Chapter Text
Indigo sat on the edge of the training grounds, one leg loosely bent, the other stretched out as if even the effort of sitting properly had been deemed unnecessary. The noise around her, Poké Balls snapping open, commands slicing through the air, laughter rising and falling like waves blurred into something distant. Her eyes were open, but whatever she was looking at wasn’t here. The wind passed. She didn’t react. The fight with that Pecharunt still clung to her, not as a memory, but as a residue. Something sticky behind her ribs. Something that hadn’t fully decided to leave. Her fingers twitched slightly, not from fear. But from the quiet, unbearable awareness that she could have gone further. That thought alone exhausted her.
“…Indigo?” Kieran’s voice approached gently, like he was afraid of startling something fragile. Indigo turned her head just enough to acknowledge him. Her expression was as flat as still water, but her eyes were tired in a way sleep couldn’t fix. Kieran hesitated. That… wasn’t new. Indigo always carried this distant air. But this felt different. He stepped closer anyway. “You’ve been sitting here for a while,” he said, trying to sound casual and failing by a noticeable margin. “Are you… okay?”
Indigo blinked once, like her body was remembering how to respond. “I’ve been functioning quite fine,” she replied flatly. “And honestly, it’s quite exhausting.”
Kieran winced slightly. “I guess that means no.”
“How insightful,” Indigo replied flatly
“Hey, I’m trying.” Kieran retorted.
There was no bite in her response. No sarcasm sharp enough to cut. That worried him more. Behind him, Carmine groaned loudly. “Oh my god, are we seriously doing this right now?” she snapped, stomping over. “If she’s alive and not actively trying to shoot someone, she’s fine. We have actual plans, remember?”
Indigo glanced at her. Carmine crossed her arms, glaring at Indigo. “…You’re loud today,” Indigo said simply.
“And you’re broody today,” Carmine shot back instantly.
Kieran stepped between them before this escalated into something unnecessary or inevitable. It’s hard to tell with these two. “Okay, okay, cut it out, you two,” he said quickly, raising his hands. “We’re getting off track.”
Carmine huffed, flipping her hair. “We had a track. It’s called ‘going home.’ Remember that? Kitakami?” The word “Home” lingered in the air. Indigo’s gaze shifted, not to either of them, but somewhere past them, zoning out.
Kieran noticed, and something clicked. “…Hey,” he said, softer now. “You should come with us.”
Carmine froze. Indigo blinked. “…What?” Both spoke in sync.
Kieran smiled, a little nervous but determined. “To Kitakami. There’s a festival happening—the Festival of Masks. It’s… really special. Lots of food, games, masks… It might be a good change of pace.”
Indigo stared at him. A little confused, surprised even. Then she replied, “You’re inviting me,” she said slowly, “to a crowded cultural event… while I am visibly unstable.”
“…When you say it like that, it sounds worse than it is.”
“It is exactly what it is.”
Carmine finally responded, “NO. Absolutely not. Nope. Not happening. I am not bringing her to Kitakami,” Carmine declared, pointing at Indigo like she was identifying a public threat. “She’s already a safety hazard here. You want to drop her off in our hometown? During a festival? With actual normal people?”
Indigo tilted her head slightly. “…Define ‘normal.’”
“Not you, that’s for fucking sure!”
“Harsh yet accurate.”
“I’m serious!” Carmine snapped, turning back to Kieran. “She’s gonna scare everyone, or worse—pick a fight with someone! And don’t even get me started on how she talks—”
“I’m right here.”
“I KNOW.”
Kieran rubbed the back of his neck, clearly struggling but not backing down. “She won’t cause trouble,” he said, turning to Indigo. “Right?”
Indigo considered that. “…Statistically unlikely,” she replied.
“That is not reassuring!” Carmine yelled.
“But it’s honest.”
“That’s the problem!”
Kieran took a breath, holding his ground. “She needs a break,” he said quietly. “Can’t you see that?” Carmine’s expression faltered for half a second. Kieran continued, softer now, but firmer. “And… It’s not just about that. I want her to see Kitakami. I want to show her something… good.” Indigo’s eyes shifted back to him.
“…Fine,” Indigo replied.
Kieran lit up, but Carmine’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll go,” Indigo said, pushing herself up slowly. “Worst case scenario, I regret it and leave. Best case…” She trailed off, as if the concept itself didn’t quite exist.
Carmine groaned again, dragging a hand down her face like she was physically erasing her patience. “This is a bad idea,” she muttered. “A terrible idea.”
“Relax,” she muttered. “If I ruin your festival, you can blame him.” She jerked her thumb lazily toward Kieran. Kieran laughed awkwardly. Carmine did not. She stared at Indigo’s back, something conflicted flickering across her face. “You have got to be kidding me.”
The journey to Kitakami was long enough to feel unreal. Airplanes reduced the world to clouds and distance, soft, detached, like nothing down below could ever truly reach you. Buses, on the other hand, dragged you back into it. Every turn, every bump in the road, every passing stretch of countryside reminded her that the world still existed.
Indigo sat by the window the entire time. She didn’t sleep. Her eyes closed occasionally. Her breathing slowed. But rest never came. Every time her mind dipped too far into silence, something pulled it back up again and again. So she watched instead. Fields stretched endlessly outside, painted in quiet greens and fading golds. Small houses dotted the landscape like forgotten thoughts. The sky hung low, heavy with a kind of stillness that didn’t feel peaceful. It felt… observant.
“You’ve been staring out there for like, hours.” Carmine’s voice broke through, edged with her usual bite, but dulled, just slightly, by travel fatigue.
Indigo didn’t turn. “It’s staring back.”
“…Creepy sometimes,” Carmine replied.
Kieran, sitting across from them, let out a small, awkward laugh. He’d tried several times to start conversations during the trip. Each one had either died immediately or been quietly dismantled by Indigo’s dry responses. Still, he hadn’t stopped trying. “We’re almost there,” he said, leaning forward a little. “You’ll like Kitakami. It’s… quieter than Blueberry.”
Indigo finally glanced at him. “That’s not a selling point,” she said. Kieran smiled anyway. “I think it might be for you.”
Carmine snorted. “Yeah, until she scares half the town into hiding.”
“I don’t scare people,” Indigo muttered.
“You absolutely do.”
“That sounds like a them problem.”
“That is a you problem!”
Kieran rubbed the back of his neck, caught between amusement and mild panic. And then, the bus slowed. The engine gave a low, tired hum as it pulled into a familiar stop, Mossui Town. The air felt different; it was cooler. Not in temperature… no, that would’ve been easy to explain. This was something else. The kind of difference you noticed in your bones before your brain caught up.
Carmine stretched her arms the moment they stepped off the bus, inhaling deeply.
“…Finally.” Her voice softened, just for a second. Kieran looked around with a small smile, the tension in his shoulders easing as if something inside him had clicked back into place. Indigo observed. That’s what she did.
She took in the wooden buildings, the narrow paths, the distant mountains framing the town like a painting. Lanterns had already begun to appear, hung along eaves, strung between posts, waiting for night to give them purpose. It should’ve felt warm, inviting even. But it didn’t. Kieran asked, adjusting his bag. “We should check the community center first, right?”
Indigo nodded once. “That was the plan.”
The Mossui Community Center stood where it always had been, quiet, sturdy, and unassuming and almost… empty. The door creaked slightly as Kieran pushed it open. Inside, the air felt… still but not abandoned.
“Hello?” Kieran called out. But no response.
Carmine stepped in, brows furrowed. “That’s weird. Someone’s always here.”
Indigo walked past them, her footsteps soft against the floor. Her gaze swept across the room, tables, chairs, neatly arranged items that hadn’t been touched in a while… too neatly.
“Caretaker’s not here,” she said simply.
“Yeah, no shit,” Carmine snapped. “But why though?”
Kieran hesitated. “…Maybe he stepped out?”
“For how long?” Carmine asked.
Indigo crouched slightly near one of the tables, fingers brushing against the surface. There was no dust. “…They didn’t leave for long,” she murmured.
Carmine crossed her arms, irritation starting to mix with something else. “Okay, this is getting annoying.” Before Kieran could respond, the door slid open behind them. All three turned.
A lady stood there, with her Clefable by her side, eyes tired in a way that didn’t come from working overtime alone. “Oh… Kieran? Carmine?” she said, surprised. “You’re back already?”
“Yeah,” Kieran replied quickly. “We just got here. Um… do you know where the caretaker is?”
The woman’s expression shifted. “…No,” she said after a pause. “Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
Carmine straightened. “What do you mean since yesterday?”
The woman rubbed the back of her neck, uneasy. “There’s been… some trouble.”
Indigo stood up slowly. Her eyes locked onto her. “What kind of trouble?” she asked.
The woman hesitated. Then, quietly, “…People have been disappearing.”
The room stilled. Kieran’s breath caught. Carmine’s expression hardened immediately. “Disappearing? Like—what, missing? Kidnapped?”
The woman shook her head. “We don’t know…Even the old lady at the shop near the entrance? She was there last night. Closed up like usual.” She swallowed. “This morning… she was gone.”
Kieran’s face paled. “No signs? No… anything?”
“Nothing.” Silence pressed in. It was heavy and uncomfortable.
Indigo didn’t look surprised. She looked… pensive. “…Only elderly people?” she asked.
The woman blinked. “…So far.”
Indigo’s gaze drifted slightly, as if following a thread only she could see. “Interesting…”
Carmine clenched her fists. “Our grandparents—”
“They’re fine,” the woman said quickly. “For now. Everyone’s staying inside. Locking doors. No one’s taking chances.”
Kieran nodded, but it didn’t ease the tension in his shoulders. “…We should go check on them,” he said.
“Obviously,” Carmine snapped, already turning toward the door. Indigo didn’t move. Her eyes lingered on the space inside the room. There is a feeling that something had been here, but not anymore.
They didn’t waste time. Or at least, Carmine didn’t. “We’re going. Now.” Her voice cut clean through the lingering unease, sharp and decisive, already moving before the sentence had fully landed. There was no hesitation in her steps, no room for argument, just urgency wrapped in stubborn resolve. Kieran followed immediately. But Indigo didn’t.
“…You’re not coming?” Carmine turned back just enough to throw the question over her shoulder, impatience already bleeding through. Indigo stood there, hands loosely tucked into her pockets, posture relaxed in a way that felt almost… inappropriate… Like this was something happening around her, not to her.
“No,” Indigo said simply.
Carmine stopped and then slowly turned to Indigo. “…What?”
Indigo tilted her head slightly, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “This isn’t my problem,” she said. “Your town. Your people. Your town is missing the elderly population.”
Kieran flinched. “Indigo—”
“And,” Indigo continued, her tone just a little lighter, just enough to sting, “if I remember correctly, you didn’t want me here in the first place.”
Carmine’s eye twitched. “That is not—”
“You were very clear,” Indigo continued, calm, measured, surgical. “Boundaries. Traditions. ‘Absolutely not.’” She gave a small, almost polite shrug. “I’m respecting that.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Then your messaging needs work.”
Kieran stepped in quickly, hands raised as if he were trying to hold the situation together. “Okay, okay, wait, this isn’t—this isn’t about that right now—”
“Yes, it is,” Carmine snapped, her attention snapping right back to Indigo. “Because you’re standing there acting like this doesn’t concern you!”
“It doesn’t really,” Indigo replied flatly.
The air tightened. Carmine took a step forward. “You don’t get just to opt out whenever something’s inconvenient,” she said, her voice dropping, not louder, but heavier.
Indigo didn’t move. “I’m not opting out,” she said. “I was never opted in.”
That did it. Something in Carmine snapped. “Oh my fucking—are you serious right now?” she burst out, throwing her hands up. “People are disappearing, and you’re standing there acting like this is some kind of… of…technicality?”
Indigo’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”
Kieran felt his stomach drop.
“You—” Carmine choked on the word, visibly restraining herself from launching into something far less civil. “You are the absolute worst!”
“I’ve been called worse.”
The wind stirred again, brushing past them like a quiet observer.
Indigo exhaled softly. “…Look,” she said, her tone shifting, not softer, but steadier. “You’re worried. That’s rational. Go check on them.”
Carmine stared at her. “…And you?” Indigo met her gaze. “I’ll be here.”
That should’ve been the end of it. But Carmine didn’t move, didn’t turn, didn’t let it go. Because beneath the anger, there was something else. That was fear, and it wasn’t just for her grandparents. “…No,” she said.
Indigo blinked once. “No?”
“No,” Carmine repeated, stepping closer, closing the distance between them with sharp, deliberate intent. “You’re coming with us.”
Indigo raised an eyebrow. “That sounds less like a request and more like a liability issue.”
“I don’t care what it sounds like.”
“I do.”
“Will you stop with that!?”
The word came out louder than anything she’d said so far. For a second, everything went still. Even Carmine seemed surprised by it. Her hands clenched at her sides. “…You don’t just get to stand there,” she said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You don’t get to act like you’re not part of this.”
Indigo’s expression didn’t change, but something behind it shifted… ever so slightly. “…That’s interesting,” she said.
Carmine frowned. “What is?”
Indigo tilted her head. “That you're now deciding that I am.”
Kieran looked between them, heart pounding in his chest. This wasn’t just an argument anymore. This was something else. Something neither of them fully understood, but both were pushing anyway.
Carmine inhaled sharply. “…We don’t have time for this,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Then, louder, “You’re coming. End of story.”
Indigo held her gaze for a long second. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Not warm or kind but… amused. “…You’re bad at giving orders,” she said.
Carmine’s eye twitched again.“Move… NOW!”
Indigo sighed, pushing herself off the wall she’d been leaning against.
“You got it, Boss Lady,” she said, her tone laced with mock resignation. “But if I get possessed, I’m blaming you.”
“You’re already possessed,” Carmine shot back instantly.
Kieran let out a strangled noise that might’ve been a laugh. But as the three of them finally moved, together this time. The distance between them felt… different. Not smaller. Just…Connected. Like threads that hadn’t been acknowledged yet… But they are already pulling tight.