This story was co-developed by Titan127 and beta read by ShonnaRose and JhinoftheOpera.

[5-3] Run

Towers of paper were erected around him. As the library grew more cluttered, so too did Saber's mind with a maelstrom of questions.

Question one: What exactly was the Dragon Clan that took its home in the mountains of Johto? His father, despite being a respected theological figure, rarely discussed his culture with his children. Saber had overheard rare, whispered discussions between his parents on the matter, but it was always the same critical question: his mother sought more information. He found himself aligning with her more than ever.

Question two: What is the origin of the Unown language? It was reasonable to say it was intertwined with the Blackthorn Dragon Clan, as the Johto Heritage Foundation that protected the Ruins of Alph was established and maintained by some of its followers. But how then, of course, was it scattered across the world within countless other monuments, and why?

Question two-and-a-half: Was that strange symbol on her wedding pendant related to any of her findings? Judging by its appearance in some of the final pages, it must have, but he'd exhausted any and all resources with other examples. All he could surmise was that it was some type of ancient iconography, perhaps shared between numerous cultures.

Question three: Why was his mother so interested in either? The dusted pages of her notebook were barren of anything that might lead him to an answer, and he refused to believe someone like her would fail to arrive at some kind of hypothesis. All the pieces were assembled—or rather, piled together haphazardly—but he came to the sordid conclusion that the truth he needed could only be found in his mother's vanished mind.

As much as he wanted to inquire more on these points, he knew deep down that he couldn't. These questions weren't the start of his research—they were all of it.

Saber began to understand that, despite his general academic training and tutelage under his mother, he was missing something much more essential. Lost with his mother was pure subject experience that could lead her to the subtle truths and the hidden lines. No matter how many questions he asked, no matter how much he wrote, he could never seem to inch any further than the conclusions Dr. Masuta had already reached.

Saber simply wasn't the person to delve into this. It wasn't his study, but he supposed, of course, that she knew that.

His hands adorned with cuts, he flipped through the notebook yet again, leading him, inevitably, to its last marked page. He couldn't read it, but Saber knew by the jagged strokes and the ink splotches that it was written in haste. It was potentially the most important clue she had left him.

Hundreds of lines of Unown script were squeezed onto the canvas in the last moments his mother had used this notebook. The messy linework was a job of purpose, because she needed someone to see this.

Saber closed the book when he heard footsteps beyond his castle of readings. He grabbed a few of them to clear his vision. "Oh, Dr. Cassius, do you have anything else for—"

Between the balistraria he'd created, he was surprised to see a pair of lavender specs.

"Ah, perhaps I am not who you were expecting, but I do have gifts," he said, holding up a few books in his arms. His monochrome outfit consisted of a crimson overcoat above layers of similar hues. "I'd have visited earlier, but the International Police badgered me with interrogations today."

When Dr. Furutre set them on the table, Saber gave them a cursory glance. One was already in his growing collection, and he'd read every relevant section about the Unown language in its pages. Another was new to him, The Extinction of Sinnohan Indigenous Languages, but perhaps not all that helpful given how Unown was the only known member of its family. The rest weren't particularly noteworthy. The one at the very top, proudly stamped as a Valley Post bestseller, had an oil painting cover of a man lost in a crypt with a Magcargo lighting his way. Fiction.

"You've been toiling here for three days. A break might be in order," said Dr. Furutre.

"Thank you for the offer, but no," Saber replied. "I'm perfectly at one-hundred percent capacity! There's important business that comes first."

"Have you considered consulting with authorities?"

Saber locked eyes with Redwood, who had so far stood silently behind the man after leading him inside. The agent simply shrugged and left the two to their business.

"I spoke with that International Police detective, the weird fellow. According to him, there's a zero percent chance I'll be allowed access to proper investigation materials." Saber previously attempted to convince Redwood to be his proverbial foot-in-the-door, but as he came to learn, the detective wing of the International Police was cleanly isolated from its law enforcement. Few favors, to Redwood's knowledge, could cross that gap.

"And what have you found here?" the man asked.

Saber let his eyes roam the archives, following the winding paths he'd walked over days of research. "Not enough."

"Then perhaps your work here is finished."

"Finished?" Saber asked, incredulously. "You're joking. I won't sit around and let whoever took them from me—from us—escape justice."

Dr. Furutre stared down at him from atop those tinted glasses, unfazed by what he said. "I know what you wish, but even you believe you can't find what you're looking for here."

Perhaps it was the overwhelming smell of paper that concealed it, or maybe the creeping exhaustion squeezing his neck, but Saber only then became aware of the static that prodded for information in his skull. Not soon after, it slipped away. His reflection stared back within the man's glasses.

"What do you suggest I do?" Saber pushed the notebook as far out of his reach as he could.

"I want you to do what is best for you," he said. "That's my job."

"I didn't ask for an evaluation. My sister needs assistance far more than I do."

The curve of his lips was one of satisfaction despite the rejection. He collected the one repeat textbook, tucked it into his coat, and turned on his heel. "I already offered what you might need. It's in your hands to determine if you truly need it."

As he vanished into the shelves, Saber clutched the pulp fiction in his hand. With his eyes on the departing psychologist, he barely noticed it had crumpled in his grasp and showered the floor with scraps. He wondered what his mother would think. She'd chastise him for being such an amateur, and suggest he add a shelves' worth more to the pile.

Redwood remained in place, not yet returned to his post at the door of the library. He brushed some hairs from his eyes only for them to fall immediately back into place. "With all due respect sir, I believe he had a point. You could use a break."

"I don't need a break."

"But do you want one?"

Saber spilled the remaining paper scraps when his hand relaxed, dropping the carved husk of the book onto the hardwood. He rested his forearms on his thighs. "I don't know. It's possible. Do you know what he meant?"

"About what's best for you?" he asked, then continued when he nodded. "I suppose what you desire is more answers, so you'd go where you can find them."

Where he could find them, which certainly wasn't here. He spied the torn, reprinted painting in tatters, and the brave adventurer inviting the reader beyond the bounds of their world. Perhaps he was descending into one of numerous monuments in the world that contained Unown script.

He looked up at Redwood. "Okay. Let's go for a break."

Kris held herself tight, as if afraid she would spill her insides if she let go. There were eyes cutting into her, and though she could usually take them in stride, for some reason she felt defenseless. She was glad Ciel stood in front of her in line.

The Sinnoh League employee cafeteria was all that remained of a throne room. It just so happened that it was directly adjacent to the ancestor structure's royal kitchen, proving that the core of any kingdom, regardless of their style of government or their language or their values, was their stomachs. The castle's lineage haunted the kitchen like a spirit, its wisps smelling of everything between fermented Sharpedo to potato dumplings, demanding that the people of the Sinnoh League never forgot who they were.

It was mostly barren, hours after the dinner rush, so they only waited a short moment in the line before they were served. Ciel held up a torn scrap of paper to a baffled chef.

"Jeg er forvirret," he mumbled, then shouted something back to his other colleagues cooking.

"Oh. Right," said Ciel.

"What's the deal? I thought everyone knew Unovan." His sister hopped on her feet, probably annoyed that this setback would keep her from her own meal.

Though she yearned to simply keep her head down, her mouth shut, and her hands ready for whatever plate the kitchen gave her, Kris sighed and stepped up to the counter. The chef returned the receipt to her and she scoured the list. Ten pounds of damp moss, three pounds of Foongus flesh, two whole headless Nincada, a pound and a half of red meat, and a catalog of various vitamin supplements. She relayed the instructions and handed Ciel his list back. "He can speak Unovan well enough, but he probably can't read it. Sinnoh isn't so tied to the International League, so a lot of folks are like that."

The man soon reappeared and offered her something to interpret. She said, "They don't have Foongus, but they can substitute some other fungals."

"That's fine. Hector's not that picky," he said.

Once the more audacious orders were behind them, Kris took a tray and accepted the night's meal, Ciel and his sister copying her gesture without much thought. They claimed a table with only their personal meals as the Pokémon-specific orders would take some time to be retrieved from backroom stores. Her assigned guard stood motionless at the edge of the table, always watching in the corner of her eye.

"Are you not getting any for your Pokémon?" Ciel asked as he retrieved his capsules and summoned his Typhlosion and Rhydon. The Absol he partnered with was still in her bed upstairs.

Kris stirred a current into her soup, but the clink of the spoon against the porcelain bowl made her wince, so she dropped the utensil into the broth; only the tip remained above the floating cabbage and Chople berries. "I haven't… really spent time with my Pokémon in a bit. I'm supposed to be looking after my Mom's too, since I got along with them okay. But I haven't."

"That's fine. Most of my Pokémon don't hate stasis, so I'm sure it'll be fine for a while," he said. After a curious inspection, he unceremoniously dumped a skewered mixture of food down his throat. It explored both his cheeks, and his eyebrows raised in alternation while he judged its performance.

He offered her a few questions, which she tried her best to answer, truly. It just felt too difficult to get the words past her tongue, even for more innocent inquiries, but she told of the conditions of her stay at the Sinnoh League and pointed to the agent standing guard.

"So where are we going now?" asked Ciel's sister.

"Good question," he said. "I guess I don't have much of a destination in mind now that the Gyms aren't operational."

"Floaroma!" she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat enough to spill soup from Kris's bowl. "You heard that plane guy talk about it. Let's go and see it, it's gotta be super pretty."

"Oh yeah? And why should we?'

"Because it would make me happy."

Ciel shrugged and took another bite. "As good an idea as any, I guess."

The spoonful Kris held finally whispered for her attention. It'd been in her hand long enough to lose most of its warmth, but she downed it anyway. It was… good. Too good. The greatest thing she'd ever tasted, and she shoveled helpings down her throat before she realized the young girl's gaze was walking all over her. She slammed the spoon down, dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief, and straightened her shoulders.

Eventually, the chef returned with the Pokémon orders and personally presented them to Ciel's active Pokémon. They destroyed their meals, which were evidently served to specification. Then she noticed Ciel staring through her.

"You know, I've read somewhere that smiling can make you happier," he said.

His words changed the bite of crisp bread she took. She'd been ready to salivate over its sharp vegetable tones, but it was flavorless by the time it touched her tongue.

Did she feel unhappy? Kris couldn't fully comprehend what exactly was occurring in her mind, like she was simply a spectator unable to cross the energy barrier and reach the battlefield. Before she could really ponder what was happening, she hung her head, deflated once again.

"You just kind of," he hesitated, maybe because her face had remained frozen through his words. Was he expecting more from her? "You just smile, I guess. And it tricks your brain into thinking things are better. Um, Sorry. I figured out it wasn't a good thing to say in the middle of saying it. I'll just eat my food."

Thunderous footsteps chopped the ambiance in two. Kris didn't look up, but she could surmise who approached them, and he seemed to accelerate as he closed in.

"Oh my— Kris!"

She went limp as he dragged her from her seat, and for the second time today she was involuntarily pulled into an embrace. His was tight enough to force her lungs closed, but after the initial shock, she did find comfort in the pressure. He certainly wasn't conservative with his strength.

"You're out of your room. Are you doing fine? Have you kept on with your classwork? Oh, this is wonderful! Have you considered talking to Dr. Furutre yet?"

He seemed to have noticed she wasn't answering him and ceased asking them, content to enjoy the moment in peace. When he released her, his face was uncharacteristically soft, hiding the questions he still wanted to ask. However, it quickly crunched into a suspicious gaze. He stepped past her and his two massive arms descended on Ciel's shoulders.

"You. Leave my sister alone. She needs space to herself so she can recover!" he said.

Ciel mustered up a rational response. Swiping his tray, he shot to his feet. "Uhh, yeah, now that I think about it, you're probably right."

"Wait…" Saber moved both hands symmetrically, sliding up Ciel's neck and then holding his cheeks in his palms. He squinted. Then he cheered. "You! You were the person on the plane!"

"I'd prefer we not talk about that," said Ciel through squished cheeks.

"Yes. Yes! I appreciate your willingness to take command and ensure the safety of those around you, for those are fine traits of any Trainer!" he exclaimed, offering a hand.

As Ciel timidly returned the gesture, Saber immediately dropped to a seat beside her and dragged the boy down with him. Then he stood again, as if to order a meal, only to sit back down and shift in his seat. He made fierce eye contact with Ciel.

"So, you're aware of the Ruins of Alph," said Saber.

Something flashed on Ciel's face, and he turned to his sister. "Hey, want to see if you can ask the chef for something sweet? A cookie or something. What's Sinnohan for 'cookie?'"

"Kjeks," offered Saber.

With this task and valuable information in mind, Ciel's sister nodded profusely before speeding off from the table. She fell in line behind a few taller employees, and Ciel turned back to the group.

He scratched his neck. This was the information that earned him two scars, one on his skin and another he couldn't see. That woman, was she listening? Were the Rockets she was working with still somehow involved? He didn't know, and so he remained as vague as possible with his answer.

"Yeah, I know about it," he whispered. "I went there once, maybe about a year-and-a-half ago at this point, and we got into some places we shouldn't have been. There was someone inside looking at the monuments... I didn't see them, him, well enough. I talked to both of your, um, your parents about it."

"I see, I see. So you were the one my mother had written about. I've been researching about those and many other sites she outlined in her notes."

"What's so special about it? I know they were trying to ward away interested parties."

"The Unown Language," Saber said. "I'm going to fully translate it."

"Cynthia—Dr. Masuta—told me she already did. Or mostly."

"Judging by her notes, most of what she knew she kept only in her memory, because she only left behind some basic guidelines."

"She told me that your father was the one who requested she prevent other people from researching it," said Ciel.

"Most interesting," said Saber, noting down something. "I knew my father was involved, but they never discussed it with us. I have to pick up where my mother left off to find that connection."

Kris stared at her vague reflection in the drop of soup in her spoon. She managed one word. "Why?"

Saber, of course, took this question as a challenge. A determined crook in his face, he called over to his assigned security, who withdrew a dusted book from the pouch at his side and placed it on the table. Their mother's notebook. He leaned inward on the table, prompting Ciel to do so as well, more out of courtesy than confidentiality. Kris remained motionless.

When he flipped the book open, he let the pages fly from his fingertips until, naturally, it came to a stop at one page near the end. Every square centimeter of the once-bare canvas was covered in inked characters. A sprawling message, entirely in the text of the Unown.

"Our mother…" Saber paused himself, and took in a deep, shaking breath. Each time he said that word, he seemed to be more unsettled. "Our mother knew that she was going to die."

Kris's body lost itself. Every signal in her skin and muscles and arteries begged to shut off, to prevent any further input, but she was left painfully aware as he continued to speak. This was a mistake. She just wanted to return to the suite, seal the door behind her, and be swallowed by her bed.

"She updated her will that same night, and she left me this. I can't do the detective work needed. I can't even elaborate on her archaeological research in a knowledgeable way and find out what exactly my parents knew that painted targets on their backs, but my mother knew that. She gave me something she knew I could defeat."

Saber placed his massive hand on the center of the miniature mural, feeling the ink flow within the ridges of his fingerprints.

"I had this dream, once," he said. "I wanted to write my doctoral dissertation on the Unown Language, the greatest mystery yet unsolved by linguistic scholars. My mother was by my side all the way until she suddenly told me I couldn't anymore, and I didn't know why. Now, it's my choice to make. The one thing I always wanted to do is the only way I can find the truth, and I think my mother wanted me to find it."

He slammed the book closed and shot to his feet. He nodded to Ciel, then to Kris, then to his assigned guard, then to—as Kris could only assume—himself. He bowed deeply, stopping his head centimeters from the table. "Sorry to interrupt your meal. I best be going now."

Saber dragged her into another hug, this one much quicker and gentler, and probably wished her well, but she wasn't quite listening. His guard merely shook his head, offered them a sympathetic look, and glued himself to his charge as he stormed away.

She noticed Ciel had finished his meal by then, and when his sister returned, confused at the scene she had no doubt witnessed from the line, the girl took little time in having her share as well. The offering in front of her, however, sat untouched aside from a handful of halfhearted spoonfuls. She asked her agent to carry it to the suite and gathered her things, while Ciel recalled his Pokémon.

"You can crash in the Champions' Suite for the night," she said, ignoring the resulting ire from the agent, but he didn't follow through with his half-hearted threat.

"Thanks. We'll be out of your way by morning," Ciel replied.

"Floaroma!" shouted his sister.

Her stomach ached on the way back through the castle, and she realized that Ciel was right. She hadn't really been thinking about herself much at all, her mind wandering to places she couldn't hope to protect it from. But the thought of doing more for herself only exhausted her.

Rest called to her again. Maybe her room would feel a little more like home now.

Ciel nearly toppled from the couch when the door crashed open. Tapping his palm on his temple to hopefully pour the sleep out his ear, he became painfully aware of the holstered gun swaying in front of him.

An international police agent frantically turned over everything in the living room, barely regarding him, before he disappeared into one of the adjacent rooms in the suite. Kris stumbled out of her own room, but when he asked, she had nothing else to offer. From the window, Ciel could see yesterday's snow had been rent from the castle grounds, not by a plow but by hundreds of frantic trails of footsteps.

After a quick dressing, he stumbled into the hallway, surprised to see Kris had put herself together some in her own curiosity. The scrambling ranks of the International Police crawled across the entire building, and when they reached the grand hall, Ciel couldn't help but marvel at the manpower searching the building. Maybe the walls were hollow and that's where they'd been keeping so many.

The only familiar head, that bushy-green hair, loitered in the center of the room with an index finger on his brow and a thumb against his chin.

"What's up?" asked Kris. She struggled to peel her eyelids open after each blink. "It's way too early."

"Sebastian is missing," he said.

This woke her up, or at least gave her a little perk. "What? He's been in the library, right?"

"He instructed me to get him something to eat. No other agents were available, and I believed I could leave him to his devices." He brushed the hair from his eyes, gripping his skull in frustration. "I broke explicit orders!"

Another man in dusted boots swirled like an overboard sailor in the whirlpool of guards, and he was attempting to make his way over to them. He was completely unfamiliar to Ciel, but the fact that Kris's eyes flicked up when he approached implied she knew him. The man tilted his head at Ciel, first over his left shoulder then his right.

"Huh. I don't understand you," he said to Ciel. Understand? But the man quickly grabbed his hand in a shake. "Albert Cassius, Ph.D of Archeology of Sinnohan Origin Myth."

The title seemed more well-practiced than the rest of his speech, and Ciel remembered what Kris said about older and younger speakers. After looking between them a few times, Dr. Cassius finally settled on Kris, whom Ciel suspected was his original target.

"Your brother has communication with me. He has, uhh, I'm not sure a word…" The man leaned in close enough so the nearby guard couldn't hear his whisper. Then the man's mouth doubled in speed when it switched to foreign syllables, which Kris seemed vaguely inclined to follow.

The doctor handed her an unmarked black box somewhere in his speech and gave her a short moment to admire it. It made her lose attention completely. "This is…"

"He spoke to give it to you. It's more important to you," said Dr. Cassius.

After regarding it a little more, it dropped to Kris's side, hanging from the tips of her fingers to keep it as far as possible from wherever it was meant to go. A gift of some kind. A memento.

Dr. Cassius shuffled away as quickly as he came, taking advantage to slip back into the maelstrom before Saber's personal guard could ask what he'd been doing.

"Well, Saber could still be here," said Ciel, no longer distracted by the man. "We should go look for him."

But when he turned to Kris, he couldn't see anything written across her. No motivation, no reason. He was completely puzzled, overshadowing any urgency in the matter. She excused herself back to the Champions' suite and seeing as the entire International Police seemed to be on the case, he elected to follow.

He tried to work up the courage to ask her what she was thinking. Instead, he just decided it was for the best that he and his sister get a move on. They were done here anyway.

It didn't take very long for him to gather his things, since he hadn't truly unpacked anyway. In fact, it took much longer to tear Laina from her spot on the couch, because she wouldn't stop crying that it was too cold to get up and that it was much warmer under her borrowed blanket.

Kris and her own agent escorted them to the gate of the castle. The latter seemed to walk a little too close to the former, but he could understand, even if he didn't fully agree with the twenty-four-seven security.

"You're really not worried about him?" Ciel asked her under his breath, unsure if it was even fine to talk about.

Her face never wavered as she stared into the distance. "He's taking matters into his own hands. I… kind of wish I could be like him right now."

"He seems to be taking things well, all things considered."

"No, he's not," she said. "He's just better at hiding it."

They stepped out into the frigid morning. Ciel welcomed it—the air tasted cleaner than it did trapped within the Sinnoh League's walls. Kris held her hands and feet together.

"I guess this is goodbye, for now," he said. "I hope you know I will be ready for that rematch someday."

"What will you do?" she asked.

"Not take a plane, first of all."

She didn't laugh. He didn't expect her to, but he couldn't help but try.

"I won't stop training," he continued. Ciel looked out over the blanketed city. He took a deep, purifying breath. His sister took her place at his side, holding his hand in both of her own to preserve a little bit of warmth. "I have to be ready for when the Gyms reopen, so I can get my second Challenge Sigil and become as famous as I need to be."

She asked, "Do you want to be Champion?"

"Not my first choice," he said. "But if people need it where I'm going, I can be their own little Champion."

He and his sister descended from the paradise that failed to be. It had all been such a waste, yet for some reason, he was almost glad to have risked so much to come here. Now all he could do was keep going and wait to seize the opportunity he'd been searching for.

The next trail led to Floaroma. It wasn't the one he was looking for, but if he didn't start to walk, he'd just be frozen still.

This Volume was an exciting little thing for me. We get to see more of Kris and how she's handling her grief, as well as Ciel and Saber's attempts to make change and how they're all interacting and clashing as they move forward, hence the title Stand (Kris), Ciel (Walk), Saber (Run).

Thanks for reading and come back next time for Volume 6, Part 1: When Told To Smile. See you someday!