Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rantaro Amami had been to so many places he couldn’t even begin to list them for any curious inquirers. However, throughout his travels, he found the scent of the ocean never changed no matter where he went, and in that aroma of salt, brine, and wind, he found comfort and familiarity.

The high cliffs of the western Galarian coast almost seemed to stop at an abrupt right angle. There was no gradual decline to the water far below, but rather a straight drop of flat, almost-white stone all the way down. The waves crashed loudly against the foot of the cliff, throwing more aroma of salt and brine into the air and made him reminiscent of the Alolan Islands.

“Lost in thought?” Korekiyo emerged from the shadows of the trees, his appearance of perpetual eeriness and sly expression belying the odd but harmless personality within. He strode across the wild grass with a peculiar smoothness one would associate with Ghost Pokémon, coming to stand beside Rantaro on the cliff’s edge.

“Just reminiscing,” replied Rantaro. “We’ve been on many adventures together, but things have been so calm lately. Almost boring…”

“Don’t tempt fate,” warned Kiyo, taking a moment to appreciate the view. It wasn’t often he truly appreciated the beauty of nature, often finding his mind too wrapped up in his anthropological and archeological studies and expeditions.

Neither exchanged a word as they left the cliffside, cutting a direct path cross-country toward what brought them here in the first place. Neither of them were much for luxuries during their expeditions, preferring to either stay in simple accommodations or camp out in the wilderness. Despite Turffield’s famous geoglyph being closer to the town than where they had set up camp, they found peace and tranquility in the hinterlands between the farm fields and the coast.

Climbing the tall rolling hills that enclosed Turffield’s western border granted them another grand view of the land below. Fields of different shades of brown, green, and yellow covered the land like a patchwork quilt. If Rantaro looked close, he could see the cordoned off fields for the orchards, the fruit and berry trees just beginning to flower as the spring weather showed hints of starting to warm.

The duo moved down the steep hillside in a serpentine pattern, a movement that made it less likely they would stumble and go rolling headfirst all the way to the bottom. At the foot of the hill, a truck rolled by on the dirt country road just as they jumped over the rain ditch. The vehicle came to a smooth stop, having been cruising at an idle speed, and the driver poked his head out the window.

“You need to get somewhere?” he shouted over the puttering of the engine.

“Geoglyph,” Rantaro yelled back.

“Hop in the back,” the driver offered.

The two clambered up, nestling between the bags of seed and farm tools. The driver opened the back window before he began driving once more, making conversation. “So, you lads here for the geoglyph?”

“Yes,” Kiyo confirmed, “I was allowed to come here by my research society at the Litra Natural History Museum in the Lotic region.”

“And I’m the one who sailed him here,” Rantaro added nonchalantly, preferring to admire the variety of crops as they passed by the fields.

“You must be here to talk with the historical guild. Seems like those blokes talk about nothin’ but the geoglyph and the standing stones,” said the driver. “But, guess it pays to like wha’cha do.”

“Sounds like your kind of people,” Rantaro joked, ducking to avoid a single seed that had slipped from a tear in a bag Kiyo threw at him.

“Yes,” Kiyo continued, “I have an appointment with them tomorrow, but I wanted to see the geoglyph for myself so I could form my own interpretation before hearing what everyone else thought.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” the driver agreed, ending the conversation by humming along to the song on his radio.

People and Pokémon out working in the fields waved as the truck went by, Rantaro and the driver waving back. The workers became more numerous the closer the truck got to Turffield, forming a steady stream of trundling bodies along the edge of the road, returning to town for lunch and a cooldown period from work.

The truck stopped, allowing Rantaro and Kiyo to clamber out, but the driver accosted them one last time before they could walk away. “You lads be careful if you’re camping in the hinterlands. Rumors been goin’ ‘round about Pokémon Dynamaxing outside of Power Spots.”

“I thought that was impossible?” Rantaro responded, shocked and a little horrified by the idea.

The Dynamax phenomenon was only observed in Galar, a marvelous spectacle in which Pokémon absorbed mass amounts of watts (the name assigned to quantifiable Dynamax energy) and grew humongous in size and strength. Some Pokémon were even able to use that energy to transform their bodies in unforeseen ways, similar to Mega Evolution, a transformation called Gigantamaxing. However, Dynamaxing and Gigantamaxing could only occur within the confines of a Power Spot, a place where watts collected and condensed in much higher concentrations.

“It’s supposed to be,” said the driver. “Most Dynamaxing happens in the Wild Area, where the watts settle ‘cause of the lower terrain since the whole place is a valley, and any controlled Dynamaxing outside the Wild Area happens in the Power Spots the stadiums have been built at. But there’s been a lotta strange things happening lately.”

“Don’t listen to him,” one of the workers walking by snickered. “S’only rumors and he’s super paranoid. Seems like every year there’s some bloke passing through who swears he saw a Dynamax Tyranitar around Wedgehurst, or a Dynamax Druddigon at the edge of Glimwood Tangle— just blowin’ smoke.”

“We’ll still take your advice to heart,” Kiyo told the driver. “We’re not used to witnessing the Dynamax phenomenon, so we’ll make sure to take extra care.”

The main road leading into Turffield passed under a wooden arch welcoming travelers to the town. Rantaro glanced up at the arch, expertly carved by craftsmen to resemble two twisted trees supporting the welcome sign between them in a tangle of gnarled-together branches. As different as it clearly was from the arches he had seen in Alola, he still looked up and expected to see the familiar red, yellow, purple, and pink.

I need to get my head out of the Alola gutter. Every place was different, but he couldn’t help but always relate everything he saw back to islands; after all, that was where he participated in something that changed his life.

He was so caught up in his musing he almost crashed into Kiyo, who had stopped dead upon seeing something that immediately drew his interest. They approached the standing stone together, the massive monolith looming high above them and capable of crushing them flat should it somehow lose its precarious balance. Deep, slash-like carvings cut into the rock’s surface, speaking a language long since passed into obscurity.

“Do you know what it says?” Rantaro hazarded asking, since Korekiyo was often a fountain of random trivia concerning different cultures.

“This particular one: no. However, from what I have read, the various menhir scattered through this territory are often depicting a single word and three have been translated bearing the words ‘grass,’ ‘fire,’ and ‘water.’”

“’Menhir?’” Rantaro repeated.

“That is the name you will find they are most often referred to as in historical writings; they are also called ‘standing stones,’ ‘orthostats’, and ‘liths.’ When they are found alone, they are monoliths; but, if found with others, usually arranged in a circular shape, they are collectively a henge.”

“What are they for?”

“That is where many historians disagree. There have been suggestions the menhir and henges were ceremonial sites, rudimentary calendars, territorial markers, or simple signs with the language of the time written on them.”

Rantaro chuckled softly, glancing back at the standing stone. “I don’t mean to make light of your passion, but it’d be hilarious to find out a fascinating piece of history such as this said something like ‘bathroom’ on it.”

“I believe that’s already happened,” Kiyo remarked, “only it was something relating to a vulgar joke of some sort.”

“It’s nice to see some things never change throughout human history. There’s always going to be bathroom graffiti.”

There were helpful signs at nearly every street corner pointing to various attractions within the town, designed to be larger and more obvious than the street signs the locals used. Rantaro almost laughed again at the signs pointing to the stadium when the town was built at a slope and he could clearly see the massive building no matter where they went in Turffield.

The geoglyph was undoubtedly Turffield’s biggest attraction outside of the Gym Challenge season. Despite the weather still being rather chilly, the hiking trail up to the viewing area was crowded with tourists who would no doubt, in about two weeks, be concentrated in Motostoke for the opening ceremony of the Gym Challenge. Not that most of them would actually get into the ceremony and would instead be watching the live television feed; still, there was something exhilarating about being close to the action.

The duo reached the peak of the hiking trail, the viewing area nestled on the hill opposite the hillside the geoglyph was carved into. Kiyo nearly shuddered in amazement at the sight of the giant figure beneath a swirling cloud and small figures at its feet fleeing. Despite it being crowded in the viewing area, there was plenty of open space for Kiyo to push his way to the fence barrier, getting as close a view as he could.

Rantaro wasn’t nearly as enamored as his friend, but the sight was still impressive. He wondered how large the figure truly was, since the distance could be misleading. There was a good chance the human figures were life-size, which would make the tall one a true giant.

“That’s Dynamax, right?” he asked when Korekiyo returned to him.

“Yes and no,” Kiyo responded. “It is hypothesized this image is depicting a Gigantamax Toxtricity due to the similar shape of the tail and the frill on the head and back. You see the swirl up there?” he gestured to spiral just off to the side of the Pokémon’s face. “It is believed that represents the Darkest Day.

“The Darkest Day,” he continued explaining before Rantaro could voice any question, “was an event that took place over three thousand years ago. The ancient land of Galar was overcome by a sky full of dark clouds that rained watts down upon the land and caused entire populations of Pokémon to Dyna- and Gigantamax and wreak chaos across the land.”

“Damn,” Rantaro exhaled, though such horrors didn’t affect him nearly as much as it would someone who hadn’t helped face down the Pillager of Light. “How’d it end? Did it reshape the region like what happened in Unova?”

“That’s where things become a little odd,” Korekiyo’s brow furrowed and he looked contemplative, an expression Rantaro could only recognize in spite of his friend’s face-concealing mask because of all the time they had spent together. “You see, ask any native of Galar and they’ll regale you with stories of the Sword and Shield Hero.

“The Hero is the one, armed with a legendary sword and shield lost to time, who vanquished the source of the Darkest Day and ended the carnage. Everyone in Galar knows the story, but… I have some uncertainties.”

“What makes you say that?”

“For one, there’s no single description of the Hero in writing or other artistic medium; his appearance is always up for interpretation depending on who is depicting him, which is odd for such a famous historical figure. There’s a statue of him in Motostoke which is the most popular depiction, but you’ll find many different portrayals.

“It’s my hope I’ll one day gain the clearance needed to visit the Hammerlocke Vault, a maximum-security vault containing countless artifacts relating to Galar’s history. Maybe there’s something a little more concrete there.”

“Yeah, like the walls, no doubt,” Rantaro mumbled to himself. When Kiyo described a place as maximum-security, Rantaro always imagined a reinforced bunker deep underground with giant spinning locks like a bank safe. After all, for a place to be considered maximum-security, it needed to be able to withstand Pokémon attacks as well.

They didn’t spend long at the geoglyph since, despite its majesty, there wasn’t much to see beyond the figures themselves. The duo descended the hill and returned to the heart of Turffield, finding a charming little café to grab some early dinner before making the trek back to their campsite in the hinterlands. The workday was over, so there were no farmers to offer them a ride, and they had to make the entire walk themselves.

Of course, for two experienced adventurers in their own right, this was nothing— although Korekiyo had been spending a little too much time behind his desk at the Litra Natural History Museum lately. They climbed the hill in the same way they had descended, in a serpentine pattern; and the higher they climbed, the more it felt like they were reaching for the sky itself.

At the top of the hill, they were completely exposed to the chilled wind blowing in, reminding the duo that although the spring equinox had passed, spring weather was still a long way off. One might call them crazy for choosing to camp outdoors in such conditions, but they were prepared for anything.

At least, so they thought.

There was nothing in particular Rantaro could later claim was the reason he awoke that night. Perhaps he had felt a disturbance before the full force could make impact; perhaps he subconsciously heard the sudden silence as all Bug-type and night-loving Pokémon quieted in unison; perhaps he was stirred awake by something else and serendipitously timed it to ensure his and Kiyo’s survival. He would never be sure but thanked whatever force of the universe decided he was too important to die.

“Kiyo,” Rantaro whispered, nudging the lump in the neighboring sleeping bag that was his friend. When Korekiyo didn’t stir, Rantaro heaved Slowpoke, whom he had been using as a secondary heat source, into his arms and slumped him across Kiyo’s chest, the crushing weight of the Pokémon forcing the latter awake.

“What are you doing?” he wheezed, shoving Slowpoke off, who, rather than sliding limply to the tent floor as he would normally, immediately took up an alert stance.

“It’s too quiet outside,” Rantaro whispered, as if he were afraid to break the eerie silence. He cautiously unzipped the tent door, looking around for any sign of danger before crawling out. The moon was waning, but it was a clear night, so the light of the sliver of a crescent moon brightly illuminated the area. From what he could see, there was nothing that should immediately raise the alarm.

Still, he would be a fool if he didn’t take precautions. He hurriedly released Gallade and Decidueye, the former extending his elbow blades and the latter plucking an arrow and notching it on his drawstring. Kiyo emerged from the tent, releasing all of his Pokémon with a quick sweep of his arm.

Banette fiddled with his bracelet holding the Banettite, ensuring it was firmly attached before a potential battle started. Aegislash switched to attack mode, positioning himself between Kiyo and the rest of the wood. Chandelure brightened the area further using his blue flames, prepared to set any enemy ablaze who dared attack them. In contrast to the others, Xatu stood calm and still as a statue, staring into nothingness.

Ominous red light began to shine through the trees; at first, Rantaro mistook it for a searchlight, but there was no sweeping motion. It intensified, drowning out Chandelure’s blue glow and casting long shadows along the ground of the clearing. There was a rumble, then a bellow…

A massive thud nearly upended Rantaro and Kiyo, both struggling to remain standing as if they were on the rocking deck of the former’s ship in rough waters. An immense shape, bathed in the blood-red light, began to rise in the distance. It loomed high above the trees, low groaning echoing from it as its new gargantuan body adjusted to the change.

The light faded enough to reveal the shape was a Dynamaxed Nuzleaf, though its body was still swathed in the crimson glow.

It took another step, this second shockwave succeeding in knocking Rantaro and Kiyo to the ground with loud exclamations of surprise. The Nuzleaf’s head turned in their direction, the movement agonizingly slow and frightening. A flock of Hoothoot and Noctowl panicked and leapt into the sky, drawing the Dyna-mon’s interest even more. It began to step toward the campsite, the trees and underbrush warping out of shape beneath its feet before seeming to burst and splinter, rather than being crushed.

“Ranged attacks!” Rantaro shouted over the cacophony of rupturing wood and screaming Pokémon as they fled their hiding spots. “We can’t risk our Pokémon getting too close!”

“Inferno!” Korekiyo ordered, Chandelure immediately launching the attack in response. The Nuzleaf was completely engulfed in the intense fireball, shrieking monstrously into the sky and stumbling back.

“We can’t defeat it!” Rantaro ripped open the tent and hauled his bags over his shoulder, hurriedly returning Slowpoke to his Pokéball. “We don’t have any experience with Dynamax. Just grab your stuff and run!”

Gallade, Decidueye, and Kiyo’s Pokémon defended while their Trainers ran, casting long range attacks at the Nuzleaf even if the element of the attack did little damage. They weren’t willing to fight, only to keep the Pokémon from reaching the humans.

Rantaro and Kiyo crashed through the undergrowth, the former stumbling and almost slamming face-first into a tree trunk. He managed to avoid breaking his nose but cut up the side of his face on the rough bark— not that he noticed with the amount of adrenaline coursing through him. The duo fought the thick tangle of branches, ignoring rips in their clothing and accumulated cuts until they reached the crest of the hillside down to the fields of crops.

Without hesitation, the two flung themselves off the hill peak, rolling and tumbling painfully all the way to the bottom, where they lay in agony and fearfully looked up the hill to see if the Nuzleaf would follow. Their Pokémon came down the hill with more grace and stability, huddling around their Trainers and waiting for their opponent to either follow or give up.

And in an instant, it was all over.

The red glow intensified, bleeding into the night sky, before fading completely and all was quiet. Rantaro and Kiyo panted desperately, sucking in large gulps of air as the noises of night-dwelling Pokémon gradually returned and all was calm, as if nothing had happened.

“You just had to open your big mouth!” Kiyo snapped, looking uncharacteristically haggard with leaves and twigs tangled in his long hair. “You just had to say it had been too peaceful as of late! You spoke it into the universe!”

“That I did,” Rantaro chuckled nervously, coming down from the adrenaline rush and wincing at the sensation of blood tricking down his cheek. “We should find shelter and treat our wounds. Hope you’re ready for a hike back to town.”

“Ma’am— ma’am, please listen to what I’m saying… I know it’s technically impossible, but I know what I saw! I have the bruises to prove it!”

Rantaro would have found Korekiyo’s frustration amusing were he not still trembling from one of the worst frights of his life. It didn’t help the incident had brought back memories of running from Monokuma and Guzzlord at the Aether House.

The night crew of the Turffield Pokémon Center were shocked to say the least. He assumed not much happened in this sleepy farming community aside from mishaps with the equipment, which would send poor victims to the clinic rather than Pokémon Center. The crew had swarmed upon Rantaro and Kiyo, expecting their Pokémon to be just as worse off and were shocked to see the creatures were absolutely fine, though a bit wary of anyone approaching their Trainers.

With his face bandaged up and a cup of tea from the café clutched in his hand, Rantaro watched Kiyo pace as he attempted to properly communicate what occurred that night with the clerk on the other end of his phone. Due to the raw destructive power of Dynamax and how the phenomenon was restricted to Galar, the region had an established emergency response solely for Dynamax incidents. However, it appeared the operator was having a difficult time believing Kiyo’s story.

“Sir, I understand what happened must have been frightening, but it is impossible for a Pokémon to Dynamax outside of a Power Spot. Now walk me through it again, you claim you were camping in the hinterlands west of Turffield, closer to the coastal cliffs than to the town, yes?”

“That is correct. We had to cross several fields of crops after descending the hill to get to Turffield, but the cliffs were only about a fifteen-minute walk away from our campsite.”

“Most Power Spots have been recorded and mapped,” said the operator, though her tone indicated she was thinking out loud as she typed away at her computer. She magnified the zone around Turffield of the map she had on her monitor, zooming in even more to meticulously check for any marking showing a Power Spot had been found in the area. “I’m using the most recent map, which is updated annually at the beginning of the year, but I’m still not seeing any sign that a Power Spot has been discovered in that area.”

“Could it have been missed by the surveyors?”

“I doubt it; they pay extra close attention to areas near human settlements. It’s much more likely a new Power Spot would go unnoticed in a more isolated area, but not that close to a town.”

“Could it have manifested just now?”

“Hmm…” the operator pulled away from her keyboard for a moment, contemplating Kiyo’s suggestion. “It’s unheard of… but I guess, theoretically, not impossible. The survey is done every year just to be safe, but a new Power Spot hasn’t been discovered in a decade— and that was in an isolated place where it might have gone undiscovered for many years prior, hinting there might be an even longer window of inactivity.”

“But it’s possible,” Kiyo concluded.

“Yes… with your permission, sir, I would like to send the recording of this conversation to Towa Group.”

“Towa Group?”

“Yes, Towa Group is part of a mass conglomerate founded in Galar. One of their responsibilities is providing electricity to most of the region, and the conglomerate’s current CEO has made leaps and bounds in utilizing watts as clean energy; thus, they’ve taken a keen interest in monitoring watt concentration and Power Spots. The Power Spot surveyors are Towa employees, for example. If you managed to stumble across a spontaneously manifested Power Spot, Towa Group will want to know so it can be monitored. I assure you, external Dynaburst incidents are taken very seriously.”

“’Dynaburst?’” Kiyo repeated, the term unknown to him.

“That’s what it’s called when a Power Spot, usually a den, undergoes a shift in watt concentration and becomes capable of Dynamaxing a Pokémon. Dens open up to large cavities below ground, so if a Dynaburst happens inside a den, it’s not too worrying. However, if a Dynaburst happens above ground, leading to a rampaging Dynamax Pokémon, then there’s a much more likely chance of wanton destruction. If what you’re claiming is true, then this new Power Spot could either not open into a den, or the cavity beneath is too small to host a Dynamax Pokémon.”

“Very well, I give you permission to submit the recording to this Towa Group.”

“Thank you, sir; unfortunately, there’s little else I can do to help you at this time. Do you require any other information?”

“Not at this moment. Thank you for your help.” Kiyo ended the call, heaving a tired sigh and wearily tromping toward Rantaro, his body nearly dropping into the other chair at the small café table the latter was sitting at.

“That sounded like a riveting conversation,” Rantaro commented, trying to lighten the mood after one of the worst frights of his life.

Kiyo didn’t respond; instead, he stole Rantaro’s half-empty tea, lowered his mask, and gulped the rest of it down. The two sat in silence, prompting the night staff to glance worryingly at them every so often. The pair could often spend hours in each other’s company without exchanging a single word, simply enjoying the presence of the other, but this was different. There were many words that needed to be spoken, many things that needed to be discussed.

But they couldn’t bring themselves to speak.

The night staff traded roles with the morning staff, one of the nurses taking a few minutes to point out Rantaro and Korekiyo and explain what happened to them. Immediately, a day nurse came over and questioned if they needed anything, both speaking up for the first time in hours to reply they were fine and simply needed some more time to mentally recover from the fright.

The day staff of the café began to turn on all the machines, setting out fresh goods in the display cases and moving all the chairs to the tables in preparation for the morning rush. A staff member switched on the television mounted on the wall, the channel automatically set to the region-wide news station. At first, the drone of the news anchors was white noise, something on in the background Rantaro and Kiyo could ignore— until both their heads snapped toward the screen in unison.

“There have been an increased number of reports of Pokémon Dynamaxing outside of the Wild Area, with some witnesses even claiming there were Dynabursts happening away from Power Spots.”

“Well, far be it for me to call anyone a liar,” the second anchor quipped, “but having lived in Galar my whole life, I feel like everyone and their uncle has supposedly witnessed a Dynaburst outside a Power Spot.”

“So far, those claims continue to be simple conjecture. The reports of increased Dynabursts outside the Wild Area have been confirmed, but all incidents appear to have taken place within the vicinity of a Power Spot. Chairman Towa has expressed concern about the increase in Dynabursts outside the confines of the Wild Area and has dispatched several surveyor teams to examine the Power Spots and dens for signs of increased activity.

“Regardless of increased risk of Dynamaxing, the Dynabursts don’t appear to be long-lasting based on individual testimony from eyewitnesses. At the most, the burst lasted three minutes before the Pokémon returned to its normal state. People who live in close proximity to a Power Spot are instructed to remain calm and, if a Dynaburst happens, keep the Pokémon distracted and as stationary as possible until the watts wear off.”

Rantaro and Kiyo exchanged a quiet glance between them; no words were spoken, but each was in agreement with what the other was thinking. That Dynaburst was much longer than three minutes; even accounting for their warped perception of time due to adrenaline, there was no way they had escaped the trees and run all the way to the crop fields within three minutes— it was too far.

However, what mattered now was what they needed to do next. A single anecdote might not make a difference in the grand scheme of things, especially concerning phenomena neither of them had much experience with, but they both knew what they witnessed was abnormal— and they were friends with an officer of the International Bureau.

There was no doubt in their minds that Shuichi would believe them, and he might have more influence than an officer of his rank might normally have thanks to being Kyoko Kirigiri’s apprentice, but they needed evidence if Shuichi wanted to present a verifiable claim. If they wanted the Bureau to be on alert, they needed to do their part.

Banette materialized from the shadows, gesturing to Kiyo as he explained what he saw while scouting ahead. Rantaro and Korekiyo were sheltered midway down the hill’s slope within a copse of gorse, having sent Banette to scout for any sign of danger before climbing to the summit.

“There are people at our campsite,” Kiyo translated.

“If they’re members of a survey team, we should probably confirm we’re alive,” suggested Rantaro. “Otherwise, they’re looking at our crushed tent and sleeping bags and wondering what happened to the campers.”

But Kiyo shook his head, intently watching Banette’s continued gestures. “I don’t think these people are worried about us being alive.”

“…I guess that’s true; we did report the incident after all— can’t do that if you’re dead. How do we proceed?”

“With caution.”

They disentangled themselves from the gorse and climbed the hill at a tenuous crawl. The bright sunshine of daylight hours was helping mitigate the terrified memories of darkness, panic, and confusion, but neither could help wondering if that furrow in the dirt was where one of them slid and fell during their flight, or if that tree there was the one Rantaro slammed head-first into.

A voice arose from a distance, prompting both men to drop and crouch behind trees. The voice appeared to be giving an order, a buzzing noise following before ending with a solid thud. Rantaro and Kiyo sprawled onto their stomachs and began to crawl, sheltering within a thicket as close as they dared to approach their old campsite.

Rantaro peered out from the thick twists of branches, spying a scrap of brightly-colored fabric he identified as part of their tent lying in a haphazard pile of broken branches and— goodness, those spindly bits must be the support poles from the tent. He couldn’t help the shudder that ran down his spine at the sight of the metal but flexible poles effortlessly snapped in pieces.

“This one’s too damaged— have it removed,” the voice ordered. Now, Rantaro focused on the multiple people milling about the area. The voice belonged to someone he assumed was the foreman of the surveyor team, if this truly was the surveyor team.

The foreman was gesturing to a tree with a huge gash nearly splitting it down the middle. On that command, two workers quickly approached with chainsaws and easily cut the tree down, explaining the thud and buzzing Rantaro and Kiyo had heard from a distance. After shearing off the branches, two Machoke, one at each end, picked up the log and moved it toward a pile of fellow trees cut through by the chainsaws.

Rantaro began to slide back so he could sneak over to where Korekiyo was sheltered but froze when he spotted movement from that direction. He relaxed when he saw it was Xatu, strolling out from the thicket as if he belonged there, his wings folded against his front like always. Confused by the Pokémon’s presence but uncertain about speaking up in case they were caught, Rantaro silently watched as Xatu walked along the perimeter of the campsite, taking care to avoid the human and Pokémon workers, most of whom barely spared a glance.

“Several trees had to be removed in order to place our equipment around the area where the supposed ‘Spotless Dynaburst’ took place,” the foreman spoke aloud, confusing Rantaro until he noticed the foreman was speaking into their phone.

Probably notes for the report later, he concluded, watching the foreman now that Xatu was out of his line of sight.

“After two hours of data collection, no substantial evidence was found for increased watt concentration. Minimal damage to the area also suggests no Dynaburst took place. Mister Towa will want a full analysis of the false report.”

…Wait. Was the foreman already drawing conclusions for their report without collecting evidence? Now that Rantaro took a moment to look more closely, any equipment he was able to see from his hiding place looked like lawn and landscaping tools. He didn’t know what the surveyor teams used to measure watt concentration, but he was expecting something more complicated looking than chainsaws and shovels.

Also, “minimal damage,” my ass! The team was purposefully hiding the destruction the Dynamax Nuzleaf had brought on the area and writing it off under claims of clearing enough space for their machines, which they didn’t have with them and weren’t using! There was no doubt in Rantaro’s mind: these people were hiding the fact a Pokémon had Dynamaxed out here.

Now the only question is: why?

Despite how gentle the touch was, Rantaro nearly leapt out of his skin when something brushed against his ankle. His head snapped to look over his shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath when he saw it was Kiyo. The masked man put a finger to his covered lips, signaling Rantaro to be quiet just as several loud clunking sounds prompted shouts of confusion from the workers.

Somehow, the meticulously stacked logs had tumbled and were rolling across the ground. Kiyo yanked hard on Rantaro’s leg, the two of them scrambling out from the thicket and running for the hillside again, the commotion a perfect cover to hide their escape. They didn’t make it all the way to the open hillside in one burst this time, but they were far enough away from the survey team they felt safe to rest and discuss what they just witnessed.

Before any words could be exchanged, Banette materialized from the shadows, snickering to himself as if he had just told the most hilarious joke. “Good job,” Korekiyo commended him, revealing it had been Banette who upset the logs.

Xatu came strutting out from the trees, moving at a slightly faster pace than Rantaro normally saw him walk, but not nearly as quick to count as running. The bird approached Kiyo so his Trainer could remove something that Xatu had been holding against his abdomen and hiding using his folded wings.

“What is that?” Rantaro questioned.

“My phone,” Kiyo showed the device to him, Rantaro spotting the telltale red light of a video being recorded on the phone, which Kiyo quickly turned off. The dark-colored phone case had blended in with Xatu’s color pattern on his torso, allowing the Pokémon to walk around the campsite with the phone hidden as it recorded the workers’ activities.

“I feel as if we don’t need to confirm what we’re both thinking,” said Kiyo, already reviewing the footage.

“Yeah,” confirmed Rantaro, feeling oddly anxious about the situation. He didn’t believe they were in immediate danger, but the implications were disturbing. If the surveyor teams were going through this much effort to hide that a Dynaburst took place, then they must be hiding something bigger happening behind the scenes.

“Whatever’s going on,” Kiyo spoke, “I don’t think it’s a case of a rogue surveyor team. The foreman specifically referred to ‘Mister Towa’ receiving an analysis of our ‘false report.’”

“Of course the CEO’s in on it,” complained Rantaro. “Wait… no, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. All we know is that, for whatever reason, Towa’s surveyor teams are hiding Dynaburst events.”

“Specifically, Dynaburst events happening outside of Power Spots,” Kiyo clarified. “There could be any number of explanations as to why, but we have what we need. Now, let’s do what we can to get this on the Bureau’s radar.”

“I just hope he’s awake by now.”