CW: suicidal ideation, memory loss

Alola 2003 C.E.

"Answer your fucking phone," Volo growled as he furiously hit the numbers on his flip phone. Why was texting so hard? Calling was so much easier but of course Nanu wasn't answering. He'd been trying for about an hour and he was still getting nothing.

"Maybe he got caught up in the attack," Anabel– the girl's name, Volo had learned– suggested.

Volo started to shake his head but was distracted by Slowking charging up what he recognized to be a Hydro Pump. Slowking fired the attack right through the window, smashing the glass, but Volo didn't scold him. There was only one reason he'd be doing that. "They're back."

Volo hadn't been expecting them to come back but he was still amped up enough from the first attack that he didn't hesitate. He ordered Spiritomb, Persian, and all of Anabel's Pokémon outside to hold off their attackers while he and Dragonite gathered up all the Meowth into a bed sheet so Dragonite could carry them all while they fled. It was haphazard and a tad ridiculous but it was the best they could do in the moment.

Volo's memories of this battle were hazy. They were clearer than Giratina, the war in Ransei, Jubilife City, and all the other things that made Volo's memory hazy. This haziness was just from the sheer panic of running from an Ultra Beast for so long. Or rather, exposure to an Ultra Beast while also trying to protect a human child and a dozen baby Meowth. The aftermath was a blur as well, just because it was happening so fast. Interpol showed up at some point and Volo and Anabel were swept away.

"UB-09: Burst," Nanu said to an Interpol conference room that would be mostly empty if it wasn't filled with Meowth. "We also call it Blacephalon. It's one of the rarer Ultra Beasts."

A man Volo had never met named Looker took over, launching into an explanation of Ultra Space, Ultra Beasts, and Fallers. Specifically, their amnesia and the Ultra Space 'scent' that kept Ultra Beasts after them. Volo recalled all the information from the briefing and vaguely remembered running a lot after that, desperate to keep Anabel away from her pursuers, but didn't have any tangible memories of the events. He did, however, remember staring into an Ultra Wormhole and, ignoring the cries of his companions behind him, making the decision to jump into it.

Looking back at these memories, Volo had no idea why he decided to do that. Maybe he thought Arceus couldn't reach him there and he would finally be able to escape his curse. Maybe he hoped he'd find himself in a new world and he would get lost in a sense of adventure. Maybe he knew he'd lose his memories more thoroughly than Slowking or Interpol's Psychic-types could ever compare to. Maybe he was just tired of it all.

Ultra Space made his mind burn in the same way staring at Blacephelon made his brain hurt. Humans weren't meant to be here. The fabrics of this reality weren't meant to be perceived by human eyes. It was enough to drive a man insane. No wonder Fallers lost their memories here. Their brains just couldn't take it.

Volo vaguely remembered the spirling colors and gravity-defying platforms but those hardly mattered. Spiritomb was at his side and they were far better built to survive this place than Volo was. No, they could do more than survive. They could navigate it. Not in its entirety but enough.

They found Kuchinachi's wisp. Almost exactly twenty years later and they find- they find- Who even was he to them? The modern Volo knew Kuchinachi was family. This past version didn't. Grief tore through him, shredding him on a visceral level, but the pain of being in Ultra Space was all too much for him to bear.

This was so much worse than Arceus's curse. Volo knew that now.

He got out though. Interpol did something or another. Volo didn't remember and he now lacked the context to understand. He lacked the context to understand anything. The horror on Nanu's face when Volo didn't recognize him, why the Meowth clawed their way onto his shoulders, Anabel's tears, Dragonite's sudden change in demeanor, why Slowking kept trying to peer into his mind, why Persian refused to leave when Volo shooed him away from his legs…

The Volo who remembered understood. He knew what kind of pain he was putting his loved ones through. The Volo in the moment didn't though. That Volo was confused all the time and bothered by their being so many people around him. Echoes of memory were painful but they were a lifeline, an escape from the torment that was his day to day life.

Then, he saw a way out.

"ALL ABOARD!"

"Nanu," Volo said, never tearing his eyes off the wonderful machine on the TV screen, "I think I should go to Johto."

Johto 2003 C.E.

Nanu hadn't wanted to let him go to Johto. He also wouldn't let him ride on Dragonite. Dragonite was too old to fly that far, he told him, and Volo figured he was right. Dragonite looked so tired all the time but Volo didn't have any reference point so he figured that was just how he was. He left Slowking and Persian behind too. Slowking fit in with Anabel's Psychic-types and Persian fit in with Nanu's Dark-types. They weren't happy about it but something about it just being him and Spiritomb felt right. And Volo would chase any feeling that felt right until the ends of the earth.

Trains were really cool. Or, well, train. Johto only had one train and Volo liked it a lot. It only came to Goldenrod every three days but Volo made sure he was there every time it arrived and left. Every part of it sent a rush of excitement through him. The organized way the people boarded and departed was so satisfying. The things the workers would yell always sent shivers through Volo's body, cherished memories tapping the surface of his consciousness and failing to breach. The sight of such a big piece of machinery moving so fast.

Volo read about trains on the clunky computers at the Pokémon Center. He talked to patrons of the station about their trips aboard the locomotive. It brought him a lot of joy but one day, Volo knew he couldn't just watch and listen. He had to ride it.

Train tickets were expensive though and Volo wasn't going to call Nanu to ask him for money. He didn't have any sort of identification either and he was pretty sure that was needed to both get a job and buy a train ticket. Volo didn't let it stop him though. He healed fast and he had a Ghost-type. It really wasn't that difficult to just hide by the tracks in the morning and hop on the back of the train when it started pulling out of the station.

It traveled between Goldenrod City in Johto and Saffron City in Kanto. It was a pretty long ride but Volo enjoyed the scenery from the two regions. He got to see plenty of it from his spot on the roof. It did lose its allure after awhile though. After a couple of round-trips, Volo began using his time in Goldenrod and Saffron to gather food and books to enjoy during his rides. Johto and Kanto had plenty of myths and legends and even more books inspired by them. Spiritomb seemed to enjoy it when Volo read those stories aloud to them, especially if Volo had some Roseli Berries for them to enjoy.

One day, they had a companion.

"Snea?"

The sound triggered something in Volo's memory, startling him so much he nearly fell off the roof of the train.

"Snea!"

Tiny claws clung to his sleeve and the determination to keep him from falling on the Sneasel's face was endearing. It was fully Spiritomb who saved him but some inexplicable instinct told Volo to humor the Pokémon. "Thank you, little one. Be careful with your claws."

"Snea?" The Pokémon looked at her claws, confused by Volo's words. Volo was too. Sneasel's claws looked sharp, sure, but not any more dangerous than a Meowth or a Persian.

"Sorry," Volo apologized, shaking his head. Stupid memories. He sat up straighter and tried again. "Would you like to join us? I was just getting to the part about when the lightning struck Tin Tower. It's one of Spiritomb's favorite stories. We have a lot of berries too if you'd like to share."

"Snea!" Sneasel looked utterly delighted by the prospect and thus a friendship was born.

Johto 2004 C.E.

Sneasel didn't join every trip at first but at some point Volo came to expect her. Volo enjoyed the company, so much that he stopped trying to find a way into the train car when he learned Pokémon had to be in their Pokéballs inside. Still, that got Volo thinking.

"Would you be opposed to becoming one of my Pokémon? You know, getting caught?"

"Snea! Sneasel!"

Sneasel seemed rather excited by the prospect of getting caught so Volo made it his priority during one of his breaks from riding the train. He couldn't afford a Pokéball, even just the regular kind they sold at the Pokémart, and most of the money he got from odd jobs went toward food anyway. Not that he needed it. Food was a luxury to an immortal and Volo's buried memories told him how to forage anyway. Plump Beans were good for eating. Spiritomb and Sneasel loved them. Hearty Grains were easier to find though. Crunchy Salt was good for seasoning but none of them liked to eat it. Apricorn weren't good for eating at all.

There were apricorn all over Johto. It took awhile for Volo to figure it out but he did remember Pokéballs could be made from apricorns. So, he began collecting them and found himself a new hobby to do when he rode the train.

He carved quite a few from different types of apricorn. Sneasel was a special Pokémon and Volo wanted her to have a choice. She picked one made from a mix of red and yellow apricorn. It fit her, Volo thought. He had a lot of those ones too and once Sneasel had her pick, that left him a few to sell.

Selling mostly just meant standing outside the Pokémon Center or Pokémart and asking passing trainers if they were interested. The Pokémart and Pokémon Center owners weren't super happy about it so Volo had to jump towns every once in awhile but he made quite a few sales. Every once in awhile a trainer came back to show him whatever Pokémon they'd caught. Almost made up for all the bad interactions he had.

"You there!" a voice called, snapping Volo's attention away from the kid he'd been trying to sell a Pokéball to. He didn't think the kid actually had any money but there was a surprising number of kids with wealthy parents running around. Sometimes it actually worked out. "Are those apricorn Pokéballs?"

"Yes? Yes," Volo answered, slipping back into his salesman persona. The approaching figure was an elderly man and not one Volo had seen before. "Are you interested in buying?"

The old man scoffed and didn't answer Volo's question. "Where did you get them?"

"I made them."

Apparently that wasn't the right answer. "You made them?"

"Um…" Volo was getting the sense he did something wrong. The Pokémart people hadn't liked him selling Pokéballs but as far as Volo could tell, they had a monopoly on Pokéballs so it made sense. Maybe he'd broken some sales law he didn't know about?

"Show me," the old man barked and Volo was so thrown off that he did as he was told. Plopping himself down on the ground, he dumped Sneasel out of his backpack and gathered up his supplies. "You're starting with a green apricorn?"

"They're my favorite?" Volo offered, not really knowing what else to say. The old man grunted as Volo started carving. It took a few hours to make a Pokéball but at this point Volo was too scared to try to leave.

"What are you using as the base?"

"Tumblestone," Volo told him, holding up the aforementioned item.

"Rock?" The old man looked interested. "Not metal?"

"Where would I get metal?" Volo responded then ducked his head in embarrassment. That was a little rude. Well, it probably wasn't but it felt like it. "The ones at the Pokémart use metal. I thought you had to have a machine to do it that way."

The old man shook his head. "If you have a good Fire-type and the right tools-"

"Dad!" The old man was interrupted by a young man running their way. He seemed a bit frazzled. "There you are! Have you been bothering this young trainer all day?"

Volo opened his mouth to answer but the old man beat him to it. "No. I've been scouting out my new apprentice."

Volo's brain took a moment to catch up. "Sorry, what?"

Johto 2003-2010 C.E.

Volo only stayed in Johto for seven years. He didn't know it at the time but that was the least amount of time he'd stayed in one place in a very, very long time.

It was a good seven years though. Volo rode the train once in awhile but he'd been enticed away from it by another magic. Pokéball craftsmanship was fascinating, even if Kurt was kind of a rough teacher. He was good at it too, and even better at selling them. But more importantly, Kurt had a family, a family that welcomed Volo with open arms. They gave him what Volo couldn't accept from Nanu, Anabel, and all the Pokémon back at the house in Po Town. For awhile, Volo felt at peace.

Then Kurt died and Volo went back to chasing memories.

Unova 2020 (Present Day)

Volo expected his memories to return like a flood. They'd slam into him, leaving him overwhelmed and sobbing from the pain that he'd forgotten at all. That didn't happen. Not at all. Not even close.

They came back like a trickle and Volo thought even that might be a bit much. One moment, he was staring at footage from the Multi Line. The next, he was thinking about how he used to run into time-space distortions to collect wares to sell to Ingo and Akari. Then, he remembered Cogita, AZ, Nanu, and all the Pokémon he'd left behind.

They were arguably more important than Ingo. Cogita had been his daughter and a constant companion for two thousand years. AZ devoted two hundred years of his life to a pointless campaign just to help Volo. Nanu was all that was leftover from the family that had saved him from himself. They were important. Volo still found himself thinking about Ingo though.

Three thousand years of memories was pretty big but it wasn't like Volo himself changed. He was still that same guy who met Ingo and Emmet on the train ten years ago. He was a professor at his local university, and Elesa's manager, and now a temporary Subway Boss. None of that went away just because he remembered a life before that. He was still the Volo Emmet and Elesa knew. Now there was just… more.

Ingo was Volo's best friend. He'd say Elesa and Emmet were his best friends too, and they'd say the same for him, but if he had to pick one, he'd say it was Ingo. Elesa would say Emmet and Ingo and Emmet would pick each other but that was okay because Elesa and Volo could never hope to compare to the bond they shared.

Emmet and Elesa fit together easily. They had a lot in common, such as their interest in Electric-type, and their personalities just bounced off each other. Volo and Ingo couldn't really say the same. They didn't rile each other up like Emmet and Elesa did. The moments they shared didn't set off fireworks. They were the more level-headed of the group and they found something in their calm, something that couldn't be explained by comparing themselves to Emmet and Elesa. They didn't bond because they had no other choice when faced with the energy Emmet and Elesa brought to the group dynamic. It was something easy, an unconscious familiarity that let them flow like two streams of water merging into one.

Now, Volo knew that was because he'd been best friends with Ingo before.

Warden Ingo probably wouldn't have called Ginkgo Guildsman Volo his best friend. Or maybe he would. Volo's isolationist lifestyle didn't leave room for a lot of friends and that was what made his friendship with Ingo stand out. Ingo was pretty solitary as well. Maybe he could say the same. Volo kind of hoped he did. Unreciprocated feelings were part of life but it was always affirming when Volo's friends cherished him as much as he cherished them.

They'd been friends though. That was the important thing. Volo and Ingo had been friends nearly three hundred years before they'd met. Wasn't that something?