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[continues from previous]

"[I didn't want to do it,]" he said. "[I— I ruined your record. You should hate me.]"

"[Now, now,]" Apollo said, and pulled him close, pressed their cheeks together as David did. "[None of that! It was bound to happen eventually. I'm just glad it was you and not Tory.]" He let go his neck, though not his arms. "['Course, if you hadn't lost your head a bit, you might've knocked me out in one. But I did appreciate the hug.]"

How could he be so casual? "[But, you've lost the title,]" he said.

"[O?]" Apollo said. "[Aren't I still a champion, though? Champion emerritous—one of those big vets who knows everything, you know, like Lance's fellow. Maybe I c'n be your guide—show you the ropes. You're a good fellow; they'll all like you, once they get a bit familiar. I c'n show you how to handle them.]"

And that was Apollo, he thought: lost everything, his record, his role (a champion emeritus now, unless Manda regained it), his rank (again below Red's, for fainting), and he forgave it; all absorbed within his nature, his effervescent jolly. And it was not that he did not care—not, in fact, that he was abundantly happy, rather felt himself strung out, as he'd seen in him once or twice, that he struggled to keep height above the space between islands, only desperate not to plunge into the water and snuff out—but rather something had changed, he felt, in Apollo's thinking, that in losing he suddenly found his grounding—Gaia too, though she was quiet, for didn't she feel somehow relieved of a burden? Strange, he thought, that fainting could have that effect. Apollo always had the gift of appreciating his fortunes, not worrying over possible losses—of refusing to be near Runa even as she liked him close, for fear she would not want him close later; of walking in Goldenrod and, rather than enjoying their time as he might, his special place beside her, only worrying if she would leave him. What a fool he was all the time! If he were only more like Apollo, only a little more willed, the whole thing would have been over years ago.

"[So, what's your plans?]" Apollo said, leaning back against the pillar. "[What's next for Runa and company, now the Academy's full up with champions?]"

Still, Apollo was not all calm, he could tell: an excited uncertainty, he felt, looking up at his Dragonite fellow, his warm friend—felt himself lacking in friends, lately, at odds with his team and Manda. Would he then be offended, he thought, at Runa's plan for the title?

"[Um,]" he said. "[We … probably won't defend it. It's just, we never really wanted to— I mean, people just expected it, to, to justify the Academy. W-w-we were never really going to get back into battles. Runa was going to say so after the ceremony. Is … is that okay?]"

Apollo looked at him as if he were at once ridiculous and delightful. "[O,]" he said, patting the folds in his chest—"[you want my permission? Well then: I grant it. As if I could stop Rune, anyway! Tha's just what I expected from her.]" Then he poked the fold again. "[So she'll go back to Academy work—and you, I esspect, you'll be teaching fellows how to speak … I mean, that and being Runa's cuddle.]"

He blushed; but there were no other mon near to eavesdrop. "[I … I don't know,]" he said. "[Runa says it could change everything, to talk, but I don't know if I'm not just a, a freak, or something.]"

"[Ohhh,]" Apollo said, patting him again—"[don' say that. We're all strange fellows when you look inside. Anyway—anyway, supposing i's possible and you've got the time, you don't mind teaching me a bit of it, do you? Like your trial student, as it were—ha ha! I'll be the student, and you're the champion. What you say?]"

"[You want to learn?]" he said; and Apollo looked at him as if he were silly to wonder, as if any Pokémon could possibly want to lack the power. "[I mean, of course! It's just, it might take weeks, or, or months even. It took me years, but really months, on and off. But what does Manda say?]"

"[Oh, Manna,]" Apollo said, and laughed—quit laughing. "[Well, uh. I—]"

He ought to help somehow, he thought, for it was clear that Apollo was terribly nervous—something unspeakable, which he hadn't told anyone, or perhaps only in confidence, and still found it difficult to say—but he didn't know how. All his experience in hearing others' thinking, he thought, and it gave him at times only a greater awareness of his own uncertainty, a worsened ability to help. But Polo liked to hold people, in any case, so he would: he put his arm around his shoulder, and the Charizard noticed, seemed to feel reinforced, and blushed red as he opened his mouth to speak.

"[I'm leaving her, you see,]" Apollo said.

He looked at him. "[What?]" he said.

And Apollo began to look around, he knew, as if he wanted something, and he sighed and said, "[I— I dessided a while ago.]" He looked at him. "[Actually it was after I first heard you talking, you know, during that mean business in Goldenrod. That— I mean, don't take this poorly, please, but if even you could stand up to her I figure i's got to be something. I've got skills—le's face it, I'm pretty famous. I figure if I could talk human I'd ha' some other work available.]"

"[Y— You mean, like one of the battle commentators?]" he said. But this was absurd, he thought: this was Polo, the veteran, the champion! Battling was his entire life.

"[Maybe,]" Apollo said, as though he hadn't considered it—for he really hadn't, he saw, but spoke entirely from feeling: simply had to change at any cost, Apollo felt. Now the Charizard looked around, as if he misplaced something he now realised was gone. "[I was … I was gonna tell her tonight, if we won. But I guess, y'know, two bad newses …]"

"[But why go?]" he said, which wasn't helping, he knew, but he could not understand. Did Runa know?

Apollo sighed, and sat by the pillar, so that he came to sit beside him. He said, "[I jus'—]" and then seeing a waiter pass, pushing a trolley, the Charizard reached out and, to the man's surprise, took a bottle with a fancy label from the beaker; and pulling out the cork with his teeth, Apollo poured enough down at once that the froth was no longer spilling from it. "[I ca'n take it any more, Shadow,]" he said. "[I mean, don't get me wrong: I'm great at battling. I'm a pretty bloody expert, wouldn't you say? But it's not, i's not fun any more, is the thing.]"

He tipped the bottle into his mouth and drank for several seconds. "[Used to be it was the only thing I really enjoyed, that and … well,]" he said. "[But after the first tourney, and then defences twice a year, and alway, alway training when if e'er we were gonna take it easy it was back then, now there's nothing to do but try'n stay in as long as possible … well, I'm not getting younger, you know. Yes—I'dmit I'm complaining when I've got it good, and … and I know Manda's been good to me, an' I owe her, but … but right now, all she's thought about since yesterday is getting back in, because we've lost the streak—jus' getting back and proving herself, like we didn't prove already! And, you know, I know that's always been her dream, being champion, ever since she was little—but let me tell you, I defy anyone to do it for years an' not burn out. That's the last thing this old lizard needs, another six years of that. No … Runa's right about how things are changing. I think … I think I could make a better use. I think I could be really happy.]"

Up on the champion's table, he saw, Runa looked and noticed Apollo's worry; looked between them, as if wondering whether they didn't need help. Apollo was not even old, a year younger than Runa, and would live for at least as long; but who knew what Manda's training did to one. The odd thing, he thought, was that he felt responsible—not for defeating him in battle, no, and Manda would continue in any case, with or without Apollo—for the example, he felt, the speech and the growth, by which he seemed to make available the option, lead Apollo to want to quit his own trainer, his master of twenty years. Was that part of why Manda feared them, he thought, that she somehow felt it possible? To Manda, through her message of monism, of equal rights and agency, Runa represented the turning away of Pokémon from their trainers, the end of all she knew.

So suppose Apollo told her that he would retire, said that after two decades together he wanted to go, like that! A human parent would have no right to argue with their child, now grown; but Apollo, she thought, needed her for his own good. She would think it was Runa who persuaded him, or Gaia—or David, as in fact they met recently, perhaps planting the idea.

He said, "[If you need a place, you know, some friends to help you out—]"

"[I'm not jus' flying off to join the Academy,]" Apollo said, nearly flinging his bottle away; for being accepted so readily, he felt, as if he drank for nothing, seemed to make out that it wasn't a difficult decision. "[I'm already betraying Manna 'nough without her thinking I've gone and joined Runa. Why d'you think she hates her?]"

But he looked sorry, and his tail calmed. "[Not hates her,]" Apollo said—"[jus', you know, has a lot of sister-things with. An'—an' I don't really help it, being so close to Roon.]"

It was as close as the Charizard ever came, he thought, to the idea that Runa once loved him, as Manda had suggested; and nothing that Runa said could be taken as contrary, for she never spoke of her early experience, and he did not ask. Was it possible that Runa had felt an attraction? kissed him, even, and Polo kept the secret?

He ought not, perhaps; if Runa wanted him to know, she would have told him, or would be getting ready to do so; but this, he felt, was too good an opening, as good a one as he would ever get. "[You've … been friends with Runa forever, haven't you?]" he said.

"[Since we hatched,]" Apollo said. "[I's easier, y'know, when she's not your trainer.]"

"[How long have you known about her loving mon?]" he said.

Apollo looked away for a long while; and however hard he tried, he could not read his thinking, perhaps addled, perhaps guarded. "[Since she did,]" he said, "[more less.]"

Perhaps it was not fair to ask, he thought. He had decided it was not a fair question for Runa: a secret, as they both allowed. But did that mean he was never to know, that it would be harmful to know it, or only that she did not want to say, and possibly hurt his feelings? For if he knew the full truth, and it sullied her image—Runa taking advantage, Runa abusing a Pokémon—wasn't it a thing that, once known, he would rather he didn't? Probably so, he thought—but whatever Manda said, he couldn't believe it. There had to be a mistake: there had to be reason to Runa's thinking, more than excuses as Manda said; and apart from her, who else would know but Apollo? He could not trust Torus or David to give him answers, and suppose he saw later in Runa, but being incomplete, or unexpected, it only took on the worst appearance? He'd learned his lesson about shirking chances, and worrying for years without purpose. It was the best possible moment, he thought, as Apollo sat holding his arm, smiling and watching the people.

"[Who's Dilo?]" he said.

Apollo looked surprised; expected something else, it seemed, though it was not far off the subject. But this was a point, he knew (didn't need the psychic to see), that Apollo held closely—one he might hold indefinitely, his old defences— but not against Shadow. Well, Apollo seemed to think, turning toward him— everything eventually got out. If Runa didn't want him knowing, wouldn't she have made it clear somehow it was better not to ask?

"[Tha's a long story,]" Apollo said, drinking again from the bottle, nearly empty. "[What do you want to know? Who was he?]"

What was there, he thought, that was yet unanswered? Only a face to the name, he thought, some idea of his look—how he'd look as Runa kissed him, broke whatever bond—and how far such a bond had been broken.

"[I … I don't really need to know,]" he said. "[I mean, I want to, but … if, if Runa did something wrong to her Pokémon—]"

"[O Shaddeus,]" Apollo said, hooking his arm in his, so that more of the people looked: Shadow and Apollo, at once the closest friends after battle! "[Tha's the trouble with keeping secrets: gossip tells a story ten times worse. If Runa hasn't told you, i's 'cause she's embarrassed, not afraid. But you've asked the right old don: I was with her, you see, through everything. I was her confidante—and her accomplice. If I kept quiet while she took the blame, it was 'cause she protected me—and because she told me to. So let me return the favour.]"

That was the other question, he thought, what it was between them; but he nearly had the answer he wanted, and did he still want it? but Apollo continued, relieved, he felt, to finally let it all out.

"[Dilophussees was Runa's first and only Pokémon,]" Apollo said. "[A Sceptile. Five-ee, shiny—always a bit clammy, you know, 'cause he liked to swim. And oh, so timid! He was a bit like you—not so much when you know him, but a bit. Never liked battling; only wanted to do athletics, you see, track and field and that. She was getting ready to start her journey with him when it all happened—hit that age, you know, and everything changed. She told me her plan for getting close, y'know, and wanted my help. So, as her confidante, as I said, of course I helped her. And it was a pretty horrid plan, I'll admit; but remember we were both of us not thinking clearly. We con— came up with a circumstance—perfectly harmless, y'know—where she'd look like she's coming to his rescue. I won't bore you, but it involved a bit of ice an' 'n ice heal. So she saved him, he thought, and there he is holding her, like this,]"—Apollo held him with both arms—"[and … and then she kissed him. On the lips. I saw it.]"

Apollo let go and looked away for a moment, then finished his bottle. "[So, so Guy,]" he said, "[told me once she kissed you, an', an' that's when you only just figured out her feelings. But she's a mon too, so I mean, shocked as you were, it still made sense to you, 'm guessing. Well, Dilo hadn't thought of it once, it turns out, an' remember he's as timid as you—and suddenly his trainer's kissing him. And he likes to run. What do you think he did?]"

He felt his throat very dry. "[He ran,]" he said.

"[Right,]" Apollo said. "[After knocking her away, you know, because, remember, he wasn't all like you. Pretty … pretty roughly, he knocked her. It's the bruises, I think, that's half the reason he did'n come back later. And we were horrible, doing that; but Runa, remember, was twelve, which is verry young, you know, for a human. And I don't think he took it very well as he should, to be honest—that's my feeling.]"

He didn't answer everything, he thought, but that was enough—it wasn't all Runa, at least. Perhaps it wasn't even love, so early on, and long over, never even thought of him now, or only rarely—once, perhaps, he saw a Treecko? but she felt nothing any more. She never went again to see this Dilo, feeling she'd betrayed him, as he'd feel about her, striking her; never wandered the estate, wanting to avoid him. It was all a tragedy, he felt, both sides ashamed, both having failed in the moment, long overdue, in fact, in making up … But now Apollo began to tear up, he saw, and sniffed, leaning against him.

"[And … and maybe I was a lot to blame too, awright?]" Apollo said. "[I'm afraid I was sort of a, a catalyss, you know—I catalissed it. I'm afraid I may have encouraged her. It's just we had an understanding … she had such bad luck, finding out she loved mon, you know, probably going to be lonely all her life, and I, I empathised. I, uh—]" and the Charizard belched, let out a flame into the air which frightened some of the nearby people. "[Excuse-moi. Look … can you keep a secret? One not even Manda knows—one she'd kill me for, if she knew. One you'd better not kill me if I tell you, okay? Just give an old don that, won't you, an' let him feel better?]"

And what sort of strange line was this? he thought. "[You'd clobber me, anyway,]" he said.

"[Oh, do'n be so sure,]" Apollo said, but he smiled; leaned very close, to speak what he'd hidden for years, let out an explosive secret and feel it burn away at last, the pressure finally relieved: "[He … he wasn't even Runa's first kiss. I was.]"

This was what David called a failure to follow, he thought, looking at this Charizard in his arms.

Apollo said quickly, "[Now it wasn't like that. She knew I was'n interested—she was just curious, you know, to try it. I was just the one she knew best, an', an' the one who'd keep it secret. She knew I wasn't into that—not when I was after Dilophosee's thinking just as much as her. We, uh, share some taste in mon.]"

Letting go, Apollo leaned upward and said, "[An'— An' it's good taste. So giving it back—]" And he pressed his nose to his cheek, and licked him.

And all he could think, as he sat like a bag of fizzy water, was that Runa, Gaia, and now Apollo all really had terrible taste in mon, picking him.

"[See, you're a good fellow,]" Apollo said, patting him once more as he stood up and wobbled: "[you're just flattered. If only Dilo … but then, well, we would'n be here! So here's another drink to timid mon.]" And he wandered off into the crowd, looking for another trolley.

He needed a very sweet drink, he thought, standing up. There at the table Runa looked back at him, and he blushed, looked away—she had to know what it was all about. She covered her mouth, whether because she was smiling or embarrassed he didn't know; but still in league together with Polo, after all the years, he knew, or wouldn't she have come over? He was very slow on the uptake, he thought; of course he'd suspected, and every time Apollo got close to him, held his middle as if he were only being warm—perfectly obvious, come to think of it, as Apollo asked if the reason he didn't fancy Gaia was that, in a room full of powerful ladies and powerful gentlemon—

The twelve-year-old Runa, as he saw her, perhaps eleven as first feelings developed, reached up to Apollo and kissed him on the nose. And probably he scowled, so that she said it wasn't serious, only wondered what it was like—a likely thing! The past shamed her, so she didn't say. She was young. So the young did foolishly, as like a Dratini in a cage looking up at a screen, watching a trainer, a dancer on ice. It meant nothing now, had no effect at all but to embarrass, throw up some old neurosis, as if Runa somehow would see. Looking across the room at him as he lifted the lemonade pitcher, she had every right to be amused by Apollo's devices, slithering up to steal a lick.

Perhaps he ought not have asked, he thought, for didn't he already know that Runa wasn't perfect, that his image of her was half invented, even if the truth beneath it was good? As Manda said, she had thought differently of Pokémon, before that day in her defence; but she had always thought of Pokémon differently. How could one simultaneously love a thing and think it less than a person? That she conferred with Apollo at all proved that much—her willing accomplice, he said, both being foolish in love. So lovers were. He hurt Gaia, being blind and ambiguous; strung out Runa's feelings for years; shrank away from his friends, his family, as they tried to help. And this as a mature Dragonite, or partway so, he thought, looking over toward Caelus, sitting now with Gaia and Iris's and Clair's, Gaia standing up; so though he was young, if he ought to do better, as he always felt, then Runa, the young Runa, yet then a Dratini or Dragonair in thinking, ought nothing. To draw from human to mon was not a fair translation, and Runa, he felt, whatever he thought, had only done her best, even if she did miss the mark. It was tragic; there it was; everyone continued. Now Gaia was coming over, he saw. She grinned; had seen everything, he knew, Polo getting close. Old friend to Apollo as she was, now, probably it also amused her, as if Apollo taking his hand in Viola Tower, saying —O Shaddeus, was not perfectly obvious in retrospect. Did he not perhaps pick up somehow the Walrein's other ability, the Oblivious? It would explain Gaia, he thought, and Apollo, and Runa.

Gaia stood some feet away and folded her arms. She said, "[That was kind of hot.]"

And like that, he felt, a cork released, for all the tension seemed gone, all the worry about Runa, and he laughed. For what had been worrying him, just now? he thought. Manda had tried to destroy them and failed, only left them closer; and now, he felt, seeing things rightly, now there was nothing at all left between them.

"[Well,]" he said, "[he is a Charizard.]"

Behind her the other Dragonite arrived, the two champions and Clair's: the four champions, he thought, including him and Gaia. At the table Runa stood with Lance and Iris and Clair to come join them.

"[They're going to take our picture,]" Caelus said. "[You know, the top five.]"

"[However absurd it looks lately,]" Iris's Dragonite said, folding his arms.

It was to start off the press scrum, he thought, all gathered at the doors: the top five in a line with the trainers between them. With a lift of horns, the music spread.

Caelus said, "[And again the very best congratulations, Shadow—you deserve it.]"

He looked at his hands. But it was absurd, he felt, a clear proof that it was all broken—he, the number-one Dragonite! As if a fluke of circumstance which left him finishing four of Manda's Pokémon, all but one already injured, meant anything, when most of it was done by others! He would give it to Gaia in a second if he could, now that she fell again to four: some list, he thought. It wouldn't last, not for long, and nor should it. But she said to be proud, that she was proud of him, and she was, so he ought to be.

"[Enjoy it while it lasts,]" Iris's Dragonite said, unfolding his arms, as if in other company he might start a contest, still upset at being knocked down to third—"[because it won't.]"

Clair's Dragonite said, "[Like you're going to top him. You faint Lugia every day, I'm sure.]"

Iris's pointed and said, "[Anyone would faint under all that.]"

Clair's glared at him. "[Can't you be nice?]" she said. "[It's their party. Just shush up for once in your life, won't you?]"

Last month, as Clair happened to visit the Academy, he recalled in a flash some buried memory: in the caves before the Corner, as he searched for weeds to eat, he once saw a creature all black and rubbery with a steel hump on its back, like some new species of Pokémon, from which he hid but now could recognise as a human dressed for swimming: the first he ever encountered. As the human paused and examined things thoroughly, the only explanation was that they were checking the waters, searching for newborn dragons. Then they left and rejoined some humans far in the distance, whom again he mistook for mon—and was there a girl with blue-green hair among them? Had he not been so timid, allowed himself to be seen, would his whole life's course have been different? When he next caught sight of such a creature, dared to hesitate even a moment, he was seen, caught at once, did not even have wits to resist the ball, trapped by the one Mr. Game had hired to catch prizes; which, Clair later said, was illegal, as the Den's waters were technically a reserve tended by them. Who would have thought that his life's course following would arrive at such a condition? For as Clair said,

—You're a fine Dragonite. And Runa's a fine trainer. I'm glad I can say I know you.

Iris's Dragonite said, "[Fine. He's number one. In fact he's the highest in several statistics.]"

Whatever terrible sense of presence he felt, standing with such fine Dragonite —the champions, the gym leader, and Gaia too, for she would always have the higher quality—left him, and there he was: among friends, a compact of equal partners. Having reached the peak of accomplishment, as they called it, and feeling himself changed not a bit, knowing that on any other day they would probably trounce him, still he felt a drawing back of clouds; of mountains; stars revealing themselves, and city lights, and there in the distance, standing over the blanket obscuring valleys and fields and across from the centred peak he stood on, there stood the Academy; Viola; the Goldenrod Radio Tower, with Runa sitting down to speak, her words now crossing the entire world, bouncing away on the atmosphere. Now Lance stood near, looked and nodded; there was Iris, coming in along the other side, and Clair, opposite the forming line; the rings clicked in place. But where was Runa?

Lance said, "How are we standing?"

He said, "Gaia in the middle."

That silly voice! he thought, speaking human. The other Dragonite stared. Gaia took her place in centre and smiled at Caelus, took his hand behind Lance's back. "[I told you,]" she said.

"[You did,]" Caelus said. "[It's just hearing it is … something different.]"

Beside her, Iris's Dragonite still stared. And what on earth possessed him? for he looked at him and said:

"It's one of my qualities."

Then Runa was beside him, coming underneath his arm and Gaia's, and behind her the team, Ken and Torus and Émilie, and Hestia with her drink talking to Dyna who held a covered basket, and Leo with his little dish of treats looking up at him, and hovering behind them David who turned to look as Apollo slithered up and slung his arm around his waist. Runa pressed close, closer even to him than Gaia, and he hardly felt it; he was too tall for the picture, off-centre, but it was all right. Trainers, left to right, the caption would say; Dragonite, left to right. There was Runa standing between her two dragons, the first place they'd look. And why must Iris have so much hair? they'd wonder, partially blocking view of him, and why didn't he stand centre, in fact, and not slouch over, a silly smile on his face, when he really ought to try to look sensible?

That was enough; and now one of the new champions? the man controlling it said. The others stepped away, Iris's and Clair's already arguing under their breath about some new thing or other. Soon would be him alone, and the speech—what was he going to say? (He took Runa's hand, as she took Gaia's.) Clair's and Iris's still didn't know about him and Runa; if they told everyone who had some right to know, surely it would somehow spill out. Caelus looked at them as if he wondered whether to tell.

"It was good of Apollo to come," Runa said, as she smiled and looked at the cameras. For Manda wasn't coming, she said.

If he still wanted to speak, she said, she might simply give him a question—something he'd know how to answer, rather than have to invent a speech. What would it be? Don't think about, she said. But he really ought to say something grand, and historic, he thought—not that he loved her or some other dangerous rot, but something much the same, something that Runa understood, but affected all the people.

"[What were you and Polo talking about?]" Gaia said. "[You looked really shocked.]"

But was it his to tell, he thought, so long held like that? "[Runa, mostly,]" he said.

She looked at him, then the cameras. If he wouldn't say more, she meant, she wouldn't ask.

"[You should kiss her,]" Gaia said.

"[W— What?]" he said.

Gaia picked Runa up, so that he had to join her, both holding Runa with their arms like a seat, and the press moved closer—all strange events he'd be glad to quit once Runa announced they wouldn't defend the title. "[It wouldn't go badly,]" she said—"[not really. We'd get out of the room alive, I mean.]"

He said, "[Runa doesn't want it.]"

Letting go, Runa said to get one of him and Gaia, and then the whole team, and then they would give an interview. She turned away to speak to the screen camera, the one, he thought, that she would bring forward.

Gaia held his arm and leaned close for the photographers. "[Gummy,]" she said, "[only ever wanting what Runa wants. Are you going to give a speech too, like she said?]"

"[Yes,]" he said.

"[Gummy,]" she said. She turned on his arm; the pictures would continue as long as she wanted. "[What are you going to say?]"

"[I don't know,]" he said.

And Gaia leaned against him again, and after a moment said, "[Tell them thanks for coming, but now that you can speak human, Pokémon don't need trainers any more, and so this was the last ever championship. Then you can kiss her all you like and no one will even care.]"

The others came in, all making a line, Ken and Leo racing for centre until Hestia picked up Ken and Leo ran back for David, and Émilie said that Dyna said she'd be there in a minute, but looked worried.

But did Gaia really mean it, he wondered, not as she said, but about trainers no longer being needed? Did she really think that Pokémon were beyond battling now, that his speaking did that? that a Pokémon even might become a Pokémon trainer? Would that be it, all of them thinking as he spoke, that mon broke free of control? Would it be a help to Runa or a harm? For—how did Runa put it?

—I want to help Pokémon accomplish their dreams. I want them all to be happy.

("Are you nervous?" Runa said, returning to him, as the rest began to wander and it became clear that no photos were left to be taken. "Yes," he said, as she knew.)

She would call it hurtful, now, to be so indulgent, to only help a mon who wanted nothing but to lay about to do so, some Rita whose fur grew matted. That was what a child said who only wanted to be loved by a Pokémon who had left her. So she grew up, came to say,

—I want to help Pokémon reach their potential, and decide for themselves what they'll be.

("Just remember: I love you," Runa said, as he knew.)

For a moment he stood alone in front of the press: all the pictures taken, Shadow blinking dumbly in the lights. To reach their potential too was fine, he agreed, no different from parents and children; it was to make their own decisions that, drawn out properly, really made mon as people, the foundation of the Academy; but that wasn't yet it, for Runa. What did she imagine next? What would Runa say, twenty years from now?

Yes, we've been lovers for most of our lives.

Yes, lady Councillor, as I say that mon are people, what you're describing is slavery.

No, this is actually all rather simple, if you think about it.

So Runa could speak, if she liked, as she spoke now again to the man and the camera, quite comfortable. But to be able to speak, in principle, and capable of giving speeches, did not qualify one to make wise decisions. For what may he say?

I love Runa.

I hate battling.

I'm sorry.

Was it really necessary to make decisions? Anyone could see that his only thought was for Runa, as most battlers thought for their trainer: he was never a model monist, not like Gaia, or Hestia, or Torus, or David. He wasn't perfect— nobody was. One day, perhaps, another mon would come along whom by rights she ought more to admire. Or was that ridiculous, the opposite of what Runa herself would feel? That he had started so low and yet—though he never quite achieved an outstanding quality, though in any division there were those surpassing, and once others learned to speak in that too—had risen entire levels, where most never left the one—wasn't that what she admired? Wasn't that enough a proof of decisions and dreams?

(Runa said, "Shadow wants to say something." The press tittered; the camera approached.)

Runa looked at him, no different than a moment ago, and there was nothing else he could imagine to say. She looked and, he knew, if he really only looked at the camera and said it—I love Runa—she would not be upset; she would hold him and say, And I love you. And suppose many of the people already knew, or guessed, by her look; it was not as if the idea was out of consciousness, and at least one boy in the room would wish it possible. There across the room, he felt, Caelus told them, and now both Dragonite looked at him and Runa as if with a first understanding; and perhaps in a moment Iris's would bark, as if to say that it was obscene, and everyone would take notice and wonder. Suppose he really only said it, and Runa took his hand and said the same!

Runa turned from the man to him, and said:

"You had a message for everyone back home, Shadow—for the family. Remember?"

Suddenly there was a commotion across the room: a man in the crowd cried out, and he heard the thuds of something hitting fabric, a Pokémon grunting, punctuating each throw; between the reporters' legs a lemon rolled across the floor. And so the whole artificial scene seemed to crumble, he felt, as all the people looked about in confusion; and there was Runa, standing beside him.

The Pokémon fled; the people returned to him.

He looked at the camera.

He said, I love you.

End

Note to the Reader

Thanks to all who've read this story. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks especially to those who've left a review. I started writing fanfiction to get some sort of feedback before starting on original novels, so every word of commentary—especially anything critical—is valuable to me. If you've read this story, and it's been a pleasure to you, or not, I hope you'll consider leaving a review, if you haven't already, and spend a few minutes letting me know what you think about it.

I have some more fanfiction coming that I'll post here, but I've recently decided to scale it back. I've written first drafts of more stories in this Pokémon universe—a novel focused on Gaia and Apollo, a novella for Dyna, and some background work on a comic set in the Goldenrod Academy, to which there were references in Shadow—but life presses me to make a little more motion, and the truth is I'd get much more benefit now out of other projects and styles. The only further thing in this universe I'm planning to post is a set of one-shot conversations featuring David, which from a fancy planned-out structure and probably half a million words I'm cutting in half to finish only what's already first drafted, posting them later here as a set of longish short stories. Besides these, I'm near finishing a story in the Elder Scrolls universe, and after that I may write one or two others in different franchises, before I duck out of fanfiction—hopefully posting it sooner rather than later, both here and on Wattpad.

Thank you again for reading, and do let me know what you thought in a review!