Chapter Text
(Liko POV)
That night, the hotel’s meeting room had been makeshift-converted into a communal dining area. The air was thick with the scent of something spicy yet buttery, a culinary experiment that smelled both intriguing and slightly dangerous. We all took our seats around the long table, the overhead lights reflecting off the polished wood. Blaze was the first to break the silence, staring down at his plate with an expression of deep, clinical skepticism.
"Okay," Blaze began, his voice flat as he poked a piece of the meal with his fork. "Who has made this dish?"
Urbain leaned back, puffing out his chest with a look of immense pride. "I did!"
Blaze didn't look up. He continued to dissect the food with surgical precision. "I see. And who gave you the wonderful idea behind the structural integrity and flavor of this... 'croissant curry'? Because 'acceptable' is a very generous word for what I’m looking at."
Urbain’s proud posture slumped just a fraction, his expression shifting into one of defensive enthusiasm. "This is my brainchild! It’s a delicate balance of flaky pastry and high-intensity spices. It’s amazing, Blaze! Don’t just say anything without tasting it. It’s a Lumiose delicacy—or at least, it will be."
Blaze finally looked up, his eyes cold and unimpressed. "Well, we have got orphanages in the world for a reason. If this is your brainchild, try abandonment."
A collective "Oooooh" rippled around the table. Urbain looked like he’d been slapped with a Magikarp. "Meannn!" he whined, clutching his chest as if he’d been physically wounded.
"Efficient," Blaze corrected him, his tone never wavering.
"Heartless and cold!" Urbain shot back, pointing a finger at him.
Blaze actually leaned back at that, a tiny, ghost of a smirk appearing on his face. "Wow. You immediately understood my two key qualities. I wonder how."
Naveen, who had been quietly trying to navigate a soggy piece of croissant, suddenly set his fork down and looked at Urbain. "Alright, for that sentence alone, I am siding with Blaze."
Urbain gasped, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "Traitor!"
The banter continued for a while, a strange, lively contrast to the life-threatening cold we had survived earlier that day. Despite his harsh words, Blaze did eventually start eating, his hunger clearly winning over his culinary standards. After several silent minutes of consuming the curry, he set his napkin aside and looked at Urbain again.
"Now," Blaze said, his voice returning to its commanding bass. "I might end up consuming this entire thing if you can tell me where the keys are to this place. You see, I go on workouts every morning from 5:00 to 8:00 AM. I need to know how to get in and out without waking the entire building."
Urbain, still a bit miffed about the 'orphanage' comment, shrugged casually. "Well, yeah, you can. It’s not too big of a deal. And actually, the doors aren't even locked at night. It doesn't matter too much; after all, the crime rates are null and void in this city. This isn't like the old Kalos. One could lose their most valuable possession and still find it exactly where they dropped it hours later. The Rogue Megas are the only thing people fear—not each other."
Blaze raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Okay."
"I will come too!" Korrina chirped, slamming her hands on the table with her usual boundless energy. She leaned toward Blaze, her eyes sparkling with competitive fire. "You see, I work out too. A lot. I’d like to see you in action. I want to see if those muscles are just for show or if you can actually keep up with a Mega Evolution Guru's routine!"
Blaze turned his head slowly toward her. "I have been in action the whole day, Korrina."
"Training is different!" she insisted.
Suddenly, Harmony piped in from the other end of the table, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She was fiddling with her spoon, not looking directly at anyone. "Well... I think I'll join too. May I?"
She then turned toward our side of the table. "Lida? Liko? Will you join too? It could be a group bonding session."
I chuckled, shaking my head and glancing down at my own thin arms. "Well, if I liked to workout, I wouldn't be built like a stick figure. I think I’ll pass. My idea of a morning routine is a slow walk to the kitchen for juice."
Lida let out a dramatic sigh, stretching her arms over her head. "Well, I have a date with my sleep tonight, and we will be going on and on, on my bed, for a very long time. So I have to deny. My bed and I are in a very serious relationship, and I can't break its heart by leaving at 5:00 AM."
Lida then looked at the group already forming—Blaze, Korrina, and Harmony. A mischievous grin spread across her face. "And anyways, if I were to come too, it would just seem that Blaze is leading his own harem around the city streets. I mean, look at the ratio!"
The table went silent for a heartbeat. Harmony looked like she wanted to melt into her chair, and Korrina just blinked, processing the word.
Blaze, however, didn't miss a beat. He took another bite of the croissant curry, swallowed, and looked Lida dead in the eye.
"Well," Blaze said dryly. "It means nothing different from the world I am from."
I nearly choked on my water. Only Blaze could say something that arrogant and that honest at the same time without even cracking a smile. He stood up, towering over the table. "5:00 AM. Lobby. Don't be late, or I'm leaving you behind."
As he walked out, leaving a stunned silence in his wake, I looked at Roy. He looked like he wanted to ask Blaze for a workout slot too, but he seemed too intimidated to speak. I just shook my head. My brother really was a force of nature—whether he was fighting sixty Rogue Megas or just trying to have breakfast.
(Harmony POV)
The luminescent clock on the nightstand flickered with a mocking shade of neon blue: 4:50 AM.
I had been staring at that clock, or my own reflection, since exactly 4:20 AM. For the "strongest trainer in Lumiose," I felt remarkably like a nervous Fennekin facing a Torrential Pulse. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my breath hitching as I adjusted the hem of my shirt for the fiftieth time.
Lida’s voice from the night before kept echoing in my head like a Confuse Ray attack. “Blaze is leading his own harem around.”
The heat that rushed to my cheeks even now was enough to rival a Magmar's core. I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I did not want to look like I was trying to seduce someone. I didn't even want to look like someone who could be seduced. Blaze was a guest, a legendary figure from another world, and a tactical genius. I was the leader of the local defense force. This was supposed to be a professional exchange of training philosophies, not a scene from a cheesy romance novel.
But then, there was the "Blaze Factor." The man had a presence that was impossible to ignore. He was efficient, blunt, and—as my eyes had traitorously noted during the Ice Age battle—physically formidable.
I looked at the pile of discarded clothes on my bed. I had rejected three different outfits. One was too tight; it showed off every curve I’d worked hard to maintain, and I didn't want Blaze thinking I was looking for attention. Another was too baggy; I’d look like a clumsy Snorlax trying to keep up with his pace, and my pride wouldn't allow that.
Finally, I looked at my chosen attire. It was a high-collar, long-sleeved compression top in a deep navy blue, paired with charcoal-colored athletic leggings that reached all the way to my ankles. Not a single inch of unnecessary skin was showing. It was sleek, professional, and, most importantly, extremely flexible. It said, “I am here to work,” rather than “I am here to be noticed.”
I tied my hair back into a tight, practical ponytail, ensuring not a single stray strand would obscure my vision. I checked my reflection one last time. My eyes looked a bit tired from the early wake-up call, but the determination was there.
"Alright," I whispered to the empty room, "you are ready to go, girl. You are the heart of Team MZ. You are the strongest trainer in this city. You are just going for a run with a peer. A very... muscular, intelligent, legendary peer."
I winced at my own internal monologue. Stop it, Harmony.
I grabbed my water bottle and slipped out of the room, my footsteps silent on the hotel carpet. The hallway was dim and quiet, the air still holding a slight chill from the previous day's frost. My heart hammered against my ribs—not from the prospect of the workout, but from the looming 5:00 AM deadline in the lobby. I couldn't be late. Blaze had been very clear: he’d leave anyone behind who didn't respect the clock.
As I reached the elevator, I caught a glimpse of myself in the polished metal doors. I looked composed. I looked ready. I just hoped my face wouldn't betray me the moment I saw him standing there in the morning light.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime that felt like a thunderclap in the graveyard silence of the lobby. I stepped out, my pulse thrumming in my ears. I half-expected to see Blaze pacing like a caged Arcanine, but the reality was far more still, and somehow, far more intimidating.
Blaze was there, standing near the far wall. He was dressed in a crisp white track shirt that strained slightly across his shoulders and a pair of simple black joggers. The white of his shirt seemed to catch the faint pre-dawn light filtering through the windows, making him look like a beacon of calm in the dim room. He wasn't warming up or stretching; he was just... waiting.
Korrina was already there too, bouncing on the balls of her feet. True to her high-energy "Guru" persona, her workout gear was much more daring. She wore a bright yellow sports top that left her midriff entirely exposed, showcasing the lean, powerful core of a girl who spent her life on rollerblades. It wasn't that she was begging for attention—it was just the practical, airy attire of a professional athlete used to the heat of battle—but in the quiet intimacy of the 5:00 AM lobby, it felt very visible.
I glanced at my own high-collar navy top and felt a strange wave of relief wash over me. I had worried so much about my "look," but as I drew closer, I realized that my anxiety had been entirely one-sided.
Blaze wasn't looking at Korrina. He wasn't looking at the door. He wasn't even looking at me as I approached.
Instead, his entire focus was anchored on the wall. Hanging there was an ancient, ornate wall clock—a relic I knew belonged to the legends of AZ, the ancient king of Kalos. It was a heavy, blackened-iron piece with gears that moved with a slow, mournful rhythm. Next to it was a small, dusty shelf of leather-bound books, part of the hotel’s private collection of Kalosian history.
Blaze’s eyes were narrowed, scanning the titles and the intricate carvings on the clock’s face with an intensity I’d only seen him give to the battlefield. He looked more genuinely interested in the mechanical structural integrity of that 3,000-year-old clock and the dusty prose of those books than all the skin Korrina was showing, or the carefully curated "professionalism" I had put into my own outfit.
He was a man who saw the world in layers of history and strategy. Physical beauty seemed to be just another environmental factor to him, something to be noted but not distracted by. It was both frustrating and deeply impressive.
"You're late by forty-five seconds, Harmony," Blaze said, without turning around. He reached out, his finger tracing the spine of a book titled The Age of the Great War.
"The elevator was slow," I managed to say, my voice steadier than I felt.
He finally turned, his gaze sweeping over the two of us. He didn't linger on Korrina’s midriff or my navy leggings. He simply checked his own wrist-timer and nodded. "The clock on the wall is five minutes slow according to the celestial drift of this dimension. We'll use my time. Korrina, stop bouncing. You're wasting kinetic energy you'll need for the incline."
Korrina stopped, pouting just a little. "Hey, I’m just getting the blood flowing!"
"The street will do that for you," Blaze replied, walking toward the heavy front doors. "We’re doing an eight-mile circuit through the Prism Tower district. High intensity. If you drop more than ten meters behind, I’m not stopping. Ready?"
I took a breath, feeling the "heart of the team" settle back into my chest. "Ready."
I had expected a jog. A brisk, rhythmic pace where we could maybe exchange a few words about training philosophies or the state of the city. I was the "strongest trainer in Lumiose," after all; I spent my days running from sector to sector. I thought I was in shape.
I was wrong.
Five minutes into the "workout," and any hope of a pleasant morning run had evaporated along with my dignity. Blaze wasn’t jogging; he was moving with the relentless, predatory speed of a Manectric on a hunt. His black joggers were a blur ahead of me, his breathing so rhythmic and controlled it was barely audible over the sound of my own heart hammering against my ribs.
Korrina was right there with him. She was a Gym Leader—a Mega Evolution Guru—and her life was defined by movement. She wasn't even breaking a sweat, her ponytail swinging with every powerful stride as she kept pace with Blaze’s massive gait. They were both elite, the kind of athletes whose bodies were tuned for maximum output.
And then there was me.
"Never... doing this... again," I wheezed, my lungs feeling like they were being scraped with sandpaper.
Every time I thought they might slow down for a corner, they actually accelerated. Blaze didn't just run on the flat pavement; he treated every curb, every set of stairs, and every incline as a challenge to be conquered at full speed. I was already dropping meters. Ten, fifteen, twenty. Blaze didn't look back. He had warned me: if you drop behind, he wasn't stopping.
Five more minutes of pure, unadulterated torture later, I hit my limit. My legs felt like lead weights, and my vision was swimming with little spots of light. I couldn't see their silhouettes anymore. They had disappeared into the morning mist of the Prism Tower district.
I stumbled toward a stone park bench, my knees buckling as I practically collapsed onto the cold surface. I was drenched in sweat, my navy top clinging to my skin, and my breath coming in jagged, desperate gasps. I bent over, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to stop the world from spinning. It would have been easier to move by jumping from rooftop to rooftop with a Pokémon’s help than trying to match the raw physical stamina of those two.
I was alone, exhausted, and completely out of breath in the center of a misty, silent park.
"Hey, girl."
The voice was low, smooth, and entirely too close. I looked up, my vision still blurry from exhaustion. The mist had thickened in the last few minutes, swirling around the park trees like a living thing.
Standing in a loose semicircle around the bench were four or five guys. They looked to be around my age or perhaps a few years older. They weren't wearing the uniforms of Corbeau’s guards, nor did they look like the desperate survivors I usually encountered. They were dressed in expensive-looking, dark streetwear—the kind of clothes that suggested they had plenty of resources even in this broken world.
But it was their eyes that made my skin crawl. They didn't look like "bad guys" in the way a Team Rocket grunt did; they looked predatory. They stood with a relaxed, mocking confidence, watching me struggle for air as if I were a wounded Deerling in the tall grass.
"You look a little lost," one of them said, stepping closer. "And very, very tired."
My hand instinctively moved toward the Poké Ball on my belt, my fingers hovering over Feraligatr's sphere. Just because I was physically spent didn't mean my partner wasn't ready to roar.
Suddenly, the one who had spoken leaned down, his face inches from my ear. I could smell his expensive cologne mixed with the damp scent of the mist.
"Try it," he whispered, his voice dripping with a vicious, legalistic calm. "Go ahead. Call out your Pokémon. The cameras in this sector are still active, and we have three witnesses. The moment you release energy, we’ll have all the legal proof we need that you attacked first. Self-defense is a very broad term in Corbeau's Lumiose."
I jerked forward, trying to create distance, my heart racing for a completely different reason now. "You all—stay back! You have no right to crowd me!"
One of the others cut me off with a sharp, ugly laugh. He spread his hands wide, showing his empty palms. "We haven't even made contact yet, Harmony. We haven't touched a single hair on your head. We're just citizens enjoying a morning walk in a public park. Why are you getting so aggressive?"
They smiled at me—vicious, jagged smiles that didn't reach their eyes. They knew the rules. They knew that in this hyper-controlled version of the city, whoever threw the first punch—or the first Poké Ball—lost everything. They were circling me, closing the gap inch by inch, playing a psychological game of "I'm not touching you" while their presence felt like a physical weight.
I was trapped between my own physical exhaustion and a trap I couldn't fight my way out of without losing my status as a protector of the city.
The mist felt like cold, wet fingers pressing against my skin as I struggled to stand. My breath was still coming in ragged, uneven bursts, and the lactic acid in my thighs felt like molten lead. I looked at the group of them—the way they stood, the way they smiled—and I realized that the "Strongest Trainer in Lumiose" title meant absolutely nothing if I couldn't even stand on my own two feet.
"Fine," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "You want the bench? It’s all yours. I’m leaving."
I forced myself to stand, my knees wobbling dangerously. I tried to walk past the one in the center, my eyes fixed on the path that led back toward the hotel. I just needed to reach the streetlights. If I could get out of the shadows of these trees, maybe I’d feel like a human being again and not just a piece of prey.
But as I moved, the circle shifted with me. They didn't grab me; they didn't even reach out. They simply stepped into my trajectory, forcing me to stop or collide with them.
"Who said we wanted to sit?" the leader asked, his voice smooth and mocking. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, forcing me to take a half-step back. "The bench is cold, Harmony. We’d much rather be around you. You’re radiating so much heat after that little run. It’s almost... inviting."
I tried to pivot, to find a gap in their formation, but another one drifted into my peripheral vision. I felt his presence before I heard him. He leaned in, his shadow falling over me, and his voice dropped to a disgusting, oily whisper right against my ear.
"I don't care about the bench," he hissed. "I just want to stay right here and look at your shaking ass while you struggle to breathe. It’s the best show in the city."
The words hit me like a physical blow. A surge of hot, indignant rage flared up in my chest, momentarily masking the exhaustion. I spun around, my hand balled into a fist, and I accidentally bumped into the chest of a third man who had closed in behind me.
"Apologize!" I shouted, my voice cracking with anger. "Apologize right now for what you just said! I don’t like you talking to me like that, and I don't like you following me! Keep your distance! All of you, back off!"
I expected them to flinch, or at least look ashamed. Instead, the leader let out a low, melodic whistle. He looked up at the mist-shrouded trees, a look of mock concern on his face.
"Did you hear that, boys?" he asked his friends. "The 'Champion' is getting aggressive. She’s shouting at peaceful citizens in a public park. Are you trying to ban free speech now, Harmony? Is that how it works in your world? We’re just expressing our appreciation for the view. There’s no law against having an opinion."
"It's harassment!" I yelled, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew how they would sound on a silent security camera. No physical contact. No weapons drawn. Just a girl shouting at a group of men who were standing still.
"Harassment?" the one who had whispered to me asked, stepping even closer. His eyes traveled slowly, hungrily, down my body, lingering on my trembling legs. "We’re just standing here. If you’re feeling pressured, maybe it’s because you know we’re right. You look so vulnerable right now. So... breakable."
They all began to move in unison, a slow, tightening contraction of the circle. They didn't touch me, but the air between us was disappearing. The smell of their cologne and the heat from their bodies began to overwhelm the scent of the rain. I tried to take a defiant step back, to re-establish my personal space, but my body finally betrayed me.
The exhaustion that Blaze had pushed me to—the limit I had exceeded—finally claimed its debt. My right leg buckled. The muscle simply went dead, refusing to support my weight any longer.
"Ah—!"
I went down hard, my knees hitting the cold, damp pavement with a sickening thud. I tried to catch myself, my palms scraping against the grit of the path. I looked up, and the sight was terrifying. From the ground, they looked like giants. Five shadows looming over me, silhouetted against the gray morning sky.
I could see the vicious, predatory glint in their eyes. They weren't hiding it anymore. They saw me on the ground, helpless and wheezing, and they liked it.
"Oh, look at that," the leader whispered, crouching down so he was eye-level with me, though he kept a few inches of distance to maintain his "legal" safety. "The Strongest Trainer in Lumiose, crawling in the dirt. You look much better down there, Harmony. Much more... manageable."
I tried to scramble backward, my hands slipping on the wet grass at the edge of the path. I was crawling like an insect, my breath coming in pathetic, sobbing gasps. My pride was gone. My strength was gone. All that was left was the raw, primal terror of a creature that knows it’s cornered.
"Please..." I whispered, the word catching in my throat. I looked toward the mist, toward the direction where Blaze and Korrina had disappeared, but there was nothing but gray silence. They were miles away by now, lost in their own elite world of stamina and power. They wouldn't hear me. No one would hear me.
"Please... someone..."
The men didn't say a word. They just kept stepping forward, closing the last few inches of the gap, their smiles widening as they watched me struggle to get away. I backed into the base of a large oak tree, the rough bark biting into my spine. I was trapped.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand clutching Feraligatr’s Poké Ball so hard my knuckles turned white, but I was too terrified to even press the button. What if they were right? What if I released him and they used it to destroy my life?
I felt the shadow of the leader fall over my face, blocking out the dim light of the morning.
"Please... save me..." I whimpered into the empty, uncaring mist.
The shadow above me was absolute, a cold weight that felt like it was crushing the very air out of my lungs. I was waiting for the first touch, the first violation of that "legal" distance they had boasted about.
"What do you think you are doing?!"
The voice didn't come from the men. It came from behind them—sharp, piercing, and vibrating with an incandescent rage that cut through the mist like a Thunderbolt. I turned my head frantically, my cheek brushing the damp grass.
It was Korrina.
She stood at the edge of the clearing, her yellow sports top damp with sweat, her hands curled into trembling fists. Her eyes, usually so full of life and competitive spirit, were narrowed into slits of pure, Fighting-type fury. "What do you think you are doing with my friend here, huh?!"
The men didn't look scared. Not at first. They turned slowly, their predatory smiles barely flickering. One of them, a guy with a jagged scar along his jaw, let out a low chuckle. "Oh, look at this. Is this the part where two girls fall into our trap together? I’ll take the sporty one. Dibs."
The leader, the one who had been looming over me, didn't even look back at me. "Fine by me. I still want the Champion girl."
Korrina’s face went from red to a deathly, pale white—the kind of look a Lucario gives right before it unleashes a Close Combat. "Excuse me?! Keep your dirty, perverted mouths closed!"
She didn't wait for a reply. Korrina moved with the speed of a professional skater and the power of a martial artist. She lunged forward, a knee sweep taking out the leader’s legs before he could even blink. The sound of his body hitting the pavement was followed by a flurry of strikes. Korrina wasn't just sparring; she was beating the living shit out of them.
It was a whirlwind of movement—elbows, kicks, and redirected momentum. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the park were the dull thuds of impact and the pained groans of the men. They tried to fight back, but they were amateurs compared to a Gym Leader. One by one, they fell.
"Suits you right!" Korrina shouted, standing over the pile of groaning, unmoving bodies. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving as she tried to calm her own adrenaline. She turned to me instantly, her expression softening into pure concern. "Hey... are you okay, Harmony? They didn't do anything to you, right? Did they touch you?"
I tried to answer. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My chest felt like it had been wrapped in iron bands. I couldn't get enough oxygen. The world was beginning to tilt, the edges of my vision fraying into gray static. I was wheezing, my hands clutching at the dirt, my heart racing so fast I thought it might burst.
"Calm down! Harmony, look at me! Calm down!" Korrina knelt beside me, her hands hovering over my shoulders, looking panicked. "I'm right here! You're safe!"
"What are you both doing?"
I looked up through the haze of my own panic. Standing there, silhouetted by the rising sun that was finally burning through the mist, was Blaze. He looked perfectly composed, not even out of breath, his white shirt still looking pristine despite the eight-mile run.
Korrina whirled around, shouting at him with enough volume to wake the entire district. "OH! ARE YOU DONE WITH YOUR RUNNING?! You can't even wait for a girl?! You just left her back here!"
Blaze looked at her, then down at me, his expression unreadable. "She is the Champion around here," he replied calmly, his voice a low drone. "What has she got to fear in her own city?"
Then, he saw my face—the way my eyes were rolled back slightly, the way I was clawing at my own throat for air. His posture shifted instantly. The "drill sergeant" vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. "Well... it seems she has got something to fear."
"Yes!" Korrina gestured wildly at the ground. "These perverts! These boys are the ones she has to fear! I had to take them all down myself because you were too busy—"
Blaze looked around, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "Umm... which boys, Korrina?"
Korrina pointed emphatically at the path. "These ones! Right here—"
She stopped. Her finger was pointing at empty pavement.
I blinked, my breath still hitched in my throat. I looked, too. The bodies—the five men Korrina had just leveled—were gone. There wasn't even a scuff mark on the path. No blood, no discarded jackets, nothing. It was as if the mist had simply swallowed them whole the moment Blaze arrived.
"Where... where did they go?" Korrina whispered, her voice trembling. "They were right here. I hit them! I felt them!"
The realization that they had vanished so easily—that they could be anywhere in the mist—sent my panic into overdrive. My lungs seized completely. I felt like I was drowning on dry land.
Blaze moved then. He didn't hesitate. He stepped over to me and knelt down in the damp grass, ignoring the moisture on his joggers. He didn't pull me into a tight hug that might have made me feel more trapped; instead, he placed a firm, warm hand on the center of my back.
"Hey," he said, his voice dropping into a deep, grounding frequency. "It's okay. Harmony, listen to my voice."
He began to rub my back in slow, steady circles. The heat from his palm seeped through my navy top, acting like a thermal anchor. "No one is there. I’ve scanned the perimeter. No one can hurt you. No one will ever hurt you while I'm here. It's okay."
He reached up with his other hand and gently fondled the top of my head, smoothing down the stray hairs that had escaped my ponytail. It was a gesture of such pure, protective comfort—the kind of thing a brother does to a younger sister after a nightmare—that it finally broke the spell of the terror.
"Breathe with me," Blaze commanded softly. "In... and out."
I focused on the rhythm of his hand on my back. I focused on the scent of the morning air and the solid, immovable weight of his presence. Slowly, agonizingly, the iron bands around my chest began to loosen. I took a shuddering breath, then another.
"Thank... thank you," I whispered, my voice coming back in a thin, shaky thread.
Blaze looked at Korrina. She was standing a few feet away, looking like she was on the verge of her own panic attack from the sheer weirdness of the disappearing men.
"She had a panic attack," Blaze said, his voice back to its analytical tone, though he didn't stop rubbing my back. He checked his watch. "It is only 5:30 AM. My workout schedule is shot, but I suppose I can stay alive on less muscle mass for one day."
He stood up and then repositioned himself, turning his back to me and crouching down. "Get on. I'm not letting you walk back in this state."
I hesitated for a second, looking at his broad shoulders. Then, feeling the lingering tremors in my legs, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. He reached back, hooking his arms under my knees, and stood up with a single, effortless motion.
Piggyback style.
"Let's go back to the hotel," Blaze said.
As he started a steady, rhythmic walk back toward the district lights, I rested my head against his shoulder. The heat radiating from his neck was like a warm blanket.
Korrina, seeing the crisis had passed, tried to regain some of her usual cheekiness as she walked alongside us. "You know, Blaze," she said, her voice still a bit shaky but teasing. "It’s usually a 'princess carry' in the movies for situations like this. You’re being a bit unromantic, aren't you?"
Blaze didn't even turn his head. He adjusted his grip on my legs, his pace never faltering.
"I am not carrying my girlfriend," Blaze responded flatly. "I am carrying a girl who is close to my sister’s age. She is nothing less than a younger sister to me. And you don't 'princess carry' your sister through a park at 5:00 AM. You get her home safely."
I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms a little tighter around his neck. I didn't care about the "harem" comments or the "strongest trainer" title anymore. For the first time since I’d entered this fragmented world, I felt like I didn't have to be the heart of anything. I could just be a younger sister being carried home by a brother who wouldn't let anything in the mist touch me.
The atmosphere in the hotel suite was heavy, the air thick with the lingering scent of damp pavement and the low hum of the air conditioner. I was propped up against the headboard of my bed, still feeling the faint tremors in my legs. The group had gathered around me like a defensive wall. Lida sat on my left, her hand resting comfortingly on my knee, while Liko sat on my right, her eyes wide with empathy. Dot and Korrina stood like sentinels at the sides, and the rest of the boys—Urbain, Roy, Ult, and Naveen—stood at the foot of the bed, looking somber.
Blaze, however, wasn't sitting. He was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his white track shirt, his gaze sharp and uncompromising.
"Alright," Blaze began, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Let me get this straight. You went and sat on a park bench because you were tired. Suddenly, there’s a light mist, and out of absolutely nowhere, a bunch of guys appear. They verbally and sexually harass you, and you didn't say anything or fight back because they 'put legality' in front of you? They told you that if you pulled out Feraligatr, you would be the attacker?"
I looked down at my lap, nodding slowly. It sounded so much more pathetic when he said it out loud.
"Girl," Blaze sighed, shaking his head. "Self-defense is such a broad term. If you brought your Pokémon out, even if you attacked them, you could have defended yourself with the simple fact that you were feeling threatened. There are CCTVs everywhere. Even if they can't record the filth coming out of their mouths, the cameras record their body language—the way they were crowding you, circling you, trapping you against a tree. There are very specific rules regarding personal space and harassment in any civilized universe. At worst? You would have been fined for 'threatening' behavior and faced a maximum of six months in jail with a bail option! That is a small price to pay for your safety and dignity."
"I... I could have?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The weight of my own inaction felt like a physical burden.
Blaze’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't you know the rules of your own world? You’re the 'Champion' here, the heart of the team. If you don't know the laws that protect you, how can you protect anyone else?"
Liko reached out, grabbing my hand. "Blaze, please don't scold her this much," she pleaded, looking up at her brother. "She was scared, she was alone, and she was exhausted. How could she be expected to remember legal codes while she was struggling to breathe?"
I looked at Liko, then back at Blaze. His scolding was harsh, but it was the first thing that had made me feel like an adult again instead of a victim. "No," I voiced, my tone gaining a bit of strength. "Liko, don't stop him. He’s right. Don’t stop him from scolding me for my foolish error. I let them use my own fear of the law against me."
Blaze pushed off the wall, walking a few steps closer. He didn't look angry anymore, just deeply contemplative. "And now for the next thing," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, more suspicious register.
"These so-called attackers were apparently dismantled by Korrina. She beat them to a pulp, left them on the ground. And yet, they somehow had enough energy to run at the speed of light and vanish completely at the very second of my arrival? Without leaving a single footprint in the wet grass?"
Blaze looked toward Urbain. "Urbain, you said it yourself last night. Crime is non-existent in this city. You can leave your valuables on the street and find them hours later. So, how does a predatory gang of five men suddenly manifest in a high-security park?"
Korrina stepped forward, her brow furrowed. "Blaze, how can you say they weren't there? I felt my fists hitting them! I felt the impact of the knee sweep. They were real flesh and blood!"
Blaze looked at her calmly. "You need to attack a Double Team or a Substitute clone to remove them from the field, too. It doesn't mean the 'source' was ever standing in front of you."
Korrina went silent, her hand going to her chin as she processed the tactical possibility. I flickered back to the memory of the man whispering in my ear. I remembered the heat of his breath, the terrifying proximity. I felt him there. But Blaze’s logic was hard to ignore. If they were real people, they couldn't have vanished into thin air in the five seconds it took for Blaze to walk around that oak tree.
"Hmm," Blaze muttered, seeing the confusion on our faces. He waved a dismissive hand, sensing the tension in the room was reaching a breaking point. "Well, let’s not ponder it too much for now. The point is, you’re back, you’re safe, and you learned a lesson about legal bluffing."
He looked at his watch and then at the group. "Calm down, everyone. Let’s go on with our usual day. We have rifts to track and a world to fix. We can't let a few ghosts in a park stop the clock."
As everyone began to filter out of the room to get ready for the day, I stayed on the bed for a moment longer. Blaze’s words had stayed with me—not the scolding, but the way he had stepped in to rub my back when I couldn't breathe. He had compared me to Liko—as a younger sister. It was a strange, comforting thought. In a world where I had to be the "strongest," it was nice to know someone else was looking at the CCTVs for me.
The morning’s trauma slowly ebbed away, replaced by a warmth that didn’t come from the hotel’s heating system, but from the people—and Pokémon—who refused to leave my side. Though my body was still recovering from the physical and emotional collapse, the afternoon felt like a soft healing light.
My own partners were the first to show their hearts. Feraligatr stood by the bed, his massive, powerful frame usually so full of bouncy, rambunctious energy. Today, he was still. He rested his heavy snout on the edge of the mattress, his large yellow eyes filled with a profound sadness. I could feel his guilt; he felt he had failed his duty to protect me, even though I was the one who hadn't called him out. I reached out and scratched the soft spot behind his scales.
"It wasn't your fault," I whispered. He let out a low, vibrating rumble, a promise that he’d never let me out of his sight again.
Absol, on the other hand, was acting like a Pokémon version of Blaze. He sat regally on the rug, his single horn glinting. Every time I sighed or looked down, he gave me a sharp, judgmental look, as if scolding me for my lack of tactical awareness. It was his way of saying, “You should have known better,” but he never moved more than three feet from the door, acting as a living shield against the world.
The door creaked open, and Dot and Lida wandered in. Dot didn't say much—she never did—but she pulled out her tablet and connected it to the room's speakers. A soft, upbeat lo-fi track filled the air, instantly cutting through the lingering tension.
"I made this playlist for when I'm stuck on a coding bug," Dot muttered, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. "It helps with the... brain-noise."
Lida, ever the spark, didn't stay seated. She used the middle of the room as her stage. "And I’m going to give you a private show!" she declared. She began to move, showing me her new contemporary dance routine. Her movements were fluid, mimicking the flow of Water-type energy. "See this move here? It’s called the 'Aqua Ring Pivot.' It’s about keeping your balance even when the world is slippery."
Watching her spin and leap made me feel lighter, as if her movements were physically brushing the bad memories away.
When Lida and Dot went to grab some water, Liko took their place. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her expression a mix of amusement and nostalgia as she looked toward the door where Blaze usually stood.
"You think he’s being tough on you now?" Liko laughed softly. "Let me tell you about the 'Hospital Incident' from two years ago. I was training with my first Pokémon and I took a nasty tumble. I scraped my back thigh—honestly, it was just a big scratch, but it was bleeding a bit."
I leaned in, intrigued. "What did he do?"
"He went into a complete tactical panic," Liko said, shaking her head. "He called out Garchomp, went to the nearest clinic, and when the receptionist told him there was a four-hour wait, he didn't argue. He had Garchomp hook his claws into the building’s foundation. He literally started uprooting the hospital. He told them he wouldn't put the building back down until a doctor bandaged me and ran a full diagnostic to make sure the 'trauma' hadn't somehow triggered something like cancer. I was so embarrassed, but the doctor moved very fast!"
Hearing that the "unflappable" Blaze had once nearly demolished a medical wing for a scratch made my own "scolding" feel much more like a mark of affection.
Korrina burst in later, her energy as infectious as ever. She spent an hour showing me self-defense techniques—how to use a thumb to break a grip, where to strike to cause a temporary stun. "You might be the Champion of strength, but you need the Champion of 'Don't Touch Me' skills!" she chirped.
She then shared stories of her own youth, about beating up groups of creeps who tried to corner her in the back alleys of Shalour City. "Well," she admitted with a sheepish grin, "at least until I ran into five of them at once. They overpowered me, and I had to rely on my Grandpa Gurkinn to show up and beat the absolute crap out of them with his Lucario. It’s okay to need help, Harmony. Even Gurus have grandpas."
Naveen followed her, but he didn't want to talk about fighting. He brought a literal mountain of hats. "I find that a good hat changes your perspective," he said seriously. He spent the next thirty minutes placing different beanies, berets, and caps on my head. "This one says 'I am mysterious,' and this one says 'I will kick you if you get close.'"
By the time he was done, I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt.
The afternoon finished with a visit from the boys and the youngest of our group. Roy and Ult stood by the door, looking uncharacteristically shy.
"Hey, Harmony," Ult said, tipping his hat. "Blaze is helping us with some crazy power-scaling, but... it’s not as fun without the Champion. When you’re better, we want a real battle. No holding back, okay?"
"Yeah," Roy added. "We need to see that Feraligatr in action again. It keeps us motivated."
Then there was little Ansha. She was too small to see over the bed frame, so I reached down and pulled her up onto the duvet. She didn't say much, but she opened a crinkled paper bag filled with powdered donuts. She picked one out—the one with the most sprinkles—and handed it to me. "Sharing makes the scary things go away," she whispered. We sat there in silence, munching on sugary dough, and for a moment, the world felt perfectly safe.
While my room was a hub of activity, the two "anchors" of the group were busy elsewhere. Urbain had been forced to depart; as the CEO of Quesartico Inc., the dimensional shifts were playing havoc with his logistics, and he had to manage the city’s resources from his corporate headquarters.
And Blaze? He hadn't come back into the room after the initial scolding. Liko told me he was in the hotel’s study, completely submerged in a 300-year-old tome that had once belonged to AZ. He was hunting for answers in the past to fix our present, his mind probably miles away in the history of the Great War.
As the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows across my bed, I realized I wasn't just a "girl who got scared" anymore. I was a part of a family that spanned across worlds.
The heavy, suffocating weight of the morning had finally lifted. When I stepped out of bed, my legs felt solid and grounded—no tremors, no phantom cold. Trauma has a way of lingering, but when you’re surrounded by people who treat your heart like a precious artifact, it tends to heal faster.
Flanked by my Absol, who walked with the silent grace of a guardian, and with Feraligatr thudding softly behind me like a scaly bodyguard, I made my way to the hotel’s large kitchen. The air there was thick with the scent of frying dough and sugar. Ansha, Hoopa, Liko, and Lida were clustered around the island counter, flour dusted over their clothes as they worked on a fresh batch of donuts.
Lida was the first to look up, her eyes widening. "Hey, Harmony! Are you okay? You’re actually upright!"
Liko wiped a smudge of flour off her nose, looking concerned. "You shouldn’t have moved out so soon, Harmony. You need rest."
I offered them a genuine, energized smile. "I’m alright, guys. Really. In fact, I’m actually itching to move. I’ve spent enough time staring at the ceiling." I looked at Liko, whose simple traveling clothes were practical but didn't quite capture the spark I saw in her eyes. "Oh yeah, Liko... you haven't been to the malls here yet, right?"
Liko started to demure. "Well, yeah, though I don't really—"
"Excellent!" I cut her off before she could say she didn't enjoy them. "Wanna come with me? I know the best spots. You would look even more beautiful than you already do in a new dress. It’ll be a fresh start for both of us."
Lida’s face lit up. "I’m in! I need a new outfit for my next dance routine anyway."
Ansha, holding a donut twice the size of her hand, hopped down from her stool. "Very well then," she announced with a regal air that seemed far too dignified for her tiny stature. "I shall spend my time with Blaze. He is far more interesting than fabrics and lace." She began to walk out of the kitchen on her small legs, her chin held high, while Hoopa floated behind her, giggling and tossing a donut into a small golden hoop.
We were halfway to the hotel’s grand entrance when reality hit me like a Brick Break. I skidded to a halt, my hand flying to my empty pockets. "Oh yeah... uhh... do any of you have any money?"
Lida winced, her excitement deflating into an awkward smile. "Oh yeah... money. Good question. Between Urbain’s debt and the dimensional collapse, my 'shopping fund' is currently sitting at zero."
Liko tilted her head, looking puzzled. "Why? How costly are the dresses here?"
I bit my lip. "Lumiose fashion is... high-end. For a decent designer piece that isn't ruined by the frost? You're looking in the 100k range, more or less."
Liko blinked, then a calm, knowing smile spread across her face. "Oh. Okay. Come with me."
She led us back toward the quiet study. We found Blaze exactly where Liko said he’d be, though the scene was a bit more domestic than I expected. He was leaning back in a leather armchair, a powdered donut hanging out of his mouth as he turned a page of the ancient AZ tome. Beside him, a Manectric—an absolute unit of a Pokémon, glowing with a faint blue static—was lying on the rug. Ansha and Hoopa were currently using the massive Electric-type as a pillow while they played a board game on the floor.
Liko walked right up to his side. "Brother... please? Can you lend me some money?"
Blaze didn't even look up from his book. "Why?"
"We're going shopping," Liko explained.
Blaze finally lowered the book, the powdered sugar from the donut dusting his chin. "Oh. For real? You should have said that first." He reached for his Rotom Phone with his free hand. "Go get yourself and your friends something nice. Enjoy your afternoon. Don't worry about the price tags; consider it a 'stress relief' expenditure."
A second later, Liko’s phone chimed. She walked back to us, staring at her screen with a blank expression. "He said he only got a little money on this account, but it is what it is..."
She turned the screen toward us. My jaw nearly hit the floor.
Current Balance: 10,000,000 Pokedollars.
I stared at the zeros until they blurred. Even if I spent a hundred nights winning every high-stakes match in the Battle Zone, I wouldn't rack up that much money in a year.
"A... 'little' money?" I whispered, looking back at Blaze, who was already back to reading about 3,000-year-old kings. "Your brother is a walking gold mine."
Liko just giggled and tucked her phone away. "He's just Blaze. Come on! Let's go!"
With ten million in the bank and the shadows of the morning forgotten, we stepped out into the crisp Lumiose air, our "fun journey" finally beginning.
(Ansha POV)
I sat on the plush rug, my fingers tangled in the thick, static-charged fur of the Manectric. He was so much bigger than the Pokémon back at the orphanage, a silent mountain of muscle and blue electricity that smelled like a thunderstorm. Hoopa was busy hovering above us, trying to see if he could fit one of his golden rings around Manectric’s ears without getting zapped.
I watched as Harmony, Lida, and Liko vanished through the heavy doors, their laughter echoing in the hallway. The room felt a little quieter without them, a little more serious.
Blaze didn’t move. He remained anchored in that leather chair, the 3,000-year-old book held steady in his hands. He looked like a statue carved from granite, except for the occasional turning of a page. But just as I thought he was completely lost in the history of the Great War, he reached for a Poké Ball at his belt.
With a flash of red light, Garchomp materialized in the center of the study. The dragon didn’t roar; he didn't even make a sound. He simply stood there, a terrifying predator of sand and scales, waiting for his master's command.
"Garchomp," Blaze said, his eyes never lifting from the yellowed pages of the book. "Discreetly follow the three girls. Stay in the shadows, stay on the rooftops—don't let them spot you. Don't take action until absolutely required, and update me on your return. Keep an eye on all directions. I want 360-degree surveillance."
Garchomp let out a low, guttural growl—a sound of understanding. A split second later, there was a faint rush of air, a blur of blue and red, and he was gone. He had moved with such incredible speed that it felt like he had simply vanished into the mist.
I looked at Blaze, tilting my head. "You don't trust them enough to take care of themselves?" I asked, my voice small in the vast room. "Harmony is the strongest trainer here, and Liko has her own partners."
Blaze finally closed the book, marking his place with a slip of paper. He looked at me, and for a moment, the coldness in his eyes softened. "Worrying about someone is different than not trusting them, Ansha," he explained calmly. "They are capable. But this city has 'ghosts' that don't play by the rules of a fair Pokémon battle. I have a very specific feeling an 'incident' is due to happen, and I’d rather Garchomp be the one to witness it."
He leaned back, gesturing toward the giant Electric-type next to me. "Anyway, pay attention to Manectric. He’s tired of being a pillow. He’s proposing a five-lap race around this room."
Manectric barked, his eyes sparking with playful energy. I giggled, scrambling to my feet. "A race? But he’s so fast!"
As I began to run, I heard Blaze mutter under his breath, a faint trace of a smile on his lips. "Yeah, sure... a race where you’re four laps ahead and he hasn't even started to run. Good luck, kid."