Chapter 87 - Unwitting Allies

There was a faint knock at the door, and when no one answered, Blaine opened it softly, worried about disturbing Celeste. She wasn’t asleep, though—not anymore. She sat hunched on the sofa, his laptop glowing in her lap.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see his frown. “Celeste…?”

“I didn’t look,” the answer came out flat.

The floor creaked as Blaine stepped closer. “If I thought you would, I wouldn’t have left it here… Should I be concerned?”

Celeste turned away from Blaine and toward the battlefield outside. It loomed unfinished over the bubbling lava pit. It wouldn’t be ready by spring, like the Gym Leader hoped. Years would pass before he got that running. She didn’t know how she knew that. She just did—just like she knew Blaine wouldn’t so much as glance Fuji’s way.

“I thought about it,” she admitted. “Checking the cameras on Obsidian Boulevard. Seeing if any of your gym trainers showed up there.”

Blaine sat down beside her. “That’s—”

“Yeah,” she interrupted. “I decided it wasn’t right. Going behind your back, I mean.”

When she finally looked at him, he was holding something—a Pokéball. He rolled it between his fingers before handing it to her.

“Your Slowpoke’s healed up. Ariana’s Murkrow too,” he said. “But if you can avoid another battle... we’re running low on medical supplies.”

Celeste took the Pokéball, pressing on the cool surface. For a moment, the weight of it steadied her. Below the sofa, Shy’s darkness brushed her leg, and even without seeing their eyes, she could feel their worry.

She drew a breath. “Did you look? At that street?”

Blaine didn’t miss a beat. “They’re not there.”

“You sure?”

She just needed him to say it—really say it. Anything to make the gnawing certainty in her chest stop.

“Yes.” The word was firm, but his eyes darted away, betraying him.

Damn it.

“Blaine,” she tried again, her voice cracking halfway through. “Leader Blaine. Aren’t your trainers more important than your friend?”

The words were blunter than she meant. And yet it felt like too much to push against someone like him. He was the Gym Leader, after all. The fireplace crackled, filling the silence as she clenched the Pokéball tighter, searching for the courage to keep going. Maybe if she provoked him, he’d lash out. Maybe if he got angry, she’d feel stupid for doubting him.

She stood up, ready to shout, but… she couldn’t. “Please... Fuji… he’s not worth protecting. He keeps choosing wrong.”

Blaine didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his gaze was fixed on the lava outside and his voice made him sound much older than he actually was. “Ren is complicated. He’s not a bad man. You read the journal. You know that. All he ever wanted was to protect his daughter. He just wanted to save the one person he loves most in the world. How is that wrong?”

It wasn’t. And it was. Celeste sank back onto the sofa, gripping Pat’s Pokéball tighter. How could a father’s love be wrong? How could protecting your friends be wrong? She thought of her Pokémon, of every reckless thing she’d done to keep them safe.

“The world needs a little wrong.”

That’s what she’d told the Unown. But where did ‘a little’ end? What line couldn’t be crossed? Why did every decision have to feel like this—like… this balancing act? Her eyes flicked back to the Gym Leader, who was watching her now. He didn’t look apologetic. Just tired.

“I don’t think it’s wrong,” she said finally. “But it’s not right either. It’s messy.”

“Life usually is.” His lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smile.

“You’re not going to look, are you?”

“I told you—they’re not there.”

Celeste clutched Pat’s Pokéball harder into her palms. Blaine wouldn’t look into Fuji. That meant he wouldn’t act. He’d let Fuji drag them all down if it came to that, clinging to some idea of loyalty and friendship until they all died on this hill. Literally.

“Can I ask you something else?” Her tone shifted, quieter now. “How do you decide? When to be patient and wait and when to act with your gut?”

Blaine blinked at her. “That’s... an odd question.”

“Not really,” she said. “I’m not very naturally patient.”

“I noticed.”

“It’s something Ariana said. She thinks by trying to be patient, I’m losing whatever edge I have.” Celeste shuffled in place, her words picking up speed. “I told you I wanted a fighting style that’s creative. That’s all about risk and instinct. But it’s not just a style—it’s me. That’s who I am. Reckless. Impulsive. Sometimes it works, sometimes it’s a disaster, but isn’t that… good? In its own way? Taking risks, taking chances—it can’t always be wrong. Right? I want to think better about my options, but I also don’t want to lose that... that edge.”

Blaine regarded her for a long moment, then sighed. “Celeste, are you planning to do something reckless?”

“Are you planning to do anything at all?” she shot back right away. It wasn’t hard when she just went for it.

Blaine’s moustache twitched. Whether in amusement or irritation, it was hard to say. “There’s value in trusting yourself. Quick thinking, improvisation… Every time we talk, it’s indeed clear that’s part of who you are. And it is a strength.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for just long enough to feel weighty. “But it’s not all you are. And I’ve seen enough hot-headed trainers to know the value of...” His gaze drifted to the Pokéball in her hands, and his expression softened. “Sometimes, you need to see the world the way a Slowpoke does.”

He leaned back slightly, looking rather satisfied with himself.

“I’m not spelling this out for you,” the Gym Leader added. “If you ever want that Volcano Badge, you’ll have to figure it out yourself. But Celeste...” His eyes locked onto hers. “Don’t confuse action with recklessness.”

Celeste rolled the Pokéball between her fingers, her lips pressing into a thin line before curling into a faint, uneven smile. “I won’t do anything stupid without thinking first. Promise.”

The smile didn’t reach her eyes, and Blaine’s frown made it clear he wasn’t entirely satisfied with the answer. But he didn’t press her, either.

So, without more to say, she turned toward the door, her steps deliberate. Just as her hand touched the handle, she hesitated. “About looking into Fuji... Did you ever think stopping this might help him, too?”

The question lingered in the air. Blaine said nothing, and maybe in a show of trust, didn’t stop her from finally leaving.

—*——*—

After a long debate with Pat and Shy—a conversation that mostly involved Celeste pacing in circles while the Pokémon blinked at her way more understandingly than she deserved—she’d landed on a plan. A reckless one, obviously, but not too reckless. Hopefully. Baby steps.

Most surprising of all, it involved Ariana.

She found the Rocket grunt in the gym’s dimly lit kitchen, hunched over the counter and muttering curses as she ransacked the cupboards. Her hair was messy, falling in uneven waves over her eyes, and her scowl deepened every time she failed to find whatever she was looking for. The sharp scent of burnt toast lingered in the air, mingling with notes of stale coffee while shadows danced across Ariana’s face, sharpening the lines of her cheekbones.

Celeste stopped by the doorway, clutching her bandaged arm as it throbbed faintly.

“Fascinating,” Nebula suddenly showed up, already buzzing in her head. Celeste gave the bug’s spiraling eyes a half-look and, in response, she psychically pulled at Celeste’s arm, forcing her to lift it. “Your wound appears healed on the surface, yet your pain persists. How intriguing! Is it worse when you think of this Team Rocket you fear so much?”

Ariana glanced up, one eyebrow arched up. For a moment, an awkward silence hung between them, punctuated only by Nebula’s clicks. Celeste tried to swat the Orbeetle away, but Nebula kept on staring at the bandages.

“Great conversation starter,” Ariana drawled. And then added, with an exaggerated eye roll directed at the bug. “Caleb’s checking the barrier around the gym. He left me with that.”

Nebula bristled, zipping over to hover in front of their enemy. “Fear not! You are safe from Team Rocket with me!” She puffed out her tiny chest. “I’ve been ordered to restrain her if she tries anything!”

Celeste looked away. “I wasn’t afraid…”

“Oh, you should be!” Nebula declared. “Ariana here is doing the maths in her head if she could jump on you again.”

Celeste barely had time to process it when Ariana clacked a mug on the counter and poured coffee in. She didn’t seem to care about the Orbeetle. Instead, she grabbed the sugar and dumped a generous amount into her mug, stirring slowly, her eyes fixed on Celeste with a challenge of some kind.

“I-It’s fine, really,” she said, tapping Pat’s Pokéball clipped to her belt. Was it fine? “I... uh... Blaine...! I think he’s been trying to convince me we should be... friendly?”

At that, Ariana let out a sharp, unexpected laugh that echoed off the metallic walls.

It was loud enough for Celeste’s sigh to turn into a groan. Maybe it was best to just get to the point. “Nebula, can you give us five minutes? I need to talk to her… Privately.”

The Orbeetle hovered closer. “I don’t trust this. You’re planning something. What you humans call... a shenanigan.”

Celeste blinked. “A… shenanigan?”

“Definitely a shenanigan!” Nebula said. “I could look deeper into your mind if you’d like me to confirm—”

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“Nope! I’m good,” Celeste said quickly, holding up her hands. “No need to scan my brain. I confess: I’m always planning shenanigans. Tons of shenanigans. But this one is good, okay?”

Before Nebula could press further, Ariana clattered the mug on the countertop again and shoved herself away from it. “Ugh, can you two just stop?” she grumbled. Then, without warning, she grabbed Celeste’s uninjured arm and began pulling her out of the kitchen.

Luckily, Nebula didn’t follow, and when they rounded a corner, the hum of the Orbeetle’s wings had already faded into the distance. Ariana finally released her grip and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, fixing Celeste with a sardonic look.

“All right. This should be good.”

Celeste squared her shoulders, her expression hardening. “Is your Murkrow with you?”

“What, no heartfelt apology first?” Ariana’s tone was flat, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“I’m serious.”

“Hmph... want to lose a battle against me again?”

“Lose? I didn’t—” Celeste stopped herself, taking a deep breath. She raised her hands in a gesture of peace. Something she’d been doing this way too much lately. “Look, what I want is to get out of here.”

“No kidding,” she kept on smirking.

“I mean now.”

“Yeah, we all—” Ariana began, but then she paused, studying Celeste’s face more intently. “What exactly are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying,” Celeste muttered.

“Still gonna need you to spell it out.”

Celeste sucked in a breath, glancing toward the dim corridor. The muffled sounds of distant Pokémon echoed faintly through the walls. “I don’t think Blaine’s going to go after the gym trainers. And he won’t try to stop what’s going on here... Remember what Nebula said before? About entropy?”

Ariana’s eyes flickered. “That things are going to go to shit.”

“I don’t want to be here when that happens,” Celeste said quietly, her eyes meeting Ariana’s.

At that, Ariana leaned in closer. “Oh, Twinkles, looking out for yourself first, are we? Maybe you and I aren’t so—”

Celeste pushed her away. “We’re not the same,” she hissed. “This was a bad idea...”

“Wait.” Ariana grabbed her arm again, her grip firm but not harsh. “Come on, if you came to me, then you need me. Spill.”

A second passed before Celeste exhaled slowly. “I still have some incenses. Not the repel ones, but the ones that attract Psychic-types. I figured we could use them to distract the Uno—the creatures. Like a decoy.”

“That’s your plan?” Ariana asked. “To use incense as a decoy?”

“My plan is to grab Delia and Lori and then find a boat or something,” Celeste continued, her cheeks flushing. “I only came to you because you said you could drive a boat and...”

“And since I’m a bad bad criminal, I actually know how to steal one?” Ariana added with a sly grin. “Your plan is shit. What about the mist out on the ocean? What about that Pokémon you met?”

“That’s when I was planning to use the incense,” Celeste explained, words tumbling out quickly. “Back on Four Island, they had this ritual where you let out a little plank of wood with a candle into the ocean and... well, figure we could do the same. Plus, Lori and Delia were okay in the mist before. Maybe they’d be okay again. Then we’ll have a bunch of people and Pokémon to help. I know they’ll be messed up, but maybe we can hope they can rise to the occasion? I don’t know. Pat and—my Pokémon agree that we should leave and try to tell someone outside about it. We can’t stay here. It’s... not about saving myself. It’s like the plane mask thing. You can’t help anyone else if you don’t help yourself first.”

“You wasted all that time justifying yourself instead of coming up with a good plan.” Ariana finally released Celeste’s arm, her smirk lingering.

“Whatever,” Celeste snapped, turning away. “Enjoy spending your day with Nebula buzzing in your head.”

But before she could take a step, Ariana fell in beside her, bumping her shoulder. “Chill, Twinkles. I didn’t say no, did I?” Her grin tuned sharper. “We need each other.”

Celeste glanced sideways. “So... you’ll help?”

“Beats just waiting for the end of the world.”

—*——*—

When Celeste first arrived at the gym, there had been around seven trainers helping Blaine manage things, plus a few extra hands pitching in with general chores to keep the underground facilities running. Caleb, of course, had taken on a lot of responsibilities, too. But it was those seven overworked trainers who bore the brunt of the workload. And now? Well, Dan, Dinah, and the guy with the Sizzlipede had gone on that supply run and were now gone. They’d been joined by a contest girl with a Beautifly who wouldn’t stop complaining about them buying the wrong brand of everything, and an older man with a nervous Paras who, Celeste half-suspected, used these outings as an excuse to sneak off and visit his husband.

That left only four gym trainers still holding the fort, and sure enough, the schedule for going upstairs and using the arena was glued on the wall with a handwritten note reminding everyone to stick to it. There was no one actually on watch. No one to keep them from leaving.

So, in the end, leaving the gym was much easier than Celeste expected.

Less so was moving out from there.

The streets felt… wrong. Eerily still, as though the whole place were holding its breath. No sign of Jude, and neither fake Joy and Jenny had returned (thank Arceus). But the Unown were everywhere. They drifted into view in broad daylight, staring at them with their one, unblinking eye. Every time Celeste and Ariana tried to change course to avoid them, a new cluster floated into sight, appearing just a few steps ahead like they’d been waiting there all along.

And yet, they didn’t attack.

Even when Ariana got spooked and had her Murkrow fire off a few Night Shades, they simply snuffed out the move like a candle in the wind and kept on only watching.

“It’s like the air’s heavy,” Ariana muttered, ducking into a narrow street where, for now, the Unown were absent. “This wasn’t how it was before, right?”

Celeste shook her head, only half listening. She’d let Pat out, holding him tightly in her arms, while Shy coiled nervously by her feet, so rattled that even Ariana’s presence didn’t seem to bother them anymore.

“Maybe it means we’re running out of time,” Celeste said—though she was speaking to the ghost, not Ariana.

“Maybe you broke them,” Ariana spat back, already moving toward a motorcycle parked on the sidewalk. She glanced back with a grin. “How insufferable would you get if I stole that?”

Celeste strolled over, raising an eyebrow. “Depends. Can I drive?” she asked, half-smiling.

“I don’t have a death wish, Twinkles.”

Without hesitation, Ariana grabbed a crowbar she found lying nearby and began jamming it into the bike’s lock. She worked quickly, clearly knowing what she was doing.

“You’re being annoying,” she muttered under her breath.

Celeste took a step back. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were judging with your eyes,” Ariana said, not looking up. With a few twists and a sharp click, the lock gave way. She tossed the crowbar aside and straightened, satisfied. “Come on. Out with it now, so I don’t have to hear you whining later.”

Celeste just sighed, glancing away. The bike—or rather, scooter—was actually kind of cute, and the little basket on the front was perfect for Pat. She carefully set the Slowpoke inside, giving him a gentle smile as he blinked lazily back at her.

When she turned around, Ariana was leaning against the bike, arms folded, waiting.

“Go ahead, say it. I’m Team Rocket, I’m evil, you hate me,” Ariana drawled, letting her eyelids drop as her smirk showed. “Did I miss anything?”

Celeste hesitated. “Why are you even…? Actually, yeah. Why Team Rocket?” she asked finally. “Do you actually want to be one of the bad guys?”

“Oh, let me make this easier for you.” Ariana took a step forward, raising her voice. “I was abandoned on a sidewalk in a shoebox, left to fend for myself. Crime was my only option. But at the orphanage, Mama baked pies. Delicious pies.” She turned away, her tone suddenly wistful. “Then the other kids started disappearing. More pies every day…”

“Ariana.” Celeste crossed her arms, unimpressed. “That’s Sweeney Todd. Also, wasn’t your dad an accountant?”

Ariana crackled at herself. “I thought you’d appreciate the drama.”

“Can we just go before more of those… things show up?” Celeste climbed onto the scooter.

“‘Things?’” Ariana hopped on in front of her, tossing her hair to the side. “You mean the Unown?”

Celeste froze. “W-what?”

“You and Blaine, whispering secrets like teenagers at a sleepover. I got curious.” Ariana reached into her jacket and pulled out a weathered journal. Fuji’s journal.

“What the fuck?” Celeste lunged towards the other girl, but Ariana shifted easily out of reach, holding it just out of range.

“Language,” Ariana said, her smirk sharpening.

“When did you even…?”

“You were sleeping like a log. Honestly, I could’ve swiped your Premier Ball, too, but I didn’t feel like watching you make a scene later.” Ariana waved the journal teasingly. “Go ahead, say it. I’m Team Rocket. Evil and selfish.”

Celeste took a steadying breath, trying to keep her cool. Even though, holy shit, she could’ve lost Powder. “Really. Why’d you take it?”

“To level the playing field,” Ariana said with a shrug. “You want to survive whatever this is? Then I also need to know what we’re up against. Plus, it’s quite the read. My boss will be very interested in some of this stuff.”

Something cold knotted in Celeste’s stomach at the mention of Ariana’s boss. Her hand drifted toward Powder’s Pokéball instinctively. Ariana noticed, of course, and laughed sharply.

“What are you gonna do, Twinkles? Cuddle your Vulpix until we’re overrun by Unown or trust me long enough to get out of here?”

Celeste hesitated. “Why… Why Powder?”

Ariana frowned. “Alolan Vulpix are rare. We’ve been through that.”

“You said your boss would go after Powder. Specifically. But there are other Alolan Vulpix on Mout Lanakila. Your boss can send another team back there. Or just go to a breeder like everyone else. So… why Powder?”

Ariana glanced away, jaw tightening. “I don’t know that she is, okay? It’s just—” She cut herself off. “Urgh. Talking was stupid. Can’t we just go?”

“Ariana…”

“She doesn’t do breeders,” Ariana blurt out, suddenly afraid of meeting Celeste at eye-level. Her voice soon turned quieter, though. Almost reluctant. “She likes them wild. The wilder, the better. She likes to… tame them.”

Celeste’s throat tightened. “But—”

“Look, I…” Ariana closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath. “I think she was just waiting for things to cool down in Alola. Then she’d send another team like you said. Or just give up. But once Gozu tells her about you—which he’s probably already done—you’ll be ‘the girl who got away with her prize.’” It was almost like the words were hard for her. Like she was afraid. “You don’t want to cross Madame. Trust me.”

Celeste stared at her, expecting a mocking laugh, or a snarky comment… but Ariana wasn’t laughing.

Before she could say anything else, an Unown suddenly popped into view, then another, and another, surrounding them.

“Move it, Twinkles!” the other girl snapped, jumping up the scooter and kicking into gear.

In seconds, Celeste was gripping the back of the seat as the engine roared to life. Pat fired off a Water Gun, scattering the Unown, and with a sharp twist of the throttle, they sped through the cluster, the bike jolting as it tore down the street.

—*——*—

“The people, Ariana!”

Celeste’s grip tightened around Ariana’s waist, her eyes squeezed shut. Up ahead, a group of people stood at the end of the street, casually chatting as if nothing strange was happening. They glanced lazily at the speeding scooter, Unown flickering into existence beside them. And yet, they did nothing—just blinked, unbothered.

“I see them!” Ariana yelled back. “Rebel, Gust!”

Celeste peeked up, eyes widening. “You can’t attack people!”

Ariana ignored her, and a gust of wind whipped from behind them, Rebel’s wings stirring up the air. It wasn’t meant to hurt, just send the people away. But they didn’t even flinch.

“Make it stronger!” Ariana growled.

“Ariana!” Celeste’s voice strained as the wind picked up, whipping her hair wildly. The Unown were blown back, but the people still barely moved, standing firm as if the mounting gusts were nothing but a breeze.

“We’re gonna crash!” Celeste shouted. At the last second, however, Ariana yanked the scooter hard to the side, barely dodging a rose bush before veering onto a staircase that led down toward the beach.

The descent was rough. The scooter bounced and jolted down the steps, Celeste clutching tight to her ride as they skidded onto the sand, sending up a cloud of dust that billowed larger than any Sand Attack Aria’s ever made. The wheels spun, struggling for traction until they reached the firmer sand near the water’s edge. There, she gunned the engine, speeding up again, water splashing up around them.

“Make your Slowpoke useful!” Ariana barked, gritting her teeth as they weaved through the shallows, Unown still buzzing after them.

Celeste bit her lip, glancing down at Pat in the front basket.

“Pat!” she called out. Without needing more direction, Pat’s eyes glowed as he focused, using a mix of Confusion and his innate control over water. A Protect would’ve been good, but they didn’t know how to make this move with them yet. But a half-crescent wave rose up beside them, trailing along their path like a shield, deflecting the splashes and sometimes lashing out at the Unown, clearing a path ahead. It wasn’t perfect, though. The water barrier faltered here and there, and only Ariana’s quick reflexes kept them from colliding with anything, dodging obstacles with seconds to spare.

“Hold tight!” Ariana yelled, her voice barely cutting through the roar of the wind and engine. A massive cluster of Unown had gathered ahead, too dense to be blown away this time. Celeste barely had time to register it before Ariana yanked the handlebars, kicking up another cloud of sand and water as she made a sharp U-turn. Rebel’s red eyes gleamed through the haze, as he darted ahead and flapped his wings furiously, sending the wave of swirling sand back toward the Unown behind them.

Ariana’s eyes locked onto a small ramp up ahead, recently cleared. She gunned the throttle, but the sidewalk looked higher than they could handle, and the grunt she let out wasn’t exactly reassuring. Celeste felt Ariana’s muscles tense, her body shifting as if preparing to veer off at the last second.

“Stay on course!” Celeste shouted.

“What?” Ariana’s reply came out sharp and strained, but Celeste wasn’t backing down.

“Trust me! Pat, get ready! On my command!”

“You’re fucking crazy, Twinkles!” Ariana laughed, but she didn’t slow down. If anything, she floored it. “Gio’s is just up ahead, so this better work!”

Celeste snorted. “Now!”

Pat’s response was immediate. Though she couldn’t see his face, she felt the powerful surge beneath them as he let out a loud bellow. Suddenly, they were lifted into the air, as if a spring had launched them off the ground. The bike hung in the air longer than gravity should’ve allowed, wobbling dangerously as Pat’s control quickly faltered.

“Let go!” Celeste called, and the psychic energy dissipated.

Ariana reacted instantly, stabilising the bike mid-air, then bracing as they shot down the other side of the ramp. They landed hard with a bone-rattling thud, smoke sputtering from the engine, but the wheels kept spinning. With the smell of burning rubber in the air, they tore down Obsidian Boulevard, the familiar shape of House Eight finally coming into view.

“Please tell me you have a key,” Celeste gasped as the bike screeched to a halt.