Monferno was almost vibrating from impatience by the time Metchi left Rowan's house. She found him across the street, arms crossed and back against the wall, the flaming tip of his tail swaying from side to side like that of a Glameow on a sugar rush, one of his feet frantically tapping the ground beneath him.

"Thanks for not burning or breaking anything while I was in there."

"Freer." He shot her a sharp glare. "Fre, freer! Fre!"

"Calm the fuck down, I got it." She tapped her pocket with one palm, smiling. "Here, see that map over there?"

They walked toward the end of the street, where a thick green pole displayed an enormous square map of the city, as well as a smaller one detailing the rest of the region in the corner. Metchi pointed at the northern end of Mt. Coronet, where most of the map was painted white. Monferno watched from slightly afar, concerned that his fire would ignite the paper of the map.

"Looks like they're headed for Snowpoint," she told him. "Which should be… right here. Fuck, that's kinda far." She frowned. "Rowan told me they'd probably travel most of the way through the ferry, so they should disembark right… here." Her finger came to rest at the start of Route 216. "Think you can make I there on your own?"

Enma studied the map carefully, his own heartbeat booming like an earthquake inside his chest, sending waves of heat and flames all throughout his body. He'd been so, so close. But this was fine too. As long as he knew where she would be…

A sour look crossed his face as he focused on the spot Metchi was pointing at. He knew the northern part of Mt. Coronet well; he'd lived there for most of his life after all. But going any farther north than that had always been highly discouraged by the other Chimchar and Monferno of the pack. The sharp cold had claimed a fair number of them in the past, even those who had managed to reach the very peak of their evolutionary potential.

He swallowed, curling his fingers into fists. It didn't matter. He wasn't like them; he had been chosen by those humans to serve as some trainer's first Pokemon, and he had even failed at that. Never again.

"Fer…" He turned to Metchi, forming a sharp-toothy grin. "Frefrer!"

Metchi nodded, the corner of her lips twitching up. Such strength in those eyes; such determination. Only once had he met a human as strong as stubborn as her, and he was trying to go back to said human desperately. He would miss her too, though he would never admit it.

"Alright… alright. I guess this is goodbye."

She raised a hand toward him. At first Enma didn't understand, but then she closed her hand into a fist, and pointed it at him. He chuckled, raising his fist as well and clashing it softly against hers, their gaze locked and identical smiles on their faces.

"Fer…freer."

"Yeah, me too. Take care, fire-boy." Their fists separated, like two halves of a now broken thread. "And make sure to give a hug on my behalf to your dumb-ass trainer when you see her."

Rowan wished he could have helped the girl more.

The thought buzzed around his head as he finished cleaning the cups and trays, the constant sound of the water falling on the rubber gloves covering his hands distracting him from the world around him. Scrub, wash, dry. Then right to the next one, until there was nothing else to clean. He stood there for a few more seconds, simply hearing the rush of the water, until a sudden gust of cold wind brought him back to reality. Right. He should probably close the blinds; it would get chilly soon.

But even as he did so, he couldn't get rid of the thought that he hadn't done enough. Not that he could have conveyed that, of course. Metchi looked to be a rather proud person, despite the circumstances, and he was well aware of how hurtful it could be to act overbearingly accommodating toward such people. She would have taken it as an insult, for sure. But still...

A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered those eyes of hers. Like two pieces of burning gold. He'd never seen anything like it. And yet, every other part of her looked so faded and blurred, as though her very essence had been washed down into a pale imitation of itself. There wasn't only exhaustion on her face; pain and acceptance were there as well, in great quantities. He could only imagine what she must have gone through.

Rowan blinked, and the room came into view again. No. He was getting distracted, as usual. The girl was gone now, and there was nothing else he could do for her, except do what she had asked him to. She was right, of course; Team Galactic needed to go down, and that folder on top of the living room table might just be one of the necessary pieces in order for that to happen.

He stood up to his full height and nodded decisively, more for himself than anything else. Contacting the Association was priority.

"Raymond; bring me that folder, would you?" he said to the room, bringing his Poketch up to his face and fiddling with it. "I'm calling the Association right now."

The Alakazam didn't respond, but that was just fine. He was quite old, after all. His sight had left him a year ago and though he was quite hard of hearing right now, surely he had heard his request and would levitate the folder toward him any moment now.

Rowan searched for the correct number on his contact list and pressed the call button, staring blankly at the screen as it turned mostly green. A few, expectant beeps were heard. Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. Another cold gust of wind hit Rowan's back, yet he didn't realize what was wrong with that.

A louder, more persistent beep flooded the room. Then a voice came out of the Poketch, though not the one he had expected.

"The desired number cannot be reached. Please check to see if you have reception, or if your line is still active."

He froze, unable to comprehend what he had heard for a few seconds. Reception? Of course he had reception, he was in the middle of the damned city! How could the call not have gone thr–

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Steps rang behind him. A third, even stronger gust of wind hit the back of his head, sending a cold like that of a blizzard all throughout his body, paralyzing him.

There was a heavy thump of something solid clashing against the wooden floor, and he turned around. For a moment, darkness obscured the woman's silhouette. Then she took a slow step forward, her Pokemon trailing behind her, feet not touching the ground. Raymond lay on the floor in front of them, sprawled out as though he were sleeping.

His chest didn't move.

The woman took another step, and her Gardevoir followed suit. Rowan barely noticed the brown folder on her hand, gripped tightly by her pale fingers.

"It seems, professor…" She spoke slowly, with a voice so gentle and calm Rowan couldn't help but shiver. "…that you've been making entirely the wrong sort of friends."

Metchi spent the rest of the day running around. Which, sure, was a great way to stave off the cold and also start working on toning her calves like she'd been meaning to, but it also meant that by the end of the day she was an exhausted mess with a high heart rate yet an aching body. Not a great combination. Still, there was stuff to do and honestly a lot of time to do it but she wasn't used to standing around doing nothing.

She would probably have to get used to it, though. To that and the bothersome, itchy feeling behind her eyes that she had been trying to distract herself from all day.

The first thing she did was take Lyserg to the Pokemon Center. More than a few heads had turned as she entered the building, though she didn't know if it was because of her dirty, ragged, slashed clothes or the rest of her appearance, face and body included. She'd gotten the hint as soon as she entered the house. Didn't look much like a trainer, did she? Not even one of those who didn't come from a rich family.

At least the nurse didn't seem to mind. The whole process took less than she had expected; after looking at her license and taking in Lyserg the woman offered her a room and a vouch for dinner, as well as telling her where the port was so she could buy the ticket. Which she had. And yet she didn't have to; her plan had been to steal one from the start and keep the money, anyway. But something about the weight of the bills in her pocket and the sense of security they gave her… how long had it been since she'd felt like that? Felt like she could actually spend money on something without feeling guilty?

She couldn't remember, and that made her angry. Not at herself, but at the fact that such a feeling came only with the presence of money. It just wasn't fair. Still, she had more pressing things to worry about; hating the world and the idea of money could wait for the moment.

In any case, the ticket now rested comfortably inside her backpack, protected all around by her sweater as though it were a sacred treasure. The cruise would depart a couple weeks from now. There was another one that departed in three days, but she wasn't sure Lyserg would be fully healed by then, and she refused to play the odds; not when it came to her partner's life. Which, unfortunately, meant that she was stuck in Canalave for the time being.

What a problem to have, she thought, her inner voice dripping with sarcasm.

Then came shopping, or at least something resembling it. Not that the idea of walking down the street with stilettos, a bitchin' purse and cool-ass shades didn't appeal to her, but she didn't have quite enough money yet to make that dream a reality. Instead she decided to buy what she needed. A new backpack, a couple of folding knives of different sizes, a sturdy lighter and a box of cigarettes, a water bottle, a razor for shaving, some rope and a toothbrush. Then, of course, came the most important part; getting a new outfit.

She decided to go with something a bit lighter, since she'd be leaving Sinnoh and its awful cold anyway. Jean shorts and a fishnet shirt were back in the menu. Then, miraculously, she also found another one of her favorite tank-top; the one that said 'No God' and had been ripped by that fucking Scyther back in Eterna. And, as the cheri berry on top, a stunning black bandana was waiting for her inside one of the smallest shops, emblazoned with a pirate skull on the side. Perfect. Of course, her hair had grown quite a bit in these past few months so it didn't look as good as before, but still.

The day had passed way too fast, and now the pale light of the sun hit her back as she walked back toward the Pokemon Center, smiling without effort for the first time in a long, long while.

And yet… that feeling remained. That sting behind her eyes, that inkling that something wasn't quite right. At first she had thought that it was just her anxiety trying to adjust to… not being needed anymore. She wasn't in any danger. She didn't need to run away or hide or skip a meal or… anything, and it was weirding her out. But no, that wasn't it. There was something else.

That oddness came to its peak once she came back to reality and realized, eyes wide in shock, that she had passed the Pokemon Center almost half a mile ago.

She stopped, then looked up at the building she had unconsciously walked toward. It filled her vision almost entirely, towering over her and the rest of the street like a sleeping giant, like a mountain over a valley. There were few windows, and even fewer lights inside. The door was wide open, as though inviting her in.

Her gaze went up. Canalave Public Library was written in steel over the door.

"…the hell? How'd I get here?"

To be fair, it wasn't the first time she'd asked herself that question. However, all the previous times had been while waking up with a wicked hangover, either on some back-alley or preferably on some cute girl's bed. It happening while she was sober was quite unheard of.

The building stood there, but Metchi couldn't quite walk away. Her legs seemed locked in place. Someplace inside her, a distant voice seemed to whisper for her to go inside, which kind of freaked her out. She blinked, and her eyes stung. Not in a bad way, which only made it worse. It was uncomfortably familiar.

"What even…"

She gulped, unsure of what to do. There was no harm in listening to that instinct, was there? I mean, there probably was. Normal people didn't hear weightless voices inside their heads telling them to enter creepy libraries at night, but then again normal people weren't… like her.

Almost a minute passed before she lost patience, both with herself and the cold setting in around her.

"…Fuck it."

No one welcomed her as she entered the building, the only receptionist sitting behind her desk at the other side of the room, eyes narrowed as she read a book. Metchi didn't want to bother her, so she simply walked in. That was okay, wasn't it? It was a public library, and she really hoped the meaning of the word public meant the same here as it did in Hoenn.

The insides were mindbogglingly massive, and yet strangely she didn't get lost. Her legs moved on their own. She walked up the stairs a few times, looking around as that heat behind her eyes grew and grew until it extended to the rest of her body, making her vision almost blurry. Metchi felt it difficult to think about how weird that was, or anything else for that matter. She simply walked, without knowing where her feet were leading her.

She reached the DCL section on the fourth floor, and stopped. Her mind felt numb and warm, as though someone had thrown a heated blanket over it. She walked in between two bookshelves, arms hanging at her side.

There it was. She unconsciously reached up to the top row and grabbed the spine of the book, the feeling of smooth leather against her fingers suddenly jolting her mind awake.

"W-what? How…?"

She looked down at the book, eyes wide in confusion. The cover was made of disheveled red leather and the pages inside looked so yellow and brittle that she was surprised they hadn't turned to dust yet. She turned it on her hand, blinking. No title. She turned it again, to the side. There weren't many pages, either.

Diary…

The word came to her out of nowhere, jolting her from the trance she was in. The heat behind her eyes had disappeared. And yet, never having seen this book before, something in her mind told her with absolute certainty that it was a diary. She squinted, her head hurting. It felt like someone had driven that thought deep into her brain with a hammer.

I… I guess I should open it?

Metchi placed a hand on the cover of the diary and, feeling her own heartbeat boom in her ears, opened it as her gaze set on the first line. Her mind didn't recognize the language it was written in. Her eyes, however, did:

"I have, regrettably, almost brought about the end of the world."