"It's been ten minutes," Pearl whispers. "Someone should go check on him."

All heads turn to the brave young boy near the door. Dia holds his breath.

"—you so stupid?! Just because you have a PhD doesn't mean you're smart! I take my eyes off you for one second and you're swimming around in filth your hand was bleeding what the hell—"

Mars walks in with a tray of fragrant pink smoothies. "Pecha slush!" She hands them out to the thirsty audience. Rowan tastes it, and he gives a thumbs-up.

"Mars," Saturn hisses. "What's going on down there?"

"Boss is getting chewed off by the adults," is the bright reply. "Listen."

"—And I'M the hotheaded one? And I act on every spontaneous hunch that crosses my mind?!"

"Um. Look, Cyrus. I know that I'm just a Grunt, but that doesn't mean that I'll turn the other cheek, okay? Don't be an ass."

"KAKARAKAH!"

"Bzzt…"

Mars claps. "Crobat's throwing a fit." Then she gasps. "Come on, Gramps! Help the boss with his research!"

"G-Gramps?" Excuse me? "I'm sixty years old, but by no means am I anyone's grandfather!" Rowan picks up a random notebook anyway.

"Hey Dia," Mars says. "Make me laugh."

Dia plays his routine in his head. "Okay! Speaking of Pokemon!"

Pearl sighs. "Speaking of Pokemon… Every Pokemon has a different nature."

"Yup, a Pokemon can be relaxed, serious, jolly, bashful, etc… Natures are important because they can affect a Pokemon's strength."

Pearl pumps a fist. "A naughty nature means attack power will increase faster."

Dia mimics a shield. "A bold nature means defense will increase quickly. And an 'instant' nature makes faster noodles."

Pearl performs an epic facepalm. "Back to food again!? No, seriously, where did you get those noo—"

"AHAHAHAHAHHAA!" Mars bashes her head on the floor. "NOODLES! AHAHAHA! HE EVEN COOKED NOODLES!"

"M-Mars." Instead of laughing, Saturn is gaping at her with wide eyes. "You… are you okay?"

The door opens. Jupiter wheels a soulless Cyrus into the room. Mars rises to her feet. "BOSS!" she snaps. "You stupid, stupid idiot! Why are you so stupid?!"

Saturn stands. "M-Mars, don't…" She gives him a pointed look, and his hesitation breaks into a scowl. "No, Mars is right. Da-Master Cyrus, how can you even think of sacrificing yourself like that?! If… if they weren't there, I would've… there wouldn't be…"

"If Gramps wasn't there!" Mars screeches. "If Dia and Pearl and Platinum weren't there, you-! Someone needs to slap some sense into you!"

And she acts on her vow. Mars brings her palm back—and launches it down Cyrus's back. THUMP! Saturn can't bring himself to raise his hand, so Mars gladly goes in for seconds.

Weavile shoves a distressed Rotom into the room. R-8 claps her hands. "Okay!" she says with forced cheerfulness. "I think that's enough scolding for now. Professor, why don't you help Cyrus with his research? We… We'll be downstairs, tootles!"

The Grunt herds the scowling Galactic Commanders out the hallway. Then it's just the kids, the professor, and the former leader of Team Galactic.

Darkness ripples. A Gengar's claw shoots out and slices Rotom across its arguable cheeks. Pearl isn't needed to translate the harsh berating that follows.

"Er… we can come back at a better time, Mister Cyrus," Platinum whispers.

Cyrus slowly lifts his head. Oh. She's right. The best thing right now would be a restful eight hours' sleep.

The Pokemon hop into Cyrus's laps. He hesitates, but Crobat takes initiative to cling to his chest. Honchkrow nips at the fresh bandages on his hand. Weavile pushes the wheelchair over to the bed, where an irritated Gyarados awaits.

"Good night, Mister Cyrus," Dia says softly. It's still bright outside, however. A golden sky of pink and violet hues. Red light trickles into the window, its ephemeral fingers sifting through snowy fields.

Cyrus keeps his gaze downcast. The Dexholders bid farewell to the Pokemon.

And just before Professor Rowan leaves, he hears it. The faintest of sound, almost drowned out by the melody of approaching nightfall.

"Good night… Diamond."


Professor Rowan and the three kids show up when the sun is high in the sky. The old man makes his way to the kitchen table and dumps out the sugary contents of his satchel.

"Halloween candy," Rowan grunts. There's a brief peace before all hell breaks loose. Grown-ass adults are fighting over each other and the mansion's Pokemon for empty calories.

Mars looks up from her diary to see Rowan's outstretched hand. "Matcha mocha," says the professor. "Not made in a facility that produces nuts—" Upon hearing that piece of vital information, Mars swipes the package and tears it open. She stuffs the whole thing into her mouth, squealing as the green tea filling gushes into her tongue.

"Mmmphmm!" Mars says, and Rowan understands. He then moves on to the other side of the room, to the makeshift workstation of that young man with piercing eyes.

"No, thank you," Saturn mumbles. He's disassembling the toy robot from earlier. Rowan waits. Another mumbles of "Thank you" and a timid acceptance of the lavender macaron.


"Ooh, I remember these," says Jupiter as she pops a madeleine into her mouth. "They're still in the business?"

"A hundred years and counting," Rowan replies. "The only change is that they've adjusted the buttermilk to sugar ratio."

Jupiter casts a glance over the eager Dexholders. "He's up there," she tells them. "No need to knock."

Platinum nods. "Thank you, Miss Jupiter."

"Sure, sure." The older woman's lips tug. "He could use the company."

The group runs into Cynthia in the hallway. "I have some League stuff to do," she says with a sigh. "I don't know when I'll be back."

"We'll take care of him!" Dia chirps.

Cynthia laughs. "I know." She pats his fuzzy little head. "Thank you." Her eyes meet Rowan's, and with a final wave, the Champion of Sinnoh departs.

Pearl opens the door. A crisp forest breeze glides over books, flipping their pages with unseen hands. Litwick are maneuvering across the floor like little librarians.

"Bzzt, bzzt!" Rotom greets the Dexholders. It approaches Rowan with caution. He frowns at it, and it blows a raspberry.

The Master Librarian looks up. And immediately drops his head. "Excuse me."

Dia stops him. "Where are you going, Mister Cyrus?" And Cyrus gives the boy a strange look, as if he'd misheard.

"We want to help you with your research," Platinum says. She waits for the gears to click in that complicated brain of his.

"I'm sorry, 'we?'" And to that, Platinum gestures to the scowling old man. Cyrus gapes at the young billionaire as if she'd just tossed money at him. "Why?"

"Because we're running out of time," Pearl says. "Daddy told me that Battle Frontier had to shut down because the winds stopped blowing to the area. They rely on windpower to power the buildings."

Cyrus's face is grim. "All right, Pearl. In that case, we have to hurry." He snaps his fingers, and a black feather appears just like that.

Dia and Pearl watch as Platinum, Rowan, and Cyrus transition to automatic-scholar mode. The boys take a picture book and move to the bed. "OW!" Pearl had landed on a protruding spring.

Fascinating. Rowan flips through the pages. Did he… really write all this? The thrill of glimpsing what the police cannot fathom, hm! He steals a glance over Platinum's head.

"Do you wear glasses?"

Platinum blinks. "No, I… Oooh." She taps the armrest. "Mister Cyrus, Professor Rowan's asking if you wear glasses."

Cyrus immediately stops rubbing his eyes. "No." Curt and flat. He returns to squinting at the pages even though they're quite literally stuck to his face. The Crobat on the window hisses, and he promptly ignores it.


After a few minutes of silence, Rowan opens his satchel. Weavile lurches forward at the aroma of almond-filled croissants.

"Weavile," Cyrus snaps. The cat deflates.

"It's okay, Mister Cyrus," Dia says, his legs dangling off the bed. "They're perfectly safe for Pokemon to eat."

"These are leftovers," Rowan explains. Will be leftovers. Cyrus frowns, but he turns back to his writing. Weavile grabs some croissants and tosses it into Gyarados's open jaws. Honchkrow and Crobat are more cautious, but after a little coaxing from the cat, they surrender to their curiosity.

"How does Rotom eat?" Pearl mutters. The Plasma Pokemon giggles showcases its toasting skills. "Like, where does it even go? Does it even have a stomach?"

"Not quite." Heads shift to the man who'd just spoken. Said man brings the book up to his face. "That's a similar question of how a Probopass's digestive system works."

"Probopass…?" Pearl checks his Pokedex. Cyrus's gaze flickers just ever so slightly to the machine. "Ew. It looks like a giant nose! Are those… rock boogers?"

"Mini-noses," Cyrus mumbles. "Probopass… is a compass, not… it's not a nose."

Pearl nudges a grinning Dia. Platinum speaks. "Mister Cyrus, may I pet your Pokemon?"

He seems a bit shocked at that statement. The Pokemon, however, stare at him with shining eyes. "Erm… they're not… I mean…" Crobat tugs his sleeve. A sigh. "Do as you wish."

Dia, Pearl, and Platinum then proceed to shower the Pokemon with love. Weavile pretends to claw Pearl, laughing when the boy ducks for his life. The cat gasps, Pearl turns, and it cackles as if that was the funniest thing ever.

"I don't have any Flying-Types," Dia says. Honchkrow cocks its head. "I have Lax, Tru, Don, Kit, and Moo…" He turns. "Mister Cyrus, do you name your Pokemon?"

Cyrus purses his lips. "No…?"

"Pearl names his Pokemon too."

"Of course I do," the boy huffs. "That's what makes them unique! There's Chatler, Chimler, Rayler, Zeller, Tauler, and Digler!"

"You have a preference for derivational suffixes," says Platinum. She's standing on the bed to get a closer look at the towering Gyarados.

Rowan looks down at the chuckling bat. Wait. What's… "What happened to Crobat?" His tone comes out much harsher than intended. Something flashes across Cyrus's eyes—a shadow over the sun.

"I'm sorry. It was my fa—" Rotom bashes his cheek with a discarded battery. Rowan extends a tentative hand towards the bat… and it doesn't bite him, surprisingly enough.

The skin is raised around a thin white line. Stitches that have been removed, a scar that remains. "It must've been quite a harrowing injury," Rowan whispers to the Pokemon, as if expecting a reply.

But then Crobat points to Cyrus. Very clearly pointed to the man in the corner. It gestures to its scar while pantomiming a series of rather violent events.

"Holy Arceus," Pearl gasps. Crobat's saying—"

"That's enough," Cyrus snaps. "Focus on the task at hand."

"But Mister Cyrus—"

"Pearl, I said that's enough."

Pearl cowers under that cold finality. But when the sunlight ripples, Rowan sees it. A scar meandering down his scalp like a fault line. A wound that's eerily similar to Crobat's… the only difference is that it was the Pokemon who made a complete recovery.

The croissant slips from the professor's grip. Weavile rushes to cadaver its remains. It was the sole sweet left in the bag… the one Rowan had specifically set aside.


Rowan comes prepared today, with his satchel full of documents. He empties out his candy reserves before proceeding to that makeshift office on the second floor.

And lo and behold there's a sight he doesn't see every day. The Hero of Sinnoh standing next to the Villain that she apprehended.

Wait a minute. Isn't that… Rowan gasps. "Those are the stones!"

"Yup." Cynthia holds the White Moonstone up to the sunlight. Beams refract, casting rainbows within this small and dusty room. She looks at Cyrus, who gingerly holds up the Red Sunstone.

A wondrous, magical light emits from that connection. Rowan's heart is racing, and it's not from the sugar. He fumbles for his manila folder, holding it up like an excited toddler.

Cyrus squints. Cynthia holds the papers close to his face. And his eyes widen. "This… this is…!" He almost topples over. "Professor Rowan, may I hold this?"

"S-Sure…"

"Thank you very much!" Cyrus grasps the reports like a priceless artifact. "Where was this taken, Professor?"

"Mt. Coronet… Next to the ruins. Before the weird weather patterns came in."

Cyrus leaps out of the chair. Cynthia reacts too late, and the next thing she knows, Cyrus had dragged himself to the shelf. He's pulling out book after book after book until—

"The ancient Sinnoans carved murals around the rock faces of Mt. Coronet." Cyrus shows the picture book. That's a children's bedtime story… The illustrations are frighteningly similar to the archaeological discoveries on record. "And look at this! The photograph matches the inscriptions of the White Moonstone and Red Sunstone!"

"Holy Arceus." Cynthia drops to the floor. "Professor, don't they look like compasses?"

Rowan raises a bushy brow. Why, now that I think of it… He takes both the relics into his hands. One is cold, and the other warm to the touch. "Where did you two find these again?"

Cyrus hesitates. "Beach Cave," Cynthia blurts. "In Sunyshore City."

Sunyshore… that's quite some ways away. Rowan produces his map of Sinnoh. "Beach Cave?"

"Yes, it's… um… well, it's somewhere in Sunyshore."

A piece of parchment is slid into Rowan's field of vision. A map of sorts. An annotated map drawn with crayon and colored with imagination.

And just for a second, the image of a beach at dusk flashes across his eyes.

Cynthia gasps. "Beach Cave," Cyrus mumbles. "Is here."

"Oh." There's just something extremely intriguing about this handmade map. A tale of discovery, a tale of loss… "Miracle Sea? Waterfall Cave? Oh, there's Canalave City." Fiction occurring alongside reality.

Hm?

"Kids," Rowan says quietly. "Look at this. If you start at Beach Cave as your center and follow the arms of your stones…"

The Champion and ex-Galactic Boss do just that. And sure enough, the swirly arrows of the inscription pulsate with a gentle green glow.

"That's Treeshroud Forest," Cynthia whispers. The inscription seems to blink in response.

"And Mystifying Forest," Cyrus breathes.

"Crystal Lake!" Rowan exclaims.

"Fogbound Lake!" Cynthia cries. The three adults wait with bated breath as the compass arms converge…

"What is that?" Rowan grunts. "The desert?"

"Northern Desert." Cynthia and Cyrus look at each other. The latter raps his knuckles against the delicate parchment. He opens his mouth. Closes it. The rapping grows in tempo as if he's conducting a one-person orchestra.

"Cyrus?" Cynthia says before he can sprout wings and fly.

"These locations!" There's a sparkle in those dull blue eyes. A hint of something in that usually dispassionate voice.

"What's happening?"

Rowan whirls around. "Platinum, come in! You're missing the best part!"

The girl is quite confused as to why the adults are huddled around a silly treasure map, but she chooses to humor them regardless. "Oh," Platinum says. "Aren't those locations where the Time Gears were found?"

"Yes!" The girl jumps at Cyrus's tone. It's not a harsh snap nor glower, but rather… "Yes, Miss Berlitz, excellent observation! Professor Rowan, Cy—Champion Cynthia, I can state with 99.98% certainty that the fifth Time Gear is hidden in Northern Desert!"

"There must be a secret passageway!" Cynthia exclaims as she herself is trembling with aniticipation. "O-Or better yet, a secret lake!"

"And I believe that Azelf, the Being of Willpower, will be guarding the last Time Gear." Cyrus's chest is heaving. He's taking in more breath than he lets out but doesn't seem to care at all. "If-If the scriptures at Celestic Ruins are true, then the three being—"

Rowan holds up a hand. "Pardon me? The scriptures at Celestic Ruins? You…" Woah woah woah. "You actually deciphered it?"

"Yes!" Cynthia shouts. "Cyrus figured out what it meant! That's how we got past the puzzle in Crystal Cave!"

"That's amazing," Platinum gasps. "Professor Rowan and I have spent months trying to crack the code…" A soft smile. "I can see you as a professor someday, Mister Cyrus. You'll be a fine one, no doubt."

Cyrus's brows furrow. "No, that's impossible, Miss Berlitz. I don't have that type of future." He draws everyone's thoughts back with a snap of the finger. "Now, assuming that Azelf is guarding the fifth Time Gear at Northern Desert…perhaps in some Underground Lake. The question remains: is there a connection between these relics and the Time Gears? If so, then the three mirage Pokemon are involved somehow. Champion Cynthia affirmed that Uxie knew something about the stones…

"But the link to Dialga…"

A heavy tome slides into Platinum's hands. There's a suspiciously dark stain on the cover. An ominous splatter…

"I don't remember this book being in the study," Cyrus mutters as he opens the pages. "Thank you, Mister Mori."

Platinum's lips unlatch with a silent gasp. "This is the first edition of Sinnoh Mythos! The original manuscripts were destroyed during the Great Fire… Oh, look at this, everyone!"

She lays the book down. He's straining his eyes again, go figure. "They keep on mentioning this Tower. Temporal Tower, in fact, in a place beyond the seas and skies… And see these slots in the walls? Gears…" Platinum looks up. "I think they're meant to fix something in the Tower."

Cyrus is staring at Platinum with such an intense expression that the girl's ears turn bright pink. An excited Rotom dances across the orange skies.

"Temporal Tower," Cyrus echoes. "Time Gears." He's breathing into his sleeve. "I think… I… Oh, maybe…!"

"Just say it!" Rowan huffs.

"I think I know what to do now." Stated with utmost conviction. "If these stories do hold a seed of truth, then we have proof that Dialga does in fact exist! And I am convinced that something is in fact broken, something with Temporal Tower, and that's why the flow of time is messed up as it is!

"And if you are to confront Dialga, then all five Time Gears must be gathered to unlock the path! With the stones as compasses—"

"The path to treasure shall be revealed!" Rowan slams his fist into the floorboards.

"The path to destiny shall be revealed!" Cynthia yells, tossing her hands into the air. "OOH! Let's go! Let's go let's go let's go—"

Platinum raises her hand. "Er. Excuse me." The adults stare at her as if she'd just lost her memory. "I have two questions: First, won't taking all the Time Gears complete the Planet's Paralysis? Secondly, how will we obtain the Time Gears if everything is under heavy surveillance?" Her lips are still rounded, but she cuts off there.

The energy leeches into the evening air. Cyrus slumps against the wall. Rowan and Cynthia sheepishly sit back down.

"It's still just conjecture, Miss Berlitz," Cyrus murmurs. "After all, I'm basing everything off folklore." He squeezes his temples, and he sighs. It's a sigh that shakes the walls of the Old Chateau.

"It's our best shot," Cynthia says firmly. "Cyrus, your theories have been right so far. If we're indeed dealing with a time limit, then anything is better than nothing, I'd say."

Rowan spreads out the rest of his documents. There it is. The five gear-like slots. That inscription. The statue at Eterna City. Dialga. The crumbling Tower. A prophecy that foretells the day when time stands still.

A chill snakes down Rowan's spine. It's pure madness is what this is. And yet… the puzzle pieces do fit. And like it or not, he's the only one that seems to know anything about this whole mess…

"Samuel and I used to frequent Mt. Coronet. We took pictures to document the ancient civilizations that used to live there. We theorized that there's a story associated with the murals, but as of right now, there hasn't been a lexicon—"

"The first mural praises the birth of Dialga," Cyrus says after one glance. "The second describes the birth of the universe from the highest point of Mt. Coronet… the moment when time began to flow, when space first started to expand…"

Cyrus frowns. "The third details a bitter war between the two dimensions." He leans forward. "But during… During the six hundred sixty-sixth solar eclipse… a great shadow interrupted the war. Then from that… an imbalance. An imbalance between time and space, an anomaly.

"But space eventually repaired itself. However… Well, it mentions something about Temporal Tower chipping away. A God driven to madness… sanity slowly but surely trickling away until darkness swallows the world."

The air absorbs those words like an overused sponge. A Starly lands on the window sill, shrieks, and flies away.

Did the wind just stop?

The door opens, returning life to the room.

"What the… Did someone die?"

"Ju… Jupiter." Cyrus scrambles for the wheelchair. "Jupiter, there's been adverse developments in the case. Assemble the Grunts—"

She marches in and seizes control of the wheelchair. "Thanks for taking care of him, everyone. I need to borrow him for a second."

"J-Jupiter! I don't have time—"

"Do you want to walk or not?" Jupiter retorts. "Your crutches are collecting dust. I can help you make the best out of them, Cyrus."

Cyrus stares at her. Stares at his legs. "Really…? I thought… I thought you were against that."

"That's only when you injure yourself while sneaking off to practice on your own." She crosses her arms. "Well?"

"All right. Thank you." Cyrus grabs his crutches. "Pardon me, Miss Berlitz."

"Will you be back, Mister Cyrus?"

Cyrus blinks. "Yes… But feel free to continue without me, ma'am."

"Do your best, Cyrus," Cynthia says. He gives her a blank stare. Jupiter calls him, and he departs.


A few days pass with remarkable progress. Even with the thickening air of security, no one bats an eye when Professor Rowan takes to the skies on his chubby Starly. No one pays heed as he soars over the patches of frozen time, and if his estimates are correct, have blanketed 1/3 of the Sinnoh region in darkness.

"It's starting to reach Kanto," Oak had said last night, over telephone. "Lance and the Elite Four are investigating, but so far there hasn't been any significant leads. I mean, how do you combat something like minutes and seconds?

"Anyhow, how are things in Sinnoh? That's where it began, right? That's where everything bad happens hehehe—Sorry."

"It's true. But yes… I think we're on to something, Samuel. If his theory proves correct…"

"His?"

"Erm. Wish me luck, Oak. If we survive this, I'll treat you to this new milk confectionary at Solaceon."

To think that no matter how old one gets, there will always be surprises! To think that in all my sixty years, I'd be working with the hero and villain to save the damn world!


Cyrus looks up when he hears footsteps. "Good afternoon, Professor Rowan. Diamond. Pearl. Miss Berlitz." He gestures to the chairs in the room. "Please have a seat."

"Just Platinum is okay," the girl squeaks. It's unclear whether Cyrus heard that or not. He's staring at the open book while twirling the feather pen in his hand.

"Mister Cyrus," Dia says. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"You look sick," Pearl adds gently.

"I'm fine." There's twigs and dirt all over him. Cyrus lifts his hand, revealing dark bruises around his temples.

"He fell a lot," a passing Mars says. "Slammed his head into the grass."

"I'll do better," Cyrus hisses. His lips curl downwards. "I'll be useful… I'll make this useless thing function again…"

The Dexholders exchange glances. Then Honchkrow descends onto the armrests, and the blizzard halts in its tracks. The crow chirps, Rotom speaks, and Cyrus scoffs. "I'm all right," he assures the cautious Pokemon. "No need to concern yourself with me."

Dia nudges his friends. "Mister Cyrus. When did you catch Honchkrow?"

"My Murkrow evolved into Honchkrow, Diamond." The crow tips its fedora at the beaming boy. "He was left behind by the murder… Oh. That's the term for a flock of crows, Pearl." The boy releases a loud sigh, and Cyrus's eyes crinkle. "Nevertheless, we haven't located his family yet."

Platinum yelps as a fuzzy cannonball throws itself into Cyrus's laps. Pens and papers clatter to the floor. "H-How about Weavile, Mister Cyrus?" she gasps.

"Snowpoint City, Miss Berlitz. It's… quite a long story, and quite a messy one." His fingers hover over his eye as he speaks. Weavile chuckles nervously, but it receives its head scratch in due time.

"Gyarados must be tough to train," Pearl says. "My master, Crasher Wake, has one too. He tells me that if I did consider training one, I'll have to be really, really patient."

"Yes, it's quite—" The icy mask cracks. "I-I'm sorry? Crasher Wake is your master? Pearl?"

It's Pearl's turn to be surprised. "Um. Yeah! Yes!" He pumps his fists into the air. "He even made me my own theme song! It goes like this!"

Oof. Well. At least he tried. But to Rowan's surprise, there's one person who isn't covering his ears. One person who's not grimacing like the rest of his Pokemon.

Cyrus has his chin on his fist. "I see. That does sound like something he would do."

"What?"

"It still amazes me how a small fish like Magikarp grew up—I mean, evolved into Gyarados." Cyrus moves to the window, where said Pokemon lowers its head for a deep rub. "He washed up on the beach after a storm… but he came back, even after the waters have calmed."

"Still," Rowan mumbles. "Training Magikarp requires a rigorous schedule of daily training. With its move set, it would take months to evolve…" There's a shine to the Pokemon's scales. A certain air of refinement… but a softness in its eyes when it sees the ex-Galactic Boss.

The professor clears his throat. Cyrus lifts his gaze. "Oh. Were you… I apologize. No, I rarely battled in the earlier years. And to be honest, I wasn't there when Magikarp evolved, so I can't give you specifics on that." A purse of the lips. "I apologize, Professor Rowan, but I think we should focus back on the task at hand."

But Rowan still has burning questions. What is your connection with Rotom? How was it discovered? How did you know that it was named "Rotom?" Wait, what do you mean you weren't there to witness Magikarp's evolution?

And the biggest mystery of them all… Rowan locks eyes with Crobat. It tilts its head, a mirror of what he would do.

"So now we know the location of the five Time Gears… Yet, there's also a possibility that time won't stop immediately after one is taken…" Cyrus is tearing at his eyes. Rowan can hear the skin scratching at eyeball. "However if we are to proceed with the plan, where will we take them…? Temporal Tower… if such a thing exists, where can it be…?"

"Your first Pokemon was a Zubat, correct?"

"Perhaps the two stones will show the way if held aloft… but the question is, where? It doesn't make sense for the answer to lie at Foggy Forest—"

"Er-hem!" That, and Cyrus jolts. Rowan patiently repeats his question.

And Cyrus frowns. "I don't see how that's of any relevance, sir." He turns back to his books. Crobat, on the other hand, is staring intently at the Pokemon Professor.

"Professor Rowan studies Pokemon evolution," Platinum says softly. "His research question involves understanding what evolution truly entails… Professor, you should give him the spiel."

Ah yes. The Spiel. Rowan huffs. I was born ready for The Spiel. "Listen up. It's true that I study Pokemon evolution, but the more I delve into the subject, the more mysteries appear and multiply. Pokemon that evolve, Pokemon that don't… What makes them different from each other? Do those that are immature as living beings evolve to once more mature?

"You're all aware that battling is not the only way that Pokemon evolve, yes? There's item usage, trading, temporal factors… Happiness level…"

Crobat's ears perk up. Cyrus seems to mull something over. He shields his mouth with a sleeve, and he speaks. "I… I've also heard that there's a particular Pokemon that evolves if held upside down…"

"Really now? The mystery deepens as Pokemon research grows, does it not?"

"Indeed." Cyrus straightens. "There's also a new field in analyzing the energies released by said evolution. When Pokemon grow up—"

"Grow up?"

"Ah. N-No, my apologizes. When Pokemon evolve, they release a vast amount of energy, depending on the species and stage of evolution. The question is, what becomes of that expelled energy? Since energy cannot be created nor destroyed, where does it originate? Within the Pokemon? By some thermal reaction? An external process?"

Rowan strokes his moustache thoughtfully. "I always did wonder about that. Truth be told, there isn't a lot of funding within the field, Cy..ence."

What the hell. It's the same sensation as biting into some mushy, moldy candy. The professor busies himself in checking his watch to avoid the all-knowing eyes of children.

But the other one remains blissfully oblivious. "Yes, science has made tremendous leaps in Pokemon research. However, more work should be done towards developing a more holistic approach to understanding Pokemon evolution. I—" He presses his sleeve against his mouth. "Ah… I apologize, Professor Rowan. I didn't mean to interrupt your spiel."

And Cyrus once again buries himself deep into his research, the books stacked around him like a fortress of paper.

That is, until Dia trespasses across the invisible boundary. "Mister Cyrus. Mister Cyrus, look."

"I'm busy, Diamond. I'm sure Pearl can—"

"Mister Cyrus, look!" Cyrus stiffens when the boy leans against his shoulder. "Professor Rowan gave me this Pokedex. I've recorded hundreds of Pokemon throughout my journey in Sinnoh." Dia smiles. "Try it out, Mister Cyrus!"

"N-No. No." Cyrus shuffles back. "I need to work—"

"Crobat," Pearl hums. "'A Pokemon that gained vastly enhanced flying performance by having its legs turned into wings.'" Boop! "Weavile. 'It sends signals to others by carving odd patterns in frost-covered trees and ice.'"

Boop! Platinum holds up her pink Pokedex. "Honchkrow. 'If one utters a deep cry, many Murkrow gather quickly. For this, it is called Summoner of Night.'" Her laugh is a tinkling bell. "My Pokedex is updated, you see. The data entries are quite different from Diamond's and Pearl's."

Cyrus is staring at the Dexholders. "What…" He scowls. "No, never mind—"

"What what what?" Dia huffs.

"What…" A cough. Another pause. "What is Gyarados's entry, if I may ask?"

"'Once it appears, its rage never settles until it has razed the fields and mountains around it,'" Dia answers brightly. "And look, if you scroll down the cursor, there's more information: like the place you found it, the gender differences…"

Dia is literally dangling the Pokedex in front of his face. Cyrus keeps his distance, but his eyes are very wide, and his ears are angled inwards to what this boy had to say.

"You two." Words Professor Rowan had spoken long ago to the boys from Twinleaf Town. "You truly love Pokemon, do you?" And they answered with the same shining eyes, the same curiosity and open heart.

There happens to be an extra Pokedex in the satchel.

"Dia, remember when we bumped into Professor Rowan and Platinum's father? To think that a tiny thing can alter the course of our story! Hey, I wonder what Paka and Uji are doing—"

"Have you ever wanted to be a Pokemon Trainer?"

The Dexholders stop speaking. Rowan's words linger in the air, but they reach their target. Cyrus tears his gaze off the Pokedexes—

And Rowan sees it. Within that fleeting ripple of time, a surge of emotion seeps from those protect shields. Envy. Bitterness. Disappointment.

Regret.

"No," Cyrus states in cold monotone. His mask is perfectly blank, as if what Rowan had just witnessed was a mere trick of the mind. "Never. Don't be ridiculous." A scathing gale slaps back Dia's warm invitation. "I've wasted my time with enough vacuous sentimentality. I don't care what you four talk about amongst yourselves, but I have work to do."

"Mister Cyrus…"

Knock. Knock. "Master Cyrus!" Saturn yelps. "It's time!"

Cyrus grates his teeth. "Finally. It'll work this time, Saturn. I have a strategy—"

"There's no strategy in walking, Boss," Mars pipes up. "Although, how are you going to swing your hands if you broke your arm twice—"

"Come on, Cyrus," Jupiter says. "The sun's coming down."

"Yes." Cyrus gives a nod to his visitors. "Pardon me. I'll be back."


As soon as he leaves, Cynthia enters the room. "Woah," she grunts. "What did Cyrus do this time?"

"We just showed him our Pokedexes," Dia mutters. "He… He seemed to like it, but… then he acted as if it he didn't care."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." Cynthia taps a finger to her lips, thinking. Then she shrugs. "I remember when I first got my Pokedex. Brought it with me everywhere, even to the restroom." She smirks when Rowan's eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

"Cynthia," Platinum asks. "What type of map is that? I don't recall it in the regional atlas."

"You're right." Cynthia holds up the object. "We—Cyrus and I—called this a 'Wonder Map.' Back then, we pretended we were an exploration team in the pursuit of treasures and lore! Team Akatsuki, after the ancient word for dawn! We'd make up places, but sometimes we would bring back actual treasure! That's how we found our relics!"

"You and Cyrus were close, huh?" Pearl murmurs with a shake of the head. "I knew there was something between you two, but I never thought… Wow. That's amazing."

"Yeah…" Cynthia's gaze is faraway. "It's… it's hard to believe, huh? But it's true." She grasps the map to her bosom. "He remembered… He kept it after all this time…"

Rowan looks up from his arms. Cynthia had stopped speaking. Her head is turned to the orange skies, to the red sun that sits above the forest horizon. He follows her gaze down to the garden of roses and lilies.

"Come on, Doc!" B-2 is bobbing his ass like a pom-pom. "Almost there! Almost—ah."

"No," Jupiter snaps before R-8 can help. "He needs to get up on his own."

Pearl watches for a while longer. Then he laughs, much to everyone's shock. "I think…" He scratches his curled blond hair. "I think that Daddy will think that I'm crazy if I said that Cyrus isn't the type of person I thought he was."

Cynthia whirls around. "W-Why?" She pats her face. "I mean… why would you say that, Pearl?"

"I… huh, I honestly don't know. I thought he was a crazy cult leader at first… that's what everyone says, even Daddy." He twiddles his green scarf, the fabric darkening with the hues of the evening sun. "Um… yeah. Heh, maybe I'm going crazy now."

Platinum snorts. "Maybe we're all going crazy, Pearl. I too had qualms about interacting with Mister Cyrus, especially given the stern warnings from my parents and Sebastian…" She readjusts her red scarf. "But… maybe that's the right thing to do. That's how I feel, anyway."

Dia beams, and sunlight floods into the room. "Mister Cyrus isn't a bad person," says the boy with all the sincerity in the world. "I want you all to see that too."

He raises a hand to his heart. "Time is standing still across the region. If we don't trust each other… if we don't consider other people's feelings… It can only lead to tragedy. Tragedy for all the people and Pokemon who live here. I just can't sit back and watch. I have to do something about it.

"That's how I feel, Professor Rowan. Mister Cyrus is trying really, really hard to fix his mistakes. But when you look at him that way, I can tell that he's hurting, even though he'll never admit it. And that hurts me too."

Dia turns back to watching the window. Pearl scoops his jaw off the floor—and he grabs his best friend into a wicked hug. Platinum hovers around awkwardly until Pearl pulls her in.

A gasp resounds from the garden. Rotom shouts. It performs a spectacular back flip and with a joyous cry, the Plasma Pokemon zooms down to witness the unfolding miracle.

"Jupiter…!" Slow at first. Hesitant. Cautious. "Jupiter!" Louder. Excited. "Jupiter, look! Jupiter, it works now! It's not broken anymore! Jupiter!"

"I know I know I see it! Cyrus, I'm so—" THUMP! "Oh. W-Well. We can always try again."

"He finally did it," Cynthia whispers. "That thick-headed idiot actually did it…!"

Cynthia was twelve when I entrusted her with the Pokedex. They must be around the same age… And the possibilities blossom into Rowan's mind. The "What if's." The alternative universes. The happily-ever-afters.

He certainly has a lot of potential. A tinge of something breaks the professor's intimidating façade. How different will this story be if… They'd make a great team, just like Diamond and Pearl…

Yet one intrusive thought lurks within that realm of endings. A simple question with no clear answer.

Just what went wrong?

The kids are giggling, Cynthia included. Rowan frowns. "What is it?"

Cynthia laughs—a light, childish sound of pure mirth. "You look a lot nicer when you smile, Professor Rowan."


Jupiter invited the Dexholders to dinner. And Rowan, being the de facto guardian of these three children, tagged along.

That night, the Old Chateau is abuzz with light and sound.

"B-2, move your ass!"

"Mars, can I get a hand over here?"

"Ack, Platinum stop stop! Let Dia and Mars handle the food!"

A dejected Platinum joins the corner of the no-cooking club which comprises of a fidgeting Saturn and Cynthia. So when a Grunt asks him for help, the Commander gladly slips away.

"Lively bunch today." Jupiter leans against Platinum's chair. "Dia's a great help in the kitchen. And Pearl's a great coordinator."

Platinum pouts. "So who usually cooks, Miss Jupiter?"

"What do you—oh." A twist to the mouth. "Back then." She takes a seat beside the golden curtain. "Well, before Galactic was officially founded, I helped cook. I'm still amazed at how he managed to take care of Mars and Saturn when he can't even take care of himself." She crosses her legs. "We, the Galactic Commanders, usually join the Grunts during dinnertime. That idiot lives on coffee, and with his workload…"

Something clatters in the kitchen. Ghosts shrieking. Someone crying.

"I'll be back," Jupiter murmurs.

"You do that." Cynthia glances around. "I should—"

"I'll do it." The professor rises. "I won't be much help in the kitchen anyway." He pats his muscled stomach. "You and Platinum see if they need any assistance."

And with that, Rowan leaves the mess hall. He brushes past the gawking Gengar, past a group of wide-eyed Ghosts as he ascends the stairs.


"Bzzt, bzzt!"

THUMP!. "Stupid… stupid stupid! It's so easy why can't you-!" TH-THUMP! "You useless—"

"BZZZT!"

A silence. "I'm sorry. I'm all right, Rotom." Cyrus gropes for his crutches. He takes a deep, pained breath… and pushes himself against the wall. Rotom bobs indignantly.

"Er-hem."

Cyrus flinches. THUMP! And he instantly rightens himself to match Rowan's flinty gaze. "P-Professor Rowan. I… The room is unlocked if you needed to review any materials."

"Hm." Rowan glances at the agitated Rotom. "They've gathered for dinner."

"Yes. I'm aware." Feet sliding—dragging—across the wood. Clunk. Clunk. "You should join them, Professor. I hear that Diamond's quiet an adept chef."

"That he is." Cyrus looks away. Rowan clears his throat. "He asked me where you were."

"Oh. I already ate." Rotom states otherwise, and Rowan doesn't need a translator for that. Cyrus scowls, and the Pokemon winces. "Am I disrupting dinner? I'll go away—"

"No." Cyrus jolts. What the heck was that, Rowan? So the professor tries again. "You need to go down there and join your team. They helped you walk again, so the least you can do is join them for dinner."

"I'm wasting—" He blanches when the words finally sink into his stupendously thick skull. Cyrus frowns down at his feet. And after much deliberation, he speaks. "No. You're right, Professor Rowan. It's an unequal reciprocation, but…" His shoulders straighten. "Okay. I at least owe them that."

Rowan stands aside from Cyrus to limp to the staircase. It's already difficult to utilize crutches with one hand, but Cyrus dares to lift his foot—

The professor lunges forward in the nick of time. The crutches clatter down the two flights of stairs, ending in a heap near Jupiter's tapping boot.


"What did you say to him?"

Rowan wipes the crumbs of the mascarpone brownie from his moustache. "Excuse me?"

Jupiter's eyes flicker to the front of the table. "Dragging a Snorlax out of the way is much easier than getting Cyrus to come down to eat. What's your secret?"

He's really a difficult young man. "Nothing special, really." The soft of his scalp prickles. Rowan turns to meet that sharp gaze. He can see the gears clanking furiously in that brain. Then some kind of rationalization occurs, and Cyrus apologizes before shifting his focus back on the yammering kids.

"There's a lot of Gastly around," Pearl remarks. One Mismagius musses his hair, earning a laugh from the Grunts.

"That's the Mistress of the Mansion," Cyrus says. Laughter dies. "The one at your side, Miss Berlitz, is the Master of the Mansion. Jupiter, the gardener asks if you'd like some flowers. And…"

A jab to Rowan's elbow. Nothing's there. He returns to his desert to find an empty plate.

"I apologize on behalf of Elise, Professor Rowan." Cyrus shoots a frown at the snickering Gengar. A Haunter swoops down to wipe the cream off the Ghosts's face. "This is Mister Mori. The butler."

The shiny Haunter bows its head. The professor, not quite sure what to do, returns a nod. Oh yes. That reminds me. Rowan produces his notes. "What's the truth behind the Old Chateau?"

The temperature suddenly plummets. Light is extinguished, ushering in an oppressive darkness that smothers faces.

Then it's bright again. Cyrus's eyes are dim, but he seems otherwise unfazed by… whatever that just happened. "The family gave me permission to tell you, is all." He tilts his head to the chattering Litwick. The humming Duskull.

"Back then, there was no treatment for chronic diseases. It was believed to be consumption, as her body had… hm? Well, this is what she says: 'I remembered dreaming about speaking to my father. I saw my body, I saw Mister Mori and everyone… But the nightmare held me captive. Father went to his study, and he brought…'"

Cyrus abruptly looks down. There's a lack of Ghosts now. This decrepit old mansion is as empty as can be.

So the stains around the mansion…

"The pain of losing is much worse than death, I suppose," Cyrus mumbles softly. "And uncertainty led to action… one final act of desperation to reunite his family again."

The table is rattling. R-8's spoon falls on the floor, the impact similar to a dropped grenade. A Grunt flinches, thrashing into her colleague, sending the right side of the table falling over like blue dominoes.

And Professor Rowan casually tucks his blank notepad back to the satchel. Some things in this world are better left unseen.

The first person to break the heavy mood is the boy with the red scarf. "U-Um. M-M-Mister C-Cyrus?" The man tilts his head. Dia musters a watery smile. "S-Speaking of P-P-Pokemon…"

Pearl peeks up from under the table. "Uh. Oh! Um. S-Speaking of Pokemon! Sometimes we have battles with them."

"W-We sure do!"

"Sometimes status conditions can really throw you in for a loop."

Mars jabs her fork down the linen tablecloth. "Oh! That's right! Sometimes battles don't go exactly as planned."

Pearl holds up his fingers. "Poisoned, burn, frozen, sleep…"

"We've even gotten confused!" Dia cries.

"But wait!" Pearl exclaims. "There's one more common status condition!"

"There is?"

"Yeah, the one that numbs your body…"

"Um…"

Mars leaps to her feet. "Ooh! I know! It's Paralyze! HAHAHAHA!"

"Hey!" Dia yelps. "You stole our punchline! I'm supposed to say 'Paralyze!' and he says, 'Please what?' And I say, 'Pleased to meet you!' And he says—"

Pearl shrugs. "It's okay, Dia. As long as Mars enjoys our comedy routine!"

That's when Mars stops laughing. She blinks slowly, her golden eyes wide like a Noctowl's. "What's a comedy routine?"

When silence once again stretches across the table, Saturn raises his voice. "S-So!" Heads whip to his direction. He balks. "Urk… M-Master Cyrus! What's the status of your research?"

Cyrus sets his untouched bowl to the side. "It's almost complete, Saturn. I'll finalize the plan by tonight, and I'll announce the details of the operation tomorrow."

He has indeed the presence of a leader.

Jupiter sips her tea. "So. Tomorrow, huh?"

"Yes," Cyrus replies. "I apologize for the long delay. But yes, we'll be mobilizing soon. Be prepared for changes in daily activities in the near future."

Cynthia sucks in a deep breath. There's a pensive look on her face, one that Rowan can't quite place.

"We're ready," the Grunts declare. The Commander nod assent.

Cyrus's expression softens, and he returns to staring down at his knees. More silence, until Platinum opens her mouth.

"What'll happen then? To you? To your team?"

That question is like a slap to the face, but it's a question that needs to be addressed. Everyone exchanges glances between themselves before looking to their leader for reassurance.

"Regardless of what the future holds, we must focus first on the things we can control." Cyrus sighs. "The present, you can fix. Worrying about an uncertain fate is unproductive. It's a waste of your time." That, and his lips tug to the side. That doesn't sound reassuring at all. But Cyrus looks rather calm compared to the rest of his pale-faced team.

The rest of dinner continues with mindless chatting from the Grunts, some jokes from the comedy duo, some witty remarks from Cynthia.

And it's one of those acts of fate where Rowan happens to be at the right place at the right time. In reaching for the sugar jar—that's when he sees it. That small, sad smile on silent lips. It's such a jarring thing that when Rowan blinks again, all traces of emotion are gone as if they were never there to begin with.


"Thanks for the food, kid!"

"You're such a good chef, Dia! I loved your rice balls!"

"Pearl, I looooove your straight man gimmick! You're my inspiration!"

The Grunts gush on and on until Jupiter pulls them back. "All right, all right." She has to raise her voice to compete with the Kricketune. "They need to go home now."

Platinum gives a deep nod. "Thank you very much for the invitation, Miss Jupiter."

"Of course, kid." Jupiter's eyes glint in the soft moonlight. An ocean of stars twinkles overhead. "And thanks for staying to clean up, all of you."

"Good night, Dia!" Mars chirps. "Good night, Gramps!"

"See you, I guess," Saturn huffs. "Pearl."

"The meeting will start promptly at noon." That monotone comes from above. There's a fluffy head peering down from the window. "Professor Rowan, Champion Cynthia, will you be able to join us?"

"Yes!" Cynthia groans. "Go back inside!"

Rowan makes a sound that's halfway between a grunt and a growl. Cyrus nods. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow then, in my office."


The group is almost to Eterna City when something falls behind them. Hand on his belt, Rowan turns to see—

"Drifblim?" Pearl wheezes. The Pokemon moves aside.

"Pro… Professor Rowan." Cyrus slumps against the nearest tree as he catches his breath. He shakes the leaves off his hair. "Wa… Wait, please. You… hah…"

"Cyrus!" Cynthia hisses. "What part of 'stay in your room' don't you understand?!"

The former leader of Team Galactic presents the object to the light. "You…. Professor Rowan, you forgot this. I found it between the pages of my notebook. Please be mindful next time so you wouldn't misplace your belongings."

Rowan silently takes back his business card. Rowan, PhD. Pokemon Researcher. Sandgem Lab. Research for a Brighter Future.

Cyrus breathes through his mouth. "Well. Farewell. Get home safety, and I'll see you tomorrow." He takes a step—and tumbles to the ground. Drifblim swoops the man to its swing-like seat, and with one last apology, Cyrus disappears into the darkness of the forest.


Tomorrow comes all too soon.

"Everything is ready." Cyrus gingery peels himself from the wheelchair. The transfer to crutches is successful. He teeters a bit, but stands his ground. "To the foyer."

The remnants of Team Galactic stiffen when the boss appears on the balcony. They're standing in perfect rows, with the Commanders in the lead. A sea of color within an achromatic gloom.

Cyrus plants his feet evenly apart. He squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, and tilts his head. "Is everyone here? Good. Now, thank you for bearing with me over the last…" A frown. "Anyhow, I would like to thank Professor Rowan and Miss Berlitz. Without them, this day would not have been possible."

Rowan huffs. He unwraps a Yum-Bar. "Hard work pays off. Ready when you are, Cyrus."