Chapter Text
One week after her mother’s burial, deep in the night, Irida decides to leave home.
Not for good, of course. She’s just going to take a walk around the Icelands. Actually, no, her teacher, Gaeric, might catch her and bring her back home – he knows everything about the Icelands, after all. So, she should go to the Coronet Highlands instead. Her mother’s favourite place.
Her mother is dead. She had been a Warden – to Lord Sneasler, who by now was old and greying, his fur mostly dulled. Who had outlived his warden, after the years of poison and bitter temperatures had caught up to her. Whom her mother had devoted her life to, in service to the noble, in service to Almighty Sinnoh.
She, at seven years old, doesn’t know her mother very well. Will never know her mother, beyond the stories the village tells of her. What she does know – is the legacy her mother has left behind. A leader in the clan, courageous and wise. All would hope her daughter would be the same, as a Warden – or even Clan Leader; that Gaeric had been willing to take her under his wing, knowing that the Highlands was no place for a child, was proof of her potential, the elders tell her.
So, she has to study hard; to learn all the old traditions, the prayers and epics of Almighty Sinnoh, to fill in the void her mother’s passing had left. An empty space should not be left so for too long, lest it warps the space around it. But it’s difficult to focus on learning when her mother is dead. She tried! But she can’t even recite the simplest prayer properly, without stumbling over a few words; the elders are disappointed, she knows, from how they look at her sadly when she fails.
In short – being in the village is unbearable. For the memories of rare, precious time with a mother she will never see again. For her failure to live up to her mother’s ideal. For the sadness everyone in the village seems to feel for her. So, she’s going to take a break from the village, her and her one companion – her Eevee, Mata. Simple as that. It is a tenet of the Pearl Clan, after all, to explore the vast space of Hisui. Pulling out her flute, she plays a quick tune, and lets Lord Braviary carry them both to the mountains.
Her mother’s grave is on one of the lower cliffs, marked with a simple carved pole. Laid to rest, where most of her life had been spent. When she arrives, Lord Sneasler is already there, keeping a silent vigil, a few of his kits nearby. For how aged the Noble of the Cliffs is, he is still as vicious as in his youth (or so her mother had told her), and quite capable at killing any threat to himself, or his kits; so, she dares not approach too close. A particularly daring Sneasel scoots up to them, even a distance away from the grave – she recognises this one; one of the strongest kits of Lord Sneasler’s last litter, picky with food and quick to poison anyone she does not like.
While Mata play-fights with the Sneasel, Irida gazes at her mother’s final resting place from afar.
Mother, I’m here. I’m sorry. I keep failing everything that is expected of me. I have not yet become the steward of our vast space that you were.
I wish you were here again. I wish I had spent more time with you. I wish I had learnt more from you.
Why had Almighty Sinnoh taken a life that had been spent in devotion to Them? What was the point of divine judgement, if the good people were the ones being punished?
Here, the Coronet Highlands, is the place closest to the heavens, where Almighty Sinnoh lives. So, she kneels, and she prays, as she has been taught.
Almighty Sinnoh, vast one, there is always a higher reason for that which you will, that we as mortals misunderstand. May you guide me in this vast space, enlighten me, for I do not know –
Why did you kill my mother? She was a good person, and the clan is worse off without her. I cannot achieve what she has done. I keep failing where she would succeed, even though I am the one to inherit her legacy. I don’t know what to do, which direction, in this vast space I should travel.
Font of creation, ruler of space, you are merciful and you gave us the land we live in. Please, give me back my family. Or, if you can’t bring back the dead, please show me the path I should take. Help me learn how to be a leader.
In your name I serve, in your space I dwell.
Her prayers finished, she turns back to her partner. She will have to head back home soon; if the elders find out about her sneaking out, she will be grounded for a long time. She scoops Mata up; the Sneasel she had been playing with chitters, and proceeds to hug her leg tightly.
“Ah!” She flinches, startled. “Little one, we have to head back home right now. I - I can’t bring you along.”
The Sneasel only hugs her leg tighter, almost aggressively. “Sneas!”
“Sneasel, please!” She can already see the sunlight on the horizon, a pale pink glow – had she really been here for such a long time? “I have to get home quickly!”
“Sneas! Sneas!”
The light is fast-growing, as she tries, and fails, to pull her leg out of Sneasel’s grasp. Seemingly far faster than a normal sunrise, in fact. And, unlike a normal sunrise, it seems to be… rapidly expanding towards them?
She is given no time to make sense of this weird not-sunlight, as the light reaches the three of them, consuming them. It clears seconds later, and – they are gone, vanished, without any trace that they had ever been there.
In the morning, the people of the Pearl Clan wake up to find a daughter of theirs gone, with no direction, nothing pointing them at where in the vast space she may have disappeared to. They search, scouring the whole of Hisui for any trace; yet they find none. Even Lord Sneasler, the only witness, is unable to even convey – even understand, what had happened to his favoured heir, nor his late Warden’s kit, nor their friend, the Eevee.
She has been claimed by Almighty Sinnoh, like her mother, they finally decide. Passed into Almighty Sinnoh’s vast space, never to return. She will never see the space where she had once dwelled again; will never know the empty space she herself ended up leaving behind.
But of course, passing from one space to another always harkens a new beginning.
***
It’s summer in Unova – a time of excitement and chaos, families taking their children on trips, beach-goers with their colourful equipment swarming the Yellow Line to Undella Town. Nested in the corner of a subway car, Ingo watches; the people, their Pokémon, the movement of the train. All these are things he needs to take special note of.
He’s most certainly familiar with the subway in general, taking it whenever he has any opportunity, but now he has to focus on the details. Which lines have the most ridership? Which stations do the most people board, or alight, at this time? Which rolling stock is the easiest for people to traverse? All crucial details, if he is to provide a satisfactory analysis of the state of the Unova Subway – and in turn, to present a comprehensive proposal for its renewal.
It was an idea he had always had in mind; combining his – and his brother’s – two special interests; trains, and battling. Battles on trains were not unheard of; some dire circumstances absolutely called for Pokémon to be involved, and there had been a few aristocrats in the past, perhaps unjustly described as eccentric, who had decided that they would quite enjoy these experiences in their own private train cars. Oddities, these battles had been regarded, for with the technology back then, it was impractical to modify train cars to also serve as battling arenas. But that was then – and by now, technology had greatly improved. Many places it would be unthinkable to host battles in back then, such as restaurants and museums, now boasted battle challenges of their own, with their own compact, safe arenas – so why not trains?
Of course, this was only a dream of his; there wasn’t much a lone young trainer – or, well, two trainers, as Emmet was of the same mind as him where this was concerned – could do to convince the UTA to make such a major departure from their standard services. That is, until they weren’t just two young trainers.
He knows they’re fortunate to have these chances; to be able to travel the world as trainers, taking on Gym Challenges right and left, easily clearing Champion qualifications before entering college. He would admit that being raised in a family of top battlers definitely had something to do with it. Still, it was a surprise to be handed yet another premier opportunity – a position he had been seeking, yet never thought would exist in Unova. Battle Towers had been a wildly successful venture across Ransei, from Sinnoh to the Sevii Islands – some had even undergone expansions into Battle Frontiers, featuring even more unique battle challenges in their various facilities, all immensely popular among top trainers. Unova, of course, was eyeing this idea; besides the Gym Challenge, there wasn’t much else for trainers to do here, which was why many trainers ultimately left for different regions to continue their training.
Which was how he woke up one morning a few months ago to an email from the official League Association, inviting him to be Unova’s first Facility Head, for all his various battling qualifications. Emmet had also received a similar email; apparently, the intention had been for the two of them to compete for the position, so as to select the better battler between them both as the sole Facility Head – but of course, they were twins; they could – would always be a two-car train, and neither was willing to deny the other that prestigious position. In the end, they’d written to the LA to request for them to both hold the position jointly, working together on whatever that Battle Facility would be. Twins were extremely marketable in Unova, after all, and they had different – but still complementary – battling skillsets.
And with that approved, they now held the authority to construct whatever facility they wished, that would best serve the battling needs of Unova’s trainers. Within reason, of course. And it just so happened that Unova’s subway system was showing its age, battered and run-down after a century of service, growing steadily less popular with the general public – wouldn’t it be nice if there was a strong reason to upgrade it? To entirely renew it, breathing new life into that which had once been the heart of Unova’s transport system? And so, Project Battle Subway was finally in operation – now, the rest of the journey was convincing stakeholders that it would be a success.
He will make the ideal proposal; one that shows that he and Emmet have thought this out, went down every track to figure out the intricacies of their design. A design that will be most convenient and enticing for trainers and public alike, offering transport and entertainment alike. With that in mind, and pages of handwritten notes from this journey, he alights at Lacunosa; the Yellow Line is definitely a potential battling service line. Next to monitor is the Light Green Line; though, he will have to take the Teal Line to connect to the Light Green Line near Village Bridge.
The walk between the Yellow and Teal platforms is not far. Though, by some misfortune, he barely misses the Teal train, just by less than a minute. It is no setback, though, considering he only needs to wait a few more minutes for the next one. As he walks down the platform, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a sudden flash of pink light. A move from a battle, perhaps? That would be quite serendipitous for him; while currently, battling on the platforms is discouraged, it would be immensely useful to have a first-hand example of a battle during the transit process.
When he turns towards the direction of the light, however, there is no fighting to be seen, no Pokémon out and in the heat of battle. The area is almost empty, save for a few figures on the ground. Disappointed, he moves to return to his original tracks – only to stop, as he fully processes what he is seeing, and the shock finally hits.
The motionless form of a young child, curled around a Pokémon.
Immediately, he rushes towards the child; as he approaches, he recognises the Pokémon in their arms as a very young Eevee; and the presence of a strangely purple Sneasel, also unconscious, beside them. Ignoring all the emerging questions about this odd Sneasel, ignoring the sheer panic at seeing an unconscious young passenger, he kneels down beside the child.
“Hello? Are you alright?” He asks, shaking the child gently. The child’s eyes flutter open – though they appear rather dazed – and they move to push themselves up, visibly struggling.
“Please don’t strain yourself. It’s okay. I’m here to help.” He carefully lifts the Eevee off the child’s torso, before extending a hand to them to pull them up – though, the child does not take it. “Are you alright?”
The child finally seems to focus on him – and jolts, like a Deerling caught in the headlights. With a small squeak, they back away from him slightly, visibly terrified.
“W-who are you? I don’t know you! Y-you’re too close!” They stutter, and he inhales sharply in shock; this child is speaking fluent Hisuian. A dying language in this day and age, that he only barely knows because of his grandparents and a certain family friend.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tries to speak, though it comes out far more broken than he would’ve liked; he hasn’t seen his grandparents in a while. He’s rusty. “Do you speak any Galarian?” He asks.
Judging by the blank look on the child’s face, the answer is no. Though, why would a child with no knowledge of Galarian be unconscious in a rather remote subway station in Unova? “That’s alright. Will try to speak Hisuian, but I am not a native speaker. Apologies for my poor language.”
The child nods, having picked their Eevee back up, now looking at him suspiciously. He continues, “My name is Ingo. I found you unconscious on the floor just now, and was worried. How did you get here?”
The child tilts their head, seemingly lost in thought – before a look of horror dawns on their face. “I – I don’t know! I don’t remember! I’m really sorry!”
They punctuate the sentence with a sniffle, tears quickly filling their eyes.
“No, it’s alright. I’m not angry, just worried.” He reassures them, pulling out a pack of tissues and offering one to them, which they take cautiously. “Do you remember your name, at least?”
The child nods slowly. “My name is Irida. I think.”
“What a beautiful name. You and your Pokémon may need medical attention, so I’ll conduct you to the… healers to look at you, and see if they can find out anything more about your situation, so they know how to help you better.” He helps the child to their feet. It’s certainly clear that they are still scared of him; it is moments like this where he regrets doubling down on his intimidating visage with his dark, morbid clothing.
“Now, young Irida, let us depart for the hospital. All aboard!”
***
Hours were spent waiting at the hospital, getting the Pokémon that had been accompanying Irida fixed up – no one knew what to make of the Sneasel, who apparently had venomous claws, which the nurses working on her had found out the hard way – and trying to figure out where the child herself was supposed to be. He’d had to stay to help interpret between Irida and the medical personnel, though he would’ve done so regardless even without the language barrier, so worried he was.
And it was perhaps a good thing that he was present for all this. For Irida’s situation was turning steadily more baffling.
“There is no existing documentation for this young lady, sir.”
“Nothing? No birth certificates, no medical records – is it possible to check the databases in, say, Sinnoh or Kitakami, where there might be more native Hisuian speakers?”
“We already have. Nothing’s turning up. There haven’t been reports of any missing children matching her profile recently, either.” The nurse says, and sighs. “Of course, it’s entirely possible that a child could live seven years with no documentation at all, but that would mean, for her…”
A terrible state of affairs indeed. Even ignoring how she could have slipped through the cracks in the first place, that she had slipped through – she was effectively stateless. The law would not be kind to her.
“Is there anything that can be done? She shouldn’t be the one to suffer – she’s just a child! With amnesia!”
“I don’t know, sir. Frankly speaking, I’m not a lawyer. But as far as I know, if she’s part of a Unovan family, it’ll be easier for her to obtain legal status here.”
He looks at this young girl – unable to remember anything before waking up in an unfamiliar place, unable to speak a word of the lingua franca. She’s far, far away from her home station, without any direction, without anyone to guide and protect her.
Here, she’s currently fidgeting with some of the hospital’s stuffed toys, while staring, rather confusedly, at the old TV in the room, her posture tense, shoulders hunched tightly. She is seemingly completely unused, in fact, to any modern technology; she had screamed upon seeing a car move earlier as they walked to the hospital, and now still watches the fan in the room with suspicion. She happens to glance back at him, and their eyes meet; she’s still unsure of what to do, if she’s doing the right thing. She’s looking for approval.
He gives her a nod of encouragement. “Relax. You aren’t doing anything wrong. The TV isn’t going to explode. The nurses and I simply have a lot to talk about.” With that, she sags in relief, and turns back to the TV. She’s still skittish and afraid and lost – but finally, after hours of dealing with hospital staff, receptionists and rude fellow patients in the waiting room, she seems to trust him. Wholly, desperately, for in this moment, he’s the only person she has.
And with that, in his heart, the choice is made.
It’s a major decision. It’s a reckless decision. He is just twenty-one years old, just out of college, tiding on battle earnings, only on the tracks approaching – not even having reached a stable station of employment yet.
But how many other people would be willing to help Irida? How many other people were even able to speak to her, in the dying language of old Sinnoh? How many other people would care for her fate?
“I’ve much to look up, then. Much to prepare.”
“You’re planning on adopting her?” The nurse looks at him in surprise. “But you’re barely out of your teens yourself –”
“And that’s old enough to adopt.” Ingo says. “Someone has to be there for her. I do know a few other Hisuian speakers, if I myself am unsuitable, but – she needs someone. I cannot leave her to be punished for her own existence like this.”
“You… are a very noble young man. An idealistic one, even. Adopting a child is hard, and raising one is far harder.”
“I can try. No – I have to try. For her sake.”
“For the sake of a little girl you just met?”
“For the sake of a young child who needs aid.”
***
Ingo reluctantly leaves the hospital alone in the evening; the doctors had been insistent on keeping Irida for the night to try to figure out further what could have caused her amnesia, or if they could recover anything, as if they hadn’t been trying for the last five hours. He was – is still concerned over leaving her in a room to be looked at by strangers overnight, not least as she had also been utterly terrified by the prospect. After repeated reassurance from the nurses and doctors, and a promise that he would return the next morning to pick her up, though, they had both acquiesced. Her Pokémon, as well, would be staying with her; even if she didn’t remember them, they were still visibly a source of comfort for her, not to mention the need to analyse her Sneasel – still a complete enigma to everyone.
So, away from the hospital, he finally checks his XTransceiver, and immediately reels at the fifty missed calls – all from Emmet, all from today. Ah, right, they’d agreed to meet for dinner…almost an hour ago. Oh dear. As another call arrives from his brother, he picks up immediately.
“Ingo, where the fuck are you?! We were supposed to meet an hour ago! And then I kept calling and you didn’t pick up! I was worried that you had gone missing!”
“Good evening to you too, Emmet. Apologies for the delay. I have been wrapped up in a rather serious matter for the last few hours. Which, I must mention, I failed to record any data for the Light Green line, for which I’m sorry –”
“Ingo. Just tell me what happened.” Emmet quite bluntly cuts him off.
“So, I might be of the mind to adopt a child –”
“WHAT?”
“Okay. I perhaps should not have started at that station. Let me explain –” and he does, from finding Irida while in transit, to the hospital visit, to her entire lack of documentation.
“...I know it’s an extremely spontaneous decision, and there will be a lot of legal issues to deal with, but I cannot stand by and let a child suffer in the system. It’s a sudden thing to spring on you, I know, and it will definitely be a track change for our plans for the Battle Subway, of which I will still contribute to, of course, but –”
“Ingo. Ingo. It’s alright. Breathe. I think I understand. A little.” Emmet reassures him. “I know you verrrrry well. I know that you would feel really bad if you didn’t help someone in need. So I understand why you want to adopt this kid.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry – it’s just, suddenly, so much has happened –”
“And if it’s too much, I can help you. I will help you. I am your brother. We are a two-car train. Our combination is perfect. And, I think I will like being an uncle verrrry much.”
He feels himself exhale in sheer relief – and, perhaps, the edges of his eyes are just a bit more damp. “Thank you, Em. From the bottom of my heart. Just what would I do without you?”
“Die, probably.”
“That was a rhetorical question, Emmet.” Even then, he still can’t help but chuckle. Of course. His brother’s here, and so is the rest of his family, and his friends, to help him along the way.
He isn’t alone in this world. And, hopefully, he can provide the same for Irida.