Chapter Text
Hisuian myths often depicted almighty Sinnoh to be a singular being. A being forged out of the great unknown and responsible for shaping the world humans now thrived in. There were quite a lot of biases stitched into every stone tablet, beliefs trumping well-researched facts, legends told through word of mouth passed down from generation to generation and leaving interpretation to sully the truth. If only the clans of Hisui had bothered keeping any substantial record of their beloved almighty Sinnoh. Blind faith was dangerous to the curious mind.
As Volo poured himself over the many scriptures and notes he'd gathered over the years, he pondered to himself about the validity of it all. Hunkered down in a cave just off the edge of a sheer cliff in an undisclosed location, surrounded by air so thin he should probably consider moving his base. The lack of oxygen did help to inspire some of the bolder ideas that came to his mind, though.
Writings on the jagged stone walls lined with chalk, depicting the sequence of events that had led to his unplanned and unwarranted defeat. Not only had Giratina abandoned him when he needed it most, it had abandoned him out of fear. What a disgustingly human reaction. And to make matters worse, it had all been because of that small child, a strange kid that had fallen from the sky one fateful day, washing ashore and into the hands of the Galaxy Team who had taken her in despite suspicion marring their gaze. Dawn, she called herself. Volo had taken note of her existence early on. She had hailed from the future where Hisui evidently no longer prospers, though much of that was pure speculation on Volo's part. She possessed an understanding of pokemon no one else in these lands could hope to comprehend, taming and befriending and commanding them with frightening ease.
That child had been sent by Arceus itself, undoubtedly, if the chain of events leading to the present had been any indication. Her perseverance and sheer strength had bested Volo's plans far too perfectly to have been a mere stroke of chance. It must've been retaliation for Giratina's meddling with the space-time rifts.
After all the work Volo had put in to gather the energy it needed. It was all for naught.
But it was of no matter, though. The man was nothing if not persistent. Dawn may have garnered the favour of Arceus itself, but even she wasn't perfect. No, perfection was a word suitable only to describe the alpha pokemon in all its magnificence.
All Volo needed was the right plan. Another carefully crafted script to follow to the letter. His proclamation to Dawn would hold true. Years, decades, centuries, time was of no concern if it meant he could fulfill his dream of conquering the first being and reshaping the world as he saw fit.
He just needed help. Even he wasn't so prideful to not admit so. Humans were such fragile, fleeting creatures, after all. There is only so much a single man can do on his lonesome without aid from a being born with so much more power at its disposal.
So here he stayed, pouring himself over the scriptures he'd gathered over the years. Thinking, planning, organising. Hisuian myths centered around the creation of the world itself, focussing on greater beings far beyond human comprehension. Dialga, the pokemon responsible for the flow of time. Palkia, the pokemon whose purpose was to control the fabric of space. Giratina, the bastard son, whose rebel actions and aggressive behaviour earned it banishment to the reverse side of the world. How awfully human of it.
And Arceus itself, the progenitor, the original one, the alpha pokemon. Legends claim that it had shaped the universe with its thousand hands, creating the beasts that governed time and space and antimatter accordingly. It was an omniscient presence looking over the world it had created from its own realm of mystery. Present, yet absent at the same time.
Atop of the jutting stone that had been fashioned into a rudimentary desk of sorts were the shards of the red chain Volo had salvaged. Perhaps it had been an oversight, or perhaps no one had truly cared about collecting every shard, but the blind fools had left so much of it back at the temple's grounds. Dust and fragments sparkling brighter than rubies just lying over the battleground ripe for the taking. The Galaxy Team had only taken enough to create one pokeball capable of capturing an angered legend and left the rest to blow into the wind, and now their severe lapse in judgment had fallen as a drop of rainwater in Volo's desert.
There was certainly enough to create another. Though, its stability would be questionable. The shards he possessed glowed faintly in the dark, almost as a warning not unlike a poison-type's colouring. Its sinister aura radiated dangerously, potent enough to supposedly control any pokemon caught within its grasp. Volo now knew that fact to be all but a farce, but perhaps that could be explained away by the abnormal situation it had been brought upon. Extensive testing and experiments would surely have to be done if he was allowed it.
In the meantime, however, he shifted his gaze towards the stack of dusty, worn-out books to his right, piled up high with records pertaining to myths originating from a different region entirely. Gone were the days when he had fixated on Hisui alone. There was nothing of value it could possibly offer him now. Palkia, Dialga, Giratina, the Forces of Nature, the lake guardians, even Arceus. They had all shared a sliver of their power to Dawn. If Volo wanted the help of another legend, he would have to search elsewhere.
The Forces of Nature Cogita had once told him about first came to mind. Pokemon having hailed from an ancient land, a land claimed to be far older than even Hisui's generous lifetime. It was a region undoubtedly ripe with stories and tales Volo hadn't gotten a chance to dip his toes into, and now was as good a time as any, he supposed.
Grabbing the leathered tome laid at the top of the pile, Volo flipped open its first page and began to read. The glow of the red chain's remains illuminated the ever-present grin on his face.
A guttural roar pierced through the battlegrounds as Luxray prepared for another hit. Tangrowth's energy ball had skirted just an inch above his raggled mane, slicing a few strands clean off with the song of razer-thing leaves swirling around in a sphere. Dawn had ducked under the attack's path as well before commanding Luxray to deal out a finishing blow. A strong-style ice fang.
Tangrowth, in turn, readied a sludge bomb upon her trainer's command.
Neither waited for the other to strike first. Sharpened fangs gleamed under the golden hour and frosted over, turning as blue as the unencumbered skies. Luxray let out another roar before speeding forth, as fast as lightning itself, but he faltered a step the second he was within range, immediately becoming drenched in Tangrowth's agile sludge bomb hurled his way. Time had not given Luxray the opportunity to dodge, and with the poison sinking deep into his fur, the lion mewled before the boulders of an ancient power surrounded him.
Luxray collapsed to the ground in a heap of matted fur, streaked with poison and buried in rocks.
The dust settled around the training grounds' battlefield, and the two trainers occupying it gave off vastly different reactions once Luxray was deemed unable to battle. Dawn let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, expelling all the built up adrenaline as she fished out Luxray's poke ball and recalled him.
She held the ball close with nothing but fondness in her eyes. "Thanks, Sparks, you did great."
Her team had done amazing, and right after a bountiful research expedition in the Cobalt Coastlands as well. Dawn made a reminder for herself to treat her team generously tomorrow.
The light of another poke ball snuck into the corner of her vision, and she quickly offered Luxray's ball one last pat before pocketing it inside her satchel. Ingo's frown was one she had come to associate with happiness, and his applause only added to the volume of his voice.
"Bravo, Dawn! What an excellent match to end the day with!" He said with eyes that lit up under the shadow of his hat. Just how long had their battle raged on for?
Regardless of the time, Dawn could only smile back. "I didn't think it'd get this late, honestly. Sorry for holding you up."
As a promise to liven up the monotony that was life, Dawn had offered to visit the training grounds every few days for a quick match ever since Ingo had started working here. It helped to shake off the day's rush, returning to Jubilife Village in a mess of muddied boots and twigs stuck to her hair just to run ahead and ramble to Ingo about literally anything she had encountered that day before pitting their pokemon against each other. The warden would always listen fondly to her stories with a raptured attention no one else could ever match. Such was the plight they faced for being strangers to this land they now called home.
Tiny cracks of lightning seemed to dance along Ingo's arms everytime he laughed, releasing static in the air similar to the aftermath of an electric-type's thunderbolt. It was most obvious whenever Dawn would wrap her arms around him in a tight hug, noticing her entire body becoming charged with enough energy for hours afterwards for a Drifloon to stick itself to her hair.
"Nonsense! You should know that I always look forward to your visits. Such battles help to make me feel right at home."
Dawn nodded fervently. Research and expeditions were one thing, but there was just a certain, unexplainable vigour that came with the battles they had. Who else, after all, could possibly offer either of them a real challenge in this land?
And as the sun bid itself goodnight on yet another day in Hisui, it was only then did Dawn start to pay attention to her rumbling belly.
"Want to get some potato mochi?" She asked. "It's been so long since I stopped by for some."
But much to her disappointment, Ingo shook his head with an apologetic sigh. "Ah, I'm afraid I must get going, Dawn. I am already quite late for my scheduled departure to the Coronet Highlands," he explained. "My duties as warden still demand that I attend to Lady Sneasler every so often."
"Awww, come on." Dawn wasn't above begging for things she wanted. "Please? We always go for dinner after a battle."
She made sure to press her cheeks with the palm of her hands before looking really, really sad. It was a full-proof trick she had learnt long ago, right after finding out about Ingo's severe weakness to the adorable faces the sneaselets often made.
That permanent frown twitched upwards for a second whilst silver eyes darted around, weighing the options at his disposal. Dawn knew she had won when Ingo slouched ever further into his horrible posture.
"Very well... I suppose a short refuelling is in order."
It always works.
"That's why you're the best uncle!" She exclaimed, shaking off the pitiful act as she looped an arm around Ingo's own before dragging him towards their destination. "Next time we can get soba, too! I promise I'll pay." Perhaps offering his favourite food was just a tactic to soften the blow, but Ingo found that he didn't really care all that much.
"You are a bad influence," he merely said, yet if anyone saw the wobbly smile hidden under the brim of his hat, they didn't.
It was, however, difficult to shake off the fuzzy static sparking up inside.
Little did they know, there was a storm brewing right at this moment in time with the rising moon, hidden within a cave situated far up into the clouds. The scribbles of a quill scratching furiously along parchment, taking scrupulous note of the ancient tomes being scanned over with raptured eyes. A plan being carefully stitched together from the finest thread.
It must have been days before Volo had even thought of stopping. The pages of the ancient tome seemed to go on for forever! Never had he possessed such detailed documents of events dating hundreds of years ago on a wholly different region.
Legends of a singular dragon shared between two humans—brothers, the stories had made sure to clarify. Heroes, they were, building the entirety of Unova with the dragon's help, representing truth and ideals instead of space and time. It seemed that Unova focussed more on the human aspects of creation, rather than that of the greater beyond. It was rather refreshing, in a way. More palatable. Decades of researching powerful pokemon responsible for the very atoms that made up every fibre of his being often lead down the path of drowning under its weight. Humans were never built to comprehend such things, after all. Simple creatures like themselves were made to live on the land they had been given and either thrive or die.
It was a painful truth that nibbled at the ends of Volo's nerves often enough.
Time flew by like a gushing waterfall, speeding downwards into the unknown future carved out by none other than the individuals themselves. Days were separated by the breaks he took, reading on as he snacked on oran berries plucked ripe from the trees outside. There was no shortage of them, thankfully, and the nearby springs provided a plentiful supply of fresh water to last several days without another trip away from his cave. The threat of wild pokemon stumbling into his hideout had long been taken care of. Isolation was a key ingredient in unlocking the greater mysteries he hungered for.
So apparently, the two heroes had ended up in a disagreement, one that brewed over the years of their rule into a disastrous war. The mighty dragon they had shared split into two as a result of its trainers' foolishness, creating the beings known as Reshiram and Zekrom the world knew of today, and even they had fled during the climax of the war.
What a strange coincidence it was that Volo recognised those names, something he had heard off of an old partner who had turned its back on him. A return favour for all the power he had amassed for it once, granting his wish to gain enough aid to achieve his idealistic world after conquering Arceus.
Giratina had opened another space-time rift after his grand proclamation, supposedly having answered his call for help. If only it had bothered to explain just who—or what exactly it had brought into this world before disappearing once more into its realm. All it did was part a few cryptic words to Volo.
The Dragon of Ideals has been brought into this land.
Days afterwards, Volo had heard rumours of a strange man having fallen from the sky.
Anyone sane would've brushed the two events off as highly unrelated—if such scenarios could even be encountered by the everyday man in the first place. Volo had wasted his time trying to hunt for a dragon he thought would be important enough to warrant attention. The man who had fallen from the sky... he had left that on the backburner for longer than he should have. Ingo was his name. A man from another world, and perhaps another time. A man suffering from a case of amnesia that proved him to be utterly useless to Volo. A man who possessed a strange affinity in taming and commanding pokemon unmatched by anyone else in Hisui.
That wasn't to disregard his other eccentricities as well, of course, but by the time Volo had decided to meet the strange faller, he had been taken in by the Pearl Clan as one of their own. What a stroke of bad luck, one admittedly deserved due to his blindsided ignorance. Ingo was an interesting character upon closer inspection. His silver eyes lit up in the dark, static seemed to crawl over his body at a constant, and his skill with pokemon spread far into the realm of understanding their language far better than a human possibly could.
Volo wasn't ashamed to admit he had been a fool to not have investigated further.
It seemed that Giratina had granted his wish after all, without regard for his knowledge over the intended legend it had summoned. Although, that still didn't explain why or how the Dragon of Ideals happened to be in the shape of a human, unless there was a critical piece of the puzzle that hadn't been unearthed just yet.
The ancient tome was closed shut, kicking up a cloud of dust right into Volo's face. He fanned his hand to clear the thin air as he turned away to cough into his arm. The book had served its purpose in dipping his toes into Unovan lore, now all there was left to do was to focus his attention to a specific point and hone his knowledge. Further research must be done to confirm his theories. There can be no room for even the slightest hint of doubt before the first move can be initiated.