Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Let it be known Dawn was not a morning person. If she could, she’d sleep well past noon. But as it stood, she had too much to do and little time to waste. When she wasn’t surveying, she was training. When she wasn’t training, she was running around doing errands for people.

That, and Staraptor always broke out of his ball to peck her awake if he realized he’d been crammed in the pokéball too long overnight.

But this morning was different.

Ingo, as in Warden Ingo (though she didn’t know of anyone else named Ingo), had been set to arrive at Jubilife Village days ago. He’d been spending more and more time in the Highlands since the onset of winter, claiming he was helping his noble to protect and prepare her brood for the incoming spring. Dawn had even visited a few times, though Sneasler wasn’t exactly keen on letting her too close when the kits were still in their eggs.

They were adorable , but more importantly it meant less time to challenge Ingo to fun battles against his normal team and all the other pokémon he’d somehow accumulated over the span of several months. Unfortunately he only stayed in Jubilife Village for only a few days at a time.

And Dawn just had to go running off to the icelands to study snorunts and their evolutions at Professor Laventon’s request… she just didn’t expect it would take as long as it did, what with the little guys trembling at the sight of her and vanishing into the snow as soon as she approached. Couple that with frequently needing to seek out shelter from snowstorms, and Dawn was not having a great time.

She hurried back to Jubilife Village, clinging onto Lord Braviary with the icy wind cutting into her face and freezing melted snow into her clothes. Neglecting to bring her research to the professor first and foremost, she darted towards the training grounds at the very end of the village heedless of the startled cries following in her wake.

“Ingo!” Dawn tripped over herself, face planting into the chilly sand.

She heard a startled gasp and a boisterous laugh, lifting her head slightly to see Zisu wheezing over her as Ingo approached with a helping hand.

“Miss Akari! Please be mindful of the perilous tracks ahead, less you sustain damage to your cab…” She gripped his hand, allowing him to haul her to her feet with not-so-surprising strength.

Dawn waved him off. “Yeah yeah, I know, but I came here to battle so let’s battle !” She grabbed onto his arms, giving him a fierce shake.

“Wuh, miss Akari!” The man sputtered, but no one came to his rescue. Not even Zisu. In fact, Zisu even shoved Ingo to his side of the battle field.

What a great, wonderful captain. She always understood Akari.

***

Footsteps scuffed the dirt behind her in a slow, leisurely approach. She heard Ingo step beside her, watching him lower himself to the ground from the corner of her eye. She turned to watch as his hand rifled beneath his coat, withdrawing a cloth of white fabric clutched loosely between his fingers.

“Maintenance checks.” Ingo reminded her, extending his hand in offering.

Her heart lifted, warmed with fond appreciation. She grasped the cloth, pulling it away from his hand to dab at the sweat dripping down her forehead.

“Thanks.” She felt a soft smile tug at her lips. “I appreciate it.”

He gave a curt, stiff nod, drawing his arm towards himself and hugging it close to his chest.

“It is my duty to safely conduct passengers to their stations.” He tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes, shading them from view. It didn’t hide the thinly-pressed frown on his face nor the taut set of his shoulders.

Her stomach twisted, the guilt gnawing at her insides. Here she was trying so hard to get home, and yet Ingo couldn’t remember a single thing about himself. Not his family or friends, not even the “strange” turn of phrases he uses so often. He didn’t know if he had a home to go back to, but everything about him screamed familiar in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

“Hey Ingo?” She asked, watching the brim of his hat tip upwards just enough to see the way his eyes snapped towards her. “Where do you think you’re from?”

Concernedly, his eyes lost their intense shine, dulling with a glassy, dazed sort of look only for a brief moment. A rumbled hum escaped him, hand stroking the small beard upon his chin with thought as his gaze shifted away from her.

“I must admit, I am not entirely sure… I know it must be somewhere inexplicably different from our current station. Upon my initial arrival here, the view of Mount Coronet in the distance failed to spark any sort of familiarity within my cab.” His frown deepened, leaning back slightly to watch the clouds pass by overhead.

Dawn decided to do the same, gaze absentmindedly trailing over lazily floating clouds against the bright blue sky. “It’s just, I have an idea of where you could have come from, Ingo.” She finally admitted. “Do you know what a train is? You talk about them all the time.”

She waited for him to say something, anything, but there was just…

Silence.

Worriedly, she tore her gaze away from the sky. Ingo sat frozen, his eyes absent from life. She had to check and make sure his chest continued to rise and fall in time with his breaths.

“...Ingo?”

He blinked, life returning to him. He lowered his gaze, drawing his arms to rest on his knees and clasping his fingers together. He didn’t once look Dawn’s way.

“Ah, my apologies Akari.” He lowered his head. “I’m afraid I derailed again. Trains sound… familiar, as though they are important to me, but the specifics continue to escape me.”

Dawn was really glad Arceus hadn’t seen it fit to hit her with the amnesia hammer, too, when it sent her on this mission. She didn’t know what she would do if she couldn’t remember her mom or her friends.

But then who and what did Ingo leave behind? Surely there was someone out there missing him. His coat and hat had the makings and style of future clothing, his train lingo something she’d expect of a diehard railway fan. Appearing under mysterious circumstances, posing a challenging threat in battles, and being the only warden in all of Hisui to use pokéballs…!

Well, there was not a doubt in her mind. Maybe she didn’t know where he came from, but she knew it had to be some time in the future.

He just looked so sad and lost here, all forgetful and chewed up. Something needed to be done about it at some point.

“If you could go home, hypothetically, would you?” Dawn wondered.

Ingo remained quiet for a moment longer before she saw his breath hitch with a sharp inhale. She frowned, straightening herself out, but he did nothing but stare into space for a moment before turning to face her for the first time in their entire conversation.

“I am not sure. Hisui is all I can recall, and I have made many dear friends here… but the idea of abandoning my home station strikes through my engine with vengeance. I know there must be something precious there, if only I could just remember…” he trailed off, his voice high-strung with strained emotion.

He sagged, putting his weight on his arms resting upon his knees, head hung like a puppet with cut strings. “Ah, apologies… you shouldn’t have to listen to an old man’s problems.” He hid his face behind his hat.

Dawn shook her head. “Don’t be sorry! I’m the one who asked, y’know?” She cracked a smile, rising to her feet. “I’ll see what I can do to get you home, just you wait! I’m not going to abandon you here when I might know when you’re from!”

Was it a lot to drop on him all at once? Maybe. But Dawn couldn’t stand looking at his sad face anymore. There needed to be some light in those eyes, brimming with hope and joy! She’d caught glimpses of it in their battles, but there was always something missing about Ingo.

Like he was incomplete, a puzzle with a piece missing.

She knew what she was doing tonight.

“Hey Ingo, you’re going back to the Highlands today right?” She switched the subject, rising to her feet with a hand extended for him.

His chilly, calloused hand wrapped around hers. “Yes, Lady Sneasler needs me to look after her kits.”

Dawn tightened her grip, pulling him to his feet with much less resistance than she’d initially expected. She blinked, taking in the way his big coat draped over his lanky frame.

…he was a lot lighter than she thought a full-grown man was supposed to be. She bit her tongue to keep herself from commenting on the matter, but it was just another reason added to her list of why she wanted to get Ingo home. He did not look healthy.

Man needed to see like fifty different doctors, she’d say that much.

“Well, we should get some food in you before you leave! Come on, Beni can’t stop me from bringing guests to the Wallflower… have you ever tried his potato mochi? It’s pretty good, I won’t lie. And don’t worry, I have plenty of money to spare. Don’t you even think of refusing!”

She dragged the poor guy all the way to the Wallflower with her, ignoring his protests and continuously ordering more potato mochi until he was picking at his plate.

Then, later, when the sun began to descend from the afternoon sky, she waved him goodbye at the gates as he departed from Jubilife Village.

“Bye Ingo! Safe driving!”

The odd looks sent her way rolled right off her back, and she watched until his hat disappeared over the horizon.

***

That night, curled up on her futon beside a snoozing Typhlosion, her hand curled around her ArcPhone. The screen lit up, the only light in her dark room. Her eyes squinted against its brightness, thumb swiping away from the map.

There wasn’t much on the phone, save for the map and a task tracker, but she’d somewhat recently uncovered “hidden” apps…

Such as text messages, not that Arceus ever deigned to respond.

She gave a soft chortle at the sight of the past few messages she sent. Arceus never responded to her through text, but it did in fact once appear in her dreams telling her not to do something stupid she told it she would do.

It cares somewhere in that big ol’ legendary heart of its.

Tapping the bar at the bottom of the screen, her thumbs flew across the keyboard. Thankfully she’d also figured out how to silence the damn thing, so the tapping did little to rouse Typhlosion from his snoring slumber.

***

There wasn’t really much else she could say, figuring she got the point across pretty well. She shut the phone off with a soft click, setting it on the floor next to her. With a yawn and drooping eyes, she wrapped her arms around Typhlosion and buried her face into his fur.

She hoped she didn’t have to leave Ingo here.

***

Chapter Text

Elesa and the depot agents told him it would be a bad idea, but Emmet refused to listen. They didn’t know what they were talking about. Emmet was perfectly fine.

The day began as it usually did. He woke up, fed the pokémon, and got ready for work. Going into the station, he ignored the worried looks thrown his way. Agent Cloud opened her mouth, only to close it soon after, much like a magikarp. She did not approach him.

He passed by the green line station. Commuters boarded, but its battle functions remained defunct with no subway boss to man it. He ignored it, keeping his eyes straight ahead even through the hustle and bustle of Gear Station. He ignored Ingo’s pre-recorded voice booming over the intercoms.

Safety checks done and passengers boarding the lines, Emmet stepped onto the doubles train. His hands rested at his sides, body swaying with the motions of the train gliding along its tracks.

Emmet didn’t count the battles he’d won, nor the amount of times he repeated each script. It all felt empty, his heart not fully in it. His pokémon, too, struggled to give it their all. He imagined himself on the multi lines, Ingo offering encouragement to winners and losers alike, their teams working in sync. A perfect combination, save for his brother’s love of Earthquake.

There was a gaping space at his side, cold and bitter. He trekked through the station on his lunch break with only one set of footsteps. Eating lunch in their— his office alone, no chatter to fill the agonizing silence, the desk pushed up beside his long since abandoned and just as pristine as the day he’d left it.

He had survived five years without Ingo, maintaining his cab and sticking to routine so that when Ingo returned, he could recognize Emmet. It had gotten easier as the years flew by, but this one day shouldered a weight of which none other could compare.

The half-eaten sandwich was set back into his lunch box, gaze trailing towards the wall.

A calendar. December. A date circled in red, five days before Delibird Day, marking the fifth year Emmet has spent without Ingo. It was today.

Propping his elbows onto his desk, his head fell into his open hands.

…

Bzzt . His xtransceiver buzzed on the desk.

…

Bzzt .

Bzzt .

Reluctantly, Emmet peered out from between his fingers. His xtrans screen lit up as another message came in with a bzzt , Elesa’s name popping up in the notifications.

For a moment, he considered ignoring her. It was verrrry tempting to continue brooding in silence, but he found himself frowning at the thought.

Elesa was probably worried about him.

Reaching out, he unlocked the device with his thumbprint and navigated to the messaging app.

He gave a soft smile, fitting the device onto his wrist. His heart warmed, watching another message come in, her concern touching. The feeling was only soured by the memory of his earlier vehement rejection of her suggestion.

Emmet had always taken at least a few days off before, during, and after the anniversary of Ingo’s disappearance. He’d thought that since he had been getting better, that it would be okay this year.

Evidently not. He felt much worse now than he did that morning.

Emmet stood, powering the xtransceiver off with a click . He grabbed his lunch box, tucking it under his arm as he pushed his chair back into place with the seat beneath the desk. He marched towards the door, pausing beside Ingo’s empty desk.

His gaze locked onto the picture frame left on its top. Ingo’s smiling eyes stared back at him, hand tipping the brim of his hat over his face as he so often used to do. Emmet’s face continued to age, but Ingo’s remained ever youthful. Ever kind, caring, and unhaunted by his absence.

Surely he, too, struggled on his own somewhere out in the world… wherever he was. But Emmet’s only memories of him were of easier, kinder times. Times when Emmet was one of two, and the two had little else to worry about besides surviving the workday together and paying bills on time.

Ingo, in his mind, would never change.

Emmet swallowed the hard lump in his throat, but said nothing to the picture as he turned and left, coat flaring out behind him and door shutting with a resolute click .

What he did, what he said, always the same.

The smell of buttery popcorn wafted through the apartment, Archeops hopping at Elesa’s heels as she brought the bowl out to the living room. Emmet chortled to himself, kettle screaming with a sharp weeeeeeeee .

“Ah!” Emmet lifted the kettle off the stove, stepping in front of the pair of mugs set out on the counter with tea bags already set inside.

With the precise shifting of his hand, a stream of boiling water poured from the kettle’s spout into the waiting mugs below. He found himself hit with a wave of a lavender chamomile, steam billowing into his face.

Zebstrika mug for Elesa, Joltik mug for Emmet.

The chandelure one remained hidden in the back of the cabinet.

“Emmet, Sweetie!” Elesa called from the living room over the sound of the popcorn bag tearing open. “Mind putting extra honey in mine?”

Emmet cleared his voice with a cough, inhaling a sharp breath of air. “Yup!” He called back, as loud as he could, voice cracking with the strain. 

“Thank you!”

He rifled through the cabinet, withdrawing the jar of honey. Raw combee honey from route 12. It had a sweet, floral scent. Verrrry delicious. He made sure to lather the dipper in lots of honey, watching it slowly flow down into Elesa’s mug. It was soothing to watch, his eyelids drooping at the sight.

It’d been a long day of mostly crying after getting off work early and eating lunch with Elesa.

“Emmet, you good in there?” Elesa called out to him.

He struggled to muster the energy to call back. “Mmm… yup!” He gave a soft chirp.

The apartment grew quiet, save for the sound of approaching footsteps and pokémon munching on their snacks in the living room.

The footfalls grew louder, approaching from behind.

“...I think that’s enough honey, sweetie.”

Emmet startled, watching the honey continue to flow like molasses into the mug. How long had he been standing there, watching the golden stream of sweet honey delight? With the smooth twist of his fingers, the remaining honey caught onto the sides of the dipper.

Elesa gently pried it from his grip.

“You look tired. How about I finish up with your tea? I’ll let you be in charge of what we’re watching tonight.” His friend suggested.

“Mmm… ok.” Emmet reluctantly pulled himself away, stepping out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. The only light cast was from the wide-screened TV itself.

Archeops was sniffing at the popcorn left on the coffee table. “Archie… don’t think about it.” Emmet rested his hands on his hips, the pokémon staring up at him with a startled stare.

There was not a thought behind those eyes.

From his spot draped over the back of the couch, Eelektross warbled out a scolding. Archeops slowly lowered himself onto the floor, continuing to send the bowl of popcorn longing glances as he marched his way over to the bowl of berries left out for the pokémon.

Emmet gave a fond shake of his head, dropping himself onto the soft cushions of Elesa’s couch. It sucked him in, warm and inviting. Wriggling a bit to get comfortable, he grabbed the remote and began browsing through Webflix. Thankfully Emmet and Ingo had their own separate profile from Elesa’s, so he didn’t need to sweep through her many recommended telenovelas and fashion shows… among rhyhorn races, for some reason.

But nothing quite caught his eye, resting his cheek on his palm as he flipped through genre after genre.

At least, until he spotted it.

‘The First Galarian Railroads: Coalossal and the Steam Trains.’

It had always been Ingo and Chandelure’s favorite documentary. Emmet hadn’t even glanced at it in years .

Emmet frowned, eyes falling upon the pokéball resting beside the popcorn.

Chandelure was still inside, cooping himself up. The pokémon had some good days, some bad. He and Emmet were working together to try and minimize the bad. But the anniversaries never got better.

…he hoped Chandelure was listening from within his ball. Perhaps the age old documentary would provide him some comfort, too. Memories of a better time.

“Oh hey, I remember this one.” He heard Elesa say as she approached, sitting beside him.

“Mhm. Ingo’s favorite.” Emmet selected the documentary, setting the remote aside.

A warm, toasty mug was pressed into his hands. The heat seeped into his palms, staving away the cold in his fingers. His face grew warm with a waft of steam.

The two of them settled in. Emmet picked at some popcorn while he waited for his tea to cool somewhat, watching the introduction to the film. He forgot how soothing the warm, brassing voice of the Galarian narrator was. His words began to lull into a distant chatter.

Emmet only got a few sips into his tea, tongue met with a strong herbal flare, when he felt his head begin to droop into the soft cushion behind.

With pokémon cuddled up on all sides, Elesa beside him, a calming voice talking over images of trains, and a comfortable heat in his hands, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes for a brief moment…

Chapter Text

There was a soft, warm weight settled on his stomach and one of his arms was draped around something large and fuzzy. His back was pressed into a soft, cozy cushion, his other arm hanging off the side and fingertips grazing a carpeted floor. One of his legs was kicked up over some kind of curved object, hard wood beneath plush fabric, the other sprawled out and hanging off the ledge too.

Returning to sleep was tempting, cushy fabric sucking him in and inviting him to continue resting. It called to him with a comfortable allure.

…

But something wasn’t right.

He opened his eyes to a white popcorn ceiling shrouded in darkness. The lights were turned off. It was familiar. He knew this place. There was not an ounce of fear struck through his heart as he gazed up at it. He knew where he was.

Yet, at the same time, he didn’t .

What was it called? Who owned this place? Those beige walls were so familiar , but he couldn’t for the life of him remember why .

With a frown, he shifted. The weight on his stomach chittered in displeasure, his gaze drawn towards the large, yellow spider.

Galvantula , his mind supplied.

Her (and he wasn’t quite sure how he knew she was a her, but it felt right ) big, blue eyes blinked open, staring at him with nothing but pure love and affection held in her fond gaze.

“Apologies…” he muttered softly, gently sitting himself up. For some reason, his shoulders were set in a taut line, not a slouch to be felt. His back felt good , free of age old aches and pains. Galvantula crawled off of him with a soft huff, scaling up the side of the wall and finding a ceiling corner with an already hanging web to hunker down on instead.

Swinging his other leg over the side of the couch without even a single pop in the knees, he planted both into the carpet. Soft, slightly tufty. He stood with a stretch.

Sinnoh , he felt great.

He took a moment to sweep his gaze around the apartment, curious. No one else was in sight, save for Galvantula. Some pokéballs were set onto a table nearby, and the large, dark glass screen was dark and empty of life.

But as comfortable as the environment made him feel, it begged a lot of questions. Questions, such as “how did he end up here?” or “where even was here?”

It was then that he noticed there was a good amount of noise outside. His eyes caught on a pair of curtains, stepping around a large table to investigate.

His hand touched fabric. It was then that he realized his arms were uncovered, and the familiar weight of his warden band was absent. He couldn’t recall ever taking them off. Ingo always slept with his coat, hat, and band.

Frowning, he drew the curtains aside.

A large window revealed the world outside, the sky a light pink as the sun rose slowly into the sky. There was a light scattering of clouds above, and many buildings below. A large wheel stood against the horizon, but it was a distant building with a tall, pointed roof that caught his attention. He knew that place, somehow. It was so very familiar, but Ingo still struggled to understand why.

How was he here? Where even was here?

All Ingo knew, however, was the way that distant building sang to him, calling his name with a gentle allure. He needed to go there. It was somewhere incredibly important to him.

Whirling around, Ingo marched past the table and all the things strung across it. He marched towards the door, ignoring Galvantula’s curious gaze boring holes into his skull. He came to a stop beside the large, draping white and red striped coat hanging from the coat rack… and the matching hat beside it.

It wasn’t his own coat, but it was a coat he knew.

The man in white , something within him whispered. It came back to him, the memories hitting like a freight(?) train. This coat and hat belonged to a man he knew. Someone… someone important . But something told him he would not be seeing the man here , his bones too free of aches and back settled too straight. He was not wearing anything he expected to wake up with, either, instead donned in cozy soft fabric.

Ingo didn’t feel like Ingo. At least, not in body. He had a few suspicions…

He grabbed the coat, slipping his arms into the sleeves. It felt comfortably familiar, save for its coloration. It was a mirror to his own, a part of a matching set. The hat came next, settled atop his head with a firm tug to get it nice and snugly in place.

And then, like that, he unlocked the door and gripped the knob, twisting it to push the door open.

Of course, he made sure to flip it locked behind him.

Now to find his way outside…

Chapter Text

Slowly, he found himself roused from sleep at the pin prick of something crawling all over him. It almost felt like joltik padding across his arms… that is, if joltik were much larger, furrier, and had sharp tips to their claws digging into his skin.

Confused, his groggy eyes opened to an unfamiliar dark ceiling. It appeared rigid and clay-colored in nature. Rock-like, he’d even describe. But that couldn’t possibly be right. The ground beneath him was flat and hard, almost like he was laying on a slab of rock.

Last he could recall, Emmet had fallen asleep beside Elesa on her soft, plush couch with a mug of warm tea clutched between his fingers. Her walls were a light beige and ceiling white with popcorn texture. The never-ending buzz of activity outside her apartment remained strangely silent with the squawking cries of a familiar, yet unfamiliar, pokémon in the distance.

Wait.

That didn't seem correct...

His eyes snapped wide open, blinking up at the rocky ceiling with a stupefied stare.

...

He didn't recognize this ceiling.

...

Where was he?

Heart pounding and systems suddenly all wide awake and ready to rumble, Emmet pushed himself up with his arms. Strangely, his back ached something fierce and sat crooked, shoulders falling into a natural hunch. That was not, in fact, how Emmet’s back was supposed to feel. He was supposed to stand with good posture at all times, his back straight and shoulders set ninety degrees to the sides of his neck.

What was going on?

“Snea!” A tiny voice cried out, the prickling in his skin torn away. He watched a purple sneasel fall to the ground in front of him.

Beside him, another voice chimed in with an alarmed “snaw!”

A second weird sneasel rushed to the aid of the first, sniffing them over with frantic huffs. “Sneeaaaa” the first sneasel whined, pushing them away.

It took a moment for him to register what he’d done.

“Ah! Sorry, little passenger, I didn’t realize you were there.” Emmet apologized with the clasp of his hands.

He could imagine a presence by his side chiming in with further elaboration of his behavior, a formal “forgive my brother, he seems to have forgotten his surroundings. He is dearly sorry for the inconvenience, you see, and it would be opportune to get an understanding of where we currently are!”

But, as it was, Emmet’s curt apology left the pair of sneasels staring at him with wide eyes.

Was there something on his face?

“Ahem-yes. Sorry, again, strange sneasels. I am Emmet. I will be on my way.” He pushed himself to his feet.

The pair trailed after him, chirping to one another all the while. He took the moment to further assess his surroundings. He had appeared to have been laying beside a large nest made of sticks and leaves, presumably where the sneasels had come from. There was a mouth to the cave, but the cave was short and ended only a few feet away from himself. It was more like he had spent the night in a pokémon den.

He did not, in fact, remember sneaking off to sleep in the dens of strange sneasels in the woods.

That seemed like something he would remember.

So, with swinging arms, Emmet marched towards the den’s entrance…

Only for his foot to be met with nothing, stomach lurching as he tripped and fell with only a mere glimpse of the vast mountainside before his eyes squeezed shut and gravity pulled him down with the jerk of his arms caught in his sleeves and a tug at his collar.

His feet remained off the ground, but his stomach didn’t continue to drop. He felt a strange motion pulling him… upwards?

Emmet blinked, set carefully onto the ground. He drew his knees to his chest, staring out at the unfamiliar mountainside with widened eyes. Emmet… did not remember this.

“Snawr snawr?” A verrrry purple face with bright ruby eyes entered his vision, hot breath puffed against his nose. He crawled backwards slightly, drawing his gaze upwards with a gaping mouth.

“You are a verrrry weird sneasel.” He couldn't help but comment, heart beating against his chest.

For a moment, it blinked at him with an incredulous stare. Then, out of nowhere, it barked out a laugh at him. “Snar snar snar!” It snickered into its looooonng claws. Those looked very dangerous. A safety hazard, yup!

With a nervous chuckle, Emmet inched further away. “Please remain behind the yellow line.” He gulped, his back hitting the rocky cave all behind him.

The strange sneasel’s snickers died down into soft chortles, eyes scrunched with a mixture of warmth and confusion, feather bouncing as the pokémon’s head tilted to the side.

“Snawrr?”

Oh, right. The strange sneasel had just saved his life. For some reason he found himself struggling to rise to his feet, so he braced his hands against the ground and pushed himself up that way.

“That was rude, yup, I am sorry. Thank you for saving my life, I do not know how I got here.” Emmet chirped, clasping his hands and fidgeting with his fingers.

There was a strange tension in his mouth, a weird strain tugging his lips downward. Verrrry unusual… tentatively, he lifted a finger to his mouth to poke at the corners of his lips.

Only, he immediately caught sight of the torn clothing and wooden band around his arms. He did not remember falling asleep in such tattered, dark sleeves. It looked like a sun-bleached black, his hands rough and calloused when rubbed together. Emmet could feel his brows twitch, struggling to pull into an expressive furrow.

“This is strange. I do not feel like myself…” Emmet muttered. The sleeves seemed to be connected to a large, draping black coat. In fact, it was verrrry familiar. Suspiciously familiar. He could feel a lump form in his throat, blood draining from his face.

No... it couldn't be...

But... how?

“Snaw snaw… snawr!” He heard the strange sneasel speak, turning his attention towards it. The two smaller sneasels that had followed him to the edge earlier were staring up at it with rapt attention. Now that he looked closer, he realized they were still far too small to be any sort of battle-ready sneasel. Kits, then? Emmet wasn’t entirely familiar with sneasel breeding, but they looked young.

That must have meant the larger, longer sneasel was their mother.

One of the kits darted towards him. He stumbled back in surprise, but it was too fast for him to grab. It darted beneath his coat, digging around somewhere around his side and hopping down with a pleased “sneas!” all before he could do anything about it.

Instinctively, he reached up for his hat. He was almost surprised when his fingers met a slick, chipped brim. Curious, he lifted it off his head to get a better look at it.

A black conductor’s cap rested within his grasp, sun-bleached and torn. Some of the stuffing was poking out from the top, but the unmistakable pokéball badge stared up at him.

This was not Emmet’s hat. In fact, it was a hat that Emmet himself had not seen in many years. It was one he thought he would never see again in person. He could feel his hands begin to shake, heart clenching and lump hard in his throat. Was it just him, or were his eyes cloudy?

How was this possible?

What happened to him?

What happened to Ingo?

Distantly, he could hear the pokémon continue to chatter. An unfamiliar pop reached his ears, almost similar to the sound pokéballs made when opening. He allowed his gaze to drift towards his pokémon company.

An alakazam joined the weird sneasel family, a wooden pokéball within the claws of one of the kits. They all seemed too busy chatting with one another to pay Emmet much mind, but he could see the way the big sneasel threw harried glances his way.

His gaze drifted down to the hat clutched tightly between his fingers.

He let out a gasp.

“I am… Ingo?”

All heads snapped towards him.

“Snawr snawr!” The large sneasel growled, gesturing towards Emmet, her eyes locked onto the alakazam.

It dipped its head, eyes falling shut and glowing with a pink hue. Emmet could feel the way his feet shifted nervously against the ground, an uncomfortable pressure barging its way into his mind and probing around with calculating steps.

As soon as it began, it was over. The alakazam’s eyes snapped open, intently boring into Emmet’s soul.

It mumbled something at the large sneasel, who let out an anxious cry. She darted away from the alakazam, rushing towards the back of the cave. Her kits huddled up near the alakazam, watching her return with a large basket hastily slung over her shoulder.

She chittered at the kits and the psychic type in their company, the alakazam offering a solemn nod as it responded in kind.

He didn't have a single clue about what they could be discussing.

Emmet did not know these pokémon.

Were they Ingo's?

Why were they in a cave?

Emmet blinked, watching the large sneasel approach. He couldn’t get a single word out, his stomach twisted into knots, but he let out a startled squeak as she snatched up Ingo’s hat and shoved it onto his head, dropping the basket beside him.

Her claws hooked into the collar of Ingo’s coat, sleeves pinching around his armpits as she lifted him and dumped him into the basket. He was an awkward mess of limbs, hat askew atop his head as a lid cast Emmet in shadows with nothing but a small window in the basket for a glimpse of light outside.

Too stunned to do much of anything, Emmet felt the basket lift off the ground. The large sneasel took a moment to seemingly attach the basket to her back before she scrambled down the cliff.

The last thing Emmet saw from the cave was the worried faces of the alakazam and the two sneasel kits.

Emmet was verrrry confused.

Chapter Text

It took an embarrassing amount of time for him to find his way outside. The front door had led into a long hallway, which took him to two doors—a metal door, and a regular door with a sign plastered onto it containing a drawing of a person going down a few steps of stairs. Before he could make his decision, the metal one parted to make way for a man absentmindedly stepping into the hallway, eyes glued onto a small rectangular device in his hands.

He found himself stepping through the metal door before he could think twice about it. The interior was a tall, yet somehow small box lined with rails on the sides of the walls. His eyes roved over the numerous buttons plastered beside the door, hands moving on autopilot to hit the “1.”

The doors closed, the box giving a slight jolt before he could feel it move. It almost felt like he was… descending? How fascinating… Despite never having encountered such a thing in Hisui, riding in the box felt much more familiar than he ever could have imagined. It was as though he’d done this before, his body remembering the things his mind could not. He stood with an eager gleam in his eyes, watching the doors.

Box shifting with a slight jolt, Ingo knew it had come to a stop. The doors parted, allowing him to step right through into a lobby of sorts. It was relatively empty, save for a receptionist stationed behind a desk. He could hear a clack clack clack , fingers tapping at… something . Ingo couldn’t quite recall what it was, but he recognized the sound. They paid no attention towards him save for a brief glance upon his arrival.

His feet led him to a wall of glass windows and doors showcasing the busy streets outside. He pushed the door open, ears hit with a cacophony of sounds. Horns blaring, people talking, laughing, pokémon chatting, wind whooshing as it followed metal vehicles… It was a lot to take in all at once. 

Perhaps it should have been overwhelming to someone so accustomed to the quiet of the highlands, but Ingo could only find himself comforted by it. It was like greeting an old friend. The city before him beckoned him forwards, calling to him.

It felt like… home . Or at least, more like home than the Pearl Clan or the highlands ever did despite his clan’s best efforts to help him settle. Strange that it was coming to him now, the feeling of comfort heedless of the surrounding unfamiliarity.

Curious, Ingo attempted to scan the horizon for a glimpse of his destination to no avail. Tall buildings surrounded him on all sides and it seemed impossible for him to see where he was trying to go. And yet he felt a pull , a beckoning call, a nagging feeling. His feet began to march on their own, taking him through busy streets. 

He found himself as one of many among the bustling crowds, eyes drawn towards him quite frequently. Or, was it the coat? He returned waves with some hesitance, catching sight of several people doing double-takes as they peered at his face, but he wasn’t entirely sure what was up with that. Perhaps there was something on his face? The more odd looks he received, the more his frown deepened. If there was any comfort to be had, it was seeing pokémon exist so easily alongside human companions.

Unlike Hisui, pokémon here either walked alongside their trainers or were carried around by them. No one bat an eye at the large red and blue dragon ambling beside a little girl, in fact no one even seemed to try and avoid it. It was almost as though there existed no barrier between pokémon and humankind, an easy and peaceful truce between them. Everyone looked at ease with one another, a stark divergence from the people and pokémon of Hisui.

It was beautiful. Marvelous, even. It made him want to shout “Bravo!” to the skies above. And he almost did actually do such a thing, witnessing a wonderful display of teamwork as a trainer guided a floating green psychic type to rescue a stray purple feline from the roof of a tall building. Alas, he spotted a dark green roof in the distance, his breath catching at the sight.

He broke into a run, sending “apologies!” and “sorry!” to the people he weaved through, his muscles strangely aching by the time he halted in front of a rather old, grand building. He bent slightly, hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

By Sinnoh, what was going on? The last time he was so out of shape, he’d just been dropped into Hisui…

A few people passed by him as he panted and heaved, some pausing to stare with bewildered gazes before moving on. He ignored them for the most part, straightening himself out and gripping the brim of his hat to shield his eyes from view. At least, he did until he lifted his gaze upward.

The building before him held an aching sense of familiarity. Pride. Comfort. Red banners adorned with a symbol resembling pokéballs stuck out to him, and his aching legs compelled him forwards. He strode past banners and people, ignoring curious and concerned looks alike. He marched his way up the stairs, stepping inside. It was open and teeming with life, but his eyes glazed over everything but the staircase at the very end, descending into the unknown.

A person in green caught his eye. They seemed to be in the middle of explaining something to an old woman. They paused at the sight of him, offering an absentminded wave before returning to their conversation. He felt that perhaps he should know them—or at least, he should know that familiar uniform.

Ingo shook his head, continuing on and finding the staircase to be rather… steep . It took him deep below the surface into a lively station. He could see more people in green uniforms directing crowds and offering help to patrons. A small smile tugged at his lips, strangely relieved at the sight. Everything seemed to be running well, then.

He continued his leisurely trek, waving to patrons and employees alike as they greeted him in passing.

“Hey Boss!” One employee chirped as he strolled by, the title slotting itself into his memory with ease.

Boss… where did he know that title from? Why did it sound so right ?

It wasn’t until the employee cleared their throat that Ingo realized he’d stopped right in front of them with a blank stare. He blinked, gaze catching onto their name tag. His nametag.

Cameron.

“You alright there Boss? You know, I’m pretty sure you called out for today…” Cameron continued. Depot Agent Cameron, his mind supplied. Ingo felt his brows furrow.

“I did?”

The Agent’s eyes widened with what could only be surprise, mouth falling open in shock. “Boss are you—”

“There is a commuter dark green line train approaching the station. Please stay behind the yellow line!” He startled at the sound of his own voice booming overhead, the sound of wheels against the rails approaching. He straightened with urgency, his heart skipping a beat. Dark green line. He needed to go there.

“Apologies. I must depart!” Ingo quickly fled, leaving the sputtering agent behind as his feet led him to his destination. Tracking the line down wasn’t difficult, his body seemingly already knowing where to go despite his lack of memory. He even fished out a card of some sort, pressing it to the turnstile to pass through with ease. And it was then that he saw it.

Emerging from the shadows like an angel in darkness was a large, metal contraption with a bold dark green line running along the sides. It was breathtakingly beautiful, his eyes widening with awe. But it wasn’t just any sort of contraption—no, no it was much more special than that.

It was a train. He could remember it so clearly now. This was his train, and he was its conductor.

“Bravo!” He bellowed, his voice not as loud as he’d been expecting it to be. Regardless, it sure startled many nearby passengers and the supervising depot agent, their attention drawn towards him. He paid them no mind, stepping past them and stopping just before the yellow line. The train slowed to a halt, its doors smoothly gliding open and allowing passengers to step off board.

Ingo crossed the threshold, entering the train with eyes full of awe. He stood still even as passengers stepped by him, any vacant seats quickly filling. Blue handlebars hung from the ceiling, some people holding on to them or poles stationed around the car.

But not Ingo.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please!” His voice boomed above him again. He could imagine himself saying that exact line—he has said that exact line, many times before in fact.

Several passengers openly stared at him.

“Is that Subway Boss Emmet?” Someone whispered just loud enough for him to hear, their hand shielding their mouth as they spoke to their friend. They earned an elbow to the side the moment their friend noticed him looking at them, quieting them with a hush.

Awkward silence fell into curious mutterings between passengers, some stealing glances his way and others avoiding his direction altogether. Ingo frowned, which seemed to alarm a few people.

Just what was going on? And why did Emmet sound so familiar?

Should he know of an Emmet? His heart sure felt like it.

The floor jolted beneath him, his voice returning to the intercom as it announced the train’s departure from the station. He felt the train begin to move , a smooth glide slowly becoming a gentle rocking motion. He remained in place, remaining steady as he swayed along with the movement.

His gaze drifted towards the door windows. There wasn’t much to see besides the concrete walls of a tunnel, but something else had caught his eye. Standing before him was a man in white, his mouth pulled into something neutral. Ingo’s brows furrowed as confusion washed over him, the man’s face scrunching up. His eyes widened, trotting towards the window before he could think twice.

At a first glance he almost thought he’d been looking at a strange version of himself. The man certainly looked like him with the same hair and eyes—shared his face, even!—but his hand came up to feel a smooth chin, and his eyes lacked his aging wrinkles.

This wasn’t Ingo’s body, no matter how much it looked like it. He could feel it in the lack of pain and the ease of his movements—the strain running put on his body. He was weaker, yet healthier. His face… he imagined himself with a smile, trying to match the man in white’s signature grin, and he almost found himself surprised to find his reflection matching the expression he imagined. This face wasn’t stiff—it could smile and frown with ease—and it sunk in perhaps a little too late that he was the man in white.

Elesa padded into the living room with a yawn, stretching her arms above her head. “Hey Emmet” She greeted, expecting him to be awake on the couch or something of the like.

Only, as she turned to face the couch, he wasn’t there. Maybe he’d gone to the restroom?

“Emmet! I’m going to order Staryubucks!” She called into the apartment.

Silence answered.

Her hands fell to her sides, the corners of her lips tugging into a worried frown. It was unusual for him to be so unresponsive. She would have thought he’d left early to go home if it weren’t for Galvantula resting on the corner of the ceiling and all of his things scattered about the table—save for his xtrans, of course, tucked safely away into his coat pockets.

She heard something tremble against the wood of the coffee table, turning to face it. Chandelure’s pokéball shook once.

Twice.

He released himself with a pop and a flash of white, giving a low “lurreeeee” as Elesa stared with open-mouthed shock.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Emmet was not only verrrry confused, but he was also maybe, perhaps somewhat marginally afraid for his life. The basket rocked harshly with the tall sneasel’s movements, throwing him cheek-first against the itchy woven walls with each turn. He couldn’t quite control the momentum, unable to stop himself from tumbling all over the basket. His hands splayed out against the wall, scrambling to hold on to little avail.

Through the window, he could see the expansive mountainside. He could also see sheer cliffs and feel his stomach drop as he watched the world rapidly descend with him. At times, he could even see—and again, feel , the sneasel leap from great heights.

There was nothing that could stop the screams from escaping his chest, ripping through his throat as booming shrieks. Each time it only made the sneasel run and climb faster—more erratically, too, but he couldn’t help himself as he fruitlessly clung to the walls.

Emmet would never treat his passengers so roughly. The sneasel’s ride was not one he would recommend to anyone. Not at all!

Soon enough, they stopped descending and at some point began ascending , the sneasel climbing crags and skipping over hills with ease. He could hear those deadly talons scraping through rock. No matter how much Emmet wanted off this ride, there was little he could do about it. He’d rather not go tumbling down a mountain. Emmet didn’t think he’d be able to survive that.

Steadily, warmth seeped out of the basket, instead inviting a bitter chill from the outside. First he could see small clumps of melting snow, and then those clumps began to grow bigger the further up they went until the only thing Emmet could see outside was white beneath a cloudy gray sky. The sneasel’s feet stomped through the snow with heavy crunches .

And then, distantly, he could hear muffled voices. The ride smoothed, now only the gentle rocking as the sneasel walked, so he pulled his knees up to his chest and shivered against the invading cold. The pink tunic and Ingo’s coat weren’t enough to keep the chill away completely, it seemed.

“—Sneasler!” A voice from outside cried. His head jerked upright, mouth pulling into a slight wince as his shoulder muscles strained under the pull.

“Snawr snawr!” The sneasel—Sneasler?—frantically cried, basket jolting.

“Is something the matter?” A new voice chimed in, young and feminine.

“Yeah, Lady Sneasler seems worried about something…”

“Snarrrr” He felt the basket tremble, shaking and sending him against the opposite wall again. An apologetic grunt rumbled above him before the basket was gently lowered to the ground with the crunching of snow.

His face stung with the cold as the lid popped right off. His arms and legs felt like jelly, his heart thudding against his ribs. He couldn’t quite bring himself to move even as two curious faces peered over the edge at him.

A young man and an even younger blonde woman, face still round with baby fat. They both let out a gasp.

“Ingo! What happened to you? Are you alright?” The woman fretted as Emmet struggled to gain his bearings.

All he could utter was a weak groan.

Sneasler peered in from the opposite side of the humans, gazing at him with worry. “Snawr?” She asked, sounding inquisitive.

He found himself too shaken to say anything. At least Sneasler had the sense to chitter at him apologetically.

“Here, let’s get him to Warden Calaba’s yurt. Thankfully she hasn’t left for the mirelands yet.” The young woman suggested.

Sneasler responded with an approving chirp, the basket tipping over and sending him sprawling face-first into the snow. Wow, his face was burning with how cold it was. And when it became clear that he wasn’t going to get up on his own, he felt two pairs of—thankfully human—arms pull him up from under his shoulders. All he could do was trudge along with them.

***

“—are you sure? Just look at him…”

Emmet stared despondently at the tea below, warmth seeping into his hands as he clutched the cup.

“—he’s not hurt. Maybe shaken, but I wouldn’t worry too much Lady Irida. He’ll be fine.”

He could hear the conversation moving around him, the young woman—Irida, apparently—talking to the old woman Calaba.

“—I don’t know… I’ve never seen him like this before.”

They spoke like he wasn’t present. In a way, he really wasn’t. He hadn’t even tried the tea yet, but he could already smell the sickly sweet aroma of pecha berry—Ingo’s favorite.

“—perhaps the issue is less physical and more so mental.”

Emmet quite hated it, personally. He was more of a cheri berry kind of guy.

“Ingo—”

“I am Emmet.” He cut Irida off with a quiet mumble. Or, an attempt at a quiet mumble. Both pairs of eyes snapped towards him.

They stared at him in bafflement. “Ingo? What do you mean?” Irida gently questioned.

Emmet blinked at her. “I am not Ingo. I am Emmet.” He repeated, mind returning to the present.

Irida and Calaba shared a glance.

“Hmm… he may be having a relapse.” Calaba suggested.

Relapse? What?

Irida gasped. “No—! So you mean…”

Calaba nodded, somber. “I’m afraid so. I was worried this would happen at some point.” She paused, gaze drifting towards Emmet. “Though… Emmet is new.”

A stab of irritation. “That’s because I am Emmet. What do you mean by relapse?” He frowned—not that it was hard to do, considering his mouth had been pressed into a frown this whole time.

He watched the old woman shake her head with sad eyes. “Your amnesia. You came to us without a memory to your name all those years ago, and you’d yet to recover much of anything. I was worried it could happen again, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.” She mused.

All Emmet could do was stare.

Amnesia? Ingo ? Ingo’s been trapped… wherever this was , and the only reason he hadn’t come back to Emmet was because he had amnesia ? Emmet’s breath hitched, a sharp stab of pain in his head. He brought a hand to his temple with a groan.

“What…”

“You shouldn’t try to remember yet, Ingo. You always hurt yourself when you rush your memories.” Irida chided.

He didn’t know these people, and yet they treated Ingo with care. They worried about him. Even Sneasler, who he could see shaking her head from outside the yurt. Were they all just worried because Ingo wasn’t acting like Ingo anymore?

…come to think of it, would they even believe him? They didn’t seem to think he was Emmet. Why would they? As far as he was aware, he was in Ingo’s body. He didn’t even think anyone could be in someone else’s body before, but this was definitely Ingo. Was there any way he could convince them? They seemed pretty convinced that he wasn’t really aware of who he was, addled with a strange memory loss.

Emmet grit his teeth. “Okay.” He released the breath he’d been holding.

Maybe he should play along for a bit, gain his bearings first.

“Until you’re feeling better, I think it would be wise if you stay here with us in the Pearl Clan.” Irida continued. “You wouldn’t remember, but you were really out of it when you first came to us. I trust Lady Sneasler, but she can’t keep an eye on you all the time out in the highlands.”

So, Ingo was sleeping in a pokémon den for a reason. Sneasler 's den, or rather Lady Sneasler. He stole a glance at the pokémon who was anxiously peering inside from the entrance. Why was the Sneasler a Lady? And why was she keeping an eye on Ingo?

“Besides, I can’t imagine you even remember being a warden…” Irida added.

“Warden?” Emmet turned towards her, questioning.

Calaba gave a sigh. “It’s your sacred duty to protect and care for your noble, Lady Sneasler.” She informed.

And… what? Now Emmet just had even more questions… What was this, some kind of cult? What did Ingo get himself roped into?

Irida trotted towards the entrance. “Come on Ingo. If you’re not going to drink your tea, at least let me bring you to your yurt.” She encouraged.

He almost didn’t want to move, quite content remaining seated where he was, but he could see Calaba tapping her foot with impatience and the warmth in his hands was slowly waning. He decided to make the wise decision and set the cup aside, almost mourning the heat before following Irida.

“Thank you for checking him over Calaba.” Irida waved. Emmet didn’t catch the old woman’s response, too busy stepping out into the snow.

When he’d been imagining Ingo’s yurt, he’d thought that his brother would have collected a whole hoard of items to decorate the place with. After all, Ingo had always been keen on items of sentimental value. Every birthday gift was welcomed with warm arms and a loving place in his room, and his bookshelf was straining under the weight of too many books—about both trains and pokémon alike.

So to see nothing but a futon, hearth, and a few barebone essentials was quite the shock.

Questioning Irida about it only had her shrugging.

“You prefer your yurt in the highlands.” She simply stated.

Emmet didn’t remember waking up in a yurt . Was she sure about that? Or did she not know that his brother seemed keen on sleeping in a pokémon cave? Unless that was just an unfortunate outlier he happened to stumble across.

Both she and Lady Sneasler bid him goodbye, with the former pointing him towards her own yurt in case he needs her and the latter worriedly sniffing at his forehead and sniffing the air around him. Lady Sneasler sure was worried about something , and she almost seemed reluctant to leave. But he remembered the kits that must have been waiting for her back in her den and waved her off.

He was left alone in Ingo’s “home.” He gave a pause as something buzzed in his pocket, hand fishing into it. His fingers brushed against fabric, pointer finger tapping at something solid and smooth. He wrapped his fingers around the object, feeling a handle of some sort, and carefully extracted it from the pocket.

It… looked like a xtransceiver, if xtransceivers were white with golden handles protruding from them. The screen was cracked, too, badly , but it worked well enough for a message in gold to be displayed.

“Mission: Finding What Was Lost”

No other details were provided. But there was one thing he knew was lost, and he had become him. So really, all the message did was beg the question…

If Emmet was Ingo, then where was Ingo?

Chapter Text

There was a strange incessant buzzing in his coat.

The man in white blinked back at him.

The train exited the tunnel, beautiful and bright wilderness passing by through the window.

His hand moved on its own, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a strange white and gold device that looked extremely similar to the “Arc Phone” Akari toted around. Out of some kind of muscle memory, he slipped it onto his wrist.

The screen lit up with a message in gold, “Mission: Finding What Was Lost” it said.

Before he could furrow his brows and question that further, a notification popped up onto the screen with the name “Elesa.”

What a familiar name. How strange how everything in this land was achingly familiar. It felt as though he belonged here, inhabiting a body that wasn’t his own. His heart yearned for something he couldn’t describe, the lines of his mouth pressed into a soft frown.

The notification came back, the device buzzing again.

It disappeared. He waited.

And then it returned.

Curious, he was just about to start poking at the glass when the floor jolted beneath him.

“We are now arriving at Driftveil City!” His voice played out on the speakers above. The train slowed to a stop. He could see a few people settled on benches at the station, fiddling with devices in their hands or chatting with other people and pokémon. The doors slid open with a bing boong.

“Er…” Someone cleared their throat behind him. He startled, turning his whole body to face them. A young man with a snivy on their shoulder. “Mind letting me through?”

It took a moment to realize he was somewhat blocking the way outside, standing in front of the doors and all. “Ah! My apologies.” He tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes, shuffling away.

The man’s shoulders drooped with relief, stepping off the train with a few other passengers. Ingo’s gaze, meanwhile, landed on an open seat. Perhaps he should sit down…

When no one came to claim the spot, he sat himself beside a young woman and her herdier. The woman paused, glancing at him for a moment before returning her gaze to her device.

Ingo distracted himself with the device attached to his wrist, still incessantly buzzing. He tapped at the next notification that popped up, prompting him to “enter a password.”

He tapped at the numbers on the screen without thinking, fingers finding the numbers in a certain pattern he couldn’t quite remember in his head. The device denied him entrance, though, and he found himself frowning down at it long enough for the screen to darken from idle usage.

His eyes caught onto his reflection. The man in white stared back at him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lifted his hand again to try once more; only this time, he found the pattern to be different, tapping in a new set of numbers. 

It worked, bringing him straight to something new. Several… messages littered the screen, all from one person.

That… was a lot. Whoever this Elesa person is, she seemed to think he was Emmet . And maybe, just maybe, he possibly was. Emmet sounded like a fitting name for the man in white.

A verrrry fitting name, he could imagine Emmet saying. Yes, that felt right.

Ingo decided to try his hand at writing a response, relaxing into the seat as he felt the car gently rock and sway.

The messages stopped coming. Elesa stopped responding. Maybe he should have worded that better… there was a part of him that wilted under her rejection. He didn’t remember her, not really, but his heart knew she was someone of great importance to him.

Stuck in a strange situation with bizarre circumstances, could it really be that he would find himself isolated from someone with such a familiar name?

He spent the moment staring down at the screen, waiting. The train continued to move over the tracks. The screen darkened.

Bzzt , the device buzzed against his wrist.

Ingo hastily unlocked it, scrambling to read the incoming messages.

“We are now arriving at Mistralton City!” His voice boomed overhead, the train slowing to another stop.

He watched as more people moved in and out of the car. The device buzzed again, but he didn’t glance down at it until after the doors were closed with a “stand clear of the closing doors, please!” followed by that all too familiar bing boong .

He turned the device off, deciding to stare out the window and watch the landscape pass by with a quiet frown. He caught sight of Emmet ’s face staring back at him.

Just how did he end up like this?

Elesa was used to the spotlight. She was a model and a gym leader, so the fame came with the game. The people of her city had grown used to her spending time around the subway bosses as well, knowing they were good friends. And when one of them disappeared, Emmet wasn’t the only one people were sending well wishes and sympathetic glances to.

So it was the regular everyday passengers watching her curiously as she waited on a bench outside the dark green line’s boarding station, but it was the depot agents and battle junkies who gave Chandelure beside her a double take.

His small flames were a dull lavender in color, but he trembled with anticipation. Her foot tapped against the ground, a fluttering feeling in her stomach and heart jolting. She fiddled with her phone, pulling up her messages with Emmet and re-reading the most recent ones he’d sent.

Well, the ones Ingo supposedly sent. If it weren’t for Emmet being… Well, Emmet, she would have just chalked it up to grief and asked him to stop pretending. Chandelure’s sudden interest in being outside his pokéball helped somewhat. Could it really be that Ingo was back? Except… somehow trapped in Emmet’s body? She supposed crazier things have happened before…

Ingo’s voice played over the intercom, announcing the train’s arrival. She shoved herself to her feet, Chandelure falling eerily still beside her.

The doors opened. A few commuters poured out.

A white hat and coat stood out among the crowd. Silver eyes scanned his surroundings, a frown marring his features.

Elesa broke into a run, throwing herself right at him. Her arms came around his waist, and she was sure that if this was Emmet , they both would have tumbled backwards by now.

But they didn’t.

Instead, Ingo just barely managed to hold himself upright, hesitant arms stiffly grasping at her back. A slight hush fell around them, no doubt witnesses stopping and staring, but nothing could make her believe him more than Chandelure’s shriek of delight.

Around and around Chandelure danced with bolstered vibrant flames, encircling herself and Ingo, His arms came up around his trainer, gingerly rubbing his face against Ingo’s cheek.

“Ah…! It is good to see you too, my friends!” Ingo bellowed, his voice noticeably much quieter than usual. She pulled away, watching as his frown was pulled into the sunniest smile she’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He turned his gaze towards Chandelure. “Bravo! You are absolutely breathtaking. Might you be my guiding light?” He questioned with such earnestness to the trilling Chandelure. The breath was stolen from her lungs, eyes widening in surprise.

Ingo had always smiled with his eyes. Emmet had always been much more expressive in body. Elesa knew how to read both of them extremely well, and so she didn’t need Ingo to be in Emmet’s body to know how delighted he was. But even still, she hadn’t quite expected the full visual of Ingo’s true emotions, his heart always written on his sleeve.

“But… I am afraid I must inform you of something.” Ingo pulled away, smile faltering and brows furrowing with worry. “I have not been entirely truthful, you see…” she watched him anxiously tap at his arm with stilted movement, something she was used to seeing on Ingo , not Emmet .

Elesa frowned. “What is it?”

He averted his gaze, hand coming up to rest on his xtrans.

Or. What looked like some kind of xtrans. It certainly wasn’t Emmet’s, bearing a striking resemblance to a certain pokémon Elesa had only learned of in legends. She gave a pause.

“It may be best if we take this conversation elsewhere.” Ingo finally said, gaze sweeping around a lingering crowd.

“...Staryubucks. You owe me.” Elesa grabbed his arm, dragging him away from the crowd with Chandelure merrily trailing along.

Chapter Text

“WHAT?” 

Ingo winced, leaning back into his seat.

Elesa had dragged him to a quaint, yet bustling café. They ordered drinks without too much hassle, though Elesa did look at him strangely when he asked where his pokédollars were. He didn’t recognize a single thing on the menu, but upon inquiring about “frappuccinos,” he was quick to pick the pecha one to Elesa’s utter bafflement.

Chandelure, refusing to return to his pokéball, was content with a cup of whipped cream.

They’d taken to a booth when Ingo subsequently dropped several bombs on her.

“It is the unfortunate truth, I fear.” He agreed, dragging the brim of his hat over his eyes. He could feel the eyes of several patrons on them after that kind of outburst.

She stared down at her “latte” with a haunted look in her eyes.

With a shuddering breath, she continued.

“Sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “You know this is a lot to take in, right?” She peered at him, brows knitted with worry.

He gave a nod, somewhat relieved she wasn’t fighting him at every turn. She was nothing like Hisui’s typical residents, he’d come to realize. She was much more… open and accepting. He imagined that if it were Lady Irida in her place, he would be met with a lot more resistance at the very notion that a body could be inhabited by anyone besides its rightful owner.

Though, he would admit he’d be quite skeptical as well. He could see Elesa’s own struggles with the idea in the way she continued to question and prod at him.

Her gaze softened. “Ingo…” Her voice dropped into a whisper, likely to avoid drawing further attention to them both. “How did this happen to you? You really don’t remember anything at all?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not.” He dragged the brim further down, avoiding her gaze. “Both my arrival to Hisui and cab switch continue to elude me. However, I’m thankful I have not been grievously injured this time.” He admitted.

She balked at him. “Injured?”

“Ah…” He rubbed his head. “I cannot recall the exact events of that, either, but I’ve been told Lady Sneasler had carried me to the Pearl Clan. I sustained a horrible head injury, you see… though, Emmet’s body doesn’t have the scar to prove it.” He dug his hand around beneath his hat, fingers brushing against soft hair and an unmarred scalp where his scar would usually be.

Elesa looked almost sick at the thought.

And then she paused. “...do you remember anything about me now?” She asked with great hesitation, leaning back into the cushions.

“I wish I did.” Ingo took a sip of his drink, sweet syrup on his tongue. “Your name is simply familiar, and I know you are someone I trust dearly. But I cannot say I recall anything about you. The same goes for Emmet, I must admit. There is so little I know about you both, but I feel you are incredibly important to me.” He continued.

He watched her eyes grow watery, tears quickly wiped away by her hand.

“Oh Ingo, it’s been so long since I’ve heard you talk.”

Allowing her the moment, he took another sip and dipped his head.

They fell into a somewhat comfortable silence.

For a moment, at least.

“If you’re here, then where do you think Emmet is?” Elesa broke it.

Ingo opened his mouth to respond, only to find he didn’t have an answer. His mouth snapped shut with the clack of his teeth, brows furrowing in thought. He could hardly believe he hadn’t considered that before. He’d been so focused on trying to wrap his head around his own situation, that it hadn’t occurred to him that he was occupying Emmet’s body.

…was Emmet his brother? Were they twins? Was he occupying his brother’s body?

“I—well, it’s hard to say…” Ingo frowned, rubbing at his chin. He almost startled when his hand met smooth skin. “If he were trapped in this body while I’m stationed here, then there would be no one in my body. I would even dare say it couldn’t be that much of a leap to assume he's occupying my body instead.” He deduced.

And then something nagged at him, an incessant reminder. Familiarity in the line of questioning. Absent-mindedly, he set his drink aside and unlocked the device on his wrist. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Elesa watching him with thinly veiled curiosity as he attempted to navigate through the device.

And—there! 

“Mission: Finding What Was Lost”

The text, gold against a black background, featured no details. He shifted the device to allow her to see it too, watching as she stared with an unreadable expression.

“This just appeared on the device while I was on the train.” Ingo explained. “I am uncertain of its true meaning, but perhaps it has to do with finding Emmet’s whereabouts?”

Elesa frowned. “But you had a point earlier. He could be in your body. So wouldn’t that mean we already know where he is? This… Hisui place?”

Ingo nodded. “Perhaps we simply need to find Hisui and retrieve him!” He suggested with what he thought was a hopeful smile. But Elesa didn’t look entirely convinced, biting her lip in thought.

“Hisui…” She echoed under her breath. “I swear I’ve heard of it before, but where?” Her brows furrowed, reaching for her “phone.”

…

Her eyes grew wide.

“Ingo.”

He straightened to attention.

“Hisui isn’t Hisui anymore.” She breathed.

A sense of dread crept up his spine. “...what do you mean?” He had almost been too scared to ask.

Her gaze lifted from her phone, meeting his own with something akin to horror in her eyes.

“You were in the past. Emmet’s in the past. Hisui was Sinnoh… about a hundred years ago.”

A hundred… no, no that couldn’t be right. Ingo was in the future now? Or, Ingo was from the future? And if he was here and Emmet was there, then there had never been a chance anyone from his forgotten past would have ever been able to find Ingo in Hisui let alone Emmet. Because even with the knowledge of where and when he was…

There was no way to reach him.

After Elesa had returned Emmet’s keys and pokémon to his possession, she’d asked if he wanted to spend the night at her apartment.

As much as he would have loved to, he didn’t want to burden her any further. In fact, he also kind of just wanted to spend some time alone for a while. She encouraged him to call the rest of the week off, coaching him through the call and encouraging him to pretend to be Emmet so as not to arouse concern and suspicion among his and Emmet’s employees.

Because yes, apparently the depot agents were in fact his employees and he was their boss. Agent Cameron’s words came flooding back to him as a painful reminder of how much he had been so horribly unaware of when he’d wandered out of Elesa’s apartment that morning.

So that night, after explaining everything to and feeding the pokémon, Ingo’s feet led him to a pair of doors directly across from one another. His mind encouraged him to the one on the right, but his heart pulled for him to open the door on the left. Chandelure floated beside him, giving a curious trill at his indecision.

He listened to his heart, opening the left.

The room was full of bright, vivid color. It was messy, somewhat chaotic, but strangely organized in a sense. The bed was a disheveled mess, the comforter white with red trains printed on it. He could spot a few stuffed pokédolls around and battle magazines scattered about the nightstand. Ingo didn’t even bother getting changed, too exhausted to care.

He set the pokéballs on the nightstand, Chandelure taking his spot up at the ceiling as he pretended to be an actual chandelier.

A bright white flash and a pop.

Something long and large settled beside him, smooth scales brushing against his hand. “Eeel…” Eelektross sadly crooned.

And Ingo wasn’t Emmet, but he knew that Emmet was to Eelektross what Ingo was to Chandelure. Of all the pokémon at dinner, Eelektross was the one to pick at his food the most and eat the least after he’d explained the situation.

So he let the pokémon curl around him, wrapping an arm around him. His gaze lingered on the device—no, xtransceiver—attached to his wrist, clicking it open just to stare at those haunting words.

“Mission: Finding What Was Lost”

How was he supposed to find Emmet if he was a whole century away?

Ingo wished he could remember his twin better, his only memory of Emmet’s smiling face and white uniform. “I like winning more than anything else,” the words echoed in his mind, a vice around his heart. His fists clenched in agony, eyes burning with tears.

He was so close to his forgotten past, and yet he still hardly remembered a single thing about anyone important to him. If only Emmet were here with him right now. Surely together they would be able to figure things out, and Ingo could be relieved of the hollow aching in his heart.

Incomplete, just as he always was.

Maybe Ingo was lost, too.

Chapter Text

Wondering what other sorts of things his brother kept within his pockets, Emmet found himself sitting on the futon and rummaging through the tattered coat. There were glass bottles labeled “potion,” various little wooden carvings of pokémon, and a total of six pokéballs—ones that, strangely, seemed to be made of wood and rock instead of plastic and metal save for the latch and knob at the very top. Emmet had never seen such a pokéball in person before. The wood appeared carved; an imperfect half-sphere that fit well within the palm of his hand. Upon closer inspection it felt less like wood and more like the hollowed shell of an apricorn like the pokéballs he’d seen in museums. The top was made of a smooth polished rock of some kind—it gave a tink when he tapped it with his fingernail. But why would Ingo have a handmade pokéball; much less six?

Unable to help his curiosity, Emmet thumbed at the latch and flicked it up. The ball snapped open with a pop as a white light piercing through the dim lighting of the yurt forced his eyes shut. It was the same sound the pokéball from earlier made.“Gliiii!” A merry voice rang out above him.

He opened his eyes to blink white spots from his vision, seeing a gliscor towering over him and tilting its head as its gaze roamed their surroundings. It spent a moment staring at the contents of Ingo’s pockets piled on the floor at its feet. One of its ears twitched. It looked towards Emmet with a confused croon rumbling in its chest.

It had to be one of his brother’s pokémon, he presumed. Of course Ingo would have caught more pokémon if he was stranded in a land without his team even without memories to his name. Emmet wouldn’t expect anything less; though it still felt so unreal looking at the pokémon in front of him and knowing that it was Ingo’s.

His staring must have concerned the gliscor because it is shuffled closer to him with a worried “scor?”

Emmet blinked. “I am sorry!” He blurted out, pushing himself to his feet. “I am just shocked.” The pokémon’s eyes only furrow further, frown deepening. “I am Emmet, Ingo’s twin brother. We run the battle subway and work as a two-car train.” It continues to stare, so Emmet keeps going. “I have somehow become the conductor of Ingo’s cab instead of my own. I am not sure how.” He admits, lifting his hands to fidget with the hems of his gloves—only for his fingers to brush skin. Ingo was missing his gloves. His right hand found purchase in the wooden bangle snug against his wrist instead, clutching at it like a lifeline.

The gliscor crooned, ears drooping.

“I am not sure where Ingo is.” Emmet gave a hum, tightening his grasp around the bangle. “Maybe he is still here. Maybe he is home with Elesa. But if I am Ingo, then he could be me. Maybe.” Emmet muttered, foot tapping against the ground.

That seemed to get the gliscor thinking, at least, the pokémon tilting its head and turning its gaze down to the other pokéballs left sitting on the floor. Its ears perked. Before Emmet could even think to question it, its tail swept down and undid the latch on one of the pokéballs.

Pop, a streak of light flashed, shaping into a tall yellow pokémon. The alakazam from earlier.

“Gli gli!” The gliscor started barking at the alakazam, but it only stared calmly at the gliscor. It let out a low grumble, watching the gliscor stumble and balk before its gaze returned to Emmet. He couldn’t even remember the alakazam’s pokéball ending back up in his pocket again.

Emmet blinked for a moment and the gliscor was gone—only for him to be nearly knocked over by the weight of something massive settling atop his shoulders. “Scor!” The pokémon cried, snatching the hat atop his head and springing off just as fast as it launched itself onto the ceiling. Emmet toppled over, breath knocked right out of his lungs.

Winded, he stayed down. Somehow laying with his back against the hard floor felt nice; like it’d straightened out something that he hadn’t even known needed straightening. Maybe Emmet could just let himself stay sprawled out on the ground. Ingo’s back clearly needed it.

But the alakazam had something else in mind, giving a quiet grunt before disappearing from the yurt entirely in a flash of purple.

The gliscor peered down at him with Ingo’s hat hanging from its tail.

“What was that about?” Emmet asked it knowing he wouldn’t be able to understand its attempts at answering. It tried anyways, clicking and huffing and waving its arms. Emmet heaved a sigh.

If he was being entirely honest with himself, none of this felt real. It felt that at any moment he would blink and find himself sunk into the cushions of Elesa’s couch with Eelektross draping over him. All of this would have been a dream and Emmet would have to go back to living in a world without Ingo or any indication of where he could be. Maybe he was just imagining the best case scenario for why Ingo hadn’t come back to him yet.

He couldn’t because he simply didn’t remember—and if Emmet knew where Ingo was, he could help Ingo remember and they could return to running the trains together. No one would have to miss Ingo anymore because Ingo would be home. Emmet couldn’t bear the thought of Ingo being kidnapped or lying dead somewhere… or having left because of Emmet. But there was no reason Emmet would ever be the cause and he knew that much.

What a strange dream he must be having, though, being able to feel and hurt. Nothing else made sense. People didn’t just switch bodies.

***

Emmet jolted awake to the sound of knuckles rapping against wood, planting the palms of his hands against the wooden floor and hastily pushing himself into a sitting position. The hat that’d been covering his face tumbled into his lap. His heart hammered in his chest, head swimming from the jerking movement.

For a moment, he wondered where he was. Last he could recall, he was comfortably drifting to sleep in Elesa’s apartment with a warm mug in hand. But the longer he blankly stared at the rafters, the more the memories of his recent fever dream started to trickle in. He could recall strange sneasels, a frightful journey shoved in a basket, odd people who hadn’t seemed to value his word, and…

The gliscor was missing from the rafters. Ingo’s hat was in Emmet’s lap. The items Emmet had procured from Ingo’s coat were still scattered in a pile on the floor.

Knock knock knock.

“Yes?” Emmet called, his voice husky with sleep as he settled the hat atop his head. He lifted an arm to his mouth and cleared his throat with a loud cough. “Come in.” He gathered his legs beneath him and slowly rose to his feet.

The yurt’s doors shoved open. “Ingo!” A young teenage girl came barreling inside with the alakazam trailing contentedly behind. Her hair was a slate black with blue tones beneath with a white bandana pulling it into a high ponytail. With her fists clenched, her gray eyes peered up at Emmet with worry. She looked strangely familiar. He felt like he knew her face from somewhere, but he knew no one who wore a dark blue uniform quite like hers.

“Are you okay? Alakazam brought me to the Pearl Clan and Irida was saying you’re having memory problems again.” Her face screwed tight in upset. “Please tell me you at least remember me.”

…ah. Okay. Emmet could handle this. Totally.

Clearly his brother was familiar with this girl. Perhaps they battled together. But Emmet was not Ingo, and Ingo was not here. Emmet did not know this girl and he couldn’t pretend to even if he tried. He slowly shook his head.

“No. I am…” Emmet, he hesitated to say, trailing off with a deepened frown and furrowed brows. The other people here didn’t believe him when he said he wasn’t Ingo—of course they wouldn’t believe him, Emmet wouldn’t believe himself either if he were them—he cleared his throat instead, hiding his mouth behind his fist for a brief moment before letting it fall awkwardly to his side. He realized a moment too late that he’d been silent for too long, the girl’s brows furrowing deeper as her eyes traced the lines of his face.

“Confused.” Emmet blurted out. “I am confused. Verrrry confused.” That wasn’t how Ingo talked. Did he have to pretend to be Ingo? He lifted a hand to his mouth again, clearing his throat with more gusto this time. “My apologies. I don’t know where I am or how I got here.” That sounded more like Ingo, Emmet thought, so he continued. “May I ask for your name, miss…?”

Though the worry never left her eyes, her gaze softened somewhat as he adjusted himself into Ingo-speak. “...Akari.” She said after a moment, fiddling with her fingers as she looked down at her feet. Alakazam shot Emmet a baffled look from over her shoulder and he offered the pokémon a quick shrug.

Akari’s gaze darted towards him at the movement and he forced his shoulders down before she could see what he’d been doing. “It’s quite nice to meet you, miss Akari.” Emmet scrambled for the words, clasping his hands behind his back so she wouldn’t see the way his fingers twitched for something to fidget with.

Though the frown never left her face, he could see the moment it loosened into a more neutral line with the corners of her lips tugged just slightly downwards. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to not really remember anything…” She gripped onto the hem of her sleeve, tugging at it as she rocked on her heels. “You were fine when I last saw you. Did something happen when you went to check on Lady Sneasler?” She asked.

Emmet thought about it for a moment. What would Ingo say if he couldn’t even remember anything? “I’m not sure.” He admitted. “I assume that it is her cave I woke up in, but I can’t recall how I got there.” Akari leaned back slightly, chewing on her lower lip and bouncing her leg. Clearly she was worked up about something. Probably the state of “Ingo’s” mind. He couldn’t imagine why she would be so worried, though. The other people he’d met hadn’t been nearly as torn up over the idea of Ingo forgetting everything for the second time.

Guilt tugged at him, Alakazam’s stare burning a hole into Ingo’s coat. He couldn’t put the reverse breaks on. She wouldn’t believe him.

When she didn’t move to respond, Emmet drew in a deep breath and held it for a few moments. He exhaled. “If it’s not much trouble, may I ask how I know you?” Emmet tried using the curious inflection Ingo always set into his questions, but his voice just fell a little flat. Too flat. Not Ingo enough. But Akari perked up and bounced on her heels with eyes widening slightly with some surprise. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. You visit Jubilife Village sometimes to run the battle grounds and I battle you a lot!” Akari nodded to herself, but Emmet found himself caught on something.

Jubilife… village? 

Whether she noticed his confusion or not, she continued: “But I first met you back when the nobles were going on a frenzy. You guided me through Wayward Cave so I could calm Lord Electrode.” Pardon? “And it’s thanks to you that Lady Sneasler lets me ride in her basket when I need to get up somewhere high.” Akari wanted to ride in that death trap? “I can see why your back is all messed up though. It’s pretty cramped in there.” The girl lifted a hand to fan herself, face pulled into a grimace.

Just what on earth was Ingo thrown into? If his mouth wasn’t naturally set in a frown already, any smile he had would be pulled into one. “You mentioned a Jubilife Village?”

The girl jolted, blinking up at Emmet with an indiscernible glint in her eyes. “Uhhh… yeah. Jubilife Village… Why? Is that like, I don’t know, familiar to you at all?” She rocked on her heels, fidgeting with her sleeves. She seemed to be looking for something but Emmet couldn’t quite tell what. Maybe she thought Ingo was getting his memory back or something.

Emmet drew one of his hands out from behind his back to tap at his chin, surprised by the prickly hair stabbing at his fingers. He froze. Did Ingo have a beard? Ripping his hand away from his chin, he shoved it in one of the coat pockets instead. “Yes.” He blurted out, despairing at the sparkle in the girl’s eyes as she surely believed the Ingo she knew was recovering. She would not be happy to find that Ingo wasn’t exactly home—at least, he imagined as such. Emmet unfortunately didn’t recognize a Jubilife Village, but Jubilife City made more sense. It was confusing. Just where was he?

“Oh! Maybe I should show you around! It could jog your memory! Now that you’re benched, you’ve got all the time in the world to explore.” Akari reached out to wrap her wrist around Emmet’s, pulling with more strength than he’d expected and sending him nearly tumbling back down to the ground. “Oops. Sorry. Here, I’ll grab your pokéballs. Why are they on the floor? Have you met all your pokémon yet?” His wrist was freed for a single moment as she hastily gathered up the pokéballs piled on the floor, sending the rest of his stuff an odd look. She decided to just leave it all there and instead shoved the pokéballs into his arms.

Hurrying to stuff the balls into his pockets, Alakazam shot him one last judgemental look before letting itself back into its ball. Emmet huffed. “Sorry. I forget you’re kinda frail.” Akari sheepishly chuckled, scratching the back of her neck.

“I am not.” Emmet narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Heh… yeah.” Akari chortled, reaching for the flute tied to the strap around her waist. “But anyways, you cool with flying? Lord Braviary can take us.” He wondered how far away this Jubilife Village was and what the flute was supposed to be used for.

Emmet thought of how high up he would be if he were in the sky. If he happened to topple off the pokémon, gravity would steal him away. Entirely reliant on the pokémon to catch him if that were the case… he shuddered. But Ingo actually liked flying and Emmet was supposed to be Ingo. Reluctantly he nodded.

The girl perked right back up. “Awesome! Come on Ingo, let’s go! We’re wasting daylight!” He couldn’t stop her from grabbing his wrist again, stumbling through the yurt’s doors. Emmet wondered what he’d just signed himself up for; he dreaded the flight. He wondered if perhaps he should have just told her he wasn’t Ingo at all. He thought he’d rather be deranged in her eyes than have to go flying somewhere. But the train was moving full speed ahead and Emmet didn’t know how to stop it.

Akari pulled the flute to her lips and played an unfamiliar melody. Short, sweet, and inquisitive. It made Emmet jump out of his skin when the biggest, strangest looking braviary he’d ever seen swooped down from the sky above with a mighty screech.