Chapter 81 - Dominoes

Outside.

Celebi drifted through the timeless forest, weaving amidst the green that surrounded them. Leaves made of moments and branches made of years extended far beyond view. The laughter of a newborn tumbled through the wind, settling near roots born from the sorrow of a Kangaskhan who had lost her cub. The little pixie fluttered from root to canopy, watching as the tree grew mighty, nourished by that single leaf. And on the top, the cheers for the Kangaskhan whose strength had become so great she saved all the children in her village, swayed gently with the winds of destiny.

Higher they soared, far beyond the canopy, where the air thinned and the starless night sat above time. They paused only when they could see the entire forest and even glimpse parts of the next one. Not that the other forests mattered. This was their own—the forest they had been tasked to nurture and cherish so it would grow strong and healthy.

Well… not really tasked, as much as felt compelled to. The powers-that-be had instructed them only to observe and never interfere. But really, why create them with a divine spark of caring if it wasn’t in the job description?

Celebi huffed, dismissing the thought as they focused their eyes on a cluster of branches obscured by thick, warping smoke, distorting reality around it.

Time had rules. Far too many boring rules. Celebi knew them well. Yet all the convoluted aspects of this particular wing of creation could be distilled into a principle so simple it was almost beautiful: cause and effect—and destiny. But even destiny was bound by cause and effect.

What wasn’t bound by those rules were those who could rewrite reality on a whim—beings who could make candy cane sprout from a willow seed without a second thought for logic or causality.

And naturally, out of all creatures in the universe, Celeste had to encounter those.

Celebi clicked their tongue in irritation. They had honestly expected the girl would remain protected by the winds blowing her way, no matter how hard her older self tried to meddle.

But no wind blew inside that smoke.

With another huff, Celebi swooped down to the edges of the rising fumes. They weren’t foolish or sentimental enough to dive inside, but not everything was shrouded from sight. They could see young Celeste running, see her bonding with her shadow in ways the Celeste they knew never had. They watched branches splitting into possibilities. A tear. A tea party. A father. But those were fragile offshoots. Not all branches grow strong; some simply wither and die, as is nature’s way. That, too, was part of the interconnectedness of their forest.

All these budding possibilities, and countless more, sprouted from a single leaf, almost invisible within the warped reality the Unown had crafted.

But, of course…

She had to make herself essential in this mess, too.

Beyond the tangle of vines and moss and smoke, Celebi could see young Celeste standing still, staring down the barrel of a cannon. By His glory, she was loud. Not her voice—her words came out barely above a whisper—but with her heart. She chose her Pokémon, her (though mostly their) mind, over her own life.

Celebi’s breath caught. The energy surged around Celeste, crackling, wild, until it burst—the mirage shattered, unleashing the raw power of the Unown. It swallowed the girl whole.

This was bad.

They shot forward, eyes darting to the branches overhead. They could see them wilting, twisting.

This was really, really bad.

When they had allowed the older Celeste to play with time—Celebi was meant to watch; no one had mentioned they couldn’t let others meddle—they hadn’t anticipated a paradox. Well… that wasn’t entirely true. They had expected one, only not this soon.

The pixie grumbled, cursing the Unown under their breath. Chariots of His word. Pff. No one even liked those stuck-up letters. Except… what was this tingling sensation in their fingers, filling them with joy and excitement?

Their antennae twitched. A grin crept across their face.

If the Unown were bending reality, surely Celebi could tweak a branch or two, right? Just a small, harmless touch. They weren’t breaking the rules. That was just… maintaining order.

A giggle escaped them.

Their eyes darted from leaf to leaf, and even through the smoke.

This was a big, big mess that could have been avoided had they simply ignored her when she first confronted them. But alas, Celebi hadn’t ignored her then, and now…

Now they got to have fun, too.

With a twirl and a sparkle, they danced among the trees and branches, momentarily losing themselves to become one with the green. They tweaked a twig here, whispered to a leaf there.

What was that game humans like?

Dominoes?

Oh, Celebi had always wanted to play.

Another giggle bubbled up as they watched time unfold in all its exuberance.

—*——*—

Cinnabar Gym - Lobby - November 13th - 1h30PM

Caleb Raines perched on the very edge of a plush, oversized sofa in the lobby of Cinnabar Island’s Gym, his back straight as if even the cushions couldn’t get him to relax. The steady patter of rain outside was distant and drowned out by the soft hum of the TV and faint voices echoing from the hall. His eyes kept flicking to the corner of the television screen, where the time sat in bold white: 1:30 PM.

Half an hour. In thirty minutes, he’d be stepping onto the battlefield.

It was hard to believe. Only half an hour. Caleb had never been good with time. It always slipped through his fingers, no matter how carefully he planned. And now, more than ever, it felt like it was running out faster than ever.

At the start of his trainer career, he had chased badges across Hoenn, but for two years straight, he fell short, unable to collect all eight by year’s end. He could still picture the meetings with his sponsors at the Weather Institute, their smiles tight and patience thinner each time. “You’re a great trainer, Caleb, but you take too long to prepare for your battles.”

They weren’t completely wrong.

In his first year, he’d earned five badges. In his second, he’d only managed three. “But I had decisive victories all three times! I even swept Wattson. Who does that?” he had told his boss. Ex-boss, to be exact. Their response had been blunt: “No one does that, Caleb. For a reason.”

By his third year, Caleb had packed his bags and moved to Indigo, where trainers could take as long as they needed to collect their badges. No year-end rush, no looming deadlines. Trainers even had the option to choose between the Kanto or Johto circuits, depending on their style. More flexibility. More breathing room. It was exactly what Caleb needed—space to work at his own pace, space to be himself.

This all felt quite momentous now.

It had taken years. Not all his victories were as decisive as he wanted, and there had been plenty of setbacks. But here he was—on the verge of earning his eighth and final badge.

Almost…

“Leader Blaine likes explosions,” Caleb muttered under his breath, the eraser of his pencil tapping against the page of his notebook, which lay open on the armrest beside him. “There’ll be steam if I make it rain…”

He glanced at his sketched diagram of the battlefield, brow furrowing as he adjusted the lines and Pokémon placement. If this was his last battle for a badge, it had to be flawless. A six-on-six sweep might be too ambitious, but victory could still be decisive, even if the whole team had to get involved.

Only thing was…

Caleb chewed the inside of his cheek, flicking his eyes up to the TV mounted on the far wall. The news broadcast showed Dr. Fuji, head of Cinnabar Labs, stepping out of a helicopter earlier this morning, patting a large cardboard box like it held some grand secret. Cinnabar’s news had latched onto it—nothing else exciting was happening today. Caleb ignored the doctor’s droning and focused instead on the corner of the screen.

Twenty-five minutes until his battle.

Odd. The Gym Trainers still hadn’t come to take him to the prep room.

Caleb’s gaze drifted back to his notebook, lingering on his planned lineup of Pokémon and matchups. He wasn’t usually one to make drastic changes right before a battle, but he wasn’t completely satisfied with what he had. When he arrived, one of the Gym Trainers had mentioned he’d be fighting in Arena 3. In all his research, he had rarely seen Blaine use that field. It made sense, though. Arena 3 was the hottest of all the gym’s battlefields, with large pools of steaming water. Too hot for most water Pokémon, sure, but also inconvenient for Blaine’s fire-types. His Water-type wasn’t most. And it seemed like the trainers organising his battle thought he’d appreciate having more room to manoeuvre with Gale. It didn’t matter to him, however—he had ways to ensure his Sharpedo was just as fast out of water as he was in it.

In fact… that hot arena threw off the whole strategy.

He sighed, tapping the edge of the paper. Monsoon was supposed to be his opener. His Castform, who could bring forth any weather even in the underground arenas of this gym, was meant to set up the rain. And with the cloud cover thick enough, they could keep the battlefield soaked for the entire match, weakening the Fire-types. But in this heat…? The rain would sizzle out into steam in seconds.

Caleb’s hand wavered as he hovered the eraser over Monsoon’s name.

“Changing this close to the battle…?” he muttered, slouching forward in thought and—“Whoa!” he yelped, jerking back when his forehead collided with someone else’s.

The kid in front of him—still ogling his notes—rubbed his head and bounced back with a grin. Caleb’s eyes followed the sunglasses, which jiggled wildly on the kid’s lapel before settling on the big Volcano Insignia plastered on his vest.

“Hiya, challenger!” the kid chirped, bright and bubbly. “I’ve never seen a trainer with so many notes before.”

“Uh-huh…” Caleb adjusted his glasses, pushing a stray dreadlock out of his vision as he gave the boy a polite but confused smile. “So…?”

The kid just stood there, grinning, waiting. Caleb held his smile a beat longer before awkwardly turning back to the TV. The weather forecast was predicting rain for the week—an improvement over the freak blizzard in Sevii that had messed with the waters of Indigo Bay a while back. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. His eyes drifted to the time again.

Ten minutes until his battle…

Caleb cleared his throat softly, hoping to prompt the boy into saying something.

It worked—kind of. The boy’s grin widened.

“I’m Dan!” he announced, voice loud enough to echo in the otherwise empty lobby. “And this is my partner, Wax.” He gestured to… the air. The empty air.

Caleb squinted at the empty space, then back at Dan, who turned red as the seconds dragged on. Caleb offered him an apologetic smile, unsure what else to do.

“Oh man, Wax! C’mon, we’re impressing the seven-badger here!” Dan yelled at nothing.

Okay… Caleb’s eyes flickered to the clock on the television again, trying to make the kid notice the time.

Eventually he did.

Dan scratched the back of his head, following Caleb’s gaze. “Uh, right. Leader Blaine’s caught up with some personal stuff. He says sorry, but your battle’s been pushed back to 5 PM.” He made an exaggerated bow, almost falling over. “You’re free to have lunch in the cafeteria, or use the gym facilities if you want.”

Caleb blinked, trying not to let the relief show too much. More time to prepare? Before the most important battle of his career? Yes, please.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding. Then, after a beat, “Can I check out Arena 3 by any chance?”

—*——*—

Southern Harbour - Playground - 1h40PM

Cheshire gently pushed Amber’s swing with his tail, the soft, slow rhythm making the world feel like it was swaying with her. The sky above was a gloomy grey, like someone had painted over the sun. Little raindrops from earlier still clung to the leaves, and everything smelled fresh and wet. The Skitty purred, flicking his tail again, and the swing went higher. Amber giggled softly. Nearby, Twiddledee and Twiddledum—her two teacup-shaped Pokémon—floated in and out of sight, their tiny forms spinning around her like they were dancing.

“I wish it was still summer,” Amber whispered to her Pokémon, sneaking a glance at the puddles glistening nearby.

In summer, there was sunshine, no school, and no uniforms to mess up. Now, her blue skirt and white blouse were already smudged with dirt from sitting on the wet sidewalk. Mommy always said not to play in the mud, because she’d get sick, and getting sick wasn’t nice. But puddles were so much fun. They made the world look upside down, just like in her favourite book, and Amber loved that. Everything was more fun when it was a little topsy-turvy.

Not too far away, Mommy and Blainy were talking. They thought she couldn’t hear them, but Blainy was always loud, even when he tried to be quiet.

“Her father was supposed to pick her up, not you,” Mommy said, her eyebrows scrunching up the way they did when Amber let Whitey play indoors. Blainy rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sorry.

Amber liked Blainy. A lot. He was the one who gave her Whitey and all her other Pokémon friends. It had started with Whitey, back when she was in the hospital for a whole month. That was when she was five, and it was the worst. But when she finally got better, Blainy took her to the Gym and showed her all the baby Pokémon. Whitey was there, hopping around with his feet on fire, and he looked just like the White Rabbit who was always very, very late for an important date. The next day, Blainy showed up at her house with a Pokéball tied with a red bow. Inside was Whitey! Then, a while later, when she said she loved pink kitties like Cheshire, he brought her Skitty. And for her last birthday, he gave her Twiddledee and Twiddledum so she’d always have friends for tea parties, even when the other kids didn’t come.

Daddy said she should thank Blaine twice—once for the gift, and twice for not filling their house with fire hazards.

“You can’t always cover for him, Blaine!” Mommy’s voice got louder. Amber’s daddy and mommy didn’t live together anymore. She hated that, almost as much as she hated rainy days without rainbows.

Blainy shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I know,” he mumbled, looking at his shoes. “Didn’t you have some clients coming over?” he quickly added, trying to change the subject.

“I do,” Mommy sighed, waving towards the busy harbour where big ships bobbed up and down. “I planned this meeting because Ren said he’d be here. He promised to pick her up from school—which he didn’t. Then he said he’d meet us here—which he hasn’t. He also said he’d spend time with his daughter today. But we both know how that goes…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced over at Amber.

Amber quickly looked down at her shoes and whispered to Cheshire. “Go higher, please.” His tail pushed the swing a little harder, making the wind ruffle through her hair.

“My client’s ferry is arriving any minute, and I can’t have Amber out in the cold while I show them around,” Mommy said, her eyes stern as she looked at Blainy.

“I…” Blainy started, fiddling with his watch. “I have a battle scheduled soon. I don’t feel right leaving her with the Gym trainers after spending the day alone…”

Mommy rubbed her forehead like she had a headache. “Can you take her to Cinnabar Labs for me?” she asked. Amber didn’t like it when mommy looked so sad. Why couldn’t she and daddy just be happy together again?

Blainy sighed, pulling out his phone. He typed something quickly, then looked up and smiled at Amber. His moustache twitched, the ends curling up when his eyes met hers.

“So, little Ember,” he said, making the ‘E’ sound extra long. “What are we gonna do today?”

Amber’s heart felt a tiny flutter. “My name is not Ember, Blainy!” she giggled.

He gasped dramatically, his eyes wide. “What? I could’ve sworn you were made of fire!”

She laughed, jumping off the swing and running over to hug him. His coat smelled like campfire and peppermint. “Can we fly on your Charizard today?” she asked, her eyes shining with hope.

Mommy gave Blainy one of her looks, but he just winked. “Charizard? Oh no, kid. That’d be waaaay too dangerous,” he added, with a small laugh.

—*——*—

Cinnabar Labs - Room 4B - November 13th 3h13PM

Babs scrolled lazily through Silph Co’s career page, her finger dragging along the trackpad like it was stuck in molasses. The last sip of her energy drink had gone lukewarm in her mouth, and honestly, it wasn’t doing much to keep her awake. She hadn’t slept last night—not a minute—and now… now she was forty. Forty. The big four-oh. And what did she have to show for it? Ten years spent at Cinnabar Labs working for a temperamental, delusional boss, who threw a tantrum every time his ethically questionable projects hit a roadblock.

“Silph offers dental, Lady! Freaking dental!” she said out loud, staring at the benefits tab in disbelief. Her voice bounced off the walls, met only by a half-hearted buzz from her Ladyba.

The Bug-type, who she’d caught exactly two years ago when she’d flirted with the idea of ditching everything to become a trainer, was neatly unpacking the fireworks for the birthday party her coworkers insisted on throwing and reorganising it in another box. It wasn’t like Babs had volunteered for this party. In fact, she regretted it deeply. A party she didn’t even want, yet she still had a checklist of things to buy.

What she really wanted was to go home, bury herself under a blanket with a bucket of ice cream, and binge some trashy romance until she passed out.

“There’s Razzo too… Their main office is in Vermilion, not Saffron. But they don’t offer dental.” She opened another tab, eyes glazing over. “What do we prefer, Lady? Vermilion is by the sea…”

Lady didn’t glance up, continuing to sort the fireworks until a soft knock disrupted the monotony.

“Hey, girl!” It was the temp from the reception—a chipper twenty-something who had been temping for far longer than was reasonable. She bounced into the room, carrying yet another box. “You heading to that big Tanoby project meeting?”

Babs made a noise somewhere between a groan and a hum. No one knew what this “Tanoby project” actually was. No one wanted to know. And certainly, no one was eager to endure another of Fuji’s tirades about their “narrow minds” incapable of grasping his “genius.” The thing was no one had the energy to argue with him anymore either.

Most just avoided him like the Pokérus and carried on with their day.

“Can you take this box there?” the temp plopped the new box next to the fireworks’, her eyes lighting up when she noticed them. “Oh my Arceus, the party is going to be so fun tonight, Babs! Seriously, everyone needs this. You’re a hero, girl! Anyway… aren’t you late or something?”

Before Babs could even answer, the girl vanished down the hall. Late? Avoiding Fuji was practically a game in itself these days, but meetings had a way of catching up to her.

She sighed, glancing at Lady, who buzzed sympathetically before closing the firework box with a few annoyed clicks. At least Lady understood her pain. Babs muttered some words of gratitude, returning the Ladyba to her Pokéball. She wasn’t even supposed to have Lady out in the building, but who cared at this point?

Heaving herself up, she trudged to the corner and stacked the two boxes. They felt heavier than they looked. Struggling under the weight, she navigated toward the elevator, vision obscured by cardboard edges. She jabbed the ‘up’ button with her elbow, silently pleading for the doors to close quickly.

Just as they began to slide shut, a hand darted in, stopping their progress.

From beneath the boxes, Babs saw small feet step inside. A bright, cheerful voice filled the elevator. “Flying is the best, Blainy!”

This wasn’t just any child—it was the child. Amber Fuji’s teal hair was unmistakable.

“Need some help?” Another voice chimed in. The top box lifted from her grasp, and the weight eased. Babs tilted her head to see Leader Blaine smiling kindly beneath his bushy moustache. His frequent visits had made him a familiar sight, and the staff was long past the point of being starstruck.

“Thanks,” Babs mumbled, blinking a little at the unexpected help. Blaine didn’t seem in a rush to chat, for which she was grateful. The lift doors slid shut, and for a moment, the quiet was comfortable.

As the lift dinged open again, Blaine stepped out, gently shaking the box. Something rattled inside. He frowned. “Hmm, where should I…?”

“Fireworks,” Babs offered a faint smile. “For a party later today. Could you take them to the lounge?”

“Ah, fireworks! Sounds fun!” Blaine said with a nod, before glancing at Amber with a hesitant look. “Uh, if you see Ren, could you let him know we’re here?”

Babs just gave a short nod back, wondering for the millionth time how someone like Blaine ended up being friends with someone like Fuji. It made no sense. One was warm, approachable. The other… not so much.

As Blaine headed toward the lounge, Babs shuffled into the conference room, hoping to slip in unnoticed. No such luck. Fuji’s sharp eyes locked onto her the second she stepped through the door. She set the box down in the corner as quietly as possible, but it didn’t matter. He immediately started toward it, muttering something about “utmost care” and already reaching for it.

Babs didn’t even bother listening. She just wanted another energy drink at this point.

“Dr. Fuji,” she cut in, “your daughter and Leader Blaine are here.”

He froze mid-motion, widening his eyes. For a moment, it was like he’d forgotten everything else. Mumbling something incoherent, he turned from the box, never really inspecting it, and darted from the room, announcing they’d start the meeting shortly.

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The second he was out of sight, Babs slumped into a chair at the oversized conference table. The projector on the far wall flickered on, displaying some ancient ruin or another. Great. Now they were working on archaeology?

“Hey, Babs,” one of her coworkers nudged her. “Don’t forget the drinks you brought. They need to go in the fridge before the party.”

The drinks! She’d forgotten the drinks. Were they even on her list? She couldn’t even remember.

A surge of panic rose within her. She shot to her feet, more distressed about the unwanted party than that useless meeting.

“Cover for me,” she hissed, already edging toward the door. Not that it mattered. Maybe if she got fired, she’d finally have the nerve to send her resume to Silph Co.

Dental plan and a reasonable boss sounded really nice.

—*——*—

Cinnabar Gym - Arena 3 - November 13th 4h48 PM

Dan sprinted across the hot arena floor, his trainers barely touching the ground as he raced to his spot. Late, again. He was always late for gym practice, but referee duty? This was a million times worse. Every step made the bottoms of his shoes feel like they were on fire, and he could practically feel the eyes of everyone watching him.

“Run, Dan, before Blaine gets here!” Rayla’s voice boomed from the front row, followed by a ripple of laughter. He tried to ignore it. Viv had told Cas, who told Max, who told Dan that Rayla was totally jealous Blaine had picked him to be supporting referee at an eight-badge battle. And who could blame her? These matches were the hottest, and he had the best seat in the house!

Blaine always paired a rookie (second badger) referee with an experienced one for battles above five badges—it was meant to be a learning experience. Today was supposed to be Billy’s turn, but Billy had a dentist appointment at five, and somehow, none of the Second Badgers were around when Blaine called to move the battle forward.

Which was totally flaming, because Dan was right there, ready and available. Which might lead to the question—

“You’re late,” Cas muttered as he skidded to a halt beside her. Cas was a six-badge trainer with a Combusken she’d been insisting would evolve ‘any day now’ for two months. “I had to prep the challenger in your place,” she added, her Combusken crossing her arms and nodding by her side.

“Sorry!” Dan panted, still catching his breath. “I was looking for Wax.”

Cas glanced around, then back at him with a squint. “Again? Where is he now? You know Blaine’s going to—”

“I know, I know!” Dan flailed his arms a bit, like that’d stop her from finishing the sentence. Blaine’s rule was that referees needed their Pokémon beside them in case something went wrong. Dan thought it was a little over the top, since there were barriers and nothing ever went wrong. But rules were rules. He inhaled deeply and called out for his Pokémon.

Right on cue, his Litwick appeared above his head, his tiny flame flickering cheerfully. Dan grinned widely. He’d promised Wax that if he stayed put for this battle, they wouldn’t do anything boring for a whole month. It wasn’t Wax’s fault he loved to explore; Dan loved that about him, even if it did make them late for literally everything.

Cas rolled her eyes but tried to keep it professional. “Blaine came in a little while ago. He looked… not happy.”

Dan’s eyes went wide. “Dinah told Viv, who told Billy, who told me it’s because of Amber. Again.”

She snorted. “Did you see him on TV earlier? Acting like Dr. Fuji’s not completely creepy?”

“That’s called friendship,” Dan said brightly. Wax did a happy spin above his head, trailing a soft glow. “Anyway, what about the challenger? Rayla told Max, who—”

“To the point, Dan.”

He grinned. “Terrain trainer. Weather expert. Isn’t that sooo flaming?”

Cas scoffed. She was more of a Fire Punch, Blaze Kick kind of gal. “That’s totally icy. He’s gonna lose.”

“I dunno,” Dan said, bouncing on his heels. “I saw his notes earlier. They were just—”

“Pshh, here comes Blaine,” Cas hissed, cutting him off. With a quick flick of her hands, she slipped on her sunglasses, and Dan scrambled to do the same. Constant exposure to bright lights could be bad for their eyes, so Blaine insisted on the sunglasses rule, but Dan didn’t mind. It was flaming.

The speakers around the arena then crackled to life, and Max’s voice, who was doing commentary today, filled the gym, announcing Leader Blaine Forge and challenger Caleb Raines. This was a full six-on-six battle with four allowed switches. The audience clapped enthusiastically, though the gym wasn’t as packed as usual for Eight-Badge battles. Between the rain, the fact it was off-season in Cinnabar, and the last-minute schedule change, the crowd was thinner than expected.

The signal to begin buzzed, and both trainers released their first Pokémon. Blaine sent out Lahar, the Gym’s Alolan Marowak, who casually tossed his bone club into the air and caught it, striking a cocky pose like he’d already won. Across the field, the challenger released something Dan had never seen before. His eyes widened in awe. The Pokémon looked like a cross between a Ledyba and a UFO, with a shiny, metallic exoskeleton. Its wings had this strange, spiralling glowing patterns that spun around and around and…

“Whoa—?” Dan murmured, blinking as slowly, only snapping out of it when Cas jabbed him sharply. The battle had already started.

“You didn’t study the challenger’s lineup, did you?” she muttered. “You’re supposed to study before you referee, Dan.”

He scratched his head sheepishly. “Oops? I…uh… I didn’t have time?”

“That’s an Orbeetle,” she explained quietly. “Bug and Psychic type. He’s probably setting up Psychic Terrain. Look.” Cas nodded toward the steaming pools of water around the arena. The surface of the water was rippling like it was alive, bending to Orbeetle’s will. “This guy taught his ace—a Sharpedo—to ‘swim’ through psychic fields.”

“Whoaaaaa, that is so flaming.”

“Dan!”

It was her Combusken who gave him a small kick to “behave”.

On the battlefield, Marowak darted forward, dragging his bone along the ground like he was about to strike a match. The instant it ignited, Wax let out a tiny squeal from his spot on Dan’s head, and the whole arena flared up as Lahar unleashed a blazing Flamethrower. The flames roared across the field, lighting everything up. But the challenger’s Orbeetle didn’t flinch. With a smooth motion, it sent a wave of water surging up from one of the pools, effortlessly gliding around the smoke and stray embers as they fizzled out in the air.

Cas scoffed. “His ace is still a fish, Dan. Dinah even felt bad for him. Figured Arena 3 would give him a better chance to adapt.”

Dan barely heard her words, his eyes glued to the battle. The Orbeetle hovered higher, making its psychic energy crackled in the air as it tightened its control over the battlefield. Streams of water shot up from the pools, surging toward Marowak. Blaine’s Pokémon countered with a fiery Bonemerang, but even that was caught and swallowed by Orbeetle’s psychic control, and the spinning bone held mid-air before dropping into one of the pools with a splash.

Marowak fumed at that, letting his flames dance wildly around him, as frustration set in. Blaine’s voice rang out, telling him to focus, but the challenger seized the moment, calling for a Confuse Ray. Dan’s grin widened—he loved that move, even if it wasn’t the strongest.

But Orbeetle didn’t do it.

Instead, waves of Psychic energy flared across the arena. The water swirled faster, and the barriers around the Pokémon—the ones that were supposed to keep things safe—began flickering, pulsing in the same strange way. Even the Gym Delphoxes in barrier duty looked completely out of their depth.

“Is… the Psychic Terrain messing the barriers?” Dan asked, stepping back as a ripple of energy surged toward them. Wax quickly intercepted it, burning it away with his ghostly flame.

“What the hell?” Cas muttered, her Combusken raising her fists as if it could punch the psychic energy away.

And then—

A screech. Loud and piercing.

Dan didn’t know what was happening, but he instinctively grabbed Wax into his arms. The ground rumbled like the volcano beneath them was angry, and he stumbled, clutching his ghost even tighter. The Litwick’s flame dimmed, but Dan felt a strange warmth seep into him, like Wax was shielding him from whatever was happening.

Then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

Dan cautiously opened one eye, then the other. The arena looked… normal? Yet, something felt off. Wax’s flame was dimmer, and something inside told Dan not to let go.

“Huh…” Cas trailed off.

He glanced at her. She seemed different—more relaxed, almost dreamy. She removed her sunglasses, blinking as if seeing the world for the first time.

“Don’t you think staying underground is so dreary?” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “And these sunglasses make everything so dark!”

“Cas, the battle’s not over! Blaine’s gonna freak!” Dan yelped, his eyes wide with panic. But Cas just shrugged, completely unfazed, and started sauntering off toward Viv, who, for some reason, thought it was perfectly fine to stroll in there during a match.

Dan whipped around, his eyes darting to the battlefield. The challenger had stepped onto the field, with his Orbeetle hovering above him as he spoke urgently to Blaine. Something wasn’t right. Even Marowak stuck close to Blaine’s side, glancing around, almost… nervous?

This… wasn’t how battles were supposed to go.

Unsure of what to do, Dan rushed toward Blaine.

“…and don’t you think we can protect them all?” he could hear Blaine asking.

Caleb didn’t answer, but both men stared up at the Orbeetle, still hovering by.

Dan’s footsteps splashed through the puddles as he came near, catching Blaine’s attention. The Gym Leader glanced at him, then at Wax, like the little Litwick was some kind of explanation.

“Where’s Cassia?” the Gym Leader asked.

Dan hesitated. “She’s… acting weird,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at Cas, who was now laughing with her friends.

Above them, the Orbeetle emitted a sharp, clicking sound.

Blaine’s eyes darkened. “We were lucky,” he said in a lower tone. “The timing was…” He trailed off, turning to Caleb. The challenger said nothing, but his gaze was locked on the Orbeetle.

Dan shifted nervously, his feet splashing in the water. Then Blaine’s voice boomed, shattering the silence.

“Everyone out!” he barked, gripping Dan’s shoulder to hold him in place as the remaining spectators strolled for the exits.

Dan could only glare.

“I will need you to step up right now, Daniel.”

—*——*—

Southern Harbour - Marina - 8PM, November 16th

Ariana sprinted through the maze of warehouses lining Cinnabar’s Southern Harbour, her combat boots pounding against the cracked asphalt. Every few strides, she’d cast a sharp glance over her shoulder, crimson hair whipping across her face like flames. Rebel, her Murkrow, clung tightly to her shoulder, his claws digging in as he struggled to keep his balance with each abrupt turn.

“What the fuck did I get myself into?” she muttered, her jaw tight enough to crack.

A quick day-trip to vent to Gio about her shitty dead-end job had somehow turned into a three-day nightmare. Now, Gio was acting like some grinning idiot, Officer Jenny was breathing down her neck, and this whole goddamn island felt like a giant fucking trap. The worst part? She had no idea how the cops even got involved. Then, on top of that, every ferry was conveniently out of service, the phones were dead, and she couldn’t even radio HQ—it was like everything was designed to screw her over. None of it made any sense. And if Jenny didn’t slap cuffs on her, her boss would definitely kill her for ditching her post for so long.

“Just my luck,” she snarled under her breath. “Should’ve stayed playing nursemaid to that asshole at the Seafoam Islands.” The thought made her shudder. Things had to be seriously screwed up for her to prefer that.

She skidded to a halt at an intersection, scanning both directions. Left? Right? Left?

Right. Her gut said right.

And thank fucking Arceus it did.

A minute later, a small, half-lit marina spread out before her, dotted with a few beat-up motorboats lazily tied to the docks. The knots securing them were laughably amateurish. She smirked, untying one with a swift tug and leaping aboard. But when she glanced at the ignition—no key.

Of course, there wasn’t one.

But no problem. She’d hot-wired enough cars to figure this out. Boats couldn’t be that different, right? Ariana knelt beneath the helm, fingers searching for a panel.

As she did so, Rebel’s talons dug into her shoulder, wings twitching like he might take off. But she knew better. Last time he’d flown off, everything had gone wrong. She barely remembered it, just this suffocating, desperate urge to claw her way out of her own head. But her screams stayed locked inside, twisting into a laughter she couldn’t control, like her body was betraying her. Like she was physically incapable of caring for anything.

“Chill out,” she muttered, finding the panel. “Just give it a quick push, alright?”

The Murkrow cawed, uneasy.

“Just a Night Shade.”

With a reluctant fluff of his feathers, Rebel’s body darkened, crimson energy bleeding into the cracks of the panel. With a series of metallic clicks, the cover popped open, clattering to the deck.

Ariana exhaled, tying her hair back, feeling the sticky salt of the sea air cling to her skin. “Alright, let’s do this.” She poked her head into the mess of wires, and… Shit.

Boats didn’t work like cars at all.

Her hand hovered between two wires, trying to figure if it was red to blue or blue to black, when she froze at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Officer Jenny? Already?

She tensed, ready to bolt, when two figures rounded the corner.

They weren’t Officer Jenny. Trainers, by the looks of the Pokémon following them. The first was a tall girl with short, curly brown hair and a constellation of freckles across her nose. A big ass Incineroar padded beside her, muscles rippling under striped fur. The second was a kid, maybe twelve, with a Litwick bobbing cheerfully above his shoulder.

“Gym trainers.” Ariana’s eyes narrowed, spotting the Volcano insignia stitched onto their vests. They couldn’t be with the police… could they?

“…Murkrow with her,” the kid whispered, a little too loudly, as they made a beeline for her.

Ariana sized them up quickly. The kid and his birthday candle didn’t worry her. The girl and her oversized fire-cat—that could be a problem. Not that she’d ever admit it.

“Hey there!” the girl called out, offering a disarming smile.

Ariana resisted the urge to groan. She’d just spent three days dealing with Gio’s creepy, fake smiles, babbling about “finding love” and how he didn’t want to ever go back to Viridian. Now this chick was smiling at her too? Yeah, no thanks.

“Whassup,” she said, jutting her chin up before turning back to the boat like hot-wiring was the most legal, normal thing ever. Let them try to stop her. Gym trainers weren’t cops. She checked.

“Uh, are you… trying to hot-wire that boat?” the boy blurted out, his enthusiasm barely contained. “That’s so flaming—ouch! I mean, not flaming. Totally not flaming. It’s icy!”

Ariana’s eye twitched. “Uh. What the hell?” She spun toward them, glaring. “This is my boat. Okay. Not doing anything illegal here.”

The gym girl arched an eyebrow, her smile unwavering. “Oh, you’re with the Cinnabar Coast Guard?” She gestured to the flag flapping at the stern, with the letters C.C.G. waving mockingly in the wind.

Shit.

“I… it’s my—”

“We get it,” the girl said, jerking her head toward her Incineroar. “Something happened here a few days ago, right? People are acting strange—they are unnaturally happy, or unbothered by anything. Only trainers with certain types of Pokémon, like Dark-types, seem unaffected. We can see through whatever’s happening.”

Ariana frowned at her. “I’m not taking passengers.”

“Totally not flaming, sister,” the kid chimed in, flashing a smirk as his Litwick clapped, like it thought its trainer was the coolest thing ever.

The older girl sighed. “Look, yesterday some people tried to leave the island. They got a few knots out before a mist rolled in. Once you’re inside… they said it was like your nightmares start coming to life.”

“Sounds like a bad trip,” Ariana scoffed. There was no way there was fucking mist. In fact, the weather had been freakishly perfect for the past three days. “Thanks for the campfire story, but I’ll take my chances.”

“Why do you think the ferries are down and the phones are dead?” the girl pressed.

“Maybe this place is just a dump,” Ariana shot back, returning to the tangled wires. Rebel shifted again, talons gripping tighter, like he was trying to make her pay attention to those gym idiots. “I’ll make sure to leave a one-star review once I’m outta here.”

“We’re gym trainers!” the kid piped up, puffing his chest out.

“No shit?”

“My name’s Dinah,” the tall girl said, taking a step closer. “This is Dan. Like I said, something happened a few days ago. We’re still piecing it together, but our gym leader Blaine was in a battle with a Ghost Pokémon when it all started. Ghosts offer protection, too. As do Bugs. It’s not good for you to stay out here on your own. As it is, we cannot protect the entire town, unfortunately. But you are welcome to stay at the gym with us.”

Ariana paused, glancing at her Murkrow. She remembered the exact moment three days ago when Gio’s eyes went soft. It sucked. She… had been feeding Rebel then, and he’d suddenly become agitated, and… yeah.

“Figured you’d be the type to wanna save everyone,” she muttered, twisting the wires together again. The motor sputtered to life, then quickly died. Damn it. If this was true, maybe she could steal a Dark-type from these losers and throw it in Gio’s face. Wake him up, snap him back to his senses, and let him figure out a way off this rock. That sounded a hell of a lot better than going into some nightmare fog on her own—not that she actually believed them.

She gave the wires another twist. The motor rumbled, sputtered, then died. Again.

Dinah sighed. “Look, I get it. It’s hard to leave people behind, but—”

“You don’t know me,” Ariana shot back, yanking at the wires again. Nothing. “And I don’t give a damn about anyone else. I just want off this shitty island—not hole up in some bullshit gym.”

“The gym is totally flaming! You’d love it.” The kid jumped up like some Growlithe who dug a bone.

Yep. She wasn’t going anywhere flaming—whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Ariana just shrugged, ignoring him, and scanned the marina for a better boat. As she stood to move, Dinah grabbed her arm.

“You’ll be safe with us,” she said softly.

Ariana froze. …Safe?

Dinah’s Incineroar stepped closer, offering a hand, while the gym girl looked her in the eye.

“You can trust us.”

—*——*—

Cinnabar Gym - Security Room (B2) - December 5th - 7h22 PM

Dinah’s footsteps echoed through the underground corridors of the gym, her body running on autopilot. Patrol again. Dinner had already been served, and Kit—her Incineroar—was helping out in the kitchen. It was a relief, honestly, that she didn’t have to keep him at her side down here. At least she could spare him from the never-ending list of tasks Blaine had dumped on her. Inventory checks, settling disputes, organising schedules, keeping morale up—it felt like she was responsible for everything.

And she was. She was the most senior gym trainer left. This was her job now. But, Arceus, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“But Blaine and even Caleb are giving it their all…” she muttered under her breath. “I can’t…”

She paused at a junction, contemplating a quick detour to grab a cup of tea—anything to pause for a moment. But before she could decide, a distant rumble echoed through the halls, followed by the unmistakable sound of a small explosion emanating from Arena 2.

“Fantastic,” Dinah muttered under her breath, her fists tightening as she fought the urge to stomp down the corridor. The last thing she needed was yet another mess to deal with. But she couldn’t run to Blaine every time some new problem popped up—not with the gym’s underground floors packed with dozens of people. It was her responsibility to handle this, no matter how ridiculous the issues got.

She was beyond exhausted, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her. She wasn’t going to let Blaine down. Not now. Not ever.

As she approached the entrance to Arena 2, she could see flickers of light dancing against the walls. “If anyone’s battling in here, let me remind you that Leaderb Blaine has strictly forbidden it!” she shouted. “The next person caught will be on toilet duty for a…”

She froze mid-rant. It wasn’t a battle. It was… fireworks?

A silvery shimmer hung in the air, sparkling like tiny stars. A Ledyba hovered, scattering the dust, while a Litwick’s flame flared to ignite the sparks. Dinah squinted. Wait. A Litwick?

She scanned the area and spotted a woman clapping enthusiastically at the show—obviously the Ledyba’s trainer. No one else was around.

“Damn it, Dan. Can’t you keep an eye on your Pokémon for once?” she muttered through clenched teeth as she approached the woman. She wasn’t even a trainer—Dinah remembered that much. Some scientist from Cinnabar Labs, the only one lucky enough to have been out shopping when the psychic creatures took over. No Pokémon were allowed in the labs, which explained why none of her colleagues had escaped the mind control.

Yeah…

Blaine, Caleb, and—most importantly—Caleb’s Orbeetle, were convinced there had to be more trainers with Bug, Dark, and Ghost Pokémon still on the island. But no matter how much they searched, they came up empty. Orbeetle had a theory: whatever spell had taken over Cinnabar was making people forget to release those types from their Pokéballs—almost like it was hiding them away on purpose. It was awful for the Pokémon stuck inside, even if they were technically safe in their Pokéballs.

But anyway… that wasn’t here nor there

Approaching the scientist lady, she forced a polite smile. “Enjoying yourself?”

The woman spun around, her face bright. “Oh, hey! Didn’t even see you there,” she said, gesturing to the Silver Wind still shimmering in the air. “Isn’t it nice? With everything going on, I’ve been doing some soul-searching, you know? And I’ve realised—nothing scares me anymore.” She beamed even wider. “So, I’ve made up my mind—I’m quitting my job and moving to Saffron!”

Dinah raised an eyebrow, taking a deep breath. “That’s… quite a decision.”

“It is!” the woman beamed. “Lady here is celebrating with me, and this adorable little ghost just joined in!”

Dinah inhaled deeply, forcing a smile. “Well, despite this being a fire gym, we’ve got a no-fireworks rule at the moment.” She bent down, scooping up the Litwick. He squirmed and flared his flame, trying to disappear, but one sharp reminder about her Incineroar’s claws was enough to calm it down.

At least the scientist woman seemed to get the hint and left, waving cheerfully as she went.

With the Litwick secured, Dinah made her way through the winding corridors toward the security room where Dan and his Pokémon were supposed to be stationed. She knew the ghost was restless—being cooped up in a gym, staring at walls, wasn’t exactly a thrill—but still…

Reaching the security room, she didn’t bother knocking, pushing the door open with a firm hand. “Dan, you need to keep a better eye on your—”

She stopped short. Dan wasn’t alone.

“Icy, Ariana, very icy.”

“Fuck off.”

Dan, usually a ball of energy, actually looked angry. And Ariana? She wasn’t even supposed to be in here, yet there she was, leaning against the security monitors like she owned the place, her Murkrow perched on her shoulder with its beady eyes gleaming. The bird let out a sharp, raucous caw, somehow perfectly mirroring his trainer’s laugh.

Great. Just… great.

“Did she try to sneak out again?” Dinah sighed, half-watching the Litwick twirl around Dan, as if he hadn’t been throwing a fit moments ago about being dragged in.

“I don’t know.” Dan huffed, folding his arms. “But she’s been telling people where we’re hiding.”

Ariana laughed. Or was it her Murkrow’s caw? Hard to tell. “Why would I do that, dimwit? If this place gets busted, I’m screwed, too.”

Dan’s eyes flashed. “Then explain why some girl was knocking here earlier, yelling ‘Ariana, I know you’re here! Open up, Ariana!’ And she didn’t have a dark, ghost, or bug-type with her—just a Slowpoke.”

Ariana’s eyes darted to the side, but she shrugged. “Never seen any girl with a Slowpoke. Sounds dumb.”

“She called your name. Explain that.”

Ariana rolled her eyes. “Maybe there’s another Ariana? Or maybe your ears are clogged with ghost wax. ‘Cause you clearly didn’t hear me when I said, ‘Fuck. Off.’”

Dinah cleared her throat. “He’s twelve. Can’t you watch your language?”

Ariana huffed, while Dan continued explaining. Apparently, when he got to the security room, the system had logged a recording. The gym’s cameras automatically recorded when someone rang the bell and no one answered—something Dinah didn’t even know the system did. But when Dan checked the footage, he saw the girl with the Slowpoke calling Ariana’s name, looking desperate.

He replayed the clip. The girl on-screen didn’t look like the mind-controlled people wandering Cinnabar. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t calm—none of that glazed-over expression everyone else had. In fact, she looked pale, her eyes wide and frantic. Exhausted. Terrified.

“Talk,” Dinah said plainly.

“I don’t—” Ariana started, then snapped her mouth shut, eyes narrowing.

Honestly?

Dinah counted herself lucky she was the one who’d found her that night. Another team of trainers had been searching for trainers that day, too, but Ariana would’ve chewed them up and spit them out. She’d have ended up in the gym either way, but at least this way, she had a little respect for Dinah.

“Whatever, her name’s Celina, or some crap like that,” Ariana said, pausing just long enough for her eyes to flash with something unreadable. “Yeah, we’re pals. Cecilia—uhh… Celina. Cee and me. We’re reeeal close. I even made sure her annoying, dumb friends are safe over at my buddy Gio’s. No clue she was here, though.” She smirked, a little too wide. “But she’s cray-cray. Yep. Totally unhinged. Bless her heart. She poked at Fake-Joy until it started hunting her. I told her to lay low while I checked with you amazing Gym folks if I could bring her in, but she was all, ‘Oh, no, I don’t wanna put you in danger.’ Then she took off.”

“Whoa! She sounds so flaming!” Dan yelled.

Dinah slapped her hand to her face. “So why’s she knocking here, if she’s trying to be heroic?”

Ariana shrugged again. “Dunno. I never told her about this place. Maybe she’s tired of running solo after a week.”

“A week?” Dinah’s voice rose. “She’s been out there alone with a fake Nurse Joy after her for a week, and it didn’t cross your mind to tell us?”

“Uh… it might not have been that long.” Ariana folded her arms tightly across her chest, suddenly looking smaller.

Dinah felt a hot surge of anger flare up, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. The weight was just a lot—gym rounds to finish, tomorrow’s breakfast, checking the nursery. She was being pulled in every direction, stretched thinner than she thought possible. And now this? Another crisis dumped on her lap because someone couldn’t be bothered to care?

She pointed a finger at Ariana. “You. You’re coming with me to see Blaine.” Turning sharply, she pinned Dan down with her eyes. “And you—keep your Pokémon in line. Report anything like this immediately next time. Do you understand?”

Without another word, she spun on her heel and marched toward the door. By Moltres, she needed a day off.

—*——*—

Cinnabar - Multiple locations - December 6th 1h59AM

One week. A whole week that girl had been lost and alone because of his oversight.

Guilt weighed heavily on Blaine’s shoulders, pressing down on every step he took. Every day he failed to resolve this crisis was another day he betrayed the trust of those he had sworn to protect: the townspeople of Cinnabar, his dedicated Gym Trainers, everyone who looked to him for guidance. The realisation he’d been failing had struck him hardest when Dinah had burst into his office earlier, eyes brimming with tears she struggled to hold back. He hadn’t seen how much strain he’d placed upon her, how he’d inadvertently burdened her with responsibilities that should have been his alone.

And then there was this poor kid—

“Ugh, can’t you go any slower, old man?” Ariana shouted, dragging her feet behind him and Caleb.

Ariana was another problem. According to Dinah, she’d been far too scared of Officer Jenny when they found her trying to steal a boat. A typical case: young, rebellious. Probably just needed someone to guide her, if she’d actually listen.

“Why are you forcing me to do this again?” she groaned as they rounded a corner.

She made it really hard to provide guidance, however.

He drew a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. “Because you’re the only one who’s actually seen this girl,” he replied evenly.

“She’s your friend, isn’t she?” Caleb added, pausing ahead as his Orbeetle, Nebula, hovered silently. The Pokémon’s eyes glowed faintly as she scanned the psychic energies permeating the area.

Blaine didn’t fully buy Ariana’s story, and he knew Caleb didn’t either. Sometimes this “friend” was Celina, other times Cecilia, and then other times just “I don’t give a damn.” She spun tales like she was testing their patience, shrugging off questions with more colourful language. But they didn’t have a lot of options, and right now, even a flimsy lead was better than nothing.

“Nebula’s sensing another spike coming from the labs,” Caleb said quietly.

Blaine’s rescue team was… odd, to say the least. But his trainers were stretched thin, and he couldn’t keep putting everything on Dinah. Ariana was here—reluctantly—and Caleb had proven to be reliable. Not only did he have three Pokémon able to assist, but his Orbeetle was invaluable, piecing together information Blaine wouldn’t have otherwise had. Caleb didn’t need to be here; he’d offered to help, and that counted for a lot in Blaine’s eyes.

“We’d better move,” Blaine said, trying to ignore the way his back protested all this running. He hadn’t planned to run, obviously, but as soon as they left the gym, the sky above Cinnabar Labs lit up with fireworks. Nebula couldn’t teleport them directly there—she didn’t know the place—so they had to go on foot.

“What the fuck?” Ariana said, stopping dead in her tracks.

Blaine sucked in a breath. “Language! How many times—”

“Pshh, look.”

He followed her gaze. The tram tracks before them abruptly ended. The short grass and gravel gave way to a stretch of tall grass that didn’t quite match their surroundings. Wildflowers bloomed in vibrant clusters, their petals shining under the pale moonlight. Nebula zoomed forward, emitting a low hum of curiosity.

“What do you think this means?” Caleb asked, joining Blaine’s side.

The gym leader shook his head, taking the moment of pause to stretch his back. The movement made his vertebrae scream.

And talking of bones.

Lahar tapped his leg with his. A little too forcefully.

“What is it?” Blaine asked, following his Marowak’s gesture.

From around the corner of the Cinnabar Labs building, a girl emerged—stumbling, desperate. There was no Slowpoke, but her clothes were dishevelled, and her movements erratic. Most unsettling of all, her shadow lagged behind her, moving with a will of its own.

“Is that her?” he asked, turning to Ariana.

More worryingly, waiting for her was one of the constructs—the one based on the idea of man. And with it… was that an Armarouge?

“Uh… Leader Blaine…?” Caleb’s voice faltered, drawing Blaine’s gaze upward.

High above, countless creatures—the ones Ren called the Unown—swirled in a chaotic dance, their single eyes all fixated on the girl below. His heart pounded as he turned his attention back to her. The construct was speaking—words lost to the distance—but the Armarouge’s actions were unmistakable. It raised its arms, armour plates shifting to form a cannon aimed directly at the girl.

For a moment, time seemed to slow.

“Move!” Blaine suddenly shouted, adrenaline surging as he sprinted forward, ignoring the fiery protest of his vertebrae. Lahar was at his side in an instant, conjuring flames that spiralled around them like a protective vortex. “Caleb!”

He didn’t need to say more. Without a word from him or Caleb, the Orbeetle zipped past, and to his surprise, Ariana followed.

She grabbed the girl by the shirt, yanking her out of the line of fire just as the Armarouge’s blast shot forward. Blaine didn’t flinch. He’d seen enough fire in his lifetime to trust his instincts. Nebula’s barrier shimmered into place just as Lahar conjured a wall of ghost flames to reinforce it.

The attack struck, but the barrier held, the flames flickering out as they collided with the psychic shield. Blaine felt a rush of relief as he reached the two girls. For a brief moment, he allowed himself a small smile. He’d failed so many people on this island, but somehow the pieces in the universe aligned for him to be here at the right time and the right place.

And somewhere far, far away, a god giggled, amused at how appropriate this human’s thoughts were.