Chapter Text
“It’s not your fault if she tricked you,” Zisu says again.
Laventon doesn’t even look at her. He glances down at the field book in his hands for a moment, then goes back to his chalkboard, adding another entry to a series of charts slowly overtaking its surface.
“I mean, look,” Zisu continues, “I know that’s not true, you know that’s not true, but we both know the Commander doesn’t care about that at the moment.”
Laventon closes the book and sets it down with the others. He picks up the next, opens it, and continues adding to the chart.
“People are scared, and he's scared, and it's not going to help if we keep dividing people any further than they already have,” Zisu elaborates. “If we can just stay together until everyone calms down, we can still talk things out-”
This time, Laventon’s book slams shut, a spiteful sigh of air flying from its pages as it does. When he turns to stare at her, he says nothing, because there is nothing left to say to her, or the Commander, or anyone. Nothing at all.
“I’ll… grab Cyllene,” Zisu amends. “For the next meeting.” She grips the doorframe as she steps away from him, gradually pushing herself out of the room. “After you’ve finished processing the… findings.” She turns away to disappear down the hall. “You know where the guards are.”
When the door closes, he stares down at the book in his grasp. Watches it slide out of his fingers and collide carelessly with the ground. Watches his Indeedee pick the mess up after him. Watches his Polteageist settle itself snugly in his arms, coaxing his hands towards its pot. Watches his Frosmoth settle around his shoulders like a heavy blanket. Watches his Copperajah come out of its pokeball just to wrap its trunk around him and herd him towards his own armchair. Poor Inspector, it barely fits in the room as is. This building was made for its human partner, but was never made to fit it- after all, there’d once been a time when they’d both accepted it would never be allowed to evolve at all. A Cufant was much better suited to being smaller, politer, palatable. There was no room to be too big, too loud, too much. But their time in Hisui changed a great many things, and the both of them besides. The world had gotten bigger, and they had grown to fill it.
So long as they weren’t in the way. So long as they were useful. How terrible. How terrible of them, to grow, only to find out that the world was still so, so small.
“I think I’ve made a right mess of it, old boy,” Laventon murmurs into Inspector’s trunk. “Lea and Dande will be shouting for their children home the second our letters come out of this place, I just know it.” He despondently pats at his partner’s coppery hide. “If our letters ever come out.”
Not that Hikari or Teru would go quietly, knowing the two of them. Even though they’d never once met before Hisui, what with Laventon’s son and daughter living continents away from each other, and the young ones only being related by the most tenuous adopted bloodline at best, the two cousins have become like siblings in the short time they’ve worked with him. They wouldn’t dare part from each other- and for better or worse, they dare not part from him. From Cyllene. From…
A quiet sob hiccups out of his throat. One would think a man his age would be done with tears, but no. Never. He was not named Petal for his steely stoicism, after all. No matter how many hardships and heartbreaks he weathers, he bruises and blubbers and wilts all the same.
“My girl,” he softly whispers in his office. “My girl… my poor, poor girl…”
And Professor Petal Archan Laventon, surrounded by his life's work and all the accolades therein, frees his arms from his Polteageist and cries into his hands.
It was one thing to expel Rei from the village. A reprehensible but understandable thing. Jubilife is a tightknit community and he was always such a withdrawn boy. He’d made friends, but they’d all been in out in the clans or in the Security Corps, and Cyllene’s motley crew was not enough to defend him when the good fortune that had followed in Rei’s wake was suddenly met with fear and revulsion. When Kamado pointed his finger, the people of this village, most of whom only survived their harsh years out of Ecruteak under his careful command, were more likely to trust him than a boy with unexplained divine powers that they only barely saw between deployments. But Kamado was not a monolith, and the people of Jubilife had grown beyond his careful reach. They’d trusted Akari, too, when she pointed out the unfairness of it all, when she bid them to question the wisdom of throwing away their fellow man when times were hard. By the very sword and shield, she’d practically had an angry mob outside the Galaxy Hall by day’s end! But it didn’t last. It had all happened so fast, and Laventon was never good at hearing past such riotous crowds. Kamado had stepped outside to address everyone, and next thing Laventon knew, everyone was suddenly flinching away from Akari like a demon, and a tiny, misshapen Zorua was being marched along the main road at spear point.
It’s been a long, long time since Laventon genuinely lost control of his own body.
It was an untrainable deficit for him as a boy, as a young man, as someone far too old to be throwing tantrums like a child. To be honest, he’d hoped he’d finally outgrown it. But it seems that after having been so thoroughly coddled by the accommodating friends and loving family and all too understanding employers these past few years, he had completely lost his tolerance to resist the cliff edge of his own terrible impulses when things finally became all too much to hold on to.
He’d never really thought about what Akari was to his life until he was being held down screaming not to take his daughter from him.
…It's the strangest thing. Only now does Laventon realize that Akari hadn't protested her removal, at least in any way that she chose to be seen. How odd, in retrospect. Akari was always such a dramatic character, someone who felt so deeply even at the best of times. And yet, as she was being taken away, she did nothing. Said nothing. It could have simply been the way her form had fallen away, but the Zorua still had her eyes, in the end, and her face as she hobbled away for the last time was the picture of calm. Calm, and quiet, and utter resolution.
As if she couldn’t be bothered to be shocked, or betrayed, or even the least amount of surprised. As if this place she’d lived and loved and built for the last four years, and the time with Laventon that came before, had been nothing more than respite.
(Oh, come now. He thought he was supposed to be far past the point of tears at this point.)
The radio at the tea table crackles. [-all Security Corps outposts. Calling all Security Corps outposts, calling all units at watch or patrol. A pokemon has been spotted in the spacetime rift. Repeat, a pokemon has been spotted in the spacetime rift.]
Laventon freezes in place. A pokemon had, indeed, been spotted in the rift. Quite a large one. Large enough to be more than visible to the naked eye at ground level all the way from the ceiling of the sky. Its features couldn’t be made out, but it was undeniably there, and undeniably far too at home inside. None of this information is enough to identify so much as a basic bauplan, much less any crucial information like its typing, behavior, or what on earth it’s doing inside the rift in the first place. It was not nearly enough information to justify just saying it over the radio without elaboration. If it were up to him at all, he would have advised against simply telling everyone like this without further study. If it were up to him entirely, he would have never told the commander what the Survey Corps found at all until they had that information. But now his scouts aren’t even permitted to leave the village without armed guards to ‘protect’ them, and those guards are privy to all of their findings whether they want it or not.
[The Galaxy Team commander is issuing a direct order,] the voice on the radio continues. [Abandon all camps. Return to Jubilife Village immediately. I repeat, a pokemon has been spotted in the spacetime rift. Abandon all camps. Return to Jubilife Village immediately. Prepare for emergency deployment. Repeat, the Galaxy Team commander is issuing-]
Teru bursts through the door, his Clefairy close in tow. “Jiji! I'm sorry! They didn't give me a choice, I'm so sorry-”
“It's not your fault, lad!” Laventon immediately moves to reassure, standing to meet his grandson halfway. “You did everything right. My brave, brave boy. Where's Hikari?”
“She's with obaa-san,” Teru explains. “The commander is leaving for Mount Coronet. He’s leaving behind a skeleton crew with obaa-san to keep the village guarded while he steals every sword arm in the Galaxy Team to- to fight the thing inside the rift! I couldn’t stop him!”
“You've done everything you can,” Laventon firmly insists. “You did your job, and you did it honestly.”
Teru’s eyes are frantic. “I could have refused to do my work, I could have refused to hand over our research, I could have lied-”
“No, you couldn't,” Laventon gently refutes. “You wouldn't. It would have been far more dangerous to everyone if you had lied about your findings, and just as dangerous to your family if you hadn’t cooperated. Being put in a situation where you can do nothing but cause the least amount of harm is not your fault. What’s happening right now is unfair to everyone and you are doing the best you can. I am so, so proud of you.”
Teru’s glasses smear with ugly tears as he nods. Laventon’s Polteageist prepares him a cup of hot tea, and a towel to dry his face with. While his grandson composes himself, Laventon quietly considers their options. Escape is not one of them, and even if it were, no one here among his family would condone abandoning everyone else in Jubilife to their fates alone. If the Commander’s confrontation goes badly- or worse, succeeds- they may need to draw up an evacuation plan for the rest of the village. Laventon’s particular predilection to uncontrolled teleportation left him with a hampered sense of direction, and reading maps has always been a laborious effort for him. He doesn’t understand the land well enough to know where they would even evacuate to in the first place. How far does the distortion’s bubble go? The island up north, where they’d evacuated everyone during Lord Growlithe’s frenzy, could they reach it if they tried? Would it even help at all?
Suddenly, he wishes Warden Ingo was here. Ingo would know the land better than him, would know all of the pre-existing evacuation areas, would be able to control a crowd where Laventon could not. Every day, Laventon has been steeling himself for the day that Ingo inevitably wanders towards the village as he always does, and someone will have to explain to him what's happened to Akari. But he never comes. No one's seen hide or hair of him since the sky broke open over vast Hisui. His train was last seen without him inside, heading to parts unknown.
(Laventon hopes Ingo's alright. The poor man has no guarantee of surviving losing his mind a second time.)
Laventon’s half of his and Cyllene’s shared Doublade rattles with anticipation as Cyllene eventually enters his office, alone, the hilt of her Doublade half tied against her waist. Hikari is not with her. Hikari was never with her. The young woman had told Cyllene she was going to check on Laventon, and left. She lied to two different people about her whereabouts and disappeared. After a brief and panicked search, they find her hunched over one of the wash basins in the barber shop, her face all red with wine dark dye as it bleeds out of her hair, tips still stubbornly black. Swathes of makeup scatter on the floor around her, all futile blends of red, red, red.
The eyeliner on her face would have looked exactly like Akari's if it wasn't melting off her in tears.
“If you walk around looking like that,” Cyllene warns as she gently helps Hikari clean up, “you're going to get shot.”
“If they'd rather kill someone than live with the idea there was a fox among them, we may as well be good as dead,” Hikari spitefully spits. "They don't get to forget about her. They don't get to forget what they’ve done.”
=#[o]#=
No one really sits down and talks about what happened. What is there to say that they don't already know? What can they say, that anyone who could do something hasn't already chosen to ignore? Every last ounce of strength they have needs to go to Cyllene, now. They can't let her crumple under the responsibility Kamado left her with, and the people of Jubilife have already been through far too much.
A few days after Kamado and the Security Corps leaves them all behind, once-Warden Sabi appears in Cyllene’s office, swinging her little legs in the commander’s chair while her massive Magmortar, Rhyperior, and Electivire loom behind her.
“Hi, hi!” Sabi cheerfully chirps.
“Hello, Sabi,” Cyllene levelly says.
“We of the, uh- ummmmm- of the Pu-la-ti-num Clan, we condemn the actions of the Galaxy Team as an affront to the gods and almighty Sinnoh! We are taking your village to control your comm-un-ication network and take your, ummm…. intelligence!” Sabi taps her mittens to her chin and tilts her head back and forth. “But the real question is, are you going to surrender, or is Lord Braviary going to put you all to sleep so we can do all of that anyway?”
“It was irresponsible of the Wardens to send a child,” Cyllene mutters to herself. “You could have gotten hurt.”
“But you won’t hurt me, will you, Captain Cyllene?” Sabi challenges. “Besides, we’ve already been here since before Commander Kamado left!” She points at the office door. “Both of the guards outside are foxes right now. So are lots and lots of the other guards, and a couple of your workers here, too. A lot of you left when Akari did, actually, so we just replaced a lot of them with foxes before anyone noticed! Whoopsies! We’ve been watching you for a little while now, and the Wardens say it looks like you don’t like what Kamado’s doing, either, so you’d probably work for us if we just asked, so I thought I could just ask you before they send someone scary like-” Sabi covers her mouth with her hands. “Oops.”
Cyllene sighs. “Well, there's no need for that. I have every intention of cooperating. When were your people supposed to arrive?”
Sabi stands in the chair and rocks on her feet. “Oh, you know.” Chaotic shouting starts to make itself audible outside. “Right about now.”
She follows close behind as Cyllene steps out of the office, swiftly walking towards the stairs leading back to the Galaxy Hall entrance. Cyllene sees Warden Iscan and a burly white haired man holding the door shut as Security Corps guards try to force their way inside.
“He-he-hello, C-Captain,” Iscan stutters out. “Please ah- uh- um- su-surrender. I can’t d-do this for- forever.” The door slams against his back and he rams himself against it with a pained grunt. “Well, I can, but I don’t want to.”
Cyllene leans over the stairs, voice carrying down towards the Survey Corps office. “Not to alarm you, Petal, but there appears to be an armed insurrection happening outside. I’d rather we lost, to be honest, but I just thought you should know.”
Laventon- and his Copperajah’s trunk- peek their heads outside the office door. Laventon blinks, recalls Inspector into the pokeball in his hand, then points said pokeball directly at the door. Iscan and the white haired man clear the way just in time for Inspector’s impassable metallic mass to block the entire entrance hall.
“Thank you, dear,” Cyllene flatly, sincerely says.
Laventon gives her a silent wave and returns to his office.
“ALL OF YOU, STOP IT NOW!” Bellamis suddenly screams from outside. “I know you’re tired, and I know you’re scared, but the only way we’ll get the Commander back to us alive is if we admit that he was wrong! He was wrong, and if we don’t work together, him and everyone else he took up that mountain with him are going to get themselves killed trying to protect us! The Wardens understand that better than anyone! STAND DOWN!”
And little by little, the commotion beyond the Galaxy Hall doors disperses. Cyllene folds her arms behind her back and nods primly at the Wardens down below her. “Well, then. Shall we negotiate the terms of my surrender?”
=#[o]#=
Rei hadn’t expected everyone to miss him so much.
Laventon, he hadn’t been surprised by. The older man was always a little bit of a crybaby by his own admission, so Rei was completely expecting the hug, the pat on the head, the crushingly sad fondness as Laventon called him my dear Rei. It was still nice, though. Rei’s pretty sure he’ll never want a mother or father for as long as he lives, but if he had to pick anyone to be his grandfather, he wouldn’t mind someone like Laventon. Hikari and Teru, though, he had been surprised by. He never thought they were close enough to care. Rye had kept all of Rei’s things safe. And Bellamis- well, Rei always wondered when Mrs. Kamado’s genetics were going to kick in. Browbeating the rest of the village into letting him and the Wardens put a stop to Kamado wasn’t on Rei’s bingo card, but the world loves throwing curveballs like that. But Cyllene had surprised him most of all. She had sent her Abra along to Cogita’s retreat with a letter saying she could send along his things whenever he wanted, and when he came back to the village…
“So you managed not to die. Just as I ordered.” Her face softens from her place across the Survey Corps office desk. “Well done, Rei.”
(Maybe Rei shouldn’t be surprised at all. Maybe this is just what people caring about him is supposed to look like after all.)
“I had a lot of help,” he admits.
Cyllene’s mouth quirks. “No doubt your past deeds earned you any help you may have received. I assume that you are here again because you’ve managed to learn something of use?”
“Yeah, uh-” Rei twirls his fingers, and a strange chain of bloody tears starts to coalesce in his hand, shimmering in the air as it snakes around him. “It’s supposed to… bind the world. Which I’m really hoping the lake spirits mean it will close the rift.”
“And I don’t suppose this red chain of yours is replicable,” Cyllene flatly surmises.
Rei smiles tensely and shakes his head.
Cyllene leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. “Commander Kamado is no longer here in Jubilife Village. The Security Corps had been scouting the area near the space-time rift… and they reported sightings of something on the other side of it. Something that resembled a pokemon. The commander made the decision to take the Security Corps to the mountain, so as to prepare to fend off any possible threat. They were to make for the temple at the peak.”
“We were afraid you’d say that,” Mai admits. “We were hoping to negotiate terms before Kamado left, but it seems we are too late. If they already headed out so long ago, they may soon reach the foot of the mountain.” She turns to Melli. “Well, ever since Jubilife’s gracious surrender, we’ve cut off their teleportation network and will be able to make use of it ourselves. Will you and Lord Electrode be able to fend them off long enough for the rest of us to talk them down?”
Melli hums uneasily. “Far be it from the great Melli to slander our Lord of the Hollow, but he may well be too strong to leave them alive, and regrettably, I must remind you my specialty lies in poison.”
“Ingo,” Arezu warns, “you’ve got a look on your face. If you’ve got some kind of plan, you have to tell us.”
“Hm?” Ingo blinks foggily to himself. “Ah, yes-” He harshly readjusts his hat and clears his throat. “If all present would dare to sanction it, I am capable of clearing the obstruction with extreme prejudice.”
Palina crosses her arms. “What would you need?”
“Nothing but your radio,” Ingo insists. “And Gaeric and Mita, but their involvement requires no permission on your part.”
“So just the radio, then,” Cyllene surmises.
“Yes,” Ingo confirms. “The radio.” The expression in his eyes starts to… slacken, widen, tunnel in a way Rei doesn’t know if he likes. “Your radio, your sanction, and your forgiveness. Do you comply?”
“Forgiveness?” Calaba echoes. “Whatever for?”
Ingo clasps the bracelet on his wrist in his other hand. “For destroying any safety you may have found,” he softly says, “in the delusion that I am a gentle man.”
Cyllene straightens in her seat. “But you can defeat them?”
“Yes,” Ingo blanky answers.
“And you can defeat them in a way that causes the least amount of harm?” Cyllene presses.
“A dragon is not an executioner and a vessel bears no ambition, least of all one that permits us to do harm unto others,” Ingo assures. “My methods will not entail violence to your fellow man.”
Cyllene folds her hands against her desk. “Then I will tell you that our radio is on the highest floor of the building,” she slowly says, “and that I forgive you.”
Ingo gravely nods, then places a hand on Rei’s shoulder. His eyes waver in place, a silent prompt for permission. Rei nods back, and Ingo leans down to wrap the boy in his arms, sinking down until his head rests against Rei’s hat.
“These words are for you alone,” he waveringly murmurs into Rei’s clothes, so quiet that no one else can hear it. “I will never hurt you, do you understand? No matter what you see when you go up the mountain, I will never hurt you. Remember that. Promise me.” Rei nods into Ingo’s chest, and Ingo nods back. “Good. Good. Thank you.” Ingo’s hands shake, arms trembling with one last squeeze, then pull away. “Thank you.”
He turns in place until the door is in sight, and walks out of the room. He goes up the stairs to the higher levels, and does not stop Rei from following him. Rei watches him go into the radio room, take a deep breath, straighten his back, and close the door behind him.
A moment passes in silence, then another, then another, and then the voice of the immortal Fox crackles from every radio of vast Hisui.
=#[o]#=
YOU WHO SEEK THE THRESHOLD OF GOD, GO NO FURTHER.
HERE BE DRAGONS, AND IF YOU FIGHT, YOU WILL DIE, LIKE COUNTLESS OTHERS BEFORE YOU. IF, KNOWING THIS, YOU CONTINUE UPON THESE TRACKS, YOU ACCEPT THAT MY DUTY DOES NOT PERMIT YOU TO DIE.
THERE IS NOWHERE THAT YOU WILL HIDE THAT I CANNOT FIND YOU. AND WHEN I FIND YOU, I WILL RENDER UNTO YOU THE FULLEST OF FORGIVENESS, MERCY, AND LOVE.
I WILL FORGIVE YOU YOUR TRESPASSES.
I WILL SHOW MERCY TOWARDS THEM BY BURNING THE WEAKNESS FROM YOUR HEART.
I WILL LOVE THE DEATH OF YOUR VICTORY, I WILL MAKE IT TRUTH, AND WHEN I WREST THIS POISONED IDEAL FROM YOUR HEART I WILL SUNDER ITS BONES.
THERE IS NO KAMUY MOSIR FOR YOU UPON THAT MOUNTAIN. THERE IS ONLY ME.
AND I AM YET YOUR LORD.