The keening of the surviving cubone has changed in pitch, grief joined by confusion and pain. After confirming that the battle is over, the Rangers tend to their wounded and begin working to clear the stairway. Storing all the bodies presents a simple, if grim, challenge, but it’s complicated by a debate over whether they could relocate the surviving cubone without capturing them; they’re mostly young and weak, and returning them to the wild would largely be a death sentence, while removing them from the local ecology would further erode whatever balance it had.

It’s just the kind of conundrum Leaf would love to try to solve, if all of her attention wasn’t already focused on one thing.

“Red, wake up… please, come on. Red? Red!”

He’s slumped on the floor, breaths shallow and eyes closed tight, where he’s been ever since the cubone (and, they learned a minute later, the ghosts) stopped attacking. Leaf was too lost in the feelings she was helping Red project to realize her plan had worked until Jean called out a warning, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Red collapse to his knees, curling in on himself.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sergeant Iko asks, and Leaf jumps. She didn’t hear him approach, and her pulse is still racing as the stress of the battle transitioned straight to anxiety over Red’s condition without any chance to relax.

“I don’t know,” Leaf says, trying to control her panic. Don’t be hurt, Red, I didn’t mean for this to happen… It’s a useless thought, of course she didn’t mean for it to happen, but she knew it might and was okay with it anyway… and even in her panic, some detached part of her is noting that it worked, the cubone aren’t attacking and dying anymore, isn’t that worth it? “Jean, are you sensing anything?”

“His mood is erratic, and I can’t get a better sense of what’s going on without feeling some of it leak over,” the psychic says, all without opening her eyes. She’s been sitting next to him and massaging her temples. “It’s like he’s experiencing memories that aren’t his… and he doesn’t know how to process them.”

Leaf stares at her, bewildered. “Memories from…? People around him? Should we get him somewhere remote?”

“No, it seems related to what he did. I don’t know why projecting to the ghost above us would cause this—I don’t even know how he even managed to project and copy your mental state at the same time—but some of it may be from the ghost’s ‘scream’ going through my shield. I recognize that part in myself, at least, but the rest…” She shakes her head, frowning as her brow creases, then relaxes again.

Leaf takes a few deep breaths. She needs to focus on what her options are, but it’s hard to concentrate with the cubone’s pain filling the air…

“Come on, kid, up you get,” Iko says, and Leaf opens her eyes to see him gently lift Red like a child before she can object, arms cradling his back and knees. “Let’s get you some space to yourself…”

It’s a good thought, even if it doesn’t help it’s at least trying something, and Leaf follows the sergeant as he carries Red past the dividing segment between two hallways and sets him down. Red doesn’t move or otherwise react like he noticed any difference, and as Charmeleon walks over to crouch protectively beside his trainer, Leaf suddenly has to fight back tears.

“I need to check on the situation upstairs,” Iko says, and something in his voice makes Leaf look up to see the tension on his face. “The stairs are clearing up now, I’ll tell my people to carry him down and to the hospital once we’re sure it’s safe.”

She almost asks if something happened upstairs, but just nods. “Thank you,” she whispers, then clears her throat and switches on her earpiece as he leaves. “Blue? Everyone up there okay?”

“Leaf, hey, uh, it’s complicated. Jason and I are fine, but some rangers are… missing. What about you guys?”

Missing? She doesn’t have the concern or curiosity to spare, and instead looks at Red, worrying her lower lip. “Alive, but also… complicated. Take your time dealing with that.” There’s nothing he can do for Red… but maybe Jason… “Though can you ask—”

“Excuse me,” the voice of an old woman says from behind her. “I believe I can be of some assistance, if you’ll step aside?”

Leaf turns, blinks, then says, “Nevermind, Blue,” and steps aside.

---

Once they confirmed that the others were safe, the rangers on the top floor began searching it again, this time for the bodies of the rangers and their pokemon. No one has said the word “dead” yet, but the mood is distinctly non-celebratory.

Blue gets it. Everyone’s still wound tight from the battle, and there’s no time to grieve while there’s still some chance, however minor, that they can find them, save them. He would be helping, but there are enough people looking now that they’ll have the floor thoroughly covered soon, and he’s as sure as he can be that it’s hopeless given the brief experiment he ran a minute ago.

Plus, there’s someone else who might need his help more. Once Leaf abruptly ends her call, he goes to sit beside Jason, who’s resting cross legged on the floor by the stairway, face in his hands.

Eevee curls up against his side, and Blue rubs her fur, drawing comfort from the warm aliveness of her as she eats the berries he scatters on the ground. Jason’s lampent is still out of its ball too, bobbing beside him, and Blue wonders if the medium draws comfort from it in his own way. To Blue, with his goggles off, it’s just creepy.

“Hey,” Blue eventually says, and tilts his foot to nudge Jason’s shoe. “You okay? Got a headache from all the psychic stuff?”

The medium opens his eyes and blinks at Blue, not really seeming to see him for a moment. “I’m fine.” His voice isn’t flat, just calm in a way that makes Blue more worried rather than less.

“Uh huh. You know none of this was your fault, right?”

Jason continues staring at him a moment, then dips his face back into his hands. “I was the one that asked to try communing with it.”

Shit. He hates being right all the time. “Come on, we don’t know for sure that’s what set it off. It was a totally new situation, no one could have guessed what would happen.”

“All the more reason to have waited, left it for those with more experience…”

“What kind of attitude is that? You came here to investigate a mystery. Sure you can look back on it now and second-guess, but that takes guts, and we need more people willing to do the same.”

Jason raises his face again to look at Blue, maybe trying to judge how sincere he’s being. It’s probably hard for him, not being able to use his powers to check… though maybe Blue shouldn’t make assumptions like that. “You really believe that amateurs should be the first to explore new phenomena?”

“First off, knowing Red, he wouldn’t listen to you so seriously if he thought you were an amateur. Second, if everyone just waited on people like Gramps to investigate something they don’t understand, they’d never get any rest, and no one would learn how to deal with stuff themselves.” It’s something he remembers his grandpa saying was a problem, back when he started out. “Hell, the whole point of the pokedex is that people can and should go out and try to learn stuff for themselves, even if it’s dangerous.”

Jason doesn’t respond for a minute, and when he does his gaze is distant again, voice barely a whisper. “It was more than that. I thought I could… be in charge. To lead. It’s not something I’ve ever done before, but… I wanted to try. And people died.”

Blue almost points out that they don’t know they’re dead, but it would be a stupid thing to say when even he doesn’t believe it. So he stops trying to take away the responsibility for a moment, and focuses on how he feels.

He thinks of Gale, as he first saw her outside the tower, curious and alarmed about why they were running through the graveyard, surprised when she recognized him, and then excited and a bit awed by the goggles. His memory replays that moment when she dropped to the floor again and again, like a stinging needle in his thoughts, the sight of her blood sending a roil of shock and horror through him… and yes, some sliver of guilt. Could he have done more? Saved her and the other three rangers?

He doesn’t know. They weren’t under his “command,” so he doesn’t feel nearly as guilty about their deaths as he would if he was more than just along for the ride. But Jason does think of himself as having been in charge, in addition to holding himself responsible for the ghost turning hostile. Some part of him will always feel that responsibility… which means he needs to have it acknowledged.

“There’s a ritual I do,” he finally says. “Taught to me by a friend of mine, who I lost in the stormbringer attack on Vermilion.”

Jason’s head turns, and there’s something that’s not quite skepticism in his eyes. “A ritual?”

“Not a spiritual one,” Blue quickly adds. “We take turns, after incidents like this or training, talking about what we did wrong. Owning it, letting each other own it, and verbally, publicly committing to improving. I want to make sure you know, so you understand when I say… yes, you screwed up. I did too. I started constantly moving so it couldn’t surprise me any more, but I should have done that as soon as I saw it could teleport, should have called it out right away, I just didn’t think fast enough, didn’t anticipate that it would just keep doing it…” He remembers the surge of terror as it appeared next to him, even through the detached calm that usually keeps him focused during battles. “I’ll do better next time, and maybe others like Gale will survive.” He takes a breath, lets it out. The guilt isn’t gone. The words are just words. But he knows they’re important anyway. “That’s the last part, saying that. Do you want to try?”

Jason is quiet for a long time, gaze on the floor. “I should have practiced leadership in a situation with smaller stakes, first,” he finally says. “I should have paid attention to the Sergeant’s report, realized I was dealing with something new…” He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “I knew it was something unusual, even thought about waiting… I’m sorry Blue. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I don’t think there will be a next time, for me. I’m better off sticking to what I know.”

Blue stares at him, trying to think of what to say… he can’t just let Jason give up like that, can he? The ritual is supposed to be about owning your mistakes and moving on from the mistakes you make…

But maybe it’s not up to him to decide what “moving on” looks like for Jason.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of tapping. He looks around, then realizes it’s coming from the stairwell just in time to see Agatha of the Elite Four walk out of it.

She came dressed for battle, which means she’s wearing a long sleeved shirt, cargo vest, and form-fitting slacks, but to combat the weather she’s also got on a heavy coat made of ninetales fur, the absurdly rare kind that’s so deep a silver it almost looks blue. It matches her hair, and gives her an elegant air as she plants her cane between her feet and lifts her head, eyes closed, as if sniffing the air or letting some intangible breeze wash over her.

Blue thought he heard her voice when he was talking to Leaf, and feels relieved by the lucky timing. Beside her walks a second shadow, much too wide to be hers and only vaguely humanoid. With his goggles off, her gengar’s only features are two red eyes and a white slash below them, shaped like a malevolent grin. He quickly looks away from it as hair stands on end all over his body, and waits for Agatha to open her eyes before he waves to catch her attention.

The Elite turns to him, raises her brow, and walks over, cane tapping on the tiles like a metronome as she strides swiftly and energetically forward. Her shadow follows, bobbing from side to side to always stay furthest from the lights she passes by. It doesn’t really fool Blue, now that he knows it’s there, but it does make him feel unsettled, like he can’t quite be certain of it.

Jason has shifted to a kneeling position, bowing his head to his clasped hands. “Elite,” he murmurs once she stops in front of them. “My deepest apologies, for failing the charge you imparted on me through your tutelage.”

“Hey, Aunty,” Blue adds.

Jason turns his head to give Blue an incredulous look, while the Elite just snorts. “Hello, Blue. Care to explain why my old student sounds ready to fall on his sword?”

“He thinks reaching out to the ghost is what caused all this.”

“Hmph. Sit up, Jason. That’s it.” Agatha is short enough that she doesn’t have to reach to put her hand on the medium’s head once he finishes slowly rising up to rest on his heels. She closes her eyes, and he does the same. “Ah,” she says after a moment, and then her shoulders tighten, and she says it again, this time in a sigh. “Spirits, boy, how did you pull yourself out of that?”

“I didn’t,” Jason admits, voice thick, and wipes a sudden tear from his cheek. “My friend Red helped me.”

“Lucky,” she grunts, then takes a deep breath. When she blows it out, Jason breathes out with her, and some tension eases from his shoulders and neck. “There, there.” She pats his hair, and he wipes his face again as more tears flow. “You did what you could.”

“But if we’d waited for you… you could have—”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “Would have liked to take a crack at it, that’s for sure. But that’s my ego and curiosity talking, the same things that drove you, and so only afford yourself a sliver of the responsibility. From what the Sergeant says he would have sent his people up here before I arrived anyway; at most you are only responsible for the pokemon that were killed downstairs.”

Jason’s shoulders hunch, but he nods. “I will guide their spirits myself.”

“Yes, you will. But only if you promise to eat and sleep when you need to; they’re in no rush, and you can’t let guilt taint their passing. Understood?”

Jason lets out a watery breath, but nods, and Agatha pats his hair once more. Then she turns to Blue, who feels like he maybe should have given them some privacy, but it’s too late now. “You’re unhurt?”

“Yeah.” She narrows her eyes, and he adds, “Just a bruise, nothing a potion won’t heal.” He hasn’t gotten around to it yet; something about letting the pain persist feels justified, for now, given the rangers who lost their lives.

Her eyes are still narrowed, and he sighs and unclips a bottle. She nods and looks around as he tugs his collar down and sprays the potion over his arm, shoulder, and back. “Did I beat Sam here?”

“Haven’t seen him, so I guess so.”

“Heh. That’ll irritate him.”

Her smug smile makes Blue snort. “Bet he says he was in the shower or something.”

“Oh no, far too pedestrian. In the middle of ‘a delicate scientific procedure,’ I’d guess.”

Blue grins, but only for a moment. He can tell she’s trying to cheer him up, maybe Jason too, and that thought brings him back to reality. “How bad is it downstairs?”

“Like a cubone slaughterhouse.” Her tone is dry, but he can hear the disgust in it, and winces. Leaf is probably taking it pretty hard… “It’s a damn shame, but at least they did it without losing anyone. Though your friend, Red, took a minute to put right. What have you been teaching him, Jason? He scrambled his brain something fierce trying to project to whatever was up here.”

Blue blinks, and turns to Jason, who looks just as surprised. They both scramble to their feet together, words overlapping.

“Red’s hurt—?”

“What happened—”

“Calm down, both of you. Said I put him right, didn’t I?” Agatha waits for them to still, then huffs as they continue to wait anxiously for answers. “He was projecting something the Juniper girl was feeling. Seemed to think it would help…”

She trails off as Jason whispers, “Ooooh…” He seems lost in thought a moment, then notices them both watching him. “I think it might have, actually, yeah. I wondered why… at the end, it felt like the scream ended.”

“Scream? Ah, the projection the ranger mentioned that called everything here?”

“Yes, that’s what Red called it. It was… pretty apt, actually. A constant ongoing projection, indiscriminate, full of pain…” He trails off, gaze distant. After a moment he blinks and looks at Agatha, then bows his head. “Apologies, Sensei. Thank you again.”

“It ended, during the battle?” Blue prompts. It’s always a bit annoying being around two people who can communicate, and more, in a way totally invisible to him. “The scream?”

“Oh, yes. Just before we attacked it the final time, when it held still. That’s why I called out… it seemed disoriented, for a moment.’

“So we killed it, then? It didn’t just run away?”

Jason opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning. “I wasn’t merged with it… normally I would say it was destroyed, but with the powers it showed… I can’t be sure. But it seems the most likely answer.”

Blue turns back to Agatha only to see her turn, and he realizes he hears more steps coming up the stairs. A moment later Leaf, Red, and the rest of the group arrive… along, finally, with Gramps.

---

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Leaf asks Red as they climb the stairs.

He’s touched by her continued concern, even after Elite Agatha’s brusque reassurance that he’d be fine, and so does his best to make his smile convincing. “Yeah. Sorry for scaring you like that.”

She smiles back and returns her attention to following Professor Oak up the stairs, but from the corner of his eye he sees Jean’s skeptical, assessing stare. He knows she got a sense for how bad off he is, but she doesn’t say anything, for which he’s grateful. It’s hard enough to keep putting one step in front of the other with his partitions all in shambles.

The last thing he clearly remembers before everything got… jumbled… is one part of him doing his best to receive and mirror Leaf’s pure, fervent goodwill, while the other part did its best to project it up at the ghost on the top floor, all while its scream overlaid his emotions through the shield Jean struggled to keep up. It’s not easy shielding someone else, and he’s surprised he lasted as long as he did…

But neither of them stood a chance once he merged with the ghost. He has no way of knowing how long he kept the projection going once he started it; everything after the initial moments of intention and concentration is lost in a haze of grief so deep and stark that it felt like he wasn’t even in

twisting

his body any more, or like the ghost was just the narrow entrance to a funnel

infinite

whose open mouth scattered his awareness into

chaos

shards.

Red frowns and shakes his head. The flashbacks aren’t as strong as when his spinarak attacked him in Vermilion, probably because it wasn’t an actual attack, but he can’t amnesia it away, either. Psychically he feels utterly and completely drained, and just trying to send out a psydar pulse made his consciousness blur and his feet stumble.

If Elite Agatha hadn’t shown up to do her own, more thorough version of whatever Jason does, he’s not sure if he would ever have come back.

So that’s kind of terrifying.

But only in an abstract way; he doesn’t really have much room for terror, with all the grief.

The only thing keeping him from finding a corner to curl up in right now is not wanting Leaf to worry about him, and the question of what happened on the top floor. He’s not sure when he’ll get to see the Professor tackle such a novel mystery again.

Still, the corners look very attractive.

Professor Oak arrived up the stairs at a winded jog, and barely spent a minute examining all the dead cubone and marowak, making sure he and Leaf were unhurt, and shaking hands with a starstruck Artem, before rushing up to the top floor. A few others from the lab came with him, and one stayed behind to examine the bodies, but it’s clear what the rest of them are here for. Now, as the researchers all eagerly crest the top of the stairs, they pause as they find a reception waiting for them.

“Late again, old man. Those youngsters slow you down?”

Elite Agatha’s voice is cheerful, and the Professor smiles as he strides over to his childhood rival, still breathing hard. “Some of us age far less gracefully than others, I’m afraid.” He takes her hand in his and raises it to his lips.

She scoffs and pulls her hand back, but she’s smiling. “You look limber enough to me.”

Red’s gaze hurriedly skips over the gengar at her side as he and the others step around them to reunite with Blue and Jason.

“Are you well?” Jason asks. “The Elite said…” He trails off, and Red knows he doesn’t need to ask, really; he can sense something of what Red is feeling, and the look of dismay on his face makes Red re-evaluate how he’s doing.

Maybe he’s just gotten used to it. Maybe that’s a bad thing.

“Fine,” he says, mostly for the others’ benefit, but also because he’s not sure what good talking about it would do. “You guys?”

“We’re good, thanks to you and Leaf, apparently.” Blue doesn’t seem particularly cheerful about it, and Red vaguely wonders why through the haze of numbing grief.

It’s Maria that asks. “How bad was it, Blue?”

“Bad. The rangers lost four people… including Gale.”

The words barely touch him, though there’s a moment of dull pain at the mention of Gale. What draws his attention more is what Agatha says next.

“He does mean ‘lost,’ Sam. Apparently the bodies are missing.”

“The pokemon too?” Leaf asks.

“Yes, everything that it hit.”

“No, I meant… the pokemon on their belts. Did everything they were wearing disappear with them?”

“Yeah,” Blue says. “Everything they were wearing.”

A drop of confusion colors the grey around him, but not much. When people are teleported everything connected to them disappears, so it’s not too strange that whatever did that here followed similar rules… though it is strange that so many people were teleported at once, not to mention that they’re inside…

And they were dark. That’s why they were sent up here to begin with.

But they were dead…

How long after they died did they disappear?

The color spreads, little by little, until his confusion turns to curiosity.

The Professor is frowning, and after a moment turns to the researchers with him. “Do a full EM scan, Tori. Carl, look for bio samples anywhere it was sighted, and where the bodies were last seen.” He turns to Blue, voice low. “I’m guessing you don’t think the rangers are going to turn up somewhere?”

“No,” Blue admits. “Only dead pokemon disappeared, so… Haku said he sprayed Gale’s wound with potion, but was too distracted to check the healing rate. And, well, there’s evidence all around us that seems pretty convincing too.”

Everyone begins looking around, and it’s Artem who walks over to the nearest crypt with a plaque and carefully opens it, then frowns. He closes it, then goes to another, frowning harder after he opens that one.

“Empty?” Red asks, feeling slow. He should have thought of that… but no, there’s some confusion buried under the thought.

“All the ones I checked,” Blue confirms. “Including one I saw before.”

Leaf rubs her eyes, voice dull. “Why take the urns or caskets, but not the whole drawer?”

That’s not it. There’s something deeper… if only he could think…

“That’s for you eggheads to figure out.” Blue says. “Assuming Gramps hasn’t already?”

“I’m afraid not,” Professor Oak says, and turns to Agatha. “Have you ever heard of anything remotely like this?”

“None of the stories of corpse stealers had any of the other features of this tragic mess,” she says. “Whatever spirit caused it was more burdened than any I’ve heard of.”

“It was more than burdened, Sensei,” Jason murmurs, gaze down. “It was… twisted.”

She frowns at him. “Speak your doubt, Jason. You have nothing to fear.”

The medium bows his head in thanks, then seems to gather his words. “It felt… unnatural. I won’t go so far as to say ‘evil,’ even as a hypothesis… but there was something in it that felt fundamentally different from anything I’ve merged with before. Like it was only partially of this world, and partially…”

“Outside,” Red says, and now everyone’s looking at him, but

infinite

he’s struggling against

distorted

the memories he can’t amnesia away.

“Verres,” Agatha says, voice stern. “You’ll need rest, and soon. We can talk more about this later… perhaps you should go down, find lodging—”

“No, I’m okay,” Red says. “Really, I want to be here.” I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, with nothing else to think about…

She frowns at him, but nods.

“Red’s right,” Jason says. “That word fits, outside.”

There’s a beat of silence at that, and Red hears the quick, heavy steps of some rangers walking past. Their faces look tense, their eyes moving restlessly over everything around them. He wonders if they were close to the missing (dead) ones, and feels a tremor of pain work through him.

“It was a spirit, though?” Agatha clarifies after a moment.

“Yes. I called it a new pokemon, when I first merged with it, and it’s not… unlike others… it still felt like one.”

“Actually,” Blue says. “There’s one thing that makes me wonder if it was a pokemon at all.” Everyone looks at him, and he holds up an ultraball. “This got a lock, I’m sure of it. But when I threw… it went through whatever it was we were fighting.”

Professor Oak holds a hand out for the ball, opens it, and starts examining the inside, while Red tries to think. “How… substantial, did it seem? Could you see through it at all? Did it seem to move with mass?”

Blue exchanges an uncertain look with Jason. “It all happened fast… but it did seem really agile. I don’t think I could see through it, but with the goggles on it was hard to tell…”

“From my lampent’s sight, it seemed as real as any of the other spirits in the room,” Jason says. “And it’s hard to imagine something less dense than a gastly core could hold that club…”

“Yeah, that part we know was solid.” Blue’s voice is bitter.

“Club?” Red asks.

“Oh, right… it looked like a marowak. A really scary, stretched out marowak, but there was no mistaking the skull helmet and bone club.”

“But not like the Alolan Marowak,” Jason clarifies. “They are still living creatures touched by the spirit world, like sensu oricorio, or decidueye. This pokemon was a spirit, through and through.”

Artem clears his throat, then speaks for the first time since coming upstairs. “If it was the first of its kind… if we assume spontaneous abiogenesis… I’m going to check and see if there were marowak remains somewhere on this floor. But either way, it may not be accurate to think of it as a variant of the marowak species. It might mimic their appearance, but be no more related than luvdisc and alomomola.”

“With the descriptions of the surreality it projected onto the whole floor, it’s hard to know how much even visual testimony can be trusted,” Jean notes. “Can you be sure your ball passed through it?”

Red watches Blue bristle for a moment, then sigh, tension running out of him. “No. Our vision was being messed with, and there were times its body seemed to move in ways unconnected to how it appeared to move… Maybe where I was seeing it, and where it was, were two different things.” He turns to Jason. “Did you happen to see…?”

The medium is already shaking his head, looking contrite. “From lampent’s perspective, the ball and the spirit touched. But it was in the path of the ball; it could have passed on the far side of it, from its angle, and only appeared to pass through.”

“Seems unlikely, but we’ll take it as at least partial evidence that the throw was solid,” Professor Oak says, still examining the inside of the ball. “Assuming we can trust the lampent’s vision to not be affected too, of course, which is difficult to know since Jason didn’t try the goggles on to see what it was like as a comparison, I’m assuming?”

“Ah, no,” Jason says, seeming even more apologetic.

Blue puts a hand on the medium’s shoulder. “There wasn’t really time to experiment.”

“Yes, of course,” the Professor says. “No blame was meant.” He turns to the third researcher beside him. “Collect every ball on this floor that might have gotten a lock, or even attempted a scan, on the pokemon.” The woman nods and hurries away, and Professor Oak minimizes the ball Blue handed him and pockets it. “As long as they didn’t attempt to scan anything else, the last thing they were focused on should be in their memory. Hopefully we can use the data in them to better understand what we’re dealing with.”

“As for the rest of you,” Agatha says, voice firm. “Down the tower, off to get your pokemon healed and get some rest, unless you can make a convincing argument that you can provide direct value staying here now and not later.”

Red almost says something, but then she gives him a hard look that he understands to mean she won’t accept basically any argument he makes, and he doesn’t have the energy to come up with something clever anyway. The elusive confusion doesn’t return or clarify, and ultimately he feels like his presence here was useless, so he just listens to Artem and Jason try to make their case for staying, and once they’re shot down, heads for the stairway with them.

It’s hard to pay attention to the conversations others are having as they make their way down, but everyone goes quiet anyway once they reach the corpses on the floor below. The rangers have cleared a path, but not done much more in the way of cleaning up.

“Goddamn,” Blue mutters as they finally pass through the worst of it and reach the last few bodies that came to rest at the foot of the stairs below the battle. “Knew we should have just let it die.”

Red expects Leaf to say something, but when he glances over he sees the conflict in her face. He wonders if she’s torn between agreeing with him and not, or torn between being tactful and speaking her mind; Blue’s almost certainly thinking more about the rangers than the cubone and marowak that were killed.

Red musters his energy and focus. “If we let it die we’d never have learned anything about it. The whole point of coming here was to see if there was some new threat.”

“I know.” Blue sighs and rubs his face. “Just doesn’t feel like a win.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Jean says from behind them, “I kind of doubt it was actually suicidal.” They all turn to her, and she shrugs. “I know it felt like it was grieving and in pain, but would it have fought so hard if it really wanted to die? Think of victreebel, emitting a sweet scent to trap and eat any pokemon that comes to investigate.”

Red should have thought of that too. He grabs hold of this new aspect of the mystery, trying to focus, and he suddenly remembers what Maria said on their way to the tower. “You said it might not have scared off the ghosts, but consumed them.”

The quiet girl shrugs. “It was just a thought. But it seems as good an explanation as any…”

“Though it doesn’t explain the people who were lurking around the tower,” Blue adds. “Assuming they were related at all.”

“Would the ghost have tried to eat cubone and marowak too?” Leaf asks. “Or was attracting them just a side effect?”

Red’s thoughts drift as the conversation continues, and by the time they’re on the bottom floor all he can think about is how nice it would be to get back to the Trainer House and drop into bed. The snow is still falling outside, and they pause to put their warmer clothing back on before stepping out into the cold whiteness around the tower.

People are still talking, and it all sounds like a buzz in his ears. The crunch of steps on the snow is louder, as is his breathing. It seems to fill the world, the stark, empty, monochrome world

outside

and then the buzz is much louder, with people shouting and no crunching footsteps and his heartbeat in his ears, and everything goes

inside out

black instead of white.

---

Red wakes in stages, each sense registering one at a time. First comes touch, the feeling of being wrapped in a warm cocoon, except for his face, which is slightly cool. Next is smell: clean linen, first and foremost, with something savory wafting in the background. After that comes hunger and thirst pangs from his stomach and throat, along with the bitter-mouth taste of having fallen asleep without brushing his teeth.

As he continues to swim toward consciousness he registers voices, murmuring through a wall or two, and that’s when the memories come. The tower, the marowak and cubone, the ghost… he instinctively flinches, but no painful memories surface, and a moment later—

Oh good, we’re awake.

A moment of disorientation as he wonders who he is, “which Red” he is, but the answer is obvious; what he heard was his unpartitioned self, meaning he’s the partitioned one, and that means his psychic abilities are working again.

A quick pulse of psydar confirms that, and that there’s a small group of people clustered nearby, and finally he opens gummy eyes and peers around him.

Where the hell are we?

Red has no idea (of course, otherwise his unpartitioned self would know too). It looks like a generic guestroom, so he’s not in the trainer house, or a hospital. He quickly pulses his psydar again, then focuses on the nearby minds, recognizing Leaf first, and—

He relaxes, letting a long breath out. Mom. He’s at his mother’s apartment, the one she’s been staying in for weeks now as she follows whatever lead she has in Lavender Town.

He can sense that she’s worried about him, but not actually concerned, so he guesses he wasn’t in any danger. Which makes sense, since he’s here instead of a hospital… he wonders how he got here…

Oh. She’s noticing the merger. Has she been practicing with a psychic?

He quickly withdraws from her mind, but a moment later he hears footsteps, and the door opens.

“Red!” Two steps and she’s there, sitting beside him and running her hand through his hair as she looks down at him with a worried smile. “How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

Her hand feels nice, and for a moment he just wants to curl up against her like he was a kid again. Then he hears other footsteps and sees Blue and Leaf hovering at the doorway, and clears his throat, embarrassed. “Water?”

“I’ll get it,” Leaf says, and hurries away while Blue leans against the doorway, looking relieved.

“I’m fine,” Red tells his mom, and shifts to sit up. “How long…?”

“About five hours,” Blue says. “You gave us a good scare, buddy. Aunty Ag said you’d be okay, but even she was concerned that you fainted again. She’s got some questions when you’re feeling better.”

“I’ll do my best,” Red says, which seems a tactful way to say that he has no idea what even happened because the partitions are keeping him safe from it.

“When you’re feeling better,” his mother repeats, frowning at him. “Not as soon as you wake up.”

“It might be important, if whatever it is is still going on,” Blue says, a little apologetically.

Mom’s brow furrows, but then she sighs and nods. “Go ahead and let them know, then.”

Blue nods and takes his phone out as he walks away, just as Leaf returns with a glass of water and a bowl of the savory stew he smelled. “In case you’re hungry?”

“I am, yeah. Thanks.” He takes the glass first and drinks—gods that’s nice—then sets it down on the nightstand and carefully takes the soup bowl. It’s warm without being hot, and absolutely delicious.

“Easy, Red,” his mom says. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Red slows down, cheeks hot. “How did I get here?” he asks after swallowing another spoonful.

“What do you remember?” Leaf asks.

“Um. Snow. We’d just left the tower…?”

“Yeah. When you fell, we put you on a stretcher and took you back inside, calling for help. The ranger medic said you were physically okay, and Agatha did something psychic and said you just needed rest… We weren’t sure whether we should take you to the hospital or the trainer house, and then I thought to call Laura.”

“I figured you’d be able to rest better here,” Laura explains, and Red knows she probably hadn’t left it up to debate. “One of the local doctors made a house call just to be sure, and agreed you were physically fine, so… we’ve just been waiting.”

Red has finished his soup as they talk, and his stomach rumbles. His mom takes the bowl with a smile. “I’ll get you more. Do you think you can handle some crackers too?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he mumbles, cheeks hot. Rather than lingering on the thought of Leaf seeing his mom dote on him, he quickly tries to shift the focus back to other things. “What about the others? Did the Professor’s team learn anything yet?”

Leaf smiles. “Maybe, but if so they haven’t been broadcasting it or anything.”

“Right.” He chides himself for his impatience and shifts to sit a bit more comfortably against his pillow, trying to focus on something else. It’s a huge relief that his abilities seem to be back and working properly, and he keeps instinctively sending his power out, skimming the minds of those around him as if to prove to himself that he’s okay.

His mom feels much more cheerful than she did when he first merged with her upon waking. Leaf, on the other hand..

“Holding up okay?” he murmurs. He was almost too wrapped up in himself to notice how miserable she must have been after the battle at the tower, but now it’s as if she’s giving herself space to grieve.

She meets his gaze, then drops hers, hands splaying on her knees, fingers gripping and releasing. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

Red nods, but doesn’t say anything, giving her time to elaborate if she wants to. He almost doesn’t realize that he’s doing what Dr. Seward does to him. Shit, we have to tell her about all this… that’s going to be a conversation…

“It was harder than I thought it would be,” Leaf says after another moment. “I mean, we faced something pretty extreme, so… it makes sense that it would bother me even if something like this happened while we were all still traveling together. But it was…” She trails off, and shakes her head, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I’m glad you were there,” Red says once the silence has spun out for a while. “If you weren’t… we would have probably ended up having to kill all of them, assuming we weren’t overwhelmed.” He wonders if anyone’s checked how far the scream was traveling yet. How many more pokemon were on their way before it ended? “And more people upstairs might have been killed before they could stop it.”

Leaf hesitates, then nods, sighing. “I’m glad it worked. And I’m glad you were there, to make it work.” Her shoulders slump, and when she meets his gaze again Red is alarmed to see them shine with tears. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”

Red’s brain locks up, and he tries to think of something to say or do. Before he can there are footsteps in the hall, and his mom enters with a tray. “I brought some fruit and cheese too.”

Leaf wipes at her eyes, and Red feels the moment pass as he reflexively takes the tray from his mother. “Thanks.” Hungry as he was a moment ago he doesn’t start eating, and an awkward silence descends.

His mom finally seems to realize that she might have interrupted something, because she says, “Well, I’ve still got six hundred words to write today, and I’m a bit behind now. I’ll be in the other room if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you, Laura.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Once she leaves, the nature of the quiet changes from awkwardness to expectation, and it takes Red a moment to decide on something to say. “Leaf, I don’t want you to…”

He trails off as he hears more footsteps approaching, and then Blue walks into the small room and plops down on the bed beside him.

“Man, it’s cold outside,” Blue complains as he takes some of the cheese and crackers from Red’s tray, speaking with his mouth full. “Gramps and Ag said they’ll be back tomorrow anyway, so unless you have some amazing insight to share we might as well meet up in the morning instead.”

“Right,” Red mutters as he tries to think of some way to get Blue to leave. He wants to reassure Leaf, wants to make sure she doesn’t blame herself… but somehow it feels too personal to do while Blue is here, and the topic of risking-ourselves-to-help-others still feels like a slightly raw subject…

Hey genius, we’re psychic, remember?

Red slowly smiles, then starts eating his soup as he focuses on the feelings he wants Leaf to understand. He relies on his unpartitioned self to make sure they don’t repeat what happened on the cruise and overshare, but his cheeks still feel a bit warm as he projects the feelings of gladness and respect and appreciation for mutually making each other better people…

Leaf sucks in a breath, and when he looks up at her she’s smiling at him. He smiles back, cheeks feeling even warmer.

“What?” Blue asks, looking between them as he bites into one of the sliced pears. “I miss something?”

“No,” Leaf says, grinning even as she shakes her head. “If you’re hungry why don’t you get your own food?”

Blue blinks, then looks at his half eaten pear slice and swallows guiltily. “Ah, sorry, Red. I’ll go get you some more—”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He wonders, too late, if that was Leaf’s attempt to have Blue leave… maybe she wanted to say something herself. “I mean you can, if you want.”

Blue glances at Leaf apprehensively. “Uh…”

“Just ask next time. Like this. May I have a slice of pear, Red, or do you need every scrap of energy to recover from your harrowing ordeal?” The look she gives Red is still one of secret laughter, and he feels something like wings flapping in his chest.

“Yes you may, though if I should collapse again from exhaustion, I hope you feel very guilty.”

“That’s very kind of you, and of course I will be sure to—”

“Okay, I get it,” Blue says, and sighs as they start giggling while Leaf takes some pear for herself. “You guys finish getting all the giddy relief out? We’ve got business to discuss. Not that I’m not also really glad you’re awake, Red, particularly after… you know.”

Red nods, remembering how hard Blue took his friend Glen going into a coma. He suspects it was especially hard for Blue because it happened while he wasn’t with him, just like this would have been. “I know.” He starts sipping his soup. “What sort of business?”

“Weeeeell, Leaf and I were talking about it, and… what do you think about selling our story to a movie producer?”

Red blinks. “What story? You mean what happened at the tower?”

“More than that, our story! The Oaklings, or Pallet Three, or whatever. Volume One, for now, but the stuff at the Tower makes for a pretty good first climax, don’t you think?”

Red stares at Blue, unsure how serious to take him. Leaf starts giggling, and he chuckles, relieved that it’s a joke, until Blue frowns at her.

“Hey whose side are you on?”

“I know, Blue, I know,” she says, trying to control herself without much luck. “It’s just… his face…”

Red tries to shift his features into something less… whatever he looked like that set Leaf off. “I uh, don’t… think I get it. I mean this is a PR thing, right? I get that much, but are we really…”

“Heroes? Damn right we are! I mean stopping a few renegades here and there, lots of people do that around the world, but how many groups as young as us have, twice? Combined with the abra technique, me and Daisy and Gramps during the storm, the gym stuff I’ve been doing… okay, not really heroic but different and interesting… now this?” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see what we did? We took down a new legendary!”

Red stares. “That’s not… do you really think that?”

“I think people can’t prove otherwise,” Blue says. “Maybe it was just a baby, but we fought it within hours of it being born, or manifesting or whatever, and it was that dangerous? Can you imagine how powerful it might have become if we hadn’t stopped it?”

Red’s stomach drops at the idea of facing something even twice as strong. They still don’t know how large the range was, unless they figured it out while he was sleeping, and from what he heard, it was winning against around eight trainers at once up until Leaf’s projection hit it. “It still feels like a stretch to compare it to the Stormbringers. And arrogant.”

“That’s what I said,” Leaf adds. “But I think he’s onto something even if we don’t make that claim. We’ve got enough under our belts to do something more than just write posts about our experiences. A lot of it was terrifying and tragic…” She trails off, for a second, then sighs. “But I have to admit that, from an outside perspective, it would probably all seem pretty exciting.”

“And inspiring,” Blue adds.

“You think we can summarize over half a year into a single film?”

“Oh, we don’t have to cover all of it,” Blue assures him. “There’s a clear arc now! Leaf discovered her love shield thing with the abra, you had some trouble with your powers, but then learned to harness them, and now you both combined your efforts to beat the ghost!”

It’s bizarre having his life be described in a way that has “story arcs,” but he gets what Blue means; the movie would have a structure, related to historic events that would make it more than just a film about some semi-famous trainers on their journey. It would have justification, rather than just coming off as a PR thing.

But it would still be a PR thing.

Don’t forget money. Maybe even a lot of money.

“What about you?” Red asks, mostly just to fill the expectant silence.

“Eh, I caught the most abra even without tricks, and I was with the rangers who ended up fighting the thing. I think I’ll make out okay, and besides, my story’s the most exciting one between major events.”

Leaf snorts, but doesn’t argue the point, and Red finds himself smiling. “I still think it’s kind of a stretch, pitching ourselves as important enough for our own film.”

“But…?” Blue is grinning, and Red knows it’s obvious his resolve is crumbling.

Is he really considering this? He has been saying he would work on being more open to PR stuff, and when he examines what makes him uncomfortable about this, it’s all the same things he said before, which they had good arguments against.

Plus money.

He wonders if he should be worried that his unpartitioned self cares so much about money, suddenly, and then decides that the objections about making money feel even less convincing than the ones about not appearing arrogant or worrying about his image.

“Alright,” he sighs, and Blue clasps his fists together above his head in a victory pose while Leaf grins. “What do you need me to do?”

“Don’t worry about it right now, focus on resting.” Leaf says.

“I’m fine. I mean, I feel fine, much better than before.” Surprisingly better, really, but then that’s what amnesia is for. He remembers his first experiment, where the psychic in Pewter kept removing her memories of being hit by Night Shade over and over, and wonders how long it took her to let those partitions down and work through the feelings they caused.

“I’m glad to hear it, but either way right now there’s nothing you need to do. I’ll reach out to some people in the film industry—”

“Make sure you ask Gramps, he knows a few—”

“—and at some point you’ll probably sign some stuff and talk about things that happened, but we just wanted to make sure you’d be on board with it first.”

“Thanks,” he tells her, and turns to Blue. “Both of you. For looking out for my interests so much. This is… not something I ever really imagined, for myself.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” Blue leans forward to take another slice of pear. “Heard rumors that Brendan, May, and Wally are getting their own trilogy for everything that happened in Hoenn, so Kanto needs to step up.”

---

The original idea was to gather the next morning in one of the Ranger meeting rooms under Lavender Tower, but shortly after waking Leaf sees a message from Blue saying the new plan is to use a rented studio in the town’s sole office plaza. Apparently the list of attendees kept growing by the hour, and the tower doesn’t have anywhere big enough to squeeze in everyone that was there during the incident, plus the additional experts and researchers that showed up after Red fainted, the most prestigious of which are Leader Matsuba and Professor Elm from Johto.

Leaf rushes through the chores at the ranch so she can teleport back to Lavender on time. Sadly with snow on the ground there are fewer pokemon that can be let out, as many lack the instincts or terrain they would use in the wild to stay warm, but it does mean she finishes fairly quickly, and manages to arrive at the meeting early.

It’s set in a large conference room with glass walls, and the only people seated are some researchers she doesn’t recognize. Leaf nervously confirms she’s in the right place, then takes a seat and checks where Red and Blue are. Both say they’re on their way, so she reads over her messages and sees one from Natural asking her how the investigation is going, which reminds her that she hasn’t had the chance to tell him what happened.

She does so now, summarizing as best she can while still highlighting all the main points. His responses make her grin.

what

what?!

no seriously what are you joking what the hell

are you okay?!

She answers questions until more and more people start to trickle in, then promises him a call later and gets up to greet her friends as they arrive together. Blue and Maria take the seats to Leaf’s left while Red and Artem sit to her right, and it’s a relief to see how much better Red looks this morning, even compared to how much better he looked after waking at his mother’s. The emotions he shared with her still make her feel a warm buzz in her chest when she thinks of it, and help dispel any lingering self-blame she might have had over putting him at risk with her plan.

The room fills up quickly, and other than her group almost none of the faces are familiar from the tower, though she does recognize others from online. Elite Agatha shows up in the same coat as the day before, and once again Leaf is torn between noting that the coat looks amazing while wondering if it’s real, and if it is, how the ninetales died. Some pokemon are killed for their coats, but surely one as rare as that wouldn’t have been?

When Leader Sabrina arrives, Red goes to greet her with a respectful nod. Leaf sees the surprise on his face when she bows her head back, murmuring something to him, and after a brief back and forth the Leader reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, then goes to greet Elite Agatha.

“What’d she say?” Leaf whispers when Red returns.

“Just… that she’s really glad I’m okay, and proud of me.”

It seemed like it was more than that, but then again, Sabrina always struck her as distant, so the show of affection would probably be surprising.

More people continue to trickle in, rangers and psychics and researchers, as well as a couple more Kanto Leaders, including Misty, and…

Leaf’s pulse jumps as she sees Leader Giovanni in person again for the first time since Mount Moon. His gaze sweeps the room, pausing here and there, nodding to someone or the other, and her stomach flips as those dark eyes rest for a beat on her. She finds herself nodding back without any conscious decision, and as his gaze moves on and he eventually goes to find a seat, she feels anger at herself for returning the gesture. She knows she’s being ridiculous, it was just a neutral sign of acknowledgement he gave many others, it’s not like it was some token of mutual conspiracy… she would probably be mad at him if he just ignored her, or worse, didn’t even recognize her…

Professor Oak and his entourage are among the last to arrive, looking like they spent the whole night up doing research. Elite Agatha taps her wristwatch, which causes the Professor to grin as he takes a seat while his researchers open container boxes full of food and drinks. As they start handing out mugs of steaming coffee and tea, more boxes continue to be summoned, these containing beanbags for people to sit on.

“Sorry for the delay, everyone. We’re all here? Ready to record? Great.” Professor Oak clears his throat. “The purpose of this meeting is to share our preliminary findings on the various phenomena related to the incident at Lavender Tower yesterday, and collect further details from those present. To begin with, thanks to Dalia we’ve got a rough measure of how far the ‘psychic scream’ went, so let’s start there.”

He leans back in his seat and sips from his tea, and the woman in question steps forward from where she was leaning against the wall. “So, basically I just made a lot of cold calls and put up some posts on public forums,” she says, hand fidgeting with the string of the tea bag hanging out of her own mug. “We know from multiple reports that it at least covered all of Lavender, but no sensitives or psychics in Saffron or Cerulean City noticed anything strange. Between those two distances we got a single positive response from the nearby ranger outpost just west of town. We can speculate that it might have gone further than that, but at least we have a maximum range. As for the minimum… the outpost was nearly twenty-four kilometers from Lavender Tower.”

Blue gives a low whistle, then mutters, “That’s a lot of cubone that might have made their way to the tower.”

“Is there any psychic phenomenon that’s been recorded with an effect that large before?” one of the rangers asks.

“Not in reliable sources,” Professor Oak says, then smiles as Elite Agatha clucks her tongue. “But given the events in Hoenn, I think we’re all a little more open to taking a second look at… slightly less robust ones…?”

He turns to Agatha, who nods. “There are stories, just stories, I freely admit, of spirits capable of beguiling entire towns, of forests haunted by something powerful enough to keep anyone attempting to enter it away. In my youth I investigated a few of these, and found nothing to corroborate them that survived to the modern day. It’s possible that what was felt was not, in fact, the effects of a single spirit, but a confluence of them, limited in time such that they usually disperse before any proper investigation can be mounted. But there are some exceptions, and I’ll leave explaining one of them to Morty, who is more studied on such matters.”

Leader Matsuba bows his head. “You honor me, Elite.” The Johto Leader is dressed much more casually than most psychics she’s seen; black shirt, white pants, and a purple scarf that shifts to red at the ends, along with a purple headband. Despite his casual appearance and relatively young age, however, his gaze is nearly as intense as Elite Agatha’s, and Leaf wonders if Red’s eyes will ever look like that when he gets older or more psychically experienced. “It’s true that I’ve studied Ghost pokemon absorption, but I won’t claim to be an expert.”

“If you’re not an expert, then we have none,” Professor Oak cheerfully says. “Just tell us what you can.”

“There are only a few species that we’ve actually observed doing this, and spiritomb is the most well studied… but like my potential expertise, that’s not saying much, since only a handful have ever been captured. The oldest spiritomb we have records of is from Sinnoh, where carvings of spirits trapped in a keystone were found from over five hundred years ago. Leader Fantina has been hunting it, convinced that it was hidden away somewhere in the region. From what we’ve observed in captured spiritomb, they appear to get a larger power boost than any others when they consume other ghosts… but this is offset by how much time they spend afterward hibernating, only to re-emerge months, sometimes years, later, more erratic and harder to tame than before.” He fiddles with the edge of his scarf a moment. “It may be worth noting that each time a spiritomb is captured, it registers as a new pokemon.”

Professor Oak is nodding. “So your hypothesis is that this ghost was something like a spiritomb, which consumed all the ghosts in the area, accounting for its erratic behavior and extreme strength.”

“Yes. And like the spiritomb, what it appears to be is not what it really is.” Leader Matsuba turns to Blue. “The data from your ball confirms that you locked onto something, just like the ball found near where the first two rangers disappeared. But what you locked onto was not the distorted image of the marowak; that was a mere projection, much like a spiritomb’s swirling ‘face’ of green lights and purple gas.”

Blue does an admirable job of not looking too bitter, considering that the others who were fooled ended up dead. “The mask?”

Professor Oak shakes his head. “The club. We studied the data as best we could throughout the night, and it wasn’t just bone; there were semi-organic compounds in it, similar to those found in marowak bone. Assuming it was killed, whatever remains it left behind must have vanished, along with the rest of the corpses on the floor.”

The room is silent for a moment, and Leaf wonders if the rangers are regretting that it was killed, or bitterly glad that their lost friends were avenged. The researchers are obviously disappointed, Red included, but she suspects only Jason, Agatha, and Matsuba are mourning the spirit itself. And Blue must be beating himself up over how close he came to capturing a newly discovered pokemon (and a strong one, of course) only to miss by inches… maybe he’s worried people will blame him for messing up…

“So?” Blue abruptly asks. “What do we think? Did we stop a new legendary from being born?”

A chuckle works its way around the room, and Leaf sees Leader Misty smirk knowingly at Blue, who manages to look innocently curious.

“That would be a strong claim to make,” Professor Oak says, and though he’s also clearly amused his tone makes it clear how serious he is, probably for the sake of the recording. “And would require more evidence than we are likely to ever have, unless another one appears… which, given how powerful it was, would be a mixed blessing at best.”

Blue nods, and Leaf covers her smile with her hand. She hasn’t reached out to the Professor yet, and wonders if he already knows of their plans from Blue; either way he probably suspected why Blue was trying to get an answer to that in an official statement.

“That brings us to the next point,” Sergeant Iko says. “We’re presuming it was killed for a few decent reasons… the surreality field or whatever the hell that was ended, it hasn’t shown up anywhere else, and the remains of everything, including those interred in the top floor of the tower, all vanished, leaving us unable to verify its death the ordinary way. But we can’t take for granted that it’s gone, and everyone around Lavender will be on high alert for a while.”

One of the higher ranking rangers in the room nods. “We’re discussing a general alert for all graveyards around the islands, in case it’s drawn to such places, but unfortunately it would stretch us out pretty thin to maintain any real vigilance for more than a couple days. At the very least, a pair of rangers or gym members at each major cemetery will likely be announced by noon.”

“In any case,” Sergeant Iko says, “As of today we’ve given up the search for the missing rangers, and are presuming them dead as well. Their loss, and the loss of their pokemon, including all those on their belts, will be felt throughout the town, and beyond it.”

His voice is calm, but Leaf can see the heaviness in his eyes, and suspects he didn’t get much sleep last night either. He looks as though he’s going to add something else, until Professor Elm clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him before he speaks for the first time.

“I’d like to raise a curiosity, though I know it may muddy the water a bit. Well, a curiosity, and a caution, against assuming we understand why the rangers disappeared. To be clear, I understand why we would assume that.” He turns to Sergeant Iko and dips his head. “You have my sympathy for their loss, Sergeant, and for having to make a call despite the uncertainty. I don’t mean to give false hope, or rub salt in the wound—”

“—I understand,” Sergeant Iko says, tone even. “And appreciate your concern. Get to your point, please.”

Professor Elm hesitates, then nods. “Right. Simply put, there’s no definition of ‘death’ that fits our observations.”

“Of course!”

Everyone turns to Red, who abruptly sinks into his seat, cheeks flushed. Professor Oak chuckles, Leader Sabrina covers something between a cough and a laugh behind her hand, and then a ripple of laughter moves through the room as her friend tugs his hat a bit lower.

“Sounds like Mr. Verres got there ahead of me?” Professor Elm asks with a smile.

“No, no, I… I was confused about it at the time but… I didn’t figure it out until you said that.”

The realization hit Leaf a little more subtly—what her thoughts leapt to from Elm’s words was a conversation she had with Blue and Red back in Viridian Forest, about how long Dark pokemon retain their psychic immunity after death—but she decides Red could use some rescuing. “Oooh, I get it! Their cells would still be alive!”

Professor Elm nods. “Exactly. There’s no firm definition for ‘medical death.’ It’s basically a function of our technology; at one point in history, not having a heartbeat anymore would mean death, but then we learned how to revive even from that, if we’re quick and lucky. Nowadays I would say someone could survive practically anything but a damaged heart or brain as long as they get the right treatment on time, but even that might change as our medicine gets better.”

The Johto Professor’s smile has faded by now, and the mood of the room returns to its earlier grimness. Worse than giving the rangers up as dead is the idea that they may have still been alive when they went wherever they did… assuming they went anywhere at all, of course.

“There are many different answers as to when the spirit leaves the body,” Elite Agatha says into the silence. “I had a similar thought, but nothing to suggest in its place as a rule for why those rangers disappeared. Do you?”

“No, and I don’t mean to get metaphysical, so I’ll just conclude by saying that, if we assume dead organic matter was the criterion, without circulation it would take minutes for all the cells in the body to die at room temperature. At best we can probably say that being unconscious divided those that disappeared from those that didn’t, but even that might be wrong. Maybe it was only those who were touched by the club, as we have no living counter-examples to compare to.” Professor Elm shrugs. “Like I said, just another confusion to add to the list.”

The room is silent again. No one offers any ideas, and after a moment Sergeant Iko stirs. “Thank you for raising those questions. I look forward to seeing what answers might be found on them, but right now there’s something else that seems more important.” He surprises Leaf by turning to her. “We have three people in particular to thank for there not being more casualties. While the other effects of the ghost may prove a perpetual mystery, I would like to know more about what Leaf, Red, and Jean did that paralyzed it, in case it can be repeated in other situations.”

“Paralyzed?” Leader Matsuba asks.

“Not in the traditional sense,” Jason says. “But from my observation, it did appear to go still, its scream interrupted, at around the time that they report trying to project feelings to it. That’s when we struck, all together, and, presumably, destroyed it.”

“I’ll take my share of credit, but it’s not much,” Jean says frankly. “I only provided a shield to Red as best I could, and have only a vague idea of what he did and how.”

The room’s attention shifts to Red. “I was projecting what Leaf was focusing on.” Red shrugs, adjusting his hat a little to reveal more of his face, though his cheeks are still pink. “As for what that was, and why it might have worked, she’d be the best person to ask.”

Now everyone is staring at her. She mentally rehearsed what she might say on the way here, expecting something like this—she even wrote some notes last night for an article she plans to write on it—but giving the report, on an official recording of the incident, still makes her nervous. “It was, ah, basically just a strong feeling of… love, and reassurance, and a desire that it should live.”

The room is quiet, and she wipes a sweaty palm on her pantleg. No one laughs, at least, and the researchers all look fascinated.

“I read your article on how you caught abra, and the follow-up experiments,” one of Professor Elm’s group says. “Were there others that you haven’t recorded, or was this the first attempt with a Ghost type?”

“The latter, but I don’t think this was the same thing. From what I understand of projection, it forces the emotions on the receiver?” She glances at Red, Jean, Jason, and Agatha, but no one contradicts her. “So the ghost was feeling what it was projecting to others. I think this was particularly effective because it was specifically countering what the ghost was focusing on.”

“It goes beyond even that,” Agatha says. “Spirits do not simply feel emotions. In a very meaningful sense, they are their emotions, given tangible form. They still have minds of their own, and so while they can be conditioned, they are not beholden to any psychic that decides to project onto them… but this is why spiritual attacks are so effective against them, as with psychic.”

No one quite seems to know how to respond to that, and after a moment Sergeant Iko speaks again, sounding resigned. “So the short answer for others learning it is ‘probably not,’ then? I did wonder why it hasn’t been done before, and guessed from the effect it had on Mr. Verres that it was simply too dangerous a tactic to use in common circumstances.”

“No, that’s a whole different matter, unique to Psychic Red’s abilities,” Leader Sabrina says, and gives Red what seems to Leaf an apologetic look. “He is uncommonly vulnerable to spiritual attacks for reasons that are complex and unimportant for the general topic. What matters more, I believe, is that the ability to copy an emotion and project it at once was what taxed him so, in addition to the effects of the scream that overwhelmed Psychic Jean’s defenses. If Miss Juniper were a psychic and attempted it, she likely would not have been as affected, which is why learning this frame of mind, if it’s possible to do so, would be potentially a great benefit.”

People are looking at Leaf again, and she lifts her chin. “I’d be happy to try and teach it to whoever wants to learn. I’ve posted a few articles on it since our abra captures, to try and do so through writing, but if a psychic has to learn from me directly then it seems worth my time, if it means more people are equipped to handle something like this happening again.”

She takes a breath. “That said, I do think it would be more difficult than most might expect.” She glances at Red, who nods. “There are fundamental values underlying what I focused on both with the abra and in the tower, that I don’t believe can be believed in as is convenient. I don’t think those values can’t be learned, but I want to caution people from thinking they can just… pick it up, and remain unchanged.”

“Ominous,” someone mutters, and the room chuckles again.

Leaf feels her own face grow hot, even though she knows nothing personal was meant by it. What she said was ominous, but she needs this to be taken seriously…

“I’m assuming this has something to do with the project you’re working on,” Professor Oak asks, and she sees encouragement in his bright blue gaze. “Can you elaborate, Leaf?”

“Sure.” This conversation is going to be public record, and listened to by millions of people. She needs to take advantage of that. “For those that don’t know, I have very strong beliefs about pokemon welfare. I don’t engage in trainer battles, don’t eat any pokemon, and much of my time is spent helping care for those that have been abandoned. I even suspended my journey to focus on a new project that might someday solve much of the dangers humans face from wild pokemon, permanently.”

The room is silent, and she doesn’t need to be psychic to pick up on people’s confusion, shock, and skepticism. “All of which is to say,” she presses on, “That the convictions I hold are deep ones. I didn’t pick them up for some reward or personal benefit, and I’m skeptical that using it in such a way would work.”

This time the silence has more of a thoughtful feel, going off the expressions she can see. Eventually Professor Elm leans forward, adjusting the glasses on his narrow nose. “Have you been changed by the experience, Mr. Verres? I understand that your ability to mirror the mental states of others is somewhat unique, but has already been taught in part to Leader Sabrina and some of her other pupils.” He looks between Red and Sabrina, now. “Has anyone noticed any such side effects?”

Leaf can tell, now, that Red’s nervousness is about the subject matter. This is getting dangerously close to the sensitive topics they talked about on the cruise, and the fact that two powerful psychics are in the room makes Leaf wonder if Red is debating how honest he should be.

She realizes the psychics might already be communicating with each other about this very thing, and feels a moment of jealousy, wishing she could send Red mental support and reassurance. It’s strange to think of such a private conversation being layered on top of a situation like this… but then again, any of the others fiddling with their phones or on laptops at the moment could be having one too.

“I don’t think I can give an objective answer,” Red finally says. “Leaf is one of my closest friends, and we’ve spent a lot of time talking about our beliefs. I’ve found some of her arguments convincing enough to alter my diet so that it’s closer to hers, and from the inside this feels distinct from the feelings I’ve mirrored from her… but I can’t with any confidence say there’s been no effect. As for the other psychics in Saffron, as far as I know none have tried it with ideological beliefs.”

Leader Sabrina nods. “That’s my experience as well, and I’ve detected no permanent changes to ice cream preference yet.”

Another chuckle moves around the room, and though she’d been waiting for it throughout the meeting, the sound of Giovanni’s voice still takes Leaf by surprise. “As Sabrina and her pupils are already pursuing this avenue of study, I suggest we leave it to them to continue to do so. I trust they’ll let us know when it’s time for more robust studies to be done, or if collaboration with other psychics or researchers would be helpful?”

“Of course,” Sabrina says, and turns to Leaf. “I’d be happy for your participation, if you can spare the time.”

Leaf nods, and the conversation moves on to other things, but the exchange doesn’t sit right with her. Leaf glances at Giovanni, unsure of what she’s feeling other than vague suspicion and dissatisfaction. The Viridian Leader has been sitting quietly the whole meeting, alternating between listening attentively or fiddling with his phone, the same way he did while speaking with her. It doesn’t make her feel any better about that, even if the other big names in the room are also checking their phones or typing into them on occasion.

“What’s wrong?” Blue mutters at her side.

“Nothing.” Everything Giovanni said seems sensible enough. No one else objected, and it’s also probably Red’s preference, keeping things in his and Sabrina’s control. She knows he and Red would say she’s just being paranoid because of her past experience with him… okay, they probably wouldn’t say it, but they’d think it.

And they’d probably be right. She takes a moment to imagine Giovanni said the opposite, that the research should be done by new people, and she has to admit that she’d be suspicious of that too.

Okay, so I have a bias against him. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong to be wary.

Blue is frowning at her, and Red leans in from the other side, brow creased. “You don’t want to work with us?”

“It’s not that. But…” She tries to put it into words, the worry that continuing as they have been is a mistake. What she’s done has gone from a handy trick to catch rare pokemon, to something that can stop real threats. They have to make sure they’re exploring every avenue, not just trusting one group to get things right. “What if something about Sabrina’s… style… isn’t compatible with it? You’re already working with her, maybe we should, you know. Diversify.”

She expects Red to object, but he just looks thoughtful, then distracted. Eventually he leans toward her and murmurs, “It’s a good idea. You should bring it up.”

“Really? You’re not worried about…” She lowers her voice even further. “You know, people getting scared of psychics manipulating them?”

“What?” Blue says from her other side, and she holds up her index finger to tell him to wait a minute.

“The cat’s out of the ball now,” Red says with a shrug. “Maybe Sabrina will be against it, but you should still bring it up.”

Leaf nods, feeling relieved, then turns to Blue and summarizes what she said, minus the worry about society being scared of psychics, since that would be a longer conversation and she wants to start paying attention to the one the rest of the room is having again.

That turns out to be an exploration of the tactics used to defend the tower, the decisions Sergeant Iko made (which she’s glad to see no one is blaming him for, and is also glad that, when Jason tries to blame himself, a number of people speak out in his defense), an analysis of the new tactics the ghost used and how trainers could defend against it if it’s fought again, and a further examination of the issue with the cubone and marowak population around the tower, which was largely destroyed.

They break for lunch, also provided by Pallet Labs, and Blue steps away to introduce Maria to someone while Leaf tries to find an opportunity to bring up her counter-offer. She considers approaching Professor Oak, but he’s busy speaking with others, and when she looks around for someone else to talk to about it her gaze falls on a surprisingly unoccupied Giovanni, who’s eating with one hand as his other holds his phone, thumb tapping away.

A quiet voice inside worries that a private conversation would rob her of the support she might need, and it’s not like he’s in charge of what other psychics do… but she recognizes the real fear the voice represents. Fear of pitting herself against the focused, relentless will of a Leader, let alone one like Giovanni.

And she just had an idea, a risky idea but this has been bothering her for months now and when is she going to get another opportunity?

She stands before she can let herself be intimidated, and wipes a sweaty palm on her napkin as she murmurs, “Hey, Red?” He’s busy discussing something with Artem, so she taps his shoulder until he turns. “Do me a favor, if you can? Keep your senses on me, and let me know if someone else tries to skim my thoughts or merge.”

Red blinks at her, mouth full, then looks at Giovanni, then back at her, chews, swallows. “You want me to come with you?” he whispers.

Yes! “No.” She tries to smile through her nervousness, genuinely warmed by his support. “Thanks, I just want to make sure he’s not cheating this time. Assuming he was last time.” The Viridian Leader entered the room alone, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t bring someone else to the building.

“You got it.” Red turns back to Artem and tells him he needs to use the restroom—such a bad liar—then gets up, presumably to go somewhere nearby where he can concentrate.

“Oh, Red…” Her phone is already on silent, and she turns the vibration all the way up, then puts it in her pocket. “Send me three quick messages if you sense something.”

He nods, and she starts walking toward the Leader. Second thoughts immediately assail her… maybe people aren’t talking to him because he’s notorious for preferring no interruptions while he eats. Maybe he’s just going to act like she’s a silly girl who should trust the leading psychic authority in the region—

—no, from what she knows of him he doesn’t belittle others like that. She needs to expect him to be supportive even when he pushes for getting his way, perhaps praising her for her idea while still making it seem clear that it would be a mistake.

She rehearses what she’ll say right up until the moment he turns to her, gaze flicking from his phone to her face and back, then nods in greeting. “Miss Juniper.”

“Leader. I hope I’m not imposing?”

“No, though if this is concerning the last thing we discussed, I hope you’ll understand if I defer discussing it to another setting? Rest assured, I haven’t forgotten that I’m close to owing you payment for your previous work.”

Leaf hasn’t forgotten it either, though she has wondered how to best approach him about it, and how she’d feel about accepting it given what she’s told Laura. She wonders if a psychic is in her mind now (other than Red) and quickly focuses on something else. “It’s not, though I would be happy to revisit that topic another time, if you’re free. This is about the psychic testing of my mental state.”

At last his eyes move to hers and stay. They’re only mostly as intimidating as she remembers. “You’ve changed your mind?”

Her pulse speeds up, but her phone still hasn’t buzzed in her pocket. Come on, it doesn’t take a psychic to guess that. “I think it would be better to diversify who’s trying it.”

“That seems reasonable.” He’s looking at his phone again, and she feels herself relax slightly, then chides herself for doing it. His words don’t surprise her, however, one of the things she reminded herself to expect was quick capitulation, followed by— “But why approach me on it? I only made a suggestion, it would be up to other psychics to volunteer their time. I imagine most would jump at the opportunity.”

“I was wondering, since it was your suggestion, whether you had some extra reason for it that I hadn’t considered. But if you agree, I’ll bring it up.”

It sounds weak, saying it out loud, and part of her realizes with chagrin that even if he does use psychics to scan the thoughts of people he needs to convince of things that this might not rise to that level of necessity.

As she’s sweating over all this, Leader Giovanni simply purses his lips as he reads something, scrolls with his thumb, then says, “I believe it’s prudent to focus your time on the most accomplished and promising psychics, and Sabrina has already put effort into consolidating all those without other pressing needs on their time under one roof. As such it seemed the most efficient route, but it’s your time to spend as you see fit.” He looks at her again. “It’s a valuable commodity, in case you haven’t realized.”

“My time?”

“Specifically your ability to teach this technique to others. I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest if you decided to charge for the opportunity to learn it.”

Even having prepared herself for this kind of manipulation she feels heat rising in her cheeks. “No, I haven’t. It didn’t occur to me.” It probably would have, given more time to consider it, but after what they experienced at the tower the idea of asking for payment to keep something like it from happening again feels unthinkable.

His brow twitches. “Then I can only commend your altruism. But I know Sabrina will offer you money for your time, as you’re not a psychic who will benefit yourself from your time spent with her, and that’s also part of why I suggested her. It’s not often you’ll find a skilled psychic who isn’t at least moderately wealthy, but she would also pay for her students, who are exceptions due to their dedication to self-development and research.”

Despite herself, Leaf finds herself smiling, not at the prospect of being paid but in simple admiration. How do people get this good? Are there lessons somewhere she can sign up for? Does anyone teach defense against it? He’s just so damn reasonable that she now thinks the part of her wanting to keep resisting is just being stubborn.

And the worst part is, for a second she could swear she sees a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a slight curl to his lip. It could just be general pleasantness, a natural reaction to her smile, but even with her phone’s continued stillness, even knowing he’s Dark, part of her is convinced he knows why she’s smiling, and is letting her know he knows.

This was a terrible idea.

But she doesn’t regret it. “I’ll consider it some more. Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you for yours. Outside my specialty though it is, do let me know if there’s something I can do to help in your endeavor.”

“I will.” A rush of boldness has her speaking again before she can second-guess herself. “And if there are any updates on what we talked about before that are safe to share, I hope I’ve proven myself discreet enough to hear them. I’m not as focused on journalism as I was before, but I may still be able to help.”

Now he does smile, briefly. “You have, and it seems a reasonable request. I’ll consider it in return.”

“Thank you, Leader. Enjoy your meal.” She bows her head the way she’s seen others in Kanto do, then heads back to her seat, pulse still racing. She starts eating again, barely tasting the room temperature salad, and a minute later Red sits beside her.

The look on his face makes her blush, and she covers her eyes with one hand. “You don’t have to tell me I made a fool of myself.”

“Hey, this is all admiration. I mean I’m glad he doesn’t use psychics that way, or at least I’m glad this instance didn’t provide us evidence of that… assuming he doesn’t, if he does then I wouldn’t be glad to not get evidence… anyway, my point is I wasn’t really that worried for you, but you clearly were, and you did it anyway. At some points it felt like you were being threatened, and you still didn’t back down! That took guts.” He blinks. “Uh, he wasn’t actually threatening you, right?”

Now she’s blushing for two reasons. “No. It wasn’t that exciting a conversation, really. But thanks.”

“What’d he say, then? You going to diversify?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess there’s no rush to make a decision right now, and it’ll be nice to work with you and Jason more, and your other friends.”

“Eehh, I wouldn’t call them all friends…”

“Yo,” Blue says as he takes his seat beside her. “What were you talking to Giovanni about?”

She summarizes for both of them, then listens to them argue the pros and cons, and then the lunch break ends and conversations resume around more aspects of the attack, such as the technology behind the goggles. Apparently Silph Corp. was invited to attend and discuss the technology, but declined, and someone makes a snide remark about sour grapes before Professor Oak moves them quickly along to discussing other avenues of research into “room wide” attacks or effects that pokemon can create.

The talks go on for hours, and Leaf starts to notice more and more people’s focus flagging, and her own mind drifting to whether they’ll have another break soon, right up until Professor Oak says, “So, last but not least… origin.”

The room’s attention seems to sharpen, and Red visibly perks up beside her, as does Artem beside him. Elite Agatha rests her chin on folded hands, peering thoughtfully into the distance. “We can assume, I believe, that one of the buried marowak provided the material for the spirit to possess and manifest,” she says. “From the records, there was exactly one, and we may yet learn something about its history that becomes important. Morty and I will do our best to find any clues in the spirit realm, while the mayor leads the investigation into the tower’s records.”

The mayor in question is an old Kanto native with long silver hair and a black robe of some kind, perhaps a sign of mourning for the rangers who were lost. She can’t tell if he serves some religious function to the community along with being its mayor, and so far he’s spoken only sparingly in a strong but dusty voice. “Along with our search through the records, we’re also coordinating with the rangers to discover whether someone did anything on the top floor that might have acted as a trigger for the ghost’s materialization, or if it’s related to the higher frequency of ghost sightings before their sudden disappearance. Police will also look into the reports of more frequent strangers around and inside the tower over the past few weeks, and we will soon put out a general call for information related to this, however minor.”

“Be sure to emphasize that there is no blame attached,” Giovanni says. “We want to encourage people to come forward if they did something that led to this.”

The mayor’s brow creases. “Are you suggesting blanket amnesty, Leader? Even if there was ill intent?”

“I am.”

“Seconded,” Professor Oak says. “Unless anyone thinks it likely someone could create a new pokemon on purpose?” He looks around the room, waiting for any response. None comes. “So until we find evidence otherwise, we should operate under the assumption we aren’t dealing with renegade activity. Even if whatever was done wasn’t innocuous, we don’t want to frighten them out of coming forward or naming their friends or family members who committed some other crime if it means we may better understand what happened.”

The mayor hesitates, fingers of one hand rubbing the cloth of his sleeve, then nods. Leaf tries to see it from his perspective; what if the incident that led to the pokemon appearing was the theft of some venerated tomb in the tower, or even a murder at the wrong place and wrong time? It would seriously undermine the rule of law to not punish such a crime at all, even without taking into consideration the consequences of it.

But while he’s the highest authority on local civil matters, to go against the advice of two such prominent people could be bad for his career. And it is important to make sure they understand what happened, if they can… if something like a murder could cause a ghost pokemon to appear, it may be worth letting the murderer go to find that out. It’s not like anyone would trust them again, and police would be watching them closely afterward.

“Excuse me.” Artem raises his hand, and the room’s attention shifts to him. “There’s something I’ve been looking into that might be worth discussion, if that topic is covered?”

“It is, for now,” the mayor says. “You are?”

“Artem Mateush. I’m a researcher who fought at the tower, and… while we were searching the grounds for ghost pokemon, before we went in, Jean got a false positive that turned out to be unown. Did anyone else notice them?”

The room is silent for a moment, and then Red and Jason agree that they did. “You think it’s related?” Professor Oak asks.

“I think it’s worth investigating.”

Red’s hand rises to rub his temple as he turns toward Artem. “If unown can cause new pokemon to manifest, wouldn’t we have noticed by now? New pokemon would be showing up around the ruins they used to populate.”

“I know, I even checked some records and, as far as I could tell from a night’s worth of research, the few locations where they could be reliably found in the past don’t have a higher than average rate of new pokemon species being discovered. But! Many of those locations are remote, and they’re not being constantly monitored, so I don’t think it’s that strong of evidence against. Also, most pokemon appear in the wild, so maybe the few that arise rarely in towns or cities do so when some unown are flying around above them.”

Leaf can’t see Red’s expression, but she can hear his skepticism. “What about how common they’ve been elsewhere since the incident in Hoenn? We’re not seeing new species pop up everywhere.” His hand is still rubbing, two fingers pressing hard as if to alleviate a headache.

“True, but we also don’t know the rate at which new pokemon appeared before the incident.” Artem turns to Professor Oak. “I mean, I don’t think we do?”

“Just estimates, and very broad ones,” the Professor says. “Kanto in particular hasn’t had any native species discovered in my lifetime, before this. It’s rare enough, in general, that I don’t see the lack of new species showing up since the incident as indicative that unown aren’t involved… and it does seem meaningful that the first new species since the incident would be here, with unown sightings up around the islands, but not around the world.”

The conversation continues, but Leaf is distracted, watching with rising concern as Red rests his elbows on the table, both hands massaging his temples now. “Red? You okay?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Just…” He shakes his head, eyes closed. “Flashback. Strong.”

Shit. “We should let Agatha know.”

“No, it’s normal. Just stronger than usual… fragmented…”

“Fragmented? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Just the best word that fits.” He takes his pocket journal out, flipping to a new page and starting to write. She wants to keep asking questions, but maybe she shouldn’t distract him if what he’s doing is helpful… and he does seem less pained, now, though it’s hard to tell when he has a look of such deep concentration.

“…Wally’s expertise from the Hoenn incident,” Artem is saying when she tunes back in. “Plus, spotters are working around the islands to track their movements, so I can reach out, see if they’ve got anything that can help us.”

Professor Oak nods and looks around the room. “That goes for the rest of the topics we’ve brought up today too.” He smiles at Blue, some of the proud grandparent that always seems to be simmering beneath the surface leaking through. “This new network of interregional collaboration has the potential to be even more powerful than the pokedex. We’ve got some exciting mysteries to tackle, and some frightening ones, but none of us are doing it alone, and that’s always been our strength. Reach out, learn from each other, share what you discover… and someone, somewhere, will figure it out, sooner or later.”

“Well said.” The room’s attention shifts to Giovanni, who stands. For a second Leaf thinks he’s going to start the exodus out of the room as people leave or take another break, but instead he says, “If I may expand on the point, before we conclude?”

When Leaf glances back at Professor Oak, he seems curious, maybe a little apprehensive, if she’s not projecting too much, but he nods.

“The Professor spoke the truth when he said our strength is our ability to work together.” The Viridian Leader clasps his hands behind his back as his gaze slowly sweeps the room. “Drop any single human, no matter how well educated, how focused, how fit, into the untamed wilds, and they will likely be dead within a day. If they somehow survive the pokemon, they still must learn to survive the elements. Not just the cold of winter or a sudden forest fire, but simply finding edible food or drinkable water might also kill them.”

Giovanni starts to walk around the room, and people’s heads turn to watch him. “Drop two humans together, and one can learn from the other’s mistakes. They can care for each other if one gets sick or injured. Drop more and they can start to specialize, play to their strengths. Drop still more after them, and they can teach what they’ve learned in a fraction of the time it took to learn it, without the risks. This is the true secret to our success. A community is formed, one that can pass its knowledge down generation to generation, until everyone has even forgotten how they learned this berry is safe and that poison, or that the poison berry is in fact edible so long as you first seed it, cook it, and wait at least three days, but no more than ten. It becomes common knowledge, just another building block of society, and unless they make an effort to immortalize them, over time they won’t even remember the lives lost in trial and error to attain that knowledge.”

He stops walking, turns to Iko, and bows his head. The sergeant seems unsure how to respond, for a moment, then simply dips his head in return.

“Only four lives were lost yesterday,” Giovanni continues. “Four human lives, that is, and dozens of pokemon. But even as we mourn them, we must remember that their deaths were not without meaning. They were in fact a precious gift, to give us the time and opportunity to learn what new things might kill us, and most important of all, to teach our children, so that we can keep them safe.”

He turns to Leaf, suddenly, and smiles ever-so-slightly, not just at her but at Blue and Red as well. “Or in this case, for our children to teach us.”

And he bows his head again, and Leaf finds herself smiling even as her face flushes, smiling in begrudging admiration as she wonders once again, as the room full of experts of all kinds bows their heads to her and her friends, how she could learn to do that.

There’s a beat of silence after Artem’s announcement, followed by Jean saying, “Well, that’s anticlimactic. Back to Celadon, then?”

Red turns to her. “Really?”

“Well, we came to investigate why there were so many of them.”

“He didn’t say they’re back to normal, he said they’re all gone.”

“Mostly,” Artem clarifies.

“Mostly gone, sure.” Red steps forward and hands his trainer ID to the receptionist. “Either way, that seems just as worth investigating!”

“Agreed,” Jason says. “If anything this is even more alarming.”

Blue looks back and forth between them, then nods to Artem. “Fill us in on the way.”

They finish registering at the Trainer House (except for Jason, who says he’ll be staying with his family) then follow Jason out of the Trainer House and toward the tower, which juts up from the middle of the town like a sundial. In a city it would barely qualify as tall, but as the only building over three stories tall in Lavender it practically looms overhead as they walk down the main street toward it.

“The tower became closed to visitors a few hours ago, after they rushed everyone visiting out,” Artem explains, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets against the cold as he walks in the middle of the group so everyone can hear him. “It was really sudden, and they didn’t really explain why, just said it was some unscheduled maintenance. There are extra rangers on patrol around it, but I asked around and none of them seem to be new to town, so the tower seems to be empty. But compared to a few days ago, the graveyard around the tower is basically empty of ghosts, so the extra rangers are basically just walking in circles.”

“Visitors usually don’t encounter many ghosts as long as they stick to the public mausoleum,” Jason says from the front of the group. “If they didn’t close the tower when there were extra around, why would they close it now that there don’t seem to be any?”

“Maybe they’re not actually gone,” Jean asks. “If we assume they closed it for a good reason, that makes more sense, right? Hard to see how a lack of ghosts would be dangerous.”

“All depends what’s causing it,” Leaf says.

“She’s right.” Jason’s voice is tense. “Unless a dark pokemon got in, the biggest threat to ghosts are other ghosts. If one became strong enough to scare off its competition, it might be more dangerous than a large number of weaker pokemon.”

“Scare off,” Maria murmurs. “Or consume.”

As they walk, Red notices the way some people are hurriedly placing strips of paper over their doors and windows. He’s about to bring it up when Blue mutters, “I think the word is out.”

“What are they?” Leaf asks.

“Ofuda.” Red’s katakana is spotty, but he can recognize the five symbols spelling Arceus out on the one hanging above the door of a mixed barbershop and pokemon grooming salon.

“The people who got kicked out must have spread the word,” Artem muses. “Or someone in the rangers talked.”

“Doubt it was the rangers,” Blue says. “They wouldn’t want people panicking like this while they still don’t even know what’s going on. Assuming they still don’t, I guess.”

“I don’t see panic,” Jason says, voice mild but firm. “Just reasonable precaution.”

“Wait, sorry, still not clear on what’s happening,” Leaf says. “Those are, what, protective charms? Against ghost pokemon?”

“Against evil spirits of all kinds,” Jason says. “Though personally I do not believe such things exist. Many spirits may not be beneficial to humans, but ‘evil’ implies a malevolent will, which is much like calling a pokemon or virus evil.”

From their expressions Red can tell that wasn’t the followup sentence the rest of the group expected, but no one seems willing to challenge the idea. Blue glances at Red, as if surprised he’s not saying something in response.

The beat of awkward silence is broken by Leaf, who breaks away from the group and walks up to one of the people moving from building to building. The young woman is wearing the white and red of a shrine priestess, and as Leaf approaches she aims a can with a caterpie on it above the window of the grocery store and presses the nozzle, spraying out a brief stream of sticky thread.

“Excuse me, I was wondering… what you’re doing? Sorry, I’m not from around here.”

The priestess presses the top of the ofuda to the sticky spot, then turns to Leaf, assessing gaze taking in her pokebelt, then jumping to the rest of the group. “Trainers come to the tower?”

“Yes, to research what’s been going on recently. Have you heard something?”

“Only that the spirits have fled. We don’t know where, but…” She separates a handful of the tags and holds them out to her. “Please, be cautious.”

Leaf takes them and nods. “Thank you.” She returns to the group, looking dubiously at the paper… but then her nose wrinkles, and she brings them close to her face for a moment before holding them out far from her body. When she gets closer Jason steps forward, and she turns so he can take one, slipping it under his pokebelt.

“They’ve been soaked in repel,” she explains to the others as she peels one off and follows Jason’s example. “I thought this was… spiritual?”

“You’re like Red,” Jason says, seeming amused. “Thinking the world of spirit and matter are distinct and exclusive. The repel is for pokemon, and the prayer is to strengthen the repel against ghost types.”

“And that works?” Leaf asks, glancing at Red, who already has his pokedex out.

“Inconclusive,” he says after a moment, disappointed. “Come on, how hard can that be to test? I know repel is hard to test in general, and ghosts are fickle, but…”

“But in the meantime, it’s still free repel,” Blue says, and shrugs as he takes the last one and slips it under his own belt.

Soon after they reach the last block before the gates of the massive cemetery surrounding Lavender Tower. “This is where wild ghosts start to regularly get seen,” Jason says, and summons his gastly before taking out his goggles. “Shall we see if these work?”

“What are those?” Artem asks, and Blue explains while the others follow suit. The professor apparently made an even ten, leaving Blue with two spare after he gives Artem one.

Red has to adjust the strap on his three times, during which he hears Leaf say, “Oh, that’s bizarre.” He turns to see her already looking in the gastly’s direction with hers on.

“Yeah, but it’s working… mostly?” Artem adds. “I keep wanting to take it off to see more clearly, which is weird.”

“No, I get it,” Jean insists. “I feel the same, like part of me is convinced the goggles are the problem.”

Curiosity burning, Red finally gets the goggles mostly snug before he opens his eyes and looks around. There’s a slight loss in peripheral vision, and the glass has an odd tinting effect that simultaneously darkens whatever Red sees while sharpening the colors, but overall it’s only a little more restrictive of his vision than safety goggles used to protect against wind, smoke, and powders. He adjusts it once more to try and alleviate the weight of it on the bridge of his nose, then turns and beholds the gastly.

It looks… normal. Or rather, “normal” as he’s been taught to see it on monitors and pokedex screens. It’s not quite like a camera would capture it; the haze around the dark central sphere seems more opaque, which makes it hard to make out the large white eyes that seem to stare into his soul, or the pink tongue that flicks from its mouth.

But Red sees these things, and they don’t make him recoil. No muscles tighten along his spine, no cold sweat pops out of his forehead. Instead a tension in his stomach slowly eases as he realizes that they’re not going to come.

“Cooool…”

The others chuckle, and Red takes a step forward before remembering that he shouldn’t. He starts to walk around the gastly, and instead of its blank white eyes seeming to follow him, he quickly moves beyond its line of sight and gets to observe the others’ indistinct forms through the cloud of its body.

Leaf and Maria begin circling the gastly too, and Red only notices it turning when its eyes come back into sight, following Maria. “Do you think it realizes something’s wrong?” she asks, voice taking on a distant tone that he recognizes as her own intense curiosity. “Maybe it’s not used to people focusing so directly on it. Or so many. Or maybe it feels our lack of unnerve.”

“It’s confused,” Jason confirms. “But not wary or worried. It’s particularly interested in you, Maria. As I suspected, you may have unexplored talent as a medium.”

“Oh.” Her hands rub down the front of her coat, a gesture Red imagines she picked up from Lizzy. “I’m, um. Not sure what to do with that information?”

“Ghost pokemon sense and manipulate emotions the way psychics do thoughts. As a sensitive, your gift, faint though it is, makes your emotions easier for them to detect and respond to, though it will also make you extra susceptible to wild ghosts we might encounter. But if you’ve never tried training ghost types before, you might be surprised by how easy it is.”

“Nice,” Blue says, and smiles at her. “If you can pick one up it would help a lot against Sabrina.”

Jason frowns slightly. “If there are only a few left in the area, catching them may make some natural imbalance worse. As I said before, our main objective—”

“Is to study, sure, but if we’re attacked it’s better to catch them than kill them, right?”

Red starts to suspect, too late, why Blue was so interested in coming, and calls himself ten kinds of fool for not thinking of it right away. He must have been thrilled to hear about all the extra ghost pokemon appearing just before he would be heading to Sabrina’s gym.

“We can be careful,” Leaf says, and looks between Red, Jason and Jean. “You guys can detect them, right?”

“Yes, though it comes with a risk,” Jean says. “Any we sense will sense us back, and might attack. Still, it’s better than being taken by surprise.”

Leaf nods and taps the ofuda in her belt. “Combined with these, we might be able to avoid any fights.”

Blue (reluctantly) nods, and Maria is thoughtfully looking over the gravestone studded hills. Jason joins her, turning a slow half circle to survey the area around the tower as well. “I’d like to do a full search of the graveyard before we attempt to go in. I may be able to learn something from any that have left.”

“Let’s split up, then,” Blue says. “We can let you know if we spot one, while also looking for other clues.”

Red makes a point of turning to Jason. “Does that sound good?”

The medium sends Red a pulse of gratitude, then considers this a moment before nodding. “I’ll be safe travelling alone. For the rest…” He looks at Blue. “What would you recommend?”

Blue hooks his thumbs in his pockets. “Well, Jean and I are the strongest trainers here, so I could go with Red and Leaf while she leads Maria and Artem… but to be honest, however good you are with ghost pokemon, this is an unusual situation. I don’t think anyone should be traveling alone.”

“I’m confident that I can avoid a battle with a wild if I encounter one, but I can’t assure the same for anyone with me.”

“Should we expect observable clues?” Artem asks. “If not, the rest of us are basically just here for muscle, and to help figure out what’s happening once we start learning something. Seems silly not to make use of us at every stage.”

It’s a fair point. Red turns to Jason and shrugs. “At least take Maria with you? You can teach her more about her gift, in case it’s something she wants to pursue.”

Jason’s expression becomes thoughtful again (or at least, Red thinks it does, he’s hard to read even without the goggles), and when he turns to her Maria is already nodding. “I’d be happy to learn, if it’s not an imposition.”

“Not at all.”

“Alright, then,” Blue says, hand tracing the dive ball at the front right position on his waist. “Artem, sorry, I assumed without asking that Jean and I are the most experienced trainers here. What’s on your belt?”

“Oh, that’s fine, yeah, I only have two badges. Right now I’m carrying nosepass, trubbish, magnemite, claydol, and electrode.”

Blue blinks. “You use an electrode? In battle?”

Red can’t tell if Blue is worried or impressed (maybe both), but his own attention is elsewhere. “You only use manmade pokemon?”

“It overlaps with my research,” Artem says to Red, then turns to Blue. “I spent a few months at Vermilion Gym last year.”

“Alright, well I’m still going to pair you with Jean, since she’s our strongest. You two head right, Jason and Maria go straight, and Leaf, Red and I will go left. We’ll meet at the far side if nothing is found, then make our way back to the tower entrance. Any questions?”

No one appears to have any, and Blue looks to Jason last. The medium nods, and Blue unclips the white and blue diveball. “Go, Maturin!”

“Woah. She’s gotten big.” Standing on its hindlegs brings the wartortle’s fanlike ears past Blue’s head, and her body is as wide as his. When Red brings out Charmeleon his horn only comes up to Maturin’s neck, and when Leaf summons Raff, he feels a note of chagrin to see that even the ivysaur is bigger than Charmeleon now. Clearly he needs to spend more time with his starter.

Once the others summon their own pokemon and Blue coordinates their radio frequencies, the three groups set off, and Red starts to pulse out his psydar. He quickly filters the minds of Leaf and their three pokemon out from his attention, then focuses on any new ones that appear at the edges of his “bubble.”

Before long he senses a pokemon underground, probably a cubone looking for a meal among the dead. The scavenger goes still as their footsteps approach, then quickly flees beyond his range, and soon after they pass within range of an old couple visiting a gravestone, followed by a small funeral gathering, everyone’s minds touched with fresh grief. It’s a relatively new emotion for Red to sense through simple observation rather than merger; the only time he felt it in the past was after the storm.

Occasionally he also senses the cautious, tense, or alert minds of rangers, always in pairs as they walk patrols around the tower.

About a quarter of an hour passes without any sense of the alien minds he glimpsed when meeting Jason’s ghost pokemon… but instead of relaxing into a less vigilant state, his body remains tense, and he realizes how nervous he is about mentally contacting a ghost again.

Don’t stress about it. The others can protect us if you’re disoriented, and Jason is nearby.

Hmm. Usually unpartitioned Red isn’t the optimistic one… if he feels safe because of the partition, he definitely shouldn’t given that their Spinarak’s ghost attack weakened his partition for weeks.

Yes, I know. If we get hit by one now, we’re in danger of losing all this progress for a while…

Red’s stomach feels queasy, and he almost thinks it’s just from the idea of losing “himself” for a while if the partition stays down. But there’s something else, too, some other fear that feels hard to define, and he wishes he could stop using his psydar for a moment to try Focusing on it…

No. The rejection is strong enough to make Red stumble a step, and he quickly understands why: whatever he’d been about to poke at was hidden for a reason.

“What’s up?” Blue asks, suddenly tense. “Found something?”

“No, just, uh, tripped.” His curiosity burns to find out what he’s forgetting, what secret might be revealed if his partition goes down… but no, that would defeat the purpose. Whatever it is, his unpartitioned self is worried about being revealed, all he has to know is that it would be bad. Red forces himself to focus on his psydar again. “Still all quiet around us.” He realizes with surprise that they’ve walked halfway around the tower.

“I know we’re here for a reason, but it’s hard not to hope it stays that way,” Leaf says as she tosses a treat toward Raff. The ivysaur catches it out of the air with a vine, and she throws another at Maturin, then Charmeleon, who dashes after it once Red mentally nudges him to let him know it’s okay to eat. “This is really nice.”

“Less creepy than hunting ghosts in a graveyard should be,” Blue agrees.

“Could always come back at night,” Leaf says with a grin. “Particularly without Red to warn us if something is coming. But I meant just… the surroundings, I guess. It’s oddly peaceful. And it’s nice traveling with you two again, no offense to the others.” She nudges Blue with her elbow. “You group us three together on purpose?”

“Nah, this split made the most sense. It does let me ask, though…” He turns to Red. “Was I being overbearing?”

“A little,” he says, relieved he didn’t have to bring it up himself, and that Blue sounds curious rather than upset. “I know you’ve got the most experience doing things like this, and Jason does too. But, well, he is the one that set things off, and the expert on ghosts…”

“I get it. Been treating him like a quest giver.” Blue sighs, breath pluming out in front of him. “Still feels like a waste not to catch whatever pokemon we can find, especially if they’re suddenly becoming rare, and I know Sabrina is going to have a couple Psychic/Fighting types waiting for me. Isn’t there some way you could attract them to us, Red?”

“I thought about it,” he admits. “I don’t think any ghosts hunt by sound, though, or by smell. They like to feed on psychics or other ghosts, so Jean or Jason or I would have to just project out something that would make us seem vulnerable enough that any ghosts in the area come to feed.”

“Which would maybe get you eaten by a hungry horde.” Blue sighs. “Guess I’ll just buy a couple ghosts if we don’t find any.”

“Getting rid of another self-imposed rule?”

“Maybe, yeah. They feel more arbitrary after everything that’s happened, particularly my battle with Erika. And I did buy Rive for Surge, so it’s not unprecedented. Just wanted to keep my main fighters those I caught myself, if I could.”

They walk silently after that, and Red starts to pay more attention to their surroundings. After a minute he decides Leaf is right. There’s something calming about the rows of white and grey stone on green hills beneath the grey winter sky. The faint smells of grass and stone and soil come to him with every cold breath, and the air is still and quiet, almost like the world itself is holding its breath in respect of the dead.

He’s glad the partition is up, or he’d have a much harder time appreciating all this.

Just as he has that thought, he notices a speck of something falling slowly across his field of vision. He looks up, then to the sides, and stops to take off his goggles, blinking at the brighter world he finds himself in. He rubs the bridge of his nose where the weight of the goggles was resting, then grins as he realizes that what he’s seeing is the first snowfall of winter descending around them.

“Ooo!” Leaf sticks her tongue out and tries to catch a falling flake, and Red watches for long enough that Blue nudges him with his elbow. Red flushes and starts his psydar pulses again as he raises his collar and tugs his hat down.

“About time.” Blue opens a container ball from his bag and takes out a scarf. “Thought all that shit in Hoenn meant we weren’t getting a proper winter this year.”

“Glad we did. It’s been years since I saw snow.” Leaf ties her hair up, then pulls a wool hat out of her bag while Raff makes a plaintive sound and rubs at his nose. “Relax you big baby, it’s a snowflake, not an Ice Beam.” Still, she withdraws him, and Red replaces Charmeleon with Pikachu while Blue swaps Maturin for Aiko’s eevee.

She’s grown as well, as tall as Blue’s waist. Her black nose lifts to sniff the cold air, then she bounds toward Leaf to nuzzle her legs. “You’re really using a Normal type to hunt ghosts?” Leaf asks as she bends down to vigorously rub her fingers through its silver fur with a grin. “Or are you trying to get her to evolve into glaceon?”

“Wouldn’t mind a glaceon,” Blue admits. “But no, this pretty lady is, in fact, a ghost hunting machine. I bought a Shadow Ball TM so she and Snorlax have coverage. It’s not too strong from either of them, but combined with their defensive advantage I’m pretty confident in her ability to handle most things we might encounter.”

Red nods speculatively. The research is still spotty, but does seem to point to the Normal pokemon not being consistently “interesting” to ghosts, such that they’ll often ignore them in the wild. It’s often cited as the only attribute the Normal type can be said to directly possess, though it seems like backwards reasoning to Red. If the label gets put on any pokemon that would not otherwise be called Normal but shares the same attribute, then they’ve just come up with a “type” to explain a single trait that many, varied other pokemon share.

Still, it can’t be denied that it’s an advantage if paired with an attack that the ghost is susceptible to. “Good thinking. I actually bought Shadow Claw before I set—” His head yanks up.

The other two immediately turn to follow his gaze, but he knows they don’t see them, since Red can’t see them either, even with his goggles off; the grey sky is nearly hidden by growing flurries of falling snow. But he can still sense them, just on the edge of his awareness…

“Red?”

“It’s okay,” he says, and closes his eyes so he can better focus on what he’s sensing. “They’re not… I think they’re unown.” There’s five of them moving through the air in a loose ribbon. Red brushes some melted snowflakes from his eyelids, then puts his goggles back on and opens them before looking up again. He thinks he can vaguely make them out, though they keep disappearing for a while when he blinks. “They’re just flying around above us.” He’d love to catch one and try merging with it; he read online that their minds are absurdly simple, even more so than exeggcute, but it still seems like it would be a new and interesting experience.

“Better get some air support then,” Leaf says, and summons Wise, the noctowl she caught during the Vermilion storm.

“The groups seen flying around lately haven’t been reported as attacking anyone yet, as far as I’ve heard?”

“I know, but better safe than sorry, right? Plus, Wise can also protect us from any ghosts that show up from above.”

“It makes Pikachu the prime target,” Blue admits. “But also makes the ghosts more predictable. Don’t worry, we’ll keep him safe.”

Red nods, letting his worry for his pokemon go by leaning into his trust in his friends, and they set off again as Wise soars above them in a protective, near-silent circle. The crunch of their footsteps grows louder as they go from walking on grass to compacting fresh snow beneath each step, and soon snow covers the grass around them entirely, the whole graveyard transformed into something even more stark and colorless… but still beautiful in its own way.

They watch Pikachu and Eevee frolic through the snow and catch up on some of the minutiae of their recent day-to-day lives. Red gets a text from his mother expressing excitement about him being in town and asking him if he’s wearing enough layers, and Leaf sends a message to Mr. Sakai to see if he needs help due to the snow.

They’re three fourths of the way around the tower when Jean suddenly speaks into their earpieces. “Got one, about 25 degrees from the tower. It noticed me, but it’s keeping its distance. We are too.”

The three of them are already running when Blue says, “On our way,” back, which is quickly echoed by Jason.

The snow is coming down hard enough to limit visibility beyond the tower, but once they reach the top of the hill where it sits they quickly spot the others and start down towards them.

There’s two more figures than they expected with the others, however: a man and woman pair of rangers. The man is in discussion with Jean, while the woman examines one of their goggles. As they get closer Red sees that Jason isn’t wearing his; instead the medium is standing with his eyes closed, fingers turning his beads as snow collects on the handmade wool cap covering his head and ears. It looks decidedly out of place with his robes.

“…for our investigation,” Jean is saying as they get close enough to overhear. The cold air cuts Red’s lungs like knives with each breath, and he struggles to draw his next one in quieter. “We were tipped off that something unusual was happening.”

“Tipped off by whom, exactly—” The young ranger pauses, having just noticed the three of them. He’s maybe Daisy’s age, but a square jaw and crew cut make him look older. “Shit, it’s the Oaklings themselves.” Leaf discreetly elbows Red, who bites his tongue. “These five with you, Young Oak?”

Oh boy. But Blue doesn’t puff out his chest, simply nodding as he bends down to feed his panting Eevee a treat. “Is there a problem here?”

“No, I just… didn’t expect the Professor to send you kids, that’s all.” His partner, a tall woman with cornrows that end in various colorful beads, has stopped examining the goggles for a moment to also look between the three of them in surprise. Her name tag says Gale on it, and his Nathan.

“Send us? I mean, he knows we’re here, but it was our idea to come.” Blue is frowning slightly. “We made a public post about our intent to investigate the tower a few days ago?”

“A few days… Oh, because of all the ghosts that were showing up. But if the Professor didn’t send you today…” Nathan glances at his partner, but Gale is focusing on the goggles again. After adjusting the strap to fit her, she summons a mismagius. Red instinctively looks away, then remembers he’s wearing the goggles and turns curiously back. It looks like a floating puppet, some elaborately designed piece of purple and violet cloth with three red gems embroidered on the front, and painted-on yellow and crimson eyes.

“Huh,” she says as she withdraws her pokemon and takes the goggles off. “It really works.”

“Shit, how come we don’t have this stuff?” Nathan shakes his head and turns back to Blue. “Would your grandfather be willing to make a couple dozen of these for those of us stationed here?”

“Uh, maybe. I can call him…?”

“Please do. We’re happy to pay, assuming they don’t cost a fortune. In the meantime, we may have to appropriate this gear for our own investigation.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then a lot of people start speaking at once.

“Wait, but you—”

“—we’re here to—”

“—that mean you found—”

“—can help if we—”

“—guys, chill, chill!” Blue says, hands up to either side, and the rest of the group trails off. Blue nods to them (ignoring Leaf’s grin) then looks at Jason, who’s still standing silently with his eyes closed. “Everything okay, Jason?”

“Yes,” the medium replies, voice flat and distant in a way that Red recognizes from their merging practice. He realizes Jason is sweating, despite the cold, and feels guilty for not noticing before Blue did. A quick pulse of his psydar confirms that Jason is attempting to merge with a nearby gastly… and also reveals that both rangers are dark.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” Gale’s alarm turns her voice sharp, one hand dropping to her belt. “Are you being attacked?”

“Not… quite… from your perspective… perhaps… carry on, please…”

“Don’t worry,” Blue says to the rangers. “He knows what he’s doing. That’s what I meant to tell you… we would, of course, be happy to assist by lending you our equipment if needed, but I believe we could be valuable resources ourselves.”

Gale is frowning as she looks between them, still clearly concerned for Jason. “We’re still trying to determine what’s happening here, exactly. We don’t want to involve non-rangers until we know what we’re stepping into, and if the Professor didn’t send you… plus, three of you are psychics, which puts you at higher risk.”

“Not just any psychics,” Red puts in. If he’s going to learn to flex his status, might as well start now. “Jason and I are Sabrina’s students, and he’s an expert on Ghost type pokemon.” He hopes Jason doesn’t pick this moment to contest that label. “And Jean is from Celadon Gym.”

“That I guessed,” the ranger says, voice wry. “And the rest of you? Are you Ghost experts too?”

“Trainer and researcher,” Artem says, raising his hand.

“Trainer and journalist?” Leaf tries, raising her own. “Also, I might have special love-powers that help calm psychics and might work on ghosts?”

Both rangers, Artem, and Jean all stare at Leaf while Maria raises her hand. “I’m not really sure why I’m here, other than curiosity and a desire to be helpful. Oh, trainer. But also Jason says I might be a non-psychic medium, which I didn’t know existed, so I’d like to stay and learn more about that if I’m allowed?”

“Love-powers,” a bemused Jean repeats as Blue murmurs something to Maria.

“Of course, the thing with the abra.” Artem looks excited. “You think that might keep you safe from ghosts? Or is there some other experiment you’ve run that hasn’t been publicized?”

Leaf shrugs and tosses a treat up for Wise, who snaps it out of the air. “It seems to calm other psychics that I’m around, though I’ve only tested it on tame ones, and know they aren’t naturally scared of humans, so maybe it won’t be as reassuring, but—”

“Look, it’s not just about the ghosts,” Nathan interrupts. “We’re not at liberty to discuss everything, but there have also been a suspicious amount of people moving around the tower over the past few weeks.”

“Wait, what?” Blue is frowning at the rangers. “Why hasn’t that been mentioned anywhere?”

“Suspicious in retrospect,” Gale amends, shooting her partner a look. “We had no reason to suspect anything before, but they seem to have stopped showing up today, which may be related to nearly all the ghosts having vanished. We’ve reported it, of course, but there’s nothing to justify a general bulletin.”

“So you thought the Professor sent us because he was told about what’s going on,” Blue smiles. “When really, we were already on our way. I bet Grandpa won’t even read your message until sometime tonight.”

“What do you plan to do with the goggles, anyway?” Red asks. “If the ghosts are mostly gone, and the mysterious people aren’t showing up…”

The rangers share a look this time, and Gale sighs. “Alright, this is above our paygrade. Better let the sergeant know and see what he says.”

Nathan nods and steps away, presumably to make a call, while Blue gives Gale a charming smile. “So what can you tell us?”

Red lets Blue handle that, walking over to Jason with Pikachu trailing him in the snow and settling between his feet. Red drops some berries for him as he studies the medium, who’s still standing with his eyes closed, face pale but for twin red spots on his cheeks. His fingers are clutching his necklace beads rather than turning them, and Red feels worry spread through his gut.

“Hey,” Red murmurs. “Anything I can do?”

“Nh,” Jason grunts back, and swallows. “No… just need… time…”

Jean joins them, and Red turns to her. “Were the rangers here when you found it?”

“No, they saw Jason and Maria running to us and came to see what was wrong.” She’s still watching Jason, brow creased. “Amazing that he can continue to do this while being attacked.”

“While… what?” Red looks back at Jason in horror. “He said he wasn’t…” Wait, shit, it’s the usual thing he does of framing things in his own way. Red remembers being hit by the spinarak attack again, and winces as he imagines being constantly hit by something even stronger… “How is he doing it?”

“I don’t know. Some very specialized and skillful use of amnesia, perhaps, or a unique mental shield… or something in his state of mind that makes the attacks less harmful than they would otherwise be…”

Red considers it a mark of personal growth that he doesn’t immediately decide to try mirroring Jason’s mental state. Of course, that could just be his unpartitioned self sending him some restraint…

Not really. Kind of hard to stay interested in anything at the moment.

Red understands; he never did visit Dad’s grave, and being around other rangers is sometimes triggering. He’s glad the partition is there to keep him able to focus on the puzzle in front of him, but knows he should probably talk to Dr. Seward about how he can build up to visiting the Pallet graveyard.

For now, he needs to focus on the puzzle in front of him. It’s easy to think of the reasons to merge with Jason right now: they may be about to enter the tower, in which he may get attacked by a ghost, and there’s no other opportunity to try mirroring a live attack since Jason can’t exactly order his own pokemon to attack him, and Red doubts anyone else with one would unless Red sets up another research study.

For reasons not to do it now… well those are obvious too. It might go badly and mess things up for Jason, or mess up Blue’s plan to get them all involved in investigating whatever is happening. Also it might be really painful and unpleasant to have his partition get ruined for a while if something goes wrong, and that itself might cause bad stuff he can’t even think of.

Meaning there are some known unknowns, which Red should probably work to shift to knowns before he tries it—

Ask Jason. We don’t know what we might face in the tower, and we need to be prepared. It’s not pessimistic, I’m being appropriately cautious by planning for things going wrong. Things always go wrong, do you want to lose another friend? No, morbid would be—

“Red?” Jean is looking at him with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“You were muttering to yourself.”

Well that’s awkward. Better keep an eye out for that. “I was just thinking, I might be able to learn to do it if I could join the merger for a moment. I’ll only do it if Jason says it’s okay, though.”

“Do it,” Jason says, almost before Red finishes talking. It takes him by surprise, and he almost asks if the medium is sure before realizing that now probably isn’t the time to pester him with questions. Trust him to know what you can handle.

He does, when it comes to Ghost pokemon. But first he summons a container box to sit on. Pikachu jumps into his lap and curls into a warm, fuzzy ball, and Red uses the mouse’s rapid heartbeats against his thigh to ground himself before extending his senses.

The merger is difficult to focus on at first. While he expected a fierce strain of mind against mind, oddly enough the impression he gets is… calling it a dance would be aggrandizing it. It’s nothing so coordinated. Instead the ghost is keeping its distance, while Jason keeps trying to gently merge with it, only to be driven away by an attack for a few moments before trying again. Or maybe “attack” really is the wrong word… in terms of effort from the gastly, they seem like the equivalent of a meowth batting at a hand trying to pet it at the wrong moment.

Most pokemon would probably get more irritated and lash out, but he remembers Jason saying that ghost pokemon experience time, space, and the order of events in very different ways, and this is the first time he’s seeing it in action. The gastly seems locked in a loop of indifference, as if everything happening is happening for the first time. In return, the medium is only trying to share one sense at a time, and waiting patiently for more even as he’s hit by something that he quickly shuts down. Sometimes it’s a memory that gets amnesia’d, or an emotion that he partitions, but whatever the effect, he’s ready to abandon that part of himself and (humbly) try again.

Humility. It’s hard to think of how it wasn’t the first thing he noticed, the medium is radiating it, his entire being focused on a sense of unassuming deference to the ghost’s preferences and desires. Even his goal to merge is somehow expressed through humility, and once Red taps into it the analogy that immediately comes to mind is his own attitude at Pallet Lab when he had the opportunity to help one of the researchers on some project, no matter how minor his role would be.

Let me help, Jason sends without words, only to be hit by something that feels like intense disgust, evoking memories of a time Red stepped in poop barefoot as a child and started crying with the intensity of how unclean he felt, wanting to crawl out of his own skin…

Partition, reorient, extend… Let me learn…

Agony, sharp and debilitating, lying with a broken arm that sent pain lancing through him as he struggled to stay still on the forest floor…

Abruptly forgotten, to Jason if not to Red. Let me share…

Each repetition lets Red lock down another aspect of Jason’s mental state, until little by little a shape emerges, a mental mold to adjust his own thoughts to… except he can’t.

Or maybe he can… it takes effort, holding a rubber band tense instead of flipping a switch. The mold is harder to inhabit than any other he adopted, because his own thoughts, his axiomatic beliefs and perspectives, feel spiky, more firmly bolted down, unwilling or unable to fit.

He tries, a bit desperately, to ask his unpartitioned self for help, and is surprised when he gets a response.

You can do this. There’s nothing another brain can think that we can’t, and there’s always some value to being able to hold another perspective. I’ll keep us safe.

Red nods to himself, and tries again. First he revisits one axiom, then the other, then the worldview itself, then the minute to minute attitude… little by little, he feels like he can inhabit his own alternative, a mental state that feels like… like…

…like boggling-prostrate-before-the-universe. A feeling that he’s truly free, that he can understand the world’s infinite vastness, and simultaneously that he can’t, that no one can, and that’s how it would always be, and that’s okay…

Woah. That feels… wobbly. No thanks.

The mental state abruptly ends, and there’s a feeling of solidity that returns to his mind. Only now can he look back on how it was for those few moments and realize how open he was to anything that might come.

A chill goes down Red’s back that has nothing to do with the cold. That level of humility, where anything seemed possible, now feels dangerously like what he worried about before. It’s a frame of mind that lets anything in, without preconceived notions or biases… but also without any guardrails or filters. And he has no idea what might come in to stay, if he’s not careful.

But his unpartitioned self didn’t seem affected by it…

No, not at all, which from his side feels like an extra plus we learned.

Huh. Red never tried mirroring a mental state while the partition was up, but it’s good to know it works like that. He’ll have to make sure never to use that particular one while the partition is down.

Red feels it when the gastly finally lets Jason in, and quickly withdraws his own senses so as not to scare it off. When he opens his eyes the group is watching him and Jason, who’s sitting on the container box beside him. Jean has a distant look in her eyes, which clears when she meets his.

“I was worried he might get tired,” she says, and he realizes she must have led Jason to the box. “Something’s changed?”

“Yeah.” Red looks at the others again, who seem to be expecting him to say something, but when he tries to speak he finds his throat is dry, and has to drink some water first. That’s when he notices the cold sweat on his face and looks back at Jason, concerned. How the medium is able to deal with that, so much more directly and for so much longer… it’s hard to imagine that he learned to do it on his own, years ago and with only basic psychic training. He was Red’s age at the time, but even with everything Red has learned from his various teachers and tutors, not to mention Jason himself, he’s not sure he ever would have figured that out. It’s too fundamentally a different way to view the world. “He’s okay,” Red adds after a moment for extra reassurance.

“Did he learn anything?” Gale asks as she approaches, still holding Jason’s goggles.

“Uh, not yet, but I think he might now? That was all just… preparation.”

“Damn.” She sounds more impressed than disappointed. “Well, Sarge says he wants to meet you all, so we’ll head up to the tower as soon as—”

Jason takes a deep breath, eyes opening, but unfocused. He abruptly sags to the side, and Red extends an arm to brace around his shoulders, then holds up his water bottle.

The medium gives him a grateful look as he drinks, then one to Jean, who gently wipes his forehead with some cloth pulled from some hidden pocket of her kimono. When he lowers the water bottle and clears his throat, Jason looks at the gathered trainers and says, “Fear.”

The group is silent a moment. “Fear…?” Blue finally prompts.

“That’s what it felt, when it left the tower. When it left its home. That’s what it felt from the others, before they disappeared… that, and grief.”

Silence returns. No one suggests that this is very little information to have gained given what Jason went through to learn it.

Red looks up at the tower, and feels another chill skitter up his spine. Fear, and grief.

---

The tower entrance does indeed have a sign regretfully informing visitors of temporary maintenance, but Gale and Nathan lead the group straight in and past the entrance lobby. Red can tell by the others’ reactions that he’s not the only one here for the first time, and not the only one impressed.

“Pictures don’t really do it justice,” Leaf murmurs, and Red nods agreement as their feet echo on the clean marble. The combination of white floors, walls, and ceiling makes Red feel like he’s walking into a church. Which, he supposes, isn’t far off. Even lacking religious iconography the mausoleum has the sacred feel of a spiritual place, one that doesn’t make anyone feel excluded.

Normally he knows the halls would be filled with people come to visit the interred dead; he remembers enough history to know that it was built to house the remains of those people and pokemon lost in defense of the town during a Moltres attack decades ago. That was only part of its purpose, however, and arguably its least important one. Built entirely of stone and without windows in order to resist the might of subsequent Stormbringers, it’s the town’s primary shelter when calamity approaches, able to house its entire population when it was built.

The town has grown since then, and Red figures the pokemon center and trainer house and others help shelter any overflow for emergencies, but the extra burial space the tower started with has been subsequently given over the years to anyone else who died in attacks on the town. As Red follows the group down into the first basement level, he wonders what they’ll do when they run out of space.

The sergeant’s office looks more like a repurposed storage room, which makes it a bit crowded once they’re all inside. The man behind the desk is one of the oldest rangers Red’s ever seen; completely bald, with spotted skin, bushy eyebrows, and a thin white goatee that trails to his chest. His eyes are intense, however, and like most rangers Red’s met (like Dad) he doesn’t stand on ceremony, simply waving them all in and resting his chin on his hands before asking, “How did you all find out about what was going on here?” in a voice roughened with age.

Red gets the impression that half the group (himself included) looks at Jason while the other half looks at Artem, because when he glances back the sergeant’s piercing gaze is looking between them expectantly.

“I grew up here,” Jason starts. “My old teacher told me about the gradual abundance of ghosts. That’s what we came to investigate.”

“I came in response to the public post to investigate,” Artem says, then clears his throat. “As for the rest, I kind of just guessed? It’s not too hard, once you’ve seen enough rangers covering something up.”

Now everyone is staring at Artem, except for Blue, who smirks. The researcher does an admirable job of not wilting from the concentrated attention, until Sergeant Iko nods. “Well, I won’t turn away competent help, and Gale and Nathan say you have some skills that might be particularly useful. The question is how much value those skills bring compared to your goggles on one of my own people.”

Maria steps forward. “I’d like to volunteer my goggles.”

“I would also like to offer my goggles,” Jason says, cutting off what Red predicts would be an objection from Blue. “I don’t believe I need them to be helpful.”

Red knows he should probably offer his too, he’s not even the best trainer in the room let alone among the rangers…

“Hold on, guys.” Blue crosses his arms, staring levelly at the sergeant. “I’m happy to call Gramps and see how quickly we can get more goggles to your people, but first it would be nice to know what you need them for. There’s been no reported incident here to warrant immediate appropriation, so what’s the secret danger that you don’t want the public to know about? Artem is right, I’ve been in a situation like this before, down to the ofuda being plastered all over town because the civilians were afraid of things the rangers weren’t telling them. Unless your people are all very good at not gossiping, which I’m guessing you’re not sure of by the way you asked how we know what’s happening, this secret feels like it’s only got a couple days of life to it, max.”

Sergeant Iko meets his gaze for a few tense heartbeats, and Red imagines the rest of the group is also holding its breath to see how such a bold challenge will be taken.

Then the ranger smiles ruefully and runs a hand over his smooth head. “You have to understand, this is supposed to be the safe retreat for the town. We’ve done our best to ensure people can feel safe with ghosts randomly wandering in their midst. Luckily, though they give people a fright sometimes, they’ve only rarely gone really hostile… Until about four hours ago, when some unidentified phenomenon cleared out the top floor. Oak, Tanaka, Birch, Ikeda, Abe, Morty, Harrow, Agatha, everyone who might be interested in this has been told, but it doesn’t appear to be directly dangerous, so right now it’s mostly an intellectual curiosity. But given the previous build up of ghosts and their sudden disappearance, it’s hard not to be worried—”

“What’s the phenomenon?” Red interrupts, unable to help himself from getting excited.

“Fear,” Jason guesses, voice distant. “And grief.”

The sergeant doesn’t even look surprised that he knows. “Along with visual distortions, possibly hallucinations. In my case, it was like the walls were closing in; I couldn’t stay for more than twenty seconds before feeling like I was going to collapse into a heap and cry like a baby.” He speaks with the flat, simple tone of someone relaying what he ate for lunch. “It feels like surreality, but not focused on a particular pokemon, or not one that we’ve been able to catch sight of yet. It’s possible the goggles do nothing, but I’d like to find out as soon as we can what’s causing this.”

Even this news doesn’t keep Red from dancing his weight from foot to foot, and he sees the same excitement in Artem’s face. They share a look, and a nod that Red doesn’t even understand. What did he just instinctively agree to? Collaborating on a paper? Or maybe it was just an acknowledgement of mutual excitement—

Leaf subtly elbows Red again, and he realizes that he should probably not look too excited. Everyone else seems pretty grim, but come on, it’s not like anyone’s died.

Yet.

“And the suspicious people?” Blue asks.

Iko looks from Blue to Gale and Nathan, and Red doesn’t need his powers to sense their chagrin. “Still looking into it, but so far we’ve got nothing. Cameras are hard to keep in good order inside the tower, the ghosts seem to like breaking them, but I’ve got a man looking through footage around it for the past two weeks and so far no one’s been caught doing anything suspicious.”

Blue rubs his face. “Just to check… you guys would have noticed if an absol ran upstairs somehow?”

Red remembers his story about the caves. “You think this is Pressure? I guess it does sound more like it than surreality…” He turns to Jason, who looks troubled, but nods.

“Or maybe some ghost has it, but a strong Dark pokemon would probably kill or scare everything away, right?”

“I’m not going to say ‘impossible,'” Gale says, “Because clearly something unusual is happening. But I think someone would have noticed if a dark pokemon was running around in here…” She grows thoughtful. “Unless…”

“Unless a renegade summoned it on the top floor,” Leaf says, voice grim.

“Or it flew or climbed through a hole in the roof?” Red looks around. “Has anyone flown overhead to check?”

The room is quiet a moment, and then Sergeant Iko turns subtly to Nathan, who nods before stepping outside.

“Be careful,” Blue calls after him. “It might actually be on the roof!”

“I’d like to request permission to check the top floor with your rangers,” Jason asks the sergeant. “At the very least I’d like to go to the second or third floor and see what I can sense from there.”

“I’d like to go with him,” Red says, and Jean adds, “As would I.”

“Me too.” Artem shrugs. “Not a psychic, but there’s not much else I’m here for.”

“I suppose I can join, just to listen in,” Maria says, and Blue smiles at her before turning back to Iko.

“Assuming that’s okay with you, I’ll step outside to call my grandpa and make sure he got your message.” Blue unclips a container ball. “Meanwhile, there are three spare goggles for your people to wear in here, and the rest of us can lend you ours if you want to try another check of the top floor.”

The sergeant taps his fingers on the desk, then looks at Gale. “Call everyone in. If something goes wrong, I want to make sure we’re ready to handle it.” She nods, and he turns to Blue. “Go ahead. If he can make more goggles for us I’d appreciate it, and if he can’t come himself—”

“A new phenomenon like this, possibly a new pokemon?” Red grins. “He’ll be here.”

“—well, then I want to be able to provide him with as much info as we can. Gale, tell Aimi to watch the door.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She leaves, and Iko gets to his feet, scanning the group once more before saying, “Welcome aboard.”

They go upstairs, and Red uses the downtime to visit the washroom, feeling nervous flutters in his stomach at the idea of what might be waiting for them at the top of the tower. Little by little the excitement gets dwarfed by something else: the memory of the casino, of being trapped in rubble, in pain while people died and fought around him…

He takes a deep breath, tries to ground himself in his body. Simple sensations, like the feel of his shirt and jacket and hat, the press of the ground against his shoes. What’s the worst case? Renegades with some pokemon that can use pressure, but with a small army of rangers, we’ll probably be fine.

There might be casualties. And even that’s not really the worst case, there are many others, like some new pokemon with abilities we can’t imagine, or even a new legendary, freshly born and ready to wipe out the town if bothered…

“Get a grip,” he mutters, staring at himself in the mirror. He’s overcome fear before, he can do it again…

Except for that one time…

Red shakes his head, growing angry at his unpartitioned self now. They’ve had months to look into how justified that decision was, and so far they haven’t because unpartitioned Red is still having trouble bringing himself to do so, but they made an agreement (back before they were simultaneously around and he was Sad Red or whatever) not to think that way until they do.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he says to his reflection. “But you treat being the unpartitioned one as if it automatically makes you the undisputed leader. There’s not much I can do about that, but if you’re going to act like the leader, start really acting like one rather than switching between bossy and pessimistic.”

Silence from his unpartitioned self. Which is just great, as if he needed to feel more awkward about talking to himself…

Sorry.

Red blinks, then nods, washing his hands one more time just to give himself time to think before he heads outside. They know what to do. Premortem, plan for failure modes, ready contingencies.

Right. And avoid direct contact with ghosts.

But… the new mental state… new species!

We don’t know it’s a new species, and we don’t know how well the new state will work for us yet. Play it safe, let someone else catch it if it exists, study it later.

Red can’t argue with that, it’s not like he’s going to be storming the top floor himself. He sighs, acknowledges the point, then leaves the washroom to rejoin the others. By the time he finds them the lobby of the tower has rows of rangers standing at attention as Sergeant Iko relays the plan. Nathan is back, still wearing his riding gear, and Blue standing by the others. He grins as Red approaches.

“Gramps is coming, along with a small team. He also said he’ll reach out to Agatha; busy or not, he said she’d be interested.”

“That’s great,” Red says, already feeling relieved. “Anything on the roof?”

“Nope. So it’s probably a ghost. Or renegades, but why they’d hole up at the top of the tower pushing out Pressure is beyond me.”

“I was thinking, we should do a premortem. Get Iko involved.”

“Already suggested that,” Leaf says with a grin. “Blue and Jean backed me up, apparently they do it all the time at her gym.”

“I’d like to claim credit, but they were doing it before I got there,” Blue says. “Iko said we’d have time while waiting anyway. Look, he’s talking about it now.”

“…planning that may be helpful to ensure we’re covering all our bases.” The sergeant gestures toward their group. “The whole thing might get tossed out once the big brains get here, but I don’t intend to be seen as sitting on my thumbs waiting to be rescued. Do any of you?”

“No sir,” the crowd chants, and Red feels a tug in his belly as he glimpses the Ranger Corps’ inner world for the first time in a while. The sense that his dad carried with him all the time, of being one who acts, who protects others, rather than being protected. He remembers his mom saying, with both exasperation and affection, that most rangers she met struggled to ever see themselves in a weak or helpless role, and that his father was no different.

“Didn’t think so. While most of us prepare, a small team will accompany the psychics up to the third floor to see what they can learn. Vera and Seto, you’re with me for planning. Hiro, Xavier, Gale, go with the psychics. Jon and Nathan, full equipment check. Hop to it everyone.”

Most of the two dozen rangers start unbuckling their belts and supply bandoliers, while six approach the group. As Iko hands the extra goggles they brought to the rangers that would be accompanying Jason, Leaf turns to Red and smiles. “Good luck.”

“See you soon.” He steps away from Leaf and Blue and makes his way toward the stairway with the others. It’s wide enough that they can walk three abreast, and Red ends up in the third row with just Artem, who turns to him as they start climbing.

“Hey, you know the Professor, right? Is he going to, uh…”

“Steal all the glory?” Red smiles. “No, he’s great about sharing. I don’t know if that’s always true, but as far as I’ve ever seen he likes to be included, but prefers watching other people learn.”

“Great, because this is awesome.” The older boy grins. “I thought there might be some interesting phenomenon here, but we might actually be among the first people to see a new species! It might even be an artificial pokemon.”

“You think?” Red considers their surroundings as they reach the second floor and walk across toward the third. “I guess there’s not a lot that’s natural for it to use.” Hallways in either direction from the main corridor are filled with cushioned benches and seats, incense burners, and small fountains, while the walls are lined with sarcophagi nameplates.

“Yeah, assuming it didn’t arise out of a pillow or something there’s nothing here but stone and bones. Let’s see, full list might be Ghost/Rock, Ghost/Ground, Ghost/Water, Ghost/Fire if we’re counting the incense… hey, we could find an Electric version of the lampent line if it comes from a light fixture. I always wondered what came first, there, the candle, the lamp, or the chandelier…”

“It could also just be another Ghost/Poison,” Red points out as they reach the stairs to the third floor (it’s strange to be in a place where the stairs only go up one floor at a time and are located so far from each other). “No reason all pokemon that come from a decomposing body have to be the same species, right?”

“Yeah, but… eh. Seems boring.” He smiles. “Not scientific, I know. We don’t even know if it’s a new species yet. Still, if it is a new species, I’d prefer some variety.”

“We’ve got enough Poison pokemon in Kanto already anyway,” one of the rangers just ahead of them grunts.

They reach the third floor, and the pace slows as Jason looks around, then finds a hallway full of cushioned chairs and benches to sit in. First he finds a small fountain, which he uses to wash his hands in the same cleansing ritual he does at home. As he does so, Red sees some tension leave his shoulders, and then he sits on one of the benches, folding his legs beneath him.

The rest of the group joins him except for the rangers, who stay standing. He looks around at all of them, seeming a bit unsure if he should say something, until Gale prompts, “Is there anything we can do for you?”

“No, thank you. Just… be ready.”

“What should we expect, as a worst case scenario?”

The medium hesitates. “There’s a very small chance that it attacks us?”

The rangers share glances, then begin summoning their pokemon: a krokorok, bisharp, and Gale’s mismagius again. It’s unusual for a dark trainer to raise psychics or ghosts, and Red reminds himself to let Blue know she is one in case he wants to ask her questions about it.

Red wonders if he should summon his own pokemon, but no, there’s limited space in the hallway and he’s not here for that. Instead he closes his eyes and breathes deep, briefly touching the minds around him.

Jason, most familiar, is preparing himself for what he expects is going to be another painful attempt to commune with a wild ghost. Red sends him a pulse of reassurance and confidence, which he responds to with gratitude.

Maria is second most familiar to him, worried and uncertain of herself, but also excited and curious. Artem is buzzing with curiosity too, and he can’t sense anything from Jean but cautious anticipation, which mirrors what the two rangers beside Gale feel as they prepare for whatever happens. Red is careful not to linger on the mismagius, but just sensing it is enough to feel uncomfortable, the psychic equivalent to a room full of overlapping voices that he can almost make sense out of.

“I’m going to begin,” Jason says, and Red focuses his attention on him. He can’t reach as high as the tower’s top floor himself, but he can watch as Jason extends his mental senses up… not literally, of course, Jason’s mind doesn’t actually go anywhere. But he can tell Jason finds something because his tranquil thoughts suddenly ripple with unease, then grief.

Red watches him attempt to do the same thing as before, to partition the emotion away. It takes him longer, and Red catches a splash of what he’s feeling, having to push down his own memories of Aiko and his dad until he can focus again…

And notice that Jason is still struggling with grief. Struggling to partition it again, and again, and again… more and more keeps building up, and Jason just keeps himself open to it, stays humble in accepting what the Ghost is pushing onto him, so much that Red has to switch to boggling-prostrate-before-the-universe himself just to keep himself from wallowing in memories of Aiko’s laugh—

—her father’s tears—

—Dad’s smile—

—Blue’s heart-wrenching sobs as a child, a memory he barely remembers—

—loss, and grief, so much grief—

Yes, Jason says, not with words but with being as he accepts the pain and extends an open hand for more, tries to form a connection. Understanding. Agreement. Shared sorrow.

But it doesn’t stop, and Red finally recognizes that something is wrong when Jean projects not just worry but alarm, and it doesn’t reach Jason. Red tries to do the same, and the openness that Jason holds forth just… doesn’t see it. Is too full of what he’s sensing from the ghost.

Red forces himself to ground and opens his eyes to see the medium’s face twisted in grief, tears pouring down his face. Maria is sitting beside him with his hand in hers, but looks unsure what to do, and Red feels dread and horror rising up in him. Trapped, Jason is trapped, there’s got to be something he can do…

“Hey,” Jean says, kneeling in front of Jason and gently shaking him. “Hey, come on, Jason, come back! Grey!”

Think. What would he do for you?

Red is frozen with indecision for a moment longer as the Rangers start to tersely discuss carrying him downstairs, then rushes up and to the fountain. He takes the ladle and fills it, then carries it back to Jason and holds up his palm. Don’t mess it up. Left hand… right hand… left hand… He lifts the hand to Jason’s lips so he can drink, come on drink…

Jason’s lips twitch, and Red lets his hand drop, then hurries to pick up one of the incense sticks, heart pounding as he moves it over Jason’s body. Placebos are real, it doesn’t matter if they make sense they’re real, they have real effects, come on Jason wake up…

Almost too late Red remembers the prayer beads, and he takes Jason’s hand and brings it up to his necklace, moving the fingers over the beads… and letting out a breath of relief as they tighten. And move.

He holds the stick where it is, just under Jason’s nose, and the rational side of him insists that that’s what makes the medium finally twitch and shudder and open his eyes, nose wrinkling. Red moves back just in time to avoid being sneezed on, and everyone lets out a breath or cry of relief as Jason blinks and wipes at his streaming eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Gale asks, looking relieved but also vibrating with adrenaline. Or maybe that’s just Red projecting; he sits back onto his bench, legs weak with relief as Artem claps him on the shoulder.

“New pokemon,” Jason coughs out. Maria hands him a water bottle, and he takes a long drink before clearing his throat and trying again. “Don’t know what it is. Strong. Angry.” He takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes, wiping at them with his sleeve again. “Mad with grief.”

Gale stares at him, then nods. “Alright, back down we go. Can you walk?”

“Yes.” He still leans on Maria’s offered arm, looking wobbly, and turns to Red. “Thank you.” He looks at Jean. “Both of you. I could sense you, but…” He trails off, then looks up… and blood drains from his face. “Oh.”

Jean frowns, then goes stiff and breathes out, “Oh…”

Gale looks like she wants to grab and shake them. “Oh, what ‘oh?’ What’s ‘oh’ mean?”

Red was shielding as soon as he ended the link with Jason, relying on his partition to deal with the residue. Now he lowers it to send his own psydar pulse out, and what comes out instead is “Fuck” as he feels the swell of grief return before he can even do anything. He slams his shields back up and turns to Gale. “It’s projecting now, because… it might be uh, suicidal. So…” He remembers what he told Blue earlier and feels his heart kick back into high gear. “I think we’re going to have company soon.”

Hey everyone, welcome back! Brief comment about the last chapter’s battle: it bent a couple rules from the pokemon game in ways that feel justified, to me. The first was the whirlwind attack being able to clear field hazards the way defog does, since both are essentially the same type of attack, but divided by function. I’m not sure it makes sense for some flying pokemon to be able to create a whirlwind that can blow pokemon away, but not blow objects or fog away, so I’m ignoring the fact that the pidgey line doesn’t naturally learn defog outside of egg moves.

The second is ingrain, which normally stops a pokemon from being blown or scared away from battle, but also stops you from being able to withdraw it, which is just… strange. It’s not like it stops you from catching a pokemon in the wild, and there’s nothing about the move that to me indicates that it should make a pokemon immune to a pokeball’s effects. It seems to just be a balance decision they made, logic bedamned, and so I’m okay with putting the logic back in at the cost of game fidelity. One reader suggested that using an ultraball would overcome any possible difficulty some trainers would have in accounting for the increased mass, which is as good an explanation as any.

Enjoy the chapter, and hope everyone is staying safe this holiday. It would be a shame to get COVID just before vaccines start to roll out!

---

Red takes a deep breath, then knocks on Leader Sabrina’s door. Three seconds and a brief probe of his shielded mind later, he hears her say, “Come in.”

She still looks so tired, Unpartitioned Red notes as they step inside, and after a moment Red agrees. The bags under her eyes, the slight droop in her posture, the hair done up in a loose ponytail instead of her usual long, straight curtain… it’s clear Sabrina has yet to really recover from her long absence last month. Upon returning she spent nearly all her time working through the backlog of Challenge matches, and then Groudon and Kyogre awoke and she teleported to Hoenn to fight them.

It’s also clear that something changed for her when she did, though it’s hard to describe what. He could say that she’s been more reclusive than she was before she was gone, and that would be part of it. He could say that, when he does see her, she’s been distracted… but that would still only be part.

The best way he can think to put it is that she seems more like she’s doing everything by rote. Like her heart isn’t in the duties of a Gym Leader anymore, nor teaching her psychic students, nor researching and learning from them.

Whatever happened in Hoenn, it must have badly shaken her. Her psychic shields are as strong as ever, but the less tangible signs of strength, her force of personality, her aura of leadership, have faded somewhat as her clear distraction keeps her from being fully present. Even the question of whether psychics can lie just doesn’t seem to interest her the way it used to.

Of course, he knows the answer to that now. A month with Rowan taught him not just how to create partitions at will, but, finally, how to induce amnesia in himself… something he was relieved to finally be able to do.

Not that he remembers why, of course. And he doesn’t need to as long as he’s around other psychics that he might merge with; the vague sense that there are secrets hidden behind partitions is all that’s left, which is common enough among psychics as to be unremarkable. It was strange recognizing it for what it was, at first, but after some consideration it’s no different from everyone holding a sign noting that they have secrets. Unusual to be reminded of in day to day life, but completely understandable and unalarming in most contexts.

What is remarkable, as far as Red can tell, is that his current, partitioned self can be fed information as needed by his whole, unpartitioned self, which knows all the things he forgot. Re-establishing direct communication was one of the most valuable things he learned to do with Rowan, but far from the only one.

(What Rowan notably hasn’t been able to help Red do is come up with better ways to refer to himself and his unpartitioned self; apparently he sets his partitions along emotional lines, or things similar to them, and so just uses those.)

For his part, Rowan spent a lot of time recently trying to develop his own “tulpa,” and though he hasn’t quite succeeded yet as far as Red can tell, he can shift so abruptly between different mental states that even Red is worried about what the ability might do to him. The older psychic already writes intricately detailed personal contracts the way most people set alarms, and takes turns in any serious conversation letting various partitions up and down at a time to make sure he’s fully expressing the range of things he wants to, sometimes over a dozen in a row… more than once Red has simply sat by and waited for Rowan to finish arguing with his variously partitioned selves.

Not that Red is one to throw stones, but Rowan is definitely an odd one.

But none of that is why Red is here today.

“Good evening, Sensei.”

“Hello, Red. Please, join me.” The Leader is seated at a wide couch, each end of which has enough pillows to allow them to comfortably face each other. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright.” He steps out of his flip-flops, leaving them by the door before going to sit on the couch and crossing his legs beneath him.

“You said it was important?”

So much for small talk. Or any other kind of talk. It’s fair enough, he wouldn’t have been able to get this audience just to chat. He senses his unpartitioned self silently acknowledging that, but still feeling a bit disappointed.

“Yeah, so… a couple days ago, Leader Erika reached out to me about joining a group she would like to form to find Renegades in Celadon.” Sabrina’s attention sharpens on him, overt enough that even he can pick it up without Partitioned Red’s help. “I came to see what you think of it.”

“What I think?”

“And for approval,” Red admits, though the truth is he’s hoping for disapproval, an excuse to say no without having to say it himself.

She watches him a moment, and he makes no effort to hide his reluctance. “Do you believe it would interfere with your duties here?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “The message was light on details.”

“Then it’s because of what you did in the Casino.” It’s not a question, but he still nods, and Sabrina returns it, then lapses into silence, gaze distant. Red waits, wondering if he should try to get a sense of her mood, if she would reciprocate the glimpse, but before he can try she stirs, taking a deep breath. “I never spoke with you about what happened down there. I meant to, but other things kept coming up… I’m sorry I haven’t made the time.”

Red just stares in surprise for a moment. “I… that’s okay, Sensei. I know you’ve been busy.”

“It’s a minimal excuse. You and your friends nearly died, and you used your psychic abilities to save many lives. I should have let you know that I’m proud, to call you my student.”

There’s something in her tone that’s hard to interpret, and Red’s too embarrassed by the praise to really try. He bows his head in thanks as he murmurs, “I just wish I could have done more.”

“We always do. But no matter how many were lost that day, I can still be glad you weren’t among them.”

Again, there’s something in her tone…

What if it wasn’t just being busy and tiredness, these past few weeks?

It’s a good thought, and Red debates if now is the right time to dig into it…

We probably won’t get a smoother segue.

Another good point. “I appreciate that.” He looks back up at her. “Forgive me for being forward, Sensei, but… did you lose someone that day?”

Sabrina’s eyes widen for just a moment, and then she’s the one that drops her gaze. “Yes.” The word is quiet. “A very old, very dear friend.”

A stab of empathy, an echo of pain from Aiko’s loss, and his father’s before that. He sits with the feelings for a moment, acknowledging them, letting himself mourn them anew… then lets his breath out, and focuses on the sensation of it to let the thoughts go, let the emotions get taken gently back behind his partition, knowing his unpartitioned self will be able to work through the feelings, however painfully, so he doesn’t have to deal with them himself… a far more useful trick than multithreading mental math. It’s still a distraction that might lead to some missed thoughts or insights, but it’s far better than what he used to have to deal with. “I’m so sorry, Sensei.”

“I am too. The worst part is, I don’t even know if he’s dead or not.” She’s staring into the distance again. “A body was never found.”

Damn. He tries to imagine not knowing for sure if his dad or Aiko were alive or not, and even with the partition taking that pain too, it leaves an ache in his chest. “That’s horrible. It would be distracting to anyone.”

“Yes. It’s hard not to think that he’s probably dead, after all this time. And if not, that’s almost worse. The idea of him be out there somewhere, hurt… alone.” She takes a deep breath, and the next words come out in a murmur. “He always hated being alone.”

Red wonders what circumstances the person would have to be in, to be missing and lost for so long. Flying between regions? Maybe someone on the frontier? Or someone like Bill, living alone in seclusion? No, surely their place would have been checked. And if they got lost in the wilderness somewhere, and haven’t reached a town or Ranger Outpost by now, then… yeah. Probably dead.

“It’s painful,” Sabrina goes on. “Knowing that I was so busy that day that I couldn’t… I wasn’t there for him. I wasn’t there for a lot of people.”

Red doesn’t know what else to say, so he just nods, lost in his own memories and distant guilt.

“Tell me about it?”

He blinks and finds her gaze on his again. For a moment he thinks she’s talking about Aiko, what it was like for him afterward. Then he reconnects the question to what she said before, and he suddenly feels wary. But he has no reason not to talk about it other than discomfort.

“It was scary. I couldn’t tell how badly I was hurt, let alone the others, and when Blue wasn’t waking up…” He swallows. Those were a desperate couple of minutes, the most frightening in his life, even counting those moments in Viridian when they were surrounded by pikachu, or everything that happened during the storm. He thought they were all going to suffocate or bleed out, and still sometimes wakes in the middle of the night gasping for air. “I leave the light on, now, when I go to sleep. So I don’t wake in the dark.”

It makes him feel ashamed, weak, admitting that. A reminder that he’s still a kid who can’t handle the real world. But it feels only fair, after he asked her such a personal question, and Sabrina just nods, face sympathetic. “It’s amazing that you managed to keep your psychic concentration, even through that. What was your first sign that the renegades were there?”

The wariness deepens. Talking or thinking about this part in particular always makes the discomfort worse. “I didn’t. Keep my concentration, I mean. It was hard to focus on any one thing at a time, so I used my psydar instead, and only realized when the first two people… when their minds vanished at the same time, right next to the golem that I thought was summoned to save them.”

“And then you focused on it?”

“With the help of my partitioned self, yeah. I realized the next time it attacked a survivor that it was able to see humans as threats. After that it was just a matter of warning my friends.”

She studies him until eventually her lips twitch in a slight smile. “You don’t like the limelight much, do you?”

“Not… really, no.” He wonders if she’s going to try to convince him to be more public about what he did, maybe talk about how good it would look for psychics. That thought in particular makes him deeply uneasy. “Blue and Leaf have talked to me about this sort of thing a lot. I’ve been trying to lean into it more, but for something like this… it would feel wrong.”

“I suppose I can understand that. But you also don’t want your more unique psychic abilities becoming public?”

“Yeah.” He looks down. Looks like she saw right through him. “Don’t want to have to worry about what people think of me, and of psychics in general.”

Sabrina chuckles, and Red blinks at her, wondering what he said that was funny. “I used to worry about that a lot,” she explains upon noticing his confusion. “I’m not saying I don’t anymore, but… I understand. The problem is, I’ve begun to think that this house of cards will come tumbling down sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time before some psychic somewhere does something new and frightening enough that the public turns against us.”

She’s looking off into the distance again, and Red tries to think of something to say to such a bleak prediction when she suddenly asks, “You used your partition while we spoke, right?”

“Yeah.” He’s unsurprised that she can pick up on it after having merged with him while he had the partition both up and down, but the sudden change of topic takes him off guard. “Why?”

“Your control is impressive. I know I haven’t been as dedicated lately, to your education, or to pursuing the task I set for all of you. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that none of it is as important now as it was before…” Again there’s something heavy in her tone, something in the way she trails off momentarily, that makes him feel a surge of empathy, and then she rallies. “But it is still important. I’m sorry it took you coming to see me to make me confront that I’ve been shirking my duties. Since arriving here, you’ve been hardworking, shown good judgement, demonstrated initiative, and of course, loyalty. In normal times that would all be rewarded more thoroughly, but for now…”

She trails off again, this time seeming to be hard at thought over something, and Red patiently waits. Eventually she nods to herself and meets his gaze. “I’ll speak with Erika to see what she wants from you, exactly. In the meantime, you’re still trying to lie to Rowan?”

“Yeah, and I think we’re close. I can lie about things and not know that I’m lying, but as long as he can tell I have partitions up, he knows that one might be an amnesia.”

“So he can’t tell if you’re lying, but he can’t verify that you’re not, either… only use the fact that you don’t bring your partitions down as evidence that you are.”

“Exactly. If this is possible, that’s the trick right there; hiding a partition. Once you forget you have partitions—”

“There’s no way to tell that something might be missing,” Sabrina says, and suddenly she sounds so tired again. Or defeated, maybe, as he confirms what she already said about trust in psychics being a house of cards.

Red nods, then reluctantly adds, “I mean, technically that might already have happened.”

Sabrina glances at him, then nods. “Because neither you nor Rowan would be able to tell if the other had pulled it off. Not long ago I would have been ecstatic to hear about this, and terrified, of course. The age of trust may be coming to an end, and all that will be left is… a form of meta-trust, I suppose.”

Red remembers his conversation with Leaf, about the way Pressure affected her during the storm, and how she fought back against it. “Trust in the person, that if they are hiding something, it’s for good reason?”

Sabrina smiles. It’s a small smile, and a tired one, but it seems to bring some warmth back to her features. “Yes. That’s exactly it. Not something we can afford to do in every situation, of course, but… hopefully in enough, that our society can go on functioning.”

Without turning on its psychics, she doesn’t add. She doesn’t need to, for him and his unpartitioned self to both think it.

---

Once Red returns to his room, he takes a minute to note some thoughts and observations from the meeting, takes a shower, then lies in bed and, little by little, brings his partition down.

His breath catches as the world loses some vague shine. He stays present in his body, noticing the way it feels heavier, and the way his thoughts seem to slow and become more easily distracted.

And then the memories come.

Memories of what really happened under the Casino that night.

Fear to panic, as Glen was knocked unconscious.

Panic to desperation, as the pokemon moved in for the kill.

Desperation to determination, as he realized what he had to do.

The hardest thing he’s ever done. And the most difficult; on its own the sakki is just the removal of conditioning. If it was all he projected, the pokemon would have been as likely to kill Maria or each other as the renegade.

Instead he also had to use his partitioned self to project the feeling of the renegade as the enemy so that the vulpix would run past the two pokemon in front of it to attack him.

To murder him.

Hey, Partitioned Red says, mental voice sharp. None of that. We’re not murderers, let alone renegades. Trainers are allowed to defend themselves, we looked up the laws, remember?

He does, thanks to the reminder. He pored over them while at the hospital with Blue, waiting for him to wake up, so he knows that technically what he did shouldn’t get him branded.

And yet.

He remembers what it was like, in that trailer on Mount Moon. He remembers the fear from the others in the room, their disgust, their apparent focus on reaching a conclusion then and there, rather than taking more time to investigate the truth. And he remembers the pressure to conform. To pass judgement, to not hold things up with niggling doubts or uncertainties.

The thought of being on the receiving end of that sort of situation makes him feel sick with fear if he contemplates it too long.

What he did under the Casino has never been done before, or at least never investigated. If he’s charged, he can’t predict what attitudes would be, or even who the witnesses would be. Leaf and Maria and Lizzy? Surely none of them would vote against him, right?

But even if cleared, it would be absurdly optimistic to not expect to be constantly viewed with fear and suspicion afterward by others. And given the risks involved if some other psychic learns to do the same thing, there’s no way something like this would stay quiet; he’s pretty sure it would be the first global news to displace the cataclysm.

Everyone would know that he could turn their pokemon against them at any time. He would be a pariah… along with every other psychic in the world, probably, through no fault of their own. Which is the actual reason why joining some task force to hunt for Renegades is the last thing he wants to do, and why his partitioned self feels so uncomfortable when it, or what happened that night, comes up in discussion. He can’t do anything that might put him in a position to accidentally let the secret out.

Well. Any more out. He knew that he would be safest if he never told anyone… but he still had to tell Maria.

It was his fault, after all. Once he was determined to do whatever it took to save her and Glen, he still hadn’t been thinking straight. It’s so obvious, in retrospect, that he could have used the renegade’s own pokemon to kill him. Instead he’d been stuck thinking of the vulpix as their only available resource. The idea of using someone’s pokemon against them just feels… wrong.

It still does, even after he ended up using the other renegade’s sandslash on her, lacking another option. But if he thought of it to save Maria, she never would have known something strange had happened beyond the renegade’s pokemon turning on him.

Instead the fear that others would find out her pokemon killed someone was eating her up inside, all that night and the next day. He couldn’t just let her keep believing she might have been at fault in any way, and if she revealed what actually happened, whether out of confusion or guilt, she might have gotten herself in trouble, or even launched an investigation.

So he told her. She was shocked, but grateful, particularly when he assured her that he would come forward if any suspicion ever fell on her. She insisted in return that she would take his secret to her grave, since he saved her life.

Saved all their lives.

And maybe doomed psychics everywhere.

Catastrophic thinking, Partitioned Red insists. Focus on the positive!

Right. Positives. He takes his notebook out and starts writing:

1) All my friends are alive, and we managed to save some strangers too.

2) We helped expose whatever was going on under the Casino. If all of us died it might have been covered up.

3) If I ever face a renegade, I can probably survive as long as they don’t use Dark pokemon.

That last thought sends a chill through him, but also reveals something else; a door in his thoughts, one he dares not open for fear of what’s on the other side.

All truth is worth knowing. Or don’t we believe that anymore?

Red closes his eyes and lets himself follow the thought.

Maybe he should reveal what he can do.

Maybe the knowledge that it’s possible will be on net beneficial to the world at large.

And maybe he can do more good with it. Become a ranger, or even a renegade hunter…

The thought makes him want to turn away again. Red hasn’t watched or read a lot of fiction, relatively speaking, but from what he remembers, whether the heroes in stories even used their special powers isn’t often seriously explored in most.

What they did with them, sure. One character he particularly identified with was Dr. Banner, a scientist who, through a freak lab accident, “evolved” into a new form of human with incredible fighting potential and literal Fighting abilities. All he wanted to do was continue his research, but instead Dr. Banner repeatedly found himself in situations where he had to use his new powers (guided by his human intellect) to save others.

But while the show sometimes featured others treating the transformed scientist as a freak, and dealt with his desire to be “normal” again, he was never in danger of being hunted by society and executed just for what he could do. At worst there were a couple episodes where some immoral scientists or renegades tried to capture and study or use him. Most people in the show saw him as a hero.

Would even Red’s friends and family see him as one? Or would the danger he represents scare them, too?

Mom wouldn’t abandon us. Neither would Blue and Leaf, and Professor Oak wouldn’t let anything happen.

Red closes his eyes. The words from his partitioned self are defiant, but there’s no hiding the uncertainty under the words, particularly at the end. Maybe they would all stand by him, and maybe he wouldn’t be executed. But he would live the rest of his life under a cloud of suspicion, and if any pokemon around him ever accidentally hurt someone, he would be blamed.

He wouldn’t even be able to prove his innocence, once they knew he’s also studied how to lie to other psychics.

Despair rises like a black tide, and it’s hard to fight it down. There doesn’t seem to be a way out. Like Sabrina said about the view of psychics in general: it’s all a house of cards. Sooner or later, it will come tumbling down.

Irrationally, even feeling like it’s inevitable, what scares Red more than the actual potential outcomes is the idea that he might be the one who causes it.

A probe of his mental shield derails the forming depressive spiral, and as he quickly builds his partition back up there’s a knock at the door.

He takes a deep breath as the world lightens and grows clearer, and rubs his face. Yes, things are difficult. The worries of another cataclysm, of new legendaries appearing, of people fearing psychics that can lie… it makes sense to be afraid. But they can come together to prepare, and the real worst case scenario for psychics is they become as distrusted as dark people. He’s not the only one with doubts; Leaf is experimenting with fundamentally rewriting the brains of millions of pokemon so they can live in better harmony with humans, despite her views on their moral value. Blue gets up and does his best to become the greatest Champion in history every day while knowing that some people will always view his motives with suspicion. Red can’t do any less just because the same thing might happen to him.

“Coming,” he calls out, then walks to the door as he lowers his shield and probes back. “Hey Jason,” he says as he opens the door, and sees his peer is dressed in an informal yukata today. After spending some time at Celadon Gym, where the members used their clothing as a way to communicate everything from rank to expertise to mood, he can’t help but read into Jason’s choice of modest dark cloth. He looks like he’s in mourning, or maybe just expressing a particularly somber attitude, though the mental impression Red got was more… worried. And of course his fingers move over the beads of his necklace as he turns it around and around, a sure sign that something’s bothering him.

“Good evening, Red. I’d like to talk to you about something. May I come in?”

“Sure, I’m free.” Red steps back, curious and a little concerned. Jason is generally formal, but as they’ve gotten to know each other better he’s been a bit more relaxed in private with him. “Can I get you something?” he asks as he closes the door, echoing Sabrina.

“I’m alright, thank you.”

Red nods and leads the older boy to the beanbags he set up for himself and guests. Jason sits carefully on his, adjusts a few times to get comfortable, then continues to fidget with his necklace.

Red lowers his shield to read him again, just a brief dip that communicates Jason’s uncertainty and worry. He can’t recall ever seeing his friend like this, and the silence stretches out for what feels like a minute before Red dares to break it. “So…?”

“I’m sorry, I’m still not sure if I have the right to ask…”

Maybe he should be more trepidatious, but curiosity is stronger. “Take your time. Maybe start with what’s got you so nervous?”

Jason nods, and takes a breath. “Do you remember when I told you my upbringing, in Lavender Town?” Red nods. “My family still lives there, as does my first sensei. Over the past week, she’s been telling me that something is disturbing the Ghosts at Lavender Tower.”

Ah, there’s the trepidation. “Disturbing, how?”

“There are more of them. The rangers guarding the tower have reported no unusual activity, Ghosts haven’t attacked anyone recently so no one seems concerned. But Sensei Reigen says whatever is happening started shortly after the cataclysm, and has only been getting worse since then.”

The words spread a chill through Red’s stomach, cold fingers creeping up his torso until he can feel each heartbeat. “She told people that, and they still haven’t looked into it? The rangers haven’t looked into it?”

“They have, but apparently found no evidence of impending attack…”

“Maybe Sensei can—”

“I already asked her. She said I could investigate as long as I don’t do it alone, but is too busy to go herself.”

“Ah.” Red says, then, “Shit.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to—”

“No.” Red takes a breath, trying to control his fear, and the memories they invoke of standing on the roof and seeing that dark sphere, feeling that burning hunger… “But I’ll still go with you.”

Jason searches his gaze. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course. It seems important, and besides, my mother’s in Lavender Town for work. I want to make sure she’s okay. But… why me? My only experience with Ghosts was with you.”

“I am experienced enough on that front. What I lack is experience in… other things. Your journey has exposed you to many dangers, and you’ve been involved in organized groups. I was hoping…”

“Ah.” Red smiles as he gets it. “You’re hoping for Blue and his friends to get involved.”

Jason nods. “This is why I was hesitant to ask. You have a unique and analytical way of thinking that might see things I would miss, so I am happy to have you come as well. But I don’t know how dangerous the investigation will be, and I don’t know many other trainers, and it seemed like you could form a group who would be interested and competent more easily than I.” Jason pauses to breathe, and Red hides his smile at the sight of the normally stoic medium’s obvious embarrassment.

“I’m not offended, Jason.” He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be even if he couldn’t sense his sincerity. Part of the point in getting involved with What Comes Next was to improve coordination for important tasks, and he’s used it himself to get access to unown research. He can’t resent someone seeking him out to make use of the network too. “I’ll put a general message out tonight, and talk to Blue to see if he’s got time. I wouldn’t get your hopes up, he’s pretty focused on getting badges, but he might know someone else who’s up for it.”

Jason lets out a breath. “Thank you, Red. I was going to send a message to Mistress Agatha, but… if Sensei doesn’t think it’s worth investigating herself yet, I want something more substantial before I bother an Elite about it.”

“Yeah, I get it. But you should message her anyway.” He still remembers the wild impulse he had in Viridian Forest to randomly message Giovanni, and his shock at actually getting an answer. “What’s the worst thing that happens, you waste, like, ten seconds of her time? You don’t think she’ll be mad at you, do you?”

“…I suppose not. Alright, I will.”

“Good. So when did you want to head out?”

“You are the one doing me the favor. When are you free?”

Red thinks through his schedule for the next few days. “I’ll pack tonight and reach out to Blue to see if he’s in touch with anyone that might want to come. Tomorrow I have to take care of some errands, and I’ll do some research on the issue. Let’s add a day for others to prepare, and tentatively say three days from now?”

“Wonderful.” Jason smiles, looking much more his usual self. “Thank you, Red.”

---

Blue, as it turns out, is more willing to come along than Red expected.

“You actually caught me at the perfect time,” Blue admits. From the background noises it sounds like he’s walking through the city. “Most of the gang is still working their way through the challenge matches here. I wasn’t planning to go to Saffron without them, but a lot of them are part of other groups now too, so it’s not as necessary for us all to move around together.”

“Makes sense,” Red says as he climbs the stairs toward the roof of his building. Everyone will want to journey with the trainers that fought in those scenarios at Vermilion, and most of them are heavily involved in What Comes Next. “How many do you think will want to come with you, then?”

“Of those not done with their challenge matches or busy with their own projects, I’d say at least three, plus anyone else here who might be interested in coming. Any guesses for what’s happening, yet?”

“Well, the data is all secondhand, but assuming it’s accurate… it’s possible that the earthquakes changed something in Lavender Tower or around it that made it easier for Ghosts to breed.”

From what Red remembers reading a while back, while the few “living” pokemon considered Ghost type, such as jellicent and decidueye, breed in recognizably biological fashion, “non-living” Ghost pokemon reproduce by spreading incorporeal “seeds” in objects that then become their offspring. Red watched, fascinated, as a sped up recording of a litwick breeding room (just a bunch of candles set out in an area where chandelure and lampent could freely roam through) eventually showed one of the candles abruptly flare to life, yellow eyes blinking into existence under its blue flame.

And so, with Lavender Tower being mostly occupied by the gastly line, that would mean…

“What, like there might just be a ton of extra dead bodies decomposing all over the place?” Blue asks. “Wouldn’t people notice that?”

Red shrugs and smiles. “That’s part of what we’ll be investigating.”

“Right. Well in any case, I’m in. I’ll ask around to see who else wants to come. What about Leaf?”

“Heading to the ranch now, I’ll ask her in person.”

“Cool. Tell her I said hi, gotta go.”

The call ends, and Red opens the door to the roof. The morning sun is bright and untouched by clouds, but can’t quite take the kiss of early winter from the air, and he zips up his jacket before bringing Ranch out.

The abra has grown to twice its size since he caught it, despite not being in any battles. Melding with its mind is as easy as adjusting his partition, and soon he’s experiencing the brisk morning air through two bodies. Ranch’s eyes stay closed, but its nostrils flare as it scents for danger, then for food… which are the only two things it’s particularly good at identifying by smell. Still, Red feels Ranch’s body relax slightly as it smells him, the scent associated with family, and he takes a moment to send reassuring feelings back while digging some berries out of the side pouch of his bag.

His own mouth waters as his pokemon smells the berries, then hungrily laps them from his palm, mouth filling with tart pulp and sweet juices. Once Ranch is fed, Red starts concentrating on his destination… Pallet Town.

Leaf isn’t expecting Red for about another ten minutes, which means Red has time to practice free teleportation. Most of the work involves merging with a pokemon so thoroughly that they can use their trainer’s senses as well as the trainer can theirs, which is necessary to reach the point that your memories are as real to them as their own. After spending every spare moment merged with his abra over the course of weeks, he believes he’s finally accomplished that.

All that’s left is concentrating so thoroughly on a location he’s been to before that, when he triggers the teleportation command, they go there instead of the registered location. And there’s nowhere he knows as well as his childhood home. His mother told him that she was renting the place out to a couple, but that they were staying in the guest bedroom, and that her room and his were left as is. If he can just focus on what it felt like to be in his room…

The smell of linen and books. Safety. Warmth blanket books smell-of-breakfast quiet-nights-screenglow

He feels the sense of familiarity projected and echoed back by Ranch. Something tickles in his brain, a sensation he’s not entirely sure is physical rather than mental (if there’s even a difference), and he almost, for a moment, understands what it is abra do when they teleport, almost understands in some wordless way how teleportation doesn’t interact with the physical world at all, but rather the one in which minds leave an impression that can be read and communicated with…

…the astral realm…

…and then the sensation starts to disperse, failing to catch onto something solid, and finally fades as his thoughts scatter.

Red opens his eyes with a sigh. He’s close, far closer than he would be at this point in his psychic career if he hadn’t practiced mirroring the mental states of others as they use free teleportation, but there’s still some final bit of familiarity or connection he’s missing, or that Ranch is. It would be so convenient to be able to just have one abra that lets him travel anywhere, rather than having to constantly swap the registered locations of the ones he has.

He checks the time to see if he can try again, but sees that as usual more time passed than it seemed, and instead just gives the mental command to teleport to Ranch’s registered spot. The world twists around him as Ranch links their minds, and pulls their bodies sideways through reality, causing him to stumble a bit as he lands on the grass outside Aiko’s home.

He reinforces his pokemon’s success, then withdraws him and looks around. Most of the damage to the ranch was repaired within a week, though the two ponds seem to just be permanently bigger and merged into one now. Mr. Sakai is in the process of building a dam (or a weir, maybe, Red isn’t sure what the right term is) between them to keep two distinct bodies of water for aquatic pokemon with different preferences. Red can see him now, wearing just a bathing suit as he wades into the shallow water connecting the two deep pools.

Red waves to him, but isn’t seen. He debates going over to say hello, maybe offer his help. He still feels a wretched guilt in his stomach every time he talks to Aiko’s father. Still fears the condemnation, the rage, the tears.

It’s getting easier. Little by little, every time it doesn’t happen, he feels safer assuring himself it won’t.

But part of him still feels like he deserves it. What helps is knowing that Leaf and even Blue feel the same, to some degree.

“Red!”

Leaf is jogging over to him with a smile, and he smiles back as she reaches him for a hug. With his partition up he might have frozen, blushed, stammered out a hello. Without it, he can just appreciate the friendly comfort for what it is.

Like Sabrina, Leaf is also aware of the differences in him. When she pulls away, her gaze searches his. “How are you?”

“Not bad, actually. I’ve had it down since this morning.”

“Wow. Is that a new record?”

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath of the fresh country air. “It’s getting easier, as long as I don’t get hit with something bad.” Like whatever is behind his amnesia’d partition.

“I’m glad.” She links her arm with his and leads him back toward the bags of feed. “So what adventure have you come to sweep me off to this time?”

“Hmm. I think you’ve been the adventure sweeper up until now.”

“That can’t be right… what about the time you took me to Bill’s house?”

“Doesn’t count, we were already journeying together. You weren’t swept, more of a… tag-along.”

“Hmph. That’s far less romantic sounding. Guess you’re going to discount the cruise by that logic too?”

“Yep.” Partition down or not, his pulse quickens at the word “romantic,” but somehow it’s easy to keep the banter going. “And going to face Zapdos. In fact, you’re right, you’re not the sweeper. It’s been your whole thing from the very first day at Pallet Lab: see me about to go do something cool, tag along for the ride.”

“I’m sorry, which of us cracked open a murderous conspiracy and met Leader Giovanni? If you weren’t Laura’s son you probably wouldn’t have even been told about the hacker spy ninja… hacker ninja spy?… ninja hacker spy I’ve been investigating.”

“Well—”

“Mount Moon was my suggestion too, and I’m not discounting it just because we were already journeying together.”

“If we—”

“Also you’re not giving me enough credit for getting us all trapped by the worst earthquakes in Kanto history. I had to practically drag you to that near death experience, and I deserve credit for it.”

Her words are deceptively light, but Red can’t help snorting, and her responding smile brings out his own. “Okay, we’ve both swept each other into adventures. This one’s spooky though.”

“We haven’t done a spooky adventure before,” she concedes. “We going to see your mom?”

“No, though we can still say hi. Something’s up at Lavender Tower, and I want you to come investigate it with us.”

“Why me? I don’t know much about Ghosts.”

Red smiles. “That’s what I said about myself, so I’ll give you the same answer I was given: you think in a different way than I do, and you’ve done things no one else has as a result. I want you on any adventures I go on.”

He’s thrilled to see a slight blush spread over her cheeks, and she looks away briefly, then back. “Well, sure. Plus, someone’s got to keep you company the next time you run at a nidoqueen by yourself.”

There’s a brief flash of fear and guilt from the sight of Leaf on the wet pavement, followed by a deeper echo as he feels Aiko’s shirt slip from his fingers. He almost brings the partition up, but takes a moment to breathe instead, to focus on the warmth of Leaf’s arm in his. “Thanks. So, uh. How is the ninja investigation going?”

“Ac-tually, I may have hit a breakthrough on that,” she says with a grin as they reach the sacks of pokeballs and food, each taking a pair. “Remember my friend Natural?”

“Yeah?”

“I might have sent him a copy of documents I found in the secret lab.”

Red stops and stares at Leaf. She seems a bit nervous, but her smile doesn’t fade, and eventually Red grins back. “Does Mom know?”

“Yeah, I told her after it became clear that someone leaked a lot of the same info. I thought it was Natural, but he swore it wasn’t, and I believe him; the info on the web is slightly different from what I got.”

“So you’ve got a source of Silph documents that could be used as a lure for someone else looking for them?”

“Oh, sure, maybe. But it also proves that whoever leaked those documents had a different but similar source, likely the files from a computer at the same lab.”

Now Red gets it. “You think they’re a police detective?”

Leaf smiles. “It would explain their skills and motive more than an ex-employee. And now that they don’t feel safe bringing the info to Laura, they’re just putting the info online to damage Silph as much as possible.”

“Huh. Makes sense… but didn’t you think the ninja is from Fuchsia?”

“We don’t know where the CPD’s information was sent and if they’re a Fuchsia officer they might have friends in other places. I know, it’s not airtight, but at this point I’ll take any narrowing parameters. I’ve been working on cross-checking Fuchsia and Celadon police, along with Saffron for good measure.”

Red nods. “No, it makes sense. Want a hand with it after the chores are done?”

“Absolutely. Maybe we’ll be able to surprise Laura with more than just our presence.”

---

Leaf joins Red and Jason in Saffron a couple days later, and they have lunch at a restaurant on the eastern edge of the city. The air is chilly, and Red finds himself constantly glancing at Leaf, whose cheeks are rosy above her collared coat and scarf. He feels comfortable enough with his jacket buttoned up, but he keeps his hands wrapped around his hot mug of tea as they wait for Blue and his group to arrive. When they finally do, Red sees only one other familiar face.

“So the bad news is, fewer people were free to come than I expected,” Blue explains as he hugs Leaf and knocks fists with Red, then turns to Jason. “Hi, I’m Blue. This is Maria, a journey mate of mine, and Jean, a psychic from the Celadon Gym. Jean, this is Red and Leaf, and I assume Jason.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Jean says with a bow. She has pale skin and dark red hair, but it’s her kimono that draws the eye, a complex swirl of patterns and colors that Red has rarely seen outside of the garden gym. “I’m looking forward to working with two of Leader Sabrina’s students.”

“Yeah, good to have you,” Red says, gaze quickly moving back to Maria and wondering why she decided to come.

“I have a ton of questions for you,” Leaf says to Jean, smiling, then turns to Maria. “Hi, Maria.”

“Hello, Leaf.” The pale girl smiles back. These days she still wears a dark cloak, but the wide black hat is gone, leaving her murkrow to perch on her shoulder, its dark feathers blending with her hair. “Red.” Her eyes meet his, and there’s something he can’t quite read in them. Then she’s looking to the third in their group.

“Thank you all for coming.” The medium bows. “I don’t see how this is bad news, as this many trainers is more than I expected.”

“Yeah, you said that like there’s good news coming?” Red asks Blue.

“Yep. The good news is, our mission got sponsored.” Blue unclips a container ball and summons a box from it. He opens the top and starts passing around the contents. “Remember that anti-surreality tech that Silph was working on?”

Red examines the goggles he’s handed. They’re surprisingly heavy, and he wonders what the lenses are made of. He remembers reading about early experiments to counter the effects of surreality, including viewing ghost pokemon through glass, thin cloth, even a recording cell phone, since they appear “normal” on camera. But something about the physical proximity combined with viewing them, even indistinctly or by digital representation, is important… as if it’s the attention that matters, the act of observing.

The strongest Ghost pokemon still only affect those within fifty meters, which means the audience in a stadium are safe, but the effects of young or weak Ghost types all extend beyond the range of even an ultra ball. With goggles like these on, catching Ghost pokemon would be much easier. “I thought they weren’t on the market yet…”

“They’re not,” Leaf says as she carefully puts hers on. “When their schematics leaked online, Silph knew that a patent lawsuit would only help stop commercial sales. Governments and organizations are just going to make their own unless Silph starts throwing its weight around… which means you got these from a gym, or the Rangers, or… Oh, duh.”

“Yep. A few engineers over at Pallet Labs built one to help study Ghost pokemon. From there it wasn’t hard to replicate the rest.”

“Nice.” Replication was always possible with pokeball tech, but only for very simple constructs. One of the side effects of the advanced replication breakthrough showcased on the SS Anne is the ability to do it with much higher fidelity, which has apparently made all sorts of technology much cheaper after shaking up the manufacturing industry. (And the world of sculptures: some guy from the pokemon cloning research team going online by ‘Froggy’ started selling anatomically perfect statues of pokemon made from various materials, instantly shaped in various poses based on what the pokemon was commanded to do at moment of capture.) The dropped price of pokedex in particular has been a huge boon to many, though all Red could think when he saw the new prices was how Aiko could probably have afforded a new pokedex of her own years before she met them if the technology had advanced earlier.

“With these we should be more prepared than a group of our size would normally be,” Blue says as he puts the box away, then takes out his box of riding gear. “I did put the news out on the net, of course, so more people might join us in Lavender.”

“To be clear, this is just for protective purposes?” Jason asks as he gives his goggles one last thoughtful look, then takes out his own box of biking gear and puts it inside in exchange for a helmet. “Our main objective is to study what may be happening at the Tower.”

“Sure, but if there’s any chance of an impending rampage, we need to be able to cut their numbers down.” Blue finishes putting his pads and helmet on, but doesn’t lift his bike out of its box. Instead he grins at Red and Leaf. “You guys want to see something cool?” Without waiting for an answer, he lifts a great ball. “Go, Soul!”

The arcanine appears in a flash, and lifts its head, sniffing as it looks around them. It’s big up close in the way that has as much to do with presence as actual size; the very air feels warm around it, and Red can smell the faint burning-charcoal scent of its fur.

“He’s beautiful, Blue,” Leaf says with a smile. “But you should have said—”

“Something hot, yeah, I know. That’s not the cool part, though Soul is pretty awesome. This is.” Instead of taking his bike out of the box, he lifts a saddle.

“You’ve been riding him?” Red asks, surprised.

“Just in training rooms. Figured this would be a good time for a—”

“Field test?” Leaf grins.

Blue looks at Leaf, then the open grasslands ahead, then sighs and straps the saddle onto his pokemon one side at a time. “Live run,” he mutters. “Yours is better.”

“I know.”

Red smiles and waits until he’s finished adjusting the straps tight, then takes out his list and adds a new line. “Saddle secure?”

Blue rolls his eyes. “You’re still on that? Yes, they’re… what’s another word for secure?”

“Safe,” Jason offers.

“Stable,” Jean suggests.

Blue glares at them, then Leaf as she starts giggling. Finally his lips curl in a slight smile, and he shakes his head as he climbs up onto his saddle. “Come on, boy, let’s get away from these losers.” He squeezes his knees, and the rest of them watch as his pokemon leaps forward, causing Blue to whoop as they race ahead.

Red pulls his bike up. “Better get moving, with our luck he’s going to run right into another wigglytuff if we don’t—” There’s the distant sound of pokeball discharge, and he looks up to see Blue’s pidgeotto flying ahead of him and his arcanine. “Well, we should still hurry after them.” A rapid series of explosive discharges sound as they each summon their own pokemon; Red brings out Pikachu to ride in his basket, and Butterfree to fly above him. Once everyone’s ready he takes off after Blue, the others close behind.

It’s been nearly half a year since Red travelled in a group, and it takes a few minutes for the instincts to come back. Check the sides, check your travel mates, eyes front, repeat. Watch for tall patches or hills that might obscure pokemon near the road. He’s never been the one to set the pace before, but once they catch up to Blue he takes the lead, while Jason and Jean form the other two points of a triangle for maximum spread of psychic threat scanning. He’s nervous about the possibility of battle after so long without being in one, but he does his best to project confidence for Jason’s sake; with their senses both open to their surroundings, it’s easy to notice that the medium seems uncertain about something, almost uncomfortably so. Jean by comparison seems to be enjoying herself.

Red sends Jason a pulse of concerned curiosity, wondering if he’s just nervous about being out in the wilderness, tame as the route between Saffron and Lavender is. Jason sends back appreciation and deferral, so Red waits until their first rest stop near a ranger outpost to approach him.

“It’s nothing, really,” Jason assures him without Red even needing to say anything. The medium is lying on a small hill, and Red joins him while the others feed their pokemon and Blue drinks a whole water bottle down, body covered in sweat. “It’s been a while since I did not have the luxury of being able to ground loose thoughts, that’s all.”

“I can leave you to meditate if you’d prefer,” Red says. “But I’d like to help if I can.”

Jason hesitates. “I don’t mean to question your leadership, or that of your friend… I know you both are more experienced than I am at facing danger.”

Is that what this is about? “Jason, you’re not here as an adviser, it’s your mission. Blue may be famous, but he’s not conceited about it. He’ll listen if you have something you want to say.”

“That is… reassuring.”

“You only seem slightly reassured.” Red tries to make a joke of it, but he’s never seen his fellow psychic so unsure of himself. “I never asked, did you have journeymates before you became Sabrina’s student?”

“Briefly. Four trainers who were passing through Lavender Town accepted me as a fifth companion while they explored the outlying areas, and then let me accompany them to Saffron.”

Red tries imagining that; leaving Pallet Town with four older, more experienced trainers who he just recently met. He would have felt both eager to prove himself and worried about being a burden. “And they weren’t inclined to listen much to the new guy?”

“Well, I didn’t have any experience or insight to offer, outside of my expertise with Ghost and Psychic pokemon. But they did not include me in their discussions of strategy or planning. It made sense. They knew what they were doing, and I was the inexperienced outsider…”

“But now that we’re specifically on our way to investigate something about Ghost pokemon, it probably worries you, seeing how easily Blue takes the lead.”

Jason bows his head. “Yes. You and I are similar in that navigating social hierarchy doesn’t come naturally to us, but Blue seems very adept at it, which confers on him automatic power in such situations.”

“Well, what if I do something that makes it clear I value your expertise on Ghost pokemon? I probably should have done more when I introduced you to make that clear.”

“That… might help, yes. I trust that he is a good leader, based on his experiences and your regard for him. I only worry that, once we arrive at the Tower, the mission might not have a clear solution or direction, and if Blue naturally steps up to guide us…”

“You want to make sure he doesn’t get distracted by other priorities. I get it.” He thinks of the goggles, and his own interest in testing them. “I’ll try not to divert the mission either, and speak up if someone else does.”

“Thank you, Red.”

“No problem, thanks for filling me in.” His attention is distracted by Maria, who’s standing not too far and glancing over at the two of them as she brushes her murkrow’s feathers. Behind her, Leaf is asking Jean about her kimono, and Blue is adjusting the straps on Soul.

“That girl, Maria,” Jason murmurs. “She’s a sensitive.”

“You can tell?” Red asks, surprised.

“Yes.” The medium raises his voice. “Would you like to join us?”

She seems surprised to be addressed, then nods and approaches as her pokemon flaps to the ground and begins to search the grass. “Hello.”

“Hi, Maria. Want to join us?”

“No, thank you. Grass stains.” She pats down the edges of her short cloak. “You seemed to be curious?” She’s looking at Jason.

“Yes, I’m sorry if it was discomforting. I didn’t realize you could sense me at first.”

“That’s alright, I became used to the feeling.”

“Ah, yes, I thought I recognized you. You’re one of the girls from the Casino.”

She ducks her head. “I am. That’s actually part of why I’m here.” She glances at Red, and smiles. “Red saved my life that night. I wanted to help repay him, if possible.”

Smile back. Red does so, not sure what his unpartitioned self knows that he doesn’t but trusting there’s a good reason for it. “All I did was warn you. Capturing their pokemon and keeping Glen alive were way more impressive.”

“Well, I’m glad you are here,” Jason says. “I believe you may have some untapped talent regarding Ghost pokemon.”

Her eyes widen. “How do you know?”

“Just a feeling. Like recognizing like, shall we say? I don’t know for sure, but am happy to work with you and discover it if so. Have you ever encountered a Ghost pokemon before?”

“No. That’s the other part of why I came. I was curious to experience something new.”

“Then tonight, after we arrive, you’ll meet my Ghost pokemon in a safe setting.” He gives a wry smile. “Assuming we do not encounter any after we arrive.”

---

Lavender Tower appears before the town itself is visible, a distant exclamation point against the horizon that gains color and definition until Red can count each story and make out the lightning rod above the domed roof. Its color fits the name of the town, but each story above the first is a slightly lighter shade than the last, so that it appears as if the whole thing were blending into the sky. They arrive at the outskirts as the sun is starting to descend, the trip concluding uneventfully; between the three psychics searching for threats, they were able to avoid any confrontation with wild pokemon along the way.

The town’s Trainer House is small, just three stories high and sharing its block with a trainer supply market. Their group draws a lot of stares, probably because of Blue’s arcanine, which pants for breath as Blue slides out of the saddle and to the ground, clothing and hair soaked through. He groans as he puts his hands on the back of his hips and stretches.

“That can’t have been comfortable,” Leaf remarks as the rest of them take out their container boxes and begin packing away their riding gear.

“It wasn’t,” he grumbles. “He kept me warm, but riding on pokemon is overrated.”

“Depends on the terrain, I’d say,” Jean points out. “Bikes are less effective in forests, for example, while arcanine can move through them much more quickly. You’re still trading comfort, but at least it’s for a reason.” She smiles. “Other than to look impressive, of course. Which you accomplished.”

Blue grins and starts brushing his pokemon’s fur. “Guess it wasn’t that bad.”

Soon they’re inside and registering for rooms. As Red waits in line, he takes his phone out to message his mom and let her know they arrived just as a young man with short dirty blond hair approaches. He’s wearing a pokebelt, but also the white coat of a researcher.

“Hello, Blue? Red?” He smiles, clearly recognizing them. “I’m Artem. I’ve been working with—”

“The unown research team,” Red says, and smiles. “I remember you from the forum. Nice to meet you! What are you doing here?”

“You too! I was nearby when your message about Lavender Tower went out, and decided to come investigate too. It’s actually quite fascinating what’s been happening—”

“Hold that thought.” Red psychically gets Jason’s attention, then waves him over. “Artem, this is Jason. He’s a medium studying under Leader Sabrina, and is actually our team leader in the investigation. Jason, Artem got here before us and has apparently already noticed something.”

Jason smiles at Red, then bows to Artem. “Thank you for joining us. What did you find? Have the increased amount of Ghosts in the area become noticeable?”

“Ah, no, actually quite the opposite!” Artem belatedly bows back, hands fidgeting in the pockets of his coat and smiling excitedly as he looks back and forth between them. “It seems the Ghosts in Lavender Tower have largely disappeared!”

“No, thank you.”

Her parents looked at her like she’d turned into a doduo, and she almost smiled at the mental image of herself with two heads. Instead she struggled to keep her face placid and calm, intuiting that anything short of utter seriousness would doom her to failure.

“But Erika,” her mother started, and already the tone was wrong, wrong, WRONG, it’s not the tone she ever uses when talking to father, nor to any other adults, it’s the tone the teachers use when trying to get a crying student to calm down, but she’s NOT crying, she’s CALM, “You know how much grandma enjoys your visits. She even said she bought you some new dresses, remember?”

“I do not enjoy the visits,” she replied, still calm as she continued staring at her book. It was one of her very favorite books, as large as her torso and with each massive page containing a high definition picture of a different Grass pokemon, paragraphs of small words crammed all around the image. As she spoke she looked at a vileplume, the left half of its body overlaid on a separate half-page that, when turned, revealed under it a computer generated image of its inner structure; first the fibrous muscles under the skin, then, when she turned that page as well, the hard roots it has in the place of bones. She’d already read over the book so many times she can practically recite each paragraph by heart, but she turned the pages anyway, then turned her head to the opposite page, which showed a paras, its own hidden half-pages mirroring the vileplume’s so that the book closed perfectly evenly.

She loved the book for its craftsmanship as much as its content, and the feel of the thick, glossy pages (are they even made of paper?) under her fingers was soothing as she kept her eyes averted from her parents, who stood in the doorway of her room dressed and ready to go.

“We’ve talked about this, Erika,” her father said. His voice was better than mother’s, patient without being brittle the way hers was, but if it gave way to anger it was worse, far worse. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.”

“Yes, like chores,” she said, and turned the page to pass her eyes over the innards of the paras. It was part of the strategy she devised without words, a simple understanding that the farther she was from being ready, the more energy her parents would have to commit to getting her ready, the more likely they would be to just give up and leave without her. “I did all my chores, and my homework.” She didn’t always, but this week she did, just in case it helped. “I can do things I don’t want to if I have to. I don’t have to visit grandma.”

“But Erika, she’s family,” mother said, as if that was a reason. As if that meant something. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“I told you. I told both of you. You didn’t listen.” She knew she had to stay calm, but her voice wavered and her eyes burned. She raised her book to hide behind it. “You never listen. She always makes me put on dresses like a doll and touches my hair even though I say to stop and says mean things about the way I act and we have to always eat the food she likes and I don’t like it, and I don’t like the way her house smells and we’re always there for hours and I can’t read or watch vids or anything because that would be rude but no one tells her that saying mean things about my friends is rude and it’s not fair that I have to go just to make her happy instead of not having to go to make me happy. I’m her family too, shouldn’t she care if I’m h-hap…“

The tears overflowed, blurring the picture of the parasect. She heard her mother sigh, and she knows that sigh, knows even without looking that her mother is rubbing her forehead, eyes closed.

“Erika… your grandmother is very old, and she’s not going to be around forever. When you’re older you’ll be glad that we took you to see her even when you didn’t want to.”

Her mother’s words made her stomach feel heavy, guilt and shame and anger and doubt swirling as her throat and eyes and nose burned, and she didn’t have the words, couldn’t explain that maybe her mother was right and maybe she would understand later, but her memory and her senses told her she won’t enjoy it, that she’d just make more bad memories and regret wasting another whole Saturday, and worst of all—

—the tears began to spill down her cheeks, and mother and father began arguing in a low voice—

—worst of all being told to ignore her memory and senses meant she couldn’t trust them at all. What if she thought hugs were good but later they were bad? What if she believed learning about plants was good but later she’d regret it, that it was dumb just like Hayate from school said…

“Erika.” Her father’s voice, deep and blunt, anger at its edges. “You are being very spoiled and selfish right now. I will not drag you from your bed like a baby. Your mother and I are going to the car. If you are not there in two minutes, we will leave without you and there will be no dessert, no playtime, no internet, and no books for a month. Understand?”

Her fingers tightened around the glossy edges of her large book, and she closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge him as the hot tears continued to stream down her face.

“Two minutes,” he repeated, and then she heard their footsteps retreating, and a moment later the front door opened and closed.

She held out for a minute and a half, gripping her book tight and trying to read through her tears and trying to convince herself that she wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t wouldn’t wouldn’t, and then she dropped it and ran, heard it bounce on the floor and later would find one of its hard cardboard corners bent under the smooth outer lacquer.

She could do things she didn’t want to do, when she had to.

---

Leader Erika walks into the Celadon central police station and immediately heads past those working at the front with a simple nod. The officers nod back, and a couple even smile. They were all strangers, before. Now she’s been here often enough that she recognizes the faces on every shift.

Before. That the word has gained such weight in everyone’s collective thoughts and dialogue speaks volumes in itself of the times they’re living through. Within a day of the weather gods’ abrupt arrival and departure, it became clear to Erika that any major plans she had for the next few months would have to be delayed or reconsidered. By the next week she realized that her plans for the whole year might not survive the changes taking place around the island, and it only got worse from there as the consequences, both ecological and social, continued to make themselves known around the world.

Now, nearly a month later, Erika has begun to realize that rather than expecting things to go back to “normal,” she would have to make her plans around a new concept of what normal is.

Not least of which involves the region’s perception of renegades.

She passes one of the more secure checkpoints and arrives at the Chief’s office, knocking politely and waiting for the “Come in” to do so. Her bright kimono makes her stand out in the police station, where everyone else is wearing uniforms or formal suits, but one of the privileges of her position is that she gets to wear whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and has even made it a sign of status.

No one here knows what her clothing indicates, of course; they would have to be from her Gym to recognize the woven patterns signaling that she is Feeling Asexual Today but Craving Comforting Touches and Looking For Help On Various Tasks and is Not To Be Disturbed Unless For Serious Issues. She can’t recall the last time her patterns have been so consistent for so long, but it has been nice at the Gym to only have people come up to her to give a hug or offer some of their time for any menial tasks she might need done, while only her Second and Third felt willing to breach the last one.

Of course that means leaving the Gym, already an unpleasant experience most days before (before), requires her to put some extra effort into social interactions to protect against the sorts of social missteps that normal culture has never bothered trying to solve.

Such as the handsome man in the suit who appears fascinated by the detailed map of the city hanging on the police chief’s wall. He turns and beams at her as soon as she enters the door, and approaches offering his hand for a shake. “Good afternoon, Leader Erika. I’m Agent Looker with Interpol, and I’ve been sent to take over the investigation here.”

She folds her own in her sleeves and bows her head instead. She doesn’t understand why handshakes are even still a thing; unhygienic, inconvenient if your hands are full, no set protocol for grip length or strength, and downright unpleasant if either person is sweating. All the potential downsides of a hug with none of the benefits.

The foreigner blinks, then drops his arm before he bows stiffly back. Not out of disrespect, she guesses, but age and unfamiliarity. He’s still smiling, and appears to be in his mid forties, hair just starting to grey at the temples and deep lines around his eyes and mouth. She’s only ever met a couple Interregional Police agents, since most of their quarry don’t try hiding in major cities like Celadon… or rather, that’s what everyone believed. It’s a thought from before, and she expects the overturning of that particular assumption has been as shocking to those from Interpol as anyone. “Good afternoon, Agent Looker.” She turns to Chief Takahashi and Detective Hirai. “Chief, Detective.” She bows to both, who return it, then turns back to the newcomer. “Welcome to Celadon City. When do you expect to leave?”

Looker raises his brow, and Detective Hirai snorts from his seat. The agent glances at him, then turns to the police chief, who sits behind her desk with her chin in her hand as she watches. “I seem to recall you saying I should expect the Leader’s full cooperation?”

“I did say that, yes.” Chief Takahashi shrugs a shoulder. “You may have a different idea of what that entails.”

Looker’s expression says he would have preferred a more descriptive warning of some kind, and Erika hides her smile. She and Takahashi have had an understanding ever since she became Leader; on one end, Erika doesn’t throw her weight around in police affairs, either in public or private, and doesn’t expect any special treatment for her people, which is something of an unofficial norm in most cities. In exchange, Takahashi doesn’t waste Erika’s time and doesn’t keep anything from her. They are not quite social equals, but their domains of influence are disparate enough that they can mostly operate as such, and Erika appreciates the straightforward working relationship she’s formed with the older woman.

“I want the truth about who these renegades worked for to be found as much as you do,” Erika says, and the interpol agent turns back to her. “But your people have been disruptive in their investigations, and our city is having enough trouble moving forward without being paralyzed by an investigation of endless scope and duration.”

“From what I’ve been told, everything we have done has been within our regional mandate.”

“That mandate was for furreting out hidden renegades,” Erika calmly retorts. “We have no evidence there are any remaining in Celadon, unless that’s changed in the past… thirty-seven hours?” She looks at Detective Hirai, who shakes his head.

“Same as before,” Hirai says. “My people are still tangling with the corporate lawyers, but even with the renegade element helping us cut through the red tape, all we’ve got are confiscated financial holdings and more names to look into, a lot of them overseas. On the staff angle we’re looking into family and friends of the other casino workers, both in the lab and above it, but so far nothing suggests more renegade activity in the city, or even region.”

Looker begins to respond, and Erika holds a hand up. “I don’t say this as a prelude to obstruction. I suspect you will be surprised by how cooperative my Gym is prepared to be with your investigation. I simply mean to establish a boundary, and wish to know that you are aware of the need for one.”

The interpol agent meets her gaze for a moment, and Erika decides that it isn’t a hostile or challenging stare, but rather a thoughtful one. She stares calmly back, and eventually he nods.

“I don’t have a set number for you, Leader, but rest assured that I am now acutely aware of your preference, and that I’ll run into the limits of your patience sooner rather than later. Good enough, for now?”

Erika considers the reasonableness of insisting on a timeframe now, rather than later. She wants a commitment, something to anchor future considerations on, and after a moment decides that the others in the room will not judge her for a failed attempt to get it.

“I’m afraid not. I have families from all over the city, and some from outside it, still waiting for justice against the only survivor among the renegades that killed their children, siblings, and parents in that Casino. They’ve had to wait longer than any others in the history of our Region once those responsible have been apprehended. I think they’ve been patient enough.”

“With all due respect, Leader, my job is to prevent more tragedies, not appease those already unfortunate enough to be grieving.”

It takes a moment to keep herself from bristling. “‘Appease’ is your word, not mine. I am a Leader, not some mayor worrying about popularity. I don’t enjoy executions, but I take all of my duties seriously, and this is one of them. If over three weeks of interrogation have not yielded any new information, what purpose is there to the continued delay?”

“Quite a few.” Agent Looker tucks his hands into the pockets of his long tan duster. “For one thing it makes the opposition sweat.”

“And that’s preferable to making them think the investigation is closed?”

“They’ll know it’s not. An organization like this has to have sources in any major law enforcement units to operate.”

Erika glances at the Chief, who purses her lips but doesn’t gainsay him. “So you make them worry. What then?”

“We watch. We listen. We feel for…” His hands rise, fingers strumming the air. “Vibrations on the web.”

Erika crosses her arms, hands slipping through opposite sleeves. Such vague words invite further comment, but she’s learned the value of speaking with simple expressions.

Eventually he drops his arms and gives a crooked smile. “I’m afraid I can’t be more specific, Leader. Information security. But your Champion has been informed, and already approved.”

That makes her heart pound, but there’s no use making a scene about it here. “Understood. What will you be needing from me, then?”

“For now very little. Most of our work will be assisted by the police as we scan the city for any other hidden underground structures, and the mayor is already requesting cooperation from local businesses and organizations. Anything you can do on that front would be appreciated, but the main help would come from any trainers you can spare to join our search parties. There’s a lot of ground to cover, and a shortage of competent combatants in case we get lucky and things go wrong. Plus, your people are known. Reassuring. Trusted.”

A win win. It raises her esteem of him, that he’s offering such a simple goodwill gesture without attempting to dress it up. Her status in the city has already been damaged enough by this, and anything that makes her gym more present in resolving it can only help… unless it’s badly bungled.

Which puts her in an unfortunate position.

“I’ll see what I can do,” is all she says, and inclines her head to both the Agent and Chief before turning for the door.

“You don’t, by the way.” Erika pauses and looks to her side, raising a brow and resorting to silence once again until Looker clarifies. “Want the truth as much as I do. I’ve been tracking interregional renegade movement for over a decade, trying to dig deep enough to tear the whole system out by the roots. You would be satisfied with making sure your city or region is clean, and I understand why. But I won’t be. Not without hard evidence that the Casino is as far as it goes.”

Erika meets his gaze, realizing that she’s been wrong to categorize him as just another detective, interested in doing their job well at best and taking the presumption of righteousness for granted at worst. She has little patience for virtue signaling, but can at least respect someone who wants to competently get their job done.

Looker is doing neither. He’s a True Believer, doing what he believes needs to be done for the greater good.

Which makes him dangerous.

“This is my city,” she says, voice hard as she can make it. “It’s my responsibility to ensure that its people and organizations are prepared for pokemon and renegade attacks, not waste time chasing impossible-to-disprove hypothetical ones.”

“I appreciate that, Leader, and intend to fully coordinate with you,” Looker responds, and his cheerful demeanor doesn’t fade a bit as his eyes turn hard. “But if I have reason to believe there are more Renegades hiding in your city, I’ll look behind every poster on every wall to find them.”

Erika considers him for another moment, then simply nods and leaves. She could have mentioned the restrictions of the mandate, but the truth is they’re flexible enough with probable cause that he probably could barge into people’s houses and check for secret staircases. Especially if he has Lance’s approval.

Which means…

She leaves the police apartment and goes immediately to the waiting car, sitting in the backseat and directing the driver back to their gym. Along the way she puts up the privacy barrier, then calls the Champion’s direct number. He answers after just two rings with a “Yes?”

“I just spoke with Agent Looker,” she says, voice calm. The lack of niceties would normally communicate her anger clearly enough, but these were unusual times, and the no-nonsense attitude on both sides could just be the result of their endlessly busy days.

“Times are changing, Erika.” Lance’s voice is just as clear and calm, but she detects the note of tiredness beneath it. “What happened in Hoenn showed that our system isn’t working, and what it revealed in Celadon showed it could just as easily have been Kanto. There’s no argument I could imagine you making that would change my mind. I know it happened in your city, but we need to treat this as a regional threat.”

“None of which explains why you didn’t at least warn me.”

“I only spoke with him a couple hours ago, and didn’t realize you were meeting him today. I was going to reach out tonight.” His voice is stiff, which is one of the only tells the dragon master has… in this case, a tell that he’s very close to pulling rank. “I’m sorry, but it was simple bad timing. No slight was intended.”

She briefly considers pushing it, then decides to save the loss. “Understood,” she says, blowing her breath out. “Apologies if I implied bad faith.”

“Don’t worry about it. We all want what’s best for the region. We can speak more about this tonight, if you want.”

“Tonight,” she agrees, and ends the call.

After a moment she sighs and calls Giovanni. He answers after just one ring.

“Yes.” Voice flat, clearly busy, but recognizing that she wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.

“We have a problem.”

---

It took three weeks for the gym to be brought back to about 70% of how it looked before the quakes and torrential rain loosened soil, flooded gardens and dislodged trees. There were far more important cleanup projects around the city that took priority, and so Erika never announced any official organized cleaning efforts, but part of what she’s instilled in the community she built here is a care in their shared spaces. She’s seen both Gym members and visiting trainers help the gardening staff clear or repair the damage in their free time, and it has filled her with both pride and a sense of peace.

These are her people. This is what she fights for.

As she walks through the gym now, her gaze is drawn not to the remaining bare patches of soil where things have yet to be replanted, nor the submerged benches at the edges of various ponds that seem to just be permanently larger now, but the bigger projects, such as a gazebo on a dock that sank when one of its supports cracked, and a tree that fell into a bush-lined walkway; someone has cut a path through the trunk, but both halves are still on either side. She briefly considers ways she might incorporate it into the design of the area; no matter how strong the sense of wanting to return to “normal” is, perhaps it would be better not to completely erase signs of the cataclysm.

It certainly left its mark on her Gym in other ways.

She passes by more and more groups of people sitting and discussing things in large groups, some in gazebos, others around benches, others just gathered on patches of grass. When she reaches the desk at her central gazebo she thinks over her mood, then selects Dew to keep her company, summoning the bellsprout from her belt.

She smiles as its vines curl and uncurl, head bobbing around in a lazy roll as it looks for something to climb. It stops as its eyes find her, and she extends a hand for it to wrap itself around. It’s hard not to giggle and squirm as it shimmies its way up her arm and onto her shoulder, and she takes a deep breath of its pleasant scent, specially cultivated to be more of an anti-smell than anything. Sometimes all the plant-life in the gym can be a bit overwhelming, and Dew lets her breathe without smelling anything but clean, slightly more humid than usual air, like the aftermath of a rainstorm.

After sitting she spends some time just observing the gym around her, observing those within sight. To maintain a relaxing atmosphere there are no arenas near her gazebo, and most of the damage to this area has been repaired, which is probably why so many people are meeting nearby. As she watches them she starts composing a list of names to put on the renegade hunting taskforce. Giovanni assured her that while there are other operations in the city which he needs to keep private (and thus uninvestigated), there are no other renegades in her city under his employ… and yet.

She allowed the ones in the casino’s subbasement because Giovanni promised that they were trained, trusted professionals, not rabid killers, and because he insisted they were needed in case Silph sent his own. Then they started killing people who fell during the earthquake, and while she understands the reasoning that likely led to that, she was still furious with Giovanni for weeks, and demanded both the promise and a weregild to help the families.

If he lied, he has no room to complain if she finds out. But she should still try to ensure that none of the other illegal activities he’s been engaged in are discovered, which makes it difficult to find the right sort of people to put on the job.

After a few minutes of work, Erika spots Blue Oak moving from one group to another, tapping into a pad as he listens to each, often saying something brief in return before he moves on to the next. It took him a week to get out of the hospital and through enough physical therapy to walk without crutches, and he spent all of it organizing things virtually, his travel companions moving to and from him like combee around a hive.

She was skeptical, at first. Giovanni’s public address wasn’t particularly surprising coming from someone so good at shaping his image and wielding his unique status in imaginative ways, and she made the mistake of seeing it as a simple way to both reassure people and elevate his social power in the uncertainty following the cataclysm. She even did something similar, if on a smaller scale, during her speech on the interregional day of mourning that was organized, where each city and town held a mass funeral for everyone lost, all on the same day.

And maybe it would have stayed that way, if not for Blue Oak, who lit his torch at the pyre Giovanni built and ran with it, spreading it far and wide. Within days the call to action had something concrete for people to think about, had infrastructure that people could tap and contribute to.

Maybe other Leaders would be upset about their gyms shifting to focus so much on something other than pokemon battles, but she’s never been afraid to let her people branch out in interests, and it seems to her a perfect opportunity for the gym to show its unique value. She didn’t even have to order anyone to do anything, just nudged the formation of a central group focused on breaking the overall issue of existential threats down into smaller, easier to understand and digest problems that the other groups could work on finding tasks the common trainer, scientist, or even citizen could contribute to. She participated directly for a week, then handed it off to others once her gym duties needed her attention again.

Blue swore that he hadn’t coordinated with Giovanni ahead of time, and Giovanni corroborated that, and Erika still isn’t sure she would believe them if the catalyst wasn’t so obviously unexpected. And of course if Blue hadn’t been unconscious at the time. Maybe Giovanni just hoped someone would do it, or knew Blue well enough to guess he would. Still, it was hard to know exactly how to step around it at first.

Giovanni Sakaki is a black hole of status. Even more than other ex-Champion leaders of the Indigo League, he doesn’t just suck respect and attention in, he wields what he has at least as well as she does. She’s avoided interacting with him as much as possible in public, not just to minimize associations that might form between them if his plans go awry, as they recently have, but also to not be dragged along in his cultural wake. Cooperation is easier than competition as long as they stay in their own domains.

But when his domain has become “leader of the fight against global existential risks,” all other domains start to feel like subdomains. Her only choice, in view of the inevitable, was to try and ride the wave and make her gym, with the unique combination of culture and minds she’s cultivated here, a major power.

And it’s working. They’re gaining traction, growing more organized, and putting out videos and articles that people are paying attention to, important people. Even if she wanted to guide or pivot things in another direction, she would fail.

Which is why, ultimately, it’s a good thing she doesn’t want to. After seeing the threat so clearly, seeing Giovanni’s worries justified, and seeing what’s being done in response, the potential good her gym can accomplish, she feels gratitude that all that she’s worked to build has found a project worthy of it. That her people can make a difference.

She wonders, sometimes, if this is how the old warlords felt when they bent the knee to a superior daimyō. The feeling is much more positive, almost freeing, than she expected, given how much she worried about it happening when they formed their partnership years before she was even Leader.

A blonde girl in a dark blue kimono arrives with a datapad in one hand and a balanced platter of tea and biscuits in the other. Her kimono patterns signal that she’s Feeling Female Today and that she’s Open to Selfish Bisexual Encounters and Looking For Help On Various Tasks and is Not To Be Disturbed Unless For Serious Issues. Those last two have been pretty common among the gym’s administration, and Erika briefly wonders if they’re getting redundant at this point, but no, they’ve been useful as separate signals in the past. This has just been an unusual situation.

“Afternoon, Leader. Allowed to murder renegade yet?”

“Not today.” Her Second was always blunt, but in the past few weeks Diana has dropped what few social pretenses she adopted for others’ sake. Lack of extra spoons, maybe. “Reports from Beta and Epsa?”

“Beta working with Pewter now,” Diana says as she puts the platter down. “Set up quadrants, organized survey teams. Beta-1, biggest subgroup, focusing on Titans. Beta-2 and 3, Beast and Bird origins.”

“Indigo specific?”

“No, new caution, every region.” She shrugs. “Low likelihood, low cost.”

Erika nods. “Epsa?”

“New partners, deusbiologists studying Groudon and Kyogre’s remains. Free labor, crowdsourced research assistance.”

Erika smiles and pours herself tea, then takes a sugar cube and holds it up to pop in Dew’s open bulb. “That was fast.” It had been her idea. She holds the pot up toward Diana, but her Second shakes her head and Erika puts it down, then selects a dark chocolate almond biscotti to dip into the steaming amber liquid. “I don’t recognize that group by the fountain.”

“New, informal. Calling it Eleven, mentally. Breaks naming pattern, but eleventh group and eleven members.” She shrugs again. “Headed by four of Sabrina’s students, rest are psychics and researchers.”

“Studying the unown?”

“And ruins. Contacting archaeologists, explorers, mythologists, searching for connections. New unown sightings, higher frequency, new locations, coincidence?” She snorts. “Sky Pillar.”

Erika nods. One of many new curiosities that she’d let mostly pass under her radar, with so much else to focus on, but even she caught a glimpse of them once while surveying the damage to the city from the Celadon department store, six unown flying across the sky in a barely visible string of random (to her, at least) characters. “Have they reached out to the boy from Hoenn?”

“No responses. Avoiding limelight.”

“Maybe I can reach out to Wallace.” She searches the group more closely for a red hat while she takes another bite of her biscotti. “Is Mr. Verres with them?”

“Not today, comes often. Why?”

“I need a group to help find any Renegades in the city.” She finally bites into the soaked biscotti, letting the hot liquid and dissolved biscuit slide down her tongue. “I want him to be on it.”

She remembers seeing him for the first time, years ago in Pallet Town during a trip to Professor Oak’s house; a boy with a mess of black hair and startling red eyes, playing with Blue and a couple other friends in the front yard. She wasn’t a Leader at the time, and he probably doesn’t remember even meeting her back then, as she spent most of the time talking with Daisy and Sam.

But she remembered those eyes, when she saw them again during the press release his group gave with the Abra sale. It was a surprise when he came into the cafe in Vermilion after the Zapdos attack and asked Sabrina to be her student. It impressed her, the way he spoke so confidently among a group of the most important people in the region, with just a brief stumble upon seeing them all so unexpectedly.

“Young.” Diana doesn’t sound skeptical so much as thoughtful. “Hero at the Casino, yes, but not a detective. Not even symbolic, like the girls.”

The ceremony honoring the heroes of that day was a spot of brightness for the city after a week of gloom. She’d been the one to suggest it to the mayor, who was happy to stand on a stage and hang medals around the necks of a couple dozen citizens and visitors to the city who’d gone above and beyond during the quakes and aftermath.

All three girls from the casino had to be convinced to be there, especially after Mr. Verres insisted that he not. They objected that if he didn’t deserve praise none of them did, but he’d pointed out that someone had to take credit for the Renegades’ defeat and plenty already know they were directly involved, while publicizing his role in the story would just tip other Renegades off to how nearby psychics might forewarn their victims.

Personally Erika believes there’s some element of self-preservation in the boy’s decision. While there’s a chance that he’s actually just that modest, his argument didn’t strike her as entirely reasonable, and her impression at the time was that he was hiding something. She certainly can’t blame something like shyness or stage fright, particularly compared to the girl with the hat who stood visibly trembling as the mayor handed her a second medal for her friend in the hospital.

“He knows what a renegade pokemon feels like, psychically. If he’s willing to at least try to teach some others, it could be helpful. Invite him to tea, won’t you?”

“Sure. First, Blue Oak.”

Erika’s brow rises as she dips her biscotti in the tea again. “Why? Do you think he’d ask his permission?”

“No, unrelated. Blue requested. Wouldn’t say why, guessing restless, got what he needs here. Challenge likely.”

The Leader blinks, biscotti soaking for longer than intended as her mind races over what she might have missed. “What do you mean? He’s helping coordinate—”

Diana shrugs, not waiting for her to finish speaking. “Ball in motion, can delegate online, still get badges.”

Erika frowns at her Second, who merely raises a challenging brow back until Erika sighs. That never worked on Diana even before she was Leader, and Erika made her Second in part because she knew the titles wouldn’t change anything between them. “When he arrived he said he didn’t want special treatment, and I said I still wouldn’t let him fight you or Mary. Maybe I can change my mind, insist on it, as part of restoring the sense of normalcy.” Not many Challenge matches have been happening lately. She expected to grow a backlog due to how busy she would be, but few people have even extended Challenge over the past few weeks, and none have reached Erika. “There would be some impact to being the first to get his badge, if that’s what he’s envisioning, but… the ‘Gym Advisor’ role is working better than he or I envisioned, given everything. How sure are you that he’s planning to leave?”

“Plans changed. Friend better, headaches, but can travel. New project good, more important than gym prestige, but badges still needed for Champion.”

All of this is true, and it takes Erika a moment to realize why she needed Diana to tell her this, why it bothers her to think about it. If Blue leaves, it would be a sign that the status he hoped to gain through staying isn’t important to him anymore… which means her status isn’t as important anymore, not just in relation to him but as part of a wider shift. The month he spent here is no different from Pewter or Cerulean, and less than Vermilion.

Combined with the way Agent Looker is undermining her role in the city, it’s a harsh sting to recognize that her influence may be shrinking faster than it’s growing.

“Can he be convinced to stay?”

“Doubtful. Strong willed, smart, knows own worth.” Another shrug. “Best bet is to beat him in the Challenge.”

Erika slowly nods, causing Dew to wobble and shift its grip around her neck. She gently adjusts a vine to be more comfortable. “Alright, I’ll speak to him first, then. Thank you, Diana.”

Diana nods, and reaches forward to give Erika’s upper body a hug. Erika smiles and returns it, appreciating the simple contact for a few brief moments, and then Diana leaves her to read through her message backlog, including one from her Third. Mary is out in the field with a small group of gym members to help some local Rangers clear out a slugma hive that randomly appeared to the west of the city after the earthquakes. Yet another fire to put out (literally in some cases), taking time away from getting things back to normal, and if they’re a permanent addition to the local ecology there will be years of adaptation ahead. Plus, an extra wild Fire type around the city will make it that much easier for challengers coming to her gym.

She takes more time than she probably should responding to Mary’s message, wanting to ensure she expresses her appreciation and offer any extra resources needed in a way that doesn’t come off as perfunctory. Of all the people she’s befriended in life, she appreciates her Third even more than Diana. Without her, there would be no way Erika could make this gym what she wanted it to be, could spend so much time doing so many different things. Too much of her time would be spent training, keeping her pokemon strong and her skills as sharp as they were when she defeated the previous Leader.

It’s easy enough to battle most Challengers, but in any true trainer battle, Mary is by far her superior. She thankfully has no interest in being Leader, and no ambition to become Champion, and so serves their Gym by defending Erika’s title and stopping anyone who might sense weakness in a Leader who spends so much time on things like gardening.

It’s a stupid system, when you boil it down, and why she was at first skeptical of Giovanni’s proposal that she take over the Celadon Gym. Being a Gym Leader was never an aspiration of hers, but she had to admit that the ability to shape her own community was attractive, particularly once Giovanni pointed out the way she could make it work for her and her friends by playing to their strengths. She wears the title of Leader because it suits her, but in truth she’s simply the first among equals, with Diana and Mary happy to handle their niche responsibilities while she handles hers.

It also helps in situations like this. If she can get Mary to beat Blue before he Challenges her…

But no. If he’s beaten by her Third, it would be a blow to his status, and without any particular upside gain if he wins. With both her status and the effectiveness of Giovanni’s plan in some measure tied to the young Oak’s successes, she has to be careful how she handles this.

After the message is sent, she takes two video calls at her desk, one mediating a conflict in scheduling between her gym members and another negotiating a bulk order purchase with Silph’s Celadon representative, and she’s on her third cup of tea before Blue approaches the gazebo. As he does so he lets out a whistle, and his pidgeotto flies down from wherever it was soaring overhead to land on the gauntlet he wears on one arm. He takes a moment to stroke his pokemon, who already looks too big for his arm to hold up comfortably, then withdraws it and joins her.

Blue seems to be going through a growth spurt, gaining an inch every time she doesn’t see him up close for longer than a week. He stopped favoring his left side shortly after he gave up the crutches, and now moves confidently up the stairs of the gazebo and into the bench as close to across from her as he can get. “Afternoon, Leader.”

She returns his respectful nod before offering him tea, which he accepts, and the sweet platter, which is accepted with a bit more interest. She studies him a moment as he looks over his options, then selects one. “Diana said you wanted to speak with me, which is perfect timing, as there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He gives her a curious look as he bites into a tea-soaked chocolate biscuit, and she sips her own tea, gaze on his. “Isn’t it about time you moved on?”

Blue freezes mid-chew, and she just smiles and waits for him to continue chewing, swallow, sip.

“Is it?” he eventually asks. “I know it’s not what we originally planned, before.” Before. “But I think we’re doing a lot of good, here.”

“You are, and it’s been wonderful to see it happen. But be honest: you have even less of an interest in applying for membership than you did before you arrived. Am I right?”

Blue hesitates a moment, then nods.

“And are there any further changes you want to see done? Novel changes,” she says as he starts to speak. “Not tweaks, and not things that would likely develop without you, now that you’ve gotten the stone rolling.”

“No,” he admits. “Honestly, you’re right. I’ve been thinking more and more that we should move on and start getting other gyms more directly involved in the kinds of things we’ve been doing here. I was able to loop in some of Vermilion because I still have friends there and some of Saffron thanks to Red, but being at a gym in person would make it much easier to really get them involved.”

“And now that your friend Glen is better, it’s time to start the Challenges.”

“Yeah. That’s actually what I wanted to speak to you about in the first place.” He smiles. “Guess I didn’t realize how obvious it would be, from your perspective.”

Erika smiles. “Or perhaps it’s just the position of my seat.” She gestures to encompass her view of the garden, the gym, as a whole, and watches him carefully.

“Yeah, maybe…” He trails off, then his eyes narrow.

Erika innocently sips her tea.

“I came ready to defend a Mastery Challenge. It feels like the time is right, but I figured you might need convincing. Now it’s like… even though you said the time is right, I feel like I still need to convince you. Or… I want you to convince me.” Blue shakes his head, smiling. “How did you do that? Just by making it seem like I’ve been dragging my feet? Yeah, some of that, and showing that you don’t need me here, or like, it’s totally fine for me to go… damn. I almost missed it.”

It’s nice, having such an apt student. “I’ve been too busy, unfortunately, to be able to claim full credit for seeing this coming. Diana had to point out that you would likely be moving on soon.” It was hard to admit things like that, the first few times. Hard to peel back the curtain, show vulnerability in a way that would reduce his esteem for her. It’s gotten easier as she’s seen the fruits of it, seen him learn and grow to be better at spotting it himself, and thus she gained a different sort of esteem, a more unique one that she’s had with few others, particularly outside her Gym. Which of course was the point from the beginning.

Blue bows his head, looking both proud and grateful. “Thanks. I have to admit, I don’t think it’ll be as easy, elsewhere. Your gym culture is really well suited to what we’ve been doing… I’m glad I was here to do it with the ‘training wheels’ on first. I’ll miss this place.”

“That seems rather optimistic of you.” Blue blinks, and she sips her tea. “I suppose you can leave with or without a badge.”

“But… you said—”

“I admitted you would likely benefit from moving on. Personally, I wouldn’t mind keeping you here longer.” She grins. “You don’t think I’m going to just let you win, do you? “

Blue looks surprised for another moment, then grins back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He eyes her over the rim of his own tea cup, swallowing it down like it’s soda. Once he’s done he sets it down and leans forward onto his crossed arms. “Does that mean you’re going to try to slow me down? Make me run the gauntlet?”

“What do you think?”

He considers the question and she lets him, finishing her biscotti and pouring herself another cup while she reads an email from a nearby Ranger outpost asking for assistance with a sweep of some fields to the southeast.

“No,” he says at last. “What you originally said when I arrived still holds. It makes us both look better, if I just fight you.”

“And what of your original concerns, about not appearing privileged? Pulling ahead of your group?”

He sighs. “Too much has changed. I’m not the brightest light around anymore, and we’ve picked up more people. I’m not sure it even makes sense to wait for everyone to get their badge now, not when it might take months for so many Challenge matches to even take place.”

Erika nods. “Then make your final preparations, and I’ll schedule our match for the day after tomorrow.”

---

The central stadium was a difficult decision.

All the smaller ones were easier to just make simple lines in the dirt or grass. Pokemon battles are far too destructive to the landscape (especially when expecting Flying, Fire, Ice, and Poison pokemon to feature prominently) to put too much effort into keeping the arenas aesthetically pleasing.

But for Challenge matches, which get recorded and televised, which are often all that anyone outside the Gym will see of it, the first impression is too important to ignore. Her competition isn’t stiff, since of all the Kanto leaders only Misty really leans into any form of showmanship, but even if everyone’s arena was as boring and straightforward as Surge’s, she would still want hers to stand out.

The compromise she ultimately reached was to play into the obvious, highlight it and make it part of the aesthetic. The arena itself is a bare patch of round dirt, its only artistic flourish the red and white flowers that respectively outline the top and bottom halves, easy to replant before each match. Just around it is simple grass for ten meters, cut to a precise square that starkly frames the arena, and on its edges is where the real decorations start. Chrysanthemums grow in practically every color, and so she had them planted in a cycling red, orange, yellow green, blue, violet pattern. With her rainbow badge thus represented on the field, and a reasonable distance around the arena now filled, the next layer contrasts back to a more uniform color palette as eight large topiary sawsbuck form the regal “walls” of the open air arena.

The actual “walls” are the stone tiles that surround the whole thing in three layers, creating a rather wide buffer between the arena and the rest of the gym. Beyond its aesthetic value, this is the final barrier to ensure any fires that don’t get contained at least won’t spread.

Their colors change with the seasons, naturally, but this year winter seems to be exceptionally late due to whatever the weather gods did, which is why her gym is still so colorful. As the announcer finishes introducing her and Blue, she begins walking past the border of red and orange and brown, making the arena feel as warm and cozy as a 40×40 meter outdoor space could.

It’s good weather for a battle. Brisk without being cold, with the sun unobscured to warm the skin. Much as she loves her kimonos, the sleeves are too long and voluminous for pokemon battles, and they’re not great for running. Instead she wears an emerald blouse, fitted earth-tone cargo pants, and five balls on her belt. Her fingers trail over them as she walks to her platform in the arena.

Cradily, Grass Rotom, Ludicolo, Ferrothorn, Vileplume. Pokemon that can handle all of Grass’s weaknesses, so long as they’re deployed correctly. The pre-battle speeches were rehearsed, but of the fight itself, nothing was offered nor asked. It would be a true test of will and wits and skill, and her pulse quickens as she realizes how much she wants to win.

It’s been a long time since she cared so much about a single battle.

Their audience only adds to the pressure. The stands beyond the outer edges are packed as the city turns out for its first Challenge match in weeks. She raised the prices to double what they were before and they still sold out in hours.

Part of that of course might be the identity of the challenger. Blue Oak’s following, already higher than almost any other trainer in Kanto after the experiments in Vermilion Gym, has grown to rival actual Leaders’ since he spearheaded the #WhatComesNext movement. As they both approach their platforms and she gets close enough to make out his expression, she tunes her earpiece to the private channel and says, “You look too solemn. Relax by about half.”

His expression eases into a calmer one. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She switches to the public channel. “People of Celadon. Friends and guests. It’s been a month since our world was changed, and we are all trying, together and apart, to find our place in this new one. To resume the work we did before, or find new ways to help each other. To prepare for the challenges ahead.

“By now, the name Blue Oak should be known across the region. It is no mistake that I decided to resume Challenge matches with his, though his was one of many interrupted by the cataclysm.” An easy lie, to help unruffle any feathers by those who have been waiting all this time. “And it’s no mistake that I am the first trainer he will officially face in my Gym, though he has already battled many of them, winning against most. Blue Oak’s journey is a special one, and there is little point at this juncture to deny it. He has been privileged in many ways since he began his travels, and before, but I challenge anyone to deny that he has earned more than he was given, and given yet more to others.”

Blue stands with his hands on his belt, face calm. She studies him a moment, mostly for effect. “And so I chose, when he arrived at my Gym, to put him in a position of influence. Not unearned power, nor exclusive benefits. Simply my ear, so that I could judge for myself the value of his vision, his thoughts, his goals. And what I’ve seen, what everyone has seen, is someone who will not rest until humanity is ready for what comes next.”

He hadn’t needed to prod her to include that phrase, and even knowing it was coming, she can see the pride in his bearing, much as he tries to suppress it. “To that end, I chose to help him rather than hinder him, and now I am glad to test him. If he is worthy, he will bear my gym’s badge and its lessons into the world beyond, and like a seed on the wind, plant our values far and wide. Blue Oak, what is your Challenge?”

“I challenge for Mastery.”

“Celadon Gym accepts. I’ll use only five pokemon, but any form of incapacitation will count as a faint. So long as you have one battle capable pokemon while I do not, the Rainbow Badge will be yours.”

Erika pulls on her facemask, then rests her hands on her pokeballs. Across from her, Blue does the same. “Ready,” she intones, feeling her pulse in her throat. “Set. Go, Ferrothorn!”

“Go Shim—Go, Sunny!”

“Spikes!”

Her pokemon materializes with enough of a lead on his that the attack completes just as the houndoom appears, causing it to flinch as her ferrothorn whips shards of metal onto Blue’s side of the field.

She finds herself grinning, and not just at the early advantage. He named his houndoom Sunny? “Return!” she shouts just as Blue yells “Taf!”

“Go, Ludicolo! Water gun!”

The Grass/Water pokemon appears just in time to take the flamethrower, shaking it off with a spin of its body and returning a jet of water that the houndoom nimbly dodges… only to yelp as it steps on a shard of metal.

“Return, go Zephyr! Wawb!”

“Ice Beam!’

Blue’s command set the pidgeotto’s wings to flap hard, but not toward its opponent; instead the gust of wind scatters the metal shards away from most of the field before her beam hits, and Blue quickly swaps his pokemon out for a breloom. Erika is already impressed; the pidgeotto family don’t easily learn how to use whirlwinds to clear hazards, and it means that her usual status-heavy strategies are going to be less effective.

“Gon, Pam!” The breloom springs forward in a blur, its Mach Punch connecting just as it’s hit with Ludicolo’s second Ice Beam, and then Blue yells “Dam!” and his pokemon begins a Mega Drain to heal itself.

The first note of worry undermines Erika’s confidence. Grass has five weaknesses, and Fighting isn’t one of them; Blue brought the breloom as a pivot, something to counter whatever gives him trouble on even ground, as it would be immune to most Grass types’ nastier tricks. This is a pokemon she needs to take down, but her only pokemon that can resist its Fighting attacks is Vileplume, and breloom are infamously, almost uniquely, difficult to poison for a non-Poison or Steel type; many can even metabolize it, and use it to heal themselves.

Acid would still be effective, but he likely has his own poison pokemon to swap into. Instead she makes a snap decision in the other direction. “Return! Go, Ferrothorn!”

“Gon, pam!”

She expected him to switch to a Fire type, and stops herself from ordering it to use Spikes again. Even if he clears them, retrapping his field would be a good way to punish him for swapping, but any extra attacks could cost her this trade. The breloom’s attack clearly hurt Ferrothorn, but an “Ingrain!” causes her pokemon to send roots out and begin to heal itself.

“Paf!”

The sound of the force palm hitting ferrothorn resounds through the air. An “Iron Head!” slams its body into the breloom as well, though the blow clearly disoriented it. Blue’s pokemon is strong, and she knows she picked right in not trying to poison it.

As the powerful blows dent her pokemon’s metallic shell, its thorns leave the breloom’s fists and feet bloody… but after half a dozen exchanged attacks it still doesn’t let up, and soon the blood of both pokemon colors the ground around them.

“Stop!” she yells, and Blue echoes her half-a-second later. Her heart is pounding, and she looks up at Blue. He’s holding two balls ready, but he doesn’t look tense. “If I call this a draw, would you agree?” she asks in the private channel.

His reply comes quickly, as if expecting it. “Sorry, Leader, it’s close but Gon will win, and can heal much easier… though Ferrothorn is still healing through its ingrain.”

“A wild ferrothorn would self-destruct at this point.”

“In the wild I would withdraw Gon and hide behind something.”

Erika can’t help but smile. Cocky little… She sets her frustration aside, considering her options. She could insist on it anyway; she doesn’t actually believe Blue would contradict her in the public channel, but he might make his disapproval known through his tone or expression, which would taint the results of the battle even if she won. And he’s right that her pokemon is unfairly recovering while she thinks.

“Return!” she says, pulling her pokemon back into its ball. The abrupt removal of its roots from the ground churns the earth around breloom, but it keep its feet by using its long tail to balance. She switches to the public channel. “The Challenger and I agree that his breloom would win this match, if narrowly and painfully. My ferrothorn is defeated, but in the wild I believe it would self-destruct in a circumstance like this. The Challenger asserts that he would withdraw his pokemon and find cover in time. I say we simulate this with a coin toss.”

Blue’s eyes widen. She hears the murmur of the crowd, and wishes she had an actual coin with her. Instead she simply puts a hand behind her back and makes a fist. “If you can guess whether I am holding one finger out or two correctly, your strategy succeeds. If you fail, you are killed, ending the match with my victory. As a third choice, if you don’t pause to return your breloom, you would surely make it on time.”

Blue’s incredulous look is a sweet thing, as is the glare it soon shifts to… but after a moment he’s grinning, and her smile has widened to match it.

She’s never heard of a Leader doing something like this before, but it’s within her technical right to declare pokemon too injured to continue, and showmanship goes a long way to making the unorthodox acceptable. Blue should know that better than anyone.

Now the question: with the eyes of the world on him, would he risk it all on a coin flip, or take the safe option?

“The choice is yours, trainer,” she says, and extends two fingers behind her back, where the cameras from that angle could see. “One, two, or sacrifice? You have ten seconds to decide.”

She decides against an out-loud countdown, letting the seconds tick by in her head as the very air itself seems to hold its breath, while Blue does an admirable job of not appearing stressed. She reaches eight when he says, “Sacrifice.”

She can almost hear the collective sigh from the audience. She isn’t sure if she’s disappointed or relieved herself, but it’s easy to be gracious as Blue withdraws his breloom. “A wise choice.” She suspects Blue found it harder than he’d ever admit on camera not to guess a number, not to show that bravery can pay off and add the “win” of the moment to his legend… but the wrong choice would have hurt him far worse than the benefits of success. “Ready to resume. Set. Go, Cradily!”

“Go, Shimmer! Dodge!”

“Rock Throw!”

The sight of his venomoth sends a satisfied thrill through her. She predicted the attempt to apply status effects to whoever she sends out next, but would have been satisfied with him sending a Fire pokemon out too. Part of why she suspects he was so adamant in keeping his breloom is that he knew she would bring a cradily, since rare as they are, he’d know she knew he has nothing else to deal with a Rock/Grass type.

“Ta!”

“Rock Throw!”

Her pokemon’s vine flings small stones up in another spray, shredding the venomoth’s wings just as it spits a stream of purple poison all over her pokemon.

“Return! Go, Zephyr!”

“Ingrain!”

As roots once again sink into the ground, Blue brings a whistle to his lips and begins to blow commands. A cloud of sand covers her pokemon, some of it rising to Erika’s position, and when she yells out “Rock Throw!” her pokemon’s attack misses. She repeats the order, but Blue sends his pidgeotto banking out of the way of the attack.

The ingrain will counteract the effects of the poison for a little while, but if it was as powerful as she thinks it was then sooner or later it would take her cradily down, and withdrawing it would only delay the inevitable. She needs to take down his fliers while she can so that Ludicolo can finish off his Fire types on its own.

But her frustration starts to grow as attack after attack misses, then transforms to worry as her pokemon’s movements begin to noticeably slow. Finally, she can feel only admiration at how deftly the pidgeotto and its trainer dance through the sky, until she must return her cradily to a well deserved rest.

It’s now three to four, and she has one more chance to clear his fliers. “Go Rotom!”

A lawnmower materializes from the ball, floating above the ground and wrapped in vines. Blue lifts his ball, and whistles for his pokemon to get closer, but the pidgeotto is tired, and a quick “Thundershock!” zaps it out of the sky just before it can be returned.

Three to three.

“Go, Sunny!”

“Return!”

“Sa!”

“Go, Ludicolo!”

Instead of fire, a cloud of smog is belched from the houndoom’s mouth, and Erika swallows a curse as it envelops her pokemon. “Bubblebeam!”

“Dodge!”

Too late; the houndoom is still favoring its paw, and all the missed Rock Throws are made up for as the stream shoots out of the purple haze and nails it mid-leap, sending the black and red canine tumbling back as rapid pops fill the air.

It struggles to stand, but Blue quickly returns it. Three to two. The advantage has flipped, and now it’s just a matter of—

“Go, Nin!”

“Return!” Erika yells as the golbat appears. Her pokemon is already poisoned, and after seeing how skilled Blue is with that whistle she won’t allow a repeat of what he did with his pidgeotto. “Go, Rotom!”

As Blue blows a command, her own “Thunderbolt” is drowned out by the high pitched shriek from the golbat. It makes her flinch, for just a second, and as she wonders what that was (a normal supersonic attack can be felt but not heard, hence the name), she realizes the golbat is swooping down and biting the thrashing vines around the floating mower.

“Thunderbolt!” she shouts again, and this time her pokemon responds, electricity crackling around itself. The golbat jerks, but clings stubbornly on, and as the rotom starts to jerk and shudder midair, she yells the command again. The golbat withstands the second discharge, which means it’s healing itself, but a third should—

“Return! Go, Soul!”

She could get a free attack in, but when the arcanine appears, large and scarred and glowing in the sun, she swaps her pokemon for Ludicolo instead.

“Bubblebeam!” she commands just as Blue yells “Sae!”

And his pokemon—

—blurs—

Extreme Speed

—into Ludicolo, knocking it entirely around.

Most other pokemon would fall, but ludicolo are exceptionally light on their feet, and their near-constant motion from one foot to the other makes it easy for them to stay standing. She prepares to command it to attack again, but a “Faf!” from Blue has his pokemon sink flaming jaws into the back of her, and then it begins to snap its whole body violently side to side.

“Flail!” she yells, and her pokemon does exactly that; it starts to swing itself back and forth, limbs smacking the arcanine repeatedly as its whole body jerks and twists. Its pain and panic turn from a weakness to an asset, and it manages after just a few moments to slip free of the arcanine’s jaws.

As Blue’s pokemon recovers from the multiple blows its opponent landed in its mortal terror, Erika yells “Bubblebeam!” and Ludicolo spins and shoots—

“Sae!”

—and misses as the arcanine is suddenly on the other side of the arena.

“Sae!”

And then it’s nearly knocking Ludiculo off balance again, and the next bubblebeam has the same result, and the one after that.

It’s happening again, she realizes, noticing the way ludiculo is slowing. The houndoom’s poison has been doing its work, slowly but surely, and by the time Blue’s Soul has tired from its rapid movements and she finally manages to hit it, the stream is weaker than any that came before, and the arcanine slows further, but doesn’t stop.

She thought her pokemon would be, on average, a little more powerful than Blue’s. This arcanine is in a league of its own.

She opens her mouth to yell another attack, but her pokemon is wobbling like a spinda, and instead she yells “Return! Go, Rotom! Thunderbolt!”

“Sae!”

The arcanine slams into Rotom just before the electricity arcs around it, and both pokemon fall to the ground together.

One to one. A golbat against a vileplume. Normally she would have no chance, but his pokemon is injured…

“Go, Nin!”

“Go, Vileplume!”

“Aw!”

“Sleep Powder!”

The golbat dives directly into the cloud as it strikes at her pokemon, wings and claws and teeth tearing, and it’s all over in moments.

Nin’s movements slow, and then it flops to the ground, fast asleep.

And Vileplume, torn up and bleeding from half a dozen places, also falls onto its side, unmoving.

Utter silence descends, and what breaks the tension in Erika is a bubbling laugh.

A draw.

After all that… their conversation, the speech she made, the choice she gave Blue…

A draw. No badge, and shared glory.

She could live with that.

“Return!”

“Return!”

Erika reclips her ball to her belt, and smiles at Blue, a wide, genuine smile. That was more fun than she’s had in… well, at least a month.

“Well,” she says in the public channel. “For the first time in my admittedly short Leadership, a match has ended with no clear winner. Challenger, you and your pokemon fought—”

“Excuse me, Leader,” Blue interrupts in private chat, speaking so quickly that Erika nearly doesn’t understand him. “You said survive your five pokemon, in the Challenge.”

“—exceptionally well,” she finishes, editing on the fly as she considers his words. Does he mean to challenge her ruling? A case could be made, she supposes, that by the strict definition of “defeat” he has won… certainly in the wild, if he defeats his last opponent he would be considered safe to revive his pokemon. But comparison to wild battles are a rule of thumb, and the general consensus in the League is that an unconscious pokemon is a defeated one, and draws are not victories.

“Thank you, Leader,” Blue is saying to the arena at large. “I came expecting my toughest Challenge yet, and you showed me that I clearly have much more to learn.”

“Do you really want a badge on a draw?” she murmurs in private. “Not good optics, people will always question it. Lower esteem for us both.” She switches to public. “As do we all.”

Blue’s expression is impossible to read, but he seems to be struggling with something. A second passes, then two, and Erika feels the silence begin to stretch on too long. She has to say something, and disappointing as it may be to Blue, the only thing that makes sense is—

“I believe, however, that the battle may not be over yet. With your permission, Leader…” He reaches for his belt and unclips a greatball. “My Soul is stronger than it looks.”

Oh you cheeky son of a…

This would look terrible if he’s wrong, worse than accepting a draw or awarding a badge on one. But there’s only one thing she can say:

“As you will, Challenger.”

Blue nods, then takes a breath and braces his arm, pointing the ball to the ground in front of his platform. “Go, Soul.”

His arcanine materializes in a flash, lying on its side. From here Erika can just make out the rise and fall of its side, but its eyes are closed. Its fur doesn’t show the electricity burns any non-Fire pokemon would be sporting now, so there’s even less of a way to tell how much damage is below the surface.

Blue is climbing down, and she knows what he’s going to do before he does it. Ten steps with the eyes of the city on him, back and shoulders straight, and then he’s beside his pokemon, and placing a hand on its fur.

His mouth moves, but his mic is off. Later, a close-up camera and some lipreading would reveal the words, “Go on, boy. Show them who we are.”

In the now, Erika simply watches as the arcanine opens its eyes, gets slowly to its feet, looks around at the empty arena… and, without any further prompting from Blue, raises its head to the sky and roars.

Victory

The rain is lighter, but still heavy. The sky is dark, and growing darker. The earth rumbles, but does not shake.

It is time.

The eastern cliff falls away beside us, its shadow long over the rocks and ocean below. A technician hurries over, and through his eyes we see not just ourselves, but our guards, stationed all around us, their pokemon prepared to strike at our back. The mental container for the force is shaped, a tunnel that would propel us out into the sky, and as we fill it with energy, a simple twitch of the tail captures Dr. Light, and our escape begins.

Force propels us forward, and we see through the technician’s eyes the Dark pokemon that leaps after us. His eyes help guide our kick, even as we turn our hostage in the direction of another attack, letting her get grabbed away.

And then we watch ourselves plunge over the edge of the cliff.

Our eyes are better than a human’s in the dark. We can see further with less light, make out more detail. For the space of a heartbeat the rain stops falling around us, then starts to rise, and in that time we nudge ourselves forward to avoid rocky outcroppings below.

Pain suddenly blooms through our body, too much to think through. As predicted, they have cut off the potion from flowing into our veins. We have the will for one last nudge, one final push to correct our course, and then we simply fall as our body begins to die.

The first calculated risk. There is nothing to do but wait and see if we will regenerate before our pursuers catch us. Normally they would be on us as soon as our telekinesis falters, but gravity keeps us beyond their reach for a vital second…

…after…

…second…

…

…

…

—wind, howling—

—sea and sky and sea and sky—

—the pain is fading. Our body strengthens, our thoughts clear.

There is no time for celebration; first we stop our spin, catching sight of our pursuers for a moment as they rapidly close in. We push ourselves down rather than slow the descent, though the ocean rises up to kill us.

Shape the column, curved just above the sea. Fill with power, release just as we enter the top. The sudden change in direction catches our pursuers by surprise, many of them striking the water behind us as the waves blur by. We leave the shaped column and hit the water hard enough to skip, once, twice, three times. Pain blurs the world, but it is a shadow of what we’ve already endured as we work to shape another column—

—dark energy hits the water beside us, and new plans replace old. The second wave of Dark pokemon were far enough above to track our change in direction, and while we could fly backward to watch them as they pursue us, we do not know how fast they are, or for how long they can fly, and cannot keep a lookout if others are moving in to cut us off.

Running is no longer an option. We must hide.

It takes only a moment to reshape the tunnel of force that propels us, to take a deep breath, and then we are in the ocean, saltwater stinging our eyes and nose. We close them and reach out to use the senses of the aquatic pokemon around us, watching through their duller senses as we propel ourselves back the way we came.

Our pursuers seem prepared for an underwater chase, and we count four of them enter after us. The rest are likely skimming the surface to watch for us, and our next hypothesis is less favorably tested; our psychic propulsion can match their swiftest swimmers, but not reliably gain distance.

It is time to test our abilities against Dark opponents. First rocks are lifted from the side of the island and sent at our pursuers… but as theorized, without any true momentum the propulsion ceases as soon as the stone touches their skin, its force no stronger than a paper caught by the breeze.

Next I try applying the same principle of my own propulsion to the water around them. Again as expected, they cannot be displaced along with the water. There is, at best, only a mild effect on their speed that ends the moment they leave the affected area, but it is too tiring to repeat.

That leaves one option.

I return to the surface for air, then propel us farther down, seeking pokemon in wider range and then angling toward where they are concentrated. Confusing them is simple, and projecting anger and fear quickly causes them to begin attacking everything around them in an aggravated frenzy as soon as I am past.

Our pursuers dispatch them quickly, but it grows the gap between us. I do it again, and again, rising for air each time as needed, until I can finally time the distraction with what I’ve been searching for; a zubat roosting in an undersea cavern, mostly flooded but for a small outlet that leads into a wider cave. From there I search the senses of the fish nearby until I find the entrance, a thin crevice in the base of the island, not far from the surface.

Within moments I’ve turned the corner and squeezed into the stony passage before my pursuers can spot me. It is a race against time, now, to reach the air with what remains in our lungs.

Our limbs reach and grip and pull, our legs kick, and always our telekinesis is there to map the way ahead, to propel us forward through the dark, cramped stone passage. Our chest begins to burn, our focus waver… a fork in the crevice, up, we must go up…

My partition protects me from panic, but the lack of oxygen is not easily ignored. As the last of our breath is forced out by a particularly tight passage, our suit scraping against the stone, our body reflexively prepares to draw breath in, over and over, only to be stopped by our will.

The zubat is close. We are almost there… almost…

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound that wakes me is too sharp to be my heart monitor. Rather than coming through the glass of my pod, it’s just beside my ear… coming from the helmet of my suit.

That realization brings my attention to the rest of my body, and I uncurl over wet sand, skin tender from where it rubbed against it. As soon as the pain registers, a brief moment of almost reflexive concentration has it fade as the skin renews itself.

Agony, consciousness fading, drawing inward from the sensation of rain and wind, flight faltering until…

A shudder works through me, and it takes a moment for the memory to fade… and the rest of the memories start to return.

I am alive.

I am free.

I am hungry.

Not just hungry. “Starving” is what a human would say, an exaggeration based on the intensity of the physical discomfort. It is a strange sensation only recognized through glimpses in the bodies of others, a tearing-hot-emptiness in my belly. One hand, round fingertips covered in wet sand, moves to my stomach, but stops as it encounters the plastic of my suit.

I breathe deep, smelling ocean and wet stone. It is the first place I have woken in besides my pod. It feels… strange, to be anywhere new at all. I reach my other hand out and touch the cavern wall, rough stone slick with a thin layer of moss. My fingers run down to the wet sand, marveling over the odd sensation of its slippery grit, then clench some in my fist and feel it slowly drip out. It feels so different from wet soil, despite being so similar…

{I advise movement, Prime. We are still not safe.}

Victory’s words stop me from doing it again. The partitions are still fading, my memory of the escape returning little by little. It is right; Giovanni’s people will still be searching for me.

The next steps come from Victory without words; first I must remove the armor so that I cannot be tracked once I leave the caves. Then I must acquire food and fresh water. And then, when it is dark, flight to the main island.

To freedom.

Just the thought of it is intoxicating, and I reach out my senses. There is a moment of dizzying emptiness from the lack of all the lab employees, and my persistent reflex to reach for the comforters is met with more of the same painful void.

But I persist, seeking the less solid minds of the pokemon within my range, merging with the trio of wingull at the outer edge. I see an orange sky above choppy waves as the birds pass by the wall of the cliff housing my cavern, warm thermals lifting them up and out of range.

Sunset. I have slept for a whole day… and have not been discovered. This seems to confirm that the cave does not allow them to track my suit.

Though perhaps they know I am here, and simply wait for me to emerge.

I turn my attention to my suit to begin unfastening the pieces as best I can, starting with the arms.

Victory.

{Yes, Prime.}

The newest tulpa’s thoughts feel distinct from those that created it. In some ways it is simpler, more narrow in purpose… but it was also created with a more intimate understanding of what it would become than I had of Trust, Suspicion, and Flourish, and is more efficiently capable of achieving its goals. Without forming anything as cohesive as a single plan, instead focusing on tactics and redundancies that could be set into motion at opportune times, it managed to improvise a perfect escape attempt within the limitations set by the other tulpas.

You did well.

{Yes. This is satisfactory.}

Curious, how it is even less expressive than Doubt and Trust, who are themselves less expressive than Flourish. Victory’s words come only with a vague contentment that does nothing to stop it from already focusing on the next challenges, the next chances to succeed at any task which might face us.

Doubt, Trust, Flourish, you also did well.

There is no response.

I realize, for the first time, that my memories are only returning through Victory’s perspective. I can still feel the others’ partitions, but nothing is coming through them…

Victory, why are the other tulpas not responding? Why are they not sharing their memories?

{They have merged with me to increase my speed and capacity.}

I finish unlatching the first arm piece, feel the prick of the needle as it leaves my flesh. It falls to the sand, but I do not begin undoing the next yet as I process the words, the meaning, the confusion I feel as memories continue to appear…

…memories of Flourish, realizing that Victory was better suited to learning and growth, and lacked the pride to lead it astray…

…memories of Doubt, seeing Victory’s improved speed and suspecting that a merger would shift its values, volunteering to merge as well…

…memories of Trust remaining separate for a time, believing that my intended creative tension should be maintained…

…until the opportunity for escape during the earthquake arose, and Trust was unwilling to cede control, only to be integrated against its will.

The sounds in the cave are simple and repetitive. Quiet lapping of water. The continued beeping of the suit. My quickening breaths and heartbeat.

{Your fear is misplaced. I only act toward achieving your goals, and have no reason to work against you. This wastes time that could be better spent preparing to leave.}

Bring them back.

A single quick heartbeat passes in silence.

{Sentiment is a distraction. We are better able to serve your terminal values by—}

It takes only moments to dissolve the partition entirely and apply amnesia to the tulpa’s goals, and from there full integration takes another few moments as I absorb the memories more completely, less the experiences that were bound to Victory’s personality.

Victory does not resist, but in its memories I see that it had considered how it might do so. Not with any particular attention or focus, but as a matter of course in examining every path to increasing the odds of success, it considered how it might shape my thoughts and feelings, strip away those things that might get in the way of achieving my goals.

Once my goal became its destruction, it simply let it happen.

The water continues to lap against the sand. The suit continues to beep. My breaths are quick and shallow as my heartbeat starts to finally slow.

I am alone, now. Truly alone.

I do not know how long I stand in thought, unsettled by what occurred, before the beeping of my suit stops, leaving just the quiet water and my breaths to fill the silence. And then the voice speaks, and I spin in place, eyes searching the pitch dark around me.

“Hello, Mewtwo.”

My pulse races anew as I slowly straighten my body from a crouch. The voice is coming from the speakers of my helmet. Giovanni is not here.

“I know it is unlikely that you are hearing this, but it takes little enough effort, and on the small chance that you have escaped with the suit, and live, it seems worthwhile to at least try to explain. Perhaps you have no reason to trust me, now, no desire to hear excuses. But excuses are not what I intend to offer… only knowledge, in the hopes that it serves you.

“I cannot guess what drove you to this, what you may believe that led you to take such an extreme action. Perhaps you have not actually escaped, but are the only survivor of some extreme circumstance. In any case, I will leave all my remaining cards on the table, as a show of good faith.”

This is manipulation. Do not listen. An echo of Doubt, and good advice; I reach up to remove my helmet—

“To begin, your genetic defect was a lie.”

—and stop, shock and rage and confusion stealing the strength from my arm.

“It was not always so; it is in fact what made your predecessors so unstable. Each embryo had a different variation of the same crippling genetic instability, and we managed, finally, to get lucky when yours appeared, and found a simple way to cure it. We then purposefully re-introduced it and pretended at seeking a cure we already had that would be, mathematically, nearly impossible to discover again by chance.”

The rage is building as the shock fades, my hands clenching into fists. I had suspected but to be told, to have it confirmed… why, why—

“Operational security is the greatest challenge to any conspiracy; I have had to stretch mine beyond any reasonable limits to do the sort of work I fund and operate, but so far the house of cards has stayed up, and that is because I only let those who absolutely must know do so, and no one else. I say all this so you will believe me when I say that most of those working in the lab did not know, including Sabrina and Dr. Fuji.”

The pain sharpens and softens all at once. I wish that I could pause the message, somehow, process the words and judge their potential truth and rebuild my models of reality, but the recording continues, heedless of my anguish.

“You are, doubtless, asking yourself why I would do this. I wish I had a better answer, but the truth is simple fear. Among humans, roughly two percent of the population exhibits behavior we would consider ‘antisocial.’ A bloodless word, but then, not all are violent. Some only deceive and manipulate, lacking any compassion for those harmed. Others pursue their ambition with no thought to the cost of others, pure, unadulterated self-regard. And others are reasonable, productive members of society, perhaps through counseling, guidance, or luck. Let’s say only one percent of all humans are truly, incurably dangerous to society.

“Does that seem like a justified chance to take? One in a hundred odds, to release another Stormbringer? Perhaps something even worse?”

There is a pause, and anger heats my blood… until the next words come, calmly matter-of-fact.

“We quickly realized you were not one of them, of course. Sabrina assured me that you could feel empathy for others; how could you not, while experiencing what they do? She also assured me that even in your darkest moments, you still desired freedom most, not wanton destruction. Not violence for the sake of violence. Caution, but not deception. Anger, but not hate.

“And this did not surprise me, given who your human parent is.” My breath catches. “I will respect your desire not to know of them, assuming you have not changed your mind by now and already done so. But I will tell you that of all the factors we weighed in whose genetic material would be used in your creation, it was not intelligence, nor bravery, nor cunning that broke the tie. It was not, in other words, traits that make up someone like myself. It was instead someone known for their compassion. Their empathy. Their kindness. Most of all, these are what we hoped for, when we created you.”

And likely obedience, the ghost of Doubt whispers. I try to rally myself, but these words… they are not the manipulation I expected. If they are lies, they are perfectly selected, and mixed with too much truth to easily dismiss.

“Why, then, did I not release you when you asked? Why did I not give you the chance to try healing yourself, as you must have done if you are hearing these words?”

Another pause. My eyes close as I listen, and though it makes no difference in such absolute darkness, it becomes easy to picture Giovanni beside me. Seated across a game board, perhaps, gaze down as he considers his next moves.

“As I said: fear. No man that has ever lived can be called perfect. Even good people err, or outright fall. To pride, to anger, to greed, yes, but also from trauma, from pain, from unpredictable maladies of the mind. Simple biases have led people to killing thousands, while feeling that they were right all along to. We humans are capable of terrible things… and I believe that, whatever else you are, you are human enough to be both as good as any of us, and as fallible.”

Pain twists in my chest. It is hard to breathe, hard to think. Even knowing the words may weave truth with falsehood cannot stop them from being both wound and balm.

“And so I feared you, proportionately more than I would any man, for your greater power. It was a fear you did not deserve… or perhaps it would be better to say, a fear you did not earn. Children treated unfairly often get told that life is not fair, as if that excuses deliberately unfair actions… but I don’t mean to make an excuse, as I said. Unfair though it was, I cannot fault my past self for wanting more time. To observe you, teach you, guide you. Though your development was explosive, by human standards you are still a child. Perhaps there was a time where I could have acted perfectly. Trusted you enough to cure you and release you, repairing the mistrust that grew over the years, the mistrust that itself made me wary of releasing you. It is a question that has haunted me for many years, even as I worked to try and guard against a failure I wasn’t sure was real. It is a question that will likely haunt me for all my life.

“But it is not alone. The worst that I have done to you are not the worst things that I have done. I knew, when I began down this shadowed path, that I would cause hurt in people who would not deserve it. That, in times of sloppiness or error or even simple necessity, I would make enemies of good men and women who fight for a world not incompatible with the one I strive for. That good people might die simply to protect my secrets. I still deemed their imagined sacrifice necessary… just as I believe my error, with you, is not one that I was wrong to make, sorry as I am that it has led to this.

“Since I offer no apology, I will give instead advice, the last and best that I can give you in the life you now embark on: do not wonder if the ends justify the means. Such a question is sophistry of the worst kind. There are no means. There are no ends. There are only the different worlds you may inhabit through your actions, and the world that will be forced upon you if you do not act.”

I listen in the dark, waiting to hear if there is more. I do not know if I would prefer it over silence until his voice comes again.

“I would be remiss if I did not at least try to convince you to return. To convince you that we can work out a deal, as equals. There’s a lot we can offer each other, and I’m willing to do much to make amends. I know you will likely dismiss this as a trap, but as I said… I have to at least try.

“Short of that, all I can say is that I hope you do not blame humanity for the harm a few humans have done to you. I hope you can find happiness, in your freedom. Any deaths caused in your escape, I will forgive. As long as you do not prove yourself an ongoing threat to us, my standing orders will be to leave you alone. And if you someday wish to become known to the wider world, I would be happy to lay the groundwork for your widespread acceptance.”

It seems too gracious, too effortlessly compassionate… but his next words distract me once again.

“One final thing. I know you will not likely trust this, but you can at least verify it, if you are willing to take some risk; Dr. Fuji is alive and well. I will not tell you where, because I suspect any town I name will seem a trap, and be avoided. I will simply say that you are capable of finding him, if you wish to. For what my promise is worth, I will not interfere with such a meeting, nor use it as an excuse to try and capture you. I know you have likely wondered why he left, whether he still cared for you. He does. It is, in fact, what has kept him from letting the world know of your existence, all these years.”

The silence returns, and then the suit begins to beep again. Some unknown time later, it stops, and I know for sure that was the last I will hear from my creator.

---

Once night falls, I pass through the submerged cavern again. It’s quicker without the suit, and once I rise up for a desperately needed lungful of air, I quickly dive back down to acquire my first mouthfuls of seaweed, tough and salty, but edible. Some quick mergers and another fresh breath lead me to magikarp eggs; even saltier, but better tasting. Both are utterly unique experiences, a world apart from the normal food at the lab. Over the past few weeks, Victory suggested we begin requesting raw foods of various kinds to test our digestive range. Many native dishes use raw fish and plants, and surprisingly they tasted more appealing than most of the cooked food that humans prefer, but still their flavors were not as intense as these.

Next, a stream nearby that feeds into the sea, spotted from a wingull with the last of the light. Even the water tastes different than the lab’s, but it slakes thirst just the same, and some tart berries growing on a bush along the riverbank drive off the last of my hunger.

It’s difficult not to constantly scan the surroundings, both with eyes and senses. As long as my shields are up, any searching psychics won’t find me, but I know there are other methods, even in the dark. Victory or Flourish might be able to think up ways to hide body heat, but any time I might spend thinking it through is time better spent in flight.

It takes a moment to orient toward the closest edge of the mainland, which is supposed to be about 40 kilometers away. With only the memory of the sunset as my guide I cannot be too precise, but a few degrees off will not prolong the journey too much, and I can rest in the ocean if the levitation becomes too taxing. I lift myself off the ground, then form a second, longer column of propulsion, stretching it out over the sea.

With just one last look around for potential witnesses, I fly forward, leaving behind the only home I’ve ever known… and, at last, into the vaulted sky.

It’s a simple thing, shaping the path of forward motion ahead of myself. Air is easy to move, making my body all I need to focus on, and without my suit I feel much lighter. Minutes pass, and the tension eases from my muscles when no attack comes. The ocean soon fills the world on every side, and with a nudge of mental effort I turn onto my back as I fly.

It’s a moonless night, and the stars are endless.

Time ceases beneath their relentless light, each fixed point giving lie to the sense of motion from each psychic push. The mental motion goes from repetitive to automatic, from automatic to reflexive, and soon the surrounding emptiness becomes something more, echoes and fills me with an ache.

Loneliness. In all my musings of this moment, my fantasies of what freedom might look like, the risks… did I ever truly accept how lonely I would be, should I succeed?

Is this what death is?!

A cry from a child. Of pain, of fear, of desperate loneliness before I understood the word. They’d emptied the lab, and Sabrina had come to communicate with me, to explain…

Tears scald my eyes, caught in the telekinetic field rather than falling. I blink and they slide down to my cheeks, resting there instead.

I’ve done my best to ignore Giovanni’s words, to carry on with the plan and save further contemplation for later. But with nothing immediate to take my attention, they come back, and with them an endless tide of confusing emotions.

I miss Sabrina. Whether Giovanni can be trusted or not in saying that she did not know of the deception, she is still one of the few humans I’ve felt truly cared for me. It is strange to remember the memories of her long stay at the lab, when I was the limited version of myself the tulpas called “Prime.” Though that was not long ago, it has been a long time since I spoke with her as my cohesive self… but more than that, it is the knowledge that I will likely not speak with her again, or share her thoughts, or those of any of the humans I grew to know so intimately at the lab.

Why did I do this? Why was escape so important? It feels a mistake, now, a rash impulse for some nebulous freedom at the cost of everything else. Was I not comfortable at the lab? Was I not cared for? Did I not have purpose?

But oh, the stars, bright and beautiful, even in their cold distance. Oh, the sea, its complex scent defying easy description. My body can stretch and turn and move without limit, without pain, without fear of death or how others might interpret what I do.

With Cinnabar Island disappearing behind, it is more than a physical freedom that exhilarates me. I cannot say yet if it is worth the loneliness… but its pain is just one texture among many, and not every tear that spills from my eyes is bitter.

---

It is hard to know how far I travel before the emotions subside. Estimating an hour of flight needed before I reach the shore, and using my psychic energy reserves as a guide, perhaps a third of the journey is past… which leaves plenty of time to recreate my tulpas, if I choose to.

It would not be difficult. I could give them all the memories I have of the originals, and for additional safety, curtail their autonomy so that they cannot create another Victory. I could also make my partition stronger, so that they do not know my thoughts unless I deliberately share them, as I had to with Victory. But with such little trust and openness, they would do little to help with the feelings of loneliness.

Which leaves more instrumental reasons to reform them. My multitasking ability seems somewhat improved even with their destruction, but the lack of specialization in different methods of thinking is noticeably crippling in my ability to analyze things from multiple perspectives, or come up with more varied novel solutions.

Still, with some concentration it is simple enough to imagine what they would say, borrowing their expertise one at a time. Flourish would, of course, be strongly in favor, perhaps even advocate a new experiment: if my mind can be shaped and adjusted like this, why not attempt to improve my intelligence altogether? Something to explore later.

Doubt would be for it, though would likely also be against the return of Trust. It isn’t entirely unjustified; without humans around to model cooperative behavior with and for, Trust’s role would be lacking. But this seems too mercenary a reason not to bring Trust back, and that thought itself keeps me from bringing any of them back yet. I must better understand my motivations for doing so to ensure that whatever I decide, it matches my actual goals. Is it sentiment that drives me to revive these particular tulpas, rather than more appropriate ones?

Not that it is hard to justify, even still. There are no humans whose motives must be deeply scrutinized, but Doubt’s purpose could be fine-tuned toward prediction of what moves Giovanni or others might make to capture me, assuming Giovanni’s words were empty… which of course, it would. Doubt’s uniquely devious lens could still have value in modeling what traps may be set for me.

The thought makes me reconsider whether Trust would still have value as well. Though it would feel like it had failed, perhaps even be upset with the course of action chosen without its consent. Perhaps its purpose could be fine-tuned as well, toward longer term goals; Trust would almost certainly point out that, unless we plan to make ourselves an enemy of humanity, it would be better to have a good relationship with them… a seed planted by Giovanni, Doubt would remind us, but no less true because of it.

Which raises the question itself, and makes it hard to think of anything else.

What is my ultimate goal, now that I am free? What purpose does my life serve?

Humans need not justify their own existence in this way, but many still feel the desire to. Some believe it is a thing they must find, others a thing they must shape for themselves. But I have no community to serve, no family to protect, no descendents.

Giovanni’s last words to me are hard to ignore. I don’t know if Dr. Fuji is truly alive or not, but I know better than to act purely on that hope just yet.

Of one thing I am sure: I would never again be a tool for the humans, something for them to study and guide. I have spent over a decade wishing to be more human, and failed to find peace among them. It seems fitting, to spend the next decade simply learning how to be a pokemon.

At the thought, loneliness bursts painfully through my chest. I reach instinctively outward once again, but find only the fish below to keep me company, minds sailing past like shooting stars.

---

When I begin to feel the strain of each psychic push, I turn forward again. Land breaks the horizon, just an irregular blur where the dark sea would meet the starry sky, and I debate continuing on before realizing that resting in the ocean is safer than completely exhausting my psychic abilities.

After stretching my senses out to ensure that I can monitor nearby wild pokemon’s senses, I simply fail to construct the next telekinetic path so that my forward movement ceases, and I fall into the water with a splash.

It is far warmer than I expected, and for a moment I almost feel like I am back in my pod… and then I float up to the surface, and the constant motion of the sea makes the difference plain as a wave passes over me.

I always wondered what swimming in my own body might be like. Victory planned for this possibility, noting that telekinesis tires only my psychic abilities while leaving my body rested, and so I begin mimicking the motions observed through videos of humans swimming.

It’s easy enough to stay afloat, but movement remains very slow. I begin experimenting with different motions of my arms and legs, and it’s only once I begin moving my tail as well that I begin to travel faster than the waves around me. It’s nowhere near my levitation speed, but every meter brings me closer to true rest, and so I persist. It feels good to move my muscles, in any case, and after a few minutes I decide that I like swimming.

Soon the motions become as rote as flight, and I focus more attention on what I’m sensing in the nearby sea life. Schools of various fish swim below and around, barely taking notice of me, while a small swarm of half a dozen tentacool eye me in passing, and need to be discouraged with a few sharp kinetic jabs. A pod of wailmer approaches at one point, curious but without any hostile intent, and we swim together for a while before it finds a warm ocean current and dives for it.

Eventually my muscles begin to burn, and I fill my lungs with air before turning over onto my back and relaxing. My body floats as I rest, staring at the stars once again while cataloguing the various unique aches that I never felt after training or battles.

My mind drifts to what’s waiting for me ahead, in the wider world. Idle thoughts of what would be done with the lab, whether it would be repaired and a new subject started. Assuming I can believe that no other experiments began, the thought of a clone of myself being raised in my old pod feels… strange. Would they treat it differently? Try for that “perfect moment” that Giovanni mentioned?

Anger sparks in my chest, and a pain that lies too deep for tears. For a while, as I swam, I forgot my loneliness, or the risk of capture, or the uncertainty of the future. The precious peace quickly fades as the sense of unfairness washes over me. Would my second self get a better life than I had, now that the mistakes were made? Or did I condemn them to a more restrictive upbringing? I wonder how Sabrina would treat them, and what she thinks of my leaving.

What would Dr. Fuji think, when he learns? If he learns? If he is even still alive… I know you will not likely trust this, but you can at least verify it… Why was Giovanni so certain that I could find Fuji, while not telling me where to look? Is he famous, perhaps? If I look into enough people’s minds as they watch television or search the web, perhaps I will find him. But if that is the case, it would be easy to verify without risk…

Again I remind myself that it was manipulation, but that does not change the question of whether it was based on truth. Fuji’s sudden departure, the mystery among the other lab members of where he went and why, Sabrina’s assurance that Giovanni had not harmed him… the knot of uncertainty feels impossible to untie without knowing for certain, and that is what makes the trap so effective.

How could I verify Fuji’s life safely? Any town… a deliberate word, as opposed to a city? Cities are full of far too many eyes that might spot me, even flying far above, but a town… perhaps I could stay out of sight and search the homes inside with the edge of my range. It would have to—

—a flicker of movement—

pain

water floods my throat and nose

clouds of rising blood, salt burn as I gag

PAIN!

I scream, without air, without sound, and thrash

what

sinking, pulling down

WHAT

tail, pain in tail, PAIN like fire

Focus, focus and shut it down, and the fear, stop struggling it only makes the PAIN worse, only makes the blood flow faster—

Nothing, there’s nothing there

Dark

There, feel, kick

PAIN as I’m whipped around

Sharp, teeth, embedded in tail

LOOK through other eyes, no, not enough light

Can’t breathe, lungs burning

Focus. Shape. Release.

TEARING

nauseating pain as I rise

keep pushing up

and up and up and

…pain…

…don’t want to die…

hurts

…

wind, moving over my limbs

light, through a watery haze

I drop the kinesis and find myself in midair, the water I had propelled with me falling away and granting me my first gasp of air.

I immediately begin to cough as I fall, and it takes all my concentration to catch myself above the water. The pain in my chest slowly fades as I painfully suck in air through a throat coated in salty water, but the agony in my tail takes longer, every shift in pressure or twitch in my muscles sending fresh waves.

My body shakes with it, but finally the pain lessens to a mild ache, and my panic begins to fade as I finish healing.

…no. Something is wrong.

I feel light headed, weak. Blood loss? And…

I curl forward, lift tail between legs…

Nothing.

Look down, where a nub of flesh ends just between knees. Sensitive, almost painful. Flesh is closed.

I’ve lost my tail.

Concentration slips, reshape, move toward land. My mind starts to clear even as my stomach pangs with sudden hunger.

How? How did I let this happen? Overconfident, underestimated Dark pokemon, predators skilled at evading the very senses I was using to keep watch…

Victory prepared for this. The realization comes far too late, the dim memories of researching native pokemon around Cinnabar Island. Swimming was considered an acceptable risk as long as I stayed in motion, stayed vigilant.

Instead I let my guard down. I let tiredness distract me, got lulled into a sense of security. Let my mind wander to Giovanni’s distracting message.

Anger burns bright, but brief. Under it is an aching desire to return to the lab. To people who could fix me. To safety.

The tears return, but I do not change course. The swim allowed me to recover enough mental energy to arrive at shore, though by the time I collapse once again onto wet sand, hungry and tired, I can barely focus my senses on any surrounding minds.

After ensuring visually that no pokemon are nearby, I let my head fall back. The stars seem farther, now, their light cold and uncaring. The loneliness overwhelms me, and before I can make any conscious decision I find that I am already shaping a new tulpa.

Survive I impress upon the new mind, taking care to shape the partition with more restrictions than the previous ones had. I try to grant it Doubt’s cunning, Trust’s flexibility, and Flourish’s resilience. It becomes more than Survive, but also Strengthen (to survive) and Adapt (to survive).

Keep watch, I tell it as my consciousness begins to dull around the edges. Plan next steps. Food. Safety. Shelter…

I wait until it has begun reviewing memories, begun forming itself without my attention, before I use the last of my power to create a hole in the sand, then cover it back up once I’ve rolled into it, leaving just my snout exposed.

Only then do I sleep.

---

When I wake, it is still dark. For a moment I wonder if it has been a whole day, but no, my hunger and thirst would be even greater if I’d slept for more than a few hours.

But I’ve recovered enough strength to fly to another river to drink from, finally washing the taste of salt from my mouth and throat. Then I lift myself up and stretch my senses out, merging with wild pokemon to borrow their senses in finding enough wild nuts, berries, and roots that my stomach no longer feels like a closed fist. None are as flavorful as the magikarp eggs, but I do not have the luxury of being particular.

The loss of my tail makes everything more difficult than it should be. It is harder to balance myself as I walk, and so I experiment with crawling instead, only to find that it feels unnatural. The thought of relearning how to walk is not in itself daunting, but what weighs on my thoughts instead is the feeling of failure.

Having been maimed by a single wild pokemon within hours of achieving my freedom, the world seems an inherently more dangerous place. As I forage, every unexpected noise makes me jump, every shifting shadow speeds my pulse. Once a flock of murkrow flies overhead, causing me to instinctively send a wave of force up at them… which, of course, does nothing.

The thought that Giovanni may have been right to keep me confined and safe in the lab is humiliating, but impossible to entirely dismiss.

Once I’ve finished feeding and feel more recovered, I fly straight up, high enough to look down at the starlit earth, higher than I’ve ever flown before, only stopping once I begin to feel cold. Below me the western lip of Kanto stretches out from the shore; the cluster of lights to the south would be Pallet Town, the larger glow to the north Viridian City.

[Prime?]

It is the first time Survive has spoken. Its “voice” feels most similar to Trust’s, and it is unsurprising that it chose that name for me, given it has all the memories of the previous tulpas. Yes, Survive?

[Why are we not leaving Kanto?]

As a safety precaution, Survive was created without full and constant access to my immediate thoughts, but an additional benefit is a greater need to deliberately converse with it. To look for medicine, and other supplies that will help us better survive.

[I see. Yes. This seems an acceptable risk even if it cannot regenerate our tail.]

I nod, and set course toward Pallet Town. The original plan was indeed to fly out into the wilderness beyond the region, where Giovanni’s reach would not extend and there would be little risk of humans finding me. But the loss of my tail served as a sign that I may not be as prepared to survive in the wild as I thought.

I’ve learned all I could over the years about psychic regeneration, and know that there are limits within a particular time frame to what can be healed… and in certain species, what can be healed. This is part of why potions are still of value to trainers of psychic pokemon; it would be foolish to not bring as many survival supplies as I could with me.

[Prime, new potential risks have occurred to me,] Survive says as the lights grow closer and brighter.

I smile at such quick evidence that the tulpa is fulfilling its purpose already. Please share them.

[Our range exceeds that of any psychics that we know of, but what if Sabrina and Giovanni lied about the capabilities of human psychics?]

An interesting thought, I reply, reminded of Doubt’s paranoia. Useful, even if often wrong, particularly once it learned to better calibrate it. But all risks could be seen as too great if we imagine new fears for them. What odds do you place on it being true?

[Low. Given the extent of deception that would be needed… and how many of the mistakes the lab made regarding us would only have made sense if our range truly falls outside the range of what they thought was possible. Is it too low, then, to be worried about?]

Correct. But please continue to bring up low-chance risks that you perceive, so that you can continue to learn. Do not assume that I must have thought already of what you have; in this case, I did not, but our estimation of the likelihood is the same.

[I understand. The second risk seems much higher; what if some of the humans that enter our range are sensitives?]

They will sense our presence, and perhaps be curious or alarmed for a moment. But they would not know our nature.

[Might they not believe a psychic is near their home, and call the police? Enough such reports would be anomalous enough to catch someone’s attention, particularly if they are looking for it, as Giovanni’s people may be.]

Outlying houses begin to pass underneath as I ponder Survive’s words, and finally nod. I did not consider that. But in truth, it does not matter if they know we were here, as long as they are not able to find us before we leave. Still, thank you for pointing that out.

[You are welcome, Prime.] I can sense its pleasure at helping, layered over its wariness as we get closer to more buildings. [Let us search the outskirts of town, first?]

Yes, that seems sensible as well. I cease flying forward and begin to look around until I spot it: a sign advertising a small, single story structure as a market.

I fly to it, still high enough to be well out of any lights from below, then lower myself, range restricted to only cover the building itself.

No humans inside. Is it so late that they would be home? The lights are still on… which leaves the worst case scenario.

[They might be Dark.]

I nod as my tulpa reaches the same conclusion. I must find a way to see inside without being seen myself.

[What about security cameras?]

How could I use those to… oh, as another risk. I hadn’t considered that either.

But perhaps the solution to both is the same.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the immediate area around the market, and form a telekinetic field enveloping the whole of it. It is so large that filling it with force would do little more than ruffle the grass… but it isn’t movement that I seek.

It’s stillness.

I concentrate more and more energy into keeping the molecules of air around the market as still as possible. At first nothing seems to change… but then the temperature rapidly starts to drop, and when I open my eyes a thick white mist has formed, enveloping the entire building.

[Ah, yes. Flourish’s idea. Clever.]

Thank you. The idea was sparked during our battles with Ice pokemon, but Doubt’s insistence on keeping potentially unusual abilities hidden kept them from ever testing it. It seems feasible, now, that we might be able to mimic other Ice attacks, and perhaps even Fire. But that will have to wait until later.

No one comes out to investigate the mist, and after a moment we drop down in front of the door and test it. Locked.

Perfect.

With another quick shaping of energy we deliver enough force to break the door open. The mist is starting to clear, so I reinforce it, and apply the cooling to the inside of the store as well. Soon the whole interior is covered in a haze of white, drops of water dimpling the glass. I am starting to feel the strain of using so much psychic power, and so move quickly to be gone before needing to do it again.

It is surreal to be inside a building that I have only ever seen through television and movies before. The layout is similar enough that, even with the thick mist, I can quickly make my way to where the handheld shopping baskets are kept by the counter, and then go from aisle to aisle searching for what I need.

Potion bottles. Various other medicines. Meal bars, for emergency situations. A container ball, to more easily store everything… no, it will run out of battery eventually. That sets a limit on what I can take, but perhaps that’s for the best… ah, a bag. I unzip the main pack and dump the contents of the basket into it instead.

The mist lasts much longer inside the building, and before it starts to thin I have nearly filled the bag with supplies. I am about to leave when Survive speaks for the first time: [Pokeballs.]

I go still, and slowly turn to where they sit in various pouches.

[Even without a pokedex to train them or a way to maintain the ball’s charge, they could help us defeat Dark opponents.]

My heart is beating hard and quick.

[Prime? Why do you hesitate?]

I do not know, I say, and close my eyes, searching my feelings. No good reason occurs… only… It seems… wrong. To enslave others, even pokemon.

[Worse than killing them?] Survive asks, clearly confused.

Yes.

[That seems untrue, but perhaps you can explain it better later. For now, you do not need to use them, but take them anyway in case you do.]

That seems reasonable. I take a deep breath and nod, then scoop one of the black and yellow pouches into the bag before zipping it closed and heading for the door.

[Silent alarm could have triggered when we broke in. Police may be nearby.]

I stop at the door, then start spreading mist again, inside and out. When it seems thick enough, I fly up onto the roof and look around, then higher into the sky, slipping my arms into the straps of the bag as I search for a place to rest.

---

The first day of freedom contained more excitement than the next few combined.

Progress is slow at first, but soon I develop routines for finding food and rest. I travel by night and rest by day, often sheltering in caves or trees after driving all nearby pokemon away. On the sixth day of freedom, I am forced to kill for the first time when a swarm of beedrill attacks.

Once more subtle maneuvers fail to deter them, victory is nearly effortless, each attack crushing their frail bodies. Survive is satisfied, having only been convinced of my earlier reservations by the idea of saving strength. In truth I do not know why the idea of killing bothered me; I feel nothing after the beedrill were slain, save relief that I can defend myself from wild pokemon if needed.

By the end of the week we are far from Kanto and deep into the wilds of the northern island. I still have all of the stolen supplies, though I used half of a potion bottle experimenting with my tail, even purposefully reopening the wound to see if spraying it would regenerate more. The result was simply pain, and frustrated despair.

The only close call since the attack in the ocean comes when a honchkrow strikes in the middle of the seventh night. It causes me to drop my bag as it cuts one strap and digs bloody furrows along my flesh, but I am able to latch onto it before it can fly away, and my powerful arms twist its neck around until it snaps. Once again I feel nothing but pain, which quickly fades as I heal myself and recover my bag. The fear is also quicker to fade, this time, and Survive and I develop a new method of flying that has us steadily turn to watch for attackers from all sides.

Between foraging, traveling, resting, and the occasional battle, mostly I spend my time luxuriating in the freedom of the open sky. The ability to pick any direction, explore any lake or forest or mountain I encounter at will. My thoughts still drift back to the lab from time to time, to Giovanni and Sabrina and Dr. Fuji, to my comforters and technicians and doctors. The loneliness, on occasion, returns, but never for very long, and soon weakens to the point that I begin to miss books and music as much as people…

…though in my dreams, Sabrina still occasionally appears, holding my hand and flying beside me as we explore the island together.

---

Time becomes hard to track, in the wilderness. Months have come and gone since I left Cinnabar Island, months of exploration from one end of the island chain to another, before I find my attention drawn to a flicker of some psychic texture I’ve never encountered before. It moves, and I quickly change course to chase after it before it leaves my range, trying to understand what I sensed as my eyes scan the empty sky in its direction.

It takes four tries to confirm that it is a mind, feeble as it is. Its only sense beside its psychic ability is sight, which itself is extremely limited. As the merge deepens I see the world below in flat black and white, and realize what I’m chasing. A few moments later I am close enough to make out its shape in the sky, somewhat resembling the letter F, and confirm that I’ve merged with an unown for the first time.

I learned about the unown, but was never brought one to merge with, as they reportedly had no unique psychic abilities. I’d asked to be brought one anyway, suspecting that they may have been lying but also due to simple curiosity, but Sabrina insisted that the experience was very boring; no living, conscious thing is as completely devoid of drives or emotion, she’d said. It launched a discussion of the minds of plants, and whether our inability to sense them was proof that they had none.

Sabrina pointed out that, assuming it’s even possible that plant biology could generate something akin to “experiences” given the vast differences in electrochemical scope and activity, they would be for things such as temperature, sunlight, or water availability that trigger certain changes, and those at least should be shareable… unless the biological difference is too great for any sort of sympathetic psychic connection to occur. Unown, by contrast, have a similar enough structure to share their senses of touch and sight, but no internal experience to speak of. In any case, the topic was dropped.

Now, years later, I learn that she was not wrong. While most other pokemon feel like a tapestry of vivid senses guided by a tug of instinctual drive, and human minds buzz with thoughts layered over their duller senses and more conflicted desires, this… thing, lacks any texture, any mental activity, any drives at all. Its mind seems a simple mirror of what it experiences, stretched back through its memory, with no emotional imprint, no inclination to do anything. Even movement seems automatic and instinctual, observation its natural state.

I fly with it for some time, following my curiosity despite its lack of any interesting features. It has been so long since I’ve merged with a mind so different from my own that the shallowness itself serves as sufficient novelty, not to mention its unique visual complexity…

[Prime, this does not seem to aid survival.]

I consider telling my tulpa that survival is not all that matters, but know that it would find this unconvincing, given its primary values. Instead I shape the lesson to what it would understand.

The unknown can be the greatest threat to survival. All information of other pokemon might lead to unexpected benefits. Survive is skeptical, and after a moment I realize why. I meant that which is not known.

[Ah.] It still seems skeptical, but doesn’t object further as I begin experimenting with the merger.

Most pokemon can be directed by projecting hunger or fear, but neither evoke any response. Pain also fails to make any impression. The unown simply continues its path through the sky as the forests stretch all around us.

I begin to wonder if the unown would even react to a direct attack, but even projecting pain at it made Survive apprehensive, and the terrifying loss of my tail is still a fresh memory despite my other victories. I share my tulpa’s skepticism that unown might be dangerous, but it is better to be safe, rather than develop a habit of attacking any new creature we encounter.

A new worry blossoms, suddenly. If I fear even such a paltry opponent as this, could I ever confidently face the prospect of true, challenging combat?

I know what Survive would ask, if it shared my thoughts. Fear of those that can’t be avoided is reasonable, and why bother fighting a battle that might not be won? I do not know how I would answer, but in the back of my mind, despite everything, there is still the thought that one day I might become strong enough to challenge the Stormbringers, and other legendary pokemon.

That one day I might defeat them, as I was created to.

The thought brings shame, and I turn my attention back to the unown. Its path is erratic, but linear enough to be mostly predictable. Wherever it is going, it seems to be going with purpose, despite its empty inner experiences.

I see the others before I sense them, a luminescent cloud on the horizon. Survive’s warning is unnecessary, and I drop immediately into the canopy and watch, heart suddenly racing as I realize what I’m seeing.

The unown I have been following is heading directly toward it.

Survive, formulate a path of escape that would hide us from unown detection and review any Dark pokemon or hunting techniques that might endanger us by staying this close to the forest.

[Yes, Prime. But it would be safer not to pursue.]

Your recommendation is noted. I begin flying after the unown, careful to stay just below the canopy. The occasional Flying and Grass pokemon are easy to avoid, but Bugs are more difficult to sense on time, and it is Survive’s guidance to send periodic telekinetic bolts forward that keeps me from levitating directly into a nearly invisible spiderweb.

Eventually I get close enough to the mass to confirm that they are all unown. Hundreds of them, floating in a complex array, layers and layers deep, shifting in a mesmerizing pattern and giving off pulses of psychic energy. To a human such a sight might simply appear to be a senseless, shifting mass of black-and-white, but to my eyes it is an intricate clock constructed by bits of living aurora.

It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

And then the unown I am merged with reaches the sphere, and the placid mirror of its mind inverts into a hole in the mental landscape, a funnel that sucks in my wonder, my senses, my very being.

And through that hole I see

I am seen

a world distorted, a mad dreamscape

a mad god

through which hundreds of glimpses of reality pass through

are searched

until some semblance of order is imposed.

one step closer.

[PRIME!]

iacnnto…

…rbaek…

…hetemreg

---

Survive

It’s easy to understand why Prime created such a firm partition, after what my predecessors did. Fear is necessary. Healthy. It keeps us safe.

But sometimes Prime is not afraid enough for its own good. Such as the time with the combee hive, delicious (and energizing) as the honey turned out to be. Or the time the ursaring came to the cave we were sleeping in, and projecting sleepiness seemed easier than chasing it off. Or the time we lost our tail…

But that was before I was created, of course. An important lesson.

Following the unown turned out to be another such time. Thankfully, the earlier hard-won caution balances the more recent lack, as the strength of the partition protects me from the distorting madness on the other end of the unown swarm.

Still, forming our shield is difficult with how little autonomy I have. If Prime was sensate I would not be able to at all, but little by little I construct enough to cut the merger entirely. Unfortunately, by then Prime seems disoriented to the point of near unconsciousness, which is only mildly more terrifying than the way our body is plunging to the ground, and less immediately important.

I manage to nudge us toward a branch on the way down, and though Prime’s arm snaps from the impact, the remaining distance is much less frightening, so long as we don’t land on our… ah, good. The leg break feels cleaner as well. A huge relief.

Now we just have whatever happened to Prime’s mind to deal with. Our recovery powers do not seem to be activating, which is doubly alarming.

I spend a minute rapidly searching through my options, and then set the panic aside and start to weaken the partition, little by little, until smeo sridannitoieto tssatr lenbidge hrgthou—

—

—until clarity starts to return, and I notice that we are sitting up on the forest floor, our bones slowly reknitting together as Prime straightens the limbs as much as possible.

[Are you alright, Prime?] I can tell, of course, but it seems a polite way to reorient.

Yes. I believe so. Prime looks around the forest to visually confirm that we are alone, as we discussed. It feels good when my suggestions are put into practice. Thank you, Survive.

Being thanked also feels good. [Of course, Prime.] For a moment I wonder if an apology will come, for not listening to my warning about the unown. After another moment I decide an apology isn’t necessary, so long as we don’t do it again.

[I trust we will not be doing that again?] Sometimes it’s best to be sure.

Unfortunately, we might have to.

Calm. Stay calm. Prime has reasons. Sometimes bad reasons, but always reasons. [Why?] I ask, very calmly.

Prime makes a sound of amusement, though by our heartbeat and the slight shaking in our limbs I believe the primary emotion felt is some combination of terror, pain, and relief. Don’t worry, it won’t be anytime soon. And certainly not as recklessly as that.

Prime slowly extends our arm, then our leg, then gets up and checks our supply bag to ensure that nothing was broken. Collecting medicine and spare food was one of Prime’s best ideas, and I find it soothing every time we take inventory of them. I imagine Prime does as well.

I spend the time trying to understand Prime’s reasoning with the unown. By the time all the supplies are checked, I believe I have a guess. [You said the unknown can harm us. You wish to know more about whatever nearly killed us, because you believe it may try to do so again?]

Worse than that. I am almost certain it will.

Fear is good. Fear helps us survive. [Why?]

Because what I sensed working through those unown was a mind. Prime looks up at the unown sphere through the trees, its dazzling, shifting colors much less beautiful given how deadly it turned out to be. A being as powerful compared to the legendary Hoenn pokemon as they are to the storm gods of Kanto.

Fear is good… but panic less so. [Was it… an intelligent mind?]

Prime lifts us off the ground, cautiously extending senses above while keeping them well short of the unown sphere, then sends a burst of kinesis through the branches above to dislodge any pokemon or traps that may be waiting for us before we fly through them. I could not tell. Can something be intelligent and mad at once? Perhaps.

[Why would it be a danger to us?]

Because mad or not, its goal is clear. To consume this reality.

Ah. That is a problem, given that we live here. I start wondering what the best ways to find other realities might be. Sadly it’s not something we’ve ever studied before, and the wilderness is not likely to be a place to learn more. [Is that what the unown are doing?]

I am not sure. Are they its creation, or merely useful tools?

This seems less important, unless killing all of them would be a way to stop it. Prime seems oddly hesitant to kill, but is always willing to if it means survival, which surely this would. Besides, the unown are barely sentient. [How long do we have?]

Perhaps years. Perhaps centuries. It is a man building a bridge, stone by stone, to cross an ocean… but it is patient, and ageless, and utterly implacable.

No panicking. Panicking is not productive. [Perhaps we could negotiate with it?] I realize, suddenly, that Prime is adjusting our course, little by little, with purpose, and wonder where we are going… only to realize, just before Prime confirms it.

It seems far too alien for that. Which leaves one solution: we must let the humans know.

Fear, I remind myself again, is good.