Chapter Text
To anyone living in the Alabaster Icelands, Zoroarks are as infamous as they are respected.
They are highly territorial, not hesitating to attack anyone they deemed a threat, but they are also incredibly loyal to their packs. If one, rather foolishly, decided to earn a Zoroark's favor and get it, then they would have a companion who would stop at nothing to keep them safe, often tearing themselves apart in the process. Thankfully they are mostly secluded to the woods and underground tunnels to the right of the Bonechill Wastes and Avalugg’s Legacy, and any human would know not to venture into those woods.
However, Zoroarks are also infamous for their unique method of hunting and defending.
They could turn themselves into the image of any Pokemon or human, and would use their illusions to either drive any predators away through intimidation, or would lure them to their deaths with the faces of a loved one or prey.
To the Pearl Clan, Zoroarks are terrifying because of their horrific tales. Tales of humans being led to their deaths and slaughtered by those they love most. Tales of an illusion of their loved ones dying before them, emotionally toying with their prey. They are convenient tales for parents to tell their children to get them to behave, lest the Zoroarks come after them, and they are tales for hunters to remind them of the dangers of the Pokemon they kill, lest they get overconfident, slip up, and get killed.
To Ingo, Zoroarks are terrifying for all the right, and wrong reasons.
It didn’t start like this. Initially, all of his encounters with Zoroarks who strayed from the woods and caverns, after he lived in the Clan for several months and was allowed to brave the wild alone, were somewhat uneventful. Most Zoroarks would just stare at him confused, and wouldn’t stop him from escaping past them. Some would glare and growl as a warning, but he never had a real altercation.
Either way, their inaction was taken as a surprise by Irida. No one had any reasonable explanation as to why they never attacked him. Some had speculated that maybe he truly was a Zoroark in disguise, while others proposed that his complete lack of memories gave Zoroarks no material to work with.
All those rumors were disproven when they actually started to transform.
Initially, they would always take the form of the man in white.
A somewhat poor construction of the man. They would leave obvious mistakes in their illusions, like the wispy aura they produced or red marking around the eyes.
Then, their illusions would actually start to resemble a human, but even then Ingo always knew it was fake.
They could never get the smile right.
But they were improving their craft at a frankly alarming rate.
Once, a Zoroark managed to get the illusion so perfectly it left Ingo dazed from the rush of memories pouring into him (- gentle smile, consoling him and pulling him into a hug - his name, what is his name? He wants to know-) . The man in white had offered him his hand, and Ingo, foolishly, trapped in a daze, reached out, tears blurring everything except the man’s face and smile.
But instead of a brutal betrayal, the man in white delicately took his hand and gently started to tug him into the direction of the forest.
Ingo gave no resistance.
Thank Almighty Sinnoh Lady Irida happened to be passing by, his black coat clashing with the white fields making it all the easier for her to see he was going in the direction of the accursed woods.
Her Glaceon had barreled into the man in white with such speed and ferocity that Ingo had physically recoiled back, ripping his hand away from the other man, and falling backwards. Wiping his eyes, he looked forward, terrified that the man might’ve been-
It was a Zoroark. An Alpha at that. A Zoroark who was howling in rage and had blood dripping down one claw.
His hand stung.
Looking down at it, he saw three deep claw marks that dragged up across his entire palm.
He broke down in tears.
Everything was a blur, but one moment he was sobbing his throat hoarse on the ground, and the next he found himself back in the Pearl Clan Settlement, laying in bed in his yurt, hand already bandaged and Gliscor practically on top of him.
Despite being a Warden and unarguably one of the best battlers in the Clan, he wasn’t allowed to venture out in the Icelands alone anymore. For a very long time.
Thankfully, he was eventually allowed to venture on his own, and the illusions of the man in white stopped fooling him. It still sent a painful stab of emotion into his heart and head everytime it happened, but he wouldn't follow them anywhere anymore.
Then they started turning into other people. People who sent those same emotions through him.
It started with a woman who would always have either black or blond hair, and yellow outfits, demanding he take a break from work and join her for lunch.
Then a frankly massive man appeared, with muscles and a thick beard that could easily put Kamado to shame in both aspects.
Then a girl appeared, somewhere in her teen years, with a wild mane of purple hair and pink dresses.
They all would plead for him to go with them, telling him he should take a break, come visit some time, come hang out with his brother ( -brother, he has a brother-!!) .
Their soft, piercing eyes always tore into him.
He should fight them, he should release his pokemon and show them that he's not an easy mark, but the mere thought of Gliscor ripping into them burned his heart in ways he would pray would never transpire.
He, frankly, should never set foot into the Icelands ever again. But as a Warden, he has a responsibility to uphold to the Clan. He is supposed to be helping them, and he wants to. They took him in, gave him the highest honor they could give him , a mere stranger, and saved him from those Zoroarks. The least he could do is show up to the Settlement on his weekly excursions, as the second closest Warden.
Even disregarding that, the Zoroarks seemed to be purposefully hunting him down with a passion. What he did to earn their ire, he would never know. And frankly, if he disappeared from the Icelands, he genuinely wouldn't be surprised if they started to skulk around the Highlands looking for him. The only thing separating those two areas was a mountain afterall, and they are creatures that are well adapted for harsh and unforgiving terrain.
And so he forced himself to trek through the Icelands on a weekly basis. And forced himself to try his damndest to ignore the illusions.
And prayed every night for the ensuing dreams to stop.
If there was one good thing that came out of this whole situation, its that the more he encounters the Zoroarks wearing the faces of those he (loved) knew, the more his memories would gain clarity. It was still so hazy and mismatched, but in his dreams he would see his memories play out. Nothing ever made sense, but some part of his soul was relieved to finally remember even a fragment of his old life.
His body and mind however, were suffering from all this.
He would always wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panting, and trying to alleviate his stabbing headache. Then he would be unable to sleep until dawn, at which point it would be too late to rest anymore.
Sleep Powder had helped, initially. While he did get a good night's rest for the first couple days, everytime his Tangrowth would put him to sleep, he would wake up somehow more tired than he was previously, and his mind and body would be sluggish. He stopped using it after he had zoned out mid-walking and was attacked by a Luxio for his troubles.
The sleepless nights persisted.
And the cold really didn't help.
He let out a deep yawn as he trudged through the snow, careful to avoid any snow banks and the particularly aggressive Pokemon.
He rubbed his eyes once more, frustrated. His eyes would constantly beg to close, and sometimes it was as though a fog would settle into his mind, before he would snap his eyes open and repeat the process.
He couldn't lose his focus now. Especially as he marched through the trail that cut through Avalugg’s Legacy and the woods.
This trail was, unfortunately for him and him only, the fastest and safest passage to the Pearl Clan. It gave Avalugg’s Legacy, one of the more territorial areas, a wide berth, and it was off the side of the wooded area. Not nearly enough to encroach on Zoroark territory, but just close enough for, say, a certain Zoroark magnet to catch their attention.
But to his luck, he has yet to spot any of them. Maybe today will be the day he manages to go through the Alabaster Icelands without running into any Zoroarks.
Or Pokemon for that matter. There was a distinct lack of them, something that put him both at ease and completely on edge.
A lack of Pokemon either meant there was an Alpha hunting, or the sign of a human scaring them off through battles.
He could reasonably deal with an Alpha, and maybe Gaeric came and cleared the area like he normally does.
What wishful thinking.
When he glanced at the woods cautiously, he saw something that made his heart lurch.
There was a flicker of purple.
Wavering purple, like flames -
(- she grew, and in a flash- violet flames as she plummeted down -
-he caught her in his arms gently-
-she blinked up at him, yellow eyes bleary from evolving-
-”You look beautiful.” He whispered gently, bringing her- “Super Bravo!”
-snuggled closer, tiredly yet mirthfully giggled in quiet chimes-)
He blinked, snapping himself from his daze, and promptly felt his heart lurch into his throat.
He was standing in a small clearing, in the middle of the woods.
How did-?
He whirled around, fully intending to trace his steps back to the trail, and paused, confused.
Hanging upside down from its perch on a low hanging branch directly above the snow he had upturned, was a Crobat. An Alpha, given its size.
It merely peered at him passively, not aggressive in the slightest.
What was an Alpha Crobat doing here of all places?
Did it belong to a Trainer perhaps? It would explain the demeanor, but who would attempt to tame an Alpha Crobat (ignoring his own hypocrisy with his own purple Alpha bat, but then again, he always is an exception and not the rule in Hisui)? And why would this hypothetical person be here?
Was it the flicker of purple he saw?
No, no, that purple was bright and colder in color. The Crobat's skin was closer to a warm purple, nearing magenta.
It was something else entirely, something he was aware of.
He needs to get out of here.
Passive Alpha or not, it was blocking his path.
Before he could begin to ask it to move, he heard the crunch of snow behind him and he whirled around, hand already on his Gliscor’s pokeball.
And was promptly greeted with purple fire-
(“OVERHEAT!”-
-purple quickly turned to crimson as- erupted in fire-
-passenger, defeated, withdrew their-
“- would really like to battle with you again! Please ride- -again!”-
-cooed as she nuzzled the side of his face, ruffling his hair again-
“You did wonderfully, Ch-”-)
He was on the ground, clutching his head as he sobbed.
Why can't he remember?
He wants to remember her ( -her! And another her! And him- ) .
His head feels agonizing, like its desperately trying to piece together a shattered memory.
Why won't it stop?!
He needs it to stop!
Especially now-
There was a soft croon.
Like a fool, he looked at its direction.
And was greeted by a kaleidoscope of pinks and purples and yellow-
Ah, his brain procured despite quickly losing any ability to think. Hypnosis.
His eyes closed on their own.
Who knows? Maybe, if he wakes up, he would actually see his brother again.