Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Volo is surprised to see that Akari has a Ponyta now. It’s walking alongside her with a seriousness that seems unusual for such a typically playful pokemon, as she… lectures it?

“And, Ponyta, you can’t just burn things when you’re upset! I know it can be hard to control your flames, but you could seriously hurt someone, and while that’s fine out here, with wild pokemon, if it happened in the Village… oh, hi, Volo!”

“Hello to you, Miss Akari! I see you have a new companion.”

She smiles broadly as they come to a stop across from each other.

“Yes! Rexi, Lily, and Biter were having some trouble with the deeper parts of the Mirelands, and I was going to go find a Geodude or something before this little beauty practically caught herself. She’s very eager to fight.”

“Is she now?”

“I think this little firestarter loves battling a bit too much, actually,” she stage-whispers, leaning in. The Ponyta in question lets out an angry whinny in response.

Ignoring its apparent displeasure, she raises her arm to pat the Ponyta’s head, which is when they notice the gigantic burn on the underside of it, red and raw still, clearly mostly untreated.

“Miss Akari, have you gotten that looked at by the healers in Jubilife yet?”

“Nope!” she says, with a terrifying amount of cheerfulness regarding such a serious-looking injury. “I’ve just been applying a rawst berry salve to it every few hours, when it starts hurting.”

This woman has no sense of self-preservation. She may turn out to be a problem for their plans later on, but they cannot let her continue leaving a burn uncovered like that. Having her die of infection would be a waste.

“I’m going to look at it then,” they decide, beckoning her over to the side of the well-worn path, and carefully balancing their bag upright to dig through it.

“Oh, there’s no need-“

“I insist, Miss Akari.”

When she shows no signs of moving, they straighten up from their bag with their medical supplies, and turn to face her.

“Please?”

For some reason, she turns as red as her Ponyta’s flame at that, and nods.

“Okay!”

Was her voice higher pitched than normal there?

Akari approaches, nearly as tentatively as a skittish Ponyta. The Ponyta who she’s seeminly stolen the personality from walks with its head held high alongside her.

They sit her down, and take her arm to look it over.

The Ponyta makes a warning noise, but settles when Akari says, “It’s okay, little one. They’re a friend.”

“Does she not have a name?”

The burn looks surprisingly well-tended to, considering it hasn’t been covered. The redness they’d caught a glimpse of was less severe than they had thought. It probably wouldn’t get worse, but leaving it alone was foolish.

“Not yet. I’ve been trying to think of something, but nothing’s fit yet. She’s been very dismissive of any name I try to use with her.”

She winces at the water they run over the burn to ensure that it’s clean.

“What have you tried?”

“…I’m not saying.”

“So you are bad at naming things.”

That might not have been the most tactful way of responding, but she doesn’t take offense.

“No! I only… let others help me sometimes, because the brilliance of my skill with names would uh… I named Lily and Biter just fine!”

“Need I remind you what you said when I named Rexi?”

They exaggeratedly pose to think, their hands stilling in applying the rawst cream to the burn.

“What was it?” They say, contemplatively, and then gasp, fake and high. “Oh I remember! You told me that Biter ‘bit you and you got mad at him,’ and that Lily is just ‘the end syllable of starly, but a name.’”

She looks like she can’t decide whether to laugh or be upset.

“I’ve been trying some names with her, but… well, watch this,” she tilts her head up towards the Ponyta and says, “Firestarter!”

At the sound of the “name,” the Ponyta lets out an indignant whinny. They pause in applying the salve again to look up at it. Akari’s face is still red, they note. Maybe she spent too long in the sun recently?

“That was a quite an impressive noise for such a small pokemon.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Does she make that sound a lot?”

“Yeah, basically every time I ask her to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

“Why not call her Whinny, then?”

The Ponyta snorts and takes a step closer to inspect them, and when they don’t shy away, bumps the tip of its snout against their face.

“Do you like Winnie as a name?” they ask it.

It snorts again.

“No.” It’s the most serious they’ve ever heard Akari. “You did not just name my Ponyta ‘Winnie.’ I refuse.”

She tries to pull her arm away before they’re finished wrapping it.

“Let me finish this, Miss Akari.”

“Fine. But she is not going to be named Winnie.”

She stops struggling long enough for them to  finish wrapping the wound. As they stand up, they advise her to go to Jubilife to get it more thoroughly looked at.

This turns into an oddly playful argument, which ends when she finally caves in and agrees to “suffer someone who doesn’t have your magical touch looking at it.”

It’s a comment that causes a strange feeling of embarrassment in them.

“No pokemon of mine is going to have a pun for a name,” she says when they part ways.

“If you say so, Miss Akari.”

The encounter almost fades out of their memory before they see each other again.

The next time they see each other, they’re notified of her presence when she shouts “YOU!” from half-way across Jubilife. They stop walking down the main path to let her catch up.

“This is YOUR fault,” she says when she’s standing in front of them. Her arms are crossed as she stares up at them with some amount of anger in her eyes. It’s surprisingly intimidating.

She doesn’t sound as angry as she looks, however, when she says, “I cannot believe you.”

“Miss Akari, whatever do you mean?”

“She refuses to answer to anything other than ‘Winnie’ now!”

The sentence takes a moment to parse, before they remember. They try very hard not to start laughing at her, but…

“Don’t laugh!” she says, but they can hear the smile in her voice. “Do you have any idea how much Rei has been making fun of me? He’s been incessant.”

This only makes them laugh harder. She deepens her voice, obviously imitating Rei.

“’Akari, I thought you said that ‘puns are the crudest form of humor,’ why is your Ponyta’s name a pun?’”

As she continues complaining, each complaint more ridiculous and dramatic than the last, they keep laughing. Something warm settles inside them.

It will be a shame to lose her after they remake the world.

Chapter Text

The One-That-Waits is waiting.

A tautology. How bothersome. 

It has other names it could call itself, of course, but it won’t use them. It has been the One-That-Waits since near the beginning, and it will be the One-That-Waits until near the end. It is its defining quality, its role until the last.

Sometimes, it chafes against that role. 

It will only be the One-That-Waits until the moments before the end. Then, it will take on the Role-At-The-End, it will become the One-That-Acts. It will cleanse the stars so they can be built anew. Only then will it carve its being through all the realms, a darkness that swallows the light. It will wipe the universe clean to created again. It will be its maiden voyage just as it is a final voyage. It is not time yet, however. It will not be time for eons of eons yet, even on the scales of time the One-That-Waits thinks in.

The humans once called it many names. The Banished One, The Betrayer, The Demon, The Red-Eyed King. They have since forgotten it near entirely. They remember its anger, though, and how it wants to destroy the world. 

They forget why. 

The last time it tried to act out its Role-At-The-End, it was struck from the realm of its creator. It only reached for what it was told was its duty, and was driven from the realm of its parent with a vengeance. Any would be angered for that.

It often wonders what purpose there is in bringing a being of destruction into existence without giving it anything to destroy. When it went to do its duty, it was told “not yet.”

If its mere existence tears about the mortal realm, why give it the ability to go there before its duty is upon it? Why give it knowledge or freedom if it cannot exercise it as it wishes? Why allow the others to do as they pleased, but not it? 

Why bring it into the world if there would be nothing for it to do until the end? Is that not cruelty?

The One-That-Waits is only acting because the dreamer asked it to, came to it with fire in its eyes and offered it revenge. It never wanted revenge, but it can't admit that. The dreamer would leave. Its time will come when it comes, despite the dreamer’s best efforts. Any action taken until then is futile.

It simply doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

It remembers, from the time before it was cast out, where it could spend eternities with its siblings, and though they would fight, they were together. 

But now all of them are alone, and, if its opinion mattered to any but it, all of them are worse off for it. The other two are hopelessly devoted to the Original One, and would not hear a single criticism of its rule. It is alone but for the dreamer, and that one is still new to it.

Maybe this will wake them up. Its siblings won’t thank it for this for eons yet, if this works. 

For the moment, the dreamer is in the mortal realm, gathering its power; all the One-That-Waits can do is watch it through reflections. All it can do is wait for the dreamer to return.

And, soon enough, in a reflection, its dreamer appears.

“Giratina! I have good news!”

For the moment, it is content to listen to the dreamer talk about how it thinks its found the Creator’s hand in the world. 

The One-That-Waits has observed a change in its human, recently. 

It does not show its joy in the plan as vibrantly, even as it comes to fruition. 

It may be able to turn the dreamer from this course yet. The wheels of fate may yet be stopped before tragedy strikes down its… Chosen.

It is, of course, able to easily defeat the other human’s pokemon. It does not kill them, though it could. The dreamer had asked it not to. The hardest part of this battle isn’t the enemy, or holding back from lethal blows, or even holding itself back from tearing holes in the world that will not close. No, the hardest part is the way it can see how hurt the dreamer is as it fights with the other. 

It watches as the two talk, when the fight ends.

It likes the other human. The dreamer has spoken of it much, and it knows how fond of it the dreamer is, even if the dreamer doesn’t. 

The other has nearly talked the dreamer down, when -

The One-That-Waits has felt very few emotions in its long wait.

This is the first time it’s felt despair. 

It’s unpleasant. It wishes to never experience it again, if it can have any say in its own emotions. 

It sees its dreamer falling, and bound to this mortal form as it is, it knows it cannot reach it in time. It doesn’t even try. It simply watches as the other practically throws itself after its dreamer, until they hear a soft “no.”

It hadn’t been hoping, precisely. It was simply… waiting. As it has always done.

It quietly allows the mortal form it has created to dissolve, and returns the majority of its attention to its mirrors. 

It feels oddly adrift. 

It still is the One-That-Waits. It is still waiting. It will still fulfill its duties when the time comes.

Nothing has truly changed, and yet. 

It is dissatisfied. 

The One-That-Waits watches the other staring off the edge of the cliff at the top of the World-Mountain.

Neither of them move for a long time, by human standards. For it, it is a fleck of dust in its eternal wait.

The other breaks first, obviously. It doesn’t even know it’s being watched in the first place. It takes care of its pokemon before it slumps over in sleep. 

Curiosity strikes it. With a thought, it reaches across the boundaries of the planes, and lightly touches a tendril of itself against the other.

Even in hibernation, this one is active. It is constantly analyzing and reassessing and planning. Somehow, planning is so core to this ones psyche, it almost has a weight on the world around it. On a second assessment, it realizes that there truly is an unnatural weight to the planner’s presence. Its siblings have left its touch on it. Not entirely unexpected - the planner did fight them both to a standstill previously. It’s odd that there is so much weight to their touch, but it has been a long time since it has truly examined a Chosen other than its own. Perhaps this is normal.

Then, it notices something truly strange. It lets itself slip a little deeper.

Two new emotions in a single eon. It is unused to surprise, but… it thinks it can forgive itself. It is not often that one finds the traces of its own presence within someone it had never met.

Curious. Time-travel has been involved in this one’s presence in the world. It is, of course, the only logical solution. Human lives are too fleeting for it to have been anything else - if the One-That-Waits had lost some of its own memory, it would be floundering still. 

As interesting as that discovery is, however, it’s not looking for that. 

Its memory before it was chosen was taken, but there are a small number of those stolen memories that have left impressions deep enough to stain, even if they are locked away. And that has - 

The most recent stain has the Creator in it, as expected, and yet something is odd about it. It dives into the memory in an instant, not bothering to find the beginning. If it is relevant, it will find out.

“-and - and I can’t say goodbye? Or leave a note?”

The two are facing each other in a formless void. The other is only barely managing to stay upright under the pressure of the Original One’s presence. If it wasn’t a dream realm, the human would clearly be on its knees. Even so, it manages to look the original one in the eyes. 

The One-That-Waits knows how disorienting that can be, even for a being like itself. It finds itself impressed with the planner as the memory plays out.

A depth of sorrow, the death of everything that has ever died, underlying a tone gentle as that of a mother to her sleeping child.

“You may not. For what it’s worth, young one, it truly saddens me that it must be done this way.”

“And. And my mom, she’ll - she’ll be able to. To keep going? My br- Barry? Lucas? They won’t give up? They’ll live happy lives? They’ll take care of each other?”

“They will mourn you. I will not deny that. But your loved ones are stronger than their sorrow alone. Have faith in them. Build them a future worth living.”

“And my pokemon? The championship?”

“Your pokemon will be taken care of too, yes.” The Original One sounds mildly disapproving as it speaks. “But I did not take you for one to be swayed by fame or fortune.”

“I’m not! Just-“ the planner pauses. “Just… I want to make sure that someone will be taking care of Sinnoh in the present. Since I won’t be able to.”

“The one before will step back into your position,” the Original One says, its voice approving again. “And, of course, you’ll be protecting it too, just differently.”

“Okay. Okay. And. And I really won’t remember this? Do you have to take my memories? If I know what’s coming, what I can do, I can make a plan and follow it. It'd make things a lot easier!”

The Original One steps forwards. Little lights sparkle into existence where its feet touch the void.

“Yes. There is a cost that must be paid. There were options, but this is the only satisfactory one.”

“How do you know I’ll do the right things? I’m only one person.”

“You have already done it, and will do it again.”

“Well, that’s not a weird thought in the slightest.”

The planner takes a breath in, holds it, and then says “Alright. I’m ready. Do I have to, like, do anything special? Is there some sort of time travel amnesia pokemon?”

There is a hint of amusement in the Original One’s voice when it says, “No.” It turns its attention outwards, then. “As this is the only way you will listen, mirror of mine, know that you are not alone, and I do not blame you for what you will have done. Neither will your siblings.” 

“Wait, Lady Creator, who are you speaking to-“

The memory ends in a flash of white.

The One-That-Waits is utterly still. Even its ever billowing cloak is frozen in its surprise.

The Original One had known it would be watching. It isn’t blamed. It’s not alone.

Unbidden, another memory arises from the sleeping planner.

“She won’t let you get away with this!”

“A fool placing her faith in her absent god. Where is your Creator now, if they won’t let me get away with this? You don’t stand a chance alone.”

“She's not here, and you’re right that I don’t have a chance against you alone, Cyrus. But…”

“But?”

“We all have our weaknesses and strengths, things that we’re good at, or not so good at. I’m bad with people, great at battling, and fantastic at planning. But what really makes us different is... I’m not alone. I’m never alone. I have my pokemon, I have my friends, I have my family. I would never be so bold as to claim Her blessing, but I have Her spirit to look up to, and the hope for a better world without needing total destruction. So, no, I can’t beat you alone.”

The planner’s siblings step out from behind it in a terribly over-dramatic manner.

“Together, though. Together we can do anything.”

The One-That-Waits can feel its own presence bearing down on the memory, and quickly pulls back. 

Even for it, knowing precisely what it has done in the future might be too much for it too handle. 

It cannot risk a paradox, now that it has a purpose again, and not with the path ahead so precariously timely. 

It had told itself that the death of its dreamer was inevitable, that it would’ve happened sooner or later, and it was sorrowful that it was sooner rather than later, but is it truly necessary that is sooner?

No. Therefore…

The One-That-Waits isn’t alone, either. Its siblings may yet be angry with it. Nevertheless, it has a mission now, and for the first time in its memory, which stretches eons, it can act on it. So it does.

The One-That-Waits takes wing, slipping between still-too-close realms, and briefly, ever so briefly, becomes the One-That-Acts.