Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Post war, age 21

The Air Continent had many long roads for travelers to traverse across. It was a very open and sprawling continent that encouraged exploration, so most civilizations - from small communities to bustling cities - had some kind of path that laced them within an interspersed web of routes and trails. 

The longest ones that connected extremely important towns hosted many of said stations, such as routes that led to a trade town, a port town, or a town of political-slash-economical importance. 

Virtue never liked to stay on those beaten paths too often, but he still found them helpful, especially since Virtue just so happened to set his sights on Evongolia City. Surreptitiously, the route to Evongolia City was also near where he had been camping before he set off - it was a true win-win in his eye. The majority of it stretched along the Air Continent’s southeastern coastline, so he would hopefully have a very peaceful and relaxing jaunt all the way across.

But as usual, fate had different plans for him . 

Before he could even think about seeing the ocean, he had one more expanse of land to cross. A rest stop and a canyon greeted him at the end, so all he needed to do was sleep, restore his energy, and cross the bridge to get to the other side.

Unfortunately, just as he was about to leave, an employee - who presumably thought he was going to take that path - stopped him to deliver some detrimental news.

“The bridge is out,” he repeated dryly, staring at the Frogadier in front of him. His facial expression didn’t budge an inch despite feeling as if he was about to have a conniption. For once, he was glad that his BPD always rooted him to acting certain ways in certain scenarios. He could have a mental breakdown in private instead of making himself look like a fool in public.

“Yes. A few days ago, an earthquake passed by this area,” Frogadier replied, sweeping his weebed hand out toward the right - from their position at the rest stop’s patio, Virtue could see the large canyon that spanned outward to the very edges of his peripherals; more importantly, he could see the remains of what used to be a bridge that connected both ends of the canyon. The beginning of each end was intact, but they only jutted out a few feet.

“It completely wrecked the foundation that held the bridge up. We have members of the Heartstone Guild coming to help us repair it, but that is in a few days,” Frogadier continued, settling back into a more nuanced position.

Fury burned in his chest for a fraction of a second, though it was quickly doused and replaced by a solemn resignation. The bipedal Vulpix flitted his gaze toward the canyon and Frogadier repeatedly, finding difficulty in encouraging himself to stay and at least be respectful to the stranger who had helped him thus far. “Is there any other way to cross?” He asked. His voice slightly wavered against his will.

The Frogadier frowned - Virtue was, as usual, unable to tell if it was pitying or sympathetic. “Have to go somewhere? I get it, it does suck. But unless you want to risk going through it, you’re going to have to go around.”

“Go through it?” Virtue repeated, inquisitive.

“Mmhmm. Well, not ‘through’ per say, but… the point is, a decade or so back, this used to be a very popular spot for ore mining. Amber and opals, I think. The Pokemon who led the excavation n’ mining projects built a whole bunch of ladders that go waaaaay down there. Many of them have fallen apart from age, but I think a few of them still exist. They were built on both sides, so you could probably climb all the way down one and up the other. But I wouldn’t risk it. Falling to my death doesn’t sound like a good way to go out, ya know?”

Slowly, he nodded, though the motion was empty. All of what Frogadier had said went straight in one ear and out the other as he tunnel-visioned on the aforementioned scaffolding - he caught sight of the  quickly, as many of them were attached to wooden extensions that perked outward from the canyon’s lips. Some of them were dilapidated and decayed, obviously unsafe to even graze, yet a few remained fully intact on both sides of the canyon.

Without even bothering to excuse himself, he turned around and stepped off of the patio, walking forward until he stood only a few meters in front of the canyon. 

Solitude. At least for a while.

Now that he was alone, his entire demeanor shifted within a millisecond, leaving behind a pounding headache and a slimy, unpleasant feeling within his gut. His composure, now unsustained by his stoic and impassive mindset (it rest in the back of his head, waiting to be called upon again - waiting to take over and dictate his every thought and move just like the other two. He hated how segmented it made him feel and he still couldn’t get used to it. What was he worrying about again?), crumbled to pieces. Hot-blooded anxiety rooted itself within his veins, eating at his skin like termites and giving him the compulsive urge to itch himself feverishly. He only just managed to stave it away by a hair.

He’d planned for days. It wasn’t fair wasn’t fair wasn’t fair wasn’t FAIR that all of it was potentially being thrown into the trash. He had used every navigational tool at his disposal to calculate how long he’d need to travel. He made a mental checklist of spaces he wanted to stop at and even factored in potential hazards that would’ve slowed him down in a worst case scenario. He’d done everything right so why was this happening it wasn’t fair. This was something he had absolutely no input in. He couldn’t plan around this bullshit, this heap of garbage, fate hated him he swore it hated hated hated him stop it now.

Like a sledgehammer to glass, he felt as if his thoughts were shattered and sent violently flying in all directions. It was revolting and disorienting. It made him angry and want to cry all at the same time. His mind harried him with ‘what if’ after ‘what if’, which only furthered his anxiety about his decision. What if he was held up for several days, throwing all of his other plans off schedule? What if something else happened that was out of his control and made him have to wait even longer? What if more Pokemon tried to talk to him while he stayed at the Rest Stop? What if he had to spend a bit more than he set aside to keep his room and buy food - what if his food stocks got low and he wasn’t able to buy the exact amount he always did within the time he delegated for shopping? What if he needed to waste time foraging or cooking when he had plans for how much time he spent on those activities already and he didn’t account for this happening so now he’d end up ruining everything like knocking a single domino down and all of them crumble and he is going to scream - 

Something warm trickled down his paw, running between his pawtips and all along his fur. The texture and feel was both familiar and unsettling, causing him to instantly hyperfixiate on wiping it off on his chest - only once it was gone did he realize that it was blood from the pinpricks his claws had left in his palms. 

Ah. He was bleeding. That probably wasn’t good.

Ever so slowly, his consciousness returned to him. His breaths came out in quick, frantic gasps as he doubled over, hugging himself tightly. He counted to ten over and over within his head, slowing down every time he did so. Soon, his breathing returned to normal, his heart wasn’t hammering against his chest, and he was sure his eye was no longer a pinprick.

He needed to keep it together.

Making an effort to even move took a while. He felt drained and depressed, only managing to get himself back into an upright position on the notion that ‘if he did nothing, nothing would be accomplished’. His paws darted all across his body to stim, from fiddling with his scarf to playing with his fur. It at least helped him stay grounded.

And now, to decide what to do. It would probably be wiser to take a few more minutes to himself… but time was a luxury and he wasn’t going to waste it.

He stood and pondered, fighting to discern any other possible solutions - but in the end, Virtue could only (metaphorically) toss his arms into the air. There were no other avenues to pursue and the choice to throw his schedule off kilter sounded too grueling for him even to consider. Even if the path he chose would be harder to traverse, he wouldn’t let it stop him. His perseverance (and stubbornness, but he blamed his autism for that one) would guide him until he made it to the other side.

He steeled his resolve and slowly exhaled, approaching the scaffolding with his gaze glued to the ladder’s topmost nubs. He briefly hesitated, doubts nagging at the very back of his mind, but he finally shoved them all aside by stepping forward and swinging around to the ladder’s front. 

‘Anyone looking at me would think I’m insane…’

He began to scale the rickety wooden scaffolding peg by peg, simply letting his senses take control in an effort to stave away any approaching thoughts. He didn’t want to think. Not right now.

His movements were nearly robotic as he descended leg after leg, only paying a faint amount of attention to his surroundings. Sunlight had a harder time casting light around him the further he descended. He was thankfully still able to see, but a small trickle of anxiety flooded into the back of his mind yet again when he realized that if it got any darker, he’d have to use some sort of light source - the only light source he had was his fire, and that would burn down the ladder entirely. 

If anything else went wrong, he was going to lock himself in a random room for a week and cry. That was a vow.

A thick haze had gradually begun to surround him, wet and moist yet contrastingly dry from the dust of old sediment. The sounds of wind, nature, and idle Pokemon had faded away entirely, replaced by the frequent banter of hollow gusts. The pervading stillness made Virtue’s fur prickle with unease, yet even then he still forced himself to keep going.

He didn’t like it when he was alone to this extent. Not even mother nature could lend her comforting hand to him here, so far down. So far away from the only thing that gave him comfort in this fate-driven world.

The wood creaked. He descended faster.

‘ Stick it out. Stick it out. Stick it out. Stick it out…’

Just as his visibility was about to plunge into total darkness, he noticed a tapering collum of rock jutting up from his left - it stank of salt and metal, though it made a bud of hope well within him. He shifted until his left side dangled off of the ladder, whisking his arm outward to release a controlled gout of flames from his left paw.

His near surroundings were momentarily bathed in a warm red glow. It lasted for only a second yet it was all he needed for his suspicions to be confirmed: the object that rested before him was a stalagmite.

He clambered down the remaining portion of the ladder before tenuously sticking his left foot down, exhaling in relief when he realized that he’d finally reached the bottom. Then, he completely let go and landed in a slight crouch, standing upright while dusting off his chest.

The ladder he had seen on the other side was to the right. So rightward he was bound.

In order to get from one side to the other, Virtue repeatedly used bursts of fire to help him navigate his surroundings. He tried to catch the scent of wood or old bark… but he came up with nothing. Confused, he tried again, only for his nostrils to burn with the sharp smell of… copper. Or something.

He couldn’t rely on his sense of smell at all.

He should’ve expected it. All of the caves he’d explored before this were from Mystery Dungeons - his sense of smell was pretty poor in those, even despite every floor being filled with enemies and items. 

Even so, being down a resource (being unable to use a part of himself, it was his senses and his body and he didn’t like it when he couldn’t be whole) was harrowing. He never wanted to go this deep again . But he’d deal with it for now. All that mattered was keeping his schedule together. He needed to get to the other side.

He just hoped he was approaching the other ladder at the right angle. And he also hoped he didn’t accidentally burn it. That would be bad.

He took one tenuous step forward. Just as he was going to take another, he froze.

His senses - internal and instinctual - became awash with the feeling of imminent danger. He knew he only had a few seconds to react to whatever was coming, not questioning what his mind told him in the slightest. He usually hated when he was jerked in different directions but in this instance he knew to trust himself.

Something whistled across the air behind him. He sprung back and turned, watching as an Air Slash gouged the ground he stood on moments ago. A crescent-shaped plume of dust leapt into the air, making his eye water.

Regardless, Virtue adjusted his scarf and fell into a fighting stance, now focused intently on the fight at hand. He could see a shape maneuvering through the shadows, but it was still too dim to make out. But he didn’t need his sight to feel the aura of aggression it emenated. The hostility and nonverbal communication led him to conclude that he had possibly stumbled into the domain of a semiferal Pokemon.

It also dawned upon him that this fight was more than a setback. If he got too carried away or lost his direction, he’d probably never be able to find the other ladder. His goal was just within reach and yet fate decided to make his life that little bit harder.

His teeth gnashed together. The barrage of feelings was catching up to him. Anxiety from his inability to smell; limited options for movement due to all the debris; having to fight when all he wanted to do was leave; impatience from knowing that he was so close to the end - he wasn’t in a good mood, to put it underwhelmingly.

He reached into his bag yanked out his at-the-ready item of choice, watching the shape pensively. A metallic sheen quickly overtook the creature’s limbs - ‘ no, those are wings, and there are four of them’ - before it charged forward, screeching bloody murder. Virtue managed to strafe left and avoided his opponent by little more than a whisker-length; he could almost feel it brush against his body as it passed him by. Once it did, he whipped his body around and dug his feet into the ground, pitching the item overhead as hard as he could.

The Dizzy Seed did its job. The offending Crobat, whom he deduced was the threat from the wing count, flew around dazedly as it screeched and mumbled in an incoherent rant. Without having to worry about its rapid movement, Virtue thrust his arm forward as his eye flashed pink; a telekinetic grip seized Crobat’s body, only for it to be slammed into the ground with enough force to rock the entire cavern. 

He released his grip and intended to follow up with Foul Play, but Crobat recovered faster than he had expected. He let out an audible gasp when it flew upward and slashed at his chest with Cross Poison, leaving a bright purple X along his scarred abdomen.

Luckily, the mark faded away as quickly as it was made, not lingering to poison him. But damn did it sting. He was going to feel that one later.

A spark of rage flashed within his mind, but it was quickly snuffed out when his mind was thrust back into his combat-focused state. No matter how prevalent his emotions were at that moment, the barrier that separated how he thought now and the rest of his mindscape remained erect and fortified.

His eye narrowed as he lit his paws ablaze, using the added visibility provided by his fire to jab at Crobat as much as he could. It was hard to land a proper hit due to the limited space around him, a facet of their surroundings that Crobat took full advantage of by using its speed to loop around stalagmites and strike him from off-angles. It even managed to sink its teeth into his arm and drain some of his stamina with Leech Life, but since he was a Fire type and the move was of the Bug type, it did next to nothing.

After twenty seconds of constant failure, Virtue decided to change tactics, even if the outcome was less favorable. Just as Crobat charged with a powerful Steel Wing, he thrust both of his paws forward and amped up his fire output until the entire cavern was swimming with embers, using the extra leverage to melt the steel straight off of Crobat’s wings. He then grabbed onto the now-powerless limbs in the midst of Crobat’s strike -

- and burned them to ashes.

‘What are you doing?!’ He yelled to himself.

‘ Staying alive,’ was his response. Nothing else mattered but his survival.

Crobat had no chance to make a sound as its entire body was consumed by his fire’s hungry maw. The surrounding temperature soared as everything burned, burned, burned-

He exhaled. His flames cut off in an instant.

Ashes fluttered to the ground, marking the remains of what once was a Pokemon.

The threat was gone. Virtue let himself relax, finally able to take stock of his situation now that his combat lens had shifted. “Damnit,” he cursed. Why had he gotten so carried away? Such rash use of his fire could have led to the ladder burning down… wherever it may be. He barely felt remorse for the murder he commuted, too wrapped up in his own head to bother.

He hadn’t meant to go overboard like that, but still… it was worth it if it meant he wouldn’t face any more interruptions. It was a semiferal. No one would care. And it was getting in the way of his goal, too. He already felt the pins and needles that came with his surging anxiety - he didn’t want it to get worse by tallying any longer.

He held his right paw above him, igniting his palm to use as a makeshift torch. He amped up the brightness until he could see most of the rock wall in front of him; the light’s radius extended fairly in both directions, but it was to the right that he needed to focus on.

To the right. To the right. It was to the right… but what if he went too far? What if it was left now? It couldn’t be, could it?

His unoccupied paw tugged and twisted his chest fur as he strode onward, sweeping his gaze from left to right. The tension in his body instantly drained, however, when he finally stumbled across the ladder…

… a ladder whose base was completely scorched, no longer in any recognizable shape other than charred splinters.

He was extremely fortunate that his fire had only eaten the very bottom of the ladder away. From chest-height and up, the ladder remained fully intact, but it still served as a daunting reminder of what being careless could lead to. It left a bitter feeling in his gut - he would’ve taken it to heart, but he knew it wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t change what happened when his BPD kicked in. He’d tried for so long…

He shook his head, extinguishing his paw and clinging to the ladder. No use tarrying any longer.

Peg by peg, he ascended, leaving the canyon behind. The musty air began to recede the higher up he went, gradually becoming more bearable and less irritating for his nose. Next, rays of sunlight shone down upon him, starting as a trickle before fanning into a full river of warmth that encompassed his entire form. He could feel traces of wind thread along his hair like a gentle hand. 

Finally, after a minute more of climbing, he pulled himself up onto the other side. Feeling the grass beneath his feet; seeing the vast expanse of lush greenery greet his fusion; hearing the sounds of birds and rustling leaves; it all helped dispel any lingering tension he still held within him. The pins and needles dissipated. His stress and angst were washed away like grains of sand in a river basin. He could finally breathe easily without that strange ache in his chest, as if his heart had been wrung out in the midst of his panic.

There was nothing else to worry about for now. He felt… accomplished, to a degree. But that didn’t quite fit what his heart said after a moment of deliberation.

‘Ah.’ It dawned on him in a heartbeat: he was feeling content. Not proud, not happy, not tenacious, but content. Everything was back to how it should be. Order was maintained. His routine and plans were refurbished and reestablished.

He adjusted the strap on his bag before setting off, walking along the trail at a leisure pace as if he hadn’t gone through a series of turbulent emotions at all.

Chapter Text

The Wonders of Our World - Chapter 8

The Tree of Life

The Tree of Life’s origins can be traced back to the extinction of humanity; The Final Great War used nuclear weapons so great no Pokemon could ever dare replicate them, their power and radiation killing off every last human who ever walked the Earth. The world was left in a state of ruin - while this was normally a time for deities and legendary Pokemon to interrupt in some way, they only did so after humans were long gone. Many believe this was because humanity expressed too much arrogance and disregard for other lives to be redeemed, but that is merely conjecture.

From stories passed down from generation to generation and written reports from Pokemon who had taken shelter, modern researchers gleaned that - one day - all of the radiation in the air vanished within the blink of an eye. Barren land that was once grassy and forested abruptly sprung back to life. Any trace of contamination within freshwater and ocean water was lifted into the atmosphere and crushed into atoms. Acid rain was no more. The dark, gloomy curtain of grey that shrouded the world in shadow parted like curtains, allowing all to see the vast blue skies that hid behind it.

The world was purified. This event was dubbed ‘The Great Purification’.

Days later, a tree that kissed the clouds and pulsed like a rainbow was discovered on an uninhabited island within the Sea of Wonders (see page 47). It was naught but a blip on humanity’s maps and served no real purpose other than to house wildlife. Not once had anyone detailed a massive glowing tree placed in its center.

As Pokémon got a foothold on society and became the dominant species, one consensus rang true amongst those who yearned to fill the role of human scientists: the tree had something to do with The Great Purification.

Henceforth, the tree was named ‘The Tree of Life’.

When a cluster of grey clouds first congregated overhead and blocked out the sun, Virtue knew that the rest of his walk was going to be far from pleasant. 

He didn’t have a problem with water as much as he did with rain. Water, he could handle - he had submerged himself in entire bodies of it for numerous reasons. He enjoyed the feeling of being clean after a bath in a river, too, and he certainly didn’t mind taking a dip every once in a while to clear his head.

Rain, however, was much worse. If it rained while he was climbing a slope, he ran the risk of facing a mudslide. If it rained when he traversed a dirt road, mushy sand instantly clung to his feet and refused to let go no matter how hard he washed them. If it rained when he was camping, he could say goodbye to any fire he set up and was forced to eat cold food for that night.

He never had the chance to prepare for rain and when it rains his paws get wet and when his paws get wet he can’t use his fire and that scares him because he uses it to fight and not having it there feels like a part of himself is missing which leads to mistakes and mistakes cause pain and he doesn’t like pain he doesn’t want to bleed he doesn’t want to die give his fire back give it back give it back give it back give it back -

Small, barely visible droplets of water peppered his hair.

Moments later, a downpour began.

The ground beneath his feet sagged as it turned into mud, clinging to his fur and rubbing along his skin. His fur quickly became matted and clung to him uncomfortably, no longer protecting him from the gales of frigid air that bombarded his body. A miserable whine left his throat as he swiveled his head from side to side, clutching his bag as he sought out any nearby form of shelter.

The best he could find was a forest not too far off his current path. It wasn’t ideal and would force him off his planned route, yet his mind refused to take any alternatives in his panicked state. He’d deal with the repercussions of knocking his plans off course when he wasn’t ready to scream.

With a goal now in mind, Virtue booked it. He nearly tripped over himself multiple times and all but threw himself into the first cluster of trees he could reach, uncaring of how clumsy he’d been in his own haste. The relief he felt from the lack of incessant rainfall made him release a long, winded sigh, his head lolling forward as he fought to catch his breath. He leaned against a nearby tree and closed his eyes, resting his paws on his knees to help funnel air through the rest of his body.

Once his breathing steadied out and his heart rate slowed, Virtue took stock of his current situation. He knew he’d still have to be careful. The canopy provided by forests had a lot of gaps, so he still ran the risk of being hammered by nature’s shower. With that thought in mind, he stood up, squared his shoulders, focused his gaze ahead of him, and took a step forward.

He froze when something tickled the tip of his left ear.

‘Wasn’t I leaning against a tree?’ He wondered, shifting to the left before tilting his head back. His jaw fell slack when he realized that what he’d been leaning on wasn’t the trunk of a tree, but rather the stem of a plant that was twice his size and had leaves that were big enough to wrap around him entirely. 

The plant itself looked healthy. Virtue recognized it as a fiddle leaf fig, a common plant that he’d seen multiple times before. However, he’d never seen one - let alone any plant that fell outside of the ‘tree’ umbrella, in general - grow at such a magnified size. In all his years of wandering across the Mist Continent, that was the first time he’d found something so utterly perplexing.

Curiosity piqued, he cast a glance over his shoulder. Behind him was a similar situation that he’d somehow neglected to spot beforehand - every single plant, tree, and flower far exceeded its normal size, save for the grass. On top of that, they all looked astonishingly healthy; each tree’s bark was brown and without blemishes, all of the plants’ leaves were the greenest they could be, and the grass was so soft Virtue could see himself treating it like a cushion to sleep on.

Something was amiss, though not in a bad way.

‘This entire area feels… light,’ he thought, ‘and my anxiety… it doesn’t feel as pressing as it had before. The rain isn’t bothering me as much. What’s going on?’

Against his better judgment, he plucked one stem away from its roots, using it as a handle while the leaf acted as a makeshift umbrella. With a new layer of protection at his disposal, he pushed onward in hopes of uncovering the forest’s hidden truth.

For a long, long time, the Tree of Life was a thing of mystery. No one knew what it was or where it had come from. But that didn’t stop dedicated Pokemon from making their observations and discoveries. There was much to uncover and no amount of difficulty would stop those with curious and tenacious minds.

Kalani S. Garrison, an environmental researcher who lived from 183 P.W. to 225 P.W., was the first to propose a theory about the Tree of Life’s connections to the Earth. In specific places around the world, large colorful roots emerged from the soil; they monumentally impacted their surroundings. Trees and plants grew up to twice their normal size, greener than a Leafeon’s ears while as healthy as can be. Flowers blossomed in droves, perpetually lush and never once losing their color or luster. Even the air in those areas was crisp and fresh, just like an apple picked from its tree.

Kalani proposed that the roots belonged to the Tree of Life. But the claims were dismissed due to their incredulity - ‘how would a tree on the other side of the world plant roots that traveled so far? It’s not possible.’

A few minutes of aimless walking passed before something glistened at the edge of Virtue’s vision. He swiftly pivoted on his heel and hurried toward it like a moth to a flame; by now, he was desperate to understand what it was that made the forest so special and why it was messing with his emotions. 

He shoved aside a pair of bushes that blocked his way and staggered into an open clearing. What he saw instantly whisked his breath away.

A large, thick tree root rose from the ground, bent in the shape of a dune and towering over its surroundings. Trails of purple and blue swam through the ridges and grooves that lined the exterior like veins pumping blood through a living body. The root exuded a majestic aura that Virtue couldn’t make heads or tails of, though something deep inside of him said that he had no reason to be afraid. Despite his instincts telling him to err on the side of caution, his guard had already crumbled long ago, and he really couldn’t be upset about it.

Not when the voices in his head - his anxiety, his fear, his everything - were quelled for the first time in ages.

Surrounding the root was a crowd of flowers - some purple and tall, some yellow and short; some that bloomed, some that remained hidden in their buds; some that hung toward the ground, some that reached for the air eagerly. Each petal shimmered like gold under sunlight, blending together to simulate a wave of luminescence that took his breath away.

‘... where AM I?’

Another research paper written by Evergreen Fortunas (421 P.W. - 493 P.W.) explained that the flowers that grew from those special patches were practically invincible. No matter how long they were left alone - bereft of soil and water, no less - or no matter what temperatures they were placed in, not once did they show any signs of wear.

The sample flowers collected for the experiments were another matter entirely. Ms. Fortunas described that her colleagues sustained burns from wherever they touched the flowers, though that was after they were picked. Interacting with them while they were rooted to the ground felt the same as touching any other flower, sans the irregular aura they gave off. 

However, that was where the theories and experiments ended. There were no major developments in learning how the Tree of Life interacted with the world for the next 500 years. While some researchers attempted to get close to the roots, those who did instantly fell ill from immune poisoning. Strangely, none of these cases ever led to death or organ failure.

If I am to insert my thoughts into this, I believe that it was a warning. I’m very glad my ancestors and this field’s predecessors adhered to it. Angering a god is never a good idea. And thus, we - the scientific community - put our faith into the hands of time, waiting for them to point us in the right direction.

Virtue rolled the stem of two plucked flowers between his fingertips. He wasn’t sure what they were called, though the shape of their yellow petals and their oddly comforting scent drew his attention more than the rest. Part of him was tempted to collect as many as he could, yet he knew that he wouldn’t get far before they wilted into brown husks.

‘... but… I still don’t want to… let this opportunity go,’ he thought to himself. It would be a waste to let them rot. While he still couldn’t piece together where he was, he knew that he was standing atop a land of great significance, so he might as well give the flowers a purpose that held the same weight.

His eyes widened. He knew exactly what he should do.

He balanced both flowers on his right paw and shoved his left into his bag, rifling through its contents until he grasped something made of soft yet worn silk. His breath inadvertently stuttered when he raised the scarf until it was level with his eyes; he had to fight to keep his emotions at bay.

The scarf was the last thing his mother had made for him before her passing. She had worked hard on it and wanted it to serve as a physical reminder of their presence once he’d moved out of their den. Now, it was all he had left of them besides their gravestones, so he’d made a valiant effort to preserve it for as long as he could. He barely ever wore it, he cleaned it regularly, and he learned how to sew specifically to mend any holes it developed.

While he couldn’t bring any of the flowers to his parent’s graves, putting some on the incarnation of their love was certainly the next best option. One for his mother and one for his father.

Virtue unfurled the scarf as gingerly as he could, letting both ends drape toward the ground while he kept the middle balanced on his paw. Then, he adjusted his grip on both flowers so that he could poke two small holes in the scarf with his claws, just big enough to fit their stems. Using Extrasensory for added precision, he slid both flowers into each hole respectively, angling them in a way that would make it hard for them to fall out on accident.

He’d just finished putting them in place when they began to glow.

That faith was rewarded after the Dark Matter Incident thirty years ago. All of the world’s Legendaries emerged to stop the planet from careening into the sun while simultaneously reviving the Pokemon who’d been turned to stone. Amongst these Legendaries was Lady Xerneas, goddess of nature, and it was to our surprise that she stuck around long enough to agree to a small interview (special thanks to Glenn and Burgh of the Water Continent’s Head Expedition Society).

If anyone were to know about the Tree of Life, it would be Xerneas.

Questions were asked. Answers were given (interview transcript on page 187). What she revealed shocked us all, yet also made perfect sense at the same time.

The Tree of Life acted as the Earth’s heart. Its roots spread through the planet like veins and pumped it full of lifeblood, promising the world that nature would thrive until the end of time, even against the harshest of adversity.

There are only a few areas across the globe where the Tree of Life’s roots emerge from the ground. Xerneas vaguely explained that they exist to give mortal Pokemon hope and to help ease the suffering of those in pain. How that was done - or what she meant, for that matter - was never elaborated upon. Either way, those areas are nevertheless treated as sacred ground and will be preserved by Pokemon-kind for as long as possible. 

Yet again, Virtue was left in a state of awe as tendrils of light flowed from the flowers’ petals, weaving through his scarf like a needle and thread. Any holes they brushed across were patched up in the blink of an eye. Frayed ends of old fabric were cleaned off and re-sewn as if they were brand new until there wasn’t a trace of wear left behind. The specks of dirt and grime Virtue had yet to clean off were whisked away in exchange for a surface so pristine it may as well have been brand new.

Once its work was done, the tendrils of light returned to their host before the glow faded away entirely.

Virtue fell to his knees. His trembling arms cradled the scarf close to his chest, careful not to disrupt the flowers’ placement. Tears gathered within his widened eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Then, without a word, he lifted the scarf to his neck and wrapped it around him with ease, his every move guided by a set of paws that he couldn’t see.

His heart stuttered when he secured it in place. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if his mother had come down from her resting place to give him a nice, warm hug.

And that was what broke him. He fell onto all fours and howled with grief, sobbing until he had no more tears to spill.

He cried himself to sleep that night, not bothering to lay out his sleeping bag as he hugged his scarf like a newborn.

The voices remained quiet.

 It was the best sleep he’d had in years.

Chapter Text

There was something about Virtue that captured Ace’s attention. It wasn’t anything he could physically describe or properly articulate to anyone around him - instead, it was just a sensation that skittered along his feathers when he so much as glanced at the strange bipedal kitsune.

Ace had never been one to ignore gut feelings. Something was off with Virtue and he knew he had to find an answer. But no matter how often they talked or how long they spent in each other’s presence, Ace was left unable to piece together what it was that irked him. He felt like he was trying to read a script in a foreign language.

Ace had known that the most practical solution was to ask Virtue about it directly. But not only had that felt invasive to him, but it also felt… boring. At best, he’d get an explanation that would satiate his curiosity but wouldn’t scratch his desire to see it for himself.

Later that same day, a solution struck Ace with the force of a mallet.

Anything could be conveyed through a good fight. He didn’t need a translator when battle was a language Ace spoke best - and he knew that Virtue was fluent in it, too.

Ace brought up the idea of a spar over evening drinks. Stallard looked positively affronted - as he’d expected - but Virtue seemed both hesitant and anxious. Ultimately, the kitsune agreed to Ace’s proposal. They set up a time and a date for their spar and parted ways, though not before Ace was given an earful by his miffed lover.

The next day, just as the sun reached its zenith in the sky, Ace, Virtue, and Stallard gathered in an abandoned field half a mile away from Capim Town. It was far enough not to endanger civilians yet close enough to call for medical attention; Stallard had insisted on the location since ‘no spar is a true spar without injury’. On that, Ace agreed.

That’s what made it fun.

“I hope you’re satisfied, Ace,” Stallard said with a flat stare. He stood on a cluster of rocks that overlooked the rest of the field. “You just dragged this poor guy into another one of your stupid spars that I could’ve filled the role for. What could’ve possibly spurred you to ask him such a thing?”

Ace waved his wing flippantly. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Virtue engrossed himself in a variety of different stretches, each one emphasizing a set of muscles that only fueled Ace’s desire to fight. “Relax, Stallard. This isn’t just for my personal reason - I thought ahead for once.” With a joking grin, he reached into the bag that faithfully hung on his side and pulled out a marble-sized stone embroidered with a double helix. “You’ve seen how strong he is. We both have. If anyone is a good contender for practicing with this, it’s him.”

Stallard’s eyes widened. “Are you insane!?” He guffawed, thrusting a wing in Virtue’s direction. “You could kill him, Ace! That kind of power is NOT something to use carelessly!”

“I know, Stallard. I know.” He reached into his bag again and pulled out a pale blue Looplet, sliding it over his head and letting it settle around his neck. He slotted the stone into the center, waiting until a loud click signaled that it was in place before smoothing his feathers over its surface. “Trust me. I think this will benefit us both.”

“You THINK or you KNOW?”

“I think I know.”

Stallard dragged his wing across his face but didn’t say anything more. Ace counted that as a victory.

With that out of the way, Ace turned to Virtue and shifted until he standing directly across from his to-be opponent. “Alright then, Virtue,” he began, puffing out his chest, “I want us to both go all out for this one. And by that, I mean I want you to use whatever latent ability you have deep inside of you.”

Virtue’s eye widened. His body tensed like a string pulled taut and his stance instantly became more guarded, though Ace could tell it was from apprehension instead of fear. “How do you know about that?” The kitsune demanded.

Ace waved his wing in a ‘so so’ motion. “Eeeeehhhh… I mean, I’m just taking a shot in the dark here, but there’s something about you that feels different, you know? I mean, I’ve been in the presence of some Mega-Evolved Pokemon before, so I know what that kind of shit feels like.” He pointed his wing toward Virtue’s chest. “You radiate that exact same energy - except, latent, as I said before.”

Virtue remained still. His gaze became less uncertain and more judgmental as it flit between Ace and Stallard. After a while, Virtue finally relaxed and nodded his head, gripping the hem of his scarf trepidatiously. “... fine. I’ve been… I’ve been trying to learn how to control it better, a-anyway, so if you want me to fight with it… t-then I can. But, uh,” Virtue tilted his head, “you mentioned something about… Mega Evolution. Right?”

Ace nodded. He slowly reached his wing up to his chest and pushed his plumage out of the way, revealing his Looplet in all its glory. As he ran the feathers of his right wing over the centerpiece, he said, “Yeah. Truth be told, you’re probably the strongest Pokemon I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I mean, I’ve been working for the Capim Guild for a long time, and being a rescue worker means I come across a lot of dangerous Pokemon in a lot of dangerous situations. But you… well, seeing you fight makes me want to answer back to you, if you get me.”

He swiped his wing over the Mega Stone. In an instant, it flashed with a blinding white light that forced Ace to narrow his eyes. Just before the stone’s power consumed him whole, he shouted as loudly as he could, “Let me show you my true power!”

‘I’ve always wanted to say that.’

Ace let his eyes slip shut as tendrils of white energy ate his entire body. While not directly bearing witness to the changes his body underwent, each shift had its own distinct sensation that Ace had grown accustomed to by now. He knew exactly what it felt like when his body swelled in size; when his feathers changed color to add on highlights or to brighten his existing coat; when his hair spiked back and rolled out like a red carpet; when his strength surged to new heights, invigorating him and setting his Soul alight with the desire for battle.

The Mega Evolution’s insignia bore into the back of his eyelids, vanishing right after the apex of his transformation occurred. As the light around his body cracked and scattered to the ground like shards of glass, he opened his eyes and slowly exhaled, waiting until the glitz and glamor of his transformation subsided before speaking up again.

“Heh, surprised?” Ace asked with a charming grin. He slicked his hair back and winked, standing in a way that accentuated his lesser-hidden muscles. “I know, I bet I look awesome.”

(Off to the side, Stallard stared at Ace with a deep red blush and bleeding nostrils, fighting off the urge to let his gaze roam across the Pidgeot’s sculpted body that could’ve been carved from stone for all he cared. His mind ran amok with fantasies he’d never recite out loud and no amount of inner pleading could quell the frenzy he’d tossed himself into.)

Virtue tilted his head. His eye trailed across Ace’s body analytically, his lips pulled taut into a tight frown. He wordlessly shifted his stance and raised his flame-wreathed fists; the look in his eye changed to something dangerous, tracing an involuntary shiver along Ace’s spine.

“Are both combatants ready?” Stallard asked, raising his right wing into the air.

“Hell yeah,” Ace crowed.

Virtue said nothing.

“Then…” Stallard swung his wing downward. “GO!”

Before Ace could so much as twitch, Virtue closed the distance between them with his arm cocked back.

Ace yelped, crossing his wings over his face and drawing upon his Source to coat them with a metallic sheen. While the added durability lessened the impact, Ace was surprised to feel just how much it hurt - aside from how it physically pushed him back a few feet and forced a pained hiss to leave his beak, it also left a mild ache in his wing that instantly told him something had been bruised.

He didn’t have long to think about it before Virtue was on him again. This time, though, Ace was ready - he met the kitsune’s blow with his left wing, deflecting Virtue’s arm toward the ground. Then, he swept his right wing in an upward arc and summoned three blades of glowing white energy, each of which lurched forward a millisecond after they were conceived. They crashed into Virtue’s body one at a time - the first one hit his thigh and made him flinch; the second one hit his stomach and forced him back; the third one hit his shoulder and threw him to the ground, though he quickly reoriented himself.

Ace dismissed the Steel energy he’d gathered and flapped his wings, shoving himself into the air. ‘Holy shit, he’s not playing around,’ he thought. ‘I need to keep him back and zone him out. I have the range, so there’s no way he could -’

Ace’s wings seized their movements. His face paled when, upon trying to move any muscle in his body, he realized that he was completely locked in place. 

Then, as if tugged by an invisible rope, Ace was roughly yanked toward the ground. A second later, his impetus to cut off when he was bent over Virtue’s risen knee. 

Time slowed to a crawl as his mind went into shock. Blood flew from his gaping beak. His eyes dilated to pinpricks. Whatever air he had in his lungs left in an exhale that sounded more akin to a labored wheeze.

A small wave of hot air tickled the tips of his facial feathers - that was all the warning he had before a blast of fire threw him across the battlefield and into a row of trees with enough force to snap them away from their stems. He and the trees fell to the ground with a mighty rumble, kicking up a storm of dust and wood chippings.

Ace’s vision swam like ripples in a pond. His ears rang with white noise. He tried to form a coherent thought, but all he got were fragments that he had to toss aside like parts of a children’s play set. When he did eventually collect his bearings - which took longer than he’d like to admit - he pushed himself up to his feet and ruffled his feathers, ignoring how the muscles in his back groaned in protest. “Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, turning his head from side to side as he took in the destruction he’d inadvertently caused, “that… that was some power. And he wasn’t even using a move that augmented his strength or anything…”

Despite knowing that he had a fire lit under his ass, he couldn’t help but let a smirk bloom across the ends of his beak. “You’re pretty good,” he crowed, raising his voice to catch Virtue’s attention, “but I’m not through yet. I’m just getting st - WHOA!”

He leaned to the side just before a ball of fire whizzed by his head, crashing into an erect tree behind him. As a wave of heat from the ensuing explosion washed over his back, Ace thought to himself, ‘Right - less talking, more fighting.’

Ace blazed through the air with the help of Quick Attack, keeping low enough to graze the grass with his talons like a stone skipping across the surface of a pond. He saw Virtue’s eyes widen for a split second before he slammed head-first into the bipedal Vulpix’s gut, feeling great satisfaction from the rattling wheeze he drew from his opponent. Instead of carrying through, Ace instead flapped his wings and forced himself back, only to re-activate Quick Attack to try the same tactic from a different angle. Virtue was still staggering from the last blow, so it wasn’t hard to land two more similar blows on different parts of his body.

But Ace wasn’t so lucky the fourth time around. Virtue seemed to catch on to what he was doing and ducked out of the way just as Ace barreled toward him, leading the Pidgeot to spiral when he didn’t meet the resistance he’d expected. He spread out his wings and caught himself in midair, safely landing on the ground just as Virtue reoriented himself.

‘Alright, new plan.’

Ace kicked off with another Quick Attack, but instead of flying directly at Virtue, he tilted his body to the side and veered to the left. From there, he flew in circles, gradually picking up speed until he could see flickering afterimages of himself, each bleeding a trail of white that wove in a tight spiral.

Then, after he thought he disoriented Virtue enough, Ace dug his right foot into the ground, twisted to the side, and shot straight toward his opponent like a bullet.

He slammed directly into Virtue’s shoulder; he nearly felt the bone dislocate. Virtue’s guard shattered like glass as he staggered in place, though he only fell when Ace shoved himself away by using Virtue’s side as a springboard.

Ace landed a little ways away. The wounds he’d acquired up to that point flared during his lapse of concentration, each of them fighting for his attention so they could be addressed. ‘Virtue hits like a fucking truck… I can’t remember the last time I hurt this bad,’ he thought with a grin. It was worth it to get at least one good hit in, though…

… even if that hit didn’t feel very triumphant. Not as much as it could, at least. Virtue was strong, very much so, and scoring a blow at his maximum strength was rewarding to his adrenaline-addled mind. But there was something about the fight thus far that felt… lacking.

Missing.

Unbalanced.

Then, Ace’s eyes widened. The power he’d felt in Virtue, the one that spurred him to bring up a spar in the first place - Virtue still had yet to use it.  “Hey.”

Virtue blinked, pricking his ears.

“You’re not going all out, aren’t you?” Ace asked breathlessly. He touched down to the ground; he briefly swayed when a wave of vertigo struck, though he forced himself to remain strong in the name of a good fight. “There’s a reason I asked you to do this, you know. It’s because I know there’s something inside of you - something strong. Something powerful.”

He paused when Virtue flinched. The kitsune’s body looked more rigid than before, but that only proved Ace’s point further. “Yeah, you are. Totally are. I dunno if you figured this out or not, but the entire reason I went into my Mega Form was to - you know - push you. Hit your limits. Frankly, I love it when I can find someone who speaks through battle just as valiantly as I do, but I hate how you’re using a translator to get the job done. Talk to me like a fighter, Virtue.”

Once again, Virtue said nothing, though his expression told a different story. A storm of conflict brewed within the kitsune’s only eye while his posture loosened, shifting his look from ‘focused’ to ‘uncertain’.

Unabashed, Ace continued. “Now that I’m in my Mega Form, I can sense it deep inside of you. But you’re not using it. You’re not drawing it out at all.” Despite his exhaustion, Ace sent Virtue a megawatt grin and marginally tilted his head back, angling his chin upward. “C’mon. If I’m going all out, then so should you! I want to see your REAL power!”

“... why?”

Ace’s grin fell. Virtue had only spoken a single word, yet the weight behind it was enough to bring him momentary pause. “Why? Well, doesn’t it suck to have all that strength and never use it? I mean, c’mon, there’s not even any stakes here. We’re just having fun, so why not test our limits? Let loose, live your life how you wanna, and make that strength your own.”

For a while, Virtue said nothing. His look turned vacant as he stared off into the distance, lost in a world of thoughts that only he could navigate through. The lack of a response was something that Ace hadn’t expected, causing him to lose his confident air as his brows furrowed with a mixture of concern and confusion. Suddenly, he had a feeling that the issue that appeared surface-level to him ran a lot deeper than he’d initially thought - he wasn’t sure if he should’ve said something or if it was wiser to keep quiet, so he sent a pleading glance toward Stallard in a silent bid for advice.

Before Stallard could get a word in, however, Virtue seemed to come to some kind of conclusion as he straightened his back and fanned out his tails. A faint smile graced his muzzle, upturning the ends of his lips, while the tension that strung him taut earlier vanished in the blink of an eye. “... okay,” he muttered; Ace had to strain his ears to hear it. “Here goes nothing.”

(The trees quivered.)

(The grass bowed.)

(The wind ceased as the world held its breath.)

(And then, Virtue erupted.)

A loud shout rose from the kitsune’s throat. Every single muscle across the kitsune’s body flexed and tightened. His pupil dilated while his lips pulled into a snarl, showing an array of sharp fangs. Virtue’s claws - both on his paws and his feet - extended to their maximum length, gleaming like knives.

Ace’s attention was soon diverted, however, when he caught sight of something swirling around Virtue’s feet. Tendrils of wispy energy swam along the grass and curled in the air, though it wasn’t very pronounced and barely reached as high as Virtue’s ankles.

But then, it grew bigger.

And bigger.

And bigger.

Like kindling added to a fire, the energy gradually began to rise toward the sky, enshrouding more of Virtue’s body from view. The tendrils gained more color as it progressed, too, going from a homogeneous pale white to a healthy mix of magentas, purples, and blues.

Virtue’s screams grew hoarse and ragged. The aura roared with the strength of a raging inferno, leaping upward as if it were trying to touch the clouds. Virtue doubled over, snarling into the air as the curtain pulled higher, higher, higher -

Suddenly, it tore itself from the ground and siphoned into Virtue’s body, vanishing between the threads of his fur.

A second passed -

FWOOM

- and the world breathed again.

The aura bloomed from its hiding place, hugging Virtue’s body like an outline and flowing like an aurora. The aura brought about a sense of pressure that weighed down on Ace’s shoulders, nearly forcing him to his knees. Despite not further affecting Virtue’s outward appearance, it still made Ace look at Virtue in a whole new light.

With the added senses that came with his Mega Evolution, Ace knew that he was utterly outclassed. Virtue’s newfound strength was stifling. Insurmountable. Unreal. He had never felt anything like it before.

His brain was addled with apprehension and fear.

His heart pounded with excitement.

“Oh… fuck yeah.”

Ace didn’t say anything more - he didn’t need to. In sync, he and Virtue walked forward, closing the distance between themselves until they were nearly chest to chest.

Ace passed on a silent acknowledgment of Virtue’s strength by nodding his head. Virtue returned the gesture with a nod of his own, which made Ace feel proud - even if Virtue had held him off thus far without any added strength, being seen as a powerful opponent was more than enough to make up for his wounded pride.

Then, with nothing else to say, the battle began anew. 

The pair traded blows at lightning speed, their bodies naught but a flurry of limbs as they clashed against each other time and time again. Ace was at a slight disadvantage since he couldn’t use his legs - as an avian, his weren’t built for kicking like Virtue’s were - but his wings were wide enough to block any hits aimed at his lower half. His naturally heightened agility allowed him to snuff out any feints before Virtue got past the first step, though doing so forced him to fight defensively until he could reclaim the ground he lost.

Virtue’s arm clashed against Ace’s wing one last time before the two of them leaped back, staring each other down. It was clear to Ace that he was still losing - Virtue was blemished and bleeding but still looked ready to go while Ace was fighting to stay aloft. His hold on his Mega Form was slipping, his heartbeat was stuttering, and his breathing was irregular due to his immense exhaustion. On top of that, his body was littered with bruises and singe marks that made his joints ache in protest.

But he still wouldn’t give in yet. Despite there being no stakes to their spar, he felt a strong desire to push onward - Virtue’s fighting style had sparked something deep inside of him, igniting his drive and opening his ears to the complex dialect spoken by Virtue’s punches and kicks. He wanted more. 

“Yes, YES!” The Pidgeot cheered with a wide grin. “That’s it! That’s what I want to see! COME AND GET SOME, VIRTUE! LET IT ALL GO!”

They lunged. Their clashing limbs strung a melody that made his blood pump. Their feet slid across the ground with the grace of a dancer. Their bodies leaned back and forth per their attacks, reminding Ace of a waltz.  

Pain became a foreign concept to him as he immersed himself in their exchange. Virtue fought with passion - raw, untamed passion that drew Ace in like a moth to a flame - and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Virtue’s claws skated across Ace’s skin, coaxing out rivulets of blood. Ace responded with a Steel Wing that clove through the air, aimed for Virtue’s neck. However, at the last second, Virtue dropped onto his back, kicked his legs up, rolled onto his shoulders, and vaulted into the air with his paws. He ended the backward handspring in a three-point crouch.

Virtue threw himself forward and slammed into Ace’s front with a full-body tackle. The two of them sprawled onto the ground, where Virtue cemented his position on top by straddling Ace’s chest. From there, Virtue landed three altering haymakers onto Ace’s face, though the fourth was cut off when Ace let a point-blank Uproar rip from his throat. 

• Unfinished due to a lack of motivation. Will provide details in notes

• Ace and Virtue continue to spar

• Ace gets the Mega slapped out of him and doesn’t realize he lost it until he sees his wings

• Ace faints, wakes up in the Guild’s medical bed

• Stallard reprimands him for pushing too hard, though the two hug it out in the end

• Stallard hands Ace a card from Virtue - get well soon card

Chapter Text

——-

Virtue liked flowers.

They were very pretty. And quiet. The feeling of petals brushing against his fur made him happy. They smelled nice - familiar. Like he was back home.

Flowers didn’t judge him. Flowers didn’t ask him questions. Flowers didn’t impose some kind of label on him.

A flower was a flower. It didn’t care. The world went on and nothing would bother it.

He wished he could be like a flower.

But for now, as long as he could have moments where he lived alongside them, then not being like a flower was perfectly okay.

——-

Borderline Personality Disorder.

Virtue had never been familiar with the term until later in his life. The Primal Division had plenty of medical staff that knew more than any doctors he had known throughout his life, and they were quick to pull apart some of Virtue’s behaviors during a wellness check. It had taken a long while for him to come to terms with what his diagnosis meant, but in hindsight, it explained a lot and answered plenty of questions he’d had about himself over the years.

He hadn’t blamed his parents for never figuring it out. His isolation could’ve been excused because of his genetic disorder, which was part of why no one wanted to interact with him at a young age. The other reason was (probably) because his mood was volatile, going from extremely needy to hermit-like for weeks at a time - something that a kid was too young to understand from any perspective. The general consensus between the children in Bubble Woods all was that he wasn’t worth their time for those two reasons - and since there weren’t many of them to begin with, Virtue had been left without any way to try and weasel his way back into their social bubble.  The only solution was to move and find a new group, but that wasn’t feasible for his parents. Their home was in Bubble Woods and they wanted to hold on to it for as long as they could.

Once his parents passed, there was no one Virtue could use as an anchor. He didn’t have a baseline for what was ‘normal’, and as such, he failed to understand what behaviors needed fixing and which didn’t. As a result, he could never manage his own emotions, never developed coping mechanisms, and had no idea how to react whenever his emotions went haywire - the turmoil and stress he’d gone through felt akin to third degree burns on bad days and still made him scream into the void on ‘good days’.

He had been trapped in a death spiral that he hadn’t known existed until eight years past its inception. Even when he figured it out, the conflict with Reality threw his chances of a stable recovery out the window. It was the final nail in an already shattered coffin: Virtue was going to be stuck like that for the rest of his life whether he wanted to be or not.

=====================

Virtue’s emotional state was as volatile as an atomic reaction.


It didn’t matter if it was caused by something else or by his own infliction. His decision-making skills, thought process, or his perception of reality as a whole could flip on a dime and he’d be powerless to stop it. There were too many factors; too many variables; too many circumstances out of his control that could change everything .

If his legs locked up, he’d grow extremely depressed and think heavily on his appearance - his skeletal structure, his biology, the ramifications of the genetic disorder he has, and so on. He’d imagine scenarios where Pokémon judged him, heckled him, and shamed him for merely existing because he was an ugly abomination that didn’t deserve to live at all he just wanted to fit in why why why why can’t he be normal why does his body hate him -

His heightened sensitivity to sound and touch didn’t help matters either. If the rain was too loud and he couldn’t sleep as a result, he’d feel as if life was just out to get him by making things inconvenient on purpose. If he was too itchy, he’d start freaking out and stop to frantically scratch himself, even if it was an overreaction - then he’d bite down the urge to cry because of how pathetic he felt once he realized what he was doing.

Outside stimuli wasn’t the only factor. Even on the most perfect of days with absolutely nothing going wrong, he’d still find a way to fall.

In one moment, he’d be fine. And then, out of nowhere, one stray thought would muck it all up. One small, minuscule thing would tip him off and ruin his mood for hours. If he dipped while he was traveling, he’d set up his camp as quickly as he could and hide in his tent until the feelings passed. If he was already set up for the night, then perfect , less time to waste and more time to wallow in misery. 

He knew that part of his emotional instability was his own fault. He really did. But he was too much of a coward to take the right steps toward salvation - the first of which was actually trying to forge bonds. His worries bounced between ‘becoming too reliant’ and ‘screwing it all up’; no matter the reason, he’d always talk himself out of it. To him, it felt like he was trying to break out of a cage, yet his ‘freedom’ was blocked by a wall of insecurity that was too thick to see past.


His future remained a mystery. Change guaranteed nothing. He wasn’t sure if he could take the risk.

—---

Virtue remembered the first time he’d been called a hero after the war. He had saved a poor Cherubi child from getting flattened by a few falling rocks - he hadn’t intended to play hero, but the Cherubi certainly thought he was one and didn’t hesitate to call him such. 

In hindsight, he knew he had been unreasonable. He knew that the poor Pokémon hadn’t meant to make him feel the way he did. None of it was intentional. None of it was targeted.

But in that moment… when his emotions reached a fever pitch… it felt like reason was a foreign concept. Everything that was supposed to be right turned wrong. The Cherubi’s smile felt condescending; their pep and cheer felt misdirected; the praise he got filled him with dread rather than pride. 

At that point, stepping back and approaching the situation logically wasn’t an option anymore.

He yelled. He shouted. He bared his teeth and snarled like a feral Pokémon who’d just been released from their cage. Even after the Cherubi ran off in a stream of tears, Virtue remained in a pissy mood that didn’t abate until several hours later.

The guilt had been crushing. He’d thought that he’d be better now that the war was over. He was supposed to have control over his life. He had the tools to carve his own path and shape who he wanted to be. There was no reason for him to lash out like that.

There was nothing else to break him, so why wasn’t he fixed?

As he got older, he understood more about trauma, triggers, and his mental issues as a whole. The bits of missing context fell into place over time, painting a clearer picture of how shattered he was as an individual. 

——-

There were times when he didn’t feel real. 

Whenever Virtue put on an emotional mask, he flung himself into a state of dissociation. He felt like he was watching a reel of himself while he operated on autopilot, doing whatever it was that he needed to do in that time. The masks were there for a reason, after all, and distancing himself from any feelings at all was better than having another outburst - especially when his appearance was involved. If he was detached, he was less of a burden. He’d fit in. He’d be normal.

(Stay in the bubble. Hide in the bubble. The bubble was safe. The bubble prevented the mean words from hurting him.)

When control was relinquished and everything slotted back into place, he always felt like a small fragment of himself didn’t come back with him - that something was missing and left him incomplete. That often led to mini-spirals of their own, but it usually wasn’t serious.

Usually.

Sometimes it became too much for him to bear. If he needed to ensure that he was real , that he was alive, that he was whole and not broken… he’d hurt himself. Pain was grounding because pain meant he was real. Real Pokémon felt pain. Pain was enacted by the world, which he was connected to. 

Pain didn’t have to be direct self-harm. Maybe he’d go a little harder with his training, working himself until his muscles begged for mercy in a way that definitely wasn’t healthy. Maybe he’d be aggressive whenever he was cooking or repairing something and accidentally hurt himself in the process.

He wasn’t proud of it. He never had been. But it worked and he didn’t know anything different.

Chapter Text

(AGE: 13)

(Pre-Santalune)

Since Virtue didn’t have much to his name, he always took pride in the smaller, more mundane feats that he accomplished day to day. If he ate a meal at the right time, he gave himself a pat on the back. He felt a rush of satisfaction once he finished a rather grueling workout. If the healing remedy he’d made not too long ago worked exceptionally well, he couldn’t help but let out a small ‘Yes!’ of pure delight.

However, as the world had proven to him time and time again, something was bound to go wrong. Something would squander what little joy he felt in life and knock down the tower of self confidence he’d built for himself. It didn’t matter how mundane it was - if it went against what he expected, he’d spiral.

Today’s infraction came right after he finished setting up his tent. He placed his paws on his hips and admired his hard work, the beginnings of a grin upturning his lips. His tails swayed as they usually did whenever something went right - and then they fell over his legs like a curtain once a change reared its ugly head.

His tent had a hole in it.

He was able to stave off his frustration for a while. It wasn’t the first time something of his had ripped. He spent a lot of time outdoors, so nature was bound to get its hands dirty at some plint. He could take it to a tailor and get it fixed - it was what he did whenever his scarf, his bag, or a similarly-made item showed signs of wear.

Reality set in that night when he realized he had no money.

Virtue held the flap of his empty coin pouch with a white-knuckle grip, his claws poking into the worn leather surface as his arms trembled like leaves in a hurricane. He stared at the desolate bottom pleadingly - as if his willpower alone could make a pile of money appear. A sickly feeling rose to his stomach, bringing about a pain that was almost physical.

He knew that it was no big deal. All he had to do was run an extra Mystery Dungeon and he should find enough to cover the cost - but he hadn’t planned for that. He hadn’t charted out a new course because he hadn’t planned to make a detour. The nearest Dungron was several miles away from Cinfras, his target destination, which meant that he’d be an entire day off schedule. It would knock everything he’d planned to do back a day.

Not only would he be mentally incapable of feeling proud until he was back on track, but he’d also lose the only other thing that kept him together: routine and stability.

There wasn’t anything he was in a hurry for. There was no reason he needed to be at Cinfras by a certain point. His deadline was self-imposed. He should be fine.

Despite knowing that, he felt ready to burn the forest down.

When Virtue finally tamed the raging inferno that threatened to consume him whole, he decided there was nothing else he could do but turn in for the night. However, just before he could, a lone thought - a mere whisper from the depths of his consciousness - stopped him.

‘It would be so much easier if I knew how to fix it myself.’

Virtue immediately squashed the thought down, scowling at his head for even daring to suggest such a thing. While the idea of sewing wasn’t so bad on its own, it was the demographic behind it that made him hesitate.

Sewing was a girly thing. 

To him, the association made perfect sense. His mother had sewn his scarf. The various shop owners that fixed his tent or his bag were female. Any elderly Pokemon that he saw sewing - normally through idle observation while strolling through a town - were female. 

(Boys doing girly things wasn’t normal. It wasn’t normal and he wanted to be normal. He was so tired of being seen as weird because of his looks and his actions and his thoughts and his everything . He wanted to be accepted, not rejected.)

(He’d seen Pokémon judge other Pokémon for partaking in things meant for the opposite gender. ‘Why is that Machoke baking? What a waste of manpower’. ‘You’re a man, Tristan. Stop playing with your dolls and help papa out’. ‘Dude, you wanna make a garden? I mean, that’s cool and all, but it sounds like a thing my grandma would rather do’. ‘My daughter doesn’t conduct herself like a lady. She plays baseball and always comes home dirty. It’s unbecoming of her’.)

(He already got stared at for simply existing. He can’t handle more. He can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t)

No matter the appeal or practicality, it made no sense. It wouldn’t work. It would only lead to more eyes, more stares, more judgment ; it would make everything about his life harder. Virtue was certain of that.

… so what was it that made him second-guess himself?

——

The thought continued to resurface over the next few days. Each time it did, Virtue shoved it back into its cage and kept it under lock and key. But as time wore on, the locks began to rust while the foundation - his denial - grew weaker. Whispers of why not do it yourself? and wouldn’t it be so much easier to figure it out? grew louder every time he visited a tailor to get his belongings repaired, seeping through his mind like wind through the cracks of an aged building.

By the time he reached Cinfras, the temptation became too much. He wasn’t sure when or how it overtook him; in one moment, he was sorting through a mental list of what he needed to purchase for the next stretch of his aimless journey - in the next, he found himself standing in front of a shelf that was lined with sewing needles, bundles colorful twine, and little cans that held scissors and shears.

Virtue frowned and plucked a ball of white thread off of the shelf. With his other paw, he grabbed the end of his scarf and held it directly behind the ball.

The color was the exact same.

He dropped his scarf and rolled the ball of thread between his pawtips. Anxiety clawed at his heart while buds of panic sprouted near the edges of his mind, filling him with a lingering sense of dread. Did he really want to do this? Would it be weird? Would it only lead to further ridicule and embarrassment? Sure, he barely interacted with anyone and had no friends, but what if he made some later down the line? What would they think of him?

Was it worth it?

He didn’t have a clear answer to any of his questions - and that infuriated him as much as it terrified him.

“Damn, dude, what did that twine ever do to you?”

Virtue let out a startled yelp when a voice sounded to his left; he hadn’t even noticed that someone approached him. He instinctively threw the bundle into the air as his limbs flailed, though he quickly caught it before it could hit the ground. He held the item close to his chest, blushing furiously, and whirled around to face the stranger that had approached him out of nowhere.

A Golduck stared at him with a raised brow, one webbed hand on their hip while the other clung to a jar full of sewing equipment. Judging from the tag still on the jar’s rim, Virtue assumed that it hadn’t been purchased yet, which made him feel more confused. “... huh?” Virtue asked; much to his embarrassment, his question came out as a choked squeak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry, what… w-what did you say?”

“You were glaring at that thing as if it trampled your plants or something,” the Golduck repeated. From his voice, Virtue inferred that the Golduck was a male. “You alright?”

Virtue blinked owlishly. It had been such a long time since he’d been willingly approached - he had no idea what to even say. He didn’t feel the need to put up any walls quite yet - the Golduck seemed benevolent enough - but he still erred on the side of caution. “I, uh… it’s nothing. I’m fine, sir.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“I’m fine ,” Virtue repeated. Something in his tone must’ve sounded a little bit desperate because something akin to realization flashed in the Golduck’s eyes - an emotion that quickly turned into something Virtue wasn’t able to identify. 

The Golduck narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You sure, dude?”

“Why do you care?”

Virtue winced. He hadn’t planned to phrase it like that and knew it must’ve sounded harsh. “I-I’m sorry, I -”

“It’s cool, kid,” the Golduck assured, interrupting Virtue before he could devolve into a slew of apologies. “But to answer your question, I’unno. Do I need a reason to?” He shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to confirm something, since I see cases like this quite often.”

“… what?”

The Golduck waved his webbed hand flippantly. “You know. Debates on whether or not you should or shouldn’t buy stuff like this. I’ve seen the same look on your face as I have countless other Pokémon - Pokémon who are worried that picking up a ‘feminine hobby’ would make them look girly or something.”

Virtue swore his heart skipped a beat. He knew that Golduck as a species were Psychic Type, so sensing emotions and/or reading thoughts shouldn’t have come as a surprise - but hearing his internal worries be presented to him on a silver platter immediately set him on edge. He must’ve made a face or had some other tell, because the Golduck facial expression and tone softened immediately after. “Heh, hit the nail on the head, yeah? Another case of the good ol’ stereotypes.” He cocked his hip to the side and shook his head. “What do they teach kids these days… Listen, buddy. I know that to you, I’m just a stranger, but take this advice to heart: the gender norms that society feeds you are bullshit.”

Virtue’s eye widened. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. It’s stupid. Sewing, weaving, embroidery, whatever the hell you wanna do - that stuff takes skill. It’s no easy feat to master. Plus, skill is a universal thing. It isn’t restricted to one side or the other. Any hobby is a hobby worth being proud of because you put in the time and effort to learn it. If that isn’t manly, I don’t know what is.” He held up his items with a grin. “If anything, knowing how to sew your own stuff makes you cool as hell.”

The Golduck reached to the side and grabbed another ball of twine. He passed it over to Virtue, who took it numbly. “Think about it, kid.” Then, without waiting for Virtue’s response, the Golduck turned around and walked away, vanishing down another isle. Virtue’s ears pricked as he listened to the duck Pokemon’s distinctive footfalls until he couldn’t hear them anymore. 

The entire encounter had left him reeling. Everything had happened so quickly that he barely had time to process it all. Yet, even so, Golduck’s words stuck to his mind like glue. Snippets of their conversation replayed in his head like a broken record. Small observations he had made - such as the fact that Golduck was an adult and clearly intended to purchase sewing products as well - stuck with him in a way he couldn’t quite shake off. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood in place, lost in his own thoughts as time passed him by. When he finally recollected himself, Virtue turned toward the shelf, his gaze flitting between the balls of twine in his grasp and the items on display.

Twenty minutes later, Virtue left the store with barely-hidden trembles of pure anxiety. 

His bag bulged with the presence of his newly-purchased sewing supplies.

—---------------------------

Learning how to sew had opened himself up to a brand new realm of self-sustainability that he’d never dreamed of exploring. Being able to sew tears in his bag or holes in his tent was a blessing - it saved him money, gave him something to do with his paws, and breathed a little life into his fragile ego. 

In the end, he was glad he pushed through his embarrassment. His original perception of sewing as an art had been blown to smithereens. In its place stood a sense of appreciation and reverence for all sewing could do for him and his lifestyle. It gave him something else to be proud of.

It also helped knock aside any assumptions he had about hobbies and ‘who they belonged to’ - if a hobby typically seen as feminine or manly appealed to the other side and made them happy, then he knew there was nothing to worry about.

It was odd to think back on that moment and realize that a complete stranger had changed his life in such a dramatic way - during an interaction that barely took five minutes, no less.

If he ever met that Golduck again, he’d give them his eternal thanks. 

Chapter Text

Virtue staggered out of the Primal Division’s meeting room with a haunted expression and a vacant gaze. Each step he took felt like he was slogging through mud. One of his paws remained clamped on his muzzle, holding it shut so that he didn’t vomit all over the floor, while the other pressed against the wall as a means of support. Muffled voices brushed against his ears but they were drowned out by a shrill ringing noise birthed from his panic.

Three months.

In three months, every single Guild and Rescue Team Federation throughout the Mist Continent - alongside the Primal Division, which consisted of Pokemon who weren’t signed up for an organization but could still fight - would pool their manpower and resources together.

In three months, Marcus would lead his army to the Mist Continent’s capital. He had promised an exact time and date, if the letter from his convoy held any merit to it; it was meant to be an ultimatum between bloodshed and surrender, but one of the options wasn’t considered for a heartbeat.

In three months, both sides would clash in an all-out war that determined the fate of the Mist Continent.

In three months, Virtue would face off against Reality, a demon who had killed nearly ten thousand Pokemon within a year - including the small group of Pokemon he’d come to love as siblings.

In three months, Virtue would be sent to his death.

When he finally made it back to his room, Virtue collapsed onto the ground and sobbed, knowing that the clock had already begun ticking.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

—--------------

The gravitas of his newfound role didn’t truly register until the next day. When it did, Virtue was furious sad dejected depressed afraid resigned

While part of him had been in denial, screaming and raging about how he only escaped Reality’s clutches from dumb luck , the majority of him had understood why the decision was made. All of the Primal Division’s elite members - those who were higher than him in rank and strength - were dead. He was plenty strong on his own and built a good rapport as a capable fighter. Plus, from what Virtue had overheard from witnesses, Reality had never spared a Pokémon he’d set his sights on; everyone who dared to attack him died within minutes. Even the slayer of the Bittercold had gone down after a short scuffle.

From the moment it was known that he was the only one to have survived a direct encounter with Reality, he had sealed his fate as a beacon of hope that shone down on a bleak, dreary situation. It was only now that he was forced to truly acknowledge it.

—---------------------------

For a while, all Virtue could see was smoke.

Smoke slithered through the gaps in the panels that held the training room together; smoke brushed across the ceiling and stained it with dust and cinders; smoke billowed from the nearby windows and poured into the open sky, though any amount that left was soon replaced when Virtue prepared another controlled blast of fire.

His eye flashed purple as he held his paws in front of him. A serpent composed of orange flames and crimson veins lurched from his palms and snaked through the air, parting its jaws as it approached its target. However, just before an impact was made, a powerful migraine struck the forefront of Virtue’s mind, shattering his concentration - and his attack - like glass. He fell to his knees as his flames dissolved into cinders, showering the training room with petals of burning red.

After catching his breath, Virtue shakily pushed himself back up to his feet and tried to use Extrasensory again. The moment he did, his headache returned tenfold and a blade of pain stabbed through his entire body, forcing him to double over with a grated wheeze. A glob of blood lurched from his throat and splattered on the ground, staining his tongue with the taste of iron.

As he waited for his heartbeat to steady and his breathing to even out, he swept his gaze across the training room - or rather, what was left of it.  His repeated visits had turned the once-polished room into a mess of burn marks, indents, and broken equipment, though he could never bring himself to care about its state no matter how often he used it. He was the only one who did, anyway. He didn’t have to worry about holding back or keeping it clean - that would waste time, and time was a luxury he couldn’t afford to waste.

A month had already passed him by. It had been absolute torture for him. All at once, Virtue had to bear the weight of thousands of innocent civilians, fellow warriors, and Pokemon whose lives had been upheaved by Marcus’s influence. Their hopes, dreams, and futures rest in his paws, whether he wanted it or not; they were all looking to him - their supposed savior, as they saw him - for salvation. They thrust a title upon him that he didn’t want. Day after day, he was forced to act as a spectator to his own life as choices were made for him. What little control he had over his life crumbled to ashes as the strings of fate tied a noose around his neck bound his limbs and maneuvered him like a puppet, preventing him from forging his own destiny.

His path was being laid out for him, yet he had no input on the direction it went. The only time he got to act for himself was when he ran through a Mystery Dungeon or trained in the training room, but even those were a thin visage of ‘freedom’.

‘What a load of bullshit,’ he thought with a scowl.

He hated it. He hated it he hated it he hated it he hated it make it stop I don’t want to do this make it go away please I can’t do it anymore I hate it I hate it I HATE THEM 

Virtue pressed his paws against his face and screamed as loud as he could.

—----------------------

For the first time in a long while, Virtue found himself unable to fall asleep when he laid down later that same night.

He tried for hours to rest, but it was all for naught. Stress gnawed at him like a horde of termites, keeping him awake; whenever he did slip into a state of semi-unconsciousness, his mind bombarded him with visions of her death and the subsequent deaths of his friends, jolting him away from any form of reprieve.

It was somewhat worrying for him. He’d suffered through plenty of nightmares over the past few months, even before he’d fought Reality directly. But none of them had been as vivid and haunting as the images now burned into the back of his retinas, forced to play over and over whenever he let his guard down.

Eventually, he gave up. If his mind didn’t want him to sleep, then he wouldn’t - he’d find another way to pass the time, or so he told himself. He kicked off his sheets and slid off of his cot with a disgruntled huff. He then spared a glance around his quarters - each empty cot may as well have been a gravestone - before he put on his scarf, brushed his hair over his missing eye, and shuffled out the front door as soundlessly as he could.

Once he was in the main hall, Virtue pressed his back against the wall and sighed, running his right paw down his face. ‘I have a feeling this is gonna become a pattern,’ he thought. ‘Instead of a few hours of sleep, I get nothing at all. Great. Just what I need.’

After some deliberation, Virtue ultimately decided to visit the library in hopes that reading a book would help calm him down. It was one of the few spaces within the Primal Division’s base that felt safe to him; the atmosphere was less stifling and few - if any - Pokemon occupied the space at any given time. The only downside was that the room was in poor condition due to a lack of maintenance. It wasn’t barren or rotted away, but since most of the Primal Division was focusing on training, all of their repairmen were committed to fixing equipment and crafting weaponry. No one had any incentive to do anything more than ensure the room wasn’t covered in filth.

Within moments, Virtue slipped into a dim, empty room filled with bookshelves and neatly organized tables. The overhead lights sputtered as they fought to stay lit, even if their combined efforts barely let Virtue see a few feet in front of him. The musty air, adrift with dust mites, carried the scent of worn leather and stale paper. Occasionally, the creak of a dilapidated bookshelf groaned from a random corner of the room, but it wasn’t anything that Virtue concerned himself over. Instead, he focused on a small compartment that jutted out of the wall right beside the door; he knew it held a stack of emergency flashlights and didn’t think twice about pulling it open and stealing one for personal use. ‘It’s not like anyone gives a shit about this place, anyway.’

After flicking the light on, he approached one of the shelves and traced his fingertip along the spine of each book, perusing through his options one at a time.  

He stopped when he came across a book that had no true name - the spine was too worn and the lettering was marred with splotches of wear that hid the title. Curious, he gripped its base and pulled it from the shelf, only to wince when his nose was assaulted by a puff of dust. Much to his dismay, the entire book was covered in filth. He tucked the flashlight under his arm and wiped the cover off, though he paused upon reading the title.

Looplets and Emeras.

Virtue tilted his head. Looplets and Emeras were items that he’d used somewhat infrequently - he knew enough about them to know that they were useful. Looplets were rare and expensive bracelets that held Emeras; Emeras were items that could be attached to Looplets and would grant the bearer specialized buffs or bonuses in and out of combat. They were mainly found on the Water Continent and the Mystery Continent, but they did exist across the rest of the world in a lesser degree. The only caveat was that Emeras could only exist in Mystery Dungeons and would shatter upon one’s departure.

He figured it was a worthwhile read. With his newfound source of entertainment in-paw, Virtue settled down at a nearby table and opened the book to a random page.

Looplets are strange, both down to their construction and their magical properties. Similar to Orbs and Wands, Looplets can only be found in Mystery Dungeons. They can be taken out, but they wouldn’t have any use other than decoration since Emeras only function inside of Mystery Dungeons. Now, how could that be, I bet you’re wondering. A few chapters ago, I had told you all about the different types of Looplets and how they increase stats or attributes. What makes them useless?

Well, it’s simple. They aren’t comparable to the everyday accessories you see other Pokemon use.

Lets take a Pecha Scarf, for example. A Pecha Scarf is made from the essence of a Poison Gem, which in turn houses the Source Energy of a Poison Type. Therefore, the essence of a Poison Source prevents the wearer from getting poisoned, as Poison Types cannot be inflicted with their natural status condition.

A Looplet, however, is made of something different. Looplets are not made with Source Energy. What they are made of remains a mystery to this very day - but one thing is for certain: they only work in Mystery Dungeons, and as a result, their capabilities are much broader. It’s why they’re able to use the power of Emeras, after all, especially ones like the Awakening Emera.

Virtue blinked. Awakening Emera… the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t put his paw on where he’d heard it before. Now that his curiosity was piqued, Virtue wasn’t able to stop himself from turning to the glossary, finding what page the Awakening Emera was discussed, and leafing toward said page once he knew what it was.

The Awakening Emera is mysterious - the most mysterious out of a mysterious bunch, as I like to say.  Unlike other Emeras, which merely provide a stat boost or give some sort of passive/active effect to the user, an Awakening Emera is more akin to a transformation. When equipped, it seeps into the bearer’s very being and amplifies the vitality of their Soul and the strength of their Source; it heightens speed, strength, durability, and the power of their moves to an insurmountable degree. It is even enough to trigger Mega Evolution in Pokemon capable of doing so. 

The more Virtue read, the more his heart rate began to quicken. It all sounded too good to be true. An item capable of letting any Pokemon tap into the strength of Mega Evolution… it boggled his mind. It wouldn’t be of any use to him, especially since they only existed in Mystery Dungeons…

… yet, deep down, something nagged at Virtue to investigate further. The Awakening Emera may be the key he needed to defeat Reality. At his current strength, he knew he wouldn’t survive, and backing out was no longer an option.

All of the peer pressure had gotten to him by that point - it was no longer a choice of ‘do I want to’, but rather the statement of ‘I have to’.

An Awakening Emera was out there somewhere. He just had to find it. But first, he needed a plan - a plan to take the Emera's power and carry it out of a Mystery Dungeon.

At that point, it wasn’t just a solution to a problem.

It was his only source of hope.

===============================

The next day, Virtue had a plan - and when night arrived, he took the first step toward his salvation.

He tiptoed out of his room and moved through the halls. Instead of going toward the back of the base, however, Virtue’s sights were set on the meeting hall - or rather, what was adjacent to it. It wasn’t long before he stood in front of a large white door with a red cross painted on it; a quick use of Extrasensory turned the lock from the other side, allowing him to walk inside.

He pushed open the door as carefully as he could and peered inside, wanting to ensure that he was completely alone. When he deemed that he was in the clear, he snuck across the room until he was face-to-face with the supply cabinet. His paws were strangely steady as he gripped the handle and twisted, undoing the clasp that held the door shut. Then, he pulled his arm back, lifting his other paw and lighting it ablaze; it was a reliable light source when tame, and he had enough control to not burn anything on accident.

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for.

He hoped that Nurse Alomomola wouldn’t notice a few missing needles.

================

It took two months. 

Two months of him running through Mystery Dungeon after Mystery Dungeon, excusing it to his superiors as extra training. Two months of him breaking his body time and time again as he scoured each floor as meticulously as he could, wanting to leave no stone unturned. Two months of mindless fighting that eventually became second nature to him; at a certain point, he began to dissociate while his body ran on autopilot, plowing through hordes of enemies without so much as a passing glance.

He wasn’t sure when he stopped caring about his health. He had already felt like shit regularly, so it was easy to just… let it slip from his mind. The number of bones he’d dislocated became as important as tally marks on a chalkboard. He learned how to reset them, so who cared? What did it matter that he skipped a few meals in exchange for more time in a Mystery Dungeon? Why did he have to worry about a few extra hours of training when every second he spent doing nothing was a second wasted? He had his time for rest, he was sure of that, and anything else was useless.

And thankfully, after two months, his hard work paid off. The proof was currently cradled in his palms: a small gemstone that held an aurora of colors within its interior, pulsing with energy and humming with latent power. Every buzz sent an electric shock across Virtue’s fur, lighting up his nerves and making his fur stand on end. 

It didn’t stop him from nearly crying in relief. A little discomfort was worth it for the satisfaction of knowing that he’d finally found it.

‘Now… now there’s only one thing left to do.’

Virtue pounded his fist against the flat of his palm, crushing the Emera into dust. Then, he poured both the dust and some water from his flask into the needle’s end, putting the cap back on the moment he was done. He gave it a few shakes to ensure the dust was diluted enough to merge with the water while not disintegrating completely.

Virtue took a breath…

… pressed the needle against his arm…

… pierced a vein…

… and pushed down on the trigger.

===========

Virtue discovered that he’d blacked out the moment he came to and saw that the entire floor was eviscerated. 

==========

Three weeks had gone by - three weeks of no progress. Now, only one week remained, and Virtue was rapidly losing faith.

No matter how hard he trained, he had yet to feel the Awakening Emera’s influence. Whether that was because his plan failed or he was missing some kind of trigger, he didn’t know, but it was still driving him mad. He hadn’t given himself a single break as he wasted away in the training room, working day after day to unlock something he wasn’t sure even existed.

It was all so infuriating. He had been doing everything right and yet nothing was coming from it.

“Damn it…”

He slammed his fists against the ground. He clenched his eye shut, hoping to trap the tears that threatened to run free. “DAMN IT!” He wailed. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!? THIS IS ALL I HAVE LEFT AND - AND I CAN’T EVEN USE IT RIGHT! WHAT MORE DO I HAVE TO DO!? W-WHAT MORE DO I HAVE TO DO TO FINALLY BE FREE OF T-THIS BULLSHIT!?”

His screams echoed through the training room, trapped in the confines of his personal hell. No one was there to hear him. No one was left to help him.

He was alone.

Virtue also couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of his ‘fate’ as well. Had he gone against it by seeking out the Awakening Emera, or played right into its hands? Were his efforts up to now useless or fruitful? Was the Awakening Emera never going to activate - had his plan failed - or did the world just want to see him suffer before finally granting him some leeway?

Virtue grit his teeth, trying in vain to fight off the swarm of anxiety that poked and prodded at his head.

(Fate and destiny were real. And he hated it just as much as it hated him.)

======================

One day remained.

Virtue had nothing to show. It was almost enough to make him burst into laughter - almost. Instead, he lay down in his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling until he inevitably fell asleep. He didn’t have the energy to do anything else. 

======================

Ever since Tsunami died in Reality’s grasp, he knew he hadn’t been the same. It was hard for him to ignore the changes he’d felt over the past few months. He took a mental back seat every time he was forced to fight, letting his body operate on autopilot - the strategies he used and the brutality he employed didn’t feel like his own after a while. When talking to Sharptooth, he sometimes felt as if the words coming out of his mouth weren’t his but instead the thoughts of another version of him - someone who could confidently wear a mask of stoicism and took whatever they were told without a hint of emotion.

The more he succumbed to his fate, the more he felt like he was observing himself through a tinted lens. The only time he truly felt like himself was when he let his emotions go. Whenever he cried, screamed, or cursed the world for toying with him, he felt in control.

The rest of the time, he felt… numb. He let himself get tugged in different directions because he gave up trying to fight it.

He wasn’t even sure why he was still standing anymore. The safety of his peers, the lives of countless innocents, the fate of the entire damn continent - they were reasons to fight, but not his reasons. He didn’t have any. Even his own survival felt more like a burden than something to treasure. 

=======================

The final battle had begun fifteen minutes ago, yet it both looked and felt like it had been raging for years.

Wherever he looked, all Virtue could see was destruction. Ashes from destroyed buildings and burnt bodies littered the streets. Stains of blood painted every visible surface, spilled from both sides. Slumps of rubble poured from decayed and broken homes. Street signs and lights laid on their sides, snapped from their stems. Even the structures that were still standing wouldn’t be for much longer - swaths of fire were devouring whatever they could get their hands on, gradually spreading from house to house as it gobbled up anything that stood in its way.

It was harrowing. But Virtue knew his feelings didn’t matter. He swallowed his turmoil and strode forward like a man on a mission, one foot mechanically in front of the other as he marched toward his death and took in the sights of his future gravesite acutely searched for the one he was ‘destined’ to destroy.

He didn’t have to wait too long. Just as he was about to meander through another avenue, a wave of malice crashed against his front like a snarling gale of wind, nearly throwing him off his feet. He subconsciously drew upon his Source to use Iron Tail, pushing his now-rigid tails against the ground to keep himself steady.

When the sensation faded, Virtue refocused his gaze and locked eyes with his executioner.

The amalgamation stalked toward him on all fours, prowling like a wolf. His red eyes flashed like searchlights, burning into Virtue’s Soul. His long, dark tendrils swayed like grass in the evening breeze, though they occasionally jolted in a random direction or contorted for no explainable reason; in one instance, Virtue noticed the middle right one coil over itself and quiver in place as if it was trying to strangle someone who wasn’t there. Parts of the drooping purple sludge that made up his body dripped onto the ground, though it did nothing to affect his body mass.

Once they were only a few yards apart, Reality abandoned his animalistic posture and stood upright. Virtue inadvertently shuddered - he could never get over how Reality looked like a mirror image of himself, only twisted and grotesque. Judging by the pleasured smile that crossed the amalgamation’s lips, Virtue could only assume that was the reaction he’d been waiting for.

“Virtue,” Reality spoke. His deep, baritone voice reverberated across the clearing.

Virtue shifted in place, his claws unsheathing. “Reality.”

“I take it you’re the one sent to ‘defeat’ me, was it?” The amalgamation asked. “I don’t even know why you bother. Marcus’s vision is absolute - by now, nothing stands in our way. Vermin like you don’t even pose a threat.

“If anything, I’m glad they decided to use you as a sacrificial lamb.” Reality’s gaze hardened. “Now I can finish what I started.”

Reality shifted his chest toward the right and raised his left arm, splaying out his fingers and pushing his palm outward. The air around his arm distorted as feathery tendrils of sickly black aura materialized out of nowhere, congregating toward the center of his paw until it formed a twitching ball of energy that pulsed like a heartbeat. It all felt so wrong , both looking at it and feeling the aura it exuded, but Virtue was at least somewhat accustomed to it. He’d faced it before and knew exactly what it was.

Dark Matter. The collected hatred, fear, and negativity of all Pokemon across the world. It had once turned Pokemon into stone and nearly threw the planet into the sun - what Reality could use was nowhere near that lethality, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous.

The sphere launched from Reality’s palm, tearing through the air and beelining straight for Virtue’s front. He narrowly managed to dodge it by throwing himself to the side, nearly losing his balance in the process. After scrambling back to his feet, he watched the attack crash into a cluster of broken homes, detonating with the force of a bomb.

‘If that touches me…’

He wasn’t sure if it would kill him, but he didn’t want to find out.

The bipedal kitsune turned and met Reality’s steely glare with one of his own. He adjusted his stance and raised his fists just as Reality did, though neither of them made a move. Silence reigned between them as they stared eachother down; Virtue took a few breaths to calm his racing heart, trying to focus and ready himself for what was to come.

Reality’s finger twitched.

Virtue had just enough time to brace himself before the amalgamation lunged, throwing a wild haymaker that Virtue blocked with a raised arm. He retaliated by jabbing Reality in the face, but two tendrils wrapped around his arm and caught him mid-strike. To free himself, Virtue swung his other arm outward and moved Reality’s paw out of the way, only for him to then extend his claws and slice through the tendrils that held him like butter.

Virtue took a few steps back. Reality merely glared, waiting for the tips of his severed tendrils to regrow before engaging once again.

Crescent kick. Blocked.

Standing roundhouse. Ducked underneath.

Forward soccer slide. He raised his leg to avoid it, but a subsequent attempt to stomp on Reality’s foot was stifled.

Another trade of attacks followed. Virtue was only able to keep up by the cusp of his instincts, blocking and striking until his arms began to ache. The only opening he managed to exploit was when Reality overextended a forward jab, allowing him to push forward and drive his fist straight into Reality’s stomach. He used Foul Play to enhance the blow’s sheer power, the inky black aura that weaved around his arm quickly swelling both in strength and size as it measured Reality’s energy. The result was a blowback so extreme that Reality’s feet lifted off the ground; he was only sent flying when Virtue followed with a dropkick, using a burst of fire to accentuate his forward momentum.

It was a strong attack. Against anyone he’d usually spar against, it would’ve been a knockout blow. But with Reality, he knew this was just the beginning. He wasn’t expecting it to result in much.

But he certainly wasn’t expecting the blast of Dark Matter that slammed into his back.

He convulsed as his skin simmered, blood immediately festering around the wound. When the remnants of the blast faded away, he could tell that a circular patch of fur had been completely sheared off - the center of the wound thrummed with agitation as open air kissed its exterior.

His break in concentration cost him. Reality, who had somehow managed to recover within such a short timeframe, went on the offensive - he was back in Virtue’s face within moments, his paws ready to strike while his tendrils flared menacingly behind him. Virtue was forced to weave around a multitude of palm strikes aimed at his upper body, sometimes needing to raise an arm or lift a leg to block a kick targeting those respective areas. He managed to hold the amalgamation off for a handful of seconds before a leg sweep disrupted his flow, leaving him open for a meaty punch to the face. His head flew back as blood sprayed from his nostrils, though he didn’t even have the chance to whimper once his muzzle was clamped shut by one of Reality’s slick tendrils.

Immobile and dazed, he was helpless to block an uppercut to his solar plexus that was so forceful his entire body bent around Reality’s fist. The tendril around his mouth uncurled, slapping him across the face as a parting gift just before he fell to his knees.

“Is that all you can muster?” The amalgamation taunted. Virtue could do nothing as he was seized by the hair, his head forcibly tilted back so that he and Reality were eye-to-eye. “Pathetic.”

“F-fuck you,” Virtue spat in return. As a reward for his valiance, his face was slammed against Reality’s rising knee before a sphere of Dark Matter threw him across the street.

With what little concentration he had left, Virtue let a volley of fireballs fly from his paws, using his makeshift Fire Punch as a source while Extrasensory took care of the rest. Through his numerous unsteady twirls and spins, Virtue saw Reality flick two fingers toward the air, summoning a geyser of Dark Matter just in front of his feet. Virtue’s flames were snuffed out on contact, eaten away before they could do any damage to him.

Another wasted effort.

Then, Virtue crashed through a house.

He slammed into a wooden table with enough force to shatter it instantly. His momentum carried him down to the ground, where he bounced and rolled across a derelict living room - knocking over furniture and breaking objects he was too dazed to identify - before eventually dragging to a halt over a dusty carpet.

He hacked up a glob of blood and pushed himself back up, only to wince when something pressed against his leg. He glanced down to see that a chunk of wood had embedded itself against his calf - he knew it wasn’t deep enough to hit his bones, but it was still painful. Instead of ripping it out, he grasped the end of it and lit his paw ablaze, burning it away so that he didn’t risk pulling any skin.

‘This isn’t good… but at least there’s only one way he can come from. This should work…!’

Just as he’d predicted, Reality flew in from the hole Virtue had left like a bat out of hell. But this time, he was ready to counterattack.

His eye flared with a bright pink hue as he thrust his right paw forward. The same color aura wrapped around Reality’s body and caught him mid-pounce, suspending him in the air. 

“What the hell is -”

Virtue swung his arm to the side.

Reality let out an unholy screech as he was whisked into a wall, cleaving through it without a shred of resistance. Much to Virtue’s surprise, the force behind his Extrasensory was enough to send Reality not just through one home’s wall, but through several houses ; he cut the attack off and stood up, watching as the amalgamation grew further and further away as he tore through wall after wall. Reality’s flight came to an end when - instead of another house - he slammed into a pile of rubble with enough force to throw an eruption of debris into the air.

‘... that was new.’

It bought him a little time, at the very least. Virtue hurried back to the hole he’d made and leaped onto the street, landing in a three-point crouch. He stood and turned, facing the settling cloud of dust in the distance apprehensively.

Virtue’s eye widened with terror as Reality broke through the cloud and surged toward him at a speed he could barely comprehend, poised to strike with an uppercut. All he could do was raise his arms to block and tense his abdomen, ready to absorb the attack at whatever angle it approached from.

Something tickled the fur just around his abs… but there was no impact.

His gaze flitted down with confusion. Reality’s fist was right there, but the punch hadn’t been seen through. Before he could question it further, though, Reality opened his paw and corked his palm until it was facing skyward, launching a sphere of Dark Matter from that very spot.

‘Oh that cheap fu-’

KABOOM!

It drove straight into Virtue’s jaw and exploded on contact, launching him high into the air - he felt weightless until gravity yanked him right back to the Earth, where he landed in a limp, messy heap.

His vision swam. Bile scraped against the back of his throat, leaving it raw and dry. His joints groaned sorely while his nerves screamed with agony. His wounds wept with red tears, leaving puddles of scarlet on the ground. The gnarled and mangled patches of skin that had been burnt, torn, and outright abused cried out in pain as they were attacked by the passing breeze; each gust was rife with the smell of burnt wood and dead bodies. 

A shadow blocked out the light in front of him. Virtue opened his bleary eye to see Reality towering over his downed form with a look of twisted glee. Then, Reality leaned down and seized Virtue by the hair, forcing him up to his feet - though he was turned away from Reality instead of facing him.

A soundless gasp slipped from Virtue’s throat as the grip on his hair tightened. “Look at you,” Reality snarled. “I’ve heard about your endeavors. I know what you’re capable of, fox. Marcus has complained about you and your involvement in recent raids quite often - but we both find it humorous to see an entire military force relying on a child to do their dirty work.

“Even then, you’ve been a thorn in my lord’s side, and I won’t stand for it any longer. I had expected our final conflict to be more grandiose - more of an effort… but you’re barely worth my time. You’re merely a coward who wears the shell of a hero.”

Virtue let out a pained yowl as Reality’s fist slammed against his back. The amalgamation’s other paw shifted from his neck to his head, clutching his skull with a vice-like grip. “You’re nothing,” Reality snarled. “You’ll never be anything - or anyone, for that matter. You’ll die alone like the other vermin who dared to stand in front of Marcus’s dream.”

Without warning, Reality threw Virtue forward. He barely had the strength to turn his head before he hit the ground like a limp ragdoll.

‘No…’ A tear slipped from Virtue’s eye. ‘Is this… is this it? Am I… going to die? Is this how it all ends?

‘I… didn’t even get to live the life I wanted.’ By his sides, his fists clenched. ‘I… there won’t be anything after this. I’m going to die - I won’t have any other chances to… to be who I want to be. I won’t be able to establish my own identity. I’ll just be a failure to everyone - including myself.’

A wave of bitterness rose from the depths of his stomach, intermingling with the taste of blood and vomit in his throat. There was so much he hadn’t been able to control - and now, he wasn’t even going to go out on his own terms. He was dying for a cause he hadn’t wanted anything to do with. The whims of destiny had held him by tangled strings; everything that derailed his life happened around him and all he could do was watch - and now, it was about to end with those same parameters.

He never had a choice.

As his rage continued to build, time around Virtue began to slow down. The world at large faded away until the scents, sounds, and sights of his surroundings were all nonexistent.

‘Virtue… my son…’

Virtue’s eye snapped open. He knew that voice - even if he hadn’t heard it in such a long time, the warmth behind it was unmistakable. “W-whuh… mom…?”

‘You’re such a special boy. I’m so proud of you. You’ve done such a good job so far - I know that you’ll continue to do amazing things. Just remember to be yourself - don’t let anything or anyone change who you are on the inside. Because… even if things seem hopeless… as long as you hold your ground and remain true to your heart, you will always persevere.’

Suddenly, Virtue remembered when she’d given that speech. He’d been young at the time - barely 5 years old - and hadn’t understood half of what she was talking about, especially since he had been half asleep within her tails when she’d said it. But now that it had resurfaced after he’d matured…

Crack

Something pulsed deep within his heart. It gave Virtue just enough strength to lift his head, though he still felt paralyzed from the neck down.

‘Wow, Virtue, that was really impressive! You’re getting the hang of this!’

Virtue blinked owlishly. “Dad…?”

‘I’m so proud of you, buddy. I bet that once you get older, you’ll be much stronger than your old man here - I know it.’ His words trailed off for a moment before he continued, ‘Just remember that these abilities… they’re your own, okay? You can do whatever you want with them. You worked hard to unlock them, so now… well, your Source is your Clampearl, haha! Fight for what you believe in - and if anyone stands in your way, give them what-for!’

Crack

Another pulse trailed across his limbs. Virtue pressed his palms against the ground and drew his legs in, barely removing his chest from the ground.

‘Hey, Virtue…’

A choked sob slipped past his maw. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the words of his best friend. “Oh f-fuck…” 

‘Once this is all over… let’s get Azure and Crystal and run away together. This whole thing has been… it’s been hard. Frankly. I don’t feel like I’m my own Pokemon anymore. I’m just another head in an army of fighters, you know? So… I think that we should all start a new life after this - together. Find our calling. Be who we wanna be. I care about you all too much to let you all go. Especially you. You’ve given my life purpose, so… I wanna do the same for you.’

Crack

Virtue’s breaths came out in small, pained hitches. His limbs trembled as tears amassed within his eye, dribbling down his cheek and hitting the ground with barely audible plinks. Even if his Soul felt warm, bursting at the seams with invigoration, he still felt utterly miserable on the inside. His mom, his dad, Tsunami, all his friends… he hadn’t lived up to what they wanted from him. They wanted him to be free - be himself - and knowing that he’d disappointed them hurt more than he could’ve ever imagined. 

He wasn’t sure why he was remembering all of that now, but it didn’t matter. The battle within himself was no longer about pride or independence - it was about honoring those who had fallen so he could live. His parents wanted him to be strong - be honest. Tsunami wanted him to live for himself. Azure and Crystal… while he hadn’t been as open to them as he was to Tsunami, he knew they wished nothing but the best for him.

And what had he done?

He’d disgraced all of them by being a doormat.

Crack

His grief was immediately consumed by pure, raw anger. He was done with not being in control. He was done with being a spectator. He was done with bending to the whims of other Pokemon, no matter the reason. He was done with bearing the weight of a title that didn’t mean shit to him. He was done with all of it.

C r a c k

He was no hero. He was Virtue Flamora Rejuvalin - and while that hadn’t mean anything before, he would be damned if he didn’t step up and put meaning behind it now.

SNAP

All at once, his emotions reached a fever pitch. His fury boiled outward, licking his skin with a magenta hue. His anguish seeped from his pores, leaking dark blue essence that weaved around his arms and legs. His defiance manifested from the excessive amount of ashes that fluttered from his paws, birthing sprouts of purple wisps that steadily joined together into a ribbon-like streak.

And then, just as the world around him returned to itself, Virtue threw his head back and screamed. 

(For a fleeting moment, the Earth held its breath.)

(Then, a supernova was born.)

(Combatants all across the broken town stopped as an eruption of purple, blue, and magenta shot toward the sky. It shoved the clouds aside and reached toward the moon, stretching as high as it could go, but it never hit its goal. Instead, it bloomed like the petals of a flower but ran like a falling wave, surging back to the land it came from; when it hit the ground, it created a shockwave that plucked the entire continent, leaving it and its inhabitants reeling.)

(Nature’s response was one of reverence. The trees quivered. The grass bowed. The plants turned their heads. The wind hushed, waiting for permission to speak again.)

(Pokemon - those currently fighting and those who weren’t - froze in their tracks. They scanned their surroundings, trepidatious yet fearful, but their only response was from the howling wind that carried the dust of their loved ones.)

(The ground beneath Virtue’s feet splintered as igneous cracks snaked through the pavement. The aura that came from him hugged his body and flowed from his skin like oil in water. Virtue’s eye - once a dull purple - burned with anger and grief, bathing the upper half of his face with a soft violet glow..)

(Virtue had Awakened...)

(.. and he was pissed. )

“I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS!” Virtue shouted, pulling on his hair with one paw while scratching at the ground with the other. “I’m done with being fate’s plaything! I’m not a hero. I’ll never BE a hero. I don’t want to be put in this position anymore!

“They want me to act as if I’m some savior. I bet that fate expects me to walk out of this, proud of myself and happy I stopped you… Maybe it wants me to use this power for good…. Wouldn’t that be funny? If, after all of this, I was allowed to keep my sanity? What a JOKE!”

He shakily stood to his feet as the aura around him brightened. The blood that once flowed from his wounds was cupped by the colorful gale that whipped around his body, lifting into the sky before being crushed into nonexistence. “My last hurdle… is overcoming you, you wretched piece of filth,” Virtue said, staring Reality down with an expression of pure hatred. “You are what’s between me and freedom.”

For a while, Reality said nothing. The amalgamation had backed off during his ascension and looked extremely frazzled, his expression teetering between disbelief and hesitation. But, after a moment, he schooled his look and growled, baring his teeth and fanning his tendrils.  “I will commend you for not being self-righteous. Justice and heroism are bullshit - that is clear to me. But even then, you still rise to stand against me. You still want to fight. So what the hell is the POINT?!” He barked. “What does that make you, Virtue Rejūvalin? Who are you?”

Virtue dipped his head. His hair draped over his eye like a curtain.  “… I’m a disgrace. I’m a selfish Pokemon who doesn’t care anymore. I’m a Pokemon who doesn’t deserve happiness . But, I’m not worried about that.” His lips pulled back into a snarl. “Because this… this is my decision to make. Not anyone else’s.”

And that was when Virtue finally let go.

A surge of pure, raw power cascaded over his Soul. His maw split open as a raspy scream ripped from his throat; a stream of blood jettisoned out of his mouth alongside it. His pupil dilated as his paws raised to his head, claws at his cheeks deliriously. Every bone in his body felt like it was being crushed into shards and assembled back together in rapid succession.

It was excruciating. It was terrifying. But above all, it was liberating.

Virtue took off running, closing the gap between himself and Reality in a second. A crazed grin split his lips as he let a haymaker fly, landing square between Reality’s widened eyes.

The attack completely demolished the amalgamation’s head.

Reality swiftly regrew it and lunged forward, though his claws only met open air - Virtue leaned backward just enough to watch both arms pass over his muzzle, barely a whisker-length from digging across his nose. Before Reality could correct his overextension, Virtue raised his right arm and splayed out his paw, releasing a blast of fire so powerful it sent both of them flying.

Virtue used a concentrated burst to reorient himself midair, digging his claws into the shattered pavement as he dragged to a halt on all fours. When he lifted his head, he was greeted to the lovely sight of Reality and his sudden lack of a right shoulder and an entire half of his face. Within moments, it all grew back, but it did little to placate the expression of unyielding rage that overtook his expression.

“Y-you…” Reality began. His tendrils spasmed like insects while his eyes blazed with fury. “You insolent cur. I’ll kill you. I’ll rip you apart limb from limb. I’ll smear your blood all over the walls and I’ll burn every house to the ground if it means I’m ridden of you.”

Virtue inclined his head. “I’m already dead to the world. You’ll be the only one to miss me,” he replied. Then, he made a ‘come at me’ motion with his still flaming paw, his muscles tensing as he prepared for another onslaught.

In unison, they lunged. Their fists met in a titanic clash of fire and wind, causing the ground to crumble around them. After a brief stalemate, they went to trading blows. Virtue punched, kicked, and used his combat expertise to weave through Reality’s attacks. His reaction time was still the same, resulting in him taking more than a few good hits, but his elevated speed, strength, and endurance allowed him to push through strikes that would’ve knocked the wind out of him. In turn, he was also able to dish out more damage than before, leaving multiple blemishes along Reality’s body as the fight went on.

He wasn’t just on par with the amalgamation now. He was winning.

He could tell that Reality was feeling it too. As their exchange went on, Virtue gradually weaseled his way into an offensive position, causing Reality to play defensively. Had he not been intensely focused, Virtue would’ve smiled with glee.

He stood a chance now. He could win. He could live and be free.

Yet, even with Awakening’s influence, he still felt like he could draw more from its well of power. He felt like he was only dipping his toes into a pool of deep, dark energy that plunged to the depths of the Earth.

He wanted it. He wanted all of it. So, he took a mental leap - and the results were extraordinary.

The aura around him brightened tenfold. His muscles swelled. His senses sharpened. The flames that surrounded his fists tinted with blue while their cores shifted to white - Reality flinched back from the sudden burst of heat, even if it likely didn’t affect him. Still, Virtue wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth - he seized the chance to land a powerful crescent kick straight against Reality’s cheek. Much to Virtue’s delight, the force behind it was so intense that it sent the amalgamation careening across the street and blew off half of his body.

After a few bounces and rolls, Reality slammed his remaining tendrils into the ground and dragged himself to a halt, pushing himself up with a murderous gleam in his eye. “Where the hell did you get all this strength from, you mongrel?!” He hissed. The regrowth of his missing parts followed his words, though Virtue noticed that it took slightly longer than before. The gap was only milliseconds apart, but it was there. 

Virtue wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He let out a shaky breath and shrugged. “I don’t think you’d understand even if I tried to explain it.”

“What the hell do you take me for - a fool?!”

“No. I take you for a dead man.”

Reality’s ensuing scream of rage was cut short when Virtue lunged and socked him across the face with enough force to blow his head off yet again. It regrew about as quickly as it did before, allowing Reality to see and catch Virtue’s incoming palm heel strike. From there, Reality wrapped one tendril around Virtue’s waist and lifted him into the air, only to slam him back down harshly.

Virtue’s entire body shuddered from the intense blow, but it still wasn’t enough to take him out. He extended his claws and sliced through Reality’s tendril with his right paw, causing the cut half to disintegrate on the spot. With his left, he grabbed the intact tendril and yanked it forward as hard as he could; Reality was pulled forward until their chests connected, where Virtue threw his head forward and bashed their temples together. Finally, Virtue let Reality go and twisted around, batting the amalgamation away with an Iron Tail.

Reality landed in an ungraceful heap and didn’t get back up. It was the perfect chance for Virtue to finish the job - yet before he could take a single step, an unbearable level of pain smashed against his ribs and knocked his breath away, forcing him down to his knees. All of a sudden, his entire body felt heavy , as if gravity had been amped up to the point of crushing him. His grip on Awakening fumbled until he felt forced to let go of the strength he’d tapped into, causing it to dim until it was a mere fraction of what it had been before. However, upon doing so, it significantly lessened the pressure that weighed against his bones until it was barely noticeable.

It didn’t take long for Virtue to put the pieces together. ‘Of course it has drawbacks,’ he thought wryly. ‘The more I pull, the worse it’ll be on my body… but I need it to finish him off. I need to figure out a strategy - fast.’

Virtue’s body trembled like a leaf in a hurricane as he came down from his momentary high. Despite his fatigue, he willed himself to stand up and raise his fists, carefully extracting a smaller portion of strength from his reserves in the meantime - 5%, or so he believed. He could feel a newfound wave of power suffuse through his body - nowhere near as painful as before, but it still felt like he was pulling on something to get it out at all.

Virtue finally focused on his opponent yet again. He did so just in the nick of time, as he had just enough of a window to weave around the slew of Dark Matter spheres that Reality hurled toward him. The amalgamation had also stood back up, though the delayed response confused Virtue - Reality had enough speed to have landed a few hits while Virtue had been down, so why didn’t he?

Either way, neither of them were down for the count yet.

And thus, the battle raged on.

======================

CRASH!

BANG!

BAM!

Explosions rang across the town. Buildings collapsed into heaps of rubble as their structural integrity was blown away. Strips of the road were uprooted like weeds before being chucked aside as fire, Dark Matter, or some other object careened into them. Dead bodies that happened to get caught in the crossfire were blasted into smithereens one after another, leaving nothing behind of their legacy other than a pile of ashes.

Another building was added to the list of casualties as Reality threw Virtue through a wall, demolishing the last of said structure’s support. Virtue landed on the street on all fours and shot up just in time to dance around several blasts of Dark Matter, though he didn’t have enough time to avoid the smokescreen their detonations created. However, even with an obscured field of view, he was able to see Reality coming and blocked the incoming forward jab with a raised arm, barely flinching as a shockwave rumbled through his bones and splatters of goop peppered his chest and face. He then retaliated with an uppercut, nailing Reality in the jaw with enough force to tear it from his body. 

With rage burning deep within his eyes, Reality regrew his malformity - it took almost a full second to do so - and swung all three of his rightmost tendrils, catching Virtue in a wall of goop and tossing him into a pile of debris with enough force to make his skull rattle. Chips of wood and jagged bits of rock dug into his back, but he didn’t let it slow him down - the moment he was able, he used Extrasensory to snag pieces of broken wooden support beams and aimed their sharpened tips toward Reality. Then, with a single flick of his wrist, he sent them forward one after another like arrows from a crossbow.

‘How is he still so strong?’ Virtue thought, panting heavily. ‘He’s clearly slowing down, but his strength is still the same… does he have an unlimited supply of stamina!?’

As the dust cleared, Virtue saw the fruits of his impromptu attack. A few ‘arrows’ had missed entirely but the ones that hit did a lot of damage. One of them had managed to rip Reality’s left arm off. A good few were still embedded in his body, namely around his chest and legs. Three of them had been caught by Reality’s tendrils, though they were promptly crushed into pieces once their eyes met.

He pushed himself away from the pile and drew from Awakening, raising his usage from 5% to 10%. He wouldn’t give Reality a window to regenerate - he threw himself forward, torqued his body midair, and activated Iron Tail just as he finished a full spin. With the impetus he’d generated, his tails sliced through Reality’s midsection like a knife through butter, severing both halves of Reality’s body from one another. 

“WHY YOU LITTLE - GRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

A wave of Dark Matter ballooned from Reality’s chest and shoved against Virtue’s chest, knocking his balance away. He was swept along like a piece of driftwood in a tsunami, carried across the street until the wave peetered out and deposited him atop a broken signpost. Thankfully, the damage wasn’t too severe - his pectorals were burned and a large clump of fur around the same area was now missing - and he got up without any fuss.

Virtue expected to see Reality reformed and ready to go.

What he actually saw made his jaw drop.

Reality’s lower body still seemed to be in the process of reforming. He supported himself with his one remaining arm and the rest of his tendrils, though they seemed less solid than they’d been earlier in the fight. When Virtue looked closer, he saw that Reality’s entire body was significantly more liquefied, dripping over itself as it struggled to retain a solid form.

Virtue’s eye widened. ‘I get it now… the strength behind his attacks remains the same, but his body gradually breaks down… I just need to push a little bit more, and then I can finally finish him off.

‘But I’m getting weaker too… at this rate, I’ll decompose with him.’

Virtue knew he didn’t have much time left. His hold on Awakening had grown slippery and unstable, threatening to flee entirely. His body was at its limit - if he took another bad hit, he knew he’d break something at best and meet his end at worst.

There was only one option he had left - one risk he had to take. 

Across from him, Reality’s eyes narrowed. “You… I’m not… I won’t let you live. You’re not leaving this ALIVE!” Following his shout, a Star of David flickered to life behind Reality’s back. Each point spawned a sphere of Dark Matter that hummed impatiently, wriggling in place as they waited to be set free. Then, they began to fire off one by one, launching at Virtue like a turret; with each sphere that was launched, a new one took its place, repeating the process over and over.

Virtue took off running. Waves of heat brushed against his fur as explosions rang behind him, trailing his every move yet failing to hit him with his enhanced agility. As he ran, he used Extrasensory to grab the ‘arrows’ that had missed and maneuvered them to slice off what Reality had regrown; his head pounded, filling his ears with white noise and making his vision swim, though he kept at it until he was sure that Reality was vulnerable.

“ Die! Stay still and die already!”

Everything hurt. He was in so much pain. But he kept running. 

“ DIE!”

He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. He refused to stop.

“ DIE !”

He was so close.

“J u s t die !”

Freedom was within reach.

“D i e…”

The trail stopped.

Virtue slowed to a halt.

“W h y… won’t you… d i e…?”

Reality no longer copied Virtue’s shape. The amalgamation had become more to his namesake - his features were barely noticeable as his body lost its shape. He wasn’t able to summon any more Dark Matter, either, as the Star of David had vanished and there wasn’t a trace of Dark Matter to be seen.

“Y o u… u s e l e s s…” Reality mumbled. His voice was turgid and thick, almost as if he was speaking while underwater. “The d r e am… will… I must… n o…”

Virtue turned so that he faced Reality directly. He raised both of his paws, pushed his arms in front of him, and called upon his Source by drawing out as much fire as he possibly could. His flames - red, then blue, then white - quickly grew in size until they spasmed from his fingertips like the wings of a panicked bird. When he felt that he had enough, Virtue used Extrasensory to focus all of it into a concentrated stream, though he held the floodgates shut until he was sure he was ready.

“Burn.”

The world went white.

—-----------------

Virtue woke up.

He couldn’t move.

His lungs felt tight.

Everything hurt.

All he knew was pain.

So much pain.

It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt please make it stop please mom dad someone help make it stop I’m sorry please

Clarity struck.

His surroundings were eerily silent. The sounds of battle were gone. There was no more destruction. Even the fire sounded as if it was running out of things to devour and had shrunk down to a mere simmer.

… though, when he lifted his head, he realized that part of that may have been because an entire chunk of the town appeared to have been vaporized. Even the debris was gone.

The entire center of the town had been turned into a crater.

Virtue rolled onto his side and coughed. He felt so weak. He was hanging on to his life by a thread - but somehow, it hadn’t severed. He was still alive.

And if he was alive, that meant…

His gaze drifted to the other end of the crather, where Reality - or what was left of him - lay in wait. His body was little more than a pile of sludge that barely resembled what he used to be. What drew Virtue’s attention the most was the bright white glow that shimmered within Reality’s chest, clamoring to reveal itself amidst its host’s collapse.

‘His Soul…’

It took an entire minute for Virtue to get on his feet. After spending a moment to observe the carnage around him, Virtue lumbered forward - step after agonizing step - until he stood over Reality’s fallen body. For a while, he said nothing. He merely glared at his adversary with a look of pure venom, taking great pleasure in seeing the creature that had ended so many lives - the creature who had taken his eye, his friends, and what remained of his sanity - on the ground in such a helpless state.

“I hate you,” he began. “I hate you with all of my fucked up heart. Was it worth it to follow some power-drunk asshole? Was it worth it to kill so many Pokemon? Was it worth it to torture everyone you ever came across for your own amusement?”

Reality gurgled. Virtue wasn’t sure if he’d been expecting anything more.

“... I don’t know if your Soul will move on. Frankly, I don’t care. But if it does, I’ll meet you in hell and pummel you into the ground until I discover an eighth layer that I can personally send you to.”

Then, with nothing else to say, Virtue reached into Reality’s chest and grabbed the amalgamation’s Soul. Once he yanked it out, he squeezed it as hard as he could until it shattered like glass; both it and Reality’s body dissolved into thin air, leaving behind nothing about his presence other than the destruction he’d caused.

Chapter Text

It was strange, Virtue thought, how a seemingly random day could become important because of one life-altering event.

Only a select few days mattered to large portions of Pokemon. Virtue understood them, too, even if they didn’t matter to him specifically. Why wouldn’t a group of Pokemon want to celebrate a religious holiday that had appeal across the globe? Why wouldn’t an entire town want to revere the day of their founding? Why wouldn’t a tribe of Pokemon want to pay tribute to their fallen warriors on the day of an important battle? It all just made sense.

But then there were days that shouldn’t have had an impact at all - but some Pokemon still held it dear anyway. The day a Pokémon’s child graduated from school; a couple’s anniversary (which he was starting to see the appeal of now that he had a mate of his own); one’s crowning achievement or triumph over a personal goal… No matter the reason, a seemingly innocuous day could be given a purpose that only a select few understood. Its allure was (sometimes) so powerful that Pokemon would meet with family, visit a specific site, or even travel to another continent to honor a day that could’ve been drawn from a hat. 

It wasn’t like Virtue was an exception to that rule. He was already on a ferry for that exact reason, after all - because for Virtue, that ‘innocuous day’ was March 17th. It wasn’t his birthday. It wasn’t the day of something he felt proud of or wanted to remember. It wasn’t a time that he felt happy, eager, or hopeful . It wasn’t ‘special’ in any sense - it was anything but cause for celebration. If he could have it his way, he’d rather it not have any meaning at all.

March 17th was the day his parents died.

He’d never forget the devastation he’d felt when he was whisked away from his den due to his father’s Teleport, leaving both of his parents to fend against the pack of semiferal Mightyena’s that had ravaged his home. What started as a normal morning became a catalyst for his spiral into insanity, and therefore began a cycle of mourning that spiked once every year. 

Virtue had been the one who dug their graves. He was also the one who maintained them year after year. Even after he left the Mist Continent and began his journey anew on the Air Contnent, he always found the time to return home and visit his parents; a portion of the money he accrued from Dungeoneering was always allocated for that very cause. Ferry tickets weren’t costly, far from it, but Virtue liked the reassurance that he wouldn’t be a day late since he had enough for the fare.

At least the travel was nice. Whenever he leaned against the ferry’s railing, basking in the cool breeze that ruffled his fur and listening to the waves as they lapped against the boat, he felt something akin to peace. It wasn’t enough to soothe to ache in his chest, but it helped him stay calm throughout the entire ride… though this time, Virtue didn’t rely on that buffer as much. He felt more ‘in control’ than he had across his past visits.

He knew exactly who to thank for that.

As a crest of land began to emerge from over the horizon, Virtue sighed forlornly and stared into the distance. “... guess she was right after all,” he muttered. “It doesn’t feel as bad.”

Once he got off the ferry and wandered into the port town of Huleia, he purchased a bundle of cleaning supplies meant for buildings, two bouquets, and a broom (which he had to strap to his back like a sword since it was too big). He followed the beaten path for a while before he trekked in an entirely different direction. There was no reason to keep following it since a path to Bubble Woods had never existed. Even if it would’ve in the past, there was no reason to make one now - not when no one lived there.

Virtue came to a stop once he reached the woods’ outskirts. He could already tell the place was overgrown; fauna, bushes, and other forms of vegetation filled in the space that trees didn’t occupy, much of it tall enough to reach Virtue’s nose. The musty scent of woodland was strong since clean air had a hard time filtering it. He prodded the ground with his foot - as he’d suspected, it was still wet due to the excessive shade; the dirt he stood on was fresh and dry.

Without batting an eye, Virtue extended one paw and released several controlled bursts of fire that were enough to let the grass below breathe. Once he had enough room to step forward, he extended his claws and began hacking away at all of the plants that he came across. He tossed each one aside as compost. 

Virtue passed by a few dens as he worked his way inward. Whether they were carved out of a rocky outcrop or dug into the dirt, they all met the same fate as the forest - overgrown and obscured. Out of respect for whoever used to live in them, Virtue kept their openings sealed to preserve the memories held within but cleared out the plant life around them until they were visible to the naked eye. 

He repeated that pattern until he reached one den in particular - one that was better preserved than the others. The den’s yawning entrance was unobscured and readily beckoned him inside. The clearing in front of it had succumbed to the forest’s influence, though to a much lesser degree; he could still see the two unnatural lumps of dirt and their accompanying markings without needing to clear anything away.

He let out a shallow sigh. It was never easy to return to his home. 

“Hey mom,” Virtue began. He leaned down toward the left grave and propped the bundle of flowers against the marker. He then did the same to the right grave. “Hey, dad. I’ll talk to you b-both in a bit, okay?”

As per usual, his first order of business was to tend to his old home. He started with the outside; he cut the weeds with his claws, cleared out debris with Extrasensory, and used some clippers he’d bought to trim the grass. 

The rocky pathway connecting the den to the outside world had several depressions in it - all paw-shaped. Virtue leaned down and fit his paw into one of the bigger ones—one he knew belonged to his mother.

It fit perfectly.

Virtue stepped inside the den and was immediately assaulted by the pungent smell of aged wood. Cobwebs adorned the den’s walls, swaying with the drab breeze that filtered in from outside. The furniture - a rug, some desks, and a stovetop - was covered in a thin layer of dust. Parts of the den had succumbed to time; small cracks ran along the walls, parts of which were weathered, and some of the foundations looked more uneven than they did last time. ‘Probably from the rain,’ he thought. 

Virtue closed his eye. Memories from long ago filled in what the den currently lacked. He remembered how his mother always caught him whenever he tried to sneak food out of the eating area. He remembered how it felt to be buried in her warm fur as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. He remembered how his father would always read him a book every night in that one isolated corner near the right end of the living room. He remembered how it felt when the den was alive.

Even when he opened his eye and let reality settle in, he didn’t yearn to relive those moments. To him, the den was like an old photograph. The image itself was marred, its colors bled dry and the finer details swept up by the passage of time - but the memories it preserved were still there, frozen in time. It was up to Virtue to help its echo linger for as long as possible. Letting it fade away or replacing it with a new one was never an option.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it spoke of how he once clung to the past. Maybe it was something else entirely. But Virtue didn’t care - it was his decision to make, after all.

He rolled out his shoulders, flicked down his goggles, and got to work.

—----------------------------------------

It had taken Virtue several hours to fix the den. He’d sanded down the furniture, dusted off every surface he could get his paws on, oiled the cabinets, cleaned the floors until they sparkled (the floor may have been rock but dammit did he make it the prettiest rock floor anyone had ever seen), and re-made all of the beds so they didn’t look wrinkled. He felt infinitely better about himself once it was all done; he spent a moment admiring his handiwork before he turned around and walked back outside. He propped his equipment against the wall - including his bag and goggles - before he laid down in between both graves, his paws tucked behind his head and one leg crossed over the other.

Rays of sunlight wrapped around his body like a warm hug. A gentle breeze carded through his fur and tousled his hair, causing him to grin as he sorted it back into place. After a moment, he took off his goggles and set them aside; there was no reason to keep his gear on, he thought, since there was nothing to protect himself from. 

“… sorry I’m a few days late,” he began. “I w-was, uh, a bit held up. There’s a lot I need to talk to you both about but I had no idea where to start. My mate had to help m-me prepare… but we all know I’m not very eloquent to begin with. I’ll j-just ramble and see what comes out.” 

A dewdrop fell from above and splattered on the tip of his nose. Chided, Virtue wriggled his muzzle with an amused snort. “I worry about nothing, I know. I’ve… come to realize that a lot more now. I get told off quite a lot by her. It helps, before you worry. I’m a bit more confident in myself.

“… right. My mate. I mentioned her twice now…” A heavy blush dusted Virtue’s cheeks. Despite being unable to see his reflection, he knew that his already-red fur was undoubtedly another shade darker. “Uh, I met someone. Someone very special to me. I… I never thought I’d be capable of finding love, but… I did.” 

The forest’s ambiance dampened as if it was listening to what Virtue had to say. He could almost hear his mother’s encouraging purr and swore he felt his father’s expectant gaze boring against the side of his head as they waited for him to fold over in embarrassment. He knew very well that his tolerance for compliments, fluster, and other forms of flattery was minuscule; he folded like a wet noodle more often than not.

“She’s amazing. Beautiful, kind, funny… she’s been there for me whenever I need her. She even helped me tame Awakening, which… I wasn’t even sure that w-was possible until she did it. Somehow. She’s a miracle worker.” A lovestruck grin lifted his lips while his ears fell flat against his head. “God, I love her so much. She’s the one. I… I never believed you and dad when you said you knew you were meant to be together. I thought it was just a fable-like… thing. Now I get it.”

Virtue took a breath, recomposed himself, and continued on in a more steady tone. “I thought that I’d feel even worse today. I always break down around you two at some point during my visits. But this time, everything feels… b-better. It feels like I’m finally forging my own path and becoming who I w-want to be.” He held up his right paw and unsheathed his claws. He felt a slight pinch in his chest before tendrils of blue, purple, and magenta weaved between his pawtips like a flowing river. It buzzed with anticipation, ready to surround Virtue at a moment’s notice and heed his command; the unlimited well of power and potential at his disposal wasn’t very daunting to him anymore. Rather than being something he feared, Awakening was a part of him - and he accepted that.

With a smile and a flick of his wrist, Virtue dismissed Awakening’s influence and leaned back again. “I didn’t even flinch when I did that. Isn’t that cool?” He asked, unable to stop a twinge of pride from welling in his chest. “Calling on Awakening is just… easier. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally accepted myself - my past, I m-mean. It’s a lot easier to look toward the future now that it doesn’t chain me.”

A yawn split Virtue’s lips. He hadn’t realized how tired the entire trip had made him - but now that he’d gotten comfortable, it was hard to ignore the weight that pulled at his eyelids and the sudden sluggishness that overcame his thoughts. Awakening must’ve only exacerbated the issue; even if he was comfortable with it, he hadn’t spent a lot of time controlling it. Even siphoning the smallest bit of its power took a toll on him.

“... I love you both,” he mumbled. He blinked away the moisture that welled in his eye and shifted in place. The sun felt comfortably warm all of a sudden. “You’re the best parents I could’ve asked for. Even if I only knew you for eight years… and I wish you could’ve been around for longer… it was a time I’ll never forget. I’ll live on… for both of you… especially now that I have something - or, uh, some one,” he yawned again, “to fight for…

“...I hope you’re both proud of me.”

Then, with one final sigh, Virtue tilted his head back - though right before his eye fluttered shut, he could’ve sworn that he felt two larger presences press against both of his sides. Even if it was all in his head, it drew one last rumbling purr out of him before he was lulled into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

Amrita Forest was a very strange place.

Virtue didn’t think the forest itself was strange. The paths that clove through the woods like veins were normal. The trees were normal. The bushes were normal. The way the sunlight filtered through the sea of green overhead was normal. The air - namely its scent and how it carded through his fur like loving hands - was normal. Nothing about it drew his suspicion.

No, what made it strange was its inhabitants.

For one, the populous majorly consisted of Deerling. Whenever he came across a small tribe of semiferals, it was always a group of Deerling. The scent of Deerling was heavy and constantly invaded his nose. Whenever the grass rustled or some bushes were pushed aside, the culprit was a Deerling. There were other Pokemon too - he spotted a few Manectric, some Boltund, and a Maschiff here and there - but Deerling pervaded above them all numbers-wise.

The other reason was because all Deerling spoke of one individual in particular: The Savior.

Virtue never sought to listen in, but it was impossible to ignore the reverent whispers that popped up like moles wherever he went - his ears were trained to pick up any voices he heard, be it for information or threats, so he was forced to listen whether he wanted to or not. He couldn’t glean much from what he heard, though; all he understood was that there was some Pokemon who passed through the woods often and saved the Deerling from becoming another semiferal’s meal time and time again.

It reminded him so much of how other Pokémon spoke of him then. It made him deeply uncomfortable.

Virtue sighed and adjusted the strap of his bag. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. They weren’t even talking about him, so he had no reason to fret about it. All he had to do was make it to the end of Amrita Forest, which (if his calculations were correct) would only take him another day at maximum. Surely he wouldn’t face any interruptions or -

“HELP ME!”

The shrill scream pierced through the air like a dagger and immediately kicked Virtue into action. He pivoted on his heel and kicked off, abandoning any sense of hesitation he had as he ran toward the source as fast as his legs would carry him; the voice was close enough for him to know that he could help.

He was no hero but he’d be damned if he didn’t lend a paw wherever possible. Fate wouldn’t get its hands on anyone else - not on his watch.

It took him an extra second to realize he wasn’t the only one racing toward the noise. A second pair of footsteps joined his own, growing closer and closer until Virtue could see the silhouette of a Pokemon to his left. Who or what it was, he had no idea, but something told him that he wouldn’t have to worry about either question. He refocused his gaze on the path ahead and concentrated purely on finding whoever called for help.

Virtue and his unknown companion wove through trees, leaped over branches, and tore through bushes with ruthless efficiency. Their haste bode them well, as the moment they broke free from the woodland and into a clearing, Virtue was greeted to the sight of a larger-than-normal Arcanine towering over a trembling Deerling foal. Her eyes (cloudy and murky; she was likely seeing her life flash before her eyes, Virtue deduced, since he’d seen that same reaction in many Pokemon before) had dilated to mere pinpricks while her whole body shivered like a leaf in a hurricane. The Arcanine, meanwhile, was practically frothing at the mouth, but the expression on its face was too complex for Virtue to make out.

He supposed he didn’t need to, though, when the red glow to the Arcanine’s eyes said enough. Alpha Pokemon were never the rational bunch.

“Hey,” spoke a deep, level voice from beside him. Virtue turned to see that the mystery Pokemon - a Mightyena - had padded forward until they stood side by side. Similar to the Arcanine, Virtue was completely incapable of deciphering the Mightyena’s emotions from the look on his face alone, but he didn’t seem hostile. “You gonna take that thing on, too?”

The Arcanine slowly turned around and faced them.

“Yeah,” Virtue replied. “I am.”

The Mightyena scanned him from head to toe before giving Virtue a nod. Was it satisfaction? Approval? Something lesser? He didn’t know. “Stay out of my way,” the Mightyena said - not unkindly, but rather as a suggestion that Virtue should adhere to. It was fine by him; it wasn’t the first time that he’d spontaneously had to work with another Pokemon.

Then, the moment they fell into battle positions, all hell broke loose.

The Arcanine roared and charged forward; Virtue and the Mightyena sprung in opposite directions to avoid it. Once Virtue’s feet hit the ground, he kicked off and shoulder-checked the Arcanine’s flank, causing it to yelp and stagger. He followed up with a roundhouse kick that circled to hit its jaw, eliciting another whimper of pain.

The fur on Virtue’s arms stood on end when he felt a sickly aura invade the air. Knowing what was about to happen, Virtue backed off and watched as a Shadow Ball slammed into the Arcanine’s other flank with a powerful explosion of smoke and purple fumes - fumes so thick and potent that Virtue could almost taste them.

He and the Mightyena subconsciously fell into a routine. He’d draw the Arcanine’s attention, the Mightyena would attack it with something to distract it, and then Virtue would capitalize on the distraction with a physical blow of some kind. It was a messy plan that wasn’t too complicated - perfect for spur-of-the-moment alliances - but those types of plans always fell through eventually. It was only a matter of when.

After repeating the same tactic a few times, the Arcanine caught on to what they were doing and changed its strategy. When the Mightyena whipped the Arcanine across the flank with his scarf (which was apparently a thing he could do, and Virtue didn’t even want to ponder how that was possible), the Arcanine outright ignored him and instead continued its charge toward Virtue - a charge bolstered by the power of Take Down. Virtue tried to parry with an Iron Tail, but the type-ineffectiveness and their difference in size did little to help him. He was sent flying across the clearing and slammed back-first into the dirt, sliding forward until he knocked into a tree.

Though his head spun and his body felt alight with pain, Virtue had enough clarity to reach into his bag and pull out an Oran Berry. With three swift chomps, the entire berry was devoured; Virtue felt its healing effects wash over him, bringing him back to lucidity. He then fished around pouch of seeds and tallied what he had in stock. From touch alone, he could figure out the seeds - three of them - were: a Blast Seed, a Quick Seed, and a Totter Seed.

Virtue stood up, grabbed the Blast Seed, and pitched it forward as hard as he could. It sailed through the air like a baseball before smashing into the ground right before Arcanine’s front paws, causing a wall of dirt and grass to rise skyward as the brunt of the explosion knocked Arcanine to the ground. Immediately after, Virtue shouted “CATCH!” and chucked the Quick Seed the Mightyena’s way.

The Mightyena caught the seed in its jaws and crushed it to pieces.

The effects were immediate. With agility that the Mightyena would’ve been incapable of utilizing moments ago, he surged forward and body-checked the Arcanine hard enough to knock it over. He then twisted his head to the side and did something to make his bandanna unfurl, surge forward like a viper, and wrap itself around Arcanine’s neck with a tight-knit grip. Once the Mightyena deemed himself ready, he puffed his chest out and threw his head back; the bandanna repeated the motion and flung Arcanine high into the air.

When it came back down, it landed on the dirt with a loud BOOM and scattered dust everywhere. Virtue was close enough to the Deerling to protect her with his own body; he also had the foresight to shift his goggles down so debris didn’t get in his eye.

Eventually, the ‘storm’ parted to reveal Arcanine, completely unconscious, lying in a crater of its own making. 

Virtue sighed and eased his posture. Just like that, the battle was over. 

“Are you okay?” Virtue said, turning around to face the shocked Deerling with as kind of a look as he could muster. He was still a little stiff since he was near two strangers, but his mind decided to show a little mercy and not leave him in a completely walled-off state.

At first, the Deerling didn’t respond - she merely stared at both Virtue and the Mightyena (who had approached her and was now checking over her wounds) with awe. Suddenly, a wide, bright-eyed smile crossed her face as she chirped “Thank you so much, misters!” with all the joy in the world. She seemed relatively unphased despite nearly falling victim to the jaws of death; Virtue wasn’t sure if she couldn’t process that or if she was just being ignorant. “You saved me! You’re both my hero!”

My hero!

Hero!

Hero

Hero

Hero

Heroheroheroheroheroherohero heroherohero-

Virtue’s breath stuttered. His claws unsheathed, prodding into his skin as he grabbed a pawful of his chest fur. It took every ounce of willpower that he had not to start screaming at the poor fawn; he kept his jaw firmly shut and trapped the twisted, ugly words that rested on his tongue behind a cage of teeth. Despite his best efforts, he wasn’t able to suppress the full-body flinch that wracked him and the pained wince that crossed his face; he could tell he wasn’t even subtle about it, either, since the Mightyena and the Deerling both looked at him strangely.

‘Damn it, not now,’ a distant part of him thought - the part of him that had common sense, the part of him that felt pathetic for losing himself so easily, the part of him that knew he’d shatter like glass at a moment’s notice; it was almost incredible (in a sad, ugly way) how much damage a single word could do to his psyche.

He knew he had to say something to reassure the Mightyena and Deerling that he was okay. However, he didn’t trust his mouth to work properly at that moment, so he silently waved them off and shot the Mightyena a look that begged for some sort of out.

Thankfully, the Mightyena picked up on Virtue’s silent plea and immediately began to patch up the Deerling’s injuries, distracting her for the time being.

It took a while for Virtue to decompress - and when he did, he realized the Deerling had somehow fallen asleep while leaning against the Mightyena’s forelegs. “... I’ll take her home,” the Mightyena spoke, pausing to lean down and grasp the Deerling by the scruff. Understanding what he wanted to do, Virtue hurried over and helped slide the deerling onto the Mightyena’s back. “Thanks,” he grunted. “I know this place well. Her parents are probably worried. I appreciate the help…” He trailed off with a raised brow

Virtue gripped the hem of his scarf and nodded. “Virtue.”

“Right. I’m Bowtirage.” Then, with nothing else to say, the Mightyena turned around and looked ready to step off into the woods. “See you-”

“Wait,” Virtue interrupted. His eye widened in surprise - the thought of asking Bowtirage a question had barely crossed his mind, but it was enough for him to act impulsively. Now that he was in the spotlight, he knew he had to speak his thoughts aloud. “Do… does it… bother you?”

Upon seeing Bowtirage’s inquisitive stare, Virtue continued, “Being called a hero. Being worshipped as some sort of,” he waved his paw around flippantly, “pariah. All of the Deerling talk about you like you’re a deity. Doesn’t it… upset you? You walk around with that label for the rest of your life…”

The look in Bowtirage’s eye changed.

Virtue was undoubtedly more physically imposing, but Bowtirage’s gaze - piercing enough to stare through him, not just at him - made him feel like an ant. He couldn’t express it on his face or from his body language, but he suspected Bowtirage knew what he felt.

“… I never let what other Pokémon say get to me,” Bowtirage eventually answered. His voice was low, barely audible despite their proximity, but each word boomed in Virtue’s ears like cannonfire. “I don’t care what others think. If I start caring, then it’ll define me, and that would interfere with everything I’m trying to do.”

“Even when you’re put on a pedestal?”

Bowtirage shrugged. “Let them do what they want. They’ll be the only ones who feel upset or disappointed when I don’t meet their expectations. What they think of me doesn’t concern me.

‘What they think of me doesn’t concern me.’

Virtue felt his mouth run dry. That was it? That was Bowtirage’s answer? Three simple sentences with an answer so basic that it was almost laughable? It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t be.

Yet, even if he desperately wanted to ask for something different - a real answer - he couldn’t come up with anything else. His mouth opened and closed several times to find the right words (The right words to do what? Refute him? Agree with him? Tell him he’s wrong?) but nothing came out. Eventually, he gripped a patch of fur on his chest and looked away, baring his teeth at the air. “And… you put yourself in a position that’ll inevitably lead to praise - to worship - with that in mind?”

“… I’m not trying to put myself in anything.” Bowtirage turned around again and sighed; the sound was low, grating, and did little to ease the tension around the Mightyena’s shoulders. “I just do what’s right. And… a word of advice, Virtue: don’t obsess over how other Pokemon see you. I bet you get it enough due to your appearance, and frankly, I know I don’t have any jurisdiction over that. But perception? Yeah, just forget it. Worrying is too much of a hassle. It’ll only hold you back.”

Virtue’s gaze slowly lowered to his feet. ‘Hold me back…? How is it holding me back? Does he mean… socially? Or is there some other meaning I’m missing here?’

Virtue took a breath and lifted his head, his mouth partially open to ask for clarification - but the words died in his throat when he realized Bowtirage was nowhere to be found. He wearily glanced from side to side, trying to find any hide or hair of where the Mightyena could have gone… but there was nothing. Not even a scent trail had been left behind.

The paw that gripped his scarf shifted down until it rest over his heart. Bowtirage’s words had struck very close to home and were too impactful for him to just forget. ‘... I guess I have a lot to think about.’