Yes, I am aware that this is the story's shortest chapter. But what can I say? Sometimes the plot will demand long chapters, sometimes it'll demand shorter ones. Another reason is that I hit a wall with this one, which I was eventually able to chisel through.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, the title of which I hope to have made humorous.

VICTOR CHELAN, 20* - FIRST PERSON

It was rather remarkable how the plight of Amanda's mother seemed to shift out of the discourse between the two of us.

Make no mistake: I could tell that on the inside, my soulmate was still very concerned about the trial. However, she didn't mention anything about it to me, and I believed, perhaps foolishly, that she had decided to push these thoughts to the side.

This was one hundred percent my fault. Had I been more attentive, I'd have been able to realize that Amanda was experiencing anguish, masquerading as acceptance. However, I was naive enough to think that the night we'd spent together in her room had calmed her down.

The next few days passed, and they were really just like any other days on Paradise Island. We still had our chores, which I credited in part for the Braixen's more relaxed demeanor. If you have things you need to do, it's a lot easier to distract yourself from upsetting matters.

She seemed, not exactly happier, but more able to push her worries to the side. Perhaps this wasn't healthy, perhaps it was more important to face them directly, but I wasn't going to say anything so long as Amanda seemed satisfied with her afterlife.

Sunday, however, was a different beast.

As I woke up that morning, I had the urge to check Pillowtalk for my daily assignment, only to remember that today was our day off. My reaction to remembering this was one of dismay, rather than one of joy that I didn't have to do any work.

Getting out of bed and putting on some more acceptable clothes for the day, I thought about how much I wished I had something to do. While the chores weren't always enjoyable, they at least took up time that might otherwise be spent dwelling on whatever is troubling you; in this case, the story Amanda had told me.

Once I was downstairs, I could hear the sizzling of something on a griddle, as well as smell the fluffy deliciousness that represented one of my favorite breakfast foods. My mouth began to water.

"Pancakes!" I exclaimed, probably sounding like a kid. I didn't care, for pancakes were practically my version of ambrosia, the food that the gods ate in mythology. On one occasion on Earth, I'd eaten so many that I'd gotten sick. That incident, however, had not dampened my love for the food.

Amanda nodded, smiling at me. Her long ears were standing on end, which I assumed was due to excitement and/or happiness. "Good morning, Victor. How did you sleep?"

I couldn't remember having any dreams, and that's what I told my soulmate.

"Well, truth be told, that's probably a good thing," she replied. "You don't want nightmares here in paradise, do you?"

"Fair enough" I said, snorting with a slight bit of laughter. The laughter, however, was soon drowned out by the audible growling of my stomach. It sounded like the roar of the Pokemon I was eventually supposed to become.

"Yeah, you must be famished." As she uttered those words, Amanda winked at me. "No worries, I'm almost done. But you should be glad you don't have fur like me yet, because it's next to impossible to get syrup out once it's spilled on your fur."

It wasn't exactly the nicest thing to do, but I couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of Amanda getting maple syrup stuck in her white fur. Of course, it was probably a great source of frustration, one I would have to face eventually if I ate pancakes once I'd finished my transition.

In the middle of my chuckling, I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. It was as though an ant was crawling all over it, which is a rather peculiar feeling if you haven't experienced it before.

In addition, there was a sudden, albeit slight hot flash, and I touched my hand to my head. "I gotta sit down," I said immediately.

Amanda gave me a look of mild concern, which meant she probably chalked up my desire to sit to me being dizzy from hunger. I liked to think I'd gotten better at reading her face.

I took a spot at the table and put my head in my hands. For some reason, I'd started to feel hot all over, as though I were being slowly cooked from the inside out. The sensation only lasted about a minute, but it was one of the longest minutes of my afterlife.

When the Braixen came walking into the dining room with a platter of pancakes in her arms, she was staring at me.

"Are you okay, Victor? What's wrong?"

"Just a hot flash" I replied, trying to convince myself that the following three words were true. "I'll be okay."

Amanda's eyes suddenly opened wider than the largest coins I'd ever seen. What I'd said seemed to have triggered alarm bells.

"That might be the transformation kicking in!" she all but yelled. "Oh, Arceus...Victor, get on the couch, you're going to break that chair if you become a Growlithe!"

I managed to do as I was told, standing up from the table and managing to stagger over to the living room. I collapsed on the couch, hoping that my dizziness would subside.

My head started swimming, and my vision darkened. Just when I thought I might lose consciousness, however, it stopped all of a sudden.

I looked around to see that Amanda had carried my plate of pancakes into the living room. She set it down on the coffee table, along with a bottle of maple syrup, which, come to think of it, probably hadn't been made on a tropical island such as this one.

"Are you sure you're alright, Victor?" Amanda asked, looking at me with a concerned, but not quite panicked, expression. "You really looked like you were struggling there."

"Struggling with what? Not to pass out?"

She nodded. "It doesn't seem like you're going to become a Growlithe right now; it would have happened at this point. The same occurred with me several times before I woke up covered in fur."

"Huh" I said blankly, looking at the pancakes in front of me. I was now even hungrier than I had been before, to the point that I almost felt weak. "If you'll excuse me", I continued, "I think I'll start digging in."

The Braixen flashed me a thumbs-up and went back into the dining room to eat her own breakfast. I knew that it was rather antisocial to eat on the couch, but I still felt woozy enough not to want to get up. Besides, Amanda didn't seem to mind, so long as I was careful not to get syrup all over the cushions.

If the cushions do get a bit dirty, though, who's going to notice besides the two of us? It's not like anyone visits us here.

Breakfast was incredible; the pancakes were flaky and buttery to just the right degree, and the syrup tasted extremely fresh. I wondered how that could be, since Alola was pretty far from wherever they'd produce it, but I didn't question it.

When we'd both finished eating and were doing the dishes, and after I'd taken my dose of the Growlithe medication, Amanda made a suggestion. Perhaps she believed that I was still preoccupied with the news about the trial, and had decided that stronger (metaphorical) medicine was needed for me.

"We should ask Raina and Cyrus if they want to meet up in town," she suggested. "If he's sober, that is."

I raised my eyebrows; I couldn't remember if Amanda had previously indicated that she knew about Cyrus Damasen's drinking problem. Still, that was hardly the most important thing; what really mattered was that I'd have something to do to pass the time.

"That sounds like a good idea to me. Do you know their phone number?"

Amanda shook her head. "There are no phones here; at least, the civilians aren't allowed to use them. Makes one wonder if this is really paradise, since plenty of people can't live without their phones."

I disregarded the last sentence and replied with, "So how do you contact others? Pillowtalk?"

"Yes. I'll go over to the computer and send a message to Raina. In fact, you should come over with me so that you know how to do it."

Although I wasn't the most tech-savvy individual, I could probably figure out how to do this on my own. Still, I didn't want to insult Amanda by brushing this suggestion off. I went with her over to the computer, where she showed me how to search for the Ninetales, Raina Cranberry. And yes, that was her actual last name.

"You click the message icon to send them a private DM, and I'm going to do that now."

"Amanda, there's no need to talk to me like a child. This isn't r/ELI5; in fact, Reddit doesn't even exist here."

The Braixen rolled her eyes at me, but didn't say anything. Instead, she simply clicked on the on-screen envelope and, with surprising grace, typed the following message:

Hello, Raina, I hope this message finds you well. I was wondering if you and Cyrus would like to spend a day in town with Victor and myself, since we don't have chores today. See you soon, Amanda Mariner.

I was impressed with how formally Amanda wrote her message, even online. Of course, it's important to be polite when communicating, but I wondered whether this level of formality was truly necessary.

"And now, we wait for her to respond" the Braixen said simply, once more explaining it as though I were five years old. Even though I liked Amanda, maybe even more than that, it was still somewhat demeaning to be spoken to in this manner.

It wasn't much longer before a pinging noise came from the computer, indicating that we had received a message on Pillowtalk. My soulmate sat back down in the chair, blocking my view of the screen.

She read me the message, which was as follows: "Good morning, Amanda. Yes, the idea sounds lovely; do you want to meet at 10 AM in Forza Park? Thanks, Raina Cranberry."

Something about that message made me wonder: Why hadn't Raina mentioned Cyrus in her response? Surely if there was a particular reason he couldn't come, the Ninetales would have explained it, right?

Then again, if I were being honest with myself, I didn't really want to see Cyrus today. In fact, it would be just fine with me if I never talked to him again. I still hadn't forgotten his horrendous display at the Maximus Mansion.

Well, I guess there's only one way to find out.

PROFESSOR SAMUEL OAK, 54* - THIRD PERSON

Despite having dressed in the proper attire for the day's proceedings, Professor Oak could not have felt more unprepared. As he took his seat in the courtroom, looking down at the audience, he could almost immediately pick up on what they expected.

That was one of the necessary qualities of a juror: To be able to read others' body language, and by extension know when someone is lying to you. In that respect, he was ready; indeed, it was as though his entire Earthly life and afterlife had been building up to this moment right here.

However, the emotional part of the trial was going to be much more difficult. As he looked over the various people and Pokemon attending the court, he knew what they wanted.

They wanted blood to be spilled.

Not necessarily literal blood, although seeing Sarah Mariner suffer physically for what she had supposedly done would be a plus. But it was clear that they were thirsty for revenge, as evidenced by the sheer level of excitement there seemed to be in that crowd.

One Zoroark in the crowd looked like he was levitating. His teal eyes were lit up with a cruel form of happiness, the kind that signalled that he got a kick out of seeing other people in agony. His claws were holding his butt off his seat, whereas the Bidoof beside him was practically bouncing up and down as though his seat were a trampoline.

After Chief Justice McCastle announced that the defendant would be brought in, everyone rose to their feet, just as they had both times before this. Sarah Mariner was shackled to her chair in the middle of the room, and then the proceedings began.

Danny California had brought in a witness to testify. This was a welcome sight for anyone who cared about the public defender's reputation; he might be bumbling and ineffectual, just not as much so as some thought.

"All right, everyone," McCastle said, looking down at the witness from his chair. She was probably about Mrs. Mariner's age, with shorter hair and blue eyes. Much like Mrs. Mariner, her body was a fairly average shape.

"This witness", Mr. California said as the woman took the stand, "is…".

"Shut up, Danny, I can handle this myself" the witness told the public defender.

Most of the audience gasped at her having the audacity to tell Mr. California to shut up. For many of those, however, it was a happy gasp, for they knew that an ineffective defense team would shine more light on the fact that Danny California was simply trying to defend the indefensible.

For Professor Oak, however, this only added to his internal conflict. Should I vote to convict, or to acquit?

But why should I keep agonizing over this? My job as a Heaven Render is to come to the right decision, not to protect Mrs. Mariner at all costs. That's Mr. California's job, and he sucks at it!

The witness cleared her throat and began speaking. "My name is Dara Orkun, and I'm here to provide concrete evidence, absolute proof if you will, that the defendant is innocent of the purported offense."

This was another red flag for the professor. It was a long-established practice that the prosecution held the burden of proof in a criminal case. The defense didn't need to prove that Sarah Mariner hadn't done anything, they just needed to muddy the waters enough to create a "reasonable doubt."

She's acting like such an idiot.

"Prior to my death five years ago in a car accident, I lived in the same city as the defendant. We were very good friends; we would even take care of each others' children when one of us had somewhere else we needed to be. I grew to trust Sarah Mariner with my life, and you all should too. When the Heaven Renders vote, it will be absolutely nine to zero, unanimous. Because there's no evidence on the prosecution's side. None at all.

Dara pointed at Mrs. Mariner, still bound in place to the defendant's chair. "This woman", she continued, "is not a threat to the Sky Garden at all. I don't care if this means that I am only a character witness, I can say with total confidence that my friend did not commit the alleged crime."

If every witness Mr. California called was this incompetent, this case would be at worst a tossup for the prosecution. It didn't matter how lopsided the case ended up being for the defense. Even now, the professor could see several of his peers, including Mike Mindanao, shaking their heads as they heard Dara Orkun speak.

It was plain to see that the woman didn't have a plan. She hadn't given an iota of thought to what she'd planned to say and how she'd planned to say it, until she took the stand and was forced to improvise.

The court officer, a Lauren dressed in a police uniform of sorts, pursed her lips as the witness gave her testimony. It seemed as though Lauren were pondering how Mrs. Mariner might react to the handcuffs being placed around her wrists and being led towards the portal to the Underworld.

The portal to the Underworld...I've never seen it, but it must be a terrifying sight to behold. But I'd better pay attention to this slow-motion plane crash, because I'm a horrible person if I don't.

Dara was still talking; in Professor Oak's reverie, he'd missed about a minute of her testimony. He'd still heard it, but hadn't had time to properly absorb it and factor the data into his decision.

The last few sentences the witness spoke were, in Oak's opinion, by far the most persuasive. However, this wasn't saying very much; his sense was that Dara had been a most ineffective advocate for Mrs. Mariner's acquittal. If this had been the first quarter of a football game, the defense would already be down by at least five points.

"A horrific event occurred in the Sky Garden. Nobody here disputes that fact. However, the forces threatening this community would love nothing more than for us to tear ourselves apart by constantly scapegoating each other. Let's not let them win, shall we?"

If only those had been Dara's first words rather than her last, the case would be moving in a much more favorable direction for Mrs. Mariner. Speaking of "absolute proof" in a courtroom was absolute lunacy, and the witness should have known better than that.

Professor Oak slumped back in his chair, so far that he nearly caused it to tip over. There was little doubt that Dara was going to be torn to shreds when it came time for cross-examination.

"Is that all you have to say, ma'am?" Chief Justice McCastle asked the witness.

Dara nodded. "That is all, Your Honor. I yield the stand."

With that, the witness returned to the defense table (the same one that rose up from the floor each morning and retracted back into the floor whenever the day's proceedings were over.) And then came the moment Oak had been dreading.

"It is now time for cross-examination" McCastle announced, motioning to the prosecution table that it was time for Prosecutor Bannock to speak.

"Ah, yes", the prosecutor replied, taking a look at his notepad. This was yet another red flag. Dara Orkun had not prepared any notes; neither, it seemed, had Mr. California. This made the prosecution look that much more respectable, even to Oak.

"With all due respect to Witness Orkun, I am sure everyone here knows that absolute proof doesn't exist, particularly of the negative. You cannot demonstrate with one hundred percent certainty that the defendant did not commit the crime, just as we cannot provide absolute proof that she did. It is highly improper to suggest otherwise."

Professor Oak noticed that his fellow Heaven Renders, who had kept their pens down during Witness Orkun's testimony, were now taking copious amounts of notes. He knew enough about the room's body language to be sure of one thing: They seemed to have dismissed the testimony out of hand, but now wanted to hear and absorb everything that was said during cross-examination.

"Furthermore, just because the witness claims to know the defendant very well, and claims that they are good friends, does not make it true."

It seemed as though Bannock had made a misstep here, although none of the other jurors appeared to notice. It makes little sense that she'd lie about being friends with Mrs. Mariner. Given that she's accused of such horrible actions, a friendship with her isn't something to be proud of.

Bannock raised a long, somewhat fat finger in the air (and no, it wasn't his middle finger.) "Even if the defendant and witness are truly close friends, that makes Dara Orkun a character witness at most. Now, character witnesses have their place in some cases, mainly when the defense wishes to mitigate the sentence, but it doesn't make it any less likely that Sarah Mariner leaked the information to Matamoros' servants.

"Most of all, the assertions that Witness Orkun put forth are just that: Assertions. That doesn't make them true, not even remotely. Unless she can find solid evidence to back up what she is saying, her claims are claims, nothing more."

There was thunderous applause from the crowd. Even those Pokemon who weren't bipedal and therefore didn't have "hands" to clap with were doing their best. It was clear that they wanted to see that Mrs. Mariner got what she deserved.

I want to see that as well, Professor Oak thought to himself. Only I'm not sure she deserves banishment to Hades, because unlike McCastle seems to, I care about the truth. I care about the freedom of innocent people. And, as I would hope they do too, I care about making sure the events of March 5 are never repeated.

"I appreciate that all of you want justice to be served, but will you please quiet down? It's vitally important that the prosecutor be able to hear me."

At McCastle's urging, the cacophonous clapping ceased. Once the room was quiet again, McCastle cleared his throat.

Much like he'd asked the witness for the defense, the Chief Justice replied with, "Is that all you have to say, sir?"

Bannock nodded and then sat back down. As much of an oxymoron this is, there was an audible silence in the room for a few seconds.

And then, more raucous applause.

As the crowd was going wild, Professor Oak stole a glance at Mrs. Mariner. What he saw made him feel almost as terrified as the defendant looked.

Sarah Mariner's complexion had turned almost bone white. Even though she'd no doubt been instructed not to show too much emotion, particularly anger, she had broken several fingernails from clenching her fists to the extent that she could. Her wrists were turning red against the chains that bound her.

It was a hard sight to look at, but Professor Oak knew he shouldn't let himself become numb to it. All that would accomplish would be to ignore the very real suffering of a human being.

I have to look beyond that, though. Maybe she actually did it, in which case I can't overlook that. I just can't.