Morai was playing the piano in another room as people arrived. She wanted something to put all of her focus into, something to take her mind off of what seemed like a rather grim situation.
"Morai," Maria said, Pollie standing beside her. "You're already a bit late. You probably shouldn't wait in here much longer."
"Alright, alright," she sighed, finishing off her piece and getting up. "You two look nice," she said. Maria wore a beautiful gown in the same color as Morai's vest suit, while Pollie had gone for a deep blue pantsuit. It had a cape that made it look quite regal.
"And you look handsome," Maria replied with a smile. Morai liked being called handsome, and she knew it. They had gotten to know each other more over the past several weeks, but Maria was still often left to wonder whether Morai really did care, or if it was all some sort of facade. Despite the warmth she tried to give, her touch seemed cold and hallow, unwilling to divulge much about herself. But then again, there wasn't much of her rather limited memory to divulge that Maria didn't already know. Could Morai really love, or was it true that the serum had killed any capability of true love? Was Giovanni right that day in saying that their relationship would end with her bleeding on the floor at the hands of the one she loved and who supposedly loved her? She'd like to think not.
The ball was set up in yet another room that had been previously unknown to Morai. It was as nearly as big as the dining hall, and when the double doors were opened to reveal quite the crowd of obvious high-ranking International Police officers and people from her past, the prisoner, all dressed up in maroon and black, nearly turned away.
No. I'm behaving like a coward. I had my foot on top of the world when I was free, and I'm not about to get crushed under theirs.
"You're Morai!" one man out of a group that had approached her said.
"That's me!" she replied.
"I've heard a lot about you," he said with a tone that implied it was mostly bad. This is where a normal person could reply "All good things, I hope!" but Morai had to find something else to say. Instead, she awkwardly chuckled.
"You don't look any different than the day you were arrested," an older woman blankly pointed out.
"Sometimes change is most apparent on the inside, in the soul," Morai replied, though her soul wasn't much different than the day she had been arrested. It was so out of balance, in fact, that the imaginary people representing its parts had vanished.
"Yes...you just look so...off-putting. Those sharp teeth and claws, that hair, not to mention your eyes," the same woman said. Morai realized then that they had turned red. "If it looks like a Ducklett, swims like a Ducklett, quacks like a Ducklett..."
"I may look like a beast, but hopefully I can show that I don't act like one," Morai finally said. She was very surprised at the woman's honesty, and while it was unnerving, it was nice to have social interactions not veiled with some fake layer of niceties and white lies. She had thought an event like this would be rife with them, everyone wearing a mask to hide the fact that she was being watched and judged and even sentenced all in one night.
Sheridan saved the conversation from going any further. As the group left, Morai turned to the warden.
"You're afraid. Not of me, but of something else. What is it?" she quietly asked. Sheridan looked as if she was hesitant to answer, as if bringing attention to it would make it worse.
"It's...Arthur," she whispered. "He hasn't come back and I haven't heard from him. He knew how important it was that he be back here on time tonight."
"Oh...Do they know?" Morai asked, nodding to the group that had just left them.
"No, I didn't want to tell them. There are already teams looking for him. Communication with the outside world is mostly severed, but I don't doubt they'll hear about it before the night ends."
"I'm...sorry," the prisoner said, in an attempt to comfort Sheridan. "I'm sure you're worried."
The warden gave her a look to confirm her worry before shaking her head.
"I can't worry about it right now," she said. "All that can be done is being done. What's right here is what's important. You should go speak with your old friends."
As Sheridan left, Morai visually picked the crowd apart to find faces she recognized from the past. Professor Sycamore was talking with Olympia, while Grimsley was swindling one of the guards with a smile. Ingo and Emmet were also there, as they promised. Lusamine and her family were conversing with the Aether employees that had been staying at the prison while Hau laughed with Mina. Looker and Emma, were there, but it wasn't clear whether it was on professional or friendly grounds. After she spotted Bede and Avery, Morai concluded that all of her other rivals had decided not to come. In fact, she found it strange that trainers from Alola were here, given recent events. She was frozen with the choice of who to speak to first. She didn't want to speak to any of them, really. She had wronged them all.
"You alright?" Pollie asked, coming up beside her.
"There's quite a few people from my past," she answered.
"Introduce me, then," Pollie said. "Who's that?"
Morai led her over to the Professor who had given her her very first Pokémon.
"Morai, is it? It's good to see you again!" he said with open arms. "You've grown so much since I first met you!"
Yes, Morai thought. Just as I thought. We're going to dance around the Cufant in the room.
"It's good to see you two as well," she said. "Pollie, this is Professor Sycamore and Gym Leader Olympia, both of Kalos. Sycamore and Olympia, this is Pollie, a...guard."
The trainers exchanged greetings while Morai looked to Olympia.
"You chose the Ho-Oh? Or is it all a facade? What mask do you wear?" she asked while Pollie and Sycamore began to talk.
"That's...a good question," Morai answered. Olympia had said that she would either rise from the ashes like a Ho-Oh or be lost forever. She seemed to have immediately caught on to her predicament. "What's under your smile? Your lust for blood hasn't changed. But you ignore it."
"...You're right," the prisoner admitted. "I don't know what to about it."
The Gym Leader offered her hand to Morai so that she could peer into her future. Morai, though hesitant, accepted it. A glow came to Olympia's own eyes, and with a gasp, her expression changed.
"...You will soon know it," she said with a dark expression. "What you were created for. The fate of Morai."
"Wait," Morai said. "Are you serious? Is it bad? Why say it like that?"
Olympia didn't elaborate, only stoking the flame of uneasiness sitting at the bottom of Morai's stomach.
"I've got eyes on her," a voice quietly reported.
"Take the shot whenever you're ready," the voice in their earpiece ordered.
"I...don't think I can right now. She's with Olympia. Psychic forces combined, they'll probably see the shot coming from a mile away and it'll all fall through. I don't know if that's how it works, but I wouldn't risk it."
An exasperated sigh came from the other end.
"You have the evening. Don't miss the opportunity. Show them who she really is."
"Right."
As the evening progressed, the person with the earpiece grew increasingly frustrated as Morai moved from person to person without giving them a clear shot.
"I don't think I ever found out who took my place as the Champion," Morai said. She was talking to the Aether family, who she had admittedly grown even farther apart from after the avalanche. They all matched in the colors and style of their outfits.
"I did," Gladion answered. "Kukui became the interim Champion and I beat him."
"Well, congratulations," Morai answered. "And I do owe all of you an apology. I was...rash...in my desperation to..."
Morai faltered. She didn't like to keep referencing the fact that she was a prisoner, and that everyone she was speaking to was visiting her in a prison specifically for her. She didn't want to say that she had been desperately trying to escape and make Alola her home once again. She didn't want to admit that she longed to feel the cool misty breeze on her skin as she flew over the sea. The last thing she wanted to admit was that a small part of her wanted one more pancake breakfast. Maybe it was Past Morai's sappy memories seeping through, but something faint within the prisoner's mind wanted to sit without the weight of all she had done, whether she regretted it or not. But that window had closed. She carried the blood of many on her hands, staining everything she touched and ruining every faint memory of her past. She could no longer sit at that table.
"We understand, dear," Lusamine said, freeing her from the metaphorical prison she had locked herself in with that apology. "Arceus knows I've done some things I regret."
"Since cameras aren't allowed, I want to paint a portrait of you to take home with me," Mina joined in. "I keep forgetting what you look like! I already made this, too."
The Trial Captain pulled a small canvas out of her small bag and handed it to Morai. It was a painting she had done of one of the Alolan beaches, and from what Morai remembered, it was likely Poni Island. She was surprised at how well Mina seemingly knew what she liked. Instead of a bright beach in the middle of the day, it was a calm night scene. Had Morai always hated the brightness of the sun? She couldn't remember.
"I...don't know what to say," she said. "It's beautiful. I'll put it in my...room."
"She's not the only one with gifts," Hau added. "I brought Malasadas again!"
The group all found a place to sit and eat while, at Morai's request, its members reminded her of what Alola was like nowadays. The prisoner had split her dessert to share with Pollie as she listened to tales of Island Trial challengers and the supposed rehabilitation efforts of Team Skull. The Ultra Recon Squad was still lending help in dealing with occasional Ultra Beasts, and they had apparently told the guests to give Morai their greetings.
Time is moving on outside just fine without me, Morai thought. She moved her hand to the pocket watch in her vest pocket to check the time. It was nearing eight in the evening.
Finally, Morai was approached by Looker, Emma, and Anabel, who she hadn't seen the first time. It still wasn't clear whether they were there strictly for business, to see an old friend, or both, which is why their former friend and target hadn't approached them first. It was strange to see everyone without their Pokémon. Morai hadn't seen her own Pokémon since the Alolan incident. They were prohibited given her power to control them, especially since the incident with Gladion's Silvally. It was strange to imagine a whole world in which they didn't exist.
"It's good to see you again," Looker said.
"And...you," Morai answered. She had nearly killed him that fateful day, and she knew everyone remembered it. "Emma, Annabel," she greeted. She had injected Emma with half a vial of serum, the consequences of which she didn't see beyond her passing out. "How are you? I know that day, I..."
"I'm fine," Emma said. "I don't know how you do it." Morai guessed that she was referencing the serum,
"I...owe you an apology," the prisoner said. "I—"
"Do you mean it?" Emma asked. Morai faltered.
"Of course—"
"No, do you really mean it, or do you just know that it's the 'right' thing to do? In your own words, do you mean it, or are you wearing a mask until they decide to go easier on you?"
"Emma," Anabel said. "Maybe this isn't the place to air grievances."
"The people I talked to afterward in the various streets of Kalos," Emma continued, ignoring Anabel's suggestion, "recounted their terrifying interactions with you. Scarred, bruised, foggy, afraid to venture out alone. How could our hero, the one we awarded with medals, do things like that to us? What did we do to them but give them everything we could offer as thanks? Why is our former Champion a monster?"
Emma walked away, leaving a frustrated Morai behind. Anger was nearing its boiling point inside of the former hero. She could end weeks of torture just to prove a point. She could end any chance of redemption she had right at that moment. At least she would know for sure who she really was: a monster with no chance of being anything else. A monster who burned everything she touched. She could finally admit again that she enjoyed seeing everything she touched burn down around her despite the small desire in her soul to have human connection again. She loved the taste of blood, the life force of everyone around her. She wanted to tear them open to get it, feeling the slightly thick metallic liquid on her tongue as she pursued more victims. She wanted to—
"Dinner's starting," Pollie said, putting a hand on her shoulder and stopping her from enacting the gruesome scene brewing in her imagination.
Right. The one who has to pull on my leash when I begin to cross a line.
Everyone sat at a long table, Morai with Pollie and Maria on either side of her.
"I haven't been able to see you much this evening," Maria said, putting her hand on top of Morai's under the table. Morai moved away, not looking at anyone but seemingly staring off into the distance. She wasn't present, but she looked extremely on edge. She poked at her food, looking instead at everyone else around her. The Interpol members had been watching her all night.
"Morai, how are you enjoying this old building?" someone she didn't know asked. It was a strange way of asking how she was enjoying prison.
"It's alright," she replied. "I do appreciate old architecture."
"I hear you play the piano," someone else said. "Could you have someone else play music for you with your abilities?"
"It depends," Morai answered, wise enough to remember that her future still lied in their hands. "I can play the piano and could have someone else play it without much trouble. When it comes to other instruments, the playing depends on the knowledge of the people holding them. I can't have someone who's never picked up a guitar before play a coherent song. It would be asking for knowledge they don't have."
"I see," they replied. "If—"
"Ouch!" The clanging of metal and porcelain sounded as Yvette, who was sitting nearly across from Morai, grabbed her finger. As soon as Morai saw the red beginning to drip down her hand, an involuntary response began to fight her for control over herself. Her mouth began to water and her eyes turned red. She shot up from her chair.
"Morai!" Warden Sheridan suddenly exclaimed. "Why don't you help me get a bandage from the infirmary?"
"Yeah..." the prisoner answered. "I'll do that."
As soon as they reached the medical wing and were out of sight, the warden did what she had mentally prepared herself to do since asking Morai to come with her. She managed to dodge Morai's first attack and grab her arm, pinning it behind her as she pushed her into the wall.
"I'm impressed," the prisoner said. "And I'm done with your stupid games."
Morai got free and attempted to attack again, but Sheridan kept backing away. She knew that there was a small chance the day was still salvageable, but it required both of them walking back into the ballroom with no scratches, bites, or bruises. It also ruled any of the prison's typical methods of handling these situations out, since Morai also had to be conscious.
"You can't keep running forever," she said. "Just accept it and wash your hands of the whole thing after throwing me in a box somewhere. But give me a good fight now to remember you by."
"I don't give up that easily," the warden replied, dodging Morai's attempt to grab her. "You've been pushed past the edge today and I know you'll regret this later. You're not in a good headspace. Tonight we can be sitting outside and playing chess like we have been."
Morai finally managed to lunge and tackle who she saw as her opponent again, immediately going in for a bite to the neck before she was hit with a painful electric shock that caused her to fall to the side. Pollie got on top of her, handcuffing her hands behind her back while Sheridan held her ankles.
"Arceus, what the hell was that?" Morai half asked half shouted as she writhed under the weight of two people. She was more angry at the fact that she had lost so easily. "There's no point," she added. "Even if you force me back in there, I'll make a target out of someone."
"In a room full of International Police agents?" Pollie tried to reason. "Even without Pokémon, they're not completely defenseless. As much as I'd like to see you try and take them all on, you won't get anything from anyone there, either. Mrs. Sheridan, maybe you should take that bandage back. I've got it here."
The warden hesitantly got up, grabbed a bandage for her daughter's cut, and left.
"The outside," Pollie said. Realizing that she was probably hurting the injured arm she had treated just a few hours before, she stopped leaning on it.
"What?" Morai snapped, extra sharp enunciation on the T.
"The Alolan beaches. The sand under your feet and cool salty breeze on your back. We can't forget those Malasadas, either. That's your freedom, Morai. Your future. And you're fighting to throw it all away in favor of...this...all because you're a little angry. Isn't that a weak-minded and stupid thing to do?"
"Not if I'm destined to—"
The guard shoved a gun into her neck.
"You're destined to be free, outside of prison walls!" she yelled. "Do you want to be ordered around by people like me for the rest of your life all because you had a stint as a murderous, bloodsucking little jerk? No! You still have a life to live, and I'm not going to let you live it like this for longer than I have to. You're annoying to deal with. You need to get up, get back in there, and show those people that you're worth having around, because you are. Alright?"
Morai groaned. A slight grin crossed her face as she remembered those TV shows dedicated to scaring troubled youths enough to stay out of prison. Now Pollie was trying to scare her so she could leave it.
"...Fine," she finally said. "Now get off of me."
The pair re-entered the event room to find that all had resumed as if nothing had happened. The dinner table had become half empty as its occupants had gotten up to dance. Maria shuffled up to Morai with a smile on her face.
"Want to dance?" she asked.
"I...don't know," Morai said.
"Come on, we'll blend right in with the crowd!"
They didn't blend in very well. Everyone turned to watch the criminal and only prisoner in the room dance. Maria, even in her formal attire, wore a ribbon around her neck. Morai wondered if it had become habit, or if it was still an attempt at hiding it. There was always a small amount of fear that she could sense that lingered in the back of people's minds. It was no different for Maria, no matter how close they had gotten. She looked up at Morai with a smile, but she seemed distracted. All eyes were on her, and she felt vulnerable. She didn't like feeling vulnerable.
As the night came to a close, groups were escorted out of the prison. They seemed to have a plan and system in place for keeping the location a secret, though Morai couldn't decipher exactly what it was. She guessed that was part of it. The group of International Police members had reconvened and were headed toward Sheridan's office.
This is it, Morai thought. "They're going to discuss me."
As she went to follow them, she was stopped by a guard.
"You can't eavesdrop, Morai," she said. "It's probably better if you don't anyway."
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly what I said. The most important thing is what they decide at the end. Trying to hear their deliberations will only stress you out."
"That's terrible reasoning," Morai argued.
"If they wanted you to hear it, they'd include you," the guard replied. "Change back into your uniform and go to bed or find something to do."
Morai glared at her.
"Fine," she said, marching out of the room. She was obviously going to find a way to eavesdrop, but she'd have to be smarter about it. She changed back into her prison uniform, albeit reluctantly. It was almost all black and blended into the darkness more easily. Morai wasn't the most adept at creating plans given her lacking ability to consider the future. She left her room and was immediately greeted by Yvette.
"Some ball, huh? I feel like it was cut short," she said.
"Yeah, sure," Morai said, walking past her and looking down the hall. "Listen, I'm in the middle of something, and I'd like to—"
"Ooh, what is it? I want to help," Yvette said, circling back around in front of her. Morai motioned for her to keep her voice down, as guards were standing not far away.
"Nothing you should be involved in," she answered.
"I promise I won't tell. This can be payback for all those fighting lessons."
Reluctantly, Morai explained her problem.
"Oh, I see," Yvette said, rubbing her chin.
Does she know that her father's missing?
"I know," she said, putting a finger in the air. "I'm going to the doctor and you're tagging along. That'll get you close enough, won't it?"
"It's not a foolproof plan, but it's the best we've got."
As they walked down the hall, Morai was stopped by another guard, who pointed to her wrists.
"Ah," she sighed, holding them out as he handcuffed them. "Of course. A few hours out of uniform and I almost forgot I was a prisoner. Can't go anywhere without these."
"Where are you two going?" he asked.
"To see the doctor," Yvette answered.
"I'm going with you," he replied. Morai sighed again and rolled her eyes, but they went along with it.
The warden's office was up a small flight of stairs on the way to the lab. As they passed it, Morai noticed two guards standing in front of it.
"Miss Sheridan...and Morai," the doctor greeted, confused. "Can I...help you?"
The guard left the room, but Morai could tell that he was standing right outside the door. She nudged her partner in crime, who jumped into action.
"Yes, you can," she confidently said. "As you know, I sustained a cut earlier. I need you to look at it. I think something's wrong."
"Your mother treated it earlier and bandaged it quite well," he replied. "Why do you think something is wrong?"
"Because...well, you know."
"I'm afraid I don't, Miss Sheridan."
Morai shot the doctor a pleading look. He recognized it, and after thinking about it a moment, obliged.
"Alright, come sit here then, please," he said. He unwrapped the bandage, and Morai took it as a cue for her to leave.
"I shouldn't stay for this," she said. "You know why." She burst out of the doors, hunching over as if she was in terrible agony of some sort. The guard standing outside caught her, turning her around to question what was wrong.
"Gotcha," she whispered, taking control of him. "They still never learn. Idiots."
She waited in the shadows as her pawn went up to the guards in front of Sheridan's office. Hoping he was a good shot, she silently willed him to tranquilize both of them, catching them so they didn't make noise when they hit the floor. Without a sound, she made it up the stairs and pressed her ear right against the door.
