Sage wasn’t sure what Anne meant by ‘long hair’, but with how busy the rest of the room had suddenly gotten, she was down to find out.

It was filled with people she didn’t recognize. The Braixen looking over the little ones—the Shinx, the Ralts, and the Riolu—was nice and very warm, which Sage couldn’t guarantee about the latter three. The Stunky beside the door was also nice to her, but looked more drowsy than anything, and the Grumpig... was there, too, off in the corner. Neither she nor Anne knew who that was, and the limited background knowledge about that entire species they both had made it clear that they didn’t necessarily want to know.

Anne was old enough to recognize that thought as rather bigoted, especially in her current situation, but going against it could wait. Once the Phantump had hovered her way, she said, “~So, my idea was that I-I could wrap the shirt’s torso around the top of your head, a-and have it hang back behind it! Kinda like long hair!~”

As enthusiastic as Anne’s delivery was, her words did little to clear up the mental image in the other girl’s head. No better way to demonstrate it than to just do what she had in mind and let Sage see the results for herself.

“~I can have long hair?~” Sage asked, confused.

Her words took Anne aback a bit, but the older girl clarified right after, “~Well, I hope so! Oh, I mean like a wig, not like actual hair if that’s—~”

“~Aaaahhhh!~”

Wigs were cool, though Sage never thought she’d be wearing one made from a shirt. Having a concrete idea of just what was happening made her pay much more attention to her older peer’s actions, especially as she started cutting the shirt in half. It wasn’t going well, not with her limited leverage and strength, but nothing they couldn’t accomplish together. The Phantump asked, giddy, “~Can I help, can I help?~”

As self-conscious as Anne would’ve been at that question coming from anyone else, having it be said by an excited child as opposed to a slightly condescending adult made all the difference in the world. “~S-sure! Can you hold that other end and then pull on it?~”

With the Phantump’s help, Anne’s little craftswoman project went from ‘just about impossible’ to only ‘difficult’. A bruised thigh pinned one end of the shirt to the mattress, Sage pulled on the other one, and her one good hand slowly cut through it just below where the sleeves joined the rest of the fabric. It wasn’t easy—not with a knife so dull its only remaining use as a weapon was as a bludgeon—but it was going.

The fabric kindly tearing apart the rest of the way through once they were around halfway done helped, too.

Wrapping the cylinder of the world’s most scuffed wig around the top of the Phantump’s head wasn’t hard, but that couldn’t be said for letting her see the results of her labor. It took a few minutes and much more exhaustion than Anne expected for her to fish out the tiny, scratched pocket mirror out of the depths of her bag. Once she did, though, Sage could finally see her little gift—and... have mixed opinions on it. “~Ooooooo! I like it, it’s so long! It looks kinda wrong, though.~”

The mishmash of euphoria and complaints took Anne aback as Sage tried to see herself from every angle, but she couldn’t hold it against the ghostie and how young she was. At the same time, it brought back memories of when she was that age, making her much more self-conscious about how she must’ve behaved under her grandma’s watch. She’d never been shouted at by her or anything, but there were quite a few disappointed looks and words, especially when she and Ember started running around the place. Again.

“~Wrong in what way, Sage?~” Anne asked. “~Too long, or—~”

“~Smooth!~”

The one-word answer had the human slowly look over at her own hair to see if she had forgotten about something obvious. Smooth, right, hair was smooth—ohhhhh. Not all hair, Sage’s must’ve been much curlier. That explained some of it, but clarified little about what specific kind of hairdo she was supposed to portray with her limited resources.

...

She could try sketching it, though. “~Ahh... could you help me draw what kinda hair you’d like, then?~”

After a couple of nods so eager they tossed the black fabric cylinder over from her head onto one of her horns, the younger girl floated over and started drawing before Anne even got everything ready. Wouldn’t need any colors with her immediately beelining for the black pencil, at least.

The sketching process took a fair bit of back and forth to arrive at anything. For how eager Sage was to show off what she meant, her visual clarity was... not there, at least at the start. The explanations that accompanied it didn’t help, either. “~The long... uhh, l-long and curvy! Oh, and there and there too, down to shoulders!~”

With her sketch soon turning into a largely incoherent black blob, Anne was left trying to mimic her individual strokes as opposed to just looking at the end result. Multiple stripes coming from the top of the misshapen circle, in every direction. If she meant streaks, they wouldn’t be possible unless she cut up plenty more shirts for materials—something she only felt comfortable doing up to a point... Hang on.

As the Phantump sketched in excitement, her friend got to filling the page beside hers, taking a stab in the dark about what Sage might’ve meant. Hair was never her strong suit, and she hadn’t ever woven actual braids, but it was as good an idea as she had in the moment.

“~Yes, like these!~” Sage squeed. “~I just drew them for you, Anne!~”

“~I know, I know, I just wanted to make sure, hehe.~”

The tiny bit of childish indignation was amusing more than anything else, with the confirmation that accompanied it helping a lot more. Actual braids weren’t happening, but having a wig that sort of resembled them... maybe. They’d have to be simplified a lot to get down to something they could feasibly assemble with their limited skills and even scarcer supplies.

A handful of thin, black stripes hanging from what was essentially a cap was so scuffed it made Anne cringe to imagine, but it was also her best option at the moment. “~I think I know how to do that. Can you hold this for me again?~”

Cutting the fabric wasn’t any easier the second time around, not with even less strength on Anne’s end. What she was doing was more than worth it and she knew, but she could still really use some help—

“^Are you two doing alright~?^”

Anne thanked the stars that the unfamiliar voice had waited until she’d put the knife down before jutting in.

To little surprise, the telepathic words seemed to have come from the Grumpig, leaning on the bedding with their arms resting on top of it. Their eyes jumped back and forth between the two in a rhythm Anne could tell was there, but couldn’t follow. As she gathered her words, Sage responded first, emboldened by her progress in communicating her idea to Anne, “~Yeah! We’re making a wig!~”

It was a perfectly accurate explanation that was simultaneously almost as unhelpful as it was possible for it to get. “^A wig, huh?^” the Grumpig asked. “^For...?^”

The Psychic looked up at Anne, trying to recall the name she was sure she’d overheard at some point. As she did, she snapped her fingers to the same rhythm as earlier; the quiet sounds unusually distracting. Enough so for the source of the Grumpig’s confusion to space out listening to them, before realizing it was her that the question was about.

“~Anne, I-I’m Anne. And no, it’s not for me, it’s for—for Sage here.~”

Not what the stranger expected to hear, but it made sense. “^Ahh~! A neat decoration of sorts? Or something to help with the cold, orrrr...?^”

“~Um, neither, it’s...~” Anne trailed off. Even if she knew of the right terminology to describe any of this, it would’ve helped little. She had to explain it the hard way, and hoped she wouldn’t get any crucial parts of it terribly wrong. “~Kind of decoration? It’s—it’s something for her to look more girly.~”

Sage hadn’t thought of that framing before, either. It was accurate; she couldn’t deny that, but it still made her just a bit uncomfortable to think about consciously, her posture slouching as she hovered closer to her friend.

The Grumpig asked, “^More girly? Curious, curious, never heard of there being differences like that in Phantump!^”

“~B-but I’m not...~” Sage tried to correct the stranger, words petering out after just a few words, quietened by the deep-seated discomfort brought by thinking about how she looked as opposed to how she should look.

Anne didn’t know of that underlying reason, immediately holding the younger girl closer as the Grumpig leaned in, her expression softening a lot. “^Hey, hey there sweetie,^” she smiled. “^Everything’s alright Sage, you’ve not done a thing, love. My name’s Pearl.^”

The Psychic’s outstretched paw wasn’t taken; the lil’ ghost too preoccupied by all the murk rolling around in her mind. Pearl didn’t mind, thankfully, withdrawing it after a few moments without letting her smile falter even slightly. “^Well, if you wanna go into more detail, that’d be a lotta help, but even if not, all’s well loves. Could I help anyhow? Ember’s doing a great job looking after everyone as is.^”

Anne didn’t want to overstep her boundaries, but more help was always appreciated when it came to something as messy as this. Granted, she wouldn’t be getting started any time soon anyway, with her one good hand wrapped around the Phantump, giving her some more time to explain it all.

No way through but to give it her best shot, and hope that Sage wouldn’t mind. “~It’s alright Sage, it’s alright. A-as to more detail, um... okay. So, everyone used to think of Sage as a boy back when... when she was human, but now we know she’s not, and I wanna help her look more like a girl—~”

“^Ahhhhh, yeah I getcha! Oh, I sure know all about that struggle, used to deal with it too.^”

Sage was too spaced out to notice Pearl’s offhand remark, but Anne most definitely wasn’t. “~W-wait, really?~”

“^Yup! Ages ago, though I’m guessin’ much of what I had gone through wasn’t nowhere near as bad as it must be for her, poor thing. Didn’t have turning into something else altogether on my plate, I knew what was goin’ on, and others gave me my space. Well, now I gotta help her even more, bah! Alright, what’d you need help with for that wig of hers? You looked like ya was straining a fair bit with that knife.^”

“~Yeah, it’s—it’s hard like this—~”

“^Don’t say another word Anne, just tell me what ta do!^”

Anne wasn’t expecting help this enthusiastic, but between the younger girl needing her support, and her creeping tiredness, she could only reply one way, “~Th-thank you, Mrs. Pearl.~”

“^Anytime! Making kiddos happy’s why I’m here, anyway.^”

The assembly that followed was no less scuffed than the girls’ typical methods, but it was incomparably faster. Anne doubted she would’ve been able to beat the speed at which Pearl’s telekinesis was tearing stripes off what remained of the shirt even with both functional arms and a razor-sharp knife. With much of what once was her shirt torn into short strips, gluing the resulting mess together became the main bottleneck.

If she had a needle and some thread, or a little more time, she might’ve been able to make do without glue, but... that was a luxury she had no guarantee she’d ever get again.

Frigid thoughts about what awaited her stopped Anne in her tracks each time they crept up on her, and each time her attempts to distract herself away from them by refocusing on her current project became less and less effective. She had no idea what would happen or even how much time she had, and despite Aria’s promise that things would be alright no matter what, the human was still terrified.

She hadn’t encountered anyone who felt like they really hated her, aside from that one mean-looking Lucario. Maybe they were the exception; maybe everyone else was the exception, and the rest of this place only kept themselves from jumping in here and tearing her throat out because she would be voted out soon, anyway. If not for wrestling with old, barely functional glue occupying a fair chunk of her headspace, she might’ve ended up panicking there and then once more.

With Ember’s presence, wanting to be there for Sage, and Aria’s promise, she didn’t, not yet. She hoped she’d at least be able to maintain her composure until the lil’ ghost left the room. Sage was the one to be sorry about, not her.

Thankfully, the ongoing efforts eventually snagged the hauntling’s attention, pulling her mind out of the dark, unpleasant pit it had fallen into. Every glued-on strip of fabric brought the makeshift headgear closer to what they both had in mind, closer to a hairdo as opposed to the result of critically failing taking a shirt off.

Enough so that Anne and Pearl had to remind Sage a few times they weren’t quite done yet, and to be patient. Slightly annoying, sure, but much, much better than the lil’ ghost clinging to her friend in a catatonic silence. All three of them focused intensely at the very last piece of fabric as it was glued on, letting out sighs of relief and squeals of excitement.

“~Can I can I can I can I?~”

“~Give the glue a few moments to stick, Sage. It’s not going anywhere, hehe.~”

“~Pleeeeease?~”

Anne needed this laughter.

Not even the brief concern at the ghostie taking it the wrong way could take it away from her, not after Pearl had snagged the younger girl’s attention away shortly after. This was silly, Sage was silly, and Anne needed it so, so much, even if it was technically amusement at someone’s expense. That realization on its own didn’t fully end it there and then, but it gradually cooled it down.

And while the glue finished curing... the human got another idea.

With the mon and now-mon chatting between themselves, she placed the wig down and reached into her pencil case once more. Glue has had its moment to shine; pencils were a mainstay, but there was one more thing she always brought with herself, but which she struggled to ever find a use for—until now.

The familiar chemical scent pulled Sage’s attention over to Anne at hearing the faint pop of a marker cap coming off. Markers were fun, but her parents never let her touch theirs, which left her very, very curious about what would the older girl do with this one. Anne waved at her, “~Sage? Could you... lay down on your back and be very still for a while? I-I have an idea.~”

The lil’ Phantump followed instructions right away, but their caretaker needed much more persuasion. “^What... is that thing, Anne?^” the Grumpig asked.

“~J-just a marker, I... okay, lemme explain. Have—have you ever had makeup, Sage?~”

It was the question with the most obvious answer in the world, but Anne still waited for the younger girl to explain so that she knew she’d caught her attention. “~No.~”

“~Me neither. But what I thought I-I could do was draw you eyelashes. I know Phantump don’t have eyelashes, I-I don’t even know if they have actual eyeballs, but—~”

“~Eyelashes?~” Sage asked, tilting her head.

Anne didn’t have a good way to verbally explain what she meant—which is why she didn’t. Instead, she pulled her notebook over, grabbed a pen, and started sketching. A simplified depiction of a Phantump’s head in the corner, much more elaborate than anything the younger girl could accomplish despite taking around fifteen seconds. “~Yep, I was thinking of adding them like this—~”

The three lines radiating outwards above both eye holes looked... cartoony and a bit silly even when drawn like this, but it didn’t matter. The only opinion that actually mattered for this idea was Sage’s, and once the connection between this drawn face and herself finally clicked for her, she perked up with a “~*gasp!* Can I have it?~”

“~That’s what I was asking,~” Anne giggled.

“~I want it...~”

“~Then lay down and lemme draw them on!~”

This time, Sage was resting on the bedding before Anne could even finish her sentence, trying her hardest to keep herself from shaking too much. As Anne brought the tip of the black marker closer to the rough bark, the Grumpig levitated the sketch over to her to figure out what was going on as well. “^That’s a curious marking. Do, uh... human females draw it on themselves?^”

Pearl’s phrasing almost completely derailed Anne’s train of thought, the very idea of it silly beyond words. And yet, perfectly reasonable considering how little anyone here really knew about humanity. The human didn’t know how to answer—hardly a unique occurrence—but this time it was less so because of being unfamiliar or awkward about it, and more so because of not knowing how to simplify it enough.

‘An overused element of visual design’ was a succinct explanation that would’ve taken a few very much not-succinct hours to explain the full intricacy of, especially in how it related to Sage’s case. Hell, in any other circumstance, all Anne did when spotting it in the public was roll her eyes and bemoan the laziness—hardly something appropriate here.

Suppose she could try a... more vague way of phrasing it. “~It’s associated with femininity. Anything with big eyelashes looks feminine, i-is what I was thinking.~”

Sage wasn’t getting the discussion, but she very much liked the idea of looking more feminine.

Before the Grumpig could probe deeper, Anne’s bootleg tattoo session had started. Neither she nor Sage could gather all the focus needed for their body and hand, respectively, to keep still, but that was where their caretaker stepped in, unnoticed beyond a bit of tingling in the back of the girls’ heads. Drawing on an uneven bark was annoyingly difficult, as was covering it enough to not leave any brown spots poking through, but eventually she got it done.

She had no idea Sage’s spectral body could lean away from the edge of her wooden face, but it sure came in handy here.

“~How does it look, how does it look?~” the lil’ ghost asked. Instead of an answer, she instead got the now-finished wig, squealing out loud as she put it on with Pearl’s help. ‘Makeup’ eyelashes—check, braided wig—check, now to see the results—

...

...

“~Eeeeeeee!~”

The spectral wail had blood drain from Anne’s face, terrified that she’d screwed it up and it only made Sage feel worse. Before that idea could get any more fuel, it was dispelled by the half-Tackle, half-hug coming from the ghostly girl, her tiny arms clinging to her side as much as they could. “~Thank you thank you! Eeeeeee, I look like mom! I need to show it to Mr. Yaksha, eeeeeee!~”

As she regained her bearings, a large smile crept onto Anne’s face, together with a bit of dampness. Oh yes, it had definitely worked out. Sage’s comparison to her mom made the older girl feel simultaneously elated and saddened. She still remembered some of the Phantump’s memories, and the howling wail she’d heard inside them wouldn’t leave her mind for a very, very long time.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Anne knew full well that even if a miracle had happened and the two ever ran into each other again, the younger girl’s mom would just think of her as a terrifying omen of the woods—assuming her daughter would even recognize her. Sad to think about, but it didn’t matter for the time being, not with how energetic the lil’ ghostie was. Everyone got a good look—Ember, Zephyr, the littlest ones, many of whom were just about dozing off by then, even Mr. Yaksha—*pomf*

Oops.

Not quite that last one, as it turned out. Not because of anything about him, but because the Phantump had left her wig behind when phasing through the wall’s tent, leaving it falling straight onto the now-confused Shinx immediately below.

“Aaaa, what is? Can’t see!” the electric kitten mewled. As he tried pawing at his face, Ember whisked the offending item of clothing before his confusion could give way to trying to tear the item apart.

She got there just in time—no damage to the wig, phew. “D-don’t worry Lyn, it was just something on your face, th-there you go!”

The Shinx blinked at being able to see again, only to get distracted by the nondescript mass of black fabric, now in the Fire-type’s grasp. It had some bits dangling from it, right in front of him, just had to pounce and—

“No, Lyn!” the Braixen raised her voice. “This isn’t a toy.”

The orange shimmer that had surrounded his body went unnoticed for a good few moments as the kitten kept trying—and failing—to make his leap, oblivious to anything going on around him. “Why not jump!?”

His mews were already difficult to interpret as words from inexperience, and this wasn’t helping one bit. Pearl was in the middle of turning over to help the vixen with one of the trickiest kids they watched over, but Ember had just enough experience to know what to do on her own—just had to catch his attention.

*pat pat*

“Lyyynnn~,” the Braixen whispered. The drawn-out sound, combined with her pleasant warmth, finally made the Shinx look up at her. “This isn’t a toy, sweetie. It’s Sage’s—”

“~Wh-where is Mr. Yaksha!?~” The Phantump cried out, scared, as she phased back into the room. Her emotions took another downturn at the realization that she’d dropped her wig.

Nobody gathered had any idea of what had just happened to the Phantump, but with Ember already in the right headspace and right beside her, she picked up the mantle. “Wh-what’s wrong, Sage? Did Mr. Yaksha say—”

“~I-I can’t find him! H-He was on our bed there, b-but now he’s gone!~”

As scared about her guardian as the hauntling was, the two caretakers had been in these situations enough times to calm her down. Ember reassured, “He has probably just left for a moment, sweetie. He’ll b-be right back any time now!”

“~B-b-but he n-never leaves me! He’s always there, d-did something happen to him?~”

The Grumpig softly shook her head, “^I doubt love. Cmere, we can all wait together for him, how’s that sound? I’m sure he’ll show up any moment now.^”

Sage went along with the Grumpig’s idea, though mostly for lack of any alternatives. She might’ve only known her guardian for a few weeks, but she could tell that this was really unlike him. Nothing should’ve happened to him since he was there but, but... what if something did anyway?

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Anne wasn’t privy to the fears in her younger friend’s mind, but what she had access to was a distraction. A somewhat... awkward distraction, especially with the person it used to fill for sitting just a few meters away, but a distraction, nonetheless. It brought her out of the worst of her funk many times. Maybe it could help the younger girl, too? “~Hey, Sage?~”

The undead girl’s shaky expression focused immediately once Anne revealed the figurative ace up her sleeve. A Fennekin plush, about the size of Sage’s head, ready for the taking. It was cute and good-looking enough for the inner child inside Phantump to hover towards it without thinking and hug it tight. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t that much larger than the doll, making her try hopping onto its back as if it were a mount.

Her unpleasant realization that she didn’t have legs anymore brought an end to that idea, but its soft, polyester fur shielded her from feeling even worse because of that.

As Sage took in every detail of the little plush, the actual fiery vixen in the room stared at it curiously, before looking over at Anne. She didn’t say anything out loud, or even telepathically, but her question was no less obvious because of it.

The human chuckled nervously, “~H-heh... I-I found it on the side of the road not long a-after I, I...~”

Ember knew all too well how that recollection went, wasting no time before climbing on the bed beside her human and holding her as tight as her arms could manage. Both of them held their tears in, if only just, as Anne continued, “~It’s been a-a lot of comfort for me in your absence, y-you know. Reminded me of you, a-and of-of course it wasn’t like you, n-nothing could—~”

“Shhhhh, I-I get it Anne, I promise.”

An even tighter hug from the vixen, many more pets from the human. A bunch more wetness from them both as they tried their hardest to hold themselves together. Emotional as she was, though, a realization soon hit her now that she had consciously acknowledged the… convenient timing of when she’d found the doll.

Guess there was a reason Mrs. Graham didn’t act all that surprised when she’d shown it to her…

The thought drew more tears from the girl, but only the happiest ones. She really hoped she’d be able to thank the librarian for everything she’d done sometime. With the most tearful smile of her life, Anne then reached to unzip the hidden pocket on the plush’s tummy. From it, she pulled out a single, slightly bent photo. One they’ve both seen so many times, one they could both remember taking even. Anne’s sixth birthday, only a few weeks after they met.

Already inseparable by then.

“You’re so cute in this one, Anne,” Ember smiled.

“~A-and you aren’t? Y-you used to be so, so tiny, hehehe...~”

With a small grumble, the firefox held her human even tighter. As Anne was about to slide the photo back into hiding, the lil’ hauntling chimed in as well, curious about a different aspect of the photograph. “~Oooo, where did you take it?~”

If Pearl wasn’t busy looking after the once-again-rowdy kids with Ember leaving her post, she would’ve scrambled over there and taken a close look at just what in the world these three were talking about, there and then.

“~A-at my old home, Sage,~” Anne explained. “~We used to live with my grandma, many years ago.~”

Before any sadness could seep into either girl’s minds at the necessity of the past tense in that explanation, the Phantump provided her own source of that emotion, “~I wanna go back to my old home too—~”

*creak, step step, rattle rattle*

The noise from immediately outside their room startled everyone before Sage’s words could seep in, putting them on varying levels of confusion and edge. There was a lot more going on in the rest of the clinic all of a sudden, many more noises and words, too muffled to make out clearly.

“^Gah damn, something musta happened in there,^” Pearl muttered.

Before anyone could ask about what was going on out there, the room’s doors parted open, cutting everyone’s train of thought in half immediately—for better and worse reasons. The better reason scrambled onto the bed the moment she saw Anne and Ember there, her eyes still a bit damp but mind deadset on making sure the Braixen was doing alright after the rough night she must’ve had.

The worse reason leaned in to pick his daughter up and looked towards Anne. She expected the Lucario’s gaze to once more drill straight through her very soul, but... it didn’t, not this time. It only lingered on her for a split-second before the Fighting-type turned around and left right after.

“Wha-uh—what just happened? Did someone attack?” the Skunky asked, half-asleep. The yawn that followed released much of the room’s tension, though the situation outside remained unexplained.

Not for long if Cadence had anything to say, though. “^Something bad happened to Mr. Cypress, they—they got attacked by a human trainer...^” she explained, her sad tone noticed by most gathered and acted on by the bed’s affection being squarely redirected towards her, even as everyone processed the harrowing news.

Everyone but Bell, the Ralts only able to sense his sister not doing good—and with his best friend gone and another friend napping, he wanted to help her! He loved his sister.

“A-are they okay?” Ember asked.

“^I-I hope so! They could talk to me and told me not to worry, but were hurt all over and Mr. Lariat carried them. I really hope the healers help them out. They were hurting a lot even if they didn’t say anything about it...^”

A bunch of reassurance and explanation, much appreciated by everyone. Nobody was under any pretense that Cadence would know more about what had happened, with Ember redirecting the topic once she realized the Kirlia wasn’t doing the best, either. “Our healers are great, they’ll feel better in no time! B-but what about you, C-Cadence?”

“^I-I—^” the Kirlia tried to answer, her self-consciousness immediately smothered by Ember’s hug. Then by Anne’s, then by Bell’s—paired with a short squeak that had tried and failed to be reassuring words—and finally, by... by...

“~D-did something happen, Cadence?~” Anne asked. “~You’re really tense.~”

Couldn’t even hide it from non-psychics, could she. “^I-I’ll be okay Anne, I promise! I just felt bad earlier, a-about myself—^”

On cue, another salvo of affection, with the older girls sparing no pets as the human reassured, “~B-but you’re great, Cadence! I’m—I’m so glad I got to meet you, you’re really cool.~”

Ember cut herself off from following up on her best friend’s words because there was nothing more that needed to be said. Anne had gotten it all right, and all Cadence could do was squirm and let the affection sink in as her cheeks threatened to catch on fire and psychics pulled everyone around her. “^Eeeeee, th-thank you Anne, you’re really cool too!^”

“~Yeah!~” the stranger squeaked, her unfamiliar voice catching the Kirlia’s attention. She’d heard of Phantump before, but not about any that looked like this. The lines above their eyes were a bit weird, but the hair was really pretty! It took her a few moments to realize it was some sort of wig, but that didn’t detract from how cool it came out at all.

A part of her wanted to touch it and see what it was made of, but something told her it’d be a bad idea. “^Oh! Hi, I’m Cadence; what’s your name? That’s a really cool wig!^”

Meeting someone new helped with much of her funk as well, especially someone both so interesting and younger than her. Their reeling reaction concerned her for a moment, but it faded as soon as she mentioned their hairdo, immediately replaced with excited elation. “~Eeeeeee, really!? It’s cool!?~”

Without skipping a beat, Cadence nodded with her entire body—and had one decorated Phantump tacklehug her moments later. “~Thank you! I’m—I’m happy it looks cool, it’s j-just like my mom!~”

Each reassurance only brought more warmth to Sage’s small body, warmth she had neither words nor an explanation for but which she acutely felt all the same. Cadence returned the gesture an instant later, even standing up and twirling on the spot to express the sudden burst of joy in the room. “^That’s so cool! Your mom must look cool too!^”

More joy, at least for a moment.

As happy as the younger girl was to hear her mom being described as cool, it also made her want to see her again even more, something she knew others would probably not receive too well. Her sudden drop in the mood was plain to sense for everyone else, with Bell waddling over just to see what was wrong. Nobody had the time to put words to their worry before the entrance to the room parted again, though.

Two faces they were all glad to see this time. As happy as Sage was to see one of them, immediately responding to it with another elated squeak, the other one gathered much more attention—and concern—from everyone else.

“^Mr. Cypress, are you okay!?^” Cadence asked, scared.

The plentiful bandages covering their purple body answered for the Mismagius. Their sides, their ‘hat’, even their throat, all wrapped in layers of off-white bandage, with some excess salves spilling out from underneath them. Healing Pulses could only do so much for their incorporeal body, but the healers spared no effort on that front, either.

Cypress wouldn’t have described their situation as ‘okay’ under any other circumstances, but saw it fit to get by with a white lie here. “I cannot deny hurting, but... I will turn out okay, dear Cadence, I have no doubt...”

“^Our healers know what to do, sweetie~. Honestly, I was more surprised you wanted to join us the moment Esther wrapped the last bandage around you, Cy,^” Autumn chuckled, her tense, yet warm smile sweeping over the rest of the room. Anne was alright, Ember was alright, Sage was a bit sad but had clearly played a fair bit with Anne, Cadence was mostly alright, Bell was Bell.

Zephyr and Lyn were asleep, hardly something she could’ve blamed them for.

The Mismagius responded, “Well~, dear Aria had mentioned the arrival of someone special, and I was immensely curious...”

Said special person let go of Cadence for her hug before focusing on the source of the much more ethereal voice, unsure who the discussion was about or what to say. Something told her she was supposed to be afraid of the purple ghost, but... she didn’t know why, leaving her just tilting her wigged head at them and giving them a timid wave. One eagerly returned.

“Oh, how curious. I had intended to ask about whether anyone had helped her remember who she once was, but it appears that I’m the one way behind for once...” Cypress laughed, the sound cut short by their side injury flaring up, making them flinch.

The movement drew others’ attention to that part of their body as well, leaving them staring in terrified concern as they internally mulled over what could’ve just taken a bite out of such an experienced scout.

Fear that the scout themselves was very aware of, and was keen to calm down as soon as they could. “I am injured, yes, but my situation will only improve. Your attention is best spent not fearing for me~...”

“What happened, M-Mr. Cypress? Did you r-r-really get attacked b-by a ‘trainer’?” Ember asked. Her shaking answered what she thought about that possibility for her, quickly soothed by her friends’ affection.

The Ghost-type didn’t even pretend they had a way out of this without going into detail, and felt it best to just dive into it so that they could switch topics to something more pleasant sooner. “Indeed, dear Ember. They had snuck on me during my patrol, and attempted t-to cap—capture me...”

Cypress might have covered the emotions surrounding the traumatic situation well enough to not make either of the gathered psychics panic, but that didn’t extend to their speech. They wordlessly cursed themselves for their own words betraying them, but everyone else was too aghast at what they said to dig into how they said it.

Besides, after an experience like that, ‘traumatized’ was the usual assumed outcome, anyway.

That’s where most others’ pondering would’ve stopped, but... Cadence was curious. Too curious for her own good, likely, but after hearing so many horror stories about these and other human inventions, she couldn’t resist asking the most obvious question, “^What was it like, Mr. Cypress?^”

As well as the Mismagius had covered their previous emotional response to that thought, they didn’t quite manage to repeat that feat. Fear, fury, agony—the Kirlia had never associated the ghost with any strong emotions, good or bad, but could blatantly sense this situation involving many of these most intense of feelings. She knew she’d made a mistake asking long before the scout had responded; they didn’t need to heap more onto her plate.

Might as well answer to the best of their ability. “The most blissful nightmare I can imagine...”

Nobody knew how to interpret their response. In all likelihood, nobody who hadn’t experienced what they did would ever really understand it. For the best, as far as Cypress was concerned. “Following that, and my successful escape, a fight broke out between me, them, and their... combatant...”

This time, no questions were needed—the aftermath of that was plain to see.

“Regrettably, I... attacked said trainer, as well. Cruelly, nigh unspeakably. I have no excuse for that act, naught but an indescribable fury that flowed through me at that instant...”

“~D-did they survive?~” Anne asked, afraid—but not of the Mismagius. Their actions were entirely understandable considering their situation—and it was that situation that sounded like a nightmare come to life for everyone involved.

“Yes, I... I presume so.” Cypress answered. “They were hurt, but standing by the time dear Lariat rescued me...”

The human in the room aside, most others felt... differently about a trainer being attacked, and some needed a while to fully grasp all the implications of such an act.

“B-but they attacked you first, Mr. Cypress. Y-you were just defending yourself.”

Cypress flinched at hearing apologia for their own actions, no matter how well-intentioned. “I assure you, dear Ember, that the form and extent of my response to their act was disproportionate. Their actions were cruel, but so were mine. Equal revenge does not enact justice; it merely propagates suffering. I could have run, I should have run...”

The calm explanation had left the Braixen much more uncomfortable about her earlier attitude than any chiding could have ever accomplished. Even beyond moral objections to the ghostly scout’s actions, though, there were plenty others, the realization making Autumn mumble out loud, “This will draw so much attention—*gasp*!”

The room’s eyes went wide at that obvious-in-hindsight observation, chilling the air immensely. Pearl might’ve left soon after Autumn had returned, passing over the translation burden to the other psychic, but everyone else awake had felt the immediate shift in the room, even if its two youngest members didn’t really know why it happened.

Before the resulting terror could grow any further, though, the one person who knew the most about what would happen spoke up, asking for details, “~D-did you say that they tried to catch you, a-and then you attacked them after you broke out?~”

Anne was unusually focused on the topic at hand, the fear in the room crystallizing into something actionable. She wasn’t deluding herself to think a situation like that couldn’t result in some nasty consequences, but knew enough of how things actually worked on the human side of the equation to know that it wasn’t as simple as guaranteed doom, either.

Cypress answered, “Correct, dear Anne. I presume you’re familiar with this topic, judging by your thoughtfulness...?”

“~I-I wouldn’t say familiar, it’s—I had to study i-it for my self-defense class a couple months ago. I-I still remember a lot, and we had to memorize so many b-boring documents for the test...~”

While what Anne was referencing was clearly similar to the classes every little one in their village was encouraged to attend, the differences were immense and very apparent. The only rote memorization most little ones of the village ever did was getting a good grasp on how other types affected them, and vice versa. The word ‘test’ was particularly difficult to translate into something anyone around understood in any sort of intuitive way, sending a mild headache Autumn’s way before she settled on a rough approximation of ‘knowledge check’.

“~I think I g-got it now,~” the girl continued. “~Section four hundred... something, article three, ratified in 526. An intervention on the hand of a federally approved League trainer in response to an offense by a wild pokemon against a human shall be authorized if and only if the pokemon in question had engaged in an unprovoked assault on a civilian without an active League trainer license within three miles of the legal border of a township, or had committed a murder.~”

Anne took a while to rub her temples at having to dig so deep into her memories, with everyone else mostly just taken aback at the sudden wave of jargon and humanese. “~Th-that hurt to recall. B-but in short, since that was a trainer a-and not a civilian, as long as they didn’t die, nothing should come of it as far as the League is concerned. I-I don’t think there’s any specific regional law for this either, th-the teacher had mentioned nothing like that.~”

The clarification helped explain the ‘what’, but not the ‘why’. Other kids swallowed it without questions, but the adults were rather perplexed why human law would treat their ‘trainers’ differently in what appeared to be an entirely negative way.

“I see...” Cypress whispered, “that is a curious distinction, dear Anne. Why would these ‘trainers’ be given less protection? That makes little sense, personally...”

“~I-I don’t know, but... I-I think it’s like, they’re expected to be strong, right? O-or their mons are expected to be strong. And if a civilian does get hurt, trainers are the ones that get called in to investigate. If they and their mons are so weak they can’t even protect themselves from wild mons, then they won’t be able to ‘protect’ anyone from them, and that’s supposed to be their duty.~”

Autumn had almost blurted out that one of those sure needed protecting from the other, but not that way around, but... held herself back, in the end. By now, they probably did, with how much wild mons must’ve hated them on the whole. Before she could despair more on what felt like a conflict with no possible resolution, Cypress summed it up differently, “I can imagine that approach breeding further hostility towards wildlings in these... ‘trainers’. Unfortunate all around...”

‘Unfortunate’ was an intentionally mild choice of words, but the gathered kids were mostly unfamiliar with enough swear words to really phrase it in a way that accurately represented reality. An unfortunate topic, though Ember soon latched onto another curious thing she’d spotted in her friend’s words, “Anne? Wh-what did you mean by ‘526’ there? That’s a... year?”

Not something the human expected to arouse curiosity, but she was glad to explain all the same.

“~Oh yes, that’s... I suppose that’s the number of that year, yes. You could s-say that each year gets a number that shows h-how many years it’s been since the Kanto Reunification, and right now it’s year 549.~” Anne explained the mystery, only to immediately replace it with seven more.

Or, in Sage’s case, to start reminding her of something she could still remember. Before she could fully excavate those memories, though, Autumn chimed back in, “^That ‘Kanto Reunification’ event sounds important... what’s ‘Kanto’, anyway? Is it a place?^”

While many companies would’ve despaired at anyone, even a pokemon, remaining unaware of the most important place in the whole wide world, Anne had no such attachment to that distant land. If anything, she shared the same mild distaste for it most others had—even if much of their culture still clung to exports from that country. “~I-it’s a land very far away, yes. It used to be broken into many tiny peoples that constantly warred against each other, and when they conquered each other enough to unify again, that’s when the years started being counted from.~”

As straightforward as the explanation was at its core, it still relied on many terms that were just absent from the vocabulary of most denizens of the village.

‘War’ was a very difficult concept to translate for people without a standing army, whose only enemy was a force so unfathomably large they couldn’t even conceive of it in full, let alone imagine fighting it. ‘Conquest’ was similarly tricky, though there at least allusions could be made to the expected treatment of them by the humans if they ever ended up being discovered.

“That’s an... oddly peculiar choice of event to base such a count on...” Cypress commented, curious.

Anne couldn’t disagree one bit—and neither could any other kid in her class. The explanation took a good few years to really stick, and only the eventual history class really provided enough context for the event’s significance to sink. “~It is, yeah. I-it’s not our choice, Kanto is thousands of miles away. But around... two, three hundred years ago, they went on a conquest around the world, because they were the first ones that—that made pokeballs.~”

While Cadence and Ember just mentally reclassified the aforementioned region from ‘distant place’ to ‘evil distant place’, Autumn had a very different reaction to Anne’s remark. She might’ve overlooked the significance of the ‘year number’ earlier, but couldn’t this time, asking, “^Two, three hundred years ago? That is some ancient, ancient history, how does anyone remember that?^”

“~It’s not even ancient, that’s early modernity, I-I think. Ancient is thousands of years ago, b-but I think we still have many recordings from then...~” Anne explained, only adding to Autumn’s confusion.

The small tribe from which the Indeedee had originated only held memories from two, maybe three, generations ago, before they were invariably lost by one major upheaval or another. She’d heard of the power of codified oral traditions from others, notably Celia, but this had to have been something else entirely—

“~Oh oh, I remember!~” Sage squeaked, excited, snatching the room’s attention.

Anne snapped out of the resulting mass stun first, “~What—what do you remember, Sage?~”

“~Five hundred and forty-one! October, and... uh... five? Or fifteen!~”

The string of words would’ve been utter gibberish even to most humans, but the logic behind it clicked for Anne the moment she tried visualizing it all. “~Fifteenth October, 541—~”

“~Yeah!~”

“~Is that your date of birth?~”

“~...yeah?~”

Sage was much less confident in her answer than she wished she had been. She knew this date was important and recalled being taught it again and again by her parents and teachers alike, but was woefully uncertain of what it actually meant. The realization of just how little she remembered deflated her somewhat, making her older friend intervene.

And then, all the other kids.

It helped, but wasn’t enough. Slowly remembering more and more of her past life, more of her family, all of that was so good and appreciated—but it also brought despair of knowing more about a treasure she could never have. Every unearthed facet of her mom was yet another happy memory that would never be replicated, no matter how much she wanted to.

The crushing reality of her fate ground into her more and more with each thought, and Sage wanted it to stop. To escape all this, to escape to the place that had always been safe. It should’ve been possible, right? To make those memories not just memories again?

To return?

“~I wanna go home...~” Sage whimpered.

Nobody could resist the profound sadness that statement brought with itself—nobody but Sage herself, seemingly. It hurt so much, but she knew she’d need to remember her home first to find it. She remembered more and more of her family with each passing moment, her older sister and younger brother, her mom and dad and grandpa, and soon the recollection extended to her once-home, too.

Maybe it was possible.

Cadence let out a startled squeal as the Phantump phased straight through her, leaving only freezing cold and her wig in her wake. It made them all look over to where she’d hovered, only for everyone awake but Cypress to jump in their seats at realizing that one particular Banette had been sitting on the other corner of the bedding in silence for an unknown amount of time, away from the small gathering. The steadily creeping darkness didn’t help, held at bay soon after by a couple of fresh Will-o’-Wisps.

“~M-Mr. Yaksha?~” the Phantump asked. “~C-can I go back home to my parents?~”

Despite having known Sage for much longer, the Banette didn’t know how to respond any more than anyone else around. He’s had enough time to let the realization that she was a human once finish hitting him, as profoundly uncomfortable as it was. With that in mind, her going back to other humans sounded like a nice thing to have happen, putting aside the inherent human awfulness, but... how feasible was it, really?

“~Sage... do you even remember where—~”

“~Yes! It was in Lillywood!~”

“~L-Lillywood is a large town, Sage. There are thousands and thousands of people in there, d-do you remember anything else?~” Anne asked.

Her question, as necessary as it was, didn’t do the younger girl’s spirits much good. “~Yeah, I-I do! It had a green roof, a-and was large, and... a-and...~”

Yaksha wasn’t any better suited to comforting others than he was to running a human fanclub, but this little child needed him, goddammit. His expression softened as he hovered closer to the ghostie, opening his arms wide. “~Sage, come here. You’re safe now.~”

As much as she wanted to withdraw into her stump and hide from the world again, Sage persevered and disagreed with her guardian, tears streaking down her mask as she shook it from side to side. “~I don’t want to be safe, I-*sniff*-I wanna go home!~”

Her composure didn’t last much longer, but by the time it broke completely, the Banette was already holding her tight. He didn’t have anyone to blame for this outburst. It wasn’t like anyone here had planted such an impossible idea into her head—he hoped, at least. He couldn’t empathize, any and all memories of what or who he once was long forgotten, but his sympathy was still there. He was still there.

“Putting aside the logistics of finding dear Sage’s past home, I am uncertain how other scouts would react to her wish...” Cypress commented.

Their words had Autumn turn to face them in unnerved shock, unsure what they were implying. “^Do you think she shouldn’t get to rejoin her family, Cypress?^”

“Of course not, dear Autumn. Our village is not, can not be, a cage for her. To keep such a clearly human soul away from the family she wishes to reunite with is pure cruelty. And yet... I fear not all will see it this way, particularly when the risk of our village being revealed is concerned...”

“^Well, what other bloody way is there then!? Can that council of yours just not get enough cruelty, and would trap a child away from her family because it’s inconvenient for us!?^”

“Dear Autumn, I wish to remind you I am on your side. No, that would never be an adequate justification, no. I merely wonder what others will do once they learn of this. I can only imagine further paranoia, and I am not enjoying that image in the slightest...”

“~If any of yours even bloody thinks they’ll force her to stay here, then they have another thing coming!~” Yaksha shouted.

Before the children could grow even more uncomfortable at the ever-growing hostility in the air, the exchange abruptly stopped. Both Cypress and Autumn stared into the middle distance for a while, before focusing on each other, the realization clear on both their faces.

Cadence asked, “^Grandma?^” Before she would get a response, though, the two adults turned and left the room, coming to a stop right in front of the healer tent. The shift in mood was scary enough for nobody to be eager to investigate what was going on—not physically, at least.

Cadence felt Anne hold her tighter as she probed the rest of the tent with her aura, trying to spot what had chilled the air so much—only for Ember’s gasp to answer that question an instant before she found out by herself.

The fairy had no idea why Mrs. Cinder’s appearance would be so shocking to everyone, or why would it make Ember of all people so scared, but she wasn’t liking it one bit. In no time, both she and Ember were clinging to the blissfully unaware human and the other, littler fairy, the sheer tension in the room the only thing still keeping the latter awake.

Bell asked, confused, “Why is everyone scared?”

“~I-I wish I knew, Bell—~”

On cue, the two psychic teens in the room sensed movement in the tent once more, this time heading back towards them. And to their chagrin and confusion alike, the two familiar auras were accompanied by the third they had walked out of the tent to meet, with all three of them clearly feeling some combination of anxiety, sorrow, and anger.

Thankfully for everyone around, Cinder only showed the former two.

Cadence had never seen her be this shaken, by anything. Always proud, ever imposing, unwavering in her instructions, in her demonstrations, in her personality. And yet, there she was, a shattered mess with matted fur all over, a slouched posture, ears pulled back, and regret dripping from every single strand of fur. Her expression, entirely unfocused.

At least, until she finally dared moving her gaze from the carpeted floor to the little gathering on the bed, the sight sending fear through Ember and Anne alike. They knew what she had done, and there was nothing she could do to undo it. She couldn’t change the past, but the future was within her grasp, even if only some of it. And even if it wouldn’t amount to anything, even if she would rightfully never be forgiven, even if she’d truly wasted her one chance at life,

She had to try.

The room flinched as the Delphox dropped onto her knees in the middle of it, shrinking even further as she bowed towards her daughter. Before she could speak up, at last, the Braixen cut her off, “M-m-mom, Anne is my friend, she—she’d never hurt me! She-she just wants me to be happy, p-PLEASE DON’T HURT HER!”

The fear and urgency in Ember’s voice drove a claw through her mother’s heart, making her bleed tears. She remained slouched over as she visibly shook, expression scrunching in the agony of her own making, before finally responding, “^I-I won’t hurt you two ever again, Ember. I-I apologize, to you, t-t-to Anne. I’ve violated your memories, hurt her through inaction, I took away the hope the—the other provided, I... I’m sorry.^”

The Braixen had lost her fight against her tears at the same time as her mom. This hurt, even just being aware of what the Delphox before her had done hurt, how much pain she’d caused her, how much fear, how many panic attacks at having to relive her darkest memories without the human-shaped flame of home holding her at that very moment. Some of her wanted to shout, to shriek at the older vixen to leave and never come back, to yell about how evil she was—but she couldn’t.

Because she loved her.

She didn’t want to shout at her, or shriek, or yell, or run, or cry.

She just wanted her and Anne to be safe.

Quiet sobbing gave way to a piercing wail as Ember scrambled out of her friend’s embrace and staggered over to Cinder, thin arms clinging to her with all the strength they still had in them as their tears mixed. The Delphox could feel it all, she was too close not to feel that battle inside her daughter. And as much as she felt like she deserved the very worst, to be told to go through with what she’d unsuccessfully attempted and reduce her body to her namesake, that wasn’t for her to decide.

It was for Ember, and Ember wanted her mom. “I-I love you m-mom... b-but it hurts... it all hurts...”

And her mom wanted Ember, too. “^I love you too, Ember. I won’t—won’t hurt you again, I won’t...^”

With the single most strained action of her life, Cinder forced herself to look up at the bedding, forced herself to look the injured human sitting there in the eye. To take in the image of this harmless, spurned child and face just how much harm she’d done, how much vitriol she’d spewed in the name of hatred towards her. Not the people who had actually hurt her daughter, not the system that denied them safety, but another innocent victim.

She wouldn’t let herself forget until she died. And until then...

“^...I won’t let anyone hurt you, Anne, ever again.^”

...she knew what she had to do to make up for what she’d done.