I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 28th, 08:01,
As a scientist, I often find myself prioritizing logos over pathos. I'm not a cold, dispassionate person by any means. I just can't help but acknowledge logic as more valuable in regards to academic pursuits. Yet, I find myself considering a Galarian allegory in which pathos is represented by a copperajah and logos by a human rider. Usually the trainer guides the pokemon, which is content to oblige this course. However, should the copperajah become impassioned, in excitement, rage, or otherwise, the human perched upon its back can only brace themselves for the wild ride ahead. Emotion has power derived from deepest instinct. It is destructive and creative; terrible and beautiful. Today, it delivered a treasure into my hands.

John's lilligant, Mimi, has lived with Sofia since her trainer's death. Apparently, the documents I sent to Johto moved her so that she decided to disclose a secret kept for fourteen years; an encrypted letter from Julianne to her brother. It was guarded by his pokemon, even from John's children and Sofia. Now, Mimi, in her love and grief, has trusted me with this and I thank her profusely. Here is the email I received from Sofia Mori at 06:30…

Aidan,
I know you didn't start this journey for some old geezer and her pokemon a thousand miles away. You did a good thing though and I am so happy I answered your message instead of shoving it under a desk like everything else to do with Julie for the past decade. I think part of me has been mad at her. I couldn't help it. She was just gone and no one knew how or why and it felt like abandonment even if it wasn't. Reading these letters, journals, and sketches reminds me how much she believed in us; how much she loved us and gave for her family's well-being. Sometimes, she seemed so distant and fierce and cold. Yet, underneath I know that we were precious to her.

Since her trainer passed, Mimi's been a sad sight.. Lilligant flowers are difficult to maintain, even for grass type specialists, but she blossomed for Johnny. He had a green thumb and a good heart. Losing him and her teammates, Sparky and Puddles, caused wilting in more ways than one. Bailey's choice to stay with Johnny's granddaughter, Amelia, didn't help either.

Something's changed now. Her color has been steadily returning for the first time in a while. She went weirdly quiet for a few hours after we read the stuff you found in Undella Town. Then, out of nowhere, she hands me this piece of paper. I couldn't tell you where she's been hiding it, but the handwriting is Julie's and Johnny's name is on the back. The date is two weeks before her missing person's report. It's total gibberish.I can't make heads or tails of that crypto-nonsense my mentor liked so much, but you're a smart guy. You managed to crack those book ciphers. Maybe you'll figure this out too. Here it is-

LPRXEAGNSWXDQTRFTHVPMQNSBTYKDCMODRCZXIQQEOFZASCISPYVLJKFRELFLXDELNZNZMOEBZUMEFFNUYQWPSDZHVJNMXUQFNAFDKNTNGHOKRJN

TNRPHHZWJTLJXKJGBGTVVSLMXHALVTTHIHFSEDDEVZAWYLYXSEXOZXLNTHSRVYENTNWLLVDXHCGCYRLXLTRZULPMSTVLELWZKWSAZJTLVTBBTVQZKAL

ACKOZHNLEAWJQEKLNFHCUDTTMLRZHFXXVOAELTVPNTKEPHBIIJPNMTMUROAHDNZOAMJHTOFTEFWJZHAGVGADZCWWTWMMKFVOQKPIFNQWBUNLWT

VKZRGFWDLQAENERVYWBUEKXYIESVHXBCIRTTWWJWPGNZOIECHLLCKPTMWNKEPDJJWZOSWWGOGKZZYLTWKMTXWYEAHXASKPYRRWGHMJWGYWXYGGA

HPQHYGAGRESEHCWRMUMLURDPHBNKZXHZKOQRDWRLZFVHMIALHCEJWZVROFALHSMLTKMNEGVHYIOPJBELOJYRAPJMLKIGCXAWSCPAHTDIOIJCDPQTS

TARAHVVGQPIBCETPRWLZVOEWZPWXIWMAIEABWOHYIFNEDWIKGYSQXAZVELPNTWYXCIJLCWVWHGCMTAIHZQBZIXLYZFTSAWMJ

Take care, Aidan.
The honorable (and grateful) Sofia Mori

P.S. I can't believe our bottles are still up on the roof! Even if it's just pieces, that's cool. Thanks for checking it out.

So, I now have a brand new letter from Julianne to John. Sort of. The issue is, of course, the encryption, which is unfortunately more problematic than the previous examples. To determine exactly what I was dealing with, I calculated the index of coincidence. It indicates the probability of randomly selected letters being the same and helps identify possible cipher candidates.

In this language, the average IC for a text is 0.0667. Because all languages function in patterns, a high coincidence index is inevitable. If the IC for the ciphertext is close to that value, you probably have a monoalphabetic substitution or transposition cipher on your hands. In regards to ease of decryption, this is ideal. Both can be handled in seconds via frequency analysis programs. Even the least competent amateurs can crack it on paper with a bit of patience.

However, if the IC is closer to, say 0.039, you might as well be looking at a random portion of alphabet soup. In that case, the poor sap trying to decrypt the text is in for an Arceus-damned fight against entropy and their own fraying composure. It's probably a polyalphabetic cipher of some sort, most of which exist for the sole purpose of resisting frequency analysis. The index of coincidence for Dr. Skye's message is 0.03955 and screw that to the distortion world and back.

During my undergrad studies at Jubilife College I once procrastinated on a midterm paper for half an hour, watching a murkrow peck at my dorm room window. The little thieves can't resist shiny things and my roommate kept a glass dialga figurine on our windowsill. Murkrow may not be able to detect windowpanes on sight, but they're not stupid. They know a barrier when they bang their beak into it and the glass manufacturers know a thing or two about reinforcement against pokemon attacks. Still, the bird, fully aware of it's dilemma, endeavored tenaciously to reach that shimmering prize. Peering down at this mess of ciphertext, I empathize completely.

My best bet for reading Dr. Skye's message is finding the cipher key used for encryption. Knowing her, the key is at least the length of the message, providing additional security. At worst, it's a random sequence, rendering it unbreakable via virtually any method of cryptanalysis. Fortunately, I suspect this is not the case. Rather than ask her brother to save or memorize a collection of random letters, it's probable she chose something specifically relevant to their relationship; something John would guess swiftly while leaving nosy strangers stumped.

Thankfully, I'm no ordinary stranger (though I am, perhaps, nosy). Dr. Skye has been my subject since childhood and I've amassed a myriad of records concerning John. Furthermore, I have Maria Cypress, Sofia Mori, and, perhaps with intervention on the Johto trainer's part, John's children, Luke and Aster, to help. I'll contact them this afternoon. Perhaps, together, we may uncover the key. In the meantime, I must prepare a backup plan, namely, a joint series of index of coincidence and kasiski tests. On the off chance she did select a cipher key shorter than the message, I should be able to deduce its size, which would bring me leagues closer to decryption. Come to think of it, my senior suitemate, Erity, was a huge cryptography hobbyist. Perhaps I should seek her as a resource, though I'm sure aid will come at a price; probably another one of Clarisse's custom hats. She already has at least six (well-showcased on her TrainerSpace profile).

I also pondered testing the ciphertext by isolating terms Dr. Skye would be most likely to use in correspondence. For example, she signed almost all of her letters with her initials; JVS. Unfortunately, if she were truly adamant about the strength of her cipher, I imagine she'd avoid that here. During The Great War of Annexation, Kanto intelligence used this strategy to break the famous, ever-shifting Unown Code, intercepting hundreds of military movements. Johto made the mistake of ending each message with "under Ho-Oh's wings." Julianne was well versed in history and had a number of allies from both Johto and Kanto who would have encountered this story in the media and school curriculum. Thus, I deem Dr. Skye unlikely to succumb to such sloppiness. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try though.

In other news, training exercises with Vivi were just as exasperating as usual, though she did make some notable progress. U-turn is now firmly ingrained in her battle repertoire and blatant abuse of the move ensures plenty of practice. It's the perfect way to antagonize, not only her enemies, but everyone on her team while evading retaliation. It also leaves painful and unflattering bruises. If she does it again, I'm revoking shoulder-ride privileges and roadkill stops for a week. My vullaby can shriek all she wants. The next flattened, rancid carcass I see on the street, we pass, heedless of her scavenger cravings.

I must now postpone further attempts at both discipline and decryption as I ready myself to face Felicia with newfound knowledge and doubts surrounding her identity. Perhaps our meeting will just be a pleasant exchange of spiritual physics jargon, confusing every other cafe patron in earshot. Perhaps something more rousing, even sinister, will emerge from our conversation. I suppose I'll find out.

The dubious part of me wants to pocket my pokegear and leave it on recording-mode. However, if Felicia isn't, in fact dangerous, it's quite an awful breach of privacy; highly unethical and liable to induce immense guilt. Anyway, our appointment is at 9:30 and the coffee shop, "Bayside Brews" is six blocks away. I don't know whether to adore or detest the fact that the name of every business in Undella Town sounds like the beach is puking all over it. At least I'm not mobbed by feathery wraiths every time I open a bag of chips. That's a distinct pleasure of the Sinnoh region. The wingull there are possessed of numbers and audacity unmatched. Unova's population simply cannot compare.