Chapter 4 – Hunters


It was the middle of the day, hours since he'd awoken to the sights of another world, and Kiawe still couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness that festered in his gut.

It was everywhere, this feeling – blowing in the wind and welling up from the earth, in the rustling of grass and the calls of the flying Seviper-beasts that periodically drifted overhead. It put Kiawe on edge, distracting him from his work and causing Turtonator worry. Worse, it contrasted the sights of familiarity and belonging that his eyes wanted to see. He should have felt at home here, an idyllic stretch of farmland where a hard-working family tended to pristine pastures.

Instead, it felt alien. An illusion. A mockery of Alola. And on top of that, it made him homesick. It so resembled his home on Akala Island, it ached.

"Mister!" A voice snapped him back to the present, and he shook his head. He'd let himself get distracted again, long enough for the heavy bale of hay he'd been carrying to strain his arms. He peered over his load, giving the speaker an apologetic glance – for a painful moment, it was his precious Mimo, but his vision soon cleared and revealed a different young girl entirely. A total stranger.

"You're s'posed to feed the cows, remember?" the girl told him, brown face pulled into a frown. "You sure you're feelin' okay, mister?"

"Y-Yeah, no problem! Sorry," Kiawe assured her, trying an awkward smile. "You can just call me Kiawe, if you want."

"'Kay," she answered, and Kiawe's smile slipped as she brushed off his politeness. Rather, she walked past him and toward the open doors ahead of them. "Barn's right here. Make sure to fill up all the troughs and take out the old stuff."

"R-Right… I know," he replied, unsettled by the girl's dispassionate tone, and proceeded inside after her.

The interior of the barn was dim and roomy – a spacious wooden floor littered with old straw and lined on each side with stalls. Each stall was occupied by one of the family's cattle, their heads swaying dozily and tails flicking absentmindedly as they awaited their breakfast. The bale he'd carried inside was dumped inside a large box at the other end of the barn, already piled high and waiting to be emptied. Kiawe worked with practiced efficiency, scooping every cow's trough clean before pitchforking the fresh hay back in. It was easy, routine work for him, and it didn't take him long to finish, standing the pitchfork against the wall and wiping his brow.

He looked around for the girl, whom he found sitting atop one of the gates, swinging her legs as she watched him. "That was fast," she commented, turning away from him to pet the cow whose stall she was perched on. "Kinda good for someone who's never done this before."

Kiawe shuffled his feet, turning away to hide the complicated upwelling of emotions threatening to break his mask of calm. His first meeting with this family was still fresh in his mind, an uncomfortable experience that only added to the sense of not Alola that grated on his nerves. He'd come to their front gates with a plea for help, airing on the side of caution by leaving out the specifics of his situation. They'd been hesitant to approach, and most wary of Turtonator, the likes of whom they'd clearly never seen. Kiawe had opened up further, smiling and trying to appear as friendly as possible, and volunteered to assist them in their farm work in exchange for their help. It was this offer of give-and-take that had ended their reluctance to approach, accepting the deal with a firm handshake. Yet they never gave their names, or even smiled back, and from there Kiawe's discomfort only grew.

The family was like a physical manifestation of the paradox he found himself in, the senses of familiarity and unfamiliarity that tore him in two. Though they resembled his own family on the surface, there were discrepancies that added up the longer he stayed, until he was unsure how he'd ever mistook them in the first place. He snuck a look at the girl, still running her hand over the cow's neck. She, like her parents, was dark-skinned with hints of red in her ponytailed hair, but the resemblance to his family ended there – her face was guarded and pinched with suspicion rather than friendly and open, and her body was lean and wiry where Kiawe's was fit and healthy. There was some other difference in these peoples' lives that Kiawe wasn't seeing yet, something that made them struggle where his family prospered.

Maybe it was the creatures they raised. Kiawe had almost panicked when the father tasked him with feeding the cows and chickens, and he had to cover for his lack of knowledge by claiming to be from a vegetable farm. Right away, he could tell that there was something… lacking about these creatures. The chickens, he'd been surprised to see, were seemingly mindless as they roved about the yard and pecked at the dirt, only stopping their endless search for food to scatter at his approach. The cows were a nostalgic sight, reminding Kiawe of the Tauros he kept at home. But although they were perfectly friendly, tolerating an affectionate rub on the forehead as they ate, their dim brown eyes held no trust, no spark of intelligence. They just… existed.

No wonder this place feels so weird, Kiawe thought as he watched the cow chew lazily. The Pokemon here… they're just not Pokemon. These people don't bond with them. They care for them, but…

"They don't cooperate," he, unwittingly, said aloud. "They aren't equals. So they can't form a real partnership…"

"Partnership?" the girl asked, and Kiawe stood up straight, now very aware he'd spoken his thoughts. She uttered the word as if tasting it, giving him a curious look. "That's the word you used for that wyvern you were with."

"You mean Turtonator? Of course we're partners," Kiawe told her. He frowned, not liking how skeptical she was. "He's my best friend, and we've worked together for a long time. Don't you think he's been helpful? You didn't have a problem with leaving him to finish with the chicken feed."

She nodded in acceptance of that. "He's pretty friendly and smart," she admitted, her voice remaining matter-of-fact, to Kiawe's frustration. "Nothin' like the monsters we have here. The only ones that don't cause trouble are the Remobra. They just hang around, hoping for scraps."

"Monsters?" Now it was Kiawe's turn to pick up on an unusual term. He thought back to the draconic Ultra Beast, its enormity and ferociousness still clear in his mind. Did that mean there were more of those things here? He stared at the girl, her stoic face and tired eyes even more apparent. Perhaps that was the reason these folks were so… well, opposite. He suppressed a shudder, trying to ignore the building dread.

"Yep," the girl replied. "But it's okay. Whenever one starts makin' a mess of things, Papa asks the Guild to take care of it. They're a few days down the trail, in town. That's prob'ly where Papa plans on takin' you after you're done with work."

How could she remain so unconcerned? With Ultra Beasts apparently so common they were a regular threat, and no Pokemon partners to defend them? Kiawe was missing something, and he was no longer sure if it was better to know than not know. Hesitantly, he asked, "So, what's this –"

A sudden din from outside cut off his question, a series of furious shrieks rushing through the open doors to pierce his ears. All the cows reacted, a chorus of moans filling the barn as they bumped against their stalls. Kiawe and the girl ran out in alarm and looked skyward to the source of the unbearable noise – the Seviper-beasts were fleeing the trees in which they'd once been content to perch, their wings and tails thrashing as they shrank into the blue yonder.

The father and mother came running to meet them, alongside Turtonator who still held a bag of chicken feed in his arms. "The Remobra are leaving!" the mother warned, eyes wide and watery. "It's back again – you two, inside, now!"

"Don't forget the barn!" the father's voice was clear and stern, yet bore an apprehensive tremor that he couldn't quite hide. "Kid, you and your beast help us lock it."

"Turta tonator!" Turtonator was all too eager to help, throwing aside his load and joining Kiawe in grabbing hold of the left door. Though made of wood, Kiawe found it unusually thick and heavy as he pulled it closed with a mighty heave. It yielded with a creak to the combined strength of him and his Pokemon, and slammed into place with a disproportionate BOOM.

Somehow, the sound stirred up the cauldron of dread that had been simmering inside him. He doubted the doors were so thick to keep the cows from breaking out. They're to keep something from breaking in.

They locked the door with log-sized planks of wood that Kiawe couldn't lift on his own, and then wasted no time in hurrying across the property to the family's house. As they huddled in the sparse kitchen, taking care to roll a curtain over the window, a crushing silence descended, somehow louder than the Remobra fleeing in frenzy. Kiawe could barely keep himself still, the tension piling on thicker with every second until he felt like his bones were about to snap. It was an abrupt, sharp noise from outside that broke his will – unable to take another moment of waiting, he marched with stiff strides to peek through the curtain.

The window gave a view of the barn from the side, as well as the Ultra Beast that should NOT have been able to approach so quietly. He was reminded of the pictures Professor Kukui had shown in that lecture about prehistoric Pokemon – it was a Tyrantrum lookalike as long as an eighteen-wheeler, though one that had traded its crown and ruff for a thick coat of black fur over its back and tail. The rest of it was pink and scaly, with frightening teeth jutting from its lower jaw. It proceeded toward the barn without hurry, footsteps stealthy yet somehow confident: it had been here before, and it knew there would be no resistance. As Kiawe watched with bated breath, the Tyrantrum-beast leaned back and butted its head into the barn doors, a dramatic CRACK of bone against wood splitting the tense air.

"A week. A whole week of putting up with this monster," the father hissed as loud as he dared, resignation meeting annoyance. "I messaged the Guild forever ago and they still haven't sent anyone. How long do they think we can hold off a full-grown brute wyvern? It's going to make off with the herd sooner or later…"

Suddenly, Kiawe balled his fists, boiling rage bubbling up from within. As he looked upon the Ultra Beast bashing itself against the doors, it began to take on a familiar appearance as well. The combination of its black coat, bald head, and arrogant sneer reminded him of Viren, that despicable man that had once invaded his farm, his home, attempting to wrest it from his family. He remembered the worried expressions worn by his mom and dad, the feeling of hopeless frustration as he was unable to act, as his home was threatened. Now the same was happening here, and what was he doing? Standing by and cowering while these peoples' very way of life was under attack?!

This isn't like before. I can do something! He raised his left arm to his chest, his knuckles pale and his Z-Crystal glinting. Whether or not we can win, there's nothing stopping Turtonator and I from challenging it to a battle!

Kiawe bolted from the house, the protests of the family drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He felt as though the spirit of Wela Volcano was with him, filling his veins with its life-giving fire. Fueled by this burning courage, he emerged onto what was now the battlefield and took up a fighting stance, his senses sharpening in preparation for the battle to come. The still-ignorant Ultra Beast stood out in crisp detail even as Kiawe made his first move.

"Turtonator, hit it with Dragon Tail!" he shouted, his outstretched finger indicating the intended target.

The Fire-and-Dragon-type launched himself with speed belying his size, spinning around the moment before contact and extending his glowing tail. His attack smacked the Tyrantrum-beast against the head with enough force to stagger it, repelling it from the doors. Shaking itself, it turned its hunger and greed to Kiawe and Turtonator, yellow eyes gleaming and posture rising to envelop them in its looming shadow. It slammed its foot into the ground and belted out a monstrous roar, inviting – no, daring – them to attack again.

If Kiawe felt a tiny tremor of fear under the enemy's attention, he paid it no heed. We'll get it into position and then take it out with our Z-Move! he promised, the beast's challenge making his righteous anger grow. He swung his arm and commanded, "Flamethrower! Keep away from its mouth and tail!"

"Turtaaaaaaaa!" the Blast Turtle Pokemon snorted a concentrated stream of flames, which washed over the Tyrantrum-beast's head and flanks with crackling tongues. Kiawe's satisfaction upon seeing a direct hit was short-lived, though, since only the barest scorch marks had been left on its hide.

The Tyrantrum-beast lunged, its jaws opening wide enough for Turtonator to fit snugly inside. Fearing what would happen if they snapped shut, Kiawe repeated his order to stay away. Turtonator managed to sidestep, the Ultra Beast's teeth closing on air, and fired a second Flamethrower that scored light burns along its head and neck. Snarling, it lurched through the flames to bite again, which Turtonator also dodged. Yet another Flamethrower, bigger than the last, slammed against a furred flank like a rushing tide – only for the tail to push through it and slam into Turtonator's shell. The normally indomitable Fire-and-Dragon-type was sent tumbling, coming to a stop flat on his belly.

Kiawe gritted his teeth, seeing Turtonator take the hit like that. He'd been right to fear that muscular-looking tail as well as the obvious jaws. And despite Flamethrower's power, it wasn't having much of an effect. If he wanted to make an opening, he'd need something bigger, flashier, a ton of power released all at once.

"Can you get up?" he asked.

"Nator," Turtonator growled, taking up a sturdy posture with his shell pointed toward the Ultra Beast.

"Good." Kiawe took a steadying breath through his nose, his next course of action clear in his mind. "Wait until it makes its next move, then use Shell Trap."

Turtonator turned his neck to glare directly over his shoulder at the enemy, smacking his tail against his shell to set the trap. He let out a bellow to provoke the Tyrantrum-beast into attacking again, and attack it did; piercing Kiawe's ears with its own bellow, it rushed them with considerable speed, abandoning stealth as its hunger-fueled footfalls pounded craters into the earth. For a moment, Kiawe felt his heart in his mouth as he watched the creature bear down on Turtonator like an approaching earthquake.

Then the moment for apprehension was over, as the Tyrantrum-beast slammed its skull into Turtonator's back and triggered the Shell Trap. The explosion rattled Kiawe's body with just the release of power he'd wanted: a plume of fire and smoke that engulfed the battlefield, a force unleashed that swallowed the Ultra Beast as it reeled back in pain. It was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, and he grinned through the deafening blast with victory on his mind.

"Turtonator, let's go!" he declared, a call to finally unleash their Z-Move. He thrusted his arms in front of him to begin the oft-practiced ritual, and red light radiated from the crystal on display, forming a stylized swirl of flame. "The zenith of my mind, body, and spirit!" he chanted, the words flowing in sync with his body as he moved through the sacred poses. "Like the great mountain of Akala, become a raging fire and burn! USE INFERNO…!"

Overwhelming horror suddenly struck his heart, cutting off the rush of energy granted to him through the dance. His eyes remained stuck on his Z-Ring hand, outstretched in front of him as the final step in the ritual that would transfer his power to Turtonator and bind them as one. Or rather, it should have transferred his power… but the sight before him was of a dull red stone, its glow vanished. Anyone else would have mistaken it for a simple trinket for all the power it had.

"M-My… Z-Ring…" he whispered, clutching his shaking hand while Turtonator looked on, equally thunderstruck. He refused to believe that this was real – he was seeing things, right? His bond with Turtonator was as real as could be, his devotion to Alola stronger than anything. And yet… no. No, it was impossible. It couldn't be his fault the Z-Ring wasn't responding. But the glow had faded so quickly, like something had been cut off… and something had.

Our bond is untouched and my faith in the tapu has never wavered, Kiawe thought. But the connection is gone… so that's it.

Z-Moves don't work in other worlds.

Kiawe whipped around at the sound of a searing roar, terror now shooting through him. The universe was not kind enough to allow him time to process this shattering truth, as the Tyrantrum-beast dispelled the smoke with the sheer volume of its fury. Fin-like sails unfolded from its back and a cloud of embers huffed from between its teeth, and yet it was the murderous intent burning in its beady eyes that truly gave Kiawe reason to fear.

"T-Turtonator!" he cried, realization dawning that the battle wasn't yet over – a battle that now only had one outcome. With his reaction slowed by doubt, he could do nothing but watch as the Tyrantrum-beast's jaws gushed a torrent of fire that swallowed his Pokemon whole. The air was filled with such heat that, for a moment, he was staring straight into a twisted version of his very own Z-Move.

The flames died down after an endless second, revealing Turtonator on his hands and knees, exhausted and scorched. Even with his resistance against fire, Turtonator had been brought to his limit. Kiawe took an instinctive step to his friend's aid, only to freeze when he saw the Pokemon's eyes plead to him for help through clouded irises awash in pain.

Unbidden, his gaze flicked to the Z-Ring hanging from his wrist. What can I do?

The Tyrantrum-beast made a blistering lunge for Turtonator, scooping him up with a flick of its head and hurling him the length of the field. He crashed into the side of the barn and lay there, unmoving, the crack fracturing his shell visible even from a distance. Kiawe wanted to rush to his partner's side, be there with him, lend his strength and support him as he did for every battle.

But his feet refused to carry him there. The Z-Ring felt heavy and limp around his wrist, nothing but dead weight. What good was he? How could he do anything to help? He'd always battled with the power of Alola as his own, as his grandfather had always told him. Every Z-Move he performed was a tribute to Alola and its guardian spirits, a thank-you for such power and a promise to wield it in their name. But Alola had abandoned him, his prayers going unanswered in a world where there was no-one to hear them.

I don't have my Z-Power, he thought in shock. It was still unthinkable. I can't be one with Turtonator. I… I'm completely alone. Without the strength of the tapu behind me… I… I'm nothing.

Turtonator looked so small as the Ultra Beast closed in, standing over him as though to gloat over its victory. Despairing and powerless, Kiawe did nothing as it bore down to bring the battle a permanent end – and then a shout snapped him out of his paralysis.

"HEY!" Kiawe jolted and whirled around to face the speaker, a hulking figure whose dark green armor and golden shield filled the gateway. He gawked numbly, barely able to hear the newcomer's booming call. "STAY RIGHT THERE, KID! LAELA, ON OFFENSE!"

"On it!" A second figure shrouded in ninja-like orange-and-white garb darted out from behind the first, charging the Ultra Beast as swift as the wind. Kiawe opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak as they drew a pair of steel swords and slashed at its leg in passing. The swords' gleaming edges parted its scales and left blood in their wake, and the Tyrantrum-beast howled in pain and rage.

Why was there blood? There shouldn't be blood. That meant something was hurt. That meant something had gone wrong.

A heavy hand on his shoulder caused Kiawe to flinch, his wide eyes turning toward the green-armored figure who now stood like a protective Golurk at his side. "You're safe now," he rumbled through his thick helmet, opaque red lenses showing no emotion. "Get to your friend, kid. He's been hurt. The Anjanath is our business."

The colossus slapped Kiawe on the back, startling him enough for his legs to get moving automatically. He stumbled on his way toward Turtonator, his breaths coming fast and heart churning the terror that buzzed through his veins, question after question pounding against his frozen brain. Who were these people? What were they here to do? Had the armored figure told him something? Why was he even running? The Tyrantrum-beast's roar came again from somewhere far away, barely heard over the uncertainties flooding his ears and mind.

Turtonator's unconscious body was in front of him now. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten this close, and he didn't care, falling to his knees and placing a shaking hand atop his beloved partner's head. "H-Hey, Turtonator," he whispered in a rush. "It's gonna be okay. You're alright now. I'm here. Be strong, Turtonator. Please. Wela Volcano's still watching over you. Remember its strength is still inside you."

Except it isn't. The moment that treacherous thought entered his head, Kiawe shook himself hard enough to make himself dizzy. Tears flew from the corners of his eyes to speckle his uniform. Turtonator groaned but didn't awaken, shifting slightly so that Kiawe could better see the fracture winding along the side of his shell. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the crack culminate in a missing spine at the right corner, leaking drops of blood from a jagged-edged crater.

"Oh, Turtonator," he murmured. "Please be alright. Please b–"

CLANG. The noise rang out as man and beast collided, Kiawe looking up to witness the awesome sight of the Tyrantrum-beast pushing against the great shield that the man – somehow standing his ground – carried into battle. With one arm, he fended off the struggling creature and unlimbered another golden instrument, this one a hefty spear that he thrust once, twice, thrice toward the Tyrantrum-beast. It struck the shoulder and chest, punching holes in its scales, and incredibly it retreated, its bravado disappearing while a pained shriek escaped its maw. Then the orange-clad figure darted into view, slashing more cuts into its legs as they blurred past, then jumped and somersaulted with blades outstretched. They landed an instant later, their swords stained red with the aftermath of the gashes they'd torn through the Tyrantrum-beast's neck.

It was with horrified awe that Kiawe saw the creature topple as though in slow motion. It managed one shuffling step before its legs gave. It came crashing to its knees, and for an impossibly long second remained still. Then it teetered, and its own weight brought it the rest of the way down to earth with an impact that Kiawe felt in the soles of his feet. And all the while, its voice cried out a moaning lament that petered out with a final, pathetic gurgle.

Just like that, silence rushed to smother the vacant battlefield like a cloud of volcanic ash. It quashed Kiawe's adrenalin-induced emotions and left nothing but numbness behind, a shock that only grew the longer he looked upon the Ultra Beast's unmoving form. And he couldn't look away – he couldn't, not until his mind made sense of the impossible truth. Was the beast… dead? It couldn't be. It had to be. The wounds tainting its skin. The blood forming puddles beneath it. The dull yellow of its eyes, stripped of their ferocious light. The pathetic moan uttered from a throat long gone silent, but would surely continue to haunt Kiawe for the rest of his life. This was death.

The armored folk strode away from the body, their weapons sheathed on their backs, seemingly unconcerned. And why wouldn't they be? A mere three attacks had been enough to bring the Tyrantrum-beast to retreat, something even Turtonator couldn't manage. Less than a minute of battle had brought the threat to not just an end, but a permanent one. Who were these people, able to manage such feats of strength and agility, so confident and unrepentant in their ability to snuff out a life? Who was he, left abandoned by the Alola he loved, unable to do a thing to help without his Z-Power, robbed of the bond he shared with his Pokemon?

As if Kiawe's thoughts had called him, Turtonator let out a groan and lifted his heavy eyelids, staring questioningly up at his Trainer. Kiawe tried to give a smile in return, but only managed a grimace. Turtonator blamed himself for not being strong enough, but Kiawe knew that his Pokemon wasn't the one guilty of weakness. So he reached out to stroke his head, the only thing he could do to reassure him. Turtonator didn't respond, only closed his eyes and returned to sleep. The fracture in his shell stood out like a beacon advertising his misery.

Low voices prompted Kiawe to blink through his tears and turn his attention to his rescuers, who were joined by the homestead's owners now that the danger had passed. The orange-and-white swordswoman and green warrior were discussing something with the adults while the daughter stuck close to the former, seemingly admiring their weapons. Their speech faded in and out of Kiawe's ears, the boy too shattered to concentrate as the words passed by, heard yet unnoticed.

"…you long enough… messaged the Guild a week ago…"

"…monsters like this one being reported all over. The Guild's low on…"

"…just happy we can get back to work…"

"Real shame we had to… will make sure the body's taken…"

"And on that note, who's the genius that almost became Anjanath food?"

Kiawe was jarred back to normal, his senses crystal clear at the sound of the disdainful tone directed, of course, at him. The woman, who stood close enough for him to tell that her colorful garments were indeed made up of some creature's pelt, stared down her nose at him with piercing eyes, her expression cold and judgemental. He was ashamed of how he froze under the ninja's gaze, feeling like he was the one being sliced apart. He couldn't fend off a wild Ultra Beast, and now he flinched at the first stranger to confront him. Some Ultra Guardian I am…

He said nothing as the other one approached, bending to kneel at his side and once again placing a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "Are you holding up alright?" the deep, slightly muffled voice asked. He removed his thick helmet to reveal a face grizzled with dense stubble and light scarring, from which his eyes shone with concern. "How's your friend doing, kid? He took a serious blow from that Anjanath. How bad?"

Returning his gaze to Turtonator, Kiawe almost choked at the sight of his friend, unconscious and in pain. "I… I don't know," he rasped, trying to clear his dry throat. "H-He's… he's never been hurt like this before, a-and…"

The man's armor clanked as he crawled forward to examine Turtonator more closely. He prodded the crack and saw the sleeping Pokemon shudder at his touch, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Hmm, I'd say this is nothing that a few potions and some serious rest can't fix. But this could've been a lot worse. You're lucky we came by when we did.

"Though if you don't mind me asking," the man added, and Kiawe somehow knew, and dreaded, what he'd say next. "What exactly is it? I've never seen a monster quite like this before."

For a split second, Kiawe thought about lying, or at least withholding the details of his predicament. Surely it would be enough to say he was from someplace far away and separated from his friends. But Kiawe was an honest person, and put on the spot as he was, he ignored the impulse and allowed his heart to speak for him.

"He's my Pokemon, Turtonator," he confessed. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he sat up straight and addressed his audience properly, not wanting to show any more weakness than he already had. "The two of us are from another world. We came here by accident through a… a tear in the sky, alongside several of our friends, and somehow, we were separated from them. Turtonator and I thought that as long as we stuck together, we could figure out a way to reunite with our friends and return home."

He tried to remain unwavering as he observed the reactions from the people in front of him. The mother and father exchanged perplexed glances, while between them their daughter looked mildly curious, like she'd received an answer to a question that had been on her mind. The ninja was skeptical, making no effort to disguise a snort. The warrior's sympathetic expression remained, though he frowned at Kiawe, unsure if he should trust him.

"I know it sounds strange, but y-you have to believe I'm telling you the truth," Kiawe went on, accidentally letting his voice tremble. He was beginning to feel desperate. These people and the power they wielded were his only hope. "I-I challenged that… that thing to a battle because in our world, Turtonator and I are strong. We can overcome anything. But now I see just how little I know about this world, and… a-and I don't think we stand much chance at finding the Ultra Wormhole on our own."

"Tell me about it," the swordswoman muttered.

Her derisive comment stung, but Kiawe forced down the sorrow and forged ahead. "While I was working with these people I came to for help, they mentioned you were part of a… guild, right? Was that it?" Every head in front of him nodded wordlessly, and so he went on, "They were going to bring me to your guild because they figured you would know how to get me home. And I realized, if you guys are being sent out to help people like this, then you probably know a lot about this world. I was hoping… I'm asking you to take us with you and help us locate our friends, and our way back home."

The silence held for what felt like forever, only Turtonator's heavy breathing and the wind whisking through the grass able to be heard. Finally, though, the armored man sat down and let out a sigh.

"Okay," he said, almost to himself. "This is… this is a lot to take in at once. Kid, what you're claiming sounds unbelievable, but it's clear you're not lying. And anyway, we wouldn't be very good hunters if we didn't help a civilian in need."

"Though we don't usually do it for free," the woman punctuated her barbed interjection with a glare aimed at her teammate.

"Laela, please," he huffed, and turned back to Kiawe. "Wherever you're from, it's the least we can do to take you to the Hunter's Guild to get answers. Even if it turns out we can't find your home, the Guild's influence spreads far, so we're bound to find your other friends. What do you say, kid?"

It was the best news Kiawe had heard since the incident. Knowing that there was a chance at reaching his classmates brought him a sense of great relief, his face relaxing into a small smile. "Th-Thank you," he managed to answer without becoming emotional. "You've no idea how much it means to me that you're willing to help.

"And thank you, too," he added to the family, addressing them with a bow of utmost gratitude. "For taking me in, even if it was just for a day. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"Die horribly, probably," Laela drawled, already turning on her heel to leave. "Venator, get a move on and prepare the cart. I'll message the Guild with the usual report."

The man, Venator, nodded to her and offered a hand to Kiawe. He took it, and with a mighty yank was pulled back to his feet. When Venator retracted his hand and went to follow his comrade, however, Kiawe was left staring at his Z-Ring, the crystal in its center offering a feeble glint. It was a superficial light, shiny on the surface but with none of the inner strength that made it truly magnificent. His smile faded, and he lowered his hand, the guilt too much for him to look any longer. Instead, he took off at a jog to catch up to Venator, wanting to ask if they had safe accommodations for Turtonator.

However, he never reached the warrior's side. His pace slowed and then halted completely when he reached the still body of the Tyrantrum-beast – the Anjanath, it had been called. Knowing it had a name only made Kiawe feel worse as he glanced over the drying wounds that stood stark red against its pink flesh. It had been so full of power and ferocity, with a presence unlike any Pokemon he'd ever seen, that to see it lifeless was… jarring. Unnatural. It was too still, too vulnerable, too pathetic.

Death was by no means a foreign concept to Kiawe – part of the great cycle of life and nature, brought on by sickness and old age. It had been one of the many things his grandfather had taught him about, before the wise man passed away himself. Sometimes a Pokemon on the farm would pass on, and his family would send an extra prayer up to Wela Volcano that night. Even recently, Ash had once become depressed over the death of a Pokemon he'd befriended. But witnessing it now in the form of this enormous beast, brought to its end with such savage violence…

A hoarse call came from overhead, and he watched as the Remobra from before returned to the farm, two of them alighting directly on the Anjanath's back. The flighted serpents attacked the body without hesitation, plunging their fangs into its fur and coming away bloodied. It made Kiawe's stomach churn, and he forced his feet to move, leaving the disgusting sight behind.

Soon it'll all be okay, he said to himself. Turtonator will heal, I'll meet up with Ash and Mallow and Soph, and we'll all go home. We'll get back to Alola, back to Wela Volcano, and back to our training. Everything will be back to normal.

I won't have to think about this world any longer.


AN:

The true start to Kiawe's character arc took a lot of time to plan out, and I had trouble putting this chapter together in a way that satisfied me. My Kiawe is based more on the devout, religious Trainer he was introduced as in the beginning of SM, not so much the exaggerated comic relief he became in later episodes. The minute I came up with the idea for this fanfic, I knew I wanted Kiawe's faith in Alola and his perception of the Monster Hunter world to be badly shaken up. The inability to use Z-Moves here is a huge reveal and a devastating blow to him.

On a more positive note, I was trying to come up with a scenario where Kiawe would be drawn into battle and already knew I wanted Anjanath as his opponent, but likening Anja to Viren of all people came as a hilarious coincidence. It was a really silly stroke of inspiration that definitely wasn't portrayed as light-heartedly in the scene proper, but I hope you enjoyed regardless!

Laela and Venator are more OCs. Their physical descriptions are intended to reference the Izuchi armor and Tetranadon armor from Monster Hunter Rise, respectively.

The coming chapter will be a nice reprieve from all the doom and gloom that's been the norm since this story's beginning. Please look forward to it, send reviews in the meantime, and I'll see you again soon!

Next time: Riders