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When Rei finds Volo, he doesn't bring any of that retinue, that growing cavalcade of fools who think to stop him, the policemen and Champions and wayward bleeding-hearts too attached to this painful world.
He does find him, though. Rei can always find Volo, when he really wants to, even a hundred-some-odd years out from being able to make use of Ursaluna's trustworthy nose for it.
His Decidueye is already out of the ball and stanced for battle—it seems even Rei's naivete has its limits—but even as his Pokemon leers at Volo from behind him, Rei looks at him pleadingly, sincerely. It feels like he hasn't stopped giving Volo that look even once since the Temple, a timeless eternity of Rei's kicked-puppy sad eyes boring into Volo's soul since the minute he stormed down those hallowed steps.
"Volo," he says, "please." Volo can't help but laugh, but Rei holds fast, pressing onward. "You don't have to do this. I know you can be better than this. Please, before... before it's too late."
"Oh, it's already far too late," Volo says lightly, smiling. Rei flinches, fists clenching.
"Volo." He’s shaking now, voice trembling. "As your... as your friend," the glimmer of tears welling up in his eyes, the shadow of a deeper emotion passing underneath, "I'm begging you. Please, don't do this."
"Are you going to stop me, former chosen of Arceus?"
Another flinch. The desperate plead fades from Rei's gaze, replaced slowly by something defiant. "I don't know who's going to stop you, Volo," he says lowly, "but it's going to be someone. This isn't going to end how you want."
Volo's hand strays to the line of Poke Balls at his belt; a threat, but a quiet one. Rei may have won their battle in Hisui, by Hisuian rules, but here he's all alone, most of his arsenal left abandoned decades in the past. It'd be trivial to overwhelm him with the full might of Volo's team, effortless to rip him open and leave him for dead here, in this mockery of a ruin that still somehow bespells Volo almost the same as the real thing.
Rei takes a step back, wary. Smart boy.
"Can you imagine," Volo says loftily, turning to pace, "what it is like to have a dream, Rei? What it is to have purpose? What it means to be moved to your core by something, for all your life, and for it to remain ever out of your grasp?"
"The Pokedex—"
"Oh, yes." Volo turns back to Rei, directing at him that smile, the empty, too-wide smile that he knows puts people off. "The Pokedex which you completed. The dream that you achieved. Can you imagine, Rei, if just one Pokemon had remained beyond you, for all of time? What lengths you might go to, to finally see it done? To be, at last, fulfilled?"
Rei grits his teeth. Not moved in the slightest by Volo's taunting, he can tell. Rei is too good-hearted to truly understand the nature of Volo's obsession, even laid plain for him in the simplest, most comparable terms available.
"You can't control something like Arceus," Rei says gravely. "Not even you." There's a potent misery underlying that statement, the grief of the boy who was stolen away from his world to become Arceus's pet, its special puppet and chosen toy. Volo is both the only person who might understand and the worst possible person to show it to.
"We won't know that until we try, will we?" He affects his usual manner for that one, the cheerful tone of a harmless merchant, the warm smile of a friendly Pokemon Trainer. It shakes Rei even worse than the rest of it.
"Volo," Rei says, unsteady, looking Volo in the eye trepidatiously, "I came here as a last resort. You're on the brink of doing something you really can't take back. I don't want you to. Please... stop. I'm asking you, as a friend."
"I have no friends," Volo says plainly. "The executioner of this world walks alone."
The blow hits true; Rei flinches, bowing his head, hiding away in the gap between his cap and scarf. There's a distant twinge in Volo's heart, of something like regret or sympathy, but he can't afford to humor it now. Volo has dug too deep, gone too far, abandoned too much to come back from the edge here and now, even for Rei.
"Fine," Rei says roughly, choked. "Bye." That twinge digs a little deeper, insistent as Rei runs away and Volo can just barely catch him wiping at his face with his sleeve as he goes.
It's fine. Rei's stubborn hope, Rei's inexhaustible patience, Volo doesn't need them. If he's finally gotten that fool to give up on him for real, it's all the better.
The twinge remains. Fitfully, Volo sends out Giratina. He can't quite trace the impulse, seeking comfort somehow as he runs his hand down the dragon's hard carapace.
It doesn't matter if Rei's given up on him or not. It doesn't. One boy's foolish hope makes no difference in the grand scheme of what Volo must do, the need driving him forward, the dream hand-etched into his very blood. If Volo can quash this part of himself that regrets what he said to Rei, that feels somehow bad for sending that fool away crying, then he will come out of it stronger, more able to do what he must.
"Say something," he says roughly. Another untraceable impulse, a meaningless action hurled from a troubled heart. Giratina responds, crying obediently, because that's all it's good for anymore in this state. The sour lump in Volo's chest curdles further, hearing Giratina's powerful voice so empty and listless.
It's means to an end. It's necessary. It's a stepping-stone. He's giving Giratina what it always wanted, what it's fervently craved all this time, just like him. He can't reach Arceus without Giratina, and he can't have Giratina if he doesn't do it like this. It's necessary. It's the only path.
It feels... bad.
But he can't go back now. It's too late. There is no way but forward. If Volo wins—when Volo wins—it'll all be made better, wiped clean.
Volo spends that night in uneasy sleep, haunted by hazy visions of Arceus, of its unwanted child, of its forlorn champion. The goal he's chasing, the creature he's wronged, the person he's betrayed. They leave his mind soon enough after waking, easy enough to simply will away by thinking on other things, but a bitter taste in the back of his throat remains more stubbornly.
As Volo's considering meals to banish the last remnant of his self-punishment, the sound of someone approaching his camp cuts through the morning fog. It can't be his pursuers; they'd be making much more fanfare about this, had they truly tracked him down, approaching shoot-first with guns blazing.
Volo crawls out of his tent, already having a decent idea of who to expect come calling.
"... Hello, Bettie." Volo scowls down at her, owner of the hopeful, innocent look of trust that rouses the second most rage in Volo's heart.
She doesn't speak to him; Volo doesn't think she's capable, having never once heard a word leave her mouth before. She just looks up at him, admonishing, pouting.
"You've spoken to Rei, I take it?" Volo asks with a disinterested sigh.
Bettie nods, resolute.
"I've nothing more to say to him," Volo says contemptuously, coldly, "nor to you. What I've said stands as it is."
Stubbornly, she reaches for his hand.
"Stop that," Volo says curtly, yanking his arm away.
Bettie's defiant look bores into him, her wordless admonishment still somehow scalding, searing through his layers. Volo can't bring himself to dodge a second time as she grabs at him again.
She pulls him steadfastly half across Pasio, drawing far too much attention on the way, but not quite enough to blow Volo's cover conclusively. They end up at the Trainer Lodge, the part of it that's been repurposed to a glorified hotel for stranded otherworlders, and Volo doesn't need to ask to know precisely whose door his chaperone is knocking on.
Uncharacteristically, Rei is slow to respond, voice hoarse when he calls, "Who's there?" Bettie knocks again as her answer, and Volo doesn't quite have the heart to announce himself in the time it takes for Rei to stumble out of bed, drag himself to the door and half-open it warily. "Bettie...?" His eyes are red, his hair mussed. He's a wreck. Volo feels another little twinge.
Soon enough, though, Rei spots Volo, and the door slams closed, fast and hard.
Bettie knocks again, steadfastly.
"What does he want," Rei grumbles flatly, listless.
"It seems our mutual friend has some illusion of reconciling us," Volo sighs. Bettie nods firmly into the closed door.
"I don't want to talk to him," Rei sullenly says, "and he doesn't want to talk to me either. It's a lost cause, okay?"
Bettie, still frowning, knocks on the door again. From the other side, Rei heaves a sigh. "... Fine," he relents. "Give me a minute to clean up."
Bettie pulls Volo away from the door as a mercy to Rei, and he follows, willing to spare that much. It's a short few minutes until Rei steps out the door fresh for the day, wrapped neatly in his Survey Corps navy and reds. He aims a withering glare up at Volo, who stands unmoved by it until Bettie interrupts with a tug at Rei's scarf.
She can do this kind of thing sometimes, convey her meaning wordlessly yet in perfect clarity. It's not something that gives off an aura or some kind of power, but Volo knows just from being familiar with her habits that that's what's going on. Rei cuts another sigh, thinner, sadder. "Of course I want to," he grumbles, "it's him who said he doesn't have friends."
Bettie turns to Volo now, stern. He doesn't falter. "It's the truth," he insists, buried deep in his pride, holding fast to his principles. "I need no allies on my path."
Bettie's expression draws even more peeved. Somehow, the turmoil of yesterday wells back up in Volo's chest, roiling freshly, searing and caustic. He turns away before his lessers catch him cracking.
... Not fast enough. "Volo," Rei says softly, quietly, full of that incorrigible hope and trust again, clear in his voice without even daring to look, "is this really what you want?"
"It's what must be done," Volo says, forcing his tone flat and unwavering.
Rei steps away from the door, bearing down on Volo in concert with Bettie. "That's not what I asked."
It's too late. He's in too deep. He's lost too much. He can't go back. He can't go back.
Rei's fingers brush against his, warm, gentle, and Volo flinches.
"... Volo." He's overflowing with hope now, bursting with passion, spurred into his prime as a problem-solver by Bettie's silent encouragement. Volo doesn't dare meet his eyes. Rei's hand grasps his, tender, careful, and in spite of himself Volo lets it.
"Volo, please." A murmur, soft and warm. "I know you're still you in there."
It's a deep ache like Volo's never felt before, being pulled between these two poles. Rei, or Arceus? Loyalty to a friend, or devotion to his purpose? He can't. He can't.
"I can't," Volo whispers, the words barely escaping his mouth. "I can't go back now, Rei."
"You can!" Rei's grip on his hand draws firmer, Bettie joining the attack on his opposite side. He can bear to look at her, at least, and she's smiling now, beaming up at him encouragingly. He can't bear to look at her long.
"What would you have me do?" Volo laments bitterly, still quiet. "I've shown this face to everyone on the island. Am I to turn myself in with a neat so-sorry and my tail between my legs? None less foolhardy than the two of you would ever believe I've simply changed my mind."
"... Have you changed your mind?" Rei asks, soft, cautious.
It's not a question Volo is prepared to answer, so he doesn't, letting it fade into silence. He can feel it, though; Rei and Bettie both aiming those infuriating, doe-eyed pleading looks at him. Stubbornly, Volo closes his eyes.
Rei parts from Volo's side, pulling ahead to stare him down directly. Volo's eyes stay defiantly closed.
There's a beat of silence, a moment of hesitation while Rei draws in a long, deep breath. Volo's expecting an admonishment, another plea, something conversational—what he gets is Rei's hands clapping onto his cheeks, pulling him down into a kiss.
Volo freezes, his breath stopping dead in his throat. Rei's lips press against his chastely, gently, timid but not hesitant. He's sure of this. He's sure of this? How long has he—
Delicately, Rei pulls back. When Volo’s eyes crack open, he's flushed through, stoplight-red behind his look of determination. "Th-the hero kissed you... so wake up from your trance now, okay?"
Volo can't respond. He just gawks, only barely remembering to breathe. He finds his tongue just as doubt is beginning to creep into Rei's expression. "Rei, I..."
It's encouragement enough. Rei fortifies himself and continues. "Volo, listen. You don't have to do it like this. Come... come call Arceus the right way, with the rest of us. Properly, without controlling it. Can you, please...?"
Volo feels like his mind is racing a mile a minute and yet accomplishing nothing at all. He barely registers that Rei is even saying words. What does this mean? Rei, his steadfast friend, the fool who believed in Volo all the way to hell and even beyond—it's not surprising, theoretically, that a friendship in a position such as that could blossom into romance. Somehow, though, it feels unbelievable. Somehow, Volo feels like he doesn't deserve this.
(What could we possibly not deserve? barks the maw of his Sinnoh pride. All in the world is for our taking.)
But it's just—it's too stupid, too childish, too heart-rendingly naive. It's not just that Rei thinks he can stop Volo, he's even outright declared it, his intent to... to reel him back from the brink of his destiny, using his feelings? It's galling, insulting, the boorish immaturity of it, it's—
Volo's hands reach out. He finds them settling on Rei's shoulders. No words have come to him, still. Rei gazes into his eyes in silence, the bashful plea of his fresh first kiss fading away as the moment drags.
"Volo," Rei says, quiet, serious and low. They've taken their actions at the same moment, this time. Before Rei can form a second word, Volo is upon him, lips pressing close, tongue surging forward. If all in the world is for Volo's taking, then—he'll take Rei. In place of his dream, he'll devour this boy who thinks himself capable of leashing the heir of Sinnoh. (In place? No—no, it's a mere delay. There's too much heat on him here and now. It's a tactical retreat, that's all.) The sear of fresh determination blazes through his veins, at this renewal, this alteration of the plan.
"If you mean to change my course," Volo breathes hot, barely pulling an inch away from Rei's lips to speak it, "then take responsibility. Satisfy me, fallen chosen of Arceus. Show me that this world is worth preserving."
Volo moves, then, to pull away properly, to really take in the mess he's surely made of his little champion in this sudden upset, but—Rei's hand grips the back of his head. Rei, overwhelmed as he is, counters with a move of his own, another lunging kiss, this one just as deep and passionate as the lip-lock Volo had paid to him in return.
"I'll take that bet," Rei growls when he's finished, the sordid intent of the statement not quite masking that he's a bit hoarse getting it out, the iron will of the Survey Corps' lauded Full Star ace buckling under the reality of his body's lingering teenage excitability. "You—you should—..." he has to pause to breathe, to really pull away and show Volo his flustered muss of a face this time, "should hide in my room here for a while. I'll... figure out something to tell everyone. Leave it up to me."
They both glance in unison to where Bettie had been standing last. Unsurprisingly, she'd taken some chance in their moment of passion to excuse herself. Volo's train of thought, it seems, is spotted from afar by Rei this time, the surveyor dodging away from Volo's grip and leveling a serious look at him (with cheeks still berry-red). "I... I'm not stupid, you know," he says sullenly. "This is... way too much of a change, for you, all of a sudden. But if you're gonna let me think I've gotten through to you, I'll take that. I-I'm watching you. Don't pull anything funny. It's gonna be so hard to get you out of this mess already, so if you go behind my back and blow it all over again, I—"
Volo can't help but smile, a wry and cynical grin. "No, Rei, you aren't stupid," he teases, "just the most hopeless fool in all the world, across all of time. It's very different."
"Ugh!" Rei huffs, shoving Volo away with embarrassment, sending him stumbling conveniently in the direction of the door that holds his hideaway, as well as an untold trove of Rei's secrets.
He should be gracious. (It's always good to garnish one's assets.) Volo digs into the pit of his chest, summons that fitful, conflicted feeling from earlier, from yesterday, from the Temple, from every hardest moment of his whole life. He forms it into gratitude—Rei has saved him from paying this toll. Rei has helped him defy this reaper for another day. "Thank you," he says, warmly, genuine. Rei startles, cheeks reddening vividly back to full fluster.
"Y-yeah," he mumbles, turning away. "I'll be back in a bit, okay? I... I-I..."
He turns back again, summons his courage, and looks Volo in the eye.
"I love you."
Silently, Volo smiles.