Catching Them All in Another World from Zero (Crossover)

by Oxidant15p

Natsuki Subaru. Many would envy him—but they don't know what he knows. After all, who could better describe the isekai experience than a guy who happened to go through it, not once, but twice? As he looked on at the new world he'd been sent to and reminisced on his time in that of Pokemon—it didn't quite cross his mind that this was a downgrade.

Through gritted teeth and tightly clenched eyelids, the young man hardly registered what would have otherwise been a jarringly sudden change in atmosphere and lighting. At the unexpected recession of what had, moments ago, been bitter resignation to a grim fate, he'd only barely managed to pick up on the fact that there'd been such a change to begin with. Slowly, carefully—and to a great extent, unbelievingly—the boy's sharp brown eyes revealed themselves to his surroundings as his eyelids wrenched themselves open at a snail's pace, trembling minutely all the while in such a way that any potential onlookers would find themselves thinking he'd just narrowly escaped a brush with death.

Setting aside the fact that such an assessment wouldn't be too far off from reality, the truth behind the young man's almost hesitantly paced recognition of the present environment had more to do with disbelief than any residual fear, oddly enough.

I…I'm alright?

Though the boy's sharp, amber eyes had, at this point, revealed themselves in earnest, his cognition had yet to catch up to the images they'd started to capture. That's why he, despite himself, reflexively raised a tentative hand, unwittingly overlooking that onto which it'd been gripped so tightly to ascertain his own wellbeing— "...for a change—"

'For a change', huh… that's what she told me, back when—

"Look after yourself for a change, will you?!"

Little more than halfway through its distractedly guided course towards his face, the young man's hand stopped in its tracks and his eyes simultaneously widened as his presence of mind finally restored itself—prompting the subsequent contradiction of the phrase that prefaced his return to reality as he set upon a markedly more characteristic course of action and brushed short-lived self-interest aside to turn his attention towards the bright pink bundle he'd been tightly embracing the entire time.

It was a shift in intentions that'd almost certainly irk their present recipient, were she conscious, but upon scarcely registering that that wasn't the case, the boy couldn't have been able to bring himself to care about that at the moment, even if he wanted to.

Oh no.

"L-Lebbie!"

In one split second, he'd gone from utterly still to jolting awake and sporting a panicked expression that could spread concern to even the most apathetic of bystanders. Thankfully, perhaps, none had felt the need to resolve their growing urge to help this strange young man, as in a swift yet painstakingly measured motion, he brought the pink, fairy-esque form in his arms up closer to him and correspondingly closed the distance by tilting his head such that her face was centimeters away from being pressed up against his ear—whereupon a sigh and a concomitant expression of relief made themselves known to and consequently deterred any who would have otherwise mustered the uncharacteristic resolve to approach the strange sight and offer their assistance.

She's breathing… And she looks okay…

"Oh, thank God."

As the majority of his concern dissipated, the young man relaxed his arms, tilted his head back to a comfortable position, and momentarily closed his eyes in relief, thinking on his next potential course of action.

She's okay, for now, but she's still hurt… I don't have any chesto berries on me, so I need to get her to—

"—Wait a minute."

Having ascertained the wellbeing of his roseate charge, he'd finally a degree of the cognitive wherewithal necessary to make a sudden, potentially startling realization. His eyes shot open and his head started swiveling around at high speeds as he scanned his surroundings, desperate to dispel the conclusion his mind had intuitively come up with using what few stimuli it'd been able to register in his formerly distracted state as context clues. Unfortunately for him, such an endeavor promptly proved entirely fruitless.

"No…"

His eyes darted to and fro, his gaze borderline manic as he tried to pick up on any potential sense of familiarity from his present surroundings. To his left, a group of people in what looked to be medieval garb wandered about, throwing the occasional side-eye and confused glance his way as they walked on.

No, no, no,

It wasn't a style of dress with which he'd ever found himself personally acquainted, in terms of both having worn or seen such a thing in real life, let alone something that could have matched up with his most recent experiences and consequently exempted the most concerning potential turn of events from the realm of possibility. That wouldn't necessarily have been all that big a problem were it not for the glaring departure from normality—at least, insofar as such a thing could ever actually have existed for someone like him—standing just a few meters away, whose mere presence singularly constituted an omission of the proverbial "strike two" on the steps towards affirming his grim, yet unfortunately thoroughly educated conjecture and brought him straight towards the figurative "third".

"Wh-what the… You've gotta be…!"

To his right, just a few meters away from his still-kneeling form, stood a… man?

…A man. A man with the head, skin, and tail of a lizard.

"That's.. Not..."

It was not, in fact, what he was accustomed to. In every sense of the phrase. And, because of that, it was all the confirmation he needed.

He'd thought at first, that his partner had perhaps found the barriers against the use of her abilities lifted during their shared duress and accordingly saved them both from certain doom at the very last second. But now, he knew for a fact, that—

I've been sent to another world…

"...Again."

—

As the boy picked himself, and by extension, his unconscious partner up from his previous position of having kneeled on the stone floor for around five minutes straight—to which he'd not failed in reacting with a grimace at the pain that'd suddenly made itself known as soon as he started lifting himself off the ground—he thought on the fact that, in hindsight, it should've been obvious from the outset.

"...That I'd been sent to another world, that is. Again."

He muttered to himself, almost inaudibly, bitterly lamenting the fact that he'd been sent to what looked to be a completely different reality for the second time in his life. Really, just what were the odds of something like that happening to a person even once in their lives, let alone twice?

Just how unlucky am I?!

At the very least, he could take solace in the fact that he'd long since dispelled any and all of his early NEET fantasies where he'd auto-magically be given some sort of ridiculous power and made to serve as the untouchable protagonist for whom every wish is granted and every thing goes right. Well, that, and…

I'm… glad she's here.

It almost felt like hubris to think so, but he couldn't really help it. In truth, he was relieved that he'd, at the very least, been accompanied by one familiar face on his involuntary trip towards uncharted territory. Although, perhaps he was erring in thinking that their joint transit was somehow his fault alone. After all, he wasn't the only one who…

…Hm. I don't know why, and I've really got zero proof for it, but I get the feeling that this one's on me, for some reason. At any rate… despite everything, I can't say I'm not grateful.

That's right. Weren't they about to die just before getting here? Really, it was a miracle that it'd conveniently happened when it did. He'd have to thank whoever was responsible, assuming he ever got to meet them. Although, if they're anything like the last guy…

Let's hope not.

"...Anyways, I've really got to…Oh, shit!"

Just as his thoughts were ready to shift back towards securing a means of restoring the tiny pink fairy in his arms back to full health, he'd suddenly been struck by another, equally important realization that he instantly chided himself for unwittingly delaying.

Oh no, please tell me they're still…!

Shifting the diminutive feather-like weight of his partner towards his left arm, he stopped in his tracks—given that he'd, at some point during his paltry reflections, started walking around aimlessly—and frantically used his right to search his waist for—

Satchel's here!

Having located the brown leather bag strapped to his hip, the young man promptly set out to ascertain the presence of something significantly more precious to him—the live cargo. His fingers undid the archaic twist lock and flipped the closer flap, promptly slipping into the bag and inspecting its contents thereafter.

Rocks… bunch of fruits and plants that'll go bad in a few days if I don't refrigerate them… a doll… aw no, man, please don't tell me… c'mon, c'mon, where are th—

Thoughts steadily veering towards worst-case scenarios were instantly rerouted at the outset of a familiar sensation on his fingertips. A material like laminated wood found itself beset by a few tentative taps from his index finger before his right hand clasped itself over the object to which such a sensation corresponded in earnest. He'd found what he was looking for—one of them, at least, but given that one was in there, it stood to reason that the rest would be, too.

But just because it stood to reason didn't mean he'd leave it up to chance. Rather than letting go of the object he presently held, he fished it out of the satchel, revealing an orb with two halves made of polished red stone and laminated wood, held together by a steel ring with some sort of latch at its center.

Briefly inspecting the orb, the boy spotted an "C" shaped carving occupying the base of its 'wooden' side, before nodding and setting his mind on working out a means of permitting himself to resume the search. Seeing as his pink friend's presence in his one-armed embrace left him bereft of a convenient means of freeing his right hand to continue fishing into the satchel, he instead elected to tilt his head up, place the ball at his neck, and hold it in place between his chin and his chest.

Not exactly the most efficient or comfortable way to search for the rest of the odd-looking spheres, but it wasn't as though he'd much of a choice with which to work here. The satchel wasn't just any ordinary satchel—anyone unfamiliar with it would think that, given the size of the orb he'd just pulled out, he'd have simply been able to feel around the outside of it to identify the contours of each ball and that'd be that.

But, it wasn't that simple. This satchel was special, in that it was actually a lot bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Though the interior wasn't quite expansive enough to be referred to as a proper 'hammer-space', it was certainly big. And the nature of its function was such that, from the outside, it looked and felt pretty much empty.

Anyways, that was one reason why he'd chosen to forgo any apparent efficiency and go with the most uncomfortable option. The other…

It's not like I can just set it down while I look for the rest. There's no telling the kinds of thieves and other dangers I might open myself up to by doing that…

Just as he got to that particular line of thinking, his eyes widened imperceptibly at the realization that he'd been making a potentially fatal gaffe in rummaging around his belongings in full view of all these strangers… all these unknowns.

He didn't consider himself a particularly paranoid person—though he'd not the slightest idea whether his pink friend would agree with such an assessment (he hoped not)—but he certainly became much more cautious after his time in that other place. Cautious enough that he suddenly became keenly aware of all the eyes on him as he pulled strange, likely to these people, one-of-a-kind looking objects out of his bag and held them in a conspicuously indefensible position, placing one between his chin and his chest, while carrying someone.

I don't like the look of some of these guys… Especially that lizard man. Although, I can't really tell if he's giving me the stink-eye or if he just looks like that. …Oughta get out of here, all the same.

And so, finally spurred by discomfort at the visual scrutiny of a reptilian humanoid, the man closed his satchel and transferred the ball at his neck to his right hand, resolving to find a spot free from prying eyes, and surreptitiously slinking away from the busy market street thereafter—well, as surreptitiously as an obvious foreigner in garbed in a strange uniform holding an unconscious creature and an odd-looking orb could feasibly have done so.

—

Let's see here… Medieval-looking architecture. European, looks like… I think.

…Not that he'd ever been privy to the ins and outs of architectural design and history, nor would he ever claim to be—still, it looked distinctive enough that he'd be able to eyeball it and make an intuitive assessment that would probably be correct.

I mean, it's not exactly Japanese, so that's a point in my favor, right?

At any rate, now that he'd a proper purpose for which to wander about, he finally had the opportunity to scan and scrutinize his new surroundings in earnest. That's not to say there weren't still pressing matters he needed to attend to— his partner remained unconscious and the rest were still mostly unaccounted for, after all.

On the bright side, even if I don't find a way to wake her up right this second, she'll still wake up eventually… Hypnosis doesn't exactly last that long, so, I imagine it'd be the same for...

He visibly grimaced at the thought that he might've been mistaken about that. It wasn't a possibility he was too keen on entertaining, but…

…The important thing is that she's breathing. She's with me and she's alive. Right now, I'm more concerned about making the headcount.

Right. Even supposing he was wrong about his initial assessment, it wasn't as though he'd be able to do anything about it right now. And, getting a good look at her face, it didn't seem as though the influence of that… freak had any bearing on her slumber, at least not anymore—likely on account of the fact that they're in another reality entirely, he thought. She—she'd wake up, eventually. She had to. And he likewise needed to focus on the things he actually could do at the moment. To that end, he'd have to find himself someplace secluded.

It wouldn't do to have these medieval folk see me release a potentially alien-looking creature from an orb and consequently think of me as some sort of witch to be burned on a pyre… Sure, they might have demihumans running around, and…

He spared a glance towards his left, where a carriage was being pulled across the main road by what appeared to be some sort of… flightless dragon?

…whatever those things are. But, I'm not entirely sure if "magic" is fair game here, so I still need to be careful.

After all, if 'magic' were something commonplace, he'd be able to explain any questions or concerns as to the nature of his faithful partners and technology under the veneer of them having been adjacently related or a direct product thereof… Although, he'd probably be screwed were he unfortunate enough to run into anyone substantially educated on whatever brand of witchcraft they actually have in this reality—assuming they have any—so perhaps it'd be better to keep things under wraps either way, at least until he finds someone he can trust.

Should probably preface that thought with an 'if' in capital lettering… No telling what kind of show these people are running here.

The city looked clean enough, sure. And the people—though he couldn't seem to shake off their perplexed gazes no matter how inconspicuous he attempted to make himself seem—didn't appear all too harmful. Still, there'd be no way to tell without actually having spoken to one of them—

"Hey. Hey, kid."

Huh?

And just as the idea of communicating with one of the locals occurred to him, his thoughts and steps ground to a halt at the sound of a voice coming from his right—one that, oddly enough—or, perhaps not, given his out-of-place get-up—seemed to be directed towards him.

Tentatively, the boy turned his gaze towards the direction from which the voice had been heard, and found himself face-to-face with a gruff-looking, green-haired man clad in an open vest standing next to an open fruit-stand.

Guy's scary-looking… might be trouble. Should make sure if I'm actually the one he wants before trying to talk to him.

To that end, the young man performed what must've looked to be the most clueless face of all time and slowly raised his still orb-gripping right hand up to his chest, releasing a lone index finger from its place wrapped around the stone-metal-wood sphere to point at himself, wordlessly conveying the expression, 'you talking to me?'

Come to think of it… was a really bad idea to keep the ball in my right hand, wasn't it? Should've just placed it back in my satchel, but I didn't want to go through the trouble of having to look for it again. Damn it, what if this guy wants to mug me for it? Dude's completely ripped! I wouldn't stand a chance!

…Alright, alright, calm down. First of all, think of what he'd be trying to mug—this isn't any ordinary ball, and in fact, considering this dude seems to be an ordinary human, there's a pretty good chance he'd be able to help me here despite this guy's muscles, assuming theft is actually his game... Would probably have to run off right after, if I was right about magic somehow being taboo and grounds for execution in this place, but it's an option. Anyways—I'm still not entirely sure about the exact level of 'civilization' they've got going on here—that is, 'civilization' in terms of, 'these people are quite civilized' where the word becomes synonymous with 'nice'. I can see they've got roads, buildings, what looks to be a bustling economy… but does their rule of law stand up to scrutiny?

…Probably. And assuming that's the case, what're the chances that this guy, who, despite his scary-looking face and perpetually displeased expression, still looks to be running a legitimate business selling fruits, would just up and rob someone in broad daylight? Not very likely, I think… hope.

At any rate, a functioning system of law enforcement is practically a prerequisite for a city at this level of advancement, so even if he does try to rob me, the knights, guards, constable, or whatever equivalent this place has for a police force would undoubtedly have to step in and spare me the need to—

"You! I'm talkin' to you! What're you suddenly deaf or something?!"

With a jolt, the boy ejected himself out of his potentially ill-conceived paranoia and turned his full attention towards the man, who, going by his preceding exclamation, had actually been attempting to communicate with him for some time.

"H-huh?! Oh, I'm sorry, I, uh… um…"

Shit! What should I say?!

"...Was just admiring your bulging muscles! Yeah, took one look at 'em and thought to myself 'man, how I'd love to have pecs like those!' Just can't help but lose myself in thought whenever I see someone diligent enough to craft their body to perfection like that, you know?!"

What in the… What am I saying?!

The boy cringed hard at his abjectly disturbing knee-jerk excuse for having deposited his head into the clouds while the man attempted to talk to him. As his plastered-on grin looked to be on the verge puckering into itself at the cognitive ingestion of sour embarrassment, the man thankfully appeared none-the-wiser, directing his gaze skyward and adopting a seemingly thoughtful expression for a moment before closing his eyes and nodding in… what looked to be understanding?

You're kidding… that actually worked?

The man schooled his face back into the displeased expression he had on before—though slightly less so, this time, likely the default—before opening his eyes and once more setting his attention upon the now-relieved young man.

"...That fella you've got there in your arms," he said, flicking his chin towards the pink form embraced in the young man's left arm as he did so, "That your spirit?"

…Spirit?

The young man's expression almost reflexively shifted into a confusedly furrowed brow at the rather unorthodox label, before he caught himself and thought better of impulsively disclosing his ignorance at the word's meaning.

"She's…" The boy's eyes momentarily severed their attention on the man as his gaze directed itself towards the roseate subject at hand.

The guy called her a spirit… meaning he actually recognized her as something that could potentially be an analogue to her kind in this reality. Assuming these 'spirits' are actually commonplace, or at least socially acceptable enough for him to have referred to her as such in a benign and nonchalant manner, it might be beneficial for me to take a receptive approach here… That way I could avoid any issues that we might've otherwise run into on account of her—and their—potentially alien existence in this place.

Yeah, I think… I think that's the way to go, here.

Turning his attention back towards his gruff conversational partner, the young man consciously ejected any hints of a calculative look from his face before opening his mouth to reply, "Yeah. She's my spirit."

At the confirmation of his suspicions, the man nodded, bringing a contemplative hand up to stroke the hair on his chin—which was just as green as that of his head—before opening his mouth to speak once more,

"Mm," he hummed, "Never seen a spirit sleep in brought daylight like that."

Oh no

The young man held in a sharp inhale, but couldn't restrain his expression from hardening slightly as he heard what could've easily been construed as a statement of suspicion. Thankfully, the gruff man's next words abated the boy's preemptively defensive grip on the ball in his right hand.

"Then again, I haven't seen very many spirits in my time to begin with. Still… Is she alright?"

…Huh?

In the second… or was it the third?— Curveball to take place in this conversation yet, the gruff, green-haired man surprised the boy with an expression of what appeared to be genuine concern for his partner—what's more, it was genuine concern for a stranger, and one who was clearly not human, no less.

Well, that's a new one. Can't say I was expecting empathy, especially from a guy with a face like that. Maybe the people here aren't so bad, after all…

…Should I tell him? His words sounded sincere enough, and his expression doesn't really betray any kind of deceit, though I'll admit it's a little hard to tell…

I… should take the chance. The guy's a fruit vendor—and this place looks 'fantasy' enough, so he might have something like what I'm looking for. And assuming the existence of 'spirits' means this world has 'magic', the guy might be prefacing a referral to some kind of healer. If—If there's any chance that I'm wrong about her sleep state, then that might end up being my only option.

The young man allowed a visibly resigned expression to pour over his face before responding, "Well… she—"

"Say no more."

…and getting abruptly interrupted by the appearance of a hand a little less than twice the size of his head no more than 5 centimeters away from his face.

And then, as quickly as it had rushed to obstruct the boy's vision, the hand retreated, returning to its place tucked into the man's now-crossed arms.

"I may not know all that much about spirits, but I've heard a thing or two about their habits," said the man, as his right hand once more moved to caress his green beard.

The young man raised an eyebrow. "...Yeah? What is it you've heard?"

Where is he going with this?

"Well, ordinarily spirits siphon mana from their contractor's gate, or gather it directly from their environment. However," said the man, as his eyes broke contact with those of the boy and his chin-free hand made to pick something up from one of the baskets to his left.

Ugh… he's gonna give me some spirit-specific remedy, isn't he? Not sure that'd help… As far as I know, they're a lot more like actual animals… who just so happen to have incredible powers, and—hm. Come to think of it, maybe there is something like mana in their world? In that case, it couldn't hurt to hear this guy out, even if he is mistaken in thinking that she's a spirit. At least he's actually trying to help.

As the man's arm stretched across the fruit stand, the boy's gaze followed all the while. Eventually, his hand stopped over a basket of familiar-looking red fruit, and proceeded to pick one up.

…An apple?

Having successfully picked up what he was after, the gruff man brought his hand, and by extension, the apple, up to his eye-level, holding it some ways away from his head in a position where the boy'd half-expected to hear him say something like, 'to be, or not to be,' until he reminded himself that Shakespeare almost certainly didn't exist in this world, and he'd never even seen someone do that in real life back then, anyway. The gruff man's emerald eyes once more met the young man's amber as he opened his mouth to continue his previous thought, "...Yours isn't any ordinary spirit, is she?"

Oh, crap. The hell does he mean by that? I've got no idea how to respond!

"U-um, I—" the young man haplessly sputtered an attempt at responding to the gruff man's cryptic inquiry—

—Before promptly getting interrupted for the second time during the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah. I can tell you're probably new to this, so you might not be aware," said the man, eyes closed and right hand wafting air as he did so, "but great spirits aren't much like their lesser forms, and I'm not just talking about the way they look when I say that."

Lesser and Greater spirits, huh? So, there's levels to these things.

He resumed eye contact with the young man and placed his right hand back at his chin as he went on, "In addition to being much more powerful than minor or regular spirits, their having physical forms also allows them to draw mana through alternative means…"

At the conclusion of that particular phrase, the gruff man paused, looking at the boy with an utterly unreadable expression that, to be perfectly honest, was intense enough to make him sweat.

Sheesh, will you get to the point already? That look's giving me the creeps!

Having perhaps elapsed a satisfactory amount of time into his dramatic pause, the green-haired man slackened the arm holding the apple and opened his mouth to speak, "That is to say," he said, as he took the aforementioned arm skyward, "They're capable of converting anything that they eat into usable mana!" before bringing it back down towards the young man's face with enough force to invoke a gust of wind so unexpectedly powerful that it blew his hair back and made him likewise take a few backward steps.

"O-oi, what the hell?! That damn near pushed my eyeballs into their sockets! Just how strong are you?!" So the boy exclaimed, but judging by the fact that his gaze darted back-and-forth between the man and the pink bundle for which his previously one-armed embrace had now become conspicuously two-armed, it was obvious that his mind was somewhere other than himself at the moment.

"Alright, alright, pipe down, will you? It was an honest mistake," said the man, raising and lowering his free hand out palm-down in a placating expression that conveyed 'turn down the volume,' before pausing—likely to make sure that the young man had earnestly forgone persisting with his earlier outburst. The boy narrowed his eyes at the green-haired fruit vendor for a moment before giving him the 'go ahead' in the form of a nod and attempted restoration of neutrality back to his facial expression. Though he couldn't quite school the last vestiges of an indignant scowl out of his face proper, the gruff man evidently decided he'd calmed enough to be able to resume the conversation.

"As I was saying, great spirits can actually eat food to restore mana. I've only seen around two… maybe three of them in my lifetime—but I know that they only ever rest when they're low on mana."

Okay, this dude's never going to get to the point. Time to bounce.

At this point, the young man had become entirely fed up with the length of the fruit vendor's spiel, and was honestly about to cut the conversation short with a quick farewell and subsequently walk away. Apparently, his loss of patience had likely shone through his facial expression—which had become a particularly rigid deadpan, not that he'd even the cognizance to presently register that, what with just how resolved he'd become to just up and leave this abject time-waster alone—because the gruff man instantly brought both his hands up and shook them back-and-forth to grab his attention.

"Alright, let me cut to the chase. Your spirit's resting to recover her mana, right?"

The young man opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly cut off before he could do so—

"Wouldn't it be more beneficial for her to, you know, be awake instead of asleep? You never know when you might run into some trouble and need her help. That's where," he held the apple up to the young man's face once more, taking what looked like special care to measure the speed with which he did so, this time around, before speaking, "these come in."

The young man blinked once, then twice.

Right. Of course, he'd think that.

Throughout the entire conversation, the gruff man had been speaking whilst under the impression that the pink form the boy held was indeed a spirit—a great one, at that.

Whatever that actually means…

At any rate, it was only a given that any potential remedy he'd prescribe would be as the young man had initially suspected: spirit-specific.

Not exactly what I had in mind when I made that assumption—but the end result is the same, either way. An apple won't be able to wake her up from this sleep state, so I'm basically back at square one and wasted a good ten minutes of my time listening to this guy's half-informed lecture on whatever 'spirits' are on top of that.

Although… an apple is a fruit. And this is still a 'fantasy'-esque setting…

It's a shot in the dark, but as long as I've the opportunity…

In the time it took for the young man to conclude those thoughts, the fruit vendor had started swiveling his wrist, wagging the bright-red fruit in front of his face, as if to say 'Well? You gonna buy it, or not?'

Stepping aside to give himself a view of the green-haired fruit vendor unobstructed by intrusive live-action produce advertisements, the young man resolved to, at last, give his response to the former's offer.

With an upright index finger—raised from a hand still visibly wrapped around a two-tone orb— a ways away from his chest, the young man prefaced the following response, "Actually… you wouldn't happen to have any fruits capable of… lifting sleep spells, would you?"

At that, the gruff man raised a green eyebrow.

"Sleep spells?" The inquisitive expression that accompanied his question lasted only a moment before being replaced by eyes widening in realization, and then slightly pursed lips and furrowed brows as his face shifted to convey something markedly more apologetic—not that the boy would have been able to make that out, were it not for the open palm rubbing circles on the man's neck having served as a means by which he could identify the nature of his still somewhat displeased looking face with a reasonable degree of certainty. "I'm sorry to say that you're out of luck on this one, at least as far as my fruit stand goes… Still, I've never heard of such a thing as a 'sleep spell.' You sure that's what's actually going on? Sometimes, if a spirit is drained of enough mana, they won't wake up even if their contractor calls them out of their crystal. Yours is sleeping out in the open, but I imagine that still applies…"

Damn… Should've figured as much.

The boy shook his head. "No, this isn't any normal kind of sleep—that is, I know it's a 'sleep spell' and not anything else, because I… saw her get hit with it." His face grimaced at the memory.

"HEY, get out of the wa—"

%#$ $—%$# $%%

"LEBBIE!"

He gritted his teeth.

Th-that…That son of a—

Before the grimace could shift into something significantly more unsightly, his downward spiral of a train of thought was derailed by an interruption from a green-haired interlocutor.

"It's not serious, is it?"

"It…"

…shouldn't be…

It—

No.

It isn't.

"No. No, it's not. But…" He trailed off.

Something about his expression must've struck chord with the man, because what he said next threw the boy for a loop for what must've been the fourth or fifth time since the start of this conversation.

"Listen, kid. I… probably shouldn't do this, but, you said there's a fruit out there that can actually lift curses like these, right? Can't say I've ever heard of either of those things, but I can tell from your face that you aren't pulling my leg, here." At the conclusion of this frankly bewildering line of thought, the man took a deep breath and placed his right palm over his face, as though it physically pained him to think about going through with voicing the choice of words he'd planned out next.

Slipping the palm off his face to reveal a neutral expression, the man went on, "Tell you what—how's about you take a couple samples of my produce with you?" he said, barely managing not to grimace as he gave the offer. "You know, on the off chance that one of them actually ends up being what you're looking for?"

The young man could tell the merchant didn't actually believe his own words when he suggested the possibility of him somehow having possessed a fruit with the properties necessary to wake his pink friend. Even still… he made the offer. Attempted to help.

This… This guy…

I can't. Not in good conscience. What I'm looking for isn't here. And I'm fairly certain that none of the things I have on me count as legal tender here. He'll be taking a loss for no reason.

"I—... I'm sorry… I mean, I appreciate the offer, but, I don't have anything to pay you back with—" He'd attempted to weasel out of accepting the charity on account of having been, in all likelihood, functionally broke as far as this world's economy was concerned. The green-haired merchant, however, was having none of it, and the young man's attempts at denying his good will were swiftly rebuffed with another palm inches away from his face—though this time, without a gust of wind to accompany it.

He returned the visual obstruction to its place tucked around his chest in crossed arms, before continuing, "Don't worry about it. It's on the house. Think of it as an… investment. Sometimes, merchants have to take a loss for long term profits, you know?" As he said this, a cheeky smile made its way onto his face. Didn't do much to make him look any less scary—in fact, had he been in a normal state of mind, the young man would have thought it'd made him look markedly worse. However,

Is… this guy for real?

The fact was, he wasn't in his usual state of mind, at the moment. Far from it.

Sniffle. Sniffle.

The young man was, at present, on the verge of shedding genuine tears. The gruff man's words were enough of a departure from the kind of treatment to which he'd become so accustomed that he didn't initially believe what he was hearing—until he got a good look at his face. He didn't know what it was—whether it be the situation at hand, the content of the words themselves, or even, perhaps, a long-suppressed desire to be treated with sincere human kindness and accordingly helped by someone acting out of the goodness of their heart, setting aside any reciprocity that might have otherwise been expected by the 'helper'—but something clicked in his head and suddenly, he saw not a scary, scarred, displeased-looking face, but something utterly and entirely earnest in its intentions.

That's why, even when he heard what the man said next, he'd managed not to get disillusioned.

"Still… don't get the wrong idea. I'm not running a charity here. In fact, I'll be expecting lots of profitable business from you in the future." The man winked as he concluded his intent to make it seem as though he hadn't just given away some of his produce without actually expecting anything in return.

Blinking the burgeoning tears out of his eyes, the young man let loose a bright smile.

"Y-you can count on me, sir."

"Yeah, yeah," said the man, as he gathered one of each fruit into a cloth bag, "Now get out of here, you big freeloader. You're scaring away my paying customers." He held the bag out for the boy, who promptly took it off his hands, nodding all the while.

The young man suddenly donned a determined face, "I… I won't forget this. Thank you. I promise I'll be back as soon as I get my hands on some cash!" He decisively exclaimed while backing off of the fruit stand at the behest of the fruit vendor's shoo-ing hand.

—

"Things…are looking up."

As soon as he'd run off, the young man set about resuming his previous objective of searching for a secluded place in which to make a full—and thorough headcount, and potentially give him the quiet necessary to gather his bearings and think on a plan in earnest, once the former goal had been successfully carried out.

Realizing just how much time he'd spent conversing with the green-haired fruit vendor—approximately 20 minutes in total—he'd hustled his pace such that he was power walking across the unfamiliar streets of the unfamiliar city. He'd have considered running, but it seemed a little imprudent to do something that'd almost certainly draw even more attention towards him than what he'd already been garnering with his conspicuously out-of-place get-up.

Thankfully, his haste paid off, as he presently stood in a dreary alleyway, where he'd almost certainly be free to carry out his intentions away from prying eyes.

First thing's first…

He peeked into the cloth bag containing the fruits that the merchant had so generously gifted him. Though he did actually give the colorful selection a once-over on the unlikely chance that he'd happen upon something that resembled the chesto berry he so wished had counted itself among the presently useless perishables he held in his satchel, he didn't hold his breath, and his lack of expectations spared him the disappointment of getting an eyeful of mundane, vaguely familiar looking fruits which didn't at all look like the juicy blue orb that'd be able to wake his pink partner up from her slumber.

Don't actually know what some of these things are, but judging by the fact that the guy didn't mention any kinds of special medicinal properties for any of them, I'm leaning towards their being entirely normal fruits, unfamiliar appearances notwithstanding…

Setting aside the fruits themselves, the actual reason for which he'd directed his attention towards the interior of the cloth bag was something altogether different. But as he reached into the bag, which he'd currently set on the floor so as to give his right arm the leeway with which to search freely, he suddenly realized something,

Wait. Guy?

…You've gotta be shitting me.

"All that time I spent talking to the man, and I didn't even get his name! Jesus Christ. How am I supposed to pay him back if he turns out to be some kind of mobile merchant and I can't even ask anyone about him on grounds more specific than a physical description?"

As he realized this, he pulled his hand out of the bag on the floor—though, to his credit, not without having pulled what he'd been looking for out along with it—and straightened up from his previously squatting position, bringing the hand that'd just been rummaging around the bag up to scratch the side of his head in frustration at his, quite frankly, inexcusable gaffe.

"Shit… maybe… Maybe I should go back there, just in case I'm right abo—"

"And just what the hell are you on about?"

Immediately, he stiffened up, his right hand stopping in its tracks mid-scratch.

A sleazy-sounding voice had interrupted his personal mutterings, making known the presence of at least one person having wandered into this secluded alleyway— away from prying eyes, away from witnesses, away from law enforcement.

—Away from help.

Shit… shit, shit, shit, this is not good.

What's more—the voice hadn't been solely accompanied by one set of footsteps, but what sounded like three in total.

Fuck. I'm turned away from the entrance, so I was already at a disadvantage here. And from the sound of it, this guy's not even alone.

One'd be manageable, assuming I'm not unlucky enough to have run into a 'magic' user on my first actual confrontation in this world, but…

…

Hm… Maybe… Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions here. Sure, I'm in a deep, dark, alleyway and it'd be the perfect place for a mugging, but I assumed the worst of the first guy that spoke to me and was proven wrong, so—

As he thought this, he made to slowly turn around and face the group who'd flanked him by entering the alleyway whilst he'd his back turned. Unfortunately for him, his intentions, and accompanying hopes that the interlopers had, contrary to his knee-jerk pessimism, potentially come in peace, were both dashed in one-fell swoop as he felt the distinctively pointy end of a knife—or, perhaps a sword—jutting into his back.

"Ah, ah, ah. Wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise, would ya?"

The sleazy voice made itself known, once more—this time, accompanied by a distinctively deep chuckle at his left, and a weaselly snicker coming from his right.

You're shitting me! How the hell'd they get behind me so fast, without me even knowing?!

Am I seriously just that careless?!

…

"...D-don't just stand there! HEY! Get out of the wa—"

Right. He was that careless, wasn't he?

And because of his having stupidly thought it was a good idea to just waltz into some dank alleyway without casing the place first, he now stood with a blade to his back. But despite his almost overwhelming urge to do so, he'd at least the presence of mind to recognize the fact that now was hardly the time to berate himself for having so brazenly thrown caution to the wind—no, right now, he needed to think of a way to get himself, and more importantly, his companions, out of this mess.

"Oof!"

An irritatingly forceful push forward accompanied by a sleazy voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Alright, friendo, listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once."

Following that, the voice that most likely corresponded to the weaselly snicker he'd heard when these creeps initially managed to sneak up on him interceded with a less-than-optimal attempt at intimidation: "Yeah! And y'don't wanna know what happens when you make R—the boss—repeat 'imself!"

Clearly, calling whoever it was that'd been holding the blade to his back "boss" wasn't something the weasel was used to, if that pause right before he'd been referred to as such was anything to go by. Most likely, it'd been something they all cooked up right before the mugging itself. And that substandard acting likely did little to please the subject at hand, seeing as—

"Shaddup!" exclaimed the sleazy voice, right before what sounded like a half-hearted slap and a corresponding "Ow! What was that for?!" indignantly rang out from behind.

Pointedly ignoring his high-pitched accomplice's grumblings at having been struck, the sleazebag went on, "Anyways, here's what's gonna happen. You," his back received yet another open-palmed push forward, and this time, he almost tripped over the bag of fruits on the floor, "are gonna walk forward, until that bag in front of ya is behind ya. Then, ya're gonna unstrap that pack at yer hip, set it down, and slide it the same direction ya left the bag. And while all that's going on, you're gonna stay there, standing all still-like, 'elsewise ya might find yourself greeting my… sword, from the front, and I won't be there to show it to ya, y'nderstand?"

This guy's a total lowlife…

I'm in trouble here. If only I'd have just not been turned around when they came in—or had the sense to actually turn as soon as I heard them coming, then I'd at least have a better picture of what I'm up against. Right now, all I know is that one of them has a knife, so he's probably just a regular guy, unpleasant disposition aside… but there's no telling what the other two are capable of.

As he thought this, his right thumb unconsciously rubbed the wooden side of what was, in all likelihood, his only possible recourse at the present moment.

I can't risk sending him out without knowing for sure if these guys are just mook thugs or not. If I take that chance and one of them turns out to be some kind of magic user, there's no telling what'd happen to him. Lebbie's already hurt. If he…

He gritted his teeth at the thought.

Still—they're after the satchel. I might not end up having a choice here.

God damn it.

…Better to play along, for now.

"...That…" Calm down. You won't be doing yourself any favors by responding to them in a tone they won't like. "...You're going to skewer me with that blade if I don't do what you say? Mhm… I think I got that." Shit, that might've been a little too sarcastic.

"Now that's what I like to hear! Nice'n easy, like—"

A markedly short-lived relief at his self-chiding having initially proven for naught was swiftly stopped in its tracks as the third, deepest, voice of the bunch made itself properly heard for the first time since the start of the encounter, to point out the one factor he'd been naively hoping wouldn't receive any acknowledgement for the duration of his mugging.

"Wait a sec, Ra— um, boss. Look there."

"Hah?"

"That pink thing he's holding. Isn't that… a spirit?"

Hearing this, the young man's eyes narrowed dangerously.

You'd better not…

"...A spirit, huh? What of it?" The sleazy voice hummed for less than a moment, before snapping his fingers, as if having realized what his gruffly-voiced accomplice was getting at by pointing the pink form out. "…Ah, I see where ya're going with this. I reckon we could make a pretty copper selling it off to some kind of… spirit collector. Those exist, right?"

The young man's grip over the orb in his right hand tightened to a point that would have almost been painful, were it not for the conveniently numbing ire that'd started bubbling beneath the surface of his deceptively neutral countenance.

You what?

That is not gonna happen.

Perhaps shaking his hands in front of him while he did so, the owner of the gruff third voice endeavored to clarify his intentions, "H-hold on, boss, th-that's not exactly what I meant. Those things can be dangerous, y'kn—" But it was already too late—his boss had long since made up his mind.

"Yeah, yeah. Right, listen. The thing's asleep. Outta commission! Do ya really think we'd have gotten this far if it'd been on the time dial? Spirit or no, we've got nothin' to worry about, see?" To prove his point, the scumbag to whom the sleazy voice belonged snapped his fingers a couple times, his spindly free hand just barely making itself known to the young man's periphery as it approached the pink form held in his left arm to make sure the noises had been close enough to have reached the ears of their intended recipient. As expected, she didn't stir.

"Still, boss, I think we oughta be careful."

"Sheesh, you worry too much, y'know that? Think about it! This could be our ticket to the good life!"

For a split-second, the tip of the blade that'd been holding the young man hostage severed its connection to his back. Sensing a prime opportunity, he was about to bolt, but—

"I'll say! Look what he's got there! Isn't that one of 'em…"

—at the weaselly voice's having pointed out yet another good for the hoodlums to plunder off the young man, the tip of the blade immediately found its way back to its place at his behind.

Fuck.

"A metia. Looks like we've hit the motherlode, boys."

Running dangerously low on options, here. Not sure if I can afford to be cautious any longer. But, what if… Shit! Even if there is a guy like that among them, I can't just let them take Lebbie and the rest!

"Well, then. Hey, pal," The sleazy voice once more directed its attention to the presently accosted subject at hand, its owner making the imprudent decision to place a hand on the former's left shoulder in what would've served as a placating gesture, were it to have taken place during any other circumstance. Instead, what had most likely been meant to serve as dual means of paradoxically conveying both insincere pity and intimidation, merely encouraged the burgeoning rage and desperation of the young man to whom it'd been directed.

The sleazy voice continued, "I'm sorry to say that your day's just gotten a whole lot worse—but hey, look on the bright side: ours has just gotten a whole lot better." At the conclusion of the sentence, the hand on his shoulder tightened for a moment, before terminating contact and promptly being used to push him for the third time, thereafter. Having been pushed thrice, the young man had now earnestly left the bag of fruits behind him, as had been initially demanded.

"That said… there's been a slight change of plans. Don't worry, 's nothin' too major. First thing's first, hand over that metia."

This…

If these punks think I'm gonna hand my friends over just like that— then they've got another thing coming!

In what was, perhaps, a markedly ill-advised move, the young man made to announce his intent not to follow along with the demands of three thugs behind him. "Like H—"

—Fortunately for him, the 'Hell I will' that was meant to follow, never saw the light of day.

—

Huff, Huff—

—At the same time as a distinctively sharp-eyed young man had been getting accosted by three lowlives in a dark alleyway, a yellow-and-red blur raced across the city streets at astonishing speeds.

Just… a little faster!

Despite the fact that she'd already been going faster than she'd ever run in her life, she endeavored to pick up yet more speed. She needed, needed, needed to make sure that she lost this girl before heading over to the meeting spot! Fumbling things now was not an option, not when she could practically taste the extravagant payout that'd been promised to her at the end of a job well-done!

She'd been more than a little tempted to look behind her, but such a thing would've been tantamount to suicide given the speed at which she was presently running. She was good, but not 'run the capital streets at top speed while blindfolded,' good.

At any rate, she'd long since stopped hearing the "Halt, thief!"'s and "Please, stop!"'s that her unbelievably easy—at least, when considering the kind of risk-to-reward ratio that she'd initially been expecting from the job—mark had been shouting from behind her at the outset of her finesse. Well, that, and she also didn't see any more flying ice crystals missing her by a mile and consequently lodging themselves into the buildings in front and to the side of her.

Still—better safe than sorry. To that end,

There you are!

She immediately darted towards what could've possibly been considered one of her most trusted allies over her time in this line of work—not a person, but a place, simply dubbed the alleyway— although, she'd recently been considering adding the word 'lucky' to the center of that title, on account of just how reliable its proven itself to be throughout her countless extra-legal escapades. After all,

It's the perfect getaway spot!

She just needed to make her way inside, and promptly use the various footstools so, heh, generously placed at its rear by the city planners to reach the rooftops, then she'd be home-free!

Well, first, she'd probably need to take a breather—she did go just a little too hard in fleeing that girl earlier, so she's entitled to a little downtime, isn't she?

"D-don't, see why not!"

No chance that she could get tracked to this specific alleyway—she went way too fast for that, after all.

Knowing that—

"Phew—huff—huff—that, white-haired big sis,—huff—gave me a real workout."

As soon as she breached a satisfactory distance into the alleyway in question, she just about had to consciously stop herself from crumpling over, instead opting to take an approach markedly less telling in the degree of fatigue she'd presently been experiencing and hunching over, placing her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

"Huff—but, it was definitely worth it!" She said, as she wiped a veritable splash of sweat off her forehead. "Can't wait—huff—to see the look—huff—on Grandpa's face—hu—heh?"

As her head rose to finally take stock of her surroundings and make sure that nobody else had somehow happened to incidentally stumble into the very same alleyway before her—something that'd dawned on her to be especially pressing to ascertain seeing as she'd been semi-deliriously muttering tales of victory and in a less-than-ideal state for resuming an on-foot escape in the event that someone take her rambling seriously and consequently attempt to steal her score for themselves—she happened to catch sight of something that almost made the post-gig fatigue slip her mind entirely.

Deeper into the alleyway, closer to the rear than to the entrance—relative to which she'd presently been near the center—stood three—no, four people.

The first three of which she'd immediately recognized as fellow slum-dwellers, though their names had slipped her mind at the moment. Though she couldn't quite make out the fourth, given that the majority of her view was blocked by that purple-haired lanklet, she could see that they were wearing black… and orange?

Wait a second.

That chase must've left her more off her game than she'd initially thought, because it'd taken her more than one second to recognize the fact that the three with whom she'd been acquainted were actually mugging the fourth. In fact, it looked like they'd skipped the threats and gone straight to the dagger.

Aw, man. Well, sucks for him, but that's life for you.

She'd been ready to just up and run past them straight towards the rear to make her way to the rooftops, but something stopped her.

That guy they're ripping off… Didn't I…

She'd only needed to wait a second longer for her burgeoning suspicions to bear fruit, as when the lanky guy turned to look at her and she consequently caught a glimpse of the one to which the dagger had been pointed, she almost couldn't believe her luck.

No way! It's him! It's gotta be—

—

"Like H—"

It never saw the light of day. And it didn't because—

—Before the young man's foolhardy statement of resolve could reach the ears of his present captors in full,

"Huff—but, it was definitely worth it!"

A new voice made itself known from somewhere closer to the entrance of the alleyway. The edge held to his back stiffened at the sound of it.

He just barely managed to make out the now-second highest pitched of the voices behind him mutter "Isn't that…" just as the newcomer piped up once more.

"Can't wait—huff—to see the look—huff—on Grandpa's face—hu—heh?"

The sleazy voice huffed, tapping a corresponding foot in frustration at his imminent score having been interrupted by some heretofore unknown interloper. "Who the hell—"

Just then, the blade left its place at his back. The opportunity had returned.

It's now or never!

"What the— What're you doin' her—"

Time slowed.

The young man sprung into action.

He pivoted on his left heel, twisting his body clockwise, and putting as much kinetic force into his rising right leg as he could muster—

"HRG-ah!"

—before delivering a hearty back-kick straight into the side of the now-visibly purple-haired sleazebag holding the knife—which promptly flew straight out of his right hand and somewhere off to the side as he tumbled leftwards and collapsed against a wall.

Using his remaining momentum, the boy did his best to put just as much force into his right arm, as hurled the orb—the Pokeball—in what was quite possibly the hardest throw he'd ever made in his life, straight towards the largest target in sight.

He'd aimed for the center of mass, but fortune had perhaps deigned to smile upon him this day, as the ball sped straight towards the large man's face, whereupon the resulting impact rang out with a satisfying—

"BONK"

—Whilst the ball bounced off his head and landed some ways behind the boy.

He paused for less than a second—but as soon as he made out the distinctively arcane "POP" he'd been waiting for, he knew what he had to do.

Gotta get down!

Without even looking, he immediately dropped prone to the floor whilst yelling—

"CEPHE! USE PSYBEAM!"

—

…I can't say I expected that, but hey, works for me!

Just as she'd made the connection between the fourth guy—who she could now make out as distinctly black-haired, scary-eyed, and carrying some kind of… pink creature? In his left arm—and that physical description given to her by the pretty lady, the boy in question spun around and sunk his foot straight into the purple-haired lanklet's right side with enough force that even she, far as she was from the altercation, could hear the poor guy's ribs cracking from her spot in the alley!

Immediately, she set upon taking advantage of the commotion, swiftly, yet surreptitiously making her way towards the violence now that everyone in that side of the alley was distracted amongst themselves. Really, this could not have turned out better for her.

She'd made it to just about the halfway point between her original spot and the ongoing altercation—a testament to her sheer speed, given that little less than a second had passed since the black-haired guy turned the lanklet's ribs to dust—when the man of the hour tossed some kind of two-toned ball at the big guy with the unsightly face—

Uh, Gaston, I think his name was?

—in a move that consequently destroyed every bone that composed its structure—the structure of his face, that is—and left the ball with enough energy to bounce off behind the guy who'd thrown it.

Holy—Huh?

Despite all that, she'd never actually stopped her trek towards the carnage—that is, until she saw some kind of whitish-blue light shine out from behind Mister black-hair, just about where she imagined the ball had probably landed.

And if that was enough to give her pause, what happened next clued her into the fact that something was amiss and incited her caution in earnest.

What's happening?! Why's he dropping to the floor like that?!

She'd have gawked at his having lowered to the ground in the fastest, yet almost artfully delicate way she'd ever seen if not for the creature that his dropping to prone revealed as though he were the raising—or lowering?—of a curtain.

…Not like I'd know, I've never been to a—

—Wait wait wait, what am I—Actually, just what the hell is that thing?

She'd only just managed to make out three things about the creature behind the boy—blue, pink, and floating—before—

"SEEFE! USE SYE-BEAM!"

Oh, fuck!

—

An iridescent, pinkish-purple beam of light through which blue hoops of energy endlessly traveled swept across the alleyway, rendering all with whom it made contact into nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes—

Is just what went through Camberley's bowl-cut clad head as the beam of light in question approached his trembling form—

And promptly missed him, completely.

He was just about to shut his eyelids in resignation to his grim fate, when he realized: H-hey! That thing's overshooting me!

For the first time ever, his abnormally short stature had proven an indispensable boon—one that'd undoubtedly saved his life.

He swept his short arms across his face and body in disbelief that he, of all people, had been the sole survivor of that supernatural onslaught.

I-I… I can't believe it! I'm alive! I-I'm—!

Just then, his celebratory mood was abruptly cut short—as he caught sight of black-clothed form lying prone on the ground, just a few meters away from where he stood.

"Wait a second! You! You crazy sonuva bitch!" He snarled, as an indignant, righteous anger suddenly boiled within him at the realization that—

"You slaughtered my posse! I'll kill you!"

The black-haired monster raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Slaughtered? What the hell are you on ab—"

"RAAGHH!" In one last, heroic act, Camberley made to charge, vowing to sacrifice his second chance and use his last moments to wipe this black-haired fiend from the face of the continent!

"Seefe! Hypnosis!"

—

"RAAGHH!" The unmistakably high-pitched screech of who he could now make out to be some kind of helmet-haired midget rang out as the weaselly dwarf in question charged with all his might towards his still-prone form.

The hell's gotten into this guy?! If he—! Then he should be running away, not—!

His eyes widened in realization.

Oh Cephe, God damn it!

At his having deduced the most likely culprit for which the pint-sized brigand elected to take his chances with a last-ditch brawl instead of an easy choice to 'live another day' according to what should've presently been a deliberately slanted angle of reality, the young man decided against repeating his earlier order and set about something markedly less violent—now that it'd a significantly higher chance of actually working, that is.

He reflexively shut his eyelids and covered both his ears as best he could—his right with a free hand, and his left with a tilted shoulder, whilst preparedly bracing his precious pink cargo against the oncoming blow by shifting his body such that his back would take the full brunt of the impact, were it to persist against the approaching odds—before issuing another pressing directive towards the floating form behind him. "Cephe! Hypnosis!"

"Whiiirr"

The atmosphere instantly shifted, and his body was suddenly beset by a familiar fatigue.

Crap! Shoulder-earplug wasn't good enough!

His makeshift means of having shielded his left ear from imbibing the remotely dispatched supernatural depressant that promptly followed the earlier command proved to be less than effective. Unfortunately, given his diminutive foe's present derangement, the boy's having involuntarily siphoned a portion of the cognito-hazardous stimuli likely meant that—

The guy's still coming! It was a dud—!

Though he couldn't actually see it, the tiny thief's enduring advance made itself heard to his now fully-uncovered left ear. From what the boy could tell, there'd been a marked reduction in the ferocity of the oncoming footsteps, though it'd hardly mattered in the end, seeing as that weaselly midget somehow managed to muster enough force through which to knock a substantial amount of the air from his lungs all the same.

"Oof!"

"I d-on't care what tricks you use on me! You- won't stop me from— avenging them!"

True to his word, the bowl-cutted bandit actually powered through the fatigue that'd audibly shone through his heartfelt promise of vengeance and accordingly flailed against the boy's back, smacking him with arms that transferred a surprising amount of force, despite their compact size.

"Gah! Get the hell offa me!" he yelled, desperately trying to shake off the miniature whirlwind that'd attached itself to his back all the while. "Calm down! Your buddies are fine!" Mostly!

"Don't you- say their names!" growled the helmet-haired dwarf, before—

"B-but I didn't—"

—chomping his teeth straight onto the posterior side of the boy's left shoulder.

"YEOWCH! Ce-Cephe!"

—

In the aftermath of a move that, to every human occupant—with one exception—of an unremarkable alleyway situated between two correspondingly indistinct buildings, defied all comprehension, a lone entity made its presence known, just barely peeking its form out amidst the dust kicked up by the unfathomable force in question—

An unfathomable force. One for which said entity was entirely responsible—

Disagreement! Teamwork! Group-effort!

…Well, no— not entirely. He'd his friend to thank for having made the most apt decision and accordingly telling him what to do, after all.

Downplay…

Satisfactory. For now. Correction, later.

Right.

Well, the most important thing here was this: all his friend's enemies had been vanquished! And it was all thanks to— well, his friend's quick thinking, for one— but more than that, his own having the laser-like reflexes with which to carry out his friend's instruction and consequently take out every villain here in one fell swoop! Now, something like this, calls for—

Success! Celebration!

As the thought came to mind, the floating form of the entity—of Cepheus, as his friend and brother-in-arms had so generously deemed to christen him—made to perform an aerial victory dance!

Helped! Was useful! Who helped? Cepheus!

His grinning, close-eyed face was the very picture of satisfaction as he twirled and flipped around, his many appendages correspondingly flailing about whilst he occasionally stopped mid-spin to pull off wave-like motions with his two longest arms.

As the plumes of dust and smoke—the proof of his accomplishment!—concurrently subsided, he opened his eyes now that it'd be possible to spin and see without entreating the entrance of irritants into the former, and promptly stopped in his tracks mid-twirl.

"Uh… Hi?"

…Danger.

Through narrowed eyes and an expression painstakingly made to look as intimidating as possible—something that'd definitely been working, by the way!—Cepheus took in the diminutive form of a yellow-haired human, frozen in what'd no doubt been mid-skulk like… like a deer in headlights! A… female, by the looks of it—though, it was admittedly a little hard to tell…

She measuredly lifted two hands palms-forward and swiveled her wrists in a placating gesture. "Easy now…" Her eyes darted behind him for a moment, then back to him. "I'm just—Um…"

His eyes narrowed to slits.

Looked behind. Friend behind.

Uh huh… that was definitely enough to warrant suspicion. Well, that and—just look at the way she's standing! No way she was up to any good. Where'd she even come from, anyway?

Not wanting to take his eyes off the no-doubt dubiously-intentioned interloper for even a second, Cepheus used his awesome power to expand the field of his periphery—and came to a startling realization.

…This alley had only one entrance.

For her to have somehow popped up at the alley's rear meant that—but, that makes no sense, humans… can't do that, can they?

His well-warranted confusion and disbelief notwithstanding, Cepheus was made to face the facts: there were only two possible ways a human could've feasibly—and he thought the term loosely—made it all the way behind him and his friend in this one-way stone grotto:

…Speed. Or sky.

Either possibility… was extremely concerning.

Moreover, of the four he could recall spotting when his friend had released him and subsequently called for his assistance, this female was not among them.

…Hold. Correction.

Oh?

Instant. Small. Obfuscated. But…There.

That's—That's right. Just before he'd carried out the instruction to demonstrate his power and eliminate all the threats to his and his friend's safety—he made out a small shape some ways away from the main group of four closest to him. He'd hardly thought anything of it at the time, of course, having had enough confidence that his—area of effect attack would render everything neutralized, but… it looks like he—

Missed one.

And just as he'd reached the conclusion that his oversight had been limited to one in number—

"Wait a second! You! You crazy sonuva bitch!"

From behind, a voice made itself known to him—almost assuredly that of the other smallest human here, if the high pitch was anything to go by.

His eyes widened to saucers at the realization that he'd not just erred in missing one of the villains in the alleyway, but two! Two!

And from the sound of it—

"You slaughtered my posse! I'll kill you!"

"Slaughtered? What the hell are you on ab—"

"RAAGHH!"

No, he was definitely going to attack his friend!

Panic! Assistance!

He'd resolved to turn and help—

Wait.

—And was promptly stopped in his tracks before he could even move.

What?! What was he—? No, he wasn't going to wait! How could he even—The tiny one was going to attack his friend! His brother! He needed to—!

Calm. Small one. Weak.

So what?! No way he'd just let this—

Front.

Wh-huh?

He directed his attention back to the yellow-haired human in front of him. She was closer now than she'd been earlier! When did she—

Threat—major. More than other.

If he'd teeth to grit, he'd have definitely been doing so, right now. He settled for curling up his smaller appendages so tightly it almost hurt.

Immediately, he made his way directly in front of the yellow-haired female's face.

"Eep!" she squeaked, startled at his having suddenly appeared inches from her head in the middle of her best attempt at sneaking.

Opportunity! Power! Initia—

No.

Wh-—No? The hell did he mean, no?! Wasn't the whole point of this detour to promptly take care of the biggest fish and then move on to render assistance to his friend?!

Power, use? Negative.

B-but—if he didn't use it, there'd be no guarantee that he could stop this human! She's a complete unknown!

Can't. Instructed— Remember.

…

"Y-you can't just—! You're too—!"

"...Listen. From now on, unless I ask for your discretion, you can't do any of that without having been told to, first."

…

…Reminded.

His mind had fully refocused onto the yellow-haired female. She hadn't moved—his inner turmoil had taken naught but a moment to resolve—that time.

Right that second, he'd half a mind to just up and latch onto her face to, at the very least, halt her advance and leave his friend's present confrontation up to chance in earnest.

Thankfully—

"Cephe! Hypnosis!"

Opportunity! Now!

Go.

Having been rendered instruction, he immediately set about disengaging his present proximity with the girl, though she'd beaten him to the punch by a mile, having moved deeper towards the wall at the very rear of the alley the moment his friend's words made themselves known in full.

Speed! Knew it!

She looked just about ready to jump on one of the windowsills at the right wall and most likely use it as leverage to make it to the rooftops, but—

No chance!

Just before she could make the leap, Cephe carried out his directive.

…And instantly, an intoxicatingly rich feeling—one of pure, undiluted agency—poured over him.

He could feel it. In his arms. In his eyes. In his head.

It was incredible. So incredible. And it was incredible—because that's what it was.

He felt that incredible agency surge through him—and so, he got to imagining. Just imagining, the kinds of things he could do for himself—for his friends—

Why, with this much… with this much—

Control.

Yes! With—With this much—

Yourself.

…

What—what was he—

—

—

—Oh.

…Mistake.

Gone, now.

That slip. No good. Charge, too close—

His mind started the process of widening his eyes.

At his having pointed that out… N-no—No way… H-how could he have—His friend was right there! And he almost—!

Calm.

How?! How could he possibly calm down, knowing how close he was to—!

Stop.

…

Rectify—ASAP. Mission—remember.

…Right. Of course. He-his friend had entrusted him to do something. That, just now—that was just- a fluke. Yeah—Yeah! It was just a… temporary lapse in judgment. Or—or maybe…

…He'd work it out with himself, later.

…For now—fulfill directive.

Now decidedly ignoring and repressing the feeling that flowed through his diminutive aerial form as he called upon his own power, he'd resolved to carry out his task in earnest, whereupon a distinctive—

"Whiiirr"

Resounded over the otherwise dominating ruckus that'd been simultaneously taking place—well, that and—

Target—merely slowed!

What?! Why's she still going?!

Dose, insubstantial!

But how?! There's only two targets still standing! That should've been more than enough to neutralize both! Unless one of the other two were somehow still conscious—which was extremely unlikely, given the sorry state of the one slumped by the wall and the large one's having received a direct hit from his extremely potent wide-range psionic attack—then it should have, for all intents and purposes, been—a slam-dunk! The only feasible reason for which it could've failed now, is if—

Friend—Failed protocol!

Damn it all! If that's what's going on, then—!

Proximity—Increase.

Exactly! He needed to get away, or—

Target, slowed. Pursuit.

Right! That way, he could… take out two birds, with one stone! Although—given the speed at which she was presently moving… it was unlikely that he'd be able to catch up to her, even if he did give chase.

Contact—unnecessary. "Improvise."

H-huh? What does that—Ohhh!

After having made out his own intentions—his train of thought ceased its movement, and that of the world's conversely resumed.

As fast as he could have possibly done so, he flew straight towards a fragmented piece of stone on the floor just ahead of him, grabbed it with his largest right arm, and, using the combined force of his—admittedly diminutive—physical strength and more-than-comparatively awe-inspiring psychic power, tossed it, with all his might!

"Sh-shit!"

His aim had proven true—not that he'd ever doubted it—and his last-second plan—his tactical distraction—bore fruit of a quality he hadn't even even anticipated when he set himself on carrying it out! Everything had gone—

Perfect! More than perfect!

"Wh-hah?"

…Gotcha.

At witnessing a stone fleetly hurled at the floor directly ahead of her path, she'd made exactly the kind of mistake that Cepheus hadn't even been counting on.

He'd intended for her to have paused long enough for him to close the distance and consequently influence her speed such that she'd have no chance of escape—but lady luck had deigned to bless him today, because she didn't just pause—she—

Looked! Witnessed! Observed!

She'd gazed upon his actively empowered visage—and as a result, was promptly—

"Ohh—nuhh—"

—Defeated.

.

He'd have stayed long enough to have heard the "Pomf" as her feather-like, now-slumbering form collapsed to the ground—the velocity of which he'd, in an indisputably stunning but not-at-all uncharacteristic expression of magnanimity, deliberately slowed through a portion of his power so as to not inflict unnecessary injury upon his now-defeated foe—but a yell from behind reminded him that, although he'd succeeded in effectively neutralizing the biggest fish in the pond, there was still one last thing left to do.

"YEOWCH! Ce-Cephe!"

Instantly, he made to turn the front of his diminutive floating form away from the very rear of the alley—and subsequently set his admittedly already-panicked gaze upon something truly startling!

Friend, bitten! Risk—infection!

The tiny human was sinking his teeth straight into his friend's shoulder! Now—given that the culprit's a mere human(?), the physical damage generally incurred by such an attack was potentially unsightly, but ultimately unconcerning. However, he recalled one of his friend's many impartations of wisdom from another world, as he so called them, and identified the real issue here posthaste!

That puny thing was filthy! Supposing it were true that most illnesses were the result of tiny lifeforms so small as to be imperceptible—of which he had no doubt, his friend would never lie to him, and moreover, was almost as smart as himself and certainly much more knowledgeable!—and that uncleanness promoted their growth and proliferation, then a bite from that small human—and truthfully, he was unsure as to whether it was actually a human or some kind of undiscovered Pokemon in disguise—would almost assuredly result in illness! Potentially terminal, given the thing's being the very picture of squalor and destitution! Imagine how much microbial detritus he injected with that one move alone! It was imperative that he remove its teeth from his friend's shoulder, before it was too late!

Now that the the passive effects of his neigh-unimaginable power had subsided and rendered him able to safely to close the distance, he'd resolved to do just that and pull the small form from his friend's shoulder by force, but—

"That ugly, thing- won't save you—"

Offense! Indignation!

The entirely-too-small-to-be-human creature's opening his mouth to spew crass invective prompted him to modify his course of action. No, something like that, of all things, referring to him as—as ugly!— it would simply not stand!

Channeling his newfound fury and righteous umbrage at having been insulted by something so irrefutably beneath him—in more ways than one!—he made to teach it a lesson in a move that could be considered poetic—because it was!—and flew up to heights that creature would no doubt never reach, before—

"—this tim—"

"Piiwah!"

"—KURblegh"

—Making a warcry fit to evoke fear in even the most stalwart of adversaries and then descending at impressively high speeds, culminating into a direct collision with the top of its head!

"Urp—ewp—ah?"

Truthfully, the puny thing never stood a chance. Just after having been subjected to the full force of Cepheus's wrath, it'd forcefully detached from his friend's back before taking shaky, less-than-half-conscious steps backwards once, then twice—and on what would've likely been the third, lost its footing and consequently dropped backwards, finally falling unconscious in earnest.

Although he'd been angry at it, and wasn't entirely spared himself from the painful blowback of that—thematically appropriate physical attack if that irritating throb at the top of his mantle was anything to go by, he'd still enough capacity for mercy as to disallow its concussion becoming irreversible brain damage and psychokinetically slowed its descent.

Kindness—undeserved.

…Yeah. It'd not only insulted him, but also bitten his friend! Cepheus had never—! …Well, no, he's absolutely seen and heard of humans doing worse, but, still. Definitely not the mark of someone deserving his generosity, nuh-uh. Even so,

Ruthlessness… Frowned upon.

—To have done otherwise, would have amounted to a betrayal of everything his friend—his brother—had ever taught him.

Speaking of whom…

—

"Agh—the hell, man?"

In the aftermath of what might have possibly been the dumbest battle of all time, a lone form stirred amidst the long-settled ashes.

The form—

"Ow-ow-ow… He friggin bit me… I can't believe he seriously bit me."

—of a black-haired, scary-eyed adolescent griped as he extended his free hand over the being in his embrace and prodded at the injury so barbarically inflicted upon his left shoulder.

He sucked air in through closed teeth as he noted, "...That's definitely going to leave a mark."

Jeez, would it have killed him to try and help me earlier? I was getting eaten alive, back there!

His face contorted into a discontent grimace at the thought that the majority of the carnage localized at his left shoulder could have likely been avoided, if only a certain someone had elected to help faster. It stayed on his face for less than half a second, before visibly extinguishing itself and being replaced by something between remorse and shame.

"Ugh," he exhaled exasperatedly, what am I even saying? Of course it wouldn't have killed him—when has he ever neglected to help me with anything? If he didn't knock that guy out earlier, then there was probably a good reason for it.

Quietly resolving to make it up to his faithful brother-in-arms for ever having doubted him, he schooled his face into a mostly neutral, but slightly pained look as he took stock of the situation.

Looks like they're all dealt with.

Well, no use in lying around anymore.

"Alley-oo—u-uh?!"

He'd just about managed to push himself up to what would've been all fours, were it not for a certain pink cargo presently requiring that he subtract a fourth and consequently make it thirds, when the proverbial man of the hour descended from the heavens and stopped inches from his face in a move that nearly scared the living daylights out of the black-haired adolescent.

At the same time—

"Alarm! Concern! 'Requesting status report!'"

A voice—one sounding almost like that of a small child attempting to speak whilst underwater, but... clearer, somehow?—made itself known not to his ears, as one unfamiliar with the speaker in question would think, but to his very cognition.

His startled features almost immediately softened at the voice and clearly concerned—and frankly adorable—face in front of him, prompting his best attempt at reassurance that he was, in fact, not all too hurt.

"Hey, hey, settle down. There's no need to worry—I'm fine, see?" In a soft voice, he endeavored to assuage his floating friend's concerns, slowly sweeping his right hand over his now-kneeling body as if to say 'look, no harm done'—whilst pointedly avoiding the area that was actually injured. His efforts had, rather unsurprisingly, been for naught, however, as the deliberate omission was swiftly detected and exposed by the very individual it'd been meant to deceive.

"...Shoulder." Through slightly narrowed eyes and… what appeared to be an attempt at thinned lips? as to convey an expression that looked deeply unimpressed, the diminutive floating form relayed a single word to let the young man know that paltry tricks hadn't fooled him in the slightest.

An exhausted sigh escaped his lips as he brought his free hand up to sheepishly scratch the side of his head. "...Nothing gets by you, does it? Hah, was worth a try, at least."

The floating form merely stared, unblinking and with eyes that were still narrowed in an expectant look that seemed to convey 'Well? You gonna show me, or not?' before widening slightly as if realizing something, and, perhaps relatedly, electing to look down.

"...Pink friend? Nap?"

Hearing his tone of voice at that particular inquiry, the young man imagined that, had his friend eyebrows to raise, one of them would probably be higher than the other, right about now.

I guess it is a little odd that she's just sleeping in my arms like this—and in broad daylight, of all times.

…He's not gonna like what I have to say, is he?

Of course, the self-inquiry was entirely rhetorical, because he knew for a fact that Cephe wouldn't be pleased in the slightest. That's why his face— which, at present, gave the impression of experiencing bothersome yet ostensibly manageable pain—twisted into an unsightly frown at the anticipation of what would likely be his floating friend's reaction upon being informed of just what exactly was ailing the roseate subject at hand.

Unfortunately, the young man's inability to prevent the nature of his thoughts from outwardly disclosing through his expression prematurely clued his many-armed conversational partner into the fact that not all was as it'd initially seemed.

Accordingly—

"...Sleep…Not normal."

It wasn't a question.

The young man could tell by the way his floating friend's expression darkened—he'd almost assuredly pieced together a very precise idea of what had happened, already. Still—

"Was…him?"

He couldn't keep the naive hope that his conjecture had somehow been incorrect from seeping into his ordinarily matter-of-fact thought process. It was a testament to how close they were—how close they've all gotten to each other, that he could express a hope so improbable in lieu of a callous pronouncement of reality.

That's why—

"...Yeah. It—it was him."

—It stung, to have dashed his hopes like that.

But it only did so for a moment, because fortunately, there was a silver lining—one that he wasted no time in disclosing as a follow-up to that otherwise devastating reveal, just before his friend's mood could visibly plummet in earnest.

"B-but! But! It's not all bad!" he waved his free hand in front of his friend's face—which had just about been on the verge of tears, from the looks of it—and affirmed the situation's not, in fact, having been as hopeless as it may have seemed initially.

At the confusedly wrinkled expression on the floating form that followed, he endeavored to clarify. "Look here," he urged, as he raised the slumbering form in his left arm up higher for his friend to assess unobstructed.

The visible confusion remained for a moment as his many-armed pal's gaze darted between him and Lebbie, before being abruptly replaced by eyes widening in a mix of both realization, and what appeared to be cautious optimism.

Seeing that his genius of a little buddy looked to have mostly figured things out, he aimed to nudge him in the right direction. "Notice anything… uncharacteristic?"

His friend nodded—or, at least, performed a gesture as close to nodding as was reasonably achievable for a creature with no neck, and simply tilted forward and backward in the air several times, before providing an answer. "...Fear…writhing…—absent."

It was the black-haired young man's turn to nod this time, mirroring the endearingly emulated gesture and consequently affirming his friend's assessment. "That's right."

"But… how? Effects—ubiquitous." With a face wrinkled in contemplation, he gestured his right-most arm towards the afflicted in question. "Pink friend, exception?" he asked, a muted glimmer of hope appearing in his eyes as he did so.

The boy shook his head at that. "Mm… Even though I wish that were the case as much as you do, that's—not quite what's going on here." He looked around a bit, tossing his gaze every which way and consequently arousing his floating friend's curiosity before closing his eyes and bringing his right hand up to scratch the side of his head, again. "I, uh, take it you might not have noticed just yet, given the circumstances, but…" he separated his hand from his head, and gestured all around him, "We aren't exactly in Hisui, anymore."

The floating form's eyes widened minutely as he correspondingly spun around in the air and took stock of his surroundings. "Presumption… correct. Pressing matters, demanded focus," He remarked, whilst gesturing towards the unconscious forms of the three thieves to clarify what he meant, before speaking once more. "Comprehensive 'sitrep'—set aside, momentarily."

He stopped for a moment, staring intently at the goings-on beyond the entrance of the alleyway, and then turned back around to face the black-haired young man. "...Environment—indeed unfamiliar. New region? Or…" His face wrinkled in worry as he no-doubt contemplated an exceptionally toubling possibility.

However, his worries were visibly dispelled with the shake of a head and the wave of a hand, as his friend moved to clarify. "Nah, it's not what you're thinking—but to be honest," he said, as he put his free hand up to caress his chin and closed his eyes in thought, "I'm not too sure if what's going on here is better, or worse. We're…"

He took a deep breath, before opening his eyes and disconnecting his hand from his chin to put it on standby for the gestures he'd need to effectively explain their present situation. "Okay, um—you remember how, back when we were sitting by that campfire in the Coronet Highlands, I told you guys that I wasn't originally from Hisui?"

The-brow-that-would've-been-raised returned to his friend's face as he recalled the conversation, likely attempting to deduce the young man's intentions in having mentioned it. "...Affirmative." He paused momentarily, before widened eyes and a cheeky grin graced his features as he curled and uncurled a tentacle, as though snapping a finger, "Present whereabouts—friend's homeland!" he triumphantly yelled into the former's mind, concluding his thoughts with two crossed tentacles and a delightfully smug, close-eyed expression, visibly satisfied with himself at having apparently unraveled the nature of their present situation with only a single sentence to serve him as a clue.

Unfortunately for him, and for the young man, to whom the former's exultant expression and crossed tentacles appeared to be 'the cutest thing I've ever seen,' the triumph had been declared prematurely, for obvious reasons.

…Better let him down easy. Hey, at least he's half-right—kind of.

With a preemptively apologetic expression and a palm clasped around the side of his neck, he tactlessly crushed Cephe's hopes and dreams. "Well, you're almost there—but not quite."

Witnessing the floating form's formerly smug expression visibly deflate at his having insubstantially cushioned the blow to his confidence, he stumbled over himself to remedy the situation by finally getting to the point. "Y-ya see, we're actually…"

He took a deep breath, having hardly believed his circumstances himself at the outset and wondering if, perhaps, Cepheus would take things the same way—but resolved to tell him the truth, all the same. "We're in another world. Entirely."

Oddly enough—or perhaps not—Cepheus didn't react all too strongly to that. Instead, he donned a thoughtful expression, putting a tentacle up right below his tiny beak as if caressing an invisible chin—"...Initial hypothesis—mistaken." He remarked, matter-of-factly, as he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them once more, his tentacle stilling its movements below his beak in anticipation, "Present whereabouts… 'Uncharted territory?'"

The young man let out a resigned sigh at the inquiry, the nature of which confirming that his floating buddy had finally figured things out in earnest. "...I'm afraid so. I've got absolutely no idea where we are—we could be in a different dimension—" he said, as he chopped the air to his right with his free hand, "on a different planet—" then, chopped the air to his left, "or hell, even a different universe. I'm completely in the dark, here." He finished, swinging his arm around in frustration at his cluelessness as to the exact nature of their current circumstances.

This time, it was Cepheus's turn to look apologetic, having almost assuredly understood exactly why his friend might find the situation so vexing. Still, he needed to ask— "Query," he stated, aiming to give his friend the time he'd need to quench his frustration and subsequently persist with the exchange.

Having been halfway through running his hand down his face in chagrin at finally being given the opportunity to fully digest their situation—which was, quite frankly, seemingly hopeless—he gave the go ahead in a voice muffled by the palm at his mouth. "Shoot."

"Mode, moment of transport. Friend—knows, remembers?"

"See, that's the thing! It happened instantly! One moment, I was—I…"

…was… kneeling.

With Lebbie in my arms, thinking for certain that I was—about to die.

All the while, I-I… hadn't even the presence of mind to think about the fact that you were all in my satchel—that I was dragging all of you along with me.

And here I thought I was keeping you safe. That if you stayed out of it, even if I got hurt, it'd be alright, because you all would be fine. How could… how could I be such an—

Just before his unheard self-effacement could reach a boiling point, he was snapped out of it by a light tap on his right shoulder. His bleary eyes refocused, landing on the plainly worried face of his friend in front of him.

"Friend…'Okay?'"

"I-I…" he stammered, before his face softened at taking in the clear concern his floating buddy had shown for him. The poor thing's face was wrinkled, his soft beak almost pursed.

Look what you did now… idiot.

The young man moved to placed a comforting hand on top of Cephe's, before answering. "Yeah, I'm alright. Don't worry."

His face wrinkled yet more at that, clearly not buying it. "...Certain? Exhange, postponed—if overwhelming—"

The suggestion was promptly cut off by a tap of the hand atop his tentacle. The young man shook his head, bearing no intention of delaying this very much necessary conversation any longer. "No need for that. I was just—lost in thought. I'm fine now."

"...Certain?"

The young man nodded resolutely. "Certain."

The long, slightly transparent white tentacle slipped from his shoulder and, by extension, his grasp, as Cepheus floated backwards some ways, eyes very slightly narrowed in an expression that seemed to convey 'Even if you say that, I don't really believe you.', before inhaling, and letting out a distinctively high-pitched sigh in resignation at his brother-in-arms' obstinate refusal to 'self-care' in any capacity.

"...Right…Continue."

The boy let out a sigh of his own—this one markedly lower in pitch—before following through with his intent to continue the conversation. "As I was saying… it was instant… seamless. I hadn't even registered that it happened until a few seconds after the fact."

His face betrayed nothing, and though Cepheus knew that something was still bothering him regardless, he'd enough faith in his friend as to overlook the fact that he was clearly omitting some details.

Had he looked down, he might've noticed the nails digging into the young man's right palm as he spoke that sentence.

None the wiser about the true nature of his brother-in-arms's inner turmoil by virtue of his adamant loyalty and reverence of the former—and honestly having no choice either way, seeing as his friend budging on the matter was about as likely as witnessing a flock of swinub take flight—he moved on, crossing his arms and momentarily closing his eyes as he contemplated potential culprits for their having been whisked away to another world. "Possibility—Spontaneous 'Space-Time Distortion,' saving friend 'by a hair?'"

"It's… possible," he said as he reflexively shrugged, consequently grimacing with a petulant "ow" as the movement agitated the injury on his left shoulder. "But not likely. As far as I could tell… the only things coming from those portals were either people, or pokemon. Meaning—"

"Distortions—constrained. To 'Pokemon World,'"

"Precisely. And seeing as the few locals I've managed to speak to here seem to have no idea what you and Lebbie are—well, that, and those weird lizards I saw—I think it's safe to say that we're no longer there, but somewhere completely different."

"Mm…" a stereo hum made itself heard both to the young man's ears and his mind, as the floating form ruminated on the facts. "Summary—whereabouts, unknown. Mode of transport, unknown." He squinted his eyes and almost pursed his beak again as he prepared to share the last, and most concerning part of the list thusfar—"…Method of return…unknown."

His black-haired friend, as expected, reacted with a characteristic grimace, to which Cepheus responded by proposing a plan of action, in hopes of deterring the thought that they were, as the former tends to say, 'basically screwed.'

"Recommendation—Reconnaissance."

The young man nodded in agreement. "Right. We can't get anywhere without some information—and right now, we're wandering blind. The only question is, just who to ask…" he trailed off, free hand on his chin and eyes closed in thought.

Suddenly, he perked up, snapping his fingers and hopping on his feet—pointedly making sure not to jostle the pink bundle in the arms as he did so—and spoke in a tone markedly brighter than before. "At any rate, the way I see it, our priorities are thus: Numero uno, try find a way to wake Lebbie up." He was about to continue, but noticed a rather pensive look on Cepheus's face, which prompted him to ask—"What's up? You figure anything out?"

At the inquiry, Cephe pointed to Lebbie's sleeping form as he answered, "Slumber—peaceful, undisturbed." Then, he brought the tentacle opposite to the one he'd been pointing to that spot just below his beak, and rubbed a chin that wasn't there— "Possibility—no action required."

The young man mirrored the expression, correspondingly nodding in understanding. "That's what I was thinking. Maybe—maybe now that we're beyond his sphere of influence," he clenched his palm around his chin as that freak came to mind, before reining himself in and continuing— "it'll work just like a regular dose of hypnosis. Might end up taking a little longer, but… she should wake up, eventually."

He brought his hand down from his chin, putting it on standby for use in emphatic hand gestures. "Still, we should try to find a way to wake her up quicker, if we can."

Cepheus repeated his aerial facsimile of a nod, having fully intended on attempting to secure a means of rousing his pink friend sooner, rather than later. Still, there was a chance that, given their being in an entirely unfamiliar environment, they may not be able to come across any such thing. Accordingly, "Agreement. However—in lieu of expedition…" he trailed off, hoping his friend would see what he was getting at. He didn't have to wait long.

"Then we'll wait. And in the meantime, we'll try and see if we can't find a way to head back home." He declared resolutely, confident that, even supposing anything that could help them wake her up quicker didn't exist in this world, she'd do so at some point, regardless.

Seeing this, Cephe couldn't help but smile, before donning crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes in a markedly determined expression of faith that, he too, held for the pink form's eventual awakening. "Affirmative," he nodded in that floating, tipping way of his.

The young man met his agreement with a smile and a thumbs up. "Great." He then turned to his right and left, scanning the surroundings—setting his gaze on each of the thieves on the floor all the while.

Ouch. Definitely gonna feel that when they wake up. But, serves them right for being low-level thugs. Maybe this way they'll learn their lesson and stop trying to rob random people in dark alleyways.

…who am I kidding? They'll probably just get more selective about who they decide to rip off!

At the conclusion of that thought, he turned his gaze downward and shook his head with a corresponding sigh of disappointment, before turning to face his floating friend once more. "Well, looks like that's everything. No point in sticking around here and risking these guys getting back up for round two."

In a bid to exhaustively ascertain the fact that he didn't happen to be missing anything, he turned around, and— "Let's blow this popsicle stan—huh?" —Saw something that promptly stopped his intentions to leave right in their tracks.

What the hell?

There, lying face-down next to a windowsill by the very rear of the alleyway, was what looked to be… a blonde-haired little girl?

"Who the heck is that?"