Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ingo looked at the lock that had appeared on his door with a tight frown. This was too complex for Melli. And too cruel. Melli would be petty, but he would not lock Ingo out of his own house, and frankly, Ingo did not think Melli was capable of it. He spent too much money on Jubilife’s new cosmetics to afford a lock. Ingo released Alakazam.

“I’m afraid I have a relatively menial task for you.” Ingo looked apologetically at her. “Could you please break this lock? I assume someone is trying to ‘prank’ me, but I am far too tired for it.”

Alakazam nodded and with a quick burst of psychic energy ripped the lock off of his door before returning to her ball. Ingo gently pushed the door open and paused. Everything was dusty, and looked faded and somehow even more worn. There were different pillows, and a new quilt.

He...

He didn’t think he had lost any time. He’d just been investigating in the caves around the Highlands. He’d just meant to ensure that the Alpha Golbat had been successfully relocated. Surely he would have noticed it if he had been displaced in time?

Displaced in time, possibly again.

Ingo was possibly guilty of breaking and entering, now. Although when he had explained the concept to Lady Irida, she had raised an eyebrow and said she really didn’t think anyone ever had, in Hisui. Stealing, yes, but they didn’t really bother with the idea of a private space. It was part of why Ingo had built his own house. But it had been nice, to know there was not that sort of crime in Hisui. Hopefully that was still the case. Ingo had some money from Jubilife. He could pay for a replacement.

Ingo ran a finger over the windowsill. Perhaps his house had been left alone as a memorial... but no. Not with things changed out. And likely no one would be so sentimental. There was no space for it, in Hisui. Ingo opened cabinets and huffed in annoyance. No food. But as he went further back into the cliff that he had carved his house into, he saw that there were still quite reasonable amounts of seasoned wood. That was good. He should be able to last through to spring still, like this. But he would need to get edible supplies.

Mnrgh. It could wait until morning. Ingo set the latch and went to crawl into his now-musty bed. Tomorrow he would air things out and figure out what had happened to him a second time, and likely tomorrow it would fully absorb that he had been displaced.

Ingo shoved his mind away from the tracks it wanted to go down. That would do no good, and much harm, and he might be wrong. It might have only been—

No. He needed to sleep. Ingo tucked himself deeper into unfamiliar bedding and forced himself to sleep.

His dreams were plagued with faces he could not remember.

In the morning Ingo stared at his ceiling. It needed repairs. He would have to have words with whoever lived in his house, now. It was possible that they only lived here part of the time. Ingo could not know without them there to ask. He ate jerky from his pockets and drank from the metal bottle he had purchased at a dear price (entirely worth it, to avoid the taste of leather) from Jubilife, and went outside.

He should not wait for someone to come.

Ingo took out his flute, and played a gentle tune. A request for a meeting, not a demand.

He let it echo through the hills three times, and then tucked the flute away. He would wait a few hours. Ingo took his tools out of the various pockets he had secreted them in, and went back inside. He had repairs to make, or this building would not be livable in winter. There were chinks to fill and insulation to replace, although he would need to hunt down Starlys... And there were not enough blankets on the bed. He would need to fix that as well.

Ingo stopped in the middle of his house and took some deep, careful breaths. In, and out. In, and out. He continued until the burning in his eyes had subsided. He did not have time for that. If he had moved forward in a span of even years, then he only had a month to prepare for winter. He would need to bargain services for goods, most likely...

Well. He had been planning to head to Jubilife to run a battle for Miss Akari today. She had said that she should have big news for him, and he had been excited. So he had all of his pokemon, three Alphas who had agreed to battle with him, and an ornery Alpha Zoroark Miss Akari had given to him when he had expressed an interest in training one.

They had seemed familiar. Wrong, but... familiar.

With such a team, there was much he could do. As long as they remained in their pokeballs, he would not need to worry about feeding them except when he needed them. That... would be unpleasant. Ingo liked to have his pokemon out and about. They were company.

Lady Sneasler.

Ingo hoped she would not spurn him for having once again changed tracks.

He hoped she was still alive.

He hoped anyone he knew was still alive.

Ingo dug his nails into his arms. A bad habit, but he couldn’t afford the other one right now. He needed to deal with food and warmth first. Yes. That is what was important. If someone came, Ingo could trade for food, but first he would handle warmth. It wouldn’t matter how much he had to eat if he froze, after all.

Ingo buried himself in carpentry, woodworking and joins and carefully patching chinks with wood shavings and leaf pulp. Where would he get blankets? He could head to the Icelands and find Swinub, but he did not want to be chased out by people who did not know him. He set his eyes on Mount Coronet. Some Swinub made their homes there, and he may be able to take enough fur from them.

List. Ingo was not sure when he could get more paper, so he did not write it down. But. A list. That was important.

Finish fixing the ceiling and walls.

Climb Mount Coronet and acquire Swinub fur.

Perhaps Swinub meat?

Get salt deposits on the way up.

Harvest food and begin to store it.

Harvest extra wood.

If he could not get enough food, extra heat would help.

Ingo sighed. Kleavor could harvest the wood. That would not take much time. It was everything else. He needed to get thread, as well, and cloth, although he had a needle and thimble. There was so much to do.

Ingo was going to need to talk to other people to do it.

He would put that off as long as was feasible.

Ingo released Gliscor, who looked around with a confused churr.

“I think we are in a different time,” Ingo said. “I need to restock supplies. Would you mind going hunting, and bringing back the bodies you drain?”

Gliscor nodded. She was quite large, if not technically an Alpha, and Ingo was sure she could handle herself. However.

“Do you want Magnezone to go with you?” Ingo tapped their ball nervously. “Just in case?”

Gliscor sat on the ground and considered, sniffing the air, and then nodded. Ingo did not know what she smelled and did not ask, just released Magnezone into the air.

“Magnezone, darling.” Ingo opened his arms and they nuzzled close. Always so affectionate. The electricity felt familiar as always, and it tingled. “Gliscor is going hunting. Go with her? Find things for you to eat as well, my stocks are... drained.”

She bobbed up and down, and pulled away to dance around Gliscor, and the two of them launched into the air.

Ingo sat down with a thump.

He was so tired.

Maybe he would ignore the list and make the trek to the Coastlands and hunt an Octillery. They were similar, every time. The texture and the taste. Close enough to be identical, unlike much other food. Hunt an Octillery, maybe two, pickle them on site— no, damn. His glass jars were all gone.

Ingo’s breath hitched.

Snover berries. Those were also— yes. Snover berries. A change in plan.

Then, perhaps, he would see if there was any grain left to be gathered, and then he would see about luring in a few Starlys. They would provide eggs, and then meat.

Plans.

Plans, he just needed to keep on having plans. Plans provided tracks he could follow, plans could prevent him from sinking into despair.

There would be a long, cold winter for him to cry in. He would need it, to mourn this loss.

Perhaps it had been a blessing from Almighty Sinnoh, to take away his memories the first time. Perhaps they had known Ingo would not be able to live with such a loss.

If they thought Ingo could now...

Ingo would do his best.

Warmth. Food.

At least he already had shelter. Tomorrow, the Icelands. He would just have to avoid people. He could manage that. He was an expert at that, when he wanted to be. It came with finding the Settlement overwhelming, at times. He could do this.

Ingo stared down at the impossibly massive city sprawled where the Pearl Clan settlement should have been.

This…complicated things.

Quite a lot, if he was being honest with himself, but Ingo had developed a talent while in Hisui, and that was the palatable lie. It had not come naturally, and he was still not good at it when it came to anyone but himself, but for himself he could manage it, just about.

There would still be Snovers.

Ingo may have to dodge more people, but that was still something he was talented enough in, he thought.

The real problem was…how did he know to call that a city? He’d never heard the word before, he was fairly certain. But such a large collection of people might explain why no Nobles had answered his calls throughout the past days. They were probably much, much busier than he was used to, and after all, his need was not desperate. He would just wait for one to be free.

He eyed the tall buildings with slight distaste, and turned away. He hoped that people had a different way to get up and down those than calling on the Noble Sneasler all the time. That would be quite an imposition on the Noble’s time, when there must be better ways.

Ingo swung himself over the side of the cliff he had used to overlook the area and carefully climbed down. The groves of trees had changed, but he could likely still find Snover in roughly the same areas.

They probably would not remember him.

He would have to start from the beginning again.

Ingo took a deep breath and started down the mountain. He should have some pokemon out and with him just in case. Not Gliscor, too many ice types. Ingo released Magnezone, who twirled in the air and then paused.

They turned, and oriented towards where the city was.

“Yes.” Ingo patted them. “We have changed tracks. I am unsure how, but... we have. I am collecting food, now. From the Snovers.”

Magnezone nodded, slowly.

“I am sure you would prefer a more conclusive answer as to how, and to when, but I am uncertain.” Ingo continued to move down the mountain, towards the trees. “I will look into this after I have secured food for the winter.”

Of course, by then it would be winter, and Ingo would be unable to go anywhere. But he did not have to mention that.

Snover berries. Drying and smoking Starly meat— there were a lot of Starlys around. It was surprising, how they had spread. Ingo wondered where the Sneasels had gone. Perhaps they had moved in around the city? It was quite possible.

Ingo allowed his thoughts to consume him as he walked. His feet knew how to walk safely, his legs adjusted for the different terrain, and his mind was left to wonder and turn over possibilities and worry.

Worry, worry, always worry. What else was he to do? There was nothing else to occupy his brain.

Ingo crouched as he heard Snover calls in the distance, and began to creep forward. He would have to use some of his berries to win their trust, and then he would, hopefully, be able to receive some gifts. It wasn’t spring, so there wouldn’t be quite as many as he would like, but all the same.

He lowered himself further and dragged himself along the snowy forest floor as he got closer. He’d use a Razz berry, and then some Oran berries, and just get them used to the idea—

He froze as he heard a Snover come through the bushes to the side right at him.

It bumped into him and chirped, before patting at him with its arms.

Perhaps these Snover... already trusted humans? It was possible they were more widely cultivated than he knew in these times. If they were cultivated, he was likely interfering with someone else’s food source. The undergrowth rustled more, and more Snover came. He was surrounded. This could get very bad, very quickly. He remained frozen, and hoped that they would see that he was not a threat.

The Snover began to climb up and on to him. Still making noises that he associated with the Snover he had fed, not threat displays. So he was... probably fine? He hoped. He was not sure Magnezone would be able to attack the Snover without injuring him as well, and they would likely refuse to do that.

They continued to climb on top of him until he was covered in them. In a whole pile of them, if he had to guess based on weight alone. The pressure was almost nice. It was certainly relaxing, although it had no reason to be, and the Snover at least seemed calm.

Ingo groaned as one shifted and something in his back popped.

Oh, that felt better.

Well. Ingo could be a mattress. It was certainly better than any other outcome.

He felt his eyes close.

Magnezone was chuckling with their peculiar buzz and so he was probably safe enough. Ingo let the pressure sweep him away.

It was the first time he’d relaxed since he had exited the cave.

Ingo let himself drift slowly and happily. The Snover continued to make noises, but they were noises of happiness and contentment, so Ingo did not stir. He didn’t move until he realized that the Snovers had almost completely left. He could still hear a few chirring nearby, but the weight on his back was gone.

Ingo slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. It wouldn’t do to spook the Snovers now. He started to turn towards the noises, then froze.

There was a large pile of Snoverberries sitting next to him.

Ingo stared at the berries for a moment. One of the Snovers wandered back into his line of sight, chirping curiously.

“Are these for me?” Ingo asked, doing his best to keep his voice quiet. He must have done a passable job, because the Snover didn’t bolt as so many pokemon had before. Instead, it picked up one of the berries from the pile and shuffled over, holding it out to him. “You have my thanks for your generosity.”

The Snover pressed the surprisingly large berry into his chest, and Ingo carefully picked it up to give it a small bite, to show he knew what to do with it.

The berry was delicious. It was the sweetest thing Ingo had ever tasted. Had Snovers truly changed that much, that their berries would be larger and sweeter? Ingo didn’t know how long that would take, but it implied that resources were more abundant. And perhaps human intervention. He knew he’d talked with Lady Irida about possibly domesticating a few and selecting for this.

Had she?

Had it been...

He didn’t know how long such a thing would take. It wasn’t useful to think of it.

Ingo smiled at the Snover and gave it a gentle pet on the head. “Thank you. I’d better get going, now.” He started carefully gathering berries into his bag, and then realized he’d need to stuff his coat pockets as well. That was a better problem to have than he had any right to expect, and although he now had to walk carefully to avoid dropping any berries, that just meant that his mind was busy.

Busier, at least.

He focused on the minute ways the familiar route had shifted, the rocks that were no longer where he expected them to be and the faint trails worn down into proper paths. He did not allow himself to linger on how these changes had occurred or how long they must have taken. It was nothing he could not glean from seeing that city, after all. It was foolish of him to be bothered by the additional confirmation.

Magnezone emerged from the trees just ahead of him and returned to their normal place by his side. “Did you have a pleasant time?” Ingo asked fondly, and Magnezone bobbed in agreement. “Good. Time to head back to the house, then.”

He’d start work on seasoning another batch of wood, and then he would wander looking for a small settlement he could trade with for some labor, and he would not get into bed before he’d had dinner or he wouldn’t crawl back out of it and that was not a good plan for the continued survival of him and his pokemon.

Ingo took out another Snoverberry and ate it slowly on his way down the mountain.

Ingo stared blankly at the woman in front of his house.

“Excuse me—”

She jumped and screamed.

“Excuse me. But that’s my house, and I do not want to have to break another lock off of it.” Ingo rolled Gliscor’s pokeball around in his hand. “It’s annoying. And quite rude, especially when I could tell no one else was using it.” He shifted his other hand in his pocket and took out Kleavor’s ball, releasing them. It was rude, but so was locking him out of his own house.

“Hi! Sorry Mister Ghost Sir but this is a historical monument and it’s not supposed to be used at all!” The words came out all in a rush. “Please don’t haunt me I’m just doing my job.”

“It’s still my house. And you are locking me out of it.” Ingo raised an eyebrow as he realized that she was certainly not dressed for a night outside, clothing thin with short sleeves and a strangely puffy vest.

It looked like the shirt Akari liked to wear in the village, where it wouldn’t be damaged. Not protective, entirely too thin, and overall unfathomably impractical. Perhaps this was where and when Miss Akari came from. Would she be able to come back? Ingo hoped so.

“Thaaaat’s a fucking Kleavor—” the woman took a breath. “Look Mister Ghost Sir you can walk through walls! It should be fine. We just don’t want kids daring each other to sleep in there!”

“I am not a ghost.” Ingo picked up one of the rocks he’d left outside then dropped it. “I have merely returned after a time away, and since my house has not been allocated to anyone else, I am going to use it. It certainly hasn’t been cared for by anyone else.”

The woman kept on going, muttering a mile a minute about things Ingo didn’t understand, exorcisms and wondering if a Kleavor ghost could be studied like a Kleavor and worries about what her boss would say, and so Ingo cut in.

“If you are worried about your boss, send them to me. I need to start salting meat. Goodbye, Miss.” Ingo gently took her by the shoulders and maneuvered her out of the way of the door, before signaling to Kleavor.

Ingo watched in satisfaction as they took the new lock clean off, and with a few more hand signals let them know to please go chop wood as he went inside and firmly shut the door in the woman’s face. Perhaps he needed to install a lock to keep others out. He’d never needed such a thing in Hisui, but apparently people now were far less polite.

He heard a knock.

“Please remain behind the yellow line,” he said firmly. “This station is closed to visitors.”

“Sir, you really need to be careful, any damage you do in there we don’t know how to repair anymore,” she said.

“I could tell, the amount of repairs I had to do.” Ingo sighed. “Go away. I’m busy.”

“I—”

“Go. Away.” Ingo punctuated his words with a thud on the wood next to the door. “Get your boss, if you must, but if you keep on bothering me I will let Zoroark drive you away, and you will not appreciate that.”

“... Like an Unovan Zoroark? Because you shouldn’t let one of those run wild here either they don’t have a place in the ecosystem—”

Ingo’s head twinged. “I do not know what Unova is, but no.” He gave up. He did not have the energy for this conversation. He took Zoroark’s ball and opened the door, releasing her into the woman’s face. “Zoroark. You have my permission to torment her away from my cabin.”

“Really?” Zoroark lit up. “Wonderful.”

Ingo closed the door again.

Time to lay down on the floor. It wasn’t his bed. It didn’t count. He’d get uncomfortable enough that he’d have to get up eventually and it would help his back, or so Calaba claimed. The noises from outside were somewhat comforting, because he no longer needed to interact with someone who confirmed that yes, he was in a new time.

The pants had been a fabric his mind wanted to call jeans.

He didn’t know what that meant. He just knew they hadn’t existed in Hisui. She had had a device on her wrist and it didn’t match the one he’d had (before it had been crushed into pieces by a pokemon) but it also didn’t match anything he’d seen in Hisui and Ingo could not handle this.

Salting meat. He’d hung Magikarp to dry in a windy section at the back of the small cave system that made up his cabin, and now he could salt it. It was just a pity he hadn’t been able to find any Basculin.

Slowly the sounds of Zoroark faded, replaced by the soothing noises of Kleavor carefully dicing wood. Ingo would have to be sure to go through, uproot the trunks, and plant new trees. He could husband them along.

Ingo just needed to convince himself that planning for the future would be worth it.

Chapter Text

Ingo kept on carefully whittling at wood. This was a test of skill, more than anything else, but Ingo had nothing to do but watch his racks of slowly smoking meat and barrels of curing sausages. He was going to have issues with fruit and vegetables this winter, he knew it. He’d been unable to find much in the way of rice or wheat either, but he had found a wealth of jars and that was what was important. With the help of Alakazam and Magnezone, he’d been able to rework the lids into something more reusable, and he even had a whole weatherproof box now. Blue and sturdy, made of some material Ingo couldn’t even begin to identify.

It wasn’t stealing when he’d seen a machine of some type on another street dump all of the contents of different blue boxes into itself and crush them! That was just a waste! He could still use them and so he would.

Ingo carefully, carefully carved another heart into the thin plane of wood. No one in Hisui had known the exact type of cards that Ingo knew games and rules for, and Ingo had been halfway through carving a set of the cards he remembered before.

Before.

So he’d just do it again. There was a game he remembered you could play as a solitary person, and one he remembered rules to that could be done with three. Zoroark would probably like it, and Alakazam would as well, and so Ingo would have a set of three.

If he could get more jars, he could even set up some music, possibly.

Ingo looked up at the sound of people. Oh, no.

No, he couldn’t go lock himself inside, he had to watch everything he was smoking. And he couldn’t leave the meat out, or wild pokemon might come and try to eat it. He didn’t think that people would try and steal his food. That would have been unthinkable, and surely it still would be?

He didn’t know.

Ingo moved his chair directly in front of his door and released Tangrowth and Wyrdeer.

“Crowd control, please. I do not want anyone getting close to me.” The idea of being touched was repulsive, and he did not know if these people followed Pearl’s or Diamond’s idea of personal space.

Ingo stared as the woman from before crested the hill. She had brought someone else with her. Ingo didn’t really want to talk to her boss, but he guessed he had to now. He kept on whittling. He was not being polite. He should be. Ingo dragged together what energy he could spare, set his tools aside, and stood.

“Hello! I am Warden Ingo.” Ingo shoved aside the fact that he had not been able to call a single Noble. “Or... formerly, as I have certainly been replaced at this point.” He bowed his head slightly. “My apologies for not making introductions earlier.”

The new person’s eyebrows shot up.

“I’m Ranger Kitami!” The woman from before held out her hand and then pulled it back when Ingo made no move to step forward and take it. “Warden Ingo like— You’re the ghost of the disappearing— wait, shit, you’re really not a ghost? Warden Ingo disappeared into the future? Holy shit.”

“Language.” Ingo took a moment more to absorb the information presented. “I... I did not think anyone would know of me.” He hesitated. “I was not a Warden for that long. You might be thinking of someone else with my name.”

“No, no, I have a history minor to go with ecology, you were a Warden for three years, yeah? And you came up with a whole battle facility, you’re basically the father of modern battling!” Ranger Kitami’s hands flapped at her side. “Not a ghost, I don't have to fill out the ghost paperwork.”

“We don’t have a procedure for owners of historical artifacts or sites coming back to life and repossessing their property.” The other person shook their head. “I’m Ranger Boss Murasaki Imo. In this language, I use they/them. How do you know Universal?”

“Why are you named after those purple potatoes?” Ingo winced. “Sorry. When Lady Irida took me in, I spoke this language and two others. I have been learning Hisuian since. Do you prefer being called Imo or Murasaki?”

“Let’s stick with Imo for now.” They inclined their head.

Ingo couldn’t bring himself to say it was a pleasure to meet them, but he nodded back.

“Uhm. Where did you get a recycling bin?” Ranger Kitami pointed at the blue box.

“The blue box?” Ingo shrugged. “The contents were being wasted. A large vehicle was dumping the contents into itself and crushing them. And I needed the jars and cans in it, so since it was clearly part of communal property, I took it.”

“We don’t really have communal property for recycling bins,” the Ranger said weakly. “I’ll get it back. I don’t think anyone would be upset about you keeping the contents, though...”

Ingo sighed. Of course. Now he had to think about things like personal property again even if it was clearly considered trash. His frown deepened. Again? He set the thought aside for later. “I will take that under advisement. Are you going to attempt to move me from my house again?”

“We don’t have any... precedent, for something like this.” The Ranger Boss shook their head. “You’re repairing it the same way you would have when you built it, right?”

“I do not have access to any other methods.” Ingo raised an eyebrow. “And only recently have I had access to anything from this time at all.”

“Alright. That’s good. In that case, we won’t try and make you leave your home. However, it is very close to winter. Would you consider coming to live in Ranger quarters?” Boss Imo looked over at Ingo’s pokemon. They seemed impressed, but not wary or alarmed. Rather unusual, but considering the Snover, perhaps that was more common nowadays. “We’ve got enough food and shelter for you and your pokemon, I believe. And there’s huts that aren’t technically part of the main building. No one would begrudge giving the lost Warden shelter.”

“You might get people coming by asking for battling tips.” One of Kitami’s hands drifted towards a set of three pokeballs on her waist. “Or just a battle. I don’t know if that’s a downside or not for you?”

“It would be better to have something to do,” Ingo admitted. “... I couldn’t impose, not this close to winter. I should be able to survive. Or I could trade, if I have something of use in this time.” He swallowed. “... Are there still Wardens? I have been unable to call any of the Nobles.”

The rangers exchanged a glance, and that was all Ingo needed.

“I see.” He looked away. “... I will consider it. Could you also tell me how long it has been?”

“You disappeared... ” Ranger Kitami grimaced. “Centuries ago. I’m sorry. They looked for you all winter, until the First Champion was seen disappearing into a distortion in the spring. That’s, uhm. Your listed cause of disappearance. A distortion.”

Ingo went and leaned into Tangrowth. He needed the support. “... The distortions didn’t stop, then.”

“The one that took the First Champion was the last.” Ranger Kitami wrung her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry, a lot of the records of the time were lost. But that’s something you could trade? Knowledge from that time. Although I don’t know if any researchers will be able to get up Mount Coronet in the winter, so, uhm.”

It was a fairly transparent attempt to get Ingo to move. He nodded. “I will consider it. If the two of you don’t mind, I would appreciate some time alone now.” He kept his voice steady. As steady as he possibly could, now.

He turned to face Tangrowth. She would let him know if either of them moved. He heard a quiet sigh.

“Alright. But if you don’t mind, I’ll be back in two days. We make everyone who camps on Mount Coronet take an emergency phone so that they can contact us if something goes wrong.” Ranger Boss Imo’s voice carried no particular tone. The flatness was…oddly soothing. “I’ll teach you how to use it. Deal? You guided people through these mountains and kept them safe. The rangers do the same now. Please let us do our jobs.”

Ingo nodded. “Yes. That is acceptable.” And it would give him time. Time for what he couldn’t even articulate, but he needed it. “Please leave now.”

“Alright. Thank you for speaking with us, Warden Ingo.”

Ingo heard them leave, and buried his face in Tangrowth as he started to cry.

Centuries. Centuries. How was he supposed to handle that? Once again all his friends were out of his reach, and this time he knew they were dead. Historical figures. Gone. A second time, and this time he remembered them.

It was worse.

It was worse, to realize that he would know who he was missing every single time the pain of loneliness went through him.

Ingo let himself collapse into Tangrowth as his knees gave out.

He was so, so tired.

Ingo stared at the ceiling of his house.

He was stubborn. He knew this.

If it was just him—

If it was just him he should not consider staying in his house either. Doing so alone would kill him, whether physically or not. It would not be something he could ask of anyone, and no one would ask it of him. Pearl and Diamond gathered people in, in the winter. Ingo had been the strange one, insisting on his own, separate house that he could not even call a home. Lady Sneasler had been company enough as the absence he could not name grated on him even more when surrounded by care and warmth.

Ah. He was crying again. Ingo covered his eyes with an arm tossed over them.

If he had less pokemon, then. Then he could stay. He would be able to scrape by. But not even then, because they would deserve better than eking out a living here.

It was only himself he would condemn to the cabin as ill-prepared as it was, and thus he could not.

He would need to use the phone, and give in. Accept the offer from Ranger Imo. He had things to trade in return. For the sake of his pokemon, he would make himself a living time capsule of knowledge that Kitami and Imo alike had assured him would be needed and wanted. He would ignore how ill-suited to such a thing he was and go.

For his pokemon. Yes. Ingo could get himself through the winter for them. They deserved better, confused by the new time they had found themselves in. Gliscor had come back covered in ice with the body of a dead Sneasel that was not a Sneasler’s, stuck to Gliscor with their final icey blow. Ingo was smart. He knew what that meant, if Gliscor could not hunt for fear of unexpected typings.

Ingo hadn’t been happy, knowing that she would be out hunting Sneasels, but he couldn’t provide, so he couldn’t complain.

The Nobles hadn’t answered, still. In the centuries, the tradition had been lost, he supposed.

... Or the Nobles had been.

Ingo grit his teeth. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it. It’s not like he, personally, caused any of it. He knew that. But it didn’t stop a bone deep ache at the thought that it had happened, and he had not been there to try and prevent the beginnings of such a change. Had it been Jubilife, pushing against the Clans’ traditions? Had it just been the passage of time, and the changes in the land?

Or had it been the shifting cultural tides, the changes he had seen just within his few short years in Hisui? People growing less fearful of pokemon, better at understanding their needs and desires, more likely to accept or even seek out a partner of their own. Coupled with the increasing availability of training resources… Ingo all-too-easily saw how over generations, the protection and aid the Nobles offered could become… obsolete.

Had he done this?

Not merely failed to prevent it, which would be awful enough, but actively aided it? Not just complicit, but guilty?

Basically the father of modern battling, Ranger Kitami had said. Came up with a whole battle facility, whatever that term meant to people now.

Ingo felt sick. Would the Nobles still be there, if he hadn’t been taken to Hisui? Was he the cause, and if so— if so—

Ingo stood numbly as Ranger Kitami showed him how to operate the shower. It seemed familiar, but Ingo felt quite certain the handles should be switched.

“We’ve got pretty good water heaters installed in here, so don’t worry unless you try to shower for like, an hour.” Kitami flicked the water off again. “We don’t have tubs, sorry. But the showers are nice and big!”

Ingo was fairly certain Tangrowth could squeeze in there if necessary. Could be useful. He nodded.

“What else... We got the instructions on the stove written out, and the oven, and the dishwasher...” Kitami tapped her fingers on her chin. “Oh! The washer-dryer. Although, uh, I don’t think you should put any of the clothing from the past in there? But you could put any new clothing in there.”

Ingo thought about the closet full of ranger-colored clothing he now had. Maybe, like the clothing from Pearl, if he washed it enough it would become palatable? He didn’t know. “Are there limited supplies of any of this? The water, or the heat?” Ingo gestured at the thing he had been told controlled the heater.

“I mean... I really don’t think you’re going to waste it.” Ranger Kitami shrugged. “Don’t put the heat over 23, I guess? Although I guess you might need it higher, I know older people tend to...”

“I do not believe I am actually in my late forties,” Ingo said by rote. “And you already told me where I can go to get more bedding.” There had been stacks of it, high in the walk-in closet, and another Ranger had laughed at his expression and told him that he’d bring over a particularly soft blanket, because the best of it was bought by individuals from experts in their craft, not manufactured.

Ingo had tried to demure. He wasn’t sure how successful he was.

“Well, people did age faster in the past...” Ranger Kitami shrugged. “Well! You’ve got the books and the stuff in the fridge and freezer, and I’ve got to go. I heard there’s a group of Gym Challengers who are hoping to get through the mountain before the first snowstorm, so we’re taking turns to shepard them around.”

“I see. I will not keep you from your duties, Ranger.” Ingo inclined his head.

“Ah, well. I was hoping to get through showing you how to use the TV— but that’s complex.” She gestured at the large screen set into a wall opposite of the living area’s couch. It looked to be about the size of Machamp’s chest. “If it turns on without you doing anything, that means there’s an emergency. Just get to the main building and someone will be explaining everything.”

“Understood.” Ingo looked around. “I appreciate the time you’ve already spent on me.”

“Ah, it’s better than teenagers who don’t remember their wilderness survival classes.” Kitami shook her head. “I’ll be back in a few days! And when I am, I want to battle you. Don’t hold back!”

“I won’t.” Ingo gave her a brief, genuine smile. “If a battle is not serious, it is not fun. I do not know who told me that, once, but they were right. I will give it my all, and so will you.”

“You’ll probably curbstomp me,” Kitami said cheerfully and nonsensically. “Looking forward to it! Don’t forget the baby Rangers want you to show them some basics for how to calm aggressive wild pokemon tomorrow!”

“I will not.” Ingo opened the door, getting there before Kitami. The cold air cut into the space and told Ingo he had been right. Hisui was just as cold, if not colder, now. And it was coming on early. He would not have had enough time. “Stay safe.”

“You too!” Kitami waved with a grin before she turned and jogged into the distance.

Ingo shut the door, and after a moment’s hesitation threw the lock. He reached down to the floor and pressed a careful hand to it. It was so warm. Wooden for ease of cleaning and still warm. There were rugs in the bedroom, but Ingo wasn’t even sure he’d need them.

The cabin had so many time-saving luxuries in it.

Ingo swallowed back his anxiety and went to the bookshelf. This was what he deserved.

To be useless.

Ingo carefully arranged the food he had managed to prepare in the cabin. The storage room wasn’t nearly as large as the one in his house. He supposed it didn’t need to be, when he was so close to the much larger main building.

Boss Imo had reassured him that in case of a blizzard they would tie ropes between doors so that no one would get lost. Ingo hadn’t known how to ask how he could be included in rescue activities instead. To stay inside when he could be helping would be even more intolerable.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be necessary. Or if it was, it would wait until Ingo had figured out how to phrase his request. He couldn’t be left with nothing to do for the whole of winter, and while the mountain had certainly changed, it hadn’t changed enough to make his knowledge unusable, and it would only take a little time to learn new pathways and what troubled the mountain.

... Frankly, with how docile pokemon were these days, the dangers were much less numerous. Ingo sighed. That just meant he would need to do more to keep busy. He had poked around the cabin’s technology and determined that he just was not interested in the TV. Kitami had told him it could play music, but Ingo did not have an account. Ingo did not have an account and he hated being in the middle of a song and having it interrupted just so the service could attempt to sell him entirely unknown products.

He did not have a legal identity. Ingo vaguely thought that those took time to arrange. And he certainly did not have money. He wasn’t like Akari, lost to history as she now was. He did not travel with a satchel packed with star shards and nuggets. Ingo took a moment and buried his face in his hands and tried to strangle his emotions. He could not start crying every time he thought of the people now lost to him. Especially if he was to be talking about them to strangers.

Strangers who would know. Nothing.

Ingo heard one of his pokemon release themself and felt Alakazam’s hands guiding him to the couch.

“Thank you, dear,” he muttered. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”

He had to be.

A researcher was coming next week, after all.

Ingo took his moment that became many minutes, and then stood up with a forced smile. “You will probably enjoy the shower. I’ll show that to you and then organize the fridge and freezer, I think. They’re quite convenient, you know. Even when it becomes summer, I will be able to keep food cool. Or cold.”

Alakazam sighed, but apparently had decided that the matter did not warrant telepathy. Ingo wished he could hear his pokemon without getting a headache. Alakazam had determined it had something to do with the lock on his memories. And Ingo supposed there was as of yet no progress on that front. It was hard to make progress when Ingo started to sob with pain, and Ingo could not force her to push past that and continue. Not when she worried he would break.

“Well. You might approve of the better food, at least.” Ingo walked over to the cabinets. “Although it apparently comes in bags... But the food for psychic types is, ah, more dignified.” Ingo pulled out a package of bars. “And as always, you can use my food. I’m slowly exploring what foods are available now. They’ve been acceptable so far.”

Alakazam nodded and patted Ingo’s head. “Kazam.”

“Yes, fine, I will make myself some tea. They have electrical kettles, now.” Ingo went to fill it. “It boils much faster. Quite interesting. Like the floor.” Ingo was able to wander the cabin in just his socked feet without them getting cold. The soft heat that came up from the floor was luxurious in every way. He wasn’t sure he’d done enough to earn it.

The kettle clicked.

Ingo took down the teabags and began to make the tea.

He missed Melli’s blends.

“Warden Melli was certainly quite... eccentric, but he was an excellent Warden to Lord Electrode.” Ingo shook his head. “Anyone would admit that, but everyone did like to complain about him.” Ingo hesitated before each word. “I... The only real conflict we ever had was on the matter of lighting caves in the Highlands. I suppose he managed to get the final word on that.”

Nandina nodded. She hadn’t stopped writing since she entered the cabin. “That’s good to know. It can be hard to sort through what people choose to write down as complaints and how someone actually is.” She smiled. “If you went just by complaints, people would assume Champion Cynthia is much colder than she is. I’m sure you’ll meet her when she gets back from Unova.”

“Dare I ask what’s been said about me?” Ingo ran his fingers over the soft material of the couch. “Or is it better not to know?”

“From the Clans, the records we do have say you were a quite dedicated man. And responsible. They left some records specifically for this kind of scenario, actually. You reappearing. They seemed quite certain that you would not die so easily.” Nandina sighed, quietly. “There’s a request in place to get those documents scanned so that you can read them. The originals are too fragile to hand out, but they needed to be scanned anyways, so I’m hopeful you can get a copy. As they were meant for you.”

“I would appreciate that.” Ingo heard Zoroark raise their head over the back of the couch. But he didn’t see any signs of illusions, so he let them be. “I’m glad to hear that there is something remaining.” His throat closed, for a moment, and Ingo pushed his emotions off again. “I would say beyond his Wardenhood, Melli was most well known for his variety of cosmetics. If you wanted something to spruce yourself up, he would have it. He also had a variety of tea blends that he never told anyone. Most of them were quite good for clearing out toxins, and he was kind enough to keep me supplied while I got used to my Lady’s poison.”

“Yes, Warden Melli is noted as being fond of poison types. Was he also resistant to electric damage?” Nandina flipped to a new page, and Ingo did his best to not feel like—

What?

He didn’t know. Ingo took a drink of water and prepared for another hour. He had agreed to two hours, and it had only been one, and he was not going to go back on his word. No matter how much he wanted to. There was so much to talk about, when it came to Warden Melli.

He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to anyone.

Ingo held the cracking pieces of himself together and hoped it wasn’t obvious.

Zoroark watched him drink, and then crawled on top of Ingo and forced him to lie down in his bed.

“Zoroark,” he protested. “I was going to...”

“You don’t even know what you were going to do.” Zoroark sniffed, stuck her nose in his ear.

“Ah! Hey. Be nice.” Ingo gently shoved her head away.

“I am being nice. Go to sleep. Heal.” Zoroark tilted her head and arranged herself in a loaf on top of him. “Would it help to see the man in white again?”

Ingo shuddered and shook his head. “No.” He went to say more, but his words, spent for hours, deserted him. He had often asked before, to look at the man who haunted the edges of his threadbare memories. To see the man with the face identical to his own. But now, it would be too much.

Ingo could not have more weaknesses bared like that.

Zoroark looked at him, and with a quiet huff settled to sleep on his chest. Ingo shifted and reached up to gently pet her mane. She had become... If not a good dog, a much better one.

Chapter Text

Ingo looked at the variety of people standing before him and considered the problem at hand. “How long have you all been training?” He grimaced. “Not to impugn any of you, of course! Every stage of the journey is important. I simply need to know how much power to bring to bear against you all. I will not be conducting any three on one fights today, but perhaps if any of you impress me that could be arranged for later.”

The children, dressed in motley colors that anyone would have loved to have to embroider their clothes, perked up. Ingo had politely requested that no images of him be disseminated through what they called social media, and apparently, for a chance to fight him, they would do that. The Rangers had been shocked.

“I suppose... arrange a line amongst yourselves without violence?” Ingo looked back at Imo for guidance. He’d never had so many people who wished to partake of his battle facility. Ingo still wasn’t certain he’d be able to match these futuristic standards. “I have also prepared a form of the Path of Tenacity, if you wish to try your hands at that.” Ingo gestured behind himself at three rangers. “These rangers will be helping me with that today. Each of them does have a temporary loan of one Alpha. I will be the only one using Hisuian styles.”

One child raised their hand. “Full six versus six battles?”

“Three versus three, for now.” Ingo stifled a laugh at the groan that went up from the group. “Consider my stamina, please. You all will fight once, or perhaps four times if you take the Path of Tenacity. I will be fighting ten times.”

“Fine,” they said in a grumpy group.

“Line up, then.” Ingo stamped down on his natural inclination to get into his stance and give his speech. He was not a historical display. He was doing this to see if he had something to teach the children of today. The children had already been entirely too excited to see a historical figure— and they were children of Ranger families, so Ingo already got the idea of where it came from— and Ingo was a person. He couldn’t manage a smile, but he brightened his face. “Let us see if your destinations lie at victory or defeat!”

The children quickly lined up, and Ingo could at least appreciate the joy they had in battling, so unlike the children he had known.

The first child approached, and released a Grotle before Ingo could pick a pokemon. Well, he would be polite and not type match.

“Machamp!” Ingo tossed her out, and after gauging the level mismatch, extended a bit of the power he’d only taught the basics of to Zisu. He was unsure where he had learned it originally, but it allowed for far fairer matches than could otherwise be expected, in Hisui. He leveled the playing field. “The match may begin.”

“Huh.” Kitami shook her head. “You know, I think that makes you the earliest person to be able to do that?”

“Machamp, Agile Ice Punch!” Ingo did not have time to respond to Kitami as he still, somehow, made the first move. Hm. Respect for one’s elders? At least people here weren’t calling him old now.

Ingo let his mind wander. Disrespectful to the challenger, yes, but while Ingo was impressed at the level of competency shown, the challenger was nothing like Akari. Pleasant, though. Ingo actually did have to think a bit.

He still ended the fight with all three of his chosen pokemon standing, and bowed slightly. “Your battle was not bad at all.” He did not know where the words came from, but they flowed out of his mouth. “However, we seem to have done slightly better. Do not be afraid to swap out your pokemon in battle when you are at a disadvantage, and I will note that I did not ban items.” Ingo covered a slight smile at the groan. “Assuming things will put you in danger, much like ignorance will. You may use items. Just consider the freedom you are giving me to act. Feel free to return and battle me again— I am sure I will have new tips for you then.”

There were things for him to do, then.

These children could use battle training, and based on the look on the first challenger’s face, they would want it. That—

Ingo could work with that.

Ingo flushed as Ranger Celos handed him yet another dish of food.

“We’re probably all going to be shut down for the next few days,” Celos said firmly. “And we all know you’re not used to modern cookery yet. Take the lasagna.” He grinned, and Ingo sighed in acceptance. “Between the lasagna and all the broth you will be fine. But if you need anything, come to any of our cabins!”

Ingo really wanted to know what it was about Hisuians— Sinnohans, he corrected himself— and giving people food to show worry and that they cared. His freezer was full of broths and stocks (he wasn’t sure of the difference) that had been cooked down to heavily concentrate them, and they all had instructions for how much water to add to put them back again. He’d been given multiple pound bags of different types of rices as snowstorms started, and dried fruits, and bags of frozen vegetables and hard cheeses until his little storage room was filled with carefully arranged food. It was so much. Ingo nodded at Celos to indicate he was still listening.

“You’ve got your water jugs to fill up, right? We shouldn’t freeze, but sometimes the water plant we get it from does, and it’s better to have stuff already ready rather than needing to boil it.” Celos’s eyes creased with worry, and then amusement. “I guess you know about that better than any of us.”

“Yes,” Ingo said, barely stifling laughter. “I had been wondering when any of you would notice that.” Although he did appreciate everything he had been given. “I certainly didn’t have everything that I would have needed. The food and blankets will not go to waste.” Ingo tucked the lasagna pan carefully under his arm. “...I should thank you for yours again. It feels the best of all of them. I don’t know where you got it, but it is quite... I believe plush is the word?”

Celos looked flustered. “Oh! I’m glad. That you like it. Yes.” His cheeks went light pink. “Thanks. Yes. I also wanted to, uhm, ask. You and I have the most powerful psychic types, so when the storm’s died down, would you and Alakazam mind helping me and Delphox do a scan for anyone who’s been trapped?”

“That would be excellent.” Ingo nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Please. I did not know how to ask that I be included. But I certainly cannot do nothing, and I’ve gotten the hang of the new snowshoes.” Ingo patted the pokeballs on his new belt. “And more than that, my pokemon are quite capable.”

“Certainly can’t argue with that.” Celos smiled. “I’ll clear it with the boss, but I doubt they’ll complain. Looking forward to working with you!”

“I’m looking forward to working with you as well.” Ingo nodded. “Stay safe.”

“I’ll do my best!” Celos nodded. “Stay warm.”

“I don’t think I’ll have a choice.” Ingo shook his head. “Zoroark knows Flamethrower and has stacked large quantities of firewood in the living area.”

“Well, enjoy some movies then.”

“Ah, that I will do my best with.” Ingo mock-saluted. “Goodbye, Ranger Celos.” He walked off, ready to take a slice of whatever a lasagna was for dinner and get into his bedroom with all of his pokemon and a crackling fire.

Well, maybe not Basculegion. They wouldn’t be comfortable. But everyone else.

Yes. That would be a fine way to spend his first winter blizzard in the future.

Rescue operations went well. There were only three adults on the mountain, and no teens, and Ingo did appreciate that. Regrettably, the blizzard drifts made it quite hard to disappear when Imo burst into Ingo’s cabin in a panic.

“We let you around children!! They’re basically walking disease vectors!” Imo held up a tablet. “I’ve scheduled you an appointment with our on staff doctor—”

Ingo dove out the window.

Nope! He was not finding out what new and horrible ways doctors had to torment people! No thank you! The tastes were bad the textures were worse and combined it made Ingo feel like he was being sentenced to the Distortion World. Goodbye Boss Imo, Ingo was taking a vacation! He wasn’t getting paid and he hadn’t been made a Ranger so he had no binding responsibilities!

“Warden Ingo!”

Ingo continued to run. It was a pity that his coat stood out in the snow. But no matter. He would make this work. He released Zoroark. “We are going on the run! Please provide cover for my coat!”

“Hmmm. So I’ve been talking to the other alphas,” Zoroark said, ominously, as she kept pace with Ingo. “And they say that you have to go to the vet or else when other people say—hey!”

Ingo recalled her and kept on running into the forest.

He heard another pokemon release themself, and was scooped up.

“Machamp! Everything is fine, I’m just going on an afternoon constitutional,” Ingo tried. “Keeping up with my training! Like how Palina runs on the beach in the waves. Ran.”

Machamp started walking back to his new cabin. Ingo was not getting out of this, was he. This is what he got for making his pokemon take their medicine. It did not matter that he was and would be fine. They were going to make him sit and get poked by the doctor. Ingo sighed as Imo came back into sight.

“My pokemon are going to make me go to the doctor,” Ingo said glumly. “What time is my appointment.”

“In thirty minutes, and I really wasn’t looking forward to admitting I’d lost you, so thank you Machamp.”

“Machamp is a filthy traitor,” Ingo complained, as said pokemon saluted Imo. “I do not need to see a doctor.”

“Yes, you do. You don’t have any antibodies for modern illnesses— we should have taken you the moment you came to live with us, that was a massive oversight,” Imo fretted.

The toneless fretting was strangely calming. It felt as right as any fretting ever had, even if it was still wrong. Ingo couldn’t say how it was wrong. “I haven’t gotten sick. I didn’t get sick when I arrived in Hisui, either. Whatever god is doing this has probably taken care of the matter.” Ingo watched Boss Imo consider it. “I don’t think doctors can test for godly interference,” he added, hopefully.

“… No, but we shouldn’t rely on it either.” Boss Imo shot Ingo a glance. “You aren’t wriggling out of this. We’re going there right now, and we’re going to wait until the doctor is ready to see you, and I am going to give Machamp so many treats if she can keep you there.”

“You are undermining my discipline of my pokemon,” Ingo protested, even as Machamp gave a thumbs up.

“I am supporting an assistant that I was unaware I should have hired ahead of time,” Boss Imo countered. “You’re going to go to the doctor and you’re going to live.”

The doctor stared at him. Ingo stared back.

“Where did you get those scars?”

“Which ones?” Ingo looked down at himself. “This is from an Alpha Blissey, this one is from Zoroark—“

“The ones right here,” and the doctor traced two lines under her chest.

“I showed up with those,” Ingo answered. “I’m pretty sure they’re not from an attack?”

“… Do you mind if I call the Ranger Boss in?” Her forehead looked pinched.

“I don’t mind, no.” Ingo looked over at Machamp. “No berries.”

Machamp looked smugly at him.

“Great!” The doctor threw open the door and called down the hallway. “Imo! Get your ass in here and google when they invented top surgery!”

“When they invented what?” Imo asked as they entered the room. Their eyes only widened slightly when they saw Ingo shirtless, and Ingo was grateful for it. He was sure that— oh, he hadn’t caught her name, that was rude of him— that the doctor hadn’t meant for him to see her shock and horror, but she hadn’t quite succeeded in masking it.

The reactions did track with what little he’d seen of the Rangers, though. They weren’t unscarred, of course. No pokemon trainer truly was. The process of growing together and forming a bond was not always a smooth one, and even the sweetest-tempered partner would occasionally forget their own strength.

But those were their only scars. The only visible ones, at least, and that was different. It seemed impossible that things could be so much safer, and yet…certainly Rangers had one of the more dangerous jobs. Any Ginkgo Guild merchant in Hisui had more wounds and worse ones than any Ingo had noticed on the Rangers so far, to say nothing of the older Clan members. Even in Jubilife, the Survey Corps members were far from alone in the scars they bore.

Then again, according to Calaba’s lectures, medical treatment and obedience to those providing such treatment could greatly reduce scarring. Imo had made many claims about technological advances in the area, so perhaps that was the reason. Ingo supposed he would be finding out regardless of his preferences in the matter.

Oh. He was zoning out again, wasn’t he?

“—not far from Kalos, a bit over a century ago,” Imo finished, looking up from their phone. “So, completely wrong time period and nowhere near the region.”

“Excuse me,” Ingo said, as politely as he could manage. “But whatever top surgery is, those scars do not pain me, so I do not think they need to be focused on?”

“I’m glad that they don’t pain you,” the doctor said, turning back to him with an apologetic smile. “It does look like they’ve healed very well, and we’re definitely going to prioritize the rest of your injuries. It’s just very odd that you have them at all, given that they look like the result of a medical procedure that wasn’t invented yet in the time you came from.”

“Oh.” Ingo did not like the dots that connected for him. Surely he would remember if he had somehow angered Lord Dialga? “I. I wouldn’t know. Perhaps if my memories ever return to me, but…” He forced a shrug, as though it didn’t pain him. “Alakazam has not been able to make progress on that front. Wherever or… Whenever I came from before my arrival in Hisui…it is lost to me.” Ingo pinned his gaze to the wall, away from the humans in the room. “My apologies.”

“You do not need to apologize for having amnesia.” Ingo was being looked at and he did not turn to face the doctor. “And it will be up to you to decide what, if anything, to tell any of the historians. And it’s better to know you’re trans now, before I get confused at your blood panels.”

Ingo carefully smoothed down his instinctive bristle. “I do not know what that means, but I am a man and will not appreciate any insinuations or outright arguments otherwise—“

“Of course you are, and I apologize for my poor phrasing,” the doctor interrupted. At least her tone seemed genuine, not patronizing. “Trans, short for transgender?” She waited for a moment. Her face fell slightly when Ingo didn’t respond, and she glanced at Imo, who just gestured for her to continue. “Um. Someone whose gender identity doesn’t match their assigned sex at birth. You being a trans man just means that, given your appearance, you’ve almost certainly—fuck if I know how, though— had hormone therapy at some point. Which should show up in your blood panels, and as the person who will be looking at those it’s helpful that I know. It’s some context that will help me accurately assess your health, that’s all.”

“...I accept your apology,” Ingo said slowly, grateful for his normal lack of expression as his head throbbed. “As you have already drawn the blood for these panels, are we done for today?”

“With needles, yes. With the appointment? Absolutely not, sir.” The doctor jumped slightly as Alakazam released herself from her pokeball. “Ah— can I help you with something?”

The two stared at each other in silence for a bit. Ingo was sure her expression was doing something odd, but he had allowed himself to look elsewhere again and would continue to do so as long as it was permitted.

“That’s an absurd suggestion, and I cannot and will not do that for you.”

“Zam!”

“I don’t care if you go find another doctor, they’re going to tell you the same thing. It’s simply not feasible—”

“Minteki? Or Alakazam, if you want. Mind sharing with the rest of us?” Imo asked.

Dr. Minteki cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. Warden Ingo, your Alakazam is claiming that she should be given medical power of attorney. As in the right to make medical decisions on your behalf.”

Ingo stared at Alakazam. She gazed evenly back at him, every bit as unrepentant as Machamp.

“I gather that is not…a common arrangement?” Ingo managed after a moment. Alakazam did not attempt to explain herself to him, and he hoped she knew that he was grateful for it. The burgeoning headache was certain to be unpleasant enough already.

“That is an understatement.” Dr. Minteki sighed. “Even Psychic type pokemon aren’t—” But she went quiet as Alakazam turned back towards her.

The silence stretched out interminably.

“Warden Ingo,” Dr. Minteki said, eventually, and Ingo’s stomach twisted in dread. “According to your Alakazam, you have migraines connected to your amnesia, triggered by things that would otherwise remind you of your past. Is that statement accurate?”

“Yes. It is,” Ingo admitted.

“And they’ve been growing worse?”

“No,” Ingo assured her. “They have not been interfering with any essential activities here, as they did before.”

“Kazam.”

“Mhm.” Oh, Ingo did not like that skeptical tone. “Is the actual pain less severe, or do you merely have fewer tasks with life or death stakes?”

“Is that distinction relevant?”

He could feel the weight of Dr. Minteki’s judgment now. At least she was a less intimidating figure than Calaba. “Yes, it is extremely relevant.”

“I suppose, by that metric, they have technically been growing worse.” Ingo turned to Machamp. “Congratulations, you are no longer the team member in the greatest amount of trouble.”

Machamp pumped all of her fists.

“This does not mean you are forgiven,” Ingo warned her. He was, unsurprisingly, ignored.

“Warden? I think I would appreciate it if you would consider Alakazam’s suggestion,” Dr. Minteki said quietly. “At least where your amnesia and past head wounds are concerned. I will not do this unless you fully consent to it, but…it’s extremely concerning, and while I’m not a specialist, aggravating a wound like this cannot be good for you.”

“Ah, Alakazam does not communicate with me telepathically. It also causes headaches.” This was why Ingo hated dealing with doctors. “What is her suggestion?”

“Her suggestion is that instead of talking to you about your amnesia, and lingering head trauma, and that sort of thing, I talk to her. That she is the one who discusses medications and other treatment plans with me and makes those decisions, not you.”

Ingo could taste the rejection on his tongue, but he remained silent. As much as he hated the idea of having that autonomy stripped away, Alakazam would never seek out such an arrangement without very good reason. And that the doctor was now considering it, when she had seemed so offended by it initially…

“I will think on it,” Ingo conceded. “Can I go now?”

“No, Warden Ingo,” Doctor Minteki said at the same time as Alakazam rolled her eyes at him. “Alakazam says you’re also experiencing chronic pain. Would you mind describing it for me?”

“It does not impair my day-to-day life,” Ingo said promptly. “I do not need pain medication and I refuse to take anything that will cloud my head.”

“The only pain medication they had in Hisui was willow-derived or opioids, right?” Boss Imo tilted their head. “I get that. I wouldn’t bother with the first and the second would impair me too much for the job. But we’ve got new and better pain meds now. They don’t mess up your head.”

“We don’t know much about your medical history…I’m going to prescribe you 500 mg of Naproxen twice a day.” Dr. Minteki scribbled something on her tablet. “I’ll see you again soon to go over the blood panel results, so we can adjust dosing if necessary then. Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions or concerns. I’ll print you a list of side effects to look out for—” she paused, frowning at Ingo. “I’ll print out two lists. One for you, one for Alakazam.”

“Alaka.”

Ingo glared at his partner. She continued to float in unapologetic serenity. “I do not like what that implies,” he informed the doctor, too bluntly— he was supposed to be the polite one (there was another spike of pain, but Ingo shoved it away), “but if I refused I suspect I would not be able to prevent her from stealing my own copy.”

“Zam,” the traitor confirmed.

“Yes, she was very clear on that point,” Dr. Minteki agreed, apologetic.

Ingo sighed. “Now are we done?”

“Just give me a moment to grab those papers and your medication, and then yes.” The doctor left the room, and Ingo allowed himself to slump further.

That…could have gone worse.

Chapter Text

Most of the furniture in the future was quite comfortable. It was only natural that the doctor’s office would be the exception.

Ingo fidgeted in his chair, running his fingers over Tangrowth’s vines as he leaned against her. If he must have a babysitter, it was preferable to have one that provided good stims. Neither Dr. Minteki nor Imo had appreciated his bored attempts to cajole Machamp into a wrestling match last time.

He could feel Dr. Minteki staring at him over her tablet.

“Warden Ingo,” she said eventually. Perhaps when she realized he was not going to make eye contact. “Let’s talk about the results of your blood panel.”

“Okay.” Ingo waited.

“You have multiple vitamin deficiencies. Your levels of iron, vitamin D, vitamin B12, vitamin A, and calcium are dangerously low. Magnesium is also below ideal levels, but that’s a lower priority. Your iodine levels are looking good, though.” Dr. Minteki paused briefly. “These are all quite straightforward to resolve, I’ll just give you some supplements. This should help with many of your symptoms, but please keep an eye on your fatigue and brain fog in particular.”

Ingo did not appreciate her glance at Alakazam, but he nodded dutifully regardless.

“That is acceptable.”

“You continue to be a complete nightmare of a medical mystery, so congratulations on that,” Dr. Minteki continued, in the same calmly professional tone.

Ingo blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

Dr. Minteki drummed her fingers on her tablet. “Somehow, you are completely up to date on your vaccinations.”

“That is…a good thing, yes?” Ingo asked cautiously.

“Yes, it is, don’t get me wrong. It just shouldn’t be possible.” Dr. Minteki scrolled down irritably. “Speaking of the impossible, you’ve definitely been on hormone replacement therapy for quite some time. Your implant did show up on the X-rays, so we can confirm that.” Dr. Minteki handed him several deeply unsettling pictures of his bones, which he politely accepted and stared at. “If I had to guess, you’ve been off T— ah, testosterone, that is— for less than two years. Would you like to get a new one?”

“Yes, I would,” Ingo answered, somewhat surprised at his own certainty.

Dr. Minteki nodded. “All right, I don’t have any on hand but I will order one as soon as I can. I just…this doesn’t make any sense.” She studied him carefully. “Have you considered the possibility that you might be from this time period? Or perhaps from our contemporary future?”

“I have not given much thought to my station of origin,” Ingo admitted. “I do not know what I could have done to end up temporally displaced twice, but…it does look increasingly likely.” He tightened his grip on the vines in his hands as the pain in his head spiked. “I would prefer to depart from this topic now.”

“Of course.” Thankfully, the doctor did not press the matter. He appreciated the lack of questions about his migraines, at the very least. “I am also going to reach out to some physical therapists I know and see who’d be willing to sign the NDAs necessary to come up here and work with you. I think that would be a big help with your chronic pain.”

“I will consider it.”

“That’s all I’m asking from you on that topic.” Dr. Minteki’s gaze sharpened. “Now. When you were last here, I had a very simple request. Do you remember what I asked you to do, Warden Ingo?”

“You asked me to stop wrestling with Kleavor.” Ingo tried in vain to keep the wariness out of his tone. “Which I have done, even in the face of their disappointment.”

Dr. Minteki stared at him, then groaned, rubbing her temples. “You know what? That’s on me. That’s on me for saying, don’t wrestle with extremely sharp alpha pokemon. I should have been clearer.”

“How so?”

“How—” Dr. Minteki took several deep, calming breaths. “Okay. First off, stop wrestling with your alphas, period. It’s absolutely aggravating your injuries.”

Ingo’s frown deepened. “My alphas, and my pokemon in general, are responsible for a mere fraction of the injuries I sustained during my time in Hisui,” he argued.

“I am not accusing them of causing your wounds. I am stating the fact that physically fighting pokemon over three meters tall— do not start with me, I know your Kleavor is shorter than that, I’m getting there— physically fighting pokemon over three meters tall or with massive axes for hands is not giving your body the time it needs to properly recover from said injuries.”

Ingo was not pouting. He did not appreciate Tangrowth’s soothing hum or the way Alakazam was looking at him.

“This holds true for your Machamp as well, if less so,” Dr. Minteki sighed. “Please take it easy. I know this does not come easily to you, but it will be beneficial in the long run.”

Ah. It was hard to stand firm against such a genuinely plaintive expression. Ingo looked down at Tangrowth’s vines again.

“I will…make an effort.”

“Good.” Dr. Minteki shook her head. “It’ll help me find specialists if I can tell them you’re not my worst patient.”

“Hey!”

Ingo would admit that the naproxen has been a good idea. He hadn’t realized how much he ached until it stopped. If he took it mainly at night, and not during the day, well. He didn’t want to get used to it. He knew that was a problem, in Hisui. Habituation. Ingo was becoming habituated to warm floors and easy to use stoves and soft beds. That didn’t even touch on the food— so delicious, and so easy to make now that the rangers had introduced him to boxed foods. He followed the directions and it was the same every time and that was wonderful.

More than that, people liked to battle, here. They did not fear him for his use of pokemon as they did in Jubilife, and he was not set apart as he was with Pearl. His use was less, but as far as he could tell everyone’s use was less. People were not pushing themselves to their limits to survive. Ingo did not understand it, not really, but he liked it. He liked it, and felt guilty even as he did. Lady Irida and Pearl had given up so much for him.

This was how he repaid her? Repaid them?

Ingo stopped and leaned against the wall for a moment. Lady Irida had wanted him to be happy. He had not chosen this. He had not chosen this at all, and she knew him. She would not assume that of him.

So this would be how he repaid her and all of Pearl Clan. Continuing to live, as they had wanted of him. Ingo looked out his window and saw the forsythia starting to bloom.

Almost spring, then.

Perhaps he’d teach a class on the spring delicacies Pearl had made.

He could keep those alive, at least. See what had remained with the world and what had not, and pass on what he knew. Perhaps it was time to schedule another meeting with Nandina.

There was more he could tell her about.

It wasn’t a tradition of Pearl or Diamond, as far as Ingo had learned, to talk of those who had passed. You let them rest, secure in the knowledge that they were done. But it had been so long, and no one now knew any of them except for Akari, and that… felt wrong.

Ingo’s fingers twitched. Maybe he would write it down. That would be easier than talking, having to seem normal, for Nandina. A short series about the people and who they were. There had to be something in the future that could make a copy so he could keep it as well.

A written record. And then no matter what happened to his memory, he would remember. Ingo ignored the twinge of pain as a faint memory rose into place of someone making scrapbooks. Photos and written blurbs. Him and … other people he could not remember. He could make something to carry with him.

Yes. He’d just find Imo and ask for something to write on and with. No offense to the tablet he’d seen, but he wanted something a bit more physical.

He didn’t want something that could break and leave his memory stranded like his head could. That wasn’t entirely fair to his head. Calaba and now Dr. Minteki had determined that his head was uninjured. With quite different methods, so Ingo supposed he could take their combined word for it.

A journal… many things could happen to it, but Ingo had asked around and one of the rangers had been happy to help him pick one out and order it.

Ingo had not been able to persuade them to take anything in trade. So he drew them at the front of the notebook, a little image of them handing the notebook over. He drew careful images of everyone, drawings of people from Pearl and Diamond and a smattering from Jubilife and how they had each interacted with him.

He also wrote, of course. But he couldn’t guarantee he’d remember a language. He’d had to learn a whole new one upon arrival in Hisui. So. It was best to have a range of ways to read his journal.

Ingo sighed as he stared out his window.

… he didn’t have to stay here. If he alerted someone else he could go camp for a few days, surely? Take a break from being in the future. Not a true break, of course, but he would hardly complain about the pokemon being less aggressive. The children he had been teaching were off for school or a journey, and so he had the free time.

Yes.

Ingo stood and stretched with a groan. It was about time for him to be able to have more naproxen. But it would be better taken after the exercises, probably.

Ingo set his schedule. He would do the exercises yet another doctor had prescribed to help his back, take a tablet of pain medication, shower, pack, and inform whoever he found first that he was going to take a week on the mountain.

Ingo stared at the phone on the kitchen table with a grimace. Yes, he’d better take it.

With tracks set, the day seemed much less worrying. Ugh. He was not telling the rangers’ therapist that. He wouldn’t gloat, but Ingo just did not need to bring it up anyways.

Akari waited patiently in line to talk with a Ranger. Her parents were chatting with other parents of other kids and that was fine even if other kids were getting denied based on lack of preparation. They were going to have to go in a group. Akari was not going in a group.

Besides, if she could spend a week running around under the Red Sky she could definitely walk on a Mount Coronet with no Alphas. Boring.

Akari was still pissed that she was going to have to do the gym challenge in order to get into the Sinnoh battle facility. Maybe she could convince all of the Gym Leaders to fight her with their actually powerful teams? She had a full team of level 100 pokemon and it would feel so fucking rude to just roll over them.

“Next!”

Oh shit. Akari stepped up quickly. “Hi! I just wanted to submit a plan for a hike and also ask a question about a possible destination to add?”

“Just you?” The ranger smiled kindly at her.

“Ugh, no.” Akari gestured back. “My parents are also coming, but I can handle that also. I’ve camped in the wilderness for months at a time and I know how to cook and everything. I’ve got all our gear right here!” She put her bag on the table. “So you can check it and see I’m prepared. But, uh, I wanted to know if there was any sort of memorial for Warden Ingo? From about three centuries ago? He lived up on the mountain.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, one moment?” The Ranger looked down and started to type a message and Akari frowned. She guessed she could handle an escort if it was fenced off or anything.

“Ranger Pom! I am going camping for the next week, I have the phone, please tell everyone else there is no need to worry— Miss Akari?”

Akari pointed. She was aware her stance was vaguely accusatory. “What the fuck are you doing in the future!”

“Language,” he chided, and okay fuck this was definitely Ingo and not a descendant! “I live here now. Passage through a cave placed me here and I can hardly go back when I have no conception of how I have been displaced twice. But I am happy to see you well! The Ranger Boss and Ranger Kitami informed me that you disappeared in the spring, and I am glad to see you made it safely back to your home station!” Ingo smiled his crinkle-eyed flat-mouthed smile at her and oh no Akari was crying now.

“Can I please have a hug?” Her voice was too watery. “We looked for you and you were just gone and I ran around asking everyone and I had Gardevoir ask all the pokemon you used for, for the Path of Solitude, and they didn’t know either.” She watched Ingo assess himself and then he nodded and opened his arms and she flung herself into them. “I have to introduce you to my parents now,” she informed him, doing her best to not start hiccuping. “So it’s a good thing you’ve discovered razors and don’t look like a weird mountain man.”

“I’m afraid any of the Rangers would be quite happy to tell you that I remain a weird mountain man.” Ingo patted her head. “They have had to put up with me and my idiosyncrasies for all of winter.”

“You’re a delight and we’re happy to have you here,” the Ranger Akari had been talking to said. “But yeah, you’re weird. Well, kid, if you still want to see the memorial for Warden Ingo, he can take you there.”

“My house was not well maintained.” Ingo shook his head. “And they got quite cranky at me for attempting repairs.”

“We’re going to have to get everyone in this room to sign NDAs now,” Ranger— Pom? Said. “Ugh. Okay. You too, Miss. I was going to have you sign one and have him guide you up there, in any case.”

“I hardly think Akari would do anything without running it past me first.” Warden Ingo’s chiding tone was just the same. “And if I trust anyone to navigate the internet and introducing my presence to it, it is her.”

“No wonder I didn’t find out you were alive when I was doing research for this trip.” Akari hugged a bit tighter and then pulled back. “But I’m glad. Uhm, and I’ll sign them if it makes the Rangers feel better, but I think it’s not legally binding without my Mom or Dad anyways. Which.” Akari looked looked behind her. “Yeah. Mom, Dad, this is Warden Ingo! I told you about him, he ran the battle facility and he also has Alphas!” Akari turned her best pleading eyes on him. “And since I couldn’t find those pokeballs, you have them on you and I can have a good fight again?”

“Yes, Miss Akari, I would be happy to conduct more battles for you. Some of the Rangers have even formed a Path of Tenacity to help me with some of the local children.” Ingo held out his hand to her mom, and then her dad. They shook it.

“So, like.” Akari squinted at him. “Did the time travel make you younger? You look a lot younger.”

“I don’t believe I was ever in my mid fifties, Miss Akari. Or however old people assumed I was. But I do have access to physical therapy, showers, and pain medication now.” Ingo shrugged. “They’re all quite helpful.”

“Hmmm.” Akari squinted at him and ignored her parents apologizing for her rudeness. “Yeah, okay. Battle me now?”

“Certainly! The Rangers have been so kind as to clear an area. Ah, are the two of you battlers as well?” Ingo started to move and Akari followed after.

“Oh, no.” Akari’s mom shook her head. “Not at all. Well, she wasn’t either, before…”

“I only just got back,” Akari whispered. “They’re adjusting and they’re being really clingy about it but to be fair so am I.”

“We can hear you, young lady.” Akari squawked as her dad ruffled her hair. “I did a bit in my youth, but nothing competitive.”

“Well, you should be quite proud of your daughter. Akari, what type of battle are you thinking today?” Ingo looked forward and led the three of them to a small area that had been cleared of snow. “Three versus one? A six versus six?”

“Mmm… start with a three and go to a six-six.” Akari huffed loudly. “No one knows how to battle here.”

“Well.” Ingo stopped in the cleared field. “… The circumstances are quite different.” Akari saw the slightly hunted look in his eyes and just—

He understood. Akari wasn’t alone there was someone who understood that you needed to be perfect at battling because any pokemon could attack at any time and if you didn’t have the healing items to deal with it you’d be left alone and afraid for your life. She hadn’t told her parents about that yet. She was glad Warden Ingo was here. Maybe she could actually talk to him.

“Yeah.” Akari nodded. “But … still. I’m glad to get to fight you again!” She grinned wide at him. “C’mon! I bet I can beat you this time!”

“Either way, I will treat the three of you to dinner.” Warden Ingo took his stance as Akari ran to the other end of the field and got out her pokeballs.

It had been entirely too long.

Ingo carefully covered the wok and left the dumplings to steam. He had yet to determine how to make potato mochi to Beni’s standards, but he could still manage dumplings, and he remembered that Akari did not enjoy many soups, so it seemed like the best option. Besides, he had recently discovered basic grilled mochi that he could dip in a honey sauce and he thought the texture was much better. He would have to make some for Akari.

He looked out the window. Akari seemed to be having fun wrestling with his pokemon.

“There’s nothing the two of you are allergic to, right?” Ingo did not turn to look at Akari’s parents. He did not want to determine acceptable amounts of eye contact. “The Rangers will not stop giving me food, so I am certain I will have something edible for everyone.”

“No allergies,” Akari’s dad said. Ingo had already forgotten their names. Hopefully he could dance around that problem. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Ah! No need to thank me.” Ingo checked on the vegetables. Almost time for garlic. “Normally we would go to Beni’s after a battle. Or, well, if we came across each other outside of scheduled meetings in Jubilife, we would go there the next time we were both in town.” Ingo shrugged. “It was more of a treat if no one had to cook.”

“We’ll help with the clean up,” Akari’s mom said firmly. “Don’t worry.”

“Alright, yes.” Ingo should probably protest that but he hated cleanup, so. “Well. I am glad Akari managed to return to the two of you.”

“She appeared through a portal in our backyard waving goodbye to Palkia and Dialga,” Akari’s mom said. “She... won’t talk about everything that happened. Would you?”

Ingo froze slightly. “I do not think that is my place.”

“She won’t talk to us,” Akari’s father said desperately. “How are we supposed to help?”

“I don’t... I don’t have the same experiences.” Ingo carefully put the veggie mix into a bowl and drizzled the garlic butter over it. “And I did not meet her until she had been in Hisui for months. I do not think I can properly help you, and I certainly will not put words in her mouth.” Ingo turned and placed the vegetables in front of them. “I feel it would betray her confidence, so I hope you understand my reticence. Be glad that you can be there for her.” He turned back to stare at the wok and avoid eye contact.

“I don’t like it,” Akari’s mom said slowly. “But I understand it. Please, though. Tell us if there’s anything we need to do differently? Your perspective is... valuable.”

“I hardly think I will be that insightful.” Ingo demurred as much as possible. He felt inexplicably certain that he knew exactly enough of teens to know he was out of his depth. “But if I think of anything I will let you know.”

Akari’s dad sighed. Ingo should probably re-ask their names at some point, but that would require admitting that if they had introduced themselves, he had neither processed nor remembered it. It could wait. He rerouted his mind to the man’s words. “That’s all we can ask of you, really. I guess it’s good that she has…someone around who can relate to such a bizarre experience.”

“Twice over.” Ingo went over to the window and opened it. “Miss Akari, the dumplings are ready!”

“Fuck yeah!” Akari cheered and came over to clamber right through his window. “I couldn’t remember the recipe for Pearl dumplings and Diamond’s were too spicy for me anyways but I made them for Mom and she loves them—“

Ingo let Akari’s voice wash over him as he set out food and closed the window on their pokemon, still happily tussling in the snow.

Ingo had cooked for the rangers, sharing foods that he had eaten with Pearl and with the other Wardens, sharing a shelter and time as they talked and laughed and ate, but it hadn’t been the same. Even as he had let the taste, perfectly accurate, wash over his mouth, the emptiness had remained.

It was nice to have someone around who shared those memories.

Chapter Text

Spring bloomed and Ingo found himself cautiously exploring a new frontier with Akari. The Rangers had not wanted to introduce him to the internet beyond a few specific sites, and Ingo had been hesitant enough to leave it alone. Frankly, it had been rather overwhelming. But as Akari had trusted him to guide her through the Highlands, Ingo trusted Akari to guide him through the internet.

They didn’t even have Nobles to help you on the internet. Horrifying.

“You probably shouldn’t go on much social media, but a basic YouTube account is fine!” Akari grinned. “And you can make playlists for the cooking videos you like. You could even upload some! I bet people would love to see the old recipes.” She pointed at herself. “Like me. I know you wrote it down, but I’ve got to watch it a few more times.”

“You did obtain permission to keep on visiting, yes?” Ingo paused his kneading of the dough and looked over. “Akari, you have to warn me if I’m aiding and abetting in crimes so that I can get my cover story straight.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” Akari kept on fiddling with her camera. “I have one hundred percent parental permission. They’re just happy I agreed to see a therapist.”

“Ah, I see. My presence was a bargaining chip.” Ingo shook his head and returned to moving his head. “Well. I am glad to hear I have value.”

“You have plenty of value,” Akari agreed. “Even Jubilife would agree, and fuck ‘em.”

“Mm.” Ingo nodded and set the dough aside to rest under a towel. “Are you ready to film the making of the filling?”

“Yeah, one mo.” Akari stretched and pulled herself up to sit on the counter. “I wanted to show you a guy? I found him on social media and he looks a lot like you and you said I had to get permission before I did anything about you and social media and I restrained myself very nobly from doing anything before I talked to you.”

Well. At least if the man looked like him this would not be like the misery of Palina pointing out men to him. “Are you going to show me this man?”

“Yup! Just wanted to give you advance warning and all.” Akari turned her phone around.

Ingo stared. The little man in the icon—

He gently took Akari’s phone and started to scroll. Were there any other photos? What was he saying?

The words didn’t sound right. Ingo scrolled aimlessly. He didn’t— the image was right, right enough that it made his head and heart ache in equal measure, but the words felt wrong and he couldn’t say why. The text of them just seemed like a façade.

“Are you sure these hoots aren’t from a… sockpuppet? That’s the fake account word, right?”

“Tweets, and yes but sockpuppets are used to make fake drama. If you think someone is lying about who they are, that’s just lying.” Akari took her phone back. “I mean, he’s got all the official stuff. And he’s followed by a bunch of Gym Leaders and Pokémon League members, so. But more importantly! Ingo! He looks exactly like you but in white! What if he’s the man in white?” Akari frowned. “Or I guess a different man but still a relative. Most people are not easily findable on social media. But still! We should reach out! So you’ve got to get a Twitter.”

“Could I simply borrow yours?” Ingo had the emergency phone, but it did not have nearly the functionality of Akari’s. Which he liked, most of the time. “I don’t have a good way to set one up.”

“That is true… you’d need an email.” Akari sighed. “Okay, I really don’t want to make an email for you, so I’ll just send a message! Message request at least but that can include a message.” Akari tapped at the screen of her phone.

Ingo took out meat to dice as she spent far longer composing a message than he wanted to contemplate.

It was not an interesting part of the process, after all. He doubted she would want to film it.

“Okay! Sent.” Akari leaned over. “You should teach me knife skills. Dad and Mom are bad at it.”

“I do not know how skilled a teacher I will be, but I will try my utmost. Should we anticipate a speedy reply?” Ingo took a fresh cut of meat and began to slowly demonstrate how he moved the knife.

“Nope! It’s super late at night in Unova right now.” Akari shrugged. “This evening maybe. I don’t know his schedule! But he’s a battle facility head! So maybe if you’re from the super future—“

“The super future.” Ingo sighed. “Miss Akari.”

“I think it would be neat if you had turned out to be a robot,” she said unrepentantly. “Anyways. He could be your granddad! Or grandson— no, not with all the vaccines. Probably your granddad then.”

Ingo was not certain what his face was doing but Akari started to laugh as he felt it crumple in vague disgust. “No. I do not think so.”

“Maybe just your dad, then.”

Ingo felt his face get even more crinkled and a migraine start.

“Hah! Maybe we just dowse on what makes you say no, that’s wrong.” Akari reached over and snagged a cube of meat. Before Ingo could protest, she had tossed it to Typhlosion. “Okay. That’s all. I’m ready to see the rest of the recipe.”

“Ah. You drop revelations on me and then expect me to remember how to make dumplings.” Ingo shook his head. “You are lucky I’ve made these so often. Let me know when you get a reply, please.” Ingo hoped if he focused on the dumplings the pain would not have a chance to overwhelm him.

Alakazam floated the naproxen bottle in front of him.

“Ingo! You have to tell me if you get a migraine!” Akari slid off the counter and Ingo heard her grab a mug to fill with water. “Rude. Do you need a break? I can chill on the couch.”

“I might,” Ingo admitted. The cutting board was glowing. Auras were a bad sign. “Would you mind putting this all in the fridge? I believe the dumpling wrappers should be fine if we do that.”

“Yes! Go lie down.” Akari gently shoved Ingo away from the cutting board, and he managed to get through washing his hands and taking his medication.

Bed was good. Dark and quiet and Alakazam was there with a hand on his forehead to help soothe everything back.

It was probably a good sign that his head hurt quite so badly, but Ingo couldn’t help but wonder how he would be able to discover his past if it brought him such pain.

He was too stubborn to stop.

Akari popped a dumpling into her mouth and frowned.

“Did the wait in the fridge harm the filling?” Ingo took one and ate it. It tasted fine. Perhaps a little too much ginger, but he liked them like that.

“No, no, the dumplings are fine. It’s. I got a response? But it’s kind of…Well, it kind of sucks, honestly.” Akari slid her phone across the table.

Gear Station is alert for any lead on Subway Boss Ingo's case, and all genuine leads should be submitted through proper channels. If you make further attempts to send fraudulent messages to this account, we will pursue legal action.

“That…that is a script,” Ingo said slowly. “Which means that probably many people have sent them messages about this Subway Boss Ingo, if he has a — a case— it is not personal. Perhaps we should look into that.”

“Yeah…” Akari sighed. “Good idea. I can dig out my laptop and we can look for more info about Subway Boss Ingo. Yeah?”

“After dinner.” Ingo looked over. “And with Alakazam.”

Alakazam nodded and kept on eating her own dumplings.

“Great! A plan.” Akari ate another dumpling. “Alakazam-approved.”

Ingo sat down to eat his own dumplings and did his best to not get caught up in his thoughts. But that was hard when he kept on turning the message over in his head, and all that it implied.

For one, the idea that people in the future would lie about anyone’s case was quite distressing. Ingo set that in the same corner of his head that he has reserved for knowledge of internet trolls. It did not make sense to further distress himself about something that was clearly fact. He tucked it away, and mentally noted that he was going to need to discuss that with his therapist. He was depressingly certain it was going to bring him right back to despair over the fate of the Clans. They never would have lied over something so important as the fate of a person. Not in Hisui.

He supposed modern times would affect anyone. They had changed him, most certainly. Mere months and now the once-hardened Warden Ingo craved the soft comforts he was freely given here. He’d become… picky wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t that he couldn’t eat some of the meats he’d been offered. Many of them were things he had eaten before, because he’d had to. But he looked at them and something in him said no and he could do that! He could pick and choose what went into his body, now, and he did not want to go back to being unable to make that choice.

Subway Boss Ingo’s case. There was a case surrounding a man who shared his name. With a different title. Someone who mattered enough that random personages on the internet would lie about him to—

To Emmet. He could think the name on the account now, without a disorienting spike of pain that had Alakazam fussing. Could read it, even, where his eyes had merely slid over it before. He still was not ready to attempt speaking it aloud.

It was probably him.

He probably had been that Ingo.

He had mattered enough that people had searched for him— it had happened twice over— Ingo caused so much trouble for those that loved him, didn’t he? Should he return? Was it even him? If it had been him, would it be still? Or was it all a horrible coincidence and he was this man’s descendant, named after a long-lost relative?

Ingo didn’t know.

He sighed.

“Hey, do you want to watch a movie first?” Akari looked at him with concern. “It’s like, a lot, and I’m not even the one who’s got possible family out there. We don’t have to force it to full speed ahead.”

“It would be cruel of me to do anything else, if this is a relative.” Ingo shook his head. “To both of us. Yes, remembering things hurts. But I want to know. And if I am the same as this missing Ingo, then it would be cruel to both of us for me to not find out as soon as I can. If the man in white feels as badly as I do, knowing I am missing someone, then… how could I subject us to that longer?”

“Because you get fucking nasty migraines.” Akari slapped the table.

“Language.” Ingo smirked at Akari’s cry of dismay. “We will look into Subway Boss Ingo and see if he is the same as me, first. Perhaps on your laptop? Bigger images would be helpful.”

“Sure.” Akari grabbed Ingo’s plate. “You put everything else away and I’ll get dishes!”

“Akari, you are a guest—” Ingo chased after her to attempt to do everything and was thus derailed.

Clean-up was so much easier in the future. Ingo and Akari jointly luxuriated in the dishwasher and the special soap for it that ate food right off the plates and cookware.

“It’s amazing,” Ingo agreed as they watched water swirl around in the dishwasher. “And the laundry machines! I was excited enough about moisturizer. Getting to not crack my hands with soap…” Ingo knew he sounded unreasonably blissful to anyone else.

“It was the worst! I had a little thing of moisturizer in my pocket when I landed, but I ran out so quickly, and I just had to come up with my own.” Akari made a face. “It was nasty. But it was better than my skin drying out and cracking with no antibiotics around.”

“Antibiotics!” Ingo nodded. “Yes! I love them. I have not needed them yet, but the doctor has explained them to me and they sound wonderful. Although people still use Chansey and Blissey eggs and Croagunk poison, did you know that?”

“Yup! That’s part of why I introduced them.” Akari grabbed Ingo’s arm and tugged him back to the table. “Okay! Before we get derailed again about modern tech. Time to google you! I bet Subway Boss Ingo is you.” She looked at him and Ingo did his best to look reassuring. “And then we can figure out how to, you know. Contact Emmet.”

“The former Champion of Sinnoh is coming tomorrow to discuss history with me. She would know battle facility heads, yes? At least in Sinnoh? She could introduce me.” Ingo had filled a small notebook with sketches of the Temple before it had become the Spear Pillars and the other ruins in the Highlands to give to her. He had also included sketches of Palkia and Dialga in their various forms. “… What did happen to the gods?”

“Oh, I left them in the past.” Akari tapped at her laptop keyboard. Ingo hadn’t seen her grab it. “I really don’t want the attention of having gods with me, you know? They’re fragments but still it’s a lot, and besides I think current Champion Lucas has one or two? I didn’t know what would happen if they overlapped.”

“Smart.” Ingo peered over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Maybe if I ask really nicely we can still battle with them though.” Akari grinned. “That was fun!”

“Quite possibly. They all seemed to enjoy it, at least.” Ingo’s frown got deeper as the images loaded. “…That…”

“Holy shit, that’s just you.” Akari stared at the screen. “Especially now that you’re shaving again. That’s just you.”

Ingo stared at the photos on the screen. His own coat stared back at him. And his shoes. And his hat. And Ingo had had that shirt and tie when he landed in Hisui, down to the clip on his image’s tie that he pulled out of his hair now and held up to the screen. A small enamel creature sat on it, yellow with blue eyes, just like the one on the photo Akari had now enlarged. Ingo had always looked at it fondly.

Ah, Ingo was hyperventilating, wasn’t he? He forced himself through breathing exercises, and eventually realized that Akari had shut the laptop.

“Apologies,” Ingo said hoarsely. “I believe... that was me.”

“Still is you,” Akari’s response was prompt and certain. Ingo envied her that, right now. “Even without your memories!”

“Hm.” Ingo made a quiet noncommittal noise. “… I suppose we had better figure out the proper channels.”

“I think you’re going to need your own laptop for this.” Akari changed tabs and Ingo felt his breathing ease. “What’s your budget?”

“Budget? Ah… I suppose I would just ask the rangers if they had any spares?” Ingo took the new topic easily.

“Are they not paying you?” Akari looked at him incredulously. “I mean I’m sure paperwork for getting established has to take forever with proof and everything so you can’t be on basic income but you’re, you know, working for them and doing stuff.”

Ah. Not this again. “They are already giving me room and board,” Ingo explained patiently, shaking his head. “How could I take more than that? And I certainly won’t take money for winning a pokemon battle.”

“Wow. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Akari closed her laptop and walked out with enviable speed, and Ingo released Tangrowth so he could hold her.

And she could hold him.

Ingo had an identity. Ingo was going to have to step into that identity when he knew nothing about it. Or maybe he’d be rejected. He didn’t remember anything, after all, and remembering gave him headaches, but—

“I miss him.” Ingo said it into Tangrowth’s vines as they twined around his fingers, until the trembling was barely noticeable. “I miss Emmet.”

“Imo!” Akari yelled as they let her in. “Why aren’t you paying Ingo?”

Imo gave her an exasperated look. “Akari, if you can get him to take money, I will pay you.”

Ingo patted his pockets. He had his notebook, he had the map that should lead to the emergency backups of frozen Pearl sourdough cultures (and other supplies, but he had his priorities), and he had a new cube to fiddle with that Akari had shown him.

“Do you think she’d want to battle me?” Akari forged ahead in the thankfully light snow. “I mean. Hisui style, and all. If she’s a historian.”

“Possibly!” Ingo shrugged. “You can ask when we are done talking. She might want to schedule a different time to come talk to you, you know! You do have the title of First Champion. And weren’t you digging up those old poems?”

“Yeah, I did.” Akari hummed. “… Yeah, I think I brought those back. She’d probably know who to give those to.”

“Most likely.” Ingo took a Ranger ID card out of his pocket and swiped open the door. He’d had something similar when he landed in Hisui, but it had been eaten by Gliscor. He wondered if it would have given him access to the subway. “Hello Champion Cynthia— Akari?” He turned away from the semi-familiar woman to Akari, whose face had gone pale and blotchy. “Akari, is touch good right now?”

Akari nodded jerkily, and Ingo set a hand on her back and started rubbing circles in a slow pattern to help direct her breathing.

“Is everything alright?” The Champion sounded concerned. Ingo couldn’t read her face beyond shock.

“Miss Akari was in the past at the same time as I was,” Ingo explained. “You seem a bit familiar to me, and I don’t recognize people, so I imagine… Akari, do you need to leave?”

Akari’s breathing had gotten slightly better, but it was still shaky. “Volo,” she managed. “Need to go.”

“Okay. Cynthia, I will send you a message when Akari is feeling safe to be alone. We are going to go back to my cabin.” Ingo would not apologise for putting Akari first. He kneeled in front of her. “I am not Lady Sneasler, but would you like a brief ride?”

Akari nodded, short and jerky, and Ingo turned so she could get on his back. He rose when she was settled, and Ingo nodded at Cynthia.

“Later,” he promised her. “Perhaps after dinner.”

“Yes, of course.” Cynthia waved him off, and Ingo took Akari to the safety of her cabin, where they’d left most of her pokemon.

Volo. No wonder Akari had panicked.

Ingo bit the inside of his cheek. There was no way he could have known. He knew this. Faces had been beyond him for all of his memory.

But still.

He started to mentally plan how to calm Akari as he walked with her. Food and her pokemon and the warm soft blanket, and he would go from there.

“Hi, Elesa?”

“Cynthia, do you have any goddamn idea what time it is?”

Cynthia winced and pulled the phone away from her ear. “No, I didn’t check, because I have important news. I think I found your friend. Ingo.”

Dead silence. Cynthia waited. “What makes you think that?” Elesa’s voice was guarded.

“Well, I had an appointment with a man who appeared in history for about two and a half years and then disappeared and showed up here in Sinnoh. A man who, I just found out, looks exactly like Emmet, just frowning. He wears a very tattered black version of Emmet’s uniform, and his name is Ingo.” Cynthia didn’t specialize in people, she specialized in ruins and places, but she was still going to feel bad for years about missing Warden Ingo in Sinnohan history. “He had to leave to help a child who was having a panic attack, but I know where he lives,” she added helpfully.

“Fuck. Okay, you’re forgiven and I owe you one. Please send me the location and I’ll get Emmet on the soonest flight to Sinnoh I can.” Cynthia heard shuffling from the other side of the phone. “Probably a fucking red eye flight but he’ll live.”

“And it will give me time to tell a man history described as amnesiac that he has a twin and friends that miss him.” Cynthia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell Emmet that. Warden Ingo showed up remembering nothing.”

“Fuck.” Elesa’s breath hitched. Cynthia really hated being the bearer of this news. “Okay. Okay. I’ll let him know.”

“And I will let Warden Ingo know to expect him.” Cynthia heard Elesa hang up and put her phone down.

This was going to be an interesting conversation, especially when she didn’t know why Warden Ingo had brought a child with him or why that child had had a panic attack. She’d just have to ask. And she should let the Ranger Boss know she’d broken her NDA, although if they tried to hold her to it she was going to make a solid argument about that being for Warden Ingo, not Subway Boss Ingo.

Yes. Cynthia stood and moved out of the office she’d been led to. She’d just find Murasaki and let them know.

It didn’t take long to navigate through the hallways and find them- the Ranger offices were not so large. She knocked, and entered when she was bade to.

“Ranger Boss Imo.” Cynthia nodded her head. “I’ve got some information you need to know.”

“Is it related to why you’re not in your meeting with Warden Ingo?” Murasaki looked up from their computer. “We don’t need the room, or anything, but. He was fairly excited about it.”

“The child he was with had some kind of panic attack.” Cynthia shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know why. He took her off to calm her down, and said we could try again later. Probably without her.”

“Oh, Akari.” Murasaki frowned. “I’ll send someone by with more hot cocoa, then, I think she mentioned Ingo was almost out. Is that all? Although I do appreciate the update.”

“No.” Cynthia put her hands on the back of the visitor’s chair. “I believe Warden Ingo is the missing Subway Boss. And I have informed his closest not-twin friend of his presence. I understand I signed an NDA, but—”

“You know where he came from.” Murasaki let out a long breath. “Thank Sinnoh. We’ve been trying to do a trace on an implant he had, but it’s all medical information and we didn’t know what continent to start trying to convince to let us access their records. It’s not like we’ve got a warrant or anything. And we couldn’t get one without a lot more publicity than he said he would be comfortable with.”

“Oh.” Cynthia relaxed. “Yes. His twin will be on the way in the Unovan morning. It’s almost midnight over there.”

“Great.” Murasaki leaned back in their chair. “Fuck. That’s— I feel like I should get you a gift basket. We all know he hasn’t thrived here. He’s missing something. Or someone, I guess. Akari’s helped, but...” They shook their head. “Okay. I’ll let everyone know. You’re sure?”

“He’s in an exact matching uniform to Subway Boss Ingo’s. Down to the hat and the shoes, and I imagine the shirt and pants wouldn’t’ve held up in the past. And he had a joltik tie clip holding back his bangs. So... Yeah. I’m sure.” Cynthia pulled the chair out and sat down heavily. “You knew he wasn’t from the past originally?”

“Yeah, we found modern vaccines in him.” Murasaki poured a glass of water and slid it over to her before pouring and drinking their own. “Weren’t sure if he was from this time or still a bit off, but that was a pretty good sign.”

“Well. The amnesia is probably going to be the biggest hurdle.” Cynthia grimaced. “I don’t think anyone’s going to be able to convince Emmet to go slow.”

“You might have to.” Murasaki looked at her. “He gets migraines, when he tries to remember the past. Pretty nasty things. His Alakazam helps with them, but even so. I’d imagine seeing his twin again will give him a whopper.”

“Shit.” Cynthia groaned. “Right. Okay. I’ll let Emmet know. If it’ll make Ingo hurt, that’ll probably be what would make him take a bit more time… but he’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. It just might need to be a slow reintroduction.” Murasaki tapped the table. “I’ll let the Doc know. We can set up a room, and all. And if Ingo gets a migraine when you tell him, then I’ll fill in his Alakazam. She trusts me. She’ll listen.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know. Do you want my number, then? Quicker than emails.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

They performed the quick ritual of trading numbers and Cynthia smiled. “I’m glad you’re not upset. I know I did sign the paperwork.”

“No, no.” Murasaki sighed. “That was just… we didn’t want crowds swarming him. He agreed. And you can imagine how people would react to one of the ancient wardens appearing.”

“Given there was a list of historians waiting to talk to him? Yes.” Cynthia smiled wryly. “We arranged ourselves to not overwhelm him. I don’t know that reporters or other people would give a shit.”

“We assumed not.” Murasaki drank more water. “So no. I’m not upset. I’ll miss him, but hopefully he’ll visit, and we can stay in contact. I’m just glad he’ll find his home.”

“I’ll do my best to help that transition.” Cynthia smiled slightly. “At least until he goes back to Unova.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll go swing by with cocoa, and come back with the Doc so we can plan a medical response for if he gets a response worse than the migraines.” Murasaki stood up. “Feel free to keep on using that office. Dinner time’s posted on most walls.”

“Great.” Cynthia stretched as she stood. “I’ll get some work done. See you later.”

“Be seeing you. You have a hotel?” Murasaki opened the door out of their office and Cynthia stepped into the hallway.

“Yeah, just a short Garchomp ride away.” Cynthia laughed at the look on their face. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Maybe if you’re a maniac. Have fun with that.”

“I will!” Cynthia walked off to plan out how to talk to Warden Ingo without accidentally causing a small child— well, probably a teen, but she was horrible at ages— to have a panic attack.

Much to do. Very little time to do it.

Chapter Text

His xtrans was ringing.

Emmet gradually came back to himself, following the sound through the fog clouding his mind. He was on the couch, and his xtrans was— not on his wrist. It was on the far arm. He reached for it, but was thwarted by the weight across his legs. He shifted until Durant was no longer pinning him down, then reached out to grab the wayward device. He didn’t remember taking it off, but then, he didn’t remember getting home from work, either.

The screen read 2:07 am, and the incoming call was from Elesa. Ah. One of the depot agents must have snitched on him again. He was surprised they had woken Elesa for this. Emmet heard a soft chime as Chandelure woke, lifting off the end table to drift up to where Klinklang kept watch. He gave her the best smile he could muster and answered the call. Elesa’s face appeared, full of exhaustion and a mix of emotions Emmet could not manage to identify.

“I am Emmet. It was Furze, wasn’t it.”

“Emmet, I’m— wait, what? No, no, none of the depot agents called me. Just— I need you to listen to me, okay? This is important. I’m not even going to ask when you got home from Gear Station. I’m emailing you a first-class ticket to Sinnoh right now—”

“What?” Emmet couldn’t bite back the interruption in time and found he did not care that it was rude. “Elesa, we have talked about this, I am not going on vacation.”

“Not for vacation. Ingo’s in Sinnoh.”

Emmet’s mind went blank. Static filled his ears and he felt his vision start to swim out of focus. Ingo— Ingo was in Sinnoh? Why would he be—

Durant nipped his arm. Emmet inhaled shakily— had he been breathing? Whoops— and managed to refocus on the screen. Either Klinklang or Chandelure had turned on the light while he was zoned out, and he could hear the rest of their pokemon beginning to stir.

“Emmet?” Ah. He had not meant to worry her. “Are you back with me?”

It took a moment longer than he would have liked, but Emmet managed a nod. He propped up his xtrans on the table Chandelure had been napping on to free up his hands. Elesa, bless her, waited patiently.

I am Emmet. I am here, he signed.

“Glad to hear it. So. I just got a call from Cynthia. She said she was meeting with a man named Ingo who was some sort of historical figure for two and a half years, then vanished and appeared in modern Sinnoh, and he was identical to you but frowning. Same uniform and everything.” Elesa kept talking without waiting for Emmet to respond, so it was okay that he couldn’t wrangle any of his questions into coherency. “Your flight leaves Mistralton at 5:15 am, and I emailed you the ticket, you’ll be landing in Jubilife City which isn’t far from the Ranger Station at Mount Coronet which is where he’s been living apparently—”

Emmet tapped Eelektross, who obligingly sparked to draw Elesa’s attention. Do I need a permit? To bring our full team? Emmet asked, quickly enough to hide the way his hands were shaking. Hopefully.

“Uh, technically you do, yeah, but I’ll talk to Cynthia and see if she can deal with that.”

Thank you.

“You know you don’t need to thank me, right?” Elesa asked, voice softer. “I can’t—” She cleared her throat. “There’s too many challengers coming through, I can’t go to Sinnoh with you, but I should be able to cover for some of your battle shifts. Enough that the depot agents will manage without you for a while.”

Emmet nodded, swallowing back a sob. Truly he had better friends than he deserved.

“I’ll text you Cynthia’s contact information, she can probably tell you more? We didn’t talk for that long.” Elesa hesitated, and he could tell her fingers were twitching anxiously just out of frame. “There’s…one more thing. That she mentioned.”

Tell me? Emmet asked. He bit the inside of his cheek to distract from the taste of bile.

“Ingo has amnesia. Cynthia said— I don’t know the specifics I should have asked for the specifics but she said, quote, ‘Warden Ingo showed up remembering nothing.’”

Remembering nothing.

“She’s going to tell him about you,” Elesa’s voice said through the ringing in Emmet’s ears. “That you exist, and that you’re on your way. It’s— I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

That snapped Emmet out of his daze. It’s okay. He knew his smile wasn’t even remotely convincing, but the attempt was what mattered. Elesa would understand that. It is not your fault.

Elesa sighed, then stifled a yawn. “I know. Do you want to stay on the line while you pack?”

Emmet shook his head. Go back to sleep, Elesa. Thank you. I love you.

“Love you too, Emmet. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, okay?”

He should say yes. It would make things much simpler if he could say yes.

I will try, Emmet signed. He ended the call before his smile could waver.

Okay.

This was— Emmet could do this. Flight in three hours. That was plenty of time to collect their pokemon, pack, and get to Mistralton.

Ah. He was surrounded by much of their team. He did not see Crustle or Excadrill, but that was to be expected. Accelgor’s absence was less so, while Chandelure…

She had been better, the past few months. Interested in resuming battle on the Subway, instead of listlessly trailing after him and drifting through the apartment. Still, he wasn’t surprised that she had left the room as the others arrived.

We will be going to Sinnoh, Emmet informed them. Elesa says Ingo is there.

There was a beat of silence, then the room erupted. Emmet winced at the sudden onslaught of noise and found himself verrrry grateful for their apartment’s soundproofing. He closed his eyes briefly, clinging to that feeling while it lasted. It had been…well. A long time.

Haxorus’s roar cut through the clamour. The room quieted down, though Emmet could still hear chittering and clicking from the hall.

Thank you, Haxorus. Emmet gave her a few grateful pats, leaning against her. He took a (selfish) moment to brace himself. He needed to be strong for their team. Emmet straightened his posture, adjusting his coat until it fell properly.

Ingo is in Sinnoh, Emmet repeated. He let his smile falter to focus on keeping his movements clear and readable. He has amnesia. I do not know if— No. That wasn’t right. He probably does not remember us. That does not matter. We will see him soon. Eelektross wound around his waist, but Emmet did not let himself slump against her. Not now. The flight is long. It will be unpleasant.

There was more Emmet should say, he knew there was, but he was interrupted by Archeops bursting out of his room with a backpack clutched in her claws. Emmet’s smile grew more genuine as Archeops leapt onto Eelektross and dropped the backpack into his arms.

He could manage this.

Emmet could not manage this.

It was straightforward enough to pack his things, and get most of their team settled. But when he went into Ingo’s room to find Crustle (under her rock instead of hiding under the bed, chirring in irritation at a very smug Accelgor), he found his engine stalling out. He sat on the floor of Ingo’s room, taking measured breaths and digging his fingernails into his arms.

He should bring some of Ingo’s things, shouldn’t he?

Ingo had been missing for one hundred and forty-six weeks. That was…a verrrry long time. Ingo must have changed. Emmet had certainly changed, and he had not even forgotten—

No. He did not have time to go down those tracks.

Emmet scrambled to his feet, grabbed one of Ingo’s spare coats, and left (fled) the room.

GetStunfisked: I’m giving Emmet your contact information. Okay if he texts you questions?

Roseradiant historian: Of course.

GetStunfisked: Great! Please be nice to him it’s been. rough.

Roseradiant historian: Elesa, I’m not going to bully your friend after ambushing you both with information about his missing twin. Try to get a bit more sleep?

GetStunfisked: Absol-utely will. Thanks sweetie 💛

Emmet found Chandelure waiting by the apartment door.

I was looking for you, he told her, movements as gentle as he could make them. Do you have your pokeball?

Chandelure nodded. The ball floated into Emmet’s line of sight, surrounded by a faint purple glow. Emmet reached out, but Chandelure yanked it just out of reach and held out a piece of paper to him instead.

Is that— Emmet’s hands stilled as Chandelure moved the paper closer to him. The form was verrrry familiar. Chandelure, why do you have your emotional support pokemon paperwork?

“Luuuure.” Chandelure smugly bobbed from side to side. It was reassuring to see her so lively. Maybe she could sense something about Ingo?

That will not work. The paperwork is in Ingo’s name, not mine, Emmet reminded her patiently. I do not think the airline personnel will be satisfied.

Chandelure’s flames flared. Emmet carefully moved his hand towards her pokeball, but she pulled it away from him again. Away from him and—

Emmet’s eyebrow twitched. He stared at her pokeball, now nestled in her head globe and wreathed in ghostly flames.

“Cha~an.”

You can gloat all you want, Emmet warned her. If the flight crew says you need to go in your ball for safety checks, we will be listening to them.

Chandelure twirled dismissively, dangling the paperwork in front of Emmet’s face until he gave up and took it. He sighed, folding the form and sliding it into his coat pocket. He double-checked that everyone except Chandelure was in place and pointed at the door. The familiar pose, even half-empty and unmirrored, still brought some comfort.

All aboard.

Ingo patted Akari on the back. “You do not have to come with me at all. I am an adult, and quite capable of handling my own meetings. Besides, if she turns out to be anything like Volo, I could not conscience you being there.”

“I should be.” Akari hugged her Typhlosion closer. “I beat him, after all.”

“Yes, well. It’s my turn, if it is the case.” Ingo stood slowly. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Akari nodded. “... But if anything happens send a pokemon to come get me, okay?”

“Of course. I would not leave you out of the loop. But if that turns out not to be the case, then I will make sure to ask if she would know how to properly contact my twin.” Ingo made his voice as soothing as possible. “I will not forget. Okay?”

“Okay.” Akari sighed. “Okay. I’ll stay here.”

“Good.” Ingo ruffled her hair and headed to the door.

Hopefully this Cynthia would not be anything like Volo. He doubted it. Volo had always made him uncomfortable, and if someone like Volo had realized they were recognized as a threat, well. There would already have been a battle.

Ingo did tuck most of his pokeballs into various pockets, but he left three visible. If he hid them all, it would be quite clear he had something to hide.

Ingo keyed into the building again.

He patted a pocket to double check. Ah, good, he did still have the notebooks. Hopefully he would be able to avoid having to actually talk about everything.

“Miss Cynthia?” Ingo knocked at the door to the meeting room. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course!”

Ingo opened the door in the middle of her sentence, and was glad that she was sitting down. He took a seat opposite her, and slid the notebooks over the table.

“Oh! What are these?” Cynthia picked them up with evident delight.

“I wrote down all my recollections of the ruins I saw in Hisui, and drew them as well. Including a drawing of the Temple, before it became the spear pillars.” Ingo shrugged apologetically. “I thought you might not want to have to herd me through all of that.”

“Well— you’re not wrong.” She smiled, and Ingo tentatively labeled it sheepish. “There’s a reason I focus on ruins, it lets me avoid people unless I’m battling.”

“Ah, do you have an interest in battling?” Ingo drew himself to attention, then remembered that— “I suppose as a former Champion, you would have to.”

“Champions that don’t don’t tend to last long, no.” Cynthia looked at her phone. Ingo hadn’t noticed it before, flat on the table as it was, but he did see the screen light up.

“Don’t let me keep you if you do have something to tend to.” Ingo supposed a former Champion and historian must have lots on her plate. “I am quite easy to find,” he added.

Cynthia snorted a laugh, and quickly moved a hand to cover her face. “My apologies, that was quite rude—”

“Do not worry about it.” Ingo covered his own smirk. “I’m aware it’s a bit ironic for someone who went missing from history to say that. But the Rangers won’t let me go anywhere without a phone, now, so if you did need to return later, it would be easy to find me. Well.” Ingo felt his face settle back into his habitual frown. “... Assuming no further derailment.”

“Oh, that does remind me— although feel free to tell me this question is so horribly rude you won’t answer it, as apparently that’s why none of my colleagues have asked yet— how did you become Warden, given the arguable lack of qualifications? We don’t know much, but Wardens were chosen by the Clans, yes?”

“Not at all, really.” Ingo shook his head. “Although the Clans would attempt to guide the selections, the experience was far more likely to be a Noble simply picking a person they felt a connection with. In my time, two Wardens were children, and the Clans simply did their best to support those children.”

“Ah. You know, you’ve just settled a quite long-running argument in historical communities, thank you very much.” Cynthia settled back with an almost Sneasler-like expression of satisfaction. “Although now I’m afraid people are going to have more questions about that process.”

“That is fine.” Ingo shrugged. “... It would have been rude if you ever phrased it as the people in Jubilife did, but none of you historians have so far assumed you simply know better than the Clans, despite not knowing their history and circumstances.”

Cynthia looked at him, and for a moment Ingo felt pinned. Trapped and evaluated. The moment passed quickly as she softened. “... I’ve done something I should tell you about.”

“Is this something related to an attempt to reshape reality in your own image using divine power?” Ingo asked warily.

“I did look up Volo, and I agree that based on old paintings the resemblance is remarkable, but no.” Cynthia tapped the screen of her phone with one nail. “I recognized you. And I contacted a friend we share before asking you what you would want.”

“I— oh.” Ingo didn’t know what to name the knot that settled in his chest at the idea that he might not have wanted his friend contacted. He could not linger on it right now. “I was going to ask you this after our discussion. Miss Akari introduced me to the internet, and we found a man who appears to be my twin, but an attempt to contact him was met with a script.” Ingo felt his frown deepen. “And none of the tweets sounded right.”

“Emmet handed his account over to a PR team pretty quickly, I think,” Cynthia told him. “I technically helped Elesa convince him. My own twitter is still run by Sinnoh Championship PR, and I didn’t mind her using my account as an example of how efficient it can be.”

“And you told him about me?” Ingo looked down as her phone lit up again.

“Well. I told Elesa, who you are both friends with, and she told him, and apparently gave him my phone number.” Cynthia shrugged. “He has been texting me. If you’d like, I could let the two of you talk?”

Ingo stared at the phone. It had not suddenly transformed into a raging Alpha, but that did not change the fact that his body reacted just as if it had.

“...I haven’t told him that I’m talking to you right now yet. I will not, if you don’t want me to.”

“I think... I think that would be wise.” Ingo hated the words even as he said them. “If I— had to leave. Because of a migraine. It would be distressing to us both, I imagine.”

“Then that’s fine.” Cynthia hesitated a moment. “He’s on the way. He has a plane ticket, and he’s heading to the airport, I believe.”

“Emmet hates planes.” Ingo blinked. He did not know where that certainty had come from. “I’m glad, though. That he will be here quickly. And thank you, for telling me he is coming. Did you still want to talk to me?”

“Well, if you don’t mind me answering texts while we talk, I’d love to ask you some specific questions about the Spear Pillars.” Cynthia pulled out a notebook and pen. “It’s fine if you don’t know, but I’m fascinated by ancient ruins.”

“I do not mind.” Ingo settled himself deeper into the seat. “Begin the questioning, I suppose?”

“Right! Would you happen to know where the stone for the temple was quarried?” Cynthia uncapped her pen and looked at him with anticipation.

“Ah, while I cannot say for certain, the Clans did agree that it came from the Ancient Quarry—”

“Ancient Quarry? Can you mark that on a map?” Cynthia tapped her phone. “I can pull one up.”

“I wrote down the location in the notebook, but I can tell you the myths surrounding the place now.” Ingo had not thought those would be interesting, but. What did he know? And he certainly owed Cynthia, now.

“Yes! Please.”

Ingo opened his mouth and began to talk. It distracted his mind. Recounted stories told to him once was far easier than delving into his own swirling emotions.

Emmet: Hello. I am Emmet. Elesa gave me your number.

Cynthia: Hi, Emmet. I was told you’d be messaging me soon. How can I help?

Cynthia: I really do just want to help. But I am not great with people and definitely not familiar with this situation, so please bear with me when I phrase things poorly?

Emmet: Thats okay. I prefer honesty. Even when it is painful.

Emmet: You have met Ingo. How—

Emmet: Is he

Emmet: amnesia. Elaborate?

Cynthia: It’s well-documented that Warden Ingo appeared in Hisui (ancient Sinnoh) with no memory of where he came from or who he was prior to that.

Cynthia: For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was from a head wound? Or not only a head wound. I’m no doctor, but an injury severe enough to cause that would have to have way more side effects which just aren’t attested in the historical record or by the Rangers now.

Emmet: How ancient is ancient Sinnoh?

Cynthia: Ah. Ancient isn’t technically accurate. The relevant records are a bit spotty, but he appeared around 327 years ago.

Emmet: oh

Emmet: how the fuck did he get there

Cynthia: There was a whole mess with space-time rifts. I’ll spare you the details but a lot of modern pokemon and tech fell through into Hisui, so he probably did as well.

Emmet: that is…

Emmet: I do not know. what it is.

Cynthia. Complicated?

Emmet: yup

Cynthia: Understandable.

Cynthia: Regarding his amnesia. I have been told that trying to remember things from before Hisui gives him migraines.

Cynthia: The phrasing leads me to believe that he is improving, and apparently his Alakazam has been assisting. But we still might need to figure out how to…reintroduce you slowly? I guess?

Emmet: thanks. for the advance warning

Cynthia: I know Ranger Boss Murasaki will be talking to their on-staff doctor to make sure they’re prepared for whatever might happen. Some sort of plan will be in place by the time you get here.

Emmet: ok

Cynthia: I’m sorry. About the situation, and that you’re hearing about it like this, from me.

Emmet: it is better than not hearing it.

Emmet: I will have more questions later?

Cynthia: Just let me know. Might be a bit delayed from the time difference, but I’ll do my best to answer them.

Emmet: Thank you.

“Boss Emmet! I thought I told you to go home.”

Ramses. Emmet tucked his phone away and kept his eyes fixed on the uniform tie so he did not have to see the concern on Ramses’ face. I am not here for work. I am going to Mistralton City.

“At three in the morning?” Ramses asked. Emmet appreciated the evident (if unsuccessful) attempt to keep his shock out of his voice. “Boss, what happened?”

Fuck.

There is a lead, Emmet signed eventually.

“There is?” Ah. The hope in his voice…Emmet had to close his eyes to ground himself before nodding. “That’s— Okay. Do you want me to tell the other agents, or no?”

I don’t know, Emmet admitted, stomach twisting.

“That makes sense! It is way too damn late for decisions. Is touch okay right now, boss?”

Emmet forced himself to open his eyes. He nodded.

Ramses immediately swept him into a hug. “Don’t worry about us, boss. We’ll keep everything running smoothly. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help, all right?”

Emmet nodded against Ramses’ shoulder and tried to pretend he wasn’t crying. At least the two of them were the only ones in the car. After a long moment, Ramses gave him a final squeeze and let go.

“Mistralton, yes? Are you going to need an interpreter?”

Thank you, but no. Emmet shook his head. I already have a ticket.

Ramses sighed. “You know that’s not why I asked, boss, but okay.” He turned to Chandelure, hovering just above and behind Emmet’s shoulder. “Take care of him?”

“Del,” Chandelure huffed, clearly offended by the lack of trust.

“Yes, of course. My apologies, ma’am.” Ramses smiled at her, then saluted Emmet. “Safe travels, boss.”

All Emmet could manage in reply was a brighter smile and a salute. It would have to be enough.

Emmet: how long has Ingo been back in the present?

Cynthia: Approximately four months, since late fall.

Emmet: and he has been with the rangers that whole time?

Cynthia: Not for the first week or so, but after that, yes.

Emmet: how is he?

Emmet: just— in general, i guess

Cynthia: I really cannot answer that question as thoroughly as it deserves. But I think…as well as can be expected?

Cynthia: He seems to have returned to the present unintentionally, which I can only imagine was difficult. But he has access to medical care, friendly people, and his pokemon.

Cynthia: I think he misses you?

Cynthia: A friend of his was apparently helping him look into his past online, and she reached out to your twitter. He said that the words didn’t sound right, presumably because they were from your PR team and not you.

Cynthia: So I think that despite the amnesia. He misses you.

Emmet: I

Emmet: that is verrrrrrrry good to know.

Emmet: sorry i need. a moment

Cynthia: No apologies necessary.

Cynthia: It’s pretty late here. I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose?

Emmet: yes. tomorrow.

“I can skip an extra day! I can get a doctor’s note!” Akari crossed her arms and glared at Ingo. “Just in case! You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I am not a doctor and I am not forging a note for your school, Akari.” Ingo shook his head. “And Doctor Minteki is not going to be amenable to those shenanigans either. You are going to have to go to school tomorrow, and that means leaving tonight.”

“You’re going to meet your twin without me?” Akari teared up. “I want to be here. What if something happens? You’ll need me!”

“Akari.” Ingo carefully reached out and set his hands on her shoulders. “Akari, I promise you. I will be here when you come back.”

She crumpled and started to sob, and Ingo gently pulled her into a hug. Right. This was a big transition. What would his therapist say…

Well, first Ingo would probably get talked to about actually scheduling emergency sessions, instead of just waiting until the next one like he was doing right now. But after that…

“We have our phones, now. And Palkia and Dialga are in, if not easy reach, attainable reach. I am certain they would remember you if you reached out to the current Champion to ask for their assistance. I will not leave. You will have a chance to say goodbye, Akari. And I will come visit you, and you will come visit me, I am sure.”

“It’s not that,” she muttered. “M’just. I should be here. Just in case.”

“I will be here, Akari.” Ingo repeated himself. “I will be here. I will not leave without giving you a chance to say goodbye. But do you really want to watch two old men crying on each other? Because I am certain that is what will happen. Or they might not even let us meet up.”

“Might stick you in two separate rooms. Introduce you through the door.” Akari mumbled into Ingo’s chest. “Like Meowths. What if I’m not there to take photos of this momentous event?”

“If you tell Boss Imo, I’m certain they will take photographs for you.” Ingo kept on patting. “I will text you updates. Okay?”

“Every hour.” Akari’s voice was getting even more quiet.

“At least every two hours. I will set an alarm. Except when I am sleeping.” Ingo grunted as Akari squeezed him tighter. “Akari. My injuries.”

“Shit. Sorry.” She loosened her grasp a bit and Ingo quickly adjusted the folds of his coat and his pockets to avoid his phone jamming into a scar. “Better?”

“Yes. You may continue trying to squeeze the life out of me. Oof.” Ingo patted Akari’s back again as she returned to squeezing him. “Is that... better? I want to know what I can do to help.”

“Letting me stay here,” Akari grumped.

“Besides that. Let’s not upset your parents that much, hm?”

“They’d live.” Akari attempted an arch tone. “At least I’d be in the right time period.”

“Akari.” Ingo shook his head. “... You have left after other weekends, and I have been fine. You haven’t come some weekends, and I have been fine. I promise that, as much as it is in my power to do so, I will be here when you return next Saturday. I highly doubt my twin is going to kidnap me back to Unova, or something. Okay?”

“Stop being so logical.” Akari shook her head. “... You were going to be in Jubilife when you disappeared. And then you weren’t. If it happens again I am going to break reality just so it will stop fucking with you!”

“I feel... strangely certain that my twin will help you, if that happens. But Akari, that is not your job. Your job is to be a teen, now. To get to actually be a child.” Ingo gripped her a bit tighter. “You are a dear friend. Do not let me drag you down.”

“You were gone.” Akari was crying now. “It’s not dragging me down when you disappear. You’re the only person that understands. In Hisui and now. You’re not allowed to disappear again. So I have to be here. To make sure you won’t.”

Oh dear. That was…far more intense than Ingo had expected. That...was something to talk about at a less emotional time, he thought. Right now, he needed to think of something that would comfort Akari and yet still get her to school.

He just didn’t know. That was the problem. For all that he knew Akari was a child, and should not carry his burdens, she had been forced to grow up too quickly in Hisui. She had been treated as an adult far before her time. There was no way Ingo could lift that back off her shoulders.

“You can stay one more night, but you have to leave early in the morning. Very early, so you make it to school.” Ingo spoke slowly, formulating and saying his plan in the same moment. “That way you’ll leave knowing that Doctor Minteki is watching me, and she and Boss Imo would hardly let anything happen, right?”

“Right.” Akari agreed slowly.

“And perhaps you can come for a quick overnight visit in the middle of the week?” Ingo thought that could probably be arranged. “Will that feel safe?”

“That... That would be good. Yes.” Akari nodded, scrubbing at her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Alright. Text your parents, and I will set the couch bed back up for you. Okay?” Ingo hoped this would be acceptable. He didn’t know what else to say, certainly.

“... Okay.” Akari finally loosened her grip. “In a bit.”

“In a bit,” Ingo agreed.

Emmet let his smile fade as the flight attendant continued down the aisle. He was unsettling them. He could tell that much. He simply…could not muster the energy to avoid it.

He turned back to his phone screen.

There was not a lot of information available about Warden Ingo. But there was enough. Enough to recognize his brother’s face in the worn, faded pictures. Enough to see Ingo’s dedication in the stories of lives saved and passengers conducted safely through hazardous wilderness. To notice his skill in the descriptions of training, of battling, of teaching. To find his kindness in the spaces between the recorded histories, reciprocated in the acceptance and loyalty of his adopted family there.

To discover the extent of his resilience. For it must have been resilience, to survive in such a harsh place, to adapt, to become someone who could endure Hisui.

Emmet did not think he would have described Ingo as resilient before. Strong, of course, determined, tenacious, far too stubborn on occasion…but not resilient.

Then again, Emmet would not have described himself as resilient either. But he must be.

He was still here, after all.

Most of the information about Warden Ingo was in Sinnohan. That was to be expected. He was an important historical figure, but not prominent enough to attract the attention of many scholars from other regions. Emmet read and reread the sparse pages available to him, then forced himself to put his phone away. Translation technology was too fallible to trust with something this important.

Emmet held Chandelure close to his chest and tried to just…breathe.

Inhale. Exhale.

Hisui had been. Verrrry dangerous. Dangerous, and cruel, and suspicious. Suspicious of pokemon, suspicious of each other, suspicious of anything and everything new and unexplained.

Suspicion always fell upon those who were different. And even now, when the world was so much kinder, Emmet and Ingo had never been normal.

Emmet stared deep into Chandelure’s flames and waited for the nausea to fade.

Ingo had been back for months. Months.

Ingo had not been alone. Emmet knew that. Just as Emmet knew he himself was not alone, had never been alone (except in all the ways that mattered). Ingo had a new team, now, and new friends. So he had not been alone. Emmet should not be bitter that they could have been reunited months before now, did not need to spend a third yahrzeit apart could have mourned their mother properly, like they used to, together—

A new team. Hopefully they would get along with their team. They would make it work. The two of them always had.

An Alakazam, though. Emmet knew that that was a strange place to derail, but he did so, again and again. He and Ingo had agreed that they did not want the complications of psychic types. Neither of them were psychic themselves, and if you were not psychic, a psychic type would try to be the trainer in the relationship. Even when they did not actually have the emotional and mental maturity to do so, they were still convinced they knew better.

It was an arrogance that probably came from knowing what everyone was thinking. Emmet and Ingo had decided they did not want to deal with it. So even with amnesia, why would Ingo change his mind now? Had— had he been wiped that clean?

And Ingo had chosen an Alakazam. One of the few psychic types that were smarter than most humans. They usually barely deigned to stay with trainers, even. But one was staying with Ingo, and helping him, and Emmet knew his brother.

Ingo had probably raised that pokemon from an Abra.

Would that change how they treated him? Would a pokemon that intelligent feel indebted— no. Not indebted, that wasn’t right. Would they feel loyalty, maybe even filial towards the trainer who helped them ascend to those heights?

Caitlin had an Alakazam, didn’t she? One of the few pokemon she’d brought with her when she immigrated from Sinnoh, if he was remembering right. But she was psychic, and they were not, so her experience was probably of limited relevance. And she wouldn’t be awake this early anyway, and she would be verrrry angry if he woke her up.

Ah. Emmet was making excuses again.

Chandelure pressed herself a bit more firmly into Emmet’s chest. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

Ingo’s Alakazam had been helping him with his memories, Cynthia had said. That was…concerning. Alakazams were not known for their healing abilities. Their powers could be used therapeutically, in theory. But human minds were…complicated. Complicated in a way that most Alakazams deemed not worth the necessary patience, according to what Emmet had read while waiting for the flight. If he had actually processed it correctly.

It was a good sign that Alakazam cared enough to help, whatever the reasoning behind it. The fact that months of their help had not been sufficient to let Ingo remember home, remember their friends, remember Emmet—

Inhale. Exhale.

Attempting to remember hurt Ingo. Maybe Alakazam did not want to hurt Ingo, even to help. Emmet could understand that. That would be hard to do.

...

Seeing Emmet might hurt Ingo. Emmet might not be able to stay with Ingo through everything. That would be hard to do. But he would know where Ingo was, and that Ingo was alive and getting medical help. So Emmet would live, and there would be no other choice. Because Ingo was.

But Emmet...

It was going to be rough. Maybe Ingo’s Alakazam would understand.

Emmet did not want to hurt Ingo, but Emmet himself hurt so badly. The thought of Ingo’s eyes meeting his, blank and flat, no spark of recognition or fondness within them…Emmet swallowed back his nausea again.

That did not matter. Not really.

He should not be selfish.

He had heard that over and over.

Not from anyone who mattered, not really. Their friends knew better than that. Even Drayden hadn’t meant—

…his intentions had been kind. Emmet should probably apologize to him, eventually. Even though he hadn’t actually broken Drayden’s nose. It had still been rude. Verrrry rude. Yup. Emmet would apologize. Once he actually…talked to him again. It would happen at some point. Ingo would want to relearn dragon-type care from the best.

It had been worse before he had given up his social media, handing it over to the understanding PR team of Gear Station, who did not let him look at his mentions or DMs unless they chose to forward them to him directly. So many people telling him he was selfish for not hiring a second Subway Boss. That he needed to move on. That it had been too long to still grieve.

People had said many things.

Those things did not matter. He knew this.

That knowledge did not silence their echoes.

Therapy had not helped with that either, not when even the therapist had not understood how it felt to have lost his twin, not even enough to fake it. And it had not been worth it to try again. Emmet had listened, and he had nodded, and he had said all the right things until no one raised their eyebrows at him no longer going.

He didn’t need grief counseling anyway. Grief was for the dead.

Zoroark snuffled at Ingo’s armpits and rumbled with a slight growl.

“I showered four hours ago.” Ingo opened his eyes slightly. Despite how they burned to be closed, he had still failed to get more than an occasional half hour of sleep. He hoped Akari could not hear him on the couch. “Do not tell me I stink.”

“No, no... you smell less.” She sniffed loudly right in Ingo’s face.

“Cold nose, Zoroark.” Ingo rolled over and hid his face in the pillow. Maybe he would sleep better like this, with the lack of oxygen. “I am trying to sleep. Please.”

“Your scent is changing too fast.” Zoroark put one of her paws on his back and stuck her nose right onto Ingo’s neck. He yelped. Torments. Truly a Hisuian Zoroark was made of nothing but spite. “It’s concerning.”

“Zoroark,” Ingo wheezed. “Weight.”

She removed her paw and settled back on the bed. “Are you doing secret soul physical therapy?”

“I am very curious about when you think I could do that. And how.” Ingo rolled back to his side. “No. I have not done so.”

“You smell less like a snack.” She licked his face, and Ingo sputtered. “I mean, you have been since we came here. But now it’s happening even faster. Weirdly fast. Like, you changed between two sniffs. That can’t be good.”

“I do not know.” Ingo did not have the bandwidth to add another problem to the pile. “You can tell Doctor Minteki at my appointment on Wednesday.”

“Hmph.” Zoroark’s huff blew back Ingo’s hair. “I will.”

“Let me go back to trying to sleep, then?” Ingo reached out and carefully pet Zoroark’s mane.

“Fine.”

Ingo finally let his eyes slam closed again. He was so tired. If he could just get a little more sleep in, that would be perfect.

Emmet: I am Emmet. I am in Jubilife.

Emmet: What is the quickest way to get to the Mount Coronet Ranger Station?

Cynthia: this is punishment for waking elesa isnt it

Cynthia: ok! welcome to sinnoh emmet it is. 5:48 am

Cynthia: quickest way to the ranger station is to wait right where you are. gimme a minute to get up, garchomp and i will pick you up asap

Emmet: Okay. Thank you Cynthia.

Emmet: I am sorry for waking you.

Cynthia: get garchomp a poffin while you wait and well call it even

Emmet: I will.

Flights were verrrrrrrry miserable. Just the worst. Ingo was worth it, but Emmet felt like death warmed over, and that was before he had texted Cynthia, waking her up, when Ingo wasn’t even a morning person. Ingo would not even be awake and Emmet had gotten someone else out of bed.

Emmet should not have woken Cynthia. He should have gotten— no, he did not even need a motel room. He should have sat down in a chair in one of the airport waiting areas and allowed himself to pass out. It would not have been hard. Ten hour flight, and several hours of anxious waiting before that, and a long work shift before that, and…

Huh. When had he last slept, actually?

Was it helpful to figure this out? No. But now Emmet needed to know, and he was becoming guiltily certain it had been nearly two days since he had slept. No, probably longer than that, nearer three…Ingo would not approve. Emmet had not been following safety checks. But if Emmet went to sleep now, he might not wake up until Ingo had gone back to sleep, and that was not acceptable either. He would just find caffeine and stay awake once he got to the ranger station with Cynthia. There must be a vending machine somewhere around here. He needed to find a treat for Cynthia’s Garchomp anyway.

He may have lost track of time a bit. But that did not matter, because now he was outside and there was a woman standing next to a Garchomp and waving at him. He forced his legs into motion and walked over to her.

“I am Emmet. You must be Cynthia, yes?”

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Emmet.” Cynthia nodded to Chandelure as she drifted over to greet Garchomp, then gave him an evaluating look. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you wouldn’t listen to any suggestions about delaying this, right?”

“I will not permit delays upon these tracks,” Emmet agreed. His smile felt stale on his face as he continued, “Unless it is as a safety check.” He focused on the Garchomp so he would not have to meet Cynthia’s eyes. “I do not want to hurt Ingo. Can I trust you to apply the brakes, if necessary?”

He heard Cynthia sigh. “I can’t promise that. I don’t know either of you particularly well. But I will do my best.”

“Verrrry sensible. And I appreciate your honesty.” Emmet had to check several pockets before he remembered where he put the poffin, but he found it and held it out to Garchomp. She sniffed it suspiciously, then consumed it in a single bite.

“Okay. You haven’t ridden on a Garchomp before, have you?” Emmet shook his head. “Okay! It’s perfectly safe, don’t worry. Let me just help you up—”

Emmet recalled Chandelure to her pokeball and focused as Cynthia started her explanation.

Emmet did not like Garchomp riding. The speed might have been fun under other circumstances, but despite Cynthia’s claims there were simply not enough safety precautions. Far too dangerous!

He managed to not complain. That was a verrrry big victory.

He also managed to not fall over while dismounting. That was perhaps an even greater victory.

“You did really well! Especially for your first time.” Cynthia’s voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel. Not a good sign. “Come on, I can take you to the Ranger mess hall and you can get some food in you.”

“Coffee.” Emmet heard Chandelure release herself again. “First.”

“If you have a heart attack that will delay your reunion a lot more,” Cynthia said.

Emmet shook his head. “I will not. Unacceptable.”

Chandelure nudged his side and Emmet felt a jolt of energy that made it slightly easier to stand up.

“You are a verrrry good support pokemon,” Emmet managed to say. “Breakfast.”

“Yeah, okay. Alright. Fair enough.” Cynthia recalled her Garchomp after a few more pats. “Follow me, then.”

Cynthia walked off and Emmet managed to corral his limbs into forward propulsion. It was hard. That did not matter.

What mattered was that he was close to Ingo.

So he kept on walking. The path was smooth and even. The air was cold, cold as Unovan winter, and Emmet was not dressed for it. Chandelure came and let Emmet hold her. The warmth helped.

Until she shot out of his arms, chiming loudly, and Emmet focused on her and then on the point behind her and started to run.

His mind was blank. Emmet was vaguely aware that he was about to pass out, now that he was running. That did not matter. What mattered was—

“Ingo.” Emmet could not manage a yell, even now, his voice came out broken and hoarse, but Ingo looked up anyways, and when he saw Emmet he drew up in shock and then opened his arms, welcoming and home.

Emmet crashed into Ingo and wrapped his arms around him, and the last thing he thought as the two of them tipped over was oh. Safety checks, Emmet, you were supposed to go slowly—

And then he was out.

Chapter Text

Ingo felt peculiar. He couldn’t quite explain it, and he certainly wasn’t going to right now. He was busy. He had to hold Emmet and make sure his twin did not slip onto the ground. The ground was not a good place for passed out people. He knew that, because he had been a passed out person on the ground, and it was quite uncomfortable when you woke up.

“Please at least move to your lodge,” Boss Imo said. “Ingo. You’re in the middle of the path. It needs to be clear for accessibility reasons. You know this.”

“... Machamp, could you be a dear and come out and pick me and my twin up?” Ingo shifted slightly so that Machamp’s pokeball could wriggle loose and open.

“Machamp!” She carefully picked up the two of them, and her own pokeball.

“Thank you, dear. We’re returning to my cabin now.” Ingo looked down at Imo, an unusual circumstance. “Can you let Doctor Minteki know that I would appreciate seeing her in my cabin soon?”

“I will let her know your twin is just as much of an idiot about his health as you.” Imo looked at Ingo levelly. “... How’s your head?”

“Surprisingly pain-free! I do have a mild headache, but that is likely due to the fact that I was unable to get much sleep last night.” Ingo shrugged apologetically at Imo’s exasperated sigh. “I tried. I remained in bed. I simply could not sleep.” He probably should have asked Alakazam. But she greatly preferred to sleep in, and tended to enforce it when she assisted him with slumber, so it was much better in retrospect that he had not. Sleeping through Emmet’s arrival would have been completely unacceptable.

“Well.” Imo sighed. “Okay. Yes. I will let Doctor Minteki know. But you’d better eat. You need breakfast. He definitely needs breakfast himself, whenever he wakes up.”

“I will eat,” Ingo promised. “Thank you, Imo. Machamp, take us onwards?”

Machamp happily jogged off, and Ingo tightened his grip on Emmet as they both bounced slightly.

He had a twin.

He had a twin who had clearly not been taking care of himself, and Ingo now had some moral high ground on this manner, although he would not say anything like that to Doctor Minteki.

Ingo carefully shifted Emmet until his chin rested on Ingo’s shoulder. That way, nothing would obstruct his breathing. It was much easier than it should have been. Ingo was stronger now than he had been before Hisui, but he was certain Emmet should not be this light.

The door to Ingo’s lodge swung open while Machamp was still a few steps away. It glowed with the same purple light that Ingo now noticed surrounding his pokeballs and the holsters Emmet wore.

He knew that his precious partner was there, hovering just above Machamp’s head. Even if he couldn’t see the sparks, he could feel her presence. And it was only feel so far. It was perhaps cruel of him, but he had not yet looked up at her.

Ingo could not help but be distantly grateful that Akari had already departed after her nightmares woke them both early. He did not think having another person involved in this situation would be helpful.

“Thank you,” Ingo told Machamp as she set them down on the couch. She nodded, taking a step back. Ingo took a moment to wiggle himself fully upright, and then got to rearranging Emmet. Ingo carefully lifted each of Emmet’s legs to stretch along the couch, but could not bring himself to move Emmet off his lap, and instead held him close.

Eventually Ingo might need to move Emmet to avoid pins and needles, but for now this was comfortable.

Now that they were settled, Ingo took a bracing breath and looked up from Emmet.

This was apparently the signal Chandelure (Chandelure she was Chandelure) had been waiting for, as she screamed gleefully and launched herself into Ingo’s arms. Without her holding their pokeballs shut, the rest of their teams burst out, overfilling the entire room with pokemon in an instant. Ingo felt the briefest spike of panic at their sudden appearances, but it was quickly soothed away by Alakazam’s gentle presence and Chandelure’s comforting flames.

“Not so loud, please,” Ingo said, painfully aware of his own volume. “If you wake Emmet I will be very disappointed.”

The pokemon quieted down at that, and Ingo quite appreciated that, for all that he could not currently show it. He would have to cook for them later, or find some other method of showing his appreciation.

He wasn’t quite sure what pokemon of the future liked. He thought it would likely be the same, it certainly was for the assorted Rangers’ partners he had met, but...

He wanted to be perfect for them.

“I missed you all,” Ingo said quietly. “I did not realize this. But I did. Did Emmet tell you?” Ingo looked around at their shared team and wondered. “… I have amnesia. Alakazam can likely explain the details better than I— she has been working with the doctor.” Ingo frowned. “…Doctor Minteki is going to want to redo all the tests.”

“Kazam.” Alakazam looked up from where she was staring into Eelektross’s eyes.

Ingo decided that whatever they were communicating about, he did not want to know.

He lost track of time as various pokemon climbed onto his lab, or came over and nudged at him until he pet them.

It required very careful rebalancing to pet— Crustle, Ingo thought? — without toppling Emmet over, but he managed to do it. It was a novelty, having pokemon run up to him with delight. Seeking attention.

... Seaking. Ingo stored that pun away for the future. It felt like something he would have use for. And in the meantime he did not have to think, just pet whatever pokemon came to hand and await the Doctor.

Local Cryptid: Emmet has arrived.

Arceus’s Special Girl: ALREADY???? I just fucking left can’t believe I barely missed him.

Arceus’s Special Girl: is your head okay? What’s he like?? What about your teams, are they getting along?

Local Cryptid: My head is fine. I am…not entirely sure, yet, as he passed out as soon as he arrived.

Arceus’s Special Girl: what do you mean he passed out?? Is he hurt or something?

Local Cryptid: Dr. Minteki has been informed of the issue and will be here shortly.

Local Cryptid: Yes, our teams are getting along well, and seeing my partners from before is helping with my memories quite a bit.

Arceus’s Special Girl: Good!!!

Arceus’s Special Girl: I can’t wait to meet everyone on Wednesday

Local Cryptid: I’m sure they will like you. I will text you later, I’m sure you should be getting to class and my hands are required for pets.

Arceus’s Special Girl: 👍

Ingo yawned quietly as Doctor Minteki read off his blood pressure and numerous other things that he simply did not find important at the moment. She would email them to him anyways, which was delightful. Emails were delightful. Only Akari and Doctor Minteki emailed him, but they seemed quite nice. He got summaries of his appointments with his medical records, or fun and interesting images from Akari. They were nice!

Without being asked he carefully lifted up Emmet’s arm so that Doctor Minteki could also get Emmet’s vitals.

“I cannot believe you both don’t know how to take care of yourselves.” She shook her head. “I really, really hoped that your twin would understand basic human care requirements.”

“He is sleeping now,” Ingo protested. “And if I had a headache I would have informed Alakazam immediately. I would not have waited for her to find out. The two of you would have conspired if I hadn’t.”

“Yes, well.” She sighed. “His vitals are horrible! But well within what I see when Rangers overwork themselves, so I am prescribing rest and healthy food and mild exercise. Nothing strenuous, just the minimum movement the human body needs. And I want to do more scans on your brain.”

“Ala.” Alakazam floated herself over to Doctor Minteki, and Ingo watched the two of them hold a mental conversation.

“Soul damage— fucking of course, the one thing we don’t have equipment to scan for—” Doctor Minteki threw up her hands. “Alright. Ingo. Your Alakazam says that your Chandelure says you have soul damage, from the bond you have with her getting strained from your displacement in time and space. And they both think that’s the cause of your amnesia. Most hospitals can’t even scan for that, that’s specialist level equipment, I cannot believe this.”

“I’m glad you have an answer now?” Ingo felt quite timid in the face of Doctor Minteki’s clear annoyance at herself. “And I think you can hardly be blamed for not knowing.”

“Given the rest of your medical needs, I absolutely should have assumed the most esoteric complaint possible.” She sighed and sat back on the coffee table. “Your Chandelure’s repairing the damage. It probably started healing by itself as the two of you got closer, but she’ll be able to finish the job.”

“Oh!” Ingo brightened. “That was why Zoroark said my soul smelled different. She must have smelled the bond settling back in.” And he was never going to mention that before that he had smelled like prey. He looked over at Zoroark, who nodded once. Excellent. They were in agreement. “... Please tell me there’s no new supplements to take for soul damage.”

“Unfortunately, no. At least, none that I’m familiar with. I’ll dig into the literature when I have a moment, see if I can find anything or at least a specialist to contact…” Doctor Minteki sounded exhausted. Ingo would need to figure out what type of gift you got doctors in this time period, because he was fairly certain she did not need a new fur blanket like Calaba always did. “Or should I look for one in Unova?”

Ingo froze. “Ah... I do not know. We are going back,” he added hastily. “I have a home. I want to go back there. I just do not know what the plans are for when. Or how long it would take to see a specialist.”

“I’ll see if there are any that can see you this week, and if not, I’ll look into Unova to send you some names.” Doctor Minteki smiled at him despite the exhaustion on her face. “Now, if you don’t mind. You both appear stable, and I was up late with some idiot teens.”

“Ah! I will not keep you from your rest.” Ingo nodded. “Thank you for coming to check on the two of us first.”

“Of course.” Doctor Minteki stood and stretched. “Be careful, have common sense, and maybe you should get a nap in, hm?”

“... It’s possible I did not sleep well last night, yes.” Ingo nodded again. It was the best thing to do. “I will see if I can manage a nap now.”

“Good.” Doctor Minteki patted his shoulder. “Take care of yourself. If I have to hospitalize you at the very end of your time with us, I will.”

Ingo shuddered. “Yes, I know. I will take care of myself. You do not need to threaten me.”

“You didn’t understand that I wanted you to stop wrestling all your alphas, so I think I do need to.” She grinned at him. “Goodbye, Ingo. I’ll see you later.”

“I am sadly certain you will.” Ingo freed a hand to wave goodbye as she walked out the door.

A nap did not sound horrible. And with Akari gone, Ingo probably would not be interrupted.

Ingo reached down and helped a few pokemon onto the couch and then leaned back against it with a yawn as Chandelure came to rest on his head.

Yes. A nap. Maybe Emmet would be awake when Ingo woke up.

Ingo was riding a handcart through one of the maintenance tunnels. There was an error being shown, data not being transmitted, and that needed to be fixed. It should not take long. And Ingo liked the handcarts, even though they had mostly been phased out. He liked to build the rhythm, he liked to go as fast as you reasonably could on one, and when he managed to cajole Emmet onto one he could usually also get Emmet to sing a song with him.

They were fun.

Ingo slowed the cart to a stop and hopped off. The junction box looked fine, but that didn’t mean much. There were too many pokemon in the tunnels that could have caused issues without damaging the box, or by damaging the wires in a different location.

He flipped it open, and stared.

There was an orb. It was dark purple and red, and Ingo watched as it sparked lightly. It was definitely the cause of the problem. But such a thing had not been noted before, and Ingo was uncertain of what safety protocols to use.

His hand went for the walkie-talkie on his belt before he remembered that that junction box also controlled the signal for this area. That was why he was here, instead of a Depot Agents. And that... that was quite good. He did not want one of their employees near this unknown hazard.

Ingo carefully set the pokeballs he’d brought with him on the handcart. Check safety! If this anomaly could interfere with electronics, it was best to make sure his pokemon would be safe. But his walkie-talkie was already useless, so he extended the antenna on it, ensured that he was grounded, and gently reached the tip forward to poke at the sphere.

“Ingo?”

The antenna pierced the orb. There was no one else in the tunnels—

“Ingo, hey!”

Ingo woke up with a start. “Yes?”

“Sorry to wake you up, but I’m going to be busy for the rest of the day.” Boss Imo stood back and took their hand off of Ingo’s shoulder. “I just brought over your back pay for while you’re trapped.”

“You should not pay me! You are providing room and board and training into how to live in the modern world—”

Boss Imo dropped a stack of money on the coffee table. “Too late.” They grinned at Ingo. “Unless you get up and force it back on me.”

“This is under duress,” Ingo protested. “You are taking advantage of my trapped condition for evil.”

“I am, yes.” Boss Imo laughed quietly. “I am, admittedly, also relying on your brother not letting you give it back later.”

“He doesn’t have to know about it.” Ingo shifted Emmet closer. He was still sleeping. That was worrying. Surely it couldn’t be healthy to sleep for this long? And he had passed out as well... “Although I will admit to being worried about when he is going to wake up.”

“Ingo, it can’t’ve been more than six hours.” Imo did not sound anywhere near as worried by that as they should be. “And he passed out after being awake all of yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t wake up until this evening.”

“Should I call Doctor Minteki back?” Ingo looked down at Emmet fretfully. “She said everything was fine...”

“Then she’s probably right, Ingo.” Boss Imo stretched. “Get some rest. Your brother has the right idea.”

“I am betrayed,” Ingo said quickly. “I can no longer thrive in this place.”

“Yes, yes. If I don’t see you at dinner I’ll send someone to check on you.” Boss Imo did not even try to hide their snicker. Ingo sighed heavily and watched them walk out the door.

Ingo shifted a bit. If Emmet was going to remain asleep for much longer, Ingo should probably get more comfortable. Hm. It was a fairly long couch, and the two of them were short for this day and age... It could work.

Ingo slowly shifted himself downwards so that he could lean back against the couch arm, and shifted Emmet with him. If they just overlapped a little, they’d both be able to lie down and sleep. Ingo couldn’t deny that a night with almost no sleep had left him tired, after all, and if Boss Imo said it was normal and Doctor Minteki hadn’t been worried... well. Ingo would have to bow to their expertise.

Metaphorically. He was in no position to bow right now.

Ingo kept shifting downwards until he was mostly lying down on the couch with Emmet draped on top of him. A bit uncomfortable, but as he lay there...

Hadn’t they done this as children, with positions switched? Emmet would already be on the couch, and Ingo would come and ask if Emmet could budge over, just a bit, and when told no he simply took it.

That seemed right. Ingo could picture it in his mind so clearly that it had to be a memory.

And it was comfortable...

Ingo felt so tired. His head did not hurt, but it felt overstuffed, all the same.

Ingo felt Durant climb on top of the two of them, with Excadrill close behind, and just yawned when he tried to protest the extra weight.

“We have entered sleepytime station,” Ingo managed to get out. “All aboard...”

Ingo opened the junction box and stared at the distortion inside.

(Hadn’t he just poked it?)

He looked back and saw that his pokemon were safe in their balls on the hand cart. That was good. What was less good was the fact that he was getting auras around his vision. He hadn’t had a migraine in years— that tended to be more Emmet’s thing. If he was getting one now...

Ingo turned back to the distortion. He look at his walkie-talkie and got a sense of deja-vu.

Maybe...

Ingo picked up a small pebble and lobbed it at the distortion.

Ingo opened the junction box. He saw the distortion. Perhaps it was a new species of pokemon— but it was still disrupting the working of Gear Station. Ingo rummaged in his pockets and lobbed an empty pokeball at it.

Ingo opened the junction box. He saw the distortion, and frowned. It needed to be handled.

Had he... No. Perhaps it was made by a pokemon, and human hands and natural objects would not affect it. There was no point in a pebble, or the walkie-talkie, if so. He would need assistance. He went back to the handcart and picked up Chandelure’s ball and released her into the air.

“Hello, darling,” he said warmly as she chimed. “Can you do anything about that?”

She looked behind him and chimed in alarm before floating closer to the orb.

Ingo followed.

She glowed vibrantly purple, and as her energy reached out to the distortion—

Ingo looked at the junction box, and saw that there was an angry orb of energy partway inside of it and part way out, even though it was closed. Chandelure chimed an alarm behind him, and Ingo turned around with a frown.

“Chandelure? Why have you made an unscheduled departure?”

She swung back and forth in negation.

“I did not release you,” Ingo pointed out. “So it is unscheduled. Is there another ghost in these tunnels?”

Chandelure signaled no again. And then she continued in Morse. Danger, bad, leave!

Ingo sighed and shook his head. “We cannot leave. It is my duty as a Subway Boss to investigate this, Chandelure. If you are uneasy, then return to your station.”

Chandelure shook no again.

“Then please do not hinder me in my duties, dear.” Ingo tried to make his voice as reassuring as possible, and stepped closer to the junction box. If it would respond to Chandelure, she would have already done something.

So Ingo reached out with a gloved hand—

Ingo looked at the junction box and Ingo screamed as he saw himself being sucked into a singular point, and Chandelure screamed with the two of them.

Ingo reached out and held his own hand—

Ingo screamed because it was all he could do. He was surrounded with Chandelure’s purple light, she had him, he was safe, but he was not, he was being torn in two and Ingo could feel it.

He heard something begin to tear.

Ingo fell.

Slowly, Chandelure’s light around him was torn away, and the dark crept in.

Ingo fell.

There were faint sparks of purple light around him. They were quite pretty, but could not distract him from the ache in his bones.

Ingo stared at the sky in a drift of snow. He could almost hear a noise, like fabric being sheared with scissors, and as he watched he saw faint purple filaments stretch and snap.

He felt so empty.

This was not where he was supposed to be.

He didn’t know where he was supposed to be.

The sky was angry, red and purple and black, and as Ingo watched it winked out of existence.

Curious. The sky was blue now, pale and merciless. Ingo wondered which color it was really supposed to be.

You were supposed to stay in place if lost. Ingo heard a flat voice in his head tell him that. Stay in place and await rescue! It was a vital... a vital what?

He didn’t know. What he knew was that he was so cold, and that this place was wrong. It was not for him, and it should not contain him. He was sure it was a fine place for others, but not for him.

So Ingo stood, shaky as he was, and started to walk. He didn’t know where he was going, but it was not here. Maybe if he walked long enough, there would be his place.

Maybe he would find his person.

Ingo stared at a man in a white outfit that matched his own, and a wide grin Ingo’s opposite. He couldn’t quite see the man’s face besides the grin, but surely— surely this man would know something. Would be able to lead him out of the snow.

“Ingo,” the man crooned. “Ingo, come home. Come closer.”

“You know where home is?” Ingo approached, hope blossoming warm in his chest. “Yes. Please. I want to go home, please take me.”

“Of course! I’m your ■■■■■■■!” The man sounded so excited it didn’t matter that Ingo couldn’t understand the last word. “Don’t you trust me?”

(The voice was wrong.)

Ingo stepped forward with as much eagerness as he could muster after an unknowable amount of time in the snow and wind. He had been found. His place must be nearby, and he would get to go home. He wanted to go home so badly.

(That was not ■■■■■!)

Ingo walked closer and reached out to take the hand.

Claws gashed at his wrist and Ingo screamed from a ragged throat as he suddenly saw a large, wispy creature stand before him, white with tips of red. Their muzzle twisted into something Ingo decided had to be called a smile.

“Ingo?” The voice was flat now. “Ingo, oh no, did I go too quickly? Is your brain broken?” A quiet whimper escaped the muzzle and—

This was not how it had happened.

Ingo’s eyes felt glued shut, but he managed to blink them open.

Oh.

He’d had that nightmare in Hisui and here. He’d just never remembered before the distortion.

“Ingo?” Emmet’s flat voice still had traces of concern, if you knew how to hear them. And Ingo was thrilled to realize that he did know. “Are you okay?”

“Much better now, Emmet.” Ingo rubbed at his eyes with a hand and then managed to focus on his twin’s face. “Just dreaming of the first time I met my Zoroark.”

“It did not sound like a nice dream.” Emmet shot a dubious look into the distance. Ingo assumed it was at his Zoroark, who he had tamed quite nicely with food and a lack of fear. “You do not have a migraine?”

“I do not.” Ingo reached up a hand and lightly patted Chandelure’s glass. “According to Alakazam and Chandelure, the memory loss was caused by soul damage. Not, thankfully, a heretofore unseen kind of brain damage.”

“I was verrrry worried about that,” Emmet said quietly. “Soul damage?”

“Apparently not something the majority of medical professionals know how to diagnose.” Ingo shrugged. “Doctor Minteki will be consulting a professional, but... I trust Chandelure. I am sure she will help.” Ingo hesitated a moment, and then half realized and half remembered that now Emmet would know there was something he was holding back. “...I am remembering things. So I believe the damage is being fixed.”

“Hm.” Emmet sighed. “... I am too glad that you are back to worry about that right now.”

“I will accept you simply holding off on your worry.” Ingo shifted. “Let me up and I will get you food. You have certainly missed breakfast and lunch by now.”

“Nope. You are going to have to accept your new fate. Mattress.” Emmet yawned theatrically, cuddling closer. “Goodnight again, mattress.”

“Emmet!” Ingo sifted through his memory for things to do in revenge, but he did not believe he had ever been in this situation before. “Chandelure, help.”

She chimed twice for no.

“She agrees with me. You are staying rrrright where you are.” Emmet gave Ingo the smuggest look Ingo could remember. “Your Alakazam said the doctor wanted to see you when you were awake. To check again. This way you cannot escape.”

“A second betrayal in one day...” Ingo shook his head. “I suppose it’s lucky I remember you and trains and thus no longer want to live alone in a cabin in the wilderness.”

“Good. That is not allowed. Does not follow safety checks.” Emmet’s grip on him tightened. “... Do you know what happened? If it could happen again?”

“I remember what happened. It cannot happen again.” Ingo did, now. It explained why he had sought out every distortion near him and stepped into it, hoping for something he did not know how to name. “... I was unaware any distortions had opened anywhere but Hisui. But they have ended now, and as Akari took the last one back here, to modern-day Sinnoh, there will not be another that will take me.”

“Good.” Emmet nodded. “Verrrrrrrry good. Ingo... You are. I missed you. I missed you so much, Ingo.” Emmet’s voice cracked and Ingo...

Ingo had not been able to put a name to what he missed. Had not realized that he missed a person and pokemon and a home and a job all at once. If he’d realized how much he’d lost, it might have broken him. Ingo saw that now.

But he could not call the distortion merciful, all the same.

“I tried so hard to make a home in Hisui.” Emmet made a wounded noise, and Ingo shifted to rub his back soothingly. “It didn’t work. I did not know who and what I missed, but I missed you very much, all the same. Even here. Things felt more right, with the technology, but... I was just trying to recreate what we had. I remember now. I was making battle facilities, and I was guiding people to destinations, and it still didn’t feel right. I missed home. I missed you. I missed our pokemon and our friends and I want to come back, if they will have me. If you will have me. My memories are still piecemeal, and I am... at least aware that Hisui has changed me greatly, in many ways, even if I do not know all of them, and it will be work, but it is work that I want to do.”

“Ingo is still verrrry foolish.” Emmet shook his head. “We all want you. Me and our pokemon and our friends. And trainers. Verrrry many trainers miss you. Not as much as me. But we should call Elesa. When you want.”

Ingo made a face. “I do not want to talk to anyone else, right now.”

“That is okay,” Emmet said, and his smile (too small too faint) remained just as open and honest, so Ingo would simply have to accept that it was, indeed, okay. “She will understand.”

“Maybe later?” Ingo shrugged, a bit helplessly. “I just need a bit of time first, I think. Then I could do a short call.”

“That is okay. She will be busy right now anyways.” Emmet yawned. “Probably still at the gym. Or maybe in the subway. Hard to know! I will text her to tell me when she is free. You can decide then.”

“Okay.” Ingo watched Emmet use a little watch-thing that folded out into a keyboard with a small screen. “... My. Xtransciever?”

“Yup. That is what it is called.” Emmet glanced over. “... Broke?”

“Badly.” Ingo sighed. “I left it in Lady Sneasler’s cave. She liked how it refracted light.”

“We will get you a new one.” Emmet’s xtransciever folded up again. “You backed yours up all the time. It will be okay. Might lose a few pictures. That is all.”

Magnezone dipped down from the ceiling and buzzed as she hovered near Emmet’s wrist.

“Hey. No magnetism near the watch. Rude.” Emmet gently lifted her a bit farther up. “Ingo. Introduce me?”

Emmet eeped as Ingo shifted them both upright in one smooth movement. He had not minded lying down, even though he probably could stand to stretch. “You got strong. In the past.” Emmet shook his head. “Get rid of your muscles. We need to match again.”

“Or you could begin to build muscle.” Ingo yelped as Emmet poked his side. “Emmet!”

“When would I have time.” Emmet shook his head. “Ingo. This is on you. Goodbye to muscles.”

“We will see.” Ingo reached up to Magnezone. “Go get anyone from outside?”

She buzzed happily and swooped out through the door.

“... Ingo?” Emmet looked around the room. Alakazam, a Probopass, Magnezone had just left, and there was a very large bug-type (bug and rock?) in the corner. “How many pokemon did you bring back?”

“Ah. Ten.” Ingo looked embarrassed. “I had a full team of six, and some Alphas that I had been training, and the day I disappeared from Hisui I had the Alphas with me because I was going to be running battles for Miss Akari.”

“Ten more pokemon...” Emmet thought about the paperwork to have twenty-five pokemon and quailed. “You are helping me with the paperwork.”

“That is acceptable.” Ingo sounded far too amused.

“You do not remember the paperwork, do you.” Emmet sighed. “I will help.”

“I do not remember the paperwork,” Ingo admitted. “I am remembering more things as they become relevant, but... I don’t know. Not really. Things bubble to the surface, and I am just letting that happen.” Ingo paused for a long moment. “... I am afraid if I try to force it, the migraines will return. And then Alakazam will tell Doctor Minteki.”

“Then do not force it.” Emmet shook his head. “It is okay. I was... I was not prepared. I do not think I could be prepared for you not remembering anything. But I expected it.” He had expected Ingo to know nothing, to look at him and see a stranger, and instead—

There had been a brief moment of confusion, and Emmet had wanted to cry, but then Ingo had opened his arms and his eyes had gone all warm and Emmet had been so, so glad. Ingo still knew him. Everything else Emmet thought they could fix.

They hadn’t become strangers to each other.

Ah, Emmet was crying again. Just a few tears, but still. It was good that Ingo had not stopped holding him. Maybe strange, but good. And Emmet certainly would not complain that Ingo’s touch sensitivity was not acting up.

Emmet heard noise at the door and wiped his face. “Okay. I am Emmet. I am ready to meet your new pokemon.”

Yes, Ingo had changed. But Emmet had changed too, hadn’t he? In order to survive the loss of his twin, he’d had to. Emmet watched as a Machamp, a Tangrowth, and a weird Zoroark were herded into the room by Ingo’s Magnezone.

“I know Wyrdeer is out with the Rangers, but where is Basculegion?” Ingo tilted his head and Emmet wracked his brain but could not come up with any information on those Pokemon. “... The pool again?”

“Zonnnne.” Magnezone bobbed up and down.

“Well. We can go meet her later, then.”

“Ingo?” Emmet looked briefly away from the pokemon. “... What species are Wyrdeer and Basculegion? And the bug-type in the corner? And what is up with your Zoroark?”

“Ah! Wyrdeer, Basculegion, and Kleavor apparently...” Ingo trailed off and his voice went melancholy. “They went extinct. Between the past and now. But I have told the Rangers how they evolved, and they are going to see if they can be revived.”

“Oh.” Emmet looked over at the pokemon. “... That is. I am sorry. That must be verrrry rough.”

“It has been.” Ingo sighed. “... But these things happen. And perhaps they will return. Wyrdeer is a Stantler evolution with normal and psychic typing. Kleavor is a Scyther evolution with bug and rock typing, and Basculegion, who you will meet later, is a Basculin evolution with ghost and water typing.”

Emmet felt a cold nose against his chin, and when he looked down the strangely-colored Zoroark that had been standing near Machamp disappeared and he now had a verrrry large Zoroark head in his lap looking up at him. “Hi?”

Zoroark wuffed in his face.

“Ugh. Lillipup breath.” Emmet felt his face crinkle up. “Hi. Why are you white and red instead of black and red.”

“Why’re you white instead of black?” Zoroark’s muzzle didn’t move, but Emmet still heard a voice.

“Zoroark,” Ingo sighed. “She’s a regional variant, that’s all, Emmet. Also extinct in this time period, although I believe what might have happened was not so much an extinction as a migration to Unova where different living conditions led to differences in modern Zoroarks.”

“I’m cooler than them.” Zoroark wuffed again. “Stay still. Let me look at your face.”

Emmet darted a look over at Ingo. Why was his Zoroark studying Emmet’s face? Why did that matter? What was going on?

“She used to mimic you for me.” Ingo reached over and ruffled his Zoroark’s ears. “So I could be sure I was not forgetting more. I could not remember your face, but I knew there was a man in white who meant a lot to me. I did not want to forget any details.”

“I got your smile all wrong,” Zoroark grumbled. “But I could barely get any sense of your face anyways.”

“Yes.” Ingo laughed. “It was quite sad for you, I am sure.”

“Very sad,” Zoroark agreed. “Okay. You can move your face again.”

Emmet’s face ached now, and he was grateful to let it lapse into a more neutral smile. “Ingoooo.” He made his voice as plaintive as it ever got. “I cannot believe you replaced me with a Zoroark.”

He did not really think that. If he did, he would not be able to joke about it. But he got to watch Ingo sputter and outright deny it, which was wonderful, and Zoroark laughed so hard she fell back onto the floor and started to roll about on it, and so that was worth it.

There would be a lot of changes, Emmet thought. But this time they would be changing together, and that was going to make it much easier to suck it up and let it happen without too much complaining. Still a little though. Ingo would be complaining also. That would be good.

Emmet peered over the back of the couch and accidentally made eye contact with Ingo’s Alakazam. Agh. Not right now. Emmet would talk to her later. And to Ingo about her, probably. They did not have an apartment built for psychic pokemon, and it was an apartment, so the population density would probably be verrrry rough.

Later. Right now Emmet had betrayal to enact. He leaned over.

“He is ticklish, you know.”

“Really?” Ingo’s Zoroark looked up with delight. “This is an amazing gift. We’re going to get along splendidly.”

“Emmet—” Ingo broke off into laughter, and Emmet did not feel bad at all.

He got to hear Ingo laugh again, after all.

Ingo stiffened in the middle of carefully polishing his Klinklang.

“Ingo?” Emmet looked around. “Is something wrong?”

“Alakazam has just warned me that Doctor Minteki is a few minutes away.” Ingo sounded like he had been informed of his impending execution. “It is not too late to run into the woods and hide from her.”

Emmet snickered.

“She is going to be looking at you too, you know.” Ingo shot Emmet a look that was only barely not a glare. “You are not getting out of this either. She was quite unhappy that you immediately passed out.”

“A reasonable sacrifice to keep my brother in place and getting medical care.” Emmet shrugged. He would probably get a talking-to. He knew he had not been taking care of his cab. But Ingo was back, so that seemed like a minor issue. “I am not afraid of doctors, brother.”

“I am not afraid of them, I simply disagree with them on most issues and they refuse to admit they are anything but right—”

You were wrestling with Kleavor and Wyrdeer and Basculegion and Machamp while actively injured.

“Ooooh. That feels verrrry weird.” Emmet held the side of his head. “You were doing what? She was right. You needed to stop doing that.”

“I was not actively injured, old injuries are not active injuries and besides we all enjoyed it and they were quite careful to not hurt me.” Ingo’s hands were moving quickly as he spoke, adding emphasis.

Just because I have not told Minteki that you have wrestled them days off of injuries in Hisui does not mean I will not.

Ingo turned around on the couch to face Alakazam. “This is rank blackmail. I taught you better than this.”

Was that before or after you threatened everyone in Jubilife with Gliscor’s Earthquake if they ever banished Akari again?

“Before,” Ingo said so primly Emmet wanted to snicker despite the concerning information. “You are talking to me more.”

You aren’t getting migraines when I do. Alakazam waved. Hello, Minteki!

Ingo and Emmet both whipped around and Emmet had been played; he had not even heard the door open.

“Hello, Alakazam. Ingo, I’m glad to hear you aren’t getting migraines from Alakazam any more.” The doctor was short, and looked fairly kind. Round faces did that. Emmet would withhold judgment. She mostly looked tired.

“I am slightly worried about my future.” Ingo shrugged. “I will survive. Emmet, this is Doctor Minteki. Doctor Minteki, this is Emmet. He slept for about nine hours. That is concerning, right?”

“That is a normal amount of sleep. I will not be shamed for that.” Emmet shook his head. “... Still kind of tired. I know I am sleep deprived. I will sleep better now.”

“Nine hours!” Ingo shook his head.

“Ingo?” Minteki sounded... too calm. Emmet could tell that already. “How long do you normally sleep?”

“... The tone of voice you are using tells me that this is a trick question and I should not answer it.” Ingo reached up and dragged his Klinklang in front of his face. “I sleep, I wake up, I am fine. Well. Last night I did not sleep much. But that is fine. That was one night and an outlier.”

“Ingo.” Emmet squinted at him. “How much sleep do you normally get.”

“... Five to six hours?”

Emmet dropped his head into his hands. “Ingo. You slept nine to ten when you could. At least eight. I am the one who can function with sleep deprivation. Not you.”

“I am not sleep deprived— ow.” Ingo raised a head to where a wooden spoon had just bapped his head.

“Thank you, Alakazam.” Minteki sighed. “While it’s true that everyone requires different amounts of sleep, you might want to consider attempting to sleep longer, as I suspect it is more likely that stress in Hisui negatively affected your sleeping patterns than that you suddenly did not need as much sleep. Emmet. Get more sleep. And if you’re anything like your brother, get your blood levels checked. There’s no shame in needing vitamins or other supplements.”

Emmet made a face. “... I will ask our usual doctor. You have Ingo’s medical records from here? We will need a copy to take back.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you two have a usual doctor.” Minteki slung her shoulder bag on the floor. “I was afraid that you were both avoidant.”

“I do not like going to the doctor.” Emmet shook his head. “But I like having acute health problems because I did not do maintenance less.”

“There is no point in bothering doctors with simple illnesses or things that will soon be mended.” Ingo covered his head before the spoon could come down again. “There is not! Besides, just like in Hisui, that is what medicine you have at home is for.”

“You have no sense of proportion.” Emmet rolled his eyes. “This is why I end up dragging you to the doctor.”

You will not have to drag him any more. I can lift him. Alakazam snatched the spoon from the air where it was gently bonking Ingo’s arm. He has slept more here. I did not realize it was still too little.

“As I said, adults have different requirements. There’s some that sleep four hours and wake up fully rested, and we still don’t know why.” Minteki shook her head. “But that is quite rare, Ingo. I am sure it does not apply to you.”

“It could.” Ingo frowned. “... It is unlikely. But it could.”

“No.” Minteki sighed. “Emmet, I’m going to do a basic diagnostic on you. Hold out your hand.”

Emmet eyed the box warily. “I am Emmet. I am fine. I got a check-up just three months ago.”

“I do not care, you passed out on arrival and I’m willing to bet dollars to donuts that the Chandelure there is also connected to your soul a bit, and I do not have soul equipment but I can at least monitor the basics.” Minteki held the diagnostic box out. “Hand. In the box. Now.”

“Set a good example for your dear twin, Emmet,” Ingo said in the smuggest tone ever. “Come on.”

“Fuck you.” Emmet stuck his hand in and resigned himself to the pinpricks and bad stims of the box. Torments. But at least Ingo was right there.

“Alright, now give me your hand, Ingo.” Minteki held out another box.

Emmet looked appropriately smug as Ingo sadly held out his own hand. That was what he deserved.

Emmet was fucking exhausted. Doctor Minteki was entirely too thorough. Emmet was going to die of exhaustion here. Too much social interaction with someone new. Too much talking. Emmet needed freedom. It had only been half an hour.

“Okay! Ingo, there’s nothing concerning on your end.” Doctor Minteki put the box back in her bag. “Emmet, you’re vitamin D deficient in a major way. And you’re low, but not horrible, on iron.” She shot him a look. “Which I would not have expected, looking at you.”

“Mmm. Coats. Haven’t been outside a lot.” Emmet shrugged. “Not surprised about vitamin D.” Or the iron, but he was not going to explain that right now, because he had already been forced to admit to his diet of mostly fruit and sometimes bread and butter and even more occasionally an actual meal. He did not need to explain he had looked at the Klinklangs’ liquid metal supplements, seen the non-toxic to humans label, and taken a swig occasionally. Especially because it had clearly worked.

“Hm.” Minteki did not sound convinced. “I will release you both for dinner now. I will be back tomorrow. And then we can discuss how to transfer the data I have to your doctor in Unova.”

“Dinner yes bye.” Emmet stood up immediately and attempted to haul Ingo up after him. Oof. Ingo had gotten heavier.

“Thank you for your help, Doctor Minteki.” Ingo got up by himself and bowed slightly. “Any specific time tomorrow?”

“After 9 and before 11. It’ll depend on if there are any emergencies.” Minteki packed away the tools she’d taken out of her bag. “Eat breakfast first.”

“Of course!” Ingo nodded. “Have a good night!”

“You too. Both of you.” Minteki left quickly, and Emmet appreciated that as he leaned against his brother.

“... You remember sign?” Emmet was running out of words. He had never had to ration them around Ingo before. But. If Ingo did not, Emmet would. He did not want to talk through Ingo’s Alakazam.

“Oh, yes. I did not lose my languages, thankfully, although no one in Hisui knew Unovan Sign, of course.” Ingo shrugged the shoulder Emmet was not leaning on. “Do you want me to cook? I do not want to go to the cafeteria, right now.”

Emmet made a noise he couldn’t quantify, really.

It just felt wrong. It reminded Emmet that things were different. Ingo was getting his memories. But he was still different. They had still both changed.

Emmet shook his head and moved over to the cabin’s kitchen.

He would cook. Just like he always had, before Ingo had disappeared. He still remembered how, even if he had stopped cooking for anyone but their pokemon.

“Do you want me to help?”

Emmet snickered. “Can you?”

“Of course! I have learned how to cook, you know.” Ingo sounded indignant as Emmet started to take food out of the fridge. Stir fry. Simple, nutritious, smelled good. Easy to clean up. “I’ll show you—”

Emmet heard synchronized complaints from their pokemon.

“Ah.” Emmet turned to grab Ingo’s wok and saw that Ingo was no longer visible, as covered by their pokemon as he was. “Perhaps I will leave this meal up to you, then.”

“Yes. Let them cuddle you.” Emmet rummaged in drawers. “Oh, good. You have sensible kitchen organization.”

“Thank you! Miss Akari hates my kitchen organization, and so does Ranger Celos, but it’s just logical.” Emmet watched Ingo’s hands break free of the pile so that he could gesture and add emphasis. “Everyone else’s kitchen does not make sense— oh. Oh. I copied your kitchen layout?”

“Our kitchen layout, yup. Although I guess it is mine, with how often I’ve chased you out before you could ruin something.” Emmet laid out everything he would need and started to wash the vegetables. He should probably velvet the meat. But he was verrrry hungry. Hm. “Ingo, how hungry are you?”

Ingo was quiet for a long moment. Too long. Emmet busied himself with his selection of cutting boards and waited.

“I am quite hungry,” Ingo admitted eventually.

“Then I will be quick.” Not quick enough to be unsafe, of course! But he would be efficient. Maybe no meat. Veggies were good, and Emmet could see noodles. They could still have a filling meal. “Veggies good? Meat will take longer.”

“Probably best to have some meat in there.” Ingo’s voice was muffled. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine. Do not apologize.” Emmet would just use the shortcuts he’d learned when his energy had disappeared along with Ingo.

There were many of them. It made cooking faster. Just as he was finishing the mise en place, he heard the door open. That was fine. As long as this person did not want to eat Emmet’s food.

“Gliscor— Gliscor no!” Emmet turned around just in time to watch a large Gliscor barrel into him, and he heard a wing clip the cutting board and saw his beautifully laid out food go flying.

The floor was very welcoming, at least.

Ingo let out his breath as he confirmed that the knife Emmet had been holding had hurt neither Emmet nor Gliscor.

“Gliscor,” Ingo scolded. “That was not polite.”

She chirped at him and continued to nibble at Emmet’s hair. Hm. Perhaps his twin had been held by Garbodor recently? She did like to eat poison residue.

“Ingo. Can we get takeout?” Emmet sounded exhausted. “I do not think I can get up now.”

“I do not know about takeout, but I will text Boss Imo about what food is available in the dining hall, and if there is nothing, I have a lasagna in the freezer.”

“Lasagna takes foreverrrr.” Emmet attempted to shift underneath Gliscor. Ingo mentally wished him the best of luck.

“It’s individually portioned out. It heats up much faster.”

Emmet made a discontent noise from under Gliscor. “I was going to cook.”

“I understand it is a change of tracks.” Ingo knew that that distressed him, and had the faint sense it also upset Emmet. “But regrettably, Gliscor will not let you go until she is done cleaning poison out of your hair. Unless I forcibly recall her, which I am loath to do.”

“No. I understand.” Emmet sighed. “I just. Need a moment. Things are supposed to be perfect again. They are not.”

Ingo nodded as he sat down on the floor, even though Emmet could not see him. “Yes. I... have not had that feeling. But I understand. If you want, we can have a snack, and then cook.”

“... Yes. Yup. I can see if you have actually gotten better.” Emmet apparently nodded, as Gliscor chittered at him and redoubled her grooming efforts.

“I will get fruit and cheese.” Ingo stood back up with a slight groan and then paused as he had a thought.

He took out his phone and snapped a picture of Gliscor and Emmet. Emmet was barely visible, except for his extended arms and hair, but that was okay.

He texted the image to Akari with a smiling emoticon.

Local Cryptid: Emmet and Gliscor are getting along well.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and went to actually prepare fruit and cheese. Hm. He needed to warn Emmet about Akari. She could be quite overwhelming when she was excited. On the other hand, Emmet could also be overwhelming when he was excited, and so could Ingo, so perhaps it would not be an issue?

Ingo should still warn Emmet. He made up two plates and sat back down next to him. “Gliscor, please release my twin. Now that we have reunited, I promise that Garbodor’s tendency to give hugs will result in plenty of opportunities to eat poison out of our hair. Ah, speaking of which...” Ingo looked around and saw Tangrowth and Garbodor in the middle of an empathic conversation, vines and arms waving quickly. “Garbodor, dear. Would you mind cleaning up all the food that Gliscor knocked over?”

“We will still need to sanitize the floor.” Emmet started to push at Gliscor. “And. Anything else. Including you, you menace. The knife touched you. Raw meat sanitizing time.” Emmet’s face slowly became visible. “You will not enjoy it.”

Gliscor chirped happily and flew off before Ingo could grab her.

“Gliscor...” Ingo sighed. “Alakazam, could you?”

I will ensure she is washed. Tangrowth, if you don’t mind—

Ingo watched Tangrowth lash her vines around Gliscor and turned his attention back to Emmet as Garbodor lumbered over and began to eat. “Do you need to wash your hands?”

“Probably.” Emmet hauled himself off the floor. “I will do that. Then food.”

“Then food, yes.” Ingo remained on the floor. He felt his phone buzz and ignored it for the moment. “Would meeting someone new on Wednesday be good?”

“Maybe? I don’t know.” Emmet scrubbed at his hands. “Why? Do you have an appointment?”

“No, no. No more new doctors here, thank you very much. A friend will be coming to visit.” Ingo handed Emmet’s plate to him and started to eat berries off of his own. “She’s excited to meet you. Or, rather, she refuses to let me leave with an unknown personage.”

“Huh.” Emmet shrugged. “I am glad you made a friend.”

“We made friendship bracelets!” Ingo slid back his coat cuff to show them off. Akari had made him one in Pearl colors, and one with the purple and red of her Typhlosion. Ingo had, in return, made one with Pearl and Diamond’s colors and one with the lighter purple and brighter red of Gliscor. He’d have to make one in Chandelure’s colors, as well, so she could have both of his ace’s colors.

“They are verrrry pretty.” Emmet reached out and ran a finger along the Pearl bracelet. “... This is for Pearl Clan? I did not research much. But I saw their colors.”

“Yes.” Ingo sighed. “... I still have the tunic I was wearing when I was transported back. But...” Ingo considered for a moment. But Emmet would understand him, even if he meandered, hopefully. “When I was in the past, I refused to let anyone else handle my hat and coat. I washed it myself. I knew that there was no way to replace it, not successfully. And I knew if anyone else damaged it, I would not forgive them. Now... Despite the fact I have gone forward and not further back, people do not remember how the tunic was made. The fabric, especially. And I... I did not learn how to make textiles. They. Well. I was already strange. I had to trade for my clothes. I did not learn how to make them in winter for the years to come. And now the clothing I did have is gone again, and... I do not know how to replace it. Which was a great disappointment to historians.” Ingo tried to interject humor into his voice. He was fairly certain he failed, when he saw Emmet wince. “... Akari made me the bracelet. So I could wear their colors and not worry about ruining my tunic. I, ah. It was the only clothing from them I was wearing, at the time. The Highlands were still warm enough that I could wear the pants I arrived in, and I never stopped wearing my shoes. They are in the closet as well now, though. Modern sneakers do not have the same textural issues.”

Ingo lapsed into silence. He wasn’t sure he’d said anything coherent, really.

Hopefully Emmet had understood him anyways. Ingo did not look up from his plate of food to check.

“... I miss them. I wish I had gotten to say goodbye. And yet— and yet I would not go back. Which I’m sure makes me an ungrateful cur, no matter what others say.” Ingo sighed. “... My apologies, this is not what you would like to discuss, I am sure.”

Ingo saw Emmet shake his head. “You are Ingo. I always like to hear what you have to say. Unless it is telling me to stop breeding Joltiks. I am Emmet. I do not have a problem. But it sounds like a lot. A lot of emotion, all around. Talking has always helped you. Not like me. We can talk to Elesa. She is our friend. She works in fashion. If anyone knows how to make something similar, she will know them. And then you can have parts of both. Subway Master and Warden. We can make an exception to the uniform.” Emmet’s smile turned mischievous. “It is not favoritism.”

“Part of the point of our uniforms is to pretend a unified aesthetic while still catering to our individual fashion sensibilities,” Ingo’s mouth said without any input from him. “If we make changes to just mine, that’s hardly a unified aesthetic, and could be quite confusing to people, and we can hardly make exceptions just for us. That would set a bad example to the public!”

“Who cares. You came back from the past. You can get special treatment. The depot agents will agree.” Emmet nodded decisively. “We can incorporate Pearl into your uniform. They are important to you. They are important to me, because they saved you. And it would make Elesa verrrrrrrry happy to redesign our uniforms. You would be doing her a favor.”

“I do not think I believe that.” Ingo shook his head. “I’ll ask her.”

“She will say yes. She will be delighted.” Emmet reached out and poked Ingo’s hand. “Now eat your snacks. Then we will sanitize the kitchen. Then we will cook together.”

“Yes. That... That sounds like a plan.” Ingo started to eat again. “Thank you, Emmet.”

“Of course! That is what a two-car train is for. You put up with me sleeping all day.”

“That was hardly putting up with you, Emmet. It was not onerous at all.” Ingo pulled out the bleach-based cleaner and the mop. “You do not owe me anything.”

“I know. And you do not owe me. It’s okay.” Emmet took a sponge and grabbed the cleaner from Ingo. “Let me get the counters first. Then the floor.”

“I don’t think it matters,” Ingo complained. “We can both clean at the same time.”

“Nope! Illegal.” Emmet snickered. “You look so offended.”

“I know how to clean, Emmet.” Ingo held up the mop. “This is well-used, I’ll have you know.”

“You do not have to. Save your energy for cleaning all my white clothing.” Emmet nodded. “Yup. You will have lots of work to do.”

“... Emmet, please tell me you’ve been sending your clothing out for dry cleaning at least— Emmet—”