Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

IT'S NOT HARD TO PONDER. It’s not hard to wonder for what unravels behind the stars, behind the deepest seas, behind the highest peak of a mountain, and—most remarkably—what truly lies behind what our eyes can reach.

“One,” Were we meant to explore the world at its highest from a methodical viewpoint? Or were we left to our devices to fulfil a cycle of ignorance?

You’re only capable of wondering.

The small place that is Postwick Town filled you with a sense of question. Its crops barely reached beyond your height. An old small farming town dating back to the old young years of the big Galar that is nowadays, faraway from life, faraway from most, and of course filled to the brim of Wild Pokémon.

“Two,” Different from all you used to know, a small town your mother could only imagine was best for both you and her, a longstanding civilization situated at the region’s southern point—what lies underneath the map unbeknownst to you.

Miserable was surely a fitting description, a town no one cared about. But somehow your mother still gags at the mere idea of stepping a single foot outside anyway and seen interacting with those ‘monsters’.

“Three,” So unalike how your dear Ecruteak City was, your hometown, and almost all you had used to know. Not even speaking the same language, it’s clear this distant stuck-on-time town was not meant to be inhabited by someone like you.

Your hair and clothing flew along the wind, carrying the sounds of the Wooloo, you think that was their name, herd resting nearby to your ears, piercing them with expected ease.

“Hey!”

A foreigner, all you were. What everyone looked at you like, an outsider, something that would never fit the picture Galar was painted as.

What had caused such vehemency? You died to know. You wanted to enquire, you wanted to believe people could accept you. Yet patience is all people lack around the slight threat of your presence.

“Hey…!?”

Perhaps Galar’s vast land didn’t welcome foreigners, perhaps it was the people who could never accept the unknown.

Just like…

“H-Hey. Can’t you hear me, for real…!? Have I seriously turned into a ghost!?” The contrasting scenery fills the gaps on the background; the voice hangs on it. It’s weird and unforeseen, this kid—not looking any year older than you—spoke to you. His purplish hair waving along the wind, serene and tranquil contrasting his terrified demeanour. The harvest, akin to you, covered his height entirely.

Unexpected the meeting was for counted, but his words managed to confuse your inner self even more. In all truth, you didn’t understand a single sound coming from his mouth. Not even the muffled screams.

Uh. What was he screaming for?

“You? Who…?” The words roll out your tongue uncomfortably, even with the incommensurable amount of childish Learn Your ABC’s books laying around your room, the stupidly long time you spent repeating the words plastered for you to see, you Galarian [1] plainly sucked.

All you could sputter was nothing more than a measly interpretation of words, a copy of which none could sound good.

“Ah! You can see me!” The string of uncoherent words that followed made your headache with the difficulty of trying to follow them and understand his speech implication wholly.

Something along the lines of ‘ghosts’ and ‘lying’ apparently?

“I don’t…”

At this, the guy stops blabbering incoherencies. For a mere fraction of time, you want to believe that he speaks Kantonian too.

Of course, said expectation extinguishes quietly as his face retorts in clear confusion—it mirrors the same expression you’re probably having.

“I…”

What? Haven’t you practiced this stupid sentence already? Over and over? The only sentence you got to memorize as well.

“I don’t s…speak Galarian…” You drawl out the ‘s’ unsure as whether you’re pronouncing it right, but it shouldn’t matter, really, if the message gets across it’s all fine. Isn’t it?

On the background, the dawn settled for you—he had his back turned against it—, the yellowish deathbed of the sun following them. His sun-kissed skin creating a beautiful scenery for you and you alone to mesmerize at.

“You must be the girl who moved in recently then. My mom told me about you!” He replied, his face scrunched up in thought.

Contrary to what your line of thought told you to expect, his lips got up to form a pure and innocent smile, that sole action threw you aback, more than anything this, this—boy had managed to do in the past minute.

Only when you got to somehow put in order your brain that ran laps trying to comprehend what was hiding behind his smile. Then, he extended his hand to you clearly signalling an introduction.

“My name is Hop.”

Weirdly enough, with hesitation you accepted his handshake, though, why did he keep on talking…? Hadn’t you made clear your inability to grasp on the words he was saying?

“Nice to meet you!”

A slight breeze passed through you, against all odds, you had accepted his niceness with a welcoming handshake—had this been Ecruteak City, the ever-lasting city from the Johto region where you hailed from—the norm would have told you to bow to at least a forty-five degree.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hahaha…!” Hop. You think that was his name, only laughs in response.

Getting back on track, Hop still held your intertwined hands, shaking them together furiously.

“Weirdo.”

──── ୨୧ ────

CHAPTER ONE | I wonder if I could fall in love too.

──── ୨୧ ────

THE WORLD ISN’T OPAQUE BUT BRIGHT, so how come have you ended up in a confined tragedy? Yes—assuming this is an enclosed space and not the afterlife, and even whether it is or not, you’re still the very prisoner of such darkness surrounding and consuming your figure entirely.

Pitch black as far as the trained eye can see, it dawns your brain entirely. You blink once, twice, and thrice for the sake of it, but the scenery doesn’t change.

Loud sounds fill your imprisonment; the clattering noise of shoes revolved around the darkness surrounding you—only Arceus [2] may know where in the Galar region are you—before fading into nothingness.

You’re not Marnie—you’re not Bede, heck you’re not Hop. Why you out of everyone? While you may have gained some popularity as a Trainer on the Gym Challenge, popular enough to be approached on the streets by some people that recognized you, you weren’t sibling of the most infamous Gym Leader of the main branch; you were not endorsed by Rose, nor were you the sibling of the current Galar Champion.

Why were you abducted and not reprieved of your Pokémon?

It’s not hard to notice, the weight of your trustworthy bag and belt—both gifted by Sonia and Hop at the start of your journey. In this enclosed space, you’re hyperaware of whatever isn’t yourself being with you. Safe to say, you’ve got all.

Too much that’s within your messily organized belongings is of importance for you. That thing, your camping set, your obtained badges—your Pokémon. Perchance that’s why the space seems so closed off as of now, it’s jampacked. You recoil, trashing around for a few seconds. But it concludes once you realize it’s of no use; you can’t get the fuck out.

Unable you were of moving without the ache of certain joints appearing to torment your nerves because of the misplacement of them in weird angles. It all would even more uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the soft texture colliding with you from the sides.

Everything proves to be futile, even your memories do as retracing steps to earlier hours—or even the event leading to this—leaves a blank space in your brain, whatever had gone there isn’t where it belongs anymore.

“Fnyah—!” A high-pitched, almost child-like voice interrupted your inner monologue. “Better get that uniform before someone spots me.”

What’s that ruckus…?

“Urgg——!! This lid weighs a ton...” Your breath hitched, what the bloody hell was going on? “Time for my secret move! There!”

The heat creeped up quickly, the flames of an unbearable Inferno [3] shot straight at whatever is the thing you’re in right now.

Thud!

A loud echo was produced by your ungracious fall, your body falling to the floor face first. The coffin—yes, a coffin, your guess had not been so far off—lid had been burnt completely, in an act of desperation you had kicked the lid of the growing burning coffin.

“Ack!” You rubbed your face, it stung. You had jumped—fallen—from a considerable height. Thanks to the lid having been almost burnt to ashes, the veil of darkness that surrounded you was lifted off, yet your gaze remained fixed on the ground.

Argh…

Inhale.

Exhale.

Slowly, unsurely, your gaze raises—the eyes that you rubbed with insistency as to relieve the sudden intrusion of light were soon blown wide as the dread creeped up yourself entirely.

“Oh, my fucking Arceus.”

Looking around, you became aware of the weird—dismal scenery, floating Cofagrigus-alike coffins were splattered all around the room. As oddly bizarre as everything was already, you hadn’t seen the worst of it just yet, on the centre, where the mass of eccentricities condensed into, was also a flying mirror flying just atop a small, weird fountain.

“…? Am I dreaming?” You mumble absentmindedly. “I’ve dreamt of imaginary Pokémon before, but this is oddly… uncanny.” Now, if you only you could reach your Rotom Phone [4]—

The irritation before present in yourself faded away slowly. You had been kidnapped, that’s the thing. But what kind of kidnappers go this far? None. Now, more weirded out that anything, you finally looked down at the responsible of the coffin’s demise.

It was that moment when you locked eyes with a certain furball instead of an actual Trainer, it looked like a weird regional variant of a feline Pokémon—a new one perhaps? If that was the case then cool, but if it was a regional variant, what Pokémon would he be related to? Not Meowth, that’s for sure…

“Nyahaha! You should have looked at your face!” The feline-like Pokémon laughed boisterously holding his paws to his stomach.

There’s silence in your brain for a few seconds, the realization of what the little guy had spewed out running a trainwreck over every single discovery about Pokémon you remember until now.

“Holy Arceus——!?”

“Fnyah!?”

For some reason the weird Pokémon mirrors the surprise you have, it’s comedic in a bizarre way. You’ve heard of some Pokémon with talking gimmicks like Chatot [5] … yet that’s most definitely not the case. Sound motifs? None! Just a small feline with flames for ears and a pitchfork shaped tail.

As if not weird enough, this brand-new Pokémon (?) was not speaking Galarian instead choosing—or only knew—to speak Kantonian.

You look around for one more time, there not being a single soul besides who you’ve already mentioned. “Are you a Wild Pokémon?” He opens his mouth, but you don’t stop the tirade of questions. “What is this place? Why can you talk? Talking Pokémon aren’t a phenomenon I am acutely knowledgeable with.” Brushing away any dust leftovers, step by step you get up from the pose you had poorly fallen with at full speed.

Eyes as wide as they can be, he looked rather taken aback by the sudden interrogatory. “What’s a Poki-Poké… Whatever!” He looks even more confused than before, staring at you with an unsettled expression.

“You ought to spread your vocabulary—”

“I am the Great Grim! Not some Pikimon! You better remember that or…” The so-called ‘Great Grim’ threw his paws to the air, a gush of his fire breath from earlier appearing in front of you. “I’ll roast ya! Now, hurry and gimme those clothes!”

“Eek!” With the reaction time of a snail, you barely dodged the attack by a small frame. Listening to Grim’s words, your gaze fell down your clothes, your cult-like and extravagant choice of clothing. Not a single resemblance to your usual outfit, there wasn’t any similarity to all clothing store showcases you’ve seen either. Robes of a dark shade with intricated gold linings on the edges, with some purple underlighting in a few places. Your pants and shoes each one following the same colour palette of black, purple and gold.

How on Earth.

At least you have your bag… and belt for some unknown reason you’re still battling to understand. Thanking Arceus, you don’t know how you could ever pay for that camping kit ever again.

Grabbing Primarina’s resting Poké Ball from your backpack, you try giving slow steps towards the door as to not startle him into releasing more Fire-type attacks. “I’d prefer doing this another time, you know. Litten-lookalike.”

“The name’s the Great Grim!” He went back to standing on all his paws, ready to set the whole room into a frenzy of fire about to consume his opponent. The strategy having been proved useless, fell back onto just battle it out.

“How could you have a nickname if you don’t—wait! Don’t aim that way!” Grim’s fire-breathing attacks don’t relent, instead getting more persistent with each missed shot. What a poor roll of the dice for you to be on the receiving side. “At least look where you’re aiming——!!”

On cue, a red light of energy emerged from a Poké Ball.

…Just not from the one you wanted to start the showdown with.

“——!!”

Grim looked in shook at the scene, instinctively holding his paws to hide his face from the shining light. While you just facepalmed in recognition of knowing who it most presumably was.

“Um…”

“…”

There was some silence, each one of you silently studying the other’s move before being broke by its new intruder.

With a cry, certain bipedal Pokémon to revealed himself from the light. “Axew!” Only to instantly start to run around because of the present fire on the room—something you had seen coming from two kilometres away. The thing you had not predicted, however, was him bolting out of the room in complete fear.

“Gyah——!! What is that thing…!?” Grim was left too stunned to speak or even react, the fires diminishing their greatness as his surprise grew.

“Wait, Axew. Where are you going!?” The words left your mouth as soon as they came, which resulted in you spewing them out in Galarian.

As you said so, you were quick to set foot and start running after Axew. Mid-sprint, Grim had started to chase after you, you heard his paws echo behind you after all. Something you could really care less about setting your entire focus on the Tusk Pokémon diminishing on the distance.

Given the strange and bizarre situation, you might have thought this was a really realistic dream.

But…

Looking around, all you could see were classrooms, never-ending halls, and a grandiose garden, and so you continued to think. How could someone like you dream of something so descriptive? Grim’s Inferno felt so, real. The after-effects of his fire imprinted on your mind very well.

There’s just no way this is a dream or at least a simple one. Pokémon that mess with dreams exist after all, but you, once again, not see their presence fitting for such case.

The time passed was something bugging you too. It was night; however, the last recollection you had of sky was a blinding sun coating the landscape and mountains of Stow-on-Side. It’s all utterly confusing, you remember vaguely travelling on foot from Motostoke to Bea’s gym, and that’s where it ends—what are you forgetting?

You let out a huff, this deal was getting bigger by the minute. Desperately searching for Corvisquire’s Poké Ball this time around, you toss it out saying the magical words; “Come out, Corvisquire.”

She’s quick on the motion—as soon as her face greets yours, with one quick scan of the field, Corvisquire understands the situation. “Corvis?” She lets out while following you closely. Again?

“Don’t phrase it like it’s a common occurrence.” You fume, stopping to catch your breath. “Just catch up to him before any trouble arises with another Pokémon.”

With that, Corvisquire doesn’t add more to the conversation having flew away already. Grim’s steps cannot be heard anymore so you assume he must have given the chase already, you feel some sympathy for the next person he tries to take their clothing off though.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Arceus, do feel your legs already begin to give up.

You follow the path you watched Corvisquire take, taking a deep breath, your legs stop at the library. One that came with more floating things—more specifically books, some thick, some light, some with a hardcover, some not but most dusty. There were a bunch of different sections, yet you seem to have stepped on the most untaken care of one.

Havin lost Grim some minutes ago gave you a moment to order everything that your mess of mind managed to catch a breath and catch up to Axew, finally. Those small legs are stronger than they look.

“Cor Corvis Corvi,” Corvisquire appears from behind one corner of another section. With her, an Axew trails with a head hanging low. He’s okay, just scared enough for a few restless nights.

Axew ran towards you, hugging tightly your pants, and in response you only crouched down to his level, offering some comfort in the form of head pats. Feeling Corvisquire perch on your head, you sigh.

“I bet that was scary, huh?” Axew’s face decreases even more, he feels guilty—you get it, but in situations like this his safety was your utter priority, you wanted to let him understand that.

“Axew, Ax…”

“It’s all okay now. Don’t worry about it, I’m not even that…”

Then, there was this squeaky voice calling out.

“Dumb human!” The characteristic blue fire surrounded you, out of instinct you put Axew behind you, you feel him tremble against your robes. You’re grateful he didn’t try to run away again, “Did you really think that little show could get you away from the Great Grim?”

“Now that I think about it,” Corvisquire left your head, flying quietly in front of you in a defence stance. “You look more similar to a Zigzagoon.”

I really thought I had lost him in the hall, you think half-surprised. Grim was quick for sure, as if he was constantly spamming Quick Attack [6] to chase you.

“It’s——!?”

In the blink of an eye, a cord—that came out of nowhere, mind you—shot up against Grim’s figure, trapping him in place. The surrounding fire dying quickly due to Grim’s imprisonment.

“Buwah——!! That hurt! What’s with this string?”

“This is no mere string. It is a Lash of Love!”

What continued was, this mysterious guy walking out from the darkness of the library—two eyes shining brightly amidst the old and uncanny place whereas of now, you had been tossed into without further ado. Bewildered you (Corvisquire and Axew too!) stood amongst the confusion that certainly, no matter how much times someone would have tried to explain to you, it would remain unclear and straight up from a fairy-tale handmade to scare children out of committing bad deeds.

In between you and the Litten-alike, ‘the Great Grim’, stood a man, Corviknight feathers surrounded his formal attire—a black tie as well as a black hat, face pale almost as an Alolan Vulpix, but to your eye, what seized your attention was the most outlandish of all, half of his face was covered by what resembled a Corviknight mask and golden eyes lying underneath them.

If bewilderment befitted you the most, Corvisquire’s expression was comedic, seeing as this guy practically screams Corviknight fan.

His golden eyes narrowed at you. “Ah, found you at last. I trust you must be one of this year’s new students?”

“Excuse me…?” You mutter in puzzlement.

“You should not do things like that. Leaving the Gate on your own!” He crossed his arms as if to accentuate his fury, or whatever he was feeling because a supposedly new student—thing you weren’t—broke a rule on not even the first day of school. “Not only that, but you also broke several school’s rules by bringing along your poorly trained familiars!”

Your confusion doesn’t diminish, in fact, it grows with every word he spews.

Familiar? What a weird name to use for Pokémon.

Grim? He wasn’t yours in the slightest, though you were contemplating to attempt to capture him.

Student? You aren’t!

“Grim’s not m—”

“Lemme go! I'm not this lowly human’s freaking’ familiar!” Grim struggled against his binds, or well, against the Lash of Love.

Such a ridicule name.

“Wait, did you just call me lowly human?” You side eye Grim, talk about rude.

The Corviknight man directed his eyes at you, “Sure, sure. Rebellious familiars like you always say that.”

“Hah?” You turned to look at him, trailing your eyes in-between Grim and the Corviknight Man—seriously? Why is he so obsessed with the theme? The ‘Lash of Love’ keeping Grim still. “I’m not—”

“Now, will you two be quiet for a minute?” In a swift movement, Grim was now, on top from being keep in place by the lash with a nickname you refuse to give thought, being held by Corviknight Man and basically muzzled by the way he covered Grim’s mouth.

“Dear Me.” And all Grim could do in response was trash and grit, any sound transformed into inaudible sounds. “In all my years. I’ve never dealt with a student with such temerity—to open their own gate and leave on their own. On top of bringing not one but two untrained beasts.”

“Corv Corvi Cor.” Not even the Flying Taxi [7] guy looks like this.

His gaze fell onto the Axew hiding in your shadow. Somehow, his eyes shone with a brighter intensity juxtapositioned against the darkness. In response, Axew buried himself in-between your robes, his gaze not meeting the eerie ones. Slowly trailing up to meet Corvisquire resting perched atop of your shoulder.

“Hmm, that one is the exception…” Was all he said in a thoughtful mood, quickly washing it away in favour of a more serene temper. “Does the very notion of patience elude you?”

The silence you reply with only stretches the unfortunate moment.

You’re not a student here—this guy must realize it sooner or later, right? Yeah… that look isn’t reliable. If not, you’ll simply ask for directions to the exit. There’s no jarring need for you to stay here, since well, you’re not a student—thing he claims you are. “I was—”

Axew looks confused, Corvisquire grunts lowly.

He tutted, “No matter. The entrance ceremony is already well under way. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber.”

You don’t dare talk once again as to not get cut mid-sentence.

──── ୨୧ ────

The route back was scenic and silent except for the ruffle of Corvisquire feathers and Axew’s soft snores as he tries hard not to fall asleep in your arms. So much so that Corviknight man even started talking to himself—which, to be honest, it seems to be like a common occurrence at this point even given how little you’ve spoken.

It is when you walk through the even stone path of the courtyard that one sentence stands out.

“I must say that the luggage you’ve carried around having been not sent elsewhere through the transport is impressive, indeed…” He exclaimed, you swear you see a tear run down his eyes. “It is most recommended to students to send their belongings via mail for a reason.”

Now, that catches your attention.

Mail? As in via Dragonite mail [8]?

“Hm.” Is all you let out; this piece of information does relate to your earlier circumstance inside the coffin. “I keep my Poké Balls here so I’d rather not.”

“What?” You both say in unison, looking at each other in confusion. The light sounds of your footsteps don’t stop but with the conversation at hand becoming a tad bit too awkward you’re only capable of agonizing at the atmosphere. “Anyway. Are we somewhere in the outskirts of Stow-on-Side? Who are you? What is even this place?”

Blank memories fill the grasp you had of the situation before becoming awake in that weird room, but, most if not all before that are sewn together in the recollection you have even before that—even with how disconnected this place seems to be, chances are you’re not stranded that far from home.

With the hand he isn’t holding Grim with he exudes a clearly sign of confusion, aka a no, presumably.

“Stow-on-Side?” He asks albeit with a butchered pronunciation. Adding, “There’s no place with that name inside Sage’s Island.”

“Sage’s Island?” You bite your tongue. If there was a place with that name in Galar, you’ve yet to heard about it.

He nods. “This is Night Raven College. An institution for budding mages from all over the world who demonstrate a rare aptitude for magic. Here they gather at the most prestigious magical Academy in Twisted Wonderland. And I’m the board chairman-appointed headmaster in charge of looking after this college, Dire Crowley.”

Pressing your lips in thought—and incredulity—, he keeps on. “It appears you’re still dazed from the teletransportation magic. These things happen.”

Corvisquire’s grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly, in response so does your grip on Axew. Talking like that, what person would take an educator seriously while talking such nonsense? It almost reminded you of Director Cyrano.

Magic?

That’s just… not true at all!

The murmurs of the Mirror Chamber get louder by each step you take closer to it, said room being the same one you—forcibly—woke up in.

The only clear statement-question you hear clearly, though, is, “Maybe he had a stomach-ache or something?”

“I most certainly did not!”

Crowley opens—almost kicks—the door open, a myriad of different stares meeting your gaze behind shadowed eyes. There’re more people than you expected. Axew flinches slightly, not used to the attention you guys received from those words alone—a bunch of students, concentrating their eyes on you rather than the supposed Headmaster you were accompanied with.

Corvisquire, however, basks on it. Extending her wings like a proud Unfezant. You’re used to them too; the Gym Challenge inherently does that to people.

“Ah, speak of the devil.” A red-haired boy states instantly, perchance the comedic actions from this man are a given here.

“I cannot believe you all, I was searching for the new student who'd failed to show for orientation.” Crowley refutes whatever everyone’s thoughts were, signalling you alongside him as if it was your fault he didn’t leave you alone. At this, the red-haired guy eyes narrow at you, as for the rest…

Some guy with what seems to be a scar running across his eye. Some other with glasses and not that much else to point. The guy next to him practically beams with a shining smile. Next is a boy whose looks are so captivating it left you entranced for a second (just like certain model you’ve met). Lastly, there’s a floating… tablet…?

What a bunch.

Crowley simply pushes you to move along. “You are the only one who has yet to be assigned a dorm. Step up to the Dark Mirror and be quick about it. I'll watch over your tanuki, bird and… other weird familiar.”

Axew hesitates to jump down but does once Corvisquire makes the first signal to stay behind. The sound of your feet clatter against the floor, just like you’ve heard earlier, now it makes sense to know the sounds were other students—but this time around it isn’t completely quiet.

“He’s sure a pretty face…” A voice comes from the left.

Someone faintly replies. “One of the arrogant boys from Pomefiore for sure.”

“Dude. Will ya quit it? The Dorm Head is staring right at us!”

Hold up.

Did he just…?

“State thy name.” You stumble, not having noticed how your feet aimlessly walked on their own towards what you think is another Pokémon—somehow, you’re not entirely sure anymore.

“[Name] [Last Name]?”

With a slow and spectral tone that resonates within the Mirror Chamber it continues, “The nature of thy soul is…”

One…

“………………”

Two…?

“……………………”

Three?

“………Unclear to me.”

A bunch of hushed gasps filled the room, disbelief crossing every face you could land eyes at. Crowley’s gasp was the most indignant, breaking out everyone’s daze. “Come again?”

“I sense not a spark of magical power from this one.” It’s final, “Soundless, shapeless, colourless. Utterly vacant.”

“Bloody hell…”

Should you feel offended?

“Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.”

“The black carriage would never receive a person who can’t use magic! In its century of existence such mistake hasn’t been committed once!” While Crowley fights with the Dark Mirror (?) you give a step back, calling back both of your dear Pokémon that Crowley left behind, with Axew jumping at the chance to be in your arms. “So why in the world…”

Attention isn’t your most esteemed friend. Instead, you opt to completely ignore Crowley’s words, instead staring at the floating tablet. Wondering if it’s another Rotom-powered device. You’ve never seen something like it; a bunch of technology tends to be region locked these days after all.

“Hrk…” It emits, levitating away to a faraway corner.

Turns out, since you might not be in Galar anymore, a strong supposition and a hardly believable one if you fully trust Crowley’s words. Considering time of transport by sea—an airline accepting a coffin as an acceptable baggage would shoot a few worried looks—, Kalos would be a viable option to bring to the table. That is if you don’t take into account how everyone’s just speaking Kantonian.

“In that case.” Your voice cuts through the whispers, catching Crowley’s attention. “Would you mind giving my place to Grim? And to the person who said that—I’m a girl, sorry for the confusion.”

…

A collective gasp.

…

Everyone’s head turned to you, even concealed behind their uniform—you presume—their gazes are not filtered, rather boasting with unprompted questions filling through the cracks of their query at what you just uttered.

Awkward.

What’s so weird with your clarification?

The red-haired boy from earlier doesn’t match their confusion, instead giving you a stern look from the darkness, he takes a step closer. “I beg your pardon?”

You only point at Grim, who had already freed himself from the Lash of Love taking advantage of the theatrical concern of Crowley’s. Jumping straight into action with excitement at the prospect.

“Me! Me! Let me have her place!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the slightest twitch of the guy hands. They reach out of instinct the pen hanging from his—

“—Look, I’ll show you right now!” Grim’s eagerness doesn’t fade, in fact, in grows. A bad feeling nags your heart the moment he takes a long breath because if he does that then that must mean he’s about to…!

“Everyone, get down!”

“Air Slash [9]!”

Redhead and you shout at the same time. Readhead’s movements were flashier though; he clearly wanted to do something with that pen—while you simply shielded Axew.

Corvisquire’s flapping wings create razor-like wind that cut through the fire, smothering the full blown you were about to receive—not the smartest move, you’re aware but Grim’s Flamethrower [10] took you by surprise. In such a crowded environment? Just who is he planning to murder!?

“Whoah! Ow, ow! Help! My butt’s on fire!” The dark-skinned guy from earlier shouts; his butt set on literal fire as he runs around the room.

“You insolent fool!” Redhead turns to look at you, his eyes didn’t demonstrate any pretty feelings or words he wanted to share. “Was breaking Rule Twenty-Three of the Laws of the Queen of Hearts not enough? Such shameless behaviour should be punished instantly, but you don’t have…” He stops himself, coughing in a very fake manner.

“Were for you to have been in Heartslabyul, I’d have you know your head would be rolling off right now.”

“——!?”

Corvisquire flies in the background, fighting flames alongside flashy currents of wind.

Axew almost jumps out of your arms, equally shocked as you. “Axew?!”

What’s he talking about? You think, flabbergasted. Cutting heads off, surely, he doesn’t mean it literally? Just what kind of secret cult meeting did Crowley bring you to?

The conversation is as quickly as it had ignited. With Redhead zipping his mouth from further comment and a steel grip on his pen, his steps quick to Crowley’s side alongside that—the one with glasses you described beforehand.

You, too, couldn’t bring more commentary to the table. Prioritizing your attention in another thing, trying to search the room for a guy with a butt on fire which—should be and—is quite easy to discern among the crowd.

“A-Ax…”

Axew’s Poké Ball remained locked somewhere easier to access in your belt, you’ve learnt the lesson before. “Come back, Axew.” You return him back to his Poké Ball. In the mess the people became you’re unsure as to whether you’ll be able to keep track of the little Pokémon he is.

“At this rate this school will be a sea of fire! Somebody catch that tanuki!” Crowley’s exclaims distressed at certain students.

“So prestigious…” You shrug, searching for certain Poké Ball in your bag. Watching from the corner of your eye Corvisquire’s try to keep flames at bay.

“Uhm, hey! My butt’s still on fire… Could someone put it out!?”

In a minute! You’re tempted to scream.

“Are you all even listening!?” Crowley’s wails heighten.

The guy with the scar tsks loudly, “If it’s only catching some stupid tanuki, pretty sure you can deal with it yourself, Headmaster.”

Your hand touches Primarina’s Poké Ball. It was hard to remember where you hastily had put it when searching for Axew. Letting out a sigh of relief, you toss out the Poké Ball in the air, a beam of light engulfing your eyesight—and some others that were close by—.

“It’s—!?” Your voice interrupts Grim’s.

“—Primarina,” I’m deeply sorry, Grim. “Use Aqua Jet [11] on the blue Zigzagoon! And the guy with a butt on fire…!”

Her figure stands on her tail, cherishing her opening presentation. “Rina Primarina!” With pleasure!

──── ୨୧ ────

The aftermath of such meek Pokémon Battle—you don’t think it could be even called that, come on… Grim almost fainted from one Aqua Jet alone—was somehow within the range of what you had expected whether you wanted to truly believe in it. Just after the fire was put off by Primarina, that redhead from earlier butted in screaming ‘Off with Your Head!’ claiming Grim’s defeat as his, but that’s not the matter that worries you more.

Hmm, well, Grim is indeed a Fire-type… but still——!!

Magic—it’s hard to imagine; a world where Pokémon are not the only beings capable of holding such power. The likelihood of it was almost none yet look at it! This is, and must be, a dream. Discard everything  you’ve theorized earlier; there’s no way it’s all real.

They way that with only the movement of a pen, such strength was able materialize in front of your eyes. It all happened too fast, a flash, an incantation—an order, in your eyes—, the sparkles that soon revealed the collar Grim was stuck with.

Humiliating and such. He was a little wild, so what? Was it all okay for such an outlandish act? At least… you hope Crowley wasn’t being for real with the stew stuff.

Primarina passes one of her water balloons to Corvisquire. “Rina Primari Pri?” Do you think I went overboard?

Corvisquire nods, pecking the balloon with an inexpressive look in her eyes. “Corvi Corvisquire Cor.” One hundred percent.

“That guy…” You look directly at certain redhead giving orders. Now his red tone of hair not as strikingly pretty as you may have once thought.  You play with the hem of your robes, waiting for the rest of students to leave the Mirror Chamber according to their ‘dorm’. That had been the word Crowley used, right?

“Geez, I’m getting a headache.”

A hand places itself in your shoulder, out of instinct, you flinch.

“Hah, sorry!” It’s the guy whose butt was in fire. “Didn’t meant to scare you, I was passing to give my thank you for, you know, earlier.”

“It’s okay. In the end, Primarina’s the one who did the job.” You let go of the seam of the ceremonial robe.

Primarina chimes in, stopping her volleyball match. “Rina!” No problem!

“Haha! I’ve never seen a beast like this, and to have such a cool magic!” He smiles, lacing his hands behind his neck. “I’m Kalim Al-Asim! Man, those water spells were so cool, perhaps I could to the same one day with my Unique—”

You look behind his shoulder, directly at another guy with the hood pulled so harshly downwards you couldn’t distinguish any of his features.

…

Rustle…

The hand of the mystery person appeared out of thin air—that seems to become a constant through the night—, grabbing one of Kalim’s arms and slowly dragged him towards the door where a mass of students was waiting for them.

“Jamil?! Wait, I was…”

“Oh.” Is it me or is he wearing the same makeup as Redhead? You muse. Why did you just notice? Redhead’s face you had seen clearly before, not the others as you were holding a safe distance.

That handful of students follow after Kalim—you kind of assumed it, he being a figure of some importance along with those guys that were waiting for the headmaster at the beginning. A lot of murmurs still float around the back of your ears but dim out in a space where you’re by no means attentive to.

One of Primarina’s cries deafens the stillness of the atmosphere surrounding you. “Primarina Rina Prima.” This place reminds me of Blueberry Academy.

Corvisquire doesn’t add more, you’re unsure if she could ever, as the Pokémon never flapped her wings inside that disgusting, decrepit place.

Maybe that was it, the uncanny resemble with Blueberry Academy—not infrastructure wise as they’re miles apart from each other, but the feeling hit so close at a reminder of what you always felt in that place.

You bring your hand to your mouth, scratching with a bit of nervousness the contour of your lips. No, that can’t be it. That can’t be the reason, there’s gotta be something else that pokes your insides—it’s simply not that simple, it never is.

It’s silent within your range for a while, except when Primarina starts humming a melody.

Once the last dorm leaves, Crowley fake coughs redirecting his attention. “I can’t believe it, for not only a magicless student to appear here, but to be also a girl… Truly unprecedented.”

You blankly stare at his theatrics. “I hope I seriously don’t remember your face after this…”

“Did you say something?” Crowley turns around, his glowing pupils slithering in disapproval.

“No, not at all.” You frantically shake your head turning to your Pokémon. “Did you hear something Primarina? Corvisquire?”

“Rina…?” Primarina tilts her head, an innocent look in her features. No…?

“Quire Corvis.” Corvisquire looks away in exasperation. Leave me out of this squabble.

“Yeah, nothing at all.” You walk once again besides him—which ironically, was in front of the mirror who just deemed you unworthy of their institution. “So, continue. Headmaster.”

“I see you’re quite experienced in Animal Linguistics, [Last Name]-kun.” Crowley mentions out of nowhere. Whatever that means, he doesn’t add anything on it, and you don’t question it either. “Well, no that it matters as of now. Surely you realize I can’t let someone like yourself to attend class here.”

Oh, wow. At least he phrased it differently from the Dark Mirror.

“I certainly do.” You add weakly. “Can I go home now?”

You hope Crowley doesn’t notice the small quiver you voice has. It’s already been too much hecticness for a night—you’re still tired from that game of tag earlier with Axew, the Grim incident was just the icing for this weird pastry. You cannot wait to pass out as soon as your face hits the pillow of some cheap hotel, no more wilderness for you for a while at least.

“Yes, worry not. The Dark Mirror will see you safely home.” Slowly and deliberately, he turns to the Dark Mirror, giving you one last glance and saying, “Now, step into the gate, and picture your home clearly in your mind.”

Ah. So, it does know Teleport [12] and Telepathy [13].

One you were able to infer from the odd number of similarities with those read your future schemes—they’re rather popular in Unova, so you might be a little familiar with them. There’s always a Psychic-type Pokémon at the crime scene too.

With your Pokémon by your side, the imagine is not hard to picture. Even when people are quick to assume the contrary, due to your… rather unsavoury situation—for the people that are aware of such, that is—, it’s all too simple.

You imagine the taste of those late-night curries alongside Hop eating together after a day exploring the Wild Area, how the food you made together always tasted better with him and your loved companions by your side. You paint the image of Bede while searching for Wishing Stars [14], and you reminisce of Marnie’s soothing presence when you spent time together watching the nightfall; perchance even the idea of texting with Sonia (Victor would join in sometimes) until late night brings you the sense of nostalgia. Those times were fun.

Your eyes are closed. Making somewhat easier the notion to reminisce in front of something so unlike all you’ve seen.

“Oh, Dark Mirror! Guide this soul to where it belongs!” Crowley shouts.

Pleas which are met with silence.

Your heartbeat drops while Crowley retaliates in confusion.

“Ahem. L-Let us, er… try this again. Oh, Dark Mirror! Guide this soul—”

“There is no such place.”

“Eh?” You and Crowley let out in unison, though your voice sounds strangled. Whatever word it utters next—

No. You don’t want to even think about the slim chances.

“There is no place in this world where this soul belongs. None.”

…

You stare in silence, disbelief crossing every inch of your body. How could that even be possible? You’re here, breathing, you exist within the confined four walls of the room. Your possessions are here; they did not just appear out of thin air. Your memories live, your friends do. Alongside Hop in that journey is where you belong. You do have place somewhere.

Yet the words are final, akin to the mishap that happened during the ceremony from earlier, your confusion turns to a heavy burn weighing your heart.

“W-What… does that even mean?” You utter, clutching your robes as an anchor to the current moment. Open eyes turning to look everywhere but Crowley or your Pokémon.

“What did you say? Hmm, well, the unbelievable has been on a parade today. I must confess that I am at something of a loss. Where do you exactly come from, [Last Name]-kun?” With one last sigh of defeat, Crowley starts walking in direction of the door.

Corviknight peers down pecking lightly your shoulder. Probably trying to alleviate the palpitations of your heart. “Corvis Cor.” So inefficacious.

“Prima! Primarina!” Primarina interjects following closely you both. Hmph! It’s like that Bede guy!

“In what way?” You whisper back, breath by breath pulling yourself back to the situation at hand. “Postwick Town, Galar.”

He stretches the silence for a bit, racking memories as to search if he had ever heard that landmark before. Watching the puzzlement Crowley was currently at, you don’t relent. Stow-on-Side may not have worked earlier but any other name may ring a bell.

“Hammerlocke?”

Crowley seems to think hard.

“Wyndon?”

No response yet…

“Kanto?”

“—I have a general grasp of where all my students came from, but the names you’re saying are ones I’ve never heard of before.” The darkness beneath that mask of his you found easing, he’s gonna help you. Right? “Let’s head to the library and look them up, shall we?”

“Yes. Please.”

──── ୨୧ ────

So far, nothing.

Not a single mention across the board. By how many books you’ve touched in the past half hour you’re suspecting you might grow a bigger brain. Whilst there may have been some interesting topics broken down—magic and history more specifically, there were tons of books revolving around the theme—, none truly helped you position yourself in a map. Crowley had shown you a world map at first, but by the scepticism at seeing it, you had insisted to keep going until Arceus knows what hour of the night.

“What’s a Shaftlands anyway…!?” You utter to yourself while putting another book back in the shelf. Exasperation rises; it tastes bitter.

“Corvis.” You watch as Corvisquire puts a book in a higher shelf—some dust falling off and prickling your nose. Nothing here.

After seconds of deliberation, you turn over to Crowley whose expression doesn’t give you much hope. “Hm. Just as I’d expected. The names which you keep repeating to me earlier aren’t mentioned in any point of history.”

“But that’s not how it should be!” You step closer. Exaggerating the movement of your arm that you’re not using to hold another book you picked up. “Unova, Paldea, Kalos? Tell me, why is there none of it?”

“I ask of you to calm down, [Last Name]-kun.” His golden irises narrow down, the demeanour of his not changing slightly. “Could there be any form of identification in that bag you carry? A driver's license perhaps? Or even a shoe…?”

Your eyes enliven up, that works. “I must have my League Card [15] around…” You take off your bag—Arceus, does it feel nice—and leave it atop of one of the many tables. Not taking that long of a rummage to find said card along some others you’ve keeping for the sake of collection. “…Here.”

Crowley takes the card with an interested and, or confused look dazzling through his mostly covered behind the mask features. He tries to read the brief narration in the back, action that prompts you taking—snatching—the Pokémon League Card away from his hands.

“Does this prove anything?” You put back the card on its rightful place, culpability aside, watching, not Crowley but, Primarina drift off peacefully in the bench.

“My, youth these days…” Come on, man… You’re not that old… “Ahem. But, yes, it indeed does. Looking it from all sides, the only plausible explanation is that you were summoned here from another world.”

“Oh.”

…

…

“—What.”

It’s odd how many times you’ve probably repeated that word by now.

Were for that to be true. Why does he look so mystified? It was his weird teleportation magic’s fault to bring you here without consent! He said so himself…

So, what now? Maybe you had been keen on keeping the lie conceal the truth that twisted your inner psyche. A torment designed for the identity you’ve come to forge along the way of those there to help.

You’re not keen outside of Pokémon Battles—perchance rather dense, more than you’d like to be able to admit. Was the answer there all along? Most likely, but you keep rebutting, idealised and settled in the reality you saw through your own eyes.

You’ve heard of it before, maybe in the passing. Something, something about two weird disappearances across different regions—but you digressed and assumed it was one of those mildly concerning posts in Chatter [16] you’ve encountered many times before. How could you be so sure that those incidents have anything to do with yours anyways?

“Has this…” You try to form a sentence, not finishing the thought once the one hundred years claim from earlier resurfaces. “Never mind. I feel lost here. What can I do…?”

While you may have been living outdoors for the most part over the course the last few months—you had been under the management of the Galar League [17], a safe place and help to turn back to were for times when the money became scarce—it’s lead you to many Meowth hunts, those of which the results are embarrassing. You’re a self-sufficient Trainer, yes, but not one with so many resources (money).

“To the point I was getting at,” He stands up from the bench he had been comfortably sat at the whole time you were in the library. “I just can’t toss a penniless teenage girl with no means of going back home out on the street. For I am gracious.”

He sounds bizarrely happy, his golden pupils closing.

“That makes it sound like you thought about it.” You sit now next to Primarina, she was now accompanied by Corvisquire who was also trying her hardest to not fall asleep.

He glossed over your words, again.

“—Hmm… I know!” Crowley smiles, though seemingly appeased with himself. “There’s an unused building on campus. It was used as a dormitory once, if you can clean it up, it should be suitable enough. For the time being, I shall allow you to stay there.”

The usage of the word abandoned almost immediately made you backtrack but given the odds—with every single corner of this place feeling covered in ancient tales, you can’t truly ask for much. It was better than the wilderness from every perspective.

“Then I will look for a way to return you home. My graciousness is limitless! A model educator, one might say.”

You nod, not giving his words that much thought, perhaps growing already numb to it, while taking Primarina and Corvisquire’s Poké Balls out of the bag. Mildly surprised when Crowley looks over your shoulder, you feebly cringe, his steps are light, yet his presence isn’t, you note.

“Oh, and also regarding your small familiar from earlier.” He takes one Poké Ball—Axew’s—in his hands, nearly snatching it away. “Where is it?”

“…Right.” You stammer, looking up. “He’s inside that Poké Ball you’re holding.”

“Is that so?” There’s the ever-thoughtful face not too making not a long presence before putting back the Poké Ball in your hands. “Interesting, I’d like to know the details of this magical artifact of yours—but, first, let’s be on our way and head to the dormitory, it is quite late after all.”

He walks away, his silhouette dimming as he gets closer to the frame of the door.

“—Yes! In a second!” You call, voice reverberating across the library. “I thought he’d want to stay around for this. Well. Whatever.” You whisper now, more for yourself than for anyone else.

Beside you Corvisquire looks fully gone, slowly snoring with Primarina at her side.

“Rina…”

It’s a nice mystery to think about what their dreams are. Wasting no more time lingering around, you call both of them back to the red capsules, quickly fixing them back in the respective zipper where the rest are. You lean in, face just barely hovering above the bag, gasping the words you’ve wanted to say all night.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, guys.”

There’s no answer, except for Dreepy’s Poké Ball slight twitch. It’s okay, you think, the words of confirmation are more yours than anyone’s, but the reassurance is something you need right now.

You do hope that the abandoned part of the dorm was as literal as the word could get.