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It’s late when Rei hears the shuffle of Akari’s tent flap, followed by soft footsteps in the dirt, a few words exchanged with Keisuke, tonight’s sentry. The words are whispers, and he can’t quite make them out, despite the stillness of the night.
Then, more footsteps trailing off into the night, and then nothing. No more talk, no tent flap shuffle to tell Rei that Akari’s gone back to bed. Just Keisuke softly humming that song he says his mom always sung to him back in Hoenn. It would be a lullaby to Rei if he wasn’t too awake, wondering where Akari had gotten off to.
He rolls over, gets a faceful of Pikachu’s big belly, then rolls back over, almost kicking the professor’s legs in the process. So cramped in here! There’s himself and the professor and Itsuo, the day sentry this survey, with snores like a Rhyperior’s Bulldoze. Akari’s got that tent all to herself, tonight. What’s there to even leave it for?
(But he knows, he does. And that’s why he’s worried.)
Carefully, oh-so-carefully, he peels himself from the packed pickle jar that is the tent, steps out into the cool night, slides his sandals on, all of it without a word to Keisuke, because there’s a part of Rei that’s hoping he’ll be able to just slip away with nothing but an understanding nod. Because they both know Rei’s a worrywart; do they have to talk about it, too?
But, of course, he is never so fortunate. “You too, huh?” Keisuke says over the crackle of the fire, the flick of the flames dancing over all the lines of his smile.
A sigh leaves Rei by accident. “Can’t sleep,” he lies, even though he is so bad at it, and feels as transparent as the breeze itself.
Keisuke nods. His smile softens, then, and he tilts his head toward Rei like an old friend telling an old secret. “She seems alright to me, if it helps. Said she couldn’t get to sleep, and wanted to see the stars for a bit.”
“Ah,” says Rei, because he doesn’t know what else to say. It’ll feel strange to turn tail back into the tent, because that’s an admission that he was being a worrywart, but if he goes to her, that’s still being a worrywart, and—
“But, you know how she is,” Keisuke continues, because he’s practically a Psychic-type, the way he seems to read thoughts and know just how to soothe them. “Maybe you’d ought to check on her, you think?”
Relief, as refreshing as the night air. Rei nods. “Will do.”
“Got your satchel?”
“Oh—no.”
Keisuke jerks his thumb back at the tent. “Get it ‘fore you go.”
“Alright, alright,” Rei groans, but he’s smiling anyway, because it’s hard not to smile around Keisuke. Quietly, he fishes around in the dark of the tent, grabs his satchel, ties it around his waist. Looks like Pikachu wasted no time in snagging the smack center of Rei’s bedroll, so he gets left to his greedy snooze.
With a nod to Keisuke and a lantern in hand, Rei ventures down the slope of Aspiration Hill, footsteps light along the faint path worn into the grass, and in the back of his mind he imagines, again, how deeply this path will be tread ten, twenty, one hundred years from now. Here, the hill where both he and Akari had their trials… He’s never walked it at night, though. Hardly ventures past the base camps once the sun’s gone down.
A shudder traces his spine, and chillbumps stipple his skin. He hopes to every one of Ho-oh’s feathers that it’s only the breeze. The Poké Balls rolling around his satchel are a comfort, for sure. And, well, he’s certainly not as afraid as he could be, knowing Akari’s somewhere around.
He keeps an eye peeled for her and an ear out for the groans of ghosts, but Deertrack Heights in the distance draws his eye. The night before Lord Kleavor’s quelling was the first time he’d found Akari awake in the dead of night. He hadn’t been able to sleep then, either, and who could, with the way Lord Kleavor’s frenzied cries swept and shook the Fieldlands? The nights before the Nobles were always rough for the both of them, Akari a tangled twine of nerves, and Rei with little more to offer than tea and talk, and a promise he’d be on standby, just in case. just in case.
Now, with the Nobles quelled and the world back to its usual strangeness, it’s the clear sky that’s got them both on edge. When the rift left, it left questions. Was it the door to the other side of the sky, where Akari’s Before Here lies? Is the door shut, now? How do you open the sky itself? Where do you knock?
(Rei’s keeping that last quip in his satchel, for if the perfect moment ever strikes, if it ever seems right to say.)
He reaches the last of the hill’s steeper dips, and—ah, there she is, sitting near the edge of one of the little cliffs that jut out from the downward slope of Aspiration Hill. Oh, and Typhlosion, too, lying with her long body curled around Akari like a big pillow. Akari seems relaxed, at least, and has good company, to boot. Nearby, all in one piece. Not a ghost or Zubat in sight. Good.
Well. Rei feels terribly silly, suddenly, standing there in his pajamas in the dead of night.
He’s just about to slink away, tell himself he’s content just knowing she’s alright, when Typhlosion’s ears twitch and perk. He stops, freezes, and Typhlosion lifts her head from the ground, looks right at him with those sleepy eyes. Caught!
“What is it, girl?” Akari turns to see what her partner’s looking at, and then Rei’s double-caught. Akari half-whispers, half-calls his name, and there’s no hope for stealth. Ah, well.
Her expression is hard to make out in the dark, but there’s a brightness in her voice that lightens him a bit, too. He sheds some of his worry, and as he goes over he teasingly clucks his tongue and shakes his head, feigning disappointment. “Didn’t even hear me coming up,” he says. “I could’ve just as easily been a Shinx readying a pounce.”
“Typhlosion would’ve let me know.” Akari scratches the beast in question between the ears, and Typhlosion lays her head back down, stretches her legs out as far as they’ll go, a motion long and slow. Here, Rei thinks, the fierce fighter who flung flames at the frenzied Ruler of Time, not so long ago. Fierce fighter, but fiercer relaxer. Leagues apart from the skittish little Cyndaquil who’d once startled at her own sneezes.
Akari turns again to look at Rei, tilts her head a little. “What’re you doing up?”
“Oh—ah. Couldn’t sleep.” Heard you up a while ago. Wanted to make sure you were alright. The rest of it sticks in Rei’s throat like tree sap. He may be a worrywart, a truth he’s long given up burying, but he doesn’t have to admit to it so readily.
Akari hums in response; squints her eyes a bit, briefly, like she’s inspecting, but doesn’t share her findings. “Same for me. Where were you off to, then?”
Ack. The questions. So many of them! Two too many. “Just… you know. Over there.” He points vaguely to an arbitrary tree near the hill’s base. “Little walk to wear me out better.”
Another hum, and Rei gets the feeling he’s being teased silently. (At least he’d had the decency to tease her out loud.)
“Well, if you’d prefer,” Akari says, and the lantern illuminates a slight smile, “you could have a seat here with me.”
Rei nearly sighs in relief. Now he doesn't have to awkwardly trudge out to the tree and back and crawl into his tent, again, and wonder why he ever speaks, taunted by all the different strings of things he could have said, instead. He nods, one quick and curt motion that belies the undercurrent of overthinking. “Sounds fine to me, if it’s not a bother.”
"I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” She shifts, makes a spot for him in the soft crook of Typhlosion’s belly. The warmest spot. Without being asked, Typhlosion moves her feet, a bit, to make more room, and the invitation warms Rei before he’s even sat. He’s cautious when he does, careful not to put too much pressure on Typhlosion’s belly, even though she never seems to mind it. (But considering what’s kindled in in there—well. Rei would rather not play with fire. Literally.)
It’s harder to be cautious with Akari, though. Typhlosion’s only got so much to be leaned on, so the press of his shoulder against Akari’s is inevitable. He’s not as—ah, what’s the word?—open with affection as she is. Akari has no qualms about touch, always nudging him, shoving him in the waves on Prelude or slatheting wet sand on him during their sand fights, or drawing on his hand when things are quiet in the professor’s office. It makes him wonder all the more what sort of life she had Before Here, because she was clearly loved. (She is definitely missed.)
Rei is loved, too, but he’s still never been one much for affection. It’s different with Akari, though. Easy. He lets her do whatever, decorate his hand with smilies, slop damp sand into his hair, anything, anything.
(He will definitely miss her.)
He eases into the softness of Typhlosion’s belly, turns off his lantern—no need to burn twice the oil, after all. He’s warm on all sides, from Typhlosion behind, and Akari beside him, and he almost feels relaxed enough to forget about the dark and the Ghost-types and the Zubat about, out there in the field. Even so, the truth nags at the back of his tongue, and Akari is a better liar than he is—But, you know how she is—so he reaches out, the way she always does for him.
“I was a little worried,” he says, drawing the words carefully from his mouth, “‘cause I happened to be up, and heard you go off, and didn’t hear you come back for a bit…”
He feels the slightest twitch of her shoulder against his, a huff from her nose, but when he looks, she’s smiling. Did she just laugh? “I just wanted to see the night, really,” she says, leaning back even more against her partner’s belly. “No need to worry.” Her favorite phrase. This time, though, seeing her lounged against her beast, peace written on both of their faces, he believes her.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rei says, “I’m a great worrywart.”
“Well, at least let me say it, first!” She shoves him with her shoulder, leaning in until nearly all her weight’s on him. He doesn’t push back, just laughs, lets her do whatever, until she lets up, and they settle in, again. “I’m kidding. I do appreciate the concern.”
“Not that there’s any need for it, with this big lug around.” He gives Typhlosion a good scratch under her chin, and she adjusts the angle of her head for maximum surace area. “Most fearsome Ghost-type in any forest or field.”
“I thought of coming to get you,” Akari says. “But didn’t want to wake you. I know it’s been a long few days.”
“Meh, we’ve had longer.”
“To say the least.”
(To say the least, indeed.)
“But, what’d you want me for?”
“Because,” she answers, “feel that.” She lifts her chin to the sky, stretches her arms in front of her so that her fingertips brush her knees, and Rei notices that she’s rolled up her sleeves. For once, it’s not cold enough to think her nuts for doing that. “Doesn’t it feel incredible tonight?”
As if prodding him for an answer, the breeze blows again, curls around him softly, and the gentle chill of it lights the slightest thrill in his chest. The immensity of the night sky does this, too, and watching it, he understands a little better why the Pearl Clan reveres vastness so. He wonders, briefly, what they have to say on the sky that holds the whole world, that connects Cianwood with Hisui, one home with another. Maybe he’ll ask Irida, next he sees her. For now, he tilts his head back, watches the clouds glide slowly across the stars like a pod of Wailord in the sea, lets the breeze fill his lungs until he breathes it back into the world.
“It does,” Rei says simply, two words that belie too many more too sappy for him to say on the spot. (And the hour’s a little late to try to articulate.)
He closes his eyes, lets warmth envelop him on all sides, feels the rhythmic in-and-out of Typhlosion’s breath, the gentle movements of Akari against him. Tonight, they are here, and Mount Coronet reaches for nothing but stars.