Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ingo woke up, and the light was wrong.

Not day and not night, some bruised red that didn’t match either of them. The air was frigid, colder than the Highlands usually got even at night. And why was he camping outside, again? He had a perfectly good home to use—no, wait, he turned his head and saw a sea of grass. This was the Fieldlands. No, he hadn’t been home in… how long now? A day or two. Not since he was dragged to Jubilife’s jail cell. But that still wasn’t right, because this wasn’t Jubilife, either. This was a camp. In the Fieldlands. Outside. Not prison.

He cast around in his memory. The last segment of track remained missing, a solid gap of nothing between prison and Fieldlands. A cold dead weight settled in his stomach.

Okay. Right. Fine. He hated this—but he could manage. He would… figure something out. Get up, take stock, put the pieces back together. He’d done it before. This was just… a bit more complicated than usual. At the very least there were pieces to put back together. He thought it again, more forcefully, like that would make the weight less crushing.

He reached thoughtlessly up to fidget with his—hat.

His hat, which was missing, which had been missing since… since he was last in the highlands. Before the kidnapping and the jail. All of which he remembered like a punch in the gut when his fingers met empty air. He was missing some unknown number of hours between when he was in Jubilife and the present, and also his hat.

He realized that he vaguely wanted to scream. He settled for burying his face in the tattered edges of his sleeves and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids until he saw something that looked like the sky above.

Breathe. He could focus on breathing for a moment. Just until his ears stopped ringing. Then he’d hit whatever the right combination of switches was, put him back in the basic state, so he could get up, and figure out which way was forward, and not do whatever this was.

The moment passed. Everything evened back out. He collected all of the residual cold weight, and stowed it safely away behind the veil of static.

“Ingo?”

“Fine,” he said without thinking, and then stopped dead.

That wasn’t a voice he knew. Whose voice was that? Why did he respond so readily? Should he have known the answer to those questions already? Were they introduced yesterday? Given the context, this were probably a friend. Or was it a captor? Why—in Sinnoh’s name—couldn’t he just—remember?

He cleared his throat, bit his tongue, and turned around to look.

Oh, he thought, of course. Because for some reason, this felt exactly right.

It was the man who shared his face. The man in white.

For a moment, he did nothing but stare. He looked—concerned, maybe?—if he was reading it right, brow slightly furrowed and smile twisting at the corners like it was taking effort to keep it there. Of course, it made sense that he’d be concerned, if he’d been watching—that. He hadn’t said anything, yet, not besides Ingo? Which, he hadn’t because his name was a question in itself, and now he was waiting for him to say something more than fine. There was no reason for him to be so sure of that. His voice was clear and polished and very real. This was not a Zorua.

Lady Sneasler, upset that the humans were pretending to be statues and not immediately at work preparing her favorite offering, yowled loudly. That snapped him out of his trance.

“Right. Yes—apologies, my lady. Just a moment. I’m sorry, but…” He looked back up. How to word this. There was no good way, was there? “Would you, ah… remind me who you are?”

The smile got more even, like this was a reassuringly normal question. “I was wondering. If you were going to ask.”

Oh, he wasn’t supposed to know. This was good news. He felt a little lightheaded.

Sneasler grumbled again, a ya-ar-awr sound that he was very familiar with as her version of dramatic whining. He gave her an absent pat, and, trying to sound as if everything was normal and casual, said, “I suppose everyone else will need to eat something, as well. Perhaps we can prepare food and talk at the same time?”

He closed his eyes for a moment—Ingo was unfortunately familiar with the wait, am I hungry? expression—and then nodded. “That sounds good.”

…Which meant he had to actually look around and figure out where they were and how to make food happen, with an audience, which was a daunting prospect. But one he’d have had to face sooner or later, no matter what.

But as Ingo was halfway to getting up, he was stopped by, “Wait. First—I have something. For you.“

He looked back to see that he was rummaging around in Lady Sneasler’s basket, which she was oddly calm about. But he didn’t have much of a chance to note that, because he found whatever he was looking for, and then he was holding out—

—his hat.

He was barely even aware of reaching out—he just blinked, and suddenly it was in his hands. He turned it over, scanning for any new damage, but it looked the same as it had before. Only the weathering and small tears and Sneasel-fang bite marks that he already had memorized.

And then he was hugging the worn thing to his chest, entirely forgetting about his audience. The feeling of its worn-almost-soft fabric, the cold metal of the emblem against his cheek, felt like being thrown a lifeline. Like he hadn’t been able to breathe before and was only just now getting oxygen. Like he wanted to cry, again, but for an entirely different reason. Like he was grounded, finally believing that he was in control again. For it to be almost lost, only to now have it back in his hands again—it was a rare kind of relief.

When he registered that he was still being watched, his instinct was to brace for some jibe about the disproportionate reaction. Or maybe one about the favor he now owed. But instead of anything like that, the man in white tilted his head just a bit and said,

“It looked lonely. Without you.”

His shoulders loosened a little. He ran his thumb over the edge of the brim, where fabric was starting to wear thin over its shape, and swallowed. There was a sheen of tears welling in his eyes, obscuring his vision, that he had to blink away.

“Thank you,” he managed, and allowed himself to sound exactly as grateful as he really was.

Once it was back in place on his head, it was infinitely easier to stand up and actually take stock of the situation. This was a Survey Corps camp, he recognized the facilities from the ones in the highlands. Simple, but as comfortable as the Galaxy Team could make it with the supplies on hand, and unmistakably lived-in. The fact that it had been visibly abandoned without much preparation gave it a slightly unsettling feeling, like they were trespassing. The fire hadn’t been broken down properly, and there were seating mats still laid out around the crumbling ashes. The unfolding chest that stocked basic supplies looked to be mercifully untouched—all the wild Pokémon were too busy hiding or fighting each other to bother working it open to raid.

The flag that made a signpost fluttered and twirled halfheartedly, barely visible now against the dark bruised background. The tent behind it was standard-issue, made of rough but sturdy cloth, with a slightly raised wooden platform on the base. He could only tell it was white from prior knowledge. Inside—there was Akari, joined by someone he only half knew, her friend and fellow surveyor. Another child. He would have to find the explanation behind that, somewhere. But at least they were both peacefully asleep still, curled up with the thin pillow and blankets and with a few of their teammates snuggled against them. Sylveon and Pikachu, and of course Akari’s Typhlosion wrapped around them like another blanket, protecting them from the cold.

Everything was—as quiet as it could be, given the continued nerve-grating drone from the rift. If there was immediate danger about, his team and his Lady wouldn’t be lazing about the way that they were, and he was fairly sure Akari’s wouldn’t be, either. So if there was any concern of them being pursued, it must have faded by this point.

There was… an unfamiliar Pokémon lying at the edge of the firelight. A rather large one. It took him a moment to parse out the shape as a Rampardos. Those were… rift-borne Pokémon, and generally not friendly, but this one seemed to be ignoring them. And being ignored in turn, which suggested none of their partners considered it a threat, either.

He looked back. “Is that yours?”

He hardly glanced at what he was talking about before answering. “Since yesterday. It came from the lightning. It was not doing well. We made an agreement.” He lifted a Pokéball that must have belonged to it, to emphasize what the agreement was.

And he would have been hesitant about the idea of trusting a Rampardos that had been caught yesterday, when they were such volatile Pokémon—but his calm confidence made it easier. If he thought he had anything less than its full cooperation, he somehow guessed that he’d have mentioned it already.

Right, focus. The first step was to walk over to the chest and take a look at what was inside. It turned out that he was right: not only had no wild Pokémon gotten into it, from the looks of things whoever deserted the camp hadn’t even bothered to take anything first. There were piles of Fieldlands-native berries, salt, mushrooms, various plants and herbs, and (wrapped carefully in paper) some of the cake-bases that the Survey Corps used to make food and lures. They would need more than this if they were planning to stay here for an extended period of time, but for one meal, what was here would more than suffice.

…It occurred to him that, although Akari was Survey Corps, this amount of pantry-raiding was probably not strictly encouraged, especially given her current standing. To say nothing of the non-Galaxy Team people and Pokémon who were also borrowing their supplies. He sketched out a mental promise to replenish their stores whenever he was next afforded the opportunity.

A smaller box organizer on one side of the chest held tools and utensils. He borrowed one bowl to stack with oran berries—no, wait, Akari didn’t like oran. Sitrus, then—and then a knife, and held them both out. “Peel these and slice them? Thin as you can.”

For his own part, he turned his attention around to the fire pit. Whatever had been burning while there were people in this camp had long since died down, but there were supplies to start a new one standing at the ready, and this was something he had plenty of practice in. It took a short time to set up, and then he reached for one of his Pokémon. This could be done with a striker, as was probably the Corps’ preference, but he always found it much easier to– 

“Magnezone. If you would?”

Sparks flared within the cleared circle, catching on the tinder. It was more aggressive than he could do by himself, and the fire caught and spread quickly, until the flames were already decently high. Next was the stand, and then the wide, low cast iron.

He broke a vivichoke over the pot, letting the oil drip down into it. Most of the plant was too tough to be feasibly edible, save for the innermost leaves, but the oil that ran through it was invaluable for both crafting and cooking. Although he hated touching it to get the heartleaves out. Or really for any other reason. Maybe he could just put the whole plant in there and try to break it up with a spoon, his hands weren’t too terribly oily yet.

Or maybe he just needed something to distract him. He looked up. “I suppose now is as good a time as any?”

At first he thought the man in white must have been too wholly focused on slicing to hear him—his motions seemed too carefully exact for it to not have his entire concentration. But then he looked up. “Oh. To start?”

“Mm.” He yanked out the vivichoke heart before he could think twice about it. There, now he was doomed and there was nothing he could do to avoid it. Into the pot it went. Lady Sneasler, who had been very invested in trying to bite the tasty part out of his hands, grumbled her disappointment, but settled for licking the leftovers.

He looked back down, apparently still formulating a response. “Okay. Who am I. I am Emmet. I arrived… almost two days ago. It was a verrrrry long delay. Someone did not do their safety checks.” A sharp exhale, not quite a huff. His attention stayed fixed on the knife, and his voice was exactly as even and measured. “Even misplacing our memories! Irresponsible.”

Some small hope that he hadn’t quite registered wavered, not quite crushed. “You don’t, either-?”

“We are twins,” he said, tone unchanged. “Whatever happened to us, we were together. …That is all I know.”

“…Twins,” he echoed. It made sense, of course, but somehow it didn’t quite feel real. And yet, at the same time, there was that inexplicable sense of rightness. Unjustified, because he couldn’t truly remember, but impossible to dissuade. “And you arrived…?”

He pointed back towards the mountain. “It was a lot of walking.”

“The same place, then, if not the same time…” He was acutely aware of how much distance that was to cover, in what had seemingly been so little time. “…Why move so quickly? That cannot have been an easy route.”

He exchanges a brief but very meaningful look with Lady Sneasler. “You were gone. You were in prison. We were not going to wait.”

He was briefly at a loss for how to respond to that. He settled for, “…well, now I am here, and I would recommend a more moderate pace in the future. There is no way for you to assist anyone else if you do not stop for your own maintenance, first.”

Hopefully Emmet hadn’t been with her long enough to know what Lady Sneasler’s version of a derisive snicker sounded like.

“Okay. Your turn.”

“My turn?” he repeated, somewhat puzzled.

“Something is wrong. Something has been wrong. Since last night.” He looked up, and pointed the knife at him, though not threateningly. “Tell me.” And as an afterthought, “Please. I want to help.”

…He had to think about that for a moment. Tried to clean his hands off with a towel—woefully ineffective, but he barely noticed that now.

It felt so easy and so tempting, suddenly, to just—say it. Reticence had never been a problem for him before—he’d thought himself a private person by nature, and not burdening others with confused ramblings had quickly become his default, but now…

I don’t know. Days keep escaping me. My own mind slips away and I—and I’m so sick of it, I’m so tired. I can’t bear losing anything else but I can’t stop it happening, I can’t keep myself in reality, it’s so much easier not to care about anything when I can’t think about anything else but this, I just want someone to help me, please—

—But then, what was he thinking—this… other person was missing his memories, too. Even if he did want to help, what could he do? And even if it would have been a relief just to confide in someone… His eyes went over to the tent, the two teenagers still sleeping soundly within. He couldn’t exactly go falling apart now. Not with them here and so much that needed to be done.

“…Later, perhaps. If that’s permissible?” he said with some reluctance. It wasn’t really a question, not when he was fairly sure he knew the answer anyway. And being sure was a novel comfort in and of itself. “When we have more time and… a better place for it.”

And he could see the debate play out on his face, but just as he’d thought, it eventually resolved into, “Okay. Later.” And then, after a brief pause, “But not never.”

“Of course,” he acquiesced, wondering why he felt reassured by that answer.

Neither of them knew it then, but this would be the last chance at a truly private, casual conversation they would have for some time.

Elsewhere in the Fieldlands, low and out of sight with the precision of long practice, a group of three sat around a campfire of their own.

The rift crisis hadn’t had much of a material effect on the Miss Fortunes, all told. They were already used to the world being a dangerous place. And they had been summoned—so now there wasn’t much for them to do, except wait.

It was Clover, leaning against a tree with one arm behind her head as a pillow, who eventually broke their silence.

“You don’t think this is all related to… us, is it?”

Coin was just the slightest bit too defensive, too fast. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Why would it?”

“We messed with sacred carvings… accidentally got a Noble frenzied…” she started counting on her fingers, the other arm still draped over her head. “And I still feel weird about those rocks we’ve been digging up.”

“We were only doing what we were paid to do,” Charm said.

“Yeah, but what if the guy who was paying us, was… y’know…”

Coin thought about it for a minute, then shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I don’t think… Volo’s just, y’know… he’s got hobbies. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“I mean, I’m not saying—hold up,” Clover paused midsentence, looking over the fire into the darkness, “–hey, who’s that?”

Her sisters turned to look for themselves, and saw that there was, in fact, someone standing just out of reach of their firelight—a half-shape that couldn’t be fully made out, but certainly not a Pokémon, and not quite tall enough to be an adult, either.

“Get lost, kid! You don’t want to hang around here!” Clover called, rolling to her feet.

“Why not? Going to rob me? But I don’t even have anything to take!”

She stepped a little closer, coming properly into view. She was a young girl—younger than Warden Lian, maybe—with purple-black hair pulled back into two braids, wearing a gray shirtdress that might have been patterned, at one point, but had long since faded into a uniform blankness. Her hands were clasped tightly around something she was carrying close to the chest, and her eyes, for no discernible reason, drew the viewer’s attention. It was like they flashed, or flickered, when looked at sideways, but faded into normality head-on. She smiled a little, a wan thing that didn’t reach her eyes. “…Besides, I don’t think you really want to do that, anyway. I’m a friend.”

“A friend?” Coin repeated, audibly suspicious.

She took another step forward, and tossed the item out—a little pouch that made a light clinking noise as it fell. “He said that was advance payment, rest on delivery.”

Charm was the one to pick the bag up, with no protest from the others. When she looked inside, her eyebrows went up.

“This is the advance?” she repeated, while her sisters crowded around to peek inside. “What does he want us to do this time?” From the Ginkgo Guild decorations on the bag, there was no question between them of who he was. They only had the one contact, after all.

Instead of answering immediately, the girl stepped a little closer to their circle, and did a slow turn around, peering out into the darkness.

“…Whatcha looking for?” Clover asked after a moment of silence.

“Prying eyes… but I think we’re safe. They’ve all scattered since this morning.” Finally she sat down in front of them. “So… let’s talk.” Another thin, halfhearted smile. “I’m Vessa, by the way. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Conversation was easy, after that. At least it seemed that Ingo had only spoken very briefly with Emmet before, so he wasn’t missing too much. Just… everything to do with his and Akari’s side of the breakout. Only all of that. And they moved on from that subject quickly enough, into safer territory—about what had been happening while Ingo was in prison, and how everyone seemed to be doing (although Emmet, by his own admission, hadn’t been paying terribly much attention to any of that, being mostly focused on Jubilife), and then about Hisui, and the things that Emmet would probably need to know, but hadn’t learned yet except through educated guessing.

In the meantime, they continued working on breakfast. While Ingo wasn’t exactly thrilled about this recipe, he did recognize that keeping their energy up would be the most important thing for the foreseeable future. Hence, cake bases, honey, and thin slices of sitrus berry.

Honey on both the outside of the dough and glazing the berry slices would cut back on the natural bitterness of the vivichoke oil, along with providing extra calories. Then the cakes could be stretched out and wrapped around the berry slices, and placed one by one into the pot. They were done once the outsides were lightly crispy, by which time the Sitrus would have mostly broken down into jelly. The rest of the pot could be filled with the rest of the edible vivichoke and an assortment of mushrooms, to add to the food for the Pokémon who needed more.

He held his sleeve back with one hand—using a cloth, so he wouldn’t get any of the leftover oil on it—to carefully lay the cakes down in the base of the pot. A tiny bit of oil popped and splashed up onto his arm, and he hissed and paused briefly to shake it off.

“This seems like enough,” Emmet commented, and he paused to look. There were, in fact, still a decent amount waiting to go in.

“…Once we finish the berry you’ve got, we can probably stop there,” he agreed. “These won’t take long to be ready.”

Emmet looked over towards the tent—but Ingo stopped that thought in its tracks with a, “No, let them rest.”

When he looked back, he added as an explanation, “Akari needs this. She’s been under far too much stress, for– days, now. She ought to sleep as long as she wants.”

He shifted slightly to turn away from the tent, as if to emphasize silently that he’d leave them alone. But then he glanced back, looking lightly thoughtful.

“So that is Akari.” Said as if he was resolving a question that he’d been debating for some time.

“…Yes?”

He looked towards the tent, smile thinning. “Rei came back to get her.”

Rei—the boy asleep next to her. He nodded slightly. “Mm. I haven’t had much cause to interact with the rest of the Survey Corps, but Akari talks about him often. The two of them seem to be very close.” He swallowed a sigh. “I suppose it is a good thing she has one ordinary friendship, at least.”

Emmet looked back at him, and somehow the silent glance felt like a clear question and an effective prompt. He found himself continuing, “Most of Jubilife is made up of outsiders of some description, yet the circumstances of Akari’s arrival, and her unwavering love of Pokémon, have singled her out as a target of suspicion. It’s wholly hypocritical, yet even those who care for her are unwilling or unable to argue back.” The hand holding his sleeve tightened. “They threw her into a difficult life, fraught with danger, demanding that she earn her keep, and she has done more in service to them than they have any right to ask of her. She has risked her life without complaint, and then–“ he gestured behind himself. “You see how they repaid her. There was never even a real choice in the matter. She depended on them for survival, and where they should have been obligated to protect her, they turned on her instead. It–”

He’d gotten worked up without realizing it. It hadn’t even really been a question that he was responding to. He took a moment to collect himself. But before he had a chance to apologize for the unprompted tirade…

Emmet’s voice was still quiet, and had almost no tone, and yet it was somehow venomous.

“That is not fair.”

“No,” he agreed, shoulders tightening again. “It is not.”

“…You know a lot about her.”

It was a slight change of subject, but not a derailing one. “All the wardens know her, to varying degrees.” He shrugged, adjusting position into something a little more relaxed. “Her… the duties Jubilife has pushed on her… they bring her into contact with us often. And the Nobles are all fond of her. And… well, I don’t wish to guess about her intentions, but I suppose, on the whole… those who are wardens tend to have the experience to not judge too quickly. I get the sense that she might go out of her way to befriend us because, among the people of Hisui, we are the ones most understanding of her… situation.” His mind went to his fellow wardens, and his voice softened a little further. “Most of us are some variety of odd or outcast ourselves, after all.”

He stared at the sky for a moment, then, “That sounds right.” And then he looked back down, and continued, “I met the wardens. Earlier.”

“Oh?”

They talked until the food was ready, and they would have kept talking, except the smell of something ready to eat was apparently enough to wake Rei up, and Akari with him. When they got up, Akari was practically dragged over to the fire, still tired but also seemingly unwilling to let Rei get too far away from her.

Ingo offered another mental apology for borrowing so much of the Survey Corps’ supplies, but, well, the bowls and utensils were too convenient to ignore. And it certainly didn’t seem as if anyone else was going to be using them anytime soon. Everyone took their allocated portion, including the Pokémon that needed one, and for a moment quiet dominated the camp as everyone became too focused on eating to talk. Emmet took a bowl over to the Rampardos, and said something to it that was too quiet to hear from a distance, but seemed to go on for a while.

Just as they were getting settled, footsteps crunched the grass from the shadows outside of their circle of fire, and everyone jolted in unison. Akari and Ingo jumped to their feet, Rei scrambled back a short ways, and Emmet’s hand went to the inner edge of his coat, reaching for a Pokéball.

“Woah, woah!” a familiar voice said. “Hang on, I’m not here to fight! There’s no—guards, or anything, it’s just me.”

Into the light walked Volo. He looked much the same as he did the last time Ingo and Akari had seen him, save for the addition of the heavy Guild pack, once again in its place on his shoulders. The added weight barely seemed to register with him, from the way he was standing. His hands were raised in submission, though there was no real fear of them on his face. Akari was the first to relax, and the rest of them followed her cue a moment later.

“…What are you doing here?” Akari asked, stepping back a little to let him in.

“I said I wanted to help you, didn’t I? And you seem to have made it out just fine without me, so, I gotta pay that off somehow.” He gestured to the fire. “Mind if I sit?”

The clan leaders passed the walk from the temple to Jubilife mostly in silence.

Irida was fine with this. Silence was better than the shouting match that inevitably happened whenever she tried to have a conversation with Adaman. If he’d learned the value of shutting up for once in his life, well, that was great news for her.

…Was what she was insisting to herself, to stop the bubbling frustration underneath. It was just—how stupid did he think she was? Ever since the temple, ever since he landed and refused to talk, his whole demeanor was screaming wrong, clear as day. And yet he was going on like he expected her to just ignore it. Or not notice, and she wasn’t sure which option she found more offensive.

Oh, sure, she could bring it up herself. But no matter what she tried to say, she just knew he’d find a way to take it as an insult. So she would just let the silence last until Jubilife, if he didn’t feel like explaining himself. They were almost there already. They’d made it out of Mount Coronet’s foothills and into the Fieldlands, and now they were walking south towards the land bridge that would let them cross the first river. Getting down that steep hillside was the toughest part of it. Without discussion, they’d opted to cling close to the steep cliffside, because it felt safer than a straight shot across that flat, wide-open plain.

It was probably a good thing, too, that it was out of sight now, because she couldn’t stop looking back at Mount Coronet. At what had been its peak, and was now a shattered mess of rock shards, suspended in the air against the darkness of the rift. First the earthquakes, now this… she was watching Sinnoh’s space unravel around her, piece by piece.

Sinnoh’s space. And why was the rift having such a dramatic effect on it? The rift, a thing caused by the Shadow—and why wasn’t Sinnoh doing anything to stop it?

Now she was reconsidering. Arguing might have been better than dwelling on this.

The low hum of the sky turned into a sound like a whip-crack, and they both paused to look at where the new burst of lightning was landed. Fortunately, it looked to be a distance behind them.

“Hopefully none of that catches up with us,” she commented, reluctantly breaking the silence.

“Hm,” was Adaman’s response, and it was only through a monumental application of will that she was able to resist the urge to turn and smack him. Is this worthy of your attention, oh Diamond Lord? she wanted to yell.

The cliff disappeared ahead, a brief break as it dipped back into the mountain and revealed the grove’s small lake, which made her instinctively nervous. The nerves made her instinctively want to smack him even more.

But Adaman broke the silence before she could decide whether or not to go through with it. “So, we should probably… talk. About what happens once we, y’know, get to Jubilife.”

She kept her voice carefully neutral. “What happens in… what sense.”

“Well, I was thinking. I could handle things with the Commander, if, y’know. If you had anything else you wanted to do. While you were… there.”

She felt herself ice over, although she doubted he’d notice at the moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” His formerly casual voice broke into anger. “You apparently didn’t even warn your warden before you had him thrown in a stranger’s jail, and now you’re just going to pretend like he doesn’t even exist? You can’t be serious.”

“If you wanted to argue with me about my choices, you should have done it at the meeting like everyone else. I’m not going to listen to criticism from you, not now. I don’t need your approval. Ingo will understand my decision.”

There were several different parts of that she could see him taking issue with. But it reflected rather poorly on her that she didn’t anticipate—

“Just Ingo? No warden? Pretty familiar, isn’t it?”

She flinched despite herself, knowing exactly what he meant.

This was a longstanding point of contention between them—Adaman couldn’t stick to any kind of formality if his life depended on it, which she thought was a terrible trait for a leader, but he was constantly brushing off her complaints with barely an acknowledgement. And she’d been so careful around him, too, not to give him anything he could use in that debate—so of course she had to slip up now, of all times, and naturally he would immediately jump on it.

“Oh please, as if you have any right to talk.” She buried any other feelings under a layer of venom. “Your bar for politeness is so low I’m shocked you’re not constantly tripping over it.”

“My politeness? I’ll drop the warden with my friends because we’re friends. You had yours kidnapped. I would think you’d at least want to save face by sounding respectful.”

“I didn’t—don’t call it kidnapping!” Her voice pitched up despite her best efforts.

“Why not? It’s what happened, isn’t it? Some near-stranger came to you, talking some shit about danger and caution, and you decided that you believed him enough to take one of your own and lock him away without even giving him a chance to argue. Unless you cleared this whole thing with him beforehand and just—whoops!—forgot to mention it at the meeting. Or to his noble. That’s the only reason I can think of that you’d honestly think he’d get it. You really think he’s not going to be the slightest bit upset?”

“He’ll understand the reason! The travelers from the rift needed to be kept secluded. For everyone’s safety, including theirs. You’re all just reacting on instinct! This isn’t a punishment, it’s not a lack of trust—it’s just the safest thing to do, right now.”

His voice raised a little, to be heard over the background buzz. “Why are you so scared to say that to his face, then?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about–”

“Oh, don’t I! I’ve only been leading for a few years longer than you have!”

“Sinnoh, with all this time you’ve had to learn, I’m shocked you’re not better at it!”

“–Hang on. Hang on–“

Irida continued talking, but Adaman suddenly found he couldn’t listen. He was distracted by a different sound—something that had blended in with the hum of the sky at first, but was now starting to differentiate itself. A droning sound that wavered, up and down. It was far from his first time hearing it, but it still took it an embarrassingly long time for it to click— 

He whirled around only a split second before a Vespiquen burst forth from the foliage. Its eyes burned red with the unmistakable frenzy of an Alpha. Of course, they’d forgotten—the rift wasn’t the only thing they had to worry about.

A step backwards and his arm knocked Irida nearly over, shoving her out of the way of—what?—a beam of light that pierced out of the gem in its forehead and scored an arc through the ground. He was no stranger to the dangers of the Fieldlands, he’d fought Vespiquen before, but they couldn’t normally do—that.

Irida shouted something else, less angry and more alarmed, and he didn’t really need to listen to get the gist of what she was saying. Was there something held between its jaws? He couldn’t make out what, not in this light.

Distraction cost him precious seconds again—when it started charging up an attack, it was only then that he realized he’d backed them up right into the cliffside.

The red light seared his eyes. There was no time to dodge. He could see that. So he—would make time—

It was pure instinct. He just reached out and—stopped it. The shard cluster—the frenzied Pokémon—shuddered suddenly to a halt. The world just paused, everything around him going suddenly still and silent.

It took a moment of processing—coming back to his senses—to realize what he’d done. Then, startled, he took a step back–

–and reality shattered like an eggshell under his feet, and he fell.

—darkness and light and the brightest blue hairline fractures, and impossible colors flickering past. It was freezing, like he’d fallen through ice but it was ice all the way down, so cold it was impossible to even take a breath—

—and Irida was still trapped with the Vespiquen.

That thought pierced through the always of it all, and he somehow managed to right himself. He needed to stop being wherever the fuck he was right then and start being where he needed to be. What had he done before, to get here? He hadn’t even thought about it, but it had been something like reaching— 

One of the spiderweb cracks opened up beneath him, and suddenly the world lit up again.

He was back at the lake—but not the version of the lake he’d intended to be at. The sky was dark, but it was the natural darkness of night, now, peppered with stars, a view he wished he could’ve stopped to appreciate for just a minute. When he looked out across the ink-black water, it took him a moment to realize that the shore looked strange because it was a shore, not just an expanse of cliff face—that he must have been standing on the island. The ground was so close, like he was lying down. He tried to get up and realized he couldn’t move.

“…ought to be enough protection, right?” said a vaguely familiar voice, accompanied by the swish of footsteps in grass, and he stopped to listen.

“Well, it’s far from foolproof, but it’s too late to complain now,” a second voice responded, this one strange to him, light and high-pitched like a child’s.

“I mean, we’ve been over the other option, and I really don’t think me carrying it around is-”

“Wait.” The child’s voice cut the other off, low and urgent. “We’ve got eyes.”

“Wh- oh, dammit.” The footsteps stopped abruptly.

For a moment, the only sound was the faint whistle of wind across the lake. When the child spoke again, Adaman would have jumped out of his skin if he could—suddenly and soundlessly, she’d gotten much closer to him.

“So sorry, but this is a private conversation. So if you wouldn’t mind—“

He was vaguely aware of what might have been a hand at the back of his head—and then there was a flash of darkness, and in the split-second before his vision was consumed completely he was given the impression of being shoved.

The world once again became darkness and light, but this time he felt like he had improved his technique just the tiniest bit. Or maybe it was just dumb luck, that one of those shards of darkness he stumbled into happened to have Irida in it. The right one, all the colors of her clothes and bangles washed out in the sky’s dull red. The whole scene was spread out around her, in the same sort of mirror-smooth shards. Glaceon and Vespiquen, the remnants of the halted crystal beam. The lake, behind him.

She was distracted, looking backwards at something. He shoved another shard into place—the crystalline beam he’d dislodged originally—just to get her attention back on the important things.

Glaceon would probably have to be next, but it and Vespiquen were too close together, he wasn’t sure he could add one back in and not the other. He spun it so Glaceon would be first, at least, and set it back in place. Hopefully Irida’d had enough time to think by now. He glanced at her, just to see how she was faring so far… now she was looking forward, saying—or, probably shouting—something. The gestures felt familiar. Had he seen her do that somewhere before?

The ice was thawing, and everything else was starting to pour back into place. He took a step backwards, and into alignment with where he’d been before.

His vision exploded into stars.

Irida wasted no time, because angry or not, she didn’t want them to die here. A couple steps forward and she was in front of Adaman, one hand thrown out and the other forward—“Glaceon! Powder Snow!”

Her partner was already moving, but thankfully it listened to her this time and kicked up the move, opting for an agile execution (if she was remembering the differences right.) Still, though, there was more snow than she expected there to be, because for a moment white obscured her vision.

For a moment—an impossible moment—it was dead silent. It was bright, and dark, and in the void of it she felt almost weightless. She cast around, looking for something visible to reorient herself in the space. She could just barely make out Adaman behind her, and there was just enough of the red sky-light to trick her eyes into thinking his were glowing again— 

—and then a beam of gemstone light shot past inches from her face, and the world snapped back into focus. She whirled back around to face the Vespiquen she could once again see.

Precious moments, to take stock of the situation while reality seemed to hang suspended. Glaceon had made it to Vespiquen’s backside, on the far side of the field from her, and for the moment out of the way of any retaliation. She was much too close to this battle for comfort. Her mind was racing fast enough for old advice to surface. She didn’t know what was effective against Vespiquen, but did that matter? Unlike some of her wardens, she only had the one option anyway.

She recognized the Power Gem it was using. She happened to recognize it for the same reason she knew Glaceon couldn’t hold up well against it. And this one was a frenzied Alpha, and she could see the marks the last two shots had left behind. A long line of burnt, disturbed earth, terminating in snapped branches and shards of crystal embedded in tree bark. She really didn’t want to find out what would happen to her partner if it made contact. Powder Snow had been effective as a shroud, but that was nonstandard and he’d called it unreliable, so she shouldn’t count on it working more than once. She had to hit it fast and hard before it could get its bearings.

“Glaceon! Ice Beam, Quick Attack out of the way, then hit it again!” Her hand moved on its own, gesturing out a path for it to take. It leapt, dug its claws into the grass for the first shot, and then launched forward at its top speed. Vespiquen turned and, with a swing from its clawed arm, sent a blade of air flying towards Glaceon’s path—but it had disappeared by the time the Air Slash made it to where the blur of movement had been. It halted by her feet, and the second Ice Beam connected with its chest.

Any satisfaction from pulling that off died when she realized how unfazed it looked by the attacks. Not only was there no lingering frost, it barely even looked like they hurt. It raised both arms, now, towards her and Glaceon. The gem on its head flared brighter. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at, but it was like the air solidified, somehow growing even darker, in a hazy dark cloud that rolled towards them—she held her breath, bracing for whatever the impact would be—

But another Pokémon—it took her a second to recognize Adaman’s Leafeon—leapt forth. Its ears were flat to the side, taking on an almost glass-like sheen, and with a gust of sudden wind from their backs, another blade of air shot forth—cutting through the fog and striking the Vespiquen, knocking it out of its focus.

“Was that–“ she scrambled through her head for the right match. She’d seen it once before, on Glaceon, but she’d given up because they could never figure out how to use it well– “Mimic?”

It flicked an ear at her, close enough to Glaceon’s body language for her to recognize it as affirmative.

And now it was locked into Air Slash. Maybe she could do something with this. But with as little as the regular attacks were doing to it… she had to start thinking.

The Vespiquen by now had shaken itself out of the brief stun, and was buzzing angrily again. She waved a hand at Glaceon and forward. “Powder Snow again—get around it—I need to… I need a second to look.”

Another flurry of snow ensured Vespiquen’s attention stayed on Glaceon, and then it was leading it on a chase, keeping its attention away from the humans. She strained her eyes to take in as much detail as she could through the darkness, not even entirely sure what she was looking for. Supposedly a lot of Pokémon battles were actually mostly for show, without any real intent to harm, and the loser would acquiesce once they’d spent more strength than they wanted to lose, but alphas were different, they didn’t play by show-battle rules. They were mean—no, not mean, the same familiar voice corrected her, they were angry and afraid and driven half out of their minds by that red-eyed frenzy. They were lashing out desperately, trying to do anything to escape it.

But they could escape it—that was the key that had nearly cost them so much to work out. They could be snapped out of it, if you approached it right, and if you were very lucky.

Her delay cost them. She hadn’t realized what that louder and louder buzzing meant, until the ferocity of its wingbeats started to make the air around it shiver—and by then it was too late for her to shout out a warning, and Glaceon couldn’t evade the sonic blast. And oh, they may not have been doing much damage to the Vespiquen, but the reverse certainly wasn’t true. Her partner staggered, thoroughly disoriented, and would’ve taken the follow-up Power Gem had Leafeon not leapt in, distracting their opponent with another blade of air, and tackled it out of the way.

It nosed Glaceon’s cheek with something like frantic worry, but this time Vespiquen wasn’t nearly as thoroughly stunned by the Air Slash. It whirled on them both again— 

Was it… holding something in its mouth?

Nothing else to go on—so she’d have to gamble. “Glaceon! One last Powder Snow, as strong as you can! And then Leafeon, use Air Slash—but aim for its face!”

The human voice derailed the Vespiquen’s focus, making it turn towards the new noise, and she froze, afraid she’d chosen wrong. It was a near thing—that her Glaceon got its bearings and was able to use the last move, and that Leafeon, after a hesitant pause, chose to listen to her too.

The wind from Powder Snow was usually a little slow, counteracting the strength of the frost. But as she’d hoped, the blast from Air Slash collected all of that swirling diamond dust, and it impacted Vespiquen’s head with all the strength of an Ice Beam. Its screech almost drowned out the low sound of something thumping into the grass below.

And the freezing cold did it, just as she’d hoped. The burning red light disappeared in one last flash. Vespiquen hovered for one moment longer—she couldn’t guess at what it was feeling, what could have been going through its head—and then it, too, vanished.

Battle decided. She’d pulled them through.

Naturally Adaman had decided not to help at all.

Adaman was reeling. A discordant note shrieked on his ears. The gasp—the first breath he’d taken since falling—felt like inhaling glass. Something was stabbing through his eyes and into the sockets, it burned, he couldn’t help but fall back, reaching frantically up to shield them— 

As he caught his breath, his vision cleared. The sensation ebbed. He blinked a few more times to try and refocus his vision. Glanced down at his hand and then hastily wiped it on his sleeve. Looked up. There was a notable absence of both Vespiquen and Irida’s shouting. Oh, Irida was there—and looked unscathed—but she was staring silently out at the lake, where her opponent had been before. So apparently she’d somehow won the battle while he was… preoccupied.

“That’s twice, now, you’ve saved me,” he spoke up, tone straining to sound humorous.

Irida stared for a couple seconds more, and then she whirled on him.

“What was that?”

“Was what?” he tried to deflect, poorly.

“You know what—why did you just stand there while it shot at you?”

“I, I was, uh.” Oh, he could not do this right now. “I got. Distracted.”

“Distracted? By what? You could have died!” She threw one hand behind her, for emphasis. ”Ever since that ride on Braviary you’ve been—off in your own little world! What’s so important that you can’t even focus your whole attention on a Sinnoh-damned alpha?”

Her tone was one he knew already—she’d been saving this up for a while. Which, fantastic. Of all the times for her to notice how someone other than her was feeling, it had to be fucking now.

“Sorry, I thought you didn’t want my help. Seemed like you were having no trouble taking charge this time,” he snapped back, letting frustration take over for the words he couldn’t come up with.

“I don’t want your help? I– that doesn’t mean you just get to zone out and ignore what’s going on in reality! We’re alone in the wilderness! Are you going to be acting like this when we get to Jubilife, too? I can’t–“ Her voice was cracking with strain. She paused, catching her breath or reconsidering her sentence.

The dim lighting altered her, somehow. For a moment, she didn’t look like the person she’d been for four years, a cocky leader who’d taken charge just to trade barbs with him. Instead she looked almost… small. She could have been any Diamond Clan teen. Just another lost kid. There was a look in her eyes that he’d seen too many times to count, a desperate, paper-thin barrier covering up a pained vulnerability. For all he’d nagged her constantly about her lack of experience, he’d never quite seen her like—this. Unsure of her own footing. Defensive out of necessity, exposed and afraid. Because there was so much responsibility in front of her, and so little guidance afforded for how to handle it. Had she always looked so familiar? Had he always been too busy gearing up for an argument to see it?

I can’t do this by myself, she’d almost-but-not-quite said. Was he really holding that against her? Now, of all times?

“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing he didn’t know what else to say.

Her shoulders went down, and something in her expression wavered for a moment—but then she scoffed and turned away, with a mutter of, “Oh. Well, if you’re sorry.” And the moment was shattered.

At least she wasn’t shouting anymore. He started to get to his feet.

“Just–“ she half-turned back around to face him, but then hesitated, not quite looking at him.

“Just what?”

He meant it to be a prompt, but it had the opposite effect—the aborted word turned into a half-sigh and a small click of the tongue, and her eyes darted away, scanning for something else to fix on. And then she seemed to find it, somewhere in the shaded grass, and it took her focus off him completely. A couple paces, and she was kneeling to pick something up.

Curious enough to forget the rest of the conversation, he hauled himself the rest of the way upright and came over to look at whatever had caught her attention.

It was a piece of stone, dull grey-brown, flat with the subtlest curve to its surface, and irregularly shaped along the edges. There was an inscription written on its face—

“Is that… a plate?” He leaned over to look over her shoulder.

—except in the center of that inscription, a hole had been carved out of the stone. Almost circular, but not quite, deftly carving around the one or two missing glyphs. He reached over and ran his fingers along the inner side. It was a distinctly different texture than the outside, sharply angled and not yet worn smooth.

“This is from Solaceon,” she said, sounding a little stunned. “But it’s—the center fragment is missing.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“No, I mean—“ she started, sounding defensive, but then hesitated and continued in a more even voice. “The break isn’t new. But the middle… there was still something there, the last time I saw this. Calaba and Ursaluna were meant to guard it. But when those… those bandits went after Solaceon, it was one of the things they took. I hope they didn’t lose it somewhere…” the last part is said under her breath, almost to herself. She looked up, out at their surroundings, and added as an afterthought, “how… why did an alpha Vespiquen…?”

“Wait, hang on– the bandits stole a plate?”

She flinched under his shoulder, the first time he noticed how close he’d gotten to her. He took the chance to scoot back a bit.

And it would have been easy to use this as another chance to fight. To blow up at her and the Pearl Clan for losing another Plate, on top of everything else that was happening, and then not even mention it—he could imagine the entire argument just then, really.

But at the same time as he thought that, he realized too that he was tired, of fighting so consistently that it was almost a force of habit, and he could think up an entire back-and-forth before even launching the first volley. So instead, what he said was,

“What would they even want with it?”

Irida’s response was a snort and a straightforward, “well, whatever they were planning, they obviously didn’t get to keep it for very long,” but he saw her relax, just fractionally, at the same time.

Volo wasted no time making himself comfortable by the fireside. The group shifted to accommodate, having mostly accepted Akari’s decision to let him in.

“So!” he started, sunny smile fixed on his face, taking a look around the circle—and then his scan made it to Emmet and he processed for a moment, and then frowned, gears visibly turning in his head.

“Are you, uh… I don’t… think I’ve had the pleasure…?”

“You have not.” He looked at him for only a brief moment before going back to eating.

“Uh, well, then—I’m Volo, I work for the guild, hobbyist myth-chaser, friend of Akari’s…” he was having obvious difficulty getting himself back on track.

“I am Emmet. Ingo is my brother.” This time, he actually looked up, and even held out a hand to shake.

—but upon hearing the last part of that sentence, Volo’s own hand recoiled. “Wait, you’re what? How did-?”

Akari broke in, sounding a little annoyed at the ground being retreaded. “He fell out of the rift, same as the rest of us, it isn’t that weird, let’s talk about important stuff.”

“Ah… hm. No, I guess that does explain it, ha-ha! Just—caught me off-guard, is all.” He waved a hand like he was discarding the subject. “You’re right, you’re—let’s focus. Shouldn’t waste our time, right? Who knows how much we have!” He relaxed back, switching gears. “So… what is your plan, now?”

Akari looked around at her party, shifting a little uncomfortably. “Um. Well, I was thinking maybe first, we’d go up to the rift, and take a look…?”

“No,” Rei cut her off, with surprising force. Volo shook his head to corroborate his point.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work out the way you want. It’s all good, though. I thought you might not have a plan, so… I brought one of my own!”

Everyone else regarded him a little suspiciously. That didn’t seem to faze him at all—he adjusted his position slightly, an almost perfect picture of artful disarray, and gave them a sunny smile.

“So, why don’t we start by going over your options?”

Ingo had entirely forgotten the bowl in his hands in favor of watching Volo. Emmet, on the other hand, was keeping his eyes mostly on his brother.

“You can’t go back to Jubilife, obviously. The Pearl Clan has demonstrated a pretty unequivocal lack of support, too.” He didn’t even glance at Ingo when he said that. “And if they’re closed to you, it’s probably safe to assume that Diamond is, too… they tend to be pretty united in terms of whether or not to trust outsiders, if nothing else. You probably shouldn’t risk trying to approach them. In—my opinion, anyway.”

Both Ingo and Emmet seemed to have something to say in response to that—but Akari beat them both to it.

“You just listed everyone in Hisui.” Her voice was sour, and slightly strained, like she was fighting to keep it from cracking.

“Not quite! And this is where I can help.” He was already looking a little pleased with himself. “There’s another option. One that isn’t affiliated with anyone, and—definitely won’t care about the Jubilife situation. It would be the perfect hideaway, a little space to yourselves while you got your plans in order! Plus, I think you’d want to talk to her anyway.”

“Her?”

He nodded. “She lives out in the Highlands. Secluded, keeps to herself mostly, but we…” he looked away, and shrugged, seemingly to himself. “We’ve got a rapport built up, how about that. Anyway, point is—she’s been living here for… a long time, and she knows things about the history of this region that even the clans don’t.”

“Are you saying the Highlands have a permanent resident who has somehow kept her existence secret from everyone?” Ingo cut in, audibly dubious.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You may find it hard to believe, but there are things about the highlands that even their warden doesn’t know! More than you might think, too.”

He still didn’t seem to believe it, but faltered on his words, and then Akari beat him to the next question.

“Wait, so—back up—how is she going to help? What does the history of Hisui have to do with what’s happening now?”

Again, Volo leaned on his hands, but this time it was to pause the conversation for a moment. He cast a glance up at the red sky, let the silence linger for a while. When he looked back down, his expression was difficult to place.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

“The professor mentioned a previous rift crisis,” Rei piped up, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s when all the Nobles got marked, the people of the region saw almighty Sinnoh, et cetera. The thing is… nobody’s exactly sure, anymore, what really happened to end it. I mean—if they knew how, the clans would’ve wrapped this up ages ago, right?”

“It has certainly not been for lack of trying,” Ingo interjected, starting to sound just the slightest bit irritated.

“Oh, sure, sure! I’m not doubting that. I’m just saying, they’ve been looking in the wrong places.” He waved a hand, changing his weight to the other. “If you want to know what happened all those centuries ago—and, y’know, how to really close the rift—you’ve gotta go to the source. And my friend can get you there. So…”

His gaze landed on Akari once again. “What do you say?”

The ring was silent, as the Miss Fortunes contemplated the end of Vessa’s explanation. There was a heavy uncertainty lingering around them.

“Can we ask… why you need them?” Coin ventured.

Vessa tilted her head a little. “Are you really sure you want to know? You’ve seen what we’re willing to pay you. How badly do you want your curiosity satisfied?”

“I don’t know… this doesn’t feel right.”

“I hope this isn’t an issue of misplaced loyalty,” she said softly.

Coin and Clover exchanged a glance.

It was Charm, though, who spoke up. “We aren’t servants to wield as you wish. We have an agreement with your friend, but we still choose what we want to do. If you want our continued cooperation, I would suggest choosing your words more carefully. You don’t get to decide what loyalties are misplaced.”

The other two shot her a grateful look. The answer just seemed to tire Vessa out, though—she sighed, and put her head into one hand, letting the other toy with one of her braids. The action somehow made her seem much older than she’d looked a few moments ago. Eventually, “I guess not. I just thought maybe… well, if you still have some love for the clans…”

“That’s not what she said,” Clover cut in, annoyed. “But this is still—“ wrong, she just barely didn’t say. “Just tell us why you even want them!”

Vessa looked at her then, still with those softly tired eyes. “Have you looked at the sky? We’re trying to help.”

Her anger faltered at that. “You really think you can… fix this? This? You think you know how?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” There was a sudden sincerity in her voice, that, contrasted with her earlier demeanor, sounded something like fervor. “We’re going to fix everything.”

The Fortunes exchanged a look, the conversation they’d had earlier coming to mind.

“What makes you think we care?” Coin kicked one foot over the other and leaned back, pointedly looking away.

“Yeah, let that Survey Corps kiss-ass clean it up,” Clover agreed, a bit too readily. “Just like she’s done every other time. Don’t see why we need to help with it.”

“Akari?” Vessa tilted her head.

“Yeah. Her. Whatever.”

“She’s a little busy being on the run from Jubilife.”

That got Charm to sit back up, turning back to her in surprise. “What? What do you mean, on the run? Why?”

“Oh, they think this whole thing was her fault. She was locked up for a while, even. I don’t think she’ll be much help.” Her voice was smooth and almost disaffected, like she was idly commenting on the price of apricorns.

They contemplated that for a moment.

“…shit, man,” Clover said, expressively.

“What a load of—I mean, after everything she’s—“ Coin seemed to reconsider midsentence. “Not– that we care, I guess.”

They exchanged a look between themselves, everyone waiting for the others to make the call.

The two of them who were native to Hisui had already turned their backs on their clans. Coin, in particular, had more or less burned that bridge entirely. But this—what they were being asked to do now, it wasn’t a question of politics or human disagreements. This was sacrilege. And regardless of where they stood on the matter, old habits were difficult to shake. The Guild merchant had already been pushing their comfort level, messing with the Nobles, defacing a mural in Solaceon…

But then again… if this was their fault, even in part…

“Well,” Clover swung herself up to a sitting position, brushing some bark off her shoulder. “If the world’s ending, or whatever this is, guess we may as well get some licks in on our old folks before we go.”

“Are you sure?” Charm raised an eyebrow, looking over. “This could land us in real trouble.”

“If they catch us. So we won’t get caught. Simple.” She looked to Coin, waiting for agreement.

“…Okay. I’ll go.”

“You’re sure?” Even Volo seemed a little surprised.

“If you all won’t let me go up to the rift to see for myself…” Akari’s face was set. “The first step of any battle is knowing your opponent. So if this friend of Volo’s can help me do that, then… I think I have to go for it.”

There was a varied hum of agreement from around the fire.

“You sound like the Captain,” Rei commented, leaning over to look at her. She switched from looking serious to avoiding his eyes, seeming a little embarrassed.

“My Lady and I will accompany you, then.” Ingo was the next to speak. It was only half directed at Akari, and half at the rest of their group. “Regarding… our earlier conversation, that has not changed. And if you intend to travel in these conditions, we do have a duty to accompany you.”

“You’re still playing at warden? Even after what Irida…“ Volo cut in, his expression inscrutable.

“I fail to see what relevance that has here.”

“But you’re not even–“ He hesitated, and then visibly backtracked. “I’m just, uh—surprised, is all. Wouldn’t’a thought you’d feel like doing it, since–”

“My role,” he turned on him, a rare and cold intensity to his eyes, “does not start and end because I feel like it. If Mistress Irida wished to take my title and duties, she should have brought it up with my Lady.”

He held up his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend,” although it was clear he had.

Ingo turned away again, shaking his head. “No, that was… I ought to apologize. It was a simple misstep. I only wished to be clear about my position.”

Rei lifted his head a little. “Yeah.”

“‘Yeah?’” Akari echoed.

“Yeah, I’m coming, too.” He looked up more fully, meeting her eyes with what was, for him, a very serious look.

“It’s… safer in Jubilife,” she pointed out, hesitant.

His own voice pitched up in defiance. “Safer for me, maybe, but you can’t go back! And you shouldn’t—I’m not letting you do everything all by yourself again. It’s not fair. I’m coming with you, and I’m going to help.”

Akari looked at him for a moment, then lowered her head and rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Okay,” she said, in a voice that was audibly trying to be steady. “Thanks, you two.”

“That captain did ask me to keep you safe,” Emmet commented, looking thoughtful. “Both of you.”

Rei blinked and stared at him, a little surprised. “Was she… not expecting me back…?”

“You talked to her?” Akari threw in, directed at both of them.

“No. And yes. She wanted you to both leave. I think.”

“Guess you’re… also coming with, then?” Volo gave him a similarly unreadable look.

“What else am I going to do?”

From anyone else, the question would have had a note of bitterness. Or resignation, maybe. But Emmet’s voice was completely flat, almost disaffected.

“…Okay. So. So, all… all four of you, then.” Volo glanced between them, thumb tracing a line along his lips, half-suppressed concern playing on his face.

“Is that a problem?” Ingo asked.

“No! I mean not—not for me, it’s just,” he wavered. “My friend, she’s not exactly fond of… visitors. A group this big might be a little bit of a tough sell, ha-ha.” The laugh was just the tiniest bit forced.

“Well, we- don’t have to be there when… when she and Akari talk, right? If that’s a problem, we can still come the rest of the way,” Rei offered.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, then clicked his tongue. “…Yeah, maybe? But really—are you sure you all need to come?”

There was a general murmur of assent. Before he could keep wavering, Akari spoke up. “Look, more help is better, right? Shouldn’t we just go?”

“Mm. Well, I’ve got nothing else on the list, so if you’re all ready… the Diamond Clan does always say, there’s no time like the present!”

The introduction of an actual goal seemed to do something positive for the atmosphere, or, at least, Akari’s mood, which was infectious. As everyone else got their things in order, two people lingered by the fire for a moment longer. Ingo was breaking down and burying the remains of the campfire, while Emmet stacked bowls.

The question was weighing on Ingo’s mind. Finally, deciding to be straightforward, he asked. “Why did the captain want the children out of Jubilife?”

Emmet hesitated, looking over at the other people, who weren’t paying them much attention. “She… also did not want Rei to know why. Either of them. I think.”

He took his meaning fairly quickly. Another thing that couldn’t easily be discussed, not here and now. “Later, then.”

“I do not like keeping it a secret,” Emmet added as an afterthought. “But… I think she was right.”

He didn’t want to dwell on what that could mean, if he wasn’t going to get a definitive answer now. He found his attention wandering from his task, watching Rei and Akari as they got their few possessions in order. After a little while, he found himself watching someone else instead.

Emmet looked over at his brother. “Why do you not like him?”

“…Is it that obvious?” Now conscious of what he was doing, he looked quickly away from Volo and back down to the fire. “It’s only a… an unjustified preconception. Really, he’s done nothing to me, if that’s your question. I have no reason to dislike him, it’s simply that…” he wavered over his words, having trouble framing them in a polite way. “I have a difficult time parsing out his intentions, I suppose. His words are clear enough, and he has never done anything in specific to make me doubt them, but…”

In the end, before he could figure them out, Emmet spoke up for him. “You think he is all talk. And not saying anything at the same time.”

He inhaled, meaning to object, but then hesitated. It felt rather harsh, on the surface, but... when he waded through all of the little details that nagged at him, yes, that was more or less his concern. Volo’s cheery, almost ditzy demeanor always felt too carefully arranged to be real, like it was some kind of farce, but that was less the trouble than the fact he could never quite tell what was behind it. His actions seemed to line up with his words, but it always felt wrong somehow, as if it were only a matter of convenience that they aligned. He was only startled that Emmet had managed to cut to the heart of the issue so quickly, when he spent so long circling around it himself.

Reluctantly, he admitted, “I suppose that is… one way of putting it, yes. But—it’s merely a feeling. As I said, he’s never done anything concrete to make me doubt him. I have no reason to trust my own instincts in the matter.” As an afterthought, “You know, his partner is a Togepi.”

Emmet looked away, apparently thinking that over.

After a moment of this pointed consideration, he announced, “I trust you more than a Togepi.”

He immediately wanted to object to that. He settled for pointing out, “Technically speaking, as far as we remember, we have known each other for roughly one conversation. Are you truly that certain in my sense of judgement?”

“Yup.”

“…Please don’t take my baseless suspicion as a reason to dislike a stranger,” he tried again.

“It is not ‘baseless.’ And I do not hate him. I am just going to watch him. Verrrry closely.”

Ingo knew, then, that there wouldn’t be any changing his mind.