Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There are many ways to gather intel as an Interpol agent.

But when it’s 1987 and you’re 000— the 000—then you’ve got to use your assets. This would include your uncanny knack for interrogation, your general bad attitude, and your looks.

Most people would not recognize Kahuna Nanu if shown a picture from his youth in Interpol...not that anyone would ever see said photos. Before he wasted away by only surviving on burnt dollar store coffee and the smell of feline shit, he was a good physical specimen for Interpol and an ideal candidate for their double agent program. He used to be a real stud, muscles hardened and swelled by diligent physical training sessions, and he had a thick head of black locks that gave him the tall, dark, and handsome look. 

Nanu—000—was not sure at the time of how he became a double agent at the ripe age of twenty-one. But he knows now that his looks certainly didn’t hurt. Because, as it turns out, Giovanni has a type—tall, dark, handsome Interpol boys that put their virtue on the line upon the mere whiff of intel.

Nanu ended up one of those boys. It paid him well. He learned a lot about Team Rocket and thus prevented many heists and even the assassination of a high-profile Senator. He sent back all intel he got right back to Interpol and he was paid in turn. He was promised a corner office when he got back to Lumiose, was offered bonuses, silk shirts, and expensive Italian cars that fit his “cover,” and was assured that his work was essential to international peacekeeping, so any wound he may have sustained in the midst of drawing intel out of Giovanni was dismissed as an honorable and necessary sacrifice. 

Nanu believed that. He believed in what he did. He believed he was 000. And, in his mind, that made everything justifiable. Means are only means. Ends are only ends. It’s not that complicated. 

When Nanu looks back on it, he’s proud to say it never really got to his head, even though he was surrounded by cash and girls and guns—he was living the wet dream of lots of teenage boys. He had so much , even though he was a double agent. Yet, it never mattered. It never mattered . Nanu felt nothing. No joy. No sorrow. No guilt. No excitement. Just work. Even shitting lost its pleasure. Cocaine sometimes made him feel something. Then that stopped working. 

The little psychologists that sit behind desks, with their smudged eyeglasses and steaming coffee cups and their complete lack of real-life experience, say that double agents should have two distinct personalities to prevent undue trauma. But that’s what made Nanu so good. He didn’t have to act. He was just...him. 

Giovanni loved him for that. Loved him, in every sense. And Nanu endured that love because what the fuck else was he supposed to do? He was getting results.

Watching Ash roll around the ground, wrestling Kapono with all his might, you’d think the kid had never experienced anything traumatic in his life. 

Kukui wipes the sweat off his brow. Thank God for him, letting him have a break between rounds. Ash has really taken to MMA recently, much to Burnet’s dismay, and has been coming to most of Kukui’s training sessions. That used to be a very private affair. But nothing in their family is a private affair anymore with Ash around, is it? 

“Gotcha!” Ash yells, successfully pinning Kap in an armbar. 

“Get off me, faka,” Kap grumbles in response. He never stood a chance with his wiry muscles. Ash has the sleepiest of sleeper builds at the age of seventeen—his triceps bulge only when he’s flexing, showing off strength that’ll soon rival Kukui’s. He’s already benching 175. Absolutely absurd.

Ash bounds over to where Kukui sits on the ground in a straddle. “Hi!” 

“Hey. Nice work,” he says as Ash settles to sit with him, mimicking his stretch. 

Ash just beams in response. God, it’s like he worships the ground Kukui walks on. 

It’s stressful. 

“I have to go,” Ash says as he bounces up off the ground, fast as he got down. “Gotta babysit, right?” 

“You’re the best, kiddo. Burnet and I really appreciate it.” She’s going to some research association dinner tonight, tapering back into work, and Kukui’s got AA. Not that Ash knows about that. “There’s dinner in the fridge.” 

“Yay! Thank you!” Ash beams again. “Bye!” 

“Drive safe, please.” He ruffles his hair. 

“Always.” 

Kap wheezes as he gets up off the ground, then screams, “Kukui! Off your ass, let’s go!” 

“Bold words for a losing man.” He jogs over, then looks behind his shoulder to make sure Ash is headed toward the gym exit. “Thanks. For entertaining Ash.” 

“Ain’t nothing to entertain, he’s an entity unto himself. My favorite nephew.” He winks. “And my niece? How’s she?” 

“A crier. Haven’t gotten any sleep since her birthday.” 

Kap rolls his eyes. “Stop your bitching. Put your hands up.” 

They punch and kick all night long. Kukui sweats, uses all that anxiety and anger stored up inside of him and lets it seep out of him. He showers it all off, puts on sweats, goes to AA, puts all that anxiety and anger back inside. 

He comes home to Burnet passed out on the couch and Lei passed out in Ash’s arms. 

Ash greets him with a smile, makes his daughter’s tiny hand wave. The anger and anxiety stays inside. 

Right, so Ash has got a problem. 

Professor Kukui retreats to the basement almost immediately after he gets home from “the office,” which Ash knows is not the League office and is definitely a euphemism for something else. Kukui’s aura when he lies is like a plume of smoke on a sunny day. It burns in Ash’s throat. What he truly means, Ash has no idea. It’s none of his business, maybe. 

Kukui likes to hide things. It didn’t used to be this way a couple years ago. Only really started ten months ago, when the red Jeep turned into a blue Jeep. Ash tries not to think about it too hard. It’s in the past. 

Sortof.

Anyway. He’s alone with the baby again. He lays down on the couch, careful to not disturb Professor Burnet, who will probably wake up around one and profusely apologize to Ash for falling asleep. Ash doesn’t mind so much, except he’s got a problem. 

He places Lei on his chest. The four-month-old flops into him, nuzzling into his shirt, and lets out a little sad noise. 

“Hungry?” He whispers. 

She just blinks at him. She doesn’t need to speak—her aura tells him anyway, faintly. A hint of something gnawing. 

He gets back up, abs twinging at the scars, and heads over to the fridge. The Professor had pumped out a couple bottles ahead of time. She’s so busy again. 

Ash kindof misses when she was on maternity leave. It clearly drove her crazy, but at least she was around to hang out and fuss over him. Just him, Burnet, and Lei. It was really peaceful, and he didn’t have this problem. 

“Here,” he says, holding the warm bottle over her mouth. She latches on with great enthusiasm, and Ash feels the hunger melting away from her. “Yeah.” 

He rocks her around gently, padding around the kitchen. He hums a tune. He takes a look over to where his pokemon sleep. 

Everything’s fine, except the problem. 

“Ooaah,” she informs him. 

“Done?” 

“Aaah.” 

“‘Kay,” he whispers, taking the half-empty bottle from her. “Sleepy? Please say yes.” 

She blinks, then yells, “Ooa!” 

“Huh?” Burnet wakes up with a start, then realizes neither of her kids are with her. “Shit, shit—” 

“We’re okay,” Ash says, calling her attention over. “She just finished eating.”

She sighs and rubs at her eyes. “Sorry, Ash, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

“I know.” He smiles. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not okay,” she grumbles. “I’ll put her to bed, you can finally go to bed.” 

Ash shrugs. He heads back over and passes Lei over, who immediately starts to cry. 

Burnet looks like she’s about to cry with her. “Do you mind—?” 

She doesn’t have to ask. Ash reaches out a hand and tries to let the aura out. Something warm and sweet and comforting. He imagines a garden hose on a summer day, trickling. 

The pokemon all stir. They know what’s about to happen, it’s been happening for weeks, this problem.

The aura gushes out instead. She cries harder at the shock. And there’s the problem.

“Sorry,” he winces, “It’s the…thing.” 

“I know, don’t worry about it,” Burnet says, shaking her head. She’s not…disappointed, Ash thinks, but it still feels that way. “She’ll calm down.” 

It’s boiling underneath him, the problem. The aura. It wants to come out. His fingertips are turning blue, no . 

Burnet waves him off. “Go outside, it’s okay.” 

He darts off, trying not to slam the door, trying to keep it in. Pikachu follows. And when he’s sufficiently away from the house to not blow it up, he lets go of all the aura he’s built up tonight. He thought MMA would help, all that wrestling would let the emotion drain. It just made it worse. Then he had to watch Lei all night—a fragile baby —and he definitely couldn’t let it out, and it just built and built and built and now he can explode. 

“Get back!” he screams to Pikachu. 

Sand swirls around him with the air pressure change. His vision is just blue, blue, blue, for two minutes straight as it flows and combusts, as it cries out to the universe that it wants to be free. 

It’s supposed to be useful . It’s supposed to be used to heal , to comfort . And it used to be, for a brief window of time, before it turned into a monster. 

He pants and flops down onto the ground when it’s all done screaming out and turning sand to glass. 

“Pika?” 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

Rachel Zhou kicks bulletshells around in the sandy dirt as she waits for Looker to finish his clip. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. He’s a lot more precise than she is. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks as he removes the target from the wall. Several bulls-eyes—some from Rachel, some from her partner. 

She never thought she’d call him that. But here they are. 

“Nothing much,” she replies. She polishes off a bit of gunpowder that’s tainted her wedding band. “How I’m glad I’m not a sniper, maybe.”

“You’re a good shot, Rachel, don’t count yourself out.” He pulls out a cigarette from his back pocket. “That’s not it, though.” 

“It really is. I’m at a real standstill with everything else. Maybe if you taught me, I’d consider being a sniper.” She knocks the lighter out of his hand. “Are you an idiot? You’ve got gunpowder on your hands.” 

He looks down at them, clearly having not noticed. 

“I’m just,” she huffs, “frustrated.” 

“You’re not the only one.” His lips twitch, itching for something to put between them. “Interpol keeps pressing for cases I can’t take. Not right now.” 

“You’d think they’d devote more time to this . More money. Something.” Rachel fiddles with the grip on her handgun. “They put too much faith in us.” 

“You’ve never been the cynic of our trio,” Looker says with a raised brow. “The Kahuna’s really rubbed off on you.” 

Rachel glares at him. She twists her wedding band again. Something about having a family really turned her sour. 

“Look, it will work out, some way or another. This mission won’t be forever and Interpol knows it. Giovanni will be killed and all of this will be behind us.” 

“Or he’ll put out a hit on us, we’ll all die, Ash will be captured, his insane superpowers will be Giovanni’s new weapon, and everyone will be totally fucked.” She starts packing up her things. “It’s literally only a matter of time.” 

“Don’t speak it into existence,” he grumbles. 

“Just being pragmatic.” She puts bullets back in their boxes. “We can’t keep waiting for intel that’ll never come.” 

“I know.” 

“What are the odds that they’ll send us out to kill him?” 

Looker laughs. “Are you kidding? They don’t have that much faith in us. In me, at least.” He brushes his hands off, then reaches for his lighter again. “We won’t be the strike team, thank God. All we have to do is keep tracking him. Keep figuring him out. We can do that.” 

He lights the cigarette. It’s a miracle he doesn’t explode his hands off.

“I’m worried about him.” 

Kukui turns his head away from the sun rising over the shore to his wife. “Who?” 

Burnet stares at him like he’s stupid. “Ash. Obviously.” 

Kukui huffs. She’s clearly stressed with work again, making up for all her “time lost,” even though she only took three weeks off postpartum, against medical advice. 

She had a placental abruption, hemorrhaged all over. He still hears her screams sometimes, when it gets quiet, same as Ash’s when he died. Kukui almost lost her for Leilani, the squirming baby on his lap. 

You’d think she’d take time to recover, but instead, she’s doubling down. 

“Tell me,” he says, quieter, seeing the seriousness in the lines on her face. 

“His aura. It’s like it’s hurting him.” She wrings the saltwater out of her hair, landing in the sand with a plop. “He’s outta control.” 

Kukui hums. Of course he’s…sortof aware about this, but Ash never opens up about it. How’s he supposed to know? Ash is allowed to keep secrets. 

“He nearly hurt Lei with it last night. Tried to soothe her, didn’t work.” Burnet takes a gentle hand and brushes some sand off Lei’s tan, chunky thigh. “It used to be…I dunno. He had a handle on it. What changed?” 

“He’s been…fine,” Kukui says. He racks his brain. Has he missed something huge? Sure, he let go some after everything ten months ago blew over, but he couldn’t have let go that much. 

Could he? 

Burnet’s fully in investigative mode now. “We know it’s connected to his emotion…How’s he at school? With his friends?” 

“Fine. More responsible. Getting better grades, actually.” Could he? Could he really? 

Burnet frowns. 

“Have I missed something huge?” Kukui finds himself asking.

Burnet leans her head over on Kukui’s shoulder. “If you did, I did too.” 

They sit for a bit. Lei pulls at Kukui’s wet board shorts and he holds her closer. 

“So. What are we gonna do about it?” He asks after sufficient time passes. 

Burnet sighs and turns her head into his shoulder, digging her forehead in and squinching her eyes tight. “I don’t know. This isn’t normal, there’s no precedent. There aren’t any books on parenting kids who have ancient inherited superpowers.” 

“We’ll have to come up with something, then,” he murmurs. “We always do. We always have.” 

“I think he needs a space to let it out, first,” Burnet says. “Literally and metaphorically. And I think he should know that we know, that we’re worried.” 

“That might piss him off.” 

“Too fucking bad.” 

Kukui rubs at his eyes, forgetting his fingers are covered in sand. He blinks it away rapidly. 

“Sorry. I’m just afraid something horrible will happen,” Burnet whispers. “I’m so afraid.” 

“I know, honey.” Kukui rubs her back. “I’ll talk to him.” 

“Thank you.” She leans into the touch, then takes Lei off his lap when she starts squirming toward her. “How was the ‘office’?” 

Kukui clams up. “Fine.”

“‘Fine?’”

“None of your business, frankly.” 

Burnet puts a hand up in surrender. “I’m just saying, if you need help—” 

“I’ll let you know,” he concedes. He needs to change the subject, like, right now. “How’s your office? Real office.” 

“Fine,” she says, teasing. The smile drops off her face when she senses Kukui’s hesitancy.  

“Don’t kill yourself at it, okay?” He’s still so mad at Lusamine for letting her go back so early. “I worry about you, too.” 

“We’re just a bunch of worrywarts, aren’t we?” Burnet hums, then looks down to their child. “Oh, to be you, Lei, only worried about your next meal and nap.” 

“Bah,” she responds. 

“Yeah.” 

They bask in their early morning time, the only time they’re uninterrupted. The wind blows, cooling their wet skin. 

“I need to get ready for school,” Kukui mutters. “And you need to take the day off.” 

“No.” 

“Fine. Let’s go back, then.” 

“No.” 

So they stay just a little longer. 

“I’m just saying,” Mallow says around a mouthful of her lunch, “if I show up with the same dress as somebody else, I’m gonna explode.” 

“Why does that matter?” Kiawe asks, genuinely confused. 

“Because she’s full of herself,” Sophocles responds. He gets a splatter of poi slingshotted at him for his trouble. 

“ Because ,” she says, “it’s kindof embarrassing! I want it to be special!” 

Lana nods. “Very important.” 

Lillie concurs. “Essential.” 

Ash just sits back and watches them. He’s excited about being invited to Hau’s high school for prom, sure. But he doesn’t have any idea what it actually is—is it literally a dance? He doesn’t have any idea who he’s gonna ask—one of the girls? He doesn’t have any idea what he’s gonna wear—his tux from the trial? 

“Well, I don’t care what my date wears,” Kiawe declares. 

“That’s just because you’re doing it as a favor to Olivia,” Mallow points out. “Her cousin is gonna slay, yeah, but you’d be happy if she showed up in anything. I’m not even convinced you like girls.” 

Lana sticks her tongue out. “Kiawe would like anyone so long as they took their clothes off.” 

“I— no !” Kiawe insists. “That’s all Sophocles!” 

Sophocles blushes furiously—he’s going with one of the Charjabug racers from forever ago. “I don’t even know who my date is, I only met her, like, twice!” 

“Historically, that hasn’t stopped most people,” Lillie says diplomatically. She’s not not going with anyone.

“Whatever. Lana and I have the best chemistry of all the dates,” Mallow insists, sending a wink to her. Ash may be clueless, but even he can tell they’ve got something going on. Something complicated. 

Lana quickly changes the subject. “Ash, when are you gonna decide who you’re going with?” 

“Cleee-mont,” Sophocles teases with a high voice. It encourages the entire table to start ooh ing and aah ing. 

To make it worse, even Pikachu gets a distinct look on his face. Smug bastard.

“I’m not gonna make him cross the ocean to come to a prom,” he defends, plopping a hand on Pikachu’s face to wipe the grin off. “Besides, we’re not—I don’t think…” 

Mallow pats his hand. “You’ll get there someday. Just don’t think too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.” 

He brushes her off, somehow not able to find the energy to protest. “Yeah, yeah.” 

“What’s with you?” Mallow asks. “You’ve been so quiet today.” 

“Nothing. Just didn’t sleep well.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Lei cried a lot last night.” 

(He slept maybe two hours last night, kept up by the guilt that he almost seriously injured his baby sister . Kept up by the soreness of his hands, his forearms. Kept up by the restlessness.) 

“Ooo-kay…” Mallow says. “Well, if you wanna talk to us, we’re here.” 

He looks up to find everyone genuinely agreeing with that statement. He feels better for the rest of lunch. 

Then, during sixth period, he remembers there’s no way he can let anyone else know about the aura. Not with Giovanni lurking in every corner. His hands jitter with the energy, trembling, sparking under the skin. Pikachu tries to soothe him, and he texts with Clemont, and the Professor offers an I love you, kid, we can talk about whatever’s bothering you at home, yeah? but none of it touches the root cause. 

Fear, he thinks. Fear of his own power. Fear of Giovanni. Fear for his family, his friends. And, he never used to feel this way, but fear of death. 

But he puts on a brave face, like usual. At least, he thinks he does. 

“Chief!” 

Nanu doesn’t look up from praying inside the old temple. It’s just Looker. He can wait.

“Chief, he has new orders!” 

Shit, he roped in Zhou. That means he actually has to go. He stands up from his kneel with a crack in his knees, bows his head once more, and steps back out to their main workroom. Standing straight as ramrods outside the temple doors is his left and right-hand men. 

His right hand speaks first. “You were right,” she says, holding her laptop in her non-shot arm. 

“About what?” Nanu growls. It could be anything. 

He looks to Looker, who hasn’t moved a muscle. His adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, but that’s it. 

“Speak up, Agent, what did they send you?” 

He wordlessly takes Zhou’s laptop from her hands and passes it over. 

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY , the communiqué reads. URGENT ORDERS FOR OPS TEAM 924 (100KR, 000, 332RZ).

He scrolls down. A bunch of bullshit, mostly, talking about tracking Giovanni, pinning him down. 

THE ELIMINATION OF GIOVANNI IS ESSENTIAL TO OUR MISSION. 924 AND LOCAL MILITARY WILL COMMENCE STRIKE BEFORE THE END OF THE MONTH. AT ALL COST, THE MISSION WILL BE COMPLETED. 

Shit. Shit . 

“Looker,” he says, slow and measured, “you better start practicing your aim.” 

Chapter Text

The air was sweet. The darkness was thick. The silence was bliss. 

“You know you’re my favorite, right?” 

Nanu rolled over in bed, letting the covers fall off his bare skin. Sakaki used to be handsome. The two of them—all planes of skin, of bulging muscle and passion that crossed too many boundaries. 

“You might be tough, but you listen well when I ask.” 

Sakaki graced his fingers over Nanu’s jawline, painting streaks of heat and paresthesia. 

“So good,” he hummed. “So quiet.” 

He stayed silent. There wasn’t anything to say in times like this. 

“My Nanu. Tell me you’ll be mine forever.” 

They kissed. Nanu’s mind stayed blank, no witty retorts this time.

“My Nanu.” 

Running a food truck, Kojiro thinks, isn’t such a bad thing. Parking and setting up early in the morning. Prepping the dough. Cleaning out the old oil. Opening the register. Getting the first load of malasadas done. 

He’s beating the dough together as he thinks. They see a lot, running this operation. Satoshi, of course, but all the little side characters with him. The Professors. The little brat friends. And they’ve all changed. 

It’s only natural, he supposes. Kojiro remembers being seventeen, first getting involved with TR. It was for money and shelter and three square meals a day. And he got it. He got harder, tougher, crueler with each passing meal. 

It almost looks like Satoshi is becoming the same way. Something. The burden of something. It’s weighing him down, wearing away at the smile he usually displays so proudly.

It worries Kojiro.

He beats the dough a little harder. So hard, in fact, that he doesn’t hear the sound of his burner TR phone ringing. 

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: the aliases JESSIE and JAMES are suspended from MISSION ALPHA-KAPPA-2863. New orders forthcoming. 

Kukui sits in the back row of the temple, legs crossed under him, barely listening to the Saturday service. 

He’s heard it so much. He grew up here, in this temple. His thoughts wander to the rhythm of the chants he does not sing and prayers he does not repeat.

Kukui really did mean to bring it up with Ash. He did.

But how do you start a conversation about, Hey, you almost killed your sister two days ago. What the hell, kid? without saying it like that? 

More importantly, Ash’s well-being might be on the line. But if Kukui knows Ash, he knows that’s not what’s gonna convince him to open up. It’s going to be guilt, unfortunately. Fortunately. Unfortunately. 

The bell rings, signaling the end of the service. Kukui stops thinking about it all, just for a moment. He lets his neck fall forward, praying with the rest of them, and lets people leave around him.

What should I say? What should I say? What should I say?

“Pleasure to see you here,” Hala says, clapping an arm around Kukui’s back and jolting him out of his faux-prayer. He sees right through him. 

“Rarity, I know,” he grumbles back. He doesn’t shrug Hala’s arm off like he might’ve ten years ago. He doesn’t return the gesture, either.

They watch the worshippers file out of the temple, piling themselves into their cars, going on to the rest of their lives, fulfilling the wishes of the Tapu or whatever. 

And when the temple is empty, Hala asks, “What are you doing here?” 

“Thought you’d be a little more happy to see me participating in the family business.” 

Hala doesn’t take the bait. “What’s wrong?” 

“Can I not come here to pray with you and everybody else?” 

“Kukui.” 

Fine. Whatever. He feels like a goddamn teenager again. 

“I need advice,” he finally admits. 

Hala’s face remains carefully neutral. “Of what kind?” 

“The Ash kind.” 

“Supernatural? Or fatherhood?” 

“…Both.” 

Hala lights up again. “That, I can probably handle. Come on home, we can talk about it.” 

It’s not a suggestion. They walk back to the dojo in silence. 

Halfway down the path, Hala bursts abruptly, “You’re still meeting with your sponsor?” 

“That’s none of your business,” he shoots back, a little too harsh. 

“It’s been a challenging year, Ku. No one would blame you if you were having difficulty—“ 

He shuts that down immediately. “Drop it.” 

“Okay.” 

Silence. Kukui kicks the dirt path lightly, silt spraying. 

“Ash’s powers are getting out of control,” Kukui eventually says, once the dojo is in sight. “He’s becoming dangerous.” 

“Mm. What happened?” 

“He used to be quite good at using it gently,” he says, pushing the door open. Hala always leaves the dojo unlocked. “Like, he could stop Lei’s crying, helped Burnet’s c-section scar heal, the like.” 

(He doesn’t mention how Ash has soothed his nightmares, has kept the darker thoughts from creeping in.) 

“I see.” Hala reaches an hand out to have Kukui sit on the couch that he and Guzma used to play video games on. “But now?” 

“He tried to keep Lei from crying last night, but too much came out. She just cried harder, like it hurt her.” Kukui massages the bridge of his nose—it hurts to be in this house, hurts like shadows and people he used to know. “And I know he feels guilty as all hell.” 

Hala pauses in thought, like he’s going to say something revolutionary, then says, “You need to talk to him.” 

Kukui tries not to explode. No shit . “Yes,” he grits out. 

“He trusts you more than anyone,” Hala says, and that soothes him a little. “I know the supernatural is not your strong suit. But you have to lean into it. It defies logic.” 

Kukui sits on that for a moment, rolls the concept around his brain. Leaning into it—he’s always leaned too far into things. He doesn’t want to get caught up in something he doesn’t understand this time. 

“You’re too similar,” Hala says after a while of Kukui sulking. 

“Hm?”

“You and Ash, even if you don’t realize it.” 

Kukui just laughs. 

His eyes drift. Plaques line the walls of Hala’s home, leading to Kukui’s old bedroom—prizes Kukui has won through battle, through wrestling, through science fairs, through years of recognition. Printed out articles from the newspapers. Website screenshots from his college battle stats, from where he and Hala didn’t talk. 

He’s been watched, same as Kukui watches Ash. Pride lingering. Recognition echoing in the walls. 

Kukui and Ash aren’t similar. Kukui and Hala, well. 

“What are you going to say?” 

Suddenly, he’s fifteen on this couch.

“What should I say?” 

Hala smiles. 

Burnet stares at her desktop. She’s been staring for the past ten minutes at a blinking cursor with lines of R behind it, sorting data for projects she once cared about. Still cares about. Yes. 

She fought for this career years ago, hoped and dreamed and prayed. Here she is, years later, unsatisfied. 

She goes back to checking the baby monitor. Kukui’s home at this point, writing his lesson plans down in his old-fashioned notebook with the bassinet close to him. He strokes her full head of dark hair every once in a while. 

They’re fine . Guilt—guilt she’s dumped her kid off with a husband she hasn’t slept with in months, guilt for projects she once loved and now loathes—receeds. They’re okay. 

Three quick knocks on her office door interrupt her little soliloquy. “Professor?” 

Shit. She types in a quick line just to make herself feel better. “Come in, Lusamine.” 

She’s dressed down at this hour—well, as much as Lusamine dresses down, which just means slacks instead of a dress for when she takes the ferry home. “I saw your light on. You’re still here?” 

“Mmhm.” She types something random on her computer. “Statistics won’t analyze themselves.” 

Lusamine laughs, “You know, Lillie hasn’t forgotten R.” 

It’s true. She was of immeasurable help in the last months of Burnet’s pregnancy, a menace of a research assistant for a sixteen-year-old. But that was when Burnet wanted help.

She waves a hand and keeps typing gibberish with the other. “My progesterone brain has gone away. She needs to focus on her schoolwork now, I won’t ask her to be my RA.” 

Lusamine laughs again, a light thing that reminds you that her positivity is superficial. 

Burnet keeps typing. Maybe she’ll go away. 

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Lusamine starts unprompted, which Burnet supposes she can do, given she’s the President, “is that I should have spent more time with…” 

She drifts into an uneasy smile. 

“...you know.” 

She’s usually very good with words, very concise. She’s lost it now, face to face with Burnet, motherhood in the air. 

Burnet stays very, very quiet. 

“You were granted a year of maternity leave, should you have wanted it,” she reminds her. 

“Yes.” Burnet smiles. “And I’m very grateful. But I’m not like you.” 

Lusamine nods, expression not betraying a single emotion. 

She shuts the door behind her without a word. 

They’ve been through so many rows of prom dresses at this point, silk and chiffon and lace and velvet in all sorts of colors. Mallow has lost count of how many she’s tried on. But it’s been heaven —sure, to try everything on, to imagine herself bathed in lights and sweating on a school gym’s dance floor. 

But to see Lana, too, imagining the same things, swathed in sequin. 

“What do you think?” Lana says for the third dress she’s tried on. She spins a little, a tiny smile gracing her face. It’s blue satin, tight on her tiny waist and flowing to her bare feet. Plain. Fits her, though, fits her well.

All of them have been gorgeous when you wear them. 

“Hm,” she says instead. “Turn around?” 

It’s a little loose in the open back, tucking low by her hips.

“I feel like my asscrack is showing,” she mutters. 

“Kinda sexy, though.” 

Lana stares at her, her light cheeks all flushed high. “You think?” 

“Mm.” Mallow nods. “But if you aren’t comfortable in it, then don’t wear it.” 

Lana shrugs. The blush has reached the top of her shoulders, and Mallow could swear it crawls down the small of her back, too. 

“I’ll put this with the ‘maybes.’” Lana quickly turns around. “Your turn.” 

She had been sitting cross legged on the changing room floor, admiring Lana like a fool. She jumps up and shucks on the next dress—a light pink thing, contrasting with her deep tan skin. This thing is polyester and tight, tight, tight on her boobs. She probably shouldn’t even wear a bra with it. 

She takes her bright red bra off. It flops on the floor. 

In the mirror, Lana’s cheeks and shoulders are the same color. 

“Whatcha think?” She asks her best friend of ten years. 

“Uh,” she responds, holding up a thumbs-up. 

Mallow laughs and laughs and laughs. 

Ash jingles the keys to the Masked Royal’s own gym gently in his hands. Kap gave them to him for no good reason—’”Cuz you hang around here so much, brah!”—but now he can come whenever he likes. Like, four-thirty AM. He always got up early on the road. This is no different. 

He needs to get it all out of his system before school. Maybe Kap had the right idea. 

He flicks on lights as he goes, humming fluorescence filling the space. He bypasses the octagon, the stretching mats, the punching bags, the treadmills. 

“Pika!” Pikachu quickly climbs up the weight rack, waiting for Ash to join him. 

And he works himself into a rhythm—shoulders, back, and chest today. Push presses. Cleans. Chest presses. Incline presses. Rows. Pull-ups. Everything until failure, until he’s shaking and spasming and sweating buckets and stars fill his eyes. 

He’s discovered that if his body is in too rough a shape, the aura won’t come to him as easily. He…damages himself accordingly. 

Alright, so it’s a little fucked-up. But he’d way rather hurt himself than hurt someone else. 

He falls from the pull-up bar after the thirty-second rep, the weight plate attached to his dip belt nearly landing on his foot and shattering his bones. Oops. But all he can feel is angry . 

He lets the aura out of his fingers with a flash of blue and a suck of air pressure. It roams around the space, filling up to the high ceilings of the gym. 

He pants. He sweats. Why did it get this bad? Why did he let it get this bad?

He never asked for any of this. Never once did he ask for a fantastical life with fantastical powers and fantastical megalomaniacs following him around. He could be kidnapped and trafficked by TR at any given time, if Giovanni wanted. He could be shot in the back of the head. They could kill his friends, the Professors, Pikachu, Lei , for Christ’s sake. All for something he never asked for. 

But right now, he’s the biggest villain to any of them. That’s what stings the most. 

He needs to start seeing that shrink again, he thinks, as his breaths start to slow down. Pikachu curls into his chest with a concerned-sounding trill; Ash doesn’t know exactly what it means, since all the aura left in him is bouncing around in the rafters right now. 

It means it’s quiet. 

He waits until his heart stops pounding so hard in his chest to sit up, shake his arms out, get a swig of water, head out, and lock the place back up. The sun has started to rise. 

It’s lovely. And it’s quiet. 

“Satoshi?” 

He’s never turned around so fast. “Who—”

“It’s me.” Kojiro holds his hands up in surrender. “Just me.” 

Ash’s poor heart barely rests. He grips his car keys close, prepared to jump into his car at any given moment. “What do you want?” 

Kojiro looks… hurt , almost. His brows turn upward. He takes a step back. 

“I—sorry, I just can’t do this today,” Ash says to make up for it. 

“I know,” Kojiro says, squaring his shoulders. “I know something’s up.” 

Ash narrows his eyes. 

“Because Sakaki pulled us off the mission.” 

“What?” 

“The mission. The one we’ve been on for the last seven years where we try to steal your stuff and report back what you’re up to and—” 

“No, I know, why ?” 

“I was hoping you would know.” Kojiro twirls a piece of his hair between his fingers. “Musashi and I are…well. unemployed, for starters, but moreso—” 

“Don’t be worried about me,” Ash fills in. “I get enough of that already, I definitely don’t need it from you two.” 

His expression changes. “Don’t be—” 

“Mad?” Ash shoots. “This obviously means something horrible is happening, can’t you see?” 

“I know ,” Kojiro shoots back. “I wanted to warn you. I hoped this would give you some time to…I don’t know, leave the country, buy a gun, whatever. I just wanted to help.” 

Ash steps back. Despite being the main reason Giovanni has all this intel on him, he really does mean to help—he may not really have any aura right now, but he can tell he’s not lying. 

“We’ve been on the road together for seven whole years , twerp.” Kojiro reaches a hand out like he’s going to ruffle Ash’s hair or something. Then he pulls it back. “Don’t…you have to make sure we still have someone to bother when this whole thing blows over.” 

Don’t die. Stay safe.  

“I’ll keep you updated,” Ash says, instead of help me or fuck you or thanks . “I still have your number.” 

He turns and gets into his blue jeep, muscles twitching. Puts it in reverse. Pulls out of the parking lot, leaving Kojiro behind. 

“Take care, kid,” he says as he drives away. 

He has nothing to say back. 

It isn’t often that Clemont finds himself staring longingly at Ash’s wikipedia page. 

Well. Maybe recently . But this is a last-two-months kindof habit. 

Ash Ketchum (born May 22) is a Kantonese Pokemon trainer and current Alola League Champion. He is widely recognized as one of the top battlers of his generation, named Most Promising Young Trainer by PSPN for three years in a row. He has League experience in Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos, and Alola, the last of which he is the first and undefeated Champion of. Parallel to his recent successes, Ketchum is known as the victim of an assassination plot [Read more…]

Early life 

Career 

Pokemon teams 

Assassination attempt

Personal History ^

Ketchum’s hometown is in the small town of Pallet Town. He is currently enrolled in the Alolan Pokemon School as a senior in (Unovan-style) high school. There has been much speculation over his dating life on social media platforms [Read more…]

Okay, time for him to shut his phone off. He rolls over in bed and clicks it off, burying his face into his pillow and struggling to breathe. 

“Much speculation.” Clemont is one of many.

Ash comes to mind, like he usually does. There’s what he looks like on video chat yesterday—strong, smiley, tanned, a little sad. What he looks like on TV—strong, smiley, tanned. And what he looked like in Kalos—strong, smiley. Charismatic. Sure of himself. Optimistic. Unstoppable. 

Hot. 

So, sure, he woke up from a dream about Ash and then immediately went to check his Wikipedia page to see if his “personal life” has changed at all to include some person Clemont’s never met in there. He’s going to a prom, for God’s sake, he talked about it on chat with him. Someone’s going to come into his life. 

Possibly Serena, and maybe that would be fine. Unlikely, though. Probably someone from Alola, some girl Clemont’s never met. Maybe she’s got tanned skin and long, dark hair, symmetrical features, looks like a goddamn model. 

Not him. Spindly, pale blonde. Glasses. 

He rolls over in bed once he suffocates enough into his pillow. He takes a deep breath into his apartment’s air, feels the April breeze through the open window. 

He has university tomorrow morning. He has to drop Bonnie off at elementary school. He has to open the gym in the afternoon. He needs to sleep instead of pine over a guy that probably hardly thinks of him aside from their texting and calling every once in a while. 

Well, maybe he has a shot. Just maybe. 

His phone suddenly vibrates, sending a shockwave through the mattress. 

“Ash?” he answers, fumbling to get the phone to his ear, clearing his throat, trying to act like he wasn’t just stalking his Wikipedia. 

“Hey, Clemont.” His voice is unbelievably tired. Not cheery and smiley, not at all. 

He sits up in bed. “Are you okay?” 

And Ash says something horrible. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Okay, talk to me.” 

Thousands of miles away, another phone rings. 

“Jesus Christ, this guy won’t leave me alone,” Guzma says, stubbing his toe on the new kitchen table he and Plumeria just put together. Moving in together, to a real apartment, has been pure shit. 

There are roaches, even on the sixth floor. He thought a real apartment wouldn’t have those. 

“Don’t answer,” Plumeria grumbles from where her head is slumped on the table. “Where’s my breakfast?” 

“ Coming , you greedy bitch,” he replies, trying to figure out how to work their shiny new toaster while his phone rings in his other hand. 

She responds with a middle finger. 

He finally gives up on both, speaking into the phone, “What do you want?” 

“Ah, you’ve finally responded.” Male voice. Smooth as velvet. 

“Who are you?” 

He doesn’t address that in the least. “Would you be interested in ten thousand dollars for a small task?”

“I—” He pauses. This feels very illegal. Or a scam. Or both. 

“You know of Ash Ketchum, correct?”

He sits down at the table. “Who doesn’t?” 

“You have personal connections. I’d like you to keep an eye on him .” 

“‘Keep an—’ who the fuck are you?” 

“You may address me as Giovanni.” 

Chapter Text

“I have a surprise for you.”

Giovanni led him into the master bathroom, towards the large tub they’d spent many an evening soaking in. 

Sitting nestled in blankets are a persian and her baby meowths, suckling at their mother. Alolan meowths. Rare here. Cost a fortune.

Nanu feels his breath catch in his chest. In moments like these, he wishes he weren’t a double agent.

“You can have your pick of the litter,” Giovanni purrs in his ear, kissing his cheek. 

Nanu picks one up. She squirms in his hands, nuzzling down and mewing softly.

“Happy anniversary, my love.” 

It doesn’t matter how long Daveed’s gonna serve in the damn Unovan Army. She is not living on base. 

Well, that’s what she thought. Then she got married to the fool. 

She’s packing up all her stuff into cardboard boxes now, thinking about all the strategy and paperwork she should be doing with Looker and Nanu right now. Instead, she’s deciding whether or not her Shakespeare collection should go with Living Room or Bedroom. 

She should just toss them. She never finds the time to read them anyway. 

“How’s it coming, babe?” Captain Daveed Sial, Unovan Army JAG Corpsman, yells from the kitchen. 

“It’s…coming,” she replies, turning towards the direction of his voice. “Look, I really should go back to work—” 

“No,” he says behind her, sneaking up to lift her lithe frame off the ground. “You need a break from this case, whatever it is.” 

She pushes against him, folding her dark eyes into his. “You haven’t been briefed?” 

He cocks his head. “No. You need a lawyer?” 

“I guess not,” she grumbles. Not for an assassination. “Just…it would be easier. If you knew.” 

“No, it wouldn’t,” he responds, flashing an all-Unovan smile at her. “It really wouldn’t. We need to keep the work at work—” 

“And the home at home, right.” 

She starts packing boxes again. Coordinates. Stakeouts. COs, orders. Kahunas. It all runs through her head. 

Her shoulder aches from where Viren’s poor little lackey shot her a year ago. 

She smells of gunpowder now. 

“Hey,” he murmurs softly. “Hey. Look at me.” 

She does. His face is full of poorly-concealed agony. It makes her feel bad, at least a little, that she treats her new husband this way. 

“I don’t know what this case is, but it’s clearly something big. Which means you need clearly demarcated time off. And I’m going to do all that I can to help you do that.” 

She lets her forehead fall onto his shoulder. 

“C’mon. Two more boxes, then U-haul, then we can have pizza and sleep on an air mattress tonight.” 

She smiles. 

She smells of gunpowder.

The waves are nice today. Ash comes back dripping in salt water, Pikachu shaking himself off on the deck and leaving splatters everywhere. 

“There you are,” Kukui says. “How long have you been up?” 

“Uh.” Ash checks an imaginary watch that he doesn’t own. Kukui should get him one for his birthday. “Four. Went to the gym, but wanted to shred, too.” 

He blinks at this kid . 

“Well. You must be starving. Breakfast’s on the table, please towel off first.” 

Ash throws him a thumbs up and a blinding smile. Kukui heads back in, knowing there will be a wet ass-print on his couch soon. 

Burnet is breastfeeding while she nibbles at cereal by hand. “You find him?” 

“Yup. He’s been up since four .” 

“Jesus.” Her face wrinkles up. “I thought I imagined the garage door opening— ow , Lei.” 

Their daughter doesn’t respond. She instead suckles harder at Burnet, whose wrinkled face continues to…wrinkle. 

“You okay?” He asks, a little wary at the tightness Burnet is gripping at their baby. 

“Yeah,” she breathes. Her fingers loosen. “Yeah.” 

“I’m gonna talk to him.” 

“ We’re gonna talk to him—”

“Hi!” Ash greets, looking slightly less wet, but he still sits down in his board shorts and starts shoveling eggs in his mouth with blue, wispy fingers. “What’s up? You’re talking about me and you’re, like, freaking out. Also, Professor Burnet, Lei is full.” 

Pick your battles, Kukui. Pick your battles.

“Hey, bud,” he starts gently, cautiously. “We wanted to talk to you about a couple nights ago—” 

“Oh, when my aura got outta control? Don’t worry, I have a plan.” 

Kukui leans back, a little surprised, but also…that’s Ash. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. If I totally tire myself out in the mornings, I don’t feel it really bad until nighttime, and by that point, I can just go out to the beach and let it out there!” He gulps down pinap juice. “Anyway, thanks! I’m gonna shower!” 

He bolts out. 

Burnet and Kukui can only look at each other and sigh. At least they tried. 

It takes literally less than thirty seconds of sitting in this restaurant for Olivia to ask Kap about his sex life. She can’t help it. 

“You look like you just got fucked,” she says, settling in the booth at Luchador’s. She reaches closer—”Smell like it, too.” 

Kap grumbles, “What’s it to you? Just because you can’t get bodies doesn’t mean I can’t.” 

She arches her brow in teasing. “You really want to pick a fight with the Kahuna?” 

“I want to pick a fight with my dumbass friend. You’re not the Kahuna here.” The waiter approaches, waves with recognition, then turns around with two Modelos in hand. “Case in point.” 

She laughs a little, and as she sips her beer, she prays for him briefly. Prays to keep him in her life. Prays for the circumstances in which they met. 

Prays for their mutual friends. 

She might as well ask it. “So, how’s Ku—” 

Kap cuts her off with a long swig of his beer and a hand held out to interrupt her. He exhales, “Bad. I’ve barely seen him. If we meet, it’s only for him to spar and try to beat the shit out of me.”

“Hm.” She’s unsurprised: “Heard he went to the temple this Saturday.” 

“To see Hala, or to, like, pray ?” 

“Who’s to say?” 

“ You .” 

“I can’t magically tell if he prayed.” 

“You can ‘magically’ do all sorts of shit.” 

Well. Yeah. “I’d have to see him to get a sense of his spirituality. Which, I’m sure you know, has never been…well-developed.” 

“Yeah. He only went to the temple when Hala made him, which was like, every weekend. And I never saw him in youth service.” 

Olivia sips her beer and ponders. “Do you remember if his parents were religious?” 

“I didn’t meet Kukui ‘til after he moved in with Hala, so I couldn’t tell you.” He shrugs. “Though I’d get why he’d never want to talk about them with me, no matter how close we were.” 

“Wait, really? I thought you knew him from grade school.” 

“I did.” He takes a swig with a wince, as if remembering something that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “Hala put him in wrestling classes when he was, like, fourth grade. I was a couple years younger. Everybody knew he had that troubled home life shit. He, like, barely spoke Galarian and flinched whenever anyone moved too fast. Damn good fighter, though, we were all scared of him.” 

“Yeah?” She chuckles, a hint bittersweet. Scrappy Kukui. Olivia didn’t meet him until he was in high school, doing the Island Challenge after he won the Kanto League. 

“Yeah. My parents started looking after him then. Hala was a busy man, he couldn’t handle a ten-year-old by himself. So we were brothers.” He shrugs. “‘Least ‘til Kukui blasted outta the country and went to Kanto.” 

“I…” Olivia pauses. 

“What?” 

“I actually don’t know what happened with his parents.” 

Kap’s eyes go wide. “Really?” 

“No. Kukui never talked about them, not even once we were adults. We all knew he wasn’t Hala’s son, but the gossip never really reached Akala.” 

Kap turns away, suddenly fixated on the battle on the TV. “It’s not my story to tell.” 

Olivia doesn’t pry. 

Well. 

“Does it have to do with his sobriety?” 

Kap narrows his eyes at her. “Whaddaya think?”

“I just thought he had a problem from college.” 

“He did.” Kap fiddles with the gold wrapper on the bottle. “But that shit’s genetic.” 

“Mm.” 

“Jesus, you got me to say something.” 

“‘Magic,’ right?” 

“No, you’re just a gossip.” Kap finishes his beer. “Let’s get nachos.” 

“Sure.” 

They make idle small talk for a while. How’s the hospital. How’s Kahuna-ing. 

The nachos are almost done when Kap says, “I’m really worried about them.” 

Olivia just decides to let him talk. 

“Burnet’s definitely got postpartum depression. I think Ash is mostly raising that baby.” 

Olivia’s head rushes from the thought of that ADHD-ridden kid stuck with that. He’s grown up a lot since Olivia first met him, sure, but… “Seriously?” 

“Yeah. And Kukui, well. If I’m not seeing him in the gym that often and he’s not publishing papers—I literally look him up on JSTOR every day, he’s not —and Burnet’s spent and everything’s going to hell, then…” 

“You think he’ll relapse?” 

Kap says nothing.

They sit in silence for a while. 

“You wanna split the check?” 

Lusamine forced Burnet to take a day off. 

She cleared her schedule. Didn’t assign her on anything. Deactivated her ID card so she couldn’t get into any labs. Shut down her offsite login. 

Bitch move. Lusamine must think pumping breast milk is all she’s good for. There’s been nothing to do at home except be with Lei, and while that fills her with indescribable joy, it also, well. Something seems just so off . 

She’s just so tired. 

She’s laying on their green couch and staring aimlessly at the TV playing reruns of Seinfeld. Lei’s latched onto her for the third time today, and her tits just hurt more and more. 

Bad latch, the nurses said when she was still in the hospital. But she can barely remember any of it, or what she was supposed to do to fix it. 

“Fuck,” she winces at a particularly hard suck. Her nipples are red and cracked and angry and sore and her baby is the whole goddamn problem but she can’t think that way. It’s inappropriate. And she loves her, obviously. 

Lei pulls off and wails. 

The laugh track drowns out some of it. Jerry and Elaine walk the streets of Nimbasa, saying something evidently funny. Yellow cabs on black concrete, long pea coats, gray sky, brightly colored corner stores and pidoves and everything Unova that she misses. Castelia University, meeting Kukui, being an engineering major. Her childhood home in Striaton, her first job at the auto shop in Lacunosa. 

The absence of a child, of responsibility. Everything but Alola’s warm beaches and the unsettling feeling over the past year. 

Lei wails incessantly.

She needs to get up and cook dinner for the boys. And maybe she will in an hour or so. But for now, she can rot on the couch and not move a muscle and her heart can ache. 

She falls asleep by accident with Lei on her chest still, curled up and wailing. 

“We’ll begin. Time out.” 

Lei comes out with a strong cry. They show her to her over the drape. 

She can see where they didn’t wipe all the blood off her. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Dizzy.” 

Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. She may not be in pain anymore, but this is almost worse. 

“More plain guts,” the OB orders. “At least six more.” 

"You’re doing great. They’re sewing you up. Keep breathing."

“How’s the bleeding?” 

"I love you, baby. You’re okay."

“My baby,” she manages through the fog. “Need my baby.” 

They hand her over, blood collected in streaks over the folds of her neck. 

“She’s beautiful,” she cries. “Beautiful.”

And she closes her eyes, dark as night, and she’s bleeding, and Kukui is crying, and it is dark.

She startles back awake with a gasp, with the sound of Lei’s wailing. Thank God, Lei is still on her chest—she checks her phone, it had only been six minutes. 

Tears have collected between the creases of her eyes and they fall as she sits up, tries to pull herself together, stares at her crying baby. 

What if she could make the crying stop?

What if she just let her fall to the ground with a crack? 

Or what if she suffocated her with the couch cushions? 

Or what if she went outside and took her to the ocean and let go of her into the deep blue water and never, ever saw her again and what if everything went back to the way it was two years ago when everything was fine ? 

Burnet is gasping, she realizes, gasping for air that won’t come. 

“Alola,” the Professor says as he walks in for fifth period, Senior Battle Mechanics Seminar, which is infinitely harder than any of the classes he’s taught before. “Last night’s p-set on my desk, then we’ll start the quiz.” 

Mallow drags herself out of her seat with a huff, glancing at her shoddily half-done p-set in her hands. Oh well. C’s, in fact, do get degrees. She’s got the same attitude for this damage calculation quiz she hasn’t studied for. 

“Mallow,” Kukui says. “Move your car after this period, okay? How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t park in the teacher’s lot?” 

“But it’s so much closer!” she whines. “My pokemon were too sleepy to walk this morning.” 

“Tough.” He takes her paper, frowns at it, then frowns at her. 

“Yeesh, someone’s in a bad mood,” Sophocles mutters as he passes her to drop off a no-doubt perfect p-set on the desk. 

Kukui’s head shoots up. “Wanna share that with the class?” 

He flushes scarlet. “No, sir.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Kukui sweeps his eyes across the space. “Anyone else got anything to get out their systems?” 

They’ve all settled back in their seats. Even Ash seems relatively alert, if not a little on edge. 

“Right. Graduation is only two months away. It’s up to you if you want to pass this class.” He starts writing on the chalkboard. “We’ll start in five, and you’ll have forty minutes for thirty problems.” 

“Fuck,” she mutters. 

Lana shoots her a tiny smile in response. You got this, she mouths. 

Thank you, I don’t , she mouths back, a wide beam on her face. 

And they start. The numbers and word problems and diagrams may as well be gibberish. She lets her pencil fly, though, filling in what she can, and only stops when Kukui steps out to answer his phone. 

“Behave while I’m gone,” he barks. 

She watches him, watches how his face softens in care when he answers, then hardens in anger, then twists up in annoyance. He heads away from the door toward the staircase to the exit. 

Ooh. Juicy. 

“Ash,” she hisses.

He turns his head toward her. His page is blank. Kindred spirits. 

“What’s up with him?” 

He shrugs, bites his lip, and turns back to his work. He’s such a horrible liar. 

Then, there’s the rumbling of what is distinctly Ash’s blue jeep into the teacher’s parking lot from earshot of the classroom. That makes them all turn their heads. 

“I just couldn’t ,” they all hear as Professor Burnet, the woman they all adore, the woman who’s a mom to all of them but especially to Mallow, relinquishes a crying Lei off to Kukui. 

“Burnet, I’m at work ,” he says. It’s low, but there are no fucking windows in their classroom, so they can hear it just fine. “I can’t take her.” 

“Neither can I!” She yells.

Lei screams . Ash stands up abruptly, his chair screeching, and sprints downstairs. 

Kukui and Burnet continue to argue unintelligibly, Kukui guarding Lei in his arms. They’re talking so quickly and so low, but Mallow can make out a little:

“She offered you more leave? And you didn’t take it?” 

They’ve never heard Kukui speak so sharply. The seniors look at each other, wide-eyed. 

“You don’t understand, she wouldn’t stop crying .” 

“She’s a baby . She’s gonna cry, goddammit, you are her mother —” 

She’s started to weep. “Kukui, just take her, I can’t, I can’t, please .” 

Of course, Ash shows up precisely at that time and swoops Lei away. 

“Ash!” Kukui says harshly. “What are you—?” 

Ash says nothing. He simply comes back towards the classroom, calmer than any of the surrounding adults. 

“Go home,” Kukui snaps to Burnet. “We’ll talk later.” 

She turns away, wiping at her eyes, and scrambles into the car, dirt flying behind her. 

Everyone in the room exchanges another look at each other. 

“Get back to work!” Kukui yells from below. 

They can’t really argue with that. 

Ash finishes the quiz with Lei on his lap. Kukui tries to take her several times, but Ash won’t let him. 

He was going to fail the quiz anyway. Ash doesn’t care. 

Fifth period ends, and Ash just…leaves, even though he’s got ʻŌlelo Alola and trigonometry classes left. 

“Ash,” Kukui calls as he makes his way out the front gate, Lei sleeping in his arms and Pikachu at his side. “Wait.” 

He does. He sees the pinched look on Kukui’s face, and he lets just the slightest bit of aura free. 

Guilt crashes down on him, responsibility and regret collapsing like a house of cards. It’s festering. It’s painful. 

“I’m sorry,” Kukui says, sincere like he always is. 

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“I do ,” Ash says. “I do. You should stay here. I’m going home and I’m putting her to bed and I’m talking to Professor Burnet. I’ll see you later.” 

He turns, and Kukui doesn’t protest, doesn’t yell, doesn’t force, having given up sometime in the last hour. 

The walk home is silent as Lei sleeps and Ash walks slowly. Even Pikachu doesn’t make a sound, fixated on Lei and making his paws quiet. 

Ash has been an adult for a long time, he thinks. He’s always taken care of himself, if not assisted by the people around him, but ultimately, he was his own responsibility. It must have been sometime in Sinnoh that he started to feel responsible for the people around him, too—for their safety, their happiness. Maybe it was when he got his aura, when he could perceive it. 

And it’s been that way since. It’s intensified along with the growth of his aura, this grown-ness. 

He let himself regress in Alola. Let himself be fifteen, sixteen. Let himself go to school. Let himself be cared for—have meals cooked for him, a home prepared for him, a family waiting in a little warm shack on the beach. 

But now he’s seventeen. The idea of letting himself be seventeen is insane and incomprehensible, he thinks, as he looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms, thinks of the people trying to kill him, the dangerous nature of Mew’s “gift.” The fallibility of his host parents. 

He almost thought he could go to a damn prom . 

No. He has to step up, be stronger. Kukui and Burnet need help, clearly, and he needs to keep his aura compressed and weak. No one’s going to do it but him. 

He’s grown. He has been for a long time. 

So when he goes home and puts Lei in her crib, and finds Burnet nearly catatonic in the Professor’s bedroom, he steps up. He forces Burnet to eat the lunch he was supposed to have today. He makes her drink a whole glass of water. He…well, he tries to comfort her, but she doesn’t seem very responsive. 

She just stares, eyes wide and vacant, tears streaming down her face. 

She hugs him once he’s managed to get her sitting up in bed, but she doesn’t look toward her baby at all. Doesn’t ask to see her. Doesn’t protest when Ash is the one to feed her and change her and do what Ash knows is supposed to be her job, technically. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice quiet, right when Ash is satisfied enough to step out.

“No worries,” is all he can say, because it’s true.

“Hey, it’s Kukui. If you’re trying to reach the League office, that’s 808-225-0346. If you’re trying to reach my lab at UAH, that’s 808-934-8126. If you’re trying to reach the Pokemon School, that’s 808-934-6535. And if you’re trying to reach me, well…leave a message.” 

“Kukui.” Guzma gulps. 

He had it planned out—what he was going to say. 

“Your kid—something’s wrong. I got a call from this rando..” He rubs his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger, thinking. “He offered me a shit ton of money to stalk your kid.” 

Another few seconds passes. 

“I know we don’t talk, like, ever. But I know that you’d wanna know.” 

He hangs up. 

Chapter Text

The air was sweet. The darkness was thick. The silence was bliss.

Then Giovanni slapped him. 

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” 

Nanu could only lay there. Giovanni strikes him again. 

“Think I wouldn’t notice what a hungry slut you are?” 

Oh. 

“I saw you with Maomao yesterday. You’d just like to put your hands all over Team Rocket, wouldn’t you?” 

“Sakaki, I wouldn’t—” 

“Yes, you would ,” he spat. “You Interpol boys are all the same.” 

The notion that he wasn’t special—it carved deep, smarted more than the power of that pale hand. It shouldn’t have. But it did. 

Giovanni let out all his frustration on him then. And when he was finished, well: 

Kisses on his neck. Long, languishing, hurting just a bit.

“I’m so sorry. My Nanu, my sweet, I’m so sorry .” 

Kukui and Ash spend all night in the police station. It’s by the grace of God that Kukui didn’t just delete that voicemail from an unknown number. After all, Guzma really is unknown to him at this point. 

It’s been a long time since rooming together at Hala’s place in high school. 

Nanu settles into his desk chair with a huff. “I’ve already interviewed Guzma. It’s nothing we don’t know, truly, though it’s interesting he’d ask him .” 

“Okay,” Kukui squirms nervously in his chair and looks over to Ash, who seems completely unbothered by the whole thing. He’s snickering at Pikachu, who’s apparently saying something funny. Kukui’s glad to see him in high spirits, but it does irk him a little bit how he has such little regard for his own safety, even after all this time. 

“You don’t seem too concerned, kid,” Nanu comments. 

“Well, Team Rocket’s been following me for, like, ever.” Ash shrugs. 

Pikachu makes a face like Duh. “Pika.” 

“I’m getting to that—James—one of the agents—he came and told me a few days ago that Giovanni told them to stop following me. So I thought we were chilling.” 

Kukui has to thumb the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. 

“You didn’t think to share that information with any of us?” Nanu says, gesturing to Officer Zhou and Looker. 

Pikachu frowns, as if the thought was ridiculous. 

Ash shrugs again. “Thought it was good news.” 

“Regardless,” Looker says with a deep sigh, “Guzma’s going to be under constant supervision until further notice. Giovanni might run a mafia a little different than Viren did, but it’s still a mafia.” 

“He could have come to us beforehand,” Officer Zhou mutters. 

“Don’t expect much from him in the way of law enforcement,” Kukui finds himself saying. “I’m kinda surprised he came to the station at all.” 

Officer Zhou cocks a brow. “He’s certainly…a recidivist.” 

Nanu chuckles darkly. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Nothing like a poor kid with a personality disorder to fill my office with paperwork for the last twenty years.” 

Ash looks a lot more interested now. “So he, like, did crime while you guys were apprenticing with Hala?” 

“Ash, not now,” he hisses. 

Ash barely pays him any mind. That’s…been the theme, recently. 

“Something like that,” Nanu drawls. “At any rate, he made the right decision this time. It looks like he’s really cleaned up his act.” 

The thought of meeting with him flits through Kukui’s mind. It’s been thirteen years since they’ve exchanged an actual sentence with each other, aside from that one moment at the League. He wonders if he moved in with Plum. He wonders if he speaks to his parents at all. He wonders if he’s happy. 

He wonders if he thinks about Kukui. He must be now . What would Guzma have to say to him? What would he have to say to Guzma? 

I’m sorry?

Looker appears increasingly uncomfortable with the way they’ve veered off the subject. “Ash, have you noticed yourself being followed recently?” 

“Other than Jessie and James? Nah. You guys, I guess.” He looks bashful for a moment. “Sorry I was speeding on Route Three yesterday.” 

“Kid, we got more important things to do with you than give you a ticket,” Nanu grumbles. “I really don’t think this changes much for you. We already have tabs on you. And there are plans in place for TR.” 

“If you’d like to meet with us again with your wife present, we’d be happy to,” Officer Zhou says, diplomatic as ever. 

Kukui clears his throat. Christ, yet another issue. “She’s actually leaving for the mainland right now. Is that safe?” 

Looker nods. “Should be.”  

Kukui examines the way Looker fidgets, the way Officer Zhou picks at her cuticles. There is something wrong . Something Kukui and Ash aren’t hearing. 

“If you say so,” is all Kukui can say, though. 

After a fair amount of passive-aggr—well, no, aggressive emailing, Burnet is granted remote access to her projects again. Thank God, because ten hours on a plane with no work would maybe send her into an early grave. 

She stares at her little sad email screen and takes little sad bites of a yogurt she bought at the little sad airport minimart, contemplates getting a little sad beer at eight AM. The airport is a lawless place, and Kukui’s distinctly not around. 

No. No, she has to pull it together. That’s the point of this trip. 

Kukui sat her down after the whole… issue yesterday and convinced her she needed a break. It didn’t take much convincing at all, actually. She does need one. She hasn’t seen her parents in three years. There’s so much to be done at home— her home: she needs to help out with the garage, make sure Mom’s doing the books right in her older age, make sure Dad hasn’t thrown out his back doing oil changes. She needs to make sure the house is in okay condition. She needs to talk about finances with them. 

But at least she’ll be able to have home-cooked meals for ten days. Her childhood bedroom. No husband. No children. 

It brings her pain to admit that would comfort her right now, after the horrible thoughts, the nightmares. It’s dangerous. She’s dangerous. Never mind all the angst about Ash hurting Lei, Burnet’s the one with the intentions. 

So she had to leave. 

It does mean she’s going to miss Ash’s prom this coming Saturday, though, which makes her thoroughly upset. But she knows that kid understands. 

And she is going to miss her baby. She grows a little bit every day. What if she won’t even recognize Burnet when she gets back home? Shit, this was a terrible idea, she needs to leave and go back home to her baby and her husband and her son and— 

“Attention passengers traveling on flight 2640 to Castelia, we will now begin boarding group A. ” 

She closes her laptop, tosses the half-eaten yogurt, grabs her suitcase, and leaves before she can convince herself of anything otherwise. 

“Guz, c’mon, you’re missing it!” 

“Gimmie a damn second!” He yells back to his partner. 

Partner. Not his girlfriend, that feels too…juvenile, for what they are. Partner in crime, formerly. Just partner now. 

He grabs his leftover pizza from the microwave, feeling the temperature with the tip of his finger—too cold in the middle of the slice, but Plum can never be satisfied anyway—and heads to the couch, where she’s queued up the latest dating reality show. 

“What’s the deal with this one?” He grumbles, shoving his pizza in his mouth and gesturing to the TV. 

“They’re all trapped on this island, and if they have sex with each other, they lose prize money.” 

“Shame, they’re all really hot,” he says, grinning. 

Plumeria slaps his cheek. “Watch your mouth, boy.” 

He laughs at her, laughs enough that she joins in. 

“I think we’d fail this challenge,” she says. 

“I think so.” 

She nuzzles her face into his neck. 

“You can’t see your show like that.” 

She nuzzles deeper into him. “I know.” 

They stay there like that, Guzma absently watching the show and rubbing Plum’s side gently. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a while. 

“Huh?” 

“Sorry you’re getting wrapped back up in shit. Sorry you had to go see Nanu.” 

“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs. “I have you. I’m not jeopardizing that for some loose cash.” 

He can feel her smile against his collarbone. “Yeah, we’re gonna be fine.” 

“Yeah.” 

Ash aches all over. That means he’s okay to stop. If only Kap were here to spar with him, too, to let off the lingering energy. 

He can’t generate any blue from his fingers. Good. 

He reracks the fifty-pound dumbbells and collapses on the gym floor, staring at a poster of Professor Kukui. The Masked Royal. Whoever it is. 

It was more fun when he didn’t know who it was. It was more fun when Ash thought Kukui was the coolest person on the planet. Now, he’s imperfect, like anyone else. Different than when Ash first met him. 

So’s he, he supposes. But still. Kukui’s aura has soured with false words and lies and stress.  

It’s been three days since Burnet left for Unova. Ash begged to go with her, which Kukui shut down— You’re in school now. You can’t just pack up and leave anymore. Which he knows, obviously. It used to be fun to stay in one place, when Kukui was the coolest person on the planet and everything was new and novel. 

Now he knows the pattern of the waves, knows the seasons and way the rain pours down. He knows Kukui is fallible, that Burnet is sick with something medicine won’t cure. He knows he can’t help anymore, couldn’t help even if he tried. 

“Pika?” 

Ash looks toward him as he trots up to his heaving torso, curling up next to him. 

“I’m okay, just thinking.” He rests a hand on Pikachu’s head and pets gently. 

He’s unimpressed. “Pi.” 

“Shut up.” 

Pikachu nuzzles further into him. “Ka-chu.” 

“I just gotta keep moving, right?” Ash says, mostly to himself. “Just gotta keep moving, do what I can.” 

“Pika.” 

“You’re so right,” he says. He does need to slow down a little. 

“Pi-kachu, pi.” 

“Don’t be worried. I’m fine.” 

He gets up on shaking legs and stalks out to his car. It’s a short drive. Ash often wonders how Kukui managed to hide Masked Royal from everyone, from him , when it felt like they were always hanging out together. 

He’s just a good liar. 

Ash pulls the keys out of the ignition with a huff. God, it’s gonna feel good to collapse into the couch. He wonders if Kukui made dinner yet—there are probably leftovers from last night, at least. Ash isn’t complaining. He’s starving.  

He shucks his shoes off in the entryway and starts eyeing the fridge immediately. “Home!” He yells.

There’s no response, other than the pokemon who trot up to him. Hm. Maybe Kukui’s in the basement. But that can wait. He opens up the fridge and grabs the tupperware, taking forkfuls of cold spaghetti to his mouth. 

He chews just enough to duck his head down the stairs and ask, “Professor?” 

Nothing. Huh. Maybe he went out. Ash goes back to the kitchen counter to see if there’s a note he missed—no. 

Okay, this is officially weird, so Ash decides to let loose a teeny-tiny bit of aura and oh, he’s here, he’s outside in the backyard. Cool. Maybe he’s with his pokemon or something. Ash trots over to the backdoor and shoves another forkful into his mouth. 

He pushes the screen door open, careful not to hit the Professor, who’s sitting on the steps and staring at something. “Hey.” 

He jolts in surprise. He’s holding a bottle of whiskey—was. It splashed all over the sand. 

He’s never seen Kukui drink, but he supposes it’s not necessarily unnatural. He’s a grown man, and he’s under stress. 

“Hey, kid,” he says after a long pause. He swallows visibly, then smiles. “You’re home early.” 

“Yeah, Kap was on call, he had to go to work, so I just went home.” He holds out the fork and tupperware container of spaghetti to him. “Want some?” 

“I’m alright for now, thanks,” he says. His smile has turned very, very tight. 

“Um,” Ash tries not to look to the whiskey bottle. “Sorry, I forgot to text and tell you I was headed home—” 

“No, it’s okay. You just startled me,” Kukui says. 

They stare at each other for a moment. 

“Did you do your homework?” Kukui finally asks. 

Crap, he forgot about the damage calculation p-set. “Not yet.” 

He swallows again, plastic smile back on. “Alright, well, when you finish, we can watch the Johto League. Sound good?” 

“Yeah, sounds great.” 

“Okay. I need to make a phone call, so I’m gonna be out here, alright?” 

“Cool. I’ll be inside.” 

He finishes the spaghetti. He does the p-set. Kukui comes in an hour later, looking distinctly distressed, but Ash knows if he tries to check in on him with aura, his fingers will probably glow, and that’ll 1) let Kukui know he read his mind and 2) break his pencil. So he doesn’t. 

They watch the time-delayed broadcast of the Johto League. They text goodnight to Professor Burnet in the family groupchat. Then they go to bed. 

Lana has a habit of coming over to the restaurant around six AM to get food and see Mallow before school. At least, Mallow figures that’s why she comes over. 

She can hear her dad from the apartment above the restaurant. “Lana’s here!” 

“Coming!” She puts the finishing touches on her makeup and trots down the stairs, lugging her backpack with her and checking the time on her phone. Six-oh-two. She’s always on time. 

Lana’s waiting for her, sitting at the bar with a gentle smile on her face. “Hi.” 

Beautiful. She’s beautiful. She’d like to say it. Hey, beautiful. Morning, beautiful.

“What would you like?” She says instead. 

Lana ponders it for a moment. “Spam fried rice?” 

“You got it.” She quickly gathers the leftover rice from yesterday’s dinner service that she keeps for this purpose, washes her hands, and gets to chopping up spam and cracking eggs. “Dad, you want some?” 

He smiles from where he’s flicking on lights, getting ready for the lunch service already. “Sure, honey.” 

It’s not hard to throw this together. She can do it without any real thought—oil in the pan, in goes the garlic, in goes the spam. So she can make idle conversation. 

“How was the homework last night?” 

“What, you didn’t do it?” She laughs. 

“Nah.” 

“Mallow!” Her dad admonishes. 

“It was optional,” she lies. 

“But—” 

“Dad. I’m not going to college. It’s fine.” 

“I’m not fighting with you with your friend around.” He puts his hands up, but he’s smiling a little. “Gotta head back upstairs. Lana, if I don’t see you go, have a good day at school.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she says politely. God, she’s so cute. 

“You, on the other hand.” Mallow points her wooden spatula to Lana. “You gotta keep those grades up if you’re going for marine bio at UAH.” 

“Not a problem. I’ll cheat off Lillie.” 

They laugh. It’s all bullshit. Lana’s just as brilliant as Lillie—she just doesn’t have the wealth and prestige behind it. 

No. She’s always been humble. Another thing she loves about her.

She plates the rice, careful to place not-too-much green onion on Lana’s serving and too much on her own. 

“Cheers,” she says.

“Speaking of,” Lana murmurs, even though her dad is definitely out of earshot, “This is good, thank you. How are the plans for the afterparty going?” 

“Thanks,” she beams. “And coming along. I need to get ‘Ulu to get stuff for us tomorrow, but we should be ready by Saturday.” 

“Are you gonna have people from Melemele High over?” 

“For sure. We’re having an honest-to-God house party,” she says, grinning. “Hau’s already told me there’s, like, at least twenty people coming.”  

Lana grins, too. But Mallow’s grinning because she knows that’s gonna be their night . Her dad tends to spend the weekend with his new girlfriend, so the restaurant is gonna be all hers to rage in. ‘Ulu’s bringing plenty of handles and weed to last her ‘til graduation. People she’s never met before are coming. And she and Lana are gonna make out.

It’s gonna be great. 

“Done?” She says towards Lana’s empty plate.

“Done.” 

“Hi,” Ash says, all bright even though he’s clearly in the shed at his school where he always takes their phone calls. 

He steals away during his lunch period to say goodnight to him every night. Anyone would fall in love with that. 

“Hi,” Clemont says back. It’s dark in his room, the light of the phone illuminating his pale skin. “How’s your day going?”

He smiles, so brilliant against his tan skin. “Better than the last couple days. Yours?”  

“Good.” Clemont’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yeah, fine. I did really well on my Fluid Mechanics midterm.” 

“Good. Knew you would,” he says. “Bonnie?”  

“She’s good. You wanna talk to her? She’s probably still awake.”

“No, I…” Ash gulps visibly. “I called to ask you a question.” 

Clemont cocks his head. This ought to be good. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Um.” He shakes out his dark hair suddenly—a nervous tic he’s always had. “Would you go to prom with me?” 

Clemont fumbles for his glasses, as if he needs them to understand Ash better. “What?”

“Prom. It’s this Unovan thing where—”  

“I know what a prom is, Ash.” 

“Okay, well, will you be my date?”  

Date. Date . Oh my God. 

“Um. Yeah. Yes, yeah.” 

“Good!” Ash beams , as if he actually likes Clemont or something. “Awesome! Um! I’ll pay for your plane ticket—”

“When is it?” 

Ash turns back to being bashful. “Uh. This Saturday.”

“This Saturday—Ash , that’s three days from now.” 

“I know!” He smiles again, then it falls abruptly. “Are you busy?” 

Yes , he should say, because he is . He has another exam on that following Monday, and he has to take Bonnie to ballet class, and he has to open the Gym for challengers, of course. 

But. 

“No, I’m not. I can go.” 

“Yay! Okay, well, I already looked up flights and I think you can… ” 

Ash keeps talking, but Clemont doesn’t really comprehend. He sees the way Ash’s mouth moves over words, hears his accented tongue. The curve of his eyes. The permanent slight sunburn over his nose and cheeks. 

“...haven’t told Kukui and I think he won’t be thrilled so I’m gonna get you a hotel room, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” comes out of his mouth without any thought. 

“Awesome. Awesome! Well, I gotta go, I’ll call you in the morning?”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay! Okay, bye!”

It clicks off. 

He doesn’t sleep.

Rachel had been sleeping in Daveed’s bed on base when Nanu called. 

He was somber. “Rachel, I’m sending you an address. You better get down here. In uniform.” 

She sped down there in her patrol car, lights and sirens blasting, to an address off Route Seventeen. A set of apartments sticks out in the rain, white siding reflecting red and blue lights. 

There’s police tape everywhere. Detectives. The press. Rachel’s shoulder aches with the familiar sight. 

But instead of her laying down on the apartment floor, Rachel finds the man who’d come to her police station just four days ago, the man filling the Po Town station with paperwork for twenty years. His bleach-blonde hair is stained scarlet with a bullet wound in the back of his skull that the M.E. is examining. 

“Chief.” He’s kneeling over Guzma’s body with a wounded look on his face. “What the hell happened here? Didn’t we have officers—” 

Nanu just shakes his head, points to three body bags already zipped up.

“Shit,” she exhales. “Shit .” 

Looker, conversing with the other detectives, joins their trio, expression stern. “We need to move. Quickly.” 

They do so, sprinting through the rain to the patrol cars. 

“Why is he sparing us?” Rachel can’t help but ask. “ Why? ” 

“Because we’re fun to play with,” Nanu growls. “But not for long.” 

Chapter Text

The air was sweet. The darkness was thick. The silence was bliss. 

“I killed your Interpol friend,” Gioivanni purrs. “Killed Jameson. He was starting to get on my nerves, asking too many questions. I almost forgot he was a fucking spy.” 

Nanu startles from his light sleep. He doesn’t dare to say anything. 

“But I learned something interesting. I had a little… conversation with him before I shot him. Sounds like you were supposed to have ended your assignment a year ago.” 

Nanu’s grateful for the darkness. It prevents Giovanni from seeing his expression. 

“You love me, don’t you?” 

“I do.” He swallows. “I do.” 

The ringing of the phone manages to make Kukui rise out of his stupor. Barely. It vibrates enough to knock his phone off the bedside table with a thunk. 

Lei startles awake from her bassinet. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. 

He realizes, as he reaches down to grab the phone and nearly falls, that the world is still a little blurry. He throws up a little in his mouth, the taste of bourbon coming with it. And God damn it, it’s Hala. 

“‘Ello?” he answers. Crap, he sounds drunk, too. 

“Kukui. Have you seen the news?”

“News—no?” He checks the clock—it’s ten-thirty. Thank God it’s a school holiday. But he said he was going to be at the League office at nine… “Why, whaz’s…” 

“Are you…Son, are you drunk?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, sobering up, then bullshits, “Just…not feeling great. What’d you call for again?” 

“I…”  

Hala has always been careful with his words. But he was always quick with a response, too, as expected by the leading spiritual leader of the country. 

“Guzma is dead, son.”

The world comes to a dead standstill. Kukui’s no longer morning-drunk. He’s not married to a depressed woman, has no baby, has no boarder with ancient superpowers, has no jobs. 

No. He’s seventeen again. 

“What?” 

“Yes. They…Nanu has ruled it a murder.”  

Fuck. Fuck, Giovanni, he ratted him out. For Ash.  

For him . 

“I…” He gulps. “I don’t…” 

“I know, I know. I—” Hala pauses. “His parents have not been in contact with him in quite some time. They inquired whether you and I could assist with the funeral and with his belongings.” 

“I haven’t had a full-sentence conversation with him in fifteen years.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat, crackly over the phone. “I…figured as much.” 

His mind is…blank. He doesn’t register the disappointed tone in Hala’s voice, the long silence after. All he hears is the AC, static all over. 

His head hurts. 

“Look, uh,” he tries to be helpful. “What about Plumeria?” 

“She was to be my second call.”  

“I…” He feels so foggy . “I’ll help out, yeah. I just—there’s a lot going on right now. But yes. Yeah.” 

Hala doesn’t say anything for a good while. 

“Kukui,” he says, finally. “I know you’re busy, but…would you come to officiate at the dojo for me on Sunday? You don’t have to come to service tomorrow, I’d just…like to see you, son. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t—” 

“I do. I don’t want to have to pick you up from the hospital again. Just let me see you so I can know for sure.”

And maybe he’ll allow an old man that.

“I’d like that.” 

Before he even hangs up the phone, he’s breaking out the Jim Beam. And he drinks, and drinks, and pukes, and pukes, until his chest tingles and his brain feels like it’ll explode. 

Lei stays quiet. 

Ash lets the pokemon out and goes to the basement as soon as he comes back from the gym, expecting Kukui to be working on lesson plans or a paper or whatever he does, with Lei at his side. 

Instead, he finds Kukui passed out on the couch, his phone alarm labeled Feed Lei going off. His aura is dulled, blurry. 

He’s drunk. Kukui is drunk, sleeping. 

Lei, on the other hand, is awake, vocalizing intermittently. She’s hungry. Ash momentarily wonders how long the alarm has been going off. 

He shuts it off to let Kukui sleep—clearly, he needs it—and takes Lei into his arms. 

“Shh-shh-shh,” he murmurs. “Hi.” 

She doesn’t squirm at all, quiet and serene now that Ash is holding her. Thank God, his aura’s working as it should be now that he’s beat it to death. His arms do tremble a little bit while he’s holding her. He’ll just have to eat with her, and everything will be okay. 

He warms up the milk Burnet had prepared ahead of time, humming to himself, making sure it’s not too hot by pouring a little on his wrist. Lei takes it eagerly, and Ash decides to just flop down on the couch. 

He wonders what Burnet’s doing in Unova. She’s from Striaton—Ash hasn’t been there in years. He wonders if he’s passed by her house at some point. He wonders if she was there while he was, if they could have met earlier. 

He misses her. Maybe he should just call her. 

He rigs up his phone to the TV and calls, and she picks up on the first ring. 

“Ash! Hi!” She says, slightly breathless. There’s motor oil smudged over her face and she’s holding multiple tools in between her fingers—a wrench, a screwdriver, and…well, that’s all he recognizes. “I was just about to call Kukui. You okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, we’re fine,” he says. “Wave, Lei.” 

She just blinks. Yeah, she’ll get it eventually. Burnet gets this twisted look on her face, like she might cry. 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” he says, urgently changing subjects. 

“Well, I just closed up the shop, but I’m still working. Wanna see?”

“Yeah, for sure. I forget you’re a car mechanic sometimes.” 

“Not really anymore. I’m pretty rusty,” she grumbles, then flips the camera to show off an old-timey sports car—yellow. “Here she is, ‘67 Camaro SS. Looking good, right?”

“Looks dope. Are you gonna bring it back home?” 

“Ha, no. It’s for a client.” She looks at the camera, then sets down all her tools. “Look, word got to me about…”

“I know. It’s—” Ash doesn’t know what to say. He’s been trying not to think about it all morning after Officer Rachel told him. “Terrible, and I feel terrible. It’s so my fault.” 

“Oh, honey, no,” she says. “In no world has any of this been your fault. I’m sorry you’ve been subjected to all of it.”

“‘S not fair,” he agrees simply, because it’s true. There’s nothing much to say anymore after months of complete, utter shit . 

“It really isn’t.” She sighs, rubs her brow, then pulls back when she realizes her hand is covered in grease. “I’m coming back tomorrow. I can’t bear to be away, not when—” 

When you’re in danger, he thinks.

“And! I want to see you for prom. I might not get in in time, but I’ll see you that night. Did you decide on your date?”

He tries to go along with the subject change. “Um, yeah, actually.” 

“It’s Clemont, right?” She grins. “He’s coming to Alola?”

“Yeah,” he admits, whole face flushing up to his ears. Burnet’s appeared on video chat with Clemont a few times, and she loves to pry about his stupid little crush. But Clemont tolerates it, so that’s good enough for him. 

“Aww. I can’t wait to see him in person. He’s staying with us, right?”

“Well, no. I put him up in a hotel.” 

Burnet frowns. “Why?”  

“Well, Professor Kukui, he—well.” 

Burnet’s frown grows deeper, more poisonous. “Did he give you a hard time?”  

“No, no. I just feel like he’s really stressed. I didn’t want to spring it on him last-minute.” Not to mention, he’s been a little…well, out of it. But also snippy. Not a good combo. 

Burnet sighs. “I guess that makes sense. We’ll pay for the hotel—” 

“Professor, I have my own money—” 

“Save it for something fun—” 

“I’m an adult,” he finds himself saying, curt and a touch rude. 

His mother would kill him to hear him use that tone. But she’s not here, because Ash is an adult. 

She pulls away from the camera, head slightly cocked. 

“I’m an adult. It’s fine.” 

Burnet bites her lip in thought, then shakes out her hair and says, “I know you’ve been one for a long time. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to take the pressure.” She smiles, all wobbly. “You’ve seen what it does to us grown-ups.” 

Fair point. 

“I’m glad you’re coming home,” he finally admits. 

She smiles wide then, angst forgotten. “I’m glad to be home.”  

They chitchat for another thirty minutes about nothing. 

“Is Kukui around?” She asks after a while. 

“Last I saw him, he was sleeping downstairs.” 

“Still? Isn’t it past noon in Alola?”

“Yeah, I dunno. He stayed out pretty late last night, I think he was at the lab.” 

“Hm. I texted him earlier about changing my flight and he didn’t respond, so I was wondering. Have him call me when he wakes up, okay?” 

“Sure.” 

“Okay, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay? Send lots of pictures!” She giggles to herself, twisting around in joy. She’s getting more of a kick out of this than he is, and Clemont’s flight will land in an hour. 

“I will,” he assures her. 

“Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” 

The line clicks off. Lei, having fallen asleep, goes with Ash as he heads back downstairs. 

“Professor?” he asks, relatively quiet, peeking his head around. 

Kukui’s in his desk chair, LaTeX open on his monitor. “Hey, Ash, Lei with you?” 

His voice is gravelly, like he literally just woke up, and his hair is down by his shoulders. He…frankly, he looks like a mess. 

Ash holds her up in response, then pivots, “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

He laughs, something unfunny. “Nah, kid, I’m good. Just stayed out too late last night. Thanks for feeding her, I owe you.” 

Not a kid, he holds back. And you’re a liar . “I just got off the phone with Professor Burnet. She said call her?” 

“Oh, okay, sure, I will.” He clicks around some more, then says, “Hey, wanna come to the League office with me? It’s gonna be boring, I have to do paperwork, but I think I could squeeze a three-on-three in if you’d like.” 

Normally, he’d say yes in a heartbeat, like he has many times before. But something compels him to ask, “Is this about Guzma? Because you don’t need to cheer me up, it’s okay.” 

“I…” Kukui’s dumbstruck, eyes wide. “No, it’s not, but we should talk about it—” 

The same something that decided to poke the Ursaring is getting too angry for his liking. His mind is turning blue. “Can’t. I’m picking up Clemont from the airport.” 

“What? Clemont’s here? Doesn’t he live in Lumiose?” 

“Yeah, he’s my prom date.” 

“You…didn’t think to tell me you invited him?” 

“Nah. You got a lot on your plate. Anyway, I gotta go if I’m gonna pick him up.” He passes off Lei to him. “See ya. I probably won’t be back ‘til tonight.” 

Blue. He’s seeing blue. He feels Kukui’s upset emotions—disappointment, slight anger, a guilt as heavy as Lanakila. He feels Lei’s sleep. He feels the pokemon outside, Pikachu’s latent concern that’s been there for the last month. 

His fingers are starting to ache. He turns on his heel without stopping to hear what Kukui has to say in response, then runs out the front door to the beach. 

Before he knows what’s really happening, aura spheres are everywhere. Everything is blue. He swears he hears lightning crack. He blacks out, maybe, nothing is there anymore, he’s not in control. 

He killed Guzma. Giovanni’s coming for him next. Who knows who else he’ll kill in the meantime.

Lightning cracks. Thunder rolls. Waves crash violently, and Ash just lets it come down. 

“ Pika! ” 

He stops short, only because that was a scream he’s heard too many times before. 

“Pikachu!” he yells. “Shit!” 

His vision still isn’t back, but he feels Pikachu right away, crouched in front of him. As his sight slowly clears, Pikachu is battered and bruised. He did that to him.

“Pika,” he wheezes, licking Ash’s hand. 

I’m okay. It’s not your fault, radiates from him. 

But it is. And he runs back home to get a Full Restore, doesn’t say anything to Kukui, and keeps fucking moving, because if he stops to rest and think now, he might never recover. 

At least Rachel didn’t have to commute far for this meeting. They’re all on base, sat at a long conference table underneath the Unovan seal on the wall. 

They’ve been talking for hours now. Strike plans. Personnel. Weapons. This is out of Rachel’s purview of expertise, and it shows. She’s barely spoken a word the whole meeting. 

It hurts to sit in this room, Looker and Nanu next to her as her only comfort. It hurts to know how Alola is still under Unova’s thumb for things like this. And she should know, considering Daveed is literally part of the movement. But this? This feels different. Knowing they’re about to move in on Alolan soil, just because Interpol says so, despite Alola’s so-called independence from Unova. 

It makes her sick, actually. But knowing Giovanni is still alive, killing Alolans as they all sit there, makes her sicker. 

“So it’s settled,” the Unovan general says, snapping her out of her stupor. “Our snipers will move in on Sunday. The Kahuna will draw him into the strike point, and the mission will be complete. Interpol officers and local police will work in intelligence and administration.” 

There are nods around the table. 

“Kahuna, I’m sure you’re well aware of the risks here.” 

Nanu’s jaw is set, but the rest of his demeanor exudes calm. “Of course.” 

“I trust that you have made plans if—” 

He shuts that down. “Plans are made.” 

It’s true. Rachel may not be privy to all of it, but Nanu has allegedly chosen a successor, should he die two days from now. 

Tapu forbid. The thought makes her sick again. They can’t lose their Kahuna at the mercy of the Unovan government. 

“Adjourned, then.” 

She leaves the room in shambles, hidden by her straight back and harsh eyes. 

Clemont would really like to leave. 

Not like, leave leave. It’s already been so nice in Alola—so warm, the climate and Ash. Ash picked him up and spun him around when he picked him up from the airport. It feels right : walking beside him in the streets as he points out little things from his daily life, going to the beach twice before noon. He might be burning up in the cheeks, hinting a permanent blush, but he thinks it’s almost appropriate. 

But now they’re trying on rental tuxes. And Clemont needs to leave . 

“I don’t know,” he whines slightly, feeling so off in a suit. It’s not too big, but he still feels like he’s drowning in the sleeves, and it’s not too small, but he still feels like he’s choking under the bowtie. 

Ash, on the other hand, looks absolutely dashing and perfectly comfortable, despite his more rugged nature. “What, city boy can’t handle a suit?” 

He can’t help but laugh. Ash still likes to tease. No, it’s just you, your eyes on me , he wants to say back. 

“Well, I think you look great. Very handsome,” Ash says instead, and that doesn’t help. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs. He straightens his collar, tries to hold it all in. “You…You too.” 

Very smooth, damn it. 

“Thank you! Not the first time I’ve worn one.” Ash beams, plasticky. “You feel okay in it? Let’s checkout, I wanna get a little more beach time in before we gotta be at the school.” 

He nods, this time a little more hesitant, because Ash seems…off. He’s seemed off all day, but Clemont’s been having too much fun to fuss over it yet. 

He knows it’s been a hard year for him. The whole assassination thing—Clemont doesn’t even want to think about it. But he knows his relationship with the Professors has gotten strained. He hears Ash talk about how Dr. Burnet’s distancing herself from her newborn baby, how Ash is taking care of her. How Dr. Kukui seems short-fused and low. 

Clemont studies their papers at university. These are the renowned minds of the globe in Pokemon science. And, yet, they’re struggling somehow. 

Not to mention Ash’s aura. Greninja seems agitated on a regular basis, which Clemont hasn’t really let Ash in on much because he knows it’ll only upset him and he probably knows anyway. That’s always a bad sign. And whenever Clemont tries to pry, Ash shuts him down. 

He was hoping seeing him in person would clear things up, that he could pry Ash open a little underneath all that stubborn optimism. 

Ash smiles again, something rubbery and fake. He takes off his suit jacket, quickly stripping. 

“Are you okay?” Clemont blurts. 

He turns. “Yeah, why?” 

And the strangest thing happens. Ash’s eyes fill with tears, instantly.

“Ash,” Clemont starts and doesn’t finish, stunned. 

“What the fuck,” he murmurs, quickly swiping them away. “I’m fine. I don’t know why—I’m fine, seriously—” 

Clemont interrupts him with a tight hug, pushing Ash’s face into the crook of his neck. He says nothing, just lets him cry. 

And cry he does. “I— Clem , it’s been so hard .” 

He rubs his back quietly. “Tell me.” 

“The Professors—I don’t know how,” his breath hitches, “how to deal with them. They have these issues—Kukui’s drinking, like, all the time, way too much, and it scares the shit out of me. Burnet hates her baby and they’re fighting about it. And it’s so hard to take care of her alone, especially when I know Kukui is drunk sometimes and denies it.” 

Clemont doesn’t know what to say. He just keeps rubbing circles in his back. 

“And my aura—it’s outta control. I lift weights until I pass out to try to keep it from exploding all the time, and it’s not even working anymore, and I’m so afraid I’m going to—to hurt someone with it. I already have, I—damn it, I hurt Pikachu this morning! And I don’t even know how it works!” 

That is…concerning. 

“And school is ending and I’m failing two classes and I don’t know what I’m gonna do after graduation because I probably can’t stay here but I probably need to and Clemont, Clemont, what the fuck am I supposed to do? ” 

“I don’t know,” Clemont says. “But the first step was to tell someone. Which you just did. And now we can figure it out together.” 

Ash has gotten tearstains on Clemont’s suit jacket. 

He pulls away and picks at the lapel. “I’m gonna have to pay for this now, aren’t I?” He laughs, all wet. 

“Maybe,” Clemont laughs. 

And he pays for that suit. 

Alola everyone, good afternoon, 

Hope you all have enjoyed the school holiday. I know you’re all very excited for North Hau’oli HS’s prom tomorrow, but please remember it is not a PS-sanctioned activity and thus there is no break in our syllabus for it. Due Monday is the status condition P-set and your final proposal for the semester’s research project. I expect your abstracts to be clear, concise, and reflective of the hard work you’ve all demonstrated this year. 

Enjoy the prom—you’ve earned it. But leave some room for work, please! 

– Prof. Kukui. 

Mallow rolls her eyes at the email. Jesus, Kukui just hasn’t let up on them these past couple weeks. Which is strange, considering how… absent he seems in class. He’s constantly taking a phone call. Frequently late for homeroom. 

And Ash is totally tight-lipped about it. Usually the two of them are like peas in a pod, joking around until the bell, or at least cordial with each other. But it seems like they’re…not fighting, but not close anymore. 

Whatever. She’ll do the homework on Sunday, even if she’s gonna be hungover. She sits on the ground in her bedroom and looks over the liquor bottles she’s amassed from ‘Ulu—rum, vodka, tequila, a couple handles each. Should be enough. He bitched about how expensive it was, but she’ll pay him off at a later date. 

For now, though? For now, she’s set. She’s got her dress hanging up—bright pink, tight in all the right places. She’s got her makeup all planned out. She’s picking up Lana from her house at seven-thirty sharp. And she’s hosting the craziest afterparty Alola’s ever seen. 

Saturday passes in another Clemont-shaped blur for Ash. They mostly avoid the Professor—Ash crashes at the hotel with him, sharing a bed in the same way they would at Pokemon Centers sometimes, and hopes Clemont can’t tell how much that excites him. They spend the morning surfing, or at least trying to on Clemont’s part. They spend the afternoon with Clemont coaching Ash on his homework. It’s…pleasant, to be together, alone, like they’re adults on the road again. 

But they have to return at some point to settle all their pokemon at the Professor’s house, since there’s no way Ash is letting them near the afterparty at Mallow’s. 

Thankfully, the Professor is on his best behavior.

“You look great,” Kukui says as Ash heads for the door, Clemont already settled into the Jeep. 

“Thanks,” Ash says. He manages to smile something real. “I’ll be back tonight, probably pretty late, apparently there’s another party at Mallow’s?” 

Kukui laughs. “Sure. Be safe, then. If you need me to pick you up for any reason—” 

“I’ll call you, I know.” 

Ash lets Kukui hug him just for a moment, then he lets go right away.

The drive to the center of the island to Hau’s high school is pleasant. The two of them listen to the radio. The wind whips through Clemont’s blonde curls. The sun is setting, bright orange against the deep green of Melemele’s forests, casting Clemont’s skin in warm tones. 

“You look…amazing,” Ash manages to say once he’s parked the car. 

Clemont had been busy trying to smooth his hair back down again. “Huh?” 

“You do.” Ash clears his throat. “I have a last minute thing for you.” 

He reaches in the back seat for the plastic container—ah, yes. As much as Ash feels lukewarm about Kukui right now, he at least was useful with this.

“For you,” he says quietly, as he pulls the lei out of the box and drapes it around Clemont’s neck. 

Clemont blushes a bright red, stutters a thank-you, and Ash knows he’s done his job. 

They walk in, hand in hand. They join up with the rest of Ash’s friends—and they all look…weird, is what Ash wants to say, because he’s never seen Kiawe dressed up for anything that wasn’t Saturday worship and Sophocles looks good in a suit and the girls seem even more girly and it’s all becoming a little overwhelming. 

The prom itself is a little awkward and not all that fun, especially considering they don’t even go to the school, and they’re all a little infamous from their League performances. The other kids mostly just stare. Hau says hi and chats with Ash about League matters for a customary two minutes, but returns to his date right after. Ash and Clemont don’t know any of these line dances that must be Unovan. Lillie is too fascinated by it all, Kiawe is busy trying to impress Olivia’s cousin, and Mallow, Lana, and Sophocles have all clearly pregamed, so they’re all having a good enough time. But after a while, Ash just separates himself from the group. 

“I’m gonna get some air,” he yells to Clemont over the bumping pop music in the gym. 

“I’ll come with you,” he yells back. 

They sneak out of the gym and head toward the lawn in front of the parking lot. Ash just flops down, no more regard for his suit, and Clemont follows his lead gingerly. 

“Whadja think?” Ash asks. 

“Fun,” Clemont hums. “Loud.” 

“Yeah. I always preferred hanging out like this.” 

He gestures to the sky above them—clear enough for stars, maybe the same stars above them in Kalos. He gestures between them. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” Clemont says shyly in response. “University has been…well, I needed a break.” 

“I’m glad I could give it to you.” 

They sit in silence for a little while longer. That’s the thing about first kisses—they often happen after a lot of awkward waiting. 

So when Clemont takes a shaking hand to cover Ash’s on the grass, and Ash takes his free hand to cup Clemont’s cheek, only then do they move to press their lips together.