CHAPTER 325

Fire in his back.

Denzel winced as he shifted slightly in the stiff hospital bed, the sterile sheets offering no comfort. The skin graft stretched taut across his shoulders, a patchwork of agony borne of something that wasn't his. Every breath he took seemed to ignite the raw nerves, sending ripples of pain cascading down his spine. The nurses had told him the pain would subside, that the burning sensation was just a part of the healing process. Hell, they'd even put him on a dose of painkillers that had dulled it to a manageable level, even if they made him feel like his stomach was turning inside out and it withered away all of his hunger.

In the few hours it had been since he'd awoken surrounded by doctors, who had then monitored him to see if he would be stable, Denzel had learned many things. One, since he'd woken up in the first place, the world had evidently been saved— this was the most obvious conclusion, but a huge fucking relief that had him sob the instant he woke up. No matter what lay in front of him now, it was over. Then, a cascade of good news. His friends had all lived through Coronet, as had his Pokemon. Froslass was being looked for in Coronet at the moment, but knowing her, odds were she'd left already and had begun making her way here on her own. Not only that, but the majority of his Pokemon were ready to be picked up from one of the Pokemon Centers on the island, which his dad had gone to pick up with his permission. Only Roserade would remain in the care of the Nurse Joys, but even she'd be healed within the next few days.

It was the little things like that, which could keep him smiling and thinking that life was going to get better from here on out. Honestly, he was just happy to be alive.

But he'd brought up his father, hadn't he? Life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, even if he'd hopefully never have to worry about anything of this scale ever again. At his side, his mother— Casey Williams— sat by herself, knitting some sort of mitten on her knee. An innocent activity, no doubt, but her mere presence loomed heavily in the room. She'd always had a big personality, and Denzel expected her to scold him any time now.

She hadn't changed since he had last seen her. His mom was somewhat pudgy around the waist, with his same light brown hair and toothless smile showing genuine happiness to be here, a stark contrast to her usual less-than-friendly resting face. She had wrinkles at the side of her eyes and lips. That was new, something Denzel assumed had been brought on by stress. It hurt to see his parents aging. It kind of reminded the teenager they wouldn't be here forever.

She hummed a song quietly, one he recognized from an advertisement for milk on the radio he'd heard countless times growing up. It was one of the tunes that really stuck in someone's head. Denzel occasionally spotted her glancing at him and grinning from ear to ear. She was, he noticed, uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, his mom would be nagging at something. His posture, his messy hair, his ambition— or, you know, the fact that he'd burned off his back. Really, it was odd seeing her just not say anything. Oh, they'd spoken, of course. Denzel had caught up with her, and while she'd tried to get some information out of him with his father, he had refused to give her any.

Casey had retreated after that, which was a welcome, if odd change. Maybe seeing him like this, unable to move without wincing at the pain jolting through his unfamiliar back, had made her turn a new leaf. Or maybe she'd come to terms with his condition after having been there for so long, watching over him

"What's the mitten for?" Denzel's throat rasped with each word. It had been unused for too long, and it was as if his body had forgotten how it felt like to speak. It was alien. "Just curious."

She laughed, hand covering her mouth. It was a tick she'd gotten as a child to hide her crooked teeth before eventually getting them fixed when he was around ten. "It's supposed to be an oven mitt. For the bakery."

"Ohh. Maybe I can help out a little bit; how's business lately?"

Ah, there it was. Her face scrunched up like wrinkled paper. "You shouldn't be standing right now, let alone 'helping out' anywhere; you should focus on your recovery for the foreseeable future."

Those words made him clench his fists, and that pulled slightly on his arms, where his back followed. Another bout of pain, although this one was dull enough to mask. She was right. Denzel knew she was, but she… she could have worded that in a way not so soul-crushing. Yeah, the immense strain of getting entirely new skin on his back meant he wouldn't be able to be independent or out of here for a while. The doctors had already explained it; they had a way of just talking to people that was just so fucking heavy. Like delivering the darkest news of someone's life as if it was just another day, and then immediately moving on to what to do next.

And yeah, it was another day for them. It was work.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

The graft would have to be monitored for weeks and taken care of as well. He wasn't just going to walk out of here tomorrow with a piece of candy like a kid going to the dentist. Hell, Denzel was certain that just walking right now would make the pain unbearable. The fabric on his clothes brushing against his back and the mere motion— the act of walking— pulling on it would be too much to bear.

Denzel was just someone who had to keep moving. He had never not done anything. He was always busy to the point that it had nearly blown up his team with Sylvi going crazy. The prospect of being stuck here watching the days go by was a terrifying one.

"That reminds me," she continued, hands working diligently. "I'll need to bring you food over, now. Arceus forbid you're stuck eating that dreary hospital food. You'll lose too much weight. You're still growing."

"Thanks. Can you bring cookies and pastries and stuff? Homemade?" he asked.

Her knitting paused as she considered his request. "I'll do my best. The hotel we're staying at doesn't have an oven, but I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Thanks mom— Oh. Oh." If he could have done so without pain, he would have slapped his forehead. "You guys are paying to stay here?" Had the League not let them do so for free? After everything? "If that's the case, I can help—"

Casey clicked her tongue. "That's your hard-earned money, Denzel," she softly said. "Keep it. I'm just elated to still be able to talk to you. Trust me, in a few months this will just be a bad memory."

"Yep. Hope so." The words led into a long exhale.

It wasn't as if he didn't have the money to pay. Being sponsored by so many companies plus streaming had made Denzel very wealthy this year, so he was sure he could have gotten his parents a rented home near the edge of town. Granted, his mother most likely would have refused because then they'd be so far away. Thinking about money reminded him about sponsors and how many backed-up emails he must have had. Finally, work to do.

"Hey, mom, can you do me a favor?" Denzel asked. He waited until she made a sound, signaling him to continue. "Do you know where they keep all of my stuff?"

She nudged her nose toward a small, narrow door that looked like a locker without a lock. "Some of it is in here, most of it is in a dedicated storage room for patients, like your big camera. If you want something from there, I'd have to ask the staff."

"Just my laptop. I need to talk to some sponsors—"

"Denzel, what you need now is rest," she insisted in that very annoying 'I know better than you' tone. "You woke up this morning. Can you take a break for a single day, at least? For your poor mother's nerves?"

But doing nothing literally felt like countless bugs crawling right beneath his skin. It was as if he'd been sprinting for a year and now everyone was asking him to stop. The finish line was literally nowhere in sight!

"This is actually important. I need to let them know I won't make the Conference this year so they can… adjust accordingly." That question was one of the first things he'd asked his doctors, and they'd said that while it wasn't impossible, they recommended he stay with them longer and take the L. Not like that— it had been said in more traditional doctor-speak. Basically, while it killed him to admit it, he would rather be safe than sorry and come back stronger than ever next year instead of risking permanent damage to his back besides the chronic pain that would remain. "Just that and I'm done, I swear."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "If you say so." She stood up with a dreary sigh, placing her knitting tools on the counter before shuffling over to the locker-thing. "Legendaries, where is that thing?" It took her a bit to locate the laptop. Denzel saw a bunch of the stuff he'd been carrying in there. His old backpack, notebooks, some clothes, some of his merch, potions, full heals… it was so mundane to look at now, but in a comforting way.

Laptop on his lap, he finally got typing, making sure he didn't have to extend his arms too far. Finally, something to do. The hospital's wifi was somewhat slow, but at least it was functional, and emails barely needed anything at all. Denzel would check those first while messaging his friends, and then he'd check the news.

Immediately, he opened his messaging app. From a quick scroll, the group chat's activity had basically evaporated the last two days, which was odd. Maeve had even left it last week, and Mira hadn't sent a message at all.

You - Yooo everyone. I'm up. When are yall coming over to visit?

He slowly sorted through his emails afterward. First things first, rehiring his manager. She'd been a great help and had aided with his promise to spend more time with his team, but he had given her a 'break' the last month— in reality, he'd just wanted to focus entirely on dealing with Galactic and had stopped anything content-related, so he would have been paying her for no reason. His video editor came next. If he wasn't going to be out of this room, then he would need to move his work in here. That was to say, streaming. Of course, he wouldn't be able to stream battles or training anymore unless he gave Lopunny his camera and let her commentate with some kind of TTS while he was on a call— holy fuck, that was a wonderful content idea, he'd need to put a tab on that; it would play a lot better than the react streams he was planning. Though maybe as a favor, he'd ask the League for streaming rights to the Conference. That'd be an earth-shattering stream. With that kind of juice and legitimacy, getting battlers on his stream for pre and post-battling interviews was well within the realm of possibility. Hopefully he'd be rehabilitated enough to walk by then—

So many concepts for content. Denzel's mind was going a million miles an hour to compensate his lack of agency. One idea led to another; endless branching paths of opportunity for growth. It was almost enough to distract him from the constant prickling in his back, but he'd nearly forgotten about his sponsors.

So;

Sponsors next… sponsors… okay, he had a lot to go through. First, a general message about his health and apologies for being so nonresponsive after his loss to Byron. Sure, his manager had picked up the slack, but that was until she'd been let go. Some would drop him, and that was fine. Having eleven companies sponsoring you left you a lot of leeway. He'd grovel and beg. Again, that was fine. Denzel wasn't above that; he'd never had much of an ego outside of battling and trainer knowledge, anyway, and the onus of being paid by so many businesses meant that your relationships weren't as tight as they could be unless you were a legend like Craig.

"Goodness," his mother nearly gasped. "I've never seen you like this. You look halfway mad and passionate."

His mom snapped him out of the zone. Irritating. "Well, I did tell you countless times this was my dream job…" it slowly sank in that this was the first time she'd ever seen him work. His eyes glanced to the bottom right of his screen at the flurry of notifications.

Cece - We have much to talk about and I am elated to see you awake again. I will be coming later tonight at 8:30pm if possible.

Emi - :)))) omw! looking forward to it!

Hothead - Your first message back is this bs? get a grip you ass

Hothead - Ive been at the hospitaal for hours already the docs told me ur mom wont let me in the room again talk to her or ill beat her ass and ur ass and ur dads ass there wont be any asses left to beat on god

Denzel barely reacted outside of his curling fists at what should have been a humorous statement. His nails scraped against his palms as he struggled to make sense of what his mom's reasoning was. He couldn't… blow up at her. No, he had to be level headed about this. He'd confront her when he was caught up with the texts.

Hothead - super happy youre up though ngl

Chase - Beating people up? Ill join in on that.

Hothead - Ok wheels

Hothead - Sorry was that too far im trying to be responsible and set boundaries

Huh? Denzel didn't really understand that… joke?

Chase - Got a chuckle outta me.

Chase - Kys tho. @Louis

Louis - ???

Chase - Fatfingered. Mb bro I meant Pauline

Louis - I don't think that's something you should say regardless, and I feel the same way about this 'wheels' joke. Denzel, I'm still very busy planning Justin's funeral for this week, I might not make it this morning. My best wishes to you.

Denzel found himself blinking a lot faster than before, chasing away nascent tears. Right, he'd been asleep for so long that the funeral was soon. Would he be able to attend in this state? Again, he looked at his mother. Would she fight him on this? Because one issue, he could forgive. Twice? She had better not start with telling him he couldn't go.

Every man had his limits.

Cece - We should go together, Louis.

Bff - Just woke up. I'll be there. Sorry.

Louis - If you don't mind, of course, Cece.

Hm. That was weirdly monotone of a message from Grace, reminding him of the days after the Backlot raid. Anxiety rippled through his next few breaths, and he struggled not to grip the side of his laptop. He had most likely missed a lot, and it would take hours for them to go through everything. He still had no idea if all his friends' Pokemon were safe. If Abomasnow was safe. Chase being upbeat in texts meant nothing, given his reticence at showing even a sliver of weakness.

You - Ill talk to my mom

"Hey." He'd begun to speak before even sending that message, making sure to keep his tone steady and calm. Evidently, he was struggling at it. "Is it true that you've barred all visitors today?"

His mother poked one of her fingers with the needle and cursed under her breath. She licked her wound before blowing on her finger. "Yes, I did," she calmly said without an ounce of regret. "Pauline King has been a thorn in my side the entire time you've been here, and usually I'd be too tired to fight her. The little hellion has endless energy to argue." Casey shook her head dismissively, placing her knitting set and half-made oven mitt on the table next to Denzel. "Have you—" her eyes narrowed at the laptop on his covers. "Ah. She messaged you, didn't she?"

"Her and all of my friends!" Denzel snapped. The anger rose faster than expected, and pain joined in as if the two were linked, flaring behind him. "What the hell is this about— about not letting her in now that I'm awake? About having tried to stop her before?"

"Watch your tone with me, young man." Her voice was firm and unyielding, enough to make him reconsider himself, yet he didn't flinch. "I have told you that I respect your choice to be a trainer, that I accept this is what you want to do. But these…" she gestured toward the door, "people have put you in danger time and time again."

"Mom, they're—"

She shot up, and her chair raked against the floor. "Do you know how worried your father and I were, when every few months it feels like you're getting yourself into another death trap?!" Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she took a sniffling breath. Denzel had only seen his mother cry once, and it was so striking. The guilt within him was nearly physical. "Do you want me to count, Denzel? Because I. Will. Count."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing—"

Her verbal assault was too relentless for him to get a word in. "Mount Coronet; you get lost for days trying to save your crazy suicidal friend and break your ribs. Solaceon; you get involved with some cultist conspiracy because that Pauline kid lost a tournament? Really?" She laughed, as if she could barely believe it. "Then, oh my God, then you join the LTIP and have secrets you can't tell me, and the next incident is you fighting poachers with ACE Trainers in Pastoria!" She was red with anger, and her voice was so raw it was barely held together by the urge to scold him after this year. "And now this? To hear that you were in Coronet again fighting Team Galactic? And that's— that's not even counting the involvement with the Bianchis and the Obels! I heard it all on the news! You are sitting in a fucking hospital bed, Denzel! Your whole back was burned and again, you could have died! I don't want to hear about how I'm the problem for making things a big deal!"

Casey Williams' entire body slumped, the energy now sucked out of her. She took a trembling breath. She stood there, her arms extended forward, hands open and palms facing up. Her fingers were slightly spread, trembling ever so faintly, as if they weren't sure whether to reach out or withdraw. The gesture seemed to plead for understanding, a silent question hanging in the air: 'What am I supposed to do with you?'

"These people are your friends, I won't deny that," she admitted. "But I am your mother, and it is clear as day to me that they have been a horrible influence on you and your safety, yet I don't think you realize it."

Denzel knew deep down that she was right.

Years, she had warned him about the dangers of being a trainer. 'It'd be different if we lived in Galar or Unova', she would say. That hadn't stopped him. Even now, passion to be the best trainer he could be and the need to educate others about it still remained, burning hot in his chest with enough intensity to make him so excited he constantly had to work to better himself.

But after this year? To his mother, his state meant vindication. Time and time again, he had come close to death, remaining too far away from Twinleaf for her to do anything about it.

"Look, I'll put it simply." Denzel wanted to get angry again, but it was difficult when your mother was still drying her tears and she had a point. "Yes, you're right that if I hadn't met any of them, odds are, my journey would have been pretty ordinary. Eterna Forest would have been the worst of it." He might have met an entirely different group with Grace, without that tournament in Floaroma. "But I promise you that it's the end of it, okay? No more life-risking endeavors."

He would do it all again, if given a choice. Usually, Denzel wouldn't have been bothered to admit it, but now wasn't the time. While yes, fifteen year olds were allowed to be trainers and travel and be independent, they were still minors who required parental consent to let visitors into their hospital rooms. Policy was a little different if you were in a Pokemon Center (like them allowing visitors in with consent from the patient if no legal guardian was present), but this was a human hospital.

Casey scoffed, disbelieving. "That's what you always say."

"I didn't say it after Backlot—" You know what, that was probably a bad line to take. "Anyway, I mean it this time. No more fighting for my life. Hell, I'll quit the LTIP if that's what you want!" It wasn't like it'd be needed as an excuse for his involvement with the League anyway. The income would be missed, but it was pennies compared to what he was making now. "I'll be totally uninvolved with the government. Just… I need to see my friends again, mom. You're just delaying the inevitable."

"What?"

"I hate to do this to you," he said with a wince. "But if you stall and don't let them see me now, I'll just go when I'm out of the hospital. You're my mom, yes, but that, you can't stop. So just… I'll be safe from now on. I promise."

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

"Look me in the eyes," she demanded, kneeling next to him—

"Mom, your knees—"

She gripped his wrist tighter. "Promise me and look me in the eyes. Every time you've said it before, it was over the phone. I want to look at your eyes when you say it, because I know you."

He nearly shuffled back in his bed, but remembered the torrent of pain it would bring. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, because the truth was he had no idea if sometime in his lifetime, his friends would need that kind of help again. If they did, he would answer the call, just as always. He'd be the stalwart, level-headed person in the room they could rely on in a time of crisis.

But right now? At this moment?

"I promise you."

He fully believed everything was over.

His mother locked eyes with him, searching for something. She stared deep within him for a moment and sighed, nearly stumbling with a pained grunt when she stood back up again because of her bad knees.

"I'll believe you," she said, turning away. "Legendaries, children. They grow up so quickly…"

"Thank you. And I'm sorry."

He really was.

She left the room to allow visitors soon after and said she'd wait in the hospital lobby.

—

Denzel had missed a lot.

It was tough for all of us to approach the news of what had happened to us in his absence in a way he wouldn't blame himself for 'tapping out early'. For the second time since Pastoria, he'd needed to be caught up on everything going on, but this time, he wanted it all down to the very fine detail. First came one of the biggest-hitting news: Chase being paralyzed from the waist down and his Abomasnow being on life support for the foreseeable future.

He blamed himself, of course he did. It was all about what he could have done better, how he could have prevented this, how he could have stopped Mars earlier. Not about how it could have been so much worse and he had burned his back off to save Chase's life. While Chase wasn't there to set him straight, Emi and Pauline did most of the heavy lifting in that regard to get Denzel's head out of the pity gutter. I would have helped, and I did, but it just… I wasn't in the best state of mind to give out advice compared to those two.

I took over for basically all of the recounting of Coronet. He reacted especially strongly to me noting that Cecilia technically died. He'd paled and immediately stared at his laptop at previous texts before I could even tell him she was fine, at least physically.

"I don't want to speak for her, though, so… yeah, you'll see when she comes back."

Denzel frowned, and for a moment he did not look bothered by the pain, but distressed by how my face must have looked. Sometimes I wished I could be as selfless as him. Here he was, bound to a hospital bed with his back burned to a crisp and built back with new skin, and he put all of his worry in me instead of himself. Maybe if I'd been like this, I would have managed to fix Cecilia's and my issues instead of it coming to a head. Maybe I'd still have her. Maybe I wouldn't have ruined—

"Grace?" Denzel leaned forward with a slight wince. "What's wrong?"

I bit my lip. "Later. There has to be an order to things."

I continued with Coronet, and while I went further here than I ever had, telling Pauline and Emilia for the first time that Cecilia, Maylene, Mira and I had all been to the Dusk with Cynthia, I refused to tell the reason why that was or what had happened in there.

"Is that why… why you're so… faded?" he had asked me.

I'd answered 'partly', and that was when his surprised expression turned to pity and he clenched his fists.

The final piece came with Craig's death to Regice; it was another gut punch for Denzel, given that he'd been the closest to the man. That was when he'd broken down crying, curled up on himself and desperately asking why? Craig Goodwill had been his mentor and idol, the one who had set him on the path of a Pokemon Trainer and also the one who had taught him the way he now battled in Sunyshore. The man Denzel went to for advice whenever he had the time; a kindhearted individual who wanted nothing but good for the world and yet who had been ruthlessly ripped from its plane.

The world was an unforgiving place. Beautiful, yet unforgiving. With how Melmetal seemed like a force of nature in Lakhutia, a Pokemon larger than life who embodied metal, I could not imagine facing down Regice and not immediately withering away to Winter.

"And yet he, Flint and Aaron saved us all," I insisted to Denzel. "They survived the Hoarfrost— Winter— long enough to tire it out and keep the mountain's temperature stable. His death was not in vain!"

"And he's getting the recognition he deserves," Emilia added, far softer in her tone. "There'll be a ceremony for him Friday."

"The day after Justin's…" Denzel didn't finish the sentence.

"Yes." Pauline nodded with her arms crossed. "Hopefully your mom and the hospital lets you go to both. We have beef."

Denzel let out a sad laugh. "Beef? With the whole hospital?"

She huffed proudly. "Yep. They get mad at me for arguing with your mom over visits." Her pride wavered, however, something I still wasn't used to seeing. "Though I guess I'm a bitch being rude to the hospital staff who just want to do their work…"

Emilia gently nudged her arm. "You just wanted to see him, we don't hold it against you. Maybe apologize now that the issue's solved, though."

The redhead nodded. "Hmhm. Wait, will they even care?"

"Odds are, probably not?" Emilia tilted her head and hummed. "It's a good thing for you to learn, though."

"Learn? What am I, your pet? Arceus." Pauline rolled her eyes as they both chuckled.

Ah, they were having a great time, weren't they? They were kind of fun to watch. I didn't want to interrupt. I let them explain the majority of what went on after Galactic, with us all sticking around the Lily of the Valley Island. Even I learned some new things about what they'd been doing in their every day lives. Eventually, and unfortunately, both of their heads turned my way. It was my job to deliver the news about Cecilia.

Even days later, I despised speaking it out loud. Childish, really.

"Cece and I…" my thumbs fiddled together, "we've always been close. Too close. And it got a lot worse after all of this, so…" I took a deep breath. It was like jumping in a cold pool. "We're on a break."

He relaxed, as if he'd expected me to tell him we'd broken up. "Oh. Like— like after the raid. Okay."

"It's more serious," I muttered. "The problems were magnified, like, tenfold. It's going to take a while for both of us to fix them, not just a few weeks. And she's starting from a worse spot than I am because her team is mad at her for killing herself."

"Yeah. That makes sense." His lips thinned, and he shifted in his bed. He did that a lot. Like he couldn't find a comfortable position, which made sense considering his condition. I wondered how he was going to sleep tonight. On his stomach? "I'm sorry you both have to go through that. I guess that's why she wanted to show up later." Legendaries, I'd nearly considered not texting in the group chat because she'd gotten to it first. In fact, just seeing a sign of activity from her had made me want to leave the chat because I feared I'd try something. Luckily I managed to stay the course and not interact with her. "And hey," Denzel continued. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here, yeah?"

"Thanks. But I'm gonna be leaving soon…"

I told him about my plan to go to Jubilife and live both there and in Twinleaf for the time being. Granted, we'd hopefully see each other again at the funeral and the ceremony… but maybe asking him for advice about Maylene would be good beforehand.

Come to think of it.

Even if I managed to avoid the Gym Leader successfully, we'd still both be at the ceremony for Craig in Jubilife. Every Gym Leader would be, along with the Elite Four and the Champion as well.

Arceus fucking damn it. Well, I'd manage to avoid her somehow. There would be thousands of people there, after all. The real issue would be avoiding Cecilia in the much smaller-scale Justin funeral. I'd held back over text, but who knew what I'd do if I saw her?

Maybe I'd just skip. She deserved to be there more than me, since she'd known Justin for far longer—

No, I had to be there. No catastrophizing. I would manage, somehow. My Pokemon would keep me centered.

"...lost in her thoughts, just leave her be."

Oh. They'd been trying to talk to me.

"Sorry, what was that?" My eyes suddenly felt dry. When was the last time I'd blinked?

Denzel raised his eyebrow. "Um… Pauline said something about Maylene?"

Was she fucking for real? The glare that came her way was unintentional, but it sure made her shrink. "How do you even know that? I thought Cecilia didn't tell you?"

"W—well, she did last night a few hours after we spoke, alright? She felt guilty about not telling me everything after all we'd been through." So I had no say in this? I couldn't help but not like that. The redhead raised her hands innocently. "Look, I—I didn't know it was a big secret? You guys are best friends? I thought we were telling him everything!"

Emilia pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "My goodness."

"Look, you don't need to talk about it if you don't want to," Denzel hurriedly said.

"No. Hey, Pauline, Emi, could you give us five?"

—

Look.

Honestly, I was sick and tired of this judgment over this Maylene thing. Recycling the same conversation over and over and over; there was just no end to it. It felt like rehashing the same points again and again, and people's reactions were always the same. Like they knew better than me.

"Are you like… positive you don't like her?"

It was like I was being put under a microscope again and again. It was annoying to say and feel one way and have everyone doubt you and not take you seriously. 'Oh, are you suuuure you're not in denial about this whole thing?' Well, I don't know, Denzel, I'm going to reject her when Cecilia comes back when her relationship with her Pokemon is fixed, so you tell me! I was going to! It was going to suck, but I was clear-headed enough now to know that our friendship might survive that, especially with long distance making coping easier. Plus, she hadn't even liked me for that long!

Anyway.

Of course I didn't say all of that; the last thing I wanted was to get angry at him when he had no idea I'd been asked the question so many times. He was just waking up, and his eyes were still red from having cried about Craig. If none of us had been here and he'd found out online, he might have still been beside himself.

"Yep," I said. "Certain."

"Oh. Okay." The way he'd said that felt weird, but I had no energy to fight him on it.

Actually, fuck it. "I mean, come on. You were there when I was into Cecilia; you know what I'm like," I said with an exasperated sigh. "You saw it in Floaroma! I was nervous and I could barely hold it together in front of her!"

His expression shifted to one of thoughtful acknowledgment. "I mean fair, but I haven't seen you around Maylene at all— I still can't believe that, by the way. Maylene? She hates— hated you. Hard to wrap my head around." He blew a raspberry as he shook his head. To him, the last time he'd been awake Maylene and I had a tense alliance at best. "But like, you know there are different… ways to love someone, right?"

"Oh yeah! I mean, for example, I love you, but in a family sort of deal. I'm sure Maylene's the same; I've given it some thought lately—"

"No," he interrupted. "I mean different ways to fall in love romantically." He glanced at the door. "You saw me with Pauline back in the day, right? Did I look nervous around her at all?"

"N—no, but that's because you're you. You're like, a master at handling people, you don't get nervous. I'm different." I had to be. I was three for three.

"What do you feel when you think about Maylene?" he asked.

"Anxiety. Discomfort. Anger. The need to stay away from her."

"Okay. How about two days ago?"

I threw my hands up in frustration. "What's the point in any of this? You can guess from what I told you anyway." It was the way he wanted to make me speak it out loud, to wrangle it out of me as if he could get a confession that got to me. This was why I hadn't wanted him to know just yet, because I was sure he'd be the one to push this the most. He had been my wingman with Cecilia, and while I doubted he would try anything here given his… experience with these types of forced situations with three people, he most likely would keep digging and try to give me advice I didn't need. There was, however, no way I'd be able to resist that look. The sparkle of interest in his eyes. "Ugh, fine. I guess she was relaxing to be around and… whatever. Like she could give me something that was missing. It was mindless fun, at least until I realized everything. Plus I learned it'd be best not to rely on a single person for that kind of stuff. We're better off like this."

"Fair enough. Sorry for pressing you." We shared a slight smile at the apology. Denzel added, "Getting back to me, do get nervous sometimes, though I guess my sample size is a little low; I haven't really been in love that much." He shrugged, then winced, remembering the state of his back.

"How many times?"

"Twice. The first one was when I had a bit of a crush in school on this girl, Cori. You know, the usual. She left on her journey and I couldn't go. We don't keep up anymore, but I hear she's in Hoenn these days." He tapped his thigh with a hand and stared out the window. The weather was beautiful today— Wait, twice? That was once less than me! "I was a little nervous around her, but I chalk that up to inexperience more than anything. Anyway, I won't harass you about it, I just don't believe you."

"You what?"

"I don't believe you," he repeated as clear-cut as could be. "You can reject someone and still feel something for them. You can love someone while still being in love with someone else, especially if she gives you an escape like you've described. It's not a big deal, and I'm not telling you to pursue it or try to make it work, especially not now."

"It is a big deal!" How could he not get it? Wouldn't he be hurt if someone he liked fell in love with someone else? "It would mean I betrayed Cecilia, and if you can't understand that, then we're better off not talking about it at all."

His brows slowly creased into a frown. "I'm sorry. I just think that I know you well enough to figure this out and that your actions speak otherwise, but I'll stop—"

No. Enough of this. "I have to go. I'll see you later."

I was up before even realizing my legs had moved. I couldn't deal with this. I was better off trying to get in the groove of training again and visiting later when Cecilia was gone. I was done with everyone not believing me. Sooner or later, they'd see. I sent Emilia and Pauline back into his room before leaving and made my way up north.

—

"Oh. I get why Pauline called you wheels now. Sorry about her. They didn't tell me you were out and about in a chair already."

Chase rolled his eyes and inched forward into Denzel's hospital room. At least he'd had the decency to keep his pity and guilt to a minimum. "I'm not soft enough to care about that bullshit."

"Obviously. She wouldn't say it to a stranger, anyway," Denzel said. "Not anymore."

Chase looked around the room. All of his friends had left, but his Pokemon were apparently back. Lopunny was crouch-sitting in the corner of the room with her phone, browsing through whatever the Chatter algorithm was feeding her. That creepy little shit Sylveon was laid down next to Denzel on the bed, a flurry of ribbons wrapped around his left arm. It looked like he was asleep, at least.

Milotic kept poking Denzel's face with his, softly squealing in joy every time he realized his trainer was actually real and Altaria used Lopunny's head as a substitute for Denzel's now that he was hurt. The normal type didn't seem to mind. This place was a whole lot livelier than his, with how his mother had decorated the place. Denzel's pillow was clearly not from here, given the Pikachu-covered casing. There were flower pots all over, along with a picture of Denzel as a kid on the bedside table. He was smiling like there was nothing wrong in the world with a big gap in his teeth, firmly sitting on a tree stump next to an unwary group of Bidoof. It was as if they were the most interesting thing in the world to him.

He'd also been fatter than Chase thought he would have been, but his growth spurt probably had stretched him out.

"Huh. How old were you in that?" Chase asked, nudging his head toward the picture frame.

"Oh, this picture? I think I was eleven. Maybe twelve."

"What? You look six."

"Fuck off, no I don't!" Denzel protested. "You're late, by the way."

"Yeah, my bad."

Chase had been out in the last few hours practicing moving around on a wheelchair. Mostly, he'd gone to pick up his team, being now confident enough of his ability to be independent on his wheelchair to actually let them see him. They'd met again and spent the entire morning together, though the news about Abomasnow hit all of them hard. They were a unit. One that trained and stuck together through thick and thin. It hurt to hear that it would be years before they could even hope of seeing him again.

Of course, they'd thrown themselves into training right away with this new plan of his to speak to Byron through battle. Ri had been especially hungry to start again, and Chase had used the opportunity not to work out his arms— that would come later— but to work out his mind. The fight would be a delicate one where messaging would be key and all eyes would be on him; he could not afford to be rash and reinforce this idea the mainlanders had of Iron Islanders just being stupid, poor people who didn't know what was for their own good.

No. He would do them justice.

"You're looking fired up over there," Denzel said, snapping him out of his thoughts. Chase realized he'd nearly bumped into his bed and woken up that abominable fairy. Heavy sleeper, that one. "What're you thinking?"

"Thinking about beating Byron's ass. That always gets me out of bed in the mornings," Chase said, cracking his knuckles.

A beat of silence passed. "You know, I thought you'd be taking this a lot worse." Denzel looked him up and down, his stare lingering on Chase's now defunct lower body. "But it looks like you're picking yourself up."

"Look, I've been dealt a shit hand, it's true. No one can deny that," Chase admitted partly to himself. No matter how much he worked, no matter what he told himself, no matter what his actions would be from now on, at the end of the day he couldn't walk. "But that's all it is. A shit hand. And hey, we nearly killed the bitch for it in the process, I'd call that a fair trade even if it's bullshit." His finger twitched at that. Damn it, he couldn't even fully believe it himself yet. There was another few seconds of silence, and he took a steady breath. "But yeah, at the end of the day, the house has been spitting in my face since I walked in. My mother died bringing me into this world." God, he had never met her, but he missed her so much. He needed to visit her grave again. "But hey, what can you do but keep your head down and keep going?"

Denzel stared at him in awe, as if he hadn't expected such introspection. Come on, at least don't make it so obvious. Chase's friend carefully itched his arm, each movement slow and deliberate. "I don't know. I thought you'd be angry. Not at me, but at… everything."

Chase scoffed. "Oh, anger. You know a year ago, I'd have thought that would have been the play." His hands gripped the side of his wheelchair. "Rage against the world for being so unfair while pretending none of it hurt me before crying myself to sleep at night. Be an ass to everyone around me."

"To be fair," Denzel said with a shit-eating grin, "you're still kind of an ass."

"I get to be a little bit of an ass, as a treat," Chase cackled, his laughter mixing with Denzel's. Lopunny heartily nodded in the corner of the room. "And to be honest, you're the exception to the rule, you fuckin' creep. I've never seen you get mad. Frustrated, yeah, but never that angry. What's up with you?"

"I do get mad; I got mad at my mom earlier today. You're right, though, it doesn't happen very often. My dad's the same," Denzel said with a shrug. "I mean, we're all people at the end of the day. I can't see myself yelling at anyone, ninety-nine percent of the time, really."

Chase squinted at him. Even after all these months, he couldn't figure Williams out completely. "You weirdo. Anyway, I can't do any of that anymore, or no one's going to take me seriously. I'll look like a loon who doesn't know what he's talking about." Chase snapped his fingers. "Funny thing about politics is that people look at you weird if you're that angry unless you're an Arceus damn Kalosian."

"Very… expressive people," Denzel acknowledged with a nod.

"Y'know I read they have fistfights in their fucking legislative bodies sometimes. Shit's crazy, but they're my kind of people— anyway, the point is that you shouldn't worry about me. I'll be fine, Williams. Focus on your own thing; you're good at that." Chase had rarely seen such a dedicated, disciplined person. According to that asshole Pauline, Denzel had been working right out of the gate as soon as he'd woken up. Meanwhile, Chase had taken nearly days of wallowing in his own self-pity to get moving again. "I hope you'll be at my battle with Byron, though."

His friend smirked. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Thanks. Trying to get all the gang together for it," Chase said. It still felt surreal to him, to be angling for a position as Byron's Gym Trainer, but he could get more change done from the inside.

Ri had better train up his steel type quickly, as had the rest of the team. Even Wimpod had gotten a fire lit under her— not that he would let her participate in the battle, she was too precious. God, he couldn't wait to give that fucker Byron his job offer.

"Any news on Mira?" Denzel worryingly asked.

"The shrimp's busy on her quest for love. I'm not one to get in the way of that, I'm glad she's moved on from me." Their dynamic had been fun, but he'd discovered more of himself these past few months. Romance was a fucking bother and a worthless time sink, and one look at all of his friends proved him right. "I hope she'll be at Justin's funeral, at least."

"Hopefully. I hope she's at least got a lead."

"Cheers to that." Chase raised an imaginary glass. "Anyway, got any advice for this Byron fuck? Since you lost to him and all." It'd do him well to last the longest amount of time possible for his pitch.

"Yeah. You're still a bit of an ass," Denzel repeated to himself. "But sure, I've got tips. Here, let me pull up footage of my battle…"

—

The main way Cecilia had of judging people was now their initial reaction to her. People were divided into two categories. One, the people who shied away or were terrified of looking her in the eye. These were prey, from whom she took great pleasure from. Cecilia knew this was now as instinctual to her as breathing. Ghosts took great pleasure from negative emotions, given that was what they'd been born from. Alas, she hated that jolt of pleasure and the sliver of a smile she had every time someone was unsettled or at least shook or taken by her appearance. It had not been supposed to be this way.

Yet it was.

There was a second kind of pleasure, brought by the human half of her which thankfully remained. The way eyes and faces danced with pleasure at the sight of her whenever she met with her friends. She had been nervous about Denzel's initial reaction to her, but her old friend was thankfully too good for this world. The moment Cecilia and Louis stepped into his room after knocking, he beamed at them with such a bright expression she figured she might have been going blind. He looked as if he'd been struggling to make any movement, however, and they knew a hug wouldn't be possible.

"We missed you," Louis said, clearly relieved. During the way here, he'd made his opinion about how Denzel must have been hiding how bad he truly was heard, but their friend looked at least to be functioning. Granted, he was on painkillers. "How has your first day back been? Have the others caught you up?"

Cecilia enjoyed letting Louis speak. He was a kind man with more sweetness than he knew what to do with. She opted to let him catch up with Denzel for a while, instead retreated into her own thoughts—

No. She could not. Or she would regret her choice again, and her phone was only a mere gesture away. She'd needed to use Scizor to snap her out of a trance with a loud buzzing sound before she could text Grace once she saw her in that group chat. Luckily she hadn't used it since, and neither had Cecilia. Things would hopefully get easier tomorrow once she got Slowking back, but…

The number of times she had nearly slipped was more than ten at this point. The sooner she was off this island, away from anywhere with reception, the better. And yes, it was getting easier. Slowly. Each day, the water drowning her was an inch lower than the last. The problem was there were countless inches to go through.

Instead, when the time came to tell Denzel about herself and her death, she did so, making sure to express regret at what she'd done. He could barely believe his ears, and sometimes even she couldn't believe she'd survived. To not only have learned Perish Song, but to have used it to bring her back? Lehmhart had always been good at music, but he was a true prodigy. The impact of the news was a little blunted by the others having told Denzel earlier today.

"And Cece?" Denzel spoke up. "How are things going? I heard about the break and… everything else surrounding it. Sorry about everything, I hope you guys fix what you've got going on."

She opened her mouth, but realized it had fallen too far down to make the sound she'd wanted. Instead, a strange, low-pitched grunt came out. "S—sorry." The way her body worked was cumbersome, sometimes. "I hope so as well. It's… difficult, but I count each day I survive as a blessing."

A sad smile stretched across Louis' lips. A smooth expression Cecilia had been able to make, once. Now nearly everything on her face was sudden and violent. "We're all here for you, Cece. And look, you've said it yourself, right? This is for the better."

Yes, she had said that a whole lot these past two days, mostly to convince herself.

"I'm surprised about the Maylene thing," Denzel said. When Louis stared daggers at him, he raised an eyebrow. "What? I can talk about it. Wait, can I talk about it?"

"I'll tell you if it's too much." Cecilia inclined her head, making sure to catch it before it went too low. A mild success, she'd found.

"I kind of pissed Grace off earlier by bringing her up. She came back later, but… yeah, she was still stewing," Denzel said. "Should have known to not insert myself into this stuff. It's a flaw of mine."

Ugh. Just hearing her name was— "Maybe don't mention her by name," Cecilia muttered. "It's… tough."

"Shit. Sorry, you were right, Louis—"

"No. It's my fault for being so emotionally weak," the Unovan lamented. She rose from her chair and walked around the room. There were signs of Pokemon here. Lopunny's fur scattered across the room; the floor slick with water from Milotic; an impression on the bed where Sylveon had been. "The truth of the matter is, Maylene isn't a variable in this situation." She stopped to look through the window. It was so dark, yet it felt like she should have been able to see regardless.

"Isn't she?" Louis asked. Even he was surprised.

"She was the catalyst for everything, but the issues ran deep. Maylene will be fine regardless; her crush on her is an unsustainable one. Immature." Cecilia had seen it even more when they had spent the afternoon together yesterday. Luckily, the Gym Leader hadn't brought up Grace too much, focusing instead on what both she and Cecilia could learn from each other.

"Gra— her crush on you started as an immature one. Mostly based on your looks," Denzel said. "But you are leaving, so I guess you're right— wait, what's going to happen if you two don't get back together by Unova?"

Cecilia wanted to collapse as a pile of body parts on the floor. How should she know? "I am uncertain, but she has her own part to play and I have mine. That doesn't change whether we're together or not; this is how relationships are supposed to work." At least Emilia had told her so. The truth was, Cecilia wasn't really sure about what normal relationships were like.

"Things will work out before then, I'm sure," Louis reassured. Cecilia hoped so too, but there was a lot of work to be done. So much toiling. "Let us move on to more positive matters. Denzel, I saw that you posted on Chatter on our way here…"

Ah, Louis. Bless his soul; he was trying even if it wouldn't work for her. It did not mean she couldn't try. She threw herself into the conversation, which devolved into a social media training course from Denzel. Her friend was adamant she needed to be more active if she wanted to be a politician, and he was right. Unovans were very active online on their own version of Chatter run by X Technologies, including Gym Leaders and the Elite Four. She would need to build a following and post about her activities, along with her pleas.

Cecilia had been so reluctant to come here tonight, but…

This place;

It was suffocating, but things were getting better. Inch by inch.

—

A/N: Kind of a bridge chapter filled with conversations and character interactions, but it had to be made. Next chapter is finally the Mira Interlude…s? Idk it it'll take a single part or two.