Author's Note: I don't really care for this chapter, but the show must go on. I'm taking a break from exams, so sorry for the mass edits I'm doing.

Chapter 5

"It's quite amazing how quickly people in your hometown recover," Professor Tsubasa commented, raising his eyebrows as he unwrapped the bandages from her leg. The skin and bone underneath had fully mended, leaving Uma feeling a bit embarrassed.

It was day eight of her stay, but her leg had healed completely by the third day of mandatory bed rest. This left the doctor as a Magikarp. Initially, he had reprimanded her for trying to move, overinsistent on how broken bones take months to mend, especially for someone sans quirk.

Seeing her now, whole with just a few scars, he wanted an explanation. But how could she explain? Years of being around Pokemon have made her people to be more adaptable and resilient, but it wasn't something she could just tell him. Despite her growing fondness, she had secrets to keep.

Her stay has been quite comfortable, with an entire wardrobe refresh courtesy of the doctor. There was also a awkward chat about him doing her laundry without asking, with a promise to ask only when she was awake. She was somewhat surprised at how similar this universe's style was compared to Alola's. She had even gotten a taste of this dimension's food, which she found highly processed. If she needed any reason to rush back home, it would be to taste fresh, seasoned food once more.

Uma and Professor Tsubasa had fallen into a pleasant routine. It felt reminiscent of when she first met Burnet, eagerly learning from a wise mentor. Tsubasa had been attentive, letting her follow him during his hospital rounds. It was a backstage pass to see how advanced this dimension's technology was (surprisingly, it went beyond Unova's) and how these so-called quirks were integrated into everyday life.

While her leg was healing, the itch to check out the power grid almost drove her nuts. Distracting herself was a challenge, so to pass the time, she'd started poking around this dimension's version of the internet. It was a wild ride of jokes she didn't get and ads that made her want to gouge her eyes out. The whole thing was a mess, but it allowed her to keep tabs on her criminal status. If gossip was anything like it was back home, she'd need to lie low for at least a month until everyone forgot about her.

The thought of lingering for a month made her stomach somersault, but she held her fear in check, her Pokémon none the wiser. If she started panicking, they'd panic. Thankfully, they were too fascinated by the TV in her room to notice.

Tsubasa-sensei, bless him, had noticed her restlessness. One evening, he surprised her by shoving her into his private study. Every night since, she's poured over any text she could find in his extensive collection of research material. It was like trying to drink from a geyser, but she loved a good challenge. Her search was more than fruitful, and now she had a grasp on the region's history.

"Maybe you're not quirkless after all," Professor Tsubasa chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he took a sip of his tea. "You're quick to heal and quite intelligent."

She shook her head, brushing his comment off. Sometimes, the doctor was insistent with his questions about her quirkless status. She'd let him run his tests, yet he still hounded her.

"Now that you've had a chance to read through the manuscript I provided, what are your thoughts?" He changed the subject. "Did it spark any new ideas that you believe could be beneficial to my research?"

Uma hummed and set her cup on the table. She pulled out a notebook she had filled with scribbled notes and comments in the margins. To be frank, his manuscript on quirk theory was a gold mine, and she had plenty to say about how society handled people with special powers. It was quite intriguing to her that instead of welcoming this new diversity with open arms, the world had chosen to tighten its grip, enveloping itself in a web of laws and rules.

She handed the notebook to the professor, glancing away briefly and trying to force herself to stop picking at her nails, a habit from her past whenever she sought approval from those she respected.

"Lots of comments on heroes and villains, ne? All kids dream of becoming a superhero. Did you ever want to be one?" he said offhandedly, flipping through the pages.

"No, I never did." Uma deadpanned, crunching her nose. "It's sad that so many children do."

The whole 'villainy' thing bothered her. It was such a lazy label to stick on anyone who didn't fit the mold that society had created. In her opinion, a society's real progress should be seen in how well it can understand and accept change. But the world she ended up in had caved into the same fears and biases it was supposed to be fighting against.

And the hero worship? Oh, deities, it was basically brainwashing the kids into thinking that the world was just a battle between good guys and bad guys. When they encounter the real stuff of life—messy, complicated, full of shades of gray—she wondered if they'd be able to handle it when they grew up. Yet here they were, pushing unrealistic expectations on kids, setting them up for a world that's far more complex than they're being led to believe.

Professor Tsubasa raised an eyebrow. Uma winced. She had always been blunt and assertive about her opinions. While normally she didn't care about other's feelings, she knew she couldn't afford to offend him. She was stepping into a conversation about another culture without really knowing the dance steps.

To fill the awkward silence Uma fumbled, "The journal was quite the read. The history of quirks, the chaos they brought, and the subsequent obsession with superheroes were all very... enlightening." She hoped her face didn't show the outright disdain she felt.

The professor leaned forward. "And what about your thoughts on the theories presented?"

"Well," Uma took a deep breath. "I noticed that most of the research is centered around the idea that quirks are generated internally. But what if it's not just biological?"

Professor Tsubasa frowned. "We've explored that avenue before, my dear. Radioactive exposure, invasive pathogens, diseases curated by rats – we've tried it all."

"But what about the dimensional fabric itself?" She placed a hand-crafted graph before him, a complex web of equations and data points. "My research looks at how dark matter affects ecological systems. What if dark matter influxes trigger quirks? I've discovered that when dark matter congregates in certain areas, it can lead to... unusual effects."

"Go on," he urged, leaning closer.

"I hypothesize that the first quirk user didn't pass on quirks pathologically," Uma explained, becoming excited. "It was too random, but it was also chain-linked; like a code gone rogue. There needs to be a systemic-like external trigger. What if that trigger was a sudden influx of dark matter into this world?"

He strokes his chin. "That's an intriguing theory. It's certainly a different angle than we've been considering. What's your evidence?"

"I've memorized certain dark matter habits. Past patterns indicate spikes in dark matter activity that overlap with the emergence of new quirks. It's as if the dark matter acts as a catalyst, igniting dormant abilities within those it comes into contact with."

"And once the biological changes occur, the quirks manifest. But the mixing of dark particles to create these new abilities would take millennia, wouldn't it?"

"Less than that if there's an upsurge, but yes, hence why genetics and ecology come into play." Uma takes a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction to her next question. "Professor, have you noticed any... recent spikes in dark matter activity?"

The room grew silent as the professor's gaze met hers. To her surprise, he nodded gravely. "I have. It's been messing with the town's power—internet and electricity going haywire. And the timing... it's not a coincidence."

There was a knot in her stomach. "Since I'm all patched up," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt as she pushed herself up from the chair. "I should get out there and start investigating. That's what brought me here in the first place." With a small, awkward nod, she added, "I appreciate you taking care of me, but I don't wanna be a burden anymore. I've pretty much packed up already."

He regarded her quietly. The room's mood shifted, thickening with something unsaid. "Must you?" he murmured.

Uma's confidence faltered. "I-i'm sorry? What do you mean?"

"You've been watching me all week, yes?" he said gently, yet with a hint of curiosity. "But I've been watching you too. You're scared and feel out of place, even though you hide it well. I've offered you a place to stay, resources, and support. Why are you afraid of letting me help?"

Uma felt a lump in her throat. "You don't get it—"

"I do," Tsubasa insisted, his kindness making her uneasy. He stared straight into her eyes, and she couldn't look away. "With my protection, you don't need to fear anything, not even the law."

Clarity began to set in for Uma—he knew. He knew she was a wanted individual, and he had probably known since she arrived. His interest in her, his persistence in prying into her past—it all made sense now.

Uma narrowed her eyes, taking a step back. "What do you want?"

She had her reasons to be wary. Uma recalls the fatal explosion of her death—she was living proof that trusting the wrong people can lead to devastating consequences. Fear and caution kept her safe. Unfortunately, her arrival had led to a man's death, even if it wasn't intentional. She wouldn't put others in danger, even if that meant being alone.

"What does helping me gain you?" She pressed, eyes cataloging his movements; if he attempted to grab her, she'd see it coming. "What makes you think I'd blindly trust you? Your argument sounds a lot like manipulation. I barely know you. Who's to say you won't just use me until I'm no longer useful?"

"I knew there was a reason we immediately got along. We think alike, you and I," he said, still maintaining his gentle charm. "Rationally, one must be properly equipped in a world filled with heroes and villains. It's survival of the fittest, Uma. Relying solely on yourself won't always be enough. Sometimes you need an ally.

"Don't be mistaken, this is a give-and-take scenario. You need an ally and I need an assistant; and not just anyone. I need someone sharp, meticulous, and unafraid to ask the right questions."

"And you're not doing it to experiment on me." Uma coldly states. She crosses her arms, a defensive gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Tsubasa.

"Well, as a fellow scientist, you know how hard it is to satisfy our curiosity. I only want to learn from you and exchange ideas about quirks. It's been a long time since I've had someone whose intellect matches my own."

It sounded too good to be true. "How can I trust that what you're saying is the truth?"

"Trust is a funny thing," Tsubasa said, his smile never leaving his face. "It's like a seesaw. Sometimes words aren't enough to balance it out. You will have to judge my character through the actions of others.

"But I think we can help each other. We're both in need of a friend, ne?"

Uma remained quiet, mulling over his words. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his intentions than he was letting on. She kept others at a distance, fearful of tearing down the wall she so carefully built. But here was Tsubasa, offering friendship and support. She didn't want to admit it, but he hit a nerve.

On a practical level, Uma knew the benefits of his offer. As a scientist, she was used to weighing the risks against the potential gains. Having a place to sleep and bathe was certainly appealing. But it was more than just comfort; it was about the human connection Tsubasa offered. Despite her fears, she recognizes the value in what he is proposing and she knows that this is a gamble.

"How do I judge your character then?" she finally bit out.

"You'll complete a few errands for me," Tsubasa-sensei smirked. He walked over to a pile of books. Balancing precariously on the pile, he managed to grab a wooden box from the top of the stack and a crumpled envelope from the shelf.

Turning to face Uma, he held out the items. "Today, you're on a mission of great importance. You're going to deliver two items."

Uma rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "What's in the box?"

"Ah, ah, no peeking," he admonished with a playful wag of his finger. "This box holds a proposal for a potential charity partnership. It is of the utmost importance that it reaches its destination untouched and unseen."

He handed her the box, which was surprisingly light. "And the letter?"

"Ah, the letter," he sighed. "It's for a friend of a family. It contains sensitive information, so handle it with care."

Uma shook her head. His plan to gain her trust was silly. "I'm not well-versed in this region's layout. I don't know where I'm going."

"You'll be fine, my dear," he assured her and gestured towards the exit. "I have complete faith in you, and the two individuals you're referring to are quite close by."

"When should I leave?" Uma was met with a lazy smile. "Now?!"

Professor Tsubasa chuckled. "Trust is built on time alone. Box first, letter last. Here's the directions and a hat."

Despite her efforts to push him away, she couldn't help but feel a bit touched by his stubbornness. He'd given her food, clothes, and a place to stay, and treated her like an equal. Although she wasn't ready to let her guard down completely, she took the items he offered and put them in her bag.

"I'll let you earn my trust," she said firmly, "Don't make me regret it."

She placed the cap snugly on her head, the orange of her puffer jacket providing a stark contrast to the black of the hat. "Alola, Professor," she called over her shoulder as she made her exit.

"Thank you, Uma-chan," he called back, his voice muffled by the closing door. "Remember, you always have a home here!"

When Doctor Kyudai felt that the girl was far enough, he walked towards the bookshelf. With a gentle tug on the spine of a book that looked slightly out of place, the whole shelf swung outward, revealing a hidden passageway. The sound of gears whirring to life filled the air as the elevator descended smoothly, carrying him down to his secret laboratory.

Kyudai stepped out, passing the rows of gleaming test tubes. He navigated through the cluttered maze of equipment, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space until he reached the observation room.

In the center of the room, his master, All for One, sat comfortably in a high-backed chair, engrossed in a book. The overlord looked up from his reading as Kyudai approached. Kyudai bowed deeply.

"Master, phase one of the plan has been executed without any complications. All subjects are where they need to be, and the necessary preparations have been made."

All for One closed his book and set it aside. "Ah, excellent. And what of phase two?"

"I have initiated it as per your instructions," Kyudai replied, his voice low and serious. "The girl has been quite forthcoming. She even provided some intriguing theories regarding quirks."

"Really?" He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Do tell, Kyudai. What new insights has she offered us?"

"Well, she posited that the portals are a source that could be directly linked to quirks. The stronger they are, the more powerful the quirk. She repeated the phrase 'this world'. It's a working hypothesis, but it implies she could be from somewhere else. After checking all available records, I've found that aside from police reports, she has no history. It's almost as though she materialized from thin air."

All for One steepled his fingers. "Dimensional travel. Fascinating."

"Indeed," Kyudai agreed, his gaze flicking over to the monitors displaying various data from the ongoing experiments. "Her theories are... provocative. She seems to detest hero society, which we can use to our advantage. Her knowledge of the portals may mean she knows what quirks they hold within them. But they can add another layer of unpredictability to our plans."

All for One chuckled, an amused and slightly malicious sound. "Tomura will be thrilled to hear of this," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Keep her close, Kyudai. Her powers will be a valuable asset."

Kyudai nodded eagerly. "As you wish, Master."

To the untrained eye, the darkened shadows remained as still and silent as ever, but amidst the shadowy recesses, a pair of piercing eyes glinted with a cunning intelligence. Unbeknownst to two plotting villains, a tiny furry creature had taken an interest in their clandestine activities. This creature, a small and agile mouse with a coat as yellow as the sun itself, had been tracking them from the moment they left the safety of the hospital. Its curiosity piqued by the scent of evil that seemed to cling to their very being, it had been watching their every move with unwavering focus.

"Kyudai," All for One said, his deep voice echoing slightly in the narrow space, "How soon can the Nomu's go live?"

Dr. Tsubasa nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Yes, by my calculations Tomura can test the betas by as little as next week... but if I make a few tweaks..."

As they continued their sinister plotting, the mouse crouched low to the ground, its tail flicking.


Midoriya's POV

The morning sun casts a soft glow over the platform as Midoriya and Uraraka approach Iida, who stands with a tense posture. Dark circles frame his eyes, starkly contrasting with the usual vibrancy of his gaze. The weight of his brother's disappearance since the Sports Festival is evident in every line of his face.

"Hey, Iida," Uraraka greets gently, her voice carrying a tinge of concern. "How are you holding up?"

Iida's eyes flicker to her, but he avoids meeting her gaze. A fleeting, unreadable expression crosses his face before he forces a smile. "I'm okay."

Midoriya can't help but notice the way the other boys' fists clench and how how the exhaustion in his eyes speaks volumes about the sleepless nights he's endured. "Any news about your brother?" he asks, hoping for a glimmer of warmth in Iida's expression.

Iida's shoulders slump further. "No leads," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "Just that they found Tensei's blood downtown."

Uraraka's eyes widen in shock. "Really?"

"Yeah," Iida confirms, his voice hollow. "In Hosu."

The revelation hits Midoriya like a ton of bricks. "I-isn't that where Stain was last spotted?" he stutters, exchanging a worried glance with Uraraka.

They both understand the gravity of the situation. If Ingenium's blood was found there, it could mean the villain they feared most was involved: the Hero Killer Stain. Midoriya hopes that Pro Hero: Manual, who overseers Iida's work-study, would be able to provide guidance and support. Maybe, just maybe, they could prevent Iida from taking any drastic actions against Stain.

They know how much Iida's family, especially his brother, means to him. But with Iida withdrawing into himself lately, they can't let their friend leave in this state.

"A-are you sure about this, Iida?" Midoriya blurts out before his courage left him. "M-maybe you should do yo-you're internship somewhere else! Eraserhead can-"

"It's fine," Iida interjects sharply, his voice cutting through the silence.

"R-right."

The silence stretches on, filled with the unspoken understanding of friends who knew better than to push too hard.

"They're going to find him, Iida." Uraraka reassures, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're all here for you."

Iida nods, but his eyes remain distant.

Midoriya makes a silent vow. He'll be there for Iida, and together they'll find a way to help without letting things spiral out of control. "We're only a phone call away if you need us. We've got your back."

Iida offers a weak smile. An announcement over the intercom breaks the tension, signaling the train to Hosu has arrived. Without a backward glance, Iida grabs his hero case from the ground and heads to the platform.

"I'm worried about him, Deku," Uraraka says, turning to Midoriya with a concerned look. "I have this bad feeling, like from the USJ attack, you know?"

Midoriya clenches his fist, holding up his own suitcase. The announcer calls for his train as well, but he can spare a few seconds to comfort his classmate. "We can't help Iida if he won't let us." he says, glancing at Uraraka, who looks like she might protest. "But I'll make sure to be strong enough for him when he needs us."

Uraraka blinks at him, then blushes and nods eagerly. "Y-yeah! Same here!" She punches him in the arm. "P-Plus Ultra!" The flustered girl scurries off, leaving a puzzled Midoriya behind.

"W-wait up!" he shouts, running to catch up. "My train's leaving too!"

The two heroes in training board their respective trains. Midoriya couldn't shake the feeling that they were heading into a dangerous path, one that could lead them closer to the truth.

With two hours to spare, he took out his phone and opened up articles on his latest fascination. Midoriya has been following the enigmatic Montress Summoner, growing more intrigued by her true intentions. Despite his thorough search, most forums have gone eerily silent, with only a few complaints about power outages.

He wants to investigate her actions independently, eager to uncover the truth behind her villainous reputation. But it seems his luck has taken a turn for the worse. Sighing, he plays the video that keeps haunting him—the one showing her fearlessly placing herself between the terrifying creatures and the law enforcement officers.

I wonder if I'll be strong enough to help her too.

That was the last thought Midoriya has before nodding off.


Uma's POV

Uma stands in the shadow of an impressive sprawl of townhouses and modern buildings, facing a massive gate guarding an immaculate garden so well-kept it looks like it's been painted. Two stoic guards, clad in matching black and gold kimonos, watch her closely as she approaches.

Uma opens her mouth but hesitates, an awkward "Hey, I've got this box for you guys!" flashing through her mind. She cringes internally. Before she can speak, the guards give a quick nod and gesture for her to enter.

Were they expecting me? The professor made it seem like this was a spur-of-the-moment task.

She tries not to ogle as she follows another footman to what appears to be the main building. She tries to commit the path to memory, but the layout is as confusing as a maze. They arrive at a sitting room adorned with ornate screens and scrolls. The air is bathed in the scent of incense, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly laid tatami mats. Her hand instinctively tightens around the poke ball at her belt, the cold metal offering a semblance of comfort. Her heart races as the footman gestures for her to enter.

What type of charity organization has this much luxury?

Her eyes dart around the space, noting the low table that sits in the center surrounded by cushions for seating. Uma takes the seat closest to the door, siting with her back ramrod straight. In the corner, a small brazier casts flickering shadows on the walls, the embers within glowing like the eyes of a sleeping dragon.

The box she carried earlier felt like a heavyweight in her pack. She retrieves it and places it on her lap, tracing its intricate craftsmanship with her fingers. The box is not just an object; it's a test of trust. Uma is not one to sit idly by; she must uncover every detail about the circumstances surrounding it.

She plans to discreetly investigate Dr. Tsubasa's background, seeking clues about his true intentions while meeting his peers. Always, she keeps herself one step ahead, especially when dealing with someone who appears untrustworthy. Her priority is to find answers—whether or not she plays the doctor's game.

Despite the weight of the box, it pales in comparison to the burden of her mission— torn between the pressing duty to save Alola and the trust she was cautiously extending to Dr. Tsubasa. His kindness had won her over, but if she senses danger, she will not hesitate to walk away.

The atmosphere in the sitting room shifts abruptly as the heavy door glides open, letting in a gust of chilly air. Uma's eyes snap to the entrance, catching sight of a tall figure with an air of confidence that demands attention. She straightens in her seat.

He's dressed in a crisp black suit with a crimson tie, his movements so precise and controlled he seems more like a statue come to life than a man. His eyes, the only part of his face not obscured by a black mask, bore into her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. His gloved hands are clasped behind his back, and she notices the way he avoids touching anything as he sits down, his legs crossed and his posture rigid.

The room is silent as they size each other.

"What business does a convicted terrorist have with me?" His voice is cool and measured, a stark contrast to the heat of the room. "Aren't you supposed to be in Tartarus?"

The accusation hangs in the air like a dark cloud, threatening to smother her. She had momentarily forgotten that while she took a breather, the world had kept her image fresh in their minds. But she remains unfazed, refusing to be cowed by the imitating stranger. She will engage him calmly, maintaining the upper hand without resorting to hostility.

She places the box on the table between them. The gesture is as much a peace offering as it is a challenge. "This is on behalf of Doctor Tsubasa, chairman of Jaku Hospital, in the hopes of a future partnership."

He continues to scrutinize her, his gaze as unyielding as steel. He doesn't even reach for the box. "You've got the country abuzz, you know. The first big shot to slip through the cracks of hero justice, and not a single trace for anyone to follow. All the heroes are out there looking for you. How'd you do it, oni-san?"

The room feels smaller now, the walls closing in. She clenches her fists, willing herself to stay calm and focused. "I don't have to explain myself to you," Uma replies bluntly, her tone soft but firm."I'm not anyone special."

His tone turns predatory, sending a chill down her spine. "No?" He pauses, the silence stretching out like a tightrope. "Then why haven't I killed you yet?"

Her heart stops. What...?

The man's voice is as sharp as a knife. "You're still breathing because I find your quirk... interesting."

Uma's heart races. She needs to tread lightly. Something tells her that the man sees her as a pawn he isn't sure whether to use or discard.

"...would you still think me interesting if I was quirkless?"

He didn't miss a beat. "If you're implying that you have no quirk, I'd have to cut you open to see how you work." The coldness in his voice makes her feel like a lab rat. "But since I can't do that, how about a demonstration? Go on."

The conversation hangs in the air, the threat coiling around them like a noose. Uma thoughts race a mile per minute, trying to find a way to diffuse the situation.

"I don't like being threatened," Uma softly spoke, setting one of her prized Poke Balls from her hip and onto the table. "And you won't kill me; it's not convenient. If you want to learn about my abilities, you need to ask nicely."

He eyes the Poke Ball with curiosity before his gaze snaps back to her. "Woman, do you know who I am?"

Uma shakes her head, anger flaring in her eyes. "No, and I have no desire to. I see only an entitled ass who views others as pawns beneath him to manipulate."

His eyes flash with annoyance. "I see." His hand snatches the Poke Ball from the table, his movements so swift she's caught off-guard. "These are the rumored containment devices for your experiments, yes? Mutated animals?"

"Pokémon are not experiments!" Uma snaps, her patience fraying. "I would never experiment, poach, or do anything to harm them. They are not powers to wield like everyone assumes!"

"Pokémon," he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like an unfamiliar concept. "What exactly are they?"

The cold reality crashes down upon her. He's toying with her, extracting information with ease. She's been a fool, and she needs to leave before it's too late.

"We're done here," Uma declares, snatching the box from the table. "I'm taking this and my Pokémon. We have nothing more to discuss."

The man leans forward, his finger hovering over the release button of the Poke Ball. "Let me make myself clear," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "I have no qualms about killing you. As leader of the Shie Hassaikai, I do as I please." He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "But you wouldn't know about that, would you? Tell me, oni-san, are you aware of the price on your head?"

Uma remains silent, her eyes locked on the Poke Ball in his hand, her heart hammering. She knows the conversation is spiraling out of control, but she's at a loss for how to regain the upper hand. Her lips press into a thin line as she chooses silence, her gaze unwavering but filled with defiance.

"Your ignorance is almost endearing," he continues, his tone mocking. "There's a rather substantial bounty for your capture, dead or alive. It seems the heroes are quite eager to bring you to justice."

The air in the room feels thick and suffocating. Uma can barely breathe.

"Nothing is stopping me from turning you over to the heroes. Dead or alive. You're not in the position to demand anything. Your only choice is to be captured by whatever power gets to you first or cower in hiding like the filthy rat you are."

His finger presses the releasing mechanism. A burst of light fills the room, and Marshadow, her faithful companion, appears, his shadowy form pulsing with a deadly aura. He stands firmly between them, a silent sentinel.

The man's expression shifts, his heavy-lidded eyes taking in the ghostly figure. "This isn't the fire-cat," he drawls. "This one's much more interesting." He looks back at Uma. "I might have use for you."

He sits back, ignoring the protective stance of the ghost. "Now, open the box so I can leave."

Marshadow's glow dims slightly, but he doesn't move. Uma's heart feels like it's in her throat, but she knows she has to do something. She nods slowly, her hands shaking as she reaches for the box.

The man watches her, his eyes never leaving hers, as she opens it. Inside, she finds three vials full of liquid. She had no idea what it was, but she knew she didn't like it. Slowly, she turns it around to face him.

His eyes lit up with a momentary spark of something that was unmistakably excitement. But before she could fully interpret his reaction, his usual mask of disdain slams back into place, as if he had caught himself in a moment of weakness. His gloved hand reaches in to take a gleaming red vial, the light from the flickering candles casting a sinister glow upon it.

He stands gracefully, looking down at her. "Come with me."

"No." Her eyes remain glued on the Poke Ball in his grasp.

The man flicks his fingers in an elegant and commanding gesture. From the shadows men materialize, each one dressed in black and wearing a mask that obscured their faces. Uma's heart sank as she realized she was now surrounded, and her escape was looking less and less likely.

"It wasn't a request," he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Chrono, Mimic."

The man with blue hair, who she assumed was Chrono, stepped forward with surprising speed. His grip was like iron as he effortlessly lifted her from her cushion. The shorter man, Mimic, attached himself to her other arm. Despite her struggles, both remained unfazed.

"If your beast tries to attack, I'll kill it. My quirk activates when I make skin contact. One touch and I rip my enemies apart atom by atom."

Uma glances up, her struggles halting as she sees the man's ungloved hand a touch away from Marshadow, who was held hostage by a burly guard. "Stop! I'll go. Don't touch him."

"Put it away."

"Go back to your poke ball, Marshadow." Her words were a mere whisper, a silent plea.

Marshadow's eyes, pools of molten ember, search hers for a brief, agonizing moment. Then he envelops his leg in a purple aura and tried to kick at his opponents.

It was the wrong move.

The leader presses a single digit to Marshadow's face and Uma screams. The bond pulled, ripped itself apart, and reassembled once more. The pain was agonizing, and if the guards weren't already holding her up, Uma would have collapsed.

When Marshadow returns to his ghost form once more, he allows himself to be recalled. A beam of red light envelops him, and he disappeared with a faint click, the sound echoing in the emptiness of her heart.

The pretty man hummed, examining the red and white ball before turning on his heels. "This way."

Chrono nods, and together they began to walk through the labyrinthine hallways of the mansion. As they descend the stairs, Uma felt a knot tightening in her stomach. The door to the basement creaks open, revealing a laboratory that normally Uma would have killed to own. The lab was vast, organized to the point of obsession, and filled with gleaming instruments that she knew were ridiculously expensive. Now, it was filled with an eerie silence that seemed to suck the life out of the air around them.

Chrono sets her down, his grip loosening but not releasing. Uma watches as the leader drifts across room with the grace of a dancer, his eyes scanning the array of chemicals and glassware. He holds up the red vial, flicking it.

The sound of liquid being drawn into the syringe fills the air, and she felt the panic rising. This wasn't part of the deal. This wasn't what she had signed up for.

"Let's see if this lives up to its reputation," he murmured, his eyes glinting wickedly.

The pretty man approaches the three with feline grace. Lifting one gloved hand, he lifts Uma's face with a finger, daring her to look away. The amusement in them only served to fuel her anger.

"Watch closely," he instructs.

The needle looks so much sharper when it was pointed so close to her. He plunges the syringe into Mimic's arm. Mimic gasp was a silent scream in the room, which echoed in Uma's ears long after it had faded.

Her instincts scream at her to rush to Mimic's side, but the pressure on her wrist was a stark reminder of her captivity. She couldn't move, couldn't even flinch. All she could do was watch, her heart pounding in her chest like a caged bird desperate to escape, as Mimic stumbled back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

The leader's golden gaze remained locked on hers, his expression unreadable. Uma felt a flare of anger and fear, but she tamped it down, replacing it with a cold, analytical detachment. She would need to be calm, to think clearly if she was to find a way out of this.

Only when Mimic's gasps died down, did the man look towards his subordinate. "Now, Mimic, use your quirk."

Mimic ripped off his mask, revealing a sweat-soaked face. Uma recoiled at the sight of his peculiar features; his eyes were like a bird's, and he had a beak to match. His body kept changing, stretching, and morphing into different shapes before finally settling into a regular, pale-faced guy. He cautiously touched the spot where his beak used to be, then checked the rest of himself out.

"I... I can't... and my beak... it's gone." he murmured. "Boss, my face... it's, like, totally normal now!"

The boss made a thoughtful sound and let go of Uma's wrist. "Looks like our good doctor came through for us," he said, tossing the glove he'd touched her with at her. He put on a new one. "We agree to your terms, oni-san. Tell your chairman I want deliveries here in broad daylight, every week. And you're the only one allowed through our gates."

She couldn't see his smile, but Uma could tell it was a nasty one. He pushed her back, forcing her frozen limbs to walk forward. "TheShie Hassaikai isalready under a microscope enough, and we don't need the heroes sniffing around any further. Chrono will escort you out."

The blue-haired man took her arm and tried to lead her away, but Uma fought back.

"I'm not leaving until you give me back what's mine, asshole!"

"Oh, I forgot," the boss drawled, tossing her poke ball at her. Uma deftly caught it. "I look forward to working with you."

Uma didn't dare look back as she was escorted out the door.


Uma noticed she had a knack for emotional constipation, something she picked up to deal with the whole dying and coming back to life thing. But now, fear had taken root, making every emotion a labyrinth she had to navigate with caution.

This tendency had her squatting in a fetal position a few blocks away from where she needed to deliver the letter, trying to stave off an impending panic attack. Trembling, Uma watched from the shadows as the world around her continued to spin, each moment a blur of chaos and confusion. Marshadow, hovered protectively nearby. The pain of the near-death experience lingered in both their souls.

"Marshadow," she whispered, her voice shaking, "why would Dr. Tsubasa do this to us?"

Her current anger was twofold: directed at Dr. Tsubasa, the one person she was beginning to trust; and at herself for succumbing to a false sense of security. Sure, she'd made it out of the compound alive, but that didn't mean her heart wasn't shattered. The man, leader of the Shie Hassaikai, had almost killed them. He possessed a godly power that broke down atoms and reshaped their very beings.

She was in pain all because Tsubasa needed to prove a point.

What was it that he had said? To judge his character through the actions of others? But all Uma saw was a world that wanted them dead, or worse, used as a science experiment.

Her eyes filled with frustrated tears as she remembered the way the doctor had looked at her with such sincere intensity. He had wanted her to understand, to believe in him. But all she felt was fear, a fear that had grown into a monstrous creature lurking in every shadow.

Dr. Tsubasa wanted Uma to see with her own eyes that he was the diamond in the rough. Her only option if she wanted to navigate this world safely.

A twisted way to gain her trust, she thought bitterly.

Uma needed to rely on herself. But she couldn't ignore the fact that she liked, and damn him, respected the doctor. In a world that vilified her, he had become an unlikely ally, offering her a glimmer of friendship. Call her what you want, but she didn't want to leave it behind.

Leaning on Professor Tsubasa was a double-edged sword. Sure, his money came in handy, but it also made her feel like she was playing into his hands, like she was a tiny piece in some grand puzzle he'd put together.

Uma needed to refocus. While she had been recuperating, her Rotem had been buzzing nonstop with a racket of alerts. Pokemon were entering this dimension-lost and yearning to return to Alola. To send them back, Uma needed to find and return them. It was a task she couldn't leave to anyone else.

She wouldn't play the professor's game. She had to prioritize their safety and well-being above all. If he was willing to manipulate her to this extent, he could potentially hurt her more than she realized. Her instincts screamed that she didn't have enough information. Despite the near-death experience, Uma had learned a valuable lesson. With this next delivery, this time she'll control the situation.

With a deep breath, she pushed herself up from the cold ground, her legs wobbly beneath her. The letter in her hand felt like an omen, a cliff's edge beckoning her to jump. She was done being open and trusting with the citizens of this world.

Her thoughts turned to the trainers she had once scoffed at. How did they manage to locate and capture Pokémon with such ease? There had to be a method to their madness.

Suddenly, her musings were interrupted by a barely noticeable noise-a rustling, soft whine coming from a dumpster not too far away. Uma carefully made her way over, her instincts on high alert. She pulled out a Poke ball and released Magikarp, who seemed to pick up on her anxiety and trembled slightly in her grasp. She placed a finger over her lips to shush the fish's protests and whispered for him to stay quiet.

The lid of the dumpster creaked open to reveal a pitiful sight. An Eevee, trembling with fear, had made its home amidst the trash. Its eyes, wide with terror, met hers.

"Easy," she cooed, extending a hand. "It's okay, I won't hurt you."

"Magi?" Before Uma could do anything Magikarp's curiosity got the better of him. He jumped out of her arms and into the trash. "Magikarp, no!" Uma hissed, but it was too late. Eevee squealed in fright.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, pushing Magikarp's face away. "He's just an idiot."

The Eevee looked up at her, its ears twitching. "Why are you out here alone?" Uma asked softly.

Eevee's whimpers grew louder, and Uma felt a pang of guilt. Here she was, caught up in her problems, while a defenseless Pokémon was out in the cold.

"Don't worry," she assured it. "You can come with me. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Eevee hesitated for a moment before it cautiously jumped out, landing in her arms. As she truly got a glimpse, she realized the fox was just a baby and Uma couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility settle over her.

"You're so brave," she murmured. "Did you get separated from your family?"

Eevee chirped sadly and Uma's heart sank. "You're by yourself huh? Guess we'll have to find them before I send you home."

Uma gently set the fox down before crouching on her knees. "I have to go on an errand, so chirp once for the first choice, twice for the second. Do you mind waiting right here until I get back? Or would you like to rest in a Poke ball?"

The Eevee thought for a moment and shook its head. Then it jumped to snuggle on top of her shoulders.

Well, here's my answer.

Uma recalled Magikarp back into his Poke ball and walked the remaining blocks to deliver the letter, Marshadow silently trailing behind her.

This is my fault, Uma thought while carding her fingers through Eevee's fur. If she hadn't stumbled upon this baby fox, who knows what might have happened to it? It could have been poked, prodded, or even worse!

Uma had some hunches about how she ended up in this dimension. The parallels between quirks and Pokémon couldn't be a coincidence. The possibility that these two worlds were intertwined in some way was a hypothesis she couldn't ignore.

The glyph from the cave resurfaced in her thoughts. The creature, not unlike a Legendary, stretched its arm towards a gleaming star. Maybe this reaching figure was connected to the Pon Shard? Known for its destructive impulses and chaotic nature, the Shard could have disrupted the fabric of reality, allowing her to cross dimensions.

Her recent study of the dark matter patterns of this dimension had been thorough. They held an uncanny resemblance to the patterns she had encountered when tracking the last shard in Alola. Perhaps the Pon Shard was here? It was far-fetched, but Uma wasn't going to dismiss the idea. If the shard was here, then there was a chance, however slim, that it could be the key to her return home and completing Tapu Koko's task.

But she had to find it first.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice that she'd gone by the old, shaky doorway that opened into the tumbledown building. The place looked like it had seen better days, standing there like a sad guardian of memories long gone. The door, barely hanging on by a rusty hinge, let out a mournful creak as it slowly swung inward, giving her a peek at the space inside.

What friend of the family lives in an abandoned warehouse?

Uma stepped through and immediately, the thick smell of decay hit her like a wall, reminding her of the neglect and bad things. It was weird, though, because even though the bar looked like a wreck, there was something about it that felt too neat, like someone had planned all the mess. She saw the lights blinking on and off. The walls were covered in graffiti that told silent stories of the fights and troubles that had gone down here.

"Good afternoon, Miss," a voice greeted.

A man emerges from the shadows, his elongated limbs and inky aura giving him a sinister presence. Uma has to mentally correct herself because a living shadow, has come to greet her.

"Pardon my rudeness, but we don't tend to get many visitors here. Are you lost, or perhaps looking for something?" he continued.

Uma took a deep breath, mentally steeling herself. She had expected this place to be eerie, but the reality was something else entirely. She thrust the letter to him. "I'm here to drop this off. That's all."

The living shadow, who she assumed scans the letter, nods. "Ah, it seems to be addressed to my master. He will be down in a moment." He handed the letter back with a gesture that was welcoming. "In the meantime, please have a seat. I'm Kurogiri. Help yourself to a chat with the others."

As Uma's eyes adjusted to the dimly lit space, she began to discern the outlines of other patrons scattered around the room. They were a motley crew, each one more peculiar than the last, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease as she surveyed the scene.

Uma eyed the dilapidated bar skeptically before deciding it was the safest place to be. She took a seat, placing the letter on the counter with a deliberate thump.

"Ah, Miss," Kurogiri began, his tone a warm, velvety polish. "Can I offer you a drink while you wait?"

Uma eyed him warily, his elongated shadow dancing on the wall behind him. "No, thank you," she replied.

Despite her apprehension, she couldn't deny the curiosity that stirred within her. "What kind of place is this?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism.

Kurogiri chuckled. "This is simply a place of refuge, Miss," he replied, "A sanctuary for those who are not so readily accepted into the light of hero society."

Uma tried not to let her surprise show. So these were the so-called villains of hero society? She scanned the room again, taking them in with new eyes. The patrons around them had fallen into a hushed silence, their eyes lingering on her, weighing her presence. They knew her, or at least knew of her, and she could sense their respect tinged with something else.

"Why are they all staring?"

"You're known here," Kurogiri replied. "The whispers of your exploits have reached even our ears. The denizens who were prosecuted for only existing... we understand your plight. We respect your strength."

The words hang in the air. Uma had been ostracized since she arrived, yet here she was, surrounded by beings who, in their own twisted way, understood her struggle. The notion was both comforting and disconcerting.

The conversation that follows is a dance of probing questions and polite conversation. Kurogiri asks about mundane things like her hobbies, and her likes and dislikes. His curiosity about her feels somewhat genuine but Uma doesn't allow herself to relax. She's learned from Dr. Tsubasa's first lesson.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the vast space. A man close to her age saunters in, a mess of neglect and disarray personified. His red eyes latch onto hers, and she couldn't help but scrutinize him—his grimy clothes, the unsettling aura of malevolence that clung to him like a second skin.

"Kurogiri," he snarled, voice gravelly and impatient, "who the hell is this?" His eyes narrowed, and she could see the curiosity tinged with suspicion.

Kurogiri, ever the composed servant, cleared his throat—an eerie sound that reverberated through the air given his shadowy form. "Shigaraki-sama, this is Uma-sama. She has come to deliver a letter from Dr. Tsubasa."

The shaggy blue-haired man, Shigaraki, tossed himself into the seat beside her, waving a hand impatiently for a drink. It materialized out of thin air, appearing in his grasp as if it had always been there. He downed it in one gulp, not bothering to savor it, and Uma couldn't help but feel a twinge of disgust at his lack of manners.

"Who the fuck are those people, and why should I care?" he muttered, his voice a blend of disinterest and spite.

Uma felt the tension in the room spike and slid the letter next to Shigaraki, careful not to touch him. "Here," she said, her voice tight with the effort of remaining calm.

The man took the paper between his thumb and forefinger, as if it might burn him, and began to read. His eyes darted across the page, and she watched as his expression shifted from boredom to anger to something resembling reluctance.

Shigaraki muttered a strew of curses under his breath and let the papers flutter onto the bar. "What's with the fox on your shoulder?" he abruptly turned to her, his tone full of mockery.

Behind the bar, Kurogiri winced.

Uma gently set a hand down on top of Marshadow, willing him to not succumb to a fit of rage. "What's with you looking like you live in a dumpster?"

His laugh, when it came, was like nails on a chalkboard to her ears—sharp, grating, and mocking. "You've got some nerve," he said, his eyes narrowing. "But I'll give you this much, you're entertaining."

"Wish I can say the same." Uma pursed her lips.

Unlike the previous man she met, this guy was a lot more forthcoming. Strangely, she felt more comfortable here than in the stuffy mansion. Since this was a friend of, maybe he could provide her with more information.

Rounding up most of her courage, Uma let her curiosity take over. "How do you know ?"

"I don't...he's just a friend of... my sensei." Shigaraki hissed and slammed another glass down. He seemed to debate with something before pushing out a terse, "Why?"

Uma pushed forward, feeling like a bull in a china shop. "What's the deal with the letter? Why did he bring me here? I'm not stupid, he's using me for something and I'd like to know what."

The man toyed with his empty glass. "So many questions." He reached up to scratch his neck, but his leather gloves hindered him. "So annoying. Figure it out yourself."

Uma, unfazed by his evasiveness, petted the sleeping Eevee in her lap. "I'm trying to," she said calmly. "But if you give me an answer, I'll give you one too. I know you're holding back."

The shaggy blue-haired man tilted his head. "...Alright, I'll play. What do you think about heroes?" The challenge in his tone was unmistakable.

Uma couldn't help but sigh inwardly at the question. Choosing her words carefully, she replied, "To be honest, the concept of 'heroes' isn't my drink of choice." She watched his reaction closely, noting the flicker of surprise in his eyes. "I think abilities should never be labeled as good or bad, or ideals to be revered."

Now Shigaraki was interested. "What do you think about the world's symbol of peace?" he asked.

Uma shook her head. "I answered your question, now answer mine. Why am I meeting you? And don't lie. I can tell Kurogiri has been fishing for information. I refuse to participate in a shady set-up." The again went unsaid.

"...Your doctor wants you to make friends." Shigaraki scoffed. "There's a game at play, and he wants you to meet some of the players." His eyes flashed and his grin returned. "My turn. What do you think of the symbol of peace, All Might?"

Uma wanted to say who? but thought better of it. "Does the world truly need a symbol of peace? If society worked towards the betterment of its citizens there wouldn't need to be a symbol. Peace would just exist."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, his hands gesticulating wildly. "Every so-called hero, every justice-loving prude should burn!" His voice grew harsher as he spoke, his fingers straining against the leather of his gloves as if he could feel the heat of his anger. "Especially All Might, that façade of a man, that pig-headed, self-righteous bastard!"

"...He must have hurt you deeply if you feel that way," she said, her voice carefully measured. Her eyes searched his, trying to discern the depth of his pain without giving away the turmoil she felt in response to his disturbing words.

With each fervent word of his destruction craving, Uma's disdain intensified. His palpable passion for havoc chilled her, yet she remained stoic. Any revealed vulnerability to someone like him, and she would lose all control of the situation.

"No, he didn't." He mumbled. His mood suddenly shifted so fast it gave Uma a headache. "Your turn."

Not missing a beat, she asked, "What's the game you're referring to?"

"What a dumb question," he complained. "I'm talking about the game of Them versus Us." Uma's thoughts sped up. Did he mean good guys and bad guys? Before she could ponder further, he went on. "Here, we're seen as the villains, lurking in the dark. They'll do anything to keep us from messing up their perfect world."

That made sense to Uma. Her studies had given her insight, but Shigaraki's words confirmed it. Uma thought back to the first heroes she met: Jumpstart and Captain Tofu's. One was dismissive and ignorant, the other fearful and angry. Anything that was considered different were quickly labeled as a threat. And when Uma appeared with Marshadow they were dealt with accordingly.

"My turn." His eyes flickered with madness once again. "Woman," he leaned closer. "Tell me, do you think society should crumble into dust for what it's done to you?"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "If I say I don't want it to, will I leave here with my life intact?"

It was Kurogiri, the more composed of the two, who responded this time. "Yes," he assured her, his eyes never leaving hers. "We will not take offense if you deny my master's question. We are not savages."

Shigaraki scoffed at the interjection but held his tongue.

A few moments passed in silence. Uma felt the weight of their expectations, the unspoken demand for an answer that would somehow justify their twisted worldview.

"It won't solve the real problem," she said firmly.

Shigaraki laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "Destruction is a cleansing fire, Uma. This world will be better for it." He rolled his eyes. "Why am I talking to you about this, I don't fucking care what you think."

He made no move to leave, so she knew the guy did care.

"Violence perpetuates more violence, Shigaraki-san." Uma mocked. "They say those who are hurt only like to hurt others because they've lost hope."

Wait, why linger with this psycho, and why am I slightly enjoying it? Is loneliness pushing me to engage with anyone? Or am I too much like Uche, craving verbal spars?

His eyes alight with a fierce intensity. "You think you can sit there in your self-righteousness and judge me?"

"I don't know you," she said, her voice unwavering. "But I know that whatever was done to you, it doesn't justify wishing those horrors on others."

"It's not horror, it's justice," He spat.

"No, it's just chaos," Uma countered.

"Then what would you do?" he said with a nasty smile. "What is the terrorist going to do to make the world a better fucking place? Go on, let's hear it."

Uma felt the bile rise in her throat but swallowed it down, her resolve only growing stronger. "Don't try to change the subject," she spat, just as nastily. "Change can happen without punishing those who did us wrong. Society can live in a world where differences are respected and celebrated. I've seen it."

Shigaraki's smile faded, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had come. "You're just naive."

His words hung in the air, a declaration of futility that was almost palpable. Uma's mind raced, trying to understand the depth of his cynicism. It was a stark reminder of the world she inhabited, one where heroes and villains danced on the edge of a crumbling society, each fighting for their skewed vision of justice.

Uma said nothing, just quietly watching as Shigaraki placed his hand fully on the counter and the letter disintegrated. His eyes tracked Uma's expression carefully.

"Was that supposed to intimidate me?" She abruptly stood. "I need to go."

Shigaraki remained seated and lazily waved her off.

With a deep breath to steel herself, Uma bent down and gently picked up Eevee, cradling the small creature in her arms. She took one last, lingering look at the two men before her.

"Hey Shigaraki-san," she mocked, turning to leave. "I don't like you, and I hope we never meet again. Does that make us friends?"

The blue-haired man visibly flinched, taken aback. If Uma didn't know any better, she'd think the man had never been asked the question before.

"H-huh? How the fuck would I know?" He turned, facing the bar like a petulant child. "Go away already."

Nodding, she left. "Alola, Kurogiri-san, Shigaraki-san."

Once Uma had left the room, the tension didn't dissipate. It hung in the air like a fog, thick and oppressive. All for One, his voice crackling through the speaker embedded in TV, broke the silence. "What do you think of your queen, Tomura?"

Tomura Shigaraki's response was a gruff, frustrated sound. "She's weak," he admitted, his eyes never leaving the spot where Uma had been sitting.

Kurogiri, ever the opportunist, took this as his cue to speak. "That's where you come in, master," he said, his tone smoother than the shadows he could manipulate. "You have the power to show her the way. To mold her into someone stronger."

Shigaraki's jaw clenched; his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the counter. "Stronger," he echoed, his eyes alight. "Kurogiri, are my Nomus ready?"

"Yes, Shigaraki-sama. Your orders?"

"Go get them." He left the bar, ditching his master. "I feel like destroying something."


Uma, feeling a maelstrom of emotions, steps out into the cool evening air, her heart racing as she clutches Eevee tightly to her chest. She's walked barely fifty paces before she can no longer hold back the dam of frustration. With a burst of energy, she screams into the soft, warm fur of Eevee her voice echoing through the otherwise quiet street.

"This is so ridiculous!" she cries out, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief. "Doctor Tsubasa did all of this just to show me... what? My allies in a game? I don't want to be involved in any deities' forsaken schemes! It's just so...so...frustrating!"

Not for the first time, she missed the happy-go-lucky shores of Alola.

Eevee, sensing Uma's distress, whimpers softly and nuzzles against her, offering what little comfort it can. Uma's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she tries to make sense of the tumultuous day she's had. "What's the point of all this?" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why can't people just be good without manipulation and deceit?"

Uma sighs, her decision substantially made for her. She didn't have time to be a puppet in another world's games. She'd been stalling for too long and became comfortable. She wouldn't bother going back to Jaku hospital. She'd head for the power grid, the destination she needed to purse a week ago.

"I'm sorry guys, I need to clear my head. Do you mind going into your balls? You won't be there for long."

Marshadow nodded, and a beam enveloped him. For the temporary Eevee, Uma began to dig into her pack for a spare poke ball.

Mental note, check Eevee's gender.

She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't notice the shadowy figure lurking in the alleyway behind her, watching her every move with a keen interest. The figure is wearing a red scarf, fluttering gently in the breeze. It seems almost out of place in the otherwise somber setting.

Suddenly, Eevee's ears perk up, and it starts to growl low in its throat. Uma doesn't react immediately. "What is it, Eevee?" she asks, her brow furrowing with concern. The growling intensifies, and Eevee's body stiffens.

Before Uma can process what's happening, a red scarf flutters in her face, momentarily blurring her vision. She feels a strong hand clamp over her mouth, and in a flash, she's being dragged backward into the alley. She kicks and struggles, trying to break free, but the grip is too firm. Eevee, now in a frenzy, uses its tiny paws to scratch at the attacker, but to no avail.

"Let go of me!" Uma screams, her voice muffled by the scarf. She feels the cold steel of something against her throat, and her eyes widen with fear. She feels blood drip down her neck and something wet slides up the column of her throat.

She freezes, unable to move, and a bag is quickly placed over her head. Uma hears scuffling beyond the sack and feels a small fuzzy body collide into her chest. Material that feels like rope bound her hands behind her back and what she assumes is the baby Eevee to her chest.

"I've finally caught you, demon in sheep's clothing. Now, it's time for the false heroes to watch us make our grand entrance." a rough, masculine voice breathed in her ear,

Uma could only let out a silent scream as she was whisked over a shoulder and carted off into the night.