Archive of Our Own

The crisis was over.

The crisis was over.

The goddamn Kalos crisis was over.

Daigo repeated this to himself as he stared at the screen of the airship they were travelling in. The world had been close to ending, but, thanks to Arceus and the help of the Gym Leaders, it was over.

That didn't mean it hadn't left wounds in the region. People and Pokémon missing. The destruction of the buildings in Lumiose City. The injured. The dead.

Daigo was a fool.

A miserable fool.

He should have realised sooner that something was wrong with Lysandre. But that speech of salvation, of a better future, sounded so addictive that he couldn't help but believe him.

He should have noticed; there were so many details, so many things that should have alerted him.

And that was the worst part.

It was his fault.

It was his fault for not noticing the signs. It was his fault for not defending Alain, for not warning him. It was his fault that Chespie had been hurt. It was his fault that Lysandre had come so close to destroying the world.

It was his fault that teenagers (children, Arceus…!) had ended up in the middle of it all.

That a girl of barely eight years old had feared for her friend's life (even if that friend was a Zygarde). That a sixteen-year-old boy had made the decision to sacrifice his robot's memory. That a fifteen-year-old girl had to become a protector for Bonnie and Mairin while they faced danger. That they had placed such a weight on her shoulders.

It was his fault that a fifteen-year-old boy was involved in a global crisis.

Again.

Fucking again.

Arceus, couldn't you give the kid a break?

Arceus…

 Why?

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a hand on his back.

“Steven?” Sycamore whispered, looking at him with a compassion that Daigo didn’t feel worthy of receiving.

“I’m fine.”

Before he could say anything else, a small tug on his pants startled him.

Pikachu.

Satoshi’s Pikachu was calling him. The normally clean, yellow fur was covered in dirt and dried blood, the aftermath of the hectic day it had just had. In the paw that wasn’t tugged on his pants, it held some human bandages.

“Pikapi,” it said, staring at him. “Pikapipika.”

Satoshi.

Ignoring the pain of bending down, Daigo took the bandages and followed the Pokémon to the other end of the ship.

After the battle and Lysandre's death, they split up using the various means of transport they had arrived in. Diantha, Malva, and the region's gym leaders left both by helicopter and on their own.

He, Professor Sycamore, Blaziken Mask, Alain, Mairin, Ash, and their friends left in the ship they had stolen from Lysandre's labs.

Daigo looked around as he searched for the mouse Pokémon.

Bonnie was asleep, cuddled up to Dedenne, her head resting on Serena's shoulder, while Clemont hugged her. Mairin slept on the girl's other arm. They were all covered by Blaziken Mask's cloak.

Blaziken Mask himself, Meyer, was sitting next to Clemont. He had hurt his knee, judging by the bandage he was putting on, though every few seconds his gaze returned to his children as if making sure they were still there.

Alain was near Mairin.

Wide awake.

He stared intently toward the other side of the ship with an expression Daigo recognised as sadness and guilt. Following his gaze, he found the boy he was looking for.

Satoshi was sitting in the opposite corner, leaning against the window, his knees drawn up to his chest. Also asleep.

Pikachu was beside him, staring intently at Daigo.

And something in the Pokémon's expression told him that if he took one more second, he would get electrocuted.

With a sigh, Daigo knelt in front of Satoshi.

Bruises and dried blood covered his face. He hoped, by Arceus, that he didn't have a concussion. Part of his jacket and shirt were torn, exposing his skin and several scars from the past. His pants were also ripped. Scrapes. Bruises. Blood.

And don't even get him started on his arms.

"Can I check his hands?" he whispered to Pikachu, aware of how protective the Pokémon could be when it came to his trainer.

Pikachu looked at him suspiciously before nodding and jumping onto his shoulder to monitor his every move.

"Pikachu is protective, isn't it?" Sycamore's voice sounded behind him, bringing a small, wistful smile to his face.

"Without a doubt," he replied as he began to remove Satoshi's gloves. "I met Ash when he was travelling in the Hoenn region; I remember talking to one of his friends. Pikachu has a reputation for being ferocious when Ash is in danger."

Daigo had to stifle a groan when he saw the wounds on the boy's wrist.

Arceus

What had happened to him?

Besides cuts on his wrists that looked like they'd been made by metal, he had burns on his arm and wounds on his hand that could easily have been from days before and that he'd never bothered to treat.

"Has Ash travelled through Hoenn?"

Alain's voice snapped him out of his daze.

Daigo turned to look at him and noticed the young man clenching his fists and lowering his head as he surveyed the wounds on Ash's wrists.

"Yes," he replied, wincing as he realised the wounds were worse than he'd thought. "Pikachu, can you get me some rubbing alcohol?"

"I'll give it to you," Meyer said, handing him the alcohol. "Did he travel to the region before the fight between Kyogre and Groudon?"

Daigo stood still.

"Similar…" he murmured after a few seconds as he took a sip of alcohol and began cleaning Satoshi's wounds, whispering a quick apology for the burning sensation he surely felt even in his sleep. "He was travelling through the region when the conflict with Team Magma and Team Aqua occurred. But I don't think that battle is very well known outside of Hoenn."

"Now that you mention it, I remember seeing it on the news and in researchers' notes about three years ago," Professor Sycamore murmured, under Meyer's surprised gaze.

Alain looked at the unconscious boy.

"How old was he?" Daigo couldn't answer immediately.

"Twelve…" he said after a silence, ignoring how Meyer's hands were clenching angrily.

Of course.

He was a father, after all.

"It's not—" Alain squeezed his knee tightly. "Isn't it illegal to begin your adventure in another region before the age of thirteen without a relative or guardian?"

"In Kalos, it is. If you’re from the Oriental region, you’re considered an adult both inside and outside the region when you turn ten,” Daigo explained.

Despite keeping his gaze fixed on Ash’s wrists, he could feel three pairs of eyes staring at him with surprise and concern.

“I understand that Champion Lance is trying to change that law, but he hasn’t had much success.” Daigo couldn’t help but smile slightly with satisfaction as he finished bandaging Ash’s hands.

However, judging by the pressure Pikachu was still exerting on his shoulder, he guessed there was something else bothering the mouse.

“Damn it,” he muttered in Hoennese as he saw blood staining Ash’s clothes when he moved him. A small whimper escaped Ash when he was moved, but he didn’t wake up. He must have chest injuries.

When was he hit in the chest?

Could it have been by Greninja?

Does the connection make Ash also affected by blows?

Arceus…

Satoshi, what happened to you?

“It was my fault.”

By Giratina's tail, did he say that out loud?

“Alain, don't say that. It wasn't—”

“It was, Professor," Alain interrupted, annoyed. Not at Sycamore. At himself. “It was my fault Ash got hurt. If only I had realised sooner.”

“Lysandre tricked me too, you know?”

Alain looked at Daigo in surprise as he tried to take Sato's jacket off.

“He tricked all of us, Alain. And I owe you a sincere apology for that."

“Steven, what…?” Alain's voice trembled. He swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You're a kid, Alain; I'm an adult. I should have realised sooner that Lysandre was up to something.” And if he saw how Alain trembled at the mention of that man’s name, he said nothing. “And it was my fault that caused Sato… Ash to be hurt. You to be hurt. All of you. And also citizens who had nothing to do with this situation.”

“You don’t understand!”

Alain stood up so quickly that he saw the professor approaching to make sure he hadn’t reopened any wounds.

“It was my fault this happened; I… I helped… get the information, I believed him… I…” Alain’s voice broke as Sycamore wrapped him in a hug.

And then he began to cry.

“That doesn’t mean it was your fault, Alain,” the professor said. “You didn’t know what you were doing. It wasn’t your fault Lysandre took advantage of the situation you were in. It wasn’t your fault he decided to cause all this. It wasn’t your fault this happened.” 

It wasn't the fault of someone who was deceived.

Daigo ignored the part of his mind that called him a hypocrite and that, suspiciously, sounded too much like Wallace.

"You made a mistake trusting him, yes," Daigo said. "But so did I, as did many other people who believed his rhetoric about a better world. But you decided to correct that mistake. You decided to fight him."

"He…" A small hiccup escaped Alain's lips. Sycamore tightened the hug.

"He ordered Ash captured. He asked me what was happening. He asked me why… why I wasn't stopping them. Steven… I couldn't… I couldn't stop them. They attacked Ash and brought him right in front of me, and I couldn't stop them. And I… I tried to convince myself that it wasn't what it seemed. That it wasn't what I thought."

"Alain…"

"Lysandre hung him… He hanged him. He went after him and Greninja and his Pokémon too in the tower. He had him by the wrists and feet. Ash told me to answer him. To ignore him. And then… he blasted them. Ash and Greninja… I begged him to stop…” 

Daigo involuntarily tightened his grip on Satoshi’s shoulders.

“He told me it was all because of me,” Alain continued. “That the Mega Evolution energy I’d collected was what made it all possible. That I…” Sycamore just hugged him tighter, muffling the boy’s sobs.

And wasn’t it awful?

A seventeen-year-old boy carrying the weight of guilt that Daigo couldn’t ease simply by telling him he had nothing to do with it.

Of course it wasn’t his fault.

By Mew, it clearly wasn’t.

But that didn't stop Alain from thinking that, if it hadn't been for him, none of it would have happened.

Lysandre certainly knew how to manipulate and control people at will, even after death.

Hopefully Giratina's wrath reaches him even in death.

A small touch from Pikachu made Daigo turn his gaze toward him.

The Pokémon was staring at him intently, but instead of pointing at Ash, it was pointing at Alain.

"Kapi, pika chupi pichu kapichu chupika… Chu?" The mouse spoke as if Daigo could perfectly understand Pokémon.

However, he thought he understood at least part of it.

"When the problem between Team Magma and Team Aqua happened, I felt like it was my fault." Alain looked up from Sycamore's embrace.

"I blamed myself every day, saying that if I hadn't been so interested in rocks and exploring caves, maybe I could have done something to help. I was the Champion, after all, and I did nothing.” He sadly recalled the hours he'd spent locked in his room, tormenting himself for not having acted.

They were legendary Pokémon from his region.

His responsibility.

And he hadn't done anything to help.

Instead, a group of kids and Lance (the damned Champion from a region hours away from his) had.

He remembered crying himself to sleep in helplessness while Metagross tried to comfort him.

"After much insistence from Metagross and a friend, I spoke with Lance. After all, he'd been involved in all of this. Lance is a serious and reserved man, paternal, in my opinion, with certain kids, though there's a reason they call him the Dragon Tamer." 

And, by Rayquaza, he hoped Lance would never hear him call him paternal.

But Daigo had seen his face light up when he spoke of Ash. 

“I told him about my problems. About how I felt I should have done something. About how I hadn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together in time. About what I should have realised sooner. He silenced me before I could finish explaining my guilt.” 

Daigo paused.

“He told me that maybe I had something to do with it. That maybe I should have realised. That maybe I should have done something. Just like many other people with an even greater involvement than mine. But that didn’t mean it was my fault or anyone else’s.” 

Alain nodded silently, but Daigo knew he didn’t believe a word. Arceus, it had taken him years to believe them.

“Because, in the end, the responsibility lay with those who knew what they were doing. With those who knew the damage they would cause and, even so, decided to do it.”

 Silence filled the airship.

“I remember asking him if guilt ever goes away.

 He told me no. 

But he also told me that you can decide what to do with it. Fix your mistakes and avoid repeating them. Keep moving forward with your head held high and become a better person. Keep fighting for a better future, for others, for Pokémon and people…”

“I told Wataru that…”

Satoshi's weak voice interrupted the conversation.

What?

“When I was eleven…" Satoshi murmured. “He was… he was blaming himself for something, I think…”

Of course.

Of course the dragon tamer had omitted that part of the story.

“Pikapi!” The alarm in Pikachu's voice snapped Daigo out of his shock.

Satoshi was trying to get up.

"Careful," Daigo whispered in Hoennese as he helped him lie back down.

Pikachu snuggled against his trainer's chest, carefully avoiding his wounds.

"No…" he whispered with difficulty. His Kalosian vanished, replaced by a weak, slurred Kantonese. "No hospital."

"Satoshi…"

"I just… I just want to go home." 

Daigo's heart lurched.

Sato hadn't used the word 'home' as 'house'.

He'd said "home".

The same word he'd heard used years ago to refer to a place where Takeshi or any of his friends was.

"Please…"

"Then we won't go to one," Daigo lied as calmly as he could manage. "But a doctor will examine you."

Satoshi frowned weakly.

“That's cheating."

“Yes.”

“Daigo”

“Please” he replied, trying to make Satoshi realise his plea. The boy just sighed and pulled Pikachu closer to his chest.

His body relaxed in Daigo's hands and Pikachu's warmth.

“Rest, Sato. I'll take you somewhere safe, buddy.”

And, with those words, Satoshi fell back into the sweet mist of Cresselia.