Chapter 3: Redemption

Hibiki threw up his hands in mute frustration and decided to just plant himself where he stood, dropping to sit cross-legged. There was no reasoning with her when she got like this, and already he'd been slapped twice for trying. Now she was yelling at Al to search his mind for the fifth time against the possibility he could guess at some scrap that might help them find their way back to the cave. And again, he told her with only partially feigned (Hibiki wondered…) regret that he had no way of recalling the information that Mewtwo had taken from him.

"But we were just there!" Suma protested with a stomp of her foot. "Look, if you don't remember— use my memory! I remember it just fine!"

A long, slow breath ruffled the whiskers that dangled from the Alakazam's nose. "I regret to speculate, Suma, that your own memory is… insufficient for the teleportation."

Suma growled at that. "What's that supposed to mean?" She was getting emotional now, and if he didn't interfere then they may well lose track of time entirely.

"It means," Hibiki chimed in, "that all we knew about the place was that it was a cave somewhere in Ka's mountain-range."

"Uh-uh," Suma chided, head bobbing tartly. Oh, here we go. She marched over to stand before him. "He said we were in southeast Kalos." And then her brow leapt, and she snapped her fingers as a triumphant grin spread across her face. "Everwinter Wood— that's where he said we were." She cast a sour look at Al who stood frozen several paces behind her. "That enough to teleport us back?"

Al hunched a little, his answer already evident in his body language. "Again, I regret to inform you," he answered meekly, "I really don't know where such a forest—"

"Then find Mewtwo!" she roared, stomping back to where the Pokemon cowered. Her voice had cracked with strain as she barked the order, and had her back not been to him Hibiki guessed he would have seen tears on her face.

Another slow breath raked Al's mustache, but Hibiki thought it was out of pity rather than frustration. "I'm so sorry," he said simply. But, he can't do it, Hibiki finished for him. He hadn't been able to sense Mewtwo's presence from afar when Ash had asked him to seek it the first time. Ordinarily he would have thought it contrary that Al could be so affected by something up close and then unable to recognize it's distinct… flavor, from afar later. But at this point in his experience he knew well enough that some thing's defied explanation— Mewtwo wasn't just a legendary, he was an unnatural one.

He'd had no idea what Ash had had up his sleeve, but when he'd told them they were meeting a friend he'd known it couldn't have been a human one. And he had also known Mewtwo on sight— Mewtwo had been pretty loud in the first few years of his life, causing a ruckus wherever he went. Folks didn't help, of course, zealous to capture a living, breathing, genetically modified member of the Ancestor Race all for themselves. When they began to get the hint (and when Mewtwo had finally trended more towards cautious avoidance instead of semi-violent protest), all trace of him had disappeared from the media.

Hibiki hadn't known the extent to which Ash had been involved with that ordeal, still didn't know exactly. Ash'd rarely spoken of it when they had traveled together, despite his eagerness to hear. As a boy of twelve he had thought it a 16-year-old's way of pretending at unearned maturity, but as he had grown he had been able to look past his youthful resentments and see reason— his vague childhood memories of reporters standing in a blood-soaked arena on the news had later had him guessing at scenarios he was thankful he hadn't known intimately.

The ill-aspected sight of the now ominous city in the distance captured his thoughts. They were maybe an hour's walk south of Cerulean City, in Kanto. He recognized the dark firs of this part of the region, and guessed they weren't far from their destination— which lay another hour or so in the opposite direction. With a glance over at Suma's back, who now stood motionless save for the occasional hiccup or quiet sob, Hibiki stood. He wasn't yet sensitive to any kind of intrusion on his thoughts, but Al stirred in near unison with him. Perhaps they were simply in silent agreement that to linger here was incredibly unwise, especially so far into the dusking evening.

Whatever the Pokemon's dialogue with his wouldn't-be-trainer, Hibiki was excluded from it— he simply waited as Al tried to reason with her. She went rigid a few times, likely attempting to defend her stubborn refusal to accept their position in the midst of their psychic discourse. But eventually the tension seemed to melt from her shoulders, and when she turned there was such a look in her eyes that even Hibiki had to look away. She moved past him to where the path turned south, and trudged on without a word toward where their comrades waited for them.

They reached old man Nongmin's wheat farm quickly enough. Cao Nongmin had once been an artisan herbalist and orchardist, supplying most of Cerulean's and Saffron's general and Poke-medical remedies and supplements. The rise of Alpha Corp. in Kanto changed all of that.

Like an invasive species of predator their presence in Kanto practically changed the geography of the entire region— factories and barracks and outlying district offices cropping up everywhere. Men and women were forced into labor or violently recruited into the Military Police, and the rural Kanto became increasingly desolate.

To dam the flooding rate at which Kanto was bleeding, those who weren't forced into compulsory labor or military service were ordered to work on those precious few farmsteads that weren't poisoned by the miasmic pollutions produced by the factories. Nongmin's plantation had been a prime candidate, and little work would have had to be done to convert his orchards and gardens into the wheat farms now desperately needed. But things weren't so simple as that. Wheat was not a crop easily grown in Kanto, its soil not entirely agreeable to its needs. In the span of a few years Cao went from a thriving artisan to a struggling laborer, and the transition had not been easy for him or for his family.

It had thus taken little persuasion to recruit him to the cause of Suma's Resistance. Over the past year they had struggled to gain a decent foothold in Kanto, with it being so heavily occupied by the denizens of Alpha Corp. But when Hibiki had finally been accepted into their ranks (still somewhat begrudgingly, much to his chagrin), he had known immediately that a farmstead was the only place they would have been able to successfully hide themselves—factories and other warehouses controlled by Alpha Corp. had to be kept away, if they wanted unblighted bread for their meals. The farms were monitored, but not guarded.

Slowly but surely those workers who were willing were recruited into their ranks, and those they deemed untrustworthy were transferred to other farmsteads and given reasons that wouldn't bar them from the much needed employment elsewhere. Holes were filled by hiring on already initiated members of the Resistance and soon the wheat farm was a rebel base in disguise. Scouts saw them approaching about twenty minutes away and, having been warned of their imminent arrival, came to greet them.

Neither Suma nor Hibiki knew the two young men, but were glad to see them nonetheless. They drank heartily from the water the men had brought for them, Suma splitting hers with Al, and caught their breath. Then they continued on towards the plantation proper, which they reached about forty minutes after dark. The pale light of the moon, by which he observed the farms, did little to dampen the harsh conditions to his eyes. Even so, they were warmly received by any they passed, especially Suma (who had garnered a real reputation for herself— among both enemies and sympathizers to the Alpha cause).

They were offered a tour of the farms, but both seemed ready to decline the offer in favor of seeking out a little solitude. Their hosts were happy to oblige, and informed them of the locations of both the mess hall and dorms, where cots had been prepared for all three of them. Food had sounded good to Hibiki, but he was suddenly aware of his overwhelmed nerves and chose the cot instead. He tossed and turned for an hour or so, and was then quickly asleep.

He awoke suddenly, several hours later, as Suma stirred in her cot and rose. Tiptoeing past him, she worked her way out of the now fully occupied and snore-muzzled dormitory.

He didn't want to care about it, he didn't— he was much more attracted by the idea of clinging to what little unconsciousness he could because that sounded really appealing right now. Only… he muffled a sigh and eased himself out of his cot, following after her. He found her seated in one of the open-backed wagons that sat fifty feet beyond the portal to the dormitory. To the right, behind him, the farmhouses sprawled on with their tool-sheds and offices and cisterns. The wagon sat at the edge of one of the larger wheat-fields, and he could just make out the top of Suma's head as she looked on away from him.

He chuckled to see her nestled amongst the hay as he turned it's corner. She scowled at him, "What?" He shook his head and climbed up next to her. They weren't really friends, so he didn't want to stir anything up with untoward comments about a frigid Johtonite woman far from warm city living. She probably knew what he was thinking, but must have been too preoccupied to press it out of him so she could distract herself with a petty argument. They studied the star-dusted horizon in silence, and winced at the smoke obscured towers of Cerulean in the distance.

When he could stand it no longer, he chanced a glance over at her on his left. She was silent and, to his surprise, a monument to composure. He hadn't known her before all of it, but he thought he could see well enough the affects the last few years had wrought. She was less than ten years his junior, but lines careworn into her expressive face belied an aging she'd not grown but been plunged into… and he wondered if the past day's events had stretched her further than she could bear. Seeing her now, placid instead of livid, troubled him more than anything else might have.

She must have known he was staring now, and she turned to meet his eyes. There was a question there and he knew she was going to ask, but something told him that the question wasn't for him. "What do you want, Hibiki?"

He sighed, knowing that the question was just shades from 'why, Hibiki?'. And he had no intention of explaining his old teacher's actions, when after years he could hardly explain them. Instead, he decided to answer her spoken question for himself. "I don't know, honestly." He thought she believed that, and she seemed surprised by his honesty. So, feeling more comfortable than he had expected, he elaborated, "I signed up with Alpha Corp. because I loved the innovation they promised. I mean, you're from Johto, too— we've led our neighbors in technological advancement for decades. I grew up going on field trips to the old Silph Labs, and…" he trailed off.

And to his surprise, a small smile lighted her features. "…and it was just… in you."

A deep sigh rumbled his chest, and he thought he felt years of tension ease in places he hadn't known to be stiff for so long. "Yes." He'd never been able to put it that way, but that was it exactly. "I was passionate about it, have been my whole life. It became the basis by which I judged the world around me— 'how is this going to enhance my life, or that of others?' So when they put out ads for the Alpha Device… the implications were staggering, you know. If we could gain access to the electro-magnetic waves driving Pokemons' faculties... who knows what we could have learned. I didn't think there was anything that could have superseded my dedication to innovation."

A low but drawn breath. Was she sympathizing with him? "But something did, didn't it Hibiki? You found and crossed a line you didn't know existed, and it… it changed the way you saw it all. Didn't it?"

He nodded, and could only hum his assent. Did he want to undo what he had done? Maybe. He knew that things would have unfolded this way, whether he had been involved or not. He was not one to borrow guilt, not like his teacher. Not like her. But did he regret his part in it? Yes. But this wasn't about that, or it wasn't the conclusion of it all. This wasn't about simply undoing his wrongs. He shrugged and said, half to himself, "I guess I just couldn't go on the way I had been. And I can't just… just stop, either."

That made her eyes go wide, cluttered with a sudden rush of tears. She looked away from him for a moment, and was clearly doing her best to quell the heaving sobs that wracked her body. But she failed, and he didn't know why but she reached for him, burying her tear-slicked face his shoulder as she wept. And he didn't know why, but he let her.

"Why?" Hibiki questioned. By the looks on their faces, and their preference to the maps on the table before them rather than his questing gaze, it was an unwelcome question. "Why do any of this?"

The young man before him— one of the scouts that had guided him here, Fanpan was his name— gave him an incredulous look from beneath dark, unkempt brows. "Look, mister," the boy said gruffly, "y'said yerself there's no way we can take them on outright."

The others nodded, equally surprised by his objection. "Stealth is our only chance," another added.

Hibiki shook his head and dry washed his face. "Yes, I said that, but I didn't think you meant…" he trailed off, stifling a groan. "What is this going to achieve?" he drilled, instead.

The same young man listed his responses, counting them on his fingers. "Hamstringin' the surroundin' offices and way-stations'll make any cries for help from the main campus useless; barricadin' the barracks'll keep the off-duty guards and military contained; cutting the power'll confuse the buggers that're left an' give us a smoother way in."

"To do what?" Hibiki demanded.

"To shut 'em down," the boy insisted. The other's muttered their agreement.

That made Hibiki's face go taut with surprise. "You think the factory is the problem?" he wondered at him. Their expressions were a mixture of incredulity and unwanted shame— they were eager, and that was well enough. But their eagerness seemed to have dulled the sobriety of their judgement. He looked pointedly at Suma, who quickly avoided his eyes. So, she was thinking the same thing. Maybe lacked the heart to say it— no, perhaps it was her heart that restrained her tongue.

And if she wasn't going to say it? He would. His gaze turned back to the young man, who had apparently elected himself the little prince of their rebellion. "You know that won't be enough," Hibiki told him. And that drove the boy's eyes away. Yes, he knew, but perhaps couldn't bring himself to face that truth. But after everything he had seen, everything he had done… Hibiki could not afford the privilege of simpering. And if these young people were going to have a world of their own? They couldn't either. "You know what must be done."

That brought him a hard look from Suma. "Hibiki…" she chided. Her tone feigned rebuke, but it was half-hearted. And while he didn't want to add to the trauma she was already carrying, it would do none of them any good to mince truths now.

He shook his head, mustering all the kindness he could for the words that had to follow. "We're going to have to kill him," he told them. And there it was, the Donphan in the room.

The twenty-something people gathered in the room shuffled uncomfortably, sharing nervous and nauseous glances— well, all but Suma and Hibiki. She held his gaze steadily now. She wasn't angry, and for whatever reason he was thankful for that. But she was sad. He thought he knew why. And the question that seemed to be passing unspoken between the lot of them, the question that moistened her eyes, was finally voiced by a young lady in the back, "But… who would even be able to do that?"

Hibiki nodded, looking from face to face. "You're right about that," he told them. "Even if all of you had Pokemon, I doubt we could overpower Giovanni as he is now."

"Then what are we gonna do?" another voice croaked. Heavy sighs passed through them like a draft of chill air.

After a moment, he shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Had you asked me that a day ago, I'd have had no idea what to tell you." And I was just as deluded as you about it, he confessed to himself. Then he nodded, "Thankfully, someone else thought of that long before we did."

Most of their eyes went straight to Suma— unabashed hope and expectation in their faces. If the woman had been made of glass she would have shattered right there. To spare her further strain, he answered their unvoiced expectations. "Not her, no. The man who taught her, taught me." He had half expected that to mean something to them, but when they didn't alight with realization, he glimpsed anew the depths of Suma's grief for the man who had been her hero. So you didn't tell them, he realized. So, he elaborated a little further. "This man has called on the help of one of the rarest Pokemon in the world— 'one-of-a-kind' rare, actually."

"An elder Pokemon?" Fanpan muttered, almost to himself.

Hibiki nodded, "Something like that, yes." And catching Suma's eyes once more, he dared not say more than that. Instead, he chose to bring the discussion to it's close. "This man and his… friend… they are the only one's capable of stopping Giovanni."

"You really think it's possible?" one of them asked, voice sanguine-warm. Color was beginning to return to their faces.

He tried at a smile, because he did— but it didn't mean he was happy about it. "Yeah, I do."

"So… what should we do?" Fanpan asked him.

Hibiki nodded at that, hissing a breath between his teeth as he chewed on the thought. "Actually, I think you should do most of what you already have planned." That drew a sour look from the boy, as he had kind of expected. So he lifted a finger, "But with a few stipulations." With that finger he indicated a point on the map, a warehouse in the southeastern quadrant of the city. "You won't disable this one."

"What?" Fanpan blustered. "That warehouse is maybe five minutes from the main campus— they'll send runners and be back with reinforcements in less than twenty!"

And Hibiki raised that pointing finger again, emphatically shaking it at the younger man. "Exactly." He indicated another place on the map, the barracks at the side of the main campus that served as the dormitories for the primary regiment of it's forces. "You'll start here, then slip south and begin your work at this office," he struck another point on the map, a resourcing office on the border of the southwestern and southeastern quadrants. "You'll work your way east, hitting each one of the places you pointed out to me along the way. After the first few are hit, they'll begin to see the pattern and—"

"—and they'll go right to the barracks," Fanpan finished for him. Hibiki smiled inwardly as he saw gears turning behind the boys eyes. Fanpan jabbed his own finger at the map, at the military dormitories on the west side of the main campus. "They'll figure heading us off is a waste of time and… and they'll figured we're headed for the headquarters."

Hibiki nodded, stepping back and crossing his arms in a satisfied gesture. "But when they get there to warn the M.P., there'll be no way in or out. So," he said with a shrug, "they'll have to take it upstairs."

Suma's eyes narrowed, and after a moment she completed the train of thought, "You want to draw Giovanni out into an open conflict?"

"He didn't build an army for nothing," Hibiki pointed out to her. "If they can sick the Psycho Squad on us, I doubt we'll see hide or hair of the man. And while you may not like to think of yourself as a trainer," he stipulated, Suma chewing on the inside of her cheek at the word, "I'm sure you'd agree that we wouldn't be doing ourselves any favors going at the guy on his own turf."

"So, what happens after that?" Fanpan asked. "After we draw him out?"

Hibiki shared a glance with Suma, trying to choose his words carefully. "We fight," he answered. A little of their prior anxiety slithered amongst them again, muscles tensing and fists curling. He thought it went without saying, but the M.P. wouldn't be held back for long. They'd arrive on the scene, if not sooner than later, then eventually. And when they got there… it would be a fight for their lives.

His disposition would normally have bidden him make that plain to them, tell them that god-like tyrant aside… there was a good chance every one of them could lose their lives. But again he caught Suma's eye, and again she must have known his mind… and again he could not bring himself to say it. Instead, he turned on his heel and went out to find solitude among the wheat fields.

He walked for nearly half an hour before finding an old tree stump between fields. The barns and housing distant behind him, he planted himself on the stump and looked out upon the city to the north. The day was dreary and damp, a mist thickening the air as shades of gray frowned down upon the land. As much as he chided Suma's rebels for their naïveté, he was in this moment a hypocrite.

On their approach from the north, Fanpan and his fellow scout Yiji had told them of the desolate Cerulean City— it was nigh on a smoking ruin now. The suburban communities had withered and become decadent slums, parks had molded and become festering wounds and dumps. The markets of the northwest were largely abandoned by trade and taken up by squatters and vermin, the industrial quadrant in the northeast cut off from the public. And the heart of the city… well, the PokeGym had been converted into what had later become the Alpha Headquarters. Misty's sisters had all married up and moved away, and with Misty lost in the battle on the bridge… there was no one to contest their claim. No one of consequence, anyway.

But he didn't want to think about that right now. Didn't want to think about what he had come here to do, to murder a demi-deific psychopath. Didn't want to recall the faces of that raggedy band of rebels, to know that in a few days' time he might find any one of them pale and lifeless in the rumble of a desiccated city. Didn't want to remember the look in his teacher's eye as he glimpsed him for what he had realized would be the last time. Didn't want Suma's heartbroken sobs to ring in his ears as they did now, as she had mourned her hero and their circumstance and the death that loomed ahead.

In this moment, he was a hypocrite. Because if he could, he would have adopted the naïveté in a heartbeat. He sat there for he didn't know how long, unconcerned with the watch on his wrist and denied the sight of the suns course overhead. Sometime later, a purple flash behind him disturbed the stillness and a presence approached from behind. "Where have you been the past day?" he asked.

"I needed… some time to myself," Al answered after a few moments.

Hibiki nodded, understanding that all too well. "Was Mewtwo's presence that disorienting?"

"It was disorienting, yes, but that did not give me cause to take up solitude." Ah. He had needed space from Suma. Al huffed a little at the thought. "Yes— had I remained she might have continued to… implore me to send her back."

"It would have done her little good," Hibiki agreed. "But that's not why you went off on your own."

"No," Al said simply. After a few more silent moments, Al moved to his right and sat cross-legged on the ground. Hibiki made a face at that— the fuss he made about sitting in the cave. That turned Al's head and Hibiki could have sworn he saw a glint of humor in the Pokemon's eye, "The cave floor was filthy, Hibiki."

And Hibiki laughed. They sat there silent for a goodly few minutes longer, and then Hibiki picked up the thread Al had laid out. "So, you've come to tell me why you went off on your own?"

"I've come to ask a favor," Al corrected. Hibiki felt his brow leap, and his eyes turned reflexively toward the Pokemon to his right. Al was staring out on the field, free of tension but somehow grim. He didn't have the sensitivity that Suma and Ash possessed, the ability to perceive the expressions natural to Pokemons' dispositions. But he thought Al seemed… troubled. A breathy chuckle rattled the Pokemon's chest. "We are not so different, you know— Pokemon and humans."

"No?" Hibiki pried curiously.

"We, too, can be… stricken, by the prospect of our own deaths."

Hibiki tsk'd and turned back to look glumly on the field again. "That pessimistic about our chances, are you?"

"It is not a matter of pessimism," Al answered, a tone of weariness to his silent voice, "…but foresight."

That turned his head again. "…You saw…?"

Al nodded. "I did."

"Did you see…?" Hibiki trailed off.

"What I saw was confusing and inconclusive," he answered the unfinished question. "My vision revealed nothing to me of our success or failure… only the certainty of my end." Hibiki felt his jaw clench. Oh, Suma, I'm so sorry. Al sighed, "That's what I want to talk to you about."

"What do you mean…?" Hibiki wondered, reluctant.

"Suma…" he began ponderously, "…is much like her teacher. She is moved by the injustices of life, and is so deeply invested that she feels a sense of moral obligation to her world."

"They handle it differently, though," Hibiki added after a moment. "Ash gets so overcome with grief he practically and literally shuts down… but Suma?" He shook his head to himself. "Suma, she can't see past her determination to change things and charges in whether or not she can do anything." It's likely to get her killed, one day, he noted. Thankfully, Al left that thought alone for the moment.

"When all is said and done," Al went on, leaving Hibiki to infer that they might succeed, "Suma will have lost… everything."

Hibiki blinked, uncomfortable. "Doesn't she have… have a family?"

"Suma does not speak to me of her past," Al answered, "but from what I have incidentally glimpsed of her dreams and stray thoughts… no. She has no one." Hibiki felt the muscles in his chest tighten as he anticipated the course of Al's request… and it pricked at him inexplicably. "Even if you do succeed," Al continued, before Hibiki could stop him, "the world is now a broken thing. She will likely carry that same sense of obligation to it's fallen condition."

'What do you want me to do about it?" Hibiki returned, defensive. "It's not like I can fix the world all by myself." Al fixed him with a hard stare, most of the indignation he had tried to stir up waning under the Pokemon's sober gaze. This isn't about that and you know it, he was saying. Al nodded, and turned to look back out on the field.

"If left to her own devices, Suma will become so consumed with the despair of others that it will— indeed— eventually kill her."

Hibiki guffawed. "Guess you better not die, then, if you're so worried." He knew he was being cold and irrational but for whatever reason he couldn't help himself.

Al shook his head. "You seem to know what I would ask of you… and yet you can be so derisive. Why?"

"You've been reading my thoughts all day," Hibiki muttered. "Figure it out for yourself."

"I do have some sense of propriety," Al returned. "The fault is not mine you are so heedless, your thoughts passing like stones through errant fingers. Do you know what I would ask, or not?"

"Yes," Hibiki grunted.

"And what is your answer?"

"You want an answer?" Hibiki growled. "I'll give you an answer: I can't save her." He rose to his feet and moved a few paces away. He threw a hand bitterly in the direction of the ruined Cerulean. "Look at that— look at it," he bellowed. "Ash thinks he's a mess because he can't save everyone? That's like falling short a few steps in the race— I've run clear in the wrong direction!" Anger and pain swelled in his chest and in his head, grievous tears clouding his vision. "I'm worse than a failure, Al— I'm… I'm a villain." The words brought him to his knees, and he struck the earth with clenched fists until his knuckles bled, sobbed and heaved until he had to stop to breathe.

Several quiet minutes later, he heard the Pokemon rise from where he was sitting and cross to where he knelt in the midst of dirt, blood, and tears. A hand fell on his shoulder, bidding him look up. So he did. "I am not asking you to be her savior," Al consoled. "I'm asking you to be her friend."

"Why?" Hibiki demanded, his voice wavering. "Why me? I'm not… I'm not even a good person."

Oddly, another breathy chuckle rattled Al's shoulders. "I may not be human, but I am person enough to know this— one's mettle is not found in the number of their good deeds. It is found in what they have done with their deeds, good or bad."

Hibiki shook his head and stared into the earth before him. "What does that even mean?"

Al removed his hand and sat before him, waiting for him to meet his gaze. When he did, "It means that, for better or worse, you've accepted responsibility for your actions." After a moment, he found the audacity to laugh at Hibiki again. "For a man who does not 'borrow guilt'," he observed humorously, "you are more like both of them than you realize."

And he had to laugh at that, too. Ash had been right, all of that emotional crap may as well have been Sinnohan to him. But, with the right pressure, there it was spilling out of him— seemingly out of no where. Hibiki shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be," Al told him plainly, drawing his eyes back to him. "Not for your grief. Remorse is good— insofar as it moves us to change. And that is why I would choose you, why she respects you."

"Respects me?" Hibiki echoed, surprised.

"Yes," Al confirmed for him. "When you stumbled, you picked yourself back up, turned around, and got going."

And at that, Hibiki realized, simultaneously, why his teacher had been such a source of frustration to the young woman… and why the course of his own life had been so contrary to the man's guidance. It had maddened her, both of them, to watch a man capable of so much consign himself to a prison of his own shame. She had pursued Ash because she refused to let him give up. And he so often struggled to accept Ash as a mentor because he could never allow himself to be like a man so… so defeated. So self-condemned.

He did know what it was Al was asking of him. "If all of this overcomes her," Hibiki observed, "if there is no one to pull her back from the edge… she may well tumble in after him."

Al nodded. "There is an ocean of grief ahead. She'll need someone to keep her head above water… and I think you'll need it, too."

"You're right," Hibiki agreed. After a deep breath, he accepted the Pokemon's dying wish. "I'll do my best, Al."

Al once more put a hand to his shoulder, and something stirred behind his eyes. "Thank you."