The Kecleon led them out the school's main gate and to the left, past the dumpster where an ornery Muk made its residence and into one of the neighborhoods that adjoined the school. These weathered apartment blocks were in the old, brutalistic style, dating back to when Nanzo first opened to the world three decades ago. There were bars on every window, and metal doorways opened into narrow, dark staircases. It wasn't an unwelcoming place by any means—it seemed well-lived-in, and the people that they passed were ordinary Nanzonese locals. Still, there was a sense that they, as foreigners, had no good reason to be here. Some of the looks they received from the residents—and especially the older people—were more suspicious than curious. But the Kecleon appeared to know his way, and after five minutes of walking, he led them into an apartment building and up seven flights of stairs to a landing that was oddly empty, with nothing but what Liam took to be a utility closet or central breaker.

"Okay," said Liam. "This is a dead end. Are you sure you know where you're going?"

In response, the Kecleon began to do a weird sort of dance. Its arms moved in a wavelike motion, and its hips girated as if it were shaking an invisible grass skirt. The girls started to laugh.

"I think we're been pranked," said Liam. "This must be Taylor's idea of—."

Suddenly, the wall opposite them began to shift. What Liam had taken to be a utility closet morphed into an apartment door, complete with a handle, doorbell, and even a red paper reading "good luck" in upside-down Nanzonese characters. For a moment, all three of them stood dumbstruck.

"Secret Power," said Marsha.

Still dancing, the Kecleon shuffled its way to the door, climbed up the wall, and rang the doorbell with its tongue. It gave an obnoxious buzz. They waited in dead silence. Then Liam heard the sound of several locks being opened on the other side. There was a clunk, a rattle, a scrape, and the door opened. A dark-haired Nanzonese man, perhaps 22 or 23 at most, poked his head through the door.

"Come in," said the man. "Quickly, before someone sees you."

Liam glanced back at Chelsea uncertainly. To his surprise, Chelsea's eyes were wide, as if she recognized the stranger who was beckoning them into this strange apartment.

"Please," said the man earnestly. "If anyone sees you, it could be very bad. For us."

But Liam was still looking at Chelsea.

"Chez, what is it?" said Liam.

"It's... you," said Chelsea distractedly. "I… I…"

She was trembling from head to toe. Liam wondered if she was having some kind of meltdown. The man in the doorway looked just as alarmed as he was, and seemed almost ready to close the door on them.

"Chelsea, do you—?"

Chelsea grabbed Liam by the arm.

"I'm… I'm okay," she said. "I just… didn't expect... "

"Bring her inside," said the man.

Chelsea nodded, and Liam and Marsha ushered her into the mysterious apartment, followed closely by the dancing Kecleon. The man closed and locked the door behind them.

The apartment was small and cramped, with a narrow hallway opening onto three other rooms. The man led them into the first room on the left—a tiny living room packed tight with worn-out furniture—and they helped Chelsea onto a leather sofa. A young woman—barely more than a teenager, if Liam read her age correctly—sprang to her feet as they entered the room and began whispering furiously in the man's ear. Liam paid them little attention. He was worried about Chelsea, who seemed almost comatose. There were tears streaming down her face, but she showed no signs of knowing where she was or what was happening.

"Chez," said Liam. "Chez, what's wrong?"

"This is my fault," said the man.

Liam rounded on him.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

To his surprise, the man hung his head in shame.

"I… am a coward," he said, turning away from Liam. "But I knew if I told you who I was you would never..."

"No," said the young woman. "You're not a coward! Don't say things like that. Without you—."

"Ivy," he said warningly.

There was something in his voice that Liam recognized. Chelsea was coming back to herself. Marsha was rubbing her forearms, which seemed to revive her. Liam knelt beside her, stroking her red hair with his hand.

"What's going on, Chez?" said Liam tenderly.

Chelsea looked at him, and seemed about to explain herself, but then her eyes drifted past him, towards the man, who was standing at a distance.

Suddenly, Chelsea screamed. A tea cup that had been sitting on the nearby coffee table shattered, and lights above their heads flickered. Chelsea was cowering, curling up in a ball with her hands over her face. It was almost as if she had just recognized the man for the first time.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged. "Please don't… my Pokemon."

Liam placed himself between Chelsea and the stranger. Ivy, who had only barely restrained herself up to this point, suddenly exploded.

"He's not like that!" she shouted. "He's changed! You don't need to—!"

"Ivy!" said the man. "Please, don't—."

"Jiu, she doesn't—."

Liam's body went cold.

"What?"

But he knew the name. He didn't have to hear it again.

"You don't know him!" said Ivy. "You just think that—."

"Ivy, stop," said the man.

His voice was strangely calm. He looked at Liam, then at Chelsea, then back at Liam. As he did so, Liam studied his face carefully, imagining what it would look like covered in paint. It was a face, he now realized, that he knew well. It was a face he had imagined crushing beneath his foot. It was the man who had killed Chelsea's Scraggy almost a year ago.

It was Jiu.

Liam reached for the first Pokeball on his belt.

"Touch her and I'll kill you," he snarled. "Don't touch her and I'll probably still kill you."

Jiu took a step back, but Ivy sprang between them, shielding Jiu with her waifish body.

"You can't!" she cried. "I won't let you hurt him!"

"If you want to die with him, that's fine with me," said Liam, clutching the Pokeball that held his Houndoom. "Team Power scum don't deserve mercy."

He sent out his Houndoom, which growled savagely as it backed Ivy and Jiu into a far corner of the living room. Liam took a deep breath. He was going to do it. He was going to give them what they deserved, and nothing could—.

"Liam, don't!"

It was Chelsea. She was clutching at his right arm, trying to pull him away from Ivy and Jiu. Her eyes were still red, but Liam could tell that she was in control of herself. She meant what she said.

"He killed your Pokemon," said Liam. "He… he needs to... "

"That's up to me, right?" said Chelsea, touching him gently on the arm.

There was a shuffling sound, and two more young men—both in their early twenties at the oldest—were looking in at the living room from the hallway. Jiu shook his head at them, as if warning them not to intervene.

"Fine," said Liam, and he recalled his Houndoom. "Do what you want."

Chelsea took a step towards Jiu. She looked him straight in the face—stared at him so intently that, though he was older and taller, he seemed to shrink and become small and timid in comparison to her. Liam wondered if she was about to explode at him—take her revenge on her own terms. But then…

"I forgive you."

And to Liam's amazement and horror, Chelsea embraced the man who had crushed her Scraggy beneath his feet. She pressed her tear-stained face into his chest, taking deep, unsteady breaths. Jiu appeared just as dumbstruck as Liam was, and for a long time, no one said anything.