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Electrode’s new warden vexes Ingo greatly.
Certainly, he had not been friends with Melli – or at least, the latter quite often and loudly made it clear that they weren’t friends – though, they could be considered close enough; part and parcel of working together, in close proximity, as the two human stewards of the mountain. Yet now, having to work with this second-string fellow, he misses his former colleague, abrasiveness and all.
Melli had been insistent that everything was fine with Lord Electrode, that the divine lightning that had struck the lands was simply a boon of strength – and meanwhile, Lian had been fetched back to the Pearl Clan settlement posthaste, for the ensuing frenzy of Kleavor was not something a child should have to manage. As news poured in from Calaba, then Adaman directly from the Mirelands, then Palina. All the same, that a Noble had gone on a rampage, power bursting from under their skin, burning gold from the inside. They’d argued, and decided to just see for themselves what had become of Electrode after the divine strike – and then and there, the Noble lashed out at their loyal warden with thunder and lightning, and they had to send Melli back to the Mirelands to recover in the village.
He’d visited his fellow Highlands warden in the medical tent – it was only polite, after all, and perhaps it had been his own fault for not volunteering to head into the hollow first – he had more Pokémon on hand, and he would like to think he was harder to take down. So he’d stepped into the tent with the medics’ approval, sat himself down beside his bedridden colleague and briefly updated him on the current situation on the mountain, the abrupt migration of a few of the closest nests to the hollow, the general unrest. He could not stay long – for especially with one warden down, the other would need to be on site to monitor the rapidly moving situation. He quickly said his piece, and wished Melli a speedy recovery, and stood to leave – but then, Melli motioned for him to stop.
“I hadn’t even gotten in a word, you lout,” he grumbled, “Did you think you could just come to my bed, chatter on about your day, and then leave? Don’t you want to hear about my day, stuck here at home?”
“My condolences, but I really do have to return to our station. We can’t leave the Highlands completely unattended for long, and you happen to be stuck here, as you say, so…”
“My lord will be fine for another five minutes, Ingo,” Melli waved him off – or attempted to, at least, punctuating his efforts with a hiss of pain as he shifted his arm; the nearby medic sharply reminding him – and Ingo heard himself say something to the same effect – not to strain himself, as the burns from Electrode’s blasts had been quite severe. “They’re just having some fun with this power from Almighty Sinnoh, it’s not like they’ll use it on your precious Sneasler. They wouldn’t hurt a friend.”
(Normally, Ingo thinks, Lord Electrode wouldn’t hurt Melli either – for better or for worse, the Diamond Clan warden had been raised for this position since young, had spent his childhood climbing around the caves with generations of Voltorbs, at least according to him – but here they are.)
“Anyway, if you’re in such a hurry – guess Adaman would like that, no wasting time and all – I actually needed to inform you of something, you know.” Melli continued.
“No, I did not know. Do tell.” Ingo replied, and the other warden motioned for him to lean a bit closer, though not without a wince.
“They’ve already found my,” and here Melli enunciated this word with clear distaste, “replacement.”
“Already? That’s fast – are there actually two families taking turns to care for Electrode, now? Yours and another?”
“Of course not! I, the great Melli, was the only one trained to become Electrode’s warden!” The bedridden man fumed. “No, this one’s an outsider. A bit like you, actually. Came from some other place, claims he’s good with Pokémon, Adaman really likes him. He says he’s efficient, and that’s good enough for him right now apparently.”
“You seem to dislike this fellow, at least.”
“Of course I do! Which is why I, the brilliant Melli, in all my generosity and kindness, have thought it incredibly important to warn you about who you’ll be working with!”
Personally, he would not have judged people solely off of Melli’s opinion of them. After all, what is the worth of the taste of someone beefing with a child assigned to a completely different area from them? “Very well. If I may ask, what’s he like?”
“He’s just rude, for one. He came in, took one look at me lying here and said to me, “skill issue”. I don’t understand these weird terms he comes up with, but he was definitely mocking me with that big smile on his face.” Ingo thinks he knows exactly what a ‘skill issue’ is, for whatever reason, and it…isn’t inaccurate, but it also isn’t appropriate either; indeed, he thinks, were the situation not so serious, he might have had to bite back a chuckle, but here he only felt indignance on his coworker’s behalf. “Just because he’s taking my position doesn’t mean he has to gloat about it!”
“I can see that. And then?”
“This man claims he is fully resistant to electricity and good enough with Pokémon to step up to my position easily, so he’s probably a liar too. You, on the other hand, are way too trusting for your own good, probably because your mind is still befuddled. So, if I may offer my brilliant advice – don’t trust this replacement.” Melli continued.
He nodded, and motioned for Melli to go on, when the flap of the tent opened behind him.
“And for my third point – well, he’s right there, go see for yourself.” Ingo turned around, finding himself face-to-face with Adaman – and, behind the clan leader, another man; he sharply inhaled, as he realised the other man’s face was familiar to him. But of course it was; he saw it in the mirror every morning (or at least whenever he had a mirror on hand). The new warden, it seemed, was almost identical to him – and already, perhaps spurred by Melli’s misgivings, he was starting to feel a bit suspicious. Assumedly, that was the heavy feeling beginning to take root in his heart.
“Adamaaan! And the other guy. Are you all here to see me? It’s getting a bit crowded in here, you know, let the medics do their work. You know, Ingo, at least you have the sense to leave soon for our shared duties. And meanwhile, I, the actual Warden of the Hollow, am going to get my beauty rest, so you can see my beautiful face again as soon as possible.” Melli said, before purposefully turning his head away and out of the conversation.
“Do rest well, Warden Melli, and get well soon,” he replied, before standing up again to greet the newcomers. “Good day, Clan Leader Adaman. And my new coworker, I presume? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” For some reason – and his mind was filling in many uncharitable ones – the other man seemed almost…frozen in place, as they locked eyes. Tense, disappointed, sad – despite the smile on the other man’s face, those emotions were clear to see.
Still, he pushed on, with an introduction he prepares for every occasion he meets new people. “Please excuse the unfortunate circumstances of this meeting. I am the warden Ingo. Usually, I’m supposed to be stationed at the Coronet Highlands, as the Warden of the Cliffs.”
“I know,” the other man finally spoke, flatly. “I am Emmet. I am also going to be a Warden. We will be working together.”
It seemed the other hardly cared for him; disappointing, but at least it would be a temporary arrangement, especially if Melli had anything to say about it. “Thank you for stepping up to this responsibility. I know the situation is rather fragile at the moment, but I hope we can work in tandem to be able to handle this whole affair. I will do my utmost to manage things, at least.” He finished.
“Yep. You don’t have to work alone. I will also be there. I will help you. We can be a two-car train.” Emmet replied, and – he felt a stab of pain coursing through his head, and he knew the last few words – that last phrase – that had been the culprit. The glare he sent Emmet’s way in response, for certain, was unintentional, as opposed to the many very intentional ones he would go on to send over the next few weeks.
“Good.” He said, through gritted teeth, the headache growing by the second. “I will brief you on things another time, perhaps when you next arrive at the Highlands. For now, I am unfortunately behind schedule with my duties – I need to return to my station posthaste. Eight and sand, good fellows.” Would leaving this place – leaving Emmet, for the time being – perhaps remedy this pain? “All aboard!”
(And, as he shouted that while leaving the tent, he swore he could hear Emmet shout along with him. For some reason, that made the pain even worse.)
***
Before his fellow warden’s arrival, he’d had a week of – well, not bliss, for the situation was still fraught, and he was constantly on edge, waiting for something more to happen, as Electrode continued sparking and rattling about, bursting with divine energy, in the hollows. A week of conducting curious Sneasel kits and other assorted Pokémon away from ground zero, in fear of them getting hurt; of reassuring a restless Sneasler – for, even if she tried to hide it with her cold, proud veneer, she was worried, for her kits, for the other Pokémon, for her fellow Noble. He barely slept; though, perhaps, he would not have been able to, regardless, worrying about this entire trainwreck of a situation – and a different whole trainwreck involving a suspiciously similar face.
When Emmet finally arrived, when Ingo came to welcome him at the Heavenward Lookout, the literal first thing he said – to his face, at that – was, “You look like shit.”
“Mind your language, Emmet,” he replied automatically – a previously dormant reflex, springing to life again, and yet again his headache came roaring back with a vengeance. “Insult me all you like, but I do believe you ought to be briefed on the current situation on the mountain. I’ve recently reported to both Adaman and Irida, but things are moving at a rather fast pace. What do you know of things thus far?”
“Not a lot. But what I said wasn’t meant to be an insult. It was a fact.” Ingo glared at his fellow warden, who continued on seemingly unperturbed. “You’re in a verrrry bad state. You look exhausted. How many hours did you sleep last night?”
“Just over two, though that was almost three days ago at this point.” Was Emmet really trying to make small talk now? Perhaps such a fact could scare him out of trying any further –
“Ingo. Did you just say you haven’t slept in three days? Go and rest. You are running verrrry low on fuel. That could lead to a lot of accidents. Especially when you run out. That is not safe driving.” And then Emmet grabbed him, rather abruptly, by the shoulder; startled, he let out a hiss, and shoved the other man backwards with as much force as he could muster, thankfully not towards the edge of the cliff.
“Please do not touch the conductor.” As much as he would have liked to raise his voice over something as audacious as what had just transpired, he would rather have conserved his remaining energy; heavens knew when he would next actually be able to get some good rest – but of course it was not by Emmet’s suggestion. “Adrenaline is all the fuel I need, and of that I have plenty. Also, let’s not derail the conversation with small talk.”
“It wasn’t small talk, though…” Glancing at the other man, he seemed some mixture of crestfallen and horrified, somehow even grief-stricken. “It was supposed to be an intervention. Also, I did want to talk to you about something else. But your safety briefing is verrrry important. So you should talk about that first.”
And so, with a pounding headache that he deemed even worse to bring up in front of this new warden, Ingo managed to finish his entire briefing on the walk to Melli’s old dwellings near the Sacred Plaza cliffs – not quite as thorough as he would normally have liked, though. Emmet kept looking at him like he was about to keel over and collapse into a miserable little heap right then and there – which, regrettably, was not necessarily wrong – and it bothered him.
And then, after he’d finished speaking, when he’d confirmed to the new warden that he had nothing else to add for now – “Okay, now go to sleep.”
“Was there not something else you were hoping to address?” He asked Emmet suspiciously.
“There is. But you don’t look like you’re in the right state to talk about that. I think you should be fully refuelled first.”
“Unfortunately not possible, then.” He headed over to the dark blue tent under a tree, and Emmet’s eyes lit up – only to dim again as he stopped in front of the tent. “Here’s Melli’s supplies, of which he has agreed to let you use as the current Warden to Lord Electrode. You’re welcome to move the tent wherever you wish, but preferably keep it close to this area, both because it is the closest safe distance to Lord Electrode’s usual territory, and because Melli might throw a fit if he can’t find his things when he returns.”
“Okay. Where do you stay? Is it close by?”
Ingo pointed at the Clamberclaw Cliffs; from a distance, the faded pink of his own dwellings were still visible, though barely, shaded by trees and the towering rocks. “My own tent is over that way, near Sneasler’s favoured territory. I might move it closer to the Plaza for the time being, though, so it will be easier for you to find me in case you need help.” It was only polite, after all.
And, for the first time, a genuinely happy smile spread across Emmet’s face – and, for the first time, his own heart felt inexplicably lighter. “Yep! Okay! I will find you if I need help! Yep! Thanks for moving your tent!”
“I haven’t moved it yet, Emmet, but you’re welcome. Now, you should rest awhile before getting to work – the journey here certainly seems to have tired you out. Rest be assured, these tracks become much smoother when you are used to the climb.”
“Yep! You should also rest too! And refuel properly! Adrenaline is not a good long-term fuel!”
And after leaving Emmet with his new home, he decidedly did not go to sleep as the other had suggested. He instead checked on Sneasler again, and her kits, and his own Pokémon, and only then did he get some shut-eye, obviously by his own terms. For the entire afternoon, and even stretching deep into the night.
To his horror, Emmet did not wake him up and instead did his first patrol rounds himself without supervision; though he did find him quite safe and well later when he did wake naturally, and perhaps he simply had not managed to find his tent – he hadn’t moved it yet, so exhausted he had been – so Ingo could trust him to keep the Coronet Highlands in order, at least. Maybe his new colleague actually would not be so terrible to work with.
The persistent headache – and maybe, a slight ache in his heart – aside, that is.
***
Perhaps, after weeks, he should have gotten used to having a different coworker. And, in some ways he has; they’ve settled into a routine, one that works surprisingly effectively – Adaman’s assessment of the new warden’s efficiency hadn’t been inaccurate, at the very least. They do patrols in shifts, with Emmet patrolling during the day and himself during the night; if anything happens requiring the other’s assistance, they both have flier Pokémon they can send to alert each other. (He has a sneaking suspicion that Emmet even named his Crobat, Indigo, after him, and he isn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. Emmet did ask him if his own Gliscor, Emerson, was named after him, which he obviously denies; Emerson was named before they had even met!) The few hours during which their waking times overlap – around dusk and dawn – they update each other on the goings-on of the day, and one of them stays near the Moonview Arena to monitor Electrode while the other finishes his rounds.
That was the arrangement they’d agreed on, at least. And Ingo would not have expected it to be followed to a T – in fact, they’ve both actually managed to stay on track most of the time, which by all means is an extremely stellar performance. But of course, it is during their overlapping waking hours that things actually tend to derail. For that is when the two of them actually have to interact, and oftentimes Emmet takes this opportunity to be as infuriating as humanly possible.
Foremost is that Emmet seems to have made it his personal mission to actively torment him as much as he can fit in three hours, further adding to his headache. From trying to convince him to stack extremely volatile Voltorbs for fun – he’d had to spend the next hour grinding a burn salve for his fellow warden when the tower inevitably blew up and they’d stood too close to the blast – and then, deciding that since he had managed to befriend the local alpha Crobat, as well as a Yanma, he would provoke one of the local alpha Luxray, apparently out of boredom. Anyone with a lick of sense could tell you bringing two Flying-types into that fight was a terrible strategy that would probably end with the Luxray having a sumptuous supper and the Highlands losing yet another warden, and he knows that Emmet is an accomplished trainer in his own right, and should know this.
(How does he know? Obviously, anyone who can command the respect of an alpha Pokémon must be quite experienced with Pokémon in general. And befriending as many Pokémon as he has, and knowing to use Pokéballs to store them, just like himself; it’s clear that Emmet knows what he’s doing.
The silhouettes of dreams that slip out of his grasp, of two children’s laughter and a small fish that would one day grow into a powerful serpent, of candles, metal boxes and cheering crowds; the dreams he finds himself tearing up from as he wakes, before they wash away again, forgotten and cleared for a new day’s operations –
Those are irrelevant.)
As Emmet should know that Lord Electrode – his own Noble is currently experiencing such a surge of power, a divine frenzy; that he’s only here because Electrode had accidentally injured the Warden they had grown up with. And yet, Ingo thinks he might have been just a kick away from a heart attack when he woke up one day to see his fellow warden gearing up to try and quell its frenzy himself.
“Are you out of your mind?!” He scolded, whilst dragging Emmet away from the arena. “Do you have any idea how reckless this is? Fighting Lord Electrode like this, by yourself –”
“I was going to bring my Pokémon –”
“Melli was severely injured from just trying to check in on Electrode, and he has been working with it for years! You’ve only been here less than three weeks, and you think you’re able to –”
“I am able, Ingo, stop babying me! I have experience with Electric-types. A lot of experience. Not that you’d remember –”
“Maybe I just don’t want you to die!” Because he does not want anyone to die; because, if he could’ve protected someone and failed to do so instead, it would haunt him for the rest of his days. (He knows he would have mourned Emmet’s death. He doesn’t know – doesn’t think it necessary to fully understand, not at this juncture – why the mere thought of it fills him with as much dread and grief as it does.) “But obviously you have different plans –”
(And Emmet, to his credit, did not try again; but over the next few days, he would keep poking Voltorb in front of him to prove that he was indeed shock-resistant. He was no liar, at least, contrary to Melli’s insistence.)
***
All in all, Ingo would say he does not like working with Emmet.
He does not like the way he finds himself fretting for this fellow warden, the sheer overwhelming worry, in a manner he would not have done for Melli; he does not like the pain that comes with it, like a reopened wound, coursing through his heart and head. He does not like waking up sobbing and grieving something he has lost forever.
Though – and it surprises those who ask, mostly Adaman, Irida and Melli – he isn’t as bothered by the part where Emmet keeps challenging him to battle; even less, that the other is actually capable of keeping pace with him. He is familiar with the one-to-one battle format Ingo had always felt battles should be, officially termed Singles; though, Emmet also introduces to him a two-on-two format, Doubles, which apparently the newer warden prefers. Ingo himself is more partial to Singles, so they alternate formats.
It’s good training, at the very least; it keeps him and his teammates sharp, gives them something to strive for together. For the first time in ages, he finds himself having to actually think of a strategy to defeat their opponents; having to adapt, on the fly, to whatever tactics Emmet then comes up with. Even when he loses, there is no penalty of potential death; it’s all for good fun, as is hauntingly familiar to him.
Such is the value of actual competition. It isn’t entirely leisure when it’s helping him and his Pokémon grow stronger – and so he doesn’t feel guilty for indulging himself with this activity, instead of going on extra patrols or otherwise adding to any of his other duties. He will admit that it’s a good way to take out his frustration as well, letting it all burn away in the heat of battle, and perhaps that is what puts him in a better mood when talking to his coworker.
(Certainly not the familiarity that comes with battling him, for sure. Absolutely not.
For why, then, would he weep for it, when left alone to his thoughts?)
It makes the pain much more tolerable, at least. It makes him feel less empty, even if just for a moment; one he tries to hold on to, for as long as he can, before inevitably duty calls and he has to clear that train of thought.
And perhaps that was the true silver lining to this whole situation, he comes to realise; that he might find a clearer direction in his life, which had been a haze before, as day after day sped past his platform. Even if finding that direction involved a lot of arguments, tears and pain.
Emmet has given him a renewed purpose – another person to protect, to care about, to compete with – whether he likes the means of it or not. He ought to thank the other man for it, though that would perhaps be unappreciated; after all, it’s clear that Emmet isn’t fond of him, from the sad glances he catches him sending his way.
So he quite sensibly keeps his thoughts to himself, as he does with the pain and the grief. Those are solely his to bear, even as his duty to the Coronet Highlands is now shared and he is no longer alone.
(He had long since forgotten about it, but he realises, on his solo patrol one day, that Emmet never did discuss with him what he’d been meaning to, that first day in the Highlands. He hasn’t brought it up since, however. Perhaps it wasn’t important at all. So he puts it aside, and lets it fade.)
***
At the very beginning – even before he’d finally met his brother again, visiting the medical tent; when he’d first heard of an outsider becoming a warden for the Pearl Clan, when he’d heard his brother’s name passed around, praised for his sense of duty – just as many other times, from parents, and relatives, and employers, and passengers – Emmet had a spark of hope, the first since he’d landed here in Hisui. They’d fallen together; while they were uncoupled for now, it wouldn’t be long before they were reunited, if he could just leave the village and take the line to Mount Coronet! Or Snowpoint, where the Pearl Settlement was, but apparently the people there weren’t very welcoming.
The speedbump of his brother not recognising him, looking at him with clear suspicion, when they did actually meet again, without him having to travel to Mount Coronet…it hurt. A lot. He wasn’t even sure how Ingo didn’t immediately know him – if anyone should never be unable to recognise him, it should be his identical twin! They literally have the same face! But it wasn’t something an explanation wouldn’t solve. They were going to work together again soon, after all.
But the clear hostility in his brother’s voice, when it was time for them to begin actually working together – maybe another person wouldn’t have thought much of it, but Emmet knows his brother well enough to know what his “customer service” tone is – and then, how he rejected his touch. Ingo hated it when strangers touched him, but he was fine with friends and family. Emmet was now a stranger.
And his brother was suffering, too! Trying to work seventy-two hours, alone, with only two hours of sleep, and turning down his help…He had hoped, so badly, that his brother’s unfriendliness was just because of severe sleep deprivation. It wasn’t. Even after Emmet left him to sleep for as long as he liked, because his brother should finally be able to put down his burden and get some good rest now that he’d arrived. Though, there had been some hope, now that Ingo mostly trusted his capabilities at least. Baby steps.
They still work well together, at least. They have a routine which makes sense and is super effective. Even if they don’t get to actually see each other much. Which, he suspects, is by his brother’s design; Ingo has been avoiding him. That much is obvious even to him.
And maybe, after so long, he should be used to this. A lot of other people avoid him. A lot of other people get mad when he shows them the things he finds fun. A lot of other people underestimate him. But none of those other people are his brother.
Once upon a time, his brother would’ve trusted him to fight his own battles, to do what he deemed best himself. They would’ve stuck together, even if the whole world was against them, because they were twins, a two-car train and their combination was the best.
But of course – Ingo doesn’t remember any of that. He doesn’t remember growing up together, all their shared birthdays and training together and fighting bullies.
He doesn’t remember ever being a brother.
And maybe it’s cowardice, hiding from the truth, but Emmet has decided not to tell him.
Because, if Ingo knew they were brothers, and still hated him in spite of that –
Or maybe, he would pretend he didn’t hate him, and that would probably be worse. Not just because it wasn’t real, but because it would be an obligation. The duty of every brother to care for his siblings. The duty of twins, to remain close as a team.
Or maybe, it always was a duty, one now forgotten and discarded. This is what things would truly have been, if Ingo hadn’t happened to be born to the same parents as him. He wouldn’t have to care. He wouldn’t have to be nice about things. But he was, and he was a dutiful person, and so from birth their tracks were laid parallel over unstable ground.
They wouldn’t be friends, if they were never brothers.
If his brother never remembers, it will be as if they never were.
And Emmet is left behind, all alone.