Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“I didn’t take you as one to visit prisoners, Kamoko.” Even behind bars and a plasti-screen, with a desk between them, Archer’s smile was still smug. Infuriating. Knowing. Confident in a way the Rocket had no right to be. The redhead hated it. Hated the man who, even in the dull grey-brown of Kanto’s prison uniform, somehow looked refined. Even his hair was neat, though lacking the cyan dye job. Without that, it was ruddy brown and unremarkable. Plain and boring.

It suited a prisoner like him.

“My name is Niko,” the redhead spat as they drew themselves up in their chair.

“Your birth-name is Kamoko. I witnessed your mother officiate the certificate,” Archer stated, the smile never leaving his face, even when Niko flinched.

“I think I know my own name-”

“You would di-”

“She’s fifteen years dead,” Niko snorted. “As is my brother.”

The brother they never knew. The brother Father compared them to at every turn.

“My heart grieves every day for them-”

“Aww. Like you have a heart.” It was a snapped and bitter dismissal of the topic. A clear one; Niko wanted nothing to do with it. Mother was dead and so was Brother. Nothing could change the past, not even the so-called gods of time. Brother had been stillborn and Mother had bled out giving birth.

Even technology couldn’t have saved her, though they’d tried. It was a tale they were well familiar with. The same as knowing Father had never remarried.

“Kamok-”

“Don’t My name is Niko!”

“You said it was ‘Silver’, once.”

“Shut up! I was ten and it sounded cool and foreign.” Niko snapped with a huff. Did the man have to bring up a childhood nickname? “Niko’s not a nickname, either. It’s my name, stupid. Has been for years.”

Archer settled back in the chair with an exhale and if Niko didn’t know better, the man was disappointed and aggrieved. But they knew better and with a lift of their head, piercing red eyes met the cold cyan of Archer’s eyes. Cold and dead, like the man within. Even Father’s eyes were more alive than his right-hand man’s and Father’s were a rich, deep amber that could look gold in just the right light.

Not that Father was a Golden-Eyed Child and thank the gods for small mercies. Grandmother had been and from Father’s stories, she’d been terrifying and hadn’t hesitated to slave pokemon to her will. Father would, if he could. The man craved power and what better than an army of pokemon slaved to a human’s mind? It was stupid and foolish. That much Niko knew. Any Darkened worth their salt could undo a GED’s mind control with enough focus.

But, just like with Father’s gaze, Niko couldn’t hold Archer’s long. They snorted, looked away, and wished they hadn’t been required to hand over their pokemon at reception. The man deserved to gengar food, not rotting away in jail for the rest of his life. But no, what he’d done did not warrant the death penalty and Niko could not change reality. At least they still had the blasted paperwork with them.

Archer’s smile grew. “You didn’t come for nothing.”

“Of course not,” the redhead slapped paperwork against the plasti-barrier between them with a growl. “Explain.”

Archer blinked. “I wasn’t aware you forgot how to read, girl.”

“Not a girl!” Niko snapped, back straight as if they had forced steel into it, and hand clenched until knuckles were whiter than a shiftry’s fur. “Haven’t been one for years.”

“You were born a girl and I know you haven’t-”

“Don’t mean I’m a girl!”

“Of course,” Archer allowed with a knowing smile.

“Don’t test me,” they started as they lent in, one hand braced against the barrier, the other on the table where it throbbed and ached from the fist it’d been forced into. “It’s legalese. So. Explain.”

“You’ve read it, then.”

“Don’t make me get a psychic to scoop it out of you,” they threatened, face hard and gaze harder as they pulled away, finally setting the vile paperwork on the table.

Archer leaned back as much as the chair and cuffs would allow and fixed the girl with a flat stare. “It’s a betrothal contract. What’s there to explain?”

“Undo it.” It wasn’t a statement but a demand as flat as the Kanto plains.

“Quite impossible. It’s steelclad.”

Ice-cold fingers reached up the spine and into their heart at Archer’s smile.

“And I could just not turn up.” Niko refused to end up trapped in an arranged marriage with some idiot who’d force them to carry a parasite or three. Even with a swallow, their heart sped up at the notion, of what it implied. Of the months of dealing with a period only to either deal with a dick fucking them until conception, or having the baby implanted.

“Something the matter, Kamoko?”

“No.” It was automatic and blank, as if they didn’t see the self-satisfied way Archer relaxed. He was no psychic, but the man knew they were panicking. Knew how much they hated their body. How much they couldn’t wait until they were twenty to have everything removed.

Fist hit plastic. Pain bloomed like dragonfire along nerves and Niko snarled as they took that pain, took the panic Archer dared to instil into them and forced it all into a slow, controlled exhale. Panic and anger wouldn’t serve them here. Unbidden and unwanted, a reason came to mind: Father would think it weak, would tell them that, once again, if they’d been born with the body of a boy, they wouldn’t be so weak. Another breath cycled as they sat back down, uncaring of the bloodied hand or smeared blood on the divider as they stared at Archer, as if they hadn’t just lost their cool.

Hadn’t allowed anger to rule them. They weren’t fourteen anymore. They’d grown up in the years since. And, they were a Gym Leader.

They were better than they’d just behaved. Far better.

“As you say,” Archer said with a small tut. “You really haven’t read it thoroughly have you?”

Niko raised an eyebrow and when Archer gave the relevant page and clause, they flicked to it. Blood drained from their face and a chill raced their spine. It turned fire-blasted nerves to ice surer than any Blizzard or Ice Beam could and if they didn’t know better, they’d say a gengar had been loosed in the room. “... ... Oh, fuck you.”

“Think of it this way, Kamoko: You’ve already met her-”

“Kris?" They could live with that, given they liked the Indigo Champion well enough that making a baby or two wouldn’t be a chore. Kris also knew of the dysphoria and everything associated with that.

“As if your father would ever have betrothed you to some common, no-name whore. No.” Archer waved a hand as dismissively as he possibly could. “She’s also pure-bred Yamatan, unlike yourself.”

“Father would have your head for that-” Niko snapped, hands balled as they wished Giovanni were here. He would, too. What they knew of Mother said Father had loved her with all his heart. The only woman, no, person he’d ever loved.

“Yes, but he’s not here and you do take after the Galarish woman more than Sakaki-dono.”

Niko’s freckled face scrunched into an impetuous glower. Just because they looked more Galarish than Yamatan, or even Kantan if one wanted to get region-specific, meant nothing. Maybe two hundred years ago it would have, but not in this day and age. “Hmph. So, who is this woman?”

“From the Umiyari group. About your age, give or take.”

It was like someone had dumped them straight into a bucket of ice then tossed that into the Distortion for good measure. Maybe even dunked them in again, or simply used a pokemon to replicate the effect.

They might as well have, though.

Outside of Ginga/Galactic, the Umiyari Group controlled the largest share of Sinnoh’s underworld and were said to be as ruthless as Rocket. Niko swallowed back the bile, as if that would quell the rising horror, but all it left was a rancid and fetid taste, like they’d gone up against Eva’s muk or Kris’s garbodor on a particularly hot summer’s day. Gods knew how the ladies withstood the stench of the things. “Who.”

“Nakamura Sho’s heiress. You met her once, when you were six.”

Niko snorted. It didn’t ring a bell. They’d met lots of people at that age and the name was common enough it could belong to anyone in Sinnoh. But that meant nothing; Archer did not joke, so they filed away the name. They’d Yahgoo it later. “So I’ll be sub-”

“Read the contract, Kamoko.”

Viridian’s Gym Leader skimmed it once again in a futile hope to catch the Rocket out; that what they feared was false, but the churning, gnawing sensation only grew until it bloomed into sweaty palms and barely concealed shaking held at bay only by the knowledge that Father had at least inserted a clause that seemed to suggest they wouldn’t be wholly subordinate.

It was little comfort and the redhead couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

They tore past the guard, espeon, and a sub-adult more hypno than drowzee. Hands shook as they clutched scrunched papers as they all but sprinted to the nearest toilet. They barely made it to the sink before bile and vomit forced its way up and out via the throat and nose alike. They never had been an elegant vomiter, and this was no different. But Niko did not care. They had better things to worry about, like vomit coming up where it shouldn’t, or if their hair was short enough (it wasn’t).

They would be a broodmare. Great. They, the Viridian Gym Leader, were to be a broodmare for a wife who probably would want them to quit and move to Sinnoh. To play the perfect housewife and be content with that. Feeding the woman to Baku was a no go, too.

Fuck their life.

She’d teleported in as soon as Niko’d told her what was going on via video link.

Every time she visited, Kris swore the Viridian Gym’s office changed. Oh, the staple of fireplace, large windows -opened to allow in cool summer breezes that came down from the mountains- and wall of bookshelves and filing cabinets remained. But this time the desk was purple-hearted blackwood, the kind from Holon’s deepest and darkest forests. The kind of forests guarded by shiftry and Darkened-Clans, to say nothing of the reports of the pokemon that lived within. Furniture made of it bespoke more money than the average city car cost.

She didn’t doubt Niko had money, but she didn’t want to know where it came from.

Investments, hopefully. The redhead certainly had a lot of those.

The rug it sat on was shaggy and white, contrasting nicely with the purple-black of the heavy desk. The chair was custom made, all high backed and deep greens and browns of an adult shiftry. The armchairs were plush and white, with matching throws in the shape of the Earth Badge.

It looked homely and a far cry from the dark and muted colours of the Gym downstairs. But, was it really homely when the Leader was determined to pace a hole in the floor? Not that Kris blamed Niko if they did.

Giovanni had, yet again, somehow ruined Niko’s life. She suspected she was about to find out how, given they couldn’t even find the man, and that was with Interpol lending its help to the League. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“No,” the teenager’s freckled face scrunched in distaste. “I had my own lawyers go over it yesterday. It’s steelclad.”

Kris winced, even as relief flooded her. A Niko distracted from their anger and helplessness with the law was a good thing for everyone. Though, she wouldn’t put it past them to have taken some of it out on the lawyers. It was Niko after all; despite claims, they had changed little from the angry and volatile person she and Kotone had met in Cherrygrove three years ago. “I’m sorry. No-one deserves this. Why would-”

“Yamatan underworld politics are rife with this, Krisandra-chan.” Niko paused by one armchair. They way they lent on it, plus the use of her full name, complete with the way the honorific was twisted, told Kris all she needed to know. “Hmph. Father’s probably hoping I’ll have a boy, then he can swoop in and take him.”

“What? A boy?” She blinked uncomprehendingly.

“Yea. A boy. A human with a d-”

“I know what a boy is, Niko,” Kris interjected before the redhead could get started. “But why-”

“My brother was stillborn and Mother died.”

“I know that.”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions, Champion-sama.”

“I’m not!” If it had been anyone else other than the redhead before her, Kris would have taken the insulting twist to the honorific as fighting words. “But, everyone knows it’s easier to trace lineage through girls- it’s why daughters are favoured over sons even today.” Of all the Yamatan cultures today, only Fiore didn’t determine inheritance via the female line, but she knew girls still played a part in tracing lineage. But, as soon as she’d spoken, Kris wished she hadn’t. The heat of Niko’s glare had only grown as they’d grown up. At least Kotone wasn’t here; Elm’s daughter never could withstand it. “I- Niko-”

Niko waved a hand, though Kris could tell she’d stuck her foot in it. “I won’t be a broodmare. The other girl will be it. Or we can use one of the tanks. But not me.”

“And then you’ll be complaining about how ugly a human foetus is. I know you.” It wouldn’t just be angry texts on the ‘gear, but e-mails, mail, and phone calls, if not whirlwind visits up on the Plateau.

Niko snorted, pushed off the chair and resumed pacing. “As if! I’d force the issue and get one of the opaque ones. Then I don’t have to see it.”

That made sense, even if she didn’t like it. “W-what if your wife wants to carry?”

“Then she can.” It was final.

The Champion sighed as she looked at her friend and rival. “How long will you be gone?”

“A seven-day?” Niko shrugged as they flopped down into the chair closest to the unlit fireplace, landing in an effortless, graceful sprawl.

“That’s almost a full jun,” Kris whispered, eyes wide. “With end of season closing in, that’s-”

“Yea, I know.” Niko waved a hand. “But we’ve still got a month to go. Three jun by the time I get back.”

“I suppose…” Kris said uneasily.

“Hmph. If I ‘port up to Shin’ō using Mita, it’d be less...”

“I sense a but?” She prompted the possibly Darkened -she never could figure out if they were Darkened or just born with a mutation that gave them the eye colour- as she took a seat beside them.

“I don’t want to be laid up in a hotel dealing with ‘Porting sickness while dealing with this.”

“Then don’t; take a plane,” Kris said and stiffed down a grin at the way Niko’s face scrunched again. “Then take a private one. Legends know you have enough money.”

“Hmph. Even if I do that, it’ll still be the same. They’ll be boxed as freight and once they get past the security, they’ll add the anti-dark field to that.”

Kris sighed, but didn’t bother to dispute that fact of air travel when it came to pokemon. To dark-types, but at least psychic-types got the same treatment. “You’ll be taking them, then?”

“Baku at least.” The smile was telling enough. Niko barely went anywhere without the gengar, even if Baku wasn’t being actively trained. But that was more because truly adult gengar needed to respect the trainer, not just like them. Otherwise, they viewed them as prey and even an experienced trainer could lose control of it and everyone knew the horror stories, if not from friends of friends, then from the news. But even then, it was a balancing act. One Niko was being smart about, at the very least and she wouldn’t be surprised if Baku ended up with an everstone before the end of season. Even Agatha’s pair had, according to the woman, taken decades before she was willing to allow them to go true adult. “The rest’ll be darks if I don’t take my personal team. My wife is a GED.”

Kris stiffened and her mind flashed back to Lance and what he’d said about his cousin. The same cousin with burning gold eyes who she’d dethroned as Indigo Champion. Clair worked under her now, but her dislike of humanity was well known. “Do you know- Wait, would you-”

“I am his child. Of course I still have connections,” Niko said with a twist of the mouth that bespoke what they thought about that, even if they were useful, or so Niko claimed. “Contacts say it’s probably fire-types. So I won’t be taking Ao with me.”

Kris nodded as she forced herself to relax. “Smart. She is part fire.” Niko grunted in agreement and Kris smirked. “Growing troubles?”

“You try having a herugā finally reaching adult and see how you like it.” They snorted and raked a hand through their hair. “You’d think losing and regrowing the ‘horns’ was the easy part.”

“You have Oda at least,” Kris pointed out, if only to take Niko’s mind off the approaching ‘mega’ houndoom. As interested as she was in Ao, she knew how much the feraligatr, stolen or no, meant to Niko.

“She’s on nest.” Kris blinked, but before she could ask what’d prompted that, Niko continued on. “Hmph. I need another water if I want to take one with me.”

“Dara, then?”

“It’s possible,” Niko admitted slowly to taking the crawdaunt with them.

Kris mentally frowned. There was something there that didn’t quite sit right with her. Maybe Niko was having issues? It was possible; the pokemon was primarily a water-type and Niko a dark-specialist dabbling in a few other species. “What about Ri-”

“Can’t. You know as well as I do if I even think of using Rian-”

“What if you had a permit?” The Champion interrupted as she held up a hand to forestall any snide remarks. “I know you’ve been training the lugia, Niko.”

It was, Kris would later admit, a guilty pleasure to have heard the sharp intake, to see how Niko stiffened then straightened. To watch Giovanni’s child swallow as they tried to look innocent. “What are-”

“I’ve been training Glastal,” Kris said with an easy shrug as she dug into her pockets and pulled out not one, but two licences. She held them up for Niko to see what they were: licenses permitting the training of certain rare pokemon. Namely, suicune and lugia. “And, like I said, I know you.”

Plus, the lugia was growing at a faster rate than it should if it wasn’t being trained. To the average onlooker, it wouldn’t have been noticeable, but to those who knew and studied so-called legendary pokemon… it was telling.

It could easily land her friend into major trouble.

“When did you get these?!” They snapped, snatching the one for lugia out of her hand.

“This morning,” she said, but it technically was a lie. She’d gotten hers several days ago, and only when she’d pushed on a hunch did they hand over Niko’s.

Niko’s head shot up, narrow. Guarded. Suspicious. “What do you want for it?”

“Nothing. It’s just a gift.” From the look she got, it was abundantly clear Niko didn’t believe her and Kris wished she’d the foresight to have given the licence to them without the context of a looming wife. “Nothing more. I promise, Niko.”

“Right, sure.” Even so, Niko put it in their wallet alongside the one that allowed them to keep the baby lugia they’d rescued from poachers two years ago. “Still won’t take Rian. The Umiyari get a whiff of her and they’ll make it the bride-price or something.”

“They’d do that?”

“It’s common enough in the underworld. Grandmother had one,” Niko said with a half shrug. “But the contract says there shouldn’t be one, so I doubt they’d pull a fast one.”

“What if they know?”

“Hmph. As if I’d let them get a hold of something that’s perfect for me!”

“I’m glad Rian’s in safe hands with you.” If only because the teenager in front of her was still possessive to a fault. Kris meant it, though. Even if there was so much she could comment on about that, could gently correct Niko over, she didn’t. Praise and then reprimand was something Giovanni - no, the Rockets- had done, and she wasn’t about to start now. Plus, it was likely Niko knew and bringing up past -and still current- mindsets wouldn’t be worth it. Not when she wanted Niko to get used to the idea that gifts didn’t have to have strings attached. “So, when will you leave?”

“Tomorrow. Short notice isn’t something I like, but-“ They shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “It’s not like I’m Takeshi-san up in Nibi, and the unofficial Gyms can handle those looking to train and my Gym Trainers’ll handle the rest. And,” they continued as Kris’s eyebrows climbed higher, never mind that Brock up in Pewter was infinitely more popular amongst young trainers than Viridian was. “Not like we get challengers under fifth-tier.”

“You do get some,” Kris interjected.

“Because I have to take them,” came the petulant retort. “League rules and all.”

“Didn’t Ayumi-chan hit you first this season?”

Niko’s face blanked at the mention of Archer’s daughter; the reason they’d even caught the man in the first place, unlike Proton and Petrel. At least, everyone who knew the man was sure Ayumi Asai was his kid. They had the same cyan eyes, and she looked enough like him when she was serious that she probably was. Not that it mattered much when lineage traced through the mother, and there was no doubt who that was. At least her pokemon choice was nothing like his, though she’d do well to evolve her eevee into something if she wanted the competitive world to take her seriously. “She made it to Hirota-san. She came back to me as Third and the Ōkido brat followed her lead.”

“Shin-kun’s nothing like his cousin and you know it,” Kris snapped with a brief glare; she had to defend the pair she was sort of mentoring after all.

“Still an Ōkido,” Niko muttered as they stood and stretched. “Aww, whatever. If any come they can schedule in when I’m back. The backlog won’t be as bad as say, Nibi’s Gym. Anyway, you could come.”

“I wish I could, but I’ve got a show-match in three days-”

“Then just ‘port up and back. You don’t get sick, unlike some of us!”

“I’ll see what I can do. But, no promises,” she conceded. The time difference going west wouldn’t be that bad, maybe three hours. But, she also had work, and while the League’s adult hoopa would be available for warping… “When’s the meeting?”

“The day after tomorrow in Hakutai. Hmph. It starts at 10am their time, so noon-hour here.”

Kris’s eyes widened. Wasn’t that the city the rock-band ‘Eterna’ headquartered at? “I- I’ll do my best to make a showing.”

If only so she could get the lead singer’s autograph after.

“You won’t have any breaks to put the mask down around her, Haru,” her teacher’s voice scolded with the same level of shaming it had held since she was a child.

‘Stop fidgeting, Haru-chan.’ ‘Stop touching that, Haru. It is unseemly for one of your status to be so enamoured with something just because it’s soft.’ ‘Stop thinking about your father like that, Haru-chan. He has important things to be doing before he spends time with you.’

It was never-ending, though time and exposure had diminished the effect. Or maybe she was just growing up, but, the teenager thought as she pet Koto, it was likely a mix of both. Even so, she arched an eyebrow as she lay on the couch, one leg thrown over the back as if out of spite, while the eevee lay half on her stomach and were it not for the thrum of a purr she could feel, Haru would have thought her pet sleeping.

“If she has problems with me taking an hour to myself for a bath once in a while,” Haru began, tone lazy yet perfectly enunciated. Not that it could be anything less; it’d been painstaking trained into her and one of the few things she couldn’t drop even if she wanted to. Much like petting Koto was nigh impossible to stop. “Then I will assert my dominance acceptably, just as you taught me, Teacher.”

The word was foreign and more title than name, but it was what she knew the man by. Even those she interacted with addressed him as such. She could have found out his name, but why bother. Soon he’d be out of her hair for at least a short while, no more than a year at best, but likely only a few months.

Said man came to stand by her. From this angle, he towered over her and she couldn’t tell his expression. It didn’t matter though; her golden-eyed gaze met his, unblinking and calm, even as she continued to idly pet Koto, mindful of the recent addition of an everstone collar. Her teacher’s brown eyes hardened as he frowned. “Shall I move you by force, or will you sit on the furniture the way you’re supposed to.”

Haru thought she felt the brush of the telepath’s mind, and instantly her mind filled with unrelated thoughts. It wouldn’t do to allow Teacher to get a real read on her want to force his hand, to make him go out of his way. The trick had taken an age to perfect, but overwhelming him with useless thoughts had been a successful way to keep her thoughts her own.

“Stop being petulant, Haru-chan,” her teacher said as he twisted the rarely used honorific into something rude. “You are not a child.”

“Legally I am,” she quipped, scratching gently behind Koto’s ear. “That’s why you need that legal document to prove that her father has given his consent to the union.” She slowly glanced to the folder on the coffee table. She’d long since memorised its contents; Teacher had her do so from an early age so she would know what to pull should her wife attempt to break the contract in any way.

She’d have to make sure she packed her knives before the teleport down to Kanto.

Her teacher shook his head. “Do not forget your own obligations, Haru. There are rules for you both.”

“Yes, I know,” she said through grit teeth. Of course he’d catch that thought. “We are to have a child within a reasonable time. It does not allow us to kill each other. All things typical in marriages like this.”

She slowly righted herself at his nod, finally sitting on the couch like a normal human being, Koto shifted beside her without a sound. It wasn’t that the eevee was mute; Koto simply knew her -its; pokemon were tools, and she’d do well to remember that- place right now. That, and it was working and, in her world, working pokemon made no sound. Later, when she wasn’t around people, they’d both relax. They couldn’t, not right now and while Haru could have dragged her feet longer, the control that offered was an easily shattered illusion. Her future had been set the moment her father had decided to have a second child. A life of being a non-person outside of the criminal sphere limited her opportunities to break free - not that she’d ever been under any illusions it was a real option. She never took much time to think about it either; better to make herself useful than get carried away with fantasies.

“Be more grateful. Your father has put time and effort into raising you so that you would be a suitable heir.” The edge the man’s voice held was a reminder of how her older sister hadn’t been suitable. Not when she’d lived in the general eye of the public, instead of kept secret and safe from opposing forces. That was why her mother had been allowed to take her in the divorce. She wasn’t good enough. She was impure, trained by society more than by her father’s will.

Haru looked over to him, her tone more modest now, obedient. “Do you know what she’s like? I was five, so I can hardly be expected to remember how Kamoko acted after so long.”

His expression looked like he smelled something terrible and Haru was tempted to try her (admittedly dismal) luck breaking into his mind to find out why. “I hear she is going through something of a rebellious phase. Though that isn’t guaranteed to be the case.”

“Oh?” She couldn’t help but sit straighter at the news. She might have memorised the contract, but news as to her wife had never filtered through until now.

“Hmm. Your father theorizes that Kamoko is doing as her father once did, taking command of a Gym and gaining social power.”

“I take it he approves of that theory then,” she lifted Koto and repositioned it in her lap. “It isn’t that different from what he tried to do.”

“Yes. Precisely.”

The measured intake and exhale through gritted teeth told Haru she’d hit a sore spot and unbidden, pleasure flashed her face. She blanked it soon after; even if it was nice to ruffle Teacher’s feathers, it still was a sore spot. Unlike Giovanni in Kanto, they -the general Sinnohan public- had discovered her father for what he was on some level. This, in turn, had utterly ruined the ‘family man’ image before he’d won said public’s heart. In some respects, it was small comfort he’d only been a businessman and not a Gym Leader.

“Then let us hope she has better luck in this endeavour.” Once again she repositioned Koto, this time so that the pokemon was on its back. It knew better than to wiggle, though it clearly didn’t want to be in that position. “What will my role in her public life be?”

“That is up to you and her.” He sounded so pleased to tell her this.

“And you’re only just telling me this now?” She asked, head cocked slightly to the side. The small smirk from the telepath said it all: he’d only told her now because he knew it would frustrate her. Haru sat a little straighter, head a touch higher and golden eyes a cooler. “I’m an un-person outside of Shin’ō’s criminal underworld. Do you think that maybe someone should have told me this was something I was supposed to do, so that I could actually take steps to make it so I don’t just seemingly appear out of thin air?”

“Perhaps, but you have gotten careless.” Haru’s jaw set and her eyes flashed dangerously, but her teacher kept talking. “You need something to keep your mind active, lest you forget what your purpose is.” He made his way to a photo of a younger Haru with her arms wrapped around a younger eevee. It was one of the few pictures deemed worthy enough to hang on the wall and, with mouth pressed into a thin line, carefully adjusted it just the slightest bit, as if he was perfectly fine with turning his back on a Golden-Eyed-Child. Haru knew he was; he could read her mind after all. “Such imperfections do not suit the hope of the Umiyari Group.”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten. As tempted as she was to berate him, it wouldn’t help. Nor would pretending he actually cared about what she had to say. Another count of ten and Haru squared her shoulders a little and put on a pleasant smile; her mask, as she called it. “Very well then,” her voice was gentle, polite, ladylike. All the things they had taught her to be when she was not exercising power. “My betrothed and I shall simply have to come to an agreement on such things.”

This was to be her life now, and she would make do with it.

Even though they’d taken anti-nausea tablets, nothing could truly dull the effects of a teleport. Not for Niko and those like them. At least, Niko thought as they disembarked the platform with a nod to the staffwoman now feeding the elgyem a treat, I didn’t eat beforehand. That would have been embarrassing.

And, they liked this suit. It was the finest cascoon silk from Hoenn. The kind hand-harvested from the inside, after the dustox broke out, and then hand-dyed and hand-woven into the softest, silkiest of fabrics.

Back straight, gaze hard but firm and steps measured so as to betray nothing outside the image they wanted, Niko made their way into Saffron’s international airport proper. Yes, they could have teleported to Sinnoh -cheaper for one- but the effects of the distance would not be worth it. Never would be. They’d be flying to Eterna as well; jetlag was always preferable to ‘porting sickness.

Even though it was still early -nine am; though with the greying cloud cover over Saffron, it seemed earlier- Niko still turned heads as they walked. Though, more for being the first Gym Leader in a century and a half to specialise in the dark-type on the continent, than the crisp, sharp suit they wore, or the official, League-given copy of the Earth Badge pinned to the lapel. Even the suitcase they pulled and pokebelt of gleaming ‘balls drew little attention outside a curious glance or three.

Not when there was an alakazam shadowing an elderly lady, minus spoons, of course. They only had them in battle. Niko judged it near its final adult form. Scattered ruddy pink fur and the start of a beard marked the process, as did the tendency to levitate higher off the ground. All traits the humaniodal fox-like creature displayed alongside the bright blue of a Service Vest.

Doubtlessly due to the sight-stick the lady tapped as she walked. Perhaps she linked to her pokemon to see, but she was old and frail, easily well past her prime. Even a blind human in the prime of their life couldn’t do that for long without the risk of being lost in a monster’s mind.

Niko shrugged and continued on to the desk and dug out the booking papers as they hefted their suitcase onto the scales. They could have carried it on, but…

“Pokemon please, Shinoda-san,” the lady behind the counter said as she motioned to the ‘ball holder tray.

That was why. It was just easier to deal with and Niko calmly placed each ‘ball onto the tray, fingerprinting the shimmering purple psychic field locked when prompted. They did the same with the freight box, face carefully blank. From there, the check-in lady tagged it with the booking information, and together with the suitcase, was sent on its way. Niko didn’t like it of course, but they understood why airlines classed pokemon as freight outside specific cases such as Service Animals.

Even the tamest, most sentient pokemon, such as an alakazam, was still a pokemon with all the instincts of one. Although, Niko knew debate raged on in scientific circles whether or not it was sapient, and, if you asked them, the answer was no. The adults of the species were arguably as smart as a gifted three-year-old, but it was a species known to mentally link with humans; all psychic-types did. To say nothing of the indisputable fact it was still a pokemon, and all pokemon were dangerous; they knew that firsthand. Even a newborn could do irreparable damage under the right circumstances.

Kris’s togepi came to mind.

Deities, there was a whole section on Linnit devoted to just what newborn pokemon could do.

It was safer to freight them and everyone knew they slaved Service-Mons to the human’s will, anyway.

“Thank you for choosing to fly with Yamatai Airways,” the lady said as she handed Niko the boarding passes. A quick check proved everything was in order, and after a short bow -more of a head nod than anything- Niko headed down towards security.

Once they were through that, there was little left but to wait for the flight to Veilstone to be called, and possibly force down a cup of green tea with a small bowl of rice. But even that didn’t sound appealing.

Damn teleportation and its effects.

Niko almost wished they’d kept the sunshade up on the flight from Veilstone to Eterna. Almost.

Chatter, as everyone disembarked, had it there’d been a flickering, brief sighting of an adult palkia. It had, according to witnesses, happened as the plane flew over the crown of the Heaven’s Range, Mt. Coronet, and from there, people had speculated it was one of the few owned by League-approved trainers. Even though they didn’t believe it for a second, Niko listened as they collected pokemon and luggage. It was like saying an adult giratina had slipped into the world, or a nest of darkrai had been found outside Shingetsu Islands. Nice, but ultimately false. And, Niko mused as they stifled a yawn as they waited for the taxi that’d take them to the hotel, a palkia’s wings were vestigial. Not even the adults could fly. Glide, more than likely. But not up that high. That was the domain of the sky-gods and planes. Even a braviary couldn’t reach those heights and Legends only knew the Unovans had tried.

Eventually, the taxi came, and they were on their way to Tsunihoshi Hotel. Unlike Kanto taxis, Sinnohan taxis were more lime-yellow than lemon-yellow. But the plate was the same: green with white lettering. The drive wasn’t long and the driver asked no questions. He likely thought them a foreigner who knew enough to parrot off an address. Rude, but Niko didn’t mind the silence. Anyway, it was only half an hour at best and it didn’t even break the five thousand yen mark. A steal, if you asked Niko.

And far better than ‘porting. But anything was better than that; they’d be flying home with their wife, too.

Tsunihoshi Hotel itself was modern and sleek, all boxy and soft washed with grey-browns in a vague attempt to fit in with the rural feel the city prided itself on. A small shrine, no bigger than a person’s head, sat out the front, and, as they passed the sliding glass doors, red eyes caught sight of a sign pointing the way to the internal shrine. It wouldn’t be like Celestic or even Viridian’s of course. But it was something and Niko would have to find it later.

If they made it through the seven-day without murdering everyone involved with this farce of a marriage, every deity, myth, and legend Niko could think of would have to be thanked.

One check-in later and Niko found themselves in one of the luxury suites. The ones that mimicked a luxury ryokan, complete with shoe rack masquerading as a pseudo genkan. From there, it was tatami mat flooring. The kind that was firm and springy to the touch. The kind that was heaven on feet both socked and bare. It was the kind you wanted to be under you as you slept on a futon. The only area that wasn’t tatami’d was the kitchenette. That was white tile with black grout.

It wasn’t quite a ryokan stay, but it’d been impossible to get one on such short notice. At least the rest of the room was standard; in-built wardrobe with sliding door, wall-mounted TV, plugs for any electronics people may have brought, wi-fi, tourist guides and room service menu on the kotatsu table, though said table was missing the heavy blanket. There was a wall-mounted alarm clock as well, though Niko wouldn’t set it until tomorrow night. It was the works, basically.

It was enough for the seven-day, enough for two people to spend a night and if their wife had issues, they could lump it. After depositing luggage into the wardrobe and digging out laptop, charger and extension cord and setting it all up on the kotatsu table, the redhead flopped onto the futon and with a lazy toss, un’balled the pokemon they’d brought with them.

The room seemed smaller, then. As if the world had closed in on them. But it was smaller, with a gengar, umbreon, liepard, and magnezone for larger pokemon, and inkay and chingling for smaller. At least Baku could hide in shadows and the magnezone could float, in so much as the strange, almost synthetic arthropod-like pokemon could float, that it wasn’t that crowded.

“Come’ere,” they breathed, voice flat, drained as they reached out for the pokemon. Baku slid into the shadows and Niko embraced the creeping, bone-deep cold as it took the room. Kage and Shiro settled around them, the umbreon resting her head on Niko’s shoulder, while the liepard flopped against his trainer with a yawn. Ryuzi floated over while the inkay and chingling trailed the magnezone.

Bless Sasaki-san. I need to name them soon, too, Niko thought as they eyed the pair James had bred for them. But what…?

Only once Kage had taken over their lap did Niko allow the tears, fat and ugly and wrought with anger and helplessness, to once again fall.

They hated their life. Hated how much control Giovanni still had over them. Myths, let the man have died in a ditch somewhere, let this be the last meddle in their life even though they knew it was unlikely, if not outright impossible for this to be the last.

Haru had put together the perfect identity. Perhaps not for someone else, but she thought it suited her well given the time limit she’d had. Yes, the way Teacher’d sprung it on her had been frustrating, but she’d found fulfilment in the exercise with how it allowed her to use skills honed over the years to her own ends. It wasn’t something she experienced very often, and this freedom sat well with her. Perhaps once she and Kamoko were married more of this sort of work would find its way to her.

It was the sixth or seventh time she’d read over it, but the satisfaction of this sort was hard to come by, and Haru felt she was allowed to be proud of it.

While she could hardly use a different family name, she had chosen a name she had been fond of in the past.

‘Yoshiko’.

‘Yoshi’ had a few different meanings and Haru traced the kanji in her mind. In Sinnoh, it typically meant ‘good’, with a few other connotations dependent on sub-region. But other parts of the world read it as ‘fang’ or ‘blade’. The ‘ko’ made it more feminine and drew the mind to the stereotypical reading of the name as a whole.

‘Yoshiko Nakamura’ had been born to a businessman. Her mother had died when she was young, and ‘Yoshiko’ had spent most of her life at a private academy. The academy had been good enough, but not so good as to draw in any people of real note, despite being perfectly fine at rearing girls to be good wives. While Haru wasn’t fond of it, she had decided that Yoshiko was a calm, reserved sort of person. Such a personality would allow her to have time to get used to the world outside of her father’s care and the constant move from safehouse to safehouse. She would eventually be expected to be a proper conversationalist outside of criminal circles, no doubt, but by then she would hopefully have the information she needed.

Yoshiko’s father, Katsuo Nakamura, had been generously bribed, and would receive similar sums of money for the rest of his life should he choose to keep up the act. Considering the debt he was in with another branch of the Umiyari Group and his particular choice in illicit habits, it would be easy enough to keep him on the hook for the foreseeable future.

She continued on as she looked over the intricacies of the identity: the friends that Yoshiko made in school, the amount of money they were being paid to keep up the act, even the examples of things that had happened in the friend group. Perhaps it was more than was strictly needed, but it would be useful to have some form of evidence of Yoshiko’s existence past a series of forged documents and an aged man with a drinking problem.

The temptation to go in and edit a few things, to flesh it out more -not that she could do much more on such limited time- was powerful. So powerful that she didn’t even realise someone else was in the room until Teacher spoke.

“And what are you so pleased about?”

His voice was low and amused and she swore a chuckle escaped him. She must have jumped. How unlike her to lose track of her surroundings so easily.

“I finished my new identity, Teacher. Would you care to see?” Her voice was tinted with the vaguest excitement, but she didn’t have the practice in wiping it from her person, unlike most emotions.

“I suppose so. Though we’ll hardly be needing it.”

Icy fingers wormed their way up her spine. “We won’t?”

“No. I have had an identity for you in the works for several years now.”

What…? “But you said-”

“I’ll be seeing if you passed your test.”

The girl didn’t speak, simply moved out of his way and allowed him to see the computer she had been working at.

Teacher wordlessly read over the information while Haru watched his face for any hints or signs of approval or disapproval. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was also the smallest hope Teacher would be capable of seeing the benefit in allowing her to use this identity.

In the end, he simply gave a grunt before criticising her work. “You should have kept your name. Otherwise, this identity isn’t remarkable.” It wasn’t supposed to be, Haru itched to say, but she dare not open her mouth. “A single father? Really? Are you trying to give yourself some sort of tragic story?”

She could feel those icy fingers grip her pride as they slowly squeezed until it started to deflate.

“What is the identity you have for me?” Did she sound as hollow as she felt?

A few quick clicks and a password later, he gestured at the screen. She sat back down and began to read aloud.

“Haru Nakamura. Age sixteen. Born to Nakamura Ichirou and his wife, Hoshiko, a pair of socialites who are reclusive outside of their love of parties hosted by the elite.” She muttered to herself some of the fine details, such as Haru’s height and weight (alarmingly close her own), before moving on to pertinent information. “Haru was tutored rather than attending school. Among her tutors were Togashi Tenma, Io Airi, and Izumi Koharu. She made her debut in high society at the age of fourteen.”

Haru’s head shot up and she looked to her teacher, confusion all but swimming in golden eyes. “How on Arkea did-”

Her teacher smiled smugly. “We found a young girl of a similar age some time back who could pose as your double, were it not for her eyes being the wrong colour. A problem easily solved by contacts, of course. We went to great lengths to make sure that the two of you spoke similarly.”

“What?” It was soft and as soon as she’d spoken, she wished she hadn’t.

Teacher didn’t seem that bothered. “Even your intonations are nearly identical due to my personal training.”

Haru’s brows furrowed as she struggled to take this all in. Was her work for nothing?. “So I’ve had a body double for years and was not told? I could have put together a much better cover story had I been told years in advance. Why have I never met her?”

Teacher shrugged, voice calm. “I hardly want you to be influenced by a pale comparison of yourself.”

Haru stared as if she where a child again, who’d be told no, she couldn’t have a second bowl of ice cream. There were so many parts of this that frustrated, if not outright angered her, but in the end, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled like she’d been taught. Slow and controlled, even if she didn’t feel it. But, her teacher always knew how to get under her skin and knock her down a peg. She needed to control herself better and after a few more breaths, Haru looked back to the screen and continued to read.

“Haru has a bright, intelligent personality. Her goals include taking over her mother’s business as well as humanitarian efforts to end poverty and reduce crime.” She rolled her eyes. A charity? Really? Did they want to make it all the more likely she’d be caught doing crime if anyone focused too hard? “How are you going to make that work out?”

“Oh, that is simple enough,” Teacher said, as if she hadn’t just snapped the question. “We will arrange for one of our own to kidnap you and hold you ransom in the future. The trauma will simply be too much for you to continue this outreach, and you will move on to another suitable cover activity.”

Haru’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked carefully to see if he was joking. The man never joked, but, the small part of her, the prideful part, still hoped this would be the first time. She closed her eyes after several seconds, unable to meet the brown stare of the man. “I suppose that would work. I do hope you’ll let me know before this happens.”

He chuckled. “Of course. I can’t have you killing our people because you think the attempt is genuine.”

That mild vote of confidence bolstered her flagging courage. “Don’t you think that this is concerning? Such a move in the future means I will have to severely downplay my competence.”

“That is no concern. It is what you do behind the scenes that requires your competence. If the public views you as little more than an ornament, all the better.” The dismissal in his voice was clear.

So, she’d be an ornament. “And what about the fact that I have never spoken to anyone in high society? Unless you count the people we’ve been blackmailing.”

“Your body double has been trained to act as though she is relatively forgetful despite her intelligence. It’s all in the file.”

Haru took yet another set of deep breaths before she continued on. Reading the profile was somehow painful as this identity would thrust her into larger social situations earlier on than she felt capable of, to say nothing of the fact that she would have to pretend to be a ditz. It was, she noted, as if this identity had been created to further isolate her even when surrounded by people. Really, she wouldn’t put it past her teacher given he took issue with ‘outside influences on’ someone her age.

‘Teenagers will often absorb all the wrong information, as if they are doing it on purpose’, her teacher said one evening after she’d said something that displeased him.

As she finished, she let out a long sigh. She was far too demoralised to fight back and whatever dregs of pride and courage remained were in places she couldn’t reach. Maybe happenstance would smile and she’d get to use ‘Yoshiko’ in the future. It was unlikely, the gods weren’t that kind in her experience, but at the same time it would be good to have, should things go to hell quickly.

“Now. You hardly have time to be sulking, Haru. It’s time to get ready to meet your betrothed.” The triumph in her teacher’s voice let her know what she’d already guessed; that she had been too devastated to put up her mental blocks the entire conversation. Instead of arguing, she stood and made her way to her wardrobe. With her teacher’s help she would be presentable in time.

She should have known that she wouldn’t be given so long a leash so soon.

Though there were three people and a ninetales in the room, it was the room Niko noticed first as they and Kris walked in, umbreon and jumpluff following in their wake.

Their stomach churned. This was the kind of place Father would have used for clandestine assassinations of rivals, both business and criminal. It was the kind of place that required the most formal of dress, something all of them wore. Kimono with long sleeves, almost to the ground in the men’s case, hakama with pleats crisp and sharp, as if they’d been pressed by an iron of old made from the scale-hide of a steelix, and haori with family crests displayed prominently. Though, in Kris’s case, she wore the Indigo crest.

The room itself was all wooden decor and tatami matting, maybe fifteen-jo total. Spacious by any meaning of the word, made more so by the plain walls washed with pale colours and single, low table in the centre. It was dark heartwood, edges inlaid with platinum and gold and the metals traced out intricate latticework and Sinnohan designs. Flecks of cherry opal and ivory completed the picture. It was, if nothing else, a show of wealth.

The young lady across from them had supposedly chosen it. Haru. Her name was Haru Nakamura and one of the two men sitting to the left of her was her father. Either could be; Haru looked every bit a pure-bred Sinnohan save her golden eyes. Even the ninetales, near depleted fire-stone collar or not, was elegant with perfect posture to match the humans.

It is, Niko thought grimly, likely slaved to my new wife. I’ll have to be careful with my fires.

“Haru-san, correct?” They asked as they took a seat, legs crossed as was proper for one of their rank and back straight. Kage sat to their right and Kris sat to the left, jumpluff settled on her lap. Like them, Haru had her legs crossed. Unlike them, her hakama accented not only the honfurisode, but the haori. “And the men?”

“I am,” she nodded, eyes flicking to Kris, then back to them. “My father, Nakamura Sho. The other is my teacher. You are Kamoko-san, yes?”

Niko nodded. There wasn’t a name for the teacher, just a foreign title. Odd, but unworthy of comment. “My name is Niko.”

“Our records show Kamoko-” the man farthest to the left of Haru stated.

“My name is Niko,” the redhead said firmly. Gods, he wished he’d brought Baku. The gengar would have enjoyed a snack.

“An umbreon’s more than enough,” the man said, eyes slitted. “The girl?”

“I,” Kris said, while Niko drew on the teachings of the Champion at their side to lock their mind down. “Am the Indigo Champion.”

“And a Darkened,” the man’s eyes remained as slits, while Sho seemed unaffected by the conversation so far.

“My mother’s telepath. I know how to protect my mind.” Kris said without emotion, face blank and unbothered by the pointed accusation. “But, we’re not here for me, or you.”

“She’s right.” Haru said with a bow from the waist and for a second, Niko wondered if that flexibly translated to the bedroom. They would have to consummate this farce of a marriage after the wedding and they’d rather not have a wet fish in the bed. “My apologies, Niko-san.”

Niko grunted, pushing aside the discomfort first name basis brought up. “You’re a Golden-Eyed Child.”

“It’s part of the reason your father chose her, Shinoda-san,” Sho spoke, cutting off whatever Haru would have said. “The last picture we had of you suggested long hair.”

“I cut it years ago,” Niko said, eyes briefly narrowed. They could get the other reason easily enough, so there wasn’t any reason to ask. “I’m asking her, not you.”

“Apologies,” Sho said simply with a short nod.

Obviously, the man was here to ensure nothing went awry. Niko gave him one last look before they turned their attention back to Haru, red gaze piercing and hard. “Well?”

“Yes-” Haru’s eyes went wide before she ducked her head, as if ashamed. “I can wear contacts if that bothers you-”

An eyebrow rose. Either she was ashamed, or it was an act. Wonderful. “If?"

Haru nodded and dared a glance up at Niko. “Of course.”

Niko filed that away for later. Right now, this was the time to get a bead on the woman who’d be their wife. There’d be another meeting, then following that, the final one just before the wedding. “Type?”

“Fire, Niko-san.”

“I see.” Niko said as they rested a hand on Kage’s back, the umbreon’s fur soft and silky to the touch as they pet the dark-type a few times. “What else?”

“I have limited telepathy-”

“How limited?” Niko cut in.

“Pokemon,” Haru said without skipping a beat and Niko wondered if that was truth or an easy lie. “I also have pokemon-related healing.”

“So typical GED-level.” Niko grunted -they’d soon find out the truth anyway- and continued on at the nod. “Regardless, I have fire-types myself, and I know several world-class Darkeneds-”

Haru blinked, as if Niko had shifted her world view. They probably had. “You’re not-”

“Unimportant.” They waved a hand. Whether they were a Darkened was not important. “You’ve a few days to pick where we’ll live.”

Once again, Haru seemed shocked, eyes darting to her father then back to Niko. Interesting. They’d have to dissect this later. “I- As you wish, Niko-san.”

Niko’s nod was short. They hated how Haru seemed to use their name as a title, as if they were a Head of family. But, they could use it and already their mind was turned towards how to spin this. It would be expected of them to introduce their wife to society as soon as possible. The sooner the better, and with little more than a few days to a seven-day to think on it-

“We have a cover story already, Niko-chan,” the teacher said, voice curt and prim. Yet there was something about it that set Niko’s teeth on edge, even as they locked their mind down and threw every Dark-based shield they knew on top.

“San. I am no ‘she’.” They weren’t any gender. Just the idea of being a ‘she’ made their skin crawl because it wasn’t who they were any more than they were a ‘he’.

“As you say, Niko-san.” The teacher’s smile only grew at the narrowed gaze.

Rather than rise to the bait, Niko lifted their head and settled their shoulders with an unreadable look. For a second, the man’s brown eyes flashed but Niko flicked their gaze back to Haru. They had no time for a telepath with zero issues invading privacy or using a person’s mind against them. It was bait designed to test a person’s control, to see how far he could push and Niko hated it. Hated how patronisingly humouring it was. As if they were a child who didn’t know their own mind.

“What my teacher says is true,” Haru said neutrally and for a second, Niko wondered if she agreed with said story. “We actually have several covers ready.”

Niko blinked. That could either benefit them or not. “We’ll see if any fit my needs-”

“The main one shall suit your needs, have no doubt.” the teacher said with an unreadable curl of his mouth. “We crafted it, and I wil-”

“You,” Niko said, eyes narrowed as they stared at the teacher. Why he was speaking and not Sho was unknown, but it hardly mattered. Maybe they wouldn’t use any of the covers provided, just to fuck with whatever plans the Umiyari had. “Won’t be involved in the selection of what I use, if at all, though I will give each one due consideration.”

The teacher’s face blanked. “Of course.”

“You are most kind, Niko-san,” Haru said with another bow. “May I give you my choice now?”

“Do as you want.” Choice or not, Niko still felt like they would be the one moving.

“You are a Gym Leader. It would make more sense for me to move to your family than you to mine.”

“So you’ll be subordinate?” This was unexpected, but they wouldn’t pass it up.

“Yes, I will be, Niko-san.”

“Then we have a few days to work out the finer details and pick what cover story I use, if any,” Niko said after some thought, glaze turned on the teacher, who looked like he’d swallowed a topo berry. Sho nodded once and Niko wished they could get a read on him. The man was too calm. “Any teachers my wife needs I will provide as is my duty as head of the family. Kanto does boast the best in Yamatai.”

“I assure you, I’m more than capable of-”

“You misunderstand me.” Niko shook their head. Honestly, how dense was this man. “Perhaps I need to be blunter and not flowery in language.” Beside them, they heard Kris’s giggle. “You’re not coming because I’ve no use for a telepath when I have my own.

“I… See.” The Teacher’s face was blank again, brown eyes flicking to Kris then back to Niko. “Her?”

“Perhaps,” Kris answered, smile sharp and head high. “Niko has several.”

Niko nodded. “Haru-san-“ The girl stiffened. “Send me the cover stories that were prepared. All of them.”

“Y-Yes, Niko-san.” Once again, her gaze flickered to her father then teacher, only to linger there, as if uncertain, before it snapped back to Niko. “Where shall I send it?”

They gave the email. It wasn’t the main one they used, but an easy to remember back-up. “I want all cover stories by tomorrow nine am.”

“Why by then?”

“We’ve a flight back on the noon hour in a half jun and I need time to decide which I’ll use,“ Niko said. “Haru-san, you’ll spend the night before with me so we can fine-tune details.”

“A flight?” Sho asked, eyebrow raised.

“‘Porting sickness,” Niko said with an easy shrug, seeing little reason to deny that. Not when it could be found out so easily by a Yahgoo search. “So maybe I am a Darkened,” they finished with a flash of a sharp, pointed smile.

Haru swallowed noticeably. “I’ll see to it my belongings are packed on time.”

“All of them. We’ll sort them when we get home.”

“Yes, of course.”

“And the wedding date?” The teacher asked sharply.

“Day before the flight,” Niko answered with considerable grace and poise. “Simple certificate signing. The fancy can come after a year and day.”

“That is acceptable,” Sho said with a firm nod.

Niko’s smile was a touch more honest now, even if they sorely wished to know if that had thrown off any of the Umiyari’s plans. It probably had. But oh well. A year and day would give time for planning a more traditional Kantan wedding while also allowing them to actually get to know one another.

“Why did you give your email?” Kris asked later as they left the building, only Kage trailing them now.

“I don’t trust the teacher,” Niko said, more than happy to be not using formal language.

“You don’t trust anyone. Even your own Gym Trainers-”

“Hmph. It’s more than that,” Niko said, arms crossed in thought as they walked towards the closest taxi-rank some blocks away. “It’s the way he made me feel.”

“Like your father-?”

“Yes. No. Like I was nothing, like I wasn’t perfect or what they wanted. Like Archer did, when I messed up my lessons.” Or didn’t pull the expected grades while slowly learning about the work Giovanni did. “Aww, whatever. The teacher said they had a cover story. A cover story, not a way to spin this, but a cover story.”

“So you think-”

Niko nodded sharply. “It’s the underworld and Yahgooling ‘Sho Nakamura’ said nothing about a second daughter.”

“… Second?” Kris’s eyebrows rose.

“He divorced his wife, and she took their ‘only’ child.”

“That’s… so he had a second one?”

“Yea, as head of the Umiyari.” Niko grunted out. “Either via whore-”

“Language!” Kris snapped. “I know you know the polite address for sex workers and it’s not what you’re implying.”

“It is though. It’s the underworld and we live in a world with, what, a billion people?” At least, they thought it aroundish that mark anyway. “Outside that, she’s probably a tank-baby and fuck if the underworld obeys those rules.”

“They make designer babies?!?” Kris’s voice was a harsh whisper and face aghast with horror. Even the most arsehole of doctors didn’t dare go against the law on that, not when the consequences were downright draconian and that was assuming the death penalty wasn’t used.

The chance it wasn’t was less than one percent and they always broadcast those hangings.

“Crime is crime,” Niko said, words blunter than normal. “Hmph. That aside, the way she kept looking at her teacher suggests she was afraid.”

Kris groaned. “Not everyone-”

“Maybe…” Niko huffed. “It could be nothing. It could be something and he’s a telepath. Also, did you notice how her father let the teacher speak?”

“Why’s that important?” She asked softly as she tugged Niko into a recess so they could talk.

“It’s as if he barely knows his daughter.”

“So? It happens-”

Niko shook their head. “She’s his heir. He should know her well enough to imply he at least had a hand in raising her. Tch. Even dad wasn’t that disconnected, and he was…”

“You were raised mostly outside-”

“No, I was raised in both worlds.”

Kris blinked. “So you think she was raised-”

“I don’t know how she was raised, but if he has another child, one that isn’t known about…” It was simple logic from there in Niko’s mind.

Kris sighed. “Niko. She’s underworld and she’s moving to a new place and-”

“Kris?” Niko bit out, eyes narrowed.

“Yea?”

“My wife is a non-person outside the underworld. I need to plan around that. She seems either afraid of her teacher or she’s been so isolated she needs to look to her teacher for guidance.”

Kris’s mouth thinned. “And you don’t like him.”

“Hmph. So what if I don’t? The man gives me the same vibe as Archer.” Niko’s smile was as sharp as a dragonglass blade. “And I am head of house. Haru-san said it herself.”

“So you want him nowhere near your new wife?”

“No shit Wattson,” Niko bit out, somehow managing to twist the Ferrum phrase into something more pointed and rude. “I do have psychics of my own.”

“Rio and Oli,” Kris said more than asked.

“Exactly,” Niko confirmed with a nod even though they worked for Viridian herself and Niko could only call on them if, and only if, their own work permitted. The more reliable would have been Shannon or Hikaru. “Plus Zorn, but I’m pretty sure he’s a Darkened.”

“He is,” Kris said. “I saw him and his husband at the int-warp last month.”

“Oh, right! Their wedding anniversary!” Niko said with a nod; teleporting was by far the most common method of instantaneous transport, but for Darkened, or those who couldn’t teleport for whatever reason, hoopa based hoop-warping was the order of the day.

“Yeah. Pretty sure I saw them in Alolan shirts,” Kris said with a grin before she sighed and chewed her lip. “Just be careful. If they’re as ruthless as is said and you do what I’m thinking-”

“Do what?” Niko asked, all innocent blinks and clueless looks.

Kris didn’t buy it for a second. “Niko…”

“Aww whatever. I’ll be careful. I promise,” they added at their best friend’s pointed look. “Now, come on. I’ll shout you food at the Ryukusho. We’re dressed for it.”

“Sure,” Kris laughed as they continued onto the taxi-rank, topic changing to something far more light-hearted than the looming marriage.

“Several cover stories?” Though the reproach in her teacher’s voice was strong, Haru nonetheless felt triumphant.

“Was that not to plan?” Her father asked as he glanced at the phone’s clock.

Her teacher sighed as though he somehow suffered from her choice. “No, sir. As a thought exercise, I told Haru-san to create a cover story. Even once I had informed her of the story you have enabled for some years now, she insisted that hers had merit. I did not expect her to do such a thing as present an inferior product to someone so important to Umiyari’s future. For that, I apologise.”

She remained unmoved by the implications that her teacher took responsibility for her actions. She would soon move, and Ka- no, Niko’s insistence that her teacher would not be coming along emboldened her. Her teacher would not successfully shame her.

Her father, however, would.

“It is a shame that you would embarrass yourself so soon, Haru. I had thought we trained you better than that.” His voice was easy and calm and he didn’t even look up from the phone, as if she wasn’t even worthy of due consideration. But she wasn’t, was she? Not if he didn’t even bother to look at her. “The speed with which you gave in to living with her was also quite a shame. We could have perhaps negotiated something that allowed your teacher to go with you.”

“I merely read the room as I had been taught, father.” Haru managed, proud that despite the shame which pooled in her belly as if some great fire-serpent of Sevii-myth, she did not falter even once. But, it still felt as if she’d done something wrong. Something neither her father nor Teacher liked.

“Oh?” Sho didn’t even glance up as he tapped out a message on the phone.

“Appearing to be agreeable and willing to be properly subservient would no doubt benefit all future manipulations, whereas being stubborn and obviously shrewd would not.” She said matter-of-factly. While her plan had aligned with her feelings at the time -she clamoured at the seams for some sort of control, some way to prove her worth- it was logic and reason that lead to her choice.

Neither adult said anything, and as the silence stretched on, Haru wanted to fold in on herself. This was the way of things, wasn’t it? They clearly had no confidence in her and for all their talk of her being an heir, being the hope of the future of the Umiyari, it was her future child that was to be the real legacy. She was just a stepping stone taught how to run the group in case her father met his demise.

Would she even have a say in the child’s name? No. Likely not.

“Do not think of yourself in such a way, Haru.” Came the stern reprimand from Teacher. “We will speak of that later so as to not distract your father.”

Haru nodded glumly after a few seconds. “Yes, sir.”

Her father spent most of the rest of the ride bouncing ideas off of Teacher as he confirmed they had the resources available for something before a heavy blanket of silence wrapped around them as if an old friend.

Haru hated it; it was oppressive and as heavy as a giratina raised outside of the Distortion. She knew it was designed to punish her.

When they came to the parking garage, Haru did her best to block out her thoughts as the driver entered the password and the gate buzzed open. Soon after, her father left, bidding her teacher farewell but not her.

He didn’t even look at her and Haru knew she’d fucked up. But it was done and she could only hope it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

The car waited just long enough as was proper before it left the garage as quickly as it entered and started on another trip, this time to where she currently lived.

Again, the heavy, oppressive silence reigned.

But, she should have known Teacher wouldn’t allow her to dwell on her thoughts as the man looked over at her and sighed. “You act as though you are not blessed with a great duty. You are far more than a stepping stone.”

She’d barely felt the brush of another mind before hers was locked down, this time filled with impressions of the room they had been in. It was only once she felt the pressure let up that she spoke. “I am given very little control over what happens, Teacher. Even when it affects my future. It is hard to feel like little more than something to keep my father’s legacy free of mud.”

“That is because you are attempting to exercise power in ways that can negatively affect your future. We want what is best for you. You need to become someone that the public feels love towards.”

“And you think that the public would love a rich ditz who is put off a cause at the slightest sign of adversity? At the slightest bit of harm?” She knew she sounded incredulous, and she was. This was her future at stake. “How could someone love something so detestable?”

“The masses are foolish, Haru and this is hardly the first time in history such personality matches have been made,” Teacher said and Haru tightened control over her mind and tongue. “You would be surprised at how much people adore pretty, vapid individuals who think that charity work will change the world.”

She closed her eyes and focused once again on the details of the room, of the ivory and gold accents, on the work that must have gone into them, back when the world’s tools were far less convenient than today’s. She tried to keep her other thoughts from leaking out. “Should it ever come out that I am the daughter of a crimelord, then they will hate me all the more. They will see through the veneer of concern for the world and see it for what it is; a ploy to make it appear as though I am not a noteworthy criminal.”

“Then you will simply not allow it to slip who your father is.”

“That worked wonderfully for him and mother.”

“You," the man started, and Haru flinched. Had she hit the nerve at the wrong angle and he'd lost his temper? Or had he had decided to punish her? "do not get to claim you have a mother, let alone that woman. You have a genetic donor, but she is not your mother any more than your father’s ex-wife.” She decided he was punishing her. His tone was the same as when he punished a subordinate: Stern and impersonal, the kind that made it clear the failure was something inherent in them. And then he truly hurt them, be it through torture or ending their lives. “You have a father, of which you should be grateful for. He cares for your future, despite how insistent you are on throwing it away in a rebellious fit.”

By the time he was done, a Haru felt as if she'd been whole body Distortion dunked, not simply head and shoulders typically employed in the torture. Not once, but several times, with only a rope to pull her out. She’d heard of that method, but never seen it in practice. She didn’t think she wanted to, now.

Intellectually, she knew being a tank-baby was nothing shameful. Plenty of people around the world used the artificial wombs. But it felt as though he was saying that she had somehow chased away whatever mother she could have had. That her father had kept her despite that flaw. That wasn’t what had happened, and she knew it for a fact.

But it didn’t make the implied accusation hurt any less.

Silence stretched between them. Minutes passed, and she knew that he was waiting for her to reply. After all, she owed him a response.

Somehow, she waited out the heavy, judgemental silence until it was time to get out of the car, but as she reached for the door handle, he grabbed her wrist. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a bruise, but tight enough to imply there was no way she’d break it. Nor could she call on Pyxis; the kitsune pokemon wouldn’t fit. Silence continued until she gave in. Not because she wanted to, but so she could exit the car.

“I am sorry, Teacher.” She certainly sounded it in her own ears, even if she couldn’t quite place exactly what she felt. Shame and defeat, probably. “I will stop impeding my father’s efforts.”

“Good. Now, change and prepare your things to be packed. As familiar as you are with moving quickly, I don’t doubt that you have gotten out of practice in the last few months.” He removed his hand and at last, she was allowed to leave.

She couldn’t get to the relative safety of her rooms fast enough.

In the end, Haru decided that it was true: she had gotten out of practice with being moved suddenly. She had acquired more books than usual this time around, enough to need a waist-high shelving unit. While there were a few spots left, most of these were books she would have rather kept. But, it was only natural to cycle books out to make room for new ones. She would have to go through and remove anything that wasn’t needed, and she would start here, where it would be the hardest.

She got about halfway through the books before she remembered Niko had said to pack all her belongings and she selfishly allowed relief to wash over her. She wouldn't have to decide until Viridian.

She'd need another suitcase or two, then.

The emails came that night; first ‘Haru’s from what looked like an official email address, then Haru’s, from what looked to be a more personal one.

Niko waited until they had both, and like they’d thought, the teacher spent far too much time assuring them the ‘main’ cover story was more than enough. Not only that, the man did so in language that made it clear he did not think much, if anything of the redhead. Not the first time they’d dealt with it, but still annoying.

They must have groaned and alerted the futon thief of a liepard. “Rrr?”

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Niko said, distractedly waving the cat-like creature off. Not that it worked, as Shiro made his way over and settled down next to Niko.

Lips twitched as they reached over and scratched behind an ear. “Spoiled.”

The only response was a thrummed sound that wasn’t, strictly speaking, a purr. Niko huffed and turned back to the matter at hand.

The teacher probably bought into what the public saw outside the skill it took to be a Gym Leader: a standoffish, temperamental teenager who’d sooner throw a punch than not. Someone who had only the vaguest idea of proper decorum. A rebellious teenager who’d publicly cut ties with the Rockets. It wouldn’t be the first and it wouldn’t be the last time a person didn’t bother to look beneath what Niko allowed them to see. At the same time, the teacher was very quick to be judgemental when it came to Haru’s work. Weak and worthless, the man had called it.

Niko snorted. If Haru’s was weak and worthless now, they’d take great pleasure in seeing what the girl could do given more than a few days to work. No. Her’s was the more interesting one. Detailed yes, but done in a way that could be worked with and built on to suit what Niko wanted in a wife easily enough. The other didn’t allow nearly enough room as they would have liked and it assumed things that would have to be changed. Namely Haru’s personality. It wouldn’t suit and it would be tiresome to deal with a ditzy wife who’d be seen more as an ornament than life-partner.

But, the names and places in both were all there - even how much money each was being paid. They’d have to thank Haru for those. She probably thought it was something they’d want to know. Trained into her not, a wife that could predict needs like this was good.

Something they’d have to build on and Niko knew she’d likely benefit from a year at the school she’d supposedly attended. They’d go, too. Night classes mostly… It was something to consider at the very least.

Niko smiled sharply as they dug out the other phone, the one they weren’t supposed to have if they wanted to keep hands cleaner than they actually were. It was time to go to work; there wasn’t much time to bring the names listed under their control, but if they got the groundwork laid, then the Rockets -useful even though they’d been gutted this year in the powerplay Archer’d tried- would do the rest of the work.

It was a matter of time, but, if they said it was urgent, Jessie and James would lean on the rest of Rocket to get shit done yesterday. It was why they liked the duo outside the distractions and buffoonery they excelled in. They were competent. Highly so.

And if they got some more legal investments, then all the better. The humanitarian efforts to end poverty and reduce crime were useful too. Publicly, they were distanced from the Rockets and it was something they could use to further that image.

But, Niko thought hours later as they hung up from the last call of the evening, none of what was useful and didn’t change the fact they needed to decide what, if anything, they were going to use. Ideally, it’d be a mix of both, but working out what to keep and what to discard would be a nightmare.

They’d sleep on it and put off the decision until the wedding day. Besides, tomorrow was lunch at the Sankoya, one of Eterna’s ritziest restaurants, if not the most expensive in the sub-region. A lunch date to doubtless to show off Haru’s table manners, as if she was some prized possession.

Niko’s face scrunched as they closed the laptop and stood with a stretch. They wanted this to be over already, but for now, shower, then evict Shiro from the futon enough so they could sleep.

“I have decided what I will use,” Niko said calmly, face blank and mind locked down and shielded as they sat in the conference room. Unlike lunch yesterday, the room was more casual and relaxed, and after the last two meetings, Niko wasn’t ashamed to say they liked it.

Not after the awkward of lunch, though that had been expected when not only had Haru been on display, but Niko as well. At least, outside small talk, they’d managed to beg off any decisions until today.

But, just because the conference room was more casual and relaxed didn’t mean it wasn’t still a formal occasion. Thankfully, it only called for a suit or dress. Niko, of course, was in a tailored suit with rigid posture.

Image, more than ever, was everything.

“Oh?” Sho said, only mildly curious.

“A mix of both.” Niko said, still calm, as though the calm from yesterday hadn’t ever left them.

“That’s quite unneeded-”

“Quite frankly, it is,” Niko said as they resisted the urge to prop their head up with a hand. They could but it would seriously undermine the image they wanted to show. “You assumed far too much, and I’d hazard a guess it was you, teacher-san, who drew it up. Nakamura-san could have, but it’s doubtful he knows his daughter well, if at all. You have done most of the speaking.”

Teacher’s face was blank. “Haru and Nakamura-dono have spoken as well.”

“Perhaps, but the bulk is you when I’m clearly not addressing my wife.” Niko’s smile was sharp. “Do you want my complaints with the ‘main’ plan?”

“If you must,” Teacher grumbled.

“The ‘main’ assumed too many things that will unravel.”

“Unravel?”

“The political climate around me is rather volatile still,” Niko said with a sigh, as if they resented it. They did, but they resented having to explain it at all. “I am unwilling to take that risk. I also have League spies in my staff-”

“They can be dealt with,” Haru spoke up, eyes hard. “No-one has to know its-”

“It’s me?” Niko snorted. “Please. I have them because I’m my father’s child-” They paused here, head lifted, as if to dare the teacher to comment on their physical gender. He didn’t. “-and if they died, well... I’d lose the Gym that’s been in my family for centuries.”

“I-Yes, that would be... unacceptable, Niko-san,” Haru said with a swallow.

“Another point is the ‘main one’ assumes I’d be willing to deal with a ditzy wife. I refuse that-”

“It would work to your favour; a dit-”

“You clearly did not do your fucking research when it came to me,” Niko hissed, voice low, deadly as they dropped into their more typical word choices while drawing themselves up, as if they were trying to mimic Giovanni’s posture. Useful or not, formal speech was a pain in the arse and they were about done with everything. “Haru’s plan gave me things I could easily work with and a personality more suited to be worked with or adjusted, meaning it will be the main part of the story I spin. The fact Sasaki Kojirō-”

“Him-?”

Even Sho’s eyes widened at James’ birth name, though Teacher looked as if he were slowly losing the colour in his face. Niko’s smile sharpened as he sensed metaphorical blood in the water. “Yes, him. He gave me an in with the Nakamura. He’s the third cousin to both and is willing to vouch for Haru being Nakamura Katsuo’s sheltered daughter.”

“How,” Teacher rasped, as if he couldn’t find his voice. Or believe James, publicly known as 'Kojirō' outside the Rocket Uniform, was Niko’s man. Not that Niko blamed him; very few people would, especially if they knew James’ status as the only scion of a powerful, politically connected, old Sinnohan family. Niko knew they had ties all over the region and likely across Yamatai, if not the world.

Niko shrugged and flicked imaginary dust of their sleeve. “He is Shin’ōan, and he’s mine.”

“The Rockets would never-,”

Their laugh was more a bark than anything. “Really? Is that what you think?”

At the teacher’s nod, Niko shrugged. “Do you want the recordings I made of my gengā feeding? They have the most interesting way of playing with prey, and after I demonstrated with a few... well,” Niko shrugged again as they examined their fingernails. “Feed a few people to a gengā and the whole of Rocket jumps to obey.”

“You don’t hold all the cards.”

“Hmph. Shows what you know. Those you were buying off? Mine within a seven-day.” Niko settled back with an exhale.

“As if we have any of those,” Teacher started and Niko found the fake offence laughable. The man wasn’t used to being on the back foot with someone he thought of as a child.

“Haru gave me everything,” they did not miss the venomous, daggered look, nor the way the girl flinched. Niko’s face hardened. “A wife like her is hard to find,” Niko’s smile was self-satisfied and smug, even as the teacher opened his mouth to protest, while Haru seemed to sit straighter under the praise. “Ah, but you raised her, teacher-san, and I set a deadline you made the night I set it.”

“Haru made it,” the man insisted, as if to try to catch them out.

“Hmph. Yea, but it was clearly you in the first.” Niko snorted, an old Johtan phrase regarding umbreon and espeon coming to mind. "The second was my wife, and the difference is like blakkī and ēfi.”

“They’ll be disposed of.”

Niko’s gaze was flatter than the Kanto plains. “They already have guards to avoid messes. Which you just admitted to planning.”

Haru giggled, only to stifle it when Niko’s red gaze slide to her. “If you find his schooling amusing, sure, laugh. You belong to my family now.”

The teacher’s scowl deepened while Haru blinked, confusion crossing her face before she settled with amused, even with another daggered look sent her way. “The wedding hasn’t-”

“Neither of us can break it without massive and fatal repercussions,” Niko said bluntly, and at the flat look, they smirked. “I had my lawyers look at it.” While dealing with an angry teenager that could put a gyarados to shame. “Now, if you are done, teacher-san?”

“He is,” Sho said firmly, face unreadable. “Continue.”

“Ideally, the main cover story would have given enough details while holding wiggle room to account for unforeseen circumstances like my political situation. It didn’t. It did, however, present an opportunity I look forward to growing in the years to come.”

“The charity,” Sho said mildly and Niko thought the man was finally paying attention, not just pretending to.

“Yeah. It’ll be grown as a joint social venture between the Sasaki, Nakamura, and Shinoda.” Keen eyes caught the way the teacher’s brow creased. Apparently that hadn’t been in the plan, but whatever plan the Umiyari had was dust. Dust and dirt and scattered to the winds for the gods to take and as much as they wanted to taunt, that was not the best idea right now. They would do it later, in private. “It’s useful and benefits the image I want to present. Haru’s cousin will be head of it, I think. Though it depends on what she wants to do once she’s free of whatever personality you trained into her.”

“Assuming she keeps with it-”

“She will. As I said, I have guards on them,” Niko said, smile thin and tight. “Haru’s cover also provided opportunities regarding her friends, which may provide benefits to my family name in the future.”

Some of those ‘friends’ were bound to be connected somehow, or they could be up-and-coming stars in various fields. Useful enough Niko was willing to wait years for an outcome. Good investments didn’t happen overnight.

“You’d-”

“Pursue them yes, though of course friends can drift over time, so it would be up to you, Haru-san.”

“I’ll give it thought,” Haru said with an unreadable smile. “Would it be correct to say you were looking for what could be easily worked with, Niko-san?”

“Yeah, I was. I’ll give you the full details later and you will be able to adjust as needed.” Niko said. “This is a partnership, and while I know what I need, I don’t know you.”

“You’re but a child, you-”

“I was raised in both worlds with exacting teachers,” Niko said, pinning the teacher with a cold look worthy of their father.

“So you’re imperfect-”

“Again shows what you know. Perfection in both worlds was expected. Father, Archer, all my other teachers. Each expected and demanded perfection, more so when they realised how smart I am.” Niko sighed. Really, the man could have been Archer’s twin, where it not for the fact Archer’s plans typically had ten thousand and one variations that accounted for reality as best as possible. Reality, as Archer had drilled into them, did not happen as planned. It was also a lesson Giovanni and later their Trainer Journey had imparted.

How Teacher had lasted in the business was beyond Niko, but it was likely due to being a telepath.

“Do go on,” Sho said with a slight lift of his head.

“The public school system, too. Then there was the persona I was expected to uphold as not only a Gym Leader and businessman’s child, but the heir of a family of note.”

“Is that so?” Sho asked.

Despite knowing the man likely knew the history, Niko answered, if only for Haru. “My family name, Shinoda, is the old name of the ‘tree’ the Green Badge,” they tapped the Earth Badge, as if to drive the point home, “was originally modelled on. We’re also at least six hundred years old.”

“The bamboo tree!" Haru blurted out and when Niko nodded, she continued, confidence clear in her voice. “They crossed it with another to create its current look of an evergreen.”

“Yeah, a tree from the Ubame forest, one that was sacred to muskippa,” Niko confirmed with a slight nod even though they, personally, hadn’t seen any carnivine in Ilex forest. Lots of bugs and oddish though. “The Tokiwa Park in the city's heart holds some of the original. But enough of that.” Niko took a deep, controlled breath and looked each adult in the eye. Few could meet the piercing red gaze, nor hold it for long. Sometimes, being mistaken for a Darkened was useful in intimidation. “I am willing to work with what you have given me, but I refuse to be controlled or locked into something that is, ultimately, doomed to unravel due to the scrutiny on me, never mind Haru, as it will be known this was my father’s will.”

“You would dare-?”

“A simply Yahgoo search would have helped,” Niko said smugly while their ‘gear chimed once. “But given you seem like the type to like ‘control’ over what ‘reality’ offers, it’s to be expected. Now, if you don’t mind, my witnesses have arrived.”

And they were tired of the semi-formal language and not cussing them all out for being morons who didn’t do a single basic Yahgoo. Sure, gossip was a thing; they’d had the internet for longer than their father had been alive, but even gossip could hold truth.

“You-”

Sho held up a hand, and Teacher fell silent as the head of the Umiyari group nodded approvingly. “I see I underestimated you and your schooling. That was an error on our parts. I look forward to seeing how things progress.”

“Same,” Niko said as they stood, barely glancing up as several security personal and attendant psychic-types entered, signalling it was time to split up between the four rooms they’d booked.

Wedding traditions, even in this day and age, were important.

The waiting room was smallish, with table and leather chairs to one end and a small shrine at the other. It was simple and casual, yet refined and comfortable. It had to be. They would be here for two hours.

The legal waiting period; fate, it was said, was now in the hands of the gods. Not that either child could back out, but. Tradition was tradition.

Niko, Haru, and Niko’s witnesses had their own rooms as well, and there were guards posted outside each to prevent anyone from sneaking out and interacting with each other. It was an old rule, but one that was, even to this day, fastidiously upheld and every once in a while, something happened that reminded the public of why.

Sho paid the shrine no mind as he unscrewed the brandy he’d had brought in. Regretfully, it was only at thirty-five percent alcohol, but no one wanted drunken witnesses. That defeated the point, and with a chuckle, he steadily poured it into two glasses.

“Do calm down, old friend,” he said as he handed one glass to his daughter’s teacher. “This unforeseen circumstance is good.”

Teacher - no, in this room he was Arata Akimoto- took the glass with a polite nod and downed half of it with far less ceremony than most tasks carried out in front of his boss. “I do not think that your daughter will be able to handle this young woman without me.”

That earned another chuckle. “I think she will do fine. You underestimate your skills.” He took a sip of the brandy. “It will take her time, but she will endear Niko-san to her. Come now, don’t look at me like that.”

“Sir, it is not wise to humour children in their follies. Kamoko-chan will soon enough forget this idea of being ‘Niko’ and not a woman. She simply needs the time to see this rebellion of hers is foolish.”

Sho waved his hand dismissively. “They have earned my respect. Whether they change their mind about their address in the future is of no concern.” Arata’s lips thinned, but Sho ignored it, for the moment. “What matters is that they will be a suitable parent. Between Haru and Niko-san, I believe they will prepare my grandchild to inherit both organizations, even if we are unable to send you to train the child personally for some years.”

“Assuming I will be sent,” Arata said, downing the rest of the glass before he filled it up again.

“You will be. It’s a matter of endearing yourself to Niko-san.”

“A long-term project,” Arata said with a small sigh.

“Exactly, and as Haru is subordinate, she will no doubt be doing most of the child-rearing and that will put her in a place to tell the child the virtues of the Umiyari group and,” he held up a finger to stop Arata interrupting, “have control over the child’s education.”

Arata sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps, though I fear that Kamoko-chan might be capable of using her current rebelliousness to manipulate her against you.”

That was not his actual worry. In reality, he could practically feel the control he had over her, and thus the future of Umiyari, seeping through the space between his fingers like some great treasure turned to sand. Haru had been raised via careful plan so that she could be both competent and reliant on Arata himself. A plan that had come about after a heated, near bitter argument with Sho on the direction the Umiyari should take. He had realised, that, in order to keep the standing of Umiyari intact, if not grow it, he would no doubt have to be the one in control when the time came. Subtly training the then-toddler to rely on him and see him as naturally superior was an obvious course.

After another sip of his drink, Sho sat down in one of the leather chairs. “I know you worry about Haru. You’ve spent most of her life training her to be the best she can be, after all.”

“Sir-”

“It will be fine. Her current rebellion is nothing more than impatience at being able to be useful. Once she is in Niko-san’s home, she will finally be able to see a part of her purpose through.”

“With all due respect, sir, you do not know her as well as I do.”

“Perhaps not, but I do know how children act.”

“You did not get the chance to raise your eldest to Haru’s age, sir. Teenagers are different.”

There was a silence in the room as Sho looked to his glass, swirling it aimlessly before stilling, as if he’d seen one of the so-called gods in it. “I have kept tabs on Fumiko despite her mother having custody, Arata.”

“Sir, I understand how you feel,” he did not, in fact, understand, not really, “but to continue to monitor your eldest and taking no actions does not suit you, and does not prepare you for actually being the one to take care of the teenager.”

Sho exhaled, deep and steady. “It is a father’s job to take care of his daughter, even if from afar.”

“Why do you not take her then?” Despite Arata’s best efforts, there was an edge of frustration to the words.

“She’s far too soft for this life. I would not want for her to have to hole up in safe houses, moving for the rest of her life. Haru was born for such things, but Fumiko? I would hate to take away her freedom simply to appease my own self-interest.”

Arata took a sip as he regarded his friend. He could reach out, read his mind, but long years of association, trust, and Sho’s own formidable defences prevented it. But at the same time, it was things like this that gnawed his mind and left him feeling that Sho was perhaps too weak for this business. That he’d gone soft and willfully ignored that his eldest was not of any consequence. Simply setting up guards in the girl’s neighbourhood should have been enough for him; she was of no benefit to Umiyari. To hold on to her like this presented an easily exploitable weakness.

It was blind luck that no one had found out Sho actually cared for the useless creature, or she would have been used as ransom already.

Arata closed his eyes a moment and shook his head. “I am afraid that we will not see eye to eye on this.”

“That is fine, old friend. You pride yourself on being heartless, so such disagreements are likely to occur. Caring is not your specialty.” Sho’s good-natured smile made Arata want to peel the man’s face off, slowly. At least until Sho set the glass down, face serious and eyes harder than ice. This was the man who’d executed people via Distortion dunking. A cruel, painful way to die. “Though, something that is your specialty was the creation of identities that fit a purpose. Can you explain why the identity you supplied for Haru was such a poor fit for Niko-san?”

“The child simply failed to realise that she should change how she acts over time to fit the stories,” he snorted as if it was obvious, if only to hide the faint shiver of fear. He was a friend, an old one, but this was his boss. Sho might be too soft, but he was the Umiyari Boss.

“Ah, they really did get you correct, didn’t they?” Sho shook his head with an amused smile. “You have come to rely on changing reality to what you want it to be, but perhaps you have gotten complacent, always getting your way.”

Arata grit his teeth. “Perhaps, sir. I shall make an effort to rectify the situation.”

Another chuckle left Sho’s throat. “I know you will succeed when the chance presents itself. But come now, let’s talk of happier things, such as the upcoming union of Umiyari and Rocket.”

He raised the glass towards the shrine before downing half it. Arata followed suit, even if he didn’t believe in the gods for one second. They were nothing more than rare, protected species with higher than average power that people mistook for deities.

The union would succeed and he would ingratiate himself to Kamoko, one way or the other, and play a key role in raising her heir.

Traditionally, the two hours before marriage was so that one could turn their heart and mind to the gods and pray for their blessing. Haru had foregone that part of the tradition.

It wasn’t that she disbelieved in gods; she wasn’t a moron. Anyone with eyes could tell you there was a young moltres that heralded the coming of spring, led by one with wings seemingly of fire as they travelled south, while two winged shaymin migrated north from Holon to the Flower Isles. But she wasn’t stupid; those were League owned pokemon, and it was a publicity stunt, nothing more.

Nor was she one of those who followed a monotheistic cult/belief.

It was simply that she’d yet to see a god improve life in any meaningful way and would not worship something that hadn’t earned her respect, thank you!

But, as she sat in the room, shrine covered with pale pink cloth, Haru gladly took the time to be alone with her thoughts given the last few days had been a blur. Teacher had kept her so busy she’d barely a chance to sit and think about anything that wasn’t task-related, and now that she could, she didn’t exactly know where to start. It was only after she closed her eyes that she sunk into the leather of the chair that she could begin the process.

It was supple, likely bidoof-based; she knew they bred them for pelts and hide; Twinleaf was one of the main producers of the leather and she’d lived there twice, once close enough to smell the tanning process. It was a nice memory, one of the few times she’d had lessons outside in the day. She’d also caught a bidoof to take to the plant; her first non-pocket money.

She’d bought a pokedoll she still had with the money.

Haru allowed the stress to bleed out as she recalled the memory and once she felt relaxed enough, she started the work needed that would untangle the mess her mental defences had become. With each breath in and out, the tension eased and her head started to feel like it was remotely on straight.

Slowly, she turned her mind towards Niko.

On the surface, Niko was quite attractive. They lacked the masculine features that frankly turned her off, and the rest were either feminine or androgynous, though the torso leant more towards the latter.

Did Niko bind?

She’d find out, and it was a shallow thought, just like the fact they were haafu helped as she always found mixed features to be so much more interesting to look at. Their hair was short and darkish red, though she’d seen how it had shone in the sun, and their height was only a little greater than hers, an inch or two at most. But, they had a lot more presence even with so little age difference between them, likely in part because they were allowed to be obviously fit, rather than forced to keep a ‘ladylike figure’.

It was shallow, but, in the end, she would at least be marrying someone attractive to her. It would make the wedding night easier at the very least, though she hoped she wasn’t expected to wet fish it.

If she was, well, she’d have to train her spouse. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? Her research had said that sex was supposed to feel good and she didn’t want to miss out.

Bedroom antics aside, the surface wasn’t the interesting part, yet figuring out what had captured her interest the most was hard. There was the level of competence, but, naturally, that would make her job harder, what with how they would likely be on guard for a great deal longer against manipulation. But, having someone so competent should she turn out to be the failure she feared she was… Well, it was a relief.

Niko had, she realised, commanded the meetings from the get-go. They managed to get their way even against her teacher and that was attractive in its own right. It was clear that they would treat her as a partner, not merely as a piece of arm candy.

It was a frightening concept, but Niko seemed to see value in her, which was something she had worried about at various points. While they hadn’t taken her story as the default, they had seen what it was worth and how it had been designed to allow flexibility. Whether they saw the fact it was also designed to give her a way to ease in to some things was unknown, but with how observant they seemed, it was very likely.

That she’d have control over some details was, dare she admit, exhilarating yet terrifying. Eventually, Haru decided it was a test. One she would not dare fuck up or cause her spouse to regret how they valued her.

Outside that, Haru found herself curious about just how much they had in common. Niko had grown up in both worlds, something she was secretly jealous of, and that meant that for whatever they had in common as the children of crime lords, they had a gap where Niko had managed a public front on top of their training.

Had Niko had to kill yet? If not, were they willing to if need be?

Wait, of course they were. They’d admitted to having their gengar kill with an easy boredom that suggested it wasn’t the first time. That was both expected and highly worrisome if Niko didn’t have it either broken to their will, or well in hand. Or both.

Golden eyes flashed with resentment. There’d been a reason she’d been denied a litwick every time she’d asked, even if she could have slaved it.

Had Niko been forced to keep all relationships professional, or had they created allies among their people based on factors other than who was in charge? Had they been given power when their father was still in control or had they seized it? At any rate, they had a great deal more control now than Haru did, and she was curious about whether that was by the design of her upbringing or merely a consequence.

She took a deep breath, held it for several counts, then released it. She could find out in time. Soon they would be alone together, and they could answer some of her less probing questions. The rest could be answered over the coming months and years, some of them possibly sooner than others should she be allowed into the daily workings of things. For a few years, the work she would do for Umiyari amounted to little more than keeping up with what was going on and familiarizing herself with anything new. It was a light load, one designed to allow her to adjust more than anything.

Afterwards, she would be able to bring Niko into the daily workings, should they so desire. She didn’t doubt they’d want it; not if her guess about the redhead having fingers in every part of Rocket was true.

As good as it would be to have some form of careful control over them in the future, it would be even better if their groups became acclimated to each other early. Even if she could never make Niko care about her, she could make Niko care about Umiyari once she knew what her soon-to-be spouse prioritised. It would have the added bonus of keeping their child from being used as a tool against one another, or as a spy for either parent.

‘Their child’.

The thought washed over her and Haru exhaled, long and deep as she forcibly unhooked her fingers from the armrests. Then, she sunk deeper into the chair.

Legends of old, she was ill-equipped to be a mother. To raise a child. Not when she’d known from a young age her teacher had planned to do most of the work. To train them. Her role hadn’t ever been defined outside of the likelihood of menial work if there weren’t servants around to do it. With Teacher out of the picture for the foreseeable future…

She would have to adapt and hope Niko was willing to help when work permitted. But she doubted it; they were, outside Head of Rocket, a Gym Leader and a person who likely had many fronts going at once.

Niko would likely be a distant parent.

She wished Koto where here, or failing that Pyxis. It felt childish to want to cuddle the pokemon, to feel the warm fur of a young ninetales as she buried her face in it. They weren’t of course. None of them would have their pokemon returned until after the wedding.

She instinctively pulled her feet up onto the chair as if to protect herself. It felt real now, becoming a mother. That she actually had some control over what happened, instead of merely being expected to backup Teacher in his training.

She might even have a say in the child’s name. Assuming Niko allowed it.

She swallowed and resisted the urge to hug her knees as it hit her that she wouldn’t have Teacher’s guidance to fall back on. She hugged them anyways; a poor reaction, never mind it felt as if a terrifying, frighteningly deep chasm had opened up. There was nothing but a stick-thin walkway and no safety net. Fear gnawed her mind and in response, she straightened her back and forcibly let go of her knees. She’d been trained better than to allow fear to stop her from doing her duty, and it wasn’t like she was incompetent, no matter what it felt like at times. Besides, maybe she’d be able to both train the child to be competent and avoid making them feel like just a stepping stone.

She had the experiences that should help her with both goals.

Two hours without work to do evidently turned out to be too much for Haru, as when the time was finally up, she’d resorted to making vague notes on a handkerchief with a rather nice ballpoint pen she’d had brought in.

She might have jumped when a knock came.

“It’s time,” the young man said. Haru judged him one of the security staff, maybe a helper even, but beyond him, she could see a woman dressed in the red and white of a priestess.

“Lead the way,” she said with a smile as she stood, pocketing the handkerchief and handing the pen over.

It was time to meet her destiny.

She entered a cozy room. It was light and airy, and were it not for the faint shimmer of a psychic barrier, Haru’d have thought it actually open to the elements.

Simple though it was, it held matrimonious feel with carved reliefs on the wall behind the desk. Shaymin and mew were easily the main deities alongside togekiss and blissey, and Haru wished she knew more about symbolism than the barest basics. She knew they represented marriage, but not why or how, out of hundreds of pokemon, it was these specifically.

Alongside them, every major Sinnohan and Kantan deity was represented, either via carved image, or small shrine. Moltres rising from the ashes was rebirth, and arceus was said to symbolise longevity. Giratina was said to bless the couple with fertility, though Haru hardly believed that. Zapdos started storms, but Articuno protected and guided through said storms. Dialga was time and Palkia space, but what they had to do with weddings she didn’t know.

She took her place beside Niko in front of the desk with a small swallow -why was a cresselia feather--?- as she gave them a brief once over.

They cut a dashing, handsome figure and briefly, Haru wondered what Niko thought of her and how she looked (every inch the classic Yamatan beauty in a neutral coloured knee-length dress with matching three-inch heel boots, but not particularly uniquely attractive) but she didn’t let herself dwell on it. There were far more important things ahead of them.

As the witnesses -her father and Teacher for her. For Niko it was a nondescript man with easily forgettable features, and a man with a pale blue rinse-dye she was certain was Kojirō Sasaki- and the lawyers in the room assured them that everything was in order, Haru picked up the papers.

Niko did as well and Haru could only assume they both shared a desire to confirm everything was standard and they had accounted for all the nonstandard traits.

Niko was the first to sign with a grunt and Haru noticed it wasn’t the marriage papers, but a name change. She promptly kicked herself. Of course, Niko had likely taken advantage of the wedding to do this. Then they signed the marriage papers.

She signed soon after, and then the witnesses signed. For almost a minute, the room was consumed by the scratching of the sharpened cresselia feather against paper. There was a symbolism there, but she didn’t know what.

What Haru knew was she’d been right; the pale blue-haired man was Kojirō Sasaki. The only other name of note was her teacher’s, and she filed it away with a note of triumph and pride for later.

“Thank you,” the priestess said as she added her own name down at the bottom. Only then were the papers moved to the side by an unobtrusive helper, and a sake set, doubtlessly old and ancient and carved from the fin bones of a dialga, took centre stage.

This, she knew. It was the San San Kudo, though obviously in simplified form. The set wasn’t that elaborate, something she was grateful for.

“The first sip you will take represents the heavens, earth, and mankind. The next is the three great human flaws of hatred, passion, and ignorance. The third and final sip is the love, wisdom, and happiness which grow over time in a marriage.” The priestess turned the tokkuri (sake-pot, some parts of Yamatai called it) three times so everyone had the chance to confirm it was plain and unassuming. A blank canvas, a story yet to be told. “Where Knowledge goes, so comes wisdom. Where Emotion goes, so comes joy and pain. Where Willpower goes, so comes bravery. Gather all three and you never go wrong.”

The warmed sake poured into the single, elegant sakazuki, painstakingly carved with uxie, mesprit and azelf, the three deities said to govern relationships above all else. There was just enough of the sake that it half-filled the small cup, and to prove none remained in the tokkuri, it was upended. Objectively, everyone knew the real reason why: the sake used for weddings was expensive. Symbolically it was supposed to impart good luck to the couple.

Then, the priestess handed the cup to Niko, who took it with a solemn, poised grace. One respectful bow of the head later, her spouse took three sips with a count of three between each.

The cup was half drained, and now it was Haru’s turn. She mirrored Niko’s actions before gently placing it back down.

“With the gods as my witnesses, I vow to be faithful to my spouse/wife, and to our family that is to come.” Both Haru and Niko said together and Haru was glad the ancient vow was easy to recite. She knew had this been the non-simplified version, it would have been in long, overly formal flowery language. Not that they had much of an option to be unfaithful, what with how the betrothal contract had been written, but formalities were formalities.

“I now marry you. Shinoda Niko and Shinoda Haru.”She took their right wrists one at a time and wrapped a green-white cord round it. It was plant matter and it would fall off within the month due to normal wear and tear. To hasten it was to doom the marriage. “Be joined in the sight of the gods and those called as witnesses,” the priestess finished as she clapped once with a short, but firm bow. One of the helpers, a young boy, handed her the now enveloped papers. She, in turn, handed them to Niko with a smile. Her tones shifted to a more personal one. “I wish you a fortuitous future and a wonderful life.”

“Thank you, miko-san,” Niko said with a bow which Haru hastened to copy.

And, just like that, it was all over and Haru was uncertain and unsure of what would now happen. Did she go off with Niko? What were they to talk about next-

“If I may, Shinoda-san, the Hakutai Mikimoto store has a good selection of wedding bands.”

“Cool. I did wonder where we’d go to find them,” Niko said and Haru blinked.

Right, of course. They had to pick them out after the wedding; bad luck was said to come to those who bought them before a wedding, and she’d read enough statistics to know it was generally true. It was also the first thing the new couple bought together.

Outside of that, though, there were still things they needed to decide among themselves, such as precisely how they wanted to handle having children. She was in favour of using the tanks and she would make that very clear, because, quite frankly, the statistics for people who tried for children at her age were concerning, and she’d rather avoid the risks if at all possible.

But that could come later. Allowing herself to get caught up in her head was a bad habit, one she’d thought snuffed a long time ago.

“After you,” Haru said with a nod.

“Come on then. Once we get our mon’s back, I’ve a car waiting out front,” Niko said with a flash of a grin and nod towards Kojirō and the other man as they headed towards the door, a more respectful bow towards her father and a stilted, shallow one to Teacher - to Arata. Haru mimicked them, though her bows were far more respectful.

“You are prepared?” she asked once they were in the car’s backseat, assured her suitcases were in the boot. The car wasn’t a tiny thing by any stretch, but it was small and compact and obviously made for a city like most cars were. Like the second witness, the driver was nondescript and plain.

“Hakutai Mikimoto. Hmph. This is about us now, and I think I saw Akimoto-san’s eyes bug out when Sasaki-san walked into the room,” the smirk was clear as day in their voice as they settled back into the car seat with an inelegant sprawl.

“You did that on purpose.” It wasn’t a question.

“Aww, so what if I did? A simple Yahgoo search would have turned up plenty on me outside my involvement with Rocket. But it’s done now and maybe he’ll have learned, but people like him? Hmph. As if. Aww, whatever. What material are you thinking of for the band?”

“Whatever you deem-”

“Don’t gimme that crap. You’ll be wearing it too.”

She did not flinch, even if her mind stuttered to a halt, like how a rapidash collapsed on the race field. Sudden and without warning. “Something elegant.”

It was expected of their status, wasn’t it? Not that it truly mattered. The bands were always the same width and depth with the same stylised gracidea flower motif opposite the hinge. Empress Jitō, said to be the first to unite Yamatai under one banner (It had lasted maybe six hundred years), had popularised it in her own wedding to Prince Consort Tenmu. It had taken another hundred or so years to filter out through the Clans and into the general populace.

“We can probably find something like that and have it durable…” Niko said slowly, and for a heart-wrenching second, she thought she’d displeased her spouse. “Or we get two sets. One for formal, the other for work.”

“One set should be enough.” Haru was off-kilter, and she knew it. Unacceptable but likely unavoidable until she figured out how to deal with this new, far less formal spouse. Who was a Gym Leader.

She could have kicked herself. Of course they’d want something durable. Myths of Sinnoh, she’d be looking up a lot of Utube videos in the coming days. “Perhaps haganēru?”

Shed steelix scale-hide lasted a lifetime.

“That or Jurarudon derived titanium,” Niko nodded, and it took a moment to realise they’d meant the Eselian Trade Lingo name 'duraludon’, a steel primary type from Galar. “We’d have to ask and money really isn’t an issue.”

“Then we’ll find something.”

They did, in the end, though it took most of the day and it left Haru dizzy with the way Niko treated money. The bands they settled on were Steelix metal smelted with Jurarudon derived titanium, and large enough they allowed for growth, while at the same time they gave the illusion of an elegant, snug fit around the right wrist.

Like she did for them, Niko clicked the flower’s locking pin in place. It sounded final, but nice. She had her duties, but she felt… freer somehow.

It was nice, and easily the better-remembered memory of the day, though Haru wished they hadn’t had take-out for dinner, even if she understood why Niko’s face had scrunched at the suggestion of a formal restaurant. The rest of the evening, once they’d returned to the hotel, would forever remain The Most Awkward Night Ever; tradition didn’t even allow alcohol on the night, not that either were of age to drink, thank you very much, but even a drink would have helped.

At least Niko had some experience (or knew the theory like she did) and hadn’t wanted a wet fish in bed.

Tomorrow, they’d fly back to Kanto. To her new home. To her future.

A future Haru thought she could possibly enjoy, not just endure.