A/N: me in the last chapter's notes: hopefully my schedule should smooth out
also me: [disappears for several months]

i'm really sorry about my absence ! irl life has been unexpectedly hectic, and unfortunately i just haven't been able to devote the time nor passion this story deserves. i don't want to make any scheduling promises just yet, but i'm not done with this fic, even if it's taken me a while to finish this chapter! i hope it's worth the wait, for anyone who comes back to read it.

anyway, happy this-fic-is-officially-longer-than-the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe update ! it's weird to think that this fic is already longer than that book, haha. can't wait for it to exceed more books' word counts!

Ash left Paniola Ranch early that morning. Lillie had already returned to Heahea City two evenings before, bundling Nebby tightly into her bag and accepting Kiawe's offer of a ride on his charizard after only minor insistence from him, but Kiawe's parents had demanded Ash stay the night—the ranch, they'd argued, was far closer to Brooklet Hill than the city—then the next, when the weather up at Brooklet Hill was too tumultuous for trial-goers. Ash felt a little bad, not getting to say goodbye to Professor Kukui in person, but Melemele was only a mantine surf away (and he could always ring, Rotom had reminded him in a tinny, officious voice).

Kiawe had already left for his morning job before school by the time Ash dragged himself out of bed, and Mimo was already up and dressed, sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of hot cocoa and an oddly sullen, uncertain expression on her face. Her eyes were dark and sunken, bottom lip worried by her teeth, and Curly was bundled in her lap, leaning into the absentminded petting of her fingers and cooing in that gentle way Pikachu did whenever Ash got himself all worked up and upset over something. Ash frowned.

"Alola," he greeted, and Mimo brightened at his voice, picking her chin up from her chest.

"Alola, Ash! Mama made scrambled eggs, if you want some." She jerked her head over towards the pan on the stove, but her voice still sounded hollower than Ash was used to. "Gotta keep your energy up if you're gonna take on the trial today, right?"

Ash blinked, moving towards the pan. "You know about that?" he asked. Mimo nodded.

"Mhm! Mama said you were leaving today. And I saw the thingy on your bag, so I knew you were doing the Island Challenge." She tilted forwards a little, jostling Curly gently. "I really wanna do it when I'm bigger, but Kiawe says I can't, 'cause I might get hurt." Her voice grew low and mocking, then, in a poor imitation of Kiawe's, and it was so stupid that Ash began to laugh. "He never even let me go with him when he started his, cause he said I was too little back then. But I'm not little now! I'm six!"

"Uh huh," said Ash, seriously. "Y'know, Bonnie was seven when me 'n' her 'n' her brother journeyed through Kalos. And Max was seven too, in Hoenn."

Thinking about it like that was… weird, putting Bonnie and Max in the same age bracket, because Max hadn't seemed that small when Ash had travelled with him, but Bonnie had, moments of startling wisdom tempered by an otherwise overeager naivety. Maybe it was because Clemont had always felt more like a parent to Bonnie than May had to Max—just as Kiawe felt like one to Mimo, even as she resisted it.

"See! And that's not much bigger than me. That's like… less than a year!" Mimo threw her hands in the air and leaned back over her chair, swinging her legs out in front of her and kicking the underside of the table. "I bet it wasn't even that dangerous, either. Kiawe's just trying to scare me."

Ash shovelled a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth and thought about the way Kalos had burned. His shoulders curved a little, creases appearing between his brows. "Wanna come with me today?" he asked, in lieu of an answer; Mimo sat up straight, hugging Curly to her chest, beaming from ear to ear.

"I thought you'd never ask! I'll be good, I promise. Mama'll say yes, she always does—it's Kiawe who says no."

"Kiawe's not here," Ash pointed out, around another mouthful of scrambled eggs. They were slightly sweet and slightly acidic, imbued with the underlying taste of pineapple. "He's not gonna be here until after school."

Mimo's smile grew mischievous, conspiratorial. "Plenty of time to do the trial, get the Z-crystal, and come back! He doesn't even need to know."

Kiawe's mom sent them off with even more saimin and a ride stoutland that made Nyabby go all tense and weird, for a bit, before he pushed his face into the ruf at the back of its neck and disappeared into its fur. The stoutland didn't seem to mind Nyabby's claws, and Ash didn't have the heart to pull Nyabby away, so even when they arrived at Brooklet Hill, he left the litten there, purring between the stoutland's paws while it drenched him in viscous saliva.

"Play nice," he said, and the stoutland woofed at him gently, licking him for good measure too. He wiped its spittle from his cheek with a half-laugh, half-grimace, then set off over the bridge and into the trial zone, as Kiawe had called it. A place he wasn't allowed to leave until he either won or… didn't, unless he wanted to have to start the trial all over again. The way he'd said it made Ash think trials were usually gruelling ordeals—more gruelling, even, than gym matches.

And battling Trial Captain Ilima had fun, but Ash wondered if maybe it was a bad thing, that he didn't know how trials worked. The way Hau had spoken about it made it seem impossible, like Totem Araquanid was unbeatable.

But Brock's onix had felt insurmountable, at first. No pokémon was invincible—even legendaries could be brought to their knees.

"So where's the totem?" Mimo ran to catch up, slipping her hand into Ash's and tugging until he looked down at her. She really did remind him of Bonnie, he thought; she shared that same exuberance.

"I dunno. That's what we've gotta figure out."

"How are you gonna beat it?"

"You'll see. I've got a super secret weapon, though."

"Mmm…" Mimo screwed up her face in a pout, but she let the topic drop. She was quiet enough after that for a while, swinging her and Ash's arms and skipping more than walking, until they came upon a girl with her back turned, gripping a fishing pole tightly and watching her lure bob on the surface of one of the many pools in the area.

She was a little shorter than Ash, with dark blue hair and wide blue trousers with patterns reminiscent of waves. Clipped to her belt, Ash noticed a little talisman reminiscent of the one Trial Captain Ilima had worn in their hair and that Kiawe wore around his neck from his grandfather, though the teardrop was navy, this time, instead of pink or red. He wondered if the three were connected, somehow, or if it was just an Alolan thing.

At her side was a pokémon Ash had never seen before. It sort of reminded him of a seel, only smaller and pointier, with a pale ruff around its neck and a clownish pink nose.

"Hey, that's Lana and Popplio," Mimo told him, before shouting the girl's name louder, waving. Lana turned at that, staring at them with inscrutable blue eyes—everything about her was very blue, Ash thought—before she smiled, reeling in her untouched lure, bending at the waist, and picking her pokémon—Popplio—up.

"Mimo! And…" she trailed off, tilting her head to one side and studying Ash.

"Oh, this is Ash! He's Kiawe's friend. He's from Kanto, which Kiawe says is super far away."

"Hey, you're the one who told Kiawe you'd fished up a kyogre," Ash said, remembering Hau's teasing tone when they'd told him they didn't believe anything he had to say about his past, even if Ash was pretty sure there were videos and news stories online for some of them, if Hau bothered to look them up. He remembered being sent one by Brock about Kalos, shortly before he'd travelled to Alola, and remembered his throat closing up, weirdly, even though he didn't know why. Something about people acknowledging the things he'd done like they were weird, like he was weird, like he was—different, it made him—

Lana swung her fishing rod and tapped the brim of Ash's cap with it. "I did fish up a kyogre," she insisted, "Hau doesn't know what they're talking about! It must've gotten lost in a storm, and that's why it was in Alola."

"Really?" Mimo gasped, eyes sparkling. Lana nodded smugly.

"Mhm! I found it right here in Brooklet Hill." Ash didn't think Brooklet Hill was big enough to hold a kyogre, but he didn't say that. "Who knows—maybe we'll find another one today."

Mimo's grip on Ash's hand turned painful. "I want to see a kyogre!" she demanded, gazing up at him. "C'mon, Ash, let's go find a kyogre!"

Ash flushed, grinning nervously. "What about my trial?"

Lana's expression shifted, then. "You're here for the trial?" Ash nodded, and her eyes dropped to the amulet tied to his backpack. "Ah, of course," she said. "Of course you are. Well, you're in luck, because I know this place inside out, and I know exactly where the Z-crystal is."

"You do?" Mimo wondered.

"I do! It's in the middle of the lake at the bottom of Brooklet Hill. I can show you, if you'd like."

She led Ash and Mimo down a dirt path interconnected by wooden walkways that bridged the various ponds of water leading to the lowermost part of the trial zone, which opened up into a vast lake bordered by sand and shrubbery. The waters were calm and still, breeze light, but Pikachu bristled anyway, ears high and alert. He shifted his weight forward, in the way he did when he was preparing to jump off Ash's shoulder—and Ash stopped him, gently, with a hand to the chest.

"Not right now, bud," he said. Pikachu flattened his ears and sulked in confused protest. "I know, but I want you to wait a bit. You've been battling a lot lately."

Pikachu chittered in a way Ash ascertained to mean something like but I like battling. He smiled.

"Yeah, but I want you to wait a bit. Besides, there's someone else I want to use first."

"You can sit with me 'n' Curly if you want, Pikachu!" Mimo said, patting her shoulder, and Pikachu—with one final, dramatic sigh—abandoned Ash to join her.

Ash had thought about the trial a lot, in the day after Hau had told him about it. It'd weighed on his mind long into the afternoon, and when he'd finally spoken to Professor Oak about it, he'd been no closer to coming up with a strategy or a solution or even beginning to work out how to approach the trial than he had been before he'd known anything about it. The extra knowledge had made him feel like he'd taken several steps backwards in his preparation.

He'd bemoaned this to Professor Oak, who'd sat sagely sipping from a cup of tea, a wry little smile on his face. Pikachu couldn't fly, he'd complained, and neither could Iwanko or Nyabby—and no terrestrial strategy would work. Hau had said so.

"It's a shame," Professor Oak had mused, "that you don't have any pokémon that can fly."

Ash tugged a poké ball from his belt, flicked the catch with his thumb, and a pokémon—resplendent, flaxen, avian—appeared in a flash of red light.

"Everyone, meet Yorunozuku!" he said. "Yorunozuku, this is Mimo, Curly, Lana, and—"

"You have an alternately-coloured pokémon, bzzt?!"

"— and Rotom," Ash finished, lamely, but the pokédex had already torn itself free from his backpack and set upon Yorunozuku with an eager madness that reminded Ash a little of Brock whenever he saw a girl he thought was pretty.

"What type of pokémon is it, Rotom?" Mimo asked cluelessly, but if Rotom heard her, it didn't acknowledge her, too enamoured with Yorunozuku's gaudy sheen.

Yorunozuku twisted his head upside down, eyes shut against the blinding flash of Rotom's camera, and Ash laughed nervously. "Rotom," he said, a warning, "I don't think—"

But Rotom ignored him, too, tugging at Yorunozuku's sharply curving brows, prodding at his patterned chest, snapping pictures from every angle—

Until Yorunozuku grew tired and, righting his twisted head, lunged forwards and pecked Rotom's screen hard enough to make it flash an awkward, bruising purple.

Rotom made a noise that sounded like a modulated cough. Ash got the sense it was maybe a little embarrassed, or shocked, because its excitement seemed to dissipate almost immediately, and it drifted back to cling to his cap, sheepish even once it began to speak. "Noctowl—or Yorunozuku—the owl pokémon. A normal and flying type, bzzt! Intelligent and cunning, noctowl are masters of nocturnal hunting: they can see clearly in almost total darkness, bzzt, and their feathers make their flight soundless. An ancient symbol of wisdom in Johto, noctowl were once called the emperors of dark nights. This one is… awfully small, for its species, bzzt."

If looks could kill, Ash reckoned Rotom's ghost typing would be a little more literal.

"Small… but mighty," Mimo mused, "like me!" And Yorunozuku puffed out his chest, preening.

Ash turned his attention back to the vast, tranquil lake. "So… is the totem in there?"

"Somewhere," Lana confirmed. "It never strays from the lake unless it's pursuing an unlucky trial-goer… I heard that sometimes, when it's particularly hungry, it eats its challengers."

Mimo shuddered, shifting until she was partly tucked behind Ash, but her eyes were bright and excited. "Maybe it's sleeping," she suggested hopefully. "Y— Yor— Yoru could just fly out there and grab the Z-crystal. It'd be easy peasy!"

Yorunozuku turned and affixed Ash with a cool, judgemental stare. Ash didn't need to read far into it to know that the noctowl was thinking the same thing he was: fat chance.

But they couldn't stand ashore forever, watching the water lap at the sand, listening to the wingull call from the cliff faces. Ash white-knuckled his cap, dusted off his litten print t-shirt, and squared his shoulders. "Alright, Yorunozuku," he called; the noctowl twisted his head until it was almost upside down. "Fly out straight towards the Z-crystal, but keep high!"

To his side, Lana snickered, a barely-there sound muffled by her palm, but Ash ignored it. Yorunozuku unfurled his brassy wings and took to the skies, shooting out overhead. The path was clear and straight, Z-crystal drawing ever closer—

And the water beneath him surged, a beam of ice cleaving through the air. Yorunozuku dropped out of the way, forced into a tight roll to the right, and looped back around, hovering some twenty metres from the rock. As though nothing had ever happened, the rolling waters settled.

Lana clasped her hands behind her back and smiled a dangerous smile. "Looks like it's awake," she said.

Ash glared at her. "Y'think?" he groused. "Try again, Yorunozuku!"

He did—and the same thing happened. The noctowl banked steeply, twisting his body out of the way, and Ash chewed on the skin beside his thumbnail contemplatively. So long as the totem could hide like that—submerged in the safety of the water, shooting ice beams to keep Yorunozuku away—they'd get nowhere.

Unless— Ash's eyes lit up. "Use psychic on the Z-crystal!" he shouted. Yorunozuku's eyes flashed a pale, sickly pink; the waterium Z lifted, dislodged from its place on the rock—

And the totem came with it, launching itself high out of the water with a shrieking, muffled rasp. It was—huge, bigger than Rotom had said araquanid were, and Ash felt slightly sick, looking at it. He wasn't scared of any pokémon, but something about the sheer scale of it was— "Look out! Air slash!" he yelled. The totem flung itself at Yorunozuku, all long, sharp, stabbing limbs, and Yorunozuku met it with blue-blurring wings, whipping up blades of air that struck like scythes.

"Don't let up! Use moonblast!"

It wasn't a move Ash had ever seen Yorunozuku use before. But Professor Oak said the noctowl had been training, after Sinnoh, and had learned a whole wealth of new moves, should it ever be called upon to battle again. Ash wanted to use them all.

Yorunozuku widened his eyes, white as full moons, and flung a deep pink orb at the totem—only for it to slip, silently, under the water, evading. It leapt back out behind the noctowl, hitting him with dive. For a moment, he flailed as though half-caught in the totem's water bubble, before his thrashing broke him out, bedraggled but free—

And the totem roared a gurgling roar. Behind Yorunozuku, something darted out from the shrubs along the shoreline, zipping across the lake's surface.

"Behind you!" Ash shouted. The something—a masquerain, Ash realised—blurred, too fast even for Yorunozuku, and hit him from behind with an energy ball. "Moonblast!"

Yorunozuku tried—but the masquerain flared its antennae and blinded him with a flash of white light. The moonblast arced, harmlessly detonating in the water, and another strike from the totem's long limbs sent the noctowl flying.

"Yoru!" Mimo yelled, distress bleeding into her voice. In her arms, Curly trembled, paws over her face. Ash bared his teeth in a frustrated grimace.

"Pull back and use air slash!"

Yorunozuku fluttered bedraggled wings and lifted to a safer altitude, covering his retreat with razor-sharp wind. He landed clumsily back on shore at Ash's feet, drenched and disoriented, but stood still and proud while Ash towelled him off with a spare pikachu t-shirt he'd tucked away in his backpack. Out on the lake, Totem Araquanid loomed over the Z-crystal; the masquerain hovered low over the water, antennae wide and threatening.

"What's that?" Mimo breathed, holding Curly tight. Rotom rubbed the space between its eyes in an uncannily human gesture.

"Masquerain—or amemoth—the eyeball pokémon. A bug and flying type, bzzt! Masquerain are incredibly nimble; their four wings allow them to fly in any direction, but if they become wet, they become immobile. They use the patterns on their antennae to intimidate enemies, and they nest on shorelines near open water, bzzt."

"Sometimes, totem pokémon call allies to help them protect their Z-crystal," Lana added, unhelpfully late. "Totems have complete control over all the pokémon living in their territory. Nobody really knows why, but Professor Kukui said it could have something to do with the energy they give off, like a sort of aura."

At his side, Ash's hand spasmed. "We'll just take them both out," he said decisively. Almost experimentally, he called for Yorunozuku to use air slash; predictably, the masquerain blurred and dodge with lightning speed. It was fast, he thought. Too fast. Beating it would be a matter of slowing it down, stopping its movements for one crucial moment and capitalising on its hesitation.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, turning towards Pikachu. "Pikachu, are you up to fight?"

Pikachu wagged his tail and squinted his eyes in an expression that Ash figured was meant to be fierce, but only really looked kind of cute. He extended his arm, pointing at the rocks that stretched out into the water offshore. "Get as far out onto those rocks as you can, okay? Wait for me to tell you what to do. Yorunozuku, I need you to get the masquerain to chase you. Do whatever it takes!"

"What are you thinking, Satoshi?" Rotom asked. Ash turned to look at it, and at its screen, which still showed masquerain's pokédex entry. A grin broke out across his face.

"You'll see," he promised. Rotom tilted a little, question marks flashing across its display.

Yorunozuku struck in a flurry of moonblasts, launching himself at the masquerain; fast as a ninjask, it shot out of the way, parrying with an energy ball that Yorunozuku shredded with air slash.

"Head for the totem!" Incensed, the araquanid lifted its head, water sloshing in its bubble, and shrieked a call to action that pushed the masquerain into an almost frantic pursuit of the noctowl. "Now fly back towards Pikachu!"

Yorunozuku soared, the masquerain hot on his tail feathers and closing the gap with every passing second; he drew nearer and nearer to the jagged rocks where Pikachu lurked, path set for collision—

"Up! Hypnosis!" Yorunozuku shot upwards, eyes flaring blue, and the masquerain stalled, spellbound.

"Hyper voice! Pikachu, use iron tail on the lake!" Water cascaded in one long arc, consuming the masquerain; when it settled, the masquerain fluttered weakly, wet wings barely able to support its body weight, and Pikachu's electroweb finished it off.

"Ah," Lana said. "Not bad. Using the masquerain's weakness to water to take it down…" she glanced over at Ash and smiled. "A decent strategy."

"Thanks! I think." He crouched in the sand, reaching out to pet Yorunozuku and Pikachu in turn once the noctowl touched down onshore. "Now we've just gotta take out the totem."

"And get the Z-crystal," Mimo added, eyes like stars.

And get the Z-crystal. If Ash lifted his head and squinted across the water, he could see it, deep blue and glittering in the morning sunlight, shadowed by the hulking form of its wild protector. He bit the tip of his tongue, thinking.

"Tell me about araquanid again, Rotom," he said, after a moment.

"Araquanid—or onishizukumo—the water bubble pokémon. A water and bug type, bzzt! Araquanid are a hunting species that deliver fatal headbutts and drown their prey within the water bubble around their head, bzzt. Their long limbs allow them to traverse all manner of terrains in pursuit of what they want."

Ash frowned. "Say that first bit again."

"Araquanid—or onishizukumo—"

"The bit after that."

"A water and bug type, bzzt…?"

Ash scratched the back of his neck. "The bit after that."

Rotom threw its arms in the air. "Well that's not the first bit, is it, bzzt?"

"I'm sorry! Can you say the…" Ash counted on his fingers. "Third bit again? Please?"

"Araquanid are a hunting species that deliver fatal headbutts and drown their prey within the water bubble around their head, bzzt." It made a noise that sounded like a sigh. "Based on this, I would recommend utilising your pokémon's ranged attacks, rather than trying to battle in close quarters, bzzt."

"Nah," Ash said; Rotom beeped indignantly. "I've got an idea."

Pikachu loved when Ash got like this: wild-eyed and devious, brimming with an energy so bright and loud that he could feel it in his own chest, like a little bubble expanding inside his body and making him feel lightweight.

He liked battling. He liked the thrill of it, the danger, because it could get tough, could get overwhelming, but he never felt like he was struggling, like he was losing, even when he was, because Ash was there, and he knew Ash wouldn't leave him, or pull something stupid just for the sake of getting him hurt. (When Ash did pull something that sounded stupid, it usually transpired as genius, anyway.)

It hadn't always been like that. And for every new pokémon Ash caught, Pikachu could see a little of his old hesitance in them, too. Even when they joined him willingly, when they saw Ash, they still—doubted him, a little. Goukazaru had, back when he was a skittish chimchar. Gekkouga had, and he'd been special, like he was made to be with Ash, or maybe like Ash was made to be with him.

Nyabby doubted Ash, too. Pikachu'd tried to tell him, but he was stubborn. Like Lizardon, or Fushigidane, or—or Pikachu himself. He'd risked his life for Ash on day one and even he hadn't trusted him fully for months. There'd still been a burgeoning anxiety every time he'd stepped out onto a battlefield, uncertain, unable to place complete faith in Ash's abilities as a trainer.

Now, there was only excitement. They'd taken out the masquerain, and the totem was huge, but Pikachu had fought gods before. He'd fought gods before, and he'd won. An overgrown spider wasn't enough to shake him, especially not when Ash was grinning at him and Yorunozuku like that, eyes full of fire. If Pikachu looked into them, it was like he could see Ash's brain working, piecing together a plan.

"Pikapi?" he asked; Ash petted the base of his ear, right where he liked it best, and told him not to worry about it, so he didn't. He just gripped the feathers at the base of Yorunozuku's neck with his sharp little claws and tucked himself close so that he didn't go flying when the noctowl lurched and took to the skies again, heading back towards the totem.

The totem didn't like that, though. It roared a warning—leave this place!—and fired off an ice beam that Yorunozuku had to shoot upwards to dodge, then another, then another. Pikachu squeezed his eyes shut against the biting wind and was glad he wasn't motion-sick. He'd been thrown about in battle before and this was almost nicer, in comparison.

Then Yorunozuku evened out, and the wind died down to a manageable level. Pikachu cracked open one eye but saw nothing but beating wings and a wide, blue sky.

Get ready to jump, Yorunozuku said. Across the lake, Ash shouted—quick attack! Into the bubble!—and Pikachu launched himself into the totem's water bubble as the noctowl banked sharply left, dropping and spinning and wheeling away.

And then everything was dark and freezing and muffled, and Pikachu could hardly think. He felt the world around him shift, lurching upwards, heard a muffled rasping sound, loud and quiet and close and faraway all at once—and then he saw the araquanid's fanged chelicerae, glowing green amidst the murk. He twisted, flailing, trying to escape—

And everything erupted in blinding light. The totem screamed, high enough that it hurt Pikachu's ears, but he kept shocking it until he was suddenly wrenched free of the bubble, and he could breathe again, and it felt like he was trapped in a hurricane, for a moment. Something grabbed the scruff of his neck and he nearly used thunderbolt again, but he heard Yorunozuku's voice, and when he blinked his eyes open, he saw that he was suspended in the air, held tight between Yorunozuku's talons. He looked back at the totem to watch it sink beneath the tumultuous surface of the lake—and then it was gone.

Is it over? Pikachu asked. Yorunozuku twisted his head so he could look at him, the Z-crystal clamped between his beak, and let that speak for itself. Pikachu relaxed with a sigh and let Yorunozuku carry him to shore; the noctowl dropped him into one of Ash's waiting hands, and the Z-crystal into the other, then landed in the sand and lifted his head with a smug, wordless coo.

You've not changed a bit, he said, letting Ash manoeuvre him back onto his shoulder. Yorunozuku looked at him and winked.

The researcher flung the door to her laboratory open with an unceremonious crash, muscling past the beheyeem hovering by the door; Colress turned his head slightly at the sound, but didn't pivot fully to look at her.

"You," she snarled, voice full of ice and barely-leashed rage, "What have you done with my salazzle?"

"Nothing she couldn't handle," he responded. "She's fine, by the way. Alive, conscious, in perfect condition. I simply wanted to test something, and it worked. I'd call it scientific advancement." When she opened her mouth as though to speak, he added: "I read the terms of your contract; all your pokémon are property of the company, and ergo, they're property of your boss. I obtained permission for this from him."

Her jaw worked, clenching, but no sound came out for a long moment.

"You can take a look at her for yourself, if you don't believe me." He produced the salazzle's poké ball from his pocket and released her; she emerged hissing and perplexed, and though she quieted when she saw her trainer, body recoiling from Colress, she flattened herself against the ground and made no move to return to the researcher's side. After a few seconds, he recalled her. "See? Perfectly healthy. She's a little confused, but she'll get over it."

"You were called in here to help me complete this project, not to steal my pokémon and use them to sate your own sick curiosities. We have a job to do; the Chairman is demanding results, and he's demanding them quickly, and we need to ensure that these prototypes are a success so that he can use them. The region's safety is at stake. The region's prosperity is at stake. The Chairman's reputation is at stake."

"And we're on track." Colress turned back to the monitors, adjusting the concentrations of the fluids transmitted to the prototype via IV. He watched it on the broadcast—clamped to a table, limp—as it spasmed briefly, and then was still. "I'd say we're ahead of time. The prototype is stable, healthy, and will be ready to operate on by the end of the week at the latest."

The researcher's eye twitched. "To operate on?" she echoed. Colress pushed his glasses further up his nose and looked at her like she was stupid.

"To implant the multitype system," he said, slowly. The researcher squinted at him suspiciously, like she expected there to be an and, but he kept looking at her steadily until she averted her gaze. "I've been cleared to keep your salazzle for a few more days—just to observe her recovery. After that, you can have her back."

"You can't just—"

"I can, actually. I can show you the documents, if you'd like. They were signed by the Chairman." The researcher fell silent, seething. Colress knew it was probably hard for her, when she didn't understand, when she was faced with an impossible choice: her love for her pokémon, or her loyalty to the Chairman, to her job.

"If anything's happened to her," she said, after a moment. "If you've hurt her in any way—"

"I understand your concern," Colress murmured, placatingly. "But she truly is in perfect condition."

The researcher drew herself up. "Keep her that way," she demanded. The or else went unspoken, yet Colress heard it, clear as a bell. He bowed his head back over the monitors and listened to her leave.

Professor Kukui was—nice, Lillie thought, but she was still struggling to adjust to life on Melemele Island. He'd offered to enrol her in the school he taught at, to help her settle in and make new friends (Kiawe attended, apparently, and he was sweet enough, if a bit awkward), but the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of kids who already knew each other, who were probably normal and friendly and curious—it made her feel ill. And if she was at school, there would be nobody behind at home to look after Nebby, to make sure it didn't wander off, or to keep it from being seen by—by anyone, whether people who didn't know what it was, or… people who did.

It wasn't that she meant to sound ungrateful. But it was difficult, especially when she didn't know how to explain things without explaining everything, especially when explaining everything was too dangerous, even to someone as good as Professor Kukui. And he'd already done so much for her, willingly taking her in and giving her a home and not pressing her when she clammed up and refused to speak or go outside or answer any of his questions, even the ones that sounded simple, like where did you get Nebby from? She didn't think it'd be fair to—to burden him with the whole story. The more he knew, the more at risk he was—and he'd already be in enough trouble if the people she was running from found out where she was.

Maybe a part of it was just that she didn't want to get attached, didn't want to leave any permanent reminders of her existence. For the most part, Professor Kukui gave her space, gave her time, and she still felt—like she was infringing, somehow.

Nebby was asleep—finally. It had cried and cried all morning after a long and energetic night, and Lillie was exhausted, too, but she'd lain down for close to an hour and sleep had so stubbornly evaded her that she'd admitted defeat. The lab was quiet, as it often was during the school day: Professor Kukui was out, teaching, so Lillie was alone, save for the luvdisc in the aquarium and the stufful napping on the sofa and the murkrow raiding the kitchen cupboards.

… And the stairs leading to the basement called to her. She hadn't seen what was down there, yet. Professor Kukui often disappeared into the basement for hours at a time, while the world outside grew dark, and Lillie could often see blue light shining up the stairs, but she'd never—she'd never thought to ask if she could join him. She'd always figured that he'd have told her she was allowed.

But she was curious. Professor Burnet's work had been above her paygrade, but it had still been interesting, looking at the data, trying to make sense of the research.

The gluttonous murkrow fluttered to the banister overlooking the stairs, tilted her head at Lillie, and croaked—then dropped down to the stairs and began to hop into the basement. Lillie supposed that was as good a sign as any and—feeling shaky and feverish—followed it. It landed on a desk by the far wall, next to a warmly-lit incubator holding an egg as white as snow.

She approached it slowly, as though scared to disturb it, and the murkrow shuffled away, disappearing into the shadows. Up close, the palest ice-blue markings were barely visible on its surface, forming shapes that looked like flowers or clouds. Tentatively, she reached out, fingers pressing feather-light against the smooth, warm glass—

"Cool, isn't it?" a voice said behind her. Lillie whirled around, eyes wide like a deerling caught in the headlights, and drew her hands back against her chest. Professor Kukui was leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairwell, arms folded. He didn't look mad, but Lillie still felt this bitter, painful guilt in her stomach, like she'd been caught doing something terribly wrong.

"I— I didn't— I wasn't going to— I was just looking." She swallowed. "Aren't you—what about school?"

"Ended early today." Professor Kukui pushed off the wall and ambled towards her; for every few steps he advanced, she took one in retreat. "Do you want to hold it?" he asked, airy and casual.

Lillie blinked. "I— pardon?"

"The egg. Do you want to hold it?" He flipped the lid of the incubator and eased the egg out, shifting it from hand to hand. Struck dumb and silly with nerves, Lillie nodded, and Kukui passed it to her with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It was hard, and colder to the touch than she expected; she cradled it in the crook of her elbow like a baby—then startled when it jumped a little in her arms.

"Hey," he said, "looks like it likes you. It doesn't do that with everyone, y'know."

Lillie peered down at the egg, wondering. "Really?" she breathed, something strange and awed and humbled building inside her, making her hands feel funny—but in a good way, not like they did when things were falling apart around her and it was all her fault. Kukui's smile widened, just a touch, and Lillie cradled the egg a little bit tighter, something painful in her chest beginning to unravel.

Mimikyu was seething.

Its beloved guise—now little more than a burnt, unrecognisable rag—had been replaced, hours devoted to painstakingly sewing scraps of cloth together into something resembling the original, but the memory of its destruction still lingered, white-hot and impossibly vivid in the forefront of Mimikyu's mind. The pain. The way its body had burned, trapped by fire spin, helpless to do little more than watch and writhe and crawl like a wurmple across the shore.

And that stupid fucking pikachu had just—watched it burn. Had gloated while it had burned. Mimikyu hated him, wanted him dead, wanted that litten dead, wanted the boy who loved them dead—

It would get its revenge. The loud, magenta-haired woman that had caught it had promised that it would get its revenge. She was talking now, inanely, about something Mimikyu didn't understand, nor did it care about, munching on berries with the lavender-haired man and the talking meowth and that obnoxious wobbuffet. Mimikyu would have joined them in eating, had it had an appetite. But it was too angry to eat. Too angry, almost, to think beyond the images of sweet, violent vengeance playing on loop in its head.

The loud, magenta-haired woman called it. Mimikyu pretended not to hear, at first, but then she called it again, almost at a shout. It turned with a rasping hiss—and saw a stufful, sniffing at its costume, teeth dangerously close to the fabric.

It struck her—hard—with its makeshift tail. The stufful didn't even flinch, like she didn't notice, and Mimikyu hated her, too. It drew itself up, blind with rage—

And was suddenly suspended in midair. It twisted. Howled. But Sonansu didn't let go, just tightened his grip until eventually—eventually—Mimikyu gave up. At least here, the stufful couldn't undo its hard work. (... But she had tried. Mimikyu wouldn't forget.)

To its dismay, though, the loud, magenta-haired woman seemed to find the stufful cute. At least—she cooed over her, crouching down a few feet away and wiggling her fingers and squealing with stupid delight when the stufful sat back like a toddler and waved her forepaws back at her. Mimikyu didn't know if she knew just how dangerous stufful were, if she knew they could knock over trees, but it also figured she'd like that about it, if she did. Not that it cared, or anything. It didn't. It didn't hate the woman, but it felt no affection for her, either. It just wanted its revenge. She was going to get it its revenge.

The stufful inched her way closer to the woman. Mimikyu heard the lavender-haired man suggest catching it, and rasped out one final, muffled protest, before it watched the woman distract the stufful with a whole heap of berries and then trap her while she was preoccupied. She disappeared into the ball, which shuddered a few times—before settling with a thunk. Mimikyu tried to swallow the urge to scream, failed, and was recalled to its ball as well.

Deep within the forests of Melemele Island, a bewear lifted her head, dark, beady eyes searching. Something was wrong. She didn't know what—didn't know how she knew—but something was wrong.

She returned to her den. It was dark and quiet, and when she sniffed the air, the scent of her cub was a little stale, like it hadn't been there in a while. She followed its trail—wound through the undergrowth, something like a primitive form of anxiety beginning to spread through her mind, and soon found herself standing in a clearing. Berry stems littered the ground. Her cub's scent trail disappeared. When she nosed through the grass, she smelled human. It didn't take much brainpower to understand what that meant.

The bewear rose onto her hind legs and roared a mournful roar. The sound of silence answered her call.

A/N: comments are also appreciated!