"Uh oh."

Those two words are enough to kill Cynthia's mood. "Gee, I don't like it when legendary Pokemon say 'uh oh.'"

"Oh hush you. You're not exactly the best of role models." Then Uxie turns. "Do you mind telling your eavesdroppers to leave? I cannot continue my probing with them gawking like that."

"Okay okay. Everyone, I need to talk to Uxie alone. Shoo shoo."

Jupiter shakes her head. "You… want to talk to Uxie. Alone."

"Cynthia is special," Mars says. "Bye, Master Cyrus!" Cyrus gives a weak nod. When the door is closed and the coast is clear, Uxie resumes its examination of his brain.

"The good news is that all cerebral networks are intact," says the Pokemon. "A few abnormalities, but nothing life-threatening."

Cynthia raises an eyebrow. "So what's wrong with Cyrus? Is it Uxie-induced amnesia like what happened to me?"

"Must everything that comes from your mouth have split intentions?"

Cyrus watches their spat with a small smile. Why are they talking about me as if I'm not here? Only Cynthia is supposed to understand Uxie… right?

"Cyrus, you do look better when you smile," Cynthia hums, tapping a fingernail against her cheek. "Bear with me for a few seconds while we figure out what's wrong with you."

"I cannot access his memories."

"What kind of Guardian of Knowledge are you then?"

"I am the eldest of three siblings, not a miracle worker! Have some respect for your creators." Uxie takes Cyrus's head into its paws. How that Pokemon can see with its eyes closed is a mystery for the ages. "What if… something went wrong when I contained the darkness in your heart? Did I force your soul back too prematurely?'

"What about the darkness?"

"His memories are locked," Uxie huffs before turning back to an amused Cyrus. "But why is your mind fortified like a fortress, child? What is it trying to hide? Aside from my intervention, there shouldn't be a reason to not want to remember…" The rest trails off to an incoherent mumbling.

Cynthia pats his shoulder. "It's okay, Cyrus. We'll get your memory back in any way we can."

"You must, since the Red Sunstone's magic cannot be activated otherwise. And please, take your time: The Paralysis will reach Fogbound Lake in only few days."

"Goddamnit, Uxie."

Uxie glances at Cynthia. Then at Cyrus. "Well, his recovery I leave to you. Now I must return to inspect my domain. I wish you the best of luck, children."

After the Pokemon leaves, Cynthia returns to Cyrus's beside.

"May I help you?" he says after an hour of her just staring at him. As if he's on display behind a cage.

Cynthia grins. "I still can't believe I'm talking to you again."

The Old Chateau had become a second home… or in Cyrus's case, his first. Memory remained elusive, but that was the least of his concerns. What mattered was finding a way to repay these strangers for all the trouble he'd cost them.

They were even considerate enough to give him a wheelchair while his legs recovered. They were kind enough to give him medicine for his pain, balm for his burns, and nourishment for his ailing body.

They want him to remember. He'll do his best if that's the sole reason he was kept alive.

Cyrus knows that his brain was damaged in that mysterious accident. How else was he able to understand that Pokemon's thoughts? How else could he explain this uncanny kinship with the local Ghost Pokemon, as if it was one of them?

"Zzzt, stop daydreaming, Cyruzzt."

"And there's you, Rotom." Cyrus rests his chin on his palm, an amused smirk on his face. "Why is it that I can understand you?"

"Eh, zzt? All Pokemon can talk. Just a coincidence we share a connection, zzt." Rotom flies to the window before Cyrus can dwell on that reply. "It's a beautiful day outside, zzt! Sun is shining, Starlies are pooping everywhere, zzt… Let's go catch a ride on the Drifblim, Cyruzzt!"

Cyrus chuckles. "I'd love to, but right now I think less strenuous activities are more appropriate… Would it be all right if I see the garden?"

"Pzzt, you can see anything you want, zzt! You're the lord of the manor now!"

As Cyrus heads down the long, sunlit corridor, a claw tugs on his sleeve.

"Are you lost, Weavile?" Cyrus picks the Pokemon up. It latches on to his head. "You and your friends aren't from around here, right? In fact, I recall Crobats are impossible to find in the wild… Where is your Trainer?"

Crobat squeezes his wrist. Cyrus automatically reaches to a precise spot behind its ear to scratch it. "You're very affectionate… do you want food? I think I can make some Poffins…"

"Cyruzzt, they're your Pokemon, zzt."

Cyrus starts. "Excuse me? But I don't even own Poke balls…" Honchkrow answers that question by shoving four capsules into his arms. Each sphere is handcrafted with painstaking detail. Something is registering... nope. Just a chill from the wind.

"If… if you were my Pokemon, then why are you out of your capsules?" Then it hits him. "Ah! You four must've been there when I lost my memory!"

"You released them—" Weavile slashes Rotom's face. "OW! Uh… L-Let's go plant-zzt-some flowerzzt!"

"I'm not doing talking to you, Rotom. Come back here, now." Honchkrow draws Cyrus's attention back to the button in the center of the capsule. Cyrus presses the button, and all Pokemon return to their Poke balls.

"Yay, zzt! You officially reclaimed your Pokemon, zzzt!"

The Pokemon are grinning at him behind capsule walls. "Why are you so happy in my captivity?" he murmurs. "There must be a reason you were released… Rotom, what are you not telling me?"

"HEEEEEYZZZT! There-zzt-motor oil in the kitchen, zzt! Cyruzzt, you have GOT to try that stuff, zzt!"

"Where are you going?"

Cyrus sighs through his nose. So close. "I wish to go outside, B-2."

"No!" R-8 cries. "I-I mean, you still haven't recovered! What if a swarm of Drifloon spirit you away?"

"I am not a child. Step aside."

Still, B-2 and R-8 block the door. Cyrus nonchalantly folds his hands over his laps and dons a charming, sunny smile. "May I please go outside, Sir and Madam?"

With that, B-2 doubles over while clutching his chest. "T-That smile should be illegal!"

"STOP STOP I CAN'T!" R-8 sputters. "Resolve… weakening…!"

Cyrus's smile blinds the room. "Merci beaucoup." Before he leaves, he presents the twitching older man with a clean napkin. "My, for both of you to be afflicted with spontaneous fevers at the same time… B-2, take care of your nose before you bleed out."

It's so nice outside: the sun is warm and the skies are bright. Dew shining on blades of grass. A sweet smell of pollen in the breeze.

"Here we are, Cyruzzt!" Rotom spreads its sparkling axes over the lot of weeds. "Well, it uzzt to be a garden, zzt. They had roses over there, zzt. Tulipzzt, marigoldzzt, forget-me-not, zzt…"

"We can fix this, Rotom. I'm sure everyone wants to see the garden come back to life." Cyrus rolls up his sleeve. The Budews eagerly give him seeds, which he pats into the cool, damp earth—

His world is suddenly yanked back to a pair of glinting eyes. "Why are you outside?" Jupiter snaps into his face. "Those two were supposed to be on guard duty!"

Cyrus cringes from her tone. "I-I'm sorry. But I assure you I have no intention of causing trouble—"

"I forbid you to go outside! You are to remain in that manor—"

"What's going on?" Cyrus brightens at Cynthia's approach. "Why are you outside?"

Cyrus's smile immediately wilts. "Why can't I go outside? I appreciate you nursing me back to health, I really do. But you're treating me like I'm a prisoner in my own home!"

The women flinch as if his words had physical presence. Cynthia clears her throat. "H-He's right, Jupiter."

"No, he's not."

"Yeah, you're right. Cyrus, go back inside."

Cyrus scowls. "Then make me. If you defeat me in a Pokemon battle, I will swallow my pride and crawl back like an obedient little child."

Jupiter's jaw drops. "What kind of childish demand is that?!"

"He has a point though. That's how conflicts are resolved in the world of Pokemon." Cynthia looks down on him with the most crooked of smirks. Cyrus's lips curl in response. "Fine then. Don't come crying back to Jupiter after I cap your ass."

"Cynthia, stop! You, get back—"

"Miss Jupiter, please exit the arena before you get hurt." The "arena" happens to be a neglected field of brambles. Jupiter is shooting daggers into his back, but her fury immediately falters with Cyrus's award-winning smile.

Cynthia tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Even if you have four Pokemon, don't expect me to let up. Spiritomb, Dark Pulse! Lucario, Aura Sphere!"

"Gyarados, Earthquake."

"Whaaaaa?! That's no fair! Tch, Roserade, Toxic!"

"Crobat, intercept and Weavile, reflect that Toxic with Icy Wind!"

Mars and Saturn run out when the sky begins turning colors. They see Jupiter's expression, and they spin a 180 back into the mansion.

"Togekiss, Water Pulse—"

"Honchkrow, Heat Wave."

After the Heat Wave dissipates, Cynthia's hair is left a poofy mess. Cyrus's chest is about to give out, but the surging adrenaline makes it impossible not to be enjoying himself.

"Ack! I look like Flint now!" Cynthia jabs a finger at his neck. "I won't let this end yet! Ready yourself, Cyrus! Garchomp! Draco Meteor!"

Draco…

Meteor…?

"EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The sky shrieks as it tears into two. From that rift in time and space rains down mountain-size chunks of flaming meteors. Color is sucked into the void. Trees burn, lakes evaporate, lava bleeds out from the shattered earth.

A meteor impales into Cyrus's body. It grinds down on his skull, destroying subsequent bones and vaporizing organs, blood, anything with water inside. Something pops. Then everything is dark and cold again.

Cyrus wakes up screaming. Only, his vocal chords are so tight that the scream comes out as a wretched wheeze. Why is everything red? Why is everything bleeding?! He thrashes to the side—but to his horror, his limbs are handcuffed to the bed.

"Cyruzzt, STOP!" Rotom intervenes before Cyrus can gnaw his restraints off. "C-Calm down, zzt… Remember? You suddenly fainted when she called… It's dusk now, so rest, zzt… I'll get you some motor oil, zzt…"

There's a bog of sweat under his back. Cold beads of perspiration drip down his forehead, stinging his eyeballs. His stupid heartbeat is rioting inside his throbbing skull.

"B-DUP! B-DUP! B-DUP B-DUP B-DUP!"

Footsteps. The presence of death looming over him.

"I wasn't fucking trained for this," Jupiter mutters. "I knew she would use that move, but no one saw him reacting like that… But he was fine before…"

"I'm sorry!" Cyrus blurts. "I-I didn't mean to hurt you!"

A shadow passes Jupiter's face. "You didn't hurt anyone. Luckily, I ended that battle before she called down Dra… Stop trembling. It's not even that cold."

Cyrus squeezes his eyes. So it was just a nightmare? So that heat from the attack was imaginary? So was the aftershock that swept him off his feet, flinging him across the air until his skull breaks open upon collision to a wooden desk—

"Hey." Jupiter speaks slowly, as if addressing a mentally ill patient. "Calm down. I'm going to hit the store, so just wait until I come back, okay?"

When Jupiter returns, Cyrus is warming a can of soup over a Chandelure's soul-consuming flame. His face lights up when he passes the can under his nose, the musty scent titillating his nostrils. He takes a long, satisfied drink.

"HAH! That's what you get for not-zzt-blowing on it first, idiot, zzt!"

"The problem isn't the heat," Cyrus grunts, spitting out the icicles on his tongue. "I forget that Chandelure's flame doesn't operate like normal fire."

Jupiter storms up to the pentagram of Ghost Pokemon. "What the hell are you doing?"

His throat closes. It's suddenly very hard to swallow his meal. "Welcome back, Miss Jupiter. Did the others leave already?"

"I told them to go home. Where did you get that?"

"Zzt, in the kitchenzzzt," says Rotom. "Next-zzt-to the motor oil, zzzt!" But out loud, Cyrus merely gives the woman a polite smile.

Jupiter rolls her eyes. She stomps over to the dining table and dumps out bags of fresh produce. "I'm making you soup, so make sure you eat it before you go to bed. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

Cyrus stares down at the rubbery chicken(?) pieces in the bottom of the rusty can. Then he sets it aside and approaches her while keeping his distance.

"Where are you going?" she says.

"My deepest apologies for troubling you, Ma'am. Unfortunately, I've eaten my full share. Pardon me."

Jupiter slams the celery down. "Are you testing me? I have better things to do with my time than baby the likes of you!"

"By no means are you mandated to stay here. Ma'am." When Cyrus looks down, his knuckles are bleeding. "I won't bother you anymore, I promise."

"Okay, fine. But don't even think of sneaking out tonight. I made sure of that." Cyrus follows her gaze downwards. He lifts the blanket.

There's a blinking metal bracelet around his ankle.

Dark clouds hang low over the Old Chateau tonight. A vicious gale slices past quivering leaves, sending a few branches spiraling into the air.

Weavile rushes into the bathroom with a much-needed bucket. Cyrus pats its head. Then he subsequently vomits out the entirety of that "soup" dinner. What's worse, Rotom is turning his brain to mush with its hysteric screaming.

"ZZzzZZTttT! Sorryzzzzt, Cyruzzzzt! I forgot humazzzt can't eat-zzzt-that stuffzzzztt!"

Cyrus frowns. "No, it's not… it's not your fault, Rotom. I… I should've checked… the expiration… urmph!" Honchkrow is doing wonders messaging his back like this. Crobat is even kind enough to take the bucket of puke away. Cyrus presses his forehead against the cool, cracked marble tiles and remains there until the world stops spinning.

Plick. Plick. Rain taps against broken window glass. A droplet lands on Cyrus's forehead. He pulls the blanket over his head, but his flopping brain refuses to shut down. What's worse, his stupid stomach won't shut up.

So while the Pokemon are asleep, Cyrus sneaks out. In the darkness of the winding corridor, the blinking of his ankle monitor is the brightest source of light.

BOOM! Calm down. It's just the thunder.

BOOM! BOOM! Doors are locked. Plates are put away. The Ghost inside the portrait is sleeping. A dismembered hand taps his shoulder. To his relief, it's just the Ghosts hiding in his shadow.

BOOM! Breath suddenly comes out in chilled puffs. That's not Gengar standing in middle of the hallway. Rather… it's a humanoid shape. Black letters… or numbers or something scrawled on the back of a tattered uniform.

BOOM! Red. Red consuming orange. Black. Black falling in bloody clumps.

Cyrus is too petrified to react. Lightning illuminates the corridor, highlighting the phantom's twitchy movements. That crooked neck. One leg is bent backwards, the other torn off at the bone. Yet, that ghost or apparition or whatever it is keeps limping down the hall as if drawn by an unshaken purpose. Whenever it moves, it leaves a thick, black trail.

The phantom stops at the fourth floor balcony. It teeters forward—and stops. Again and again it performs that grotesque, drunken ritual until…

Cyrus launches himself across the room. "NO, STOP! DON'T JUMP!" He lands hard on the threshold, but when he looks up, that phantom is doing exactly that: it pulls itself over the broken railing and lets go.

BOOM! Thunder fails to mute the splattering of flesh. Cyrus gropes to the railing. Where's the body? A stray branch lacerates his cheek. Ack, it's just too dark to see…Wait. What's that?

"Beep… beep… BEEP! BEEEPEPEPEP!" That shrieking bracelet makes Cyrus flinch so hard he jams his back into the wooden rails. The balcony shudders. Lightning strikes the spot just nanometers to his right, then the wind pushes down…

Something yanks him back before he falls with the balcony. "WHY WHY WHY-ZSZZZZT!" Rotom screams. "YOUZZZZZT! WHY DOZZT YOUKEEPZZT! DON'T JUMP, CYRUZZZT!"

"N-No, there was… I-I saw someone commit…" Rotom buries itself into his chest, and the protests stop. Cyrus's expression softens. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I caused you needless worry."

"ZZZZT! DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN, ZZZZT! IDIOT IDIOT!" Tears. There are tears rolling down this Pokemon's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Cyrus whispers. "It's okay now. You'll be okay…"

"Beep. BEEP!" The wail of the ankle bracelet synchronizes with the remote in the older woman's hand.

"What the hell did you do?" Jupiter gasps.

Cyrus throws his torso across the entrance to the balcony, effectively blocking it. That only confirms Jupiter's suspicions.

"Was that your method of sneaking out?" she yells. "To run off in the middle of a storm? Were you about to bring that lighting rod creature of yours to pull of your escape plan?" Rotom barges into her face. It's shouting in high-pitched crackles, as if telling her that her speculation is absolutely wrong. Jupiter slaps it aside.

Cyrus rushes to the defeated Pokemon. "Rotom, don't move. I'm sorry, Ma'am. It was my fault—"

"I know it was your fault! Arceus, you promised you'd go to bed! How am I supposed to trust you if you keep giving me reasons not to do so?!"

That, and Cyrus stops trembling. He raises his head, matching her glare dead on in his unblinking eyes. "Oh?" Even his tone had frozen over. "You trusted me? When?"

"What are you…"

"Officer, you're the one who've deployed handcuffs and this" –-a grand swept of the hand over the clunky device around his ankle" -–while I was incapacitated. In other words, my consent never mattered and my words were always invalid."

Cyrus sneers at her hesitation. "What did I do wrong, Officer? What heinous crimes have I committed against you? I know I've wronged you in the past, but if you don't tell me, I can't make reparations."

Jupiter steps back. She opens her mouth. Closes it.

Then Cyrus's shoulders slump. "I know you hate me. Every time you're forced to look at me, you hold your breath. Are you aware of that look on your face when you're forced to initiate physical contact with me? You'd rather touch something much more pleasant from the rubbish bin."

When she fails to reply, Cyrus gives a faint, sad smile. "You won't even speak my name, Officer Jupiter. Why do you force yourself to come back when the sight of my face turns you away?"

BOOM! BOOM! Seconds feel like hours as Jupiter stares into his perfectly smooth expression. The world outside is going to hell, but it's her insides that feel like they're burning to cinders.

After silence affirms his question, Cyrus offers that empty smile again. "I'll try to remember everything… that's why you keep coming back, right? That's why you need me alive, because my memories are important evidence." He gives a deep bow, one that almost throws him off his chair. "Rotom, let's not inconvenience her anymore. Excuse me, Ma'am."

BOOM! BOOM! Jupiter watches that frail back disappear into the darkness. The paralysis lifts from her body, and with a frustrated cry, she slams a fist against the rotten wooden beam. BAM!

That's when a deafening gale calls her attention to the balcony. There's no surface to stand on anymore. Everything had collapsed into a makeshift grave on the pitch-black ground.