"Why do you keep coming?"
Garchomp's head snaps up. Honchkrow gnashes his beak. "You and your Trainer… Both so nosy. What is it that you really want?"
"Honchkrow, be quiet!" hisses the purple bat. Her fangs are bared. "Can't you shut your beak for two seconds?"
"Crobat…"
Weavile looks between the two of them. The cat clears his throat. Clears it twice and juts his chin to the person behind him. The Pokemon shut up right away. They stare into those unblinking eyes, matching silence with silence.
"THE RAIN HAD STOPPED," Gyarados rumbles from beyond the window. There's a noticeable hole in the glass for his voice to fall through.
Weavile passes a claw in front of Cyrus's face. No response. The human's looking at Weavile and seeing nothing.
"One minute he's here, and the next he's gone." Crobat drops from his shoulder to nest in his lap. Weavile makes room for her. "I'm glad he's awake. But his memories…"
"Are all over the place," Honchkrow finishes with a low growl. Crobat shoots him a glare. "He called me Murkrow, Crobat. He thinks that we're still back there."
There. That place nestled within golden sands of time. It might as well be buried by now.
Weavile crosses his arms. "Hey. I've been meanin' ta ask, but what's going' on between you two and her Pokemon? Ya'll acted all strange when Garchomp said that she remembered."
Garchomp drops her head. "But what didja remember?" Weavile presses. Another face peeks out from behind the land dragon—the narrowed eyes of a weary Togekiss.
"It's nothing," Honchkrow snaps, and Togekiss shrinks back. "Just nonsense." He's aware of the tension in Crobat's eyes and does nothing to alleviate that.
"NO, WEAVILE IS RIGHT." Gyarados squints at the silent Garchomp. "YOU ARE HIDING SOMETHING FROM US, YOUR TEAM. GARCHOMP. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO THESE TWO?"
"No—"
"Honchkrow." The crow grinds his beak against itself when Garchomp spoke. The latter turns to the sea serpent. "Yes, we've indeed met before."
"Ya mean when the kid brought'cha back to HQ?"
"He brought you back to Headquarters?" Togekiss whispers in disbelief. The human in question turns to her direction. She stiffens, but he's not doing anything but staring at dead air.
"The lad found your Trainer dying in the woods," Honchkrow states with deliberate harshness. "Of course we had to help her. Shame that she's not even willing to lift a finger for him."
"She brought him back," Crobat snaps. Honchkrow's eye twitches. "He stopped breathing entirely when he collapsed. I couldn't feel his pulse, Krow… nothing at all." She holds his wavering gaze. He suppresses the urge to look away. "Krow, he actually died. If it wasn't for his team… if it wasn't for her… then… then how am I supposed to LIVE without HIM?!"
That words settles into the air like suffocating molasses. Honchkrow realizes that the bed is shaking—no, it's just him. Just him and his rambunctious heart. He quickly adverts his eyes with his fedora. Adverts it away from the heartbroken bat.
"Heeeeeeey…" A chill slides through the room, slicing the heavy air like knife through skin. "Heeeeeeeyyy…. Haaaallloooooo…."
Honchkrow brandishes a pulsating wing. "Don't even touch him, Ghost," he snarls.
"But whyyyyyy…?" Haunter tilts her head. "We'reeeeee frieeennnddssss…"
"We ain't friends with ya creepy blokes!" Weavile rushes to shield his Trainer. The human's brow furrows. "Scram! I know Shadow Claw ye ingrates!"
"Are yooooouuuu suuureee?" Haunter disappears. Gyarados growls, and that's when all heads turn to see the Ghost right beside Cyrus's head, the purple plume of miasma rustling his hair.
"LEAVE!" Gyarados opens his mouth—and quickly jerks back. No, if he did unleash Bite, then the window will break, and glass will splatter all over Cyrus. Honchkrow almost falls over from relief when Gyarados clamps his jaw shut.
"Cyyruuuuussss…" To their shock, the human actually turns his head to the source of that voice. The edges of Haunter's mouth curl up to her eyes. "Cyruuuusss… can you seeee uuuussss…?"
"S-Stop saying his name!" Crobat gasps. "Wait. Wait is he… is he actually understanding you?!"
"Keeheeeeee…" Haunter sticks out her long tongue… and vanishes before Crobat can smack her with a Cross-Poison.
"DAMMIT!" The bat unleashes the Move on a stray cobweb instead. The silky threads perish under her wing. "Damn Ghosts! You think this is funny?!"
Honchkrow hesitates. He sighs, then moves to his friend with an upraised wing. Crobat is still fuming to notice that he'd slipped his wing over her body. She only gasps when she feels his warm, velvet-like down on her back. Then her wings slump, and she sniffles back a sob before sinking into his awkward embrace.
"Cyrus and Cynthia met as children." Garchomp's voice is gentle. Much too gentle, almost unrecognizably so. Togekiss's eyes widen. Weavile's jaw slacks, and the windows shake at the sound of Gyarados's deep inhale. "Sunyshore City. They met at the Beach Cave, back when those fancy black squares weren't blocking the skies.
"I was a Gible when I first met Zubat and Murkrow. Cynthia brought me along one day because her new friends had something to show her. I just never thought…"
"What's your point?" Honchkrow snarls, but the spirit had left his breath a long time ago. Where's your proof? This delusion you speak of never happened in the first place."
That's when Crobat raises her head. "Cynthia was part of that group. I never thought that she would defect… After all, aren't humans more comfortable with their own kind? I was just minding my business until… well, I never understood the appeal of hurling rocks as recreation." A glance to her Trainer. A small, timid smile as her wing brushes the hair from his eyes. "And yet, there are humans who would protect us… us, Pokemon that are just one in a million."
Crobat looks to Honchkrow, who shifts his weight to the other claw. "He found you outside the house, Krow. He fixed your wing, yet you didn't rejoin your flock. You stayed with us… and you even helped us ward the bullies away from Cynthia."
"Why is this human helping me?" Honchkrow remembers wondering as the boy's fingers perform magic on his wing. He remembers those small, trembling hands as they carried him to the open skies. He remembers that timid, almost furtive smile as the bird tested his wing—and the crow remembered that gasp when he returned to the child's side.
"Are you sure you want to stay with me?" the boy had asked after his failed attempts to rid the curious bird. "They won't let me keep you… You wouldn't like it here." Eyes widened. "Oh. Really? You really want to…" A nod. "Okay. If you're sure, then I'll try my best to hide you. Until we find your flock, you can stay here with Zubat.
"Ah, and what Pokemon are you? A Wingull, right?"
Sometimes it's frightening to think that so much time had passed in a blink of an eye. I remember it like it was just yesterday. Back when the lad still had a reason to smile.
Honchkrow chuckles to himself as he recalls how he'd slapped that brat for daring to mistake a proud crow for those mindless Wingull. His back is to his Trainer, so he failed to see that tilt of the head.
"Wait, wait." Togekiss and Weavile glare at each other. "You go first. No, you!"
That was resolved by Weavile raising his hand. "Wait, so… Wait, wait. But I thought ya were enemies!"
"We are." Togekiss casts a glance at Garchomp. "We are… right?"
"THAT'S HARD TO BELIEVE, CONSIDERING THE EXCHANGE AT CELESTIC TOWN." Garchomp's thick lips lift to reveal gleaming teeth. His eyes also stray on Cyrus, just briefly, until he looks away.
"I'm sorry," mumbles Garchomp.
Those two words linger in the air. Cyrus stares at the land dragon. Something flashes in his eyes, that action unnoticed by the solemn Pokemon.
"I don't get it." Weavile plops down in Cyrus's laps. He plays with the thread-bare blanket. "I could smell her hate for him. But it's been… different lately. I don't…" He shakes his head. "If… If ya did know each other, then why didn't anyone say anythin'?"
"Because it wasn't important," Honchkrow mutters. "It's like it never happened, so all the more reason to believe that it never did."
Another silence, the din only broken by time's constant march. Garchomp steadies herself… and crosses to the doorway. Crosses the creaking floorboards to the bed with Togekiss shuffling in behind her.
"Cyrus?"
The human turns. Garchomp fights back a gasp and continues. "Cyrus. Remember me? Y-You knew me when I was still a Gible."
Can he even understand you? Honchkrow peers into that pallid face. The answer's not so clear.
"I'm sorry," Garchomp says with all the sincerity in the world. "We're sorry. Please accept my apology in Cynthia's place. We never meant to leave you… to hurt you as we did… to forget the things that you still remembered. Please, Cyrus… don't give up on us."
Cyrus squints at the dragon. She lays a hesitant claw on his cast. His eyes never leave her face.
Then Weavile wordlessly holds up the marker. Garchomp looks to Crobat, who sighs. The former then looks to Honchkrow. Everyone's looking at Honchkrow.
"Do as you wish," he mutters, sliding his fedora down his eyes.
Togekiss watches as her friend leaves their own messages next to Cynthia's drawing of a sun and moon. She notes the shaky edges of Garchomp's writing but never points it out.
"Cyrus?" the Pokemon whisper when he holds his arm sling to the light. Those cloudy eyes seem to have registered something… something about these messages written in permanent marker, something about the present reality.
"Gib—"
"Chaw-haw-haw… What do you know? They're still here."
All action halts at the arrival of the towering Skuntank, followed by a solemn Tangrowth, a scowling Purugly, and an unamused Toxicroak.
"Skuntank?" Corbat mutters in a sleepy sort of way.
"Chaw-haw-haw." The skunk rakes her gaze over the dazed crowd. Those beady eyes soften upon sight of Cyrus. "Oh. Kid's awake. How are you, champ?"
"Meh-heh-heh… Not like he understands you anyway." Toxicroack taps his orange cheeks. "Give him some space, Chief."
"Why's everyone so sad? Oh, are the Gastly annoying you again?" Purugly cocks her head.
Weavile slaps himself to regain ground. "Y-Y-Yea. You c-can say that."
"Oh…" Tangrowth drags a hand through his hair. His very voluminous hair. "I, erm, tried to keep them at bay, but they seemed to be attracted to him somehow. Poor Cyrus…" His voice is soft, like rustling grass. "But, erm… Garchomp and Togekiss? Erm…"
"Time for you to scram," Skuntank finishes with a whish of her tail. "Your Trainer's about to head out. Unless you want to stay behind with us in this haunted mansion… We're not friendly company. Chaw-haw-haw…"
Togekiss takes a covert step back. "Heading out?" she squeaks. "Where?"
As if on cue, the light catches on something golden in the doorway. A face peeks out from under that curtain.
"Garchomp, Togekiss." Her voice doesn't match that of the Champion of Sinnoh's. Not at all. That's the voice of… "We're going back."
"Back?" Garchomp grunts. "Back to where? To your grandma?"
Cynthia doesn't hear that, of course. She lifts her eyes to the person on the bed. Their gazes connect… and Honchkrow feels Cyrus's chest cave in with a sharp inhale.
"I'm sorry, Cyrus." Barely audible. Quiet like the rays of sunshine upon still waters. "But I need to go. I'll be back though… I promise."
"All right, all right." Skuntank herds the human back. "Get going already."
Purugly turns back to the Pokemon. "This human was asking something really strange earlier." Her eyes light up at the prospect of gossip. "Marsies caught her staring at some stone: a white stone that she claimed was a Moonstone. Then the human's asking if anyone knew anything about it."
"Meh-heh-heh… of course we didn't." Toxicroak crosses his arms. "We've never heard of a Moonstone being white and round… But the pattern did look familiar. Felt like I've seen it before, meh-heh-heh... but I don't remember."
"Yes, the stones did have, erm, a peculiar inscription. Like this." Tangrowth draws that in the air to the best of his abilities. "Erm… the stone looked like a piece of a key. To someplace really, really mysterious. Erm, then she's asking if any of us knew about its counterpart. Erm… it was a… Red Sunstone, right, Purugly?
"Yes, but aren't Sunstones orange?"
"What a strange girl. What does she expect to find in this decrepit old mansion?" Skuntank then clears her throat, causing Cynthia's Pokemon jump. "Chaw-haw-haw… earth to you two. Hurry up. It's about time you two scampered home."
When her Pokemon leave, Crobat falls back into Honchkrow's breast. Weavile is still in Cyrus's lap. Gyarados is staring intently at a small nook in the wooden pane.
"So she remembered," Honchkrow mutters, his voice vibrating down his chest. "What happens now? We can't keep up this charade for much longer…"
Weavile looks up from his dangling feet. He's squinting at the crow and bat with a peculiar look. His face is grim with questions, but he doesn't voice them. No, he remains quiet and solemn, a sign of respect for his friends.
Fingers nudge Crobat's ears.
Cyrus! She holds nonexistent cheeks. His fingers move again, jerking like a malfunctioning robot's—as if she'll lash at him if he even dares to touch her.
"Cyrus!" The man's staring intently at his Pokemon. Slowly, painfully, he extends a shaky hand.
"Kid…" Weavile returns the shy embrace. The boy's face rests on the cat's shoulders. Honchkrow spreads a protective wing around his Trainer's head, his feathers bristling at the mess under those bandages.
"CYRUS." Gyarados reaches a whisker through the broken glass. "WE ARE HERE, CYRUS."
Crobat feels the boy's ragged breating. Feels the uncanny warmth of his skin. Cyrus hesitates, but he gingerly buries his chalky face deeper into their embrace.
"Crobat… Honchkrow… Gyarados… Weavile…"
They freeze just like that, as if time had skipped a beat, as if that very moment had slipped from its linear tracks.
"Cyrus?" Crobat whispers.
He pulls his Pokemon inwards. His grip is unusually tight… as if releasing them, his Pokemon, will be an irreversible mistake. One that he cannot repeat. The trembling has worsened until the whole world is shaking along with him.
Then his lips move. His team has to fall into his ribs to even hear those words.
"What will become of me?"
Cynthia half-expected to be back in that forest of a thousand trees. When she closes her eyes, she sees that mansion. When she opens them, she sees the vast, overcast skies beyond Togekiss's back.
It's still so disorienting. It's like she just stepped out from another world entirely.
"At least the rain stopped." Cynthia rubs her eyes until the moisture clears. The sun isn't here. Just some nameless light that illuminates the horizon.
Togekiss is silent. Something is occupying its thoughts, and it shows.
"They didn't know anything about it, Togekiss." It. The Red Sunstone. From what the remnants of his team had said, they absolutely no knowledge that such a thing even existed.
"The White Moonstone?" Jupiter had frowned at the treasure when Cynthia brought it out for show-and-tell. "Aren't Moonstones black? Why is this one smooth and round? What idiot told you that this was a Moonstone?"
Togekiss chirps, jarring Cynthia from her thoughts. She palms the pulsating treasure. It's warm to the touch, as if it had exhausted its tears on a futile cry to the heavens.
Just how will I get the information out of him? It's not like I can just waltz in. "Oh, Cyrus, I know I told you to fuck off earlier, but I needed to kick you around a bit more until I've completely invalidated your existence. Wait, but I just remembered that you're actually a human being with feelings! And they work! Oops! Sorry! I was wrong! Water under the bridge now, right?"
"I really didn't give a damn… did I, Togekiss?"
No reply. Could've been a "yes." That bitter taste has become a mainstay in her mouth. Cynthia forces air into her lungs and spurs Togekiss forward. Her heart lurches at the familiar hills—the waterfalls and the road that winds up to the castle with billowing flags.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Cynthia?" Togekiss seems to say. "We can go back…"
"Yes. I'm done running away. Legendary Pokemon or not, it won't scare me anymore."
Togekiss sighs. Nevertheless, it lands on the patch of blowing grass. Cynthia steps down and looks up.
Had the Sinnoh League ever felt so… wrong?
"CYNTHIA?!"
The first thing she sees upon entering the doors is the flash of red. Then warmth. Then fluffy red hair tickling her face.
"Holy moly Lopunny it IS you! It's been forever! I haven't seen you since… well… since the last monster storm! Are you okay?! ARE YOU HURT?!"
"Hi, Flint." She musters a smile as she gently peels him off. Damn. He looks so different. So foreign.
"Cynthia!" Flint throws his arms around her. Again. Her skin prickles at his touch. Calm down heart. Calm the fuck down.
"Where'd you go?" Flint is crying. "Professor Rowan called a while back. But then you disappeared again!"
Rowan? Damn, how long had the journey to Foggy Forest been? How long had anything been? Just thinking on her life before Fogbound Lake leaves her brain a muddled mess.
I was a completely different person back then, huh…?
Flint places a hand on her shoulder. She fights back the urge to flinch. "As long as you're safe, it's okay. With everything that's happening: the time stopping, the national manhunt and—"
"Manhunt?"
Flint cringes at her tone. "U-Um… yeah." Then he's looking at anything but her. "Um… yeah…"
"Flint."
"I think you should see for yourself." He turns up the gilded stairs without a second glance. There's something fundamentally wrong here, and she can't put her finger on it. The air grows heavier as she follows Flint to those familiar double doors.
"Things have gotten out of hand."
But before she can even confirm that was indeed Flint's voice, he shoves open the door. And there lies the repercussions of all the things she had done and things that she has yet to do.
"Cynthia!"
Aaron jumps off his chair to tackle her. Bertha hurries over, her worried gaze raking over the younger woman until she's content that Cynthia is safe and sound.
"Cynthia!" Aaron cries. His scream rattles her brain. "Oh, Cynthia! Where have you been? We were so worried!"
"Don't tell me you weren't doing anything stupid again!" Bertha squeezes Cynthia's hand. The touch should've been comforting… it should've been… "Even Looker didn't know where you were!"
He didn't? Oh… so he kept his word…
"I'm okay." Cynthia keeps her voice steady. "I just needed some time to think. But I'm here now. What'd I miss?"
"Aaron, Bertha, give her some sp—"
"Cynthia?"
Heads snap up when the last of the Elite Four runs up to the Champion at the same time that Flint's jaw slams shut. The tall man stops before her, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and bright behind his glasses.
"Lucian," is the faint reply.
Lucian grabs her shoulders. His lips move, but he doesn't repeat Flint's show of affection. He's not the touchy type.
"Arceus, Cynthia! I was worried sick! I thought… I thought he got to you again!"
He. Hot blood coils down her heart. Cynthia casually shrugs Lucian's grasp and fixes a small smile for him—a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"You've missed a lot, Cynthia," Aaron murmurs, shuffling next to Bertha. "There's been… um… developments."
"That Galactic criminal escaped from prison!" Lucian snaps, slicing his hand across the volatile air. "And now he's out there, terrorizing the world with that bastard Charon!"
"LUCIAN, SHUT UP! THAT'S NOT—"
Then everyone's looking at her. Cynthia clamps her mouth before she exposes herself. Before her secret gets out.
Because they're not supposed to know that she recovered her memories.
"Not what, Cynthia?" Bertha's tone is unusually sharp.
DAMNDAMNDAMN THINK! "That's not… inaccurate," is the lame response.
Lucian exhales, the breath rattling his teeth. "Of course not. All signs point to that freak as being the mastermind behind the distortion of the time. The entire police force is after his head, but he's as elusive as his damn sanity."
Cynthia realizes that her hands are screaming, that her nails have pressed deep enough to draw blood.
"I've made a map of all possible locations as to where he could be hiding." Lucian shoves Flint aside as he marches to the bulletin board. Arceus, that board… "We've got the Time Gears under lockdown. The fourth and fifth Gear are still out there, but we have officers stationed at every corner to nab that dastardly thief.
"Veilstone, Eterna, Sunyshore"—knuckles rap against the board—"are under tight surveillance. The Gym Leaders have also lent us their full cooperation…"
But then his glasses glint in a way that sends gooseflesh down Cynthia's neck. "Except… that the leader in Sunyshore doesn't seem to understand the scope of the situation… Flint."
Flint returns a cold smile. "Volkner can do anything he wants. He doesn't have to listen to you… Lucian."
"This is a matter of saving the world!" A hand smacking against the bulletin, the impact reverberating out the towering windows. "How did an apathetic fool like him become a Gym Leader in the first place? He doesn't care about anything! Because of him, Sunyshore will fall—"
Flint's fists shoot out, pinning Lucian onto his carefully-crafted board. Papers scatter to the floor. That wanted poster slips under Cynthia's heel, blue and amber eyes meeting for just a heartbeat in time before she abruptly turns away.
"Don't call my friend a fool!" Flint hisses. Lucian's eyes glint again, this time with an even darker edge. "Don't ever fucking insult my friend, you damned four-eyes!"
"Don't spit on me, you damned fool!" Lucian snaps, shoving Flint aside. "And your friend can care less with what I call him!
"Focus! If we don't catch that criminal, he'll go around hurting others to enact his revenge! That heartless freak caused Cynthia's memory loss! Kidnapped her, held her hostage until she exposed him for the monster that he was! Do you want that lunatic to hurt her again? Do you want him to hurt Volkner?!"
Flint cringes. His face is black with rage, but his jaw is tight. His fists are also very, very tight.
If it isn't for Aaron's whimpering behind her, Cynthia would've let the blood destroy her eardrums. The former's hands are gripping her sleeve.
"Enough." All winces under Bertha's cold, commanding voice. The older woman physically divides the two taller men, shoving them into respective corners. "That's enough, Flint and Lucian! You two have been at each other's throats ever since Crystal Cave, and I've had enough of your bickering! Cynthia's here, so stop acting like children and DO YOUR DAMN JOBS!"
"B-Bertha's right," Lucian growls to the snarling Flint. "We have to work together. We have to bring this criminal to justice, even if it means getting our hands dirty. The sooner we get him; the sooner the world will return to normal."
Flint jerks his head away, but not before Cynthia catches the curses that frothed from his mouth, words that would make the most hardened sailor do a double-take.
"I need fresh air." Flint brushes aside the gawking group and storms to the door, making sure that it slams like a damn earthquake behind him. Lucian grits his teeth, but he turns and wholly focuses on regathering his case files.
"What's happening to everyone?" Aaron whispers. His eyes are wide and watery. "Everything's falling apart… our team is falling apart…"
"Don't say that." Bertha lays a hand on his hunched shoulders. An edge had taken to her usually kind face. "Everyone's stressed out as of late. Give them some time. They'll get over it."
There's no confidence behind that sentiment.
Aaron gives Bertha a very desperate look. With a curt nod to Cynthia, the two quietly excuse themselves.
Then it's just her and Lucian. The man refuses to look at her. It's also difficult for her to return the custom.
"You should rest, Cynthia," he finally grunts, his normally smooth, composed timbre nowhere to be heard. He's still talking to the air. "We'll regroup soon."
Cynthia nods, even if he doesn't catch that. The cold hole in her heart grows with each step away until there's physical wall dividing the Elite Four from the Champion and themselves. The air's heavy, just like the atmosphere of Foggy Forest. Her shadow stares back when she looks down. False sunlight wafts through glass windows, washing the League in a veil of grey.
Clip. Clop. She stops. Cynthia turns to the empty space beside her. She grabs for the wall. Her fist doesn't connect with brick, and she twists until that cloth finally buckles from her strength.
Looker stiffens when their gazes connect. He's much, much older than the last time they met, before she set out to Sunyshore and returned with more than she could handle.
"You heard," is all she says. Looker hesitates—then his expression hardens, and the Detective pulls himself up to the full extent of his height.
"Why did you come back, Cynthia?" he says.
Mock sunlight drifts through the broken glass of the Old Chateau. Now that the rain's stopped, the mood had lightened somewhat. Somewhat… Darkness isn't prevalent as much, and a hint of silver lightning can be seen in those bruised clouds.
Saturn braces himself when he opens the door. The Boss is upright again; his Pokemon he holds tightly against his chest.
Come on, feet. Saturn forces a step. Then another. One more until he reaches that bed. He's very aware of the Pokemon's intense stares as he sets the tray of soup down the stool.
"H-Hey, Master Cyrus," Saturn says to the floor. "I-I tried making soup today. Jupiter told me that I added too much salt. But um… I-I tried, so-so… You should eat, Da—sir. Sir. Or you'll get sick."
Silence. Crushing gravity presses onto Saturn's neck, coming very close to snapping it off his body. He squeezes his eyes shut, replays Jupiter's broken message about everything being all right, rewinds Mars's song about finding the sun within a sea of rain.
Then he looks up to meet the false blue skies.
Saturn flinches, but quickly recomposes himself. "B-B-Boss?" Cyrus is staring straight at the Commander—not behind him, not at the cave of his chin—but straight into his eyes. "Boss? Can you… can you see me?"
One more second, and his heart will explode and spray the walls. "Boss? Da—Master Cyrus, can you hear me?! Oh fu-! Master Cyrus!" DAMN FUCK SHIT IT'S ACTUALLY HAPPENING! "Master Cyrus, please respond! Master Cyrus!"
"Saturn?" Mars's voice flutters from outside. "Saturn, what are you screaming at?"
"Mars!" He almost knocks over that tray on his way out. "Mars, tell Jupiter to come quick! Tell everyone that Master Cyrus—"
Saturn freezes. What was… no, that definitely wasn't the wind. That was definitely…
The Galactic Commander slowly, painfully turns to the glowering man behind him. "Boss?" His pounding heart almost drowns out his words. "Y-Y-You called me…?"
That glare is very, very cold. But there's something else under all that ice… something. Something very, very wrong. Something that doesn't belong in Cyrus's usual impassive demeanor. Something that makes Saturn's chest squeeze tighter and tighter until darkness gnaws at the edges of his vision.
"I am not your boss anymore." It's barely there, that voice… Barely there, but it's the loudest thing in the room. "Why did you come back, Saturn, after I told you not to look for me?"
The skies haven't cleared up yet. Overcast still there, and traces of sunlight remain still uncertain. A chilly breeze tugs at Looker's hair, exposing the fresh lines on his scalp.
Looker fishes into his pockets. Cynthia looks down to see a triangular juice pouch in his extended hand.
"No thanks."
His hand is still there. She finally accepts it with a weary sigh.
"I like grape. And this is my favorite brand," Looker says as he sips his own pouch. "Convenient to carry, sustainable to dispose. I brought another one with me just in case I happened to run into someone familiar."
Cynthia's inhaling more than she can ingest. Looker keeps his eyes overhead as she sucks the pouch dry. He waits until she's slurping at air, gives it a few seconds, then speaks.
"Everything's changing so fast."
Cynthia almost chokes on her straw. Looker crumples his own carton into a tiny ball. "With the recent disturbances in time, people and Pokemon also seem to be exhibiting stranger behaviors. INTERPOL's still looking into it, but we're almost confident that the link between the distortion and increased criminal activity are positive."
Looker folds his hands behind his head, leaning down to the moist grass. "We still haven't found Charon yet. He's still out there… plotting… hiding… And there's virtually no trace of him either, from the evidence we've confiscated."
Cynthia is silent again. Looker jams his freezing hands into his pockets. "Everyone is mobilized towards his apprehension." Him. Not Charon. "INTERPOL's sent troops to every corner of Sinnoh. They've closed the region off to contain this phenomenon."
"And also to prevent him from escaping."
"Y-Yes." She's right. She's right, Handsome. "Due to the bounty, we've many leads, but they all point to nowhere."
"Hmm."
Looker tries not to peer into her face, focusing instead on the ambiguous signs in the clouds. She definitely knows something. But she won't tell him. He knew her well enough to know that she'll close herself off, and that would be disastrous, considering that she's the only person he can trust in these turbulent times.
"Are you helping Lucian, Looker?"
A sharp inhale. "He asked me—no, begged me—to put him on the case. He's adamant on finding Cyrus, much like every other officer who wants that head on a stake. I… I couldn't say no. If I did…"
Cynthia understands. She grabs a fistful of wet grass and watches them swirl away in the breeze. "What happened while I was gone, Looker?"
Oof, where to even begin? "Well… long story short, the Elite Four's losing cohesion. Flint and Lucian are in a cold war about who-knows-what. It's not my place to ask. Bertha's doing her best to keep it together. Aaron doesn't want to take sides, but if things continue like this…"
A flock of Starly soar overhead, their anguished cries slicing across the melancholy skies. Somewhere in the far distance, waves crash against a craggy bluff. Further than that, a multicolored geyser wavers ever so slightly, its waters reflecting crimson crystals amongst three heads of gold, pink, and blue. As of right now, the storm is but a memory, yet there appears to be an even bigger catastrophe in the near future.
Cynthia shifts. He can't read her face. "What about you, Detective?" she says. "What have you been doing?"
"My job," is the half-hearted reply. "INTERPOL's a frenzy right now."
A silence. She purses her lips. "If… if they do ca—find Cyrus… then what will become of him?"
She's staring at Looker with desperate eyes. Looker stares back and lets his solemn expression answer her. Then Cynthia drops her head. Even Looker has to breathe to calm his thundering heart.
"You know what's funny?" Real smooth, Handsome. Break the awkwardness with that. Cynthia frowns. He lets his brain ramble. "Remember when I asked you if something bad had happened at Crystal Cave? Seems like a long time ago now, has it? You know, when I returned to find him on the floor, that's when I began to think. Was he really the monster that everyone portrayed him as? I didn't know why I stayed with him until he woke up, but when I saw him open his eyes… well…" His hand automatically climbs to his chest, messaging the wound that still hasn't healed. "Well… maybe my doubts weren't just doubts after all."
"Why are you telling me this, Looker?" Her voice is small, but she's staring at him intently. She's been dead quiet until he looked at her, and that's when she decided to speak.
Looker shrugs. How do I tell you if I don't even know myself?
Trees shiver in the chilly wind. Looker pulls his coat tighter. He watches a stray dandelion uproot itself to join its friends in the sky.
"Thank you, Looker." She doesn't have to specify the context. Looker's lips twitch at those words, the leaden weight seemingly lifting off his heart.
"No problem, Cynthia. Your privacy is my number-one priority." A soft laugh. "You know, if it wasn't for you, then I wouldn't know how to even handle this case." If it wasn't for you, I would've been all alone. Would've pulled out all my hair and leapt off the deep end.
Cynthia gives him a small, timid smile. She's trying her best. I'm trying my best. We all are.
Then after who-knows-how-long, he stands. Looker dusts the grass off his slacks as he marvels at the grey bands of light in the brightening skies.
"You're going?" Cynthia grunts, also rising to her feet.
"Yes."
"Okay." She inhales a whiff of stale air. "Don't be a stranger, Looker. Let me know if you ever need anything."
"Of course." A nap sounds really good right now. "Thanks, Cynthia. Take care."
As he turns to leave, he stops. "Cynthia?"
"Yes?"
He replays the words in his mind... before his lips tug into the smallest hint of a smile.
"You're amazing, you know that? Coming back here, exposing yourself to danger just to uncover the truth… You're the strongest person I know, Cynthia. And your title has nothing to do with that."
Cynthia's eyes widen until they resemble moons. Looker chuckles. "But that doesn't mean you should be doing everything by yourself. You're still young… so reach out to us old folks too. We're here for you, just as you've been for us."
His words linger in the air well after it's spoken. Cynthia's fixing him with a rather… odd sort of look. An unfocused gaze, as if her mind is faraway, disconnected from the reality in which her ears operate in.
And she grins, a gesture as radiant as dazzling moonlight. "Thank you, Looker. But… there's someone else that deserves your kind words much more than me. Someone much, much stronger than I am."
And who might that be? Looker knows he won't receive an answer though. And that's okay. As long as Cynthia's content, then hope can still be found. There's still a chance for sunlight to bathe the dark and cold world with its warmth.
"Thank you, Looker." He's about to tell her that she'd repeated herself, but he lets it slide upon seeing the sparkle in her eyes.
He happens to blink, and in that heartbeat of time, someone else is smiling at him. Someone in Cynthia's spot. But it's not the young woman. No, it's a girl. A plain, little girl not burdened by mounting expectations or delusions of grandeur. A fragile, happy girl who holds her head high, still searching for that silver lining in the sky.
Togekiss descends before Cynthia can realize what was happening. The bird knows where it's going, and for once, it doesn't question its Trainer's questionable actions.
The hands of a faraway clock unwind as she wades deeper into the forest. And yet… something feels off. A deep, penetrating chill within her visceral organs, a coldness with no explanation. Her heart pounds with each step, the reasonable region of her mind sending white flowers to her eyes when she stops before the door.
It's quiet. Too quiet. Even the Starly had ceased their song. The door creaks open before she even knocks.
"B-2," she gasps. "R-8. What happened?"
The Grunts silently step aside. Cynthia flashes a glance to Togekiss before the two enter the melancholy mansion. Grunts sit up at her presence, but no one stops her. No one even looks at her.
It's like walking through the cemetery.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Cynthia freezes when she sees Jupiter slumped against the wall. The latter had her knees huddled near her chest, her head hidden in a shield of violet.
Mars is also on the floor, her eyes open and glassy, her shoulders loose and quivering. She twitches when Cynthia approaches, but other than that, her usual carefree mirth is nowhere to be seen.
Tick. Tick. Tock.Something had gone terribly wrong.
And that's when Cynthia turns to see Saturn hunched against the wall, his face hidden by his hands. His shoulders are trembling, a faint whimper escaping through the cracks in his fingers. He's not glaring at her today. He's not doing anything at all.
Tick. The unmarked door is slightly ajar. An unseen chill seeps from that small opening. Cynthia stumbles back when the door creaks open—CRRRRRRRREEEE—with the help of indivisible hands.
Tock. Togekiss whimpers. Despite every morsel of reason screaming at her to run away, to turn her back and never return, Cynthia mounts forward with her head held high.
Tick. To o o ck kkkkk k
"Cyrus?"
His Pokemon are the first to react. They're positioned around his bed, almost like a fortress. That name carries in the musty air, pushing across the miasma to reach his ears.
And he shifts. He tears his gaze from his functional hand—from the wanted poster grasped so tightly in his trembling grip.
"Aka—"
TOCK. Then the clock stops. Shirona glances around—and shatters into shards of forgotten memory before she can even scream.
Their eyes meet. And for the first time, he's seeing her as the person that she is, not for who she once was. The memories spark in that moment of connection—memories of what is, events that were actually valid and correct. The cruel truth and nothing but that.
Not that sunlit beach from eons ago. Never the blazing rings of the summer sun, not the multicolored bubbles dancing in the laughter of the boy and girl as they ran, hand-in-hand, to that ugly yellow house with the three palms trees, the door opening to reveal a grinning old man…
No. Those memories were false. Incorrect. Therefore, they aren't real. They never happened.
"The Hero of Sinnoh." Nothing in that voice. So many things in her heart. Resignation in his face. Hurt in his eyes, quickly relinquished to fear. "Of course justice prevails over the lowly villain in the end... Are you content now that you've interfered with my plans and ruined everything?"