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Volo snarls helplessly, trapped in an unwinnable situation by his own arrogance. The Alpha Vespiquen advances, enraged by his decision to encroach upon her territory with violent intent — not that it had worked out in his favour. Of course it hadn’t. Ever since that brat had defeated him at the Temple of Sinnoh, nothing had gone in his favour. The news of his betrayal and duplicity had spread like wildfire across the region, leaving him bereft of aid and shelter. No matter how hard he tried to care for his team, there was only so much he could do without proper potions and medicine. Seeing the Alpha Vespiquen as he skulked through the Mirelands — remembering how that awful, Arceus-blessed girl had so easily defeated the one holding the Insect Plate — had caused him to fall prey to his own hubris. Surely, he thought, if she could defeat this, so can I.
Now he was paying the price.
Maybe, if his team weren’t so wounded and exhausted, he could’ve won. His team was crafted to be strong enough to tear down a god, after all. But his team was wounded and exhausted, unable to land many hits on their opponent before succumbing to their injuries. And now… now Volo’s trapped. There’s nowhere for him to hide, no outcroppings of rock to duck behind, nowhere for him to huddle and wait for the enraged Pokémon to lose interest so that he can escape. The Alpha Vespiquen advances, buzzing furiously with eyes ablaze, and Volo can’t run. Even if he tries, the Alpha Pokémon will easily catch up to him. If he’s lucky, it’ll simply maim him. He knows his luck has long since run out. Furious at the world, at himself, at that stupid fucking brat, he stares down his death and pretends it doesn’t terrify him.
The hairs on the back of his neck rise as the sharp scent of ozone suddenly grows thick in the air. That’s the only warning Volo gets before lightning plummets from the sky, lancing through the Alpha Vespiquen’s shoulder with a deafening roar. Volo’s eyes snap past the writhing Pokémon and land on a bristling Luxray, its mouth twisted in a furious snarl. Oblivious, the Alpha howls in agony, furious eyes darting over the landscape as it tries to find its assailant.
It doesn’t get the chance.
Before the Alpha’s eyes can alight upon the snarling Luxray, a hatefully familiar form blurs into the field, steady hooves kicking up clouds of red dirt. Akari sits proudly atop Wyrdeer, her face set in that awful, solemn expression Volo’s grown to loathe so much. She glances back at him for a moment, but that’s all — her focus is entirely on commanding her Luxray in battle, barking out orders in a steady voice. It doesn’t escape Volo’s notice that she’s positioned herself so that if the Alpha Vespiquen manages to break free of Luxray’s grip — an unlikely possibility, considering the way Luxray’s fangs have sunk deep into the Vespiquen’s thorax — it’ll run into her instead of Volo. The realisation makes something bitter and rotten burn in the hollow cavern of his chest.
As the fight rages on, Volo glares silently at Akari, the sting of her pity and blatant dismissal nearly too much to bear. She doesn’t so much as look at him even after the battle is concluded, the wounded Alpha retreating to its hive along with its retinue of Combee. Akari silently withdraws Luxray from the field, pressing a chaste kiss to its Poké Ball before returning it to her satchel. An imperceptible sigh escapes her lips. She still doesn’t look at him. He can see her legs tensing as she prepares to urge Wyrdeer to carry her off into the depths of the Mirelands. Something about her imminent unannounced departure snaps the chains holding his tongue.
“Why.” It’s not a question. Volo’s rage is far too overpowering for it to be a question. “Why did you —?!” The words get stuck in his throat. Admitting he needed to be saved was admitting his own weakness. It doesn’t matter that he actually needed help. It doesn’t matter that if Akari hadn’t come he wouldn’t be here. All he can think about is the awful, tearing humiliation of having his pride trampled by Akari once again. Volo snarls as he rises to his feet, hands clenched into fists until it feels as though his bones will burst through his papery skin. “Why did you interfere?!” he snaps. “I said I never wanted to see you again!”
Akari’s eyes are unreadable as she looks down at him in more ways than one. Her disdain stabs into his skin like knives. He bristles under the weight of it all. “…I suppose I could’ve stayed out of it,” she says coldly, no trace of her old affection to be found in her voice, “but I refuse to stand aside when there’s someone in need. That would make me far too much like you.” Volo reels back as though physically struck. Before he can regather his wits, Akari presses her heels into Wyrdeer’s side and gallops into the horizon, leaving him alone with her condemnation ringing in his ears.
Dawn tries to put on a brave face as she stares down the Galactic Grunt and his Stunky, trapped in an isolated corner of the Eterna Forest. She knew going into that battle she wasn’t going to win, but she couldn’t just let that awful man bully that poor schoolkid! She had battled with all her might, but she was still just a novice — she had only just gotten her first Gym Badge last week, after all — and her team had quickly fallen to the Galactic Grunt’s much stronger Pokémon. Now, bereft of Pokémon, healing items, and assistance, she tries to pretend the leer on the Grunt’s face doesn’t make her want to burst into tears. She knew going into that battle she wasn’t going to win.
She just doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to face the consequences.
Maybe, if she were just a little bit stronger, she could’ve been more of an opponent and less of a sacrifice. Her team was still so small, consisting only of her faithful Piplup and a sweet, oddly-coloured Budew she found the last time she passed through the forest. Even though they knew the odds were stacked against them, her precious team had still followed her orders, battling their little hearts out until they collapsed. If she gets out of this, she’ll make them the best Poffins ever. The Grunt cackles and jeers as he advances, his Stunky proudly stalking forward with gleeful eyes. Desperate, Dawn sends a hysterical prayer to Arceus to let her survive this encounter.
All of a sudden the forest goes silent. Not even the wind seems to blow. A cold sweat breaks out on her skin as a malicious energy oozes out of the densely packed trees surrounding her. Without any warning, a deafening roar tears through the silence as a Garchomp dives out of the forest, bladed arms slamming into the Stunky with enough power to send it flying. The Grunt cries out in shock, head turning from side to side as he tries to figure out where the monstrous Pokémon came from.
He doesn’t have to wait for long.
A hiker calmly walks out of the trees, black cap sitting low over his brows as he surveys the scene. With a quiet word, the Garchomp lunges for the Grunt who hastily sends out a Croagunk to retaliate. It’s not a fair fight. Not in the slightest. But Dawn, who had just suffered a terrible defeat at the Grunt’s hands, can’t really find it in herself to care. She’s more interested in her strange, silent saviour.
He’s dressed in browns and muddy greens, clothes worn from excessive travel just like all the other hikers she’s met so far. His dull grey hair is tied back into a tight bun at the nape of his neck, and though she didn’t get a good look at his face, she thinks his bangs are styled similarly to Champion Cynthia’s. The hiker’s hands are tucked into his pockets and his posture is relaxed — no doubt because he wields such a powerful Pokémon on his team. Everyone knows only the strongest of trainers can raise a Garchomp. As though feeling her assessing gaze, the hiker glances back at her for a moment — but only for a moment. His focus is entirely on the unfair match before them.
The Galactic Grunt curses as his Croagunk faints and hastily flees from the battle. The hiker seems content to let him go. Once the Grunt is out of sight, the hiker recalls his Garchomp into the strangest Poké Ball Dawn’s ever seen — was it one of those Apricorn Balls from Johto? — and places it in a well-worn satchel at his hip. He turns and looks her over, something oddly wistful in his eyes as he does so. With a slight nod, he turns back towards the trees and starts to walk. Feeling like she’s about to lose something precious but not quite knowing why, Dawn finds herself shouting after him.
“Wait!” she cries, pushing herself to her feet and taking a few stumbling steps after him. The hiker pauses, turning slightly to face her. “Why did you…?” Now that the adrenaline has left her, it’s harder to speak without her voice trembling with delayed fear. Even so, Dawn forces herself to get the words out before her chance slips away. “Why did you save me?” she asks. “I mean — I’m really, really thankful! But I just…”
There’s something devastatingly tender in the hiker’s eyes as he stares at her. It’s so powerful she almost wants to look away, as though she’s intruding on something far too personal. Dawn forces herself to hold her ground and is rewarded with a small, painfully soft smile. “…I suppose I could’ve stayed out of it,” he murmurs, voice barely loud enough to carry across the distance between them, “but I… can’t let myself walk away from those in need anymore. I want to become someone kind.” Silver eyes meet and he grasps the small pendant around his neck. His lips move. Dawn trembles with confusion and a small, confused amount of pride as the words hit. The hiker nods and vanishes into the depths of the forest, leaving her alone with his strange, oddly wistful parting words.
“I want to be someone like you.”