"Eight months ago, Morai, or whatever you'd like to call her, gave up her soul so that the people and Pokémon of the Battle Subway could live on. At the time, the majority of us weren't even aware that The Mask Maker, who had been trying to rehabilitate herself, was our Champion...but the moment she took that serum was the moment she became lost in time. Those who were missing their beloved Champion and afraid that one person had spilled her blood didn't realize that those two people were one in the same, sharing one name that is still new and strange. Some people leave marks or scars on the world that are not easily forgotten, and Morai is one of them. The problem, you could say, is how we remember her—or which version of her we chose to remember, more accurately. I can assume that you've gathered here today with your candles and flowers not to commemorate the life of the Morai we know of now, but to mourn the loss of the Champion who sacrificed herself for those she loved and pray that she returns. If that person is never resurrected, we can at least see to it that she will not be buried under the ever-shifting sands of time."

Ingo was standing in front of a large crowd in the plaza outside of the Battle Subway, his brother to his side. A couple of Depot Agents appeared and drew away the cloth covering a small statue of Morai herself, but as people had chosen to remember her. To much of the population, it was the serum that corrupted their hero's soul, turning her into who she is today. Many people, including the majority of those who once called her a friend or rival, had felt it necessary to grieve their loss. Most didn't dare entertain the thought that a monster had been lurking underneath the surface the entire time.

There was much debate as to which version of Morai should be memorialized in stone. Some argued that depicting her as The Mask Maker would dredge up negative memories for people, offering instead the idea of depicting her as she often appeared years ago. Though it had merit, the idea left the Subway Bosses feeling as though they were betraying who Morai really was. Morai was still alive after all, and had often voiced her distaste for that version of herself. She hated the way she dressed and did her hair and how physically small she was compared to her current hardened and fighting-fit self. Finally, the brothers decided to memorialize her final act of sacrifice, which depicted a Morai identical to the Past Morai that lived in the Dream Realm.

"After all," Emmet had said. "Idolizing people and completely disregarding the shadowy hardships they endured is a bit insulting, isn't it? Painting someone a saint who carries no fault upon their shoulders is hopeful, but blissfully ignorant. Morai was working to pay for what she had done thus far, and that shouldn't be forgotten either."

The statue was humble, depicting the Morai that had taken the serum that day. She stood tall and determined, yet still at peace. Her belts carried Pokeballs and the mask she had made, which depicted a more peaceful and friendly two-faced creature. It showed the hope she had carried with her, that, in spite of the burden of her psychic powers and strange behavior, she could still be honorable and just, renewing herself in the eyes of the people she had wronged.

The flute player from Anville Town played a solemn tune as citizens laid their candles, flowers, and fruit around the statue. Some even gave up items thought to bring good luck, and a pair of trainers even placed an Amulet Coin around her neck.

"We shouldn't be here," Archer whispered after their shared moment of silence. "This is entirely our fault."

"It's hard," Proton replied. "I've liked every version I've met of her. Even this new one that we created. I enjoyed sparring with her until the day I saw the difference in her eyes. She left me with deep wounds that day, not even entirely aware she'd done it. We cursed her, and even though she seems content with it, we sent her on a path to eventual demise and had her locked away in prison...we're jerks, Archer."

"That we are," the man replied with a sigh. "She's a scientific marvel, though, I'll give our team that much. I wonder how she's doing now."

Past Morai was sitting in the garden's center of the Realm of Dreams, as she often did, her head resting against the stone figure of Light Morai. Suddenly, she began to feel a warmth deep within her spirit.

"They...remember me," she said, holding a hand to her heart as a tear welled in her eye. "They haven't forgotten."

"Happy Remembrance Day, Morai," Sheridan said, standing in the threshold of her bedroom and cell door.

"I beg your pardon?" Morai yawned, stretching her scarred limbs high into the air as far as she could reach them. "You know I don't keep track of time, but that's not a holiday I've ever heard of, anyway."

"That's because it was just created...for you," the warden answered. "I considered keeping it from you, but I thought you might like to know that there are people out there thinking about you."

Morai spat, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up. "Well, they only care about Past Morai," she said. "I'm guessing that's what 'Remembrance Day' is all about, eh? I couldn't care either way."

Sheridan let out a small chuckle. "I thought you might say that, which is why I thought you should get some recognition, too. Get ready and come into the hall."

Intrigued, Morai quickly hopped out of bed and cleaned up, styling her wild-looking hair, brushing her sharp teeth, and donning a clean version of her uniform. Beastly as she was, Morai still liked to look dignified. As she looked in the mirror, the prisoner could have sworn that she looked even beastlier than before. She stared at herself for a moment before shrugging and stepping out into the hallway, where Sheridan was waiting for her with an almost-smile.

"I don't trust you," Morai said with narrowed eyes.

"Well, you can," Sheridan replied with a full smile. She motioned the prisoner to follow her, and it didn't take long before Morai realized that they were traveling to an area she hadn't seen before. Sheridan had been keen on keeping certain parts of the cathedral a complete mystery, and now matter how Morai tried to discover them, she was always caught.

Morai had gone several weeks now without blood. The thirst had never lessened like Sheridan assured her it would, but she kept that hidden—though it was nearly driving her mad. She had continued to teach fighting classes to both Yvette and Maria, but she had to constantly control the insatiable glow in her eyes and the extra saliva that formed in her mouth when she was close enough to practically taste their blood. Morai often donned the mask she crafted in prison to hide these traits. It took a great level of trust between each party, and several sessions were cut short. Still, everyone seemed to grow more understanding as time progressed, and actual relationships formed between Morai, Pollie, Maria, and even Yvette and Sheridan.

"Cover your eyes," Sheridan said.

"I'd rather not."

"Trust me, Morai."

Morai apprehensively put her hands over her eyes and was guided into a room.

"Alright, now you can look," the warden said. When Morai took her hands from her face, she found herself standing in the doorway of a large room that had been made into a gymnasium.

"No way," she whispered with a grin.

"Pollie brought up several weeks ago that you were undoubtedly becoming bored out of your mind, and I agreed. You'll find everything you need for everything strength and martial arts related."

"This is amazing!" Morai exclaimed. "I was worried I'd go soft after a few too many of Ms. Lochlynn's waffles. Thank you."

Sheridan smiled and nodded. "That's not all there is planned today," she said.

"I can't think of many more ways to make prison exhilarating," Morai laughed.

"Well, I can't promise exhilarating, but I hope you'll at least find it...nice. I suppose you'd better head to the dining hall for what is now lunch."

Morai wasn't surprised to hear that she had slept until at least noon. She still never knew what time it was and she almost liked it that way. It was almost like being in a dream or somewhere in the middle between dreams and the life awaiting her outside of prison. It was almost as if, by becoming completely ignorant to the passage of time, it wasn't truly passing. There was no time in this cathedral prison.

When Morai opened the giant double doors leading to the dining hall, yawning as she did so, she wasn't expecting to see everyone. The loud rush of greetings caught her mid-yawn, in fact, and startled her. It seemed that every guard, nurse, and Aether Foundation employee in the building was all here. The Subway Bosses had come after their rather solemn memorial in Nimbasa.

I could've headed straight out the front doors, with no one there to guard them. Fiddlesticks! There's so many people. I can almost hear their hearts beating, pumping blood through their veins, their necks so—

"Morai, are you alright?" Maria asked, walking up from the crowd.

"Yeah, I guess," she answered, rubbing her neck. "There's just...so many people."

"No one you haven't seen before, I don't think. I think you've fought all of the guards!" Maria laughed. "Come on, there's cake!"

Morai arrived at the table where the cake was being cut.

"Oh, red velvet. Very funny," she sighed, taking a plate. "Why is it so small? That's not enough for everyone."

"There will be a bigger one tomorrow night," Sheridan said as she walked up to the table with an expectant smile. "At the ball."

Morai stopped her chewing.

"I beg your pardon?'

"There's going to a be a ball tomorrow night in honor of your birthday, which was never celebrated, and the progress you've made. People from the outside will be there."

"Which people?" the prisoner asked, distaste spreading across her face. It wasn't the cake, which was actually delectable.

"That would ruin the surprise. It'll be a fun opportunity, Morai. You can show off the waltzes you've been practicing and see people you haven't seen in a while. It's one small step closer to the outside."

"The outside?" Morai asked rhetorically, setting her plate aside and walking toward her. "The outside. You mean everyone that sees me as a monster who has the blood of hundreds on my hands?"

"Morai," Maria said, nearly putting her hand on Morai's shoulder before Morai brushed it away.

"You want to show everyone what a good little beast I've been, is that it?" she continued. Guards began to slide their hands towards their weapons and Sheridan waved them off. "You want to show everyone how you've tamed me. Barely giving me room to breathe under the threat of extreme pain or complete isolation in chains like an animal. But you can't trust me not to suddenly lash out tomorrow the moment I have the chance. It would look bad if you had to subdue me in front of all of those people, wouldn't it...warden?"

Morai stormed out of the room, kicking open the double doors and splintering a bit of their wood. Pollie ran after her knowing that no one was there to guard the doors.

I could've run out! she growled in her mind. But I had allowed myself to be kept on such a tight leash that I walked right to the dining hall like a good boy.

"Morai," Pollie called, running to stand in front of her.

"Give me one good reason not to strike you down right here," Morai snarled.

"Just calm d—"

"Don't tell me what to do!" she yelled. "You carry your gun at your side with a friendly smile, but the only reason you consider me your friend is because I won't hurt you because of it. I would've as soon as the opportunity presented itself."

Pollie frowned, hurt by Morai's words. She had considered them friends by now. As Morai got closer, she took her gun out of its holster. She looked Morai in the eye and threw it to the side, out of reach. The guard rubbed the makeup covering her scars away.

"I know," she said softly. "But I still gave it a second chance, hoping that I could prove to you that you didn't have to be what everyone says you are. Or at least, you could be a friend before being a monster."

Morai didn't know what to say. She briefly considered attacking or running, but the quick calculations in her head told her that no outcome would involve her escape. She would get to spend minutes, perhaps, in the halfway point between captivity and freedom, running as fast as she could across the dying grass, but she would find herself where she always had: the hospital wing, restrained to the bed. Her dry throat screamed at her to attack Pollie, but Pollie herself, by throwing her gun to the side, had shown a certain trust that Morai planned to reciprocate. The guard inched her hands through the air towards Morai, planning to embrace her, but Morai took a step back.

"You didn't get cake, did you?" the prisoner asked. "How about I get some and we eat it outside in the garden?"

"Alright," Pollie answered softly.

"Good. I'll meet you there, then."

The pair sat across from each other in the garden, silently picking at their slices of cake. The ground was covered in orange and red leaves save for the memorial that Morai had built in the garden's center. The air had only gotten colder, leading Pollie to wear a jacket, but the prisoner seemed unbothered.

"So, this ball..." Morai began. "I'd like to know more about it."

"It was actually Maria's idea," Pollie answered. She had been itching to give Morai that piece of information after her outburst in the dining hall. "Mrs. Sheridan built on it. You've been doing well, and she thought you might be more open to seeing people from your past again."

"Hm. I stand by what I said earlier."

"I think it would be nice. There would be good food, everyone would be dressed up all fancy, and we'd all get to dance. You've spent so much time here seeing so few people that it might be good for you to...you know, socialize."

"I did plenty of socializing when I was free," Morai said. "I liked it. I got people to unwittingly dance for me in alleyways before I bit them. I played cards with a man once, too. We played for his mind."

"...Did he win?" Pollie asked. Morai looked up at her with the corners of her mouth fighting to turn up in a smile.

"I'm afraid not," she whispered before putting the last piece of cake in her mouth.

Maybe this event isn't such a good idea after all, Pollie thought. Maybe Morai's right. If she had the chance, would she immediately go back to the way she was? She had the chance to do something in the hallway, but she didn't. I shouldn't be so quick to doubt her. That's not what friends do.

No one spoke for a while until the silence was interrupted by the creak of the old door to the inside. Ingo stood in the threshold.

"I hate to intrude," he said, removing his hat, "But I have to return to the subway soon, and I'd like to speak with Morai."

"Of course. It's good to see you two back here." Pollie went inside, thankful for the opportunity to ponder what Morai had said and done in the last hour.

"I guess you have been gone a while," Morai said. "How many days has it been? Or weeks? Never mind, it doesn't matter."

"The travel ban was just recently lifted in time for tomorrow's event. May I?" the Subway Boss asked, gesturing to the spot beside Morai on the garden bench. She moved over a little more and nodded for the man to sit.

"Did we...ever discuss what happened the day you were arrested?"

"That's a terrible greeting," Morai said, surprised by the sudden question.

"I feel you have a certain animosity towards me for that day and some of the actions I've taken. I've hurt you, in some ways. I've gone against your wishes to ensure your safety and wellbeing at times. I'm part of the reason you're here, and being here has caused you great pain."

"You're an honorable man," Morai said. "You don't defer from your values and you always try to do what you think is right. You wouldn't have had that gun in your hand if you didn't believe that I needed to be here for my sake as well as the citizens of your region. We may disagree, but I can't fault you for following your best judgement and doing your job. I may not like the International Police, but their very bothersome role in my life is theirs to play."

"...I see," Ingo sighed. "Today has been named Remembrance Day. Knowing you now I don't think you care very much, but I saw it as a chance to make your time here a little more bearable."

Ingo brought the box he had been holding out from under his coat.

"This is everything you need for starting your own model railroad. It should give you something to focus on. If you enjoy it I'd be happy to supply you with more."

Morai chuckled. One fact her memory never failed her on was that Ingo and his brother were a never-ending source of train knowledge that they were happy to share with others. She would sit for hours in Anville town as they used their precious little free time to explain everything they knew.

"Thank you," the prisoner awkwardly said. She wasn't used to receiving gifts. "I'll make sure Team Rocket never tries to burn this one down. I bet I can get Mrs. Sheridan to give me a whole room for it."

"Before I go, I have one more thing." Ingo reached into his coat pocket to retrieve an ornate silver pocket watch. It had a train that no longer runs engraved on its back in great detail. "My father passed one of these down to my brother and I and told us that we could do whatever we wished with them. You've been an important figure in my life since you first entered it, standing across from me on the final rail car, ready to battle. I'd like you to have it. Now, if you ever wish to know the time, all you have to do is look."

Ingo gently laid the stopwatch in Morai's hand. She could feel the cool metal on the unwrapped parts of her skin, the thin chain coiling like a silver snake in her palm.

"I...don't know what to say," Morai whispered. "A-are you sure I'm the person you'd like to give this to? I'm sitting in prison, after all. I'm a criminal."

"I don't and won't have family to pass this down to. You are the person I think should have it. If I don't give it to you, it will sit with me in my grave and never see the wonders of the world again."

"It will sit here with me instead, never venturing past brick walls," Morai retorted.

"It will be with you as you return to the outside world and experience its splendors and the peace of freedom," Ingo confidently stated. "Will you promise me that, Morai?"

"...I will," Morai softly replied in a rare display. "Thank you."

"Speaking of time, I'm afraid I'm out of it," Ingo said. "Emmet and I will return tomorrow evening. It was good to see you, Morai."

"Right," Morai sighed, gently running her finger over the engraving. "Thanks again."

Sheridan was waiting by the door, nodding to the Subway Boss before taking his place beside Morai.

"Hello, Mrs. Sheridan," the prisoner coldly greeted, not looking at her. She still referred to her by her proper name, though it was more out of habit than anything. Sheridan was the only person she did that with consistently. She had always thought that being the warden of the entire prison would come with a special title, but Sheridan had never objected to being referred to by anything else by her sole inmate.

"There are reasons you're in a special prison alone," the warden said. "Chief among them being that you're simply too much of a danger to others. Your psychic powers make you a threat to anyone with eyes, and the...mutations...you've developed are seemingly irreversible. There's no way to neutralize you, so to speak, short of throwing you in a box alone with a blindfold for the rest of your life. There was debate among my organization as to what should be done with you, and some argued for just that. Some argued that if we blinded you, you'd no longer be a threat. But people also stood up for you, arguing that much of the world owes its safety and even existence to you, and that treating you so cruelly would be a disservice to who used to be one of Interpol's greatest allies. I was among that group, arguing for your rehabilitation."

Sheridan reached into the small bag attached to the side of her belt and pulled out a couple of darts.

"Unfortunately for you, this is the most humane and the fastest way to stop you from hurting others," she said. "I know it can hurt you greatly, but your other alternatives are much worse. Your behaviors simply don't work with the outside world. They endanger it. Solving that problem has been placed onto my shoulders, but my superiors won't continue to allow the existence of this place unless I have something to show for it. So, yes, you are partially correct. Members of the International Police will be here tomorrow, and your fate lies in their hands. What you do is ultimately up to you, but know that your actions tomorrow evening will determine whether you stay here and eventually return to the rest of the world, or whether you sit in complete isolation for the rest of your life. The choice is yours, Morai."

Sheridan got up and left without another word. Her prisoner let out a long sigh, turning and kicking her feet up onto the bench so that she was now lying on it. Her legs were too long and hung over the side of it, but she made it comfortable enough.

"I guess I'd better behave, then," she said to herself.

Morai realized she had dozed off when she opened her eyes to see Maria sitting on the ground in front of her, holding the hand that had been hanging off the bench.

"What is it with you and watching me sleep? Am I more handsome when I'm completely silent and inactive?" Morai yawned.

"I like being with you, but a lot of the time you happen to be unconscious," Maira laughed. "And you do move around and talk in your sleep, which is interesting to watch. I guess we'd better practice for our dance tomorrow, yeah?"

"We're dancing tomorrow?"

"We've been practicing. I thought it'd be a nice time to show it off."

"I suppose you're right," Morai sighed, yawning as she got up and offered her hand to Maria. They danced for a while in silence before Maria pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Morai asked.

"I thought we could use something to dance to," Maria said with a smile as she scurried inside and returned a few moments later. "Close your eyes," she ordered.

Morai closed her eyes with a frown, and Maria took her hands.

"Wait, wait," Morai said, "I don't like this."

"Just trust me," Maria insisted. Morai felt what seemed like a small box in her hands and opened her eyes to confirm. It was crafted out of dark wood and engraved with small and intricate designs on its border.

"Open it."

Morai undid the small silver latch and gently opened the box. When she did, a melody started playing. It was the melody of the song she had written for Maria. The realization nearly made her drop it.

"Maria!" she exclaimed. "I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything," Maria replied, taking the box from Morai and setting it on the bench. "Just dance with me."

After everyone else had gone to bed, Morai found herself alone in a completely empty room that she had requested and lying on the floor. She had the music box that Maria had given her sitting beside her and was constructing the train set Ingo had given her. She felt a bit like a child, but it did seem to distract her from the constant screaming from her entire body telling her to maul someone and drink their blood. Eventually, she dozed off, the train running in circles in front of her head.

"Can you believe it?" Past Morai said as she appeared in the Dream Realm. "What a day! A Remembrance Day today and a ball tomorrow! Are you ready?"

"I...don't know," Morai sighed, lying on the ground. "If Mrs. Sheridan is correct, what I do tomorrow will determine what happens to me. If I slip up, which is well within the realm of possibility, I might find myself in a place much worse than this prison."

"Just about everyone is there to help you," Past Morai said, joining her on the ground. "Have you seen our garden lately? Light Morai's side has more white rose bushes."

"Everyone is right," Morai retorted, ignoring her counterpart's last words. "I don't belong in the outside world. The only reason I follow the rules here is because I'll be in a great deal of pain if I don't, and even with that looming threat I've still slipped up. I might have a better chance at escaping than staying safe here."

"Don't you dare try before tomorrow," Past Morai suddenly said, raising up to her shoulders to glare at Morai. "That'll definitely look bad. And the flowers growing over there are proof that your actual soul has changed, not just your surface-level behavior."

"I don't want to behave like a well-trained Lillipup. It makes me look weak."

"It makes you look like you know what's best for you and everyone involved."

"I suppose we'll see..."