Moon stared at the graph on her desk. The thick black lines seemed to float off the page – they moved up as she inclined her head and slid to the side as she tilted her head. Intent on making the lines dance, she didn't notice the minute hand edge its way past nine, or her fellow students packing their things. She only stirred at a tap on her shoulder. When she looked up, her teacher was standing over her, an unimpressed expression on her face.
"Class is for learning, not sleeping, Moon," her instructor said sternly.
"Yes, Professor Maple," Moon said blankly, trying to hide her frustration. She didn't mean to drift off during class. It was just that her body sometimes let her down.
Maybe Professor Maple glimpsed something of Moon's frustration, because her own expression suddenly softened. "I know you have a lot of responsibilities, young lady. But you can't let them interfere with your sleep. Your brain is still growing, after all! It needs sleep like a bulbasaur needs the sun."
"Like a shiinotic needs the moon," Moon offered, finding a smile.
"Shiinotic . . " Her teacher frowned. "That's an Alolan pokemon, isn't it? A bit reminiscent of our amoonguss?"
"Yes," Moon said. "I have one."
Her teacher surveyed her with new interest, her limp gray eyes magnified by her large, circular glasses.
"I have a foonguss myself, actually. Instead of growing flowers, I turned my yard into a patch of dirt for foonguss to frolic in. My sister thinks its insane, but there's something terribly appealing about a self-sufficient pokemon like that. I'd always hoped she'd evolve into an amoonguss, but I think the space is simply too cramped. The woes of city life." She looked back at Moon. "Perhaps you could bring this shiinotic of yours by some time. I don't know if pokemon of the fungal variety are much inclined to loneliness, but if there's anything I've learned from my fellow teachers—who by the way, are in many ways fungal themselves—it's that everyone appreciates a peer."
"I think Shiinotic would like that," Moon said, meaning it. She thought of Enoki, digging her roots into concrete on the rooftop, and felt her stomach twist with familiar shame.
"You know, Moon, while I have you here, I'd like to pass on an exciting opportunity. The CEO of the multinational Aether Institute is coming to give a talk this weekend. All sorts of recruiters and up-and-comers will be there. It's a good chance to get a look at the scene. And you never know, you may be able to score an internship!" She smiled in a vaguely self-satisfied way. "Well now, what do you say to that, young lady?"
"Thank you, Professor Maple," Moon said dutifully. "I'd be honored to attend." An hour's talk and another hour mingling, Moon calculated. But she would only stay long enough to raid the buffet. If she cut down on Hera's scale polishing session, she could fit that in. She would make it up to Hera with extra-long training the next morning. She frowned. "Hang on, the Aether Institute?"
"That's right. A very powerful company. Of course, they've had some bad press in recent years, some terrible scandal or other, and the jury's still out on whether that young man who took over can provide effective leadership, but on the whole, that company is on the up and up." She scrutinized Moon. "I have a few words of advice for you, young lady. Now don't take offense, but you should get some sleep before attending. It wouldn't do at all if you fell asleep during the talk, now would it? And if you could perhaps wear clothing answering the descriptor of formal, I'm sure we'd be much obliged. And as for your hair—"
"I won't embarrass you," Moon said, smiling tightly. She really didn't need to hear what Professor Maple had to say about her hair. "If you'll, uh, excuse me, I've got to get home. It's getting late."
"Quite right," Professor Maple chirped, nodding. "Got to get your beauty sleep!"
Internally, Moon cringed. It was horrible, being embarrassed on behalf of someone who didn't seem to understand the concept. She almost longed for the days when Professor Maple treated her with icy distaste. Her friendly manner seemed straight out of a mid-century etiquette column. Moon fought off another yawn and bid Professor Maple goodnight.
Arriving home, Moon snuck into the kitchen, trying to prepare dinner with minimum clanging—Mom would be sleeping and Moon didn't intend to wake her. Moon was bleary from tiredness, though, and couldn't seem to cut her onion straight. She squinted down at it, frustrated, pretending that the tears forming in her eyes were a simple allergic reaction.
"Let me get that for you, Honey."
A warm hand took the knife from Moon's limp one. Moon shuffled to the side as Mom took her place in front of the chopping block.
"You should be sleeping," Moon said stupidly, after a minute had passed.
Mom smiled. "Judging from your face, Daughter, it's you who needs to sleep."
"I'm fine," Moon said, wishing she could summon the strength to take back the knife, prepare her meal, and send Mom back to bed. Instead, she found herself sitting down on a stool, watching as the stir-fry began to sizzle enticingly on the stove, a sharp, savory smell filling the air. Her stomach gave a grumble.
Mom laid out two plates, and shoveled stir-fry from the pan, giving Moon the larger portion. She sat down opposite her, studying Moon with concern in her eyes.
"You don't look fine, Moon. I'm worried about you. These early mornings, long hours—you need rest, friends. It's been too long since I've seen you smiling."
"Can we not do this, Mom?" Moon said, her words coming out more sharply than she'd intended. "I'm fine, all right? I'm handling it. I don't need you worrying about me."
Mom stared at her for a long time. "All right," she said at last. "Then we won't talk." She fell silent and studied her own plate, without moving to pick up her fork.
Instantly, Moon was overwhelmed by a surge of guilt. She'd done it again, lashed at Mom just because she was tired, when the whole point of this was to make Mom's life easier.
"Something weird happened today," Moon said tentatively.
Mom looked up. "And what was that?" Her tone was at once warm, like she'd already forgiven and forgotten Moon's outburst.
"My professor, Miss Maple, she mentioned some event—with the Aether institute."
"Aether." Her mother frowned. "The name rings a bell, but . . ."
"It's the company that Lillie's—that Lusamine ran."
Comprehension dawned in Mom's eyes. "Will Lillie be there?"
"What? No, don't be stupid, Lillie's a trainer now. She's traveling." Moon caught herself, realizing that she'd begun to shout. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm too tired right now. I should go to bed."
"This event," Mom said. "Promise me that you'll go?"
"Sure, I promise," Moon said. "You should go back to bed."
Mom smiled at her, eyes fond. "Always trying to take care of me, Daughter. Now if you'd just take better care of yourself."
.
.
Saturday found Moon standing dubiously in a large, but not massive lecture hall, with about fifty seats set out in front of a small elevated stage and podium. She spied a promisingly long buffet table in the back of the room. Cheeseballs, Moon thought happily. And no one would care if she snuck a glass of wine.
Then her breath caught—Gladion had just walked in the room, flanked by two broad-shouldered men in dark suits. Moon barely paid attention when he began to speak, too busy cataloging the changes in him. Gladion, yes, it was Gladion, but in a fitted suit, with neatly trimmed hair, and—by the tapu shining—was that a golden watch glistening on his wrist? His expression, to her eye, was flat and uninterested as he shaped his platitudes. She'd never seen him look dull before. Everything about him had always been frenzied, like a pot boiling over.
Entrepreneurship . . . innovation . . . building a new future . .
When Moon finally tuned into his words, they were enough to tempt her to catch up on her sleep. She began to sway in her seat, her mind drifting. A burst of applause jolted her back awake.
Gladion was walking off the stage, and the crowd was beginning to stand around her.
Moon headed to the buffet, unsure of what to do. Seeing Gladion so suddenly after all this time had passed … at the very least, she didn't want to do it on an empty stomach. Fortified on some fancy balls of cheese, Moon took a breath. There was no point avoiding him. Whatever he was wearing, it was still Gladion. She'd never been afraid of confronting him before.
Moon pushed her way up to the front, where Gladion was taking advantage of a lull in the crowd's attention to check his phone. She tapped him on the shoulder and said, before she could overthink it, "You look about as convincing in that suit as a mimikyu in a pikachu costume."
"Fuck you," Gladion snapped back, seemingly on instinct. All at once animation returned to his face; the tension seeming to have drained out of his body at the insult. Then he actually looked at Moon and did a double-take.
"Wait. You're Moon!" In his surprise, his voice jumped an octave. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Soaking in your wisdom," Moon said dryly. The humor came easily.
Gladion laughed. "Hey, fuck you, I have a lot of wisdom." A genuine smile lit up his face. Moon hadn't realized he was capable of smiling like that. He ran a hand through his slicked-back blond hair and looked around distractedly. "Shit. You're the last person I expected to see here. Let's get some food. And catch up?" His certainty faded into a question. "If you want, that is," he added, assuming an air of deliberate nonchalance.
Moon smiled, so widely that it actually hurt. "Sounds good to me."
"Cool," Gladion said, failing to hide his obvious relief. He waved over some men in suits and whispered with them a while. "Okay, I'm free. Those guys. They shove other people out of the way for me, or something. And make sure I'm not making the front pages of the tabloids. They're cool, though."
He slipped on a pair of over-large sunglasses and Moon couldn't stifle a chuckle.
"What?" Gladion asked, aggrieved.
"It's just—you. In a suit. And shades," Moon got out, between giggles.
"Yeah, yeah. I crack up every time I look in the mirror." Gladion was silent as they fell into step on the street outside. "Gotta be honest, this isn't where I expected I'd be two years ago. But things change, I guess." He stopped suddenly outside a restaurant with velvet hangings in the windows. "This place look alright?"
It looked like a macaroon there would probably cost her a week's pay-check, but it was pretty clear that Gladion meant to pay. "Sure," she said.
Inside, they didn't give her a second glance, but one flash of Gladion's Aether company card got them balcony seating. Moon watched with astonishment as Gladion handled the menu, rolling off unfamiliar Kalosian syllables with practiced ease.
He reddened when he noticed Moon watching him with her mouth agape.
"What?" he said moodily.
"I guess it never sunk in that you grew up like this. All fancy restaurants and shiny metal sleeve-rings."
"They're called cuff-links," Gladion muttered. He looked around the restaurant as if seeing it for the first time. "I always hated it all, though. I would never sit still, not like Lillie. I thought the food was gross and refused to eat." His brow furrowed, caught up in memories. "It drove Mother insane. She told me that if I wouldn't eat what I was served, I wouldn't eat at all. Lillie smuggled me some things, but Mother caught her in the end. I don't know how she was punished, but she wouldn't talk to me for days after that. And the hunger was just painful. So I ate the food Mother gave me. And I learned to like it eventually, I guess." He looked vaguely queasy at the memory.
"Your mom sucks," Moon said. It didn't feel adequate, but Moon had never been that great with words.
"Yeah, Mother sucks," Gladion agreed. He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the memory of Lusamine from his head. "But hey, what are you doing here? The last place I'd have expected to see you is one of those corporate pep-talks I give for finance suckers."
"You didn't know I was in Unova?" Moon asked. "I thought Prof K passed that on."
"I knew you were in Unova," Gladion said, rolling his eyes. "Maslada maniac wouldn't stop moaning about it. But I thought you were, you know, traveling."
"Traveling?" Moon repeated. It suddenly felt like something unbearably heavy was pressing down on her. Her mouth didn't seem able to move.
"Traveling. Seeing the world. Training your pokemon. That ring a bell? I always thought Alola's system was kind of dinky. Unova has a real league and all that. Kind of been expecting to see you on the news, actually. The champion here's a bit of a dick. Met him a few times now, at receptions and what not, was looking forward to seeing his face when you crushed him."
"You think I'm just – going to beat Unova's champion? Just like that?" Moon felt her eyes beginning to burn. The restaurant seemed to blur as Gladion shrugged.
"Well maybe not right away. But I mean, I've never seen anyone battle like you. The way you're in sync with your pokemon. The way you took down that ultra beast. I heard Tapu Koko honored you with a battle at the festival, and that you won." Gladion's eyes were shining.
It was too much. It was the last straw. Moon opened her mouth to speak, and to her utter mortification, started to cry. Salty water streamed down her face. I'm flooding, she thought, hysterically. I'll turn Unova into an island.
"Shit," Gladion said. His eyes went wide. "Shit, what did I say? Shit shit shit." He repeated the word like a mantra.
In between sobs, Moon started to laugh. His dismay was just too comical; the whole situation was absurd.
"You idiot," she said, "I'm not traveling. My mom's sick. She's dying. We came here for the hospital. We can barely pay the medical bills. I'm working all day, I'm taking shitty finance classes at night." Her voice cracked. "You think I have time to train?"
Moon buried her face in her hands. It was horrible to have Gladion see her looking so weak. He respected her; he'd thought she was some kind of great trainer, about to become a champion. What was he going to think of her now? She tried frantically to get her breathing back under control. Now that she'd started crying, she didn't want to stop. I'm so tired, she thought.
"I'm just so fucking tired," she said aloud, unable to stop herself.
Something sharp pressed into her side. She looked up into a metallic face and concerned eyes.
"Hi Null," she mumbled. The large pokemon let out a creaky roar of greeting and pressed its face further into her side. "It's nice to see you too," Moon said, "but, um, that actually fucking hurts, Null, so maybe a little less up-close and personal affection?"
Null withdrew its large head and continued to examine her with mournful eyes. Moon chuckled hoarsely. She pushed her hair back from her face and hastily wiped her eyes. Across the table, Gladion was hunched up, looking like he was wishing for all the world his suit was hoodie so he could hide under the hood.
"I appreciate your words of comfort," Moon snapped, to cover up her embarrassment.
Gladion gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Null's good with crying people. I'm not. I was usually the one crying." He said it without any particular inflection. "So I'm the last person who's going to judge you," Gladion continued. "I used to think crying meant I was weak. But Null showed me that all crying meant was that I cared. And I've decided caring doesn't make me weak."
Moon exhaled and leaned back against the velvet upholstery, grateful for the dim lighting in the room.
"I can't believe you sound like an adult."
"Yeah, well, neither can I." Gladion reached across the table to stroke Null's crest. "Being a child sucked, and being a teenager sucked way worse. But being an adult sucks in a whole different way."
"That's eloquent," Moon said, almost smiling.
"Eloquent is for company speeches," Gladion shot back. "And sucks is an underrated verb."
"I really missed you," Moon said, surprising herself.
"Same," Gladion said, avoiding her eyes. "When you didn't call, I just thought, well, that you'd moved on. Lillie said you didn't need our drama complicating your life."
"Lillie—" Moon's throat went dry. The world narrowed to just that name. "How – is she?"
"She's—" Gladion hesitated for a moment. Then his fist slammed down on the table, all reserve abandoned. "She's isolating again. When we were kids, and we were upset, I'd pitch a tantrum, but Lillie would just get really, really quiet. It was like she took all her anger and made it into a ball and then swallowed it, except the ball was poisonous and it ate her up from the inside. When we talk these days, she's polite and asks me how the company is going, and tells me how Mother is doing, as if I care how Mother is doing! She doesn't even criticize my clothing anymore! Lillie loves to criticize my clothing." Gladion sighed, suddenly losing steam. "Sorry, I didn't mean to dump that all on you. Guess I've been keeping things bottled up. There's no one I can talk to about Lillie besides you. It doesn't seem like she's made any new friends out in Kanto. No one else really gets her. They think she's snobby or shy or just stupid—"
"She's none of those things," Moon interjected fiercely. "She's the bravest person I know. She's smart and she's silly, and most of all she's goddamn kind. She deserves everything." Moon's own vehemence surprised her. "Everything," she repeated.
Gladion blinked.
"Uh, Moon," he said. "Maybe you could tell her that? She doesn't really believe stuff like that, coming from me. It's different with you."
"What do you mean?" Moon asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Oh you know." Gladion pitched his voice at a mocking falsetto. "Why Gladion, Moon is simply the most wonderful trainer in the world. You should ask yourself what Moon would do in your place. Moon always knows just what to do. Moon is a hero, Gladion."
Moon laughed nervously. "But seriously."
"That was pretty much verbatim."
They stared at each other. As if to capitalize on the conversation's lull, their waiter swooped in, setting down plates of delicately wrought deserts and tall fluted glasses of something bubbly. Moon attacked the food eagerly. Her head was whirling and she wasn't sure she trusted herself to speak. Across the table, she could hear Gladion thinking. His finger was tapping an irritating rhythm against the tablecloth.
"I have a business proposition," Gladion said suddenly.
Moon swallowed a cream-puff and chewed. "What?" she said, when her mouth was clear.
Gladion leaned forward. He'd stopped slouching—this was probably how he looked at board meetings, Moon thought.
"You—" he said, pointing at Moon, "—are a talented trainer. What you need is money. The Aether Corporation has money. What we need is good publicity. Our reputation still hasn't recovered from Mother's craziness. So here's the proposal: Aether funds your training needs. That is, tournament fees, equipment costs, personal expenses like travel and your mom's hospital bills—" he raised a hand, forestalling Moon's interruption "—look, we're a billion dollar corporation, it's not a problem. In return, you take on an official role as an Aether spokesperson. You enter tournaments under our sponsorship, wear the company logo, give us some good press if reporters ask. Believe me, when you make champion, it'll be more than worth the investment for us. For the company, that is."
Moon shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Gladion. My mom and I can't accept that kind of charity—"
"It's not charity!" Gladion shot back, narrowing his eyes. "Were you listening to a word I just said? It's business. Quid pro fucking quo. You think this is some kind of personal favor? The board will be all over it. They'll tell me I'm a business prodigy again."
"Gladion," Moon said. "You don't get it. I hate living here. I hate my my stupid job, I hate these insipid night classes. I hate that I can't take proper care of my pokemon. But I can't just take your company's money. I can't just let you solve all my problems. I'm not—I can't owe anyone like that."
Gladion looked at her for a long time, and then nodded. "Okay," he said. "I get that. You know why? Because that's how I thought. Better to live in a gutter than take a single hand-out from my mom. But you know what? I was being selfish. Because I left Lillie behind. And you, you're also being selfish. To your pokemon. Who are enduring all this shit for your sake. To your mom. Who, unlike my mother, is actually a good person who wants you to be happy. And to your friends. Because we want you to be happy too. If I told Lillie a tenth of what you've been telling me, she'd be so indignant on your behalf—"
"So don't tell her," Moon mumbled, looking away. "Lillie doesn't need to be burdened with my problems."
"I think you're missing my point," Gladion said. He frowned, suddenly thoughtful. "You sound like Lillie, actually. 'No one needs to be burdened with my problems.' The two of you are some pair, alright."
Moon shut her eyes, leaned back, and tried to think. Her mind was a mess. Life didn't just hand you solutions on a platter. Only . . . it had been different, those magical years in Alola. Tapu Koko had given her that sparkling stone, brimming with untapped power, because it had believed in her. And she'd paid back that belief. Her thoughts drifted back to Lillie, who had given her something very different that first night at the bridge. Lillie had given her trust, and Moon had tried, but she'd never felt herself worthy of it.
"I'll take your offer," Moon said slowly. "But on one condition. Lillie has to be my manager." The second she'd gotten the words out, Moon felt paralyzed. Was that even something she could demand? Maybe Gladion was wrong, and Lillie was happy, off on her own, enjoying her life without Moon –
Gladion grabbed her hands from across the table and squeezed them tight.
"Thank you, Moon," he said. His green eyes were shining. "Thank you."