Chapter Text
The air was sweet. The darkness was thick. The silence was bliss.
Then Giovanni slapped him.
“You think I wouldn’t notice?”
Nanu could only lay there. Giovanni strikes him again.
“Think I wouldn’t notice what a hungry slut you are?”
Oh.
“I saw you with Maomao yesterday. You’d just like to put your hands all over Team Rocket, wouldn’t you?”
“Sakaki, I wouldn’t—”
“Yes, you would ,” he spat. “You Interpol boys are all the same.”
The notion that he wasn’t special—it carved deep, smarted more than the power of that pale hand. It shouldn’t have. But it did.
Giovanni let out all his frustration on him then. And when he was finished, well:
Kisses on his neck. Long, languishing, hurting just a bit.
“I’m so sorry. My Nanu, my sweet, I’m so sorry .”
Kukui and Ash spend all night in the police station. It’s by the grace of God that Kukui didn’t just delete that voicemail from an unknown number. After all, Guzma really is unknown to him at this point.
It’s been a long time since rooming together at Hala’s place in high school.
Nanu settles into his desk chair with a huff. “I’ve already interviewed Guzma. It’s nothing we don’t know, truly, though it’s interesting he’d ask him .”
“Okay,” Kukui squirms nervously in his chair and looks over to Ash, who seems completely unbothered by the whole thing. He’s snickering at Pikachu, who’s apparently saying something funny. Kukui’s glad to see him in high spirits, but it does irk him a little bit how he has such little regard for his own safety, even after all this time.
“You don’t seem too concerned, kid,” Nanu comments.
“Well, Team Rocket’s been following me for, like, ever.” Ash shrugs.
Pikachu makes a face like Duh. “Pika.”
“I’m getting to that—James—one of the agents—he came and told me a few days ago that Giovanni told them to stop following me. So I thought we were chilling.”
Kukui has to thumb the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.
“You didn’t think to share that information with any of us?” Nanu says, gesturing to Officer Zhou and Looker.
Pikachu frowns, as if the thought was ridiculous.
Ash shrugs again. “Thought it was good news.”
“Regardless,” Looker says with a deep sigh, “Guzma’s going to be under constant supervision until further notice. Giovanni might run a mafia a little different than Viren did, but it’s still a mafia.”
“He could have come to us beforehand,” Officer Zhou mutters.
“Don’t expect much from him in the way of law enforcement,” Kukui finds himself saying. “I’m kinda surprised he came to the station at all.”
Officer Zhou cocks a brow. “He’s certainly…a recidivist.”
Nanu chuckles darkly. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Nothing like a poor kid with a personality disorder to fill my office with paperwork for the last twenty years.”
Ash looks a lot more interested now. “So he, like, did crime while you guys were apprenticing with Hala?”
“Ash, not now,” he hisses.
Ash barely pays him any mind. That’s…been the theme, recently.
“Something like that,” Nanu drawls. “At any rate, he made the right decision this time. It looks like he’s really cleaned up his act.”
The thought of meeting with him flits through Kukui’s mind. It’s been thirteen years since they’ve exchanged an actual sentence with each other, aside from that one moment at the League. He wonders if he moved in with Plum. He wonders if he speaks to his parents at all. He wonders if he’s happy.
He wonders if he thinks about Kukui. He must be now . What would Guzma have to say to him? What would he have to say to Guzma?
I’m sorry?
Looker appears increasingly uncomfortable with the way they’ve veered off the subject. “Ash, have you noticed yourself being followed recently?”
“Other than Jessie and James? Nah. You guys, I guess.” He looks bashful for a moment. “Sorry I was speeding on Route Three yesterday.”
“Kid, we got more important things to do with you than give you a ticket,” Nanu grumbles. “I really don’t think this changes much for you. We already have tabs on you. And there are plans in place for TR.”
“If you’d like to meet with us again with your wife present, we’d be happy to,” Officer Zhou says, diplomatic as ever.
Kukui clears his throat. Christ, yet another issue. “She’s actually leaving for the mainland right now. Is that safe?”
Looker nods. “Should be.”
Kukui examines the way Looker fidgets, the way Officer Zhou picks at her cuticles. There is something wrong . Something Kukui and Ash aren’t hearing.
“If you say so,” is all Kukui can say, though.
After a fair amount of passive-aggr—well, no, aggressive emailing, Burnet is granted remote access to her projects again. Thank God, because ten hours on a plane with no work would maybe send her into an early grave.
She stares at her little sad email screen and takes little sad bites of a yogurt she bought at the little sad airport minimart, contemplates getting a little sad beer at eight AM. The airport is a lawless place, and Kukui’s distinctly not around.
No. No, she has to pull it together. That’s the point of this trip.
Kukui sat her down after the whole… issue yesterday and convinced her she needed a break. It didn’t take much convincing at all, actually. She does need one. She hasn’t seen her parents in three years. There’s so much to be done at home— her home: she needs to help out with the garage, make sure Mom’s doing the books right in her older age, make sure Dad hasn’t thrown out his back doing oil changes. She needs to make sure the house is in okay condition. She needs to talk about finances with them.
But at least she’ll be able to have home-cooked meals for ten days. Her childhood bedroom. No husband. No children.
It brings her pain to admit that would comfort her right now, after the horrible thoughts, the nightmares. It’s dangerous. She’s dangerous. Never mind all the angst about Ash hurting Lei, Burnet’s the one with the intentions.
So she had to leave.
It does mean she’s going to miss Ash’s prom this coming Saturday, though, which makes her thoroughly upset. But she knows that kid understands.
And she is going to miss her baby. She grows a little bit every day. What if she won’t even recognize Burnet when she gets back home? Shit, this was a terrible idea, she needs to leave and go back home to her baby and her husband and her son and—
“Attention passengers traveling on flight 2640 to Castelia, we will now begin boarding group A. ”
She closes her laptop, tosses the half-eaten yogurt, grabs her suitcase, and leaves before she can convince herself of anything otherwise.
“Guz, c’mon, you’re missing it!”
“Gimmie a damn second!” He yells back to his partner.
Partner. Not his girlfriend, that feels too…juvenile, for what they are. Partner in crime, formerly. Just partner now.
He grabs his leftover pizza from the microwave, feeling the temperature with the tip of his finger—too cold in the middle of the slice, but Plum can never be satisfied anyway—and heads to the couch, where she’s queued up the latest dating reality show.
“What’s the deal with this one?” He grumbles, shoving his pizza in his mouth and gesturing to the TV.
“They’re all trapped on this island, and if they have sex with each other, they lose prize money.”
“Shame, they’re all really hot,” he says, grinning.
Plumeria slaps his cheek. “Watch your mouth, boy.”
He laughs at her, laughs enough that she joins in.
“I think we’d fail this challenge,” she says.
“I think so.”
She nuzzles her face into his neck.
“You can’t see your show like that.”
She nuzzles deeper into him. “I know.”
They stay there like that, Guzma absently watching the show and rubbing Plum’s side gently.
“I’m sorry,” she says after a while.
“Huh?”
“Sorry you’re getting wrapped back up in shit. Sorry you had to go see Nanu.”
“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs. “I have you. I’m not jeopardizing that for some loose cash.”
He can feel her smile against his collarbone. “Yeah, we’re gonna be fine.”
“Yeah.”
Ash aches all over. That means he’s okay to stop. If only Kap were here to spar with him, too, to let off the lingering energy.
He can’t generate any blue from his fingers. Good.
He reracks the fifty-pound dumbbells and collapses on the gym floor, staring at a poster of Professor Kukui. The Masked Royal. Whoever it is.
It was more fun when he didn’t know who it was. It was more fun when Ash thought Kukui was the coolest person on the planet. Now, he’s imperfect, like anyone else. Different than when Ash first met him.
So’s he, he supposes. But still. Kukui’s aura has soured with false words and lies and stress.
It’s been three days since Burnet left for Unova. Ash begged to go with her, which Kukui shut down— You’re in school now. You can’t just pack up and leave anymore. Which he knows, obviously. It used to be fun to stay in one place, when Kukui was the coolest person on the planet and everything was new and novel.
Now he knows the pattern of the waves, knows the seasons and way the rain pours down. He knows Kukui is fallible, that Burnet is sick with something medicine won’t cure. He knows he can’t help anymore, couldn’t help even if he tried.
“Pika?”
Ash looks toward him as he trots up to his heaving torso, curling up next to him.
“I’m okay, just thinking.” He rests a hand on Pikachu’s head and pets gently.
He’s unimpressed. “Pi.”
“Shut up.”
Pikachu nuzzles further into him. “Ka-chu.”
“I just gotta keep moving, right?” Ash says, mostly to himself. “Just gotta keep moving, do what I can.”
“Pika.”
“You’re so right,” he says. He does need to slow down a little.
“Pi-kachu, pi.”
“Don’t be worried. I’m fine.”
He gets up on shaking legs and stalks out to his car. It’s a short drive. Ash often wonders how Kukui managed to hide Masked Royal from everyone, from him , when it felt like they were always hanging out together.
He’s just a good liar.
Ash pulls the keys out of the ignition with a huff. God, it’s gonna feel good to collapse into the couch. He wonders if Kukui made dinner yet—there are probably leftovers from last night, at least. Ash isn’t complaining. He’s starving.
He shucks his shoes off in the entryway and starts eyeing the fridge immediately. “Home!” He yells.
There’s no response, other than the pokemon who trot up to him. Hm. Maybe Kukui’s in the basement. But that can wait. He opens up the fridge and grabs the tupperware, taking forkfuls of cold spaghetti to his mouth.
He chews just enough to duck his head down the stairs and ask, “Professor?”
Nothing. Huh. Maybe he went out. Ash goes back to the kitchen counter to see if there’s a note he missed—no.
Okay, this is officially weird, so Ash decides to let loose a teeny-tiny bit of aura and oh, he’s here, he’s outside in the backyard. Cool. Maybe he’s with his pokemon or something. Ash trots over to the backdoor and shoves another forkful into his mouth.
He pushes the screen door open, careful not to hit the Professor, who’s sitting on the steps and staring at something. “Hey.”
He jolts in surprise. He’s holding a bottle of whiskey—was. It splashed all over the sand.
He’s never seen Kukui drink, but he supposes it’s not necessarily unnatural. He’s a grown man, and he’s under stress.
“Hey, kid,” he says after a long pause. He swallows visibly, then smiles. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah, Kap was on call, he had to go to work, so I just went home.” He holds out the fork and tupperware container of spaghetti to him. “Want some?”
“I’m alright for now, thanks,” he says. His smile has turned very, very tight.
“Um,” Ash tries not to look to the whiskey bottle. “Sorry, I forgot to text and tell you I was headed home—”
“No, it’s okay. You just startled me,” Kukui says.
They stare at each other for a moment.
“Did you do your homework?” Kukui finally asks.
Crap, he forgot about the damage calculation p-set. “Not yet.”
He swallows again, plastic smile back on. “Alright, well, when you finish, we can watch the Johto League. Sound good?”
“Yeah, sounds great.”
“Okay. I need to make a phone call, so I’m gonna be out here, alright?”
“Cool. I’ll be inside.”
He finishes the spaghetti. He does the p-set. Kukui comes in an hour later, looking distinctly distressed, but Ash knows if he tries to check in on him with aura, his fingers will probably glow, and that’ll 1) let Kukui know he read his mind and 2) break his pencil. So he doesn’t.
They watch the time-delayed broadcast of the Johto League. They text goodnight to Professor Burnet in the family groupchat. Then they go to bed.
Lana has a habit of coming over to the restaurant around six AM to get food and see Mallow before school. At least, Mallow figures that’s why she comes over.
She can hear her dad from the apartment above the restaurant. “Lana’s here!”
“Coming!” She puts the finishing touches on her makeup and trots down the stairs, lugging her backpack with her and checking the time on her phone. Six-oh-two. She’s always on time.
Lana’s waiting for her, sitting at the bar with a gentle smile on her face. “Hi.”
Beautiful. She’s beautiful. She’d like to say it. Hey, beautiful. Morning, beautiful.
“What would you like?” She says instead.
Lana ponders it for a moment. “Spam fried rice?”
“You got it.” She quickly gathers the leftover rice from yesterday’s dinner service that she keeps for this purpose, washes her hands, and gets to chopping up spam and cracking eggs. “Dad, you want some?”
He smiles from where he’s flicking on lights, getting ready for the lunch service already. “Sure, honey.”
It’s not hard to throw this together. She can do it without any real thought—oil in the pan, in goes the garlic, in goes the spam. So she can make idle conversation.
“How was the homework last night?”
“What, you didn’t do it?” She laughs.
“Nah.”
“Mallow!” Her dad admonishes.
“It was optional,” she lies.
“But—”
“Dad. I’m not going to college. It’s fine.”
“I’m not fighting with you with your friend around.” He puts his hands up, but he’s smiling a little. “Gotta head back upstairs. Lana, if I don’t see you go, have a good day at school.”
“Thank you, sir,” she says politely. God, she’s so cute.
“You, on the other hand.” Mallow points her wooden spatula to Lana. “You gotta keep those grades up if you’re going for marine bio at UAH.”
“Not a problem. I’ll cheat off Lillie.”
They laugh. It’s all bullshit. Lana’s just as brilliant as Lillie—she just doesn’t have the wealth and prestige behind it.
No. She’s always been humble. Another thing she loves about her.
She plates the rice, careful to place not-too-much green onion on Lana’s serving and too much on her own.
“Cheers,” she says.
“Speaking of,” Lana murmurs, even though her dad is definitely out of earshot, “This is good, thank you. How are the plans for the afterparty going?”
“Thanks,” she beams. “And coming along. I need to get ‘Ulu to get stuff for us tomorrow, but we should be ready by Saturday.”
“Are you gonna have people from Melemele High over?”
“For sure. We’re having an honest-to-God house party,” she says, grinning. “Hau’s already told me there’s, like, at least twenty people coming.”
Lana grins, too. But Mallow’s grinning because she knows that’s gonna be their night . Her dad tends to spend the weekend with his new girlfriend, so the restaurant is gonna be all hers to rage in. ‘Ulu’s bringing plenty of handles and weed to last her ‘til graduation. People she’s never met before are coming. And she and Lana are gonna make out.
It’s gonna be great.
“Done?” She says towards Lana’s empty plate.
“Done.”
“Hi,” Ash says, all bright even though he’s clearly in the shed at his school where he always takes their phone calls.
He steals away during his lunch period to say goodnight to him every night. Anyone would fall in love with that.
“Hi,” Clemont says back. It’s dark in his room, the light of the phone illuminating his pale skin. “How’s your day going?”
He smiles, so brilliant against his tan skin. “Better than the last couple days. Yours?”
“Good.” Clemont’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yeah, fine. I did really well on my Fluid Mechanics midterm.”
“Good. Knew you would,” he says. “Bonnie?”
“She’s good. You wanna talk to her? She’s probably still awake.”
“No, I…” Ash gulps visibly. “I called to ask you a question.”
Clemont cocks his head. This ought to be good. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Um.” He shakes out his dark hair suddenly—a nervous tic he’s always had. “Would you go to prom with me?”
Clemont fumbles for his glasses, as if he needs them to understand Ash better. “What?”
“Prom. It’s this Unovan thing where—”
“I know what a prom is, Ash.”
“Okay, well, will you be my date?”
Date. Date . Oh my God.
“Um. Yeah. Yes, yeah.”
“Good!” Ash beams , as if he actually likes Clemont or something. “Awesome! Um! I’ll pay for your plane ticket—”
“When is it?”
Ash turns back to being bashful. “Uh. This Saturday.”
“This Saturday—Ash , that’s three days from now.”
“I know!” He smiles again, then it falls abruptly. “Are you busy?”
Yes , he should say, because he is . He has another exam on that following Monday, and he has to take Bonnie to ballet class, and he has to open the Gym for challengers, of course.
But.
“No, I’m not. I can go.”
“Yay! Okay, well, I already looked up flights and I think you can… ”
Ash keeps talking, but Clemont doesn’t really comprehend. He sees the way Ash’s mouth moves over words, hears his accented tongue. The curve of his eyes. The permanent slight sunburn over his nose and cheeks.
“...haven’t told Kukui and I think he won’t be thrilled so I’m gonna get you a hotel room, ‘kay?”
“Sure,” comes out of his mouth without any thought.
“Awesome. Awesome! Well, I gotta go, I’ll call you in the morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay! Okay, bye!”
It clicks off.
He doesn’t sleep.
Rachel had been sleeping in Daveed’s bed on base when Nanu called.
He was somber. “Rachel, I’m sending you an address. You better get down here. In uniform.”
She sped down there in her patrol car, lights and sirens blasting, to an address off Route Seventeen. A set of apartments sticks out in the rain, white siding reflecting red and blue lights.
There’s police tape everywhere. Detectives. The press. Rachel’s shoulder aches with the familiar sight.
But instead of her laying down on the apartment floor, Rachel finds the man who’d come to her police station just four days ago, the man filling the Po Town station with paperwork for twenty years. His bleach-blonde hair is stained scarlet with a bullet wound in the back of his skull that the M.E. is examining.
“Chief.” He’s kneeling over Guzma’s body with a wounded look on his face. “What the hell happened here? Didn’t we have officers—”
Nanu just shakes his head, points to three body bags already zipped up.
“Shit,” she exhales. “Shit .”
Looker, conversing with the other detectives, joins their trio, expression stern. “We need to move. Quickly.”
They do so, sprinting through the rain to the patrol cars.
“Why is he sparing us?” Rachel can’t help but ask. “ Why? ”
“Because we’re fun to play with,” Nanu growls. “But not for long.”