Chapter 61 – Enemy of The Enemy
Rhys found himself on his back with an aching pain on his arms. At first, he thought it was because more of Anam’s rot had gotten to him. Then, surprised he was alive at all, he looked down. His fur was intact and his flesh wasn’t falling off. That was a good start. He then heard a grunt to his right. Nevren was in a similar state, pained but alive.
The darkness itself must have been blocked by their shields. Nevren always was good with those, and Rhys had put up a similar shield of aura.
But that didn’t negate their actual threat. Rhys and Nevren exchanged a look. The Goodra stood a stone’s throw away, mouth open and charging a second dark blast.
“Truce?” Nevren said to Rhys.
Rhys grunted and got to his feet. “What did you do to him?”
“This was not part of my plans.”
The Goodra fired down the hall. Nevren and Rhys squeezed themselves against the edges of the corridor. It grazed against Rhys’ snout; he turned his head away to avoid any further stinging. The black energy smashed the wall at the end of the hall and burned even further through the rocks. It didn’t seem to melt. Instead, it turned the rocks into a strange, ash-like substance that evaporated in the wind, becoming more of the rotting fog.
“How exactly do we stop him?” Rhys said.
“I’m afraid that is beyond my knowledge. We should just fight to subdue him.” He looked at his Revisor. “My lucky charm is not working.”
“You can tell?!” Rhys hissed.
Anam stumbled forward, growling.
“Rhys,” Nevren said, pointing. “He’s paused. Now!”
Rhys fired two successive Aura Spheres toward Anam. The first one popped on the Goodra’s chest; the second one exploded beneath his chin. Nevren followed with a twisting Psychic blast, cutting through the dark slime. Pieces of the Goodra spattered against the walls, sliding and collecting in the corners.
Rhys and Nevren both panted. The Alakazam inspected his Revisor again, grumbling. “Why did you fail me…?”
“Does that truly give you good luck?” Rhys said. “Where did you get it from? What science operates behind it?”
Nevren glanced at Rhys, then back at the Revisor. “It puts the odds in my favor. I suppose you can say I can more easily predict what will happen next with its power.”
Rhys flinched. “Some form of foresight?”
“Yes,” Nevren replied. “But it failed me right when you had your little
outburst and decided to strike me with a rage you hadn’t shown in centuries.” He watched Anam carefully, but he was still paused. They had a moment to recover their breath. “Perhaps your flaring aura caused it to… no, that’s not enough. I’ve fought countless flaring auras and nothing of the sort happened before… hrm…” Nevren suddenly looked up, realizing that the darkened Goodra had pulled himself mostly together.
“Your attacks…” Anam said.
“Pathetic.”
He raised his hand into the air; the fingers coalesced into a single, sharp blade that shined in the dim light. Rhys prepared for melee combat, but then Anam plunged the blade into his own chest, right near the heart.
Rhys and Nevren both flinched. Rhys stared, mouth agape. “What is he—”
Anam slid the blade across his chest horizontally, creating a deep, open gash through his slimy body. A dark radiance bled out from the open wound, widening into a full circle many times larger than his mouth.
“Shields!” Nevren shouted, holding his palms forward for a Light Screen barrier. Rhys did the same, forming a wall of aura to reinforce Nevren, just in time for the huge gash within Anam to spew out a blast akin to a black version of ADAM’s Hyper Beams. The impact deafened Rhys and Nevren, shattering the latter’s barrier instantly while leaking through Rhys’ cover next. Deflected blasts tore through the rocky walls and ceiling, poked holes in the aura shield, and cut through parts of Rhys’ fur and Nevren’s skin. By the time it subsided, Rhys was on his knees, barely able to stand. Nevren was no better, staggering and leaning against the wall.
“You will pay dearly for trying to control Anam.” His black eyes stared directly at Nevren.
“Your ego is the only thing to blame.”
Rhys and Nevren were too weak to fight back. With no equipment to heal with, and no Reviver Seeds to save them, they had to flee.
“Nevren,” Rhys said in a grunt, “our Badges aren’t working, are they?”
“I’ve been sending Psychic signals to them for quite a while,” Nevren admitted. “Unfortunately, I do not believe this atmosphere is blessed any longer. Within Anam’s influence, we cannot escape.”
“Wonderful,” Rhys gathered enough strength to get on one knee. “Then I suppose all we have left is one option.” He stared at Anam, looking directly into his empty, ink-black face. “Anam… are you there?”
Anam’s blank expression did not change.
“You will see him soon.”
Rhys and Nevren had no energy left to fight, but they could at least stand. “Rhys,” Nevren said softly.
“What is it, Nevren?”
“I apologize. This was not in the plan.”
Rhys grunted wordlessly.
Anam advanced, taking slow, heavy steps. The movement was a lot more deliberate this time, the slime along his body quivering with flecks of pale purple.
Rhys blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating. He and Nevren took hesitant steps back. The Lucario remembered his pride. “Anam, I see you fighting!” he shouted, his final embers swimming around his paws. “Are you really going to allow this thing to control you?!”
Nevren righted himself as well as he could. “Anam, we may have had our differences, but this is a moment where we can certainly unite against a common enemy, yes?!”
More pink wisps swirled through the black Goodra’s body.
“Do you really think simple words will help?”
“They certainly seem to be,” Nevren commented, pointing at the lighter wisps that grew in size along the corrupted slime dragon.
Anam stiffened slightly. “H-help…”
Rhys and Nevren both blinked in surprise. A small part of the possessed Guardian’s face was purple again, a single eye green, bright, and tearful.
The darkness rapidly converged around the light slime.
“Your time has ended.”
Anam’s one eye widened with fear before the inky black slime washed all expression away.
Rhys’ arms trembled. “Anam… You… What
are you…?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He reached forward and grabbed Rhys by the throat, raising him up. Slime coated his neck and seeped into his fur, through the skin beneath, and into his blood. Rhys struggled to breathe, bringing a weak arm forward in an attempt to pull Anam away.
“Anam… where are you? You’re… still there…! Don’t let this demon… take your body away!”
Nevren scanned the area for more wraiths, but found none. This whole time, the wraiths were not being summoned, and he was almost positive—if only because of the similar colors and the similar sensations that came from the attacks—that this creature was related to them. But did any of that matter? He only had enough strength in him for one more strike.
He caught a glance from Rhys for only an instant, filled with defiance. Rhys and Elder had always communicated with one another through the spirit world. Did they still share a connection as well, after all this time?
Rhys. We need to surprise him. One last attack.
Rhys lowered his stance, feigning defeat.
I don’t have enough strength for much more.
“To the void.”
So that’s how it is, hm? Nevren said, sparing one final glance at Rhys.
A shame you’re so weak. Nevren figured that would be enough.
Rhys’ paw flashed with the last of his strength. Nevren smiled, refocusing on Anam. Immediately after, Nevren’s eyes flashed with the remainder of his Psychic energy. Rhys blasted Anam in the chest, blowing him back; Nevren twisted the slimy body immediately after, blowing it apart into several chunks against the wall.
Rhys raised his second paw once he hit the ground and blasted again, drawing from whatever power source his desperation allowed. Nevren did the same, knowing that even Anam—or this creature—had some sort of limit. But all of their attacks did nothing. It bounced weakly off of the remaining slime, allowing Anam to collect himself once more.
“Adorable.”
Black bolts of lightning crackled along the walls, scattering tiny pebbles in all directions. It concentrated at the feet of the Alakazam and Lucario, forcing their bodies to seize up, forming black scars along their legs. They fell to the ground, spasming in their attempts to stand.
“Why do you keep fighting? I can feel your hopelessness.”
Rhys held up an arm, firing more hollow Aura Spheres toward Anam. Alakazam clutched at his one remaining spoon and tried to use it as a concentration device. He focused on Anam next, but all he could do was make little ripples along his slimy body.
“You are now mine.”
Anam brought both arms forward, but then, suddenly, a new wave of energy pulsed through Anam’s body. Rhys and Nevren both heard the distinct roaring of something, yet no sound echoed in the caves. It came from within Anam, resonating with their auras. But it didn’t sound like the same countless voices. It sounded more like two—and they were
loud.
Anam staggered back, clutching at his chest where the huge gash had been carved.
“I told you… it’s hopeless! ENOUGH!”
The roaring got louder, rumbling Anam’s slime. Rhys blinked. He recognized that roar. He had heard it before.
Something lit up in Nevren’s peripheral vision. His Revisor was shining, so bright that it glowed through the fabric of his bag, light creeping its claws out from the pocket.
A huge, black set of claws burst out of Anam’s chest, flailing and slashing at him from the inside. Bright, cyan light exploded next, struggling against the darkness, zapping at the black slime to turn it back to its natural purple. Then, a set of steely hooves smashed out of Anam, trying to break free. They were small when within Anam, yet when emerging, they grew to nearly overtake Anam’s chest. But then the darkness overcame them, pulling them back inside. Afterward, pearl-pink light washed over more of the slime, turning more of the Goodra back to normal. At least half of Anam was restored, including one of his eyes.
Anam roared in a thousand voices—but two of those voices seemed to be coming from the cyan and pink lights within him.
An unseen force pulled the claws back inside, accompanied by another set of countless roars. One of the screaming voices became louder than all the others, and this one was labored and garbled, strained and frightened. With this voice came Anam’s natural coloration, and finally, with a cry of pain, purple energy streamed out of Anam’s chest wound—a single burst of Dragon might, taking the shape of a winged drake. This purple fire slammed into the ceiling, sending rocks scattering all around the trio. Following this outburst, golden light enveloped Anam; the darkness sank back into him, leaving nothing but a pale, lavender body behind.
Rhys and Nevren shielded their eyes; the light stung Rhys, but then a soothing warmth took over. He felt the fur on his neck return and some strange
filthiness in his blood disappear. When he finally felt it was safe enough to look again, he saw Anam in front of them, crumpled on the floor. There wasn’t a single sign of darkness in the area.
Nevren made a sudden look down in disbelief.
Rhys followed his gaze. “Ah,” the exhausted Lucario said. “It’s gray again.”
The Revisor had worked again. “Y-yes,” he said. “I’m feeling very lucky.”
“I should say,” Rhys said with a small laugh. But he was dizzy. Not only was his energy depleted, but his aura felt like it was going to fly away from his body at any moment.
Nevren looked at Anam. “…Rhys… does he seem stable now?”
Rhys scanned his aura. He saw no darkness and no instability in Anam’s aura. It must have been sealed away again. He was never able to look very deep into the Goodra. Now he knew why. “Yes. His aura is… normal.”
Nevren sighed. “Then we should bring him back. We can discuss this with the others.”
Rhys glared. “Then you won’t be controlling him?”
Nevren stared at Anam for a while, letting out a small sigh. “If you tell the others about what I’ve done, I will have no choice but to unleash him. However”—Nevren raised his voice before Rhys could protest—“I will use my powers instead to assist Anam in sealing that… demon inside. Fair?”
“Not in the slightest,” Rhys hissed.
“Would you rather I stop assisting entirely?”
Rhys growled, but he was too weak to argue any further. Anam was going to wake up soon, and they would need all of their focus to keep him from unleashing that thing again.
Nevren looked at Anam and then walked past him to pick up his one lost spoon. “If it is any consolation, Rhys,” he said, turning back to face him, “any plans I may have had for Anam are… now irrelevant.”
<><><>
Manny crossed his arms, staring at the two dishes that had been placed before him. One was a stew filled with onions, potatoes, some kind of darkened meat, and a Cheri base. The other was a white slab of fish atop a bed of garlic rice and green beans.
“All right,” Elder said with a nod from the other room. “You all wait there. I’m going to have Manny and Yen judge your dishes. He has no idea who made what, so it will be completely unbiased.”
Owen and Har both nodded, flashing competitive glares at one another. Their scales were littered with remnants of their cooking—garlic juice and rice, potato skins and Cheri puree. Mispy and Ani had quite a bit of it near their mouths and at the ends of some of their vines, having
sampled the ingredients to make sure they were of top quality.
Gahi and Lygo were meticulously cleaning their scales with cloths, rubbing each other’s backs to make sure they didn’t miss a spot. “Y’know, starting ter regret this,” Gahi muttered, polishing out a blemish near the middle of Lygo’s back. “This one ain’t coming off.”
“That’s a birthmark,” Lygo said.
“Eh? I don’t have that.”
“Yeah you do.”
“Ehh?”
“What?” Owen asked, looking back. “Oh, yeah, you have that, Gahi. I actually have a kinda similar one on mine, too. Except it’s a little lower, and it’s more like an odd patch of scales than a discoloration. It’s just a birthmark.”
“We have the exact same one?” Gahi asked Lygo. “That’s kinda weird. Didn’t know those were genetic.”
Lygo shrugged. “I think some are, but I think it’s also because we were built from the same model.”
Demitri prodded at some of the leftovers, taking a few nibbles. He gave the rest to Mispy, whose vines split open to act as extra mouths to eat faster.
“Um,” the Haxorus said, “tell me again, about the meats we used, this is all fake meat, right?”
“I think that stuff is,” Ax said, pointing at the darker, tougher meat. “But ours is definitely Seaking.”
Demitri lowered his head, shrinking.
“What? Obviously, it was feral.”
“I—I know, but—but after seeing Enet and stuff, I…” Demitri poked his claws together. “I’m beginning to think about just sticking to the artificial meats.”
“Hey, if we don’t keep the feral numbers down, they’ll overpopulate.” Ax glanced at Ani. One of her vines was in a competition with another from Mispy over a slab of meat, tugging at it like two rival Poochyena. “Besides, Enet’s a Zoroark. They’re naturally more intelligent than other feral species.”
“I… guess so…” Demitri still seemed unconvinced. “I’ve just been rethinking it. That’s all.”
Ax crossed his arms, thinking. “How long have you been brooding about this, anyway?”
“Just, you know, when I started cutting it for the dish…”
“Bah, yer too soft,” Gahi said. “Ain’t you supposed ter be the killing-blow component ter the Alloy?”
“Y-yeah, well, maybe I’m choosing not to be,” Demitri stammered. “Like what Trina said. I get to choose, and stuff.”
“What, you think you can be gentle?” Gahi taunted, hopping away from Lygo, who was caught up in getting bits of smashed berries off of his claws. Every time he tried, more of it got on the other claws instead, leading to an endless cycle of suffering.
Gahi puffed out his chest. “If yer so soft, how about yeh prove it with a gentle punch? I bet yeh can’t.”
“I—I can’t punch you!”
“Sure yeh can! We do it all the time!”
“No, I can’t do that
now. I’m evolved. I don’t know if I can hold back anymore…”
Ax growled pensively. “Huh. I never thought about holding back.” He squeezed his fist, then flicked his tail. “All or nothing. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“B-being gentle?” Demitri said pleadingly. “I bet I can. Okay, Gahi, hold still. I’m—"
“Uh, maybe save it for another time,” Owen said.
“Yeah, don’t do anything stupid,” Har added. “We just finished cleaning the place up.”
“And we should get a Reviver Seed just in case.”
Gahi snorted, flaring his wings in an attempt to intimidate. “What, you think I’m weak?”
“No, but Demitri’s… Gahi, his punches make
shockwaves… when they
miss.”
Demitri squeaked, lowering his arms. “Maybe I’ll test it on a Substitute doll or something first. Maybe we can ask Rhys to make one of those cool aura copies of his again?”
“I dunno, that wore him out,” Owen said.
Owen figured that Demitri wouldn’t fall for any of Gahi’s taunts and withdrew before he could be dragged in. Mispy looked ready to flick Gahi on the head anyway.
Har grunted, withdrawing faster, and leaned against the wall near the back of the cooking area. Owen frowned, following Har; the counterpart snorted and turned his head away in response.
“Hey,” Owen said.
Har flexed his fingers against his arms. “Look, my whole
deal… it’s not your fault or anything; I’m just still getting over it.” The tension of his fingers suggested he wasn’t making much progress. “I really liked the fight, though, so… thanks for that. Even if we’re both… ‘Owen,’ I’m still not you. And that’s…”
“That’s good, right?”
Har hummed. “I don’t know anymore.”
Owen leaned back again, but then trailed his eyes over to where Zena had been. She’d dismissed herself while they cooked so she didn’t distract Owen, but figured she would be back soon. While they made one dish for being judged, they still had a lot left over to enjoy as their promised dinner. He hoped to find someplace private so it could be a proper date.
“How come only you, uh, have all my memories?” Owen said. “And… when does it cut off? Like, you don’t have me while I was with Mom, right?”
“No, I don’t,” Har said. “I have your first few lives, the stuff that happened before Rhys stole you away to live with the Fire Guardian.”
Owen’s tail shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t remember that part of my life yet.”
“Well, I can’t help you,” Har said. “I only know what happened before all that.”
“Wait, so that means you—do you remember killing Klent?”
“Who?” Har asked.
“The Grass Guardian.”
Har nearly choked. “Holy—you killed him?! But
you’re the Grass Guardian!”
Owen looked away.
“That’s messed up.”
“Yeah, I know,” Owen raised his arms defensively. “I think he’s still a little bitter about it, and I don’t blame him.”
“Did you kill anybody else?” Har asked.
“His daughter…”
Har just stared.
In an effort to refocus the subject, Owen sighed loudly. “So I guess your memories are from before that. Before Rhys took me away, or something. But why is it that only
you have my memories? How come Lygo and the others don’t?”
Har looked at the three. They were distracted, chatting with their counterparts. “Because they asked Trina to take them away.” Har’s claws traced along his scales, grinding louder and louder. “They couldn’t deal with the fact that they were just fake copies, so Trina obliged and sealed it away. They don’t even know it, because Trina knew that’d just bug them.”
Owen shook his head. “Har, that’s not a good idea. Sealing memories is the worst thing you could—”
“So you want them to know about the part of them that’s a
lie?”
“No, I—” Owen hesitated. “It’s just that—you can’t just… take memories away.”
“You totally can,” Har said. “That’s what Trina did.”
“But… then why didn’t
you forget?” he said. “Were you afraid that the memories would eventually come back?”
“Even if they did,” Har said, “they’ll be so distant that it won’t matter by the time they do. I didn’t want to forget because… because I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Yeah. I just didn’t want to. It didn’t… feel right to.” He folded his wings over his chest, curling up even tighter than before.
Owen mirrored Har’s curl partway, focusing on the light of his tail. He looked at Har’s for comparison. It was smaller. Then, he looked at Har. He didn’t need Perceive to tell how much this sort of talk was bothering him. Har’s claws dug into his own arms, and Owen, having a good guess on why, reached toward the top of his own head.
“What’re you doing?” Har said.
Owen plucked his horns out, losing his Perceive in the process. “Nothing,” he said. “Just wanted to give you some privacy.”
Har stared in disbelief, but then uncurled slightly. His flame was a bit brighter, but he still didn’t say anything. Not for a while, when Gahi’s taunts had devolved into various places that Demitri could hit, some places less sanitary than others. It ended when Mispy and Ani simultaneously wrapped their vines around Gahi’s mouth.
Har laughed weakly, unable to hide a smirk. “Looks like that’s another advantage you have over me,” he said to Owen.
“Advantage?”
“I can only give my word when I say I’m not reading someone. But you have proof. Just pull your horns out. It’s kinda funny, though.” Har scratched under his chin, then gestured to his tail. “Even though we’re supposed to have an easy time reading how others feel, the Charmander line is one of the easiest species to read, just at a glance.”
“Yeah, we’re a bit… expressive.” Owen grabbed his tail, admiring his embers. “But I can’t imagine living without this little guy.”
“…Was that a joke?”
“What was?”
“N… never mind.” Har sighed, settling against the wall again.
They listened in on the others of their respective Alloys. Lygo was muttering something to Gahi about how everyone was too slow when walking from place to place—something that Gahi finally felt validation for. Ani rolled her eyes at this, asking Mispy who should tell them that
they were the abnormal ones. Mispy just smiled, shrugging.
“Is it weird to have Ani talk so much?” Owen asked Har.
“Huh?”
“Ani. Because Mispy, she barely talked. It’s… I don’t really know why. She just has trouble getting words out, so she started getting really precise with what she wants to say.”
“Oh.” Har nodded. “Ani used to be like that. Trina helped out, did some speech therapy or something like that. I forget what she actually called it, but, well, you know. Trina’s good with the mind.”
Owen shifted uncomfortably. “I still don’t know how to feel about that.”
“I’d trust her more than I would Nevren, or Eon.” Har looked ahead. “If someone has to control us to keep us from going nuts, I’d rather have Trina. At least she’s honest about doing it.”
They went back to watching. It was almost entirely cleaned up by now. None of them had questioned why Har or Owen weren’t helping, but perhaps that was because most of the mess had been caused by the rest of them in the first place. Gahi had resorted to leaning over the table, demanding an arm wrestle from Demitri. Nobody took it seriously except for Demitri, who fretted and hid behind Mispy in a final attempt at avoiding the confrontation.
“Gahi, leave him alone already,” Owen called. “You’re scaring the poor guy.”
“Bah!” Gahi raised his arms. “He saves his meanness for actual battles, I bet.”
“I—I’m starting to think I should be a chef instead,” Demitri said, squeaking. “This was way more fun than battles!”
Mispy perked up, blinking. Demitri realized it a second later, the two of them exchanging a look. “More… fun.” Mispy looked at her vines, then at Demitri again.
“You think so?” Demitri asked. “It… It sorta just slipped out, but…”
Owen spotted a wide smile on Har’s face, but when their eyes met, it quickly disappeared. He turned away, focused instead on the far wall.
Another odd silence fell between the two Charizard, the question brewing in Owen’s mind. He didn’t want to ask it, but letting it fester was even worse. “…Do you miss them?” Owen asked, but regretted it when he saw Har’s entire body close in. “Sorry—forget I asked. Stupid question…”
Har’s flame grew, starting to generate enough heat to be harmful. “I’m never forgiving Eon for what he did.”
Owen tensed at this, wondering how to approach that. Har literally wished he hadn’t been created—that they, the copies of his own Team Alloy…
“How did he even do it?” Owen said. “This must’ve been a long time ago if you only have memories of me from—”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not that old. I was ‘born’ only a few decades ago. Apparently Eon had some copy of your memories stored somewhere as a just-in-case or something. I don’t really know why, or how, or…” Har snorted. “And I don’t care, either. I want nothing to do with him.”
Owen winced. “Y-yeah…”
Someone cleared their throat near the entrance. It was Amia, squeezing around Lygo, who had humored Gahi on his arm-wrestling challenge. They were equally matched.
“Hey, Mom,” Owen said. “I saw you. Are you feeling better?”
“A lot better, dear,” Amia said, back to her blue colors.
Owen turned and gave her a confident nod. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s in the Fire Realm. But he wanted to see how you were doing after your little fight! Did it go well?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Owen forced a grin. “We all enjoyed it, actually. Um, did you pass by Zena on your way here?”
“Yes! She’ll be here soon. She just had to get a few things taken care of. I also saw Manny trying out the dishes you made. Are you guys having a little culinary competition? You should have asked Alex to join in! Back when he was alive, he had
quite the appetite. He knows his way around food.”
“Yeah, you told me. Still weird to imagine a Magmortar being able to eat so easily, though, with those arms of theirs.”
“Oh, well—” Amia hesitated. “Actually, Owen. There’s something I’ve been neglecting to… tell you.”
Owen’s expression darkened.
Amia waved her hands in the air. “No, no, nothing like that! I promise this is very small compared to everything else!” She sighed, clasping her hands together, almost in prayer. “With all the chaos that happened the past few days, I forgot to mention that, er, as part of our whole… campaign to raise you normally, I wasn’t… the only one to be in a disguised form. I mean—I’ve always been blue, I just like the look, er, but your father changed for a more practical reason.
“You see, when I first became the Fire Guardian, the Fire Realm wasn’t… the friendliest toward non-Fire Pokémon. The spirits were friendly, but the environment wasn’t. Lava and fire everywhere. And Alex used to be a Pokémon that didn’t quite survive in such a harsh environment, not until later. Well, no. They could. But it was still uncomfortable compared to being an actual Fire Pokémon. At first, he just took on a Fiery version of what he used to be, but that, er, frightened you.”
“Frightened me?” Owen said. A flash of memory—he was worried at how accustomed he was getting to these flashes—washed over him. He remembered hiding under his Rawst bed as a Charmander, screaming about a monster. He had seen a great demon of some kind, wreathed in flames with black eyes and deep, dark wings. He remembered it had six of those eyes, all staring at him.
“Yes, dear. Alex took on a Magmortar form so it didn’t frighten you. You said his lips were funny.”
“What did he used to be, then?” Owen said. “Th-that fire monster—I think I remember it. That was terrifying! Good thing he—I mean, um, I’m sure it’d be better
now, but I guess I was still a lot more like a kid back then…”
Amia nodded. “Your father was a Hydreigon, actually. He picked Magmortar because the arms were reminiscent of them, a little.”
Owen’s heart dropped. “H-Hydreigon? You’re kidding.”
“I hope that doesn’t make you see him any differently, dear,” Amia said. “I know you’re frightened of him. Dark Types in general are a bit scary for you, aren’t they?”
Owen shook his head, raising a hand.
“All this time, my Dad was an awesome Dragon and you never told me?!”
It took Amia a second to readjust to Owen’s unexpected tone. “T-to be fair, dear, we did try to show him to you before, but you always got shaken up!”
“But Dark Types aren’t scary! They’re
awesome!”
Har stared at Owen incredulously. “What? Hang on, since when? When did
that attitude change? I dunno about you, but Dark Types are kinda creepy. Some of their attacks—Ghosts, too—can
literally suck the light out of the air. That’s, like, a primal fear for a Charizard. When did you get a change in attitude?”
Owen shrugged. “I guess I started to learn more about them. Besides, the only Dark Type that I know personally is really friendly. Have you met Enet?”
“The Zoroark? Yeah, I guess she’s nice, but she does the same thing! Her home is a black void, just like the Abyss.”
Owen turned his attention back to Amia. “So, I’m guessing he had to stay a Magmortar so he didn’t trigger my memories.”
“Exactly,” Amia said. “I’m sorry, dear.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “And what about now?” he said. “I feel like right now I want to get as many of my memories
back. Will he be going back to normal?”
“Magmortar
is normal for him, now,” Amia said. “He’s spent more time as one than a Hydreigon. That’s the case for a lot of spirits, actually. I wouldn’t doubt it if Anam, or even you have spirits that used to be in different forms. But, well, he’ll consider if, if you think the species is
cool.”
“You have no idea how cool it is that Dad’s a Dragon,” Owen said gravely.
Amia rubbed her forehead, looking at Har helplessly.
“It’s true,” Har said.
“Oh, dear. What exactly is so notable about the Dragon type?”
“I don’t know, it just—sometimes, it
feels like that’s what Charizard were
supposed to be, you know?”
“Well, that’s a question that you’ll have to ask Star,” Amia said. “Actually, where is she, anyway?”
Owen shrugged. “Last I checked, she was going with Jerry to do some errands, like get him a new bed.”
“They were gone for a while,” Amia said, frowning.
Har released his arms, rubbing at the little indents he had inadvertently left on his scales. “Maybe we should go and check on them? I usually pass as normal if I say I’m southern.”
“Let’s just give them a bit more time,” Amia said. “Star would be on her way if something went wrong and they needed backup.”
“I have decided!” Manny suddenly announced, holding up one of the dishes into the air. The whole crowd in Rhys’ home headed to the deeper room.
Har broke out into a huge grin. “Ha! Bite my claw!” He pointed at Team Alloy.
“Yeah, gotta say, I’m a sucker fer garlic rice. It’s exotic, if yeh ask me, and ter be honest, almost reminds me o’ home, in a weird way. Yen liked ‘em both, but I gave it the edge.”
Owen’s wings drooped. “So, our stew wasn’t any good at all?”
“Didja hear me? Yen said the stew was good, too! And I agree! But Har’s fish whatever was just a little better cooked. Stew was a little overpowered by the base, is all. Great if yer looking ter fill a belly, but I dunno about fine dining. But hey!” Manny set the bowl down. “Let’s get everyone gathered up and bring this ter the square! Let’s eat!”
<><><>
Those who hadn’t left for Hot Spot Dungeon or Kilo Village all gathered up in the middle of the square, once again with Valle as their decorative centerpiece.
“So, uh, you gonna go organic yet?” Manny asked, holding to Valle a humble portion of food.
“No. Thank you for the offering.”
“Offering, right. Y’ain’t a Legendary.” Manny placed the bowl by his stone feet anyway. Amia got her bowl next. Zena and Owen sat next to one another, figuring that even though they were planning on having a nice dinner alone, a communal lunch was just as good for lifting everyone’s mood.
Valle had crafted a tiny,
tiny bowl and plate to put little drops of stew, a small pile of rice, and a chunk of fish for Willow. The rest of Team Alloy and Team Trina all sat near one another, mumbling about how their dishes had turned out. “So, you’re saying Rhys usually makes stews?” Har asked. “Guess he hasn’t changed all that much from how I remember him.”
Demitri inspected his portion curiously, nibbling on one of the potato chunks. “A lot has changed and a lot hasn’t. I mean, seeing as you last remembered them as being allied to Eon—even Nevren, too—that’s a
lot that you missed, in a way.”
Owen looked at Har expectantly, but the latter only tipped the stew down his throat, eyes closed. Owen huffed a small ember against his stew, disguising it as an effort to warm it up.
“Kinda glad we did,” Ax said. “Not that we have your memories the same way, but, it sounds like a real bother to have a bunch of repeat memories for how-many-centuries.”
“No kidding,” Mispy said, glaring at the bowl as if it was Rhys.
“We’re still really sorry for that,” Amia said. “I was part of the same conspiracy for Owen. I don’t think we can apologize enough for—”
“Um,” Demitri held up a claw, “to be honest… I think you might be apologizing too much at this point. Like, we get it.”
“O-oh.” Amia brought her head down, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry.”
Mispy looked between Amia and Owen, blinking. “Similar,” she mumbled.
Har sighed, breaking the levity. “Anyway, this has been really fun, but I think we should go back and tell Trina what we think.”
Owen perked up. “Oh, that’s right. That’s the whole reason you came here in the first place, right? Um—so, er, how did we do?”
“It’s
okay,” Har said dismissively. “It’s a little hot, according to what Ani is saying, and the ground is a little too hard for Lygo, but Ax and I are fine with the environment. Actually,
I personally like it, so I see why Owen thinks this place makes for a good home. And the community is pretty nice, and I don’t see you guys mistreating Team Alloy at all.”
“Wait,
that’s what you were looking for?” Owen said. “If we were being mistreated?”
“Yeah. If you guys were being treated like weapons at all, or taken advantage of. I couldn’t say that to you guys or you’d try to disguise it or something, but obviously, that’s not what you guys do anyway. These horns would pick up if you were being deceptive at all.” Har tapped at his left one. “I didn’t sense much. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least.”
Willow looked up from her nearly microscopic bowl of stew. “So, does that mean we passed the test? Are you moving in?!”
“I’m gonna tell Trina that you guys are a good bunch, yeah,” Har said. “If that’s all she needed to move in, then she’ll be coming next to inspect the caves. And I guess that’ll leave us to gather up all the other subjects for the move, since it’s probably gonna take a while. Ani, Ax, Lygo! Set to go?”
“Can I get seconds?” Ani asked, holding out her large bowl and plate.
“Me, too,” Mispy said.
“One fer the road,” Manny said, happily filling Ani and Mispy’s bowls.
“Oh, uh, can we borrow one of your Badges? One that hasn’t been used up yet.”
“I think this one has enough energy for another warp to Trina’s,” Owen said, rummaging through Team Alloy’s bag. He tossed a Badge over to Har. “See you guys soon!”
They vanished; Owen returned to his bowl, the fire of his tail glowing happily.
“Well, aren’t you in a good mood,” Amia said, smiling.
“I feel like I really helped Har,” Owen said. “I mean—we did. We all did.”
“Mostly you,” Mispy admitted.
“It’s only natural,” Demitri said. “I feel like you’d know him better than anyone.”
“Mm.” Owen turned his attention back to his mother. “Mom, can you bring Dad out? But as how he
really looks.”
Amia flinched. “Owen, dear, it’s really not necessary.”
“
Please?” Owen begged. “Even if it’s weird now, I just wanna know.”
Amia sighed. “Okay, okay.” She held her arm out, summoning a single ember. It formed into something vaguely familiar at first—the shape of two arms that had no proper fingers, a bit wide. A large body… but then it slimmed down, lengthened, grew a tail, and wings…
A Hydreigon floated before them, levitating off of the ground by some dark force. “Er—hello,” Alex said, bumping his head-hands together, like they were touching snouts. “This is a bit awkward.”
Owen jumped, but then he beamed. “Dad…!”
“I really wish you weren’t so pleased at me just for a new species.” Alex crossed his heads.
“Oh—sorry,” Owen said. “I just, it’s really cool anyway. I still love you all the same and stuff, it’s just, now I know you’re
even cooler and all that.”
“I’m… cool?” Alex asked, floating a bit higher.
“Totally!”
“Oh, dear.” Alex flushed, rubbing his cheek with his right head.
“…Do those talk, too?” Demitri had to ask, pointing at his arms.
“Hm? Oh, no. These are just, er, extra mouths. Brainless.”
“Huh, so he can eat with them like Mispy can with her vines,” Demitri said.
To demonstrate, Mispy pushed one of her vines forward, which split apart four-ways to reveal thorn-like teeth and a gaping maw. Aside from Demitri, those near her migrated away a scoot’s distance.
“And what do you look like when Fiery?” Owen asked eagerly.
Alex’s expression darkened. “Owen, are you sure?”
“Yeah! What do you look like when you’re in the Fire Realm and stuff?”
Alex lowered his gaze to the ground. “Very well.”
“Mm…” Amia gave her hand a little flick.
The Hydreigon instantly burst into flames, the blue underbelly with purple stripes becoming black with orange. His wings became flames, as did the flower-like mane around its head. The eyes, however, remained the same, piercing red.
Owen’s fire blazed in a flash of terror, whole body stiffening. Amia, sensing this, suddenly drew her hand back, and the flames went out. Alex was back to normal.
“Th-that was cool, too,” Owen said. “Even better! Now you’re Dragon
and Fire, right?”
“Owen…” Amia said. “I guess now you know why we decided to pick something a little less scary.”
Owen cringed. “I didn’t mean to get scared. It was just a little startling.”
“Do you think it’s some kind of old memory?” Demitri asked.
“Maybe,” Owen said, but was afraid to look back on exactly why it was so frightening. He hadn’t seen many Hydreigon in town before, but he was sure if he saw one, he wouldn’t react like that. It was just the fiery one. Owen looked at his soup again, then smiled at Alex. “Well, hey. Doesn’t matter. You’re still my Dad, and I’ll get used to it if you’re more comfortable in that body, alright?”
But he sensed that Alex was tense.
“Or… you could be a Magmortar.”
The rest of Hot Spot quietly ate their lunch together, absently chatting with one another about the Hot Spot Dungeon and its enigmatic appearance—though nobody had anything substantial to contribute besides how odd it was. Then, the discussion transitioned into Jerry and his new bed, wondering what sort of mattress he would eventually get. Willow was positive it would be pink, though she did not elaborate on why.
Throughout the chatter, Zena stole a few glances at Owen. The Charizard returned the glances with confused looks, followed by brief tension. And then, Elder spoke up. “Owen, I do believe Zena wants to talk to you.”
Zena jumped, shaking her head. “N-no, that’s not—I was just looking at him.”
“Yeah, you were,” Owen said. “You alright?”
“He still cannot understand your body language, Zena,” Elder said patiently. “Give him time. Why don’t you find somewhere private to chat?”
“Ooooh!” Willow said, literally sparking with the prospect of gossip.
Both the serpent and pseudo-dragon flushed beneath their scales. Despite this, Zena led Owen away from the group and into her home—earning an even louder coo from the tiniest Joltik.
“Are you alright?” Owen asked, doing his absolute best to hide his blush. It wasn’t working.
“Elder didn’t have to make a scene about that,” Zena said, pouting. “I truly only wanted to talk.”
“I’m really sorry I can’t read your body language yet.” Owen’s tail bumped on the ground, firelight reflecting off the rocks. “Again, I just get overwhelmed. It’s like being able to recite a book in an ancient language, but not knowing what the words say, you know?”
“That’s not… what I wanted to talk about,” Zena said. “I know about that already. I’m well aware how dense you can be.”
“G-geez, have to be so harsh?”
Zena smiled, leaning forward to nuzzle his shoulder. “Sorry. I suppose I should be nicer now that we’re courting.”
“C-courting?” Owen squeaked. “That’s so… I dunno if I’m any good at that!”
Zena laughed loudly, quickly restraining herself to a giggle behind her ribbons. “Owen, I wanted to talk to you about your fight against, er… Team Trina.”
“Oh,” Owen said, composing himself. “What about it? I—I hope it wasn’t too savage for you. Thinking back, it was actually really brutal, now that, you know, I’m not in any fighting instincts. We went kinda crazy back there.”
Zena nodded. “I’ll admit, it was… a little frightening to watch. But I’m happy that you won.” She sighed, pausing, no doubt to gather her words. “But what I’m happier about is how you treated Har.”
“H-how I…?”
Zena shook her head. “He did nothing but try to treat you as a rival, and I can’t really blame him for it, considering, well…”
Owen rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah…”
“But you did nothing but try to include him anyway.”
“I mean—what was I supposed to do?” Owen turned his palms upward. “I know exactly how he feels. Or, I mean, I can probably guess. I know how my body feels, and he has basically the same one. We were probably reading each other like books. I just… wanted him to feel better.”
“And how did he feel about you?” Zena asked.
“Er,”—Owen awkwardly shifted his feet—“At first, he seemed to hate me. Especially after I won. But I guess… maybe he started to get over it.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Zena said, nudging Owen with one of her ribbons. “Owen… I’m proud of you. Even if your instincts are battle-hungry, I can still see that you’re one of the kindest Pokémon I’ve ever met. You’re… a real Heart, Owen. I think I understand what you mean, now, when you say that. What was the motto, again?”
“Fight, uh, fight for the world,” Owen said. “To help people who can’t on their own.”
The Milotic nodded. “I think you did that for Har today.”
She slithered closer. Their faces were mere inches apart. Owen gulped nervously, glancing to the left and right. He was getting a new set of motions from Zena, and he didn’t quite know what they meant. Before he had the chance to piece together the puzzle, she closed her eyes and gave him a small peck on the lips. Sensitive scales briefly touched one another before parting.
Speechless, Owen only stared, wide-eyed. He and Zena shared a similar, red hue.
“Come,” she said. “Let’s finish our lunch.”
She slithered past Owen, brushing her scales against his thigh. Owen shivered, spinning around to watch her go. “Z-Zena?”
“Hm?” She looked back.
“I think I’m starting to understand your body language better.”
Zena blinked, mouth open a sliver, but no words came at first. Then, she smiled. “I know.”