves or something. And for legs... umm... maybe they just won’t look—no wait, I know,~” Anne exclaimed. Alertness tried its hardest to push through her growing exhaustion as she dug in for the one piece of clothing she swore she glimpsed the other day—and here it was!

    It took her a few seconds of Anne triumphantly holding her find in the air to remember she ought to explain it to the Gallade in the room, fluster spreading onto her cheeks as she turned to address him. “~Th-this is a skirt, I was thinking it could go under the coat, and you could hold it in place so that its bottom just barely touches the ground.~”

    The girl’s explanation made all the sense in the world—but only for her, leaving Marco staring at her with the flattest look of his life. Unsure how else to word it, she demonstrated what she meant, sliding Mrs. Graham’s skirt over onto a single leg and lifting it until it was flush with the floor.

    Marco understood the instructions, thankfully, repeating Anne’s demonstration with one leg, and then the other, psychically adjusting the stretchy band until he got it just right. Unfortunately, while the sweet spot for the girl was right around her navel, for Marco, it was in the middle of his hips. If he tried to hold it underneath them, it would drag on the ground, and the other option... yeah no, that way it covered nothing with how much of the material got snagged up there.

    Suppose the first option was the less bad one of the two. He’d manage—what mattered was that this ordeal was finally done.

    “^This is an obscene number of layers...^” Marco muttered, having to dedicate a non-insignificant amount of attention to just keeping the costume in one place, on top of the chafing.

    “~And it’s just the outer ones, heh... b-but yes, it’s done! I hope it’s not too hot...~”

    “^It... is. Yaksha, Sage, can we head out now?^” Despite his earlier courtesy, Marco didn’t have enough willpower to pretend he wasn’t overheating in real-time.

    The older ghost hovered over and turned to look at the younger one as she got the cue to say her goodbyes. “~Oh oh lemme say goodbyes, please! Bye-bye, Anne! Bye bye, E-Ember! Oh oh oh, bye bye Mrs. Autumn! Bye-bye, Mrs. Aria!~” Sage floated from one friend to another, growing giddier as they all responded in kind, the realization she would be finally going home blooming in her mind.

    The psychics remained too weak to confront her with the truth.

    “Bye-bye, Sage!” Garret added by himself, his demonic voice once more startling the Phantump. It wasn’t lost on him this time, leaving him leaning back in worry as Autumn gathered words to comfort the ghostly girl—

    Only for that to not be needed.

    “~B-bye bye!~” Her voice was shaky, but she managed all the same. Something long dead inside Yaksha smiled a bit at the sight, but he didn’t react otherwise.

    Sage might have avoided freaking out, but it was still a jolt to her system, one that encouraged her to get going and not waste any more time here. Without saying a word, she floated to the top of the staircase and opened the door—only for the wind to blow her back with a frosty, rain-filled breeze, chilling her and wetting her wig. “~Eeeeeee, I need an umbrella!~” She cried out as her small body shuddered.

    Anne wasted no time in fulfilling the younger girl’s request, grateful to the librarian for including one of those in her makeshift care package. Sage, somewhat expectedly, opened it right away and startled half the room—though the older girl was there to help her out. “~Sorry...~” The Phantump muttered, earning herself one last one-armed hug.

    “~It’s okay, it’s okay. Ready to get going, Sage?~” Anne reassured, locking the umbrella in the closed position with the little ghost’s help. Sage nodded eagerly, looking at her guardian and the friend escorting them to let them know, before breaking into giggles once she’d finally noticed Marco’s appearance.

    Not something he appreciated, but little he could do about it right now.

    “~Hehehe, you look like a spy!~” Sage laughed, forcing a weary smile out of her older friend and exactly nobody else.

    “~Closer to a homeless person, I’d say. P-probably for the best, now that I think about it...~” Anne followed up, hoping that Marco's outfit would keep humans from interacting with him without noticing the... rather awkward bumps at the front and back of his chest. Neither he nor anyone else knew what ‘homeless’ meant here, and Autumn’s brief attempt to figure out the definition in that word from Anne’s words left her further shocked at humanity’s casual cruelty, but the Gallade was glad to hear that his disguise would be effective.

    “~Let’s not waste any more time. Sage, c’mere,~” Yaksha grunted, levitating up the staircase with the Phantump close behind, forcing Marco to hurry—something much easier said than done with all the immobilizing clothes.

    As he was about to ascend the stairs, though, his eyes locked with his sister's. It was one thing to keep a facade of confidence in front of a pair of ghosts who didn't pay attention and a girl that didn't know him all that well, but Aria was another matter entirely.

    She saw right through him, all his doubts and worries on display even without having to resort to reading his thoughts. About Sage's doomed wish, about the rest of this journey, about maintaining his disguise,

    About doing half as good a job as she would in this situation.

    They didn't have the time to go into a discussion about this—but it wasn't needed. A smile, a nod, a reassuring look of a proud older sister. Each so small, so easily missed, but dearly appreciated all the same.

    He could do it, even if he didn't quite believe it himself.

    As the group got going, Anne braved the cold behind them all, wanting to wave the poor lil’ girl away one last time. Before she could get there, though, Marco stopped in front of her, and Sage before him, the blockade confusing everyone in the living room—

    At least, until Aria figured it out and gasped out loud.

    As she did, Yaksha finally got going again, walking around the mon that had lay down before the burrow’s entrance. Sage followed with a bit of concern for the stranger, though she was focusing much more on not letting the wind and rain blow her away once she’d opened the umbrella again. Marco said nothing, refusing to acknowledge their ‘guest’ for the sake of not disrupting their plan—not that his disguise was fooling anyone.

    And behind all of them, Anne could only stare at the scarred marine Elder; their appearance forever burned into the girl’s memory. She knew she ought to still remember their name; she knew they told it to her just yesterday, but she just didn’t.

    All they could do for a few long seconds was stare into each other’s eyes, Anne’s glasses-clad brown ones against the Elder’s azure ones. Even without the scarred paw they had covered their face with for most of yesterday’s ceremony, she still couldn’t piece their expression together beyond it being thoughtful.

    Thankfully, she didn’t have to.

    Before Anne knew it, Aria was standing beside her, similarly confused about the Elder’s presence. Anger at her partial responsibility in this entire ordeal mixed in with what she just faintly remembered happening last night: Celia’s attack on Winnie, seemingly to protect Anne. The Gardevoir was more than a bit uncertain of that being the Primarina’s true motivation—though that was true for everything about her.

    One thing she’d never seen or even heard her do, though, was show up at someone’s doorstep in the dark night, through the frigid, melting snow.

    The impasse lasted for a while, one side holding her cards close as usual as the other remained baffled at everything going on. The latter was quite honestly fed up with it by now, about ready to chew the former out—

    But then, at last, Celia spoke. “Hello, Anne.”

    Anne shuddered at being addressed directly, clinging closer to Aria as she took a step forward. “^Why are you here, E—Celia?^” Aria snarled, red eyes glowing dimly in the dark as they drilled into the Primarina.

    “I want to come clear about my actions over the past few days, and make it clear I’m glad about her staying here,” Celia responded in the same unemotional monotone as always.

    The words took Anne aback, but Aria wasn’t convinced. “^If you’re supposedly glad that she’ll stay with us, why not express support for her sooner? Why didn’t you say anything before the vote—why did you drag her in, terrified, just to ask some questions!?^” Aria shouted telepathically, the other two flinching at the intensity of the voice in their heads.

    The Gardevoir’s anger might’ve been aimed as away from her as possible, but it didn’t help any with Anne’s spooks.

    Celia gathered her words, shaking as she spoke. “No. I wanted Anne there to elicit sympathy. To make it that much harder for others to vote against her safety, for their empathy to work against their bad intentions. Harder to vote to banish a terrified child when you have no choice but to look at them, after all.” The Primarina’s voice remained as matter-of-fact as she got, only grating Aria further as she chewed through the Elder’s excuse.

    It still made no sense.

    “^Why did you ask her to remain blind throughout, then? Why not just ask her to look terrified!?^” Aria demanded an explanation; her anger only made worse by Celia’s apparent nonchalance.

    “Her fear needed to be authentic to convince anyone. I-I apologize for making you go through that, Anne. It was cruel of me, but it was the best course of action I could think of to ensure your long-term safety here,” Celia admitted, her voice growing meeker by the word. The human girl was taken aback, but... could see the logic behind the Elder’s actions. A cruel, almost sociopathic logic, but it was in the best intentions, after all. And she was saying the truth, too—Aria would’ve said something otherwise if she was lying.

    Before Anne could thank the Water-type, though, Aria went off.

    “^I’m not biting this, Celia. You traumatized Anne because you’d rather she bear the brunt of having to fight for her safety; you'd rather she was terrified half to death just so that you didn’t have to speak up in her defense. Just so that you wouldn’t have to take a stand for the first time in your fucking life. If you were clear from the get-go, then maybe none of this would’ve had to happen, maybe you would’ve swayed enough people to let us AVOID SUBJECTING HER TO THIS HELL IN THE FIRST PLACE!^”

    Aria shook as she stewed in her own fury, scalding enough for Anne to take a step back out of shock. On the other side of the doorway, the Primarina stared back, confidence evaporating by the moment until she half-nodded, half-collapsed on the snow and mud underneath.

    “You’re right. I’m... I’m sorry, Anne. I hope you’ll find peace here. You deserve it. Good—goodnight.” Each word came harder and harder until Celia was reduced to little more than a quaking heap. It hurt, but there was little she could do about it.

    Was she justified? Maybe.

    Was she a coward? Definitely.

    Would Orion look kindly on her if he was still here?

    Would her Lords and Ladies?

    ...

    The thought stabbed Celia through the heart, her expression crunching in pain. Her tears were lost in the rain, curses aimed at her inability to act were obscured by the unending din of wind. It was pathetic; she was pathetic, the echoing reality of that fact grinding her mind into dust—

    But she wasn’t alone.

    The Primarina flinched as the freezing rain stopped, together with the wind. She shook on the ground for a few moments that lasted an eternity before daring to look up, up at the reddish shimmer that kept the elements at bay. Cinder’s eyes glowed as she stared her down, standing beside the burrow’s entrance. There was no reassurance in her gaze, but no admonition either. She was there, willing to help keep the rain at bay,

    But Celia’s demons were her own to deal with.

    Once the Water-type calmed down, the Delphox stepped in front of the door and looked past Aria and Anne standing on the stairs. She spoke, voice dry as ash, “Ember? It’s time for us to head home.”

    Anne’s heart sank as she looked around, down the stairs, and watched as the younger vixen ran over to look up at her mom. She didn’t want her friend to leave—and thankfully, Ember was on the same page. “U-umm... m-mom, can I stay with Anne tonight? I-it’s her first night a-at her new home, after all...” the Braixen stammered, not expecting her plea to accomplish much.

    Cinder tried as hard as she could to keep her flinch hidden, to mixed results. A deep, pained breath later, she spoke, “Sure. I’ll be here in the morning, then. Love you, sweetie.” Without another word, she turned around to Celia and nodded, the red glow of her psychics helping the Primarina turn around together with the cart her lower body rested on. It’d be a long, cold march—

    squeeze

    The Delphox froze at feeling something grab her torso, too distracted by her own moping to react.

    “T-thank you, mom!”

    It took Cinder all the restraint she still had to not break down there and then, clenching her eyes shut as she silently turned around and hugged her daughter tight. And then, at last, she left, with Celia beside her.

    “I-is Elder Celia alright?” Ember asked, taken aback at spotting the Water-type beside her mom.

    “^I think she’s coming to terms with things. She’ll figure it out, I’ve no doubt. Either way, not something for us to worry about—let’s get inside,^” Aria guided, exhaustion staining her words as she psychiced the door shut. Anne was still quite rattled after what she’d just witnessed, prompting Ember to hold her tight the entire way down the stairs.

    It helped more than either of them would’ve imagined—and left them even more tired than before.

    Anne blinked in surprise at seeing the living room completely cleaned up, aside from the small pile of dirty dishes due to be taken out to get washed in the rain. The table stood upright in the corner; the pillows they used as seats were gone—nothing but a hearth, tended to by Garret.

    Nothing more to stave the exhaustion off with.

    “^Let’s prepare for bed, eh? Ember, Elric, wanna help me lay the bedding right for Anne?^” Autumn asked with all the pep she could still muster in her voice, gently yanking on the blanket the bat had swaddled himself with.

    He groaned and whined for a moment, the sound of the latter lost deep within the ultrasound range, but eventually relented. “Okaaaaaay. Last one’s there is a rotten egg!” He exclaimed, bolting up from his grounded position in less time than it took Ember to even process what she’s just heard.

    And the worst thing was, she couldn’t even stick her tongue out at him because he was already in the other room.

    She didn’t let that fact dissuade her though, dashing in as fast as she could manage after him, the slightly faster pace betraying a slight limp. And then, once the Indeedee finished rolling her eyes and psychiced Anne’s bags over, closing the door after herself, all that was left were Anne and Aria—the Grimmsnarl at the other end of the room aside.

    As tired as Anne was, the shock of having just witnessed... that still kept her a bit rattled. She flinched as Aria walked beside her, giving her the warmest smile she could muster out after a day like that. It might’ve been scary, but... Anne trusted Aria, more than anyone else. Her arm shook as she wrapped it around the Gardevoir, the psychic’s tingly, almost ticklish touch on her head making her squirm.

    Despite everything, she felt safe.

    The worries remained, though.

    “~W-why did you shout at her?~” Anne mumbled, her voice almost entirely drained of the earlier unease. She kept her head pressed into the Gardevoir as she leaned on her, more and more leftover strength leaving her by the moment.

    She felt Aria’s deep breath fill her chest, then another—until finally, came words. “^Her intentions were good, but they’re not everything. She still caused you needless pain. And she’s more than smart enough to know that, to know better. Maybe... maybe I was too harsh on her. I’ll try talking to her tomorrow. I’m sorry you had to see all that, Anne.^” Aria spilled her heart, the facade of certainty and scorn from earlier coming undone in the tired comfort of her burrow.

    Maybe she too had made a mistake in all this.

    Anne nodded idly, her embrace growing ever tighter. If Aria had indeed gone overboard, then it wasn’t nice, but... Anne understood. In a way, it felt nice to have someone so strongly standing for her. Really nice, even. She might’ve known more than yesterday, more aware that even Aria had her limits and that she wouldn’t always remain the nicest person around, and that what they’d been through left them both rattled, but...

    But...

    She still felt it.

    That warm, incandescent sense of protection from yesterday, no longer tainted by fear for her own life. The trust so casually certain it ought to be impossible, and yet it felt downright natural by now. The... the desire she’d told the—the Elders near the end, the...

    Aria’s eyes went wide as Anne’s mind grew more turbulent, the central thread inside it making her gasp silently. She kept herself from physically reacting as much as she could, and willed the tears into non-existence through utmost effort as the girl chewed through thoughts only she could process in full. Thoughts that would turn tainted and sinister if ever manipulated, only made joyful in their purity. Aria couldn’t assist Anne in processing them,

    But she didn’t have to.

    “~M-M-Mrs. A-Aria?~” Anne stammered, tension gripping her body until she was left at the very edge of tears.

    The Gardevoir took deep breaths, staving off joining the girl there for just a few more moments, keeping her voice as calm as possible as she replied, “^Yes, Anne?^”

    “~W-would... w-w-would...~” the girl struggled with words, clenching her guardian tighter as she forced out, “~Would it be okay if I—if I called you my m-m-mom?~”

    Anne’s breath was stuck in her throat, each racing heartbeat lasting an eternity. One, another, third still—and finally, response.

    “^As long as it’s okay for me to call you my—my daughter.^”​

    The distant crackling of flame was the only sound in the room as Anne’s tired mind parsed Aria’s answer, her heart skipping a bit. She gasped, looked up at the Gardevoir,

    And cried the happiest tears of her life. Her body shook; she could barely keep standing, but it didn’t matter, none of it did. Aria was there, she was safe, she’d be safe, and she—she—

    “~Th-thank you...~”

    Aria sobbed with her daughter, each tear cleansing her soul. She, too, only barely remained upright, her psychics growing weaker and weaker at the exhaustion, physical and emotional alike. All that kept her going anymore was love, Anne’s for her and hers for Anne and everyone else’s, brilliant and warm and—

    squeeze!

    “You looked like you were about to topple over there, honey, ha!” Garret shouted, glad at having saved them two from the perils of gravity. His amusement didn’t last long though, not once he’d spotted the tears flowing from them both, sprouting concern on his fanged face.

    And then, joy no less radiant than his wife’s once she’d told him what had happened.

    It took him all the willpower he could muster to keep himself from squeezing his wife and—and daughter too hard, eyes clenched shut as they leaned more and more of their weight on him. There was so much celebration to be had about this, about all this—but not today. Today, everyone still awake was long overdue for some shut-eye, and not even the euphoric news could overrule that fact.

    “^I think it’s time for us both to get some rest, sweetie,^” Aria mumbled with a smile, snapping the increasingly dozing Anne back to some semblance of awareness. Yeah, Mrs.—her mom was right, they were both so tired. With how tight G—dad was holding them, it’s not like she could do much in response to m-mom’s words.

    The Grimmsnarl could, though—and he did. A stray strand of hair pushed the door open before him as he ducked through the doorframe. Anne took the children’s bedroom in as she was carried, tears returning in force bit by bit. At her items beside the small pile of others’ accessories and wooden toys, at an extra-sized space being left on their mat-like bedding, at a folded blanket being placed on the bedding’s edge to accommodate her,

    At the charcoal scribbles of her and Ember among the rest of the family.

    Cadence, Elric, and Bell looked asleep, and Ember only barely clung to awareness herself. She’d taken her shawl off, leaving her in just the eyepatch as she turned to look at the noise—and smiled at Anne finally being here with them.

    The exhaustion made it hard for Anne to follow what happened after. Aria helped her with the sweater, took her glasses off and carefully placed them on a shelf, and took care of her shoes—the next thing the girl knew, she was lying in between Bell and Ember; the latter clinging to her right side as the former squirmed against her to her left.

    Warm. Safe. Cozy.

    Home.

    Beside the bedding, Aria leaned over them all, stroking her hair ever so gently. Soon after, the Gardevoir snuffed the candle on the far shelf was snuffed out, plunging them all into darkness,

    “~G-goodnight, mom...~”

    And long deserved rest.

    “^Goodnight, Anne.^”

    1TVEm5z.png


    By the wonderful @Sweet_Mintality!​



    Author's Note: In addition to the wonderful art above, I commissioned some more stickers for my discord server (link below) recently, also from Sweet_Mintality! Here are the From the Vast ones:

    OaxcDot.png



    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!
     
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    Chapter 34: Judgment


  • Chapter 34: Judgment



    Slush and fallen branches crunched under Marco’s feet as he walked along the human path, following Yaksha. Sage hovered beside him, struggling with the oddly shaped rain-shield every once in a while.

    He expected every step to fill him with more and more dread. Which was the case for the first few minutes, but eventually the worst of that faded away. Not because of their mission somehow not being doomed anymore, but because it’d be a while until they got there.

    His psychics could lead him in the dark reasonably well, but even they had their limit—such as the debris in his way, or anything smaller than trees for that matter. He took a sigh of relief once they’d finally climbed their way onto the path, its guidance much appreciated. It freed him from having to constantly probe his surroundings with his aura—he had to conserve his strength for what awaited them, after all.

    But what awaited them, he wasn’t even sure of.

    Anne mentioned several things to look out for once they arrived at the human settlement, but they were far from a comprehensive overview. He hoped her instructions for remaining disguised would prove sufficient, but even if they did, they wouldn’t help with actually finding what they were looking for.

    Worries kept swirling around his mind as the group pushed through darkness, the thick clouds above them not letting any moonlight through. It was just them, the freezing rain, and the dirt path stretching into the distance, forever. A freezing purgatory; what laid on its other end was unknown. Wishful redemption? An almost certain damnation?

    Marco didn’t know, and it terrified him.

    His clothed body shuddered, the motion sudden enough for the Phantump beside him to notice, even despite the constant wind. His dimly glowing eyes turned to look at her once her twin pink pinpricks glanced at him in concern. He worried about spooking her for just a moment, the unpleasant thought only making him feel even colder than he already was. Oh well, he was never good with kids, just had to push on—

    And then, he felt something small, warm, and spectral grab his gloved hand.

    “~Mr. Marco?~” Sage asked, worry leaking into her voice.

    The Gallade held her inky tendril of a hand with a couple of fingers, making her hover even closer to him as he gathered words. “^I’m here Sage, I’m here. Is something wrong?^”

    “~I’m a bit cold, but I think I’m okay. Are you okay, Mr. Marco?~”

    He hoped beyond hope Sage would remain okay throughout their entire ordeal, but if it ended like he had predicted, he doubted it’d be the case. His features narrowed, unseen, as he held her hand just that bit tighter, wishing he’d be able to protect her from the despair ahead. It was a feeble, downright childish wish, and he knew it well.

    And yet, he still wished.

    “^I’m just cold too, Sage. Don’t worry about me, sweetie,^” he mumbled out, focusing on maintaining his composure. Just because he wasn’t taking what awaited them the best, didn’t mean he had to make the Phantump concerned already—she didn’t deserve to have her innocence torn away. Not yet.

    Trying to yank his thoughts away from that dark path, Marco instead focused on planning out what they’d do once they arrived at the human town. To his concern, Anne hadn’t given them many hints for navigating the massive settlement—she didn’t know how to either.

    He remembered staring at her, stunned for a good few minutes back at Vivian’s tea shop once she’d told him that Sage’s town was easily twenty times the size of hers.

    As much as the sheer scale of their undertaking chilled his spirits, he knew that the spirit beside him ought to be familiar with the place. It’d still be a while until they got there, but Marco figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask Sage for leads in advance.

    “^So, Sage,^” he whispered, perking the spaced-out Phantump up, “^what does your home look like?^”

    As Sage combed through her frayed memories, Marco focused on assisting her in holding the umbrella, not wanting it to distract her. Even with that telepathic assist, though, she remained silent for a while afterward, only prompting a disappointed sigh from the Banette ahead, lost to the din of rain.

    To Marco’s concern, the more Sage thought about it, the more worried she grew. After a moment of internal conflict, the Gallade intervened once more, wanting to spare her that anxiety. “^Sage?^”

    “~M-My house has a green roof, and... I-I don’t remember much else...^”

    Sage clung ever tighter to her umbrella, the strands of her damp wig shaking with her. Not an outcome either of the two wanted, but it was all they’d be getting for now. Yaksha was of half a mind to just call this whole doomed ordeal off, only stopping himself by remembering that they had to, else she’d just ask about it again.

    Marco just gritted his teeth and nodded.

    It was very little to go off, but it was something. Besides, even if Sage couldn’t describe it in any richer detail than just the color of her roof, she still had to remember it, at least partially. If they had any luck, even the partial memory would be enough to let her recognize it once they passed by it. Sure, he wasn’t deluding himself that scouting an entire massive human town would be a quick task, but it was still possible, given enough time.

    ...

    Assuming Sage’s house was still standing.

    The worry about that no longer being the case stabbed Marco’s heart, almost making him trip. He hated even considering it, but he couldn’t dismiss it entirely—what if Sage’s house wasn’t around anymore? Or even worse, what if it still was, but her family had left in grief following her disappearance? Both outcomes were all too easy to imagine, providing all the fuel in the world for his imagination to torment him with.

    He tried to remain strong despite that; he tried to distract himself; but the rainy night offered little in terms of distraction—

    growwWWWWLLL...

    Marco’s gaze snapped to the source of the sound in the dark without thinking, his body already taking steps toward the threat before he could even pay attention to what he’d just heard. Once his brain caught up, though, he stopped—and finally looked at what his psychics were trying to point out to him.

    “Lumi?”

    A pair of golden-red eyes emerged from the dark, taken aback by the words. Without skipping a moment, the Luxray they were attached to leaped from the brush beside his coworker—and looked at the group, confused.

    “Marco? Good grief, why’d you dress yourself like a human?” Lumi grumbled at the Gallade’s antics, before following one tricky question with another. “And what are these two doing here? Isn’t this Phantump the wannabe human? Where’re ya taking them all?”

    The growls comprising the Luxray’s words put the pair of ghosts on edge, incomprehensible and all the more intimidating for it. Sage scooted behind Marco as he gathered thoughts, trying to keep himself from leering at Lumi too hard. He succeeded at that, but only because of exhaustion, responding through gritted teeth. “^Yes, this is Sage; she used to be a human. She wants to return to her human family.^”

    The Phantump whimpered at the ‘used to’ part of Marco’s answer. Lumi didn’t notice, looking up at the Gallade in stupefied disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

    Yaksha had no idea what the Luxray had said exactly, but his dismissive tone, combined with Marco’s words moments prior, implied nothing good. The Banette glared at the Electric-type, his pink eyes glowing intensely enough to take Lumi aback once he glanced over.

    Before either of them could go beyond just angry glares, Marco cut in, “^No Lumi, we’re not. She still wishes to go back to her family, and so we want to help her try.^” As much as the Gallade wanted to phrase it in a more concrete way, he couldn’t. There was no denying this was a pipe dream, more of a courtesy than a well-founded plan.

    And the Luxray noticed.

    “‘Try’, eh? You’re wasting your time, Marco, but I sure can’t stop you—guess you’ve got that in common with your sister. Well, good luck, I guess.”

    Marco deflated as he watched the Luxray turn around and return to his usual scouting path; the resulting silence soon interrupted by Yaksha’s seething whisper. “~What did it say?~”

    Sage looked up at the Gallade as she hovered out of her impromptu hiding spot, curious and afraid. Marco grasped her hand as he focused on passing the words just to Yaksha this time—no reason to worry Sage with them. “^Told us we’re wasting our time.^”

    Yaksha’s anger soared at hearing that, anger at the Electric-type and himself alike. Of course they were doing this for a reason! There was no other way out of this but to have Sage find out the hard way that the human world would never accept her. Nothing would come of it; it only led to heartbreak, but it was necessary, goddammit! Nobody could avoid this pain, not even Sage! It had to have been true!

    Because otherwise, it meant he wasn’t strong enough to save her from it. To save himself—



    Too late to stop now.

    “~Let’s keep going. Sage, c’mon.~”


    The next couple of hours passed in silence—nature spoke for them.

    With rain, with wind, with darkness so intense that even Sage bumped into some passing shrubbery a few times. Each time, Marco felt her spirits deflate just a bit, each anxious thought or unpleasant gust chipping away at her confidence. She was still hopeful, so much more so than the two adults combined—but her hope wasn’t impervious.

    A part of Marco hoped that it’d chip away before they would make it to her past home, letting him avoid subjecting her to the heartbreak. The rest of him wanted to scream at not having anything to shut down that hopeless part of him with.

    Any further internal struggle was interrupted by lights in the distance, at last. Flickering and unnaturally orange, the color he’d seen a fair bit of back in Anne’s village once the sun had set. Hideous if he had anything to say, but there must’ve been something to it with how keen humans were on using it—and with how much it soothed Sage to see, making her ask—

    “~Are we getting there?~”

    “~Looks like it,~” Yaksha replied, voice much more keen than usual. Marco didn’t pry, assuming the Banette was struggling with his thoughts just as much as he had—but that turned out to not be the case. “~Someone’s ahead, looking our way.~”

    Marco nodded, wincing as he repeated Anne’s instructions from a few hours back and re-did the button over his front horn. Regrettably, the cold hasn’t dulled the associated discomfort at all—if anything; it got even worse, filling him with a coldness that didn’t care one iota about his Safeguard.

    Onward, ever onward, towards the human in the distance.

    “~Halt. Your ID, now,~” the stranger barked, eying them down as he stepped on the path before them. Marco cared about neither the contempt in his voice nor what had caused it, focusing entirely on his impossible demand.

    “^Don’t have one.^”

    The human’s eyes narrowed as he approached, letting Marco take a better look at the outfit. Dark, puffy top half with long sleeves, covered by a sleeveless garment in a bizarre shade of yellow with a few silver stripes. A belt of pouches and unidentified objects rested askew above his waist. His thoughts focused on one L-shaped object in particular, on his hip.

    And on the Growlithe, just a few feet away, the leash tied to their collar in his offhand.

    “~Well well well, loitering at night and keeping mons without a license, I see?~” the human snarled out, staring Marco down like a piece of meat. As he kept trying—and failing—to intimidate the Gallade, though, the Fire-type yanked on their leash, struggling to get back under the relative cover of a nearby conifer.

    And that would not do.

    “~Get over here, you dumb fucking dog!~”

    The human yanked at the leash, filling the dirt path with the Growlithe’s pained yelp. Marco already wasn’t planning on entertaining him any more than he had to, but this... warranted something more.

    “~Now you, you fucking bum—crack!~”

    Before he could finish his sentence, his empty fist was forced to smash into his jaw with all the strength he was capable of, toppling him over. To Marco’s surprise, said strength turned out to be remarkably little—not even enough to knock him out, merely punching a couple teeth out and bloodying his face.

    Either way, not his concern anymore.

    Without another word, the Gallade resumed his march, unceremoniously walking away as the human writhed in pain and slurred obscenities. The two ghosts soon caught up, shock and grim satisfaction on their minds, respectively.

    And then, just a few hundred meters later, only awe and focus at all the lights.

    The street they had stepped into was rather quaint by human standards, enough so for Sage to still be at peace, but it was still busier than Anne’s village. The rows of buildings on either side of the black, central road had many shapes and sizes, though most of them didn’t go further than two stories tall—the incredibly... pointy building in the distance aside, its details hard to make out in the uniform orange light.

    As much as the sights overwhelmed him, Marco tried his best not to let them get to him, instead focusing on the minds he could sense. The—to his immense relief—very few minds sharing the streets with them, none of them having noticed him yet. Almost everyone was indoors by now, a good chunk of them asleep. Perfect.

    And now, to figure out where to go next.

    “^Sage, do you recognize this place?^” Marco asked, resuming his look around the street as the Phantump thought on. Some of the blocky buildings had their bottom halves turned into what seemed to be rooms full of... stuff, all bathed in a much brighter white light. They almost looked like pantries or storage buildings of sorts, though he suspected that wasn’t their actual use.

    “~Ummm... n-no, I don’t remember this street.~” Sage mumbled out, made that bit uneasier by the realization.

    Bugger. “^It’s okay, don’t worry Sage. Let’s keep going then.^”

    Marco grabbed Sage’s hand once more, smiling at her once she’d looked up at him. The gesture was made... somewhat ineffective by the scarf obscuring his expression, but the Phantump seemed to have gotten the gist, anyway.

    Without another word, they stepped out of the side path and let the pavement guide them towards the lights in the distance. Sage kept looking around, trying her best to recall anything as Marco kept watch for any humans braving the freezing rain. To his relief, the few of them that approached head on would inevitably walk across the black road once they had spotted him and his company, giving them a wide berth.

    Not out of the fear of him being a mon, thank goodness, but because of... something else he had a much harder time identifying. There was some fear in there, chiefly focused on the ghosts accompanying them, but it wasn’t everything—or even the dominant emotion. Disgust dominated, as perplexing for Gallade as it was convenient.

    It freed enough of his attention to let him keep analyzing his surroundings even as they walked into a more densely inhabited part of the town. All around them, the metal contraptions with wheels, resting motionlessly on either the edges of the stone path, or on dirt lots that split off from the black road. More and more brightly lit, transparent rooms came and went, some of them with dozens upon dozens of colorful bottles on display.

    Above them, light shone out of the windows they were passing by, fewer and fewer by the minute.

    All of it dazzling, even overwhelming, especially once they had made it to part of the town with three or even four-story buildings all around them, but it wasn’t what caught Marco’s attention the most. Most of the sleeping humans were indoors, but not all, the few of them that appeared to be sleeping outside gave him a pause in particular.

    He kept his curiosity in check for a while—at least until he sensed another of them right beside their route. After making sure nobody was watching, he peeked into the small alleyway beside them, the already-present reek suddenly intensifying tenfold. As loud as his nose screamed at being subjected to this, what his eyes saw overruled it.

    Indeed, there was a human sleeping behind one of the massive metal containers full of junk and decaying food, covered in little more than some sodden brown plates. Cold, ill, alone. Marco had no idea what to make of it, couldn’t imagine what could’ve caused someone to end up in a situation like this.

    How could this happen? How could this be allowed?

    He remembered, way back when he and Aria first showed up at their little village, long before they had a roof of their own, how they spent their first night there. Holly barely knew them; she hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences with them the entire day before but was still more than eager to lend them a roof. And so was Vivian, and so was Esther. Hell, even Mikiri, though hers was an offer they only ended up taking once.

    It didn’t take more than a couple of weeks for them to have a small hut of their own. They helped build it, sure, but weren’t alone; almost half the village had contributed in whichever way they could. They didn’t end up needing that hut for long, not with Garret helping them out so much and Aria catching his eye, but they still had shelter, even if it ended up going to someone else once they had moved out.

    And yet, this human was forced to sleep in the rain, surrounded by houses, surrounded by his fellow kin.

    Why?

    “~Mr. Marco?~” Sage whispered, hovering over to him before yelping at spotting the sleeping human just a few feet away.

    However bad the sight’s implications were, the Gallade knew that it wasn’t what they were here for—it was time to keep going. “^I’m here Sage, I’m here. I just—just got distracted. Let’s keep going.^”

    He knew it wouldn’t last long once he left, but Marco hoped the Safeguard would make the stranger’s night at least a bit easier.

    As much as he wanted to refocus squarely on the task ahead, he couldn’t, remaining unnerved at the sight as they stepped into the densest, brightest part of the town. Many more people walked the streets here, enough so for some of them to brave passing by their group—though chiefly because of distraction and not courage. They felt cold, this place felt cold, the unnatural orange light washing over them felt cold.

    And yet, they had to keep going.

    “^Sage, do you recognize this place?^” Marco asked once more, sparing a glance at Yaksha as he did so. The Banette kept close to them, focusing on some of the brightly shining, cluttered rooms as if trying to make out their contents from a distance.

    “~Mmmm... a-a bit. I-I remember it, but only a little...~” Sage admitted as she huddled to the Gallade, catching the attention of a passerby.

    It made them stop and stare at the Phantump as it, and the weird bum it trailed, walked away. That alone was… odd, but hearing it speak what they could swear was Unovan was even worse. It was almost too much to bear—and so they didn’t bear it, convincing themselves they had simply misheard.

    No other answer made sense, after all.

    As the group walked away from the stray human, Marco nodded weakly at Sage's words. They were getting a bit warmer at least, and he knew he had to focus on that, and not on the growing pit of worry inside him. “^Alright. Let’s keep going then.^”

    Yaksha grumbled to himself as the group got going again, following the corner on the crossroad they had just arrived at. Some of what he was seeing tingled his memory, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough to go off. Has he been here before?

    To Marco’s relief, the street eventually thinned out, leaving them with fewer and fewer prying eyes to worry about. It was a rather fleeting reassurance, though, especially once he’d noticed Sage growing less and less certain of where they were as they kept going.

    One of the moving metal boxes honking at him when he’d accidentally veered onto the black road while lost in thought didn’t help his anxiety any, either.

    Despite the bit of progress they had made earlier with the busy area, it felt like they were back to absolutely nothing, not a single shred of idea of where to even go. As hard as Marco tried to remain calm about this, it got harder and harder with each passing minute, with each passing street that only brought on further confusion inside the Phantump’s little mind.

    He had to do something, and he had to do it soon.

    “^Are you sure you don’t remember anything except for the green roof, Sage?^”

    Some of his exasperated stress leaked through to his mental voice despite his best efforts. It took him all the willpower he could muster to not immediately start kicking himself once Sage noticed his fouling mood, his tone only sparking further anxiety.

    “~N-no, I-I really don’t, I promise!~” she pleaded, the worry in her voice sparking yet another bit of anger in Yaksha’s mind.

    The last thing Marco needed was dealing with the Banette on top of everything else, ignoring him as he tried to comfort the ghostly girl. “^It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m—I’m sorry Sage, I shouldn’t have raised my voice.^” It hurt to admit, but he hoped it’d be enough to soothe some of her worries.

    Attentive nod, a moment of thought—one Phantump floating over to hug his hand, trying her best to hold on to the umbrella throughout. “~Okay...~”

    He knew full well he was unlikely to get anything more confident out of Sage, and it still felt not enough. He felt not enough. Dammit, not again...

    He needed a lead, Sage needed reassurance; they couldn’t keep going like this forever. The street grew less and less busy even as the surrounding buildings grew larger, two-floor rectangular structures from earlier now replaced by a mix of large, multi-room houses with angled roofs and spacious lawns, and something else, something his eyes had a hard time making sense of.

    The same lit-up windows he’d seen earlier, but this time some of them were many, many floors up in the sky, the sight utterly dumbfounding until they walked closer. To his shock, they weren’t some sort of flying houses, something unlikely but which he could at least imagine, but a building so tall and wide it faded into the murky darkness above them, shrouded by night and rain.

    It made Marco feel puny, and drove into him just how lost he was. Not just in the moment, but about the sheer scale of the settlement he was in, the sheer amount of buildings and people and lights and smells finally hitting him. All of that wasn’t even one town, it was but a tiny slice of said town, its exact size too large for him to even imagine.

    There was no way to avoid admitting the obvious—they were lost.

    Which left but one way forward.

    “^We need to ask someone for directions, we can’t continue like this.^” The admission brought more comfort than Marco expected, finally giving him an idea of what to do next, even if it wasn’t directly walking ahead yet. The two ghosts nodded in acknowledgement, looking around in search of anyone who looked ask-able.

    And finding themselves alone on the street, most of the surrounding windows already dark. The realization threatened to undermine whatever reassurance the Gallade had carved for himself, and he knew he couldn’t stop there. Without another word, he resumed the group’s march, the ghosts soon catching up—though Sage with noticeable difficulty.

    She hadn’t said anything yet, but Marco could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her.

    “~I see someone. A couple of people there, under that flat’s awning,~” Yaksha directed, some of his words sliding off Marco when he’d tried to parse them. Trying to figure out what the Banette had meant by ‘flat’ was too difficult for the Gallade’s frazzled mind, but he didn’t have to—he too spotted the humans moments later.

    Both were shorter than him, with almost full-body outfits, hats, and weird, bulky masks on their faces. They seemed to be painting something on the walls inside the awning, each new line marked with a loud, drawn-out hiss. Marco had no idea what exactly they were doing there, but he didn’t care. He had questions, and he hoped beyond hope they had answers.

    Or else...

    Or else he’d have to go find another human, and that’d just be inconvenient.

    With his aim set on the two humans, Marco marched on with a spring in his step, determined to find a way forward. The din of rain and hisses of spray cans made it difficult for them to hear him approach, making them jump once he spoke up–

    “^Hey, you two!^”

    “~Oh shit, book it Lee!~” the shorter of the humans shouted, bits of pink hair flowing out underneath their hat as she and her partner in crime tried to run in the opposite directions.

    Neither of them made it even a single step before their bottom halves were surrounded in the pale glow of Marco’s Psychic, immobilizing them in an instant. He felt the emotions surging through their minds in perfect clarity—startle at their illegal fun being interrupted, adrenaline and excitement once it came time to outrun yet another cop,

    Deep fear at the realization they weren’t dealing with just some obese donut-muncher, or even just a human for that matter. Thoughts about ‘ghost brides’, about having been tracked down for revenge—none of them mattered at the moment, especially not to Marco. What the taller, dark-skinned human did right after, though, did.

    “~Chucky, help!~” he shouted, waking up someone neither Yaksha nor Marco had spotted earlier, nestled inside the bag in the corner, and catching their attention.

    c-caw! CAW CAW!

    Yaksha leaped back as the Murkrow stirred awake from their nap inside the humans’ backpack, their anger aimed squarely at the Gallade. Fighting was the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now—or dealing with over-eager human pets. He might’ve not been able to immobilize the Dark-type directly, but he didn’t have to.

    Before the Murkrow could react, Marco’s glow enveloped the entire backpack they were standing inside of, and held it shut, leaving them thrashing against their sudden containment.

    “^I just have a question for you two. Answer it and I’ll let you go.^” Marco put as much effort as he was capable of in concealing his annoyance.

    Thankfully, the humans’ fear, only intensified by their guardian ending up incapacitated, gave way to confusion. Mostly. They stared wide-eyed first at the not-human bum-looking stranger, and then at each other, getting enough of a grip on themselves to answer with the world’s shakiest nods.

    “^Where can I find buildings with green roofs here?^”

    Marco worried as he watched the two stare at him, dumbfounded by his question. Not an encouraging response in the slightest, but the last thing he wanted to do was to speed them on and make them even more afraid. If for nothing else, then for the practical reason of fear making it harder to think rationally.

    “~A-as in, green-roofed buildings here? In Lillywood?~” the shorter human questioned, going through her mental map of the town the moment the stranger answered with a nod.

    “~What kinda fuckin’ place has a green roof...~” the taller one muttered, annoyed at not remembering anything that fit the criteria.

    “~No, Lee, I think I got somethin’! Hold on, uh, like you mean normal tile roofs on family houses? That kinda building?~” the pink-haired one asked, focusing on having potentially found their ticket out of this mess. Marco didn’t know how to answer that,

    But Sage did.

    “~Yeah! With a lawn and a garage!~”

    The two humans were almost focused enough to not freak out at hearing that ghost just speak Unovan at them—but only almost, the realization of what the hell they had just heard shutting them up for a moment. Sage didn’t know why they suddenly went quiet, but could feel their glares on her all the same, making her retreat behind the friendly Gallade.

    Chucky continued to thrash inside the bag.

    “^You heard her.^”

    Marco’s grunt was enough to snap the humans out of their stupor, though they still needed a moment for their thoughts to go from ‘did that fucking ghost just talk’ to ‘who the fuck has a green roof on their place’, and then ‘hold on, I think I can recall something like that’. And then, at last, the taller human spoke, “~Shit, you’re right. Uh, fuck, I remember—Sunnyside Heights, I think! They had a fancy-ass street like that over here; I think I passed by it once or twice.~”

    “~Yeah, that’s the one!~” the other human followed up.

    Marco’s attention was focused entirely on the Phantump beside him, her thoughts swirling as she tried to recall that name. And then, she finally did, gasping, “~Yes, that! I-I remember now, from a sign!~”

    The Gallade mouthed thanks to all the deities he could think of. “^That’s good. Now, how do we get to that... ‘Sunnyside Heights’?^” He had no idea what that name referenced, hoping that once they got to whatever it was, Sage would recognize that area enough to guide them.

    “~By bus? Uhhh, I think two-oh-five goes from the stop down the road to there—~”

    “^On foot,^” Marco clarified, cutting the taller human off. He didn’t expect that clarification of all things to confuse them as much as it did. The shorter one fared no better, thinking hard for a moment before reaching into the pocket of their leg coverings and pulling out a black rectangular object.

    “~Hold on, need to double-check the map,~” she spoke as the rectangle lit up, illuminating her bulky mask with a pale light. “~Aight, it’s down the road from here, then turn left onto 26th—~”

    “^Where is that exactly?^” Marco asked, not having the patience for more human terms.

    “~The fuck you—ugh, fifth street to the left. Then fourth to the right, you go straight for a few miles and end up at a plaza. From there you turn left and it should be it. Sound good?~”

    Thankfully for her, it did sound good.

    “^Yes. Thank you.^” Marco said, before letting both humans and the backpack go. They wasted not a second running away as fast as their legs could carry them, the taller one forcibly dragging the Murkrow with himself before they could let loose upon the stranger that had just interrogated them.

    At last, progress. The Gallade took a deep breath as he turned around, finding Sage a bit worried about the humans, and Yaksha staring at him... impressed.

    “^Let’s get going, it’s not getting any less dark,^” he muttered, walking around the group while repeating the human’s instructions on a loop—

    And then; he spotted someone watching them from a distance.

    They were far enough away to where he couldn’t make out anything except for a human-like appearance and a small bag in one hand, but could tell their focus was squarely on their makeshift group. Worries shot through his mind at the realization, concerns about whether he needed to intervene and wipe that from their mind while the memory was still fresh and malleable. Before Marco could settle on what to do next, though, the onlooker... turned around and walked away.

    ...

    Fine by him.


    As reassuring as being told where to go was, it didn’t last forever.

    Rain poured on as the group followed the human’s directions, their spirits faltering with each step. Sage wasn’t getting any less exhausted, finding it harder and harder to keep holding her rain shield, though kept herself from complaining out loud.

    “~Are we getting close, M-Mr. Marco?~”

    Most of the time.

    “^I don’t know, Sage. We’re following the directions they gave us, and I just hope they’re accurate. Do you recognize this place?^” he asked as calmly as he could, even if his worries were growing just as fast as the Phantump’s. They had gone from there being almost nobody sharing the streets with them, to just flat-out being alone, going many minutes without seeing another soul outside. Fewer humans walking around, fewer lit windows, fewer awake minds he could sense with each steady step.

    They were alone, with only the sickly orange light and their worries to accompany them.

    “~N-nooo, not really...~”

    And the worries only kept growing. Marco could swear he’d followed the humans’ directions to the letter, and yet here they were, no less lost despite that. Imposing buildings gave way to shorter, more sprawled-out houses, but it didn’t matter when there were so many of them, street after street. Each of them was large enough to fit several families, and yet he could only feel a handful of souls in them at a time, sometimes even just a single human.

    All that space, much larger than their burrow, even excluding the empty grass lots, for a single person. Unthinkable.

    To Marco’s chagrin, his mind was keen to badger him with more doubts than just that. Even if they had found their way and made it over to the street Sage’s family lived on, would she be able to recognize the right building in the dark? Would anyone in her family still be awake? Could they wake them up if not?

    Even if anything went well, how in the world would they react to a tall, disguised figure showing up with a pair of ghosts in the dead of night? Marco’s imagination provided him with exactly no uplifting answers, and it wasn’t even done yet. Them freaking out would be bad enough—but what if they weren’t just humans? What if they were those so-called ‘‘‘trainers’’’, and either attacked them in perceived self-defense or tried to capture Sage?

    What if they succeeded?

    Every hypothetical left Marco feeling even colder, his gloved hand shaking as it held Sage’s. This time, the Phantump didn’t even notice, too spaced out in her own little world as she marched on. He spared her tired mind a quick look—and found hope, despite everything. Not as bright as it was just a few hours ago, no doubt tainted by the increasing realization of everything he and Yaksha were also worried about, but still there.

    Hope that deserved him trying his hardest to keep searching. They hadn’t seen anyone in a good while now, but once they would, Marco figured he’d ask them the same question he asked those two humans earlier. Maybe he could even ask about the name of the unspecified area they gave him, other humans would likely know more about it—

    “~Ice cream!!!~” Sage gasped in joy, flying straight on before either of the other two could react.

    She wasn’t that fast even while doing the hovering equivalent of sprinting, though, and Marco only needed to jog to keep up with her. “^Sage, where are you—^”

    “~There’s the ice cream place, Mr. Marco!~” The Phantump accompanied her non-explanation by pointing her hand towards where she was running, letting the Gallade finally spot... that. How in the world had he not mentioned the large light in the distance earlier, he had no idea.

    Brooding most definitely didn’t help, though.

    The building was on the smaller side as far as the rectangular two-floor ones went, one of several around the plaza lined with red tiles and flower beds. What it lacked in size, it more than made up for in how bright it—or rather the decoration on it—shone. It took Marco until he was just a few dozen meters away to make out what the light, and the negative space surrounding it, was meant to be, the distance making it fade into a blur.

    A female Indeedee wearing a small white hat, an apron, and holding a conical object topped with a sphere in each paw.

    “~Awwwhhhh, it’s closed...~” Sage mumbled, distraught.

    “^Do you remember this place, Sage?^”

    “~Yeah, mom always took us here on weekends and we all had ice cream!~”

    The girl might’ve dodged the realization in her exhaustion, but it sure hit the Gallade, making him follow with another question right after. “^Do you remember how to get home from here?^”

    Sage opened her mouth, about to say that she didn’t—but then; she realized she did. Her eyes went wide as she nodded with all her strength, turning to the left and taking off without Marco needing to ask her. If she had a heart, it would’ve been racing. Marco’s was more than fit to pick up the slack, hammering faster than the Gallade remembered in years.

    At least; until the earlier worries started crawling out once more. They were getting there, which solved one worry, and still left all the other ones. He’d done it, he’d guided Sage over, made it through this massive, sprawling human town—but for what? For fate to subject her to heartbreak after all?

    Marco’s heart ached at the thought, at the reality of them being so close and yet infinitely far. For a moment, he wanted to pull his hand back and try to discourage the girl, to turn around. It was much too late now, and he was well aware.

    No way forward now but to face fate.

    Each turn along the increasingly narrow streets built up more and more dread in them all—Sage not excluded. Marco felt her radiant excitement dull as the reality caught up with her, aided further by her catching a distorted glimpse of herself in the puddle she was flying overhead. She knew what she used to be, who she used to be—but only used to be.

    What she no longer was.

    The realization was inescapable, gnawing at her spirits even as she tried to outrace it. Left on their playground, right at the tall stop sign; images flooded her mind as she found herself following her route back home from school. Just like she remembered, but dark and distorted, warm sunlight replaced by the glare of street lamps, illuminating little more than the spots immediately underneath themselves.

    Her bright, happy world replaced with a sea of dark doubt and a single, shaky path along the lights still scattered through it, still pushing back against the night.

    She was so scared,

    But she had made it.

    Before them, a street she could fill in from memory, the single-family houses lining it so similar in appearance, and yet so colorful and different with all their inhabitants. Her neighbors, her friends, her family. So hard to make out like this.

    For a while, Sage could only shake in place and watch, only snapping back to awareness once a particularly strong gust had almost ripped the umbrella out of her grasp. She breathed rapidly as she came to, knowing only vaguely where to go now and yet afraid to take a step. She jumped as something grabbed her, warm and leathery—Mr. Marco’s hand once more.

    “^Are you okay, Sage?^” he asked with all the warmth he could still muster, kneeling beside the hauntling.

    “~I-I’m scared, M-Mr. Marco...~”

    Tears mixed with rain as the Phantump was overwhelmed by her thoughts, clinging to the Gallade’s arm. He pulled her in close, hoping that, even if not particularly warm or dry, his embrace would still comfort her at least a bit. She accepted it wholeheartedly, but it only did so much, could only ever hope to do so much.

    They didn’t know what to do. But, if nothing else, Yaksha knew what to ask.

    “~Are you sure you wanna keep going, Sage?~”

    Sage deserved happiness in this cruel world, and there was no happiness to be found down this dark, human street, in this dark, human world. It pained him to see how much it hurt Sage to realize that, but better late than never—

    “~Y-yes...~” she muttered out, trying to steady her breathing. She got scared; she was still scared, but she didn’t want to stop. She knew she looked different now, was different in more than just appearance in a way she couldn’t explain with words even if she’d tried—but her family was here. And they were always there for her when she got scared, her mom especially.

    She loved her mom, and her mom said she’d always love her too...

    The Banette stared distraught as the Phantump shook the Gallade’s embrace off, going back to just holding his hand instead. Without saying another word, she hovered down the street, looking from side to side as she kept trying to make out the details of the surrounding front porches.

    Yaksha eventually followed.

    “^Your family lives on this street, right Sage?^” Marco asked to be sure, the hauntling confirming soon after. All of these buildings looked almost identical, but Sage still had some idea where to go next. He didn’t follow up with any more questions, instead holding her hand as firmly as he could while he scanned the nearby humans.

    All asleep, all tired.

    All but one.

    A faint light shone from inside one of the houses, as if from the next room over, accompanied by a quiet, somber insomnia. Marco let go of Sage as she hovered closer, investigating—and gasping soon after.

    “~I-I remember we had this f-for Halloween! I-I think this is my house—yes, that’s our doormat too!~” Sage squeaked in the dark, letting Marco spot what she was referring to regarding the so-called ‘Halloween’ once she’d floated away from the window. It was torn in a few places and rather faded, but still recognizable as a depiction of a Phantump attached to the transparent material.

    With a heavy heart, Marco took one step after another as he followed Sage to the front door, looking behind him to see Yaksha staring at the dirt away from them, bracing himself for the inevitable. The Gallade was only doing any better through the sheer force of will.

    A few seconds and an eternity later, he stood beside the Phantump as she stared down at the fabric rectangle in front of the door, intently reading the human writing patterned into the material. He gave her a moment, then another, eventually leaning in and grasping her hand once more. This time, she didn’t jump, slowly floating up to him as she read out loud,

    “~Welcome Home.~”​

    Marco held her as firmly as he could, and it was only barely enough to keep them both from breaking down.

    “^Are you ready, Sage?^” He asked quietly, steadying his breath as the Phantump floated up to the front door. Without responding, she reached out with an inky arm towards something attached to the wall beside the door’s handle—

    And pressed it.

    ding-ding-dooong

    A jolt went through the group at the sound, startling them in how familiar it was for Sage, how unfamiliar for Marco, and how damning for Yaksha. Not much happened for a while—not much they could see from the outside. Marco felt it all, though. Felt the racing heart of the awake human inside; felt their fear; felt the myriad of possibilities racing through their mind as they stood up, turned on the lights, and approached the front door.

    He took two steps back as the stranger drew close, Sage following in tow. A moment later, a light lit up above them, and they saw something dark on the opposite side of the frosted glass.

    The door’s handle shook, stopped, and began to twist.

    The human that peeked out looked unlike either Anne or Olive with her dark skin and black, braided hair, but her appearance was the last thing on Marco’s mind. She was tired, startled, confused—and the moment she spotted the Phantump floating just a couple feet away, afraid.

    “~What—what is this!?~” Her expression twisted into terror as she reeled back, about to shut the door there and then—

    “~M-Mom, it’s me, Sage!~” the Phantump wailed, terrified of her mom’s reaction. She tried to float just a bit closer, only startling the human further before she froze at her words.

    Froze and shook, steady breaths giving way to hyperventilating. “~No, no this can’t be, no, NO!~” The woman gasped as blood drained away from her face, the sheer horror before her making her want to run and hide. Hide from the ghost that spoke Unovan, that claimed to be her dead son, that wanted to trick her into letting it in, to fool her with the voice so—so similar to his...

    Marco wanted to intervene, but could only stare, sinking his head as he let the inevitable play out.

    The ghost shrieked at the woman almost closing the door before her, “~MOM IT’S ME, SAGE! I’M SORRY FOR SCARING YOU, I-I’M SORRY FOR TAKING AZALEA’S SKIRT, I-I-I DIDN’T MEAN TO, I-I WAS SCARED A-AND—~” The words couldn’t endure as despair flooded her mind, despair at having scared her mom so much and her mom not believing it was her and not knowing what to do. She broke into pained sobs, tears flowing down her mask as she tried to hide in her hands, do anything to make her mom less afraid—only to be unable to.

    She didn’t mean to scare her...

    A few feet away, the woman stared out the slit of the opened door, grasping the door’s handle with all her strength. Stared at this mon, at this ghost with something black on its head, and watched it wail, paralyzed in thought. Every single fiber of her being wanted to run, to run until she couldn’t, to begrudgingly call the cops and the League to save her, to grab her husband’s handgun to protect herself from this—this thing—

    But she couldn’t.

    This couldn’t have been it but, but nobody knew of Sage wearing his sister’s skirt when they found him—his body. She’d asked the cops to not write it in the report, none of the newspapers had mentioned it, she thought it’d been some fucked up taunt the kids had pulled on him and didn’t want him to be remembered like that, a-and—

    And this thing, this ghost, knew. It sounded ghostly, distorted, almost girlish, but—but it was his voice, almost like his voice. That weird thing on its head, almost like a wig, almost like the hairstyle he had when they—but HOW!? It was impossible; people couldn’t come back as ghosts; no, no, this had to have been a trick!

    She was being deceived, drawn into a trap, especially with that tall man standing next to the stairs to the porch, but couldn’t look away. Away from this crying, distraught ghost, its sobs just like when he got scared after watching a movie he was much too young for. This was all a dream, must’ve been a dream, there’s no way this could be real, this thing sounded too female to be Sage, there was no way, but—but what if—no it was impossible, NO—

    Bitter reality fought fevered dreams in the woman’s mind as she grasped the handle so hard her hand grew numb, locked in a stalemate with herself. It couldn’t have been a coincidence; too many things lined up, but it couldn’t have not been a coincidence; none of this was possible—Sage was GONE, and she was finally beginning to make peace with that fact! Was her mind playing a trick on her, trying to pull her away from acceptance and into another grief-fueled delusion!?

    It hurt too much to be anything but reality.

    After what felt like an eternity, the woman took another breath, her shaking eyes staring at the ghost—and finding it, them, staring back at her. She knew it wasn’t possible, but...

    “~I-I’m sorry, m-mom...~”

    ...she wanted it to be. She wanted to see her baby again, to apologize to him for all the times she wasn’t there for him, to make him feel as loved as he always deserved to be and not just on weekends, to tell him how much she loved him,

    To hug him again.

    “~S-Sage, i-i-is that you?~” the woman whispered, words so quiet they were only barely audible above the din of rain.

    Hope mixed with disbelief, fear with anguish, fantasy with reality as she watched the ghost perk up at her words, shaking even harder than before.

    “~Th-that’s me mom, I-I’m Sage, I’m sorry I’M SORRY!~” the ghost wailed, wet tears streaking down their wooden mask as it twisted into terror. And then; it stopped, pink pinpricks of its eyes focusing as the woman opened the door just enough to reach out with her other hand. Cold, shaking, curled as if ready to be withdrawn at a moment’s notice—but still there.

    Her mom’s hand.

    Sage flew over to it without thinking, scared beyond words and just wanting her mom to hold her again, to tell her how much she loved her, to feel safe and to be told that everything would be okay again, to eat ice cream with her again, to have her braids done again, to apologize. She clung to her hand as close as she could, not wanting it to let go, not wanting her mom to abandon her,

    Clung to it, just like Sage did.

    “~S-Sage? SAGE!~” Mom shouted, pulling the door open and stumbling outside, falling to her knees as she pulled the wooden ghost into her arms. Rain covered for her wailing sobs as she let her grief out in bitter tears, “~M-mommy is here, Sage, mommy is here...~”

    “~MOM! I-I—~” Sage wept as despair gave way to grief, fearful emotions leaving her body one warm tear at a time—into her mom’s shirt, just like always. She tried to speak, but couldn’t; she could only cry and listen and keep crying—but now, in release.

    “~I-I thought I’d never see you again...~” Mom whimpered, arms shaking even as the rough bark dug into her skin, not wanting to let go even slightly.

    Sage whined, “~I-I’m sorry,~” before her mom cut her off—

    “~Shhhhh, shhhhh, it’s—it’s okay baby, d-don’t be sorry, baby. I’m here, m-mommy’s here, m-mommy loves you...~”

    Marco stared slack-jawed, heart fluttering at the sheer intensity of emotions going on around him. Intense enough to give him a headache, and yet blissful enough to only draw him closer as his mind caught up to the racing hearts before him. Beside him, Yaksha was reacting much the same, pink eyes unfocused as they took the scene in.

    Sage’s mom flinched as she spotted the homeless man step into the light, pushing him half a step back. As terrifying as the stranger was, though, she knew they had to have been related to her—her child finding their way back home, and so had the Banette beside them. They scared her; they scared her so much, but they meant well, she knew it. She mouthed ‘thank you’ their way before holding the ghost even tighter.

    She was weak; she was cold and wet from the rain side swiping, her head kept spinning; none of this should’ve even been possible—but it was Sage; it couldn’t not be Sage. She wanted to believe it was Sage, wanted that wound on her soul to be mended.

    The two sobbed in silence for a while longer as the maelstrom of emotions burned out into exhaustion, deep and all-encompassing. At having grieved her child, at having to survive in the woods for months, at finding her child’s body, at being so worried about her family not accepting her again. It was over; it was finally over, and eventually, tears slowed down to just a trickle.

    It’d take many, many days for the last of them to be shed, but they had time. They finally had time.

    “~I-I love you mommy...~” Sage mumbled, barely awake anymore. Her mom only barely kept herself from breaking into more sobs as she slowly stood up once more, cold and drenched and happy and beyond words and so, so exhausted. She kept gently shushing her child as she began to turn around, wanting to carry them home just like she did when they first showed up to this world. And then stopped at hearing the Phantump gasp in her arms, “~M-mommy, can I s-say goodbye to Mr. Yaksha a-and Mr. Marco?~”

    Mom looked up at the stranger and the ghost once more, holding the wooden ghost even tighter. She didn’t want to let go, to risk something happening to her child again, even if she’d be just mere feet away—but she agreed, regardless. Her arms shook as she nodded, trying her hardest to relax them and yet finding herself unable to. Sage knew what to do, though, phasing through her mom’s arms and leaving her wig behind as she hovered over to her guardians.

    “~Th-thank you, Mr. Yaksha! D-do you want to come too?~” Sage squealed as she hugged the dumbstruck Banette, her spectral touch finally snapping him back to reality.

    The older ghost didn’t even need to look at the terrified expression on the woman's face to know it was a bad idea, weakly shaking his head as he gave her a couple of pats on the back. “~Best not, kid.~”

    “~Awhhhh. But w-will you visit us sometime?~”

    Yaksha almost didn’t hear the question at all, staring into the middle distance as the hauntling let go of him. “~I’ll think about it. Stay—stay safe, kid.~”

    “~I-I will! Bye-bye, Mr. Yaksha! B-bye-bye, Mr. Marco!~” She squealed as she hovered back to her mom, returning the disguised Gallade’s waving in kind.

    Marco and Yaksha watched the woman give them one last nod in gratitude before she closed the door and turned off the porch light. Moments later, light shone from the building’s ground-floor windows and Marco sensed someone making their way down from the top floor and being taken aback. He could’ve stood and snooped like this for hours, but he knew he didn’t have to.

    They were done here.

    “We did it,” Marco whispered as the reality of the situation finally hit him, warm relief filling his soul. He was tired, and yet he felt fine, unable to stop laughing as his body and mind alike unwound from the tension. They’d done it, he’d done it. Sage was safe. Things would be okay now. He kept laughing to himself as his body turned around on autopilot and started making its way back to the sidewalk.

    Before he could let himself get lost in that bliss, though, he sensed something else brewing inside the Banette. “^Y-you okay, Yaksha?^” he asked, sparing the ghost a concerned glance. He hadn’t moved an inch since Sage let go of him, gaze drilling into nothing.

    “~I feel... hollow.~” Yaksha whispered, continuing to stare straight ahead.

    Marco chuckled, “^I get it, you two were close. I could tell you’ve been looking after her for a while now, and now she’s gone. Hard to get over it, I imagine.^” A smile crept to his obscured lips as he turned back to the road once more, his tired mind trying its best to come up with some guidance on the spot. “^Well, if you don’t know what to do now, our village would always be glad to take you in—^”

    “~The stars look so beautiful today.~”​

    ...

    “^What?^” Marco blinked at Yaksha’s awestruck observation, looking up at the sky just in case. Nope, the sky was still entirely covered with clouds, pitch black and only occasionally illuminated by stray lightning in the distance. He turned to the ghost, “^What do you—^”

    But the Banette was gone.

    Marco looked from side to side as he tried to spot the ghost before focusing on his psychics to figure out where he’d gone. They were of no use, not spotting a single trace of the Banette despite having sensed him just moments prior—

    ...

    The Gallade stopped as the realization struck him. He didn’t know what had happened with certainty, but... he had a guess. Without wasting another moment, he nodded toward the now-empty spot,

    And began his journey home.



    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

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    Interlude XI: Happenstance


  • Interlude XI: Happenstance



    CONTENT WARNING: Suicide

    What the hell had he just run into?

    Muffled electronic music filled Dan’s ears as he made his way home, combining with an ill-fitted coat to shield him from the depressing surroundings. It was still cold, and his nose was still an obnoxiously large target for any stray raindrops, but he’d bear through the former and had his methods to ease the latter. For once, though, his mind was focused on something entirely unrelated to what either of his usual senses were feeding him, replaying the scene he had just witnessed on a loop.

    It stumped him in a way not much did anymore. Was that a drug drop gone awry? Some sort of gang intimidation? He’d seen these two kids around quite a bit, and while their records were far from spotless, they were nowhere near bad enough for him to suspect them of dealing with organized crime. Then again, they didn't end up actually getting hurt. Frightened and held in place, yes, but not hurt. Didn’t notice any manipulation either, though that might’ve just been because of the distance.

    Further confounding it was the fact that, as far as he could tell, the psychics were coming from the tall one and not either of the mons. The thought made him chuckle under his breath; the mental image of some stray wildling putting on their best hobo impression was too far-fetched to be real, amusing as it was.

    Not his business either way, especially since nobody got hurt.

    Clearing his mind, Dan upped the volume a couple of notches just in time for the drop, head banging all the while. A lotta noise—most of which his dad couldn’t stand, but it was exactly what he needed. Took quite a bit of talking and thinking to square the circle of his preferences without subjecting his old man to what he’d so candidly described as ‘the sounds of blenders being tortured to death’, but eventually, they arrived at their current solution.

    Custom molded earbuds were the priciest investment of his life so far, but also the ones by far the most worth it.

    Completing his most favorite kind of overstimulation was the small trinket in his off-hand, sliding up and down along its string roughly in tune with the beat. It’d still be a while until he could time it right, but the progress he had so far was already motivating enough.

    It also inspired the mental image of him walking up to a wildling cousin and just giving them a yo-yo of their own. Also a trinket on a string, but one they could do so much more with instead of just obsessively polishing it! Win-win as far as he was concerned! Oh well—

    ...

    ...

    Oh shit.

    His heart skipped a beat as he focused on the sensations he could just barely make out a few streets down, bright and noticeable in the most distressing way possible. A part of him wanted to ignore it and run, to just hope it’d solve itself; it’s not like this stuff didn’t happen all the time whether he was there or not—but he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t, he’d know he could’ve done something but didn’t.

    He already had enough things to judge himself for as is.

    A deep breath never hurt to get his head straight in situations like these, but he had no idea how much time he had—might as well head over as he chewed through what he’d even do. Just like dad said—acknowledge it, measure it, mitigate it. He’d acknowledged it alright, and from the little he could measure it, it looked dire but not critical yet.

    Now to mitigate it.

    Dan struggled to think of what he’d say to the stranger as he speed-walked down the wet pavement; the din of rain and even his music completely tuned out by now. He needed to have a plan or else he’d just make it all worse—especially if he started panicking or was too serious. It’d have to be something casual, yet attention-grabbing. Let’s see...

    Whoever it was, they seemed to be young, and the little he could make out of their thoughts was snarky and bitter. Maybe meeting them at their level could work? A bit of edgy snark instead of just platitudes? It made sense in the moment and left him hoping to whatever gods were watching that he wasn’t about to make the worst mistake of his life.

    It was time to straighten himself out a bit, stuff the yo-yo into his pocket, take another breath,

    And turn the corner.

    Sensing it a few minutes earlier didn’t make the sight that awaited him any less unnerving.

    A human was balancing along the railing of the bridge in front of him, one step after another on wet, slippery metal. Next to said railing rested a roughened backpack and a couple balls; a detail that would’ve left Dan unnerved in any other situation. Their soaked outfit was nowhere near enough for the weather, a thick scarf wrapped around their neck aside.

    Dan kept a grip on himself as he approached, focusing on being able to grab them in case they did what he feared they would. It was time to catch their attention, and he hoped beyond hope his awful opener wouldn’t make anything worse.

    “~Wouldn’t recommend using this bridge. Much shorter than it looks at night, you’ll just break your leg and drown in agony. That flat over there might work though, should be tall enough.~”

    He cursed his dry, under-used voice as the figure ahead turned around to face him, jolting a bit. Thankfully, their reactions stopped at that, and while their thoughts briefly veered toward doing the unthinkable, their feet stayed firmly glued to the railing.

    “~What kinda fucking advice is that?~” the stranger said with a mix of surprise and amusement, the latter undoing at least some of their—no, her—gloom.

    “~Ehh, the best one I could think of on the spot. Tried my best, y’know.~” Dan’s heart hammered as he approached, each step making his grip on the girl that much stronger should the worst come to pass. He had to keep talking but didn’t have many ideas for what to say—aside from the most banal response possible to something like this. “~Somethin’ happen lately? Dad always told me to never make any life decisions after dark, and this sure looks like a big one.~”

    The stranger giggled at his shoddy joke, even if it was mixed with a barely visible eye roll. The moment of levity brought some relief, but it didn’t last. “~I fucked up one too many times,~” the girl admitted, letting Dan finally notice how hoarse her voice was.

    And how much her gaze lingered on the other side of the railing.

    “~Fucked up what? Everyone fucks stuff up from time to time. Shit happens y’know.~”

    “~The whole—the whole fuckin’ trainer bullshit. Took it up to get away from my fuckin’ parents and now I’m fuckin’ done for. Been trying to do something, fuckin’ anything, but I just fuckin’ can’t.~” Her hand clenched at the admission, tears adding to the downpour.

    Not the most... sympathetic story as far as Dan was concerned, but at least it was one the stranger was at the end of. “~Sounds rough. Can’t you just quit being a trainer then?~”

    “~And go back to fuckin’ groveling at my parents’ feet while they treat me like shit!? Fuck no, I’d rather take the leap,~” she snarled, seething anger pointed in equal parts at herself and at the two bespoke humans. “~They always fuckin’ hated me, couldn’t fuckin’ stand me even when I was their poster good boy they could fuckin’ parade around in front of their fuckin’ ghoul friends. Fuck them, I’m gonna have the last fuckin’ hurrah, gonna spite them one last time.~”

    Dan didn’t have the time to respond before she turned her head skyward and shouted, “~SEE THIS, MOM? LOOK AT YOUR FAILURE OF A SON, HOPE YOU CAN SHIP THAT SHITTY SUIT YOU CRIED OVER STRAIGHT TO FUCKING HELL!~”

    Their hearts raced as fast as they ever got as Dan tried to think of what to say. The idea that soon hit his head wasn’t the best, but it was something to keep her attention on him, at least. “~Don’t spite them by dying if they hate you this much, spite them by living. Spite them by being happy even if they don’t want you to be.~”

    The stranger laughed again, this time at him and not with him. “~Oh it’s that easy, of course! Have any other bedtime stories to tell me?~” she snarked, the wound the sarcasm was meant to cover getting more and more aggravated by the moment.

    “~Well, I never said it was easy, but it is possible, even if it looks like it isn’t. Tomorrow comes another day; you’ve got tons of chances to turn your life around, especially at this age. Just because being a trainer didn’t work out doesn’t mean that nothing else will. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve happiness too.~”

    He jolted as he sensed the girl’s reaction to his last remark, her clever facade coming undone by the moment.

    “~Do I now? Sure as fuck doesn’t fuckin’ feel like it, I—I fuckin’ failed them. I failed them over and over and kept putting them in harm’s way over and over and they just kept hurting, I don’t deserve them a-and I went for a dumb fuckin’ desperate idea and only hurt them even more for fuckin’ NOTHING, and they fuckin’ hate me now!~”

    It took little effort to realize who the girl’s rambling was aimed at, the balls beside her backpack catching Dan’s attention again. She cared more about her mons than most trainers he’s had the displeasure of interacting with, motivating him to keep trying that bit more.

    HTe didn’t have to try hard to point out her subconscious lies, though. “~Not even you believe that. It wouldn’t hurt this much if they really didn’t care about you.~” It was a bluff Dan had no way of justifying at the moment, but to his unending relief, it struck true all the same.

    The girl shook as she glared at him, shaking hands bundled into fists. Maybe that fucking weirdo was right; maybe they really cared about her as much as she did about them, but none of it mattered, none of it fucking mattered. “~S-so fuckin’ what!? I’ve still got no future; I’m fuckin’ broke and have nowhere to go and would just be doing them a fuckin’ service if they ended up with someone who c-can actually take care of them!~”

    Time slowed to a crawl as Dan watched the stranger turn away from him, her mind trying to push through the thick layer of fear and do what it thought it had to. He shouted, “~WAIT! If you’ve nowhere to go, then you could crash at our place for a while!~”

    Dan was well aware the offer was sleazy as fuck, but couldn’t think of—or actually help with—anything else. A heartbeat passed, then another, and the girl’s body began to unwind, shaking harder the more she thought about it. He felt the earlier snark creep in, sighing under his breath in relief.

    “~Oh, making advances on an underage girl now?~”

    He could tell she was joking, but it still left a foul taste in his mouth, making him recoil. “~No, of course not! If I could, I’d pay for a stay at a motel or something for a night or two, but... I’m kinda broke. And living with my dad,~” he admitted, calming down as he felt his words take root in her mind, bit by bit. Trying to cheer her up with her caliber of humor, he added, “~Besides, your mons can probably defend you from any creep you’d run into.~”

    The slow, dry chuckles that left her mouth were some of the most strained sounds Dan had ever heard. The girl felt bad about the inappropriate joke for just a moment before another thought crept in to overrule it. She looked over her shoulder, staring at him as her adrenaline burned out, leaving her feeling cold and so, so fucking tired. The offer was good, almost too good to be true, and this guy wasn’t wrong either—anyone tried to touch her and Spots would lay them out.

    She wasn’t sure if the lil’ Snubbull could even legally do that, but she knew damn well she’d do it, anyway.

    Before she knew it, the stranger outstretched his gloved hand towards her, catching hundreds upon hundreds of raindrops as it waited to be grasped.

    “~It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, I know. But you don’t have to go through it alone,~” he added, sticking his hand out that bit further, into her reach.

    Even that sounded like some sappy cookie-cutter bullshit reassurance she’d seen so many times online, but... this time she felt the other side had actually meant it. It was almost too wild to consider, especially with how little of an idea she had about what could she even do instead with her trainer ‘career’ ending before it had even started. She was terrified in a way she almost never got; she almost turned right around to stop beating around the fuckin’ bush and just fucking do it

    But Spots and Noodles would be sad. She might’ve tried to gaslight herself into thinking that her friends ending up in someone else’s hand would truly be the best for them in the long term many times, but them ending up heartbroken over her doing what needed to be done was inarguable.

    And she didn’t want to make them sad.

    Her expression flinched as if struck as her tears mixed with rain, sobs too quiet to be audible over the downpour. She didn’t want to make them sad. In a moment of clarity, fleeting as it was, she looked at the stranger once more,

    And grasped his hand.

    Dan didn’t act as the girl hopped off the railing towards him, stumbling after she’d landed. If she wanted to do or say something, she would—and she did, moments later. Quiet sniffles gave way to heavier and heavier sobs as she leaned into him, almost too tired to even keep standing. He kept himself to patting her on the back a few times, letting the emotions flow as the plastic bag in his other hand threatened to slice his fingers off after being held for so long.

    He wasn’t rushing, buuuut there was something he could do to drive the point he’d made earlier in. As the girl slowly regained her composure, he covertly pressed the buttons on both balls, ejecting their occupants. She swore under her breath and tried to straighten herself out as her friends jumped at suddenly being surrounded by freezing rain—but her diversion was for naught.

    “~Hey hey, I’m alright you two, I-I promise!~” She pleaded as the two mons scooted up to her, their concern just as clear as her distress. They didn’t buy her excuses, clinging to her legs with quiet cries as she kept trying to put on a composed facade—to no use.

    And soon, she realized it too.

    She kneeled as her tears came back in vengeance, scooping the Snubbull and the Servine into her arms. Vines and short pink paws wrapped around her as she wept, wept and was consoled by her friends, constantly reassured about how much they cared for her.

    Off to the side, Dan’s heart calmed down as he took the cutesy scene in, every little gesture of the three exchanging affection in the limited ways they could. Pets, fur ruffles, as large hugs as each of them could manage. All bathed in tears of release, tears of pain, in stress and fear that have been building up for months and wouldn’t be going away for at least just as long.

    Despite everything, they still had each other.

    Dan stayed quiet as the trio took their time, only briefly pulling his phone up to let his dad know he’d be late. As tired as they all were, none of them cared to stay out in rain this cold for long, speeding up the group’s affection and the girl’s efforts to get a grip on herself again. Once she was sure she was strong enough to stand up and walk, she reached out for her friends’ balls—only for the Servine to swat them away with a stray vine.

    “~W-what? Noodles, what are—oh come on. I-it’s so cold, you two are gonna freeze out here!~” she pleaded. Unsuccessfully, if the two mons’ resolute head shakes were anything to go by. “~Fine, fine, you can stay out, hah. Alright, l-let’s get going I guess, can barely feel my legs anymore...~”

    With the balls attached to her belt and the backpack on her shoulders again, the girl was ready to resume her journey from where it was supposed to end. Where to, she didn’t know. Both in the long-term sense of ‘what in the world am I gonna do with myself now’, and in the more relevant meaning of ‘where is this guy taking me’.

    The latter at least got solved quickly.

    Dan tilted his head for her to follow as he headed off, guiding her through a labyrinth of gloomy, nondescript streets with a haphazard mix of single-family houses and flats. “~I live a couple blocks down, won’t take long to get there. Oh, and name’s Dan,~” he added with a chuckle, hoping for the stranger to respond in kind.

    “~Emma. Th-thanks Dan, I—I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t show up...~”

    “~Ehhh, I have a guess.~”

    The girl blinked a few times as she processed his words before breaking into the most undignified chuckle of her life, muttering out “~Oh god~” in between fits of tired laughter. Dan gave her a brief smile as he looked over his shoulder, glad she was feeling at least that bit better.

    “~So, you from around here, Emma?~”

    “~Nah, heh. I’m from Opelucid, I... this is gonna sound awful, but I came over here to try and find some easier opponents after I couldn’t take wins off anyone else anymore.~”

    Dan rolled his eyes at the framing of ‘‘‘her’’’ not being able to win anymore, but didn’t comment on it beyond that—this wasn’t the time nor the place. Stripped of that unpleasant element, though, Emma’s justification was kinda amusing, at least. She might’ve been a trainer, but her mons really did care for her, taking that load off his conscience as he guided them to his block.


    The apartment building had seen better days, and that was the absolute kindest phrasing Emma could think of once she saw it. Dark gray, flaking, stone-like facade revealed raw concrete and brick in many spots, and she could make out a couple of broken windows even despite the shoddy lighting. The sight made her recall Dan’s joke about her having her mons to protect her from creeps, as well as worry about it potentially being much more applicable than she would’ve ever imagined.

    “~Hardly the prettiest place, I know—and no, it’s not any better on the inside. Hope you don’t mind climbing up a couple floors,~” Dan commented as he led her in. The staircase was similarly rundown as the outer facade, each of the spiraling stairs cracked somewhere along its length.

    At least there wasn’t anyone else around.

    A part of Emma hoped that the actual entrance to Dan’s home would be at least a bit more decorated, just to then end up disappointed at it being just as butt-ugly as every other square inch of this place. She could’ve sworn she had him chuckle right as she thought that, but was too tired to connect the two events together.

    None of that mattered, anyway—they had finally made it.

    “~Daaaaad, we’re home!~” Dan shouted as he led Emma in, immediately getting to taking his coat off—before stopping awkwardly. For a moment, Emma wanted to ask what had happened, but before she could, he’d resumed the mundane action, if much more slowly.

    The room they stepped into seemed to have been doing triple duty as both the lobby, the living room, and the kitchen. A few potted plants aside, it was almost entirely undecorated—just a couch, a worn down table that Dan soon set the plastic bag he was holding on, a flat screen TV with bezels the size of her hand, and exactly nothing else in the ‘living room’ part.

    Dan wasn’t joking with being broke, huh.

    Emma shook off the thought as she slid out of the soaked clothes, trying to hang them as close to the cast iron radiator as she could. Her friends were already huddled up to it, basking in whatever warmth it could pour out, the sight bringing a smile to her face.

    Which a very unpleasant realization soon dashed right off.

    The girl shook uncomfortably as she kept sneaking glances at Dan, trying to catch him when he wasn’t looking at her. Once she did, she quickly took her scarf off and tried to pull up the collar of her t-shirt to cover her neck, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

    Dan noticed.

    “~Emma? What... are you doing?~”

    Emma flinched at the question, hands clenching as her heartbeat spiked. Dan took half a step back at such a sudden reaction, worried that he’d inadvertently done something wrong. The girl knew there was no way to hide it, but... fuck.

    She looked away in shame as she let go of her shirt, before flinching at how much her host was taken aback. Dozens upon dozens of slowly scarring claw marks on her neck, none of them lethal—but all of them painful, in all meanings of the word.

    “~Good gods, what happened?~” Dan asked, and regretted it immediately.

    As bad as she felt about her neck, being asked about that brought forth even more traumatized fear than when she was one stray step away from death. Her eyes unfocused as she stared at the floor, breaking into tears once more.

    Something was wrong, so very wrong here, but Dan knew it wasn’t the time to pry into this. “~Hey hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. Could I at least clean it a bit?~” he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as can be. To his relief, she reacted to his words, nodding shakily as the storm of panicking thoughts in her head began to calm down.

    At least she wouldn’t be judged for this.

    Without saying a word, Dan guided her over to the bathroom and reached for the small bottle of peroxide. The room was just as barren as the rest of the building, but at least it was better maintained, and, most importantly, clean. As Dan washed his hands and fiddled with the plastic container, Emma could’ve sworn she glimpsed something yellow in the reflection instead of him. By the time she blinked and did a double take, though, it was just what she expected to see.

    Any further thoughts about that were summarily derailed by all the burning coming from her neck soon after.

    “~There, there, I know it hurts, but hopefully nothing will infect it. Have you seen anyone about this?~” Dan asked, and Emma had to use all the willpower she still had left to not laugh in his face.

    “~’C-course not.~”

    “~Would be a good idea to do that tomorrow, or whenever you feel comfortable. Anyhow—this is the shower, this is the shampoo and body wash, you can take the red towel if you want, sound good?~”

    “~Y-yeah, thanks. L-lemme take something to change into...~”

    “~Take your time, we’re not rushing.~”

    Emma didn’t have to be told twice, but rushed regardless. The few kinda-fresh-enough clothes she still had in her backpack probably deserved a thorough wash themselves, but this wasn’t the time to worry about that.

    It could happen tomorrow; today was just one of these days she had to endure.

    Dan waited for the telltale sound of the door’s lock engaging before taking a deep sigh and half-sitting, half-falling onto the couch, no less exhausted than the teen. He leaned his head back and looked at the TV, grumbling as he saw the game he just bought snacks for wrap up its first half. Irrelevant when compared to what he had accomplished while on that grocery run, but annoying all the same.

    Anywho, it was time to give a rundown about just that.

    “^Hey dad,^” Dan mumbled telepathically as the old man rolled into the room. The same white cap with blue markings as when he’d first met him, the same beard. One fewer leg after a lifetime of smoking caught up to him, one more wheelchair, plenty more wrinkles and liver spots.

    Underneath all that, the same analytic spirit, wanting to take in all the information surrounding their unexpected guest before making any decisions. “~Who is she?~” he asked, voice as dry as an ashtray.

    “^I ran into her on my way back. She was about to jump from the bridge between Third and Circle Drive. Talked to her, seems she has nowhere to go,^” Dan explained as he reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a can of beer.

    The old man took the explanation in before summing it up with one word, “~Rough. A trainer?~” he asked, looking over at the Servine and Snubbull huddling up to the radiator.

    His son nodded in affirmation as he downed a couple gulps of cheap booze. “^Yeah, but not a willing one. From what I gathered, she couldn’t cut it and ended up flunking out. She’s underage too, unfortunately.^”

    “~Gonna be an issue.~”

    “^Yep,^” Dan commented as he laid out the rest of his grocery spoils, plastic wrappers of store-brand savory snacks gleaming in the TV’s bright light. Both of them knew there was a lot more to be said about what they would do going forward, but also that this wasn’t the time for it—especially with the background noise of the shower having stopped in the meantime.

    A small cloud of vapor rolled out the door as Emma opened it soon after, stretching her aching body as much as she could. “~What’s up with that weird mon shampoo you got? It’s so weird and slimy, you guys even have any mons in here?~”

    Dan disguised his surprise before answering, “~Uh, we used to but not anymore. Guess we forgot to toss it out.~”

    Emma blinked, feeling a bit bad about her words as she walked over to the couch. “~Sorry, my condolences—oh. Uh, hello there, sir,~” she greeted the old man in a wheelchair, receiving a curt nod in return. He didn’t seem very talkative, perfect by her. She would’ve guessed him to be Dan’s grandfather, if anything, but there were few things she cared about less than the exact family tree of her hosts at the moment.

    After all, there was a TV to gawk at instead.

    Once the last of the advertisements slithered away, she was greeted by a sight of what was clearly a stadium, though decidedly not one for battles. Layers of seats surrounded the all-green pitch from all directions, and instead of a single line splitting it in half, there were many white lines delineating god-knows-what. Not to mention all the humans walking onto it. That was important, too.

    “~Some kinda human sport?~” she asked as she reached for the unclaimed can of beer.

    “~Yeah, soccer. Comes from Galar,~” Dan answered, not skipping a beat as he pulled the booze out of the girl’s grasp and replaced it with a pack of peanuts. Emma was almost too tired to notice the Switcheroo, limiting herself to an unamused look at Dan and getting a wink in response.

    The room was plunged into silence once the game’s second half started—bit-crushed commentary and crinkling of wrappers aside. It wasn’t something the girl cared for much at all, but it provided a pleasant distraction, especially when accompanied by a steady stream of crunchy treats into her mouth hole.

    And, of course, her friends once they had dried off.

    One hand gently stroked Spots’s tummy as the other arm held Noodles close, their vines wrapping her as tightly as could be without crossing into discomfort. It was harder and harder to keep paying attention to what was happening on the screen as the game drew to a close and the plastic bags were emptied, warmth and something meal-adjacent combining into ever-creeping drowsiness.

    And then, once the final whistle was blown, sleep.

    As much as Dan had been looking forward to this match, it ended up being a wash. 3-0, what in the world was that goalkeeper doing—oh. He chuckled as his attention shifted away from the glowing screen, letting him notice the asleep teen next to him. Yeah, it was high time for some rest, for all of them. Once the trash was cleaned up and the TV turned off, Dan focused on finally undoing his disguise, maintained almost effortlessly after many years of practice.

    The two mons didn’t catch onto that right away, too busy either trying to fall asleep or cuddling with their friend. What they did notice, though, was a pillow being psychiced in place beside them, then a blanket on their other side, and finally, their human being carefully levitated into the air. Before their surprise could give way to hostility, they heard a voice in their heads, “^Just moving her so that she can sleep comfortably.^”

    Dan putting his disguise on and off a few times afterwards helped them complete the mental picture of the scene. They weren’t happy for that ‘human’ to have turned out to be a mon, but they and their human were much too tired to do anything about it beyond just going along with it. Which, considering that said action comprised them huddling to their friend under a soft blanket as the pretend human flicked the lights off and left to an adjacent room, wasn’t bad at all.

    Not at all.


    “~Still gnawing at you, isn’t it?~” the old man asked as he prepared his side of the spacious bed, before stopping to take his evening pills.

    The Hypno he called son stared at the floor beside him, expression twisting as he couldn’t stop thinking. “^I mean, it’s hard not to think about it. Since I can’t just disappear once—once you die, dad, m-maybe if she hits eighteen in the meantime... no, no, what am I even saying. I’ve just fucking met her, it’d be such a dumb idea, b-but I can’t stop worrying about it, it’s just—^” Dan flinched at feeling a hand grasp his forearm, looking down to see his dad give the closest thing to a reassuring smile he was capable of.

    “~Tomorrow. Another day, a clearer mind, we’re not hurrying anywhere.~”

    Dan nodded, trying and only somewhat succeeding to release his tension with a deep breath. “^Yeah, that’d be for the best, sorry.^”

    “~You’ve done a great deed today. I’m proud of you, Dan,~” his dad said, permitting himself a manly tear or two now that nobody else was looking.

    His son wasted no time before kneeling beside him and holding him close, trying to keep his own emotions under control as his dad’s weathered, sinewy hands stroked the spot between his ears. “^I love you, dad.^”

    “~I-I love you too, son.~”​



    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other main fic, Another Way!
     
    Last edited:
    Epilogue I: Changes


  • Epilogue I: Changes



    Nesrin (+ Sage!) Mahini | @nesrinmahini12 | 13 Jun 549, 6:43pm WUT (CKT-6)
    Hey, @glide2_mistralton, why did you take the episode of "Humane Stories" you filmed with us off your upcoming schedule? https://glidenetwork.ua/schedule...
    13 | 14 | 134 ♥


    Nesrin (+ Sage!) Mahini | @nesrinmahini12 | 13 Jun 549, 6:47pm WUT (CKT-6)
    Welp, @glide2_mistralton blocked us. Guess that's our answer :upside_down:
    25 | 19 | 191 ♥


    puta 2.1.5-rc7 (reál) | @c4ssIOpeia | 14 Jun 549, 4:11am CPT (CKT+3)
    shit huh. hold on, I gotchu
    2 | 2 | 22 ♥


    puta 2.1.5-rc7 (reál) | @c4ssIOpeia | 14 Jun 549, 4:49am CPT (CKT+3)
    Hey @glide2_mistralton ur supposed to change the password on your router from the default one xdd jajajajajajaja https://libreupload.kl/u/YW1vbmd1cw0K...
    79 | 110 | 782 ♥


    // transcript_s6e22_wip_280449.txt

    [B-ROLL FOOTAGE OF LILLYWOOD]

    NARRATOR: Sunnyside Heights is a small, quaint neighborhood on the northwest of Lillywood, a quiet town located forty minutes away from Mistralton. It's the perfect place to raise a family, with its many playgrounds, one of the largest public schools in the region, and a pediatric hospital located smack dab in its center. As beautiful as it is, though, it is not free from the woes of human life. Last November, Sunnyside Heights experienced a tragedy when Sage Mahini, a seven-year-old boy, was found dead in confusing circumstances. It was an indescribable loss for everyone, but the mother of the family, thirty-seven-year-old Nesrin Mahini working as a microbiologist for a company based in Mistralton, had taken it particularly hard.

    [B-ROLL FOOTAGE ZOOMS IN ON THE FAMILY HOUSE]

    NARRATOR: But then, an unexpected development at the beginning of February changed everything, when a Phantump unexpectedly showed up on the family's doorstep one night—and Nesrin believes them to be their lost child. Join our host, Pamela Hutchins, for this exclusive interview with the Mahini family.

    [INTRO SEQUENCE]

    [EPISODE NAME: "LIFE AFTER DEATH? <WIPWIPWIPWIPW>"]

    [TRANSITION TO THE INTERVIEW FOOTAGE, SWEEP FROM PAMELA TO THE GUEST. ZOOM IN ON THE SLEEPING PHANTUMP ON THE GUEST'S LAP]


    PAMELA HUTCHINS NARRATION: Hello, and welcome back to Humane Stories. Today, I'll be interviewing someone with quite an unbelievable story to tell, one she's been keen to tell for months now.

    [FADE TO PAMELA, START INTERVIEW AUDIO]

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Good afternoon.

    NESRIN MAHINI: Good afternoon, it is a pleasure to finally have a chance to tell the world my side of our story for once.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Before we talk about what happened in February, could you talk about the aftermath of Sage's death?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Ahhh, goodness, it's hard to think back to that. What can I say? It broke all our hearts. I've always tried to be there for our kids, more than I've seen other folks in my position be, but it always came into that conflict with what it felt like I should be doing, you know that idealized image of a hardworking migrant. It's an awful, perverse one of course, but even if I knew better, I ended up kinda letting it push me into focusing more and more time on work because I was afraid I'd come off as the 'bad' kind of migrant, a horribly racist stereotype but I guess even if I knew better it still kinda got its hooks into me—and even my husband, too.

    [GUEST PETS THE SLEEPING PHANTUMP ON HER LAP]

    NESRIN MAHINI: I was busy with work most of the time; his job has him on constant work trips, you know. We had all we wanted in a way, could afford a preschool for our youngest, Aspen, but only had a couple hours a week to really spend time with our kids. I tried to take them for ice cream every weekend but of course, that's nowhere near enough, I was afraid of growing distant long before... this happened, and sometimes I feel that if I had tried to carve out more time for our kids all this could've been avoided.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Success isn't without its costs, indeed. So, what really happened that February night?

    [GUEST SIGHS AND LAUGHS WEAKLY]

    NESRIN MAHINI: Oh goodness, so much of it is a blur despite all the adrenaline. I stayed up watching something but don't remember what; it was like past midnight and suddenly I heard knocking on the front door. I come over and outside there's this tall, homeless-looking man, a Banette, and a Phantump. And then, the Phantump started talking to me in Sage's voice, and I realized it was her.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: That sounds terrifying.

    NESRIN MAHINI: It absolutely was. I almost ran off in terror and called the c—the police when it happened. But yes, I realized it was Sage, just too many things lined up for me to deny that, and I took her in, and afterward, the rest of that night was just kinda a blur.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: That man and the Banette you mentioned—do you know who they were?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Oh, I have no idea. Whoever that man was, he said nothing the entire time he stood there, and I don't think the Banette did either. We haven't seen them since. Though no matter who they are, they escorted my daughter back to me, and I sincerely hope they're doing alright, whoever and wherever they are.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: One spooky pair of bodyguards, if that's the case. Could you tell us what happened afterward?

    NESRIN MAHINI: I remember the next morning well, it was... gods, I remember waking up and thinking I had the saddest and strangest dream, I was about to cry and then I spotted Sage sleeping beside me, and only then it all clicked in place, that kind of 'oh [EXPLETIVE], all this really happened', you know. And then since I was less tired I just felt all this loss and sadness all at once, everything I felt when she first went missing, and I ugly cried and held her for a while and was just so happy that she was back.

    [GUEST WIPES HER EYES]

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: How did your family react?

    NESRIN MAHINI: My other kids were understandably shocked, though both differently. Aspen, my youngest, just gasped out loud and ran over to Sage and said how he was jealous that she became a Pokemon and I had no idea whether to cry or to laugh. That aside, he got used to it quite quickly, though kept asking for a while for her to show him some moves and she always got flustered and I had to explain to him that Sage didn't know any moves.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Does she... know any, now?

    NESRIN MAHINI: I'm uncertain, actually. I spotted her playing in the backyard a few weeks ago, seemingly trying something out, so maybe she's trying to learn some? I don't know how this works in all honesty, we've never owned a pokemon.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Uh huh.

    NESRIN MAHINI: As for my oldest, Azalea, she didn't believe it for a while. I remember us having this one strained chat a few days in. She told me I was going insane, and it hurt, but I couldn't blame her much. Though she apologized a few days later, overheard Sage chatting with Aspen, and finally tried talking to her herself, and then I guess it finally clicked for her, you know. I don't hold it against her, I'm just glad she eventually got around to accepting Sage again, and now she's trying to be the best big sister for her she can—even got her into trying out some makeup recently.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Mhm. What about your husband?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Yes, that was a long and difficult talk between us once he got back from his work trip. He had a very hard time accepting it, kept worrying about my mental health, and couldn't believe it even after talking to Sage a few times. It took him a couple weeks to start turning around after he started running out of reasons and arguments for why this couldn't have been Sage, and he eventually got there and got over himself, but good gods these were some of the most difficult weeks of my life. We got closer to a divorce than we had ever been before. It was rough, but I'm just glad he came around on Sage.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: I can only imagine how shocking it must be to hear that your child has come back from the dead. Now, about that controversial part.

    [GUEST ROLLS HER EYES IN A VERY EXAGGERATED WAY]

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: You've said many times over the past few months that you've been on the receiving end of a lot of harassment and intimidation from the Unovan Government and the Pokemon League, correct?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Yes, I have said that, and that's because it has been and continues to be true.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Could you elaborate on that?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Well, it started when Aspen told some of his friends in kindergarten a few days after Sage came back, and then it spread fast. I received several calls, first from the kindergarten and then from other parents. At the start, they were just concerned, all 'Oh Nesrin, I know it's been rough on you but you should see a therapist sweetie'. Then when I kept reasserting myself that yes, Sage had come back, the mask dropped real fast. I sure didn't expect to be learning new slurs at almost forty, but life is full of surprises, I guess.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: What did these calls result in?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Not much at the start, but then it got ugly fast. Aspen would come home crying because other kids told him his mom was crazy, and I ended up pulling him from that place soon after. Then, a week or so later, I got my first visit from the child protective services people. Which was terrifying. The guy they sent kept trying to nail me with something, but the only thing he could point out was that I had a '''pokemon''' at my house without owning it. The first thing I did once he left was go to the nearest trainers' supply store, buy a ball for Sage, and go through the paperwork for '''registering''' later that day.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: You sound rather frustrated at that.

    NESRIN MAHINI: Why wouldn't I be? This isn't some stray mon, this is my daughter. The way everyone keeps referring to her as if she's some object I happen to own makes me sick. I don't even want to say she's a pokemon, she's a person who's stuck in a mon's body. I could go into an entire tangent on how I've had everyone constantly dehumanize her. It's been abhorrent.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Well, person or not, she still has the outward appearance of a pokemon. I can only imagine how much our laws would be thrown into disarray if we were to decide that 'some' mons are actually people, not to mention the legal mess involved with a legally dead person coming back from the dead.

    NESRIN MAHINI: Then it sure sounds like they should be thrown into that disarray.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Quite a bold opinion. Either way—did the harassment stop at that one CPS check?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Oh no, that was just the start. I constantly get mail from the state government accusing me of subjecting my children to psychological harm by claiming their sister had returned; I've had several CPS visits since then, but they couldn't find any dirt on me. I contacted several child psychologists around the country to get their opinion in writing about whether my children were in any sort of distress or experiencing abuse, and none of them found anything. Of course, nobody actually sending CPS checks on me cares one [EXPLETIVE] about my kids; it's long since become clear to me it's just an attempt to intimidate me into silence.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Because of your claims that Sage had come back as a pokemon?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Yes, exactly. I've been in touch with a lawyer about this, and while I can't publicly say anything more than that yet, rest assured that I won't let them silence us. Sage is a person no matter the body she's in, and I won't rest until this country recognizes her as such.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: What about the League's response?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Oh, gods. They've been just as rabid about trying to nail me with something, most often possession of a 'dangerous' mon without an appropriate license. But I went and checked and no, Phantump just aren't on that list! I know the list they're scaremongering about; I've had to learn about much more trainer nonsense than I ever wanted to for this, and Phantump just aren't there! And, even if they try to add them to that list now, it'll end up affecting a whole ton of people that own actual Phantump, we're talking thousands, and that's on top of the fact that those mon restrictions, as written in law, exempt people who already owned restricted species before they were added to the list. They're grasping at the flimsiest of straws and it would've been funny if it wasn't so frustrating and draining to deal with.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: You have mentioned an increase in what you called 'propaganda' coming from the Pokemon League in response to the controversy surrounding Sage.

    NESRIN MAHINI: There's just no better way of putting it, really, as much as it sounds like I'm just stuffing my brain full of tin foil. I watched the messaging on all their public service announcements shift over these past few months from what it was before the sticking point of 'training is only abuse if done incorrectly, make sure to do it right', to just hammering on the message of 'mons aren't people and are fundamentally different and you shouldn't assume they experience anything like human emotions', which is just [EXPLETIVE] [EXPLETIVE], anyway. Even ignoring Sage for a moment, look at literally any mon playing around and tell me they don't experience happiness.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: What do you think drives that so-called 'propaganda'?

    NESRIN MAHINI: That's the worst thing, I'm not even sure! I've been trying to be as specific in my messaging as possible once I went public with this. Some people end up reincarnating as Ghost-type mons, there's no shot Sage is the first-ever example of that happening, and we should expand our laws to accommodate those unusual, but still possible cases. From the messaging the League has been putting out in response, you'd think I was shrieking about mons and people being allowed to get married or something.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Well, wouldn't that actually happen if Sage were to marry a human down the line?

    NESRIN MAHINI: No, because she's not an actual mon, she's a person stuck in a mon's body, that's the thing! I'm not gonna sit there and claim that every single mon out there is a person, that is absurd, but there definitely are other people, like Sage, that are in mon bodies.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Wouldn't there be a risk of a slippery slope from allowing this specific group of pokemon to be considered people in the laws of the land to some of those horrible outcomes like human-pokemon marriage?

    NESRIN MAHINI: I don't see why there would be, assuming they care to limit it specifically to reincarnated humans. Though, hah...

    [GUEST PAUSES FOR ~40S]

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: ...Mrs. Nahini?

    NESRIN MAHINI: Oh, apologies, it's just... you know, the conspiratorial side of me is really starting to think that they are trying to hide something big with how disproportionate their response has been.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: That is a very bold claim.

    NESRIN MAHINI: I'm aware, and I'm not trying to justify it here and now. It's just that, you know, the severity of their response almost screams guilt to me, like they're covering something that I ended up stumbling onto. But I'm not gonna go into further detail on that right now, please continue.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: I see. Mhm. Well, has Sage... said anything about what happened in the three months she's been gone for?

    NESRIN MAHINI: I have asked her a few times, but she doesn't remember much, aside from having spent a lot of time with someone she calls 'Yaksha'. I tried researching that name, and all I found was an entry or two in some old religious studies textbooks and a couple of forum profiles that have sat dead for fifteen years. But in general, I try not to pry Sage about it. It all makes her very anxious to think about and the least she deserves is not to have to experience that fear ever again.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: I suppose that's understandable. Another point that many have pointed out is that Sage's documents from when they were alive identify them as a boy, yet you've been referring to them as a girl.

    NESRIN MAHINI: Yes, that's true. I've also talked to her about this, and it's another tricky, tense subject, but she's told me she's actually always thought she was a girl, even before her—her accident.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: Uh huh. Has she mentioned that beforehand?

    NESRIN MAHINI: No, but again, I haven't been as present in her life as I wish I had been in hindsight. I can't really say to understand what drove this change, but I don't really think me understanding it or not matters one bit. It makes her happy to be referred to as a girl, and the few times she's heard someone refer to her as a boy it always upset her, so for me the choice is obvious—I wanna make her happy. Boy or girl, she's my child and I love her, and that's the only thing that really matters.

    PAMELA HUTCHINS: But wouldn't you agree that allowing one's sex to be changed so easily would lead to—

    [THE PHANTUMP LETS OUT A LOUD YAWN AND STARTS WAKING UP]

    NESRIN MAHINI: Awwww, good afternoon, Sage!

    [THE PHANTUMP FLOATS UP FROM THE GUEST'S LAP AND LOOKS AROUND. IT GASPS AT THE SIGHT OF THE CAMERA AND FLOATS CLOSER, TAKING UP HALF THE FRAME]

    [THE GUEST LAUGHS]


    NESRIN MAHINI: C'mon Sage, come back so we can finish this interview.

    ??????: Hello! Okay mom! [THE SOUND APPEARS TO BE COMING FROM THE PHANTUMP]

    [THE PHANTUMP FLOATS BACK TO THE GUEST'S LAP]

    [PAMELA STARES IN SHOCK AND DROPS HER MIC, JUMPS AT THE SOUND]


    CAMERAMAN: What the [EXPLETIVE]

    [TODO: REACH OUT TO EXECS / TIM AND ASK HOW TO EDIT THIS PART]

    // end of document



    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

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    Prologue: Sins


  • Prologue: Sins



    clink!

    The metallic sound filled the small lobby, followed moments later by the light tap of the letter hitting the wooden floor. Both noises were only barely audible over the background of scribbling crayons, canine snoozes, and the TV’s ambiance, but... she heard it all the same. There’s no way she could’ve not heard it. Her eyes went wide as she put away the knitting needles and stood up from the couch; each step towards the door reverberated in her mind.

    But she had to.

    A shaking hand reached over to pick the letter up as she tried to fill her soul with hope. It didn’t have to be what she thought it was; it could’ve been something else—maybe just bills, maybe just junk mail. She begged the gods above, but they didn’t listen.

    Her heart sank as she read the label on the envelope. Sender’s address—St. Trinity Hospital in Mistralton.

    Still, she kept hoping. Yes, she knew she’d get her diagnosis eventually, but that didn’t mean it would be what she feared it was. Her odds weren’t great, but they weren’t terrible either. It didn’t have to end with tragedy—

    shuffle

    But it would, all the same.

    Her heart sank as she read the prognosis, sank and hammered so hard she could barely keep reading. The text had turned into an incomprehensible blur, obscured by first her shaking, then her tears, and last, her will. It was too terrible to face, this suffering the letter foretold.

    The best they could do was treat the worst of the symptoms once they began, but by then it would already be too late. When would it happen? This year, the next, in five years? She didn’t know, she couldn’t know. Maybe she’d just end up being lucky, the exception to the rule, maybe she’d last the eleven years needed. She just had to hope things would be alright.

    She just had to hope she’d outrun her sins in the end.

    The woman slid the letter back into its envelope before turning to look at the young girl scribbling on the floor in the living room. Her lips moved without making a sound, weaving silent apologies for everything her little one was too young to remember, and for everything that would still await her. Then, they turned on herself, berating herself about how she should’ve tried harder when she had the chance; when she first realized there was something terribly wrong going on in her family.

    When she first realized what her husband had been doing to Tommy when she was too busy with work to notice.

    Maybe if she had noticed it at the time, called the police; hadn’t dismissed her son’s behavior as him just being a moody, hormonal teenager, maybe all this would’ve been avoided. Maybe if she’d just done that, she would be able to look at her granddaughter without guilt tearing her soul apart.

    But she hadn’t.

    And others would suffer for her failures the most, once more.

    “~G-grandma Lisa?~” the girl asked in her small, weary voice, having run over when the old woman wasn’t looking. On her cheek, a splash of jam from the pancake she’d just had.

    In her arms, the Fennekin they had taken home a few months ago.

    Lisa shuddered, trying to think of what to say, if there was anything she even could say. It was all too painful to think about, too painful to admit, even to herself, let alone to someone who shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear thinking about what would have to happen were she to finally face the reality before herself—

    And so; she didn’t.

    “~I’m okay Annie, it’s just some bad news,~” the old woman reassured, wiping her tears with a sleeve of her grandmotherly cardigan.

    After all, maybe it would all turn out alright.

    “~But everything will be okay.~”​



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    Epilogue II: Goodbye


  • Epilogue II: Goodbye



    yaaaaawn

    I lay still as the last of my half-remembered dream fades away. The bed is so soft; I don't wanna move, but today is too important to sleep through—not to mention I've likely already slept for much longer than usual... though, maybe not, considering how late I stayed up last night.

    I blink my eyes open, groaning at the light flooding the room through the opened sunroof, before reaching for the glasses in the corner. Used to worry a lot that Cadence or Elric would accidentally step on them when waking up, but they've gotten better and better at being mindful of them over time.

    Specs on the nose, feet on the ground—time to get up. I roll my shoulders and stretch as I walk to the small, wrapped bundle stuffed in the corner, behind all my stuff. Yep, still there, still should have everything I need. Now to clean my glasses, change into something fresher, and fill my stomach. I almost never wake up first, but with how quiet the burrow is right now, I may have just woken up last, hah.

    …and considering neither mom nor Cadence woke me up at the normal hour, they probably realized I've stayed up for way too long. And here I thought I managed to be all covert and stuff, slowly polishing and painting under the candlelight.

    Oh well.

    I wave to the Gliscor sitting at the table as I step into the living room, and he waves back. Hah, wouldn't have ever thought his sight would become so mundane with how memorable our first meeting was. I might've listened to Elric hype himself about his dad waking up from his hibernation any day now, but when suddenly it was just me, barely able to string together a sentence in the village's language and a freshly awoken bat my size, I can't deny that my fears kinda got the better of me. Ehh...

    We apologized to each other afterward, even if it took for him a while to come to terms with everything that had happened, and for me to unlearn that knee-jerk fear response ingrained in me so many years ago. And so, a fearsome, flying apex predator turned to 'Riddick', just like his son had turned to 'Elric' a few months ago. Just like everything here, in this wild corner of the woods, it had turned from shocking and intimidating to just... normal.

    Him living with us is normal—it's his house, after all. As is none of my living family being human anymore—yeah, that's just how things are. Of course, I still think back to it all sometimes, snap myself out of that daze of normalcy every once in a while to realize how... lucky I am to even be here and give everyone their appropriate share of affection.

    It's such a wonderful feeling, every time.

    I dump a few leftover pieces of fried berry dough and take a seat at the table, opposite of Riddick. I'm about to start mindlessly snacking on them while letting my thoughts wander away before I remember the physical therapy, groaning under my breath. My left arm has gotten better, a lot better even, requiring just a long sleeve as opposed to a stiff cast, but... it still hurts a bit. Hurts to use, hurts to work through that pain and get it back to something approaching full strength again.

    Sucks, but... such is life.

    As my left hand grabs the second piece of the dough, the makeshift door opposite to the kids' room opens, and out walks Geiger. Nope, I wasn't last, guess at least I have that silver lining. "Morning, Anne!" he greets me. I've gotten better at understanding his gruff, low voice, but it's still a struggle to determine the exact tone he's using sometimes.

    I'll get there, I'm sure of it.

    "Hello, Mr. Geiger!" I reply, stringing sounds that once sounded like utter gibberish but are increasingly creeping into the corner of my brain that houses Unovan.

    "Retain awake long you, eh?" he asks while sitting down.

    I roll my eyes as I piece the meaning together. Guess Autumn has sensed it too and told him, heh. "True. Retain awake because important I. Much important." I try defending myself, getting a roaring laugh out of him.

    "Tell that me Autumn. Work about important long you, eh?"

    Indeed, I've been working on this... project of mine for a while now. I didn't think it would be half as difficult as it turned out to be when I started, but in my defense; I knew exactly nothing about woodworking when that idea first struck me. And now, almost a month later, I know just a touch above exactly nothing, but have somehow finished that project!

    Well, almost. Today's the day.

    "Yes, Moon now. Want do all I. Did almost all I. Help planks with dad."

    He grins at me as he grabs his portion of fried dough, responding, "Great work! Today more?"

    My left hand brushes the bottom of the bowl as it reaches to grab another treat on autopilot, alerting my eyes. Yep, breakfast is done, no time to waste. "Today last, hope I."

    "Great great! Day which now?" Geiger asks for the date. I've been trying to keep track as much as I can, but considering the village has no concept of a 'week', or even a non-Lunar month, the human dates are neither important nor very helpful.

    Heck, most birthdays get rounded to the nearest full or new moon, and that's if the person in question even observes them. Bell's is coming soon, mine was a few months ago. I wasn't even planning on telling anybody, but Ember spilled the beans for me. We ended up taking rounds drawing each other and seeing who could do it the funniest. No gifts, but none were needed—I already got the best gift I could've ever asked for.

    It may not be useful here, but I still keep track of the human date, even if just for myself. I answer, "Day sixteen, Moon five." Day of the week, unfortunately unknown; I'll have to check the calendar Mrs. Graham gave me.

    "Thanks, Anne," he replies. One of the few pieces of grammar I've gotten a full grasp on already, and which is reasonably easy to make out, no matter who's speaking it. I dash back into the kids' room to put my shoes on before turning for the entrance to the burrow. As I walk up the steps, he sends me off. "Great luck, Anne!"

    I don't think I'll need it, but it's appreciated all the same.

    ---

    Dad works at the other side of the village—still just a fifteen-minute walk tops, but a quick jog never hurts. My left arm aches a bit with each step as I make it through the busy streets, responding in kind to whoever greets me. Not everyone, but it's fine.

    Even if it took me a good while after I started settling in here to really make peace with that.

    Not everyone is or will be friendly, but it's fine. That would also be the case if I lived in an all-human village instead. Some people are just cold to most others, some aren't very emotional, some even dislike me for more or less justified reasons. But it's fine—there are many people here that are fond of me, and even some that are outright gregarious whenever I run past—

    "Beautiful morning, Anne!" Holly squeaks at me, making me jump a bit. There were at least five words in that sentence I didn't make out at all, and if there's anyone in the entire village that I don't think I'll ever understand in full, it's probably the Azumarill.

    Thankfully, with her, all I need to know is the gist, anyway. "Morning Holly!" I reply as I jog on, wordlessly turning down her offer for a freshly baked treat.

    A rare enough occurrence for her to realize its importance, sending me off with a nod as I turn the corner. Anyhow—yes, not everyone will be friendly with me, and I try to keep that in mind. Sometimes I really succeed at that, and sometimes... and sometimes I can indeed only try.

    A brief chill runs through me as I look around, slowing down to get a better grasp of my thoughts. I don't have that positive attitude down pat, not yet, and a part of me doubts I ever will, especially to a level where maintaining it won't involve a lot of active effort. Mom described it once as tending to my thoughts as a garden, being aware of what's growing in there, and plucking the stuff I don't want.

    It's still not easy, but it has gotten easier, especially with Ember and Autumn taking me on walks around the village all the time. The former were always r-really nice, heh... a-anyway. I doubt I'll ever be a social butterfly, but each weed with the words "they will hurt me" written on it I pull out makes the impulse to retreat to my room and hide forever that bit weaker.

    Still doesn't mean I'll stop turning the other way whenever I see Hawthorne anytime soon, though. Even with Autumn's reassurances that she has been slowly mellowing out. I'll believe it when I see it. And... yes, 'Autumn'.

    I switch to deeper breaths as I stumble upon the thought, determination filling my every step. Yes, still 'Autumn' and not 'grandma'. Aria clicked, Garret clicked, even Marco clicked, but... but not Autumn, not yet. It's hard to reuse that label for someone else after all this time. I've been hoping my current project will help with that, and hopefully, I'll find out soon.

    I hear familiar squeaks as I run past the nursery, first from Jovan and Pearl, followed by all the tykes under their watch, Bell included. I'm glad they don't mind me being late, but alas—I'm not heading there, not today. I call back, "Today not, sorry!" as I turn the corner, chuckling under my breath at the disjointed choir of disappointed groans I receive in response.

    As mixed as my reception has been in the village as a whole, most kids really seem to like me—and so do their caretakers. Suppose being a kid more than old enough to look after myself makes watching over the toddlers that much easier for them, even if I'm no better with the village's language than the little ones. Not yet, at least. Who knows, maybe once I get more fluent, I might start helping them out in a more formal way? I already have to double as a third caretaker sometimes; I sure wouldn't mind making that more than just a running joke between myself, Pearl, and Jovan.

    Ow, left arm is reminding me why I don't jog often. I finally relent, dropping my pace to a calm stroll as I try to massage the aching limb a bit. I don't think it'll ever feel normal again, just like I don't think I'll ever feel normal again. It's better on some days than others. Sometimes it feels almost like it did before my accident, other times I have to put it in a sling and bear through until mom or Autumn can help numb it.

    Just like sometimes I can be out and running about, and sometimes my mind decides to make me relive being stuck in that tent, blind, cold, and defenseless, with strangers arguing about whether I should be allowed to live. Sometimes no matter how much tending to my thoughts I do, it's not enough, and I spend the day drawing or reading in my room, often with Ember keeping me company.

    But each month, these days get rarer and rarer. I don't think they'll ever leave me, but it's okay—I'm still getting better. What awaits at the other end of a rough patch is always worth it.

    As I approach dad's work site, the usual chatter gives way to the bangs of felled trees and whines of blades, be they natural or crafted, turning the timber into construction material. We'll need a lot of it, especially with the start of our big move creeping closer and closer. It'll probably take months, if not years, to complete, but the tension in the air is already palpable.

    I'm so glad Mrs. Graham has been helping us out with it. She's helped us scope out where to move to—a nondescript stretch of woodland a few dozen miles away from here, and well distanced from even the most rural of roads. Not a national park, and not being used for any hidden military compounds, either.

    And yes, we had to send someone and check that last one to be sure.

    She even suggested a way to repel any humans that had ventured over there for some reason. Mon intimidation works, but so does legal intimidation! Nothing a wire fence perimeter and a few 'Private Property' and 'No Trespassing' signs can't accomplish.

    Mom has been trying to keep me at an arm's length from any discussion about the specifics of the move, which I suppose I can understand. It's a lot of responsibility, and Mrs. Graham is already helping our village out with it; I don't need to be burdened with the weight of it all.

    Doesn't mean I don't get curious, though. Heh.

    I remember how glad Mrs. Graham was when mom helped me visit her for the first time after I ended up here. Hard not to smile as I think about this, think back to how relieved she was to see me again, more than I've ever seen her be—and how happy Leo and Luxie were, too. Mrs. Graham even came up with a rumor to make my future visitations much safer!

    No, I didn't disappear, of course not! CPS just rescued me and gave me a new identity! I now live far away, and only come back and visit sometime, keeping myself from being recognized. It's not a very believable rumor on its own, and I remember I couldn't stop laughing when she told me it had worked, but her explanation made sense.

    It didn't have to be believable, it just had to be something Mylock already wanted to believe to soothe its conscience.

    I've been helping mom learn Unovan, too. A few other people have expressed interest as well, but only she has really meant it seriously so far. She sounds really funny when she tries to speak, and she's still getting the hang of connecting sounds to letters, but she's trying her best, and it just makes me so happy every time. I'm proud of her.

    "Anne!" dad greets me with a loud growl, all words but my name lost in the noise. I look over, catching him pulling out a stubborn tree stump with nothing but raw strength, a sight that has gone from terrifying to awe-inspiring the longer I've known him.

    I wait until he's placed the mass of soil and roots off to the side, ready to be processed for whatever usable wood we can get out of it, before walking up to him. I say, "Hey dad! Wood where?"

    He blinks at me in brief confusion as his individual hairs shake off loose dirt before the realization clicks together for him. He points over to a pile of logs and planks at the edge of the clearing and explains, "There, behind tree they. Is home nails, hammer?"

    "Yes! Thank you!" I answer, glad I remembered to grab everything else I'll need for this yesterday.

    "Great! Love you Anne, I!" he growls in response as I lift the small bundle of planks up. Another piece of grammar I'm glad I already know well. It's just words, but...

    "Love you dad too, I!"

    His smile each time I get it right is worth all the learning effort in the world.



    After I finish moving the materials over behind our burrow, I finally have everything needed to put this project together. Three carefully measured planks, a few nails, a stone hammer, and a wooden plaque I've been painting, burning, and chiseling for almost a month now. It's—it's hard to look at the latter without getting a bit emotional, but I persevere. I'm so close to finishing this; of course I persevere!

    I bolster myself again and again, but each time the wetness in my eyes creeps over faster and faster. It's hard, but I push on. My left hand hurts from holding the planks while I hammer the nails in, but I push on. I'm so close. At last, the final piece of scrap metal, arguably diligently forged by Mikiri, is in. I give the entire assembly a brief shake, and it holds fast.

    Now, the hole.

    Nothing quite like a human spade in the village, but I make do with a broken piece of pottery. I marked out the right spot for this a couple of weeks ago; now all that's left is digging up a hole. Even my good arm aches by the time I make it half a foot in, but I know I have to keep going for a bit longer than that—don't want something I've spent so much time working on to be destroyed by the first stiff breeze that rolls around.

    Alright, this should be enough. I pant as I stand back up, arms shaking in exhaustion. They want rest, especially the left one, and they'll get it soon, so very soon. I lift my project with all the strength I can muster, carrying it upright until it's hovering above the hole. I take a moment to line it right and lower it—fits almost perfectly, only scraping a bit of dirt off from the sides.

    I grunt as I hold it still with my left hand, the right one busy filling the hole with soil. I need to use less and less force to hold it steady until, at last, it stands on its own. A relieved sigh leaves me as I try to fill in as much dirt as I can, stamping it down to make sure it holds my project as firmly as possible.

    And then; I'm finally done.

    I lay the pottery shard and the hammer off to the side as I catch my breath. A part of me wants to scuttle away, to take my time until I'm no longer winded, maybe even delay doing what needs to be done until tomorrow—but I stop it in its tracks. It's okay if I'm winded, it's okay if I'm not at my best, things will be alright.

    I hope Grandma won't mind.

    I wipe my hands as I walk back over to the grave marker, shaped just like the little icon my grandma placed above most doorways. What it represents, I'm unsure—she's always kept her religion to herself, only ever taking me to the local church once a year. It was always so boring and I could never wait until it ended, but now I wish I had listened even a little, even if just to know what to say now.

    I'm not sure how to do this next part; if I can do it the right way. I hope I can; I hope that if she really is somewhere out there, she'll be able to hear me. I close my eyes, clasp my hands just like I watched her do countless times,

    And pray.

    Hello, grandma.

    My expression twists as tears finally force themselves out of my eyes, tingling as they flow down my cheeks.

    I know it's been a while, I'm sorry. A lot has happened since I last talked to you. I—I never knew how to, and if I even should try talking to you like this.

    Tears ease out a bit as my breathing calms down, thoughts turning ever clearer. I manage to pry my eyes open again.

    It's been bad since you left, but a few months ago, this—this family of mons took me in. I've been living with them since.

    Each breath is deeper than the last as I hear the leaves rustle around me.

    I could've never imagined it. They—they took me in. Ember was already living here, safe, and now I'm safe, too. I have a new mom. Her name is Aria, and she's a Gardevoir. My dad's name is Garret, and he's a Grimmsnarl. I even have siblings now, Bell and Cadence! And... a-and—

    The harsh sobs undo any tranquility I might've carved for myself. I flinch as if struck, my expression twisting into a grimace.

    I miss you. I wish you could've met them all. They're wonderful.

    I don't even try to fight the tears this time, letting them flow for as long as they need to. My hands ache a bit, but I hold through it, hold through the discomfort and the tears, both of them easing out bit by bit. Each drop of wetness splashing against my shirt hurts, but all that means is that it took a bit of pain that already was inside my head with itself. It's bad now,

    But once it's over, I'll hurt less.

    I'm not sure how long I stood there for, grief flowing down my face. It was probably just a few minutes, but it feels like it lasted more than that. I've been waiting for this for so long. As the tears ease out, though, I hear a familiar, telepathic voice call out from the other side of the hill, "^Hey, Anne!^"

    I pry my eyes open and look over as Cadence comes into view, her cheer fading at seeing and sensing me in my current state. She runs over with concern on her face, one that I try to dispel with a teary smile and a light shake of my head. It puts her at ease somewhat, but she still asks, "^Are you alright, Anne?^"

    I'm too tired for translation, falling back on Unovan as an answer, "~Yeah, I-I am. I'm crying, b-but they're good tears, promise.~"

    Thankfully, she doesn't doubt me, instead pulling as much of me as her arms can wrap around into a hug.

    "^Is this that thing you've been working on?^"

    A few more tears run down my cheeks as I answer with a slow nod.

    "^What does it say?^

    I don't mind answering, but... probably not now. "~I'll tell you some other time, okay?~"

    She reassures me it's alright with firm nods and another hug. "^Sure! It looks nice.^"

    "~Thank you.~"

    We stand there in silence for a few minutes longer while my heart calms down and my face dries out. These aren't the last tears I'll shed before this marker, I'm sure of that—but it's okay. Each deep breath and each rustle of the passing wind leaves me calmer, until I feel even better than before I started all this. That bit calmer, my soul that bit lighter.

    It's time to go.

    "~So, w-wanted to drag me somewhere earlier, Cadence?~" I ask as I wipe the last of the stubborn moisture from my face.

    "^Oh, yeah! Ember wants to show you a move she's been practicing!^"

    Goodbye, grandma. I hope you're happy, wherever you are.

    "~Let's get going, then!~"

    Because I finally am.

    1710519133033.png



    From the Vast

    Written by:

    redspah

    Based on a roleplay session by:
    redspah
    zephyr_skunk

    Edited by:
    redspah
    Jarack25
    AlolanMoon
    incog9012
    zelda13236
    w1ndy.d4y
    ott043
    Candlejack

    The following tools have been utilized in creating this story:
    Notepad++ by Don Ho
    Obsidian by Dynalist Inc.
    ProWritingAid by Orpheus Technology
    Google Docs by you fucking know who
    Blender by Blender Foundation

    No Generative AI has been utilized in creating this story.

    Special thanks to:

    Arbon - For knowing more about Pokemon lore than any single being should have to, and helping flesh out the setting.

    zephyr_skunk - For being the best friend I could've ever asked for during the darkest time of my life.

    Kitsune's Inkwell, especially DJFirefox and NovaVere - For helping me improve my writing more than I can even describe.

    Austin Jorgensen - For creating one of the most memorable games I never want to play again.

    Marina Hova - For her performance in "LISA: The Joyful - Voices" directly inspiring Celia's interlude.

    SomeSillyName, TurtlTost - <3

    Anthrodyniacoms - For making the cover art.

    Sweet_Mintality - For making the artworks used in Chapters 9 and 33, as well as the stickers based on the story.

    OutlawVideoProduction, FrankDP1 - For the Ellie model used in the render.

    Cloudman - For helping me with the render.

    Chaosblossoms - For being one of the most creative, and most wonderful people I've ever met.

    Tystarr - For writing A Voice Among the Strangers, the fanfic that inspired me to start writing.

    Everyone who read my first ever story, Welcome Home - For making me believe my writing has value.

    Everyone tossing change my way on Patreon - For making me believe my writing has monetary value.

    The Pokemon Company International, Nintendo Co., Ltd. - fuck you

    TheOatmealPancakes
    crpen1992
    rilmani
    Rated_PG
    Stickyskull
    PkmnTrainerFlower
    ArchDuke17
    atlus4745
    Jarack25
    silkenn.
    baronofbonk
    AlolanMoon
    incog9012
    theadmiral7513
    zelda13236
    silver_cm
    Nithalys
    dawn9
    w1ndy.d4y
    ott043
    Candlejack
    rat3648
    Cloudman
    powerofmettatonneo
    heyavannihere
    kilodeer
    Nyx
    Rho | Mad Honey System
    Knee
    jmcvo
    Arbon
    pheonix89
    CrownedApoc
    verticallybeige
    InfamousVenous
    ThorTheLizard
    insufficientcaution
    zephyr_skunk
    NerdiNebe
    exotic_thesecond
    noble.b
    superfawfulbro
    Stostri
    ...and others!
    For making my Discord server the most pleasant online space I've ever participated in.

    Everyone who commented on my stories or responded to my threads - For motivating me to keep going.

    And you,
    for reading.​
     
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