Archive of Our Own

Juliana's POV

The waning glimmer of daylight sank behind a tangle of bare, brittle branches, slowly becoming swallowed into a hollow wash of a bruised, dusted blue.

Juliana’s head sank against the Community Center’s coarse concrete, eyeing the empty pokemon center stand several paces in front of where she sat. Its signage was drained of color, unfairly exposed by the unsteady glow of a lone, rusted streetlight. Its fluorescent beams buzzed into the square, rivaled only by the flickering strobes of hidden Volbeat. When she gathered a defeated breath, the misted crisp of frost poisoned and overpowered the sickly sweet aroma of a forecasted spring, desperate to bud through the unforgiving winter. 

Still nothing. 

It was ironic - how easily words slipped from her pen after they had clawed at her mind relentlessly. It was almost as if no ink could beautify them - they were twisted too much for comfort, and oozed of an irrefutable rot now that the line was drawn and the dust had settled. She could - and has tried - to dress herself into a desirable shine in spite of her fluke and flaw, but her mistake had already solidified his narrative on her and her intentions. It was only now, under the watch of a gilded moon, that her ugly tears seemed to finally understand this.

It was over.

Her knees met her chest as she cast the paper aside momentarily, eager to disappear in the school uniform she once again donned now that the festival was over. The fresh linen emitting from the fabric of her charcoal jacket nearly posed a lie that was equally painful as it was tempting - a lull of an invitation to forget, to pretend that she had never forged a bond that had touched her as deeply as it tore into her now. Her eyes wandered towards the path at her left side, where gravel would guide her to his home. She sighed again.

She huffed a sigh through a creeping smile that laced well with her burning frustration: she just didn’t get it. They had not known each other for too long, and yet, the strings they wove to their bond in the short time they spent together felt indescribably precious and pure. She was used to walking her own path, but his matching stride had brought a gentle comfort and companionship she didn’t know she needed. Reflections of her past self - her spirit before she had moved to Paldea - seemingly slipped through in their chatters and giggles. And before she knew it, her childlike wonder that had hardened away from her rumbled up from a forgotten depth, giddy with joy as he guided her through meadows that retained their gloss lush through any season.

It was sweet. And light. And fun.

She wasn’t sure which memory was her favorite, in hindsight, before their connection was tainted. Perhaps it was their long talks, or shared love for a good mystery. Perhaps it was the cozy silence after their picnics, where they drifted away with the clouds in sunny naps. Or maybe it was when he had stumbled into her by accident and stuttered over himself innocently when they were huddling over her Rotom phone, which somehow led to an inside joke. Her mind replayed the magic over again, and landed on the night of the Festival of Masks. 

Yes. That was it. 

Something about that night was pivotal, and it all started with his family. Paldea was very much a journey for her, and it was full of friends and memories. But it didn’t quite feel like her birth region, or the place she could call her own like before her parents’ divorce. But here was a full family unit, boisterously bickering about what was for dinner and when to head out. She may have been a guest, but it was the first time she felt like she was in a home. And for some reason, his reaction to her festival outfit warmed something in her. 

The flutter in her stomach ached to relive that day. He had even bought her a candy apple, too.

Juliana repositioned herself as the crisp air prickled her cheeks numb. She would need to go inside soon and plaster an insincere cheer on her face. She nearly jumped when the entryway to the Community Center slid open, but her shoulders hunkered down when she recognized the peering silhouette.

Ms. Briar ducked her head out. “Juliana! There you are.” 

She cleared her throat and shuffled her legs around to a crisscross “Hi Ms. Briar.”

“And here I thought you would be with Kieran,” she jested lightly.

Juliana’s lip curled into her mouth - hoping to conceal the sting. “I was just getting some fresh air.” 

The expression on Ms. Briar seemed to settle into something pensive, and Juliana stiffened as she stepped through the doors and outside. Her tone must’ve given away her mood.

“Everything okay?” 

She couldn’t look the professor in the eye, so her gaze trailed down to the bits of dirt that clung to the stoned walkway, searching for an answer. “Yeah I’m just…thinking.”

The hovering shadow knelt down, and a whisk of cinnamon clove wafted through her nose. She retreated back slightly as a steamed mug was presented to her, and quickly concluded that Ms. Briar must’ve been more aware of what she was up to than she was leading on. Juliana gripped the gift with solace, savoring the heat that the marbled, porcelain dish sent through her fingertips. She pressed its fine edge to her lips, welcoming the taste of frothy foam of toasty spice and chai.

Ms. Briar seated herself accordingly, then took a swig of her own tea. “Any thoughts you’d like to share?” 

A beat of silence hung in the air before she gave Juliana a light, knowing smile, and her head collapsed back on the building behind her. It didn’t matter if Juliana was trying to hide things - it was clear that they were going to talk.

“I’m just…” Juliana trailed, carefully stringing together her words. “I’m just realizing that most things in life aren’t permanent.” She huffed at her own words and shook her head. “I know that sounds stupid…”

“It’s not,” Ms. Briar swiftly encouraged.

Juliana locked eyes with her professor, whose listening ear patiently awaited for her to continue. She took another sip and breathed out the sweet reminisce of cinnamon clove. “...It just seemed so simple when I was younger. There was always family around. Friends felt like they’d be around forever, too. I didn’t have to think too seriously about what came next. But now that I’m starting to carve my own path…now that there’s less and less structure in my life to determine what comes next…?” 

“It can feel confusing and overwhelming." Ms. Briar concluded.

Juliana leaned forward, feeling the churn in her stomach brew. “Yeah,” she said, hurriedly stretching. “It’s also…just…painful,” she managed carefully.

“The impermanence of things?” 

Juliana’s mug met her lap. “I just thought…I had something that was going to last.” 

It wasn’t shell-shocking, but the epiphany hit her regardless. She wanted the bond to last.

“...But it’s not going to. Life just moves on.”

Calls of Illumise echoed in the distance, pulling Juliana’s attention to the faint, sprinkled glow of the darkening sky, curtained more by the hour. The incandescent stars were beginning to peak out from overhead, decorating the deep indigo. 

“Ah,” Ms. Briar murmured, a thoughtful smile tugging at her mouth as she beheld the same sight as Juliana. “Kitakami may be small, but you can’t beat the view of the night sky here. And would you look at that? It seems the phoenix is out tonight.”

Juliana attempted to marvel at the sight that the scientist proclaimed beauty in. “The phoenix?” 

“Yep. It’s right there - right between those two big clouds. One of my favorite constellations.” 

Ms. Briar’s finger waved towards the opening in the sky, where a cluster of stars could be finely threaded together in undeniable spotted symmetry. 

“I’ve said a lot of goodbyes in my work,” Briar said quietly as Juliana absorbed the celestial figure.  “Every region I’ve lived in, every cohort of researchers I’ve learned with or trained - I meet the most brilliant people, and then one day I’m packing up to head to the next project, the next home. It used to hollow me out every time.” 

Juliana’s head turned as the professor took a gracious gulp from her steaming mug, zeroing in on the sudden disclosure. A hand swiped over her lips, and she continued.

“But I realized somewhere along the way that the connections don’t vanish. They just…settle in different places. You stop walking together, but you carry them with you, like little lights. And sometimes, when your paths cross again, you find those lights still burning.”

“It hurts,” Ms. Briar said, turning back to her with warm, steady eyes. “The impermanence, the endings - it always hurts when a chapter ends and it’s time to say goodbye. But not every treasure you find is meant to be yours to keep in the way you might hope, and feeling that hurt you have right now means it was something worthwhile.”

The words were brutal - much different than the flowery descriptions she’d hear Director Clavell say -  but they spoke on a nuanced sophistication that felt raw and real. Because no matter how much Juliana agonized over it - the writing was already on the wall: 

The chance of forgiveness had come and gone. The budding connection that was theirs had been chopped down. His eyes had hardened, and now looked past her.

He wasn’t waiting anymore.

She fought the creeping sorrow that threatened her dipping tone. “...How do you let go, then? How do you move on?”

“Mmm,” her professor hummed gently. “It’s okay to hold it as is, Juliana. It’s okay for it to be something that mattered. Things end so that new things can begin - and oftentimes, even we ourselves bloom in ways we couldn’t have imagined.” 

Juliana blinked away at the sting in her eyes, trying her best not to think about the growing tear in her chest.

“If it’s something that matters, it doesn’t need to disappear entirely. You have the power to carry important fragments with you. And before you know it, you will have pockets of communities in many unexpected places - even if they may not sit at your campfire every night.”

Juliana knew she was walking a tightrope, but she bit with her next question anyways. “What about the times where things don’t go the way you were hoping for? When there isn’t…a full pretty bow to wrap things up in?”

Ms. Briar didn’t miss a beat. “You honor it the same way - the good and the grief. You keep the memories you want to pull from it that bring you joy, and lessons that you want to carry that will make you a better person.”

“Wow,” Juliana breathed out, nearly speechless. “Your time as a researcher taught you all that?”

“Unofficially, yes. It’s a little bittersweet, but well, that’s life sometimes.” 

The pair shared another sip in unison, and Juliana zeroed in on the heat that travelled down her throat and through her body. Her mug was running out of tea.

Ms. Briar perked up a moment later. “On a related note, would you like to know one of my favorite quotes I’ve learned during my travels?”

Juliana nodded expectantly.

Ms. Briar closed her eyes, seeming to recall somewhere unbeknownst to Juliana as she recited the saying. “All lives touch other lives to create something anew and alive.” 

It sounded magical, as if dancing through the fabrics of time itself.

Her eyes shot open. “You have your own inner power, too. The same good you can hold onto…,” she looked to the stars once more, and her ruby irises twinkled, “...is the same good you can give out to the world. You may not see it fully, or ever truly know it. But you are capable of it. And you already have. I have seen it, in both Carmine and Kieran alone.” 

The name nearly rattled goosebumps along her skin, and Juliana tried her best to conceal her reaction. “Thanks, Ms. Briar,” she murmured, her voice soft but sincere.

The professor rose to her feet with a groan, then reached out and collected Juliana’s finished cup. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate whatever you decide to write.” 

Heat flushed to her cheeks, but Juliana’s mouth closed just as quickly as it opened when her professor gave another knowing, but calm look. “R-Right.” 

 “Just come inside when you’re ready. If you need more time beyond our wrap-up dinner, there’s still some time before tomorrow morning.” 

“Tomorrow morning?” Juliana repeated, puzzled. 

Ms. Briar’s eyes widened. “Oh…Kieran didn’t tell you?  There’s been some developments at Blueberry Academy. I am departing with him and Carmine at ten in the morning.”

A sharp pain hit Juliana, and the dropping temperature felt further away again. “O-Oh..” 

“I’m going to tell the others after breakfast tomorrow so we can all enjoy the festivities today. I apologize, though. I know this is sudden. You will still have the next few days with the other students before the plane for Paldea arrives.” 

Juliana cleared her throat as she waved a hand. “No, no. It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” 

She mustered up the best curt smile she could manage, and Ms. Briar bowed politely after a troubled expression briefly flashed across her face. 

“Well...I’m going to check on the preparations for the goodbye dinner now. You can tell the Caretaker you’re looking for me if you would like to talk any more.” 

Juliana crinkled her eyes to compliment the smile pinned to her cheeks. “Thank you so much.” 

After the door dinged with a soft chime, Juliana’s eyes flickered back to the constellation before her. A fuzzy tuft drifted lazily into her line of sight, pale against the light. It landed uneventfully in her open palm, and she quietly studied  its fragile threads as they quivered in the night air. For a moment it simply rested in her palm, as if the night had placed it there. Then a passing breeze stirred, and it slipped free, spiraling upward until the darkness reclaimed it. Her hand stayed open a beat longer, as though surprised to find it empty. 

She found her pen as she began to look back in time, imagining what to take from everything - imagining what to take away from being able to meet him - in spite of all of the pain and bitterness. A tiny trail of wetness trickled from the corner of her eyes, and she let it sit in the silence with her.

He tore her up more than he’d know.

But she couldn’t condemn him.

She began to write his name.

Kieran's POV

It was hard to look her in the eye as he took his seat across from her. But at least he didn’t have to be next to her. Or would that be worse?

It didn’t make sense. He loathed her now - he was sure of it. She had waited for his guard to go down, and swiped up everyone and everything he cared about without so much as batting an eye. He had every right to scream at her, to walk out and never look back. He had already made his vow, after all. Because he was tired of mulling it all over and drowning in his helplessness. 

He would never let himself be this vulnerable anymore. 

It was over.

He would become different. He didn’t know how to change just yet, exactly. But he couldn’t be weak anymore. He had to refuse any inkling of himself that pulled towards that.

So why, in all of his boiling fury, was it hard to stare her down?

He had watched his sister curse others with her glares all the time throughout their upbringing. And most are blown down in a storm. But here, in this moment, the wind was tame. He dared to peer upwards, and the sight shocked him.

She was meekly staring at her fingernails under the table, too, painted with a guilt-ridden shame.

“Okay,” Ms. Briar’s voice boomed across the table, cutting through the chatter Kieran had long since tuned out. “It’s about time to get started everybody.” 

The hair on Kieran’s neck stood up when a pair of caramel eyes touched his briefly. He tore away immediately, tapping his finger against his leg as he tried to focus on his professor instead. 

“As you may know, tonight is a celebration as our time together comes to a close.” Ms. Briar gestured toward the side table, where staff were loading up a fine selection of Kitakami cuisine that rivaled his grandmother’s cooking. “First, let’s give a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to our generous hosts for keeping us so well-fed and so well-housed these past weeks. Without them, this program wouldn’t be possible - or nearly as cozy.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the room alongside quips of gratitude. Kieran didn’t contribute.

“This program is about more than just lessons and lectures,” she said, her tone softening into something almost reverent. “It’s about partnership. About seeing this land through someone else’s eyes. When you paired up together at the start of the program, it wasn’t just to complete tasks or check off boxes. It was to learn what it means to trust someone, to share discoveries and curiosities about the region, and to help each other grow through shared companionship. “The efforts and hard work you have all put into this trip are proof of that,” she said gently. “And sometimes growth comes easily - through laughter and shared victories you may have experienced with your partner.” 

Kieran felt a twinge of uneasiness build as Ms. Briar scanned the room of students, and eventually lingered on him. “And sometimes, it comes from the challenges and misunderstandings that encourage us to think and grow outside of our comfort zone. All of it matters. All of it shapes the kind of trainers - and the kind of people - you are all becoming.” Her eyes resumed sweeping through the room at last. “Let this be a celebration where we can honor what this time has given you;  what you want to keep with you long after you leave this place. Every one of you has left your mark on Kitakami - and I daresay it has left its mark on you, too.”

A thunderous applause began, and Kieran mindlessly slapped  his hands together in slow, light motions. 

“Now, why don’t we go around and share our reflections with our partners?”

One by one, pairs began to speak. Soft voices turned into laughter as each student shared their thoughts. Some were nauseatingly shy - so much so that it felt as if he was catching his own reflection that he had wanted to throw to the waste side. Others were boisterous and peppy, mirroring the girl that seared through his mind. He stared down at the table as each pair prattled on, tracing the grain of the wood with his thumb while the words blurred together around him. His foot bounced under his chair.

“I learned to put up with outsiders,” his sister had said with a mock-snark, earning a bursting ring of chuckles. His eyes flew up when he recognized the melody an off-cadence giggle, and shot back down just as quickly. 

The circle kept tightening, pair by pair, voice by voice. With every seat that spoke, the heaviness in his legs pressed down further and further. The room seemed too still, too expectant, as all eyes finally turned toward the last pair to go: Juliana and himself.

“Uh…yeah. So, I guess, um…working with Juliana was…somethin’ else.” His gaze flicked her way for a heartbeat before dropping again. “She’s…strong. Stronger than she looks, for sure. Always had some move I wasn’t expectin’, some way of pullin' out a win. Guess that’s…creativity, right? She’s got plenty of that. Abundance, even. Knowledge, too. Kinda feels like she has an answer for everything.”

His foot tapped restlessly under the table. He didn’t have much left to say, and he couldn’t bring himself to prepare anything beforehand, too. He was speaking to a liar - to someone who had willingly humbled him with a crushing defeat had followed him everywhere. 

His mind fizzled as he couldn’t help but wonder which pokeball in her bag belonged to Ogerpon. He almost jerked when she seemed to sense his shift, and dared to make direct eye contact that lasted.

“I…learned a lot watchin' her battle. I’ve still got a long way to go. That’s…good, though. It’s...motivatin".” His voice dipping lower as his knuckles whitened on the table’s edge. “Makes me want ta' get stronger. Way stronger.”

“Oh,” Ms. Briar awed, “I smell a new goal.”

“Mm,” Kieran agreed, clenching his jaw. 

“Wonderful. Thank you, Kieran. Let’s give him a hand,” Ms. Briar rallied, starting up another applause. “Last but certainly not least, Juliana?”

Kieran braced himself as Juliana laced her fingers together in her lap before speaking. He fixated on her, unsure on if he was expecting something from her or if he was trying to burn her away. He had thought his pulse was done shooting through his ears after his speech, but for some reason, it had beat at an even quicker pace as she collected her thoughts. He couldn’t help but cave to the safety of the floor, where he witnessed his trembling shoe instead.

“Kieran has this way of changing the space around him.”

Her voice was ever-so-slightly smaller, softer than usual. His fingers picked up their wiggling again.

“People notice when he’s there - not just because he’s a good battler, but because he makes them stop and think. He notices things that others might overlook, and he makes people reconsider what they thought they already knew. It’s…a wonderful quality. And…well, since coming here, I’ve felt that shift too. The village feels different now than it did when I first arrived, and I think he’s a big part of that. He doesn’t just fight for what matters. He makes people see what matters. Even if it means standing up for what’s right by standing alone.”

Kieran swallowed, the words pressing into him sharper than he wanted to admit. Her tone seemed to level out as she went on, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it bothered him. 

“And it’s not just the village. It’s the people close to him, too. He has this kind of steady influence, even when he doesn’t realize it. He makes things feel more alive, more worth holding onto. That’s something I’ve admired since the beginning. So…thank you, Kieran.” 

The table erupted into another applause as a ring permeated through his ears. It had felt as if time itself had frozen yet somehow took painstaking measures to linger through each nanosecond that passed as he finally worked the nerve to entertain his wounds, to give himself one final snapshot of the one who hurt him most.

There was an odd, brash poise to her presence he couldn’t quite place as he began to etch her in one last time. Her face was too soft, too open for the weight of her words. There was a translucent pink coating  the tips of her ears, and the warmth bounced off the simmering, chestnut locks that she had worn in the same loose ponytail she had made for the festival they had explored, hand-in-hand. The ghost of her touch plagued his palm as he was drawn to the slight crease in her worried brow, which only seemed whisked just slightly out of place from where he was sitting. Her unyielding  gaze had pinned him in place with a steady shimmer, and that alone was maddening and unfair. Because instead of wondering about anything else, he couldn’t help but think:

Was she sad or brave?

He couldn’t shake the question. Even as the conversations died down, and even as the silverware stopped clattering. Students began to say their goodbyes for the night, rejoicing and making promises left and right to continue to spend time together beyond the project. He had mindlessly assisted in cleaning up to search for something to do in his paralysis while his sister and ex-partner mingled with others. Juliana’s peppiness was nauseatingly apparent as she started to offer hugs to each and every person in the room.

She wasn’t waiting anymore.

He wondered what, if any, part of the act was real. He couldn’t even remember the last time they had spoken. For real. If any of it was real or meaningful at all.

It probably wasn’t.

The volume in the room finally began to die down, and with less and less voices crowding the room, Kieran’s shoulders began to relax. He sat down on an unused chair that was lined up against the wall next to the table that still somehow had more than enough helpings of food, eager to finish his duties so he could finally put all of this behind him.

And there she was - still here - closing in on him.

Her arms were already outstretched, silent, steady, and waiting. The feeling in his body had turned to void as the room blurred, suspending him with her in some sort of purgatorial space that had snuck up on him. The only thing that spurred him to motion was the sudden realization that she indeed was stepping toward him, requesting the very same thing he was certain she had already resigned against.

He rose slowly, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a muted drag. He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t sidestep or brush her off either as her arms began to wrap around him. He remained stiff, firm - grounded in his spite as a light tug pulled him closer. He gave no resistance to the sway, and felt his left shoulder build with heat as she rested her head against it. His chest hollowed out as he grew to feel absolutely nothing at all.

No anger.

No ache.

No thoughts.

Just a strange, lingering stillness as his eyes grew numb and weightless, boring through the empty white wall across from him. 

And then, he was released.

He blinked as his body swayed back slightly - back to where it had been before. An envelope met his face.

He reached for it - just as he reached to feel something in his fingertips again.

“Goodbye,” she had said.

He was absorbing it - the mildly worn, off-white paper. He had become transfixed with the object before he had realized that she was gone. His thumb curled around the edge.

Gone.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“...Are you sure? You won’t be able to-”

“I said I’m sure. Now quit botherin’ me, Sis.” 

He could feel it as Carmine recoiled against his doorframe. His words were growing shorter and more certain. Sharper.

They were finally being treated seriously. Finally being worthy of some sort of respect. Maybe this was how he could get it, if nothing else.

“O-Okay…” she mumbled. “Well. I’m still going to go say goodbye tomorrow. I’ll get Juliana’s Rotom number in case you ever wanna talk to her again. And maybe I can talk to grandpa, and we can get you a-”

“I’m done talkin’.” 

She hovered over a breath. He could hear it - even if he was staring at his bare desk. “Alright. I get it. Goodnight Kiki.”

He didn’t reply back.

As soon as his door shut, he pulled it out from the drawer directly under him. He was itching to know, and couldn’t wait any longer. He tore open the envelope from its side, dragging a tear across its square frame. He dug in the flimsy pocket greedily, yanking out the folded paper and opening it unceremoniously. He felt distracted as he registered a tickle on his shoulder before registering a lone cottonwood, and he quickly flicked off the fuzz.

His hungry eyes bled through the page as he drank in each scripted letter, and he needed to quell his envy before the syllables actually made sense:

Dear Kieran, 

When I reflect on my time with you over this past month, I think of us as opposite sides of the same coin. Where I would know where to keep moving forward, you would know when to slow down. Where I would see the bigger journey to chase after and accomplish, you would see the details in each day to treasure. I came to Kitakami without too many expectations, but you made this trip feel alive in a way I didn’t know I needed. And you have taught me a new way to look at life, too.

I have experienced you as a quiet spark - first gentle, and meticulous. Then, I watched you burn with passion the more I got to know you. You have many gifts, and they go beyond catching and battling pokemon. I see the way you connect with the world, and how you are able to see the good where others may not. I can tell you carry so much more than anyone guesses, and that shows in the kindness and consideration you give out to others. Your dedication is both admirable and inspiring and only begins to emphasize how much of a natural leader I can see you becoming.

I also know we’ve experienced each other differently in the end. But please know I’ve seen the flames of your fire burn brighter, and I’ve seen how much grit you put into everything you do. You gave me your time, your friendship, and your vulnerability - and that is something I won’t forget. Thank you for trusting me with what you chose to - your laughter, your thoughts, your dreams - and thank you for meeting me where I’m at as much as you could, too. Please know that I will always root for you and your fire. I hope you can get everything you’re looking for in your next chapter, and I hope you know this, if nothing else: the world is incredibly lucky to have you exactly as you are.

With Love,

Juliana

The words tangled around his tortured heart, taunting him into a frenzy. He read them once, twice - thrice, as if doing so would change the abrupt ending.

Each sentence hit like a fresh bruise, every line peeling back the ache he’d been trying to keep buried. Something about it all was shaking at his core. It was too much. 

His grip on the paper tightened until the edges bent beneath his fingers. He could feel his chest rising too fast as the thoughts swarmed his head, acid leaking from his eyes as he spirit dared to peer inside with its telescope. He released the source of his anguish as the pressure swelled, and his trembling hands met his skull as he ruffled through his hair again, and again, and again.

He wanted to tear the letter in two. He wanted to hold onto it until the ink bled into his palms. He wanted to throw it in the fire and watch it curl. He wanted to read it again and again until it stopped hurting - if it ever would.

She tore him up more than she’d know.

“I need to become…”

He wasn’t sure if he was speaking out loud or not. He didn’t care. He rubbed his temples furiously, succumbing to the tremble. 

“I need to become…a lot stronger.” 

His voice had shaken, but they settled into a resolve that finally made him catch the breath he didn’t know he was losing. Something steadied over him, and he exhaled again, dropping his arms to his side. 

“Stronger. Stronger!” He roared, finally feeling something course through his veins again.

“Stronger and stronger and stronger!” He blurted in a near craze, hoping the repetition would dry him out as much as it engraved his mission in his brain. 

That was it.

That was what he needed to do.

This was the answer.

This was how he was going to change. 

He would declare it fully, here and now: he was done being weak. He would go harder - harder than he had ever gone before. He would push himself beyond his limits and break them a thousand times over if it meant protecting himself. 

No - even more - he would get it back. He would get everything he had lost back. And more.

No matter what it takes. 

And lucky for him, he just happened to be enrolled in the perfect academy to test his strength.

His true strength.

Something curled on his lips as he flashed his teeth proudly - something powerful and vindicated. His spine grew taller as he relished in the feeling - the first good feeling that had drummed through him since before her. 

His arms glided up, pushing back the hair he had hidden behind for so long. He would hide no more.

He could condemn her now. He could, and he will.

“Just you wait, Juliana…”

As if on cue with the sound of her name, he recalled the bounce of her laughter in the meadow the loved to stroll through. Then her squeal at the Applins that roamed through a grove, and how it went up three octaves when she found out they all had their own personality quirks and coating colors. Her hums over his family dinners, and her whispers about requesting his aid to whip up surprising sandwiches for her strange dragon steed came pierced through next, and before he knew it, his mind flashed through a series of moments that led up to the burning image of her back walking away from him at that dinner. Any other iteration of her didn't matter anymore. Only one thing did:

She was gone.

Gone.

He did everything in his power to convince himself that the tears falling from his face weren't his own. 

Juliana's POV

The corners of her mouth met just above her eyes, which she allowed to hang more relaxed and casual in tandem with her fatigue. It looked more organic and serene - just as she rehearsed. She met sea of hands waving at her with her own, which glided into two separate swirls.

The greetings caught Ms. Briar’s attention. “Ah, Juliana!” 

“Hiii,” she dragged out with a practiced lilt. 

“Everybody’s here-,” Ms. Briar fumbled with her hands, quickly correcting herself, “Well, most of us are here, anyway.”

A pang blew in Juliana’s chest as she drew in a sharp inhale. Her attention briefly darted to Carmine, who shifted her stance in apparent discomfort. 

A clap snapped her back to Ms. Briar. 

“Now then!” She beamed. “The Caretaker has some words for us. Let’s all give him our full attention!”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for coming,” The Caretaker said with a humble nod. “I’ve been told that our student pairs have now finished visiting all the signboards in Kitakami…which means your self-guided tour is at an end!”

The students around Juliana began to cheer with the Caretaker, and she glanced at them with the same smile she had dressed herself with before. She kept it on as the Caretaker presented them with Mochi sets as parting gifts, briefly exchanging a sympathetic glance with Carmine as she remained in place, clearly keeping her mind occupied elsewhere.

“Truth be told, I didn’t think you’d wrap up the tour this quickly! You’re quite the prodigies! Our visitors from Paldea still have heaps of time left to enjoy Kitakami and all it has to offer. Continue to make yourselves at home and explore as you please.” “However…” The Caretaker’s tone suddenly dropped with his expression, and he turned to Ms. Briar. 

Ms. Briar’s hands clasped together, fixing on Juliana as she launched into an announcement that was no longer a surprise to her. “I’m sorry for suddenly springing this on you, but Carmine, Kieran and I will need to return to Blueberry Academy a little early.” 

Juliana gave a soft, knowing smile as the outbursts began, and regret washed over the faces in front of her.

“Again, truly sorry, but there have been some developments concerning the Great Crater,” Ms. Briar repeated earnestly, looking at each student. “I’m afraid we really must be heading back. I realize I was here as your chaperone, but you kids have all proven to be very capable. I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.” She turned to the Caretaker with a refreshed attitude, “Thank you so much for looking after them in my stead.”

The Caretaker bellowed out a hearty laughter. “Don’t mention it. You can leave these kids to me!” 

“Now then…Carmine, I believe you had something you wanted to say?” 

“Yes…” Carmine stepped forward and into the center of attention. “Unfortunately my brother’s not feeling well, so it’s just me here to speak. Anyways, as you all know, this village is where I was born. And I’ll be honest - I didn’t want any outsiders coming here at all!” 

Carmine nearly tipped over her words as the students burst out with more reactions, but Juliana almost slipped on a real smile. She had said something somewhat similar last night. 

“It felt like our home was being turned into a tourist trap for a bunch of ignorant strangers. But then we spent some time together, and none of you were the way I imagined you’d be at all. You were all really nice once I talked to you!” She blurted her last words, which made Ms. Briar giggle before she continued, “I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge people I didn’t know anything about. So I guess what I’m trying to say is…I had fun! Thank you all so much for visiting our village!”

After a few more roars of cheers and farewells followed, Carmine approached Juliana just as she began to anticipate the end. 

“Especially you Juliana…I’m glad you came to visit.”

A light breeze carried through as the girls shared glances once more, and Juliana pulled Carmine into another hug. “I’m glad I met you, too.”

When Carmine broke away, the mask on her face seemed to chip. “I mean, it’s not like this is goodbye forever…” she mumbled, her voice almost growing hoarse before it suddenly straightened into an aired confidence. “Blueberry Academy has tons of strong trainers! You’d better come visit soon!”

“Hah,” Juliana huffed. “Yeah, maybe someday.” 

Her eyes met Ms. Briar’s momentarily, who raised an eyebrow in response.

Carmine suddenly gasped. “Oh, I almost forgot - I still need to get packed and everything!” She began to walk down the stone path before pivoting on her heel and waving both her hands back and forth. “This is NOT goodbye, okay? We’re definitely going to see each other again. Say it, Juliana!”

The sudden harshness jolted Juliana upright, and words spilled out from her before she could think. “Right! I’ll see you soon!”

Carmine grinned wide, satisfied, before spinning back around and breaking into a jog. Her footsteps thudded against the gravel, quick and light, until she faded away and out of sight.

“That’s Carmine for you, I suppose…” The Caretaker grumbled. “You never know quite what to expect from her.”

“Each moment spent with you kids is just dazzling. “For an adult like me? Heh…it’s almost blinding.” Ms. Briar added. 

“Anyway! Let’s all give our caretaker a great big ‘thank you!”

Juliana filled her air with lungs, then joined the chorus.

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The wind had picked up not long after, tugging through the square and sweeping away the cottony clouds Juliana had been tracing overhead. The air smelled faintly green, sharp with the promise of spring, and carried soft white fluffs that scattered around the square. Juliana stopped the idle swinging of her feet on the bench she stationed herself at as a Cutiefly glided nearby, seeming to pause at the daffodils that were close to budding before bobbing away.

“Pon, pon!”

Juliana’s gaze dropped below as Ogerpon came bounding toward her, holding something proudly in her paws like an offering. “Oh,” Juliana said softly, reaching out as Ogerpon dropped the gift into her palm.

Just as she thought - the pokemon went scavenging for berries again. This time, she had given her a black currant.

“Thank you,” Juliana murmured, rolling the little berry in her fingers.

Odd. She thought the season for them had passed.

Ogerpon chirped happily and skipped away again, returning to her foraging near the hedges where more villagers were gathering, the sound of their chatter carrying faintly on the breeze. Juliana let the berry rest in her hand for a moment longer before setting it down beside her, staring out across the square as the wind picked up again.

She made sure to head inside before she heard the engine of his bus take off.