All stories must end.
But when a story ends, lives go on. Winds blow in all directions; like dandelion seeds, where people were once were bound by one kernel, now, they scattered. And for each one, different fates had to be faced. Different challenges, and fears, and victories. Such would be stories in their own right―only not here.
There is honor, at times, in the stories not written:
I. Lusamine faced the most difficult and uncertain ending, but also the most necessary one. It would take time for her to find her way―to find how to fill her days, now that she had given up so much. To watch her son take over and disassemble so much of her dynasty hurt, like a series of amputations one after another, but within a few weeks, the pain dulled and she could start to see where the culling had made room for health. Life came back. Workers and volunteers flowed again, no long choked by crowds or media. There was focus, a sense of humility, a sense of… Wanting to do right.
Without her duties as president, and without Guzma to accompany her, she had to find new hobbies and interests. There were only so many hours one could spend sitting in the garden doing nothing. Interim President Gladion noticed her restlessness and asked her what she did before her presidency, and she answered, I had two young children to take care of; what wasn'tI doing?
So he made his deduction and decided to offer her a chance to volunteer in the medical wing. Perhaps, he thought, she needed an outlet for her mothering instinct.
He half-expected her to turn up her nose at the opportunity to do grunt work, so he was pleasantly surprised when she accepted. Though it proved awkward for a time working among her former underlings who still slipped into calling her Madame President , gradually, she learned a new routine. She came to relearn the preciousness of life and soften her heart, little by little, like stone worn down by dripping water. She had learned once that it took millions of years for canyons to be carved under the beating of harsh rivers, and there were days she woke up with the weight of that knowledge―of knowing that perhaps, it was no use trying to create such drastic change within a single lifespan. But the despair would pass, and she found, somewhere in herself, the strength to get up again.
In the evenings after her work was done, in the privacy of her bedroom, she'd gaze up at the glowing moon through her open window, letters in hand. Guzma had started his journey and kept his promise. Clumsy handwriting aside, the tone of his letters remained professional, subdued, and at times, curt. She thought she could read a strain of melancholy in some of them, but perhaps she was projecting. Lusamine also suspected that Lillie was assisting him; there were turns of phrase and subtle composition choices that she would normally think of as beyond his grasp. Yet that, too, could be Lusamine's self-serving assumptions―an excuse for why Guzma had yet to wax poetic for her (if Lillie had eyes on his letters, she reasoned, certainly he'd withhold anything too personal or amorous). In any case, she still read them carefully, folded them away, and when loneliness returned, she'd bring them out again. Over and over, until the ink wore away.
The moon stared back down at her. When it was positioned at just the right spot in the night sky, it made the Dawn Stone on her desk light up in a brilliant, ethereal seafoam blue. She wondered.
II. Gladion took to his new position well, though his decisions and leadership style caused an initial kerfuffle. Once the dust settled, Aether returned to normal, with some key elements extracted. The first thing to go was the battle stadium and spectacle; then came the cleaning of the underbelly, purging the live experimentation and worst excesses of the science department. Faba grumbled about certain projects being slashed―but wised up enough to comply.
The young master worked long hours, which for a boy his age meant plenty of exhaustion, but with Ms. Wicke back at the Foundation, he always had support in form of tea and comforting words. Lusamine, too, would on occasion deign to offer bits of advice when she passed through the halls like a ghost of the past.
No matter how many times she suggested it, though, he never wore wardrobe befitting a president.
True to his word, he kept his mother at arm's length most of the time and ventured near the home only rarely. This wasn't to say he isolated her entirely; if he had learned anything in training Silvally, it was that frequent contact, not harsh discipline, made for the best rehabilitation. On occasion, this meant a meal, or a meeting on important matters, or a walk along the outskirts of the facility. Gladion also came to take frequent trips to the islands, usually to visit the satellite bases and assess their wildlife initiatives, and often, if Lusamine's health and spirit were good, she would come along.
The first time she did that, Gladion hardly knew what to make of it, seeing her stand on real earth, surrounded by natural life neither transplanted nor collected. He saw her sweat in the sweltering heat. He watched her shake pebbles from her shoes, scratch bug bites, and flush with pink patches of sunburn. Outside of the artifice of Aether, she humanized, became an organic being again. She was uncomfortable during the trips, but determined, and when he pushed certain feelings aside, he could feel almost proud of her.
It would all take time, he knew.
But he had plenty.
III. Faba, who dutifully postponed his retirement to assist in the transition of power, had to face the realities of his actions under Lusamine, compelled as they were. Interim President certainly didn't let him avoid responsibility; wherever Gladion went in the foundation to undo past sins, he'd order Faba along to do the heavy lifting―of the intellectual sort mostly, though, sometimes, the literal sort, too. While Faba griped about his new work situation―being ordered around by a small child like he was their personal secretary―eventually, he resigned to his fate and found ways to tolerate it. Faba became once again a timid breed of sycophant, praising Gladion's leadership skills to his face while muttering other desires under his breath. Still, something about the current political upheaval brightened his outlook. The fact that power had changed hands… After all, Gladion might not want to be President forever.
In the meantime, Professor Aster remained at Aether, and when Ms. Wicke returned to serve as Assistant Branch Chief, the two got along famously. They gossiped and swapped recipes and cooed over staff baby pictures, and in general drove Faba entirely batty.
Aster and Faba still spent time together, too, of course. They convinced the Interim President to approve a joint trip to Lumiose for what Aster insisted on calling a vacation and Faba was quick to call an out-of-town conference. (The whole time they were there, Aster could not quite convince Faba to introduce him as anything other than a fellow colleague. Some things―still an uphill battle).
IV. After leaving the wedding, Nanu went directly home to his police station, kicked up his heels, and fell asleep with a purring Meowth on his chest. As far as anyone knows, he hasn't moved since.
V. Team Skull went on to be… well, itself, for the time being. A few changes began to take place: as the hierarchy loosened and group goals dissolved, many of the elder grunts wandered off, returning home if they could, going on their respective journeys if they couldn't. This left the youngest in squalor, but not for long. The court had made its order: they could stay in Po Town, so long as they didn't cause anymore trouble, and so long as they began to attend school.
Plumeria had to play big sister. She had to assure them this wasn't an execution, reasoned that they were bored most of the time anyway, and wake up early to corral them into the kitchen and out the door. It was hectic and nerve-wracking, but privately, she came to the conclusion that the boneheads could use some literacy and numerical skills. It wasn't the worse thing.
As for herself, she thanked the stars that she had dodged the age requirement for school. She had been slapped with probation instead, and the judge must have had a twisted sense of humor, because they put Nanu in charge of it.
It didn't matter too much. As the kahuna often did, he passed the responsibility off to his favorite errand boy, Molayne.
...Sly old devil.
VI. And as for Guzma and Lillie, their unwritten story began at the shores of Mele'mele, because both of them were wound into the fabric of that island, and both felt the need to delicately pry themselves away rather than rent violently off. For Lillie, this meant time with Professor Kukui, time packing her old and newer belongings, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind. It meant finding Hau and trying to find a way of explaining her plans without shattering his spirit. And of course it meant a hearty goodbye to Kahuna Hala, who had given her the first of her lessons which would serve her on her journey.
Because Guzma knew these people, too, he had to negotiate his presence carefully. He met with Master Hala, too, and had to endure the jealous and suspicious glares from the kahuna's grandson when travel plans were divulged. Guzma would try to surrender his Z-Ring, a pitiful gesture of contrition, but Hala wouldn't accept it. He said something gentle, and merciful, and wise, and all over again, Guzma felt shame at having not listened to him before.
In those last days on Mele'mele, Guzma also spent time at home, mostly to crash for the night, though he at least once stayed for supper. His parents weren't sure what to make of his failed attempt at marriage, but they expressed―in their own ways―cautious enthusiasm about his new lot in life.
And even though he knew all his feelings wouldn't be resolved in one meeting, he accepted an invitation to Kukui's place for dinner; Professor Burnet and Lillie attended, too, so it was an uneasy, but cheerful affair. When the sun set on their meal, resting its bronze face over the black sea, Kukui and Guzma broke off from the women and out onto the sand, walking along shore, dodging the laps of the tide. After sitting together on neighboring rocks, private things were spoken about―things not to be transcribed here―though one is free to speculate what two men who were once friends might say to each other, now that they're grown and ready to face childhood wounds.
By the end of their talk, Guzma thought, I'll never really leave this place. At one time, he would have thought of that as a curse. But now, he accepted it, the good and the bad alike. Mele'mele Island was in his blood. Running to Ula'ula hadn't changed that, and going to Kanto wouldn't, either.
It was difficult―letting go. But it was good, too.
The wind started to blow, and the sun cast long, mingling shadows over the bay, blending the two men's silhouettes with one another, and with trees and stones. The breeze had a salty aroma, but clean, rolling with the smells of distant grasses.
It was the wind of change.
A/N: AND THAT'S IT! Thanks everyone for sticking with me! This is the end of Beasts and Beauties. However, this is not the end of my writing. There will be two more "chapters" posted that are related to the story but not part of the central plot. Think of them as special bonuses.
Addendum 1: The Evil That Men Do
-In this chapter, we'll be encountering Guzma once more as a child. It's summer; the island trials are starting, he's facing a problem at school, and his neighbor Kukui is giving him a headache.
Addendum 2: No Man Is An Island
-In this chapter, Looker makes a curious discovery in Alola that leads to some serious questions. Nanu reluctantly decides to help.
I also have tentative plans for a new story. Stay tuned for that as well. Again, you can follow or message me on khavvah dot tumblr dot com for updates.