"The good news is that your pikachu hasn't sustained any permanent damage," Nurse Joy said, "and neither have you."
She swabbed the last of the blood from Ash's arm, which was all scraped up from his Z-crystal exploding, and wrapped it in several layers of gauze. Ash watched it all happen, feeling like the pain was still very far away, blocked by the excitement of the battle and the Z-move and wanting to make sure Pikachu was okay. Brock had always said that adrenaline was one hell of a drug—usually after Ash had gone and done something stupid, and gotten himself all beat up.
"But Pikachu will need several days' rest before you can think about battling with him again," she continued. "We'll keep him for a while, just to make sure he's stable, but you'll be able to pick him up soon."
Ash nodded forlornly. Much as he was relieved that Pikachu would be fine, he knew how much his partner hated having to sit around and do nothing. "Thanks, Nurse Joy," he said. Nurse Joy looked at him for several long moments, as though she wanted to say something more, but she moved down the counter to address another trainer carrying a sick-looking poochyena without so much as a goodbye.
Though he was reluctant to leave Pikachu by himself, Ash traipsed back out of the pokémon centre. The sun was setting low over Hau'oli's beachfront; children raced along its sands, chasing or chased by pokémon of all kinds, and men and women alike lay out on towels and in deckchairs, catching the last of the day's light. Out here, things almost felt normal, like Pikachu wasn't in intensive care.
Like they hadn't fought a god.
Ash had understood, back when he'd been battling that strange pokémon, that it hadn't been ordinary. There'd been something off about it, this ancient aura that had flooded Ash's every sense, but still—
When Kiawe had mentioned Tapu Koko on the day they'd first met, he hadn't anticipated that he'd encounter it so soon. At some point, maybe, because legendaries seemed drawn to him, almost, but never so suddenly, and never so intimately.
… Then again, he hadn't seen anything immediately miraculous in Kalos, and fate never liked to leave him alone for long.
"Ah, Ash!"
If Ash had thought him wide and imposing from afar, up close, Kahuna Hala was a wall of a man, and his loose, flowing clothing did nothing to hide his bulk. But there was something kind about his face, obscured as much of it was by thick, bushy, grey hair.
"Kahuna Hala," Ash said, dropping his head. "Konbanwa!"
The locals, he'd learned, tended to look at him weirdly whenever he spoke Johtan—but in a good way, like he was a funny little novelty. Kahuna Hala was no exception; he barked out a loud, booming laugh, hands coming to rest on his gut.
"Alola to you too, my boy!" he said. "Kiawe said you might be here."
"Is Turtonator alright?" Ash blurted. "I saw—when Tapu Koko first showed up, he fainted, and he looked pretty beat up."
Kahuna Hala hummed approvingly, as though that'd been the right thing to say. "Turtonator's a hardy thing," he assured. "He's tired, but he'll recover! Kiawe's more worried about you and your pikachu, actually."
"... He is?" Ash asked, bewildered. He liked Kiawe, and thought he was a really great trainer, but there was something a little cold about the other boy, something that separated his skin from that sweltering fire beneath. He was passionate, though, especially about pokémon, so Ash supposed his concern for Pikachu made sense. "Pikachu's fine. He's gotta stay in the pokémon centre for a bit, but Nurse Joy said I can pick him up soon!"
"Hah!" Kahuna Hala threw his head back. "he's made of tough stuff, for a rat."
Ash, bristling, opened his mouth to protest—but the gleam in the kahuna's eye quieted him. There was something wily about Hala, like everything he said was a test, in a way, of character, and of strength, and of Ash's own understanding of things he didn't even know how to explain.
"Kahuna Hala," he said, instead, "Kiawe said that Tapu Koko was the god of conflict. Is that why It battled me?"
The man hummed in thought. "Come! Walk with me," he said, setting a heavy hand on Ash's shoulder and beginning to steer him down Hau'oli beachfront, back towards Iki Town and away from the pokémon centre. "It's true that our tapu is drawn to acts of great strength, and that we honour It through battle because of that. But great strength is not found in children, Ash, and it isn't found in pikachu, either."
Again, Ash opened his mouth—then closed it. Kahuna Hala's voice was low and serious, any previous levity drained from it.
"As Kahuna, I was chosen by Tapu Koko to protect this island and its way of life, but even I have only ever caught fleeting glimpses of our guardian. A meeting, once or twice, but nothing more. You've been here—what, a week?"
"Two days."
The kahuna cleared his throat. "... Two days," he amended, "and the tapu has already battled you."
They walked until they reached Iki Town, then walked some more, until they arrived outside a wide, low hut that kind of reminded Ash of the kahuna himself. Hala led him inside, into a large, open room, where a makuhita was lounging on something that resembled a beanbag, and motioned for him to take a seat somewhere near it. He did, and the guts pokémon rolled to face him with a curious cry, gently smacking its rounded fist into Ash's open palm in greeting.
Hala disappeared for some fifteen minutes, and returned with a steaming cup of herbal tea and a bowl of stew, which he passed to Ash without ceremony. "I thought you'd be hungry," he said, while Ash inhaled the stew as though his life depended on it.
The kahuna waited until Ash was halfway through his mug of tea before speaking again. "So," he began, watching the makuhita tumble into the boy's lap, "Kiawe told me he'd told you about our Island Challenge."
Ash shifted about until the makuhita's weight was mostly over the bean bag. "Uh huh!"
"What d'you think of it? Sounds fun, no?"
He nodded emphatically, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but Kiawe said it's not for outsiders. It's an Alolan thing, like… like Z-rings."
The kahuna stroked his moustache pensively. "Ordinarily, Kiawe would be right. The Island Challenge is a traditional rite of passage for young Alolan trainers—and Z-rings are sacred tools that allow us to wield Alola's power. It's only in particularly exceptional circumstances that we would deviate from that long-lasting standard."
Ash frowned for a moment, thinking, and scratched absently at the inside of his left wrist, right beneath the cuff of his Z-ring. "Does that mean I have to give this back?"
There were a few beats of incredulous silence in which Hala simply stared at Ash, mouth a thin, unyielding line.
"... Ash," the kahuna said, very slowly, like he was talking to someone stupid. "you are the very definition of an exceptional circumstance."
Ash blinked. "I am?"
"Tapu Koko Itself selected you to wield a Z-move. It sees something in you that we haven't recognised, yet, and the challenge is designed to bring out a trainer's hidden potential." The kahuna trudged across the room to a tall set of draws and came back with an amulet embedded with shards of yellow, red, pink, and purple. "If you want to take part in it, I'll endorse you."
Wide and starry-eyed, Ash held the amulet close—then twisted around until he could clip it to his backpack, where it dangled proudly. "Arigatō gozaimasu, Kahuna!" he said, voice almost a shout. Startled, the makuhita in his lap slid down to the tiled floor and waddled over to Hala, who scooped it up in one hand as though it weighed nothing at all.
"Hah! Think nothing of it, my boy. If Tapu Koko wills it, then who am I to say no?"
It was, Ash thought, a humble way of looking at things. Kahuna Hala seemed utterly devoted to his service to Tapu Koko, as though his role in life was far bigger than just him, or Iki Town, or even Melemele as a whole.
"Thanks," he said again, regardless.
Outside, a pokémon called out into the night.
Professor Kukui's lab was… loud. There was no other word for it—it swayed, and it creaked, and there were holes in the walls and roof that were haphazardly patched up, and the murkrow that sat on one of the chest of drawers beside the downwards staircase kept cawing at the small, pink, bear-like pokémon watching it with black, beady eyes.
"That's stufful—or nuikoguma—the flailing pokémon. A normal and fighting type, bzzt! Stufful, despite looking cute, boast tremendous power, and are capable of punching holes in people with ease! They're aggressive and territorial, and will attack any stranger who tries to approach them, bzzt," Rotomdex said, voice entirely too cheerful. Ash screwed his face up and inched backwards, holding Pikachu close to his chest.
"What d'you think, eh? Useful, right?"
"Yeah," Ash said, watching the professor scoop the stufful up and scratch beneath its chin like it was a domestic eevee.
"Rotom'll be a real big help to you, yeah, 'specially since you don't know Alola all that well! It's programmed to give info in every language you can think of, and it's lived around here long enough to have that local experience too. You've used a pokédex before, right?"
"Uh huh."
"Then you know that all those boring, scientific journals are actually worth reading, even if they put you to sleep?"
Ash tugged on the brim of his cap and threw Rotom a sheepish glance. "I know an app that condenses it all," he admitted. Professor Kukui paused for a moment—then laughed.
"Fair enough, cousin! Rotom's a real smart pokémon too, yeah, so I'm sure it'll be able to summarise things for you, nice and easy. It's autodidactic—"
"Huh?"
"Self-educated," Kukui amended. "It records new data it sees and makes conclusions based on what that data infers, so that it can gain a better understanding of the world around it."
"Woah," Ash said, though he didn't really understand what the professor was talking about. "That's so cool!"
Outside, the sun was high in the sky, and it was no quieter than within the lab. Corsola puttered about on the beach, pinker than any Ash had ever seen before, though with diminutive crowns—thanks to being preyed on by mareanie, or hidoide, as Rotom gleefully explained—and a kid Ash recognised as Hau was sat on one of the rocks by the shore, their rowlet dozing in their lap, watching a pokémon that sort of looked like a sandcastle crawl slowly through the sand.
"That's a sandygast—or sunaba—the sand heap pokémon," Rotom chimed, predictably, but whatever it said after that went to waste, because Ash had already broken out into a sprint towards Hau. "Bzzt—hey! I was talking!"
Ash ignored it, vaulting up onto the rocks beside Hau. "Hi—"
Hau leaned into Ash's space, until their noses were mere inches apart.
"You're that guy who fought Tapu Koko, right?" they said, voice shrill and loud. Startled awake, their rowlet yawned, stretched, and started preening itself. "Man, that was awesome! Tutu always said Tapu Koko was elusive, but It went right up to you! What's It smell like? Was battling It scary?"
"Uh…" Ash glanced at Pikachu; Pikachu glanced back, bewildered. "I dunno…? It wasn't scary, though. A battle's a battle, no matter who you're up against!"
"Yeah, but not a legendary. I mean, it's not like you've ever fought one of them before, right?"
Ash said nothing. Hau leaned back, squinting at him for a few moments, then grinned from ear to ear, folding their arms behind their head.
"Nah, you're just messin' with me," they said decisively. "Kinda weird, though, that Tapu Koko chose to fight a foreigner, of all people. Tutu's always said that Alola should stay Alolan 'cause that's what the guardians want, but Tapu Koko didn't seem to care about that at all! Hey—maybe you've got some Alolan in you?"
"Maybe," Ash said, unconvinced. Hau was quiet for several seconds—then sat up straight, as though struck by lightning.
"Oh!" they shouted. "Almost forgot. My name's Hau—Kahuna Hala's my grandfather. This is my starter, Rowlet—" they jostled the bird in their lap, and Rowlet puffed out his chest, oozing pride— "and this—" they reached into their pocket, pulled out a poké ball, and released a pichu in a flash of red light— "Is Pichu! Hey, Pichu, see that kid's pikachu? That's what you're gonna look like, one day, and then you're gonna be a raichu! Cool, huh?"
"Pichu pi- chu!"
"Nice to meet you, Hau, Rowlet, Pichu," Ash said, because even though he already knew Hau's name, it'd have been rude of him to say so. "My name's Ash, from Pallet Town, and this is my partner, Pikachu! Oh, and that's Rotom."
Rotom buzzed proudly. "At your service, bzzt!"
Hau did this thing where they tilted their head like a confused hoothoot and frowned at Ash's waist. "... That's it? You don't have any other pokémon?"
Ash ran his hand over the side of Pikachu's face. "Not with me."
"Well, you might wanna catch some, 'cause when I did the first trial, I was attacked by two pokémon at once, and the totem pokémon—that's the one you have to beat—was crazy strong. Like, it was surrounded by this super powerful aura—"
Ash tensed up, shoulders going tight.
"—and it took both of my partners just to stand a chance against it!"
"Pi kaa," Pikachu cooed, and Ash nodded, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder fur. It was right—Hau's pokémon were both inexperienced, and Pikachu had felled all kinds of powerful opponents. Taking down the first totem wouldn't be difficult.
… But he couldn't use Pikachu for every battle, and he didn't want to, either.
"You could catch that sandygast, bzzt," Rotom suggested, alighting on Ash's backpack. Ash jumped—he'd almost forgotten about it—then watched the sandygast in question creep up along the shore, open its 'mouth' wide—
And swallow one of the corsola.
"Wait—!" Ash leapt to his feet, watching the sandygast sink slowly. "Pikachu, quick, do something!"
"Wait, Ash, sandygast are—"
Pikachu loosed a powerful thunderbolt, which struck the sandygast head-on—and dissipated harmlessly.
"—ground types, bzzt," Rotom finished, lamely. "And ghost types. Most of Pikachu's moves won't do anything to it, bzzt!"
Though physically uninjured, the thunderbolt must have wounded the sandygast's pride, because it reared back up to its full height and fired off a shadow ball. Pikachu's cheeks sparked, ready to counter it, but another pokémon—small, brown, doglike—cleaved through the attack with a bite and raced towards the sandygast, throwing itself into it with another bite. The two scuffled, limbs flailing and sand being thrown about haphazardly, before the sandygast coughed up a pale, trembling corsola and melted away.
Ash watched, stunned, as the doglike pokémon pushed its muzzle underneath the corsola's shock-frozen body and rolled it back towards its friends.
"That's a rockruff—or iwanko—the puppy pokémon, bzzt," Rotom stage-whispered, completely immune to situational cues. "Rockruff are—"
"Shh, Rotom," Ash said, placing a hand over Rotom's screen. "Hey, Hau, is that—"
"Nope, not mine," Hau replied. "He hangs around the professor's lab, but he's never caught him. He's always training out here, and sometimes he disappears and comes back all beat up, but nobody knows where he goes. The professor said he wants to get strong and learn rock throw someday, so he'd never be happy as a lab pokémon, but he's never wanted to go with any new trainers, either. He sure is picky."
"Kinda like Gekkouga," Ash murmured, quiet enough that only Pikachu could hear him, and his partner squeaked an assent. His legs moved of their own volition, bringing him across the stretch of sand towards the rockruff, and he dropped to his knees a few feet away from him. "Hey!"
The rockruff picked hhis head up and looked at him, bright-eyed and inquisitive, tail wagging.
"You're really cool, y'know," Ash said. The rockruff's tail wagged faster and faster until it was a blur behind it. "And strong. I mean, Pikachu's fought some super powerful pokémon before, but even he couldn't do any damage to that sandygast at all, and you managed to rescue that corsola all by yourself!"
It was a white lie—Ash knew iron tail probably would've been enough, if he'd had the sense to use it—but the rockruff didn't need to know that. He held out a hand and the rockruff pushed closer, sniffing Ash's palm and licking his fingers, muzzle warm and tickly.
"Hau said you wanna get even stronger, and even learn rock throw. 'S that right?" The rockruff yapped in response. "Y'know, I have pokémon that can learn all kinds of powerful moves back home. Waruvial can use stone edge, and Gantle's got a super strong rock blast! If you want, I'd love to help you master rock throw, and become the strongest rock type in Alola."
The rockruff perked up, expression full of fire and fight. It was the sort of look that Ash sought in his pokémon: fierce, and determined, and unyielding, even in the face of hard work.
"We can make a deal," Ash continued. "I help you learn rock throw, and you help me beat my first trial."
It sounded like a fair trade-off to Ash, and it seemed like the rockruff thought so, too, because he cocked his head, pondered the offer for a few moments, and then reared up, planting his paws on Ash's shoulders and scraping his face with the rocks in his mane in what Ash presumed was a big, resounding yes.
"Seems like he likes you!" Hau called.
"Yeah," Ash said, laughing around the rockruff's brutal affection, "sure does!"
Ash was a weird kid, Professor Kukui decided. It had been painfully obvious that there was something unusual about him back at the festival, and Kukui's suspicions had only deepened after speaking to him. The kid battled like a seasoned veteran, and there was something perspicacious and stress-hollow about his eyes, but he was so damn small, like he hadn't been alive long enough to accrue any experience at all. He marvelled at the most insignificant things—a stufful, a particularly shiny rock, Kukui's vast collection of hyper potions—but seemed utterly unbothered by the importance of Tapu Koko's blessing.
Lunala's heavens, his partner was a pikachu, yet together, they had stood valiantly against a deity. And now, the boy was out on the beach outside the lab, urging a rockruff that had rejected all other trainers—Kukui included—through a ruthless training programme, running it up and down, attacking trees and rocks and invisible enemies alike.
"Tackle, Iwanko! Break through that boulder!" Ash shouted, and the rockruff—Iwanko—actually listened to him, throwing his entire weight into a large stone. He bounced back, picked himself back up, and slammed himself into the rock several more times, until it cracked, then splintered, then crumbled apart.
Iwanko yowled, victorious, and barrelled into the kid, knocking him into the sand and rubbing his mane against his face. Kukui hadn't ever seen the pup so attached to someone. It was like he and Ash saw the world through the same eyes.
"Looking good, you guys!" he called from the porch. Ash sat up, hair a mess of sand, and held the rockruff against his stomach, beaming.
"Thanks, Professor! Iwanko's really coming along, isn't it?"
It was. Iwanko had always held potential, but he had lacked finesse: without someone to polish his jagged edges and hone his raw talent, he had been promising, but never particularly special.
And they'd only been at it for under a week—Kukui had all but moved Ash into the lab, partly due to Iwanko's wailing and whining whenever the kid tried to leave—but the improvement was undeniable. The rockruff moved more smoothly, body low like a predator's when he loped about—and perhaps he was trying too hard, but there was something endearing about all that effort.
"Sure is, cousin," he said. "What're you plannin' to do about teaching him rock throw, though? All this running up 'n' down is good, but it doesn't do much for that."
"'Course it does!" Ash insisted. "It's about focus, right? So you run up and down and channel all your energy into one big push, and then you can do anything! The more focus Iwanko has, the easier it'll be for him to learn a new move."
There was more to learning a new move than simple desire—Iwanko's lack of success so far was proof of that—but the kid seemed so earnest about it that Kukui didn't have the heart to say so; and, privately, he was curious to see how successful this training method would be. He leaned back against the open door and watched Ash and Iwanko train for another twenty minutes, before the two of them stopped in front of the lab, breathing harsh and shaky.
"Hey, Professor, I know Nurse Joy said Pikachu can't battle for a bit, but can he use a move? Just so I can show Iwanko somethin'?"
Kukui shrugged. "So long as you don't push him."
The 'somethin'' Ash wanted to show Iwanko, it turned out, was electro ball. Kukui didn't get it, at first, but then the kid started talking about how just as when Iwanko used bite, he channelled all his energy into its teeth and thought 'super mean thoughts' to turn that focus into dark-type energy, channelling energy into your rear could yield attacks that spawned around the tail.
(At least, that's what Kukui presumed he was saying. Most of the kid's explanation consisted of grand gestures and dramatic sound effects that didn't communicate anything technical, but definitely served to start a fire in the rockruff's eyes, and maybe that was the point. Not cold, hard facts and clinical research, but willpower, and heart. Like this, Ash felt almost Alolan in his authenticity.)
"That's what we did back when Pikachu was still learning iron tail, anyway," Ash said, rubbing that spot behind the electric type's left ear that made him melt happily into the ground. Then he stood, backed up, and waved his arms about. "'Kay, Iwanko, you try it! Focus real hard, and aim at me!"
"Ash—"
"I know what I'm doin', Professor!"
"Yeah, but—"
"Is this not your preferred method of training, bzzt?" Rotom said, hovering about Kukui's head, and the professor stopped protesting, after that, though his expression was flinty and nervous. He was a grown man with a degree in this sort of thing. Ash was an overenthusiastic child.
Iwanko barked and snarled, paws kicking up sand, and gave it a damn good go. At first, he managed little more than an entertaining little intimidation dance—but Ash kept shouting, and after a while, Pikachu joined in, and then Kukui called out some encouragement—
And something happened. It wasn't quite rock throw, but the pebbles around Iwanko's neck began to glow, and the air around his tail shimmered and warped like it wanted to give into all that built-up power. Iwanko yowled; the air rippled and stilled; and then it flared again, and a small handful of rocks struck Ash's crossed arms.
"I can't believe it sort of worked, bzzt!" Rotom marvelled, screen flashing as its database updated. "Satoshi's not a bad trainer, bzzt."
Kukui watched Ash run across the beach and fling Iwanko into the air, praising him in a dialect that the professor didn't fully understand, but also didn't need to.
"No," he agreed. "He's really not."
Ash crawled through the dense foliage, eyes still bleary with sleep. Pikachu, tucked in his pyjama shirt, dozed quietly; up ahead, Iwanko pressed on determinedly, leading Ash out of the forest and up onto a ledge overlooking a great, rocky outcrop.
"Whazzis'?" Ash murmured, shifting Pikachu into his arms and sprawling out on his stomach. Below, several pokémon gathered: some were recognisable, like the sudowoodo, or the braviary, or the magmar; others, like the two wolflike creatures perched higher than the rest, were utterly foreign to him.
Iwanko looked at them as though they were gods. They struck up an eerie howl, and the rockruff scrambled down the cliffside to the gathering. It was—beautiful, if unnerving. Ash felt cold all over, despite the humid warmth of the night.
Then the clustered pokémon scattered, pairing up, and Ash watched Iwanko prowl the edges, as though thinking, before throwing himself at a magmar. The magmar almost seemed to expect the ambush, knocking Iwanko back with a blistering fire punch, and Ash abruptly realised what was going on.
These pokémon were training with each other. Iwanko had been desperate to learn a rock type move for that magmar.
… But rock throw was still so new to the rockruff, and it was painfully apparent in the slow charge-up time. Iwanko retreated, trying to buy himself precious extra seconds, but flamethrower disrupted him, time and time again, pushing him into a corner. He was resolute, but Ash could see how quickly he was tiring.
"Dodge it, Iwanko! Use your surroundings and keep moving!" he shouted, unable to help himself. Crouched on one of the pillars overlooking the battleground, one of the two wolflike pokémon—reddish and bipedal—turned and fixed him with a narrow, crimson stare, but Ash didn't quail.
They hadn't really worked on dodging, during their training, but Iwanko was fast, and he was agile. The magmar closed in on him again with another fire punch, and Iwanko used the boulder behind him as footing to vault out of the way, springing higher and higher. The rocks around his neck glowed; the air around his tail bent, shimmered and snapped; and he flipped his body head over heels, firing off a vicious rock throw that nailed the magmar in the face.
It was the hit Iwanko needed to gather momentum. The pup rushed in and closed his jaws around the magmar's arm, using that drive to swing out of the way of another flamethrower. Ash wanted to shout—to command—but this wasn't his fight, and Iwanko didn't look like he needed him, either. He ran circles round the magmar, summoned another rock throw, narrowly dodged one final, valiant fire punch—and then it was all over. The magmar hit the dirt, and when the dust cleared, it didn't rise.
Ash watched the pokémon gather around as Iwanko helped his fallen foe up. Up on the pillars, the wolflike creatures started another howl; Iwanko threw his head back to join, and this time, it sounded like a victory song.
The girl was pale and thin, skin clinging to her bones, and her dress—once white—was a drenched, dirty shade of off-grey. Her hat hung low over her gaunt face, ripped at the top, and her hair was limp and filthy. She shook perpetually, didn't look people in the eye, and when she spoke, she did so in a tremulous, whispering voice.
"Hello, is—is Professor Burnet here?"
"Who's asking?"
"I, um—" the girl fidgeted, restless— "someone with information? Please, I just want to speak to her, I have—"
"Look, kid," the analyst sighed, "this place isn't safe for children, and the professor's busy right now—"
"Please," the girl begged, fumbling with the zip on her bag, "I have—look, I just—"
The analyst fell silent, scrutinising the contents of her bag for several long seconds. "... Where did you get that?"
"I want to speak to Professor Burnet," the girl insisted, closing her bag back up. "I'm not—I won't speak to anyone until you take me to her. Please."
The analyst muttered something under his breath, sharp and irritated, then disappeared into the laboratory. He returned a few moments later, motioned for the girl to follow him, and led her down a silver, sterilised corridor towards a thick, metal door.
"In here," he said. The girl swallowed, heart pounding in her throat, and pushed her way inside.
The lab was organised chaos, a mess of wires and humming computer monitors. Professor Burnet turned as the girl entered—and after a brief moment of hesitation, offered her a kind smile.
"Can I help you?" she asked. The girl tightened her grip on her bag strap and approached the professor on shaky legs, feeling as weak and unsteady as a newborn deerling.
"You're researching the wormholes, right? You know about the ultra beasts?"
The colour drained from Professor Burnet's face.
"It's okay," the girl said, quickly, mouth dry. "I already know all about it, I—I know—so… you don't have to lie."
She'd… seen them, the ultra beasts, and she'd seen the atrocities they were capable of. She'd seen the things that were supposed to fight them, and she'd seen the atrocities they were capable of, and the way they were treated, afterwards, for behaving according to their programming. She'd seen things that looked like people go in and out of portals that took them between dimensions, and she'd seen their numbers dwindle between missions, and then bulk back up as they were replaced by other not-people.
She'd seen experiments so unnatural, so unholy, her brain couldn't comprehend them, even now. She'd… she'd been an experiment, once. Some part of her still felt like maybe she was.
Absently, she rubbed at a sore spot behind her ribs, where the skin was raised and scarred.
Professor Burnet rose, splaying both hands on the desk between her and the girl. "I know about them," she admitted, finally. "I'm still researching what causes the wormholes, though."
"I can tell you," the girl blurted. Professor Burnet blanched further, if such a thing was possible. "I can—please, I can tell you, just—can you promise—" she wrung her hands. "... Please, I need somewhere to—I need a place to stay, just for a while, and rest up, and—"
"Where are your parents?" Professor Burnet asked, impossibly gentle. The girl dropped her head and was quiet.
"... Please," she repeated, feeling rather like a broken record. The professor approached her slowly, set one hand on her pale, freezing shoulder, and crouched in front of her.
"What's your name?"
The girl shivered, and unzipped her bag. Nestled inside, a nebulous pokémon slept, so still it could very well have been dead. When she scooped it out and held it in her palms, it stirred, weakly, but did not wake.
She took a deep breath. "Can you fix it?" she pleaded, voice shrill and high. "I promise, if you fix it, I'll tell you everything I know."
The prototype looked rudimentary, but it wasn't supposed to be pretty. It curled with its back hunched, suspended in liquid yet painstakingly conscious, and eyed the researcher through the thick pane separating them warily.
It had never seen the world outside its tube; never known any life but one of solitude and imprisonment. Still, it was remarkably more docile than its predecessors had seemed on tape, even without any attempted socialisation. It had not tried, at any point, to lunge for her—had remained rather quiet and complacent despite its baleful glare.
And, despite its unattractive, unnatural appearance, it was healthy, and it was powerful. Its body was all packed muscle and gnarled claws and fangs. It looked—
It looked more like a weapon than a living creature.
She imagined the president's beaming face, when she presented him with such a success. A hero, he'd call her, most likely. He'd probably tell her she'd saved them all from certain doom.
The researcher smiled. If it remained stable until the end of the week, they could proceed with future trials, and if it survived those, they could work on training it.
And then she'd be one step closer to a promotion.
A/N:
'Iwanko' (Rockruff) | Male, rock type.
Jolly nature. Speed is boosted; special attack is decreased.
Ability: Own Tempo. This pokémon is immune to confusion and the effects of intimidate.
Moves: Tackle, bite, sand attack, howl, rock throw.