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Chapter Text

“Are you sure about this?” Mira asks, twirling a piece of her hair between two fingers. She clenches a Pokéball in her other hand, her knuckles going white with the force of her grip.

“Certain.”

Dawn steps down from her platform in the Champion’s room, knowing it’s the last time that she’ll do so. It’s been seven long years in a job she never wanted to do, having taken over from someone that she suspects had had enough in the role herself. Being Champion is more than a fancy title, something that Dawn has come to learn for herself over the years.

The cameras in the room don’t pick up sound, and even if they did Dawn suspects their microphones would have been blown out years ago with the amount of Hyper Beams and Blast Burns that this room has seen. The cameras can’t pick up the conspiracy that happens at this moment, as Mira tosses her Alakazam’s ball into the middle of the field and Dawn counters with her Froslass.

This battle has been months in the planning. Behind closed doors, her and Mira have made a whole plan – which order to send Pokémon out in, which moves to use. They’ve practiced too. Dawn’s last dance as Champion is a carefully choreographed battle with no room for mistakes. Her Pokémon know what will happen, and each of them have accepted that this life isn’t for them any longer.

It’s not that Dawn will never battle again. She loves the thrill of it, but her tenure as Champion has meant that she hasn’t gotten to do anything else. At seventeen years old she’s finally decided to put her foot down – now she will get her own way, and someone more deserving of the title will take over.

When the League officials watch the battle back in the next few days to check that no one was cheating they’ll not see anything out of the ordinary as Mira’s Porygon-Z hovers victoriously above Dawn’s fallen Empoleon. They’ll see a well-rehearsed smile from Dawn as she returns her Pokémon, and Mira’s cheers of joy as she shakes the Champion’s hand and the older girl beckons her into the Hall of Fame.

What they won’t see is inside the Hall of Fame Dawn cries tears of joy, and Mira pats her shoulder, her journey just beginning as Dawn’s comes to an end.

Johanna insists that Dawn comes home, at least for a few days. Usually she would say no, but she hasn’t visited her mom in a while, and the thought of proper meals calls her name. All her friends are too busy with their own lives at the moment to be able to hang out, so Dawn agrees to Johanna’s invitation, packs up her office in the League, and makes her way southwest to Twinleaf Town.

As predicted, Johanna gushes over her for ten minutes while Dawn pretends to be upset. She doesn’t lay it on too thick – her mother is smart, and knows absolutely everything about Dawn from any twitch of a muscle in her face. Johanna most definitely suspects that something is up when Dawn insists that it’s fine, it would’ve happened eventually, Mira will be a great Champion, but she doesn’t push it.

“Barry’s home for the weekend,” Johanna says cryptically, and Dawn resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Oh, right. I thought he was up in the Battle Zone?”

“He does live there now. I’m surprised his mother let him move out, but considering he’s a lot closer to his dad now I suppose it’s fine. You should catch up with him! It would do you a world of good.”

“He’ll just want to battle,” Dawn excuses, though she knows that it’s true. She doesn’t really have the energy to be entertaining Barry at the minute – as much as she likes him, she could really do with time off.

“Oh, well I told him you’re here when I bumped into him earlier, or more that he bumped into me, so I would expect to see him soon!”

“Mom! Why would you do that?”

“Listen, I know that this is a big change in your life, you’ve been doing the job for longer than most people do any job. But you cannot wallow. I won’t allow it. You need to have a plan for what you want to do next, and although I hardly expect you to know that now, I can’t sit by and watch you be sad for months until you think of something.”

Johanna’s voice is stern, almost as stern as Dawn’s ever heard it from her. It helps, in a way, that she’s being like this, because it makes Dawn’s pretence ten times easier. She doesn’t need to mope around the house for weeks until she moves back to Sunyshore City – she can just tell her mom what she wants to do, safe in the knowledge that she’ll get the support that she’s been missing for the last seven years.

“I’ve already been thinking,” Dawn says, and Johanna perks up a little. “Somehow I knew that this was coming soon, that someone would dethrone me. I haven’t been battling at my best, and there have been some close calls.”

“So what’s the plan? Off to another region?”

“No, I… I think I want to give contests a try,” Dawn admits, and Johanna’s eyes light up.

The world of contests is a far cry from the usual battling that Dawn has gotten used to over her career. She’s always been a talented battler, but the display of moves in contests goes far beyond the raw power that her Pokémon are trained for.

She does have one advantage though – contests are in her blood. Growing up, she was surrounded by contest success, with her mother’s ribbons and trophies displayed in a cabinet in the living room. Johanna had five Pokémon on her team, never quite making a full team. This was on purpose though – there was no need for a sixth Pokémon when concentrating on one for each contest condition was enough.

Dawn has six to wrangle with, and her mother points this out immediately. One Pokémon won’t get any time on stage, but since Dawn is also trying to complete the Pokédex for Professor Rowan, part of her wants to consider swapping all her Pokémon out for new ones. As she begins her training in earnest though it becomes abundantly clear that she won’t be restarting soon.

Froslass and Pachirisu are ideal candidates for the beauty and cute rounds. Dawn and Pachirisu have competed a few times already, both when she was on her journey and in a special fun contest a few years ago. Dawn’s walks in Amity Square with Pachirisu have also yielded some results in the form of accessories – her case is already half full, ready to start practicing for the dress-up round.

The goal, at the end of all this preparation and training, is to do what her mother did. Growing up with only Johanna and her team to look up to did wonders for Dawn’s confidence and creativity, though of course her original career path took her in an entirely different collection. But Dawn dreams of having her own house, somewhere a little busier than Twinleaf Town, with a cabinet to match her mother’s.

There are four contest ranks within each condition, and Pachirisu has one two of them, Froslass coming in with one. Dawn has yet to try her hand at the other three ranks – tough, clever, and cool – having never known which Pokémon to bring. Johanna suggests something that sounds so simple – why doesn’t she go to Hearthome City and watch some contests herself to get a good idea of what Pokémon other coordinators bring?

So she books some tickets and heads off, notebook in hand, ready to make notes. The contests aren’t until the afternoon, and Dawn makes it into the city early. Vaguely she remembers the direction to the poffin house, and follows her nose until she finds it. She never quite got poffins – they were cute, and her Pokémon seemed to like them, but it made no sense to her. These tiny biscuits were apparently the key to contest success.

The woman who runs the place seems to recognise her, whether that be from her own fame as ex-Champion or because of her mother. But she doesn’t say anything as Dawn politely asks for a refresher course on poffin making, and shows her the ropes once more. They focus on making some for Pachirisu. It comes as news to Dawn that there are combinations of berries that work better for some Pokémon and types of contest than others, and she feels a twinge of shame at having not noticed this before.

The batter turns pink to begin with, coloured with the juicy flesh of Pecha Berries. The mixture almost seems to curdle at first before it turns a lot of different colours and finally the poffin expert Dawn has been replying on says that they’re ready to mould. The snacks only take a few minutes in the oven before they’re done, and then they’re pronounced ready to go.

Dawn sends out Pachirisu, handing one across to the tiny Pokémon cautiously. It seems to sense her apprehension, but it bites down, and a smile appears on Dawn’s face as Pachirisu’s eyes light up and the rest of the poffin disappears.

Johanna made poffins at home when Dawn was a child – she distinctly remembers batches of them in the oven, different colours for each of Johanna’s Pokémon. The poffin house has plenty of appliances for poffin making however, and making them here means that Dawn doesn’t have to face the scrutiny of her mother’s opinion. Dawn thanks the woman, and swears that it won’t be long until she’s back.

When she finally makes it to the contest hall the place is buzzing with people. Dawn knew of their popularity, but this isn’t even a master class contest – this is the bottom rank, which mostly houses newcomers. Dawn takes her seat among the crowd, hat pulled down around her hair in the hopes that no one will recognise her.

The clever condition is the one that Dawn has been worrying about the most. A lot of the participating Pokémon are psychic types, which makes sense to her, but she doesn’t have a psychic type on her team, and has to think outside the box a bit more. At the back of her mind, she vaguely remembers Fantina’s Pokémon from the contests she watched as a child – it was a Drifblim. She’s already earmarked Froslass for Beauty contests, but maybe it would be better somewhere else?

The first round Dawn understands well. Four contestants, each with different Pokémon, none of which Dawn owns herself. She takes her notebook out as the MC introduces them – a Turtwig, a Mime Jr, a Bonsly and a Magneton.

Their appeal round runs smoothly – many green accessories, and the Mime Jr wears a little pair of cute glasses that Dawn supposes is supposed to make it look cute. Presumably this is where taking walks in Amity Square will help her – Pachirisu has a keen nose for finding random items that she has used in contests previously.

The dancing round is simple in terms of the rules, if nothing else. Dawn doesn’t really see herself as a dancer. She’s never really done it before, unless you count toddling round her room with her mom when she was much younger. But it’s more about how the Pokémon dance, keeping in time with the music and twirling on the beat. She’s going to have to work hard at dancing herself if she wants her Pokémon to be able to do it.

The last round is the mystery to her. She knows it’s about Voltage, about saving points and about using moves at the right moment. You can’t just use moves that will give you points – because the other coordinators might use moves that disrupt the usual flow of the contest. The acting competition is all about thinking on your feet, and while Dawn knows that she’s good at that in theory, she also is well aware that this is an entirely different type of using your Pokémon than she’s used to.

The Mime Jr wins the competition, and Dawn discreetly leaves the Contest Hall before anyone spots her. Fantina is probably present – the woman never seems to be in her gym, and Dawn would place her bets on Kiera still recognising her even after all this time. Thankfully she makes it out of the building unscathed, but with the rest of her day still to put in before the next contest, Dawn finds herself at a loss for what to do.

The sound of her poketch vibrating against the wood of her bedside table wakes Dawn from her sleep with a start. When she glances at the screen she can see that the incoming call is from Barry, who she decidedly does not want to speak to this early in the morning. Regardless, she answers the call, trying her best not to sigh.

“Good morning Barry,” she greets, trying to sound as awake as possible.

“Why is your mother in my house?” He hisses, and it takes a moment for Dawn’s brain to catch up. “It is a Sunday morning, should she not be in your house?”

“I know she went out last night, and I didn’t hear her coming in… she didn’t say where she was going though.”

“Well I think I know!” Barry whisper-screams, and Dawn sits up in bed, suddenly realising what he means.

“What is my mother doing in your house?!”

“Ssh! They’ll hear you.”

“Hardly. Oh, she said she was going to meet an old friend. This is… she meant your dad.”

“Horrifying! That’s what this is! Come and collect your mother right now before I fine her!”

“Okay, I will!”

“No, wait! Don’t come here – then they’ll know that we know. Meet me in the Survival Area.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll be there soon.”

No crisis has ever gotten Dawn out of bed, dressed, and hanging onto Togekiss on the way to the other end of Sinnoh so fast. It’s been years since she last saw her dad, and as far as she’s aware Johanna hasn’t dated anyone, at least not seriously, in a long time. And Barry’s parents separated a long time ago too – Dawn barely ever remembers seeing Palmer about Twinleaf Town when they were kids.

This is an unexpected development to say the least, but if there’s one good thing about this odd situation, it’s that she’s in it with Barry. And it could be worse, she supposes – she could’ve been the one to uncover all of this.

Barry paces in front of the Battleground as Togekiss lands, a face like thunder when he spots Dawn. It’s been a while since she’s been manhandled by him, but he grabs the top of her arms and shakes her, and it’s like nothing has ever changed at all. Togekiss pecks indignantly at him, and Barry lets her go with a muttered sorry under his breath.

“What is going on?!” He asks a moment later, exploding with righteous anger.

“Well, from the sound of things, it seems like our parents are… together. In some sort of way, at least.”

“Well, make them stop! That’s so weird!”

“I mean, a little bit. But it’s really not the end of the world.”

“I am not going back to live in Twinleaf Town again,” Barry says indignantly, folding his arms across his chest.

“I… I highly doubt that if they were to move in together, Palmer would come back to Twinleaf Town, considering that your mom still lives there. And even if they did, by the time it comes to that you’ll probably be able to move out yourself.”

“And live on my own? Dawn, you know I can’t cook or anything! I’ll die!”

“I am not offering to move in with you,” she tells him firmly, watching as his shoulders visibly slump.

At that Dawn’s Poketch vibrates once again with an incoming call, and when she glances at her wrist she sees that the call is from none other than Johanna herself. Her eyes flash up to Barry, who motions for her to answer it, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep himself from talking.

“Hello?”

“Dawn, are you free today?”

“I’m at the Battlegrounds with Barry,” she tells her honestly. “We were about to have a battle, but aside from that…”

“Oh, good. When you’re done, why don’t we have lunch in the Resort Area? And bring Barry along too!”

“Sure,” Dawn says weakly. “See you soon.”

As she clicks to end the call, she lifts her head to meet Barry’s gaze, seeing her own dread reflected in his eyes.

“They’re going to tell us today.”

All things considered, it could’ve gone much worse. Johanna and Palmer put up a united front and tell them that they’re dating, and although neither Dawn nor Barry is particularly thrilled about the concept, everyone goes home contented, back to their own houses.

Johanna doesn’t bring the topic up again, sensing Dawn’s awkwardness. Instead, she doubles down on helping her with contest training, and the two of them move the furniture in the living room so that Johanna can help Dawn and Pachirisu (as the most house-friendly member of Dawn’s team) to perfect their moves.

Upstairs, tucked under Johanna’s bed, is a little box of trinkets. Her medals and trophies from her days as a coordinator are all displayed in the living room in a large glass cabinet, but this box contains fond memories instead. A beat up notebook of poffin recipes long committed to memory, ball capsules used so often that they’re now broken.

But the real treasure trove comes in the form of her accessory case, which she passes across to Dawn with the sparkle of a tear in her eye. Dawn isn’t really sure what to say in response to such a gift, and simply smiles with a murmured thank you, awestruck by the gift.

“You’re going to need to start prioritising your team members for individual ranks,” Johanna warns her. “Pachirisu already has a few ribbons, so rule her out of any other ranks before you start getting ahead of yourself.”

“Froslass for Beauty,” Dawn says quickly. “And then off the top of my head… Empoleon for Tough, Togekiss for Smart and Carnivine for Cool.”

“Have you looked into what types of moves they know and how they’ll score? There’s no point in entering a Pokémon into a round if they don’t know the right sort of moves. You… well, I hate to say it, but you’ll just embarrass yourself. I don’t want that to happen to you!”

“I need to look it all up, I think. That’s what I’m going to do this week.”

“And what about your other Pokémon?” Johanna asks with a grimace.

“I don’t think that Garchomp is really the ideal candidate for contests,” Dawn replies with a sigh. “Besides, Garchomp was the talk of the town when I became Champion, and… well, I don’t want it to steal all the spotlight again. Not when my other Pokémon are as qualified. Not when they’re better, really, because they’ve been with me longer.”

“Garchomp barely listens to you,” Johanna remembers.

“It used to,” Dawn remembers fondly. “Back when I became Champion. I think it could sense… that my heart wasn’t really in it anymore.”

“Maybe take some time to reconnect with Garchomp. I think it could surprise you.”

Dawn pointedly ignores her mother’s advice. Garchomp stays within its ball, and she instead focuses on using Carnivine. The Pokémon was never really meant to be a member of her team, but had followed her around the Great Marsh on her one excursion into its muddy depths, pretending to hide behind trees, watching her until she finally relented and caught it. It’s a friendly thing, and the two get along well even after a rocky start.

It lies its thorny head against her as she figures out what to do. Maybe dancing is a good start today – she’s not sure if Carnivine can even dance. Pachirisu has no problems showing off, and Froslass and Empoleon both pick up moves well. Togekiss takes a little bit more work, but is graceful enough on its own to manage well under contest regulations. She throws an arm out to one side, and motions for Carnivine to do the same. It does, chirping expectantly.

“Good job!” Dawn praises, earning a spin in the air from her Pokémon. She raises an eyebrow at that – an interesting move from the Pokémon she thought she’d struggle most with. “Copy me, okay?”

Contest dancing, especially at the lower ranks, is remarkably easy. It mostly involves stepping forward and back, and side to side, in time with the rhythm. Because Carnivine has no legs, this can be a little bit of a problem. But Dawn sends Froslass out, and the two of them work together to teach Carnivine the basic steps. By the time the sun sets and Johanna calls them back inside for dinner, Carnivine has all the necessary steps for the first round of contests.

“How’s it going?” Johanna asks, and Dawn makes a little hum of uncertainty.

“I mean, it’s… it’s hard work. There’s a lot more to all of this than I thought. I might head up to the villa for a bit. Clear my head. The people in the Ribbon Syndicate probably know some things about contests too, so I could ask around there for more opinions.”

“Are you sure? I mean, is it not a little soon? You’ve only been here-“

“A month, mom. As much as it’s been nice to have you to look after me, I… I need to get back to my old ways, if anything’s going to change.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. You know that I’m only a phone call away, though, right? And you’re going to have to be more careful with your money now that you don’t have that nice Champion salary coming in! No more buying that expensive furniture for the place, I saw some of the price tags on it! Ridiculous, this is why they don’t let kids move out!”

“Mom! I didn’t really move out.”

“You have the villa and that apartment in Sunyshore! You should probably consider selling one. Or at least rent the apartment out – I know as well as anyone that the contest scene doesn’t make you good money right away. I just don’t want to see you getting into any trouble, dear.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dawn reassures her, making sure that her smile looks as genuine as possible.

“And maybe talk to Cynthia about your Garchomp. I don’t ever remember her doing contests, but... well, she knows best when it comes to Garchomp.”

“I don’t think anyone but you is worried about Garchomp,” Dawn admits. “But I’ll maybe give her a call when I’m settled in. I have more space up there, so… I can try to battle with Garchomp. Or dance, or stick one of those tiny hats on it.”

“Promise me you’ll come back if things start to go sour, okay?”

“I will,” Dawn says, a smile on her face. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

Without the space constraints of the Twinleaf Town back garden, Dawn’s practice comes easier. The villa’s garden is as luxurious as the rest of it – Empoleon sits in the pool while everyone else works hard. Froslass and Carnivine perfect their steps with Pachirisu’s help, and Togekiss manages to learn the steps for the next stage. No amount of coaxing can get Empoleon out of the pool, and so Dawn decides that perhaps, just this once, she can let her Pokémon be.

In the evenings, she sits them in a row, and brings out her mom’s accessory case. Combined with her own collection, mostly from her days travelling, she has a sizeable amount to choose from. Getting this right is the most important part, and Dawn knows that even if her Pokémon look perfect, there’s always the chance that another coordinator will have Pokémon that look that little bit better.

Pachirisu gains a pink satin ribbon, tied around the base of its tail. Dawn attaches two yellow fluffs to its ears, mimicking the colour of its cheeks. Empoleon helps out with this stage, tossing some confetti in the air as Pachirisu frolics underneath.

“I think if the theme was colourful, you’d score top points Pachirisu!” Dawn coos. The smallest of her Pokémon scrambles onto her lap, and Dawn knows this means it wants lifted up for a proper cuddle. Pachirisu has always been her best contest Pokémon, and though Johanna recommended she didn’t get too comfortable with using Pachirisu, and to try others too, the temptation to stick with what she knows while she gets used to the world of contests for the first time is strong.

Empoleon senses that something is wrong, and lifts the Piplup mask from the box, chirping to get Dawn’s attention. She can’t help but laugh when she looks up – Empoleon dancing in place, cheered on by the other Pokémon.

“What do you say we have a trip to Hearthome City soon?” She asks, and with a cheer of encouragement from her Pokémon, Dawn feels a little surge of encouragement. What about you, Togekiss? Would you like to go first at a contest?”

Togekiss twirls on the spot before coming to a stop, resting its head atop Dawn’s. Oddly comforted by this, Dawn finds herself smiling once again. It will take some work yet before they are ready to go to their first contest, particularly because Togekiss has had less training than the others. But with their enthusiasm, Dawn is confident that they’ll be able to get a few more ribbons under their belt.

She lets her Pokémon rest in the morning, and the five of them lie around the main room of the villa. She leaves them to it, heading out into the garden, her sixth Pokéball heavy in her palm. Dawn tosses it into an empty space, taking a step back when Garchomp appears.

She’s always felt a little guilty about having Garchomp in the first place. That’s Cynthia’s signature Pokémon, and she had known that fact long before she ever left home on her journey. Dawn had never intended to catch a Gible – more accurately, Gible caught her. Biting her round the ankles, a far cry from how it turns its nose up at her now. Garchomp was in the spotlight more than she was when she beat Cynthia seven years ago, and the constant bombardment seemed to really take a toll on Garchomp.

Dawn sighs as she reaches her hand out to her Pokémon, managing a smile as it bumps her hand with its nose, the only sign of affection it really gives anymore. Garchomp is tired. Dawn wonders if its old. It’s hard to tell with Pokémon, unlike people. It was an unusually large Gible, though it seemed to even out as it got bigger. Now Garchomp refuses to battle, and Dawn dreads the thought of even attempting to get it to do contests.

“How are you?” She asks quietly, and Garchomp makes a sound from deep within its chest, not even opening its mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Dawn takes her hand away, and smiles to herself as Garchomp chases that feeling. The Pokémon sighs, and settles down on the edge of the patio. Dawn follows it, sitting with her legs hanging over the edge.

There’s only one thing she can really think of in this situation. She doesn’t want to fix Garchomp – there’s nothing really wrong in the first place. But she needs answers about what’s going on in order to help it. And there is only one person who can help her. She’s been putting this phonecall off for months, the look that she got when she sent Garchomp out in that battle constantly replaying in her mind. She pushes the thought to one side, and presses ‘call’ on her phone.

“Hello?” Comes the voice on the other end. A little surprised she picked up so quickly, Dawn can’t quite manage to speak. “Dawn, hello?”

“Hi, Cynthia, sorry.”

“Is everything okay? It’s not like you to call.”

“I’ve been having some problems with Garchomp lately,” she confesses, knowing that it’s better to get all of this out of the way as quickly as possible. “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me? You know more about Garchomp than most people do, so…”

“What seems to be the matter?” Cynthia says, her tone a lot more serious than Dawn is used to hearing. While Cynthia is always a serious and well put together person, there’s a shift in her voice that doesn’t quite sit well with Dawn.

“It’s been a lot quieter recently. Refusing to battle outright, not listening to commands. No matter what I’m feeding it, it just… seems tired. Exhausted.”

“Hm. Would I be able to take a look in person? It’d be easier for me to judge that way.”

“Of course, if you have the time, that would be very helpful, thank you.”

“Of course I have the time. We both know that’s one thing that a retired Champion has plenty of,” Cynthia chuckles. “How about you come to Celestic Town tomorrow? I’m free all day.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then. Thank you again, Cynthia, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Take care.”

Cynthia ends the call with a click, and Dawn sighs deeply, feeling the reverberations deep within her chest. Garchomp feels it too, and sighs to itself.

“Sorry, Garchomp. We’ll get you help, I promise.”

The journey to Celestic Town is one that Dawn has never done from the Villa. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to cross the mountains – Togekiss hates that, and always makes a fuss. But the wind is strong over the sea, and even going as directly as they possibly can, the journey from the Resort Area still takes a lot longer than Dawn would like.

Eventually she lands in Celestic Town, a little way away from Cynthia’s house. It’s been many years since she’s been up here to see the former Champion, and longer still since she was allowed to enter her house. Dawn could always sense that Cynthia wasn’t the fondest of her, having taken a job that she’d held for ten years. She hadn’t reached out when the title had been stripped from Dawn either, a fact that didn’t surprise the younger woman in the slightest.

The town is as quiet as Dawn remembers it being as she wanders through nearly empty streets. Very few people live here, and even fewer deign to visit, tourists or not. That always came as a shock to Dawn – considering the link between the town and the creation myth, she had assumed that the town would be rife with history buffs.

The door to Cynthia’s house looms in front of her, dark blue against a grey façade. Dawn doesn’t quite have the courage to knock, unsure quite what she’ll say to her. The thought of facing Cynthia again in a casual setting is one that has terrified Dawn for years, to the extent where she has checked guest lists of events that they might have been invited to in the past before giving her RSVP. Today, Dawn doesn’t have a choice, nor does she have to make the decision to knock herself. The door simply swings open, revealing Cynthia behind it.

“I saw you coming up the path, and I thought it a little odd when you didn’t knock. Come in.”

She stands aside, and allows Dawn into her home. From her vague memories of the place, it doesn’t look any different to when Dawn was here before. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling books – a live in library for a woman who spends so much time reading. The sofa looks comfy, well worn, and the low table in front of it, though covered in books and papers, also holds two coffee mugs. Cynthia sweeps them away after closing the door, drawing Dawn’s attention back in it’s direction – on the mat lies two pairs of shoes, of differing sizes.

“Are you… seeing someone?” Dawn asks as casually as she can manage. “I… sorry, I just assumed that I would’ve heard about something like that on the news or something. I shouldn’t intrude.”

“No, it’s okay,” Cynthia says, setting the mugs into the sink and turning back with a smile. “Yes, I am. For a little while. He’s working at the moment, so I just ask that we don’t be too loud.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Shall we go out the back? I’d like to have a good look at your Garchomp.”

With a nod of agreement from Dawn, Cynthia leads her through the house and into the garden. The grass of the lawn rises to Dawn’s ankles, completely worn in patches. Under a tree in the far corner lies Cynthia’s Garchomp, who opens one uncaring eye to look at the visitor.

“Neither of us care about gardening, really,” Cynthia admits. “It’s more interesting for the Pokémon, though. And better for the environment.”

“Very different to my mom’s back garden, but it is cute. And Garchomp looks happy.”

“She does love to rest under the tree. I don’t have enough space for everyone, but Spiritomb is here somewhere too. It likes to stay in its stone unless we’re battling, so I hope it doesn’t pop out on you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. Anyway… Garchomp. My Garchomp.”

Dawn lifts the ball from her belt and tosses it into the garden. The weight of the Pokémon flattens the grass a little, but it coos, sad and true, as it so often does. Cynthia hums, taking a few steps toward Dawn’s Pokémon. It winces, startled, and takes a large step back. Cynthia hums again, and motions for Dawn to go to her Pokémon instead.

Garchomp trusts her, and lets Dawn put her hands on its shoulders, smoothing the scales that lie there. These used to hurt, long ago, but now they do little more damage to her skin than sandpaper. Dawn’s presence allows Cynthia to approach. Up close, she can get a better look at Garchomp, and figure out what’s wrong.

She runs her hand along its back, feeling the texture of the scales, listening to the sounds that Garchomp makes in response to her touches. She lifts the corner of its mouth, looking at its teeth, and peers into its eyes. After a while, she takes a step back, examining Garchomp as a whole.

“And you’ve taken it to a Pokémon Centre?”

“Yes. Nurse Joy couldn’t find anything wrong.”

“Though it’s not perhaps the news that you were expecting to hear… I think Garchomp is simply old.”

“That’s what I thought as well,” Dawn murmurs, lifting the ball to return her Pokémon.

“Come back inside. We can talk about this in more detail. You’ll need to care for Garchomp differently now, though I’m not entirely sure what to recommend to you. We’ll figure it out together though.”

Cynthia places a hand on Dawn’s shoulder, warmer than she was expecting, and smiles. For the first time since their meeting, Dawn really feels that Cynthia is on her side.

She makes them each a cup of tea, shoving some of the papers on the coffee table aside. They all look important – some documents written in Cynthia’s hand, some scans of older documents. Dawn doesn’t pretend to understand what they speak of, and murmurs her thanks when Cynthia hands her the tea, looking anywhere but at the table.

“How was Garchomp when your first caught it?” Cynthia asks, settling into the corner of the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her.

“As a Gible? Well, I suppose now that I think about it, Gible was always rather tired. As was Gabite. Though they were also very enthusiastic, always wanting to battle, so I suppose I didn’t notice.”

“And when did you first begin to notice?”

“It was a few years ago. Garchomp just… refused to listen one day. Wouldn’t battle, ignored every single command. It wasn’t like when you catch a new Pokémon and they use whatever attacks they want, it was more like… Garchomp just sat down in the field and took attack after attack until I returned it to its ball.”

“Has it listened since?”

“Not really. A handful of times, but I don’t really use it at all anymore.”

“To me, it sounds like Gible was an old Pokémon even when you caught it,” Cynthia says, her calm tone reassuring Dawn. “Gible used to be more common, back when Sinnoh was known as Hisui. But with the rise of industrialisation, they took off, all cumulating in Wayward Cave. With the building of the Cycling Road, the entrance to that cave is practically undisturbed nowadays, so the Gible that live in it grow to be rather old.”

“What about your Garchomp? Was it from there too?”

“No, no. My Gible hatched from an egg a week before my tenth birthday. My father trained a Garchomp too. So she’s still quite young – twenty-five isn’t particularly old for a Pokémon like that. I would put your Garchomp at over one hundred at least, approaching two. They do have a long lifespan, but… well, I should be honest with you, Dawn. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced the death of a Pokémon, but it is a horrible thing to go through. I would prepare for that inevitability with your Garchomp, for…”

“It doesn’t have long left,” Dawn mumbles, balling her hands into fists on her knees. “I knew you were going to tell me that, and it still sounds so awful.”

“It is awful. No one would expect you to act like it was a pleasant experience. For now, I would focus on keeping Garchomp happy and healthy. Don’t make it battle at all, let it rest. Both of you will be better for it.”

“Thanks, Cynthia. I suppose I feel a little better now. I haven’t… done anything wrong.”

“No, not at all. Garchomp’s age is far beyond your control. But I wouldn’t be thanking me.” Cynthia sighs, swirling her tea around her mug. “I haven’t been as supportive as I should have been over the years to you. I suppose I was a little bitter that you took away all my hard work. And then when I realised that was a stupid and selfish thought, it was too late to reach out, really.”

“I… it’s fine. I’m sorry for taking your position in the first place.”

“No need for apologies! Champions seem to be getting younger and younger these days, and it’s important for us as your elders to support you and your peers. So consider this an open invitation for help, any time you need it.”

“… thank you.” Dawn hesitates for a moment, using the opportunity to take a sip of her tea. “I’m doing some contests in the next few weeks. I don’t know if you’d want to come, but…”

“Yes, I’ll come. I’d love to cheer you on.”

The TV in the villa was one of the first things that Dawn purchased when she moved up there to take away from the silence that she suddenly found thrust upon her. Twinleaf Town was never a loud place, but there were always sounds, be that from inside the house or from the nature that surrounds the house. But the Resort Area has a sort of artificial silence to preserve the peace, and so Dawn turns her TV up.

It provides background noise and very little else as she pores through her notes taken at the contest she went to. She’s been making lots of notes during the training process – the only thing she can do to make sure this all goes as smoothly as possible. Transferring her skills over is one thing, but her procedures haven’t changed at all in the last seven years. Note-making helps her concentrate, and it hasn’t failed her yet.

Her attention drifts from her planning however, when nine o’clock hits and a new show begins. The channel she’s turned to isn’t known for quality programming, but this show distracts her. Cryptids, it says, listing odd Pokémon one after another. Froslass that steal people away into snowstorms, Absol seen before natural disasters steal the lives of entire villages. But one of the Pokémon they mention has Dawn’s rapt attention – Giratina.

They describe it as a forgotten part of the creation trio, an unwanted youngest child, banished and forgotten about. Dawn clenches her fists – there are only three people in Sinnoh that know the truth about Giratina, and she is one of them. This program is all wrong, but she can’t make a claim to the truth, lest she reveal her and Cynthia’s well kept secret. Their visit to the Distortion World is a time that Dawn would rather like to leave forgotten.

Its snake-like body weaves through her mind as the show flashes up pictures of what Giratina supposedly looks like. It argues about whether or not the Pokémon has legs, like in some older depictions. An ‘expert’ debates whether Giratina actually exists – there has been no evidence of it in the physical world, and while his theories on a mirror realm aren’t too far from the truth, in Dawn’s mind he loses credibility with every passing second.

Dawn’s biggest regret is not being able to catch Giratina. She held the Master Ball in her hand all those years ago, poised to strike. But in the end she let it get away, sinking through the platforms of the Distortion World and into the darkness of the void, never to be seen again. If she sought it out, perhaps she would get a second chance. But she can’t walk down the Spring Path again – seeing Giratina in the flesh would do more harm than good.

She turns the TV off, tossing the remote to the other end of the sofa out of reach. Though the device provides some comfort, she begins to wonder if it does more harm than good too.

Standing backstage in Hearthome City’s bright centre, a wave of nausea passes through Dawn’s body. The lights on the stage are too bright, the dress that her mom bought for her for her contest re-debut too short, her ponytail too tight. She feels all wrong, but when the MC calls her name and she strides onto stage with the other competitors, the sickness dissipates, leaving her only with a new found sense of confidence.

The Visual Competition begins with a focus on the created, and Dawn drags Empoleon backstage once more to dress it up. Thankfully due to all their practice, Empoleon knows how to sit nicely while Dawn works her magic. She starts with the Piplup mask, the memory of the night in the villa fond in her mind. She slides Froslass’ blue barrette onto Empoleon’s horns, and finishes the look with sunglasses and confetti bought in Floaroma Town. It’s perhaps not the most interesting look, but this is a beginner rank contest, and Dawn knows better than most that it’s more important to fit the theme than to look good.

The audience erupt with cheers when she comes back on stage with Empoleon. Of course, she and Empoleon are well known across the Sinnoh region, but it still feels great to hear the applause, especially given that she wondered if she might have been forgotten after a few months out of the spotlight. Empoleon’s accessories are a hit with both the audience and the judges, putting theme in prime position for the next round.

Her bar on the scoreboard soars above the other trainers, and for a moment, she feels a pang of regret – the other three coordinators are all young kids. Despite the fact that she’s not yet an adult herself, she feels far too grown up to be competing with kids who are barely old enough to have their Pokémon. It’s well known that trainers from Hearthome City and the surrounding area often head to the contests to compete long before they go on the road – it’s a lot safer than battling.

The dancing competition goes smoothly as well, the one that Dawn feels the most confident in. All of her Pokémon love to dance, influenced largely by their trainer. Music blares through the contest hall, the rhythm vibrating through the stage. Dawn sees the instructions as they come up, and she and Empoleon step in time to the beat, not missing a single step as they twirl through the second round.

Once again, Dawn’s score far exceeds the others, on track for a perfect score if the Acting Competition goes her way. This is where she begins to get nervous. Empoleon is good, but perhaps too good for a contest at this level. It’s all about getting voltage, and those stars won’t come easily to her with sheer power. She’s worked hard, and Empoleon’s chirps of encouragement from her side remind her of that.

They step forward, Dawn at the back of the line as the current highest scorer. This is the Tough competition, and Dawn has already memorised her moves, knowing what she should do. At least for this first round, she should be able to score as many points as possible – going last means she can pick the judge with the least performances. Everyone ignores Jordan on the first go, and so she sends her Pokémon to him, commanding a Waterfall.

It's a simple move, but gains her three points, as well as voltage from Jordan, and most importantly, gives her a chance to gauge the competition. None of the kids pull anything spectacular out of the bag, and she ends up at the end of the turn for a second round. Not to worry – she commands a Rain Dance, freezing the Voltage to freeze her position. Only earning two hearts while most of the others earned more, she soars to the top of the next turn.

Waterfall comes in handy again to earn her three hears and max out Kiera’s Voltage, earning her even more points. Dawn grins, but Empoleon grimaces – there aren’t too many moves in the Pokémon’s arsenal that really work for the Tough Contests, and they’re going to have to think harder for next time. Hydro Pump earns her lots of hearts, but makes the voltage go down. Not that it matters – the Acting Competition is over.

With a bit of a wobble in her step, Dawn makes her way back to her original position in line, smiling at her other competitors. They did a good job, especially considering that it was likely their first time. The MC steps forward and thanks everyone for their time. Dawn’s hands shake. She folds them neatly in front of her, smiling at Empoleon when it coos worriedly.

She’s announced as the winner, and even her fellow co-ordinators don’t look disappointed, clapping along with the audience’s wild cheers when she steps forward to accept her yellow barrette. That’s three normal rank wins under her belt – two more to go, and if nothing else, she’ll have a pretty set of barrettes to remind her of the fun she’s had. Dawn spots her mom’s face in the crowd and grins – tears roll down Johanna’s face, beaming with pride.

Dawn goes home that evening. Not to the villa, but back to Twinleaf Town, where Johanna has set up a small celebration. Winning a normal rank contest isn’t a huge achievement; Dawn has done it before. She suspects it’s more to do with the fact that she’s done something. Of course, Johanna doesn’t know that this was her plan all along, but she’s happy enough to plaster on a smile.

Her mom pulls the dress from her bag and settles herself on her favourite armchair to sew another panel along the bottom, clearly seeing how uncomfortable Dawn had been in the dress. She hides the new hem with a length of sparkly ribbon. Maybe it’s a little childish to be wearing a faithful recreation of a dress she got when she was ten, but it is cute, even after seven years.

“Congratulations Dawn!” Barry says as he and his mom arrive – clearly he’s staying with her for the weekend.

“Thanks,” she manages, a little overwhelmed by the support she’s getting when she really doesn’t think it’s anything to be celebrated.

“It won’t be long until you have a full collection of contest ribbons to your name, and then you can start thinking about the next ranks,” Johanna encourages.

Barry flops down on the sofa, Dawn following his lead. A few of the other neighbours are here, mostly talking in the kitchen. While the get together is technically for Dawn, it’s a good excuse for the residents of Twinleaf Town to see each other.

“So,” Barry says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Are you still seeing my dad?”

“Yes,” Johanna says with a sigh. “We’re still very happy, just like I told you the last time you asked.”

“Good!” He nods, and sits back in his seat. “He told my mom, and she was cool with it. So I can be cool with it too. I thought I was going to have to fine you!”

“They’re grown-ups, Barry. They can date if they want. And besides, they’ve known each other forever.”

“That is true,” Johanna muses. “Your father and I have been friends since we were in school, after all!”

“But still! Dawn, how can you not find it even a little bit weird?!”

“You need to get a hobby, Barry,” Dawn says drily, and he glares at her, though there’s no real feeling behind his expression.

“Don’t be mean! You know I’m trying to beat my dad at the Battle Tower!”

“That’s not a hobby, though. Get into painting or something.”

“Dawn, you! Stop it! I am plenty busy!”

“You two remind me of your father and I when we were younger,” Johanna says, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “Always bickering about one thing or another…”

“Ew, no. Mom!”

“Yeah, Johanna, no way! You’ve ruined my night!” Barry leaps to his feet, storming away from the tweo of them. “Mom!” he calls as he goes. “Johanna’s being mean to me!”

“I was only teasing,” she says to Dawn when he’s long out of earshot. “Though I do think you two would make a nice couple.”

“It’s not like that at all,” Dawn says. “And besides, now you and Palmer are dating, we’re kinda like step-siblings. But we’ve always been like siblings, growing up so close together. I… cannot even begin to imagine a time when I’d be dating him.”

“Alright, no need to be so serious about it,” Johanna chuckles. “Have you got your eye on anyone?”

“Not at all,” Dawn tells her with a laugh. “I do have my eye on my bed, however. Thanks for fixing my dress, mom.”

“No problem, sweetie. See you in the morning.”

Dawn leans down to plant a kiss on her mom’s cheek as she passes, a warm feeling settling in her stomach as she heads upstairs.

Chapter Text

With the hem of her dress at a much more comfortable length, Dawn steels herself for the next round of contests. Almost two months have passed since her mom’s victory celebration in Twinleaf Town, and she is one contest win away from yet another of her mom’s parties. This time though, it will be for getting all of the third round ribbons.

As the other competitors go on stage as their name is called, Dawn clutches her Pokéball tightly in gloved hands. She’s changed things around a bit since the first time she was on stage – but not when it comes to Froslass. While Garchomp and Empoleon carried her team on the battlefield, Froslass remains by her side as her number one contest companion.

At the sound of her name, Dawn shakes off her nerves, straightens her shoulders, and marches onto the stage with a smile on her face. While backstage she doesn’t think she can actually win a ribbon, the bright lights of the stage give her a rush of confidence, one that she doesn’t get from anywhere else. She’s grinning as Dexter introduces her, and the smile only widens when she spots familiar faces in the crowd – her mom, Barry and Palmer, and Cynthia, a few rows behind them.

She tosses Froslass’s ball, standing beside her Pokémon, only a little taller than it. She glances along the line at her competitors – a cowgirl with a Ponyta, a camper with a Budew, and an ace trainer with the best looking Zubat that Dawn has ever seen. Dexter announces the theme of the Visual Competition, and before Dawn has a chance to register his words, she’s shooed backstage once more.

Her focus remains solely on Froslass as she works. The other coordinators fade to background noise. The theme – the gaudy – stays at the forefront of her mind as she picks out matching accessories. Froslass turns its nose up at the theme, but sucks it up as Dawn decorates her Pokémon with round pebbles, scales of all different colours, a few feathers, and Dawn’s favourite – glitter powder. It’s gaudy alright, she thinks to herself, sliding on the blue barrette that Froslass won at their first contest together all those years ago.

The alarm goes off – time’s up. Dawn returns her her place in the queue to go back on stage – one at a time. The Zubat’s trainer fusses over the positioning of its sparkles, earning her a stern look from one of the attendees. The cheers from the crowd are louder than Dawn is used to as the Ponyta takes the stage, and louder still for the following Budew. The crowd is as loud for the Zubat, and when Dawn and Froslass step out, she’s greeted with an even louder cheer.

Some of that, of course, will be due to the fact that she’s a household name. But a lot of people that come to contests are picky about the visual appeal of the Pokémon regardless of whether the trainer is well-known or not, either inside or outside the coordinating circles. While her family and friends cheer loudly for her, Dawn can relax a little knowing that her Pokémon is looking its absolute best.

The scores are close when the board lights up, and Dawn breathes a sigh of relief to see that she’s in first place. But the Zubat and Budew aren’t too far behind her, and she can’t count the Ponyta and its trainer out just yet either. As they move into the dancing competition, Dawn steels her nerves.

They’ve been practicing hard, the two of them. With Froslass and Carnivine, it’s harder to pick out which Pokémon is doing a good job at dancing due to the fact that neither of them have feet. But Dawn can dance well enough for either of them, and besides – Froslass is the most graceful of her Pokémon. Even without feet, Froslass is perfectly on beat, the swirl of its arms and the way it twirls captivating the audience.

Dawn watches as her bar on the scoreboard grows, widening the gap between her and the other coordinators. She’ll be harder to beat now. Despite this, she doesn’t dare get complacent – everything can change in the last round.

Being naturally good at dancing and having a good eye for fashion helps when it comes to the first two rounds, but her background in battling often brings her down in the final rounds – the acting competition. As with most times she’s competed in a contest, Dawn will perform last in the first of the four rounds. She grits her teeth as she stands in line.

Icicle Crash gets more points if used last in the turn, and Dawn smirks as Keira nods in approval, her voltage going up with the cool move. She gets extra points for being the only one to perform to Keira, but doesn’t end up last for the next turn – the Ponyta takes up that spot with a well-timed Fire Blast to Dexter.

Dawn cooks up a strategy on the spot. The Ponyta trainer scored more points in the dancing round than Dawn thought was possible for a quadrupedal Pokémon, and seems to be scoring well now as well. She can see the ticking minds of the trainers in front of her – Jordan’s voltage is at two out of five, and someone could knock that up to five in the next round. So Dawn selects Jordan as her judge this round, and watches.

Budew performs Growth to Jordan, earning no points but raising the voltage. Zubat performs Haze, stopping the voltage from raising any more. Beside Dawn, the Ponyta trainer shivers – clearly her plan was to take the Voltage for herself too. But Dawn is about to make things worse – by calling Ominous Wind. Not only does the move score her nothing for this round, but it’s a clever move, and lowers Jordan’s voltage. Even after the cowgirl calls her move, no one gains any extra points – a wholly dissatisfying end to the round.

Fortunately for her, Dawn is up first at the start of the penultimate round. She has just two moves left in her to win this Ultra Rank contest, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t win. Dawn calls for Blizzard – a move that Froslass usually uses combined with Hail to defeat their dragon type opponents. But today it scores her big, and leaves her standing with a grin on her face as she celebrates what will inevitably be her win.

The other competitors don’t do anything interesting, and Dawn calls another Icicle Crash for her last turn. It may not be the most spectacular move, but it’s one that has always served Dawn well. The four of them line up again, Dawn finding her mom’s face in the crowd. The older woman gives her a thumbs up, and Dawn takes a deep breath, hoping that Joanna is right.

The bars on the scoreboard always move tantalisingly slow on the final round, but Dawn’s still creeps past all the others. She bows her head in appreciation, humbly accepting the applause that erupts from the crowd. Dexter has a twinkle in his eye that Dawn has long come to appreciate when he shakes her hand, announcing her as the winner.

Now she holds ribbons for all five rounds in the Ultra Rank. Only five wins stand between her and the ribbon cup she’s been coveting for the last few years. And on a roll like this, Dawn knows that it’s only a matter of time before she’ll hold it in her hands.

A tiny portable speaker does little to project sound, certainly not loud enough for Dawn’s Pokémon to hear it. But she can hear well enough, and claps in time for them to dance along to. All five of her prize winning contest Pokémon move to the rhythm that she creates, while Garchomp looks on from the grass, pretending not to be interested.

On a number of occasions, Dawn has considered trying to get Garchomp to join in. It always watches with veiled interest at what everyone else is doing, and she does feel guilty for not including it. But Garchomp is old, and can’t move like her younger Pokémon. Not only would it not win her any ribbons, it would be unfair to put Garchomp through that pain.

When they do dress up practice, sometimes she sticks a little fluff to its head, watching the corners of her largest Pokémon’s mouth curl into something resembling a smile. Tonight, when the dancing practice is over and before they move onto practice for the acting competition, Dawn sits beside Garchomp, running her hand along its back in an attempt to soothe some of its pain.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs. “What a good boy! So well behaved today.”

Garchomp growls under its breath, a sound emanating from deep within its chest. It’s a sound that Dawn has come to know well – a sound of contentment, even if it sounds aggressive at first. A smile comes to her face. Cynthia may have made Garchomp’s prospects sound limited, but if Dawn can take care of Garchomp until its eventual passing, she’ll be happy. She leaves the Pokémon be for a moment – it doesn’t seem to like the texture of her less formal exercise clothes – and heads towards her tent.

Their little camp on Route 214 is largely tucked out of the way of the many trainers that use this route to strengthen their Pokémon. Of course, that’s why Dawn is here too, but not for the same reason that most come here. She doesn’t want to be disturbed – despite the fact that she’s no longer Champion, she’s still very much a recognised face. Their last few contests are mere days away now, and Dawn can’t afford to be distracted.

With a little bit of reorganisation, her team can get through even the most difficult rounds. Pachirisu gave up its reign as the cute contest queen – despite how cute it is, the moves that it knows were well more suited to the Cool condition, and it breezed through all four rounds with ease. Froslass’s win in the Beauty round last week and Carnivine’s win the week before boosted Dawn’s confidence even more. With three more Master Class ribbons left until she’s completed her goal, Dawn is left to wonder what’s next.

The world of contests came to her a lot easier than she expected. Though she got off to a shaky start with her first contest back – Empoleon’s moves were not up to the standard she was expecting – from there, it has been surprisingly smooth sailing. Perhaps the ease has been due to the fact that contests are in her blood. Faintly, Dawn wonders if she should have ignored all the people that encouraged her towards the Pokémon League all those years ago, and listened to the calling that has travelled down her family for generations.

Her mother always joked that she was born to be a star, she remembers fondly, watching Pachirisu antagonise Carnivine by jumping around where it can’t quite reach. Things might have turned out differently if she hadn’t been blindly pursuing gym badges, taking down Team Galactic on the command of adults. At the time, ten years old, she felt a strong sense of justice when it came to those she considered bad guys. Now, while she remains glad that they’re out of the picture, she does have to wonder why taking them down fell on the shoulders of a child.

She’s still a child, Dawn has to remind herself. Her eighteenth birthday is still a matter of months away. She will have accomplished more as a child than most people do as adults, and she’s not sure how much of that is good. In fact, in this moment, Dawn is certain that she’ll have accomplished more in her childhood years than she will as an adult.

Togekiss senses her distress, however internal it may be, and comes over to rest its head on her shoulder. The Pokémon isn’t particularly heavy, yet its weight comforts her. For a moment, Dawn thinks she could fall asleep right here. But there is more to do – Pachirisu needs to perfect its aim with Thunderbolt, and Togekiss needs to get the power behind Brave Bird just right. The Cool and Cute ribbons will be hers.

Jumping to her feet, ready to start another round of practicing, Dawn realises with a jolt of panic that Garchomp is nowhere to be seen. It can’t have gotten far – she wasn’t musing for that long, and it doesn’t move at all quickly. The other Pokémon stop playing, aware of their trainer’s distress. Pachirisu points southwards, and if Dawn cranes her neck, she can see the top of Garchomp’s head disappearing in the distance.

“You all stay here. Empoleon, please look after the others. I’ll be back soon.”

She manages a watery smile as Empoleon stands to attention, herding the others towards Dawn’s hastily erected tent. She tightens the laces on her trainers and pockets her phone, and heads down the path after Garchomp. She can still see it, in the distance, going at a speed that she didn’t at all expect from it. The Pokémon seems compelled towards something, but Dawn can’t say what.

All of a sudden, Garchomp disappears. Dawn jogs to the spot where she last saw it, and when she turns to her left, she can see Garchomp making its way down a small side path. Her heart drops. Try as she might, she can’t make her feet take her down the path. She knows what lies there – the reminder of her failure. The entrance, perhaps, to a place that she is not keen to revisit. Dawn doesn’t truly know what lies at the end of the Spring Path on a normal day, nor does she want to find out.

But this is the way that Garchomp is going, and so Dawn forces herself down the path, keeping her eyes trained on her Pokémon ahead of her. A sickly feeling rises in her stomach. Perhaps she should have come back here years ago, with someone else, to rid herself of the panic that engulfs her at the mere thought of the place. But she has no choice now – she must swallow that fear, lest something happen to her dear Garchomp.

When she reaches the clearing, Garchomp has already made it, sitting by the water’s edge and staring at its own reflection. Why couldn’t it have gone a little further south, to Lake Valor? Or even north – there’s a pond up there that Dawn supposes is great for looking in. But the moon is especially bright here, she notes, despite the odd feeling that this whole scene has.

She begins to sit down beside Garchomp, to keep a close eye on it if it’s feeling in a funny mood. Somewhere at the back of her mind, Dawn wonders if this is the end for Garchomp. Cynthia suggested they have longer together, but it’s hard to tell. She’s heard of Pokémon acting funny before they pass away before, and as the thought crosses her mind, tears spring into her eyes.

There’s a startling downwards pressure on her head as she sits that has Dawn gritting her teeth. There’s something not right here at Sendoff Spring, and she knows that it has nothing to do with Garchomp. Her eyes flit over to the cave’s entrance – Giratina is far inside it, she knows. Perhaps in the distortion world, far beyond this hidden lake. No, this is not Giratina’s doing. This feels nothing like the pressure she felt from the Distortion World before, but something entirely different.

She falls to the side, the pain in her head growing with every passing second. The grass is damp, surely staining her clothes. With one hand, she reaches into her pocket for her phone – she needs to call someone, get some help. When she glances to the top bar, her heart falls even further – no signal. Dawn shuts her eyes tight, willing the pain to go away. Faintly, she can hear Garchomp crying out – at least it’s still okay.

Eventually the pain subsides, and Dawn dares to open her eyes. But she’s no longer on the bank of Sendoff Spring. She’s in darkness, her body feeling feather-light. Did she die? She was so worried about Garchomp that her own concerns were completely thrown away.

A light flickers in the distance, and Dawn squints at it, trying to make out its shape. The thing seems shapeless, light emanating out from it in rings. As her eyes adjust, to both the darkness and the bright light, Dawn becomes aware of both the ringing in her ears, and the fact that whatever lies in front of her is speaking to her.

“Welcome to my realm, located beyond both time and space…”

Cynthia’s phone buzzes once against her desk – easy to ignore. When it buzzes a second time, she glances at the screen, only for it to stay lit up with hundreds of messages flooding in. She puts her work aside, lifting the device. Part of her hopes beyond hope that it’s news about Dawn. Two months have passed since someone found her Pokémon left on Route 214, a hairclip sitting by the banks of Sendoff Spring. But today is not the day.

At least this news is interesting, taking Cynthia’s mind from the ongoing crisis, even if only for an afternoon. Eterna City is the place that comes up time and time again in the chat, and though it’s not too far away, Cynthia dreads the thought of seeing Mira, the current Sinnoh Champion. The whole League has fallen apart now – Mira was taken in for questioning following Dawn’s disappearance, and though she was found to be entirely innocent, she hasn’t returned to work.

Cynthia pads out of her study, knocking on the door of the office across the way. After hearing the quiet ‘come in,’ she opens the door, leaning against the frame. Steven sets his pen down and looks over at her.

“What?” He asks, a fond smile appearing on his face“They’ve found some old books under the floor in an old house in Eterna City. Some new people bought it and were renovating, and… they’re writings from when Sinnoh was still called Hisui!”

“And you want to go and see them?”

“Obviously. I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me?” She asks, surprisingly shy with her request.

“Are you sure? We… rarely go out anywhere together.”

“It’s a bit silly, isn’t it? We’ve been taking it slow for two years now. I think we can afford to go places outside of Celestic Town and the villa together, don’t you?”

“I think we stopped taking it slow when I moved in, but I can’t say I disagree with you.” He stands from his chair, stretching for a moment before sliding into his jacket. “Eterna City then?”

“I have it on good authority that they’re moving the books to Canalave Library as we speak,” Cynthia says, checking her phone once again. “I think we could probably get there at the same time if we leave now.”

“Are you going to use the fact that you used to be he Champion to score yourself some favours?”

“Well, being a former anything is a bit of a useless title. I may as well use it to my advantage when I can. And please, as if you don’t do the same. You always make dinner reservations by beginning the request with your name.”

“It’s effective, I will admit. Come along then, no time to waste.”

They take the bus. It’s Steven’s idea – it looks less conspicuous than the two of them landing in Canalave City with Togekiss and Skarmory. That’s what he says, at least, but Cynthia knows that he just enjoys the novelty of public transport, and who is she to deny such a benign request?

She doesn’t even need to say anything to the librarian when she arrives – there’s a knowing twinkle in the clerk’s eyes and a smile pulling at her mouth as soon as she spots Cynthia. She and Steven are whisked upstairs, to be met with Cheryl, an old acquaintance of Cynthia’s.

“Hello, Cynthia! And good day to you too, Mr. Stone. I have to say, I am not at all surprised that you got here so quickly, but I am surprised that you brought a guest.”

“Steven is as interested in history as I am, though we come at it from slightly different points of view. Where are these books, then?”

“You know the rules. Be careful, wear gloves.”

She’s heard the warnings a million times, but as Cynthia sits down in front of the ancient book, she can’t help but feel a certain sense of trepidation. She slips on the gloves, and with Steven hovering behind her, she begins to turn the pages of the first book.

Nothing particularly stands out to her – it looks to be a journal of crops grown in Jubilife Village, now City. Why it ended up in Eterna City she has no clue – perhaps its owner moved. The second is a more personal diary, detailing the trip from the south of the region up to what they call Eterna Town – presumably the very city that the books were found in. It makes mention of the Diamond Clan, and though there’s no specific dates written in the diary, Cynthia can make a good guess as to how old it is.

The third book she looks into is more of the same, this time a construction worker’s journal detailing how the buildings were built and how much they cost. But it is the fourth of the journals that Cynthia finds the most interesting – from a name that she recognises well from her studies – one Professor Laventon.

This is a particularly interesting discovery, and Cynthia supposes that it will be whisked off to a museum as soon as she’s finished reading it. Unlike the other journals, this one is filled with photos – Laventon is well known for being one of the first people to document life in photographs. There are many pictures of what Cynthia knows to be the long demolished Galaxy Building in Jubilife – torn down years ago to make way for the TV Station.

As she turns the pages, she pauses, looking into the background. There stands a man that looks remarkably like her – eye shape, upturn of his mouth, light-coloured hair swept across his eye. Laventon’s notes describe the scene – Jubilife Village on a Tuesday. The Ginkgo Guild visit. If this was indeed her ancestor, he was a merchant? Perhaps not the life that Cynthia had envisaged for someone in her past, but interesting to know nonetheless.

She turns a page and there he is again, closer up this time, a smile plastered to his face. Volo helps the young lady stop the end of the world! It sounds like a joke, and for all she knows it could be. The two people that stand on either side of this Volo are people she recognises from other photos – the Diamond and Pearl Clan’s leaders.

“He bears a startling resemblance to you,” Steven comments.

“Indeed. I admittedly don’t know much of my ancestry from my father’s side – we only have photos from my mother’s. I do know that they bred Gible for generations. Maybe we’ll have to look out for a Gible in these photos,” she jokes, turning the page. There’s another photo of the landscape – Cynthia supposes it’s somewhere in the south-west of the region. On the next page, she stops, eyebrows furrowed.

It's the same man as before, but the picture is hand drawn. And the paper is stuck into the book, not a mere sketch. It takes her a moment to understand the old writing, but it becomes clear what this is – a wanted poster. She lets out a quiet gasp, following the writing under the drawing with her finger.

“Look, Steven. He was a criminal, a wanted man at the very least.  The Galaxy Expedition Team are looking for any known sightings of this man. Do not approach. Wanted for a variety of crimes – fraud, extortion, enslavement of legendary Pokémon, assault of a minor, public nuisance.”

“That’s quite a string of crimes,” Steven muses. “Do you think this is true?”

“I would assume so. Look, there’s notes from Professor Laventon too. The young lady has stated that this man is responsible for the space-time rifts. He brought her to Hisui, along with Warden Ingo of the Pearl Clan. The young lady has stated for the legal record that Volo wished to recreate the world in the image that he had in his head, and was looking for the Pokémon he called Arceus, only heard of in Hisuian Legend. She has listed his Pokémon as such – Spiritomb, Lucario, Arcanine, Roserade, Togekiss, and Garchomp.”

“Those are… practically the same as your Pokémon,” Steven says quietly, saying exactly what was on Cynthia’s mind.

“They didn’t bring Feebas here until the mid-century. One of my grandparent’s friends had an old Arcanine when I was growing up.”

“Cynthia…”

“He wanted to recreate the world? Just like… just like Cyrus?” She murmurs, running her finger across the drawing once again, wanting nothing more than to rip the page in half. “My ancestor, who used the same Pokémon that I do now? Certainly he is my ancestor – he had a Garchomp, after all!”

Cynthia removes her gloves, settling them gently beside the book. She rises from her chair, and turns her back on the table, and Cheryl.

“I think I’ll wait until these are publicly available before I look into it any further,” she says, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Thank you for your time, Cheryl.”

“No problem. Have a good day, Cynthia. Mr. Stone.”

Sparing an apologetic look back at Cheryl, Steven catches up with a rattled Cynthia, who seems to want nothing more than to leave the building as soon as she can. Cheryl moves to the other side of the table to tidy up for the other library staff coming in to see the books. As she moves the pages, one loosens, unsticking and peeling apart. There is a photo of a girl that looks all too familiar to her, clearly trying to hide from the camera. Cheryl pauses, staring at the photo, before putting the book away. Her ancestors have been in Sinnoh since these times, she knows, and surely this girl just bears a striking resemblance to the one she knows. Nothing more.