The Alolan sun was an unforgiving beast. It beat down on the islands with the intensity of a charizard's Heat Wave, making the air sluggish and warm in the humidity. Guzma was used to this kind of weather. He grew up in it. When he lived in Po Town, the generator had only been enough to power the essentials, and the AC hadn't been one of them. Now, as he labored under that burning sun in the berry fields not far from his folks' house on Melemele, the stale heat hardly bothered him. He sweated on his own, placed to work far away from the others in a corner of the fields where he watered and mulched the berry trees. It was honest work. It kept his mind off things. And most of all, it was the one place he hadn't been immediately turned away from.
Guzma never had the best of reputations, in the past. He was a trouble-maker, a thief, and a ruffian. He was the malicious leader of Team Skull, who brought an entire town to its knees and destroyed any minor convenience in his way. After everything that had unfolded at the Aether Foundation and in that strange, other-worldly dimension, he'd tried to turn over a new leaf, but it was easier said than done, especially when his best idea had been to X out his Skull jacket and hide his tats. Somehow that hadn't really worked.
Until the day it did, he would be here, caring for the berry trees during the day and spending his evenings at the Pokemon Center further down the route. He scraped old mulch from the base of a pinap berry bush with a hoe, gathering it into a neat pile to the side, then dropped to his knees to begin yanking at weeds that were starting to take root.
"Not today, ya li'l shits," he grumbled to them, "not on my fuckin' watch. Pancake, gimme the shovel." He held his hand out, and behind him, his lumbering golisopod hesitated over the various gardening equipment. Guzma was patient, and finally, Pancake made his decision and brought over a rake, dropping it into Guzma's hand with a happy chitter. Guzma sighed, an amused smile tugging at his lips, and wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood, brandishing the rake for Pancake to see.
"Look at this, ya li'l numbskull," he teased, "this look like a shovel to you? It's all pointy on the end!" Pancake chittered again and leaned forward, his twitching antennae tickling at Guzma's hair. Guzma laughed and pointed to the small hand-held shovel laying nearby. "That one, dummy! C'mon, bring it here." Pancake brought the shovel back and dropped it into Guzma's outstretched hand. Guzma reached up to give him a good rub under the chin. "Good boy. Get ready. It's almost time to water it."
He dropped back to his knees and used the small shovel to dig up a few stubborn invaders, then grabbed handfuls of fresh mulch from his bag to pat in around the base. When he was finished, he stood once more and stopped to admire his handiwork. Hell yeah. That bush was mulched good.
"Alright, big guy. Give 'er some wa—whoa, hold on now, wait a sec!" Pancake watched eagerly as Guzma leaned forward into the bush, disappearing up to his chest as he carefully navigated around branches and leaves. A big, fat caterpie was busy clinging to the main trunk, and carefully he pried the baby off and pulled it out. "What were you doin' in there, grub? You can't eat these bushes. The boss'll get mad, and then where will you be? Squished, that's where."
He took the caterpie grub all the way to the boundary fence, then stood on his toes to hold it up to the overhanging branch of a much bigger tree. The caterpie purred and wiggled her little feet, then grabbed onto the branch and climbed her way up to some tasty leaves. Guzma dusted his hands off as he came back to the berry shrubs.
"Let's try this again. Give 'er some water, Pancake."
He watched as his bug buddy gently watered the shrub. The berries were starting to get big, he noticed with a swell of pride, and were just about ripe enough to pick. They would make some pokemon very happy. But the smile fell as he looked on down the line and realized there were only a few shrubs left for him to tend to for the day. He really didn't have much to do afterwards. Plumeria was all the way out on Ula'Ula, and he wouldn't have enough time to make it there after work. He'd just... go home. Probably. Stay in his room. By himself.
With a heavy sigh, Guzma rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing at the grainy feel of the dirt on his thick work gloves. He'd get a shower later, too. But for now, he would continue to work.
Alola was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous! The sun was bright, the waters were clear, and for one jet-lagged Augustine Sycamore, the cafes were plentiful enough to sustain him until he could pass out at his friend's home. With a helioptile on his shoulder, the once-esteemed Pokemon professor wandered out of Hau'oli City's marina and down the sidewalk, his usually thick and curly hair frizzing with the humidity. His usual long-sleeve button-down was traded for an old concert t-shirt, and he'd worn his most comfortable pair of slacks for his flight. He checked his watch; Kukui was supposed to be out until almost dinner, and that gave him a few hours to goof off.
He traveled along the sidewalk, down to the beach. Plenty of tourists and other visitors were sprawling out in the afternoon sun, sunbathing, playing in the water, a few even battling pokemon. He remembered his first trip to Alola—that was when he was barely an adult, during a spring holiday while he was studying at Lumiose University. Er... pretending to study. Mostly not studying. In fact, that trip had been an entire wild party of not studying. Most of what he remembered had been fun. He assumed most of what he didn't remember had been fun, too. But that was when he'd met Kukui! Oh, they had a grand time. Probably. In his own defense, Sycamore thought to himself, peppermint schnapps was his greatest weakness. That, and he'd settled down a bit by the time he was an official League pokemon professor.
The good thoughts led him back to melancholy, and his face fell. Things had been... very not good after Geosenge. He kept a bright face for the kids. Of course he would. But things were much harder following Lysandre's death. Everything. Even getting up in the morning. And then, of course, the Kalos League had the gall to... His heart ached. Sycamore swallowed hard and gazed out at the sparkling sea. Lysandre would have loved to come back here.
He was broken from his thoughts by the tap of a scaly little hand on his face, and he looked to the helioptile with a smile. He had the biggest, saddest eyes Sycamore had ever seen a helioptile with, and he reached up to give the pokemon a good scratch behind the frills.
"I'm alright, Zip," he said. "Come. Let's see if we can't find you a treat, somewhere." Zip let out a little noise and licked his own eyeball to moisten it. Sycamore laughed. "Yes, I know. Mago berries are your favorite. Alright. According to the pamphlet, there should be a berry farm around here, somewhere..."
He turned around and carried them back towards the other side of town. The berry farm should be to the northern route. The path was steep. As they walked, Sycamore watched the beach turn to steep, rocky cliffs, and his calve muscles began to burn with the intensity of the hike. Around the path swayed tall grass, and now and again he could catch sight of pokemon in the underbrush. Mostly it seemed to be wild meowth, their unique dark fur fluffing up in the wind. A few smeargle, too. At some point, he thought he saw a yungoos secreting away a few berries of its own, but perhaps it was just his eyes playing tricks on him.
About half-way up the route was the berry farm. It was framed by a sturdy wooden fence, and a big arched gate served as the entrance. 'La Magnifique Baie,' it read. He knew a Kalosian ex-pat owned the property, but even passing under the words of his mother tongue, it felt like the furthest thing from his home. The dirt felt different under his feet. But still—the farm was definitely magnifique. It was absolutely massive, filled with row upon row of berry shrubs and trees of all kinds. It was flourishing.
"What do you think?" Sycamore asked Zip as they made their way through the rows. Zip clicked a few times at him, which he took as approval and a demand for mago berries. His little helioptile got hangry when he didn't get his snacks. The search was bound to take a while, and that would be a good way to kill time until Kukui was free. They wandered together, drooling over sitrus berries, watching workers caring for the trees, keeping to themselves. Their search took them further and further back.
Eventually they ended at the far back corner of the fields, near rows and rows of pinap bushes flanked by tall persimm trees. It was nice and quiet there, with a little bit of shade as tall trees began from outside the property began to reach overhead. The only other person was one of the workers, a man mulching the pinap berries alongside his golisopod. His mop of fluffy, bleach-white hair was just as frizzy as Sycamore's, held back by a big, round pair of shiny, gold-color sunglasses perched atop his head, and his white tank-top was drenched in sweat. He looked up briefly from his work as Sycamore brought Zip down the row to look at the pinap berries, and for a second their eyes met. There were dark bags under his eyes. He must have been exhausted. He eyed Sycamore right back, his expression guarded and defensive, but then quickly he ignored them and returned to his work.
"Well," Sycamore told Zip, "I think that was everything. I'm sorry, Zip, I don't think they grow mago berries, here. I think I saw nanab. Do you want nanab?" Ever the picky eater, Zip let out a discontent hiss and pouted. It was too cute. Sycamore couldn't help but smile. "Come on. Nanab's not too different. I think you'd like it."
Again Zip let out a hiss, and Sycamore shook his head.
"We have mago."
It was a quiet voice, but powerful. Decisive. Sycamore whirled back to the man, watching as he stood and wiped the sweat from his neck. His heavy brow was still furrowed, and Sycamore wondered what could have made him so distrusting. He tried to offer him his sweetest smile.
"Do you?" he asked hopefully, "it's an uphill battle getting him to eat anything else."
"Turn right at the end of this row," the man told him, "then straight through two crosspaths, left, then another—"
"Aha, my friend," Sycamore tried, "perhaps you could show me? That's... this whole place is like a maze." The man hesitated. "I don't mean to take you away from your work, of course, just... I have to be somewhere soon, you see."
"I'm not supposed to talk to customers," the man admitted, "so just turn around and—"
"Not supposed to?" Sycamore cut him off, "what, even if they ask for help? That sounds a little Machiavellian, doesn't it?"
The man studied him again for a long moment. He seemed confused. Alright. Time to turn on the ol' charm. Sycamore prepared himself to speak again, lay it on a little more thick, when the stranger beat him to it.
"You're not from around here, are you?" he mused. He drew closer, head tilting and more curious now than anything.
"No," Sycamore agreed, "and my poor, little helioptile is famished. Look at his little face!" He grabbed Zip around the middle and held him out for the man to see, and seeing the small lizard on the verge of totodile tears, the man sighed.
"Alright," he gave in, "c'mon. I'll show you where they are. Pancake!" He turned to the golisopod, who had since stuffed his face into one of the bushes as the two talked. Sycamore watched with amusement as it quickly pulled its head out from the brush, chittering at them. "Don't eat the berries. And make sure that caterpie don't crawl back up in there."
Sycamore followed the man back towards the front of the farms. "I'm Augustine, by the way," he introduced himself as they walked, "it's nice to meet you. You're allowed to tell me your name, I hope?"
The man glanced back at him with a quirked eyebrow, pressing on to turn down another row of trees.
"Guzma," he said after a minute.
"A pleasure, sir. Have you worked here long, Guzma?"
Another turn. Sycamore wasn't entirely sure which part of the fields they were in, any more, but the berry trees here were huge and vibrant. Most of the plump, juicy berries remained on the branches, but some had fallen and bounced or rolled into the path, and he was careful not to step in any. Even so, there were long, dark stains of ruptured berries everywhere underfoot. He supposed the soil would be happy.
"I've only been here a few months." Guzma finally came to a stop in front of a section of entirely mago berry trees, and he motioned vaguely to them. "It's fifty poken per ounce, I think. You can pay at the house."
"Marvelous!"
Sycamore leaned forward to begin picking the berries, humming to himself as he tucked them all into one arm. Then, he paused, looked both ways down the row, and held up one of the berries to pop into Zip's mouth. The helioptile clicked happily, smacking the berry up, bright pink juices running down his scales. Sycamore threw Guzma a sly wink.
"Just one for the road," he promised, "thank you for your help, my friend."
Guzma shrugged. "Yeah. No problem. And don't worry." He smiled at Sycamore, not necessarily warm, and still more tired than anything, but a soft smile. Handsome, even, Sycamore found himself thinking. He held a hand out, and after a moment of deliberation, Guzma stepped forward to shake it. His grip was firm and proud, and Sycamore returned it in kind. "See you around."
Guzma went off to return to his work, and if he hadn't been in the middle of it, Sycamore may have invited him to chat a little longer. But, as it was, he still had somewhere to be. As he paid for the berries and handed more over to Zip, he checked his messages. There were a few missed calls. Some were from Diantha. One from Sina and Dexio. He wasn't prepared to speak with any of them. Not yet. Not after what had happened.
Ah. But there was one from Kukui. Sycamore hit his speed dial and waited for the phone to ring.
"...Yes, Kukui? Apologies, my friend, I was busy buying berries! ...Alright, I'll see you in a few minutes." He began to walk. "Hey, I don't suppose you've got any schnapps in your cupboard...?"
