Archive of Our Own

You look at the black sky swallowed by merciless rain and think to yourself, how could you ever hope to prevent this from happening?

The city around you is in ruins. What was once a welcoming home is now but a pile of ocean-kissed debris, brushed by the water and howling wind. Gone is the sun-washed marble, so beautiful and white, that stood there proudly for millennia, now covered in ash or buried amidst the destruction to never see the light of day.

You are alone here - you’ve made sure it was that way. Evacuating people wasn’t easy, a truly atrocious affair, but with your pokémon standing the line, you’ve managed to get most to safety. That’s good. If anyone were to linger there with you, they would only face death as you’d watch the end of the fight tear this place apart.  

A shockwave almost sweeps you off your feet, your desperate grip over Metagross’ leg the only thing keeping you upright, and you look at the Creatures you’ve only heard of in legends charging at each other's throat in a fury so blatant it lights up the sky and shakes the ground.

You hug the Tablet in your arm closer to your chest, protecting the brittle stone from shattering under the force of rain. It feels like needles on your exposed skin, sinking into your clothes and hair and eyes, smearing down the blood and making it harder to concentrate.

What were the words again? What was the phrase that translation cost so much?

You can’t remember, you realize with heart sinking. Why can’t you remember?

You look at your partner with a heavy chest, hopelessness building at your current situation. But when you turn around your head you only have a split of a second to register Metagross' horrified gaze against a bright beam of energy flying your way. The bluish glow of its barrier picks up hastily, a flicker of light, a trick of an eye.

But it isn’t enough. The shield shatters, hard and fast, and as the pieces of it scatter around you don’t have time to react before your world explodes in white and pain and- 

You don’t expect to wake up, and yet you do.

It’s disorienting, nausea churning in your guts as your body protests against the panicking mind, and you stagger as you leap out of the bed of your room onto the cold floor. 

It doesn’t feel real as you stumble into the bathroom in a daze, gripping at the sink and searching out the mirror.

Your reflection looks at you in disbelief and you look at it in turn, taking in the detail of its appearance. It isn't what you expect -  isn’t haggard, hair drenched in sweat and rain or eyes bloodshot from the strain. No. Your skin is unblemished, eyebags nowhere to be seen, and you appear as if the stress that has just eaten you alive has evaporated from your body.

Only your eyes remain empty, tired in a way they’ve never been before.

You stare and stare and don’t blink lest the view changes suddenly and you wake up again, this time to a hospital room or gates of heaven.

But it doesn’t. And so you call Metagross and stare at it instead.

The hind leg that’s been torn off by the skirmish is back in its place, looking none worse to wear, and the deep gash over the crest on its head is also gone. The look it sends you full of confusion, too, as if you've had no reason to stare at all.

You look away, stomach flipping in a turmoil that starts gnawing at the marrow of your bones.

Is it a dream? A hallucination? You don’t know. Just as you don’t know what’s going on here.

-

You quickly learn what. 

You go blindly through the motions that feel like a deja-vu and clumsily talk to people you thought you’ve said last goodbye to. You fly over the cities you saw destroyed before your eyes, now flourishing in the neverending sun you’ve known all your life.

The first calendar you see, you ignore, unwisely. The second, you study like a puzzle that explains everything.

The date doesn’t match. Nothing here does, as you’ve gathered so far, but the hallucination of an addled mind is able to take a lie only that far and with so much detail.

You’re back. Back in time. Two months away from the moment you thought yourself die.

You pinch yourself. It doesn’t change. The sudden realization feels like a punch to a gut, tilting the axis of your perception.

At first, you don’t know what to think. Your head spins in overwhelming comprehension. The things you thought a figment of your mind are real. Scarily real. Your skin prickles where you touched it, bringing out the clarity of a moment even more. The fog over your brain is finally lifted, no longer dulled by your skewed cognition of the afterlife.

You breathe. In and out. The rush of possibilities fills your head quickly, flooding like a crashing wave and swirling till you’re dizzy and panting. 

What happened was disastrous - a nightmare on its own - but at the same time, it never did. Won’t, for the next handful of weeks. And yet you are aware of it, of how it ends and how it starts. How it comes to be and what to expect.

And you can stop it - prevent it from ever happening.

You stand up as if scalded, dragging your feet ahead of you. A goal is already burning in your mind.

-

First, you start an investigation. You want to know more and your authority allows you that, without any question asked.

Team Magma and Team Aqua had just begun gaining traction around the Hoenn - crawling out of the underworld into the open with their petty crimes of theft and street harassment. 

You’ve ignored it the first time around, not fully aware of it even happening, but you don’t do so now. 

Arresting the criminals has always been in the record of your job, and yet only now you make full use of it. You fly over the region, searching the men or women that bear the insignia of a team that ended the world and taking them into custody for the smallest of offenses.

Your colleagues look at you in question, silent doubt in their eyes, but ultimately pat you on your shoulder for the work done right. When Drake asks you if the trouble is stirring somewhere on the coasts, you just tell him not to worry about it. 

You’ve got that under control.

Second, you ask your father for the Stone Tablet.

It was a key, last time around. That much you’ve figured out. But how exactly it works still remains a mystery. And so you prompt it up, redirecting Joseph Stone's endless curiosity from the newest edition of the PokéNav to the old, dusty slab, the inscriptions of which he had long given up on deciphering.

It isn’t that hard. Showing some interest and asking the right question sparks the old man’s engagement anew, tossing him into a fury of research so unlike that frantic, last minute attempt it happened to be the last time.

You sleep calmer, knowing it’s taken care of.

For the third thing, you prepare.

You subtly allure Wallace to keep an eye out on the Cave of Origin, and tell other Gym Leaders to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity from the Teams. You spar with your Elites more frequently, training with your pokémon whenever you have a chance.

You seek out Norman's kid, the one who did so much of your work the last time, and ask them to pass you information on every encounter they had with the grunts, encouraging them to keep up with their training and handing a few tips.

And just like that, the weeks pass by unnoticed. In a blink of an eye, you’re nearing the date that’s been circled in your calendar. It still doesn’t feel real, but you know you have done what you could. It should be enough - the change is inevitable, anyway, with so many variables being added and nudged into place by yourself.

The only thing remaining now is to wait - watch it unfold and see if what you did will prevent the doom from happening.

–

You’ve been wrong. You’ve been so, so wrong. You did change the future, but not for the better. Somehow, you just made it worse.

The sudden influx in the prison cells, especially of the two opposing factions, has made it hard to keep control and therein came a moment where everything descended into insanity. One riot was all it took for the thugs to flood the streets and not only fight themselves but also drag into it the police and innocent civilians.

The chaos control is tricky and borderline exhausting, but it’s also time and focus consuming, and somehow you don’t notice when the earth starts shaking at its core and you hear a familiar shrill of the Sea Beast as the rain descends in cascades over your head.

All you did was for naught.

You try to swallow the bitter taste that makes itself at home at the back of your throat, a heavy press of something over your chest. You fly over the region on Metagross’ head, stopping every once in a while to rescue someone from the oppression of Team Magma or Team Aqua, but ultimately making a beeline for Rustboro City.

At least the Tablet is there, still in one piece. You take it off your father’s hand, asking if the translation has been completed, but he shakes his head mutely, telling you that the part was too damaged to decipher properly.

Your guts sink as you stare at him in dread. You’ve expected the additional time to solve this issue and you didn’t have time to track the progress correctly, too busy with other things. Now, you’re paying the price.

Even then, you still take the slab with you, its weight in your arms a familiar thing. Or maybe you need something to hold onto when you face the Legends once again, staring at the sky color of an endless dark as the Beasts go for each other's throat, leveling the surroundings with their attacks.

The Elites and Gym Leaders are still busy with evacuation and fights, scrambling to keep their cities in any semblance of order. It’s only you and your team that has the means and power to stall for time.

But what are you waiting for, you don’t know. Not when the Tablet is there, with you, its incomplete translation a failure of your own.

Maybe it's this realization that blows at the candle-fire of your resolve, dimming it slightly in face of the storm. Your pokémon do their best at keeping the Legendary Beasts occupied but you can’t focus on anything else other than the rain falling down your face and the Tablet at your side.

Metagross tries to keep you grounded, humming a soft tune in spite of destruction around, but it’s for naught. You are too distracted, too taken by the fact that you’ve messed up a chance the world has seen fit to grant you. It’s just like the last time - you can’t see the hope in putting an end to this all. Not when the things you’ve done meant nothing in a grand scheme of fate.

One by one, the members of your team fall down. You recall Armaldo, then Cradily and Claydol, their bodies too damaged to risk keeping them in the open. Skarmory shrieks as it’s swatted from the air by a Hyper Beam from the Land Beast, and Aagron roars as a giant tide swallows it with a force of an angry God. 

It’s only you and Metagross right now, no reinforcements in sight. Your body trembles, be it from cold or fear, as you stand face to face with the forces of nature personified.

Two versus one, Metagross is slowed down by your presence on its back. But you don’t have the time to get to safety to change that. Instead, you hold onto your dear life as your partner zooms around the field, dodging the attacks and desperately firing its own.

It isn’t a surprise that you don’t last too long. A Hydro Pump attacks you from behind and your grip on Metagross' steel body slips by. You can feel its horrified realization through your link but it’s too late. You’re plummeting to your death in form of a raging ocean, the dark color of the sky the last thing you see as you-

-Wake up. You wake up once again.

Your feet take you out of the bed and you see your reflection looking at you from across the mirror, young and unblemished and innocent.

You grip the sink tighter and stare, thinking just what was it that you did wrong or how did you let things go so astray. Were your actions too forceful last time around? Was your preparation but a set up for your demise?

Your chest is heavy and you shiver when an echo of pain scratches at your back. You can feel the waves licking your skin, feel the burn of the impact at your spine. 

You don’t want to think about it. Not when you’ve got another chance, another shot at changing things. This time, you’re not going to waste it. You are going to learn from your mistakes and do better than before.

–

Starting an investigation is easy, again - you already know who to talk to and what to say. But this time you don’t go in personally and arrest anyone you see on the streets. You let the police handle it themselves, only warning them in caution to keep the members of two Teams separated from each other. It was the riot that curbed your preparation last time, you’re not going to risk repeating it.

Leaving that to a trusted force, you direct your steps towards Devon. You personally ruffle through all the labs, asking the scientists and searching the depths of the storerooms for an item abandoned to collect dust on the metallic shelves.

This time, it’s you who are going to try your luck at deciphering the missing engravings. You know the rest of the words by heart, and so it shouldn’t be too hard to translate a single part.

You re-enact your sparring matches with Elites, pushing them harder and harder in your need to get stronger. When this isn’t able to quell your unrest, you go on and turn towards the Gym Leaders. Your team needs all the experience possible, after all, and Wallace and Flannery are more than amicable to humour your antics as you push their pokémon to their limits to try and emulate the power you’ve seen wielded by the Ancient Ones.

It doesn’t work more often than not, but it’s still a thing or two learned.

You track down Norman’s kid and ask them to try and investigate any suspicious activity from the Teams they’re a witness of, giving them tips and warnings of caution. They didn’t do a lot last time, which is a shame. They’ve never even got close to the epicenter of the fight, stranded somewhere you had no time to go and fetch them. But maybe now it’ll change with your subtle push in the right direction.

And just like that, you don’t become a force, storming through the region and ticking everything upright. Instead, you remain a presence at the back, carefully moving pieces into places and prepping up for the inevitable.

You don't question if it's enough. That thinking got you lost not so long ago. You just hope that whatever you do will count in face of inevitable danger.

–

As it turns out, the police is more thorough than you could’ve ever hoped to be. They question and dig into each and every one of the thugs they manage to get, and suddenly, you know a lot more things you could only wish you knew sooner.

You know that they’ve been stealing meaningless parts of electronics for something, some ‘big project’ as they put it on paper. You know that their Leaders are strong, ambitious men, who know what they want and know how to get it. You know that they aren’t doing this for money, no, but for something else - a cause, as righteous as it gets in their eyes.

To expand the land. To return back to sea. These are interesting premises, ones clashing with each other like the very Ancient Beasts that tore up the Hoenn in part, and you start to know why their fight was as vicious as it was.

You stash this knowledge for later, a point of focus for a better time. For now, you have other things to do.

Your luck with the Stone Tablet has run dry faster than you’ve expected. The mineral is indeed too withered to see a trace of engravings, but, one time, as you trail your palm over the missing part, you feel just the slightest of bumps under your fingertips - a minute hint of a standing defect. It’s like a breakthrough in your research, a ray of hope that makes you rush back to the labs and ask for the digital scans of the Tablet.

When they show nothing, your suspicions are confirmed. The traces you felt - it’s something too miniscule for the current technology to pick up. And so you bunker yourself in your home, trying your best at reading out the long lost braille that crumpled under the pressure of time.

This task swallows the hours in your days, making you miss out on the appointments you’ve set up yourself, and some of your colleagues knock on your doors to ask you about it. You brush them off, excusing yourself with an important thing you have to take care of, and return to your endless post of tracing over the fragile stone.

Only after a week of fruitless attempts, you finally give up. Your hands are too calloused to pick up on the mutest of dots, fingers too battle-weared to have the sensitivity required to decipher the shapes. Only someone blind could have a chance at decoding the lost content, their touch sharpened by the lost sight.

But you don’t have the means to find anyone able to do this. Not when the sudden rain starts crashing down the window of your house and you can feel a faint shake of the earth under your feet.

You almost curse yourself for losing track of the time so easily.

Summoning Metagross to your side, you call on the Gym Leaders and Elites to help you in this battle. Those that need to stay, stay, but the rest heeds your words and arrives at the Sootopolis as fast as they can. 

There, you and Wallace are already forming a line of defense against the trying storm, trainers from the Gym taking on the evacuation. The Ancient One are battling each other in ferocious strikes, ignorant of the city that stands just meters to the side. The shields Metagross and others have put up are strong, but you’ve learned it means nothing in face of a power so great.

As the Beasts are busy aiming for each other's throat, the commands and orders spill out of your lips, a plan already in your mind.

You need to steer Legends away from here, further into the wasteland of the sea where no lives would be risked. You have to let them tire themselves out first, then you have to quell their fury by the only language they know and strike where it hurts the most.

You and everyone know it isn’t the most eloquent and magnificent of strategies out there, but it doesn’t have to be. It just has to work.

And it does, for the first part. Just until the moment the Beasts take a bit too much notice of the pests flying over their head and separate on their own, their focus shifting entirely onto you, mortals.

Those who don’t have the greatest of swimmers at their disposal quickly get swallowed by the tide higher than the buildings. Those whose fliers aren’t so used to braving the storm’s gale are shot down from the sky by hail of magma-covered debris.

It is as you fish out a limp body of Norman’s kid out of the water, their lifeless eyes staring at your soul, that you begin to comprehend that it’s you who have doomed them to this fate by your call. That asking for their help has led to this very moment.

Guilt washes over you, yourr empty hands twitching at your sides. You’ve left the Stone Tablet in the office of your home, but now you wish you had taken it with you, if only to have something to hold onto.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what you feel. Moments later, a stray piece of debris catches you off guard as you try to recover another mangled body from the trashing tide and Metagross’ reaction is too slow to prevent it from tearing through your chest and emerging bloody on the second end. 

In one second, there is a calm sense of acceptance, in the other, the fire burns through you body, a choked scream stuck in your throat as your lungs contract because something just shot through them and you can’t catch air, agony rushing through your veins and-

You wake up. One more time, you wake up.

You wish you didn’t. You vomit on the floor, your lungs hacking up as you curl into a ball, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

It hurt. It hurt so much. The echo of pain is still fresh in your mind, a hole in your chest so vivid it feels like blood is still sprouting from it, red and dark and staining the ground. 

You’re hyperventilating, you know it, but that knowledge does nothing to stop it. Nothing can, not when you think back to what just happened and see the empty eyes of your friends, knowing that their blood is your fault, staining your hands crimson. 

It’s your fault. You did it to them . Your inability cost someone's life. Your decision got them killed. It’s on you . Only the mirror is able to show the raw guilt in your eyes that has settled over your soul - a sight so bitter it makes the shame flood in your chest anew

It’s your fault. It’s you who have done it.

You look away, unable to keep your gaze any longer.

–

You have no plan. Not really. What you did last time was better than the previous one, and yet, at the same time, it was so much worse.

So many casualties were on your side, so many pointless deaths. How could you hope to change that? What could you do differently that could prevent it from happening?

You know an answer, the one in an arms reach. But it’s a real gamble - the premise of which and pay-off are both under a dubious question. If not now, though, then when?

You repeat the investigation, barring the rogue-like criminal catching, and you spar with the Elites and Gym Leaders, pushing them more and more. You avoid seeking out Norman’s kid. Maybe it’s better they don’t mingle into this at all.

You storm Devon's lab, the one you know has the Tablet inside, and you take it without a question. But instead of taking it home and pouring myriad of hours into baseless study, you search the region through and throughout for someone that could be of help.

There aren’t many, you learn, partially with relief. Just a handful of people who have what you need, scattered around and mostly senile. When you knock on their doors, Stone Tablet in hand, they seem to be in awe, asking just what the Standing Champion is doing in their humble home. You ask them for a favor, a simple one, and hand them the slab.

No one is able to feel more than you do, their nerves fraying with age, and you start to lose your hope. Maybe next time you’ll take the Stone Tablet and fly to Johto or Kanto to find someone else.

But you go to the hospital next, the one that speaks of a boy who has never seen with his eyes, and you’re proven wrong in your assumption when he perks up as you tell him of your name and shivers when you hand him the stone.

“I feel it.” He tells you, fingers sliding over the dents you only know exists. “But I don’t understand them.”

“That’s okay.” You say, relief in your veins, “I’ll teach you.”

And you do, visiting the hospital across the weeks, teaching a blind boy a language so ancient its only trace is in his small hands. The date you know is inevitable gets nigh, looming closer and closer, but you don’t let it deter you. The boy is smart, absorbing your words like a sponge, and you have no doubt he’ll be able to decipher the words in time.

Day by day, you check on the news regarding Team Magma and Team Aqua, spar with anyone who isn’t tired of your insistent nagging, and come to a local hospital in Verdanturf city to the point the lady in the reception drops the formalities and calls you by your name.

Everything looks right on track and you stay calm. Your plan is simple: Use the power of the Stone Tablet to stop the Legendaries, however it might be, alone. You aren’t going to repeat your last mistake…

-

The rain really makes it hard to think, you decide, fingers interwoven around the soaked slab. The eternal rivals of Land and Sea are wrestling near the coast, wrecking havoc all around.

The Gym Leaders and Elites are busy taking people to safety, assured by your promise to ‘take care of things’ for the time being, and the Relicanth and Wailord you have borrowed on a fly look at you warily from the water, eyeing the Tablet in your hands.

The content of inscriptions written on the stone is finally known to you, and you’re going to make full use of it. You look at the array of pokémon before you, their order far from hands of chance, and you mutter the words you’ve only dreamt of knowing, hugging the slab close to your chest. You can feel the power rushing through your bones, as ancient as the beings before you, and something inside you snaps like a string woven taut.

Metagross sends you an inquiring look, one you don’t know how to answer. You don’t really know what to expect. You just pour your need of stopping these Beasts into the Tablet and hope for the magic to happen. Inside your head, there’s a cacophony of whirling and buzzing and beeping. 

You give it a moment but nothing continues to happen, and you fold your hands in disappointment that douses you like the cold water. What a waste of effort spent, you think to yourself, motioning for your pokémon to break the line and take on the impossible task of separating the Land and Sea.

You watch as they give their all to this sisyphus work, barking commands left and right, but something inside you remains restless, pacing and pulling at your core.

When Aaggron and Skarmory fall, leaving only Metagross, you’re ready to accept your fate – see the ceiling of your room once again. You don’t expect for a miracle to arrive, not in the form of three Titans that round up the fighting Beasts, cornering them with unrelenting attacks that wind up the breath in your lungs.

But they do, and you watch as the beings of legends come to your aid and help your partner quell the anger that drenched the earth. You watch, eyes growing heavy, as the Beasts snarl and trash as they’re pushed apart, unstopping attacks forcing them to their knees.

You watch, chest stilling, as the energy of your life is used to save the region you’ve sworn to protect. Then, you watch as Metagross flies your way, panicked and frantic and you don’t know why because you finally feel at peace. 

You have done what you needed to. No one else is dead and The Gods are stopped. So why does it look so mourning? It’s not that bad. You just feel tired and you’ll just rest for a little bit. That taut, uncomfortable string inside you finally feels like loosening its hold and it should be easy and-

You wake up. You take a breath and close your eyes and when you open them, the ceiling of your room greets you in mockery.

You don’t have the strength to get up and face the mirror. The exhaustion that settled in your bones is heavier than the burden you feel, the disappointment more laden with weight than the ounce of satisfaction you felt at finally getting it right.

You really thought that would be the end of it. That you would be free of repeating it again and again. 

But there you are. Two months earlier, the daunting memories in your head the only remnants of future thrice lived.

You don’t know what to think. A headache is splitting your head open and your muscles feel like lead. You don’t have energy to stand up, so you bury your face in the plush of your bed and go to sleep, crumbling under the weight of the fatigue.

-

You have to change something, again. What you did was good, at least according to you, but apparently, wasn’t enough.

You decide to throw your chances and do something entirely new. Screw the investigation and the training. It’s pointless, doing nothing in face of the knowledge you already possess, taking on the precious time and stirring more trouble than worth.

If only you could nip the cataclysm in the bud. Preventing it from happening entirely. Maybe then you would be free?

You ponder and plan and quiz about what to do. Then, the enlightenment comes.

You take on a disguise, cutting and dyeing your hair and changing your clothes and mannerism, and seek out the group of Magma grunts that causes trouble in Mauville, the ones you’ve been quick to arrest the first time around. You introduce yourself under a fake name with a single pokeball at your belt. Your real team is stashed safely in a duffel bag you swung around your shoulder. If it came to anything, you can always count on them, but it’s not like you have something to lose.

The grunts take to you immediately when you put on a charade of ranting about the sea and wishing for the land to expand. Their eyes almost glint as you beat one of them in battle with a Magnemite you’ve caught just behind the corner.

It’s easy to blend in into their ranks, almost too easy. Your experience in organized crime is none-existent, but you expected a… better coordination. But that’s okay. Their sloppy work makes your job easier.

You search for the ‘Fires’ the thugs told you are the admins under the command of ‘the Boss’ himself, and while on it, you inspect. You are new here, so no one bats an eye when you ask about the structure of the organization or the plans they have. They don’t mind you hanging around the base they had shown you as you’re analyzing the layout and location.

To think something like this has been hiding right under your nose.

But the best comes to it when the leader of the group you’ve been put to announces: “The Champion Stone has been lying low for some time now. The higher-ups have assigned us a task.”

And what a task it is. 

They send you to an abandoned ship, a stone’s throw away from Dewford Town, and command you to search for a scanner. It’s a small device, they tell you, adding not to ask questions. And so you don’t, hood kept low lest the ocean spray dabs at the dye in your hair and exposes your identity. Your hand is always partially near your back, near the pokéballs of your team, waiting for a prompt.

It’s a skewed bit of luck that it’s you who finds the thing they are searching for. You hand it over when they ask, you need to know why they were searching for it, but it’s a pure coincidence when the device skrrt’s and brrrt’s and sparks in protests when the leader takes it into his hands and attempts to use it.

They curse and you don’t hesitate. It’s such a perfect chance. You tell them you could be able to fix it, if only because you have more than enough experience with your father’s technological gadgets, and the man huffs and puffs but allows you to do that.

It’s a score.

You get some recognition from the Team, your fake name a bit of a rumor on everyone’s lips. You don’t expect it,  but you were counting on it when Magma Admin Courtney personally thanks you for your deed, taking the repaired scope of your hands.

She asks you if you want to see it in action. You nod eagerly. Inside, you’re almost rubbing your hand.

The team they send you to Mount Pyre with is strong, made of trainers who know their worth in salt. You stay in the back, a simple grunt that has nothing to offer. But you watch, study and analyze their strategy and style as they tear through the mountain until they are in a shrine at the top. There, you watch as they use the scope you’ve found to scan the surroundings.

The Blue and Red Orb are a surprise to find, at least to you. The Magma members only cackle in ominous foreboding. You stay silent, idly wondering if it’s the time to shed your disguise and arrest them on the spot.

But you need to know what they need them for. And so you don’t. You get escorted from the mountain along the Orbs, taken into a hideout just east of Lilycove City. The group leads you into a bunker, into the long tunnels covered in steel sheets and glowing lights. You ask yourself when did they have the time to build it all.

There, you finally meet ‘the Boss’. Leader Maxie, as he introduces himself, looks like a man of frail build, hiding behind squared glasses and a stern frown. The grunts offer him the Orbs almost in reverence, and you just watch, entranced, as the man holds up the Red one and grins, an uncanny expression on the gaunt face.

The earth begins to shake and it is at this moment that you realize what you have just bear witness to. You reach for your bag, hands curling around the pokéballs, and you summon your team right into the heart of a secret base.

The chaos that erupts burns like a fire, everything coming ablaze. You shout out commands and order with steel in your voice and uniform of Team Magma still on you, your pokémon following your lead like a clockwork. It doesn’t take long for others to connect the dots of your authoritative tone and the fierce Metagross staying on your rear.

When you finally emerge from the battles, Maxie is standing on the side, his gaze dazed and empty. He doesn’t resist when you drag him into the exit, showing him the drought that swallowed Hoenn's sky and the trace of a giant figure emerging near the Sootopolis. He doesn’t react and you think you know why.

But it doesn’t matter. It has already started. 

With weeks earlier than before, you don’t even have a hint of a plan in place. You just take to the sky and call for the Elites and Wallace to start the evacuation. If they are surprised at your sudden request after countless days of radio silence, they have more pressing things to attend to.

With the Land God in place, it’s only a matter of time before the Sea God gets roused from its eternal slumber and joins the fight. As if on clue, the rain starts pouring from the dark clouds, the black of the sky burning at your memory. You’ve really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. The Stone Tablet is still in Devon and you don’t know if you have time to fetch it and call for the Titans before the battle swallows someone’s life.

You just wish that there was an easier way to do this - to put a stop to this endless circle of death or face the loss  and march on as if nothing happened. But there isn’t, and you have to keep doing it, alone.

You hate it. You hate that it keeps happening . Why can’t you just rest in peace? Why do you have to do it again and again and-

Metagross hums on your side. You slap yourself back to present. You have to do something, anything.

Oh, but it would be so much easier to just let it run its course - to wake up with all the time you need and face this task prepared. If only you could…

You look down at your hands, at the sharp nails you haven't trimmed in weeks, and ponder, deeply. But you just shake your head, dragging Maxie’s unresponsive body and mounting Metagross’ head to fly over to the fight of the Gods.

You have to stop them. Even if you don’t want to.

And you try. You really try. But when Skarmory and Claydol fall from the sky, Cradily and Aagron swallowed by the tide, and Metagross and Armaldo slump, exhausted, at your feet, missing limbs and energy and life, you don’t think it matters in this attempt.

You’ll try harder in another, you promise yourself, not really hiding from the tsunami wave galloping in your direction. You almost extend your arms, awaiting the impact because then you will-

You wake up. One more time.

You swallow the saliva in your throat, the notion of drinking water nauseating in itself. 

When you look at yourself in the mirror you’re back in your own clothes, hair turning silver-blue and brushed in your signature, messy way. You exhale with relief, running your hand through it. 

You have learned much in the previous loop. And this time, you’re going to use it to the fullest.

-

First, you go to the abandoned ship, right to the spot where you’ve found the scanner. It’s there, hidden behind the rotting crates and covered in algae. You take it with you, dropping it into the hands of Devon scientists with their promise of breaking it apart and getting all the technology they need.

It would take much to assemble it together, especially if the parts are scattered around different labs across the region.

Then, you go to Mount Pyre, climbing through the trail you’ve just visited a day ago and knocking on the doors of the shrine, waking up the old couple living inside.

They take to your presence with a politeful bow, your status apparent to them by the cloak you’ve decided to bring with you, and you ask them to show you the Orbs you have just stolen behind their backs.

They led you to the same secluded place at the mountain summit, displaying the Red and Blue Orb to your scrutinizing eye. They tell a tale you’ve heard before, of the Creatures that shaped the earth keeping slumber under vigil of these Orbs, and warn you of the great disaster awaiting anyone who dares to touch them with ill intent.

You listen and you learn, and when they finally ask you what has taken you to visit this place you tell them that the Orbs are a target of an evil group. You try to explain, gently, that you’d like to take the Orbs and store them in a safer place, somewhere where they have no chance of being stolen.

The couple agrees and you do just that, hiding the very thing responsible for the apocalypse you’ve experienced inside the most secure place you know, the Pokemon League. You tell your Elites to keep an eye on them, and with that, you turn around.

For the last thing, you get someone to go through the database, searching for a man named Maxie, aged around thirty with red hair and dark eyes.

It comes out empty, as you’ve expected, but it doesn’t mean you stop digging.

You go through the history of transactions in the biggest and smallest building firms in the region you can find. You ask around the shaddier part for suspicious orders asking for enormous amounts of electronics. It also comes clear. It means the materials were imported. 

You cash in favors from other Champions, asking them to do the same. Lance doesn’t respond. Cynthia and Diantha say they’ve got nothing, and Alder tells you of a lead that has long gone cold. 

You emerge dissatisfied but not undeterred. If you think about it, you have all the time in the world to dig into this man’s past and present. Sooner or later, you’ll get to the bottom of this. 

In the meantime, you go on to prepare again. You acquire yourself a Wailord along with a Relicanth, Cradily and Armaldo freeing up a spot for you to have them always on yourself. Wallace laughs merrily as he helps you find them, asking if you’ve finally turned to the beauty of the water pokémon. You don’t know what to tell him, so you just say it’s temporary. It is, after all. They won’t stay with you for long.

You also go to Devon to pick up the Tablet - better safe than sorry, as your father liked to say - and also make an effort to carry it along as you go.

You are ready, you think as you palm the two pokéballs at your side. If anything were to happen, then you are as prepared as you could be.

-

You weren’t. You really weren’t prepared.

You hear the alarms blasting in the League and you’re running down the stairs to the basement where you hid the Orbs. The security breach is a big one, a myriad of grunts of both the Teams rushing through the doors, shouting their goals for the world to hear. 

It’s too much to contain, especially in the heat of a moment, and you know a small slip up is enough to end everything, so you sprint to check on and eventually guard the Orbs if needed. 

When you get to the room, it’s empty - lights out. You turn the switch on and stalk to the corner you know the Orbs are laying.

They’re here. They’re safe. You breathe in relief, scooping them into your arms. But as you do so, something cold pierces through your stomach, blood pooling inside your mouth.

“Wha-?” You try to ask, attempting to turn around. The knife in your only gut twists. You stop a scream tearing out of your throat, only a gurgling sound escaping instead of a pained howl.

“-’m sorry, Champion.” The voice tells you, insane on the edges. You have no means to see the eyes of your oppressor but you have no doubt they are equally crazed. “The Boss didn’t like you snooping around, you know?  And, well, we need that Orb you have there.” And he stabs you again. And again.

You aren’t able to keep silent anymore, scream rips out of your scraped throat. A second later, you hear the doors to the room burst open with a shout. The person holding you is tackled to the ground, freeing up your movement, and you cradle an arm to your stomach, turning to see the face of the one responsible.

Dark hair and blue eyes. You’ll remember that. You’ll remember that and make sure this man never walks free ever again.

“Steven.” Drake grabs you by the shoulder, keeping you upright. “Steven, look at me. We’re going to stop the bleeding and you’re going to be alright.”

You mumble something in response. You feel warm. Too warm. The wounds on your stomach burn like a forge fire.You’re not going to be alright, you know it, but that’s okay. You’re not going to die. Not today. Maybe never.  But Drake doesn’t know and he looks more and more distressed as more of the blood leaks through his hands.

You try to reassure him, tell him it's fine, but you erupt in a fit of coughing so intense you feel like hacking up your lungs. It doesn’t take long for the dark spots in your eyes to cover your vision entirely and the world turns black as you take your last breath and-

You wake up. It’s starting to get repetitive, but you wake up. Again.

You stare at your mirror, tracing the unblemished skin where you know the knife just went through.

All the preparation, all the things you’ve done. All for nothing - back to zero.

You don’t have the strength to go out today, you decide. You don’t have the resolve to keep it up forever. What is it for? If all you do only backfires spectacularly, blowing at your face at the least convenient of moments.

You just go to sleep, wishing to never wake up again.

–

You leave the Orbs alone. It was a mistake to attempt to steer the fate by hiding them away. It feels as if no matter what you do, it will always lead up to Team Magma or Team Aqua getting their hands on them and rousing the Gods of the Land and Sea, and so you don’t even bother.

You travel through the region, eyes like a hawk as you scan the people passing by. You’re searching for someone - one person, specifically. When you finally find the face from your memories, you arrest them on the spot, ignorant of pulling at the strings of your authority. The left side of your stomach still itches when you think of what happened.

You take the Stone Tablet, and then, you take the scanner. At least like that you can make it a tad bit harder for them to find the Orbs. The Wailord and Relicanth, you pass. One, you can borrow from Wallace if it comes to it. The second… Well, you can always try and catch it on the fly.

Digging into Maxie, or whoever he is he claims to be, has proven to be more troubling than anything’s worth. You leave it alone, having learnt the lesson of not sticking a nose into this shady business.

It feels like there's nothing else for you to do. Whatever it is - you’ve already tried that, nothing coming into fruition.

Maybe you really just need to force it through? Use your raw strength to quell the anger of the Kyogre and Groudon. Force them to obey your command instead of raging restlessly for no reason at all.

You could do this, you think. It was close, the second time around, when you had the help of others. But if you really try, do nothing else but train and train, then maybe you and your pokémon can fight the two Gods and emerge victorious.

And so you try. You hermit yourself underground where you feel most at peace and train and train and train.

A month later, when you stand face to face with the Ancient Ones again, you know what to do.

As it turns out, it still isn’t enough because-

You wake up.

You need to be stronger, you decide, packing your bags and-

-

You wake up.

Just a little more, you think, staring at the mirror. It was so close, so now-

–

You wake up.

Almost there, you mutter to yourself, gripping the sink tighter. One more time and you’ll-

-

You wake up, heaving.

The fatigue finally crashes you down, slowing you in reaching your goal.

You can’t do that. You really can’t. It’s just too much - the fight is too demanding and too volatile. Too many things happen at once for you to keep track of.

Maybe, maybe if you knew a bit more. If you knew about the origin and history and the weakness and everything about the ones you face, then maybe it will be enough.

And so you pour the hours and hours into a study, leaning over the books as dusty as your bed. You research and review, analyse and ponder, and the time slips by, unnoticed.

This time, you feel more ready, more prepared than before.

And yet, still-

-

You wake up again.

You can’t do this alone. You can’t do it only by yourself.

And yet you know how asking for help will end, know that you will only doom the other’s fate.

But what if… what if you didn’t ask a person? What if you could gather the help of a powerful someone - a pokémon - other than the Titans that sap at your energy until you’re dead and dead and dead. 

It could work out. And it’s just the luck you’ve read enough to know where to turn to.

The Sky Pillar.

You take a breath and look up at the giant building grazing the clouds. The walls are crumbling on themselves, debris falling at the ground.

You know that what awaits you there is the last bastion of your hope.

And so you don’t hesitate. 

You step inside.