That plume of smoke wasn't there yesterday.
Yes, he'd been watching Jubilife Village for long enough to memorise every wisp of its silhouette. He set his clock by the distant rumbling of the Ginkgo Guild wagons as they moved through the village gates at dawn, and by the lighting of the lanterns in the evening. And so it would be, until he was forced to move on.
Was it, perhaps, the chimney of a new house? How wonderful, if so. A growing town meant more people, and more people meant - nothing. It means nothing.
Volo knew that he would not be setting foot in the village, but curiosity - of course, curiosity - compelled him to investigate. As he drew nearer and his perspective changed, it became clear that the additional plume was not from a chimney, but from one of the gatehouses. It was growing, and fast. Maybe there was danger, and if there was danger…?
No doubt she'll play the hero again.
Unless someone else gets there first.
With that thought, Volo broke into a sprint. His hair came loose from its tie, strands of gold falling into his eyes, and his satchel thundered against his back. The air began to thicken, prompting him to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve. His eyes stung and watered in protest. It was too much, he couldn't get any closer…
Just as he was about to reach for his Garchomp's Pokéball, he realised that the raging inferno he'd imagined was nothing but a regular trash-burning bonfire. It had been set up far from the gates and presented no danger to anyone, for it was past sunset. Nobody, other than the Survey Corps and their escorts, went outside the village walls after sunset.
Best hope you don't run into them, hmm? That would be very unfortunate timing.
Volo slowed to a halt and brushed his hair out of his face. He clicked his tongue against his teeth, noting that it wasn't even a big fire. Though it was established now, some of the kindling around the edges was still untouched. If anyone had seen him rushing towards it like a madman just now…
It would merely confirm what they already think!
Laughing emptily at that idea, Volo began to circle the fire's edge, searching for pieces that looked easy to carry away. In truth, he had no need for any of it, since the forests and fields (home sweet home!) offered plenty of fallen branches. But he was hoping to find something interesting. One person's trash is another person's treasure, after all.
Well, he certainly found something interesting.
Most of the fire's fuel seemed to be old scaffolding - maybe they finally finished that never-ending work on Galaxy Hall - but there was something that stood out on the edge of the pile, dangerously close to the spreading flames but still surviving, for now. It was a framed portrait. A familiar sight, and one which filled Volo with sadness.
"Oh, Togekiss…!" He never knew whether they could hear him from inside their capsules, but he liked to imagine so. "Do you remember this? It's us."
Of course, she'd only been a Togepi back then. This was the picture which the shop owner had praised as he'd hung it beneath the eaves. 'I never saw anyone looking so happy with a Pokémon,' he'd said. It had caused many a new customer to tilt their heads and say, 'Hey, why do I recognise you from somewhere?' Oh, it had been a great conversation starter, that old thing. Good for business, too.
But Volo's warm glow of nostalgia was quickly chilled, blown out by an icy wind that swept through his mind and under his skin from nowhere. It might have been frightening, if he weren't so used to it by now. Yes, even now. Still.
The Giratina statue? But why…?
Then he understood. It had not been weathered by innocent time and space like those of its siblings, but purposely destroyed. And to what purpose? Giratina still existed, its power undiminished despite humans' petty attempts to erase the image that they had created…
Very well. So, now I can't even look at a picture of myself without thinking of you?
Volo clenched his teeth. Even though he had no use for the picture - was he going to spend the rest of his life carrying it around Hisui, or hang it up in a cave? - he decided that it would not meet the same fate as Giratina's statue. He rolled up his sleeve and reached for the frame, believing that he could still save it…
In that same moment, the wind changed, and the fire moved with it, engulfing the portrait with alarming speed. Volo fell back onto the grass, stricken with dread. It was an omen. He could feel the memory of the fire's roar, tingling across his face. Just as he was thinking that he'd had a lucky escape, a delayed but searing pain spread across his offending hand.
He scrambled to his feet and ran.