Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

[Lumiose City, Kalos, XX14]

Adara's dead mother is at the door.

Lakshmi Kahue died of cancer eight years ago, fighting for her last breath. At least, that’s what her father said. When he speaks of her, his blue eyes hollow into what Adara recognizes is his grief. It’s the same look whenever he traces her portraits in the hall, the very same ones Adara sees every day. Every weekend, her father visits Lakshmi’s grave with a bouquet of roses, but here her mother is, standing.

Smiling.

She spots a brownish-red hue on her mother's lips, kajal lining her eyes, and freckles dotted across her face. Black hair falls to her waist. Her eyes are what Adara stares at in the mirror. They're something her father looks at with knitted eyebrows before kissing her forehead and saying it's just because he loves her so much.

Adara stares.

Lakshmi stares back, looking just as wide-eyed.

"Honey?" Adara's father calls from upstairs, his voice faraway. "Who is it?"

"Papa," she says, voice wobbling.

"I'm sorry for leaving," Adara's mother says hurriedly, her Kalosian spoken with what Adara thinks is a Unovan accent. "Really, I—"

"You're not supposed to be here," her father interrupts, seemingly winded from running down the stairs.

Adara blinks. Her father switched to Unovan, for whatever reason.

He glances at Adara, then back at Lakshmi, eyes wide and hands trembling. "Lakshmi. You can't—"

Lakshmi inhales. "Augustine, I'm back."

Her Kalosian is fine, but Lakshmi's Unovan is much clearer, enunciated in a way that Adara knows her mother was born speaking it. Her father's Unovan, however, leaves much to be desired, which is why Adara's taught the language by his colleague, Sophie, instead. Adara knows native Alolan too— as well as embarrassingly broken Ranseigo— after her father insisted she take classes at the local community center. Maybe that's why she has too little words to say, with four languages under her belt.

And yet, those thoughts quickly leave Adara's yet at the sight of her mother. Her dead mother. Her not-dead mother.

"I'm ready," Lakshmi continues. "I want— I want to be in Adara's life. I—"

"You're supposed to be dead."

Her father's face pales. Lakshmi blinks.

Adara repeats, this time in Kalosian, "You're dead."

Lakshmi's face haunts Adara's home. In the portraits, she's laughing— eyes crinkled, red lips curved into an infectious smile, mouth surrounded by smile-lines— while wearing a floral sundress, wild curls blowing in what Adara assumed was the salty breeze. The sun casts a bright glow on her brown skin.

That is what Adara assumes her mother was:

Bright. Beautiful. Loving.

Standing at the doorway, Lakshmi may be beautiful, but she's angular, defined. Adara could, if she tried, touch warm skin instead of pathetically attempting to reach a ghost. Maybe Lakshmi is still frozen, corpse-like, just as Adara thought she was.

"Sweetheart," Lakshmi says, tone sympathetic, "I'm very much alive."

Unovan again. Adara understands it, but it's too much. It's all too much. The words swirl and twist in her brain like a tornado, understandable but so, so far away.

"No, I—"

Adara's hands shake. Her mind is spinning with too many thoughts, too many languages— she doesn't even know what she's saying.

"Papa told me you're dead. Are you a ghost? An impostor?” Because of her harsh breathing, each syllable leaves her mouth softer than the last. “How are you alive? You're dead!"

"Adara," Augustine says gently.

She covers her face. "I don't know who you are, but my mother is dead!"

Lakshmi blinks, mindfully switching to Kalosian. "Is that what he told you?"

"Lakshmi—"

"Yes," Adara interrupts, "because it's true! Papa wouldn't lie about this!"

"Darling, I never died. He did lie to you."

Augustine's face loses even more color. "Lakshmi …"

"No, you're wrong!" Adara bursts into tears, and Augustine immediately reaches for her. "I don't know— how are you alive?"

Lakshmi crouches to Adara's height, gently wiping her tears. Adara, for some reason, lets her. "Ask your dad."

"Is she right?" Adara asks. She's sniffling, wiping her nose with tiny fingers. "Is she telling the truth?"

"Adara, I …"

Augustine sighs. Unlike his Unovan, his Kalosian is easy to understand. Easy to interpret. This time, it's a burden. Maybe Adara doesn't want to understand him.

Maybe, just for a second, she can believe her father didn’t lie about this.

"I need to talk to you in private."

"Did you lie?"

He looks away. "Yes."

Adara's ears ring.

"He wanted to erase me, Adara —"

"Stop trying to manipulate her!" Augustine snaps. Adara flinches, and he immediately deflates. "I promise there's a good reason. We can talk inside. Properly."

"Okay," Adara murmurs, still sniffling. Her ears still ring, the noise drowning out her parents' voices. Both her parents. Alive. "I trust you."

Does she?

Once Adara is escorted back home by his colleague, Sophie, she immediately tiptoes back to her parents, pressing an ear against the door as Sophie fetches her requested hot chocolate.

"What are you doing here?"

There is a reason why she and her father, while conversing alone, never bother with any other language but Kalosian. With Unovan, he speaks slowly: careful to avoid stumbling over his words. Using Sophie's lessons, Adara presses her ear closer to the door, and understands.

Unova is a region of wide territory, of tall buildings similar to Lumiose, but terrain and mountains. Their language, complicated to speak, makes Adara's brain turn.

And yet, Unovan is easier to understand than her mother is.

"I said," Augustine repeats, "what are you doing here?"

Instead of answering him, Lakshmi asks, "Does she like chocolate?"

"Milk chocolate is her favorite," he says automatically, before: "No. You are a terrible person, a criminal, and a liar. You cannot be in her life."

"Well, Professor Sycamore," Lakshmi mocks, "you also lied about very important things. What does that make you?"

"If I told her the truth about you," Augustine says, voice much quieter and slower than her mother's, "she would hate you for life."

She would?

"She would?"

"Yes."

Adara wonders, after all those years of her father praising her mother, if he lied to her about everything else. Did her mother, like he told her, collect shells on the beach for him? Laugh with a tiny snort at the end? Caress her pregnant belly with a loving smile?

Did she even love her?

"You're raising her well," Lakshmi says. "Except for her clothes. Arceus, you don't dress her very well."

"Hey," Adara mumbles to herself. "I picked this shirt."

Her father, similarly, snaps, "She likes it."

"I'll buy her nice clothes, I think," Lakshmi continues, "from a good boutique. I've always wanted to visit the ones here, and she'd love it too, don't you think?"

He sighs. "What are you doing?"

"I'm here for Adara. I've been away from her for far too long."

"Well, you need to leave before— before Adara thinks you're going to stay."

"Adara!" Sophie calls, before Adara can truly process her father's words. The young girl jerks her head away from the door, before bouncing back to the living room. "Hot chocolate! Don't keep me waiting!"

"I'm here!" Adara says, thankful for the language change as she takes the mug. "Thanks, Sophie."

"'Course," the woman says.

"You didn't know she was alive, didn't you?"

"No, no one did." Sophie sighs. "No one but him, I guess."

Five minutes later, though, Augustine sits with her, explains what he can.

"She wasn't good," he tells her, a shadow crossing his face. They're back to speaking the way both of them do: rapid Kalosian, the sharp words bouncing off her house's walls. "She was mean. Brutal. And after a year of you being born, she wanted to leave. She wasn't ready to be a mother, but I wanted you to think you had someone who was ready to love you. And I— I wanted you to love her."

"Did," Adara asks, soft, "did she not love me?"

Did her father think Adara would hate her mother for leaving?

Maybe she would, but Adara hates not knowing more. Her mother, this entire time, was alive. Her father, apparently, had made a show of flowers and a hidden grave when there was nothing to bury.

"Of course she loved you," says her father, but Adara has trouble believing it.

Loving doesn't mean leaving. Even at nine, she knows that.

"And you?" she asks.

He laughs. "Me too."

"If she loved you, why did she—" Adara scrunches up her brows. The words fail to make their way out of her mouth, twisting and leaving her mind. "I—"

"Take your time."

Adara nods. Breathes and thinks. Then: "Why do you speak Unovan with her?"

Her father blinks. "Pardon?"

"She knows Kalosian," Adara says. "And when you spoke with her when I left—" Her eyes widen. "I mean—"

He sighs. "You heard."

She hangs her head. "Yeah."

"I don't blame you. You're just a kid."

"I'm basically ten!" she protests.

"Yeah, well." He manages a smile. "Still nine and tiny to me."

Adara pouts. "Answer my question."

"I met her in Unova. I'm used to speaking it with her."

"But you're not good at it."

"Thanks," he says drily.

"She's better at Kalosian," Adara says. "You suck at Unovan. Why doesn't she speak it with you?"

"She was never very good at sacrifice." His smile turns sad. "And parents must, in the end."

She chose herself, is what he leaves unsaid. But Adara hears it. Her father's expressions are another language entirely.

"But she loved me."

"She did."

"And you."

"Yes."

Adara frowns. "She left."

Augustine sighs. "She did."

"And you lied about it." Adara shakes her head. "I don't get it. You wanted me to love her. You thought I wouldn't if I realized she could've been there for me."

A tear slips down his cheek. "You do get it, then."

"But you love me. You're here. Sophie loves me, and she's here. Diantha loves me, and she visits every weekend, even if she's super busy. She's only my godmother."

"Adara, you're only a—"

"Don't call me a kid!" Adara snaps. "Maman left me. Left you. You lied about it—” Her voice cracks. "— and then she shows up! Why? Why?"

"I—" He runs a hand through his dark hair. "I wish I knew."

"It's because I wasn't ready."

Augustine's face hardens. "I told you to wait outside."

"Please. Like I ever listened to you."

Gliding into the room like a Swanna, Lakshmi takes a seat next to Adara, who scoots away, crossing her arms petulantly. There is a tangled coil in her stomach, twisting her father's words and her mother's absence into one.

Adara wants to say she hates Lakshmi. Logically, she should. The woman packed her bags and left when Adara was a newborn. She even wants to spit some terrible words to her lying father, storm up to her room, and sob.

"You didn't want me," she says instead.

"Adara, no—"

"And you!" Adara turns to her father. "You wanted me to love her! When she didn't even love me! When she didn't even stay! You're both liars!"

"I'm ready." Lakshmi squares her shoulders. "I want to be in your life."

From the corner of her eye, Adara spots Sophie. She's more of a teacher than a mother, since Adara was felt the presence of her mother's ghost in her life, but Lakshmi is far from dead. Sophie and Diantha, her father's colleague and best friend respectively, have been there for her more than Lakshmi has.

Sophie gives her an unreadable expression, and then disappears.

Adara stands up. "I'm going to my room."

She spends the rest of the day there, ignoring her father and mother's attempts to coax her down. Through the walls, her father and mother's loud voices ring— stilted Unovan from her father, perfectly sharp come-backs from her mother— something about her mother leaving.

After she refuses to speak to her father, Sophie enters the room with a steaming bowl of soup in her hands, and the two talk quietly.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Sophie says, sitting on Adara's bed stiffly. "I don't know your mother. But I know your father. He made a terrible mistake. You should be angry with him. But he's a good person."

"What if … what if I want Maman back?"

Sophie ruffles Adara's hair. "Then you can have her."

She leaves an hour later, not before tucking her into bed— which Adara heard two nights ago, gives Sophie a bonus for her paycheck.

All she can do is think until her brain hurts.

"Adara," her mother calls, creaking open Adara's bedroom door. "How are you feeling?"

Adara huffs, covering herself with her blankets. "Terrible."

"I'm sorry about that. Wanna go for a walk?"

“What? No!”

“Are you sure?” Lakshmi’s smile is fixed on her face. “It could be fun.”

Adara stares at her dubiously. "Is Papa okay with it?"

"Of course he is," she says gently. "He is mad at me, of course, but he still wants us to bond. And he would do walk with us today, but he needs to watch over the Pokémon tonight. Something about … recording their adjustment to the new food he's giving them since last week?"

Adara nods to herself. Her father is a Pokémon professor, after all. It's his job to research on and take care of the Pokémon under his care. And throughout the nine years she's known him, Adara saw— and still sees— just how passionate he is about it.

And, even if she understands why he did it, she's still mad at him for hiding the truth.

"Fine, I guess. Are you staying?"

"I am," Lakshmi vows, offering her hand. "I won't leave you again."

After many seconds, Adara takes it.

Lakshmi, with a twinkle in her eyes, tells her daughter to play a game of sneaking down the stairs and out the back. At first, Adara hesitates, tempted to call for her father, but at her mother's insistence, decides to play anyway.

Her father lied to her. Her mother may have left, but she's here. Even if she might leave tomorrow, at least Adara can have her today.

Adara giggles once they escape the darkened house. Lakshmi's hand hasn't stopped gripping her wrist, the warmth searing into Adara's skin.

"That was fun," Adara says, smiling. "Where are we going?"

"How do you feel about the park?" Lakshmi directs Adara to her car. "We can sit on the swings and talk for a while."

Her eyes glaze over. "Papa never lets me go to the park at night."

Lakshmi winks. "That's going to change."

"Yeah, I—" She frowns. "Does Papa know?”

“It’ll be our little secret.”

“Oh, I don’t know then—”

"We can get ice cream."

Her daughter immediately nods. "Deal."

"Oh?" Lakshmi pokes her daughter, eliciting a tiny laugh. "That's what gets you?"

Adara, after giggling again, climbs into the backseat. As Lakshmi drives, Adara practically vibrates in her seat, looking at the tall, darkened skyscrapers outside.

"Lumiose is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Adara says, her cheeks hurting from smiling too long. "It has everything I need, so I don't wanna ever leave."

"Really?" Lakshmi asks. "Not even for the beach?"

Adara perks up. "The beach?"

"I hear," her mother says, face hidden at the front, "that the islands in Alola have great beaches. It's always sunny over there. And you can see the stars all night."

"Papa took me camping once," Adara says, nodding. "But I haven't seen the stars since then."

"Oh, I see them all the time."

"You do?"

"Mhm," her mother says. "We used to live in the Alola region, you know. You were born there, but Augustine mentioned you have a dual citizenship?"

Adara nods, not knowing what else to say.

"I live in Alola, you know. It's nice there."

"Are you … are you going to keep living there?"

Her mother turns for a brief second, before she returns her gaze to the front. "I meant it when I said I'm not leaving you."

"Oh." Adara's cheeks warm. "Okay."

"You can call me Maman." At Adara's silence, she blurts, "On your own time, of course. I haven't been a mother, but I will be. I promise you, we're going to make so many good memories with each other."

"Really?"

"Of course." Lakshmi laughs. "Starting with some ice cream."

Immediately, she says, "I want the Vanillite flavor."

"I'm more of a chocolate gal."

"Chocolate is good too. I like it better as a bar, though."

"Here," her mother says, fishing out something wrapped from her pocket. "Milk chocolate. Your father said you would enjoy it."

"Ooh." Adara immediately snatches it, unwraps the chocolate bar, and swallows it almost immediately. Despite the taste being slightly too sweet, she still grins. "Thank you!"

"You're fast," Lakshmi says. Adara catches her surprise from the front mirror. "I guess it'll kick in pretty soon, then."

"What do you mean?"

The lights outside blur. Adara feels her eyes close, letting out a yawn.

"I'm sleepy.”

"Don't worry," Lakshmi says, her voice growing softer. "I'll wake you up."

Her next words, cloaked in languor, are, "Ma-man?"

What is blurry turns into nothing. Sometimes, there are voices floating in her head. Adara briefly jerks, before a warm hand guides her back to the dark.

It's comforting. She's so, so tired.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need your daughter to remove her jacket."

Adara's ear rings. Blurry shapes dance in her vision.

"Sorry, sir." A familiar voice cuts through Adara's ears. "She's just sleepy." And then, "Adara, baby, take it off, please. You can go back to sleep soon."

The jacket slips off quickly.

"Papa?" she asks blearily. "Where— what—"

"Security check, mon chou," Lakshmi replies.

Adara's eyes open to blinding white. She gasps, air filling her lungs, before a warm chocolate bar is slid into her mouth.

"Security?" she asks, before the darkness overtakes her once more.

Warmth dances on her head. It feels like seconds when Adara opens her eyes groggily, dark hair a mess. She squints at the sunlight streaming through the window.

"What's going on?" she slurs out.

"You're awake," Lakshmi says. Adara's eyes flutter shut, and the only thing she hears is water pouring into a cup. "Rise and shine."

Adara groans softly, before her eyes open once more.

The walls are a faded white. She's lying on a thin mattress, springy as she attempts to rise, only to fall back down. Her arms are shaking, and everything is so— goddamn— bright.

Her throat feels like sandpaper. "Where— where am I?"

"Good morning, Adara," Lakshmi says. "Water?"

"What?" Adara's shaking now, eyes scanning the unfamiliar room. There's a TV and a nightstand and a dresser and it looks like the hotel her father took her to three years ago in another region. "Where's Papa? Where am I?"

"My hand is killing me," her mother says, before handing the glass over to Adara's shaking palm. "Drink. I'll explain."

After a few gulps of the weirdly sweet water, Adara hands back the glass, feeling woozy again. "Where is he?"

"Remember," Lakshmi says, "how you wanted to go the beach?"

Something flares in Adara's stomach. "Where am I?"

"Fine, fine." Something about her is sharper than before, even as she takes a seat and caresses Adara's cheek. "Your father gave me permission to take you on vacation, you know, after deceiving you. He wanted you to forgive him. It was going to be a surprise once we went to the airport, but you kept falling asleep."

"Why didn't you say so?" She's supposed to be excited, but her stomach turns, and she wants to fall back asleep. "I already forgave him." It's a half-lie, but she doesn't need to know that. "And I've never fallen asleep like that."

Lakshmi shrugs. "It was unusual. Your father didn't mention anything like that."

"I …" Adara trails off, something drowzy pulling inside her body. "Okay, where are we?"

"Ula'ula Island, in the Alola Region." Lakshmi smiles, mouth filled with sharp teeth. "Specifically in Malie City. There's a boutique I want to visit so we can buy you some clothes."

"But I like my clothes."

"And," she says, poking Adara's nose, "you'll like these even more. We can send pictures to your father."

Adara brightens slightly. "Okay. We can do that."

"Come," Lakshmi says, offering her hand. "We should get you ready."

Again, Adara takes her hand, in hopes that she can feel that glimmer of warmth again.

"Hey," the young girl asks softly, "why didn't Papa say goodbye to me before I left?"

"It wouldn't be a true surprise then, would it?"

Adara nods to herself. That's true.

Then again, her father said Lakshmi was a liar, even if he lied about her mother too.

Snippet from All Around the World: Alola (XX12)

"The islands of Alola, currently, have three national languages: Ranseigo, Unovan (a trade language), and Alolan (their original, more traditional language). This is primarily because of the rise in tourists from Kanto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, and Johto (all with a similar-speaking language), but also because of Poni Island's Seafolk, a group of traders who regularly speak Unovan and Ranseigo to the people they trade with.

Within fifty years, Alola slowly incorporated Ranseigo and Unovan as their national languages, and now the former sits as their most-spoken language. Only Ula’ula Island has Unovan as their top-spoken language (Poni Island has Alolan, and the other two islands have Ranseigo).

Mostly, Alola's elders speak Alolan; the Alole¹ (of Alolan nationality but not ethnicity) all speak Ranseigo or sometimes Unovan in the larger cities. All their schools are required to teach Ranseigo and Unovan, but the former is far more prioritized. Alolan is taught through family, weaved in from generation to generation through tradition; classes are available around the world, if one wishes to learn the beautiful language."

[Malie City, Ula'ula Island, Alola, XX14]

The sun rises high into the sky.

Unlike last time, when Lakshmi rushed Adara out of her room with only a thin jacket, she has Adara stay in her room.

She cleans Adara's face with cold water, brushes her face and teeth, smooths out her wrinkled clothing, and holds her hand all the way to the boutique. Adara's stomach, the entire time, is in shambles. She thinks of her papa, sitting at home, waiting for her to be back.

The aftertaste of that chocolate, too sweet on her tongue, lingers in her mouth.

"I miss Papa," she murmurs, even if her heart twists at the thought of his lies.

"We'll be home soon," her mother promises.

Adara nods. "Okay."

The streets are not too crowded, and the wind is warm. There's a guy trailing behind them, black sunglasses sitting neatly on his face. On the road, much to Adara's amazement, are Pokémon freely wandering, pulling carts of people. Lakshmi explains, when Adara asks, that this is simply commonplace in the entirety of Alola.

"You'll see many more," her mother promises.

Soon enough, Adara's trying on different dresses. Lakshmi snaps pictures, smiling without her eyes. Adara poses for her, hoping her papa would smile with his eyes when he sees the pictures, but the more she moves, the more her bones weigh heavier.

"Beautiful," Lakshmi praises, and Adara preens.

Maybe, maybe being here isn't so bad.

"Who's that?" Adara asks, eyes wandering, spotting the sunglasses guy from before. He's swiping through clothes with a disinterested look, his eyes wandering towards Adara. "I saw him outside too."

Lakshmi's eyes widen. "Stay here. One second."

Adara swallows. Nods. She can be good during vacation, and even if she misses her dad, she can stay.

And so she sits down, dress bunched in her lap, and watches her mother approach the man. She sounds warm at first, before her eyebrows knit and her eyes are wide.

The guy says something soft, something Adara can't hear, which causes Lakshmi to flinch.

Her lips move quickly. Adara catches a "yes" and a "not now", but everything else is too jumbled.

"Maman?" Adara asks softly, standing up. "Maman? Maman?"

"Adara," Lakshmi says, smile fixed on her face. "What happened? I told you to stay."

"Your kid?" the man asks.

Adara perks up. "Ye—"

"A friend's." Adara opens her mouth, but her mother's glare silences her. "Adorable, isn't she, calling me Maman?"

"Enough with the games," the man continues, as Adara deflates. "Are you coming or not?"

Lakshmi glances at Adara, biting her lip, before nodding. She crouches to Adara's level, ruffling her hair.

"Please stay here. You can do that, can you?" After Adara's nod, she whispers, extra soft, "I have to go, but I'll be back."

"Why did you—"

"Later," she promises, kissing Adara's forehead.

And with that, her mother disappears.

Adara doesn't know how much times passes, but she can't disobey her mother. She sits there, playing with the dress on the floor, thinking of her dad.

"What'cha doing?" Adara asked, back when she was seven and even stupider, seated on the couch.

Her father sighed. "There were some … really bad people stealing Pokémon. Diantha was telling me about it."

"Auntia Diantha?" Adara questioned, referring to her godmother, and according to Diantha, the future champion of Kalos. "What else did she say?"

"None of your business," Augustine teased, ruffling Adara's hair.

She pouted. "No fair."

"It really isn't." He leaned foward. "Adara, there are some bad people out there. Whenever someone bad tries to do something to you, you run."

"Okay, but I wanna know what Auntie—"

"Adara."

"Papa."

"Well," she said, smiling a bit connivingly, "if you won't tell me, I want another picture."

"Adara."

"What? I get to see more of Maman and you don't have to tell me your adult things."

Ten minutes later, the two rifled through an old photo album. Her father pulled out a faded picture from the crinkled sheet protector.

"Here's my favourite," said Augustine.

Adara traced her mother's face. Lakshmi was smiling, eyes light as she held baby Adara in her arms. Her father was above them, kissing her mother's forehead.

"She's pretty."

"Very," her father agreed. "She'd think you're really pretty too."

"I wish she were here." Adara sniffed. "I want her back."

"Me too, honey." He wrapped his arms around her. "Me too."

"Hey, kid."

Adara blinks. A woman in her early twenties stands above her, wearing a work uniform.

"Where's your mom?"

Ranseigo, Adara realizes.

“Do you,” she asks in broken Ranseigo, “know Unovan?”

“Ah, yes!” She brightens, the words flowing out of her with even more ease than Adara’s own mother. “My native language. So, um, where’s your mother?”

"She said she'd be back." Adara pokes the pink dress, her stomach growling. For some reason, she's a lot less tired than earlier that morning. "So she'll be back."

"Well," the woman says, looking apologetic, "you'll need to change into your own clothes. The shop's closing and your mom didn't pay for the dress you're wearing, or the one you're holding. Can you do that?"

"Okay," Adara says softly.

"Need help?"

"No, I can change."

Adara slips into the dressing room, and with shaking hands, puts the wrinkled clothes back on. When she walks out, the woman is sweeping the floors.

"Can I stay here until my mom comes back?"

She fiddles with her nametag, Burnet, before: "Sorry, you can't. Where do you live? I can try and walk you there."

"I don't remember the name." Adara's shaking, remember her father's words of her mother leaving again. "But it's the inn across the street. That's what Maman said."

"Right, right." Burnet smiles, dimples denting her cheeks. "Hey, cheer up. I'm sure she got caught up in something. I'll leave a note outside that you're at the inn in case she shows up."

Adara wipes her eyes.

"Do you," she says, scribbling something on a paper, "want to call someone? There's a computer in the shop."

She starts crying. "I don't know Papa's number."

Burnet furrows her brows. "Oh, sweetie, come here. What's your name?"

"Adara," she says, burying herself in Burnet's chest, tears flowing out of her eyes like a river. "My name's Adara."

She doesn't know how long she manages to cry, but by the time she finishes, the sky looks darker than before.

"You'll be home in no time," Burnet promises. "In the meanwhile, tell me why you're here. Vacation, right?"

She nods. "My maman lives here. She wanted me to join her, so she visited Papa and after he said yes, she brought me here."

"Oh," Burnet says, twirling strands of her white hair. "She wasn't with you before?"

Adara shakes her head.

"Papa said she wasn't ready, and that she was cruel. I don't know what happened, but—" She refrains from the total truth, of her father's deception. "She visited. She said she was here to stay, and she was never leaving me."

Burnet's face twists. "Sometimes people lie."

Adara hangs her head. "I know."

"Alright, uh …" Burnet nods to herself. "Yes, how was the flight? Have you ever flown before?"

At this, Adara frowns. "I slept through the whole thing. It was weird. Maman said she was taking me to a park, and then after she gave me chocolate, I guess since it was so late, I fell asleep. But I was really tired for a long time."

Burnet's inhale is shuddery.

"What's wrong?"

"Just, um." She clears her throat. "Nothing. It sounds like your, uh, maman gave you something to fall asleep, that's all."

Adara blinks. "It was chocolate in a wrapper."

"Thank Arceus," Burnet breathes. "Please ignore me. Um, how about I tell you something about me? I'm Burnet, twenty-two, and I'm interning at Aether Paradise under Lusamine Aether. You probably haven't heard of her but … you know."

"An intern," Adara says. "Yeah, my dad has a few of those."

"Really?" Burnet asks. "Who is your father, anyway?"

"He's a Pokémon professor." Adara's lip wobbles, but she swallows the sob threatening to escape. Thankfully, before she can cry in front of Burnet for the second time, they arrive at the inn. "We're here."

"Oh. Yes." Burnet pats Adara's shoulder, before giving her a strained smile. "You know how to get to your room, right?"

"Yes," Adara says. "It's late. You should go home."

Burnet shakes her head, crouching slightly. "I could say the same for you."

"Stay safe," Adara says, remembering what her father would say to his friends. She kisses Burnet on the cheek. "Have a good night."

Her smile turns genuine. "Good night, Adara."

As Burnet leaves, Adara gazes up at the sky. Her mother might not be here, but she was right about the stars. In Lumiose, not a single one of them is visible due to the lights, but she can't even count them on both her hands now.

"Hey!" a voice cries.

Adara's gaze snaps to an alleyway.

"Give me back my Pokémon!"

"Then come and take it," a girl says in sing-song voice.

Something in Adara's stomach pools. Her mother left her all day, her vacation's been nothing but tiring, and now someone else is suffering.

"Hey!" Adara shouts, doing something incredibly stupid as she storms into the alleyway. "Give the Pokémon back!"

Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, whirl towards Adara's direction. They're in matching uniforms, a skull painted on their black clothing. Behind them is a cowering boy, and a few feet away from him is an injured Pokémon.

"Yo, yo, what do we have here?"

"It's another fucking kid," the girl with the sing-song voice says.

Adara flinches at the language. Her father told her that whoever uses them callously is just as harsh as those words, so she squares her shoulders.

"What're you doin' here, ya shit?" the first one asks, hair dyed an obnoxious shade of blue. His hands fiddle with an unlit cigarette, but he looks much more younger than Burnet, and the girl next to him looks even younger. "Lost or something? Where're you even from?"

"We're near that fucking inn, bro," the second one snaps, running a hand through her magenta-colored hair. "Where do you think she's from?"

“She can understand us, though.”

“I speak—” Adara swallows. “I’m from Kalos, but I speak Unovan.”

“Huh,” the girl says.

The blue-haired guy smiles. “Lost, aren’t you?”

“Creep,” the girl mutters.

He scowls. "Don't diss my line."

"Don't say weird shit.”

The boy in the back, who's closer to Adara's age, immediately takes the chance to seize the Pokémon, mouth his thanks, and run away.

"Hey!" the girl says. "He's getting away!"

"Fuckin' hell," the guy says. "You got a lighter?"

"Does it look like I smoke?"

Adara, sensing her way out, slowly begins to back up, before—

"Hey, stupid, we're not done!"

"Can't believe we're harassing another kid," the girl mutters under her breath, before she lunges at Adara, grabs the collar of her shirt, and asks, "You got a Pokémon?"

Adara squeaks. "No."

"You know someone who has one?"

"I …" Adara shakes her head, hoping to avoid eye contact. "I don't know where she is."

"Look at me," the girl snaps, and Adara whimpers. "You just cost us a Pokémon, kid. What're you gonna do about it?"

"I— I don't know," Adara stammers out. "Please— please let me go, I need to find my maman, she's probably worried—"

"Aw, you gonna go cryin' to Mommy?" the blue-haired guy asks.

"Shut it," the girl says.

Adara trembles under her grasp. "Please, I haven't seen her in hours and she didn't come back after she said she would, so I—"

"Fine, fine." The pink-haired girl sighs. "What does she look like? Maybe I've seen her."

"Mika, what the fuck?"

"Said shut it, Erik. Now, kid?"

"Um." Adara swallows. "She has dark skin and dark eyes."

Erik snorts. "Real helpful."

"And she has a dimple on her left cheek? She was wearing a white shirt with a green purse and, and a green skirt and I haven't seen—"

"Fuckin' …" Mika trails off. "Yeah, I've seen a woman like that. Name starts with an L or somethin'? Lucky?"

Adara nods vigorously. "Lakshmi, but yes, that's her!"

"Too bad. She left with a guy. Sunglasses, brooding, hot …"

Erik rolls his eyes. “Oh, brother.”

Mika smacks him on the chest. Adara only swallows, letting the words wash over her.

No. She said she wouldn’t leave.

"She did?" Adara asks softly, feeling the tears poking at the back of her eyes. Everything is hazy, like after the chocolate her mother gave her earlier. "Where did she go?"

"Kid," Mika says, her tone so gentle that even Erik falters. "She had a suitcase. I'm guessing you're staying at this inn?"

Adara sniffles. "Yes."

"The boss can help," Mika continues in, eyes unreadable. "But we're gonna have to take you with us for proof."

It's her words that make Adara cry.

"No, the fuck we aren't," Erik says, but is ignored.

"I want my papa," Adara sobs out, causing Mika's eyes to widen. "I want my papa, I miss my papa, I want to go home!"

"Hey, quit crying, stupid." Erik flicks her forehead, which only makes Adara cry harder. "Shit. Fuck. Sorry."

"You're such a douche—" Mika inhales. "Kid? Hey, kid?"

Adara keeps crying. "I want to go home."

"Do you have anywhere to sleep?"

"I …" Adara's eyes widen as she hiccups. "If Maman’s gone, then she left the inn without a place for me. She left me, Maman left me, she said she wouldn’t …"

"Grab her," Mika orders.

Erik blinks. "What's the boss gonna think?"

"What's Team Skull for, genius?"

Adara keeps crying, hiccuping in between her loud wails, too busy to ask what in Arceus's name Team Skull is.

"Stealing Pokémon."

"Don't be a dick."

Erik scowls, reciting, "For the outcasts, and the people who have no home."

"Exactly."

He sighs, hoisting Adara over his shoulder. "Fine. But if she keeps crying, I'm gonna knock her out."

"Hey," Adara sniffles, "what are you doing?"

"You have nowhere to sleep," Mika says. "We're giving you a place."

"You're strangers. And you tried stealing someone's Pokémon."

"I can put you down," Erik offers. "I bet the floor's all nice and dirty for you."

Adara starts sobbing again, causing Erik to sigh.

"I hate kids," he grumbles, but still carries her all the way to a motorcyle.

"Yeah, you do," Mika says, laughter in her voice. "Hey, kid, you need to sit up straight. It rains in Po Town, and we sure as fuck don't have an umbrella."

Adara, too tired to protest, attempts to straighten herself. "Okay."

"You can fall asleep on Erik."

"No, she can't—" Erik sighs as Adara rests herself on his back, sandwiched between him and Mika. "I hate you."

Mika snickers, the vibrations somehow soothing Adara. "Just drive."

The rumble of the engine, along with Mika and Erik's murmurs, causes her to yawn. As her eyes finally close, all thoughts of her father and mother slowly fade away.

She's so, so tired.

After what feels like hours of attempting and failing to sleep, rain patters on her tired frame. The cities she'd traveled through always had specks of clouds, but not a single piece of the night sky is invisible, hidden behind angry grey.

With blurry eyes and a yawn, she sees it: Po Town. The city is covered in graffiti and crime, and according to Mika's soft chatter with Erik, Team Skull’s very own playground.

Adara breathes in the smoke and rain. Paint chips and tattered walls. A few grunts wander around, fingers threateningly curled around their Poké balls. At this, she clutches Erik tighter, who doesn't say anything in return.

“You brought back a little girl,” a boy sneers at the entrance of a large house. He’s taller than both Erik and Mika, with wild, curly hair and eyes that blaze like a storm. “She won't last a second here.”

Adara just stares at him, too tired to reply.

"Let us in," Mika says. "That's Plumeria's judgment."

"Whatever," the boy says. "Guzma's gonna kill you."

"Aware of that," Erik snaps. "Just let us in."

"Ino," Mika adds, "please."

He nods, something unreadable on his face. "Don't make me regret it."

The last thing Adara remembers is being carried into the mansion, the inside grey, dark, and filled with graffiti. It is a story of grieving teenagers and storm-filled nights lit up with color under a strong roof.

And, with that, she finally falls asleep.

"Kid's drugged up."

Adara groans softly, before turning to the other side. Even if her ears are the only thing working at the moment, her head's resting on something fluffy, and her body's sinking into something soft.

Arceus, she's starving.

Erik, then: "Is she?"

Another sigh, before Mika whispers, "She did seem really tired."

"I doubt she ate anything since that morning," the unfamiliar voice continues, something both raspy and feminine. "Keep her sleeping. I'll talk to Guzma."

"Oh, he's gonna fuckin' murder us," Erik says frantically. "I'll be buried in this stinkin' mansion forever!"

"And the alternative?" Mika asks. "This stupid kid sleeping on the streets?"

Adara bristles. They really need to stop calling her stupid, even if she is. It's not like they really know that. Sure, she's reckless and annoying, but stupid?

"Whatever." Adara feels something rough at her forehead, reminding her of the way her father checks her fever when she's sick. "Kid's running a little hot, though. So she's sick on top of—"

"Erik," the unknown woman says. "Quiet."

"Plumes," Mika says, voice hushed, "what are we gonna do?"

"You're not in trouble, I promise," the woman replies. "But if you keep up the volume, Erik, you will be."

"Plumeria," he whines.

"Erik," Plumeria deadpans. "Both of you, get her a glasses of water and something to eat. Nothing sweet."

The bed creaks, and Adara feels a soft hand brushing the curls off her face.

"Why not?" Erik asks.

"Because, dumbass," Plumeria says, lowering her voice, "if her mother gave her drugs, she might be a little averse to sweet things. Now leave."

"Oh," Erik says.

They keep talking, but Adara stops paying attention. It's probably Plumeria's fingers gently tracing her skin, but all she can think about is the fact that her mother may have drugged her with the too-sweet chocolate. And Adara ate two of them.

Her throat longs for something, but the thought of gulping sweet water has her stomach queasy. Even Burnet mentioned something about her mother giving her something for sleep. Is that what these people mean?

"They're both gone," Plumeria says. "You can get up now."

Adara doesn't move. Plumeria sighs.

"Kid, I run a tight ship. There are people who can fake-sleep better than you can, and I still catch them."

"Do you really think Maman drugged me?"

Her voice is weak. Immediately, Plumeria studies Adara's head as she rises, muttering curses under her breath. Adara studies her: pink and yellow hair with yellow-ish eyes, light skin, and the type of ear-piercings she wants when she's older.

"Probably," Plumeria says bluntly. "Dunno why she did that, though."

"She wanted to—" Adara begins to cough. Plumeria pats her back until she stops. "She said she wanted to surprise me. It was …" She trails off. "It was the first time I'd seen her since I was a kid. She said Papa was okay with it, but if she— if she—"

"You think she lied?" Plumeria asks, nudging her gently.

"If she drugged me."

Saying it out loud makes bile form in her throat. It burns when Adara swallows it back down, leaving a trail of fire behind.

"Water," Erik announces, walking in, before: "You're awake."

Adara eyes it. "Is it sweet?"

"What?"

"No," Plumeria says. "It tastes normal."

"You could be lying." Adara crosses her arms, even if she knows what she's saying is far from the truth. "You could've— you could've kidnapped Maman and, and lied! And Papa doesn't know I'm in danger!"

Erik scoffs. "Is this a bad action movie?"

"I want to go home," she says softly, and he deflates.

Plumeria glares at him. "Enough. Give me the glass."

He immediately obeys, something which Adara notes. She sees this in her father's lab too: even if everyone's respected, he's the leader. It's him people seek out for their first Pokémon when they're preparing the Kalosian Gyms, him when they have trouble, and him when they need any information.

"Here," Plumeria says, sipping the water. "We can wait a few if you'd like, to see if any drug would kick in."

Adara flinches. Breathes in and out. Maybe if she could just drink the water, take it from Plumeria's hands, there would be no sweet taste. Or maybe there would be, and she'd fall under her mercy. Maybe Lakshmi's in trouble, and Adara got her in trouble by staying in that shop, hours on end, as her hunger worsened.

But Mika said she left with that man. Erik brought her, despite his complaints, back to wherever the two lived. And she slept on a bed more comfier than the inn's, and awoke to concern rather than Lakshmi's nonchalance.

She didn't even tell her friend that Adara was her daughter.

"When're you gonna talk to the boss, then?" Mika asks.

Plumeria raises a brow. "Soon."

Erik groans. "We're fucked. Double-fucked. Triple fu—"

"I'll drink it," Adara says.

The three of them turn to her. Plumeria nods, smiling as she hands her the glass. And Adara, with shaking hands, takes a sip.

It's not sweet.

And now, her throat is a wasteland that got its first drop of rain. It begs for more, so Adara drinks, finishing the glass almost as quickly as she did in the inn.

"How are you feeling?" Plumeria asks.

Adara pauses. Her mind is a whirlwind, her father a thousand miles away, her mother gone. Arceus, she even misses Sophie. She's tired and weary and her throat still hurts.

"Better."

"Hmm." Plumeria touches her head. "It's late. Get some sleep."

Erik frowns. "It's not that late."

Mika blinks. "For her it is."

"Right, right. We should go, then. Let her rest. Talk to the boss."

"Let Plumes do it."

"I hate this shit," Erik grumbles, but lets himself be dragged away.

"Don't worry." Plumeria smiles. "We'll get you home."

Adara nods mutely.

She tries, once everyone leaves, to fall asleep. And she does— perhaps for a few minutes, or maybe even a couple of hours.

Problem is, the house is far from quiet. Adara doesn't know how late it is or why the mansion has no clocks, but the loud chatter from inside startles the sleepiness out of her. She stays in her bed, and while the noise fades away, her restless energy doesn't.

And so, disgruntled, her feet take her to the backyard, where the rain pours.

Back in the house, the only smell was a mix of hazy perfume, sweat, and lingering food. Her only escape, not wanting to loiter in the messy living area, was the rainy desolation outside, with a poorly-maintained pool.

A man, standing a few feet away, blows smoke from his mouth. A cigarette is in his hand, the lighter in the other. He stares at the clouds, as if lost in thought. His hair reminds her of the clouds back in Kalos: white and puffy, but with dark roots.

“The fuck’re you doing here, kid?” he asks, eyes still trained at the sky.

She pauses, looking around, but there's no one behind her. “Me?”

“Who else could I be talkin’ to?” He brings the cigarette to his mouth, and a trail of smoke leaves with his exhale. “You’re not one of us.”

“No,” she murmurs, “I guess not.”

“Tch,” he grumbles, and then steps on the blunt with his foot. “Fuckin’ brat. Didn’t answer my question.”

“Mi— People drove me here,” Adara replies, refusing to look at him.

“You’re like … five,” he says, blinking. “The hell would you need us for?”

“I’m nine.” She swallows. "And I needed a place to stay. It was either here or an alleyway."

"Right, right." He squints at her. "You homeless or somethin'?"

"No, just …" She eyes him. "Who are you?"

"Hah!" He walks closer, an unsettling smile growing on his face. “I'm asking the questions.”

Adara still doesn’t look at him. Her heart races, and she thinks of bolting inside the house, but based on his height, he’ll definitely outrun her.

“My mother took me on vacation,” she says, finally looking at his rough face, “in Malie. I was sleepy the whole way, but turns out she drugged me, and Papa was right about her being a liar.”

"She drugged you," he says blankly.

"Yes." Adara clears her throat. "That's what Plumeria thinks. I don't know."

"She's usually right."

"Yeah, um." She sighs. The weight on her shoulders drags her further into the ground. "I don't think I should talk to you about this."

"Why're you here, then?" he asks. "Who am I gonna tell about your problems? It's not like I care. 'Sides, you're gonna get home eventually. Although …" He tilts his head. "You look like you could be from here."

"Maman is," she offers. "Um, well, Papa told me she was dead?"

"Huh."

"Yeah. Then, a few days ago— I don't even know what day it is—"

"Tuesday."

Adara pales. "I was asleep for more than a day."

"Drugs, then," he says blandly. "Well? You gonna continue or not?"

She does, indeed, relaying her entire journey here, and her mother's subsequent abandonment. His helpful response to the entire thing is a simple damn, which for some stupid reason, makes her laugh.

"You all curse a lot," Adara says, once she calms.

"Yeah, whatever. Go back to bed, kid." His eyes narrow. "Whose room're you sleeping in, anyway?"

Adara blinks. "I … don't know."

"Fine." He pulls out another cigarette, along with a lighter. "Just get out of here. The smoke's gonna get into your lungs."

"It'll also get into yours."

"Got a smart mouth, huh, kid?"

She shrugs. "Actually, people call me stupid."

"They're lying to your ass, then," he snaps, and she flinches. "All you did was trust some conniving bitch who got you abandoned. And you're, like, nine. The fuck're you supposed to do?"

His words, oddly, ease the feeling in her stomach.

"Um, thanks?"

"Yeah, fuck you," is his response, before he spots her widened eyes. "People are shitty. I’ve been through a lot of shit, but leaving hurts the most. That bein' said, it gets better. You find people who love you through whatever.”

"Papa does," she murmurs. "He's in Kalos."

"Got his number?"

"No."

"Then he's stupid." He lights his cigarette, pale face flickering with orange. "Number one rule is to have your kid memorize your number."

"So, you can't find him?"

He seems to see right through her. "I can try."

As he puts the second blunt in his mouth, her eyes narrow. "That's not healthy."

"Don't care," he says, smoke tumbling out of his mouth.

"Are you a chain smoker?"

He coughs. "What?"

"Papa said that if you smoke more than one at a time, you're a chain smoker." Adara's nose wrinkles at the sharp odor. "How do you deal with the smell?"

"I just do." He looks at her, sighs, and crushes the blunt with his foot. "There. Happy? I wasted one 'cause of you."

"If you didn't smoke the second one, you wouldn't have wasted it."

Surprisingly, he snorts. "Smartass."

"Uh—" Adara shakes her head. "When did you start?"

"Years ago." His eyes narrow. "Why, y'want my whole life story?"

For some reason, she blurts, "I told you mine."

It's silent, before he guffaws, a loud thing that startles her. "Not now. It's late, and you look like you’re gonna pass out. Go back to bed. I'll deal with you tomorrow."

"Right. Okay." She hesitates, before, "Good night."

He gives her a lazy wave. "Don't die."

Not knowing what else to do, she nods. And sure enough, for some reason, she falls asleep the moment her head hits the pillow.

This time, the house is quiet enough for her to sleep.

It’s hazy inside of her mind, with images too blurry to memorize, streaks of pink and brown and eyes filled with longing. Adara sees her: dark skin clad with gold jewelry, limbs flexible on a brightly-lit stage, painted lips strategically curled into a smile. There’s her father’s voice— loud but deep, bright but tinged with grief— his pale fingers sliding a photograph on the table. Pokémon running across the fields in the yard of the manor, Adara laughing along with them.

Wanna go for a walk? her mother asks, but it’s less of a question and more like ringing in her ears, a loop of past events.

Adara opens her mouth for a no. You drugged me, she tries to say. You hurt me, lied to me, left me. But she knows how the tale ends, with a daughter grabbing her mother’s hand and walking out of her house, leaving her father behind.

Water, Lakshmi offers, smiling.

Sweet, sweet, sweet— and there’s liquid coursing through Adara’s veins, bones, chocolate coating her inner mouth, a wooden brush cutting through her hair without a care—

You drugged me! Adara screams at her.

Her mother doesn’t say anything. They’re on a plane, for whatever reason, only she’s awake. It’s shaking, falling apart at the seams. The wings are falling down, down, down. Everyone’s screaming, but Lakshmi only tilts her head and says:

So what? Your father told you I was dead.

Adara screams until her voice is hoarse, until her throat feels like sandpaper, until every drop of water she swallowed in Team Skull’s manor doesn’t even matter.

“Hey,” a voice says.

She keeps screaming.

“It’s a nightmare, darling, you’re going to be okay—”

Adara’s eyes fly open.

“Mornin' to you," Plumeria says, and her voice is so sharp and clear that Adara startles. Her fingers swipe across Adara’s face, collecting wetness— her tears. Adara’s been crying. “Sorry about that.”

“Nightmare,” she says, still groggy.

“Yeah, I figured.” Plumeria clears her throat. “Is it about your mother?”

There’s no point in lying, so she just nods.

“I’m sorry, kid.” The woman smiles, something more sad than happy. “Too many kids are going through shit they shouldn’t have to go through. We’ll help as much as we can, promise.”

“Okay,” Adara says, voice small. “Do you— Is there breakfast that I can have?”

“Sure is.”

“Oh. So I’m … staying here?”

“That’s what I came in here for,” Plumeria admits. “I was gonna let you sleep more, actually, but the boss wants to speak to you.”

“Why? Are Mika and Erik in trouble?"

Plumeria shrugs, twirling her locks between two ringed fingers. “Beats me. He hates kids.”

Adara blinks. “This house is full of kids.”

What she doesn’t expect is for her to laugh. It’s genuine, loud, and hoarse. Adara finds herself entranced.

“Don’t say that to him,” she advises. “I’ll give you ‘bout an hour to get ready, and then we can head there. Just do your best, kid.”

"Adara," she replies.

Plumeria nods, lips curled into a wild grin. “Adara. Good luck."

She guides her to the boss' room much later, when Adara's teeth and hair are brushed. As she's walking, Adara's stomach churns. The boss is definitely going to kick her out, not before bruising her skin. Maybe if she begged, citing that she's only nine, he'd let her off easily. After all, Mika and Erik are scared of him, and even Plumeria seems to submit to him.

"Have fun," Plumeria says, leaving Adara in front of double doors.

Adara mumbles a lengthy prayer to Arceus, eyes closed, before she steels herself. She can do this.

The moment she steps in, the doors close behind her. A red throne is in the large room, perhaps the largest of the house. Crystals glitter in a treasure chest to the side. A Wimpod skittles to the side.

And standing in front of it is a white haired man, throwing a Poké ball up and down.

“The hated boss who beats you down, and beats you down, and never lets up...” The white-haired man from last night turns, and then sneers. “Kid.”

“Um, hello again,” she greets, swallowing. “Boss.”

He scoffs. “Plumeria said you made the dumbass soft.”

“The who?”

“Erik,” he says, waving a hand. “Whatever. You’re good for the brat, so you should stay here.”

She frowns. “I did. Last night.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know that. I’m askin’ you to be a part of the team.”

“What? Why? I have a home!”

“Kid,” he sighs out, and Adara feels as if she’s being scolded. “You’re just like those stupid grunts outside, with no place to go back to. You’ll have one here, at least until we can contact your dad.”

“In a gang where people steal Pokémon for a living?”

“Family is family.” He raises a brow. “Unless you got a problem?”

“No,” she says quickly, “but I doubt I’m welcome, considering I stopped Mika and Erik from, er, stealing a Pokémon."

It’s silent for five seconds— Adara counts with her fingers— until it isn’t.

"Yeah, Plumes told me. I'm handling it." At her hesitance, he sighs. "Look, I know you got a father. But until we can find him, where else are you gonna go? Back to that inn? With what money?"

Adara looks down. As much as she hates it, he has a point.

“Okay,” she agrees, “but I’m not stealing Pokémon. Or mugging people."

He shrugs. “Fair enough. Welcome to the team. Plumeria’ll get you up to speed.”

“I’m Adara,” she offers. 

"Yeah, I know." His smile terrifies her. “The name's Guzma. Welcome to Team Skull."