The Journey Begins

The walk through the village stretched long and silent. Not the comforting kind of silence, but the sort where the absence of sound only amplifies the noise in your own head. The behemoth of a Lucario leading me walked just a step ahead, his broad shoulders stiff and his tail swaying with a practiced calm. His presence alone was intimidating enough to keep me from breaking the quiet.

My fingers brushed the gemstone in my pocket, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger as if its cool surface could slow the racing thoughts in my head. The chief's parting words kept looping in my mind: "And I must ask that you do not return."

I barely noticed the stares we drew from the villagers. The murmurs—the hushed conversations, the suspicious glances—might as well have been white noise. My focus drifted entirely inward, cycling between Luna, the chief, and the stone I couldn't bring myself to let go of.

We stopped in front of a massive structure, its silhouette bold and unmistakable in the fading twilight. A barn—or something akin to one. Its heavy beams and reinforced doors spoke of durability, a place built to endure both time and turmoil. The grizzled Lucario, his movements deliberate, pushed the doors open with surprising ease, the faint creak of wood and metal breaking the stillness. He gestured for me to enter without a word.

Inside, the air was dense, carrying the mingling scents of oil, aged wood, and cold metal. Dim light filtered through cracks in the walls, creating streaks of illumination that danced across rows of tools hanging in orderly lines and piles of discarded materials scattered about. The tools bore the telltale marks of use, their edges worn smooth but sharp, a reflection of their practicality. Against one wall, a cluster of modern duffel bags stood in stark contrast to the rustic surroundings, their synthetic fabric glaringly out of place.

"These are the belongings of the invaders," the Lucario said, his voice even but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "Their tools, remnants of their contraptions, and whatever else they carried. Take what you need." He paused briefly, his ears twitching as though catching an inaudible signal. "I will meet you at the edge of the village with your provisions."

I hesitated, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, unsure if I should speak. Finally, I blurted out, "Thank you, Sir, for the supplies... and everything else." My words felt clumsy, but his stoic demeanor softened, just a fraction. It wasn't much, but it eased my nerves.

"You have earned it," he replied simply. His tone was calm, but the subtle flick of his tail hinted at a lingering tension.

Before he turned to leave, I ventured another question. "Sir... are any of their contraptions still usable?"

The Lucario stopped mid-stride, tilting his head slightly as he considered my question. His brow furrowed, and he exhaled sharply, almost a scoff. "The contraptions of steel and smoke?" His voice carried a note of disdain. "No. My people ensured they could no longer spread their filth."

His response was so final, so absolute, that I didn't bother pressing further. With a nod, he strode out of the barn, leaving me alone with the spoils of a battle I had only partially witnessed.

For a moment, I stood still, letting my eyes adjust to the dim interior. The barn seemed quieter now, the silence amplifying the sound of my own breath. Then, I moved toward the duffel bags, crouching down to open the first one.

The contents were a chaotic jumble: coils of rope knotted haphazardly, scraps of cloth, and an assortment of tools clearly intended for capturing and restraining. Digging deeper, I found a small knife—a simple, sturdy blade with a worn grip. It wasn't much, but it was something. I set it aside and continued my search.

The second bag yielded better finds: a compact fire striker with a smooth, well-used surface and a few changes of clothes. The garments—a jacket, pants, and shirts—were practical but oversized, their sleeves and pant legs far too long. Still, they were better than nothing. I set them aside with a faint grin.

As I reached deeper into the bag, my hand brushed against something rigid and metallic. Curious, I pulled it out—a belt with three small black spheres attached to it. I froze, studying the strange devices.

They were smaller than I expected—about the size of a walnut—but their design was what really caught my attention. Each one was pure black, sleek and glossy, with a sharp red stripe encircling its middle. They didn't look like the regular Poké Balls I'd seen in books or vague memories of the games; they seemed... darker. More menacing. If they were painted with a giant red "R," they'd be perfect for Team Rocket.

"The Fuuuuuuuck...?" I muttered, turning one of them over in my hand.

There was a button on the front , faintly outlined against the polished black surface. My thumb pressed it almost instinctively, and I nearly dropped the thing as it suddenly expanded in my palm, growing to the size of a grapefruit. The smooth motion and soft click it made as it locked into place were oddly satisfying.

"Huh," I mused, hefting the larger ball in my hand. It was surprisingly light for its size, almost weightless. I pressed the button again, and the ball shrank back down with a quiet whirr.

For a moment, I just stood there, repeating the process—expanding, shrinking, expanding again. It was strangely mesmerizing. The novelty of actually holding one of these things, of seeing it work in my hands, wasn't something I expected to enjoy so much.

Still, the question lingered: 'were they active? Could they actually hold a Pokémon?'

I crouched down, holding the black ball closer to the dim light filtering through the barn's wooden slats. There were no markings or indications of what might be inside. But considering these had been stashed in a storage bag, it seemed unlikely they were in use. If the poachers had more active Pokémon, they'd have used them during the raid.

"Empty, huh?" I said softly, pocketing one of the spheres. It felt like a piece of this world I could carry with me—a little token, a reminder of where I was and how different it all was from home.

The other two went into the duffel bag with the rest of the supplies. I slung the belt over my shoulder as I continued searching.

In the third bag, I hit a jackpot. A rudimentary tent, neatly folded, along with a towel, frayed at the edges but functional. A sleeping bag, clean and intact, practically screamed relief to my travel-weary bones. At the very bottom of the bag, I found a metal canteen, its scratched surface telling stories of rough use. Twisting the cap open, I sniffed cautiously. The water smelled fresh, and I let out a small breath of relief.

As I worked, my thoughts began to wander. The Lucario's parting words echoed in my mind: "And I must ask that you do not return."

The idea of leaving didn't trouble me as much as the thought of leaving without seeing her one last time. Would Luna come to see me off? I had no right to expect it, given her responsibilities and the weight of her position. But a part of me—a hopeful, foolish part—wanted her to.

My hand drifted to my pocket, finding the gemstone. Its smooth surface was grounding, and I gripped it tightly as doubt began to creep in. What if she didn't come? What if this really was goodbye?

And then, as though in answer to my silent question, the stone grew warm. The swirling hues of amethyst and azure came to life, casting a faint, steady glow through my fingers. I froze, staring at it. The warmth it radiated wasn't just physical—it was reassuring, a silent message I couldn't fully understand but felt deeply.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "Alright," I murmured, tucking the stone away. "I get it."

Returning to the bags, I worked quickly, organizing my finds. The knife, fire striker, tent, sleeping bag, and canteen all fit neatly into one duffel. As I lifted it onto my shoulder-

Clack.

The noise resonated through the empty storage structure, the echo ricocheting off the hardened oak. My eyes drifted down to a smaller satchel—it might have fallen from one of the side pockets I'd neglected to check. Curiosity getting the better of me, I opened the small bag, and a sharp, toothy grin spread across my face at the sight inside.

Smartphones.

There was one for each of the poachers, their sleek surfaces gleaming faintly in the dim light. Quickly turning one on revealed a plain backdrop—and to my dismay, a password screen. The devices came in gray, black, and white, but preference didn't matter if they were all useless.

"Check the others," came a silken suggestion from Shade, his voice slick with the kind of knowing tone that made my eyebrow twitch.

"What's the point? They were a relatively organized group of poachers. I bet they at least slapped passwords on their fucking phones," I muttered, half-heartedly turning on another device despite my skepticism.

Shade's voice practically smirked in my mind. "You should, Jack. No matter how strict the general, every unit has at least one idiot."

I huffed, shaking my head, but as the screen of an ashen gray model lit up, my irritation melted away. Plain as day, the words mocked me: Swipe up to unlock.

"Guess we found him," I said with a chuckle, feeling both exasperated and relieved.

The phone itself seemed new—its reflective finish unmarred by scratches or cracks like the others. Fully accessing the device, I quickly confirmed it had service and a GPS. Wasting no time, I deleted all the personal data and reset it to factory settings before tucking it into the duffel bag alongside the rest of my finds.

With one last glance around the barn, I headed for the door. The uncertainty still loomed, but the warmth of the stone lingered, steadying me as I stepped back into the world.

…

Chrome's POV

The door closed behind me with a soft creak, the sound barely louder than my weary sigh. The scent of spruce lingered in the air, clinging to the wooden walls like a memory that refused to fade. It had always been a comfort, that scent. It brought a fleeting comfort, though it quickly vanished as my steps echoed down the corridor, the sound of my paws against the wooden boards magnifying the 'emptiness' of the house. My hand brushed against the wall as I reached for one of the sturdier foraging bags, a serviceable one I'd used countless times. With it slung over my shoulder, I made my way toward the pantry, thoughts weighing heavy on my mind.

"Let the boy leave with what he has earned. That is more than enough for an outsider." But I couldn't. Not after everything he had done. Not after he had saved my daughter—saved Luna. I wouldn't send him out into the world with nothing. I wouldn't condemn him to the slow, cruel death that starvation would bring.

The task felt mechanical. I began gathering provisions, my movements methodical. Dried meats, berries, bread—enough to last him days, maybe more. My paws worked on their own, but my mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of Luna. Her face, her voice, the way she had looked at him. With a myriad of emotions I hadn't seen in years. Then, a faint sound reached me—a soft rustle, nearly imperceptible. My ear twitched, but I didn't turn. Instead, I continued, my voice calm, quiet "So you have returned," I said softly. The words carried the weight of my resolve, but also something else. Something fragile. I hesitated before speaking again. This time, I tried to reach her as a father should. "Are you feeling better?"

The silence that followed was suffocating, a heavy thing that settled over the room like fog. Then, at last, a shallow sigh broke through.

"I am no longer in possession of treacherous thoughts, if that is what you meant, Father." Her tone was hard, devoid of the vulnerability I had witnessed earlier "Where is Jackson" She continued an ear of dread finally slipping past the cast of steel I had forged.

"He should be at the village's entrance in a few moments," I replied evenly. My paws didn't falter as I continued packing the bag, keeping my movements steady, my tone even. "I am gathering some provisions for his travel."

As I worked, a thought struck me—one that pierced my chest with an ache far worse than any wound I'd ever endured. I tried to ignore it, but it lingered, growing sharper with each passing second. My paws began moving faster, subtly doubling the portions I was packing for him.

"Are you coming to send him off?" I asked finally, my voice quieter now. "He would appreciate it."

Her silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, as though the weight of my question had pinned her to the spot. For a moment, I thought she wouldn't answer at all, that she'd simply vanish back into the shadows, carrying her heartbreak with her. But then, her voice emerged, trembling and raw, more fragile than I'd ever heard it.

"Yes. No. I—" She faltered, her breath catching as though the words physically hurt to say. "I don't know."

I stilled, my paw hovering over the provisions I was packing, my ears straining to catch every tremor in her voice.

"I want to," she continued, her tone breaking under the weight of her emotions. "I want to see him again, to thank him for everything he's done. To—to tell him how much he's…" Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, as if trying to force down the truth. "How much he's come to mean to me."

The confession hung in the air like a wound laid bare, and I felt my chest tighten painfully. She was shaking now, though she still tried to sound composed. But there was no hiding the quaver in her voice, no disguising the tears that had started to fall.

"But if I see him again," she whispered, so quietly I almost didn't catch it, "if I look at him, hear his voice, see that stupid, infuriating smile of his…" Her words came faster now, spilling out in a torrent she couldn't control. "And then watch him leave—knowing I'll never see him again, never hear him call to me, never have him here when…"

Her breath hitched, and I heard her knees hit the wooden floor with a dull thud. The sound struck me like a blow to the chest.

"It'll break me, Father," she admitted, her voice trembling, almost inaudible. "I—I don't know if I can let him go. I don't know if I'm strong enough to say goodbye."

The sound of her tears followed, soft and muffled thuds akin to the first droplets of rain atop shingles, but each one pierced me like a dagger. She was crumbling before me, my strong, determined daughter reduced to this fragile, vulnerable soul. She sounded defeated, as if her admittance of caring for another, of missing another, was a shame on her worthy of chastisement

The urge to rush to her side was overwhelming—to fold her into my arms, press her trembling frame against my chest, and shield her from the weight of the world. I wanted to whisper the words I should have said long ago, to tell her how extraordinary she was, how her strength and grace had always filled me with pride beyond measure. To remind her that she was more than enough, that she had always been more than enough. I wanted to pour every ounce of my heart into soothing her pain, to be the father she needed.

Yet I stayed on one knee packing food into a bag. 'I did not deserve it, I put those insecurities into her, I did not show her the attention she ought to have through her life. And now, faced with this—this love, this loss—she was ill-equipped to bear it.' I did not have the right to comfort my own pup and that hurt far worse than the thought of losing her, seeing her in such pain would likely break me. It was then that idea was solidified and became my resolute decision. For the last time, I mentally recited an old mantra

'Distance is your strength, and ice your shield'

Keeping my back to her I spoke as quiet as I could, barely above a whisper for anything more would likely destroy me.

"Go with him".

…

Jackson's POV

Waiting at the village's edge was... enlightening. As I leaned back against a tree, the large duffel bag resting at my side, I couldn't help but bask in the tranquility around me. There was no hustle and bustle, no loud murmurs or jaded growls from strangers. Instead, the soothing melodies of birdsong filled the air, accompanied by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant babble of the river weaving through the lush forest. It was serene—almost idyllic.

I drew in a deep breath, letting the cool, clean air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. "Honestly," I muttered under my breath, "three days here, and I'm already missing the wilds."

It wasn't a surprising though. I'd spent the better part of my life alone, surrounded by nature, before all of this. Cities had never worn me down this quickly—not that I'd spent much time in them. But there was something different about this village, something that gnawed at me. "Perhaps it might have been the part where they all are no doubt shit talking us behind our back, when we can't even understand what they're saying, might I add"

Thinking over Shades theory a bit, it seemed to at least make some sense but I brushed it off easily enough. "Hey, no worries man" I sighed wistfully shifting slightly to get to a more comfortable position "We just have to practice a bit more, and with a little help from Lu-" I stopped myself short sitting upright and finally opening my eyes and exhaled again "Right, she'll be staying. Guess it's just us again, Shade. We'll figure it out somehow. Maybe even find someone to teach us... though fat chance of that happening."

I was pulled from my thoughts as I noticed the hulking figure of the Chief making his way towards me his gait was even and his posture was stern, every bit the bulwark he was expected to be and I would have thought no different… If I hadn't spent a prolonged period of time with a Lucario myself and his daughter to boot, so I could tell he wasn't in the best of moods. The half-mast ears and shallow sway of his tail gave him away, "dare I say the immovable chief was sad."

Putting that aside for a moment and awaiting his arrival trying not to ask a question I was sure I didn't want the answer too. But apparently my gaze held it anyway and as his eyes looked to me he simply shook his head, my heart sank a bit but a steady pulse of warmth emanated from my pocket quelled it.

Grasping the gemstone in my pocket, I felt its warmth pulse gently against my palm. My head instinctively snapped toward the forest, scanning the shadowed treeline for any sign of her. The wind rustled the leaves, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of the woods. My gaze lingered for a few moments before a small smile tugged at my lips. Sighing, I turned back toward Luna's father.

The large Lucario had finally reached my resting spot. His imposing frame was as steady as ever, though his silence was heavier than usual. He stood there, watching me with those intense crimson eyes, almost as if he were reluctant to speak.

Wordlessly, he extended a bag toward me. The material was well-worn but clearly durable, the kind of craftsmanship that spoke of utility over flair. I took the bag, feeling its weight in my hands, and nodded my thanks.

But as I stood there, the bag slung over my shoulder, a strange pang struck me. Gratitude didn't feel like enough—not for everything this man, had done for me. Without really thinking, I straightened and bowed slightly, a gesture of respect that felt natural in the moment.

"Thank you, sir," I said sincerely. "For everything."

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his ears flicking subtly at the words.

Straightening, I hesitated. There was one thing I'd been meaning to ask him, a question that had lingered at the back of my mind since our first meeting. I gathered my courage, the weight of the moment pressing on my chest.

"If I may..." I began cautiously, "what's your name?"

That gave him pause. He stared at me for a moment, his vermillion eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing whether to answer. His ears twitched, and he blinked a few times before the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his otherwise stern face. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

"Chrome," he said simply, his deep voice carrying a tone of quiet pride. "And don't you forget it."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, his powerful form moving steadily back toward the village.

I watched him go, the corners of my mouth tugging upward into a faint smile. "Chrome, huh?" I murmured to myself. "Figures."

Shaking my head, I shifted the duffel bag on my shoulder and took one last look at the village. The warm hues of the setting sun bathed the wooden homes in gold, the distant river glinting like liquid fire. It was peaceful now, but the memory of the recent chaos still lingered at the edges of my mind.

Turning away, I faced the northern path. Luna had mentioned a city in that direction, and from what I'd seen at the mountaintop, I had a pretty good idea of where I was headed.

A soft scoff escaped me as I muttered under my breath, "Azoth. Really, Luna? How out of the loop is this village..."

I paused, gazing up at the sky, its brilliant hues of orange and pink slowly giving way to deepening blue. "Well, I guess I made it to France," I said quietly. "Isn't that right, Del? Well, sort of anyway."

Grinning, I clenched my fist and thrust it into the air. "Onward to Lumiose City!" I roared, my voice echoing through the trees.

The sound hung in the air for a moment before the forest returned to its tranquil symphony. As I began walking, a sense of excitement bubbled within me—a mix of nervous anticipation and pure adrenaline.

Not every day you start your own journey, I thought with a wry smile. Whatever awaited me in Lumiose City, I was ready to face it. Or at least, I hoped I was.

…

It had been a few hours since I left the village, the dense forest around me gradually thinning as I made my way along the dirt path. My pace was steady—not rushed but purposeful. I didn't want to tire myself out, though, honestly, I doubted anything short of one of Luna's brutal training—or was it torture?—sessions could push me to my limit.

And speaking of Luna...

"How long are you going to hide, Lunie?" I called out into the stillness, a smirk creeping onto my face. "Or are you just checking to see how much I was missing you?"

The forest responded with silence at first, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then, with a rush of wind that stirred the grass and sent a few stray leaves tumbling, she appeared.

Luna stood there, radiating her usual blend of elegance and power, her cobalt fur catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. At 5'6", she wasn't the tallest, but the sheer presence she carried made her seem larger than life. The small, almost playful smile she'd been wearing when she stepped into view disappeared the instant her scarlet eyes landed on me. In its place was a familiar scowl—a look I'd come to know all too well during our time together.

Her expression made my grin widen. What could I say? Seeing her scowl at my "charmingly smug" (and absolutely unbiased) visage always brought me a certain amount of satisfaction.

"How long did you know?" she asked, her tone carrying just the faintest hint of a pout.

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to chuckle. If it weren't a surefire way to get myself decked, I might have even called her cute. Instead, I kept my cool, making an exaggerated show of continuing down the path. I scratched my chin thoughtfully, my gaze drifting upward as if I were pondering the mysteries of the universe.

"Hmm... since I left the village," I said at last, my voice light and nonchalant.

The sigh that escaped her lips was soft but full of exasperation. It only served to boost my smugness further.

"Don't feel bad, Luna," I added, casting her a sidelong glance. "I've just got an eye for these things." Somehow that sentence felt used, a though I don't have the faintest idea why.

I turned my head fully to look at her then, finding her now walking beside me, her steps silent and precise. Her presence was so natural, so seamless, that it was easy to forget she wasn't supposed to be here.

"So," I began, my tone shifting to something more neutral as I let the playful edge drop, "did you really come all this way just to send me off?"

The question lingered in the air between us, my voice quieter now as I forced myself to keep my hopes in check. Hoping for things had a nasty way of ending badly, and I'd learned that lesson more than once. Still, I couldn't help but glance at her out of the corner of my eye, searching for an answer in her expression.

She didn't respond immediately, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. The forest around us seemed to hold its breath, the usual symphony of bird songs and rustling leaves fading into the background as I waited.

Finally, she spoke, her voice steady but carrying an undertone I couldn't quite place. "I wanted to make sure you'd be fine on your own," she said. "And to remind you that you're not as clever as you think."

Her words brought a smirk back to my face, though there was a warmth in my chest that I tried to ignore. "Careful, Luna," I teased, "you almost sound like you're going to miss me."

She shot me a sidelong glare that could have melted steel. "Don't push your luck," she said flatly, though the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, betraying the faintest hint of a smile.

"No, I'm going with you."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and my head snapped to her. There it was—the smug grin stretched across her face, a mirror image of my own earlier expression.

"W-what? But what about the village and—" I fumbled for words, gesturing vaguely toward the direction we'd come from. "And your position?" Realizing how that might sound, I quickly amended, "Not that I'm complaining or anything!"

She chuckled softly, her amusement plain as day. "There are others who can be trained for the position. My father just wanted me to take it because I was the best choice." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but something in her eyes hinted at layers she wasn't sharing. I thought about pressing further but decided against it.

"Besides, Jack," she continued, her voice turning velvety smooth, "if I'm not here, you'll probably eat some poisonous plant or another and end up dead."

She said it so casually, so lightheartedly, that it almost masked the seriousness of her words. Almost. My lips twitched into a wry smile, even as the comment made my stomach turn slightly. Seeing her like this—playful, relaxed—reminded me of how she'd been back at the crater before the weight of her village pulled her inward.

"Well then," I said, a mischievous grin forming as I reached into my pocket and retrieved a familiar spherical object. With a satisfying click, the black and red Poké Ball expanded in my hand. 'I will never get tired of that,' I thought.

I held the ball out to my left, offering it to her as we continued down the path. "I wouldn't have it any other way, right... partner?"

Luna's crimson eyes flicked to the device in my hand, narrowing slightly. Her steps didn't falter, but her expression told me she was unimpressed. She let out a soft scoff, her lips curving into an almost begrudging smile. Without a word, she extended her forearm, the motion deliberate, as if she were about to collide her paw with my fist.

Click.

The ball unhinged with a soft sound, and in a bright flash of light, she was gone. The device vibrated in my palm for the briefest moment before a sharp Tink sounded, followed by a burst of shimmering red stars.

My chest swelled with a childlike excitement I hadn't felt in years. Before I could stop myself, I thrust the ball into the air and shouted, "I caught a Lucario!"

The forest seemed to pause, the echoes of my declaration bouncing off the trees. As the moment of glee faded, I quickly realized what I'd done. My eyes darted around nervously, praying no one had witnessed my embarrassing outburst.

A groan filled my head, and I could practically feel Shade's exasperation radiating through the connection we shared. "Never do that again," he deadpanned. "I'm begging you."

Sagging slightly, I let out a sheepish, "Yeah, yeah..." before tossing the ball lightly into the air.

With a sharp crack and a hiss, the Poké Ball released its contents, and Luna materialized before me, arms crossed and looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Really, Jack?" she said flatly, one eyebrow raised. "You caught me?"

I winced at her tone, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. "Uh... well... technically?"

She shook her head, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and mild amusement. "You're unbelievable."

"I've been told," I muttered, sagging further under her unimpressed gaze. Without another word, I turned and resumed walking, determined to escape the moment.

Her voice followed me like a shadow, tinged with the faintest trace of humor. "We're never speaking of this again."

"Agreed," I replied, quickening my pace. But despite my embarrassment, I couldn't stop the small smile creeping onto my face.

Luna was coming with me. Whatever lay ahead, I wasn't facing it alone.

…

Two Hours ago,

Chrome's POV

I stood atop one of the buildings on the edge of the village, watching them disappear into the distance. The boy strode confidently along the path, his steps determined, while my daughter moved through the trees above him, silent and hidden. I sighed, shaking my head.

"What is it with females and their need to stay out of sight?" My voice carried only as far as the wind allowed, tinged with an exasperation I didn't truly feel.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a rich, throaty laugh rolled across the rooftop. It echoed, low and warm, teasing the edges of my senses.

"Daze," I murmured, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself, "our daughter's growing more like you every day. I'm starting to get jealous."

The laughter grew closer, rising from the shadows pooling at my feet. A set of ruby claws emerged first, gleaming faintly in the soft twilight. They moved with deliberate grace, heralding the arrival of a mane so vibrant and crimson it looked as though it had been spun from blood itself.

She rose from the darkness like a specter, her ebony fur absorbing the fading light, rendering her form both striking and formidable. Her piercing blue eyes, sharp as gemstones, met mine with unwavering intensity. For all her ferocity, there was a softness there, a warmth reserved only for me. Despite her smaller stature, her presence loomed large, and I found myself momentarily awed, as I always was, by the sheer force of her being.

Before I could react, she darted forward, swift and silent, her arms outstretched. Her claws, sharp enough to rend steel, pressed gently into my back as she pulled me into a crushing embrace.

"Oh really, ya daft fool?" she said, her voice carrying that unmistakable accent, thick and brash, the way I'd always loved it. Her muzzle pressed into the crook of my neck, muffling her words slightly. "And here I remember a certain someone smiling so much after I squeezed out a Riolu that the council would've thought you were a Ditto in disguise!"

A chuckle rumbled in my chest as I returned the embrace, her tone a refreshing change from the somber airs of the village. "I've never denied my joy, Daze," I replied, my voice soft yet firm. "She's everything I could've hoped for and more. She's never made me prouder."

Daze sighed, her breath warm against my fur, before she pulled back slightly. "Aye, and now you're lettin' her run off with some scamp," she teased, her grin sharp and knowing. "I was half expectin' another Gallade situation."

I leveled a flat look at her, though the corners of my mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a smile. "You were home when we talked, Daze. You heard her. I didn't have much of a choice."

Her claws came up to scratch at the small scarlet tuft of fur on her neck—a telltale sign of her sheepishness. She let out a chuckle, this one softer, almost embarrassed. "Oh, you knew I was there, did you?"

I tilted my head, a faint smirk forming. "Of course I did. You forget, Daze, I've always had an eye for these things."

Her expression shifted, a playful pout forming on her lips. "Well, if you must know," she drawled, her tone equal parts teasing and defensive, "I didn't say goodbye because she doesn't need her mum fussin' over her before she leaves. Besides," she added, her piercing gaze softening, "I've got a feelin' they'll be back soon enough. Call it intuition."

"Intuition, is it?" I replied, not missing a beat. "Or are you just worried you'd talk to her and end up dragging both of them back here yourself?"

Her fist shot forward, landing in my gut—not hard enough to do real damage, but enough to earn my cough of protest. She grinned, wide and sharp, her ruby claws flexing as she stood tall.

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about, love," she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. "Now come on home. I'm starvin'."

As we turned to leave, the silence settled between us—not heavy, but comforting. Our home was one soul lighter now, but the thought of Luna's happiness made the weight bearable.

"She'll be fine," I murmured, more to myself than to Daze.

"She's got your strength," Daze replied softly, her voice a rare blend of pride and affection. "And your stubbornness."

Together, we vanished into the shadows, our steps light yet deliberate, leaving the rooftop—and our lingering worries—behind.

=…=

Bonus scene.

"Jack, I'm sleeping outside."

I blinked, staring at Luna, caught off guard by her sudden declaration. It was our first night on this new journey, and I'd picked what I thought was a decent campsite: quiet, tucked away, and conveniently near a river. The tent was up, the fire was out, and we were settled in—well, almost.

She stood near the tent's entrance, arms crossed in a posture that screamed defiance. Her scarlet eyes darted to the sleeping bag, then back to me, her expression a mix of determination and discomfort.

"Luna," I said, trying to keep my tone even, "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Her ears flicked, her stance unyielding. "Jackson, I am perfectly healthy and fully capable of sleeping a few nights in the forest proper." Her tone was firm, almost haughty, but the way her gaze avoided mine told a different story. Her ears flushed faintly, a soft pink hue betraying her embarrassment.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Look, I get it. But—"

Before I could finish, she was already unzipping the tent. With a practiced leap, she disappeared into the darkness, scaling a nearby tree like it was second nature.

"Stubborn," I muttered, shaking my head as I turned back to my phone. The screen glowed faintly in the dim light, the weather app displaying an alert in bold letters:

Weather Warning: Heavy downpour expected. Approximate time: 7:43 PM.

I glanced at the clock on the device. 7:35. Figures.

Sighing again, I dug into the duffel bag, counting under my breath as I rummaged for supplies. "Three… two… one…"

Right on cue, a low rumble of thunder echoed through the forest, followed by the sound of rain. It started as a soft patter but quickly grew into a torrential downpour, the kind that soaks you to the bone in seconds. I didn't bother looking up from the bag. It wouldn't be long now.

A moment later, a soggy Lucario stumbled back into the tent, drenched from head to toe. Her fur clung to her form, water dripping steadily onto the tent floor, and a faint shiver ran through her frame.

I looked up, raising an eyebrow in silent reproach. Luna refused to meet my gaze, her ears drooping as she stood awkwardly by the entrance.

"Sit," I said, motioning to the spot in front of me.

Without a word, she complied, folding herself into a seated position with a reluctant sigh. Her ears remained plastered to her skull, a sure sign of her embarrassment.

Reaching into the duffel, I pulled out a towel and began the meticulous process of drying her off. Her fur was thick and soft, each stroke of the towel revealing just how much water it had absorbed.

"You're bunking with me until we reach civilization and get you your own bed," I said as I worked, my tone firm but not unkind. "Am I clear?"

She nodded silently, her tail flicking once in what I guessed was acknowledgment.

"Really, Luna," I continued, shaking my head as I moved to her ears, "it's not like this is the first time. And if I remember correctly, wasn't it you who originally insisted on this arrangement?"

Her ears twitched slightly under my touch, and I caught a faint, mumbled response. "Oh, shut it."

A grin tugged at my lips. That was more like it.

By the time she was dry enough to bundle into the sleeping bag, the rain had settled into a steady rhythm, a relentless backdrop to the chill of the autumn night. Sharing the bag was less a matter of comfort and more one of survival; the rapidly dropping temperature demanded shared warmth.

As Luna nestled beside me, I stared up at the tent's ceiling, my mind wandering. The rhythmic patter of rain was oddly soothing, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my head.

I couldn't stop thinking about the world I'd found myself in. Pokémon X and Y had always been the last entries in the series I played before joining the military, but the memories felt fragmented now, like snapshots of a life I'd lived long ago. Lumiose City, Sycamore's lab, the shimmering glow of a Mega Stone—they were vivid, yet incomplete. It was maddening.

My gaze drifted to the duffel bag, where the gemstone from Luna's village lay hidden. Its faint glow haunted the edges of my mind, a reminder of its potential. And then, an idea struck me—a way to gain a foothold in this world, to turn my knowledge into something tangible.

"Sycamore," I muttered softly, the name slipping from my lips like a lifeline.

The professor's reputation was well-known, even in the games. If his real-world counterpart was anything like his fictional one, he'd jump at the chance to study the stone. And if I could gain his trust, maybe…

Luna stirred beside me, her warmth pressing lightly against my side. The quiet rise and fall of her breath reminded me of the weight of her trust. She had chosen to follow me, to share in this uncertainty, and I couldn't afford to let her down.

I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the rain fill the silence. Tomorrow would bring its challenges, but for now, the faint outline of a plan was enough.