"Thanks for coming to pick me up."

Nanu's car bumped along the old and weathered road out of Malie, the over-stuffed key ring clanking and jangling as it hung from the ignition. Nanu, as exhausted-looking as ever, rested back in his seat as they cruised, one arm leaning on the middle armrest as he nudged the car along with the other. He was kind of a funny guy: always serious, with a dry sense of humor, an inexplicable obsession with meowth, and largely withdrawn. He wasn't the kind of person you'd think of as a roughneck, but he definitely didn't look like someone you'd want to be on the shitlist of. Actually, he could be a little bit scary. That was the funny part, as the small, stuffed sneasel keychain rattled around alongside those keys, bumping Nanu's knee any time they took any sharper turns.

"Where did you even get that?" Kukui asked, looking for anything other than the gnawing worry in his mind to occupy himself, and Nanu spared it a short glance and non-commital shrug.

"Gift," he grunted, which, yeah, Kukui thought, of course. It clashed too strongly with the old cop's personality, seventy-three meowth be damned.

"From who?"

The look Nanu spared him was enough to tell Kukui to drop the thought entirely. He wasn't looking for trouble. Or rather, Nanu was being very kind and delivering him straight to the trouble he had signed up for. Gus wasn't answering Kukui's texts, now, but the Kahuna had been exceptionally helpful to call their home phone and let Burnet and Kukui know their absolute idiot of a friend had been released from custody. They'd tried to reach out to Diantha to let her know, but she had already been on her last-minute flight. Kukui didn't think it would change anything if they had reached her in time. He wasn't even sure if he'd wanted it to. He was still incredibly in over his head, and as deeply he and Burnet cherished and loved their friend, he hoped against all hope that Diantha, of all people, would be able to get through to him. Gus wasn't really one to open up about himself. He was sort of a pain, that way.

"I really do appreciate you picking me up," he said again, and Nanu grunted.

"Don't mention it," he said, "I have enough stupid kids hanging around my house. One more just gave me a headache."

"Why did they let him go so quickly?"

"He cooperated."

And that was a lie. Who had ever known Gus to cooperate? This was the man who'd tried to climb out a second-story window to give Looker the slip over just one helioptile. The man who refused to answer calls or even look Kukui in the face when he didn't want to answer questions. He didn't know why Nanu would lie about the situation, but it was clear that the topic, like many others, wasn't welcome. Finally giving up, Kukui leaned his cheek on his fist and went back to staring at the road and trees pass them by.

Po Town was enjoying its last fleeting moments of sunlight when they arrived. Heavy clouds, eternally suspended over the empty city, were parted just enough to let in rays of morning sunshine, but they were quickly beginning to reconvene, casting dark shadows that consumed more and more of the dew-stained grass. Nanu's house stood as the solitary bastion of human life in this area of the island. There was a light on inside, and Kukui saw a few of the old man's meowth lounging in a cat tree in the front window.

"I just want to warn you before you go in," Nanu admitted to him as they hopped out of the car and approached the front door, "he's in a bad way."

"Yes," Kukui agreed, "I was beginning to get that impression."

The first thing to hit Kukui as Nanu let him in was the stink of beer. He could see the collection of empty bottles on the counter, far more than he had ever known Nanu to drink. An uncomfortable pit settled in his stomach as he realized there were more bottles laying on their sides on the floor, one in particular near the empty and outstretched hand with the tell-tale watch sticking out from behind the far end of Nanu's couch.

"Aw, Gus," Kukui muttered as he carefully stepped forward.

Augustine was there. He was awake and unshaven two days running, now, laying with his arms out to either side on an inflatable mattress. He watched the ceiling with the same distant look he wore watching the thunderstorm days earlier, and though he briefly made eye contact with Kukui, he quickly looked away. Didn't even say anything. No 'hello.' No 'I'm sorry for bringing the police to your door.' Not even so much as a poor attempt to deflect from his current state. Just enduring silence, and an expression that told Kukui more about his current mental state than Augustine ever willingly would.

It pissed him off.

"Are you joking?" he said to him, his hands balling into tight fists as he stood over him. "Seriously, I'm just—I'm trying to understand what the ever-loving fuck just happened. No text, no call, you've just been laying here?" Augustine's startled eyes met his again.

"Sorry," he mumbled half-assedly as he pushed himself up onto his forearms.

"No!" Kukui snapped before he could contain himself, "no, I don't want you to apologize just to end the damn conversation, Gus! Ipol was at my front door! Not just the goddamn police, IPOL. While I'm waiting to be vetted by the Federation!"

"I didn't mean to—"

"I just want to know what the hell you were thinking!" Kukui began to pace in front of the rear window. He was collapsing—couldn't hold it back. He'd been worried, dammit. And Gus hadn't called. Hadn't explained. Had put him in a dangerous position. "Did you ever stop and think, for a single second, what kind of trouble you were getting yourself into? What kind of trouble you were getting me into?"

"I said I'm sorry," Gus cut in, more quietly this time.

"Conspiracy charges. You know, they probably could have arrested me, too?"

"I—I should have said something, I know, but—"

"I don't want to hear it. You don't—you don't think these things through! They could have shut down the entire Alola League, Gus. Hell, you're lucky they let you go."

"Stop lecturing me." Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance and thunder rumbled dangerously overhead as Augustine's face hardened, mirroring Kukui's bitter expression. Kukui passed a hand across his face in an attempt to stifle his own anger. What was done was done, he tried to remind himself. Things had turned out... relatively okay. He'd just been so worried. He was the one to look away this time, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. What mattered now was getting Gus home to get him to finally fucking speak with Diantha. Maybe with everything sorted, he and Zip would go with her back to Kalos and—

Where was Zip?

Augustine loved the helioptile like it was his child. Once upon a time, Kukui knew, the little lizard was supposed to be given away to a new trainer, but oh, the fuss he had kicked up! Gus was his person, and after that, the two had been practically inseparable. For Zip not to be out and about was... His eyes lingered on the empty pokeball latch on Gus's belt, and his face fell.

"He is in Kalos, now," Gus whispered when he realized what had captured Kukui's attention. Kukui was still pissed. But, he decided in that moment, Gus had already been through enough, this week.

"I'm sorry," he said. Gus shrugged. "Come on. Come back with me. It's going to rain, soon."

His friend didn't put up a fight. He took Kukui's hand and pulled himself up, then the two of them carefully collected the empty bottles and sorted them into Nanu's recycling bin.

"You kids needs a ride back?" Nanu asked as they headed through the front door. Kukui opened his mouth to accept, but Gus shook his head.

"We'll walk," he said, "thank you, Officer."

Kukui shrugged to Nanu, then with one final thanks, followed Gus outside and along the route trail. The clouds had completely covered the sky, by that point. They were dark and ominous and promised nothing but trouble, but Gus was undeterred, and walked briskly back in the direction of Malie. Kukui walked alongside him, casting anxious glances upwards.

"It's going to start pouring any minute," he advised, "maybe we should just ask Nanu for the ride?"

"Afraid of a little lightning?" Gus jabbed weakly.

"I don't really like the thought of getting struck, no."

"I don't mind it. I used to love taking walks in the rain in Lumiose. It was peaceful."

It would be a while yet before they reached town. There were some shortcuts trainers could easily take, but hoofing it just couldn't compare to a nice, dry car. Soon it began to sprinkle, only faintly, with tiny, spitting drops intermittently dropping onto the grass or the dirt or their hair. Augustine paused at the shoulder of the road, turning his face towards the heavens. His eyes shut gently as the drops began to pick up, an almost serene wistfulness settling across him. Kukui was a few steps ahead when he realized Gus wasn't following, and he turned on his heel as he waited.

"Did you know," Gus asked, not turning his head, not opening his eyes, "that in Johto, they believe rain will cleanse your soul?"

"I've heard," Kukui admitted. The wind blew fiercely, and he grabbed onto his hat to keep it from flying away. "Gus, come on! We gotta keep moving!" Augustine didn't answer, but spread his arms out to embrace the rain as it began to fall in earnest.

"Fire shall purify the body," he recited, "water shall cleanse the soul, and lightning shall sanctify the spirit."

"That's great," Kukui called to him, "but I think I'd like to skip the spirit part!" He surged forward to grab Gus by the wrist and tug, making him stumble forward along the moist dirt. Reluctantly, he followed as Kukui tugged him further and thunder rumbled again overhead. That was when, out in the distance, in the trees, they heard crying. It was a small voice; a young voice. And Kukui and Augustine both whipped around.

"Shit," Gus said.

"Come on," Kukui agreed, "let's get them somewhere safe."

They darted off through the trees and underbrush, Augustine staggering and lagging behind Kukui, who sped past wild pokemon left confused in their dust as they followed the child's voice. Closer. Closer. They found her easily; she wasn't exactly hiding. A girl, maybe ten, maybe eleven, was balled up at the base of a tall and mighty tree, trembling, but when the thunder rumbled and she didn't react, it wasn't the storm that was bothering her. Brave kid, Kukui thought as he pushed tall grass aside to approach, but as he did, Gus grabbed onto his arm. Kukui looked to him for an explanation, but Gus merely held a finger to his lips and motioned back to the child. She wasn't alone, Kukui realized.

"There ya go," Guzma was telling her, seated at her side, "let it out, kiddo. It's a'ight. It's good to cry, yeah?" The girl turned, leaning her face into him so all that was visible was her rows of shiny, tightly-woven braids, and Guzma put a brotherly arm around her shoulder to try and soothe her.

"I was so scared," the girl whined through her sobs, "and, and, Starry—and Botley, they're—"

"Hey, girl, chin up. So they fainted once. So what, huh?" The two watched on as Guzma rummaged in his bag and handed the girl two revives, then patted her on the head and stood up. She shook her head vigorously.

"I'm never gonna finish my Trials," she told him tearfully, "I can't—I can't go back in there, ghosts are too scary—"

"So you just gonna quit?" Guzma shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I quit. Got left behind. Got kicked outta society. Lived on the streets like some stray." She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes.

"Is that gonna happen to me?" she whispered. He shrugged again.

"Probably, unless you do somethin'. People can be real assholes."

"So... so what do I...?"

Kukui started forward again. Gus, brow furrowed as he concentrated on the situation, tugged him back.

"You get pissed." Guzma offered her his hand, and she took it. Then, he planted her square in front of him and drew himself up. "Listen up, a'ight? Get mad—get real mad, or they're gonna leave you behind, too. You gotta say fuck the man!"

"What?"

"Say it. Say, fuck the man!"

Confused, the girl opened her mouth to repeat after Guzma, but Kukui yanked his arm from Gus's grip and dashed in before he could lead her astray.

"Professor?" she said, even more confused now.

"Guzma, what the hell is wrong with you?" were the first words out of Kukui's mouth. Guzma rolled his eyes.

"See, Reena?" he told the girl, "this is the kinda shit I was talkin'bout. Fuck the man!" He nudged her.

"F...fuck the man!" Reena agreed.

"Don't—Reena, don't say that word!" Kukui urged her, "Guzma, I get you're trying to help, but—"

"But what?" Guzma crossed his arms over his chest, sneering intimidatingly down his nose at Kukui, "what the hell do you know, Kukui?"

"Well, Guzma, now that you mention it," Kukui bit back, crossing his own arms obstinately, "I know we're in the middle of a freaking thunderstorm and she needs to get to Nanu's now."

"Fuck off," Guzma snorted, "girl's got her Trials. Or you think she ain't cut out for it, huh?"

"Yeah!" Reena agreed, more enthusiastically this time, "fuck off, Professor!" She mirrored Guzma's stance, much to Kukui's displeasure. Of course Guzma wasn't going to let the kid get somewhere safe. He failed his island trials and just had to drag everyone down with him. He was stubborn, just like Gus, and Kukui wasn't in the mood to try and be friendly. Not right now, in the rain, picking up his favorite alcoholic from being arrested. There was a time and place to put up with Guzma's bullshit, and now was not the time.

"I can't," Kukui admitted out loud, "I can't deal with this. And I can't just stand by and watch you make the same stupid mistakes all over again. Think it through. Look at this girl!" He was shouting over the rain and wind now, motioning angrily to Reena, who deflated. "Think about what you're telling her, you idiot! About how it might affect her life!"

"Color me fuckin' crazy," Guzma snapped in reply, "but if saying fuck it to some moldy old tradition is enough to ruin her life, maybe it should be thrown the hell out."

They stared each other down. It was a vicious cycle of an argument, cartwheeling through their lives like a runaway ferris wheel since they'd been old enough for their own trials. It wasn't Kukui's fault he succeeded and Guzma hadn't. It wasn't Kukui's fault Guzma had been too proud to accept his help when they were adults. He had always tried to be kind to him, but Guzma had determinedly shut Alola—no, the world—out. Instead of building bridges, he burned them down, and tried to pull as many like-minded punks along for the ride as he could. Reena wouldn't turn out like that, if it was the last thing Kukui did.

Lightning flashed, and in unison they threw their pokeballs to the ground. The rain would be beneficial for Pancake, Kukui knew. He should have used his magnezone or his braviary—wiping the floor with Guzma's ass would have been easy. These battles, though, always went the same, and as much as Kukui enjoyed new things and progress, some traditions he held sacred in his heart. Dusty materialized from the pokeball's bright red energy, standing stoic in the rapidly increasing downpour. Guzma, he realized, did not treasure those traditions quite so much. He wore aggressive, ecstatic triumph across his features as his scizor materialized across from the lycanroc.

"Accelerock!" Kukui shouted, and Dusty shot off to the tune of the rumbling thunder.

"Bullet Punch!" came Guzma's order, and Kukui gritted his teeth as he watched the scizor's mighty claws pummel into Dusty's soft underbelly mid-leap. The lycanroc fell to the mud, but caught himself on his feet, skidding to a halt before throwing himself again. His jaws snapped at the scizor's sleek legs, but with a droning buzz, its wings beat quickly to take it hovering backwards over the slippery terrain. It was quick for a scizor, seeming lighter than its bulkier cousins. It was time to put an end to that.

"Rock Tomb!"

Dusty kicked hard into the earth, loosing hefty rocks buried in the soil, and with another kick sent them careening towards the scizor. They smashed and shattered against the steely exoskeleton, battering the sensitive and exposed wing membrane. Guzma ducked quickly out of the way of flying rock shards. Reena had scrambled for cover behind a fallen log, and Kukui watched her slip in the mud in slow motion; Augustine, unsteady on his feet and looking prepared to fall, himself, skidded through the mud to pull her with him and cover her as they ducked bits of rock, themselves. There was only a brief pause in the battle as Kukui and Guzma anxiously looked to see if the child was alright, but satisfied with her newfound human shield, quickly turned back on each other.

"Slow us down all you want, fucker!" Guzma snarled, "Scone, Swords Dance!"

Many pokemon could use Swords Dance. It was one of the oldest recognized Pokemon moves in the world. Kukui, however, knew of few pokemon that could utilize it nearly as well as a Steel-type. Even this scizor, light on its feet as it seemed, had weight and bulk to surpass soft-bodied pokemon. It whipped and whirled around Dusty as he lunged, bit, growled, tore, easily evading attacks as its frantic spins built its torque. Its claws, deadly weapons on a good day, swung with brutal force through the air as it drew nearer and nearer to prepare itself for a finishing blow.

"Iron Head!" Guzma ordered. Scone whipped its head round. Kukui felt the raw power at his wrist. In his soul. The hit would have easily sent Dusty down for the count. But he was prepared. He performed his own dance, fiery, vengeful, and felt the Z-power channel from his spirit to Dusty.

Inferno Overdrive.

The lycanroc's jaw dripped with molten lava, its teeth burning white-hot, and in the second before Scone's attack connected, Dusty snapped down on the scizor's tarsus, trapping it in his powerful bite as a full-force stream of fire and lava erupted from his throat. It created, briefly, a shelter untouched by rain as the water hissed and steamed in the ferocious heat.

"Scone!" Guzma cried out, but the fire forced him back, and he threw his hands up to protect his face from the intense flames.

"Face the facts!" Kukui shouted to him as the flaming stream billowed, the old competition rekindled once more, "it doesn't matter how good your type match-up is, Guzma! When it comes to moves, I'm always five steps ahead of you!"

The battle was over. It had to be. Even weakened by the rain, Kukui knew Dusty's power output like the back of his hand. That one Fire Fang, powered by the Inferno Overdrive, should have been enough to put the exceptionally fire-vulnerable Scone out of commission. Lightning cracked. Thunder rumbled. The Inferno Overdrive dissipated. Scone was still standing, hunkered in as close of a defensive position as he had been table to take. His exoskeleton still glowed with heat that rapidly faded and cooled under the rain with more hissing steam rising from the carapace. Dusty loosened his jaw and took a hesitant, if proud, step back, his puffy tail wagging slightly. Scone fell to his knees with a squelch, then onto all fours.

That really should have been it. When Kukui turned his admittedly arrogant smirk to Guzma, though, the ferocity still burning in his childhood friend's eyes gave him pause.

"You think that's it?" Guzma growled across the battlefield, "you think one stupid, flashy, shitty move is going to take my boy down?" The smirk slid from Kukui's face.

"Guzma," he said seriously, "it's over. It's done. Look at the state of him! It's time to just give up and slink off li—"

"Fuck. You," Guzma seethed, "No way in hell it's over." Lightning flashed. He was positively shaking with rage. Thunder rumbled. Scone's exoskeleton creaked as he jammed his claws harder into the mud, unsteadily pushing back up to his feet.

"Guzma!" Kukui tried to warn him again as the scizor fumbled just for a moment. Still, he rose, oozing a fighting spirit as though something had been newly-awakened inside of him. Lightning flashed again. It must have been close—Kukui could almost feel the electrical charge surging through the trees.

"Bullet Punch!"

Strangely, all the professor could think as he watched the scizor move was that it seemed heavier all of a sudden. Heavy-handed, even. The flash of lighting played tricks on his mind, making it seem like Scone's claws were longer than they really were. The hits pummeled in the unprepared Dusty, one after the other. They were far stronger than they were before, crushing at the rocks in the lycanroc's thick mane, and Kukui's beloved dog yelped and whimpered in a way he rarely did in battle.

"Shit!" Kukui swore, "Fire Fang!"

Dusty scrabbled to his feet, clicking his teeth as he bit and chomped away at Scone. The burning bites tore again at the tarsus, taking advantage of the fresh wounds to dig deep into the scizor's vulnerable and fleshy bits. This time Scone let loose a high-pitched, distressing buzz, wings beating frantically—and just like that, it finally was over. The scizor slumped to the ground, hardly moving, and Kukui breathed a sigh of relief.

"The hell were you thinking?" he demanded, but Guzma only sat there and stewed in his anger.

"Goddammit!" he growled. Kukui expected a tantrum, for him to slam his heel into trees or rocks since there was nothing really breakable around, then to declare that he would be back sooner or later like some kind of mustache-twirling villain. Instead, Guzma fumed, stewed, then finally with clenched teeth and clenched fists, turned towards the fallen log.

"You see that, Reena?" he shouted across to the girl, "you see what just happened?"

When Kukui strained his eyes through the rain and shadows, he could spy Reena just barely poking her wide eyes over the fallen log. She contemplated the battle with a sense of awe and wonder typical of young trainers, and Kukui wondered if, perhaps, he had been mistaken. Perhaps Guzma had done a good thing.

"That...," Reena said, "that was..."

"Astounding," Augustine finished for her. He was still at her side, one hand resting on top of her head as though he were poised and ready to shove her back down out of the blast of wayward attacks. His attention was lingering on Scone's defeated form, pensive and focused. Before any of them could approach the others, Guzma took his ultraball and recalled his poor scizor to its confines. Then, he stomped through the mud and back towards Reena, keeping himself drawn up and his stance powerful.

"It doesn't matter if he beats me now or a hundred times more," Guzma told her, "and it don't matter I never finished my trials, either. You stand up for yourself, kid. You stand up, and you rip their shit apart."

Well, maybe he didn't get everything right.

"Don't rip 'em apart," Kukui said as he recalled Dusty, himself, "he's bitter, and misery loves company."

"Fuck you, Kukui. Fuck you."

"See what I mean?"

Before he could finish imparting the important part of Guzma's lesson onto Reena, a car horn sounded from the road, and all four of them whipped round to squint at the silhouette cut through the blinding headlights piercing through the rain and trees.

"What the hell are you all doing out here?!" Nanu shouted at them, "hurry up and get in the car!"

"This ain't over," Guzma growled to Kukui as he stomped off, beckoning to Reena who followed sharp on his heels.

"One day, you'll have to just let it rest, man," Kukui answered. He turned to Augustine, who had gone back to frowning at the battlefield. He could practically see the smoke rising from his ears. "Hey," he called out to him, and Gus jumped, "let's go, boozehound. We're burning... well, burning the rain, I guess."

Nanu didn't take them back to his home. Instead, he spent the entire drive back to Malie scolding the three of them for keeping Reena out in the rain. Each of them shivered, soaking wet, in their seats, hanging their heads as he chewed them out. Kukui had never known the old man to be so confrontational, but as he reflected on the battle in the woods, he could only feel ashamed. Obviously, the child should have been their first concern, and he didn't exactly set a great example. At the very least, she got to snuggled up in the passenger seat with Nanu's emergency blanket, and the old man cranked up the heat for her.

"I swear," he continued to scold as the car came to a stop in front of Malie's port, "if this ever happens again, I'm going to teach you idiots a lesson. And you, Kukui—you I especially expected better of."

"Sorry, Nanu," Kukui sighed. He swung the door out and stepped up to the sidewalk, adjusting his hat on top of his head to keep the rain out of his eyes. Gus followed after him, then a disgruntled Guzma.

"Yeah," Guzma grumbled, looking pained to so much as agree with Kukui on anything, "sorry."

"Whatever," Nanu huffed, "just... keep out of trouble. I don't want to hear a word about any of you until next weekend." He stared pointedly at Guzma. "Nod like you're pretending to listen to me."

"I'm listening. Just ain't my fault Kukui had to shove his stupid mug where he wasn't wanted."

"What, was I supposed to sit back and let you rope another child into your cute little gang?" Kukui snapped. He'd done the right thing. Hadn't he? Guzma had steered plenty of kids wrong, before, and until he could be certain his old friend was truly rehabilitated, wasn't it better to take care of these things preemptively?

"Fuck off," Guzma snapped, rounding on him, "I wasn't talking to you. What the hell ever. I'm leaving. Don't bother me." Before he could further instigate a fight, he stomped off, and Kukui scowled half-heartedly after him. With a sigh, he motioned to Gus, and the two turned towards the port, as well.

"Hey," Nanu called out, and Kukui glanced back at him over his shoulder. "You, too. Give the man a break, yeah? He's been working hard." With that, Nanu drove off, taking Reena with him. She waved to Kukui and Gus as they left, and the two of them waved back, then went inside to once more board the ferry to Melemele, hopefully for the last time at least for a few days.

"Sorry for causing trouble," Gus said to him as they took their seats, waiting for the ferry to pull out into open waters. Kukui pursed his lips.

"You really could have dragged me down into all this crap," he replied, "but... I'm glad they let you go?"

"It's unlike them," his friend admitted, "I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. At no fault of yours, my friend, so far this trip has been... well, it's just been awful." He let out a long, suffering sigh and leaned his head back against the window behind their seats. "I can't imagine how this could get any worse."

Kukui could. Not only could he imagine it, he had a sneaking suspicion he'd had a hand in it. He fidgeted in his seat, then with his brow breaking into worry, turned fully to Augustine.

"Hey, Gus," he said awkwardly, "there's, uh, something I gotta tell you, yeah? See, Burnet and I couldn't really afford to get you a lawyer, so, uh, we called... well..."

And from the way Gus pointedly ignored him the rest of the trip, Kukui also had a sneaking suspicion he could imagine it, too.


It was thundering over Melemele, too.

They were due back any minute, now, and Diantha could only pace. Back and forth, back and forth, oscillating like a metronome across Burnet and Kukui's living room. Their home was absolutely cozy, and under any other circumstance, the Kalos Champion would be absolutely delighted to visit. They had an enormous tank in the middle of their home for their seafaring pokemon, and the perfect view of the beach from any side of the house. She would have loved to laze around on the sleeper sofa in their loft, evening out the jet lag until she could treat everyone to dinner, and maybe they would get to wander the island and battle trainers or just look for wild pokemon. She knew Gus wasn't one for battles—maybe Burnet wasn't, either. But Kukui, for sure, was a strong contender, and she would have loved to take him on in a friendly match.

Instead, here she was, pacing, pacing, pacing, while Burnet tried to occupy herself with research documents she'd spread out all over the coffee table. Neither of them were really sure what to do. Occasionally they would strike up some chatter, but the anxiety was setting in, and it didn't help with how absolutely exhausted Diantha was from her flight.

"They docked half an hour ago," Diantha was muttering to herself, "does it normally take this long to get here?"

"They have to walk all the way from the other side of town," Burnet patiently reminded her. "Try not to think about it, too much. Do you want a coffee, Diantha?" She had made a full pot when they'd come back from the airport. It looked watery and more like something you'd get from steeping old, dirty socks, and there was no way in hell Diantha was touching that with a ten-foot pole.

"No, thank you," she replied, "I had enough on the plane." Burnet shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

Thunder cracked again in the distance. She hoped they were alright.

Time ticked by. It was nearly another quarter hour later by the time they heard any signs of life—Kukui, desperately trying to strike up a conversation, was the first thing either of them heard. Two pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs was the next. Then, the front door swung open, and in came Kukui—chasing after none other than Augustine-fucking-Sycamore, who looked just as tired as Diantha felt, with the addition of a dead-eyed, thousand-yard stare, and the distinct stench of alcohol.

"C'mon, man," Kukui said as Gus sulked his way inside, "we didn't know what else to do. Say something, for the Tapu's sakes!"

Clearly, Gus hadn't been listening to him—he had a habit of avoiding confrontation—but as they came through the door, he froze in place, one hand on the knob as he stared blankly at Diantha.

"Augustine," she tried to greet him, and his eyes slid to the floor. She tried again. "Augustine?"

He was ignoring her, now, and instead turned to Burnet. "Tell me you have booze," he quietly demanded, and when Burnet didn't answer, he made his way towards the kitchen.

"Don't you dare," Diantha said, and followed him over, "Augustine Sycamore, don't you dare keep ignoring me, and for the love of Xerneas, don't you dare pick up another bottle."

He began to rummage through their cabinets, honing in on the liquor cupboard like a trained growlithe. Just to piss her off, she imagined, he grabbed the biggest unopened bottle he could find, then expertly popped the top open on the counter, then took a long swig.

"I'll pay you back," he absently told Kukui, who hadn't moved from the front door and watched the encounter like a trainer realizing the pokeball they found was actually a voltorb primed for an explosion. If that was what it would take to finally make Gus pay attention to her, Diantha was prepared to let loose all the voltorb in the world.

"Put down the damn bottle, Gus," she snapped, and she cut him off behind the kitchen counter, advancing to try and swipe it from his hands before he could hurt himself any more. He was a slippery man, always hard to pin down, and as she lunged, he quickly hopped and vaulted himself over the counter, a move he'd perfected in his days as a broke barista and kept neatly in his back pocket for emergencies, and all without spilling a single drop from the bottle. He took another swig, then headed for the ladder up to the loft. Diantha hurried to cut him off, and this time, he stopped again in his tracks.

"Stop ignoring me!" she told him again, "stop treating me like I'm some horrible villain, Augustine. I have called you and called you, and I have tried to tell you what was coming, but no, like always, you're too stubborn to listen to me for one—"

"Listen to you?" Augustine quietly cut her off. It was like a slap to the face. Dark and seething, there was a malice to his tone that Diantha had never known him to hold. Frozen in her shock, Augustine took the knife and plunged. "No. I will not listen to you. Do you know why? Because Lysandre is dead, and all you did about it was kiss Felix's ass." Lightning flashed outside, and thunder rumbled.

"Lysandre was a madman," Diantha quickly recovered, "he was gone long before he fired that weapon, Augustine."

"No, he was not." His hand on the bottle clenched, his knuckles stark-white, and his whole body trembled. "He was ours, and he was hurting, and you abandoned him. Family shouldn't do that. Family shouldn't kick you out because there's something just a little bit broken."

"I didn't kick him out, he left."

"You didn't try to stop him."

"Why would I try to stop him?" She dragged her hands down her face. It wasn't like she wanted things to end that way. She didn't think Lysandre wanted it to end that way, either. But things had changed. They had changed, and they had left Augustine stuck in the middle. It had been a messy situation. All of them had been hurting. "The things he was starting to think! Even then, he'd been planning this, don't you see?"

Augustine laughed, and it was bitter and distant. "Well, maybe he was onto something. Maybe Kalos didn't deserve to be saved. There you go—I'm the madman, now, so you can just..." He motioned vaguely with his free hand. "...scoot on out of here."

"You arrogant, stubborn arsehole, if we did things your way half the world would have been blown away. Life isn't like one of your fairy tales. Lysandre was going to commit actual, literal genocide! There's no coming back from that—and I had every right to let that relationship go, just like you ought to have!"

They were shouting, now. Diantha had been used to shouting with Lysandre. Fights started in public were often shouted out behind the closed doors of their home. She always felt like he wasn't listening. He always felt the same of her. Gus had never shouted. Hardly so much as raised his voice. She remembered him making himself scarce when they would dig up their old rows. It didn't hurt with Lysandre, towards the end. It very much stung with Gus.

"Don't pretend like you suddenly care about me!" he growled as a rolling thunder struck once more, "a hundred and one calls telling me to lie down and take it after they took my lab! My lab, my pokemon, everything! They took everything from me, Diantha, and not a single goddamn word besides 'just cooperate, Augustine!' 'It's for the best, Augustine!'"

"They could have done a lot more if you hadn't cooperated, but Gus—you weren't even getting up in the morning. You are the one who's been hurting, and you refuse to let anyone in!"

"Why should I? Why should I let a single one of you back-stabbing fiends in? How many more medals shall I give out for them killing Lysandre? How much more shall I let them take from me?"

"We are not taking anything from you. We're trying to help you, Yveltal's claws!"

"Ah, yes, help me! I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood what Looker said as he cuffed me and took my helioptile!"

"You stole League property, idiot! What did you think was going to happen? Do you ever think anything through?"

"I don't need this."

"Don't you dare walk away from me again."

"Leave me alone."

"No. I don't care what sort of monster you think I am, I came here to help—"

"Why won't you leave me alone when I came here to die?!"

Diantha froze. She could have heard a pin drop. Augustine froze, too. The anger broke from their faces and turned to horror, Augustine's hand flying to cover his mouth as he realized what he'd let slip. Thunder rolled.

"Augustine," Diantha whispered, terrified, "you don't—you can't—" He quickly shook his head, stepping back from her.

"Please," he begged desperately, "don't follow me."

Before she could say another word, he broke into a sprint, shoving past her and Kukui as he ran off into the island.