It did strike Professor Rowan as odd, how Cynthia showed up out of the blue to invite him on a morning stroll. Double odd when she insisted on using her Togekiss, despite the bird being a one-passenger carrier. Triple odd when Cynthia took the opposite direction, flying north instead to the frozen town of Floaroma.

Rowan observes the silent meadows. No colors. Not even a breeze. In all my sixty years, I've never seen anything quite like it.

"You're very brave, Cynthia," the professor says. "Taking a vow like that on public television… But I believe in you. You'll see your promises to the end."

Cynthia turns back. There's an odd smile on her lips, one that he cannot place.

Clouds are whizzing past his moustache. Rowan unwraps a Yum-Bar and begins to eat. Cynthia was insistent, and he missed breakfast.

"So… You wanted to show me something?"

Cynthia coughs. "Ah! Ahem. Well. We're almost there!"

"You don't have a cold, do you?" Rowan offers a sweetened lemon slice, but she shakes her head. So he tries again. "So… Is there anything in Eterna Forest you thought I should see?"

Cynthia opens her mouth. Closes it. Scratches the back of her neck.

"The Moss Rock?" Rowan offers.

"Um… not really. Hang on, Professor."

Togekiss descends to a clearing that's impossible to locate from the skies. The bird scowls when Rowan dismounts. Apparently, Yum-Bars leave crumbs, and the Pokemon doesn't seem to be overly fond of sweets. Unfortunately.

Rowan follows Cynthia down a shady path of brush. There's a thick foliage during this season. As the professor marvels at the wonders of nature, a Murkrow almost steals his Yum-Bar. Almost.

"How goes it with the search for the Red Sunstone, Cynthia?"

She makes a choking sound. "U-Um. G-Good. I found it."

"Is that so?" Rowan digs for his second snack: brown sugar mocha with red bean paste. He's even generous enough to offer one to that drooling Murkrow. "And do you happen to have it with you right now?"

Cynthia stops. She's giving him that strange look again.


It's eerily quiet in the forest, so much so that Rowan hears the breath leaving his lungs. The place where time stands still, he muses. Eterna. Eternity. To think that this forest remained unchanged from the time of our ancestors…

Cynthia stops at the rusty gates. A garden lies beyond the threshold. He can make out vibrant splotches of red and white, even from here. Past an ivy-choked fountain, past the disturbingly life-like gargoyle statues…

"Cynthia?"

"Y-Yes, Professor Rowan?"

Rowan juts his chin upwards. "Why are we at the Old Chateau? Did something just move on the third floor?"

Cynthia makes a grand revealing motion to the darkened mansion. "Well!" she yelps, as if he wasn't right in front of her. "We're here!"

Rowan has heard stories of what had transpired within this forest manor. All conflicting theories, but all sharing one conclusion: it was by no means a happy tale. A sickly daughter. An everlasting dark dream. Broken clocks, the stench of madness buried within the walls… Blood under the floorboards, grudges that were never properly laid to rest…

Knock-knock, knockity-knock.

The door creaks open, revealing a large golden eye framed by fiery curls.

"Cynthia!"

"Mars." Cynthia smiles. Who? Like the planet? Rowan leans forward. Why, she's just a child! Perhaps a tad older than Dia, but still… What's she doing in the middle of the woods?

"And who's that?" says the one called Mars.

"Um—"

"My name is Rowan." Said man extends a hand. "However, everyone just calls me the Pokemon Professor." Mars stares at his palm. And he waits, because Professor Rowan is a very patient man.

"That smell…" Mars's gaze travels to the crumbs in his moustache. "Ew! You actually like Yum-Bars?"

Well. That's new. "Excuse me?" Rowan scowls. "I admit that Yum-Bars lack vital nutrients, but sugar activates the brain! Each serving of choc—I mean, Yum-Bars—contains—"

"Okay, okay, whatever." Mars opens the door. "We have another nut-lover. Yippie." She clears her throat. "Hey, everyone! Look who's here!"

Everyone? Heads with bright hair pop out from the walls, under the stairs, behind the sofa… One such person with a bowl cut leaps from the closet.

Rowan doesn't even blink.

"Tch. Not even a scream," says the man with a rather noticeable posterior. "Why'd you bring gramps, Cynthia? This one also has a resting bi—"

Then all the mirth fades from his ruddy face. "HOLY DAMN!" he screeches, and the rest of his friends jump. "HE'S THAT OLD GEEZER WHO CALLED ME A SORRY SPECIMEN!"

"H-He's the one who made fun of our clothes!" sputters a woman beside the man. "In Jubilife, remember?!"

"AACK HE'S GIVING ME THE DEATH STARE!"

"HE HURT OUR FEELINGS!"

Rowan's brows dip into his nose. "Now, what in tarnation are you lot talking about?"

"AAAH HE'S GONNA EAT ME ALIVE!"

"Cynthia, this is an odd place for a circus, hm?"

"C-Circus?" A young man scrambles out from under the table. In his hands are a screwdriver and a toy robot. Is that his hair? What an odd style, to want to look like a Purugly…

"Ah, Cynthia. Are these the evacuees from Jubilife? Last time I checked, Pastoria is receiving people—"

"Don't ignore me! I'm the Great—"

"Saturn, the old man likes nuts!"

"HUH?!"

Rowan crosses his arms. "Where are your families, you two?" The two gape at him. "Are your names really Mars and Saturn? Like the planets?" And Oak teases me for being named after a tree, that hypocrite…

"Mars, Saturn, what's going on down there?" There's an air of authority in that voice. A head of violet curls peeks from the balcony. "B-2, R-8, why are you screaming?"

"Jupiter!" they cry.

Jupiter… And then it clicks. "Jupiter?"

The woman jumps. As does every other person in the room. "Y-Yes?" she wheezes.

"Hm! So it's Jupiter, hm? I never got a chance to thank you properly for driving away those misguided thugs. Don't you remember? I think it was two decades ago… I had a conference at Hearthome with a Mister Berlitz. The squad car broke down, but you managed to catch up to the thieves on foot!"

Jupiter blinks. A faraway look settles across her eyes, and her lips curl into a faint smile. "Well… That was a long time ago, wasn't it?"

Tick. Tock. There's an antique grandfather clock in the foyer. A spell of silence hangs over the furniture like a suffocating curtain.

Then the hairs on Rowan's neck bristle. An uncanny coldness grips his body, the ice permeating into his bloodstream. Something glints in the extremes of his vision—a writing shadow of claws and teeth.

Cynthia screams. Rowan ducks as bodies fly across the air. Red flashes. Pokemon crying.

"Elise, stop."

And for some strange, unexplained reason, a wave of repulsion deposits into Rowan's stomach. Moisture springs to his armpits as the sweet flavor of Yum-Bars sours in his mouth. He feels his blood curling down his throat, hardening…

"Bzzt!"

A ball of light snaps at the glowering Gengar. The latter swipes a claw, only to be stopped by a Haunter. Some nonverbal, harsh argument is exchanged between the Ghosts.

Wooden wheels clatter across floorboards. The air thickens, and Rowan's neck almost cracks under crushing gravity.

What… Oh no…

Despite the silvery hue of his hair, those pale blue eyes are just as haunting as Rowan remembers them. Even more so now that he's seeing them in person. Shadows and angles make up that impassive mask of a face. The person in question might as well have been a remnant of the Old Chateau.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Professor Rowan." A course wind in a barren tundra. A tilt of the head, and a pounding in Rowan's skull. "My name is Cyrus."


"Thank you for taking the time to come. I understand—"

"Be quiet, you good-for-nothing thief!" Rowan snaps. Cynthia makes a strangled noise, and the professor swivels back.

"Cynthia!"

"Y-Yes, Professor?"

Rowan's nostrils flare with pride. "Just what I expect from the Champion of Sinnoh! You brought me here to see you apprehend that criminal, hm? Go for it!"

Cynthia jerks back from his congratulatory grasp. She's shaking her head, but nothing's coming out of her mouth. Rowan hurries to grab the children's arms. They flinch. "Officer!" the old man yells. "I'll take everyone to Eterna! I leave the rest in your capable hands!"

"Professor!"

"Cynthia? What are you doing? Don't block the door!"

"Professor Rowan, LISTEN!"

"Cynthia?" Rowan says very, very slowly. "Why aren't you helping the officer?"

"P-Professor Rowan, l-listen." Cynthia takes a deep breath. "Professor Rowan, Cyrus is helping me with this investigation. He's the only one who knows how to stop this—"

"Er-hem! This is no time for jokes, Cynthia. You didn't need to take him out of-"

"I'M NOT JOKING!"

"Cyrus!" That cry belongs to the officer, much to Rowan's surprise. "Where are you going?"

"My room," is the flat response.

"You!" Rowan snarls. Cyrus turns. "You brainwashed her, didn't you? You brainwashed Cynthia and Officer Jupiter, Mars and Saturn and all these innocent people like you did to your doomsday cult!"

"Professor—"

BAM!

The door flies open.

"Ow, Dia… I told you not to push! That door's probably thousands of years old!"

"Oh no… My scarf. I'll have to buy a new one…"

"It's just dirt, Platinum! Wash it off with cold wa—"

The children stiffen at Rowan's murderous glare. Then Dia gasps. "Professor, you forgot your purse!"

"It's not a purse!" Pearl hisses. "A-And we weren't following you or anything, Professor! You happened to leave your pu—satchel—and Dia volunteered to bring it, and we happened to see you leaving with Cynthia…"

"Again?" the Champion grunts.

Platinum surveys her clothes with a despondent sigh. The glint of her rings, a diamond and peal brooch, glitters in the eyes of Grunts and Ghosts. "I'll need a bath. We should build some hotels within the forest…"

Pearl gasps, and Platinum's head snaps up. "Platinum!" he whispers. "Get behind me! We need to call the police—Dia? Dia! What the heck are you—"

"Hey, Mister Cyrus!" The young boy waves. "Wanna hear a joke?"

"Diiiiiaaaaa! He's a wanted criminal—"

"Speaking of Pokemon!"

"No, Dia—"

"Pearl, speaking of Pokemon!"

Pearl groans into his hands. "Fine! Speaking of Pokemon!" He clenches his teeth. "They sure have a lot of special abilities, don't they?"

"That's right!" responds his partner-in-comedy.

"How many of them, do you know?"

"Not a one."

"What? You don't remember a single one?"

"Yup. I don't… That's my DIS-ability!"

Platinum snickers. Pearl smacks Dia in the back of the head.

Then someone wheezes. The man with the giant posterior, B-2, collapses on the ground in a giggling mess. "Holy Arceus… that's his—pfft-DISABILITY because he can't recall an ABILITY!"

"Didja hear that, didja hear that?"

"That kid's a genius!"

"They must be professionals!"

Rowan storms up to the Dexholders. "Diamond, Pearl, Platinum!" They wince. "Diamond, your mother is worried sick! Pearl, what will Palmer say if he sees you? And Platinum…."

She squeaks.

"Oh, Platinum, once I tell your father…"

Cynthia flails her hands. "P-Professor, it's okay! It's perfectly safe here! They can play with Ma—"

"You will not be conspiring with a felon!" Rowan snaps. Cynthia cringes. "As Champion, shouldn't you understand the ramifications? Oh, I knew that I shouldn't have let you go back alone!"

"Cyrus isn't the enemy, Professor! He's my fr—"

"Mister Cyrus! Mister Cyrus!"

"ACK, DIA!"

"Cyrus. Cyrus." Jupiter gently taps his shoulder. Said man tears his gaze from the floor. "That little boy is calling you."

"Mister Cyrus!" Dia's enthusiasm is warm and genuine. Cyrus squints as if it's suddenly too bright to see.

"E… Excuse me?"

"Dia—" Rowan starts.

"Do you remember me, Mister Cyrus?"

Cyrus frowns at the space surrounding the boy. "I… I'm sorry. I—"

"It starts with a D!"

A long, uncertain pause. "You… Your name is… Dawn?"

Dia makes a face. "Bzzt! Nope, wrong universe! I'm Diamond, but my friends call me Dia. This is Pearl. And Platinum."

"Nooooooooooooo," moans his best friend.

Platinum gives a weak smile. "Er. H-Hello... er…"

But Cyrus returns a deep nod. "Miss Berlitz." Her eyes widen. He stiffens. "Erm. My apologies. Have a wonderful day."

"WAIT!" Cynthia screeches. All activity stops. "Cyrus, Professor Rowan's here to help you!

"And Professor Rowan!" The man's moustache twitches as Cynthia jabs a finger to his face. "You have to help Cyrus before time really does stand still!"


Rowan still has no damn idea how Cynthia managed to convince (coerce) him into following Sinnoh's Public Enemy Number One down a darkened hallway. Alone. The professor's gaze constantly darts around, searching for a bulge in the sleeves, a glint in the walls…

"Simple morning stroll!" I should've know that Cynthia was up to no good!'

Wait a minute… so was that all an act? That spectacle on television? The cheering had been so loud in Sandgem Town that Rowan had to shut his windows. It was a stuffy night. Still, that damn celebration almost contributed to a fire near the beach… Hopefully all those posters will have been picked up by now…

And didn't Team Galactic attack the Sinnoh Regional Conference? Rowan's glare is drilling holes into the other head. It was all your idea, wasn't it? To declare war on authority? What did you do to Cynthia?!

"Please have a seat, Professor Rowan."

Rowan's jaw tightens. He chooses to stand as Cyrus maneuvers across the book-laden floor to the Pokemon near the window sill.

"We're still looking for their Trainers."

Cyrus yanks his hand back before it connects with Crobat's head. The bat frowns. Weavile growls, Honchkrow's feathers bristle, and the Gyarados outside the window gnashes its fangs.

The man waves them down. "I'm… I'm sorry, Professor Rowan." He picks up a notebook. "This… this is the most current—"

"I cannot believe that you tricked Cynthia into stealing evidence." The notebook drops to the floor. Rowan is speaking slowly, ensuring harsh emphasis on every word. "Listen, you. I am a very patient man. But can't you see that this charade has gone far enough?"

Rowan drops his voice. "Because you've squirmed your way into the Champion's good graces—and damn me if my Stockholm Syndrome theory is correct—I'll give you some congratulatory advice. I know that I'm outnumbered. I know that you have leverage, and you're not afraid to exploit them.

"But if you even have a shred of conscience left, I encourage you to turn yourself in. Do you understand how many people have suffered due to your rash, selfish actions? Even the Pokemon are in pain! Hasn't that ever crossed your mind?

"And have you not seen the implications of your madness? You are but a coward, hiding to escape responsibility! Extremism is never the solution, and it never will be!

"Think about it. A world without spirit? Without emotions, without love and sadness? How did such delusions get stuck in your head? How would your crazy plan benefit anyone? Don't you ever think of the consequences, you misguided thug?!"

Cyrus had stopped breathing a long, long time ago. He's pressed back into his chair, the smallest that Rowan had ever seen him.

And there's… there's a glaring disconnect between the person in front of him compared to the one whose face has reserved a slot on national television. It's such a jarring realization that it causes Rowan's train of thought to plummet down the cliff.

Is this even the same person?

"I'm sorry…" Barely there, that voice. "I-I know I messed up, b-but I'm trying—"

Rowan silences that with a shake of the head. "To think that you're still relying on old tricks to distort my thinking… You really are a two-faced psychopath, aren't you? You never learn. I am so, so very disappointed in you… but you don't care for this old man's words, do you?"

And with that and a sigh, Rowan departs. He brushes past the gawking Grunts, takes the children's hands (Cynthia included), and leaves the Old Chateau to what it should be.

Forgotten.


With a violent twist, Cynthia breaks free from his iron grasp. Rowan frowns, but his former student stubbornly stands her ground.

"I am disappointed in you too, Cynthia!" Rowan says, and she deflates. "To think that the Champion of Sinnoh fell prey to the tricks of a no-good criminal! How long has this been happening, Cynthia? Did he get into your head before Foggy Forest? When you visited him in prison? What—"

"Cyrus saved my life!" Cynthia retorts, a hand smacking her bosom. "And he's not that type of person, Professor Rowan! You don't understand him at all!"

"We should go home," Pearl mouths to his friends. They're too busy watching the adults argue to pay him any mind.

"Cyrus is my friend," Cynthia states calmly. Her steely gaze rakes over the trio and her teacher. Rowan's scowl deepens. "It was Charon who gave Team Galactic a bad name. Cyrus is not the villain of the story, Professor. All along, he's been trying his best to protect me. He's currently helping me save the world as we speak.

"I won't let anything bad happen to Cyrus." A cool forest breeze fills the arbitrary distance. "That's my vow as the Champion of Sinnoh. I'm really grateful for what you've taught me, Professor Rowan, but nothing will deter me from protecting my friends… even if I have to break the law."

Cynthia brushes past her glowering teacher. "I lied to the people whom I swore to protect," she says softly. "But if that's how it is, that's how it will be. First and foremost, I'm still Cynthia… just that little girl from Celestic Town who started her journey with a Pokedex and a Pokemon…"

The woman turns, revealing a glimpse of burning amber eyes. "I don't have time for pointless bickering, Professor Rowan. If you don't want to help, that's fine with me. We'll just solve this ourselves."

The Dexholders stare after her retreating figure. The forest holds its breath.

"Let's go home, Diamond, Pearl, Platinum," says the Pokemon Professor in a cold, flat tone. "Just this once, I won't tell your parents… but promise me that you three will never recklessly endanger yourselves again!"


That's what he said. The very next day, Rowan's fumbling through the lightening skies on his oversized Starly. The Pokemon yawns loudly. It's a very contagious yawn. Everything sane is still asleep during this unholy hour.

It was just another routine of checking whether the doors were locked. A quick sweep of the lab, a brief pass through the office, a peek into the door which revealed a vacant space where the satchel should've been hung.

I only hope that I'm not too late… The contents of that satchel contains the whole future of Pokemon research! If that so much falls into the wrong hands…

"If he even thinks about laying his paws on my Yum-Bars…" Rowan grumbles, and Starly gives a groggy yip.

Then he's there. Starly descends down the sea of trees, breaking through a dimly-lit clearing. The forest's natural light illuminates the flower path.

THUMP!

The sight that flashes across Rowan's mind is grim one. Shoving that possibility aside, Rowan peeks out from behind the ivy-coated walls of the manor.

THUMP! THUMP! A series of tumbling, a crack! Rowan's stomach churns uneasily, and it's not from his rushed breakfast of honey cereal.

The wheels of the wheelchair are treading air. From the fallen seat sprawls the legs, a contorted arrangement of baggy fabric. The other man is trembling as he peels himself from the ground. Crobat reaches a timid wing—and he flinches so violently that he falls backwards, grief-stricken face pointed to the early morning skies.

"I'm sorry, Crobat," Cyrus mutters. The bat gently helps him sit up. With the help from the surrounding Drifblim, Cyrus uses the crutches to push himself to his feet.

And Rowan looks away. Again and again, thump, thump. A pause. A harsh curse, another futile effort. THUMP! THUMP! A lesson that refuses to be learned.

KR-ACK!

Then silence. A heavy, eternal silence. When Rowan's lungs work again, he peers back around the wall.

Nothing. No signs of human activity, save for the deep depressions in the grass.


As the scattered morning rays cast over the earth, Professor Rowan creaks open the double doors of the Old Chateau. Good. They're still sleeping. He maneuvers across the landmine of bowl cuts, his eyes alert for any sign of—

My satchel! Rowan kicks a limp arm aside. There, on the dining table, is his precious satchel! Rowan grasps the leather bag, his perpetual frown breaking ever so slightly.

He unclasps the straps. Good. The research is all here. No missing papers… And the Yum-Bars are all accounted for! Oh, and the Pokedex—Good. It still works. All the parts are intact…

A tingle races down Rowan's neck. He turns to see a pair of bright blue eyes. A burst of light, a crackling of electricity before that thing disappears into the darkness.

Rowan knows this feeling. It's this feeling at Foggy Forest, at the onset of Fogbound Lake. A tingling in his stomach, a quickening of the breath. Tossing all doubts aside, the Pokemon Professor dares to venture up the stairs.

That ball of light is waiting. When the man is within grabbing distance, it fades into the wall. Rowan grabs the nearest doorknob—and pushes.

His chest goes numb at that uncanny glow. Litwick. A handful of Candle Pokemon are leaning over a notebook, lending their life-consuming flame as a light source to the man with a feather pen in his hand.

"Bzzt. Bzzt!" That's not enough to pry the man's attention from his work. The ball of light growls again, sharper this time.

Finally, a reply. "Rotom, I'm busy right now. Can it wait?"

"Bzzt! Zzzt-zzt!"

"I'm sorry? Who in their right minds would come at… this…ti…"

Upon connection of eyes, Cyrus abandons whatever he was doing and throws his hand in the air. "I-I didn't touch anything, I assure you." He's talking to Rowan's oxfords. "I-I only moved it to the table, a-and I tried to minimize contact as much as possible…

"Oh. Yes, yes, you can check the room." Cyrus shoves the wheelchair to the wall. "And… oh, here." The arm sling is forcibly yanked off, and the limb falls to the floor with a sickening thump. There's a sharp intake of breath, a painful silence. And when he speaks again, his voice is a ragged whisper. "I… I can show you the seams…"

"Everything's accounted for," the professor grunts, speaking more to the window than to the human in the room.

"Ah." Even the Litwick's crackling flame is louder than this. "I'm sorry."

A silence. Something rustles above their heads. A blanket drapes over Cyrus's arm without so much as a reaction from him.

Then a shadow emerges from Cyrus's back. It's… a robot? A toy robot in fact, with twinkling blue eyes and a childish grin. A hand raises in greeting. "Bzzt, bzzt! Bzzzzt!" It nudges Cyrus's knee, earning a vacant stare. "Zzzt! Bzzt!" A frown. "Zzzzzt!" The frown softens.

Rowan's eyes narrow. "You… you understand that thing?"

Cyrus flinches. Before he can say anything, a lifeform emerges from the smooth metallic body—a crooked grin on an orange, lighting rod-shaped body.

"Bzzzt!" it cries, nodding in affirmation. Rowan knows that cry. It's a very familiar sound, one that he had extensively researched during his golden days.

"That's a Pokemon!" No sooner had those words left Rowan's lips did adrenaline course down his body. Why, though it is utterly unique, it is undeniably a form of Pokemon! To think that no matter how old one gets, there will always be new Pokemon to discover! In the Old Chateau of all places! Right next to the most wanted man in all of Sinnoh!

"Do you have a name?" Rowan asks the laughing lightning rod, to which the latter spins playfully around Cyrus's head. After much waiting, a tiny sound escapes from tight lips.

"Rotom…"

"Rotom?" Rowan echoes. "Rotom… motor! Hm!" The Pokemon makes a pleased sound. "Did you know?" says the professor. "Long ago, there was a Pokemon that merged with a toy robot. Should that Pokemon be recognized as a new species or not… Debates over the issue were about to start when they were rendered moot. The very topic of discussion—the Pokemon-infused Robot—disappeared…"

Cyrus slowly lifts his gaze off the floor. Then he lowers his head. Rotom, though, is simply ecstatic. It buzzes on and on and on. And sure enough, if Rowan listens carefully, a mask of ice cracks from somewhere in the darkness.

But there's something else that isn't making sense. An undiscovered Pokemon, with no Poke ball to its name… Are wild Pokemon usually this… friendly?

Then the door flies open.

"Gooood morning, Cyrus!" exclaims a light, melodic voice. "Hey, guess who came to see you?"

"Hello, Mister Cyrus! Pearl and I came up with a good joke—"

"Diiiiiiia!"

"It would have been politer to knock first, Cynthia. What if Cyrus is still—"

Pokemon Professor turns around. Platinum clamps her jaw.

"Master Cyrruuuuuussss! Can I push you around today?"

"Boss, did you fix my robot? Can I see—"

The younger Commanders freeze at the old man's resting frown. Everyone is avoiding eye contact with each other until Dia opens his mouth.

"Mister Cyrus!" he says. "You watch ProTeam Omega too?"


"Y-You know of ProTeam Omega?" Saturn wheezes.

"Yup! And I have a robot just like yours!" Dia holds up his figurine. "Although… yours looks more… newer. Where did you get all these customizable parts? They don't sell this at the toy store!"

Saturn closes his jaw. Then he huffs. "Oh please. I'll have you know that the boss built this masterpiece for me especially! You won't find this at any old toy retailer!"

"What's ProTeam Omega?"

That earns her a gasp from the boys. "You don't know who ProTeam Omega is, Mars?" Saturn shakes his head. "What was your childhood like?"

As he spirals off into explanation, Pearl turns to see a tall, older woman staring at him. "You're all here early," Jupiter says. Pearl bobs his head. Dia's too busy interjecting witty comments, and Platinum had run off somewhere with the professor. So that leaves him to deal with this titan.

So Pearl does the only thing he can do in this situation. "Um… Speaking of Pokemon?"


Speaking of Platinum, the girl is struggling to catch up to an ecstatic Rowan as he races out to the garden.

"Come back, Rotom!" says the professor. "I need you for my research!"

In the lush garden of roses and lilies are two permanent colors. "Cyrus, look," Cynthia says. "These inscriptions… don't they look like compasses to you?"

"You… have a point, Champion Cynthia. On the Sunstone, this particular arrow is bigger than the others."

"It could be pointing east. That's when the sun rises."

"Or it could be pointing west. That's where the sun sets."

Rotom shatters the air of pensiveness by shooting itself across Cyrus's face. He frowns, but it laughs as it electrifies his hair.

Cynthia turns. "Oh! Platinum! And… Professor Rowan…"

"Hey now, why are you so disappointed to see me?" But Rowan doesn't say that. He marches up to Cyrus, up to Rotom. The latter flinches.

"You… you should wear gloves, Professor," Cyrus mutters, gaze downcast. "Rotom… shocks you."

"Hm! So it's an Electric Type, eh?" Rotom responds with a Thunderbolt into the bushes. Then it's gone… and it reappears behind Platinum's shoulder. "It's a Ghost Type too… " Rowan fumbles for his notes. "A Ghost/Electric Type combination… simply remarkable. What Moves is it capable of?"

Cynthia clears her throat. Cyrus looks up. "It… depends. Rotom has the fascinating ability to enter and operate machinery… as you can see." A lawn mower blazes across the grass.

"Bzzt!"

"No."

"Bzzzt?! ZZzzzzZZTTT!"

Platinum looks between the adults. Cynthia looks perfectly nonplussed, as if she's used to it. "Mister Cyrus?" the girl says. Said man stiffens. "You… you understand Rotom's thoughts?"

"That is impossible," Rowan grumbles. However… Riley and Lucario are able to communicate and understand each other… but to achieve that stage would require a deep, incorporeal bond…

Rowan lifts his eyes. What if…

"Cyrus, you should show them Rotom's forms," Cynthia says.

"Forms?" Rowan perks up. "Rotom has multiple evolutions?"

The Champion repeats her request. "Rotom has the ability to merge with machinery," Cyrus mumbles. "From its five forms, it is able to take on a different move set. There's Heat Rotom, Wash Rotom, Frost Rotom, Fan Rotom… and as you can see, Mow Rotom." He sits up a little straighter. "Although I don't recommend you give it access to appliances—"

"Bzzt?" A shocked, innocent gasp.

"The last time you possessed the fan, the garden was a complete disaster." Rotom deflates. "And don't get me started on the flooding." Then to the professor. "It seems to play antics more than anything. However, its prowess makes it a reliable ally in battle."

Battle. Rowan's bouncing on the balls of his toes. Oak! 151 Pokemon my arse! But he says none of that out loud. Instead, he simply summons his oversized Starly.

Cynthia claps her hands. "Ooh, I've never seen Rotom battle before! Professor, you actually battle...? Show him what you got, Cyrus!"

Cyrus swivels around. "Excuse me? N-No, Rotom—"

"I want to fight!" Platinum steps up to the battlefield. "Empoleon hasn't battled in quite some time. Battle Frontier was a while ago, and she's been waiting for stronger opponents." Even her Poke ball is quivering in anticipation.

"Miss Berlitz, I don't—"

Empoleon appears in a cloud of bubbles and sparkles. The penguin stretches its steel wings, sharpens its impressive crown of horns. My, she takes good care of her Pokemon. Mow Rotom swerves to Cyrus's side, electricity crackling down its body.

"Don't go easy on me," the girl says to the frowning man. "We'll work around our Type disadvantage!"

Rowan's pen is rapping against his notebook. Cynthia sees this and scoffs.

Then Platinum raises a pedicured hand. "Empoleon, Swords Dance! Then go in with Drill Peck!" Empoleon launches into the skies. A watery meteor bashes into Mow Rotom, sending the latter slamming into a tree truck.

"What are you doing?" Rowan huffs. "Stop sitting there!"

"Cyrus!" Cynthia cries.

The expression on his face is very, very wrong. When Rowan blinks, Cyrus is already at the crumbled lawn mower's side.

"Bzzt… b…zzt…"

Cyrus's expression darkens as he cradles the sparkling appliance in his arms. "No, I can't. What if you accidently discharge again? I won't—"

"Bzzt!"

Cyrus rummages for a Potion. "Trust you…?" A pause. A grimace. "All right. But I'm stopping the battle if that ever happens."

Platinum smirks when her opponent reappears. "About time, Mister Cyrus! Now, Empoleon! Ice Beam!" The ice warps and bends around an evading Rotom until there's nowhere left to run.

"She's trapping Rotom to inhibit its speed," Cynthia mutters. "My guess is that she'll try to chip away its health with Fury Swipes before delivering the finishing blow."

Meanwhile, Cyrus is observing the situation as if he's watching kites in the skies. "Rotom," he says. "Charge."

"What?"

"Empoleon, Brine!"

A geyser of water slams into the prison, sending chunks of ice scattering to the air. Empoleon keeps up its relentless attack, holding the torrent at constant power.

A giggle erupts from behind the blast zone. The water begins to churn, begins to taper into smaller streams as Rotom absorbs it within its charged, electrical orbit. Cyrus tilts its head, and Rotom propels upwards. Droplets rain down the battlefield, a brief but heavy downpour.

Empoleon's horns glisten in the thunderstorm, and the spark reflects in Cyrus's eyes. He slashes a hand through the simmering air. "Rotom! Thunderbolt!"

A beam of light splits the heavens in two. Empoleon manages to evade the attack, but its horns…

BOOM! Platinum gasps as Empoleon falls to the ground, limbs twitching from the surprise lightning shock.

And Cynthia pumps her fists. "You won, Cyrus!" She runs up to him. "Wow, how did you get lightning to bend like that? Is that a special move?"

"In nature, lightning usually strikes the tallest object." Despite his victory, Cyrus looks extremely disconcerted. Rotom, on the other hand, is having the best time of its life. "And we're on a relatively flat stretch of ground…"

He hurries to the fallen penguin. "Miss Berlitz, my deepest apologies for—"

"That was such a fun match!" Platinum beams. "Empoleon's never faced off against an opponent like that!" The penguin gives a weak thumbs-up before it's returned to its Poke ball. "I can learn a lot from that battle, Cy—er. Mister Cyrus. Thank you very much!"

Cyrus looks so lost right now. Even more so when Dia and Pearl join the group, each attesting testimony to what they have seen from the window. "Platinum's the wisest of our group," Pearl says with a crooked smile. "But your strategy was also clever, Mister Cyrus! It's like watching a chess match between Daddy—I mean, my father-and Thornton!"

Cyrus is still frowning. When he realizes that Rowan is staring at him expectedly, the he adverts his gaze. "Are these observations sufficient for your research?" Cyrus mumbles. "Professor Rowan?"

Rowan blinks. Ah. There's nothing on his notebook. He was too absorbed in the moment to have actually done some critical reflection.

"BZZZT! BZZT-ZZT!" Rotom is a pulsating star in the overcast skies. Rowan feels the hairs of his neck bristling just by being near the supercharged Pokemon.

"Rotom's happy that it won!" Dia exclaims.

"No." Cyrus's face is stormy. "It's been a long while since Rotom had faced a powerful opponent. Now it thinks that it can take on anything…"

"BzzzzzZZZZTTTT!" Rotom is like a sprinkler, if sprinklers can shoot out lightning bolts. Pearl pulls Platinum back, barely saving her from electrocution. Cynthia covers Dia's head.

"Go back to the mansion," Cyrus snaps. "Go, now!"

"But—"

BOOM! Flashes of color streak across the bruising skies. A strong wind is picking up. "I'll be fine, Champion Cynthia," Cyrus says over the incoming thunder. "Take everyone to cover, now!"

As they run back under the porch, Rowan stops. How can such a small Pokemon possess such frightening prowess? It can inhabit machinery and cause thunderstorms? If given a refrigerator, say, what will Rotom do? What about a microwave…?

"Professor Rowan, MOVE!"

"Don't raise your voice at me, young man!" Rowan snaps. "Where are your manners—"

The wheelchair topples with the momentum, and Rowan flies back to safety. Cynthia reaches a hand, but she's a nanosecond too late. All she can do is watch as Cyrus's body explodes into light.


"How the hell is this his forth electrocution?!"

Rowan's eyes narrow. "His forth what?" Pearl wheezes, and he's quickly shut down with a glare.

"How the hell did he break his arm again?" Jupiter continues, gesturing angrily to nothing in particular.

"Maybe he… fell on it?" Mars yelps. "Accidents happen…"

"Yeah, and I'm still a cop. He has a fucking bone sticking out of his skin! I don't remember that happening when I checked up on him just yesterday! What part of 'self care' don't you understand, Cyrus?!"

The man in question responds with silence. Jupiter growls into her hands.

"There's no fever?" Saturn whimpers.

B-2 sticks his head into the room. "Three days?"

"Six days," says R-8.

"A week at least," someone calls from the lobby.

Jupiter tests his pulse. "If I ever find that Rotom…" Rowan moves for her to storm through. Mars and Saturn stare after her retreating figure. A Gengar sprints into the room, sees Cyrus, and throws daggers into Cynthia's direction.

"Woah woah." Mars hugs the struggling Ghost. "It's not her fault, Elise. Master Cyrus just got hit by a stray lightning bolt. That's all."

Rowan is aware of the eyes on his head. "Elise?" he echoes.

"That's her name. Well… that was her name, when she was still alive. It's a pretty long story—" Saturn gives her a look, and she goes quiet.

Cynthia clears her throat. "L-Let's go home for the day, Dia. Pearl. Platinum." The Dexholders stare at her. "And Professor Rowan, you should… you should go back."

It's nearly evening. Rowan's stomach gurgles. Has it really been a whole day?

"Mister Cyrus will get better," Dia says. "I'll bring some of my mom's special soup tomorrow. That always makes me feel better after a bad day."

Saturn gives a weak smirk. "He's not sick, you know…"

"Sebastian might have something for burns," Platinum offers. "His family comes from a long line of medics."

Pearl scratches his head. "Well… Daddy—my father's not good with this stuff, but I'll think of something. Don't you worry, uh… Mars and Saturn."

"Pearl," Mars says with a watery grin. "I like your name. And Dia, you're very funny. Is that why you wear those rings, missy?"

Platinum's eyes widen. "Wha—oh. Hehe." She shows her hands. "A perfect pearl and a flawless diamond… I suppose it's just a coincidence, Mars."

"You had rings?" Pearl mutters.

Cynthia's expression is soft. "All right, everyone. Let's get you home. We can stop by tomorrow morning… if that's okay with you, Professor Rowan."

Excuse me? Cynthia continues. "I don't think that there's any danger here at all. But!" Emphasized with an exaggerated huff. "You're the sane one around here! I'm just a hot-headed girl who rushes into things without thinking!"

The Commanders exchange glances with the Dexholders, and a silent conversation is played. Rowan scratches his moustache, and for once, is at a loss for words.

"Well," he finally says. "If they're safe, I suppose. You three have Pokemon with you, after all."

Cynthia raises an eyebrow, but she adds no more to that. Rowan casts one last glance over his shoulder before he closes the door.


A deep sigh resounds down the grove of trees. As Eterna Forest sleeps, a Drifblim glides down the rustling foliage, its streamers sweeping aside the leaves on the ground.

Someone is in front of the Old Chateau. The Pokemon approaches cautiously. A human. But it's not him—it's a big man with a perpetual frown and the crumbs sticking to his moustache.

"Boolooloo?"

The Pokemon Professor raises a figure to his lips. Drifblim cocks its head. Rowan checks his surroundings once more before proceeding.

Creeeeak. There's no sign of that Rotom. No crackling presence within the darkness. Across the maze of bodies he goes, up the creaking stairs, down into a yawning abyss…

Creeeeeeaak.

The Litwick are gathered around like a funeral. Their flames, bright and ominous, cast writhing shadows across the walls. The Pokemon remain on the bed—that is, until Rowan opens the curtains.

Why I am here again?

As Rowan argues with himself, darkness ripples in the extremes of his vision. Dust scatters, springs groan, the spell of silence shattering with a faint gasp from the other side.

"Oh! Welcome home!"

Rowan swivels around. Cyrus is upright. He's staring straight into the professor's eyes, but there's also this distinct feeling that he's seeing something else entirely.

"What?"

The smile fades from Cyrus's lips. His gaze lingers on Rowan's face for a brief second longer before he drops his head.

"Cyrus." Rowan turns to see that stern-faced older woman. She notices the professor's staring, but her attention is wholly focused on the man on the bed. "Cyrus, why are you awake?"

Cyrus gives her a blank look. Jupiter snaps her fingers, and a Tangrowth ambles to the bedside. It raises a large palm, and with a poke on the forehead, Cyrus collapses like a sack of flour.

"Was he talking in his sleep again?" Jupiter is looking at Rowan. His lack of response is her answer. "Hm. Well, it's no concern of yours, Professor."

She lays a gentle hand on Cyrus's forehead. "No fever… that's a relief." She checks that the arm sling is secured before tucking the blanket over his heaving chest.

"Did you forget your purse again?" Satchel. But Rowan doesn't say that. Jupiter crosses her legs. "Or are you looking for Rotom? I haven't seen that little shit since yesterday." Her face has the "What are you still doing here" look scrawled all over it. Rowan backs away, and his shoulder bumps into a shelf.

Thump. The book that fell is a children's book. A picture book of the Sinnoh mythos: the three mirage Pokemon. The Protector of Snowpoint Temple. The Pokemon that brings blissful dreams and a Pokemon that brings everlasting nightmares.

"That's his research," Jupiter says dryly. She gestures at the handcrafted shelves, all teeming with books. "He's been too absorbed in his work to even eat or sleep. They're making progress, but still…"

Rowan picks up a notebook. The same on that was offered to him not long ago. "What changed?" he mutters.

Jupiter makes a soft noise in her throat. "Glad to see that someone still recognizes the old me." There's a bitterness in her tone. Wistfulness? "But even if I rewind time, things will never go back to how they were."

The woman's lips tug. "I've made my decision a long time ago, Rowan. There's no turning back for me, and that's okay. There's someone that needs me, there's people I want to protect." Her voice drops. "I loved Jenny. I really did. I loved Hearthome and all its good and bad… but I wasn't happy. I was trapped… lost… until I finally saw the sun."

There's a crack in her stern mask as she gazes at his sleeping face… the same face that's plastered onto every officer's dashboard. Sunlight trickles overhead, breathing life into the inky darkness of the Old Chateau.

"He's just like his name," Jupiter murmurs. The morning sun is climbing up the clouds. "Cyrus made mistakes, I won't deny that… but what's more important is that he's trying his best to fix them. I just… He's pushing himself too hard. After all the shit that he's been through, I'm a monster if I let him shoulder all those burdens alone."

The former detective lifts her chin. Her signature pose as the Black-and-White Bruiser. "So if you even think about calling the cops, you'll have me, Commander Jupiter to deal with. Are we clear, Professor Rowan?"


It's early afternoon when Jupiter opens the door for Cynthia and the kids. Saturn already has his ProTeam Omega figurines ready for discussion. B-2 and R-8 seem to have taken an interest in Pearl and his funny mannerisms—especially those involving his role as the straight man in the duo's comedy routine. Platinum had offered to help Cyrus and his research, much to Cynthia's elation.

"The Old Chateau's gotten quiet lively," Jupiter hums as she leads the newcomers down the kitchen. She's ignoring a pouting Gastly, but no one voices that observation. "How about the four of you join him for lunch?"

Cynthia gasps. "Oh, is Cyrus awake already? It's only been—" Some Grunts brush past her with their face in their palms.

"They're crying," confirms the Dexholders. Jupiter snorts.

Dia inhales the Gastly-filled air. "Ah… I love eggs! Miss Jupiter, do you mind if I borrowed your kitchen? Great, thank you! Mars, I'll help you cook! Oh, good afternoon, Pro—"

Cynthia spits out her juice. The Pokemon Professor looks up from his brunch as if it's just another day in the lab.

"Oh, Cynthia," Rowan grunts. "You have a bit of juice on your face."

Cynthia's eyelids are fluttering. Pearl turns to his friends, mouthing incoherence while gesturing to the frowning old man. Platinum's covering her mouth, but her eyes are shining.

"He's been here since morning," Saturn hisses to a dumbstruck Pearl. "He's scaring the Grunts. Keeps on making fun of them."

Mars bounces into the room. "Professor Rowan! More juice?"

"Hm! Thank you, Mars. Can you put more Pecha Berries this time? You're almost there to achieving the perfect note of sweetness."

Everyone looks to Jupiter. They turn to B-2, who shrugs. "I haven't the foggiest," he says.


Dia emerges from the kitchen with a tray of aromatic rice balls. With a little help from Mars and Saturn, everyone in the Old Chateau, even the Ghosts, is able to enjoy a hearty meal for the first time in ages.

"Are you sure these aren't jelly-filled doughnuts, kid?" B-2 chuckles. "Just kidding." Then his brows furrow. "Say… Wasn't there another boy with a red scarf just like yours? Dressed just like you too, but…"

Dia blinks. "Um. Platinum's wearing a red scarf too?"

"Platinum? No, I could've sworn that your name was Mi… Nah. " He slaps his face. "Get it together, B-2. What the hell are you saying?"

Cynthia is watching Rowan as he flips through Cyrus's notes. "S-So," she huffs. "Professor Rowan, you're okay with it?"

Rowan gives her a look. "What madness are you sprouting, Cynthia?" Her disappointment is bone-crushing. He clears his throat. "I've never seen a more comprehensive analysis of the Time Gears, that's all. This is a major leap for the field of archaeology—"

"EEEEAAAAKKKK!"

The Grunts shield Cynthia before the Shadow Ball can connect. No amount of consoling from Mars can calm the angered Gengar down.

"Wait!" Pearl cries. "Gengar's trying to tell us something!"

Saturn frowns. "Oh great, someone else who can talk to Ghosts…"

"Pearl can sense what Pokemon are planning to use by observing their movements," Dia explains calmly. "So in a sense, yes?"

"Follow Gengar!" Pearl declares. Up the stairs they go. Jupiter kicks open the door.

And the bed is empty. The curtains are billowing in the open breeze. Rowan and Cynthia cover the children's ears.

"We'll check the mansion!" R-8 cries and disappears down the hall with her colleagues.

"We'll split up." Saturn tugs Mars's hand. "You take the west. I take the east. Ju—"

Jupiter uses the curtain rod as a beam to propel herself out the window. As if she's doing gymnastics. She lands soundlessly and takes off before brains can comprehend what just happened.

Cynthia turns back to the group. "Um. I'll help Jupiter. S-So…Professor Rowan, look after the kids!"

Professor Rowan peers outside to the cloudy blue skies. Quite humid today. A stray leaf blows into the room, inviting the stale tang of a recent rainstorm.

Gengar is thrashing its claws. Pearl listens. "Cyrus is outside!" he gasps. "And… There's… What is that, Gengar? A balloon? Um. An upwelling…"

"We saw a Drifblim passing overhead when we arrived," Platinum mutters. Gengar bobs its head, and her expression darkens. "Dia, Pearl, let's go!"

"Wait." The children freeze. Rowan flicks the crumbs off his moustache. "Let me get my coat."


Gengar couldn't leave the house, but Pearl seems to understand its panic. He promises that they'll bring Cyrus back, and much to Rowan's surprise, the Ghost responds with a faint smile.

"I think Drifblim was going that way!" Dia points to the lightening skies. The group breaks into a run with the boys leading the way. Shoes dip into puddles, socks are soaked…

"Eterna City?" Rowan grunts when they leave the forest entrance. Indeed, the air is radically different. The smell of uncivilized greenery recedes into smoke and herbs. Rusty brick buildings. Mountain faces. Armed guards milling around the near-empty streets.

"Over here!" Pearl hisses. They dive into the bushes, and a patrolling officer casually passes by. Rowan follows the kids down a pebble path to the exterior of the city.

Ah! There's the head of the Drifblim! Platinum skids to a halt while Dia and Pearl scale the twisted wire fencing. "This is the landfill!" she huffs. "I've brought this outfit only yesterday, and it'll shrink if I wash it!"

"Platinum, you have ten thousand copies of the same outfit!" Pearl retorts. "Fine! Professor Rowan, you stay with her—"

The boys gape when they see that the professor is standing right beside them. On the other side of the fence. "What happened, Pearl?" grunts the old man.

Platinum bites her lips. She swallows hard. After much careful consideration, the heiress to the Berlitz household climbs over the fence to the landfill. She steps on the No Trespassing sign on her way to the other side.

Rowan loses track of how many posters they had passed. The smell, combined with the aftermath of rain, is overwhelming. Still, it's amazing what people will throw away. "Dia, don't step on the puddle, you'll get shocked!" Oh, isn't that a Heal Block, like those types in the Pokemon Center? Why would—

"Rotom!"

That voice comes from the descending Drifblim. Legs dangling in the open air, a head swiveling around to the point of snapping off the neck.

"Don't chastise yourself, Rotom! The fault is mine! No harm done!"

"Mister Cyrus!" Dia's waving wildly to no avail.

Drifblim finally comes to a stop next to a pile of defunct appliance. Cyrus is on his knees, sifting through the rubbish like a madman. He's still calling that name on and on like a broken recorder, even when his voice turned hoarse.

"Bzzt…"

Cyrus gasps. He yanks the toaster free from a swamp of exposed wires. With trembling hands, he holds the appliance to the light. And when a pair of eyes peek back, his expression crumbles to relief.

"Rotom!"

"Bzzt!"

Cyrus holds the toaster tightly to his chest. The appliance wraps its cord around his torso, returning the embrace. "Rotom, where did you go? Why did you leave again—no, no it's not your fault. I should've known better. I'm sorry. No, d-don't cry. S-Stop. I-I don't know what to d-d-do when you cry—"

"Who's there?"

Cyrus stops breathing. Heavy boots crunch against broken glass. A trigger cocks. Drifblim wraps its streamers around him.

"INTERPOL! You, behind the refrigerator! Identity yourself!'

Rotom emerges from the toaster. It begins to move, but Cyrus holds up a hand. The footsteps grow louder. The Pokemon become more agitated…

That is, until Cyrus turns. He gives the Pokemon one long, pained look… and he shoves them away.

"I sur—"

Dia tackles Cyrus down. Pearl and Platinum race to block the protruding limbs from the agent's scrutinizing gaze.

"What are you kids doing here?" he says, eyes wide. "It says 'No Trespassing' on—oh, aren't you Platinum Berlitz? What are you doing down here in the dumps?"

"We thought we saw a Stunky." Dia flashes a radiant smile as he holds down the squirming mass.

"Must be an angry Stunky."

"Oh, you wouldn't believe, sir!" exclaims Dia's friend. "It's a rare Pokemon to find in the wild, see." He moves to the right. Then the left. The officer's eyes narrow. "We're so close to catching one when it ran off into the landfill, and knowing my friend, he just has to catch his beloved Stunky, yes!"

"It was my idea," Platinum states firmly. Her nose wrinkles, but she fixes that with a rehearsed smile. "Did you know that in one Region, there is a Pokemon whose entire body is composed of trash? The combination of garbage bags and industrial waste caused the chemical reaction that created this Pokemon!"

"Fear not," says the professor. "After they catch their Stunky, I'm taking them home right away."

That seems to alleviate the officer's concerns. He quickly puts away his rifle. "Well, if you say so, Professor Rowan. But do exercise caution. There's only one of me assigned here, so you never know what crazies might jump out… if you know what I mean." He whispers something into the radio, and with a cheerful wave, the Interpol agent leaves.

After Dia ascertains that the coast is clear, he finally allows Cyrus to breathe. "Mister Cy—"

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" Cyrus pushes himself up. His glare is cold enough to freeze hell itself. Dia flinches as if Cyrus had slapped him with a chain. "Why did you get in my way? What did you hope to accomplish with such… such rash stupidity?!"

Pearl glances around. "Um. M-Mister Cyrus, you shouldn't—"

Cyrus slices his good hand across the air, and Pearl staggers back. "What don't you understand? This wretched story will finally end…" Then he drops his head, his shoulders slumping with such a motion. "I was so close to fixing my mistakes. No one can stop me… It'll finally be over…"

Cyrus's voice is breaking. "T-That officer has a family waiting for him at home. He can't be with them because he's wasting his time on this deranged lunatic…

"Miss Berlitz." She stiffens. "Why are you in the rubbish heap in the first place? What of your reputation? What will your father say if you've been charged with trespassing? A-And you two. What about your families? What will they say when you've been charged with being accomplices to crime? This is not a game!"

His words echo through the landfill. Pearl and Platinum stare down at the damp ground. Rowan crosses his arms. Dia has been listening with narrowed eyes. He taps a finger against his chin, his gaze fixed on those trembling shoulders.

"Um… I can't really follow everything you're saying, but… YOU'VE GOT IT ALL WRONG!"

That slap across the back of the neck comes too fast and sudden for Cyrus to react. The man's head snaps up, his eyeballs bulging out in disbelief. Pearl's jaw drops, and Platinum covers her mouth.

Oh my.

Cyrus blinks. And blinks again like a malfunctioning robot. "Why… Why did you hit me?" he croaks.

"Because you need straightening out, Mister Cyrus!" Dia states with all the seriousness of an adult's. "You don't seem to understand what you're saying. If you give yourself up to the police, then what about Mars? What will she do if you never came back home?"

Cyrus is staring at nothing. "Bzzt." Rotom had wet the front of his shirt with its tears. A violet streamer taps his cheek.

"Saturn also talks a lot about you." Pearl laces his hands behind his head. "He tells me that our jokes are lame, but I discovered that he was practicing our routine with Mars. I think… I think they want to perform for you, Mister Cyrus. That's the feeling that I'm getting."

"And Miss Jupiter was devastated when you disappeared," Platinum adds softly. "She was very worried, Mister Cyrus. It's quite a fall from the second story, and she thought that you…"

Cyrus's head is bowed, but one can tell that he's trembling from head to toe. Even the appliances are shaking. Rotom points to Drifblim, says something, and Cyrus goes completely still.

"That was stupid what you did, recklessly endangering yourself like that." Cyrus flinches at the professor's voice. But right now… right now, there's something missing from Professor Rowan's resting frown. "Will you throw away Cynthia's trust like that? After everything she has done for you, will you abandon her when you're so far? You want to make amends, yes?"

Cyrus has been so still that he could have passed off as a discarded appliance. Rotom whirls around his head, muttering comforting nothings into his ear.

A small hand rests on his shoulders. Dia smiles, and Cyrus simply stares back like a hollow corpse. "Come on, Mister Cyrus," says the boy. "Let's go home."