Archive of Our Own

Days seem sometimes as if they'll never end

Sun digs its heels to taunt you

But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same

Rises the moon

Days fade into a watercolour blur

Memories swim and haunt you

But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke

Rises the moon

Rises the Moon, Liana Flores

It is forever winter on Mount Lanakila.

Tufts of white cloud the sky. A snowflake lands on Moon’s dark hair, which she quickly brushes off with a gloved hand.

“On the dot,” Kahili says at the door, letting her in.

A fixed smile is curled onto Moon’s lips. Knitted into her fingers, thorny and sharp, are a bundle of roses. She hands them to Kahili, the flowers previously dropped off at the nearest Pokémon Center for her, something about a fiancé abroad that Moon’s never met.

“Thank you.”

Moon nods. She gestures to the four doors inside.

Kahili smiles. “We’re ready.”

Nodding again, Moon descends a path of stairs, all the way to her throne. It is too big for a small child like her, they say, but there is something so blindingly hollow in her eyes once someone looks close enough.

She drums her fingers on the armrests, waiting.

It takes an hour for the first challenger. Moon rises from her throne. In the room, walls of mirror and glass reflect a ghost.

“Battle begin,” an automated voice says.

Moon wins.

It’s easier than most battles, as her first Pokémon decimates the challenger’s six. The entire time, it’s only her hands moving and a soft, almost inaudible command from her lips that indicates her presence.

“Aw, damn,” the challenger says. He’s smiling, dimples reminding her of Hau. “Well, I’ll be back tomorrow! You’ll see!”

Moon keeps a smile on her face. She nods. “Looking forward to it.”

After four more battles, she closes the building and leaves. The nearest Pokémon Center has enough rooms for her entire staff to stay, but only she remains on the highest peak of the entirety of Alola, resting on a squeaky cot with a thin mattress. Her Pokémon share a larger bed next to her, curled up and snoring.

The next day, it continues. Moon rises at dawn, meets Kahili at the door, battles a few challengers that all lose— one throws a tantrum and is later escorted out by Acerola— before she heads to bed and dreams of it.

Bright green eyes blind her vision, long tentacles wrapping around her throat. Moon awakens, panting, to the ghost of bruises on her throat. She touches her tender, yet unharmed neck, her exhales leaving a trail of white in the cold room.

She slumps back onto her bed and dreams of too much afterward. Faces flash, images she hasn’t seen in years, eyes of different colors— but all crinkling in sadness nonetheless.

You’re leaving? Moon asked. Why?

I’m sorry, Lillie said.

Moon awakens at three in the morning. She packs her bags, and with her Pokémon, makes the climb to her job.

“You’re early,” Kahili notes.

Moon nods, only handing the roses in greeting. She strides past her and into her designated room, sinking onto her throne. The cold, hard material makes her thighs ache, but she endures. It is not meant for weak little girls, but champions.

And Moon Takeda is the Champion of Alola itself.

She closes her eyes, leaning back. Sleep doesn’t come easy, so she immediately opens her eyes upon the arrival of a new challenger. Her fingers dart to her first Poké ball as she stands, walks down, and greets the challenger with a small bow.

“Battle begin,” the voice says.

Moon goes to sleep that night feeling nothing. It’s the same every night for the past two years, high upon her throne that no one has been able to make her surrender to. She thinks, briefly, of her mother and their tiny house back on Melemele Island, but dismisses it.

She is not a daughter. She is a champion.

Come home, her mother would say over the phone, before she stopped calling.

Come back, Hau would say, making his way up to challenge her, before he stopped trying.

Come join me, Lillie would write in her letters, before she stopped writing.

“You did well,” Moon says the next day to a challenger, who’d managed to make three of Moon’s Pokémon faint, a feat that hasn’t been achieved in the past six months. “Good work.”

The challenger, a young girl with bright eyes, beams.

Moon’s fingers grip the armrest of her throne. That girl’s smile doesn’t leave her mind. It’s the kind that warms the coldest of hearts. Moon thinks her own smile makes the warmest of people shudder with how it never leaves her face.

She relaxes her muscles. The smile drops.

In the night, she tries to sleep, but that smile infests the darkest parts of her mind.

She closes her eyes. Bright green eyes linger in the dark, and she feels her words, soft and beautiful and terrifying in her brain, talking to Moon about beauty and power and everything her children weren’t—

Moon wakes up.

She brushes her teeth, readies herself, and heads to her job. Kahili greets her with a nod, and Moon takes in ten challengers, more than usual, before heading back home for the day. She makes two sandwiches— one for tonight and the other for tomorrow’s lunch— before eating her food in the darkness.

Her Pokémon enjoy their free cuisine from the Pokémon Center, but Moon prefers the cold prickling her skin. She opens her glitching laptop, puts on an old movie, and falls asleep to the sound of quiet chatter.

In her dreams, there’s her mother. She’s older than Moon remembers, rocking on a chair, with Moon and her laughing. And then there’s Hau and Lillie, spinning each other in circles; Lana and Kiawe and Mallow, dancing in the center; and Gladion in the corner, bright eyes trained on the crowd. Moon locks eyes with him. They chat for a small while, about the little things.

Moon doesn’t smile until he says something so flat that has her laughing, the sound almost unfamiliar to her own ears.

Afterward, Lillie pulls her aside. She smiles, eyes crinkling, saying something so bright and beautiful that Moon can’t help but laugh again.

“I miss you,” she tells her.

Even in her dreams, Lillie doesn’t reply.

She awakens with nothing again. It’s the same every day: rise, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Sometimes, she boots up her laptop for a quick movie. On the weekends, when the League is closed, she trains her Pokémon, hidden in the snow.

It’s the one time she does not smile.

And when daylight creeps up, the sun shining on her face, the warmth only tingles. Moon still walks to the building with the same roses, greeting Kahili with her empty smile and a simple nod, before retreating downstairs. She eats her sandwich alone, in between challenges, and takes quick naps in the throne room on slow days.

“Do you not have any friends?” Kahili asks bluntly, right as Moon is about to leave.

Moon stares at her knit brows, almost as if the woman cares for her. She smiles. “Of course I do.”

She doesn’t let Kahili respond, instead wrapping herself with a thin blanket in her room, the movie simply background noise to her growing thoughts.

(“You seem lonely,” said Acerola a year ago.

“Don’t worry. I’m not.”

Something must’ve shown, because she stopped prying.)

Dear Lillie, she wrote two years ago, palms shaking, how are you doing? Why did you go? Why did you leave me? After everything, my entire journey became about you. You, you, you. I was consumed by you, and then you just left.

She never finished the letter.

Frankly, the idea of writing to Lillie made something in her ache, so she decided not to send her anything at all.

Now, the days seem to blur. Kahili asks a few more questions, but at Moon’s flat responses, seemingly decides to go back to her regular greetings. The rest of the Elite Four don’t try, only waving when she passes, but otherwise silent.

“Where are you going for the holidays?” Kahili asks one day.

“Nowhere,” Moon says honestly.

“Not home?”

Moon continues to smile. “This is my home.”

When the League closes, the snow turning to hail, Moon spends two weeks in the Pokémon Center. She drowns herself in new strategies, stocks up her supplies, and lies on her bed, shivering.

Once, her Pokémon attempted to coax her home. But they know, deep down, that she doesn’t belong there. She is not a little girl.

She is a champion.

We miss you, said Hau a year ago, voice small and sad. What happened to us?

You don’t need me, Moon told him simply. You never have.

Moon is a champion.

She keeps her smile frozen to her face, nodding at the right time and giving advice when needed. Even the cadence of her voice is flat, every word spoken as if it was fed to her from above, but it doesn’t matter.

It never did.

Soon, she stops making sandwiches for lunch, resulting to drinking water throughout the day. It saves time, allowing for more optimal training throughout the day.

And when she can’t sleep, she stops trying. Dark nights are spent on her laptop, the screen bright on her face as she scanned the web for new strategies, new statistics, new updates on potential challengers. She turns her phone off permanently, tucking it in her drawer.

And when she realizes she can cut her walks up Mount Lanakila short, saving time, she moves into the League building.

No one notices, at first. There’s a bathroom she can use, connected to the room itself. She simply sets up a sleeping bag on the ground, a similar set-up for her Pokémon. They have ample space to train and sleep, with beautiful rays of light. When training, they do it inside or out in the snow; sometimes, it’s days before Moon sees light again.

Every week, she makes rounds to the Pokémon Center, stocking up on medicine, water, and food, before trekking back. She even told the person delivering Kahili’s flowers to direct them up to the League building, all to minimize her time there.

“You’re always earlier than me,” Kahili complains every day. Moon bears it with a smile. “One day, I’ll get here first.”

Now, she stretches her arms, glances at the cloudy sky, and feels nothing.

Her skin is cold. She swaps her clothes for newer ones by having someone deliver them up. Her water is in plastic bottles. Using her money, she purchases trash cans, and begins filling a hidden corner of the room with furniture. It’s behind Moon’s throne, so no one bothers venturing there; all the sleeping bags are hidden away until the night.

There isn’t a true reason to leave the mountain, or even the League building. Her job is here. Her Pokémon are here. The Center is here. In fact, her home is here.

Her battling gets better. No one gets past her first two Pokémon. She switches them up constantly, making sure every single one gets a turn at scorching the battlefield.

Even as she starts swaying after a battle, or as her periods of sleep get longer, she is still a champion. And she still feels nothing.

She hopes this will last forever, a never-ending blizzard. It keeps her cold. It keeps her vigilant.

It keeps her strong.

You need help, Moon, said Hau, reaching out, but she slapped his hand away.

I don’t need you, she told him. I don’t need any of you. Only one of you even showed up. I’m doing perfectly fine.

Are you sure? he asked.

Moon saw the hurt on his face, but it did nothing to her.

I don’t think we were never friends, Hau. She laughed, the sound unnatural. Don’t come back.

He didn’t return.

It’s one day when she sleeps on her throne at night. The jagged material pokes at her skin, but she manages to fall into dark and twisting dreams, trapping her in its embrace.

“Moon?” Kahili asks, poking her head in. “Listen, I—”

She stops at the sight of a groggy Moon. All her joints ache. She stretches, yawning, before her eyes widen at the sight of the woman.

“Hello,” Moon says.

“You slept here,” she says blankly. “This isn’t a common occurrence, right?”

Before Moon can answer, Kahili’s eyes widen.

“Arceus. You don’t get here earlier than me. You’re always here.”

“Yes,” Moon says eventually. “It works out just fine. No need to worry.”

She smiles, a reassuring thing she always has ready. Kahili nods, saying nothing. She leaves.

The day goes by, normal and slow, but before Moon can retire for the day, Professor Kukui arrives.

Arceus, she hasn’t seen him in a year.

“What happened to you?” he asks.

Moon stares. She’s still smiling, it almost being a reflex now, but her mouth refuses to open. Nothing moves. There is something in his gaze that prevents her from doing so.

“I shouldn’t have had you up here,” he says hastily, pacing. “You’re just a kid.”

“I’m seventeen.”

He shakes his head. “This was a mistake.”

For the first time, her smile falters. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, Moon, I’m so sorry,” he says, the words spilling out of him like liquid. “You shouldn’t have been Champion, I—”

There is something shifting inside of her skin— no, it is closer to her lungs. She can’t breathe, her throat constricting. That something squeezes and squeezes. She almost gasps at the intensity.

“I am.”

Kukui blinks. “What?”

“I am the Champion of Alola,” she says, rising to her full height. “You didn’t make me it. I just am.”

“No, I shouldn’t have asked you to challenge the Elite Four …” He trails off. “Moon, maybe you should take a break. You can come back later—”

“No,” Moon says.

“Moon—”

“If you want me to leave,” she says, unsmiling, “beat me.”

He loses.

She smiles again. He doesn’t. It’s strange, seeing the sadness constricting his expression, a storm cloud over his usually cheerful face. He tells her, heavily, to reconsider it.

Moon shakes her head. She doesn’t let her smile drop. Her Pokémon, tired and bored even after being healed, head outside the room to play.

She settles on her throne. It was made for her, despite it being too wide and too hard. The smooth edges uncomfortably press against her soft skin. She sighs, closing her eyes.

In the dark, she sees Nihilego. It makes a noise, something ghostly, before descending upon her. And then it’s Lusamine, smiling, beautiful as ever. She doesn’t stop smiling, even after she falls.

Moon touches her lips. She uncurls them, opening her eyes at last. The mirrors on the glass reflect a ghost.

Gaunt, hollowed cheeks replace her once-youthful cheeks. Dark circles line her dark eyes. Her brown skin, usually smooth and clear, is marred with scratches and scars from training. She tries to smile for her reflection, but she looks almost depraved.

Insane. Terrifying.

Like Lusamine.

Moon’s throat dries. Something wet forms in her eyes. She gasps, but air doesn’t enter her lungs. They squeeze, and she seizes, knees buckling as she falls to the ground. There’s something coming out of her throat, sounds she hasn’t made in ages.

The air is warm, almost suffocating. There is no cold to blind her, shock her back to battle. There is only pain in her lungs, in her body, in her heart.

She is a champion. She cannot—

Moon rises. She wipes at her puffy eyes. And when she tries to step forward, she wobbles, collapsing on the floor.

This time, she doesn’t get up.

We’re the same, you and I, said Lusamine. I used my children; you use everyone around you.

“Hey!” Lillie exclaims, giggling as Hau shoves a handful of sand on her dress. “I’ll get you for that!”

As they run, laughing, Moon smiles behind them. Every step dents the warmth sand. Something flutters in her stomach, and tumbles out her mouth as she speaks. The two smile at her, stretch their hands, and invite her.

Gladion is sprawled on a chair under an umbrella, reading a book. He looks up at them, and both Moon and him share a secret smile. Before she can open her mouth, Hau tugs her hand, and off they go.

The sun casts its warm glow on Moon’s skin. She exhales, cool wind prickling her skin, but it feels inconsequential to the lightness in her heart.

“Moon,” Hau asks, “what are you thinking about?”

“You guys,” she says honestly.

“Aw,” Lillie says, eyes shining. “I love you both.”

The three of them embrace. The warmth of not one but two of her beloved friends has Moon ascending. It’s just as powerful as the hugs her mother used to give her when Moon would cry into her shoulder.

It’s just as warm.

“I miss you,” Hau says.

Moon laughs. “Why? I live here. You see me everyday.”

It’s as if he doesn’t hear her. “I miss you so much. Every day. I wish ...”

Lillie and Moon exchange glances, bemused.

“Hau, what’s wrong?” Moon asks gently. She clasps both his hands. “Hey, hey. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“I have so many things I want to tell you.”

There’s a swoop in Moon’s stomach. “I’m right here, Hau.”

He finally looks at her. Moon recoils at his expression.

“Wake up, Moon.”

Her eyes open.

Come home, tried Moon’s mother.

I’m sorry, said Moon. You’re better off without me.

Summer’s heat is suffocating.

It reminds of Moon of her late father. He’d passed in his sleep. Her mother says it was cancer; everyone else says he was a good man taken too soon. The pithos storing his ashes is somewhere in her house, guarded by her aging mother.

When he died, she barely carried on. Moon sought out a home in everything: in the picket fence, in the sun, in the moon, in the lake next to her school, in the friends who would look at her with barely-concealed pity.

At fifteen, when her mother and her moved to Alola, Moon finally a found home. She had a place to go back to if she skinned her knee, lost a battle, or needed a warm hug.

And then Lusamine happened. Lillie, traumatized and trembling, led the journey to save the woman who burdened her for as long as she lived. And Moon, willing to follow her to the ends of the Earth, agreed.

Lillie was a part of her home. So was Hau. In time, she even considered Gladion to be apart of the many pieces of her heart. She thought, foolishly, that her home would be permanent.

But winter’s chill is freezing.

Every day, her heart iced at the slightest. She dreamed of Ultra Beasts, of portals, of her public service to Alola which went unpaid, of her Championship as Alola’s top battler, at her stint at the Battle Tree before she retired.

And soon, her face became a canvas. Drawn on it was a smile with permanent marker. Even if Moon tried to rub it off, she failed. Her eyes were cut out and ripped from her skull, thrown onto the floor. Even as Hau moved onto training as a kahuna, Gladion ran Aether Paradise in his mother’s stead, and Lillie explored as many regions as she could, it was Moon who remained stagnant.

But she is the Champion of Alola. It didn’t matter, as long as she had something to grip, as long as she had it in her heart and soul and mind and imprinted on her skin.

They had their happiness and freedom and love. Let her keep her strength.

You should come and visit, said Moon, having just defeated him.

Gladion nodded.

Moon waited.

He never came back.

The first thing Moon sees is her mother.

She’s dressed in a dark orange, floral patterns all over her long dress. Her eyes are puffy, tears trailing down her cheeks. Her lips wobble, before trembling hands reach to cup Moon’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs out, hugging her. “I’m so sorry …”

Moon stares. There’s a hole where her heart should be. Or, at least, that’s how it used to be. Now, tears leave her own eyes. Her skin, once dry and brittle, feels damp as she returns her mother’s embrace.

“I want to go home,” Moon murmurs.

Her mother hugs her tighter. “I’m not letting you go anywhere but home.”

She nods. Even if her heart aches at the idea of leaving the League, exhaustion tugs at her bones.

“But before we go,” her mother says, wiping Moon’s tears with gentle fingers, “there’s someone who wants to see you.”

Moon’s eyes widen. As her mother lets her go, heading outside to give her and her new guest privacy, she spots him.

“Hau,” she breathes out. “I—”

He cuts her off with a hug. She relaxes, embracing him immediately.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “for everything.”

“You didn’t mean it.”

“I …” She pauses, remembering her numb heart once he left. “Yeah. I didn’t.”

“Then that settles it.” He nods at her. “Don’t ever do that again. From now on, you’re staying with your mom, and we won’t ever leave your side.”

“What— what about the League?” Moon asks.

“You’re not going back!” he says hotly.

Too tired to object, Moon smiles. “Alright.”

Hau recoils.

“What?” she asks.

“Don’t …” He sighs. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to do that with anyone.”

“Do what?”

“Smile that fake smile of yours.” He shakes his head. “Arceus, I hate Lusamine for what she did to you, to everyone …”

“If you hate her,” says Moon lightly, “you must hate me too.”

“What?”

Hau turns around. However, Moon, who just wants to either forever sleep or forever battle, finds herself frozen.

Gladion drops off a bouquet of roses at the table next to her. Moon watches him, throat constricting. Not only did he hear her words, he’s here.

“What happened?” he asks.

Moon turns away.

“She overworked herself,” Hau says for her. He pats her arm. “She won’t do it again.”

“I see,” he says. “I hope you feel better.”

She nods, still not looking at him. “Thank you.”

Hau rises. “I’m going to get coffee. Be right back!”

He rushes out, leaving the two of them alone. Moon sighs, hoping that Gladion would take her hint and leave.

But a part of her doesn’t want him to leave.

“You never visited,” she says eventually.

Gladion blinks. “You wanted me to?”

“I asked,” she says staunchly. “What do you think that meant?”

“And then you stopped talking to Hau,” he points out, “and you never wrote to Lillie. I assumed I was also not allowed to see you.”

She laughs sadly, dropping her head back onto the bed. “Fair enough.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He drags a chair to her bed. “What really happened?”

“It’s what Hau said—”

“You fainted,” he points out. “This wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

She sighs. “I don’t have much, Gladion. Not a home, not a family, no friends. I had my Championship, so I tried my best to keep it.”

“You do have a home. And you’re not like Mother.”

At this, her eyes widen. “What?”

“You’re a good person, Moon,” he says. “Everyone knows it.”

“Oh.” Moon tries not to smile. “Thanks.”

She fidgets with her fingers. He just sits there, waiting.

“I cut down eating,” she says eventually. “I stopped sleeping as much because whenever I did sleep, I saw Nihilego in my dreams. And then I moved into the League building. Kahili caught me and called Professor Kukui.”

“That was the day you fainted,” he says.

“Yes.”

“You need a break.”

She can’t believe Aether’s acting president is saying this to her. “So do you.”

“I’m not the one in the hospital.”

She laughs. It sounds weird coming from her throat. “Fair.”

He squeezes her arm. “I’ll visit with Hau.”

“Like old times,” she jokes.

Gladion smiles. “Like old times.”

Lillie leaned in. Moon, I—

Fireworks boomed in the sky. For a second, Moon thought Lillie was going to kiss her, but she didn’t. Her stomach tumbled, and all she thought about was the fact that she was hopelessly consumed by the one person who could never love her back.

Did Lillie even like her at all? Or was it just the way Moon protected her?

Moon’s mother, after many evenings, convinces her to attend therapy. It’s an hour every week, so Moon relents.

During the rest of the free hours she has, she lets her Pokémon free in the backyard, lounging on her comfortable beanbag in her unchanged room. Her mother forces her to eat three meals a day, and the two get into an easy routine of doing chores together.

After Hau’s kahuna training, he joins her, the two watching reruns of old TV shows. And every weekend, Gladion drops by, handing Moon a new bouquet and commenting on her progress.

On a day neither of them are there, Moon’s lounging on the couch, eating a few berries from the market her mother shopped from yesterday.

Someone knocks at the door.

Moon rises. Her cheeks, once gaunt, fill more and more as the days pass.

“Coming!” she says.

She opens the door.

Standing outside is a girl with a blonde ponytail, her short white dress rippling in the breeze. Unlike Gladion’s darker eyes, his sister’s are bright and cheerful.

“Hello, Moon,” she says, unfairly smiling, blinding like the brilliant sun. “I missed you.”

Moon slams the door on her face.

She sinks down onto the floor, shaking. Her heart convulses. It’s not butterflies, but moths that dance in her stomach as tears trickle down her cheeks. Arceus, she was doing so much better than before; she almost had it—

“Moon?” Lillie calls from the other side. “Are you alright?”

Moon wipes her tears hastily. She opens the door, clearing her throat.

“Can we talk?” Lillie asks.

Not trusting herself to speak, Moon nods. She takes Lillie to the beach outside Professor Kukui’s lab. For a while, Lillie says nothing, just matching Moon’s pace as the two stroll in the sand. Moon tries not to look at her, but she can’t stop herself.

Like a flower, Lillie blossomed into something even more beautiful than before. And like a plant, Moon withered in a cold winter, the same as always.

“I missed you,” Lillie says.

Moon’s lower lip wobbles. She says nothing.

“I wrote to you,” she continues. “You never wrote back.”

“And you never came back,” Moon finally says, the vitriol in her voice even surprising herself. “Why now?”

Her heart thuds out of her chest. Lillie stares, eyes wide.

“I heard you fainted,” she says. “I wanted to make su—”

“I was up on that mountain for two years,” she says, throat thick with tears. “At least Hau and Gladion tried to see me. I blame myself for pushing them away. But you? You left me.”

“Moon,” she says gently, “I left to heal my mother.”

“And what did you do after?” she demands. “You didn’t come back. You stayed away.”

Lillie swallows.

“Hau has his training. Gladion has Aether. You had your freedom. All I had was my Arceus-damned title, and I couldn’t even do that.”

“You’re still Alola’s champion.”

Moon laughs harshly. “Not a good one.”

“That’s not true!” Lillie snaps, Moon startling at her high volume. “You’ve always been good. I looked up to you the moment I met you. I still do! You’ve always been amazing, Moon. That hasn’t changed.”

Despite herself, her heart stutters. “Then why did you leave?”

Lillie wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Why didn’t you ever write to me?”

Moon swallows. Her stomach swoops. “I … I tried.”

She blinks. “What?”

“I tried, alright? I tried so many times. It never came out right.” She inhales. “I was so angry, Lillie. You left me behind and I— you were a part of my home, and then you were just gone. You left me with a gaping hole in my heart, and I know the whole Lusamine thing wasn’t your fault, but my entire journey turned into that, and then you just left!”

Lillie reaches for Moon’s hand, tugging her into a hug. Unlike Hau and Gladion’s warmth, Lillie’s is searing, blazing brighter than Wela Volcano itself.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I was just so scared.”

Moon blinks back tears. “Of what?”

“Of you,” Lillie confesses. “I thought you’d hate me.”

She sniffles. “Then why are you back now?”

“Gladion told me you fainted, so I booked a flight here.” Lillie’s shoulders slump. “I … It doesn’t matter if you hate me now, Moon. What matters more is that you’re alright.”

“I don’t hate you,” Moon says carefully. “I’m mad at you.”

“Oh,” Lillie murmurs, voice small.

“But I’m more mad at myself,” she continues. “I should’ve … I should’ve visited Hau. I should’ve went back home. I should’ve also reached out. So we can … we can call it even.”

Lillie releases her from her embrace, eyes shining with tears. “Oh, Moon.”

“And I’ll write to you,” Moon says, “when you leave.”

She tilts her head. “Leave?”

“When you go back,” Moon clarifies.

Lillie cups Moon’s cheek. She looks like an angel with the sun shining on her golden hair. Moon’s eyes briefly wander towards her lips, and then back to her sparkling green eyes.

“I’m not. I’m here to stay.”

For a second, the world stops spinning.

“What?”

“I want you to get better,” she says emphatically, “so that I can challenge you to a proper battle. And you, Hau, Gladion, and I will go to the beach as much as possible. And then we can grow old together on this very island.”

“You …” Moon’s eyes are wide, cheeks flushed at Lillie’s touch. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.”

Moon reaches out to touch the palm cupping her cheek. “Why?”

“I left to get stronger,” Lillie says, “so that I could freely explore without being a burden to you— and yes,” she says, interrupting Moon, “I was. But I’m not anymore. I’m strong.”

“And beautiful,” Moon blurts.

Lillie flushes. “Says you.”

“What? That’s not the point!”

“I’ve always thought you were pretty,” Lillie admits, eyes lowering past her eyes. “Your name is fitting. You look just like the moon.”

“Not always,” she murmurs.

“You’re getting better,” Lillie says, her other hand reaching to trace the other side of Moon’s face. “And you’ll keep getting better.”

The sunset in front of them paints the sky a brilliant orange. Moon smiles something watery.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I … I’m glad you’re back.”

Quickly, she kisses Moon’s forehead. “Me too.”

Moon’s lips round. “You— I— you’re so bold now.”

Lillie laughs. Moon’s breath hitches, butterflies dancing in her stomach.

“Are you alright?” Lillie asks. “You looked lost.”

“Your laugh,” Moon breathes out, still dazed. It’s just as melodic as Moon remembers it used to be. And just like back then, it consumes her. All Moon wants to do is drink it in. “It’s the same.”

“Oh,” Lillie says, eyes widening, before a smile slips onto her face. “I see.”

Moon coughs. Lillie’s hands are still cupping her cheeks, and she thinks she’ll combust if she doesn’t let go. Only now, Lillie’s looking at her like …

Like she’s home.

“Was I on your mind,” Moon asks, “back when you were traveling?”

“Oh, a lot of the time,” Lillie says honestly.

“Oh.”

“And you?” Lillie asks, leaning in by a fraction. “Did you think of me?”

Moon finds herself lost in Lillie’s eyes, which dance with an expression she can’t decipher. “Too much.”

For a few seconds, they’re both silent, the only noise being the slow lap of ocean waves. The sun’s dipped lower into the sky, the orange and yellow streaks turning into a darker pink.

“It’s beautiful,” Lillie comments, briefly gazing at the sunset.

Moon’s eyes don’t leave her face. “Yeah, it is.”

At that, Lillie turns back and kisses her.

She doesn’t know if she’s still mad. Frankly, Moon doesn’t know anything but Lillie’s lips on her, warm and perfect. She grabs onto Lillie’s shoulders and crushes their mouths closer.

“Oh,” Lillie murmurs into her mouth.

Moon draws back. Lillie bites her lip.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asks.

Her stomach swoops at the thought. Lillie and her didn’t talk for two years, and now she’d kissed her and told her she wants to stay. Hau and Gladion promised to be back into her life. She’s back with her wonderful mother. Even if she has to rest instead of work, Moon’s found her home again.

And sure, Lillie indirectly caused her dreams of Nihilego, turned her journey into her self-discovery, but when Moon looks into Lillie’s eyes, she sees a changed girl, bright and beautiful like always, but stronger too. Even if Moon’s always been strong, these past two years turned her into a machine, Lusamine’s plaything even if the woman currently resides regions away.

You and I are the same, Lusamine’s voice coos in her head, but Moon dismisses the thought.

Moon’s journey hasn’t ended just yet. This time, she’ll return, stronger than ever, surrounded by the people that make winter warm.

“I’m not mad at you,” she promises, giving the other girl a short peck. “In fact, you’ve always consumed me.”

“Since the beginning?” Lillie asks, eyes wide. Her cheeks are flushed, but she herself is glowing from the setting sun. “Really?”

She smiles softly. “It’s always been you.”

Lillie crushes her into another embrace. “I love you, Moon.”

Moon’s stomach swoops. Not even the sun can make her feel this warm.

She closes her eyes, the words flowing out of her mouth before she can truly process it. “I love you too.”

Come home, Moon, they all said.

It is forever winter on Mount Lanakila.

But back at her home, where the warm water laps at her feet as she laughs, it is forever summer. The heat doesn’t suffocate her; Moon embraces it with open arms.

“Got you!” says Hau, laughing as he finally manages to splash Gladion.

immediately, his gaze darkens. “Oh, you’re done for.”

Hau shrieks, the two of them chasing each other across the beach. Moon watches. She doesn’t need to smile; her eyes say it all, dancing with mirth.

“Hello,” Lillie says, slipping her hand into Moon’s. “Should we ambush them?”

“You’re evil,” Moon says. “I like it.”

Laughing, the two of them attack the boys, but when Lillie trips, she drags Moon down with her, and soon, the four of them are tangled onto a heap on the floor.

“Good job,” Gladion says drily.

The other three lock eyes, before breaking down into uncontrollable laughter.

Eventually, when the sun sets, the four settle down into Moon’s house. They gather in the living room, sleeping bags lined across the floor.

Some nights, Moon still dreams of Lusamine. She sees Nihilego’s tentacles. But when she awakens, she imagines her mother’s warm smile, Lillie’s tight embrace, Gladion’s steady comfort, and Hau’s bountiful support.

She settles down in her bag, fingers interlocked with Lillie’s as the four attempt to scare each other with their own sets of ghost stories. Eventually, Gladion and Hau drift off to sleep, and Moon watches them with a soft smile playing on her face, something she doesn’t have to force.

Not now, and not ever again.

“Are you alright?” Lillie asks groggily.

“Yeah,” Moon says, closing her eyes. “I’m home.”