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Ruby Rose is trans in this fic. Fight me.
CW: Major Character Death (Not Explicitly Depicted) (Taiyang, Just Following the Pokemon World's Tradition of No Dads).
It's not the first time he's seen her face. Champion Weiss's smile is plastered everywhere and anywhere she can be shoehorned, always with the oppressively bold font of the SDC beside her features.
But it is the first time he's seen her in person.
Were she normal, Weiss would be snoring away through high school Pokebiology, dreaming of plastic-wrap Poffins and grease dive Masaladas. Instead, she's here. Swarmed by starstruck eighth-graders. The boys want her, the girls want to be her, and nobody really exactly knows why Remnant's first woman champion (and it's youngest, to boot), would take time away from adventuring to slum it out here, a sleepy town like Patch.
Weiss doesn't smile as often as she does in her photoshoots. In fact, she doesn't smile much, if at all. Not that there's much to smile about, corralled off by an entourage of SDC suits and armed guards. But you'd think she'd smile, offered someone else's Shalour Sable when her stomach grumbles.
He's the exception to all the commotion. Everyone's been giving him some space, ever since they'd dug up Taiyang's body down by Mt. Shattermoon. So it's a surprise, not just to him, when she saunters over to his desk. She pushes past SDC suits and hormonal, adolescent middle-school boys asking for her number; Ultra Ball in hand, she stares him down unabashedly. Her eyes are cold. Icy. The light inside a thousand miles away.
"Battle?"
The boy beneath her swallows. Not just because she's the prettiest girl he's ever laid his eyes on.
The schoolboys make a big deal about it all, trying to build him up, quell his nerves before they all empty out into the lunch court.
Still, there's no contest.
Even with Weiss lowering herself to battle at his level, the boy's heart-tailed Eevee can't land a solid bite on her Honedge to save her life. He barks out commands, spending his breath in a futile effort, micromanaging all of Eevee's movements.
Weiss doesn't so much as blink, much less say anything.
Honedge unsheathes; with the blunted edge of her blade, she slashes thrice in quick succession, cleaving right into Eevee's torso, cracking a rib or two. Eevee crumples, ragdolling against hot asphalt with one final deflated *Nipah*.
The crowd goes raucous, the boys in their audience jeering, mocking the boy who'd had the audacity to lose to a girl. Weiss presses onward still, pushing away the litany of guards trying to corral her back where they can watch her.
"You fought well."
She looks him in the eyes, and he finally sees.
Her eyes, icy blue, are still cold. Cold, like every moon she's ever slept under, with nary but her coat and the fire of her Litwick to keep her warm. She of salt, faintly; from all the seas she's ever surfed to disturb her while swimming, save for the company of her own Pokemon. There's the faintest outline of a blush, underlined beneath her pale features; and the softest hue of curiosity, beneath the frosty cadence of her voice.
It is not the first time Ruby has ever felt disgusting, so unabashedly wrong in her own body. It is the first time where she realizes just how empty her life truly is.
"I want to be you." Are Ruby's first words.
And for the first time today, Weiss smiles. For her. It's a soft smile, that's a little bit sad.
"Come challenge me at the Pokemon League. I'll be waiting."
Three months shy of her thirteenth birthday, Taiyang Xiao Long sets off into Shattermoon Mountain to answer a call. They dig up his corpse next spring, once the snow's thawed.
On her fifteenth birthday, against Summer's wishes, Ruby sets off from Patch under the cover of night. She's spent three years of Poke savings on six months supply of street hormones, a full stock of all the makeup Blake's taught her how to use, and the nicest sundress the local boutique had on display that day.
On her sixteenth birthday, Ruby Rose watches live on television, as the scandal-ridden SDC crumbles into ashes and dust. She switches channels on the Pokecenter telly only after a couple, Yang's contest exhibition finally aired.
And on her seventeenth birthday, Ruby Rose storms past the Elite Four, and becomes the Fifty-Sixth Pokemon Champion. Her silver eyes, some say, are empty, like Weiss's. Most battles are chores to slog through. The champion, old Ozpin, proves no exception, when her Goodra pummels and thrashes and fullbodies his Lucario against the ground.
Weiss Schnee is nowhere to be found.
Remnant's newest champion spends her first hundred days on her lonesome out by the wilds, Hydregion vaporizing armies of biodegradable training dummies into mush. Reporters, journalists, and tabloid writers try to rush her all at once, each trying to stake their piece on Remnant's newest champion.
Ruby turns them all away; she's never in the mood to 'discuss' whether or not her 'upbringing' gives her a decisive advantage against 'women-bodied-women' trainers. There's a few persistent roaches here and there, but nothing a sternly held glare from Morpeko or a smattering of fairy dust from Ribombee won't convince them otherwise.
She lets a handful of trainers trickle by, to study. They watch in silence from a safe distance, their notebooks left blank, devoid of marks. There's not many notes to take from a girl who cuddles her Goodra silly until daylight breaks, who lets her Sylveon blast away at the invasive Ekans infestation with nary any command, any single order given.
Curry-making notes, perhaps. Though it is Aunt Raven's recipes she's cribbing off of…
On a hot midsummer day, an orange-haired girl no older than Ruby musters up the courage to approach, asking for help. Ruby's more than a little caught off-guard, a wild Grapploct's arms cuffed around her ankles, dunking her again and again into the ice-cold sea while Goodra wrestles it off her.
"Hhh, can you uhm, wait a moment? Kind of busy here!" Ruby laughs, flashing a peace sign at the stupified city girl. Grapploct's tentacle drags her right up the shore, a pink beam of moonlight from Togekiss blasting her assailant into the sky, launching Ruby further into the sea. "I'll be with you in just a sec!" She gets out, before splashing down into the icy brine.
Nicked up in cuts and bruises, it's more than a little amusing (and maybe a little gender-affirming), watching all of Hearthfire's boys and girls turn their heads while Remnant's champion rolls up into town, dripping wet and wearing only her bathers.
As it turns out, Penny, the girl, is a lot like her. Papa's gone, and from how her eyes light up talking about her, her Pikachu is her friend. Her only friend, stuck in the nightmare that's the Atlessian foster system. There's a cold longing to her eyes, bright-emerald, and hollowed out, dimmed inside.
The tight little bunk Penny's allowed for herself at the orphanage is like the rest of them; plainly drab without a hint of personality to any of them. Awkwardly, they shuffle about the only thing Ruby's anxiety will let her talk about, the only topic Penny lights up around; Pokemon.
Penny sends her heart-tailed Pikachu out from her Great Ball; upon materializing, she turns her back on them, her stubby little arms crossed.
"Ah, you see? I just don't understand what to say to her. Or how to help her. Whatever she is going through."
"Do you have any other Pokemon?" Penny shrugs. That's all the go-ahead Ribombee needs to flutter ahead, encroaching onto Pikachu's zone of solitude. To Penny's surprise, Pikachu acknowledges her; past introductions though, the conversation quickly sours. Their voices raise at the other higher and higher, Pikachu flailing her stubby little arms, Ribombee flapping her wings.
"Ah, I don't think this is working-!" Ruby catches Penny by the arm before she can withdraw, ushering her to take off the training wheels for once, and watch .
"You've gotta trust your Pokemon. See? Your Pikachu's got a lot of pent-up emotions she's been needing to let out."
To Penny's relief, her Pikachu shows Ribombee a little respect, acknowledging her. The gesture is returned in kind, and the two strike up a conversation by open windowsill, the endless expanse of the tundras of Route 33 in plain view. Penny brings out plastic-wrap poffins, smuggled through the orphanage via pillowcasing; to her disappointment, Pikachu huffs out hot air, meeting Penny with the shoulder.
"I just don't understand. I've been reading into Pokemon psychology, but every approach I've been recommended's gotten us nowhere. I've given her space, I let her out of her Pokeball whenever she feels it, I've given her all the treats my allowance will get me! It's all just so confusing, and I don't understand how it is that you do what you do." With a heavy sigh, Penny claims her bunk. "I mean, you're just so beautiful and strong and powerful, and I'm just… me."
To her own surprise, Ruby doesn't blush every shade of red like she might have before her first, maybe fifth gym badge.
To everyone's surprise, Pikachu uses the lull to waddle up on Penny's face, claiming her forehead as a rest.
"Pikachu?" Penny smiles.
Pikachu (and Electric types in general) though, are moody creatures. That's why Ruby's not surprised when Pikachu electrocutes Penny, just enough for her glow to light up the whole room.
"Nyyyyyaaaaaah! Pikachu! Help me!"
Ribombee smacks her off, dragging Pikachu aside for a presumably stern lashing of a lecture. With a steel-tipped detangler, Penny lets Ruby brush her hair back into place, maybe an inch or two frazzled out.
"Not your first time?" Ruby laughs.
"Once every few months." Penny groans. "My rubber-tipped gloves haven't helped me at all with that regard."
"Hmm."
"Huh?"
"Ah, nothing. You wanna get a bite to eat? I'll pay."
There's a cute little bistro right on the outskirts of town where they can let their Pokemon scurry about the tundra; Hydregion earns a few terrified gawks from passerbys here and there, but Ruby can let her hair down for now. And from how Penny scarfs down her garden salad, one might think it's her first encounter with fresh greens. Knowing the state of cafeteria food worldwide, it probably is.
Not that Ruby has a much easier time of it. It's a little embarrassing when Remnant's champion, having lived off her own cooking and Pokecenter rations for years now, stares at the menu as if it's almost alien.
To be fair, half the words had been pretentiously written in Old Atlessian.
Ruby and Penny try their hands at small talk. They brush through all the school Ruby's missed while she's been out, and Ruby actually registers some form of surprise, reminded of the existence of the Pocket Monsters Video Game franchise Penny's been occupying her time with. It's been… forever, since she's last booted up the old Switch back home, loaded back her old character, who she absolutely had not modeled after Weiss in any way.
Even so, there's no rush of nostalgia. No resonant memories, no nagging, cloying sense of lost time she'd figured she'd have when she was over.
Penny loses interest. Still hung up on Pikachu, blankly staring away while she chases Sylveon and Morpeko through clouds of kicked up dust, trails of fairy mist and runoff electricity illuminating their paths, shimmering in the moonlight.
"You wanna battle after?" It's the first time she's asked this in gods know how long.
''Battle?" Penny laughs, incredulously once she realizes just how serious Ruby is. "Me? I'll lose!"
Ruby only offers a shrug. "Won't know unless you try."
There's more than enough space to battle, out in the hills of Route 33. A crowd gathers about, numbering about half the town, and to Ruby's relief, Penny's anxiety doesn't buckle beneath the weight of it all. Rather, she's more here, in the moment than ever before.
Morpeko catches the memo. She doesn't swat Pikachu into the sky with a head-on Aura Wheel once the battle begins. Instead, she's opted to toy with her. Morpeko fires off potshots of Thundershocks, taunting Pikachu in an effort to goad her. Gladly, Pikachu takes the bait with a battle cry. She charges right into Morpeko, and full-bodies her with a Volt Tackle. Clouds of dust, charged with electricity kick up.
"Pikachu, get out of there!"
There's not so much as a scratch on Morpeko. Now, she'll switch gears, and flip into a full-on Hangry Mode. And she's decided to have a little fun, trying her hand at wrestling the impudent Pikachu into the earth, kicking up dust and soot.
Pikachu slips by. Side-steps each grapple. Zips into Morpeko's torso in a blur, once she's claimed enough distance for herself. Predictable.
Morpeko swats her into the air with a carefully timed block. When gravity drags her down back to the earth, Morpeko is there, waiting patiently; she slams into her with an electric headbutt on touchdown.
The dust hasn't cleared, but Penny scurries onto the battlefield, potions in hand. And for the first time in what feels like forever, there's a smile, at the end of a battle.
Her heart catches in her chest when out of the corner of her eye, she sights a mop of white hair in the crowd. On a second look, she's gone, not there; a trick of imagination, perhaps.
And to Penny's consternation, Pikachu's back up on her feet, putting her arms up at Morpeko. Penny's spent for breath. To her embarrassment, she can't batter away the wonder in her eyes. She's not starstruck, but caught in awe.
There's only so much time before all the high schoolboys try to pull her aside, take their chance at impressing the Champion. Ruby's already called out Hydregion to fly off; Penny has to ask.
"W-what is it like, being a trainer?"
"Hard. Sometimes." Ruby shrugs, at a loss for words.
'Lonely.' She remembers Weiss saying.
"You lost, because you still think your Pokemon fight for you. To be more than just a trainer, you'll have to understand that you'll be fighting alongside your Pokemon . And when she gets hurt, you get hurt. That's what the bond between a trainer and their Pokemon means. If you can't understand that, then you'll never get anywhere."
In spite of the International Pokemon Committee's efforts to celebrity their new champion, Ruby proves ever the reclusive sort. Contracts, sponsorship offers pile up around her inbox; shame her phone's been left a chargeless brick for months, now.
To be fair, most wouldn't choose a day of paperwork over some quality time with their Pokemon; though most also wouldn't prefer the company of their Pokemon over the company of their own kind.
It's why once a month, Yang drags her out, kicking and screaming from wherever she's camped out in the Wilds. Champion or not, Yang's like, twice her size. And she's built herself like a truck, for all those bodybuilding contests she's aced with Blaziken.
Still. There's worse places to be stuck in than sunny Menagerie. Warm seas, sand soft as silt. And plenty of cute guys and gals to get flustered over people-watching, while she soaks up some rays in her bathers.
"You know Rubes, wouldn't kill you to bother answering some of your work calls." Yang sighs, slumped against her lounging chair; Blake's opted for the same, and Ruby's just fine with a towel against the sand. "IPC handlers have started bothering me now. Since none of them can actually reach the summit of Nakagane." It's a jest, but Ruby knows when Yang still expects her to do something about it.
Ruby shrugs, uncommitted. Her attention span's caught between her sister and the sea. Casa Belladonna has perfect access to an isolated little dune of Hanalei Beach, where Sylveon and spend her days surfing, where Roserade blooms, soaking up the sun. Where Blake's Ambipom, and Yang's Blaziken can wrestle themselves into the surf silly, unperturbed by the party scene further uptown.
"Anything else I can get you girls while you're here?" Kali brings up a platter of Masaladas, free and fresh from the bakery across the street. As if to incriminate her, Ruby's stomach grumbles; her mouth can't help but water, just a little. "Lemonade, Komala Coffee, some freshly squeezed Pinap Juice?"
"Mom, for the last time, we're not giving out endorsements." Blake grumbles, hiding behind her books. Ever since Kali's decided to run for office, there've been enough posters of her face plastered around town to embarrass any daughter silly.
"Blake! You don't want your poor old mother to succeed?" Kali pouts. "With our Champion, our Contest Extraordinaire, and the newest member of the Elite Four by my side, I'll be a shoo-in for election-AH!"
Lashing her by the ear, Blake's Mienshao hauls her off to wherever she won't bother them, Kali's protests going unheard.
"Alright, alright." Yang laughs. "If we can get old Ruby here to think about anything else other then battling, we might actually be able to enjoy ourselves now." Already, a scowl curls at Ruby's lips. "Something wrong Rubes?"
"S'nothing." Ruby shakes her head, Blake and Yang already distracted, battering their eyelashes and eyefucking the other oh-so-unsubtly. Awkward at times, but if it leaves Ruby some space, it's acceptable.
"Come on Rubes, what's the point of me dragging you out all the way here if you're just gonna bottle up?"
"Dunno." Ruby sighs. "Bored. Don't know what to do with myself."
"You could talk to mom." Yang tries. "She calls a lot, you know. Always lets me know she loves you."
The coming of the tide doesn't relax her like it used to, the breeze of the sea suddenly cold.
"Dunno what to say." Ruby mumbles. "Hey mama, guess what? Still trans! Also champion now, thanks for asking."
"I don't know." Yang says, short of patience. "I'm just tired, lying and covering for you every time she calls."
Easy for Yang to say; she's still the same girl she was when she'd walked out the door at thirteen, with Mom's blessing.
"I didn't ask for you to lie for me, Yang. Tell her the truth, whatever. I… I don't know."
"You know she can't do that." Blake says.
"Tell her yourself." Yang says, curtly. "I'm… I'm just tired, having to lie for you like this."
She feels two pairs of eyes boring into her, expecting an answer. A response. Anything from her part. Ruby's nails dig into the flesh of her thighs, the rolling of the waves crashing louder and louder in her ears.
Then. Soft silk drapes across her shoulder; fleecy, calming to the touch. Two wings flutter by her side, tickling her name; Ribombee's. She nuzzles into her cheek, having parsed out her trainer's distress, perching across her collarbone for comfort, glaring at the two in solidarity.
"I don't wanna talk about this anymore." Ruby manages to stand, legs wobbly, heartbeat pumping blood to her ears. She collects her belt, a sharp-pitched whistle calling back her Pokemon. The tide draws back, Hydregion surfacing from her time exploring the reefs, covered in kelp and a big, goofy smile on all three of her faces.
"Ruby!" Blake's already called Sun's Ambipom to her side, but Yang holds her back. "Just… please. Promise me you'll come back?"
It almost hurts, lying to her like this. "Promise. Just need some space. To think. S'all."
"Alright." Yang's voice breaks; she holds her arms out. "Come gimme one last hug before you disappear."
Reluctantly, Ruby does; she misses her already. "I know where Raven is." She chokes, spitting it out. "I know where Raven is."
Yang doesn't push her away. Acutely, she's remembers just how strong Yang is. "What?"
"Mistral. Southern edge of Mystic Forest." She rips herself away. It's the first time in forever, that she remembers. What it's like to miss someone. "She has a Zoroark covering up her place with illusions." Ruby turns on her heel, calling back her Pokemon, and mounting Hydregion. "Didn't want to keep lying to you anymore. I'm going now."
"Ruby…"
Ruby doesn't bother turning back to look at the mess she's made.
At fifteen years old, and the Great Savannah that splits Vacuo from Vale is proving much more than she can handle.
Out of water, out of potions, out of Pokemon. She's cloyed to the back of a sympathetic Tauros for three days now, who's offered to keep by her side till they've crossed. Bloodied, she's a mess of cuts and grime, arms nicked bloody from swatting away opportunistic Spearow swarms. The sun over Vacuo is relentless; even after stripping off most of her clothes, she's still bathing in her own sweat.
When she's lonely, she can't help but worry. About her own Pokemon, yes, but also about Yang, about Mama. What they'd think of her, throwing her life away like this. Like Papa.
What the tales of old, the written legends always leave out is that most trainers are culled off by the first hundred or so days. Mostly bright-eyed small-town youths who drink up stories of adventure, who've never stepped foot in the big city a day in their lives. They clear a route or two, scurrying off back home once they've discovered shielding your fainted Pokemon from the noxious toxins of Beedrill stingers isn't all it's cracked up to be.
The ones who press onward? The challenge does little to repulse, instead, enthralling them. They have something that pulls them further in, rather than back; a dream, like Yang, a purpose, like Blake.
And then there are the trainers who wouldn't know of any other world than the World of Pokemon. When they and their Pokemon earn their accolades, their titles to be bestowed, it is only incidental. They are there, and only there for their Pokemon only.
Lingering on, at the cusp of heat stroke, and with swarms of Mandibuzz gathering above, Ruby isn't all that sure becoming a legend is as glorious as it sounds.
Lakeside, Tauros dumps her off, sun still beating down. She can't care less that there's a handful of Motorhomes parked nearby; she throws herself into the mucky water, cackling maniacally when a Barbroach splashes her.
Covered up in muck and grime, blithely, she asks the campgoers for any berries they can spare. With an extra fanny pack she slings off of Tauros's horn, she offers the medley as a gift, as a thanks for the ride, and so much more.
Night falls. She slinks off under the brush of a savannah tree, purchasing shelter from the perched Fearow with Rowab Berries she'd collected, at Sumire Ridge in Eastern Vale.
Coming to the next morning, her body is wrathful. Muscles she hadn't imagined ever being sore ache with tear-jerking vengeance. The combination of murky lakewater and salty sweat gather to produce an absolutely acrid stench on her; already, she's considering just biting the bullet and asking one of the encampments if they have a shower she can borrow.
"Good grief." It's a voice that doesn't belong to her, that doesn't belong to anyone she knows. Her neck still stiff, Ruby groans, peering up; even knowing her only from old photos alone, she'd still recognize her anywhere.
"You're Summer's." Raven says, curtly; her eyes look her over, empty pity in her gaze.
"Raven?" Ruby swallows, her throat scratchy, sore. "Ruby."
"You look god-awful. Where's Yang?"
"On her own."
"I… see." From what she's heard of her from Yang, she can't parse out what's kept her here, when she could have just left. A half-hearted attempt at a conscience, a touchstone from the past dredging up cloying, unmention regrets Raven's spent the past decade trying to keep down. Not that Ruby has the right to surmise on any of it. Not her place. "You're travelling with anyone else?"
Ruby shakes her head, already reaching for her Pokeballs. "I won't go back."
Raven scoffs. "And what would you do about it?" When Ruby calls out Roselia, still cut up from having been caught in the midst of a Spearow swarm, Raven just laughs. "Relax. Your mom called, but it's… not my place for you to decide. When you go home. Besides, don't think she'd want my face around, anyhow."
"Oh. Uhm…"
"But I won't stand by and watch you kill yourself. You'll be coming with me. At least, until those ankles of yours set."
For the rest of the year, the Pokemon League lingers on without a champion. There's some noise made, around dusting off old Ozpin and just giving him back his title (for the second time in a row), but curtly, he refuses.
Not that this is the second time the Pokemon League's been kept headless. Champions ghosting once the job starts overcomplicating things isn't exactly new to the history of the league.
Mt. Shattermoon is cold. Very cold. Here, the chill stings, the cold murders, and the avalanches bury. Climbing the summit has claimed the lives of no less than two Champions, three of the Elite Four. Still it continues to draw the foolhardy, the aimless.
"Hey Dad." Ruby starts. She's had three hours on Hydregion's mount inside of her own head, and still she doesn't have anything to say. "Guess what? I'm Champion now. Sort of. Probably not anymore. Kind of have to show up to the job to you know, actually be one? Sorry if that disappoints you."
The markerstone sits there. Unresponsive. Perched off a precariously placed alcove, the rock's worn down, half-a-decade of Mt. Shattermoon's 'Eternal Winter' taking its toll.
"Yang's still Contest Master, though." She says, trying to keep cheery, but just thinking about her leaves an astringent aftertaste in her mouth. "She'd probably say hi. And visit… if you know."
If he'd died somewhere a little bit more convenient, a little bit less terrible. How morbid.
"I don't know how Yang does it. She's got it all together." She frowns. "I know, I know. She's got her own stuff to deal with. But I think… she's having more fun with it than I am." There's a laugh, that the freezing wind carries off.
Still, the markerstone just sits there. Really, she's not sure what she'd expected.
"Happy eighteenth to me, I guess. Gosh, this is so stupid."
On the way back, just as she's about to mount her Hydregion, a torrent of snow sets in, blanketing the ridge she's set up on with another layer of snow. Uphill, there's an entire cavern of Woobat she has Morpeko clear out, driving the bats deeper into the depths of Mt. Shattermoon.
Until the blizzard lets up, they're grounded.
Not that Ruby's one to worry. At most, she knows the storm will let up in about a month, and she's been trapped for far longer. She's carrying with her a week's worth of rations, enough equipment to set up a small farm of berries Roserade and Togekiss can work their magic on, if need be.
The perimeter is sprayed with enough repels to last through the week; though with a Hydregion standing guard, perhaps that's a bit of a waste.
For dinner, she sets up a campfire and busts out the old Mortar & Pestle. Her berry pouches aren't short on choice; she opts for a mix of Babiris, Choples, Liechis, Occas, Roselis, and Shucas. As per Raven's instructions, she's discrete picking her berries, trying to balance out that perfect blend between the sweetness her Goodra adores, and the spice her Sylveon craves. Some fermented soy paste, some finely minced lemongrass, a couple more aromantics like garlic and shallots, and the curry paste is set.
"Now, toss in your first portion of coconut wilk." Inscrutable as she tries to be, there's the slightest hint of a smile curling at Raven's lips. Watching Ruby scramble about the kitchen, hauling pots and pans about, scampering around to figure out where she's placed the coriander. "Once it's reduced, the fat of the coconut milk will seperate. You'll be using the oil to fry your curry paste. Deepens the nice, complex flavors we're already working with here.
Frying in the oil, her spices bloom, fragrant. Pungence from all the garlic, funky from all the fermented soy, sweet & spicy from the berries she's cooked out. Some veggie stock to layer on the flavors, soft tofu for texture, a medley of mushrooms and peppers for health. Not even five minutes into stirring the curry, and everyone's already gathered around the pot, tummies grumbling.
"Alrighty then! Morpeko, you get started charging up the battery for the rice cooker. I'm gonna head out, get some water for the rice."
While she'd rather be anywhere that doesn't involve being whipped and pelted with snow, Ribombee keeps by her side while she gathers ice. Not that it should take them too far. A couple steps for some freshly layered snow should be all that it takes.
And then there, just feet away. There's a mop of white hair, everything about her somehow paler than the snow she stands against. Bundled up in whites, her icy blue eyes pierce through the snowstorm, focusing on her; there's a scar there, on her left eye that wasn't there before.
Ruby shakes her head once. Then twice. When she doesn't disappear out of plain sight, out of memory, her heart drops knowing that yes, this is her. Remnant's long lost champion is staring down another lost champion, off the side of Mt. Shattermoon.
Small world.
Champion Weiss trudges through the snow, struggling on the uphill incline, her cold eyes locked onto hers. Instinctively, she reaches for her Pokeballs. There aren't any.
It's instinct. Muscle memory. "Battle?" Ruby asks, once she's close enough to actually hear.
No response. The blood swimming beneath Ruby's skin curdles; the possibility of Ghost-type trickery dispelled, when Champion Weiss foists her arms across her shoulders, and pulls her into an embrace.
Stupidly, Ruby blushes. "W-Weiss?"
Only to stagger back, and upchuck all over Ruby's boots.
"Oh, GROSS!"
reading over reviews always helps me with writing more, if you're into the fic.