Chapter Text
“I am Emmet.” Emmet greeted with a tense smile, two Pokéballs already held in one hand. “Excuse me, strange Pokémon, but only passengers with tickets may be in this area! I’m afraid you will need to drop that little passenger you have stolen and leave the station.”
The strange Pokémon had skidded to a stop in front of him, eyes widening at the sight of him. It froze in place, looking him up and down, and cradling the black clothe closer to its chest, overly protective. At its questioning call, Emmet had simply smiled in return. He had a script he must stick to.
He was Emmet. The Pokémon couldn’t be here without its registered trainer. It must put the child down and leave Gear Station. These were the rules.
Now it was looking at him warily with sharp red eyes. It glanced between Gear Station’s exit and Emmet, braced and ready to move at a moment’s notice. The black bundle in its arms was likely the child, though Emmet barely paid them any mind, more focused on the Pokémon. It would not reach the exit without first battling Emmet.
The Pokémon matched the description called in over the radio – an especially large Pokémon with a basket on its back and carrying a young child in one arm. Emmet had never seen a Pokémon quite like it – it looked like a verrrry tall weird Sneasel, an ice-dark typing. It towered high above the normal height of a Sneasel, taller than any human as well, and had several unique features such as the colouring of its fur and its very long head feather.
Emmet was curious about it, but he had more important matters to attend to. He was meant to be on the Singles Train right now. He had to make sure the train ran perfectly on schedule, so Ingo wouldn’t worry about it when he returned home. His brother would be disappointed if Emmet let the Singles Line stop runn-
“Ler! Sne-sneas!!” The Pokémon growled lowly, taking a step to the side, trying to figure out if it could circumnavigate around Emmet without a battle. Emmet mirrored the Pokémon with a smile, taking a step as well, while adjusting his white hat with his free hand. It looked annoyed, but also…. confused? It was staring at his face with a pensive look whenever it wasn’t shooting obvious longing glances towards the exit.
Perhaps, it had gotten lost and had stumbled into the Subway tunnels? Maybe it was scared and looking for its owner?
Nevertheless, Emmet could not let it leave with a distressed, potentially kidnapped child. It was a Subway Master’s job to ensure that all passengers reached their destination in a safe and timely manner. He had to retrieve the child and confirm their well-being. Safety first.
If the child was meant to be with the Pokémon, then they would be allowed to leave the station together after being warned about the dangers of playing in the Subway tunnels.
Emmet pointed at the Pokémon, pulling its full attention to him and away from the exit. It gave him another perplexed wary look, red eyes flicking over Emmet’s face. “Unruly fare-dodgers will be removed from the station by force if necess- Ingo’s coat?”
The black bundle moved, letting some of the cloth drop down, revealing a tattered length of familiar red and black strips. The ochre red had faded to a muddy brown over time, but the black was still dark and unmistakably recognisable.
“What? Ingo?” His monotone voice quivered slightly, sounding hollow and wrung out.
Why was Ingo’s coat here? After so many years? Why did this Pokémon and child have Ingo’s coat?
A black hat, well-worn and torn around the edges, became distinct from the rest of the cloth, from the coat. It was faintly sun bleached, lighter on top than it should be, but the white and blue enamel pin was still proudly in place. It would match the pin on Emmet’s hat perfectly if it were less scuffed and unpolished.
Ingo’s hat was here too?
“Uuugh….” There was a high-pitched groan, high and needy. It brought Emmet flashbacks of his childhood, of days when the twins had gotten sick and had both been confined to their beds. Moaning complaints and noises of pain echoed in his memories, mirroring the present perfectly.
Panic crashed into Emmet’s chest, and instinctually he cried out for his brother.
“Ingo? Ingo?!” At his frantic calls, the bundle moved again, reacting to him.
A tiny head sat up, squished against the chest of the Pokémon. The hat was too big, shoved down over the ears, hiding their face and eyes. A small chubby hand pushed it up, struggling against the large sleeves of Ingo’s coat. Emmet watched memorised as the child finally managed to force the hat up, balancing the too large thing on their small head.
A round pale face came into view, softened by baby fat, facial features clear. Bleary silver eyes were blinking slowly, squinting at the light, and not truly focusing on anything. There was a frown on their lips, almost like the child was annoyed, though the eyes were too dazed to show actual displeasure. The frown was just the natural resting position of their face. Light grey head blended well into the pale purple fur, but the colour remained distinctive.
That was his brother.
“INGO!” Emmet screamed, taking a step forward.
The Pokémon immediately took a step back in reply, lifting viciously sharp claws up towards his brother. The black claws, lined with magenta pink and glinting under the bright lights, covered Ingo from Emmet’s sight. Emmet felt his heart skip several beats as he watched light bounce off the curved claws, highlighting them like a butcher’s blades. They looked wickedly sharp, mere centimetres from Ingo, from his brother, from Ingo who was a child!
Emmet was dreaming. He was choking, dying, heart drumming too loud and fast. He was dreaming, surely, but it felt so real.
“Strange Pokémon! I demand that you release my brother!” Emmet insisted, loud and very blunt. His smile had dropped from his face as he gave the Pokémon a hard glare.
Dream or not, that was his brother. He was going to get him back from this strange Pokémon.
“Snea!” The Pokémon snapped back, baring sharp fangs at Emmet.
With one paw, it hooked one those of those too sharp claws in the back of Ingo’s coat, lifting the boy up like he was kitten by the scruff.
It gave Emmet his first proper look at his twin.
Ingo was tiny, short and twiggy, face soft with baby fat. His clothes were hanging off him, far too big and baggy, and hiding away any potential injuries Ingo might have.
Emmet could see the ruined state of the coat, worn and raggedy, and shorter with its frayed ends. All the edges were torn, as if ripped at by Pokémon. The coat was riddled with scratches and holes, revealing hints of a pink shirt underneath. The cuffs were completely gone, ripped away. Ingo looked like he had been mauled by Pokémon, perhaps attacked by those large claws that now held him precariously.
Someone had tried to roll up Ingo’s sleeves and trousers, to accommodate his shorter limbs, but they were still too long.
His brother looked as young as they had been when they had attended kindergarten.
Emmet watched in horror as his now very young older brother hung by those dangerous claws, dangling by his collar. Ingo looked so small and disorientated, rubbing at his eyes as if overwhelmed.
“What are you doing? I said that you must release my brother!” Emmet took another step forward but froze when the Pokémon snarled at him, terrified that Ingo might be in danger if he aggravated the Pokémon.
With its other paw, it reached back and lifted up the lid of its basket. His brother, barely responsive, disappeared into the basket. Emmet watched with wide eyes as the basket lid was placed back, separating him from Ingo.
Now free of having to carry Ingo, the Pokémon could lift both of its claws in a battle-ready pose, determined to fight past Emmet and escape with Ingo.
Emmet wasn’t going to let it.
“You are refusing to co-operate.” Emmet stated, voice flatter than usual. He adjusted his hat once again, staring at the Pokémon without any smile on his face. “I am Emmet. I will battle you. Check safety. Follow the rules.”
He finally threw the two Pokéballs he was holding forwards. Two clicks and flashes of light and his, their, Pokémon emerged onto the marble floor of Gear Station. This was not a sanctioned battlefield nor a battle-car, so a battle here was against Gear Station protocol, but this was an emergency. Depot Agents would keep passengers away, so all Emmet had to do was focus on winning the battle. “Crustle. Klinklang. Aim for victory. Full steam ahead.”
Emmet immediately started running strategies through his head, thinking of combinations and type matchups. It was comforting to fall back on the familiarity of battle, even with this highly irregular and unfamiliar situation. Emmet knew how to battle. Emmet knew how to win. Emmet didn’t know why his brother was-
Sneasels were Ice/Dark type Pokémon. Rock, bug, and steel were all super effective against that typing. Crustle and Klinklang should have no problems defeating the weird Sneasel. The problem was…
Ingo was in the basket on its back. A stray attack, an inaccurate move, a poorly timed defence, and Ingo could be hit.
That added more complexity, required different combinations, new strategies – the limitation might have almost been fun, requiring more ingenuity during a battle than normal, if a misstep didn’t end up with Ingo getting-
“Klinklang, use Flash Cannon to lower its guard. Do no hit the basket. Crustle, use X-Scissor to try and separate it from the basket.” Both moves had good accuracy, and their team was well-trained. Emmet trusted them with his life, with Ingo’s life.
The high-pitch whirl of gears signalled Klinklang’s charging up its attack, its gears moving faster and faster as it prepared. The strange Pokémon reacted to the noise by holding up its claws defensively, warily watching Klinklang with noticeable confusion. The Sneasel must have not seen a Klinklang before.
Good, Emmet thought, they had some element of surprise.
The red gem at the core of Klinklang’s gears let out an almighty scream, a silvery blast of power rushing forward in a metallic beam. The strange Pokémon dodged the Flash Cannon, ducking down and away, getting surprisingly close to the ground in its attempt to avoid the attack. It looked rattled by the move, clearly not expecting it. The Flash Cannon hit the wall behind the Pokémon, with the tiles bursting into fragments of ceramic.
Crustle dove forward at the opening provided by Klinklang’s attack, with the opponent Pokémon closer to the ground and therefore Crustle’s reach.
With bug-power coursing around his pincer, Crustle slashed his claw upwards, aiming directly at the wicker strap that held the basket to the Pokémon’s back. The Pokémon, still low to the ground, twisted away with an affronted snarl. Crustle glanced its arm instead of the basket strap.
The weird Sneasel did not appear to be very injured despite the 4x effective bug-type attack, replying with an angry ‘Sneeeee~!’. The attack must have not hit deep enough to hurt it.
In retaliation, the strange Sneasel pushed back with a Rock Smash, slamming its claws into the side of Crustle’s rock with more strength than Emmet had been expecting.
Crustle skidded across the smooth floor, pointed feet unable to grip or slow down his slide, and the Pokémon ended up slamming into a brochure stand halfway across the room. Crustle dizzily got back to his feet, defence weakened, and unsteadily scuttled back to the fight. His rock had a visible dent on one side, with dust crumbling from where the Pokémon had hit it.
Rock Smash was not even a super effective move against Crustle. It should have not hurt Crustle badly. The strange Pokémon was just that strong.
Sneasels did not learn Rock Smash naturally either. It was a TM move for that evolution line. This weird large Sneasel was not a wild Pokémon, but a caught and trained one. The Pokémon who had stolen his brother had a trainer, a person behind its actions, someone who must have ordered it to take Ingo.
Emmet was eager to meet them.
But first, he had to get his brother back.
“I am Emmet. I have been looking for Ingo for a verrrry long time. I will not let you take him. Crustle, X-Scissor again.”
Crustle charged forward again, swinging its claws, letting bug energy flowed through them. Crustle aimed for the Pokémon and not the basket straps this time.
The strange Pokémon tanked the hit, instead of dodging, letting Crustle get in close. There was barely any damage again despite a direct hit. Bug should be super-effective against a dark/ice Pokémon like Sneasel. It didn’t make any sense. Why didn’t the bug-type move do more damage? Why did the Pokémon allow itself to be hi-
Emmet realised the Pokémon’s aim too late as it raised one claw hand into the air and brought it down with all its strength. The curved claws burned a bright poisonous purple. Crustle was too close to dodge or avoid the move, taking the full brunt of its force.
From the noise of impact, a loud crack as Crustle’s rock almost split in two, it had been a critical hit.
Crustle let out a loud chitter of pain, diving back to escape a potential second attack. The strange Pokémon did not pursue Crustle, staying defensive even though one more hit would knock Crustle out of the fight. It was still more focused on keeping Emmet away from the basket, from Ingo, than it was on winning.
Its eyes flicked towards the exit again, but Kinklang was still on the field, gears whirling menacingly.
Crustle health’s was critically low, and the Pokémon was barely able to stand, swaying dizzily. Despite not fainting, Crustle was unlikely to be able to continue the fight. To make matters worse, Crustle’s wound pulsed purple, oozing with the colour.
“Poisoned?”
Do Sneasels know any poison moves? Was it another TM move? The move itself was unfamiliar to Emmet. Then again, this Sneasel was unfamiliar to Emmet. It had too many unusual traits.
It also had a lot more raw power than Emmet had been expecting from a Sneasel. It must have a very high level. He needed to finish this quickly and rescue Ingo.
Emmet adjusted his plans and expectations.
Toxic has a low accuracy and could hit Ingo. Stone Edge was the same. Earthquake would hit everything, including Ingo, Thunderbolt could paralyse the Pokémon, slowing them…
“Klinklang, Thunderbolt.”
Klinklang’s gears whirled in response again, but this time the weird Sneasel seemed ready for the noise. Sparks of electricity built up between the gears as they spun and faster. The strange Pokémon tensed its muscles, ready to counter.
With a crack, a boom of shattering air, a bolt of lightening burst forward. Like a striking Seviper, it arched forward and struck the odd Pokémon in the chest. A direct hit and the Pokémon was thrown back several inches, claws scratching against marble. Purple fur frizzed up, buzzing with static that quickly dispersed, disappearing.
No paralysis. And the Pokémon seemed verrry angry now.
It shook off the attack easily even though that was Klinklang’s strongest move. Emmet gritted his teeth in something closer to a snarl than a smile. He refused to lose.
He was Emmet. He was a Subway Boss. One of two. He loved winning more than anything.
Except for his brother.
He would get his twin back.
With a snikt, snikt~!, the Pokémon scraped its claws together threateningly. Purple liquid was swelling at the tips, pooling before dripping to the floor. Poison spattered against the pristine white of Gear Station, staining it. The Pokémon growled, prompting the basket to bounce in response, as if Ingo was moving inside.
“Klin… klang…?” Over his bated breath, Emmet heard his brother’s voice for the first time in 3 years. It was high and sweet, though still loud with no volume control. Even muffled by the basket lid and Ingo’s confused tone, Emmet could hear his twin mutter. The tone was questioning, until there was a sudden cry of realisation barely a heartbeat later. “Ah! A steel-type! Use Drain Punch, my Lady.”
Emmet barely registered Ingo’s command, still processing how childish his brother’s voice was. It was unmistakably Ingo, despite missing that baritone deepness it developed in their teen years.
The strange Pokémon had no such delay though, reacting instantly to Ingo’s suggestion.
“Sneas!” With a cry of confirmation, the weird Pokémon closed the distance between it and Klinklang, knocking into it with a fist.
With its sheer power and a super-effective move, Klinklang was immediately KO’d, disappearing with a flash back into the Pokéball. Energy drained from Klinklang’s fading body, absorbed into the Sneasel’s fist, and threading its way into the Pokémon, strengthening and healing it.
Did Ingo just help the Pokémon that was kidnappi-?
Another soon reacted to Ingo’s voice, faster than Emmet.
White blinded Emmet for a moment and then suddenly wild purple flames consumed his field of view. Chandelure had called herself from her Pokéball.
She had heard Ingo as well.
“Chandelure!” Emmet called out, feeling slightly panicked. That was his brother’s starter. He had promised to protect her in his absence. Dark types were super-effective against ghost types, even if Chandelure’s fire typing was strong against a Sneasel’s ice typing. “Mind the gap. Wait behind the yellow line.”
Chandelure ignored Emmet, zipping over to the weird Pokémon, leaving a streak of indigo in the air.
Emmet took a step forward, as if to chase her, but stopped himself. He had to remain behind the yellow line so he could conduct the battle properly. He had to see the full scope of the battlefield, analyse all the possibilities, and come up with perfect combinations to reach the destination known as victory. Emmet couldn’t afford getting struck and leaving their Pokémon without a trainer to conduct them to triumph.
The Sneasel swiped at the ghost Pokémon menacingly, trying to threaten Chandelure away.
Chandelure persisted, not frightened off by the poisonous black claws. She kept trying to dive around the Pokémon, to reach the basket on its back. The odd Sneasel won’t let het though, growling and baring fangs that dripped poison.
The basket shook again.
Then the wicker lid burst off.
A small head of grey hair appeared, peering out of the basket.
“Chandelure!?” Ingo’s voice boomed despite his smaller body. His head swivelled around, searching. Emmet could see the exact moment that Ingo saw Chandelure, as the boy froze, going stock-still.
The strange Pokémon tried to shoo Chandelure away again, as they circled away, swooping down to get to Ingo in the basket. It was more agitated, now that Ingo was no longer covered by the lid, even though only Ingo’s head was sticking out of the basket, hands grasping the rim.
Chandelure’s fire flared up at Ingo’s appearance, the pale violet flames darkening to almost indigo. She tried to sway closer to Ingo, ignoring the dangerous Sneasel.
“Purple flames….” Ingo suddenly made a strangled gasping noise, almost choking on his own tongue. With a panicked yelp, Ingo gave a sharp command. “Lady Sneasler, don’t attack!”
The strange Pokémon froze mid-swing of the claws.
“Sne?” It made a questioning noise of confusion, glancing back over its shoulder towards Ingo.
Ingo didn’t pay it any mind though, solely focused on Chandelure. The child looked positively hypnotised by the ghost Pokémon, staring with wide eyes. The silver of Ingo’s irises reflected the purple flames, turning lavender. He looked haunted.
Thankfully, Ingo’s reaction to Chandelure convinced the weird Sneasel that Chandelure was safe.
The Pokémon stopped swiping at Chandelure, allowing her to be able to approach them. It still watched Chandelure with wary red eyes, narrowed to a suspicious glower, but let her near Ingo anyway.
A small pudgy hand reached out slowly, stretching out of the basket, cautiously but irresistibly drawn in, until it managed to grasp at Chandelure’s black handles. Fingers wrapped around metal and Chandelure chimed happily, a high-pitched sound of delight, like a ringing bell. Ingo’s face remained in a frown, but Emmet could see the marvel and fascination hidden there, eyes shining bright with joy.
“Ingo!”
At the cry of his name, Ingo turned his head and looked directly at Emmet. His grey eyes immediately widened as they locked onto Emmet. Silver met silver, and recognition jolted through Ingo’s expression.
“Emm-”
The next few moments flashed by in front of Emmet’s eyes, a mess of chaos and confusion, as a headstrong Depot Agent, newly hired that year, crashed onto the scene, interrupting Ingo.
“Boss!” The Agent yelled out breathlessly, rushing in impulsively. “Bisharp! Use Metal Claw!” The attack was recklessly called out without the Depot Agent even pausing to observe the situation.
The Bisharp loyally burst forward from its ball and blindly slashed down towards the strange Pokémon.
It was caught off guard, having relaxed when Ingo had recognised Chandelure and Emmet. The Pokémon managed to lift a paw in defence, but it was not fast enough to fully protect the basket on its back.
A metal blade easily sliced through the shoulder strap of the wicker basket.
“Sneas!” The Pokémon screamed out in alarm as the basket, and Ingo inside, tumbled from it.
Ingo’s grip on Chandelure failed, with nothing to support his weight and only a child’s strength to hold himself up. Ingo crashed into the ground, rolling out of the basket like a Spheal down a hill.
“Lure!” Chandelure panicked at her tiny trainer suddenly being dropped and exposed.
“Ingo!” Emmet mirrored that panic, feeling his heart speed out as his twin fell out into an active Pokémon battle, completely unprotected.
“Night Slash!” The Depot Agent heedlessly ordered without pause. Bisharp responded, dashing forward with a hand raised high, dark-type energy swirling into a deadly blade.
A second blind attack.
Ingo was going to be in danger.
Ingo was going to be hit.
“INGO!” Emmet ran forward, but he was never going to make it on time. He was slower than a Bisharp, and too far away.
The weird Sneasel was not.
Without hesitation, it dove onto the ground, covering Ingo’s fallen body. It curled away the child protectively, pulling his short arms and legs in until no part of him could be seen. The Night Slash landed squarely on the strange Pokémon’s back, digging deeper than usual, a critical hit. It tilted its head back and cried out in pain. “SNNEEEEA!”
“LADY SNEASLER!” Ingo screamed out, drowning out the Pokémon’s injured shout. Ingo had shrieked in fear, realising the weird Sneasel had been badly struck. Or perhaps he was yelling because he had been hurt. Emmet did not know.
Chandelure reacted badly.
“Chande…. LURE!” An explosive burst of heat rippled out of Chandelure. Flames rose up and out in a massive tidal wave, turning from Chandelure’s lavender fire to rich hot red to a torturously hot blue, pushing the temperature far beyond what the Pokémon was typically capable of.
Overheat, Emmet realised, holding an arm out to shield his face from the heat. It was far stronger than usual, high temperature matching high emotions. Even though it had not been aimed in his direction, the extreme temperature prickled against his skin painfully. His coat and gloves protected him from the worse of the heat.
The Bisharp was not that lucky. It fainted with a terrified cry, not expecting the attack.
The Depot Agent, standing behind the Bisharp, was also knocked down from the force, but had thankfully been shielded enough by their Pokémon to not be hit directly. They looked flabbergasted that their boss’s Pokémon had attacked them, staring up with fear as they laid defenceless on the floor, too startled to summon another Pokémon.
Chandelure was raring up another attack, purple flames growing once more, swelling as if fed by petroleum.
The strange Pokémon was still hunched over where he had seen Ingo fall, completely hiding his twin. Emmet had no idea if Ingo was okay under there.
This situation was turning into a runaway train. Emmet needed to conduct it properly. He needed to bring it under control before everything derailed.
“HAAAAAALT!” With a high volume that could almost rival Ingo, Emmet hollered.
Chandelure, well-trained by Ingo, immediately quelled her flames. The Depot Agent instinctually snapped a salute despite still laying on the ground. The weird Sneasel turned its head to look at him with wide red eyes, looking shocked.
“Everyone must disembark this train immediately!”
Everyone stopped what they were doing.
The fight ended.
Emmet had ended it.
It was an unsatisfactory end to any battle, but Emmet had to conduct the train safely. All passengers must reach their destination without harm.
Emmet smiled tightly, feeling the muscles strain in his cheeks. It was a brittle and distinctly unhappy, despite the upward turn of his lips.
With a sharp click of his heels, Emmet spun around to stare down at the Depot Agent. He pointed a finger directly at them, commanding their attention. They stared up at him with frightened eyes, realising that they had made a fatal error.
“You! You failed to perform safety checks and rushed forward at full speed without looking at the tracks. You have endangered passenger safety.” Emmet’s smile turned harsher, scarier. “You will return to the security office. You will wait there for further instruction.”
“Y-Y-Y-Yes, B-Boss!” The Depot Agent scrambled to their feet in a panic, snapping another salute. Pale and sweaty, they turned and ran, heading in the direction of the security office at top speed.
Emmet did not watch them leave, turning back to where he had last seen his brother the moment that the Agent had heard his order. The strange Pokémon was hunched over where Ingo was, and Chandelure was hovering over it, circling with nervous chimes, trying to see her trainer underneath. Ingo was not in sight, still covered.
“Ingo!” Emmet hurried over, intending to check his brother’s safety, but was almost stopped by a low threatening snarl. The strange Pokémon was refusing to move.
It was protecting Ingo, Emmet realised. Perhaps it had been protecting Ingo this entire time, and their battle had been a misunderstanding.
Still, Emmet refused to stop until he saw with his own eyes that his twin was safe. He skidded to a stop beside the Pokémon, falling to his knees so he was level with the curled up Sneasel who was hiding his brother like a very broody Pidove. His white trousers will be stained but Emmet didn’t care.
He could see the wound on the Pokémon’s back from the Bisharp’s Night Slash, earned while guarding Ingo. It was a long cut that welled with thick red blood, staining the surrounding purple fur a grotesque muddy crimson.
The very idea that the attack could have hit Ingo instead, and done the same damage to his twin, was sickening. Child or not, Ingo would have been seriously hurt. The more Emmet thought about it, the more he wanted to throw up, so he ignored the ‘what if’ for now, focusing on the present.
Emmet would get the weird Pokémon healed later, as a thanks for saving Ingo.
But first, he needed to be sure Ingo was okay.
Emmet reached out his hand to try and pull Ingo out from underneath.
“Sneasl’rrrrrrr!” It growled.
Emmet drew his hand back quickly. Those fangs looked a look larger and sharper this close.
“Please do not bite me.” Emmet lowered his head, trying to see under the Pokémon. It was verrrry difficult. The Pokémon was not letting any part of Ingo be exposed or unguarded. “Ingo? Ingo, are you in working order?”
A tiny hand appeared, squeezing through the tight gap between the Pokémon’s forearm and shoulder, from where the arm was folded on itself. It wiggled, trying to escape, accompanied by strange, muffled words. With a grumpy grumble, the weird giant Sneasel lifted itself slightly, creating more space.
Immediately, Ingo’s face sprung forward, popping out like a Pokémon from tall grass. His hat was gone, probably still stuck underneath the Pokémon with the rest of Ingo.
Emmet was face to face with his older twin for the first time in three years, finally able to get a proper look at his twin from close-up.
Ingo really was a child. Verrrry unusual.
“Emmet!” Ingo’s mouth dropped open. “When did you get so old!?” Ingo’s voice was as expressive as ever, completely scandalised as if shocked that Emmet had the audacity to be older.
Emmet felt half-mad at the implication that he had been the one who went off and came back a different age. He was not the one who was the wrong age!
Emmet blinked, feeling out of place.
“I could ask you the same, brother. When did you get so young?”
Ingo’s frowned deepened, becoming troubled. He looked thoughtful, head tilting slightly. It looked somewhat silly as the only part of Ingo that could be seen was his head, surrounded by coarse purple fur.
“I-I don’t recall. I woke up like this. I do find myself remembering more worn tracks and a taller perspective, but it’s muddled. I remember being big and small.” Ingo looked at Emmet with big silvery eyes, lost and confused. “I must have derailed quite badly.”
“Verrrry true.” Emmet agreed, before glancing towards the weird Pokémon who watched him suspiciously. It was still curled protectively around Ingo, encasing him. “Can you ask your strange Sneasel to let you go?”
Emmet wanted, no, needed, to hug his brother, to know he was really safe and alive. He couldn’t do that while Ingo was half-hidden underneath the giant Sneasel.
“She’s a Sneasler. Specifically, she is a Noble Pokémon, blessed by Arceus, and called Lady Sneasler. Be polite towards her, Emmet.” Ingo informed Emmet. It was the exact same polite tone he used when explaining instructions, steady and firm, so quintessentially Ingo that Emmet’s chest hurt. It brought back memories of building train models together, with Ingo reading the instruction book aloud while Emmet sorted all the individual parts into neat piles, ready for the twins to assemble together. “Lady Sneasler, if you would please?”
At Ingo’s request, the Pokémon pushed itself from it curled-up position to its hands and knees, giving Ingo space. Before his brother could crawl out though, it scooped Ingo up in its claws, and rose to its feet, carrying him.
The Pokémon settled Ingo against its chest, holding him in the crook of one arm. The other hand carefully threaded a claw through grey hair, grooming it and pushing the thin strands until they laid neater. It tidied Ingo’s hair as if used to it, even though the sight of those curved blades so close to Ingo’s skin was giving Emmet heart palpitations.
Emmet stood up with the Pokémon, staring at his twin.
His hands itched with the urge to reach forward and grab his brother from the Pokémon. Those deadly sharp claws stopped the impulse though. Emmet didn’t want Ingo to be accidentally scratched by them.
“Are you okay?” He asked instead, arms absently swinging at his sides.
“My cab is in excellent shape.” Emmet doubted it.
For starters, Ingo’s cab was missing the top 2 and a half feet of his body. And was significantly younger looking.
Height and age weren’t the only concerning things.
As raggedy and dirty as Ingo’s coat was, Ingo matched it perfectly. Hs grey hair was dulled with dirt and grease, hanging limp. A black smudge that Emmet recognised as oil from the tracks was smeared across Ingo’s chin, brushed up onto his cheek. His face was speckled with filth. There was a hollowness to his gaze that was frightening for Emmet to see, a dimness that was new.
Crusty ruddy brown flakes were stuck to his palms and wrists, crumbling from the skin to leave reddish stains on the skin – dried blood. Ingo’s hands had been injured recently, and not properly cleaned. They needed to be disinfected soon, before Ingo got sick.
Ingo looked tired, with lines and wrinkles that should be on a child’s face, prominent due to exhaustion. Thankfully, he did seem a lot less disorientated and confused than earlier. He was squinting less, growing used to the bright artificial lights of Gear Station.
Emmet had been verrrrry concerned when Ingo had been unresponsive, letting himself be Pokémon-handled by the odd Sneasel, now known as a Sneasler.
It became too much. Emmet held his arms out expectantly.
“Let me hold my brother.” He demanded, making a grabby gesture.
“Grrrrrr…..” The Sneasler only growled and held Ingo away from him, clicking its teeth in his direction.
“Ingo, your strange Sneasel-,” “Lady Sneasler”, Ingo corrected automatically. “,-growled at me.”
“Please be nice to my brother, my Lady. Don’t start a fight.”
At first, Emmet thought the Pokémon wouldn’t obey, that perhaps Ingo hadn’t trained it well yet. He was glad to be proven wrong a tense minute later.
“Snee…. Ler.” With a huffy pout, it finally held Ingo out, supporting the child by the armpits.
Emmet dove forwards and snatched his brother, wrapping his arms around Ingo’s mid-rift. In that moment, Emmet realised that he had no idea how to hold a child, but the thought was soon quickly drowned out by another:
He was holding his twin again.
“Ingo…” Emmet sighed quietly, squeezing Ingo tighter to his chest. His voice was monotone, but his eyes were watering, threatening tears. He pushed his face against Ingo’s head, ignoring the nauseating artificial-sweet smell of petroleum oil cut through with earthy mud and Pokémon musk. Something sweeter and milder was underneath - pecha berries.
“Emmet…” Ingo wrapped his arms around Emmet’s neck, hugging him back. It wasn’t a very tight hug, but Emmet could feel that Ingo was putting all his strength behind it, arms trembling from the strain. Every ounce of longing that Emmet had felt for the past 3 years was mirrored in Ingo’s voice, too loud considering how close to Emmet’s ears he was.
Emmet felt Ingo’s nose against his neck, resting there. Each warm huffy breath that brushed his skin was proof that Ingo was alive and here again. Despite their disparate ages, Emmet could feel how their heartbeats were in perfect sync, beating in time and only separated by skin and cloth.
They were finally together again.
Emmet sniffed, and felt his tears overflow even as he smiled wide. He cried quietly, weeping into Ingo’s hair, leaving droplets of salty water there. It was too much emotion all at once, but also it was perfect because Ingo was home.
Out of the two of them, Emmet had always been the cry-baby.
The twins hugged for several long minutes, until Ingo started to slip down as Emmet wasn’t supporting his weight well.
Emmet almost panicked and dropped Ingo. He had never held a child before, and it was obvious by how awkwardly he held Ingo, with Ingo’s legs dangling while Emmet support all his weight from his stomach.
The hold was unsteady, and Ingo was slipping, slowly sliding out of Emmet’s grip. Neither twin wanted to separate. Some sort of instinct seemed to suddenly kick in and Ingo wrapped his legs around Emmet’s hip. With a small but of adjustment, heaving his brother up with some grunts, Emmet was holding Ingo more easily, one arm under his brother’s bum and the other still hugging him to his chest.
Ingo stopped slipping away, and Emmet sighed in relief.
He never wanted to lose his twin ever again.
Chandelure floated very nearby, carrying Ingo’s black hat on one handle. She must have picked it up for her trainer. Emmet couldn’t find it in him to return her to her Pokéball. She had wanted to unite with Ingo just as much as Emmet had. Crustle, at some point, had quickly returned to his ball, probably when Emmet had ended the battle.
The Sneasler Pokémon stood in front of Emmet, hip cocked to one side and paw resting on it. It chirruped down at the twins, watching them without any wariness now. It didn’t seem as affected by its injury as it could have been, though Emmet still made a mental note to get it healed as soon as possible. It must be a very tough pokemon, as well as very strong.
Emmet finally pulled his head back, just enough that he could look Ingo in the eye again. His vision was blurry from tears, and he felt more than saw Ingo reach forward and wipe the tears away. He stopped crying as Ingo fretted over him, sniffing until he felt more in control again. Small hands cradled his cheeks carefully, drying them gently. It was such an Ingo, a big brother, thing to do.
Silver eyes met silver eyes, still perfect mirrors despite all the changes.
Blunt questions bubbled forth.
“Where have you been? Why are you a child? Have you been a child for the last three years?”
Ingo’s hands fell to Emmet’s shoulder, squeezing tight. The white material scrunched up under tiny fists, desperate to hold onto Emmet.
“I have been in Hisui for the past three years, as a fully grown man, working as the Warden of the Lady of the Cliffs, Lady Sneasler. It was my duty to care for her and aid her in her duties in the Coronet Highlands. I also protected and guided travellers through the dangerous paths of Mt Coronet.” Ingo stated everything with the same bluntness that Emmet was fond of using.
Hisui?
Where was that? Emmet had never heard of that region before. Why was Ingo there and not here?
And a Warden? Of Lady Sneasler, the weird tall Sneasel-like Pokémon that was carrying Ingo around?
Dangerous paths? Had Ingo been in danger for the past three years?
Ingo continued answering before Emmet could be overwhelmed by the growing mix of complicated emotions in his chest.
This time there was hesitation in his young voice. Ingo’s words quivered unsure, revealing all the feelings that didn’t show on his face. “I am… unsure about why I am a child. I simply woke up as one today. I do remember being a much older adult, but it’s very confusing as I also remember being a child. I swore that the last time we saw each other, you were also a child, and that we were a similar age.”
So Ingo definitely remembered being older, meaning this wasn’t an Ingo from decades ago, but his twin turned younger? But he remembered being young too?
Verrry interesting.
Ingo’s mixed memories seemed to be muddling him though. While his gaze was clearer, Ingo had looked so dazed when Emmet had first seen in in that Sneasler’s arms. And he said that he was confusing his childhood and adult years.
Ingo sounded so lost, bewildered by his own memories.
Emmet drew Ingo in for another hug, unable to reply. Words escaped him. None of his scripts had prepared him for this scenario. He hoped Ingo could feel his love and relief through his touch.
Ingo hugged back, speaking into Emmet’s neck. The words were absent, quieter, as if Ingo had not been fully aware of voicing them aloud. “I did not lose my memory this time at least.”
“Lose your memory?” That made Emmet draw back again, to look his twin in the face.
“I have some memory issues, harking back to three years ago.” A stuttering breath fell from between small lips, and Ingo looked away, as if ashamed. His shoulders shook, even though no tears emerged. Unlike Emmet, Ingo struggled to cry. “Sorry, Emmet… But I do not remember where I am currently. And until I saw you, I did not remember your name or who you were either.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
His brother hadn’t remembered him for the past three years. That was why he had not come home.
Emmet swallowed loudly. It felt like he was choking on something. His eyes were blurring again, threatening more tears. His smile turned brittle, fragile, wobbling dangerously.
Ingo still wasn’t looking him in the eye. His tiny hands were rubbing together nervously, disturbing the dry blood there, and his skin had blanched to an unhealthy white. The frown was dug even deeper into Ingo’s expression. Though he did not cry, his silver eyes did gain a glistening shine to them, mirroring Emmet’s.
In a rush, Ingo started talking, words falling out in a jumble. He tripped and stumbled over his own tongue, heavy with guilt. Emmet listened intently, committing every syllable to memory.
“I’m sorry. I do not believe that I had meant to forget you. I remember you now. You are the man who wears white and likes winning more than anything else. You are my rival and best friend. You are my twin and my precious younger brother. I always knew something important was missing from my life. I would never want to forget you. I love you.”
It was a flood of sentiments, Ingo affirming his own memories while trying to reassure Emmet. It crashed forward in a torrent, like a Swampert letting loose an uncontrollable Surf. Ingo often had a compulsion to over explain his emotions and feelings, a trait picked up after too many schoolyard bullies had taunted him for his expressionless face. Ingo just wanted to be understood.
Nearing the end, Ingo looked faint and wispy, and Emmet held on tighter. He was almost worried about leaving bruises on his brother but couldn’t find the strength to let go. Ingo dove forward and was the one to pull the twins into a hug this time. He hid against Emmet’s neck, as if ashamed.
“I did not know who you were, but I have missed you… deeply.” Ingo pressed all his longing, yearning, aching into the short sentence, trying to convey to Emmet just how much he had missed him, as much as Emmet had missed Ingo.
Memory or not, Ingo had missed Emmet.
Emmet drew Ingo from his shoulder, pulling until their foreheads rested against each other. It was something they used to do as kids that carried on into their adulthood, pushing their foreheads together and staring directly into each other’s eyes. It meant neither could hide anything from the other. They shared their breath, with one breathing in as the other breathed out. One smiled. One frowned.
Usually, it was easier to do this because they were the same height. Emmet had to lean further forward, to reach Ingo who was still held in his arms.
“I am Emmet. You are Ingo. We are in Gear Station.” Emmet couldn’t push the same emotion into his voice as Ingo could but this close, Ingo could see every micro-expression that flashed by, revealing Emmet’s thoughts.
Ingo silently mouthed Emmet’s words, as if committing them to memory. There was a sharp flash of recognition at the words ‘Gear Station’, mostly hidden by Ingo’s expressionless face but clearly seen by Emmet who was so used to deconvoluting his brother. Even if his brother was over 2 decades younger than he should be.
“It’s okay, Ingo. I love you too. I missed you too. You were gone. You forgot me. But now you are home. And you are remembering me.” Emmet continued, speaking in short blunt sentences. He didn’t have a script for this, but this was important. He had to say it, so Ingo knew. He had waited very single day for the last three years to see Ingo again. “Our ages might have decoupled but we are still twins.”
“We will fix this.” Emmet promised.
It was hard to know what Emmet was referring to – the hurt both twins suffered due to the absence, Ingo’s lost memories, Ingo’s reduced age, how Ingo disappeared and why he came back…. They would soon be verrrry busy.
“Emmet.” Ingo sounded clog and watery, as if he would cry, but his cheeks remained dry.
“Is big brother gonna cry?” Emmet teased, smiling wider. His tone turned playful, falling back into old habits easily, even though so much time had passed and so many things had changed.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ingo huffed, rubbing at his face with his sleeve, even though there were no tears.
Emmet laughed. Ingo sounded so much like his old self, but with such a high childish voice, that it was funny.
Sneasler took the laughter and the lighter mood to make its presence known again. It churred out, drawing the twins’ attentions.
“Sneeas, sne!” The Sneasler had Ingo’s hat. It must have stolen it from Chandelure who was still hovering very close to them. The worn hat sat on it head, crooked due to the long head feather.
“That is my brother’s hat.” Emmet informed the Pokémon bluntly. It made an amused chirped before reaching out and pulling Emmet’s hat from his head. Emmet, with both of his hands supporting Ingo’s weight, could not stop the theft. “That is my hat.” Emmet said, annoyed.
With a low snicker, the Pokémon slammed Ingo’s hat onto Emmet’s head, pushing it down until it covered his eyes. Emmet spluttered in shock. By the time Ingo had reached out and pushed the hat back, setting it correctly and adjusting the brim, giving Emmet back his vision, the weird Sneasler was wearing Emmet’s hat instead, preferring the white colour and pristine condition no doubt. “You’re a verrrry rude Pokémon.”
“Apologies, Emmet. Lady Sneasler is quite headstrong.”
Emmet huffed out a quiet sigh, accepting the black hat on his head. He did not want to argue with Ingo’s new Pokémon. He wanted to catch up with his twin and find out more about where he has been. Perhaps they will be able to fix his age as well. Or at least figure out why Ingo was a child again. And he needed to heal their pokemmon.
“Let’s go home, brother. You can bring your strange Sneasel as well.”
Ingo did not correct Emmet again on Sneasler’s name like he had expected, instead going quiet. He stared into the distance, mind drifting as in deep thought. It was eerir, seeing him just suddenly zone out like that. Before Emmet could voice any concern over Ingo’s uncharacteristic silence, his brother jolted back to normal.
“Home… I believe I have been wanting to go home for a long time.” A smile, an actual smile, soft and gentle appeared on Ingo’s face. It was always such a rare sight, only ever truly seen when Ingo was beyond happy. Emmet smiled to match. “Yes, let’s set our destination for home. Check safety and full steam ahead!” Ingo’s voice rose, growing louder and louder. Emmet instinctually knew what came next.
Carefully supporting Ingo in one arm, even though it was difficult, Emmet raise one hand and pointed towards Gear Station’s exit. Ingo mirrored him, pointing a much shorter arm, hand hidden by the too-long sleeve of his black coat.
Together the twins yelled,
“ALL ABOARD!”