Chapter Text

Chapter 1 – The Sound of Change

The hum of the bus buzzed quietly beneath Lilac’s boots, steady and low like a heartbeat she didn’t want to claim. She sat by the window, her breath faint on the glass as she stared out at the hills of Kitakami, pale green under the early winter sky. Somewhere between sea and mountain, the wind moved through the trees in slow waves — familiar, but not quite comforting.

Fourteen hours of travel had left her body heavy and her thoughts louder than she liked. First the plane, then the bus, and now the stares — quiet, uncertain ones from strangers who didn't know her name, and louder, invisible ones she could still feel. The kind that lingered even when no one was looking.

Behind her, someone laughed softly in their sleep. Mr. Jacq, her biology teacher, slumped in his seat, snoring lightly. Two classmates dozed near him, their heads tilted awkwardly with the rhythm of the road. Only Andrea — the girl assigned as her “buddy” — was awake, absorbed in a livestream of Iono’s latest unboxing on her Rotom Phone.

Lilac didn’t speak. She never really did when she didn’t have to.

Instead, she pressed her fingertips against the glass. It was cool and smooth, grounding in a way that her thoughts weren’t. The quiet landscape outside — soft hills, open fields, thin ribbons of smoke from distant chimneys — reminded her of the coastlines of the Isle of Armor.

Home, she used to call it.

It had been just over a month since she left it behind — her island, her rhythms. Now it was just her and her mother in Paldea, tucked into a small house in Cabo Poco, pretending things were fine.

A new school. A new region. A new name, even.

She'd started at Uva Academy only three weeks ago, but the halls already felt heavier than any backpack. Too many eyes. Too many assumptions.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

She hadn’t meant to remember.

It had only been two days ago.
And yet, the words still rang in her head like something carved too deep to fade.

“This copy of the Violet Book is actually Heath’s original manuscript! Many of the pages are illegible in later versions!”

The teacher from Blueberry Academy had been radiant with excitement. Briar. Every time she spoke, it was with her whole chest — with pride, with hunger for answers, with no idea what those answers cost someone else.

“The creature on this page was named Terapagos. Look at it—majestic! Of course, this is just your ancestor’s interpretation of Heath’s notes. I wish I could explore Area Zero myself…”

Lilac had stared at the page, not the Pokémon. Not the coils of light or the ancient brushwork.

She had stared at the signature in the corner.

Rosalina.

Her great-great-great-something. The artist. The liar.

Everyone said the book was full of fantasies. “Unreliable.” “Unscientific.” “A fairy tale.” And yet they still passed it around in classes like gospel. They still smiled at the drawings. They still praised the names and the legacy.

No one ever asked what it felt like to live in the shadow of a fairy tale that no one believed.

“I just wish this book had never been written,” Lilac had said, her voice quiet but brittle.
“You’re so proud of our ancestors’ work without realizing they cursed us.”

The memory of it made her shoulders tense even now. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

“It’s not about truth or lies… it’s a curse.”

The heat had bloomed behind her eyes then. That crawling sensation in her skull, like her thoughts had gotten too loud to stay inside.

And then the voices, not real but real enough — echoing like they always did when she let herself get too close to the page.

“Liars. They’re liars. All of them.”

Lilac pressed her fingers harder to the window.

She hadn’t brought the book with her. She never would. But it followed her anyway.

A voice crackled through the speaker at the front of the bus, breaking the spell.

“Alright, students! We’re arriving in Mossui Town — make sure you have everything ready to disembark!”

Lilac opened her eyes slowly. She straightened in her seat, reaching for her bag. The cardigan she wore felt warm against her shoulders, but her hands had gone cold.

As her classmates stirred behind her, groaning and stretching and complaining, Lilac rose quietly. She let them shuffle past, Andrea still watching her phone, the others rubbing sleep from their eyes.

Mr. Jacq yawned like a Slowpoke and adjusted his glasses.

Lilac stepped off the bus without a word.

The wind greeted her like an old friend — quiet, cool, and distant.

Whatever this trip had in store, she’d face it the same way she always did:

Quietly. Carefully.

And alone.

The picnic had been short, mostly for show. No one really expected students to hike and eat in the same breath — especially after a fourteen-hour journey.

But Lilac didn’t mind.

“Can I step away for a bit to take some pictures, Mr. Jacq?” she had asked with practiced politeness.

Jacq had blinked behind his hexagonal glasses.
“You sure you won’t get lost? Your mom mentioned your... ‘directional challenges.’”

“I won’t go far.” She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jacq hesitated, then waved her off with a sigh and a thermos.
“Alright, but check in every ten minutes. And don’t fall into a river.”

Lilac didn’t answer — she was already walking.

The path led away from the road into a gentle slope of swaying grass and stepped rice fields, green even in winter. The air here was different — clean, a little crisp, like it remembered things you didn’t say out loud.

She held her phone in both hands, lining up a shot of the horizon. The fields, the town, the water, all framed by clouds like ink on parchment.

But before she pressed the shutter, something golden fluttered past her lens.

A Cutiefly.

Then another.
And another.

They hovered just out of reach, dancing on the breeze like flower petals with wings. Normally, they scattered at the first sign of footsteps. But here, now… they lingered.

Maybe it was the quiet.
Maybe it was her.

Lilac reached for her backpack and pulled out the old wooden flute. The same one she’d played under the cliffs back home — before everything changed. Her hands trembled slightly, but not from cold.

She lifted it to her lips.

A few gentle notes.
Soft. Wandering.
No melody, just feeling.

The wind answered with a hush. The Cutiefly began to circle her in spirals, their tiny wings humming in tune. For a moment, it was like the world paused — as if even Kitakami was holding its breath.

Lilac closed her eyes and played — not for anyone, not even herself — but because something inside her needed to be heard.

When she finally stopped, her heart was calmer.

And the town was closer.

She blinked.

“...Did I really walk that far?”

The old wooden sign just ahead confirmed it:

Welcome to Mossui Town

Her stomach dropped.
“Oh no.”

She reached for her phone — Jacq had already sent three messages and a location ping.
“Definitely getting scolded for this…”

Elsewhere, Near the Community Center

Kieran scrubbed at the last wooden plank with a cloth soaked in warm water. It wasn’t glamorous work — but it gave him something to focus on.

He didn’t mind helping. Not really. Especially not when Briar was off rambling about Terastal energy again and Carmine was… well.

“This is such a waste of time,” she grumbled, folding her arms. “Why do WE have to clean up just because a bunch of tourists are coming?”

“They’re not tourists,” Kieran mumbled.

“They might as well be. Paldeans and their dumb schools… They’re probably all loud and stuck-up.”

He didn’t answer. He’d been wondering what they’d be like, too. Maybe not stuck-up — maybe just different. He wasn’t excited, exactly. But curious.

He stole a glance toward the hill overlooking the fields.

That’s when he heard it.
A flute.

The sound drifted down with the wind — delicate, uncertain, and… kind. Not trained, not professional. But real.

Kieran turned his head, searching the tree line.

Then he saw her.

A girl, standing at the edge of the slope. Her cardigan caught the wind like wings, soft violet against the late afternoon sky. Her hair curled like a swirl of lavender cream, and her eyes — when she looked up from her phone — were pale and bright like dawn after rain.

She looked like she’d stepped out of a storybook.

Or maybe a Fairy-type gym.

“Look, sis,” he said quietly. “I think she’s one of them.”

Carmine narrowed her eyes.
Her boots were moving before Kieran could stop her.

“You there! You from Paldea?”

The girl blinked. Slowly nodded.

Kieran instinctively stepped behind his sister, but peeked out.
Her lavender eyes met his golden ones for a second — calm, unreadable, but not unkind.

He looked away fast, ears burning.

“She’s kinda cool…”

“Hush, Kieran!” Carmine snapped. “Name’s Carmine. And you can’t just wander into town without permission.”

The girl tilted her head.

“I didn’t know the town had a young mayor.”

Kieran stifled a laugh.
Even Carmine paused — just for a second.

“If you REALLY want to enter, you’ll have to beat me in a Pokémon battle first!”

“Seriously?” he sighed. “A battle right now?”

“I said hush, Kiki!”

He stepped back. His sister was intense, but this girl didn’t flinch — didn’t even look surprised. Just… tired.

But when she smiled — that quiet little smirk — Kieran felt it all the way down to his socks.

== Trainer Battle Start ==
Lilac (3 Pokémon) vs. Carmine (3 Pokémon)

“To welcome you to Kitakami,” Carmine growled, “I’ll make you eat dirt!”

Lilac didn’t flinch.

She sighed softly, brushing a curl from her cheek, then stepped forward and flicked her wrist. A Moon Ball spiraled into the air.

“Opaline, let’s go.”

With a shimmer of pale light, the Alolan Ninetales emerged — lavander and white fur like powdered snow, magenta eyes gleaming. For a moment, the field around them felt colder, quieter.

Kieran leaned in, eyes wide.

“A shiny Ninetales… in a Moon Ball?” he whispered. “That’s… rare.”

But the Pokémon didn’t move.

Opaline turned her head, locking eyes with Lilac. Her tails twitched, not with readiness — with hesitation.

Not again, Lilac thought.

“Opaline… now’s not the time,” she murmured.

Still, nothing. The silence pressed. Carmine scoffed.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Your little ice fox too scared?”

That stung. But Lilac didn’t react.

Instead, she stepped forward — not aggressively, just… earnestly.

“Please.”

The wind shifted.

Opaline exhaled a low howl, summoning a swirl of powdered snow. Aurora Veil shimmered into place around her, refracting light like stained glass.

She obeyed. Thank you.

Carmine threw her Poké Ball high.

“Mightyena — Fire Fang!”

The dark hound lunged forward, jaws blazing with fire.

Fangs bit into Opaline’s side — but the veil dulled the damage. She slid back with a graceful grunt, then retaliated.

“Moonblast,” Lilac said calmly.

A pulse of moonlight exploded forward. Mightyena yelped and crumpled mid-sprint.

One down.

Carmine growled.

“Not bad. But I’m just warming up.”

She tossed another Poké Ball — a Kantonian Ninetales emerged, sleek and elegant. Fire danced in its fur.

Lilac returned Opaline with a soft “Thank you.”

“Mimi. It’s your turn.”

A Chic Ball burst open. Mimikyu landed with a thump, head tilted, ragged disguise fluttering.

Ninetales launched a Flamethrower instantly. Flames engulfed the little ghost — but when the smoke cleared, Mimikyu stood untouched. Its disguise absorbed the hit.

“Let’s play hide and seek,” Lilac whispered.

Mimikyu nodded once — and vanished.

Carmine’s eyes darted around.

“What—?!”

A blur shot out from behind her Ninetales — Mimikyu struck with Phantom Force, slipping through shadows like a ghostly whisper.

“Ugh, these tricks are getting annoying!”

Kieran’s voice, still quiet, carried on the wind.

“She’s… knocked out two of Carmine’s Pokémon?”

He smiled a little, still hiding behind his sister.

“She’s amazing…”

Carmine turned on him.

“HEY! Whose side are you on?!”

“S-sorry!”

Lilac tilted her head slightly, hearing it all — but not reacting.

Carmine’s last Poké Ball flashed.

“Sinistcha — let’s teach them manners! Matcha Gotcha!”

The teacup Pokémon materialized, glowing with spectral energy. A beam of mystical tea surged toward Mimikyu.

“Return!” Lilac said sharply.

The beam grazed Mimikyu as it vanished into its ball — burned, but safe.

Lilac pulled out a third Poké Ball.

“Primrose — go.”

Floragato landed with feline poise, tail twitching, leaves fluttering like blades.

“Hone Claws.”

Claws shimmered, sharpening.

Carmine smirked.

“Foul Play!”

But the moment Sinistcha struck, its body shuddered. The attack passed through harmlessly.

Kieran gasped.

“Wait—Protean…! She changed types. It’s a Dark type now… Foul Play doesn’t work!”

Before Carmine could react—

“Knock Off.”

Floragato slashed with precision. Sinistcha was thrown back — and fainted.

Carmine stood still, fists clenched. Her jaw tightened. She stared at the Poké Ball in her hand like it had betrayed her.

“I… lost?”

Lilac stepped forward and extended her hand.

“Guess I can enter town now, right… Mayor?”

Carmine looked away.

“Don’t expect me to shake hands.”

Her voice cracked with frustration.

“You only won ‘cause I held back. Whatever. You can come in. But don’t think that means we’re friends. You’ll follow my rules from now on—”

“HEY!”

The voice hit like thunder.

An older man stood at the end of the street — broad-shouldered, sun-worn face, deep frown creasing his brow. His presence radiated authority, calm but unshakable.

“Carmine,” he said, “what do you think you’re doing?”

She paled.

“Mr. Futoshi…!”

Kieran stepped back, visibly shrinking.

“Let’s go, Kiki!”

“But I—!”

“Don’t argue!”

Carmine grabbed her brother and dragged him away.

“Aw, man…” Kieran muttered, glancing back once.

Lilac watched them go. Then turned slowly to the man approaching her.

His face softened as he looked her over — tired, alone, still holding a Poké Ball.

“Did those two bother you?”

Lilac hesitated.

She could say yes. She should say yes.

But Kieran’s expression lingered in her memory — curious, open, unsure.

He didn’t look at her the way the others did.

“Not really,” she said finally. “I’m Lilac. From Paldea. You must be…”

“Futoshi.” He nodded. “Caretaker of the community center. And, for now, I suppose… unofficial mayor of Mossui Town.” He smiled gently. “Welcome.”

Lilac managed a polite nod — but inside, her heart was sinking again.

Because the moment was over.

And she could already hear the footsteps of her teacher behind her.

“Syringa Lilac!”

Jacq’s voice rang like a siren.

She turned, barely suppressing a sigh.

Here it comes.

Behind him, the other three Paldean students stared. One of them snorted.

“Seriously? She got here first just to cause a scene?”

Lilac lowered her head and exhaled through her nose.

Long trip. Hostile welcome. Classmates waiting to mock me. And I’m the one who’ll get scolded.

Futoshi raised an eyebrow.

“Should I intervene?”

“No,” Lilac said quickly. “I’m the one in trouble, after all.”

She slipped her Poké Ball back into her pocket and braced herself for the longest lecture of her life.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 – The Mysterious Opaline

Lilac had just finished unpacking in her assigned dorm room at the Community Center, but something was bothering her.

She glanced at Opaline, who stood silently by the window, staring toward the distant Mount of Kitakami.

“Okay, seriously—can you tell me what’s wrong, Opaline? Did I do something to offend you? You’ve been acting like this for two days…”

As usual, Opaline didn’t respond. Without warning, she leapt through the window and ran off.

Lilac sighed. She wasn’t surprised—Opaline had always been independent and difficult to command. But letting her wander off without a word wasn’t an option. She grabbed her Rotom Phone and hurried out the door.

As she passed down the corridor, she overheard hushed voices from a nearby room—her classmates.

"That Lilac girl is so weird! She got lost in a hallway. A hallway!” Andrea’s voice was sharp and mocking.

“The teacher scolded her for wandering off. What else do you expect from someone descended from a family of liars?” Harry added with a sneer.

Lilac stepped away, heart heavy. No matter how honest she tried to be, she couldn’t erase the reputation her family carried.

“They’re all the same…” she muttered, wiping her eyes and slipping quietly out of the building.

“Opaline, where are you?” she called out. The sun was beginning to set, and soon it would be too dark to search. “Please don’t go too far… I’ll get in trouble again…”

Meanwhile, elsewhere in town…

“And then Sis told her Pokémon to attack, but the Uva girl had it countered with—” Kieran was recounting Carmine’s battle to their grandparents, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Oh ho ho! Sounds like you had quite the adventure,” Grandpa Yukito laughed, setting aside his newspaper.

“I still can’t believe it…” Carmine collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic groan. “I’m Carmine! Mossui’s strongest! And I lost to an outsider!”

“She really was strong… I kind of want to battle her too.”

Carmine smirked. “You’re totally into her, huh? You haven’t shut up about her since this afternoon! I almost miss your ogre stories.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” Kieran snapped, grabbing a Poké Ball from his jacket. “Come on, Applin. Let’s go.”

He stormed out, slamming the door. A cheerful “squit!” sounded as Applin popped out and perched on his shoulder.

“I bet you’d like to battle her too, huh?”

“Squit…”

Kieran laughed softly. “I know. You’re not ready yet.”

He wasn’t sure where to go. The caretaker had been annoying today—and it was all Carmine’s fault.

Suddenly, a soft growl froze him.

Standing in the path was an Alolan Ninetales—her Pokémon.

Its magenta eyes narrowed, watching him silently.

“S-squit…” Applin trembled and hid behind his neck as Ninetales stepped forward. Snowflakes sparkled from its fur. Kieran couldn’t help wondering how soft it felt.

The Pokémon sniffed him, then, curiously, its expression softened.

“Opaline!” came a familiar voice. Lilac hurried over, relief in her face as she knelt and hugged her Pokémon.

“You had me worried… Don’t run off like that!”

She glanced up and froze when she saw Kieran. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to disturb you. Apologize, Opaline.”

“…Please accept my apologies,” said a gentle voice.

Kieran’s eyes widened. Did… did I just hear the Ninetales talk?! Only ancient, wise Pokémon could speak like that—right?

“I-It’s fine,” he mumbled. “I—I should go…”

“This is too much,” Lilac whispered, mortified. She’d just been embarrassed by her classmates—and now again in front of Kieran.

She turned and left quickly, grateful the awkward encounter hadn’t lasted longer.

By the time she returned to the dorms, no one had noticed her absence.

“So, Opaline? You owe me an explanation.”

“... … …”

“Seriously?!”

“... … …”

Lilac groaned and flopped onto her bed. Her mom had warned her—Opaline was stubborn. And somehow, she always won.

Her Rotom Phone buzzed. A video call from her mom Amara, Arven, and Nemona.

“Hi sweetie!” Amara greeted her warmly.

“Hey, little buddy!” Arven added with a smile.

“Hola, Lilac! Any battles yet? Did you win? How many? Were they—”

“Nemona, slow down,” Arven cut in.

“It’s late in Kitakami,” Amara reminded them gently. “Let her breathe.”

“Guys, please!” Lilac groaned. “Mom, I’m fine! I’m not a kid anymore.”

Arven chuckled. “We know, but you do eat way too many sweets.”

“Traitor!”

“How’s Opaline?” Amara asked.

At her name, Ninetales climbed onto the bed and stared straight into the camera.

“She’s… being stubborn,” Lilac admitted, looking away.

“She still loves you. She just has her own way of showing it,” Amara said kindly. “Now get some sleep, all right?”

“Good night, Mom! And you too, Arven and Nemona.”

As the call ended, a message notification appeared:

Penny: “If you’re reading this, then the internet does exist in Kitakami. You lucky girl.”

Lilac giggled.

The quiet hum of the night filled the room. She zipped up her backpack and wrapped her flute in its cloth, placing it on the dresser.

The moonlight cast soft shadows as she changed into her sleepwear and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling to herself.

Today had been long, but not bad.

Just as she pulled the covers back—

Rustle.

She froze.

Another faint sound, from her backpack.

“…Hello?” she whispered, cautiously unzipping it.

A golden blur zipped out, twirling in the moonlight with a trill.

“A Cutiefly?!”

It hovered before her, familiar and shimmering. One of the same Pokémon she’d drawn in with her flute earlier.

“You followed me?”

It buzzed joyfully and landed on her pillow.

“You really liked the music, huh…”

Lilac’s heart warmed. She laid out a small towel beside her pillow.

“If you want to rest here, that’s okay.”

The Cutiefly settled in happily.

Lilac lay beside it and whispered, “Guess I’m not sleeping alone tonight.”

Morning sunlight peeked through the windows. Lilac stirred, blinking blearily—and smiled when she saw Cutiefly nestled beside her.

“You’re still here?”

It fluttered up, drowsy and warm, then landed on her shoulder.

“You really want to come with me?”

She pulled out a spare Poké Ball.

The Cutiefly studied it, then gently tapped the button with its tiny foot. Light engulfed it, and the ball clicked closed.

Lilac held the Poké Ball to her chest. “Welcome to the team, Cadence.”

Later, outside the Community Center…

“My name’s Jacq, biology teacher at Uva Academy!”

“I’m Briar, history teacher at Blueberry Academy!” she said, giving Lilac a too-sweet smile.

“I’m Futoshi, your host. I hope your stay is pleasant.”

Introductions continued. Lilac tried to calm herself.

“I’m Syringa Lilac, but just call me Lilac. I’m on the general track at Uva Academy and…”

 She faltered under the weight of dozens of eyes.

Then came the Blueberry students.

“I’m Carmine! I hope all you outsiders—I mean, Paldean students—make friends here!”

She elbowed her brother. “Go on, Kiki.”

“I-I’m Kieran…”

“Don’t be shy,” Briar added. “They’re locals—ask them for help!”

Mr. Futoshi then explained the orienteering activity: teams would take photos with signboards from a local folktale.

Lilac was intrigued… but dreaded partnering with someone who didn’t want her.

Suddenly, Carmine dragged Kieran over.

“Lilac! My brother’s had googly eyes for you since yesterday.”

“Carmine, you dummy! Why’d you say that?!”

“He wants to battle you! He’s just too shy.”

Lilac smiled, remembering how kind Kieran had been.

“Sure. Why not?”

“You hear that, Kiki?”

Kieran’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

Carmine pushed everyone back. “Battle time!”

== Trainer Battle Start ==

 Lilac (2 Pokémon) vs. Kieran (2 Pokémon)

The crowd circled around the makeshift battlefield, phones already out. Lilac’s heart fluttered in her chest. All those eyes. Watching her.

She took a deep breath and unclipped a Moon Ball.

 “Opaline, let’s go!” she called, releasing her Alolan Ninetales in a swirl of icy mist.

Across from her, Kieran hesitated—then threw his Poké Ball forward.

 “Go, Yanmega!”

The massive dragonfly buzzed into the air, its wings slicing through the air in a loud, rhythmic hum.

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Blizzard!” Lilac ordered, voice steadier than she felt.

Snow burst from Opaline’s mouth, twisting into a white-out gale—but Yanmega zigzagged upward, slipping just out of range.

“It’s fast!” Lilac muttered.

“Yanmega, Air Slash!” Kieran called, more confidently now.

Blades of compressed wind tore through the snow and slammed into Opaline. The Ninetales stumbled, her silvery fur whipped by the attack.

“Bug Buzz!” Kieran added quickly.

The harsh screech made Opaline recoil, ears pinned back.

Lilac flinched with her Pokémon. Stay focused… “Aim for its wings this time. Blizzard—go!”

The temperature plummeted. This time, the snowstorm roared upward—and caught Yanmega mid-dive. Ice crystals formed instantly along its wings.

Kieran gasped.

 “No—!”

Yanmega spiraled down, crashing into the snowbank.

Lilac exhaled. The crowd murmured in surprise.

“Great job!” Kieran called across the field, recalling his partner. “Now let’s go, Furret!”

The long, striped Normal-type landed with a chirp and a flash of energy.

“Opaline, Blizzard again!”

“Furret, Dig!”

The ground cracked—Furret vanished in an instant.

Lilac’s eyes darted across the field. “Stay sharp!”

The ground exploded behind Opaline, and Furret shot up, striking hard. The impact sent the Ninetales tumbling.

“Opaline, return,” Lilac said, composing herself. “You did great.”

She raised her second Poké Ball.

 “Aria, you’re up.”

A swirl of flames spun through the snow, revealing her Baile Style Oricorio. The elegant bird hovered midair, crimson feathers glowing against the cold haze.

“Dig won’t work on Flying-types!” she said, more to herself than to Kieran.

He winced. “R-Right. Furret, use Sucker Punch!”

Furret darted forward in a blur, paw cocked to strike.

But Aria twirled midair and veered to the side in a dance-like dodge.

“Revelation Dance!”

Aria's wings flared with radiant light as she spun. A pulse of fiery energy rippled from her feathers and struck Furret squarely. It tumbled back—KO’d.

Silence.

Then applause.

Lilac blinked, stunned. She’d won.

Kieran slowly walked forward, returning Furret. “You’re really good,” he said, voice soft, a blush blooming across his cheeks—not from the cold or the crowd.

Lilac extended her hand. He took it gently.

“Thanks,” she replied with a small, real smile. For once, the eyes watching didn’t seem quite so heavy.

“You two should team up for orienteering!” Carmine announced.

“W-what?! N-no—”

“Oh? You want a random outsider instead of Lilac?”

Kieran had no answer.

“Don’t worry. He’s just shy,” Carmine whispered to Lilac. “Take good care of him!”

As she ran off, Kieran turned away. “The Loyalty Plaza signboard is first. Let’s… go?”

Lilac nodded, and the two of them began walking toward Apple Hills—side by side.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 – The Apple Hills

The Apple Hills stretched far and wide, an orchard where the villagers of Mossui Town cultivated one of Kitakami’s proudest symbols: its apples.

Lilac was already feeling the strain in her legs as she followed Kieran uphill along the path to Loyalty Plaza.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was peaceful. She could hear the rustling leaves and the chirps and cries of nearby wild Pokémon. Still, she wanted to talk, if only to get to know her partner a little better.

She glanced at the trees around them and spotted a familiar sight.

“Do you have Applins here too?” she asked gently, hoping to break the ice.

“Yeah…” Kieran replied without looking back.

“Um… in Galar, they’re really popular. There’s even this tradition—people give one to the person most important to them…”

“You’re from Galar? I thought you were from Paldea?” His tone rose slightly, surprised.

“My mom is from Paldea, but after she married my dad—he’s from Galar—she moved there. I consider myself from both places.”

Kieran didn’t respond. Lilac bit her lip, unsure if she’d said too much. She didn’t want to come off as cold, but also didn’t want to be annoying.

They were nearing Loyalty Plaza when doubt crept into Kieran’s thoughts.

What if she doesn’t like it?

He had spent all night imagining how someone as strong as her might appreciate the ogre—how she might understand it like he did. But now…

She’s different from the others, right?

They reached the plaza, where the first signboard stood prominently near a set of stone steps.

“So… do you want to read it?” Kieran offered. “I already know what it says.”

Lilac stepped up to the signboard, brushing away a few leaves and reading aloud:

Long, long ago, there was a fearsome ogre in the land of Kitakami.

The ogre made its home in the mountain behind the village, frightening all who ventured near.

One day, the ogre came down from the mountain in a terrible rage, spreading fear across the village.

By some stroke of luck, Okidogi, Munkidori, and Fezandipiti happened to be there as well.

The three Pokémon laid down their lives to fend off the ogre and send it back to the mountain.

In admiration, the people bestowed upon them the title “The Loyal Three.”

Their remains were given a proper burial, and statues of them were erected above the site.

“What a magnificent folktale!” Lilac said brightly.

“You really like it?”

“Yes—it reminds me a lot of the legends told in Galar!”

Hope lit up inside him. Maybe she really will appreciate the ogre…

He hesitated, then asked, “Speakin’ of the folktale… don’t you think the ogre’s kinda cool?”

He felt nervous sharing that opinion. Everyone in town saw the ogre as a villain—but he liked it for personal reasons.

“Well, sure, the signboard paints it as the bad guy,” Lilac began, “but defeating all three of the Loyal Three by itself is impressive. And honestly… a Galarian legend taught me not to judge stories based on what people say. We don’t know what really happened.”

Kieran’s eyes widened. She got it.

“Right?! It was three against one, and he still won! I know it sounds weird, but I’ve been visitin’ its den since I was little. Never seen a trace of it… but man, the scoldings I got from the adults—those were scary.”

Lilac giggled softly. It wasn’t mocking—it was warm and genuine.

He smiled, encouraged. “At first, I didn’t even want to come on this study trip, but… I admit, I’m starting to have fun. Especially with you. It’s… easier to talk.”

“I get that. I didn’t want to join either, but they convinced me in the end.”

They had two weeks together—why not slow down and enjoy it?

“Wanna have a picnic?” Kieran offered shyly. “We can make a sandwich and—”

“NOO! You said—!”

Suddenly, a beam of light burst from Lilac’s cardigan, forming into a strange Pokémon. Its sleek, purple-metallic body shimmered, and its digital eyes blinked with pixelated expressions.

“Agiassss!” it chirped.

Kieran jumped back. “Whoa! What is it—a kaiju or somethin’?!”

“This is Miraidon, my mount Pokémon. Sorry—it always gets like this when it hears the word ‘sandwich.’”

“Agiass-gia!” the Pokémon buzzed again, clearly excited.

“Do you mind if he joins us?” Lilac asked.

“No, of course not! He’s part of the team, right?”

They laid out a blanket and began setting up. Lilac let out the rest of her team, and Kieran did the same.

“So you do have an Applin,” she said, pointing to the tiny Pokémon sitting on the table.

“Yeah, he’s been with me a while, but he doesn’t feel ready to evolve yet. I’m still trying to decide—Flapple or Appletun.”

“They’re both cute!”

“Wait… doesn’t she know about Dipplin?” Kieran wondered silently.

Lilac focused on making a sandwich for Miraidon, who was already drooling over the tablecloth.

Then came a sudden howl.

It was Opaline—her Ninetales. She stood frozen, glaring at the signboard with barely concealed disdain.

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately.”

“Maybe she’s just uncomfortable in a new place,” Kieran said. “Why not ask her?”

Lilac sighed and handed Miraidon his sandwich, which disappeared into his mouth in a single gulp.

“I’ve tried. She won’t answer. My mom says it’s normal…”

“Wait—she’s your mom’s Pokémon?”

“Yes and no… Opaline’s been with my family for generations. My mom got her from my grandfather, who got her from his mother… and now she’s with me.”

“That explains the Moon Ball—Apricorn-made, right?”

“You noticed?” Lilac smiled, showing him the elegant Poké Ball.

“My mom told me Opaline’s first trainer was a gifted artist who joined Heath’s expedition to Area Zero. She contributed illustrations to the Violet Book.”

“That’s incredible!”

“Not exactly…” Her gaze darkened as she stared into the distance.

“Agias…” Miraidon nudged her gently.

“A-are you okay, Lilac? You seemed out of it for a second…”

“Yes, I just… don’t like talking about that topic.”

Silence fell again, broken only by Lilac arguing with Miraidon about his so-called “infinite robo-stomach” while making more sandwiches.

Was she mad? Did I mess up? Kieran panicked.

“Um… that Pokémon—Miraidon, right? I’ve never seen one before.”

“Curious? Honestly, I don’t know much either. He’s not really my Pokémon—Professor Turo entrusted him to me indefinitely. Do you know who Turo is?”

“Yeah, Carmine told me. She works as Professor Briar’s assistant. Briar’s obsessed with the Terastal phenomenon. Actually, she’s the one who organized this whole trip.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Normally, students and locations are picked at random, but this time Briar had a hand in it. She brought us here because of the Terastal energy—and asked Carmine and me to come with her. I didn’t want to at first, but… let’s just say the date changed my mind.”

It all made sense now. Briar hadn’t left anything to chance. Even Lilac’s “random” selection was likely her doing.

Despite that, Lilac and Kieran continued their picnic, chatting more freely now. She still wasn’t sure she could fully trust him, not yet. She had learned the hard way that even friendly faces could be false.

“OH YEAH! We have to take a photo with the signboard, right?” Kieran stood up. “Could you take care of it, Lilac? I don’t have a phone…”

They stood on either side of the sign. Her Rotom Phone hovered in front of them. She made a victory sign.

Kieran tried to imitate her, but his awkward pose said it all.

“Lilac, you’re really good at photos. Maybe you should be a photographer one day!”

She looked away, blushing. “That’s… kind of exaggerated…”

“S-sorry! Coming from a stranger, it probably sounds fake. But I mean it! I’m not very photogenic, as you can see…”

“It’s not about that! You’re just not used to selfies. It’s hard to be natural in front of a camera. I used to feel the same way… I still don’t like selfies much, unless it’s with friends or my Pokémon.”

“Well… I’d say the next signboard awaits us, but it’s already late…”

They glanced at the sky—now glowing orange.

“Is the sun… setting already?”

“Time really flew by.”

Lilac packed up the picnic supplies, returning plates and glasses to her backpack, and recalling her Pokémon.

Miraidon remained outside.

Lilac climbed onto his back and extended a hand to Kieran. “If we go with Miraidon, we’ll get there faster. If you want…”

“T-that’s fine!”

He grabbed her hand, shaky but determined. She helped him up.

“Better hold on. Miraidon’s pretty fast.”

“Okay—like this?”

She felt his hands rest lightly on her waist. “Yes, that’s fine… Alright, let’s go.”

She tapped Miraidon’s side, and he began to move.

The descent from Apple Hills was steep—Miraidon sped up fast.

Kieran clung tightly to her, startled by the sudden speed.

“S-sorry! I didn’t think it’d be this fast!”

“I was surprised my first time too,” she replied calmly.

“I… I’m actually having fun. It’s nice exploring Kitakami with someone I can talk to. And if I hadn’t joined this trip, I wouldn’t have met a Pokémon this amazing. No wonder you’re so strong. You’re… you’re special.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 – The Torment of the Past (Part 1)

By now it was late afternoon. Carmine had already shown her partner one of the random signboards and was now waiting at the entrance of Mossui Town for Kieran’s return.

“I see you’re takin’ your sweet time, Kiki,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Just try not to be late…”

Her Rotom Phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and grimaced when she saw the sender.

“That bozo toothpaste-head again…”

She had broken up with her boyfriend not long ago after rumors started spreading. He kept insisting he was innocent, but how could she trust someone who never kept his word?

“I don’t even know why I haven’t blocked him yet…”

Deep down, Carmine still had doubts. Their relationship had only lasted a few months, and she had wanted to believe him. But she also knew how manipulative Drayton could be—maybe even this was part of his game.

Suddenly, a woman with short, bobbed hair—half blue, half green—approached her.

“Excuse me… are you Seille Carmine? Sister of Suguri Kieran?”

Another outsider… but how does she know our full names? The only ones who still use them are our grandparents—and barely anyone outside Mossui Town knows.

“…Yeah. Can I help you?”

“Sure. Mind if I take your picture first?”

“Hah! Finally, someone who recognizes beauty when they see it!”

“Are you always this open with strangers? I’m a little worried about you, little girl.”

“Little girl?!” Carmine raised her fists defensively. “I can take care of myself, thank you!”

“Then show me—with a Pokémon battle.”

“Well then! Let’s get our positions!”

As Kieran and Lilac arrived back at the entrance of Mossui Town, they hopped off Miraidon just in time to see Carmine in the middle of a battle with an unfamiliar woman.

The battle had clearly ended—Carmine’s opponent recalled a fainted Leafeon.

Kieran watched as his sister approached Ninetales and offered her an Oran Berry.

“You really know what you’re doing,” the woman said with a smile.

“Obviously,” Carmine replied smugly.

“Sis… who is this lady?” Kieran asked, shifting uneasily as the woman turned her gaze on him.

“You must be Suguri Kieran. And the girl with you… that’s Syringa Lilac, right?”

“…How do you know our names?” Lilac asked, even if she knew that her name was—unfortunately—well known.

“This is a small town. It’s easy to get information.”

Carmine stepped protectively between the woman and her brother. “Okay, and you are?”

“My name is Perrin. I’m a photographer—and this is my assistant, Growlithe.” She gestured to the oddly colored Growlithe beside her.

Lilac knelt to pet it. “Is this a Hisuian Growlithe? I’ve never seen one before… how cute!”

“Hisuian forms…?” Kieran muttered. “I’ve only seen them in history books. Or as statues in Kitakami Hall…”

Perrin raised her camera, beaming. “I came here from Sinnoh. I’m hoping to capture a photo of the legendary Bloodmoon Beast Ursaluna—deep in the Timeless Woods.”

“The Timeless Woods…?” Carmine’s voice tightened. “That place—”

“YOU CAN’T!” she suddenly shouted, drawing glances from nearby villagers and startling both Kieran and Lilac.

Kieran stepped forward, placing himself between Carmine and Perrin. “Wh-what my sister means is… the Timeless Woods is dangerous. There are really strong Pokémon in there…”

“That’s exactly why I came to find you. I’ve seen you battle—both of you. You’re good. And your sister too, so I’m inviting her as well.”

“Wait… you want our help with the Bloodmoon Beast?”

“That’s right.”

Kieran looked down. The Timeless Woods was strictly off-limits. He’d once snuck in, searching for the ogre, only to be attacked by a savage Pokémon. If Carmine hadn’t found him in time…

“Don’t talk about it. We’re not going to that place,” Carmine said sharply. “C’mon, Kiki. Let’s go home.”

“I… I’m going!” Lilac said firmly.

Kieran’s eyes widened in surprise.

“It’s awful when no one steps in to help. And what if something happens to her? Would you be okay knowing you did nothing?”

She had a point. Kieran knew that feeling all too well. This reminded him of how he used to sneak into the Dreaded Den on Oni Mountain, chasing legends when no one believed in him.

He felt a strange, almost comforting wave of nostalgia. “…If you’re going, then I’m coming with you.”

He stepped away from Carmine, standing beside Lilac. He didn’t want her to go alone. And maybe, just maybe, he’d get to see the ogre—this time, with someone who believed in it.

“…Fine. I’ll come too,” Carmine said reluctantly. “But just so we’re clear—I’m doing this for my brother.”

“Thank you all,” Perrin said, grinning. “See you tomorrow night at the entrance to the Timeless Woods!” She waved and walked off with her Growlithe.

Carmine turned to Kieran, smirking. “I see you’re already real fond of Lilac. Want to spend all your time with her, huh, Kiki?”

His face flushed. “I just want to help her! She’s my partner, that’s all.”

“Your partner? Ehehehe…”

“Carmine, stop it!” He gave her a deadpan glare. “You watch too many romantic dramas. You’re starting to see ships everywhere.”

Meanwhile, Lilac had been quietly scrolling through her Rotom Phone.

She was admiring the photo she and Kieran had taken together. Something about the way he’d mimicked her victory sign, all shy and awkward—it made her smile.

“Lilac…” She quickly locked her phone as Kieran approached. “Would you like to… come to our house for a bit? I want to introduce you to our grandparents. And Carmine says we need to make a plan for tomorrow…”

“Grandpa, Grandma—we’re back!” Carmine announced, strolling into the garden casually.

Lilac lingered behind, hesitant to follow.

They probably know who I am… What if they don’t trust me? What if they send me away?

“Welcome home!” came a cheerful voice.

“Grandpa, Grandma—we have a guest today…” Kieran stepped aside, revealing Lilac.

Their reaction was… worse than she feared. The grandmother dropped her watering can. The grandfather froze, eyes wide. “But she’s…”

“Grandpa…?”

Lilac shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. They were staring at her like they’d seen a ghost.

“Remember that student from Paldea Kieran wouldn’t stop talking about? Well, this is her,” Carmine said flatly. She nudged Kieran, who was still bright red.

“Y-yeah. Her name’s Lilac. She’s going on the study trip with me. Lilac—these are my grandparents, Yukito and Hideko.”

Their shocked expressions softened. Yukito stroked his chin thoughtfully, while Hideko picked up the watering can.

“I see… so you two are friends?” Yukito asked.

Friends? Lilac hesitated. They’d only just met—but he’d been kind. They had talked a lot during the picnic. And he was her partner for the whole trip.

“Y-yeah… I guess we are.”

Now it was Carmine and Kieran whose eyes went wide.

“Friends? Really?”

“…Only if you want to,” she added, looking his way.

“Of course! I—I’d like that! I mean, why not? I don’t know why, but hearing it makes me feel all tingly!” he laughed.

“A friend of our little Kieran?” Hideko beamed. “Then you’re welcome here, dear! Thank you for spending time with him.”

What just happened? They were shocked a minute ago—and now they’re all warm and fuzzy…?

“Yeah yeah,” Carmine muttered. “She won’t be here long. We just need to discuss some study trip stuff.” She grabbed both Lilac’s and Kieran’s arms and dragged them inside.

In a cozy little living room, Carmine whispered, “Keep your voices down. If someone walks in—change the subject.”

The two nodded. Carmine grabbed a tray of chocolate chip cookies and shoved it toward Lilac.

“Here. Eat as many as you want… just don’t get your hopes up, alright?”

That last line was barely audible, but clear enough. Carmine still wasn’t thrilled about the guest.

They spent a few minutes coming up with a plan to avoid arousing suspicion. But Lilac had a bigger concern.

“I… don’t think Professor Jacq will let me out at night. Not after what happened yesterday…” She lowered her head as she reached for another cookie.

Her tenth? Twelfth?

“Maybe if SOMEONE didn’t make promises they COULDN’T KEEP, they wouldn’t have trust issues…” Carmine said coldly.

“SIS!” Kieran groaned. “Don’t listen to her, Lilac. Maybe you could just sneak out after lights-out?”

“Like you did when we were kids, Kiki? We ALWAYS caught you.”

As the siblings argued, Lilac sat deep in thought. Then an idea sparked.

“Actually… that might work! Carmine, you know Briar well, right?”

“Well yeah. I’m her assistant. Why?”

“What if I make her… a little deal?”

Chapter 4 – The Torment of the Past (Part 2)

“Are you really sure she’ll come? We don’t even know if she knows who we are,” Hideko asked her husband. The two were sitting on the garden bench, waiting for what Yukito had called “a special guest.”

“I’m more than certain, Hideko. I believe she knows exactly who we are… and she’ll want to speak with us.”

Their grandchildren had gone to sleep a few hours earlier. Now, only the moon and a few flickering street lamps illuminated the quiet streets of Mossui Town. The only sounds were those of nocturnal Pokémon rustling in the distance.

“When I saw her, I couldn’t believe it,” Hideko murmured, handing her husband an old photo of a girl and her Pokémon. “She looks just like her.”

“It’s amazing,” Yukito said softly, “how even after all these years, the resemblance is so strong.”

“You look like your ancestor too, Yukito,” a crystalline voice interrupted, startling the couple. They turned to see a graceful quadruped approaching, her fur glowing faintly in the moonlight. “And so do your grandchildren.”

Yukito’s eyes widened as the elegant figure stepped into view.

“It’s an honor to meet you… venerable Opaline.”

Opaline gazed at them kindly, like an old friend returning home.

The next morning, Lilac and Kieran decided to take a break from reading the signboards and rest before the night’s adventure.

“This is Wisteria Pond,” Kieran said as they arrived. “They say if you drink the water, you become immortal… though it’s recommended you boil it first.”

Lilac looked around in awe. The spot was calm and quiet, the sound of flowing water mingling with the soft chirps of Oricorio dancing around them. “These Wisteria trees are wonderful…”

She almost pulled out her flute, but hesitated. She wasn’t comfortable playing in front of others—not yet.

They released their Pokémon to stretch and enjoy the freedom.

Aria joined a nearby group of Oricorio. Her Baile form was rhythmically at odds with their Sensu form, but they still found harmony.

Yanmega buzzed between the trees. Opaline and Cadence started playfully chasing one another.

Miraidon lumbered over to Lilac. Though his emotions were still hard to read, Lilac knew exactly what his grumbles meant.

“I know, I know—you want a sandwich.” She laughed, pulling one out of her backpack. He devoured it in a single gulp.

“Wowzers,” Kieran said. “You’d think he’d at least taste it.”

“I’m not even sure how he eats it,” Lilac replied, giggling.

They sat beneath a Wisteria tree, and soon a Furret appeared, demanding attention. Not to be outdone, Primrose—along with Mimi and Applin—put on a playful magic show, showing off new tricks with her Yo-yo Bud.

Later, they visited the Mossfell Confluence, the country’s main river, and bumped into Professor Jacq, who invited them to a picnic. During the outing, Kieran caught a new Pokémon—a Poliwhirl.

As sunset approached, Lilac wondered if Carmine had managed to convince Ms. Briar.

“So… did you do it?” Kieran asked, sitting next to Lilac on the bench.

Carmine gave a casual nod. “Easier than I expected. Although…”

She met Lilac’s eyes for a brief moment.

“…There are two conditions. First, we have to be back before midnight.”

“And the second?” Kieran asked.

“It’s about you, Lilac.”

Lilac stiffened. A chill ran down her spine.

“Could you explain a little better, Sis? We’re not mind readers.”

“That’s no way to talk to your big sister, Kiki!” Carmine snapped, then sighed. “Briar’s being weirdly secretive. All I know is—it’s got to do with the Violet Book.”

Lilac looked down. She had expected something like this. She’d done everything she could to avoid that subject… but Briar had seen right through her.

“…Okay. I’ll do it.”

They split up afterward. Carmine and Kieran went home to prepare. Lilac returned to the Community Center.

“I really don’t want to talk to Briar about that damn book, Opaline,” she muttered as she packed a bottle of cold water into her backpack. She paused, wondering if she should bring sweets for a late-night snack.

Opaline simply stared at her, silent.

“Thanks for the pep talk…” Lilac joked. But her smile faded quickly. Tears welled up in her eyes.

The more she thought about tomorrow’s conversation with Briar, the more overwhelmed she felt.

“It was inevitable, Lilac,” Opaline said gently. “One way or another, she was going to ask. You know that too.”

“I know… b-but…”

She dropped a couple bags of cookies on the bed. Her mind was slipping into the darkest corners of her past.

“Lilac…” Opaline moved closer, tapping her arm softly. “You can’t run from that darkness forever. Sooner or later, you have to face it.”

“…I know. But still… I can’t…”

Kieran and Carmine stood waiting near the edge of Mossui Town, overlooking Reveler’s Road.

“Briar sure likes Lilac. Almost as much as you do, Kiki,” Carmine teased.

He ignored her, scanning the road from the Community Center. They had gotten permission for a supposed “overnight field trip” and their grandparents believed them. He didn’t like lying… but sneaking out the window and down the tree had not been ideal.

“I’ve never seen Briar so reserved,” he muttered. “Something’s definitely going on…”

“Guyssss!” Lilac came running up, waving. “You ready?”

“Tch, took you long enough! Thought you’d chickened out,” Carmine scoffed, arms crossed.

“Don’t listen to her,” Kieran said, but he noticed something—Lilac’s eyes were slightly red. As if she’d been crying.

When he’d mentioned the Violet Book during their picnic, she’d gone quiet. Now, with Briar’s condition fresh in her mind… her glow had dimmed.

Getting to the Timeless Woods wasn’t easy. Surrounded by steep drops and rocky cliffs, the place was difficult to access. Luckily, Yanmega carried them over the barrier with ease.

Perrin was already there, her Shaymin-themed tent pitched. “There you are! I was worried this place would be hard to reach, but looks like you figured it out.”

Carmine rolled her eyes. “Would’ve been faster if someone gave us a lift. We don’t have all night!”

“We’ll need to wait for the fog—it gives us a better chance of spotting the Bloodmoon Beast,” Perrin explained, grabbing her camera. “In the meantime, let’s take some photos. And be careful—not to startle the Pokémon.”

“I’ll stick with her,” Carmine said, motioning to Perrin. “Lilac gets lost and Kiki doesn’t even have a phone. Think of this as part of your study trip… but be careful, you two. This place is dangerous.”

Carmine and Perrin disappeared down one path. Kieran and Lilac took the other.

The only light came from the full moon and Lilac’s Rotom Phone.

Together, they photographed sleeping Vulpix, glowing Litwick, and chirping Hoothoot. Lilac even lent Kieran her phone, teaching him how to snap pictures properly.

But despite the calm, Lilac still looked distant.

Kieran wanted to ask. Something about the Violet Book clearly affected her—but it felt intrusive.

Still, his curiosity gnawed at him.

“…Hey, Lilac. I-is everything okay?”

He tapped his leg nervously, a habit he’d picked up when anxious.

“I… let’s just say it could be better.”

“It’s about the book, right?” he said carefully. “I get that you don’t like talking about it… and I’ll drop it if you want.”

Lilac stopped walking. She sat down on a fallen tree trunk and sighed.

“Sorry… that book just…”

Kieran sat beside her. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were glassy.

“Do you remember when I said one of my ancestors helped write the Violet Book?” she asked. “Maybe you don't know but… the book’s fame… comes with a lot of controversy. It’s full of lies.”

Kieran listened closely, heart sinking.

“Because of that, the families of the people who helped write it were accused of fraud. Even generations later, we were treated like liars.”

She looked up at the sky. Her cheeks shimmered in the moonlight.

“…Do you think I’m a liar, Kieran?”

He hesitated. It was too soon to answer with certainty. But his heart knew what it wanted.

“You’re not that book. And even if it was full of lies… that doesn’t make you one.”

She turned toward him, her eyes wide and glistening.

“Thank you…”

Suddenly, a cluster of Volbeat flew overhead, led by their Illumise. Their lights danced across the sky, forming intricate shapes and patterns.

Lilac’s smile returned. It lit up her whole face.

Kieran watched her quietly, mesmerized by how beautiful she looked in the moonlight.

“…Wowzers,” he whispered. “She’s the real show.”

He brushed his hand near hers… then pulled away, blushing furiously.

“S-sorry! But I just wanted to say… I trust you, Lilac.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 – The Bloodmoon Beast

Carmine wasn’t thrilled about babysitting an outsider, but she couldn’t let Perrin wander around the Timeless Woods, snapping photos like it was a quiet museum.

“So, how’d it come out?” she asked.

Perrin handed her the camera. The photo was of a Duskull, its figure ghostly and translucent. Carmine raised her eyebrows. It was a solid shot—especially considering how tricky Ghost-types were to capture on film.

“It’s… pretty good. Anyway, how’d you get into photography? You must really care about it to risk coming here.”

Perrin moved behind a nearby tree, motioning for silence and pointing to two Hatenna resting nearby.

“Well, I’ve loved photography since I was a kid,” she whispered. “I realized some things only reveal themselves when you look through a different lens. Focus on the light… capture the moment. A photo isn’t just an image—it’s a testimony that something was, even if just for a second.”

Click. The camera shutter preserved the scene.

“Words like that feel magical at first,” Perrin continued. “But as you grow, the magic fades. When I was little, I won awards—people praised my talent. But the older I got, the harsher the critics became. Eventually, the joy just… left. I risk all this now because I’m trying to find that spark again.”

Carmine fell quiet. She understood more than she expected.

When you’re little, you think everything’s simple. Then life happens. The death of her parents. The futile attempts to bring them back at the Crystal Pool. The pressure of protecting her brother.

I don’t want to lose him too.

The fog had thickened. Lilac’s Rotom Phone light barely pierced it now.

“Maybe we should go back,” she said nervously. “Find Perrin and Carmine.”

A rustle came from nearby bushes. A green shadow darted past them.

“What if that was the ogre!?” Kieran cried. “Did you see that?! We have to follow it!”

“Wha—wait!”

But he was already gone, chasing the silhouette. It wasn’t tall—almost humanoid. Could’ve been a Morgrem, maybe, but Kieran wanted to believe it was something more.

Unfortunately, the fog was too thick. The figure vanished.

“Aw man… we lost it. Let’s head back, Lil—”

He turned.

She was gone.

“No… no no no… I lost her. I lost her!”

Panic surged through him. Lilac had no light, no phone, and no sense of direction. The fog was suffocating. And worst of all, the Bloodmoon Beast was said to emerge under conditions like these.

Memories he thought he had buried resurfaced—of an enormous Pokémon attacking a frightened child in these very woods.

“I have to find her. Now.”

Lilac had been wandering for what felt like forever.

The silence of the Timeless Woods was no longer peaceful—it was oppressive. The fog closed in like a wall, deadening every sound, muting her thoughts. She called out again.

“Kieran? Perrin? Carmine?”

Nothing.

Her breath came in short, uneven bursts.

Noises echoed through the forest. The shapes in the fog distorted into false visions.

What was that? A Pokémon? A person?

She reached for a Poké Ball on instinct—but paused.

Which way had she come from?

She turned slowly. Shapes twisted in the mist—branches becoming claws, rocks becoming crouched silhouettes.

A whisper of movement behind her.

She spun. “Who’s there?!”

Only fog.

But then—footsteps. Slow, deliberate, impossibly heavy.

Then silence again.

A chill ran down her spine.

“No,” she whispered. “Not now…”

Then, a shadow broke through the haze—huge, lumbering. The ground trembled. Trees snapped and bent as if under the weight of something impossible.

An emerald glow pierced the fog.

A low growl vibrated through the air.

Lilac stumbled back, fumbling for a Poké Ball, but the fog stole her vision and the panic stole her coordination. Her foot caught on a root. She crashed to the forest floor, Poké Balls scattering into the underbrush.

She didn’t even scream—just gasped.

There it was.

A monstrous creature stepped into view, hunched and misshapen, with jagged fur soaked in crimson moonlight. Its breath came out in huffs like steam. Its eye—just one, glowing and unblinking—locked on hers.

She tried to crawl away, limbs sluggish with fear.

The beast snarled. Trees trembled.

“You’re… Ursaluna…” she breathed. “The Bloodmoon Beast…”

It roared.

And charged.

“HOW COULD YOU LOSE HER?!” Carmine shrieked, fists trembling.

“I—I ran off too fast… I didn’t mean to leave her behind…”

Tears welled in Kieran’s eyes. She’d trusted him. He’d failed her.

“This forest is HUGE and DANGEROUS, and you left her without a PHONE! What were you THINKING?!”

“I… I don’t know…”

Perrin stepped between them, placing a calming hand on Carmine’s shoulder.

“Let’s not waste time. My Growlithe can track her scent. If she dropped her phone, we’ll follow that trail.”

Growlithe sniffed Lilac’s phone and took off.

Soon, distant sounds echoed through the trees—splintering branches, a monstrous roar.

“What was that?” Perrin asked, raising her camera. “Could it be…?!”

“The Bloodmoon Beast,” Carmine growled. “And Lilac’s in danger!”

As they pushed through the trees, they saw her.

Lilac was down. The beast stood above her, charging its final attack.

Kieran froze.

And suddenly—he remembered.

Eight Years Ago

Little Kieran had escaped his room again, climbing out into the foggy night. His dream was to meet the ogre from the Kitakami tales.

He’d heard whispers that it had been seen in the Timeless Woods.

Maybe tonight, he’d finally find it.

He slipped over the rocky barrier with practiced ease. The fog was thick, but his excitement was thicker.

Then a sound.

A roar.

A massive shape burst through the mist.

Kieran had no Pokémon. He turned to run, tripped, and fell.

The beast loomed. He screamed, tears streaming down his face.

“Mommy! Daddy! Help!!!”

“STAY AWAY FROM MY LITTLE BROTHER!”

His sister’s voice.

Then his parents’ Pokémon joined the fight, driving the creature back.

Carmine hugged him tight. “What were you THINKING, Sugu?!”

His mom knelt, her face pale. “Oh, Suguri… we were so worried…”

His father’s voice was stern. “How many times have I told you not to go out alone at night?! That Pokémon could have killed you.”

Then a quieter voice:

“When you have someone to protect… you’ll understand what I felt.”

Present Day

Now… Kieran understood.

Ursaluna reared back, red energy pulsing in its maw.

Lilac barely registered the world—her ears rang, her head throbbed, her limbs refused to move. Every instinct screamed run, but her body wouldn’t listen.

This is it.

She closed her eyes.

But instead of her past, her thoughts turned inward—sharp and clear, like a shutter click.

I didn’t come here to die. I came here to see. To prove I could face what others run from. To prove I mattered.

A light flashed behind the beast.

“FURRET—USE PROTECT!”

Kieran’s voice—desperate, raw.

A translucent shield snapped into place just as the Bloodmoon Beam crashed down. The blast rocked the trees, shaking leaves loose like rain. The shield held—but only barely. Furret skidded back, claws scraping earth.

Kieran stepped forward, face pale but eyes blazing.

“I won’t lose her.”

Lilac blinked.

She could see him now—his hands shaking, but still reaching for another Poké Ball.

The fog writhed around the beast as it began to charge again, slower this time, rage in its gleaming eye.

Lilac pushed herself upright, barely.

Kieran glanced at her, jaw clenched. “Can you stand?”

She nodded, dizzy.

“Then stand with me.”

And the beast roared.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 – In Harmony

Fog still clung to the trees like a curse.

The beast roared, and the moonlight turned red.

Ursaluna's massive frame shimmered with power, its emerald eye narrowing as it prepared to strike again. Kieran stepped in front of Lilac, his Furret crouched low, fur bristling.

“We hold it here!” Carmine barked. “Opaline—Aurora Veil!”

Lilac raised her arm. “You heard her! Let’s go!”

A burst of cold erupted from her Moon Ball as her Alolan Ninetales, Opaline, landed gracefully in the dirt. The temperature dropped in an instant—ice crystals formed on branches, and snowflakes shimmered in the air like falling stars. Under the protection of Snow Warning, the veil took shape—a luminous barrier of frost and magic.

A thunderous stomp from Ursaluna shattered a nearby boulder.

It charged.

“Furret—Double-Edge, now!”

Kieran’s Furret blurred into motion, weaving between roots and stones before slamming full-force into Ursaluna’s side. The beast grunted but stood firm, absorbing the blow like a mountain.

“That thing’s a tank,” Perrin muttered, fumbling to focus her camera. “Leafeon! Leaf Blade! Give Furret some cover!”

Her Leafeon darted forward, blades of green energy forming around its tail. It struck in a flurry, nicking Ursaluna across the leg. The beast staggered slightly, more annoyed than harmed.

Ursaluna roared again.

The red mark on his forehead flared.

Lilac felt it in her chest—a pulse of danger, deep and primal.

“It’s charging something,” she breathed.

“Carmine—now!” Kieran shouted.

“Sinistcha—Matcha Gotcha! Go for the limbs!”

Steam burst from Carmine’s Poké Ball, followed by the eerie, floating form of her Sinistcha. The teacup ghost spun through the air and launched scalding tea at Ursaluna’s arm. It splashed across its fur—and the scent of matcha filled the air.

Ursaluna recoiled.

Burned.

“Yes!” Carmine smirked. “That should soften it up.”

The beast shrieked in frustration—and then it unleashed its power.

A beam of deep crimson burst from its mouth—twisting, wide, and loud like a scream. It carved through the air, annihilating everything in its path. Trees split. Stones shattered.

The Blood Moon had risen.

“WATCH OUT!” Lilac yelled.

Opaline threw up another layer of Aurora Veil. Furret darted aside just in time, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the blast. Leafeon was thrown back, tumbling through the brush.

A crater now smoldered where Sinistcha had hovered.

She reappeared moments later, wobbly—but still floating.

Perrin winced. “It has a cooldown… right?”

“It has to,” Carmine said, panting. “There’s no way it can use that again right away…”

The fog began to thin as the red glow dimmed. Ursaluna growled, its massive chest heaving.

“Now’s our chance,” Lilac said, stepping forward.

She met its gaze.

No fear now—only determination.

“I was the first to find you. I won’t run this time.”

She reached for her Ultra Ball.

“Opaline—cover me!”

Opaline howled, a veil of icy wind swirling around Lilac like armor.

She charged.

Ursaluna turned slowly to face her, still weakened from the burn and barrage. Its limbs trembled—fury mixing with fatigue.

Lilac didn’t blink.

She threw the Ultra Ball with all her strength.

The sphere struck Ursaluna in the chest—cracking with light—and opened in a flash of energy.

Red light swallowed the beast.

The ball hit the ground.

One shake.

Two.

Three.

Click.

Silence.

The Bloodmoon Beast was hers.

Everyone exhaled.

Except Perrin.

“Aw, I wanted a few more shots,” she pouted, holding her camera up like a badge of honor.

“You’ve taken plenty,” Carmine groaned, but her sharpness faded into a tired smile as she turned to Lilac. “Glad we made it in time. Seriously.”

Back at the tent, Perrin eagerly scrolled through her camera roll, pestering Carmine for feedback on framing and lighting. Carmine humored her—mostly.

Lilac, meanwhile, noticed Kieran sitting alone on a mossy rock just beyond the firelight, hunched forward, his arms draped over his knees. His head was bowed, motionless.

She walked over quietly.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

He didn’t answer at first. Just the crackle of the fire, the wind whispering through the trees.

Then, finally—"Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Still sore where Ursaluna hit me. A few bruises, probably. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Kieran swallowed hard. “Lilac… I—I’m sorry. I left you behind. I didn’t check if you had your phone. I ran off like some idiot kid chasing a story.”

His voice cracked.

“If you’d… if you’d gotten hurt—really hurt—because of me…”

He couldn’t finish. The guilt hit in waves, his shoulders trembling. Tears clung to his lashes, and he wiped them away with a shaking hand.

“That Pokémon…” he whispered. “It’s the one from when I was little. The one that almost killed me. I thought I’d forgotten it—but tonight, it was like being six years old again. Powerless.”

Lilac sat down beside him, silent for a beat.

Then she gently reached over and took his hand.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kieran. You were a kid back then. You were scared tonight, but you still came back. You and Furret stood between me and that thing.”

He sniffled, eyes locked on the glowing embers.

“I just… I don’t want to be someone people regret trusting.”

She smiled faintly. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t regret it at all.”

The wind shifted. The last of the fog had lifted, and the forest no longer loomed like a haunted place. The trees swayed gently under the moonlight, casting soft shadows on the grass. Pokémon sounds returned—chirps, rustles, hoots. Life, once hidden, began to stir again.

The danger was over.

And they were still here.

Kieran let out a long breath, and the silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore—it was peaceful.

“…I know this is a weird time,” he muttered, reaching into his fanny pack, “but… you want a snack?”

Lilac blinked. “You brought food?”

He opened the pouch. It was full of colorful wrappers.

“I didn’t know how long we’d be out here. Might’ve overprepared.”

She squinted. “That’s a lot of sugar, dude. If Carmine sees that, she’ll riot.”

He grinned sheepishly. “She’ll tell Grandma. I know.”

Lilac laughed, unzipping her own backpack. “Well, lucky for you… I’ve got a sweet tooth too.”

Her backpack clinked with candy. The look on Kieran’s face was priceless.

“You’re worse than me!” he said.

“I’m just better at hiding it.”

They both burst into laughter—loud and real. Not forced. Not afraid.

An hour later, the group gathered around the fire. Carmine was quietly tending to Sinistcha’s teacup; Perrin was still showing off her favorite shots; Leafeon dozed nearby.

They shared stories, snacks, and a kind of warmth that only comes after facing the dark and making it out together.

By the time midnight came, they were heading back to Mossui Town—tired, safe, and changed.

The Next Day

“Well, our adventure ends here!” Perrin smiled at them warmly. “Thank you all—not just for helping me find the Bloodmoon Beast, but for helping me overcome my creative block.”

She looked down at her camera, almost tearfully.

“For so long, I stopped loving photography. I focused too much on results and forgot the joy behind it. But thanks to you… I found it again. I’m truly grateful for your friendship.”

“We’re grateful too!” Lilac wiped her eyes, moved despite the short time they’d known each other.

“I have to go now. But Lilac…” Perrin placed Ursaluna’s Ultra Ball and another Poké Ball—which contained an Hisuian Growlithe—into her hands. “The Growlithe I gave you is the lil brother of mine—take care of them for me.”

“You’re… sure?”

“I think they’ll enjoy your travels.” She stepped onto the bus, waving from the window. “Next time we meet, show me your photos!”

As the bus drove away, Lilac looked at the photo on her phone.

Perrin grinning, camera in hand. Growlithe peeking in.

Carmine with a hand on her brother’s shoulder, smiling.

Kieran waving beside her.

And Lilac, front and center, holding Ursaluna’s Ultra Ball.

It would take time to befriend him, but she didn’t fear Ursaluna. She wanted to understand him.

“Welp,” Carmine sighed, hands on her hips as she stared off toward the road like it personally offended her. “Now that the mini-story’s over, guess it’s time to drag ourselves back to the signboards circuit.” She gave Lilac a sidelong look, dry and unimpressed. “Hope you enjoyed your side quest. Back to the main plot.”

Kieran laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, um… ready for the second signboard?”

Lilac hesitated—too long.

Kieran’s smile faltered just a little, and his eyes searched hers. He could tell something was off. Her posture was tight, her voice quieter than before.

“Actually,” she said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I need to talk to Ms. Briar first. But I promise I won’t take long—could you wait a bit?”

“Of course!” Kieran said quickly, his nervous energy shifting into something more concerned. “I’ve got, uh… something to do at home anyway. I’ll meet you at the Community Center later, okay?”

She nodded, grateful—but still distracted.

Carmine was already turning to leave, muttering, “If she sends us to another foggy forest, I’m quitting. Seriously.”

At the Community Center

“So,” Briar said with a thin smile, “how’d your night go? As your teacher, I was concerned. But as a researcher? I was intrigued.”

Lilac stood stiffly in the entryway, arms crossed. She didn’t answer.

Briar’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. “This is the perfect time to talk, Syringa.”

Lilac flinched. “Don’t call me that.”

Briar raised an eyebrow. “It’s your name.”

"No," Lilac said, her voice cold. "Lilac is."

There was a beat of silence. Briar motioned to a chair. “I won’t take long. I know you don’t enjoy my company.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Briar sighed, sitting anyway. “Believe it or not, we’re more alike than you think.”

Lilac scoffed but didn’t move. “If you’re here to make this a therapy session, I’ll save you the time. Just say what you came to say.”

Briar pulled a worn, leather-bound book from her bag.

Lilac’s breath caught. Her eyes locked on the Violet Book, and instantly, a dull throb ignited behind her forehead—familiar, unwanted. She stepped back on instinct.

“I reacted the same way at first,” Briar said. “I resented my ancestor, Heath. I thought he was a fraud. A fantasist. He wrecked his own credibility and dragged our family down with him. But when Professor Turo discovered Terastallization, everything changed.”

She looked up, calm, academic.

“I started to believe maybe Heath wasn’t lying. Maybe he was just... ahead of his time.”

Lilac’s fists clenched at her sides.

“What does this have to do with me?”

Briar turned the book, showing one of the familiar, intricate illustrations. “You know who drew these, don’t you?”

Lilac’s jaw locked.

“My esteemed ancestor,” she said, her voice like glass. “Rosalina. Heath’s traveling companion. His so-called illustrator.”

“She wasn’t just an illustrator—”

“She was exploited,” Lilac snapped. “Used. Her name buried under his for centuries. You want to talk about reputations? My family lost everything. No prestige. No legacy. Just whispers. Jokes. ‘Descendant of the dreamer’s ghost-painter.’”

Her voice rose, brittle and sharp.

“Do you know what it’s like to show talent and be told it’s ‘inherited fantasy’? That no matter what you do, your work will always be seen as fiction because of some book your ancestor didn’t even write?”

Briar was quiet.

“I’m not asking you to forgive history,” she said at last. “Only to help correct it.”

Lilac took another step back.

“You’re asking me to dive back into the same hole my family spent generations trying to crawl out of.”

“I’m asking you to help finish what Rosalina started,” Briar said. “To claim your family’s truth, not bury it.”

Lilac’s breath was shaking now, the ache in her chest rising with every word.

“I’m not your assistant. I’m not your legacy. And I’m not interested.”

She turned sharply, storming for the door.

“Syringa—”

“I’m not Heath,” she hissed. “And I’m not Rosalina. I’m me. And I want nothing to do with your book.”

She shoved open the doors and fled into the light.

Kieran returned to the Community Center, only to learn Lilac had already left.

“She ran off?!”

He checked Apple Hills. Nothing. Loyalty Plaza. Still nothing.

Then… he heard a flute.

A haunting melody drifted down the road to Wisteria Pond.

“That’s the same song she played when she arrived in Mossui…”

He followed it until he found her.

Lilac stood near the pond, eyes closed, pouring her soul into the music. The melody now was raw—heavy with anger and pain. Her fingers moved with precision, but her body was tense.

“Um… Lilac?” he called, gently.

She jumped, cheeks turning red. “I—I didn’t hear you. Sorry…”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I broke my promise. I left without saying anything. I’m sorry—I just needed time alone.”

“I understand. I guess your talk with Briar didn’t go well.”

She nodded.

Silence lingered… until curiosity got the better of him.

“You’re a really good musician. Could you… maybe play something for me?”

“W-what? I—I don’t like playing in front of people…”

“Sorry! That was dumb. I don’t like showing my drawings either.”

“You draw?”

Her interest sparked something in him.

“Yeah… maybe I could sketch while you play. Then show you afterward. Only if you want.”

She hesitated—then smiled softly and nodded.

They sat under a Wisteria tree.

Lilac raised her flute.

Kieran opened his notebook.

The melody began, unsure at first… then steadier, richer.

“I’ll draw the pond,” he whispered. “Let the music guide me…”

As Lilac’s song grew gentler, his pencil moved faster.

You’re strong. You’re kind. You’re talented. And you don’t even know it… 

Lilac thought, as she fought the impulse to look at Kieran's drawing.

The music changed again—tender, almost like a lullaby.

Kieran flushed as he added a final touch to his sketch.

“I’ll make this drawing reflect everything you’re making me feel, Lilac… Just wait.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 – Beneath the Masks

Playing the flute in front of people had always made Lilac uncomfortable.

At her previous school, she had been bullied—by both students and teachers. The discrimination she faced had left scars deep enough that she gave up music altogether for a while. Only with the support of her Pokémon had she slowly regained the courage to play again—though only when she was alone or in the company of her Pokémon.

But when Kieran suggested she play while he drew, Lilac didn’t have the heart to refuse. The idea that her music could inspire someone else’s art… it made her feel unexpectedly warm. Flattered, even—though it didn’t completely erase her anxiety.

Curious as she was about his drawing, Lilac resisted the urge to peek. She knew how frustrating it could be to have someone hover over your work in progress. So instead, she closed her eyes and let the melody carry her, losing herself in the sound and the breeze around Wisteria Pond.

“Lilac…” Kieran’s voice was quiet—almost a whisper against the breeze. She stopped playing, startled by the sudden break in her melody.

He held out his notebook with both hands, like it was something fragile. “I finished… I mean, if you want to see it.”

She tilted her head with a teasing smile. “Finished already? You’re not only fast at running but at drawing too, huh?”

Kieran chuckled nervously but didn’t meet her eyes.

Lilac flipped open the notebook—and froze.

The drawing wasn't just good. It was stunning.

She saw herself by the pond, flute in hand, surrounded by all four forms of Oricorio mid-dance. Their poses captured motion so vividly it felt like they might flutter off the page at any moment. The wind through her hair, the ripple of the water, the slight tilt of her shoulders as she played—it was all there.

Too real. Too observant.

Her chest tightened.

To draw it this well… he must’ve watched me the whole time.

Her cheeks burned.

Why does that make my stomach feel weird? That’s just how art works, right?

Kieran was still standing in place, shifting his weight. “So… do you like it?”

She hesitated for half a second—long enough for him to notice—but then nodded, speaking softly.

 “Yeah. It’s really beautiful.”

Relief flooded his face like sunshine breaking through clouds. “I’m so glad… I mean, your music really inspired me. I don’t think it would’ve come out half as good without it.”

Lilac closed the sketchbook carefully and tucked her flute into its case. The breeze picked up again, rustling the reeds nearby.

Part of her wanted to ask: Why did you draw me like that? Why does it feel so personal?

But instead, she said, “I’m glad it helped.”

They stood in silence for a beat longer than necessary.

Then Kieran pulled something from behind his back—it was the same drawing, torn from the pad and carefully smoothed. “You can keep it. If… if you want.”

Lilac took it, her fingers brushing his. The paper was still warm from his hands.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “That’s… really sweet.”

He’s so sweet. Wait. What am I thinking? It’s just a nice gesture. That’s all.

Riding on Miraidon was exhilarating—Kieran had to admit that. Lilac was lucky to have a Pokémon like him. With Miraidon, she could probably go anywhere in the world.

But even as they climbed, his thoughts drifted back to the drawing. He was glad she liked it—relieved, even—but something about her praise didn’t quite sit right.

Did she really mean it? Or was she just being nice?

He shook the thought off, but it lingered like a smudge on clean paper.

I had to look at her a lot to draw it right. I hope that didn’t make her uncomfortable… Still… now I can probably draw her from memory…

Wait—that sounds creepy! I meant, like… draw with her. That’s how art works, right?!

Kieran glanced at her over his shoulder, riding just ahead, wind in her hair.

She’s not only good at Pokémon battles but she’s also a talented musician. And kind. And thoughtful. And brave enough to do things I’d freeze up over.

What am I even good at? Drawing?

 He looked down at his hands, fingers still faintly smudged with pencil. It didn’t feel like enough. Not next to her.

He clenched Miraidon’s saddle a little tighter. No—I should be happy. She's my friend. I want to support her. I really do.

But the doubt stayed, quiet and shapeless. Not envy. Not yet. Just a whisper:You're not like her. Not really.

They soon reached Kitakami Hall and spotted the second signboard.

“Why are there decorations everywhere?” Lilac asked, looking around.

Kieran avoided the question. “You’ll see soon enough. For now, it’s my turn to read.”

He stepped up to the signboard and read aloud:

The ogre possessed four mysterious, glimmering masks.

It is said that depending on the mask the ogre donned, the powers of its cudgel would change.

When wearing the teal mask, it could bring life back into withered greenery.

With the crimson mask, it turned a candle’s flame into a raging inferno.

 With the blue mask, it could stop the very flow of a river.

And with the ashen gray mask, it could shatter the hardest stone.

Before the Loyal Three fell, they stole three of the ogre’s masks—greatly weakening it.

“The signboard talks about the ogre masks,” Kieran explained. “They’re actually stored here at Kitakami Hall.”

“Really? I’d love to see them.”

“They showed them to me and Carmine once when we were little, but… they’re not usually on public display.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” She hesitated, then asked, “Hey… I’ve been wondering. Why do you like the ogre so much?”

Kieran paused. His eyes drifted toward the mountains.

“I guess… I want to be like him,” he said slowly. “Strong. Independent. Someone who doesn’t back down, even when everyone’s against him.”

He traced a finger over the edge of the signboard, as if the words held something he hadn’t found yet.

“Carmine always jumps in when things go wrong. At school, she stands up for me, speaks for me. It’s like… people only listen to her. And I—I just want to be someone others can rely on. Someone who matters. Like the ogre.”

Lilac stepped beside him. Her presence was quiet, not pushy. She didn’t interrupt.

He looked down. “I want to be strong like that. But… sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get there.”

A beat of silence.

Then Lilac placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

“I think you will,” she said. “And not because someone else says so. Because you’ve already started trying.”

He glanced sideways, uncertain.

“You don’t need to be like your sister,” she added. “Or the ogre. You don’t have to be loud or perfect to matter. You just have to keep going. I’ll help you if I can—but I won’t do it for you. That part has to be yours.”

Kieran blinked. Her words landed somewhere deep in his chest—steady, unshakable.

He wanted to believe them. He really did.

But part of him still flinched.

Was that kindness... or pity? She doesn’t even know what it’s like for me. Not really. Still... she means it. I think she means it.

He swallowed hard, emotions tangling in his throat.

“Thanks,” he said finally. “I’m… really happy we’re friends.”

“Me too,” Lilac replied with a soft smile. “Now come on. Let’s get that next signboard photo.”

This time, he posed with less hesitation. Lilac raised her arms and let out a mock roar, while he offered a shy, open-palmed stance.

“So, the next signboard…” he started, then paused, struck by an idea.

“Hey, would you like to visit the Ogre’s Den? It’s on Oni Mountain. And with Miraidon, it won’t take long!”

“That sounds great! Let’s go!”

Far above, on the mountain path, Ogerpon made her quiet return to the den. Her steps were slow, heavy.

She had watched Ursaluna fall the night before.

Watched him fight for her—alone—against humans who didn’t understand. Who only saw a threat.

And then, they captured him.

He was the only one who understood me…

Now he’s gone.

Her heart ached, the way it had when Lirio disappeared all those years ago. Ursaluna had been the last creature to look at her without fear in his eyes. Like her, he had been cast out. Shunned. Yet he had stayed by her side, without expecting anything in return.

Another sacrifice... for me...

A rustling sound snapped her out of her thoughts.

Ogerpon tensed and crouched low behind the rocks. Voices echoed from below.

“Cadence, use Fairy Wind!”

 “Poliwhirl, dodge and use Bubble Beam!”

She crept forward for a better look, careful not to be seen. A battle was taking place at the entrance to her den.

The girl from the night before.

Ogerpon's eyes narrowed. So she had returned. The one who had thrown the Poké Ball.

Are they here for me too?

She studied them cautiously—but something made her pause.

The girl… there was something about her. Her stance. The way she moved. The curve of her hand as she pointed, the energy behind her voice.

So familiar…

Her eyes shifted to the Alolan Ninetales beside the girl—a radiant, icy fox with a mane like snow.

Ogerpon's breath caught. That aura… it felt wrong. Or no—too powerful. Too different. If they saw each other now…

No. Not yet.

But still—Ogerpon couldn't look away from the girl.

Who are you?

The memories stirred—faint, faded like the edges of an old mask. Someone from long ago… Lirio?

She blinked hard, but the thought slipped away, like smoke.

The girl’s face was turned away. The view was too distant, the shadows too deep.

I can’t be sure… But why does she feel so close?

Fear and longing twisted in her chest.

If I get closer… maybe I’ll know. But if I’m wrong—and they see me…

Ogerpon turned away, silently stepping back into the treeline. The forest embraced her, masking her presence.

She couldn’t stay.

Not yet.

== Trainer Battle Start ==

Lilac (3 Pokémon) vs. Kieran (3 Pokémon)

Kieran had challenged her to a rematch at the Dreaded Den.

Lilac was impressed by how quickly he adapted. Her Fairy Wind should’ve caught his Poliwhirl off-guard, but he dodged and attacked with Bubble Beam. Still, the Water-type didn’t stand a chance against her Floragato’s Grass moves.

Yanmega was faster than before, Opaline’s Blizzard hit hard—but she’d used it without a command. Again. Lilac made a mental note to talk to her later. That kind of disobedience couldn’t continue—no matter how powerful she was.

Finally, Furret put up a solid fight, enduring one Moonblast—but not the second.

Victory was hers again.

“You’re still stronger than me, huh?” Kieran said, rubbing the back of his neck. He reached out to shake Lilac’s hand, but his grip was loose—half-uncertain.

Lilac shook it gently. “You’ve improved, though. And it’s only been two days since you saw me battle! Honestly, if I won, it’s thanks to my Pokémon. Especially Opaline.”

Kieran sat down, pulling out a potion and spritzing it over Furret’s fainted form. “Still… they listen to you. Even when they don’t follow every command.”

“That’s not always easy,” Lilac admitted, crouching beside Opaline and brushing a hand through her snowy fur. “She’s been through a lot. Opaline’s lived for over two hundred years. Sometimes I think she sees me as a student, not a trainer. I’m learning to trust her—and I think she’s starting to trust me too. That’s our strength, really.”

Kieran looked down at his own Poké Ball.

Strength through trust… not control. She makes it sound so simple.

“I think… for me, strength is different,” he muttered. “It’s about… proving yourself. If you’re not strong, people don’t take you seriously. They talk over you. Or they protect you like you’re fragile. Or they ignore you altogether.”

Lilac glanced at him, her expression soft but unreadable.

He didn’t stop. “If I don’t win, then what am I? Just someone following his sister around? Someone who can’t stand on his own?”

He laughed, but it came out thin. “And then there’s you. You battle like it’s instinct. You’ve got this ancient Pokémon who listens to you, and you play music that makes people stop and feel things.”

He paused, voice quieter. “It’s like you’ve got… everything.”

Lilac gently zipped up her backpack. “I don’t have everything. I just… care a lot. That’s where my strength comes from.”

Kieran didn’t look at her. He nodded, but something in his chest ached—like a weight he couldn’t drop.

Caring isn’t enough for me. I want to be seen.

They sat in silence, only the soft buzz of a Yanma echoing through the den’s mouth.

Finally, Kieran stood. “So… Do you want to go inside the den?”

Lilac nodded, brushing grass from her shorts. “Let’s go.”

Kieran ducked low and stepped into the Den, waving Lilac in behind him. “Watch your head. It felt bigger when I was little.”

Lilac followed, her hand brushing the rough stone as she looked around. The air inside was cool and still, carrying a faint earthy scent. Dim light filtered in through cracks in the rock above, casting jagged shadows across the walls.

“It’s dark… and cramped,” she murmured, crouching to avoid a low-hanging ledge. “I can’t imagine living here.”

Kieran stepped farther in and sat on a flat stone outcropping. “Yeah. Poor ogre. Everyone feared him so much, they wouldn’t even let him have a real home. We’ve got some space at my house. The ogre could come live with us.”

She laughed softly. “When can I move in?”

He grinned. “Guess we’d need bunk beds.”

Kieran rubbed the back of his neck, half-joking, half-daydreaming. “I mean… it wouldn’t be bad. If the ogre came too, it’d be kind of a dream.”

Lilac turned away, but he caught her quiet voice: “You’re really sweet.”

He froze for a heartbeat. Had she meant to say that?

His face burned. Thank Arceus for the shadows.

“I just… like the ogre,” he muttered. “But if he actually moved in with us, the villagers would probably freak out. They don’t really get it.”

She nodded slowly. “A lot of people don’t get what they’re afraid of.”

They emerged from the Dreaded Den into the cool evening air. The sky was painted in streaks of orange and violet, the sun hanging low behind Oni Mountain.

Lilac stretched her arms above her head. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?”

“Yeah…” Kieran replied, quieter than before. His hands were in his pockets, fingers fidgeting with something unseen.

She glanced over. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Just thinking.”

They stood side by side in comfortable silence, the wind gently tugging at their clothes. Somewhere below, a Yanma buzzed lazily past.

Kieran turned to her suddenly—too suddenly—and blurted out, “Lilac… I want to ask you something.”

She blinked and tilted her head. “Sure. What’s up?”

His heart kicked into overdrive. Don’t say it weird. Don’t say it weird.

“I, uh… I know you probably want to go with your classmates and Professor Jacq and all, but—would you like to go to the Festival of Masks with me?”

His voice cracked slightly at the end. He winced internally. That sounded like I asked her on a date. It’s not a date. It’s not, right?

Lilac didn’t answer immediately.

She looked down at her shoes, then up at the glowing horizon. When she finally met his eyes, her smile was soft—real.

“I’m not great with crowds,” she admitted. “But… if we go together, I think I’ll feel better.”

Something eased in his chest, but his brain was still a mess of what just happened. Did she mean that like—friends? Or—

She added, gently, “I’d like that.”

Kieran nodded too fast. “Great! I mean, awesome. You’ll love it. Don’t worry about being recognized—everyone wears masks there. It’s kind of the point.”

Lilac’s smile widened. “Guess I’ll need a good one.”

“Oh—uh, before the festival, we’ll need to get ready at my house,” Kieran said quickly. Then, realizing how that sounded, he added, “I mean, that’s where everyone goes. Carmine too. We help each other with outfits and masks and stuff. Not like, uh—just the two of us.”

She giggled. “Relax, I get it.”

Kieran looked away, hoping she didn’t see his face turning red. Why does she have to be so cool about everything?

“Alright,” Lilac said, pulling out her Rotom Phone. “Let me let Professor Jacq know… then we’re off.”

Kieran watched her message Jacq, the fading sunlight catching in her hair. He smiled to himself—his thoughts still tangled but a little lighter now.

Festival of Masks… maybe it won’t just be about masks this year.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 – The Shape of Belonging

"Welcome back! But I guess you won’t be staying long—today’s the first day of the Festival of Masks," Grampa Yukito said, smiling as his grandson entered the house. He had a half-finished mask in his lap, brush still in hand, paint flecks on his fingertips. "And if Lilac is with you, that must mean…"

“Y-yeah,” Kieran stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lilac’s coming to the festival with me…”

Lilac stood quietly beside him, her nerves starting to build. She hadn’t been to a festival in years. The crowds, the noise, the unfamiliar traditions… it all made her anxious. But going with someone she trusted—and the idea of wearing a mask, staying invisible in plain sight—had convinced her to try.

Still, a tight knot coiled in her stomach.

What if the mask isn’t enough?

Maybe it was just her anxiety talking, but she felt very… watched in this house.

Like the walls remembered things. Like they were waiting to decide if she belonged here.

“Don’t wrinkle your Jinbei before the festival, Kieran!” Hideko called as she passed through the hallway, holding a long bundle of lanterns in both arms.

“I wasn’t gonna!” Kieran protested, already moving away from the cushion he’d nearly crushed.

“And Lilac, dear, come with me—I’ll help you into something traditional, and we’ll fix that lovely hair of yours too!”

Lilac hesitated, then followed Hideko upstairs.

The house wasn’t very spacious. The living room and kitchen she’d seen last time were the only large areas. The hallway upstairs was short, with only four doors. On the right were two with names taped to them—CARMINE and KIERAN in faded Sharpie. On the left was a narrow, half-open bathroom, and at the end of the hallway stood another room, which Hideko led her into.

It was clean but sparse. This must be where guests stay… So maybe the room downstairs is where Yukito and Hideko sleep.

Lilac stepped further in, glancing curiously at the room before sitting down in front of the mirror.

“Here, dear!” Hideko said, setting down a folded teal Jinbei beside her. “You really do have beautiful hair, you know? My granddaughter Carmine cares a lot about hers—I’m sure the two of you get along wonderfully!”

Lilac forced a smile. “Well… I think so.”

She wasn’t about to explain that Carmine had been rude toward her. Especially not now.

“You’re kind to him,” Hideko said softly as she started brushing Lilac’s hair. “Kieran’s always needed someone like that.”

Lilac offered a small smile. “He’s a good person. It’s easy.”

There was a pause.

“You know, this used to be Shira’s room,” Hideko said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “My daughter.”

Lilac blinked, unsure how to respond, but remained still.

“She and her husband… Akuro. Good people. They called themselves Rangers. Not officials, not enforcers. Just people who stood between panic and peace. The Pokémon that stood with them didn’t fight for trophies. They stepped in when someone was scared… or hurting. Helped the wild and the village live side by side.”

Hideko’s hands slowed.

“One summer… something went wrong. A Pokémon wandered in from the mountain—wild, scared. The villagers panicked. Called it a monster.”

A small sigh. “Shira didn’t see a monster. Just a Pokémon in pain.”

Lilac looked down. The lump in her throat tightened.

“They calmed it. Led it home.” She paused. “But they didn’t come back.”

Silence filled the space like smoke.

Then Hideko smiled—soft, sad, but real. “Carmine tried to be strong. Kieran… just tried to understand.”

As Hideko tied off the side ponytail with a silken ribbon, she smiled in the mirror. “There. All done.”

Lilac ran a hand down the sleeve of the Jinbei. She’d changed quickly behind the privacy screen while Hideko gathered a few accessories. The fabric was surprisingly soft. She wasn’t used to clothes like this—structured, folded, precise—but something about it felt… peaceful. Like slipping into a different version of herself.

She almost didn’t recognize her own reflection.

“Grandma, have you seen my—oh.” Carmine stopped mid-stride, eyes narrowing at Lilac’s reflection in the mirror. “…Whoa. Is that you, Lilac?”

Lilac stiffened. “Yes?”

“Okay, rude question, but why do you look so good in a Jinbei?” Carmine asked, squinting like it personally offended her. “You’re not even from here. This is cultural theft—but like, polite.”

Lilac blinked. “Uh…”

Carmine pointed dramatically down the hall. “KIKI! YOUR DATE’S HOT, AND I’M UPSET ABOUT IT!”

“Carmine!” Hideko snapped, waving a hairbrush at her.

“Fine, fine, I’m leaving! I just came to steal my eyeliner!”

Meanwhile, downstairs, Kieran was fidgeting with the belt of his Jinbei in the garden, trying—and failing—to tie it straight.

“Ugh… why is this harder than battling?”

A small red apple suddenly thunked off the top of his head. “Ow!”

From the tree above, his Applin chittered down at him with gleeful mischief. 

“Applin! Not now!” Kieran groaned, rubbing his scalp. “That one wasn’t even ripe!”

“Let him be,” Yukito chuckled from the porch, still carefully painting a delicate mask with a Vulpix motif. “He’s been up there all day stealing the apples your grandma needs for the cider table.”

“She’s gonna be mad…”

“She’s already mad. But that’s tradition too.”

As if summoned, Hideko’s voice rang from inside the house:

 “KIERAN! If I see another half-eaten apple on the kitchen floor, I’m feeding you mochi and miso soup until your great-grandchildren get sick of it!”

Kieran winced. “She found them.”

He looked down at the Jinbei again. Still crooked. He gave up and plopped onto the porch step with a sigh.

“I wonder what Lilac will look like wearing one…” he mumbled without thinking.

“You said that out loud,” Yukito said calmly.

Kieran’s ears turned pink. “Shut up.”

“You’re tense,” Yukito said, dabbing a bit of brown onto the mask’s ear tips. “First time you’ve gone to the festival with someone other than Carmine, huh?”

“Well… yeah. But mostly, I’m just worried about Lilac. She doesn’t like crowds. And even though the Festival of Masks is a small event… most of Mossui Town will be there tonight.”

Yukito nodded, blowing gently on the wet paint. “I understand. But I have a feeling she’ll like it anyway.”

Kieran wasn’t sure where his grandfather got all that confidence—but he hoped he was right.

The front door slid open. Kieran stood and turned—

—and nearly lost his balance.

Lilac stepped out, wearing the teal Jinbei. Her hair was pulled into a clean side ponytail, tied with a pale violet ribbon. She fidgeted with the fabric, clearly uncomfortable in the spotlight.

But to Kieran, she looked like she’d always belonged in Mossui.

"Wowzers…" he muttered.

“Don’t pass out, Kiki,” came a voice behind Lilac.

Carmine was leaning against the doorframe, now fully dressed and smug. “Didn’t think you had it in you, but you actually asked her out, huh?”

Lilac’s cheeks flushed pink. Kieran’s face turned red.

“I just said we’d go together!” he blurted.

“Oh sure. Very platonic. You’re practically glowing.”

“Leave them alone, Carmine,” Hideko called sweetly from the kitchen, “or I’ll make you serve cider to all the tourists who don’t know how to hold a cup.”

“I hate cider duty,” Carmine muttered, slinking away.

“You did a wonderful job, Hideko,” Yukito said, standing to admire Lilac. “I almost feel like I’ve gained another granddaughter.”

“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” Hideko beamed, peeking out the window.

“Can we not say that out loud? Ever again?” Lilac mumbled, curling her hair with her fingers.

Just then, from inside the house—CRASH! A distant yelp followed. “I DIDN’T MEAN TO KNOCK IT OVER! MY LANTERNS!!”

“Run, Applin, run!” Carmine yelled.

Kieran sighed. “So… masks?”

“Garage,” Yukito said, shaking his head. “Same place as last year. Try not to fight over them.”

“First one to the garage gets the coolest mask!” Carmine shouted as she bolted down the garden path.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Kieran ran after her, not that he was too worried—he always wore the same one, and Carmine never picked it.

Lilac, meanwhile, strolled toward the garage at her own pace. She didn’t care about having the coolest mask—she just wanted one that would help her blend in.

Then she heard Carmine shout: “Damn, it’s not here!”

Kieran emerged behind her, looking sheepish. “Lilac… it looks like there were only two masks in the garage. I’m sorry.”

“Oh well,” Carmine added coolly, holding a mask in her hand. “Guess someone will have to go without.”

Lilac looked down, trying to hide her disappointment. She didn’t want to seem childish, but being the only one without a mask…

Her stomach clenched. No mask meant no protection—just her, face bare, in front of everyone…

“Lilac,” Kieran said quietly, holding out his own. “You can take mine if you want—”

“WHAT?! NO!” Carmine’s voice cut the air like a blade.

Both of them turned to stare at her.

“I was clear, the first one there gets the mask! And that’s your ogre mask, Kieran. Your favorite, remember? Lilac can buy one at the festival. But first… why don’t we have a nice battle before we go?”

She tossed a Poké Ball in her hand. “You owe me a rematch, outsider.”

== Trainer Battle Start ==

 Lilac (1 Pokémon) vs. Carmine (1 Pokémon)

The battle had begun, and Kieran was on the edge of his seat.

Lilac had already beaten him twice—and now she was going toe-to-toe with Carmine.

The garden was a mess. Apples, torn petals, and trampled grass scattered the field from Applin’s earlier mischief. But now, it was a battleground.

Yukito had paused his mask painting to watch, one hand resting on his knee. Hideko peeked from the kitchen window between stringing lanterns. Even Applin hung from a branch above, munching a stolen rice ball like it was popcorn.

Carmine’s Ninetales stood tall and gleaming, its fiery tails flicking with barely contained heat. Lilac’s Alolan Ninetales—Opaline—remained still, breath calm, eyes unreadable. Mist curled faintly from her fur, rising like fog at sea.

Lilac didn’t speak loudly, but her voice cut cleanly through the cold air: “Opaline, behind.”

A fireball scorched through the space where her Pokémon had stood seconds earlier, sending a burst of hot wind across the garden. Kieran instinctively flinched.

She’s not shouting. Kieran realized. She’s not reacting late. She’s… reading everything.

Carmine was barking orders at a rapid clip—her voice confident, but just a bit strained. Kieran knew that tone. She was thinking fast, switching plans midstream.

But Lilac didn’t look tired. Not yet. Just… focused. Like her and Opaline were sharing the same thought.

He watched as Opaline danced just past another Flamethrower, light on her paws. And then—

“Terastalize,” Lilac said softly, raising her arm.

The gem-light flashed. Crystal bloomed. A delicate crown of shimmering Fairy energy formed around Opaline’s head, catching the sun like glass.

Then came Moonblast—not shouted, not screamed—just delivered.

The sound was like a bell cracking open. The air rippled with magic, and the impact flared in pink-white brilliance. Carmine’s Ninetales gave a sharp whine and collapsed, barely catching itself before hitting the ground.

The garden went still.

Kieran let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Carmine returned her Ninetales with a huff. “Okay, okay, you beat me,” she muttered. “But the moral victory’s mine.”

“What does that even mean?” Kieran asked.

Carmine had already turned away. “Ugh. Whatever. That wasn’t even a real fight. Let’s just go before I talk myself into demanding a rematch.”

Lilac stayed where she was, steadying her breath. Kieran only noticed it now—her hands were trembling slightly at her sides. The Terastal orb dimmed. 

He wondered how much of the hit she’d felt. How tightly she had to stay in sync with Opaline to keep up with Carmine.

For a second, she looked as tired as he’d ever seen her.

Lilac offered a handshake, but Carmine brushed past it. Her hand lingered in the air, then slowly dropped to her side.

Right. Of course.

She brushed her fingers against her Jinbei, pretending to fix it. Pretending it didn’t sting.

But it did. A little.

“You were amazing,” Kieran said, jogging up beside her. “You beat Carmine again! And she’s part of the Elite Four at school—technically the weakest, but still top five!”

“She fights well,” Lilac replied, trying to sound neutral.

“Hey, you two Luvdisc!” Carmine called over her shoulder. “You coming or what? I’ll leave you here!”

“Sorry about her,” Kieran muttered. “She’s always bossy. But… just between us? She worked really hard to find that third mask for you.”

“...Then why pretend not to care?”

“Because it’s Carmine,” he said with a small shrug. “Caring is dangerous. At least, that’s how she sees it.”

Lilac blinked. A mask to hide how you really feel. Yeah… I know that trick.

As they walked into town, the sun dipped low, casting long shadows through the paths of Mossui. The air smelled of incense, roasted Chesto nuts, and dried plum.

Pokémon wandered freely: a pair of Deerling nosed through garden fences, while a Meowth chased its tail on a roof tile. A boy wrestled with a stubborn Chingling who refused to stop ringing its bell.

“Kieran! Carmine!” came a shout from a wooden stall as they passed.

A stooped old man waved at them while feeding his Chatot rice crackers.

“Tell your gramps I got the wood for the lantern poles! Don’t let him start carving with the good knives again!”

“We’ll try!” Kieran called back, sounding like this was a routine conversation.

“Also, tell your grandma my Yamper’s still chewing on the apple baskets!”

Another passerby, a girl about Lilac’s age, gave a small gasp when she noticed her.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked, eyes flicking to Lilac’s Jinbei.

“She’s cute,” said another, nudging the first. “Not from Mossui, huh?”

“Is that a Sinnoh-style ponytail?” the girl asked.

Lilac blinked. “Um… I guess?”

Carmine waved a dismissive hand. “She’s not exotic, you weirdo. Leave her alone.”

As the girls walked off giggling, Lilac tilted her head. “Was that… a compliment?”

Carmine snorted. “In Mossui, if they’re teasing you, it means they like you.”

“So… I’m being accepted?”

“No promises,” she said, then winked. “But you’re on the right track.”

The group was almost at the edge of town when they passed a small shop. 

“Stop right there!” came a booming voice.

Lilac jumped.

Behind the counter stood a squat, spry old woman with short white hair.

“Ms. Peachy!” Kieran and Carmine said in unison.

“I see you’ve brought a special guest this year,” she said, squinting at Lilac. “And no one tripped on the step this time. Progress!”

Kieran rubbed his elbow. “That was one time.”

“Grab some sweets before you go! The festival’s nothing without a sugar rush and sore teeth!”

A low growl came from behind the counter—deep and throaty.

Lilac stiffened—until a massive, fluffy Arcanine padded into view.

Its mane gleamed in the lanternlight, and its eyes were sharp—but the moment it saw Lilac, it huffed loudly and flopped onto the ground like a lazy Growlithe.

Peachy laughed. “That’s Taro. He looks scary, but he’s a lap dog in disguise.”

Taro snorted happily, his big tail thumping against the floorboards. Lilac couldn’t resist reaching out to scratch behind one ear. The Arcanine leaned in, practically purring.

Carmine grabbed a green mochi from the tray, already munching. “These are your best batch.”

“You always say that when they’re free.”

Peachy opened a wooden box behind the counter and revealed a perfectly polished pink berry.

“The Mythical Pecha Berry,” she declared proudly. “This one’s not for eating. It’s a gift berry. You give it to someone you feel deep gratitude for.”

Lilac looked at it curiously. “It’s real?”

“Passed down through my garden like a secret recipe,” Peachy said, winking. “Whoever wins the Ogre Oustin’ tonight takes it home.”

Beside it, on a velvet pillow, sat something odd: a peach so perfectly round and glossy it almost looked fake.

“What’s this?” Lilac asked, pointing.

“Oh, that?” Peachy chuckled. “That’s the Never-Rotting Peach. My ancestor found it in the Timeless Woods. Said it brings good luck. Been the shop mascot ever since.”

Never rotting… never changing…

Part of Lilac envied it.

But part of her wondered: If you never change… can you really grow?

The thought stuck with her as Peachy waved them out.

“I’ve kept you long enough,” she said. “Now go enjoy the festival!”

“Save that berry for me!” Carmine called. “I’m gonna win tonight!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!”

By the time they left Peachy’s shop, the sky had turned a soft shade of lavender.

Paper lanterns glowed from every doorway. Strands of golden string lights twinkled between houses. Children darted past with squealing laughter, each wearing masks: Ninetales, Eevee, Drifloon, and even a few crudely drawn Pikachu.

Lilac slowed her steps, taking it in. The scent of grilled skewers and sweet plum sauce floated through the breeze, carried on soft music from a shamisen in the distance.

And somehow… for the first time in a while… She didn’t feel like an outsider. She felt like someone walking toward something— 

Instead of away.

“Does this festival happen every year?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Kieran said. “Every winter. Started way back, when the village used to chase off scary Pokémon with noise and lanterns. Now it’s more about remembering, I think.”

“Remembering what?”

Carmine, walking slightly ahead, looked over her shoulder. “That not every monster is actually a monster.”

Lilac didn’t know how to respond to that. Not yet. But the words lingered.

They passed a small shrine nestled at the town bridge, with tiny offerings of berries and carved stones at its base. A Togetic floated nearby, tying a red ribbon to a low-hanging branch with its stubby hands. It gave them a cheerful chirp as they passed.

From the bottom of the hill, they could now see the lantern-lit plaza where the festival was just beginning.

The clang of gongs signaling the opening ceremony.

“Oh no,” Carmine muttered. “That bell means the mask parade’s about to start!”

“What’s that?” Lilac asked.

“It’s where everyone with a mask lines up and pretends to be their chosen Pokémon,” Kieran explained. “People make up little skits, or dance in groups—it’s fun, but also, uh, kind of awkward.”

Carmine elbowed him. “Speak for yourself. I won best mask one year.”

“You were a Dunsparce.”

“It was a very creative Dunsparce.”

Lilac laughed quietly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to participate, but… watching might be nice.

Yukito and Hideko were already arriving through another street, rolling a wooden cart filled with festival supplies. Behind them waddled a Greedent—who’d somehow stolen an entire cob of grilled corn and was refusing to let go.

“Where’d he even get that?” Hideko muttered.

“Don’t ask,” Yukito sighed. “At least he’s not eating the masks this time.”

Hideko noticed them and waved. “Don’t forget to visit the lantern arch before the festival’s final night, dear. That’s when everyone writes a wish and hangs it up—it’s tradition.”

“A wish?”

“Big or small. Doesn’t matter. Just something from the heart.”

Lilac nodded, realizing she still had a few days to think about it… but liking the idea anyway.

She still felt a little like a visitor here.

But maybe that was okay.

Maybe visiting was the first step to belonging.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 – The Festival of Masks

It didn’t take long for Lilac, Carmine, and Kieran to reach the edge of the festival—but for Lilac, the short walk from the village felt longer than expected.

The moment they stepped onto the lantern-lined path, the world seemed to expand.

Lights glimmered from stalls and paper lanterns hung from every post and tree. Masked children darted through the crowd in bursts of laughter, music floated through the air like petals on the wind, and the smell of grilled skewers, caramel sweets, and incense hung heavy in the cool winter night.

Lilac stopped walking. Just for a second.

Her heart picked up.

The scents, the shifting lights, the motion around her—it pressed in from every direction like a wave. Her mind scrambled to focus on something, but everything moved too fast. Too loud. Too much.

She felt a small, familiar shape press gently against her leg.

Applin.

The little Pokémon had slipped from Kieran’s shoulder and was now nestled beside her ankle, his leafy tail flicking as if to say: You’re not alone.

Kieran noticed too. “He’s been staying close since we left the shrine,” he said, gently. “He likes you.”

Lilac knelt to pick Applin up, feeling his tiny weight settle into her arms like an anchor.

“Thanks,” she whispered—not sure if she meant the words for Applin or Kieran.

“Hey, don’t just stand there like a Slowpoke!” Carmine called back with an eye roll. “C’mon, Lilac! You’re missing the best part!”

Kieran leaned closer, speaking low so only she could hear. “We can take it slow if you want. You don’t have to rush.”

Lilac swallowed the tightness in her throat. She adjusted her grip on Applin and nodded. “I’ll try.”

She let out a breath. The world was still loud, still chaotic… but with Applin there, it didn’t feel so unmanageable.

Together, they stepped into the heart of the Festival of Masks.

“So, how do you feel?” Carmine asked, adjusting the mask resting stylishly on the side of her head. “Bet you dream of festivals like this in Paldea!”

Lilac didn’t answer.

It was all too much—too loud, too fast. The colors, smells, sounds, and swarming bodies stirred her anxiety. Her throat tightened, and her thoughts scattered.

“What’s wrong? Lost your tongue?” Carmine teased, not noticing her discomfort.

“Stop it, Carmine—that’s rude!” Kieran stepped in quickly. His concerned voice made Lilac’s heart ache. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful, not after all he’d done for her. “Lilac… if you need some time to get used to it, that’s okay.”

“D-don’t worry, I… I’m fine…” she forced a small smile, though Kieran’s eyes said he didn’t quite believe her.

Applin wiggled against her cheek in support.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, Kiki. Lilac just needs a little push! Like a photo to immortalize the moment!” Carmine nudged her. “C’mon, get your phone out—we don’t have all night!”

Lilac set her Rotom Phone to automatic capture and stepped between the siblings.

“Carmine! You’re stepping on my foot!” Kieran yelped.

“What a drag. You’re not gonna die! Now say Chansey!”

Applin peeked out from Lilac’s arms as the flash went off, his round face squished adorably into the frame.

Flash!

The photo appeared moments later. They all gathered to look.

“It came out well,” Carmine said, critically. “But Kiki, you need to work on your smile. And you, Lilac, loosen up a bit! Anyway, you should know that this whole festival also honors our heroes—the Loyal Three. These masks we wear are representations of them. Did I mention they’re our heroes?”

Kieran gave a quiet chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Carmine snapped.

“You just… don’t know the ogre at all,” he replied, shaking his head.

“What?! Please. I know Kitakami’s folktales better than you! You’re just a kid who likes the bad guys!”

“I… I’m going to look around,” Kieran muttered before darting away.

Lilac remained quiet for a moment, watching Kieran disappear into the crowd.

Applin curled tighter in her arms, eyes tracking his trainer’s retreating form.

Something in Carmine’s tone rubbed her raw—not just the teasing, but the way it casually dismissed him.

She’d heard that voice before.

Back in Galar, the bullies had used it like a dagger. They laughed when she froze in front of a class. Scoffed when she flinched at loud noises. They acted like it was harmless fun.

That same tone now sat on Carmine’s tongue. And Lilac had had enough of it.

“Carmine, don’t you think that was a bit much?” Lilac frowned, surprised at her own boldness. Carmine might not be all bad, but the way she treated her brother rubbed Lilac the wrong way.

“He’s always like that when things don’t go his way.” Carmine waved it off and strolled toward a nearby food stall.

Lilac remained rooted for a moment, Applin still nestled in her arms, the soft pulsing of his breath a steady rhythm against her chest.

“I… I’ll go check on him.” She ran after Kieran.

“Where could he be…?” Lilac wandered through the crowded street, searching. The lights and noise made it hard to think, and her worry began to mix with disorientation.

“I’m behind you!”

She jumped and spun around. Kieran stood there, holding two candy apples.

Applin bobbed his head happily from Lilac’s shoulder.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled gently and extended both treats. “I got you something. It’s a Kitakami specialty—candy apples! Pick one.”

Lilac hesitated, then chose one and bit into it. Her eyes lit up.

“It’s really delicious! So sweet!”

“Y’know… I helped harvest the apples they use for the festival. Maybe the one you’re eating is one of mine.”

“Then no wonder it’s so sweet! Just like y—uh, I mean… like a good apple should be!”

She blushed furiously and turned away, nibbling at the apple. Why did he make her feel so nervous and happy at the same time?

Applin chirped, clearly proud.

They ate quietly, the sounds of the festival filling the silence.

“I like this,” Lilac said suddenly.

Kieran turned. “What?”

“This.” She motioned to the little space between them. “Us. Talking. Hanging out. No battles, no assignments. Just…”

“Yeah,” Kieran said, surprised by how warm her words made him feel. “I do too.”

“It’s easy,” she added, softer. “Being around you.”

That comment stuck with him. A tiny, glowing ember.

When they finished, Kieran guided her to a mask stall.

“You’re the only one without a mask. Maybe… if you had one, you’d feel more comfortable.”

Lilac nodded and scanned the selection. Masks of the Loyal Three, Pikachu, Eevee, and many abstract designs filled the table.

One mask caught her eye—blue and heart-shaped, resembling flowing water.

“I choose this one!”

“Are you sure? That’s an ogre mask… They’re not exactly popular.”

“I don’t care about that. I like it. And if it represents the ogre—then even better. I’m on your side, Kieran. I admire it too.”

She paid the vendor and put the mask on, resting it opposite her ponytail. “How does it look?”

“You’re… really beautiful. I mean—it looks good! On you!” Kieran blushed as hard as she did.

Applin chittered in support, earning a quiet laugh from Lilac.

A sneering voice cut the moment.

“Well, well. Look who’s hiding behind a mask now.”

Lilac stiffened. Andrea, Harry, and Scott stood nearby—classmates from school, each wearing one of the Loyal Three masks.

“Like the ogre, she’s a villain and a liar,” Harry jeered. “Hiding behind her fake smile—and her fake family.”

“How’s Kieran even putting up with her?” Scott smirked. “Did Professor Jacq beg you to be her friend?”

Lilac’s chest tightened. Her vision blurred, and her breaths came in short gasps. The noise, the shame, the crowd—it was too much.

Applin stiffened on Kieran’s shoulder, his tail twitching like he wanted to fight them.

“Enough! Come with me, Lilac,” Kieran said firmly, taking her hand.

The last thing she saw before the tears came was her bullies fading into the crowd.

Kieran led her to a quiet bench tucked away from the noise and lights. He never let go of her hand.

Applin climbed back into her lap, snuggling close.

“Lilac, try to breathe. Focus with me, okay?”

She was shaking, sobbing, unable to speak.

“No need to talk. Just follow my lead. Let’s start with five things you can see.”

She forced her gaze to focus.

Kieran. The lanterns. The stars. The festival in the distance. The bench they sat on.

“Good. Now four things you can hear.”

Kieran’s voice. The festival’s hum. A Hoothoot calling. Leaves rustling in the wind.

“You’re doing great. Now three things you can touch.”

His hand. Her Jinbei’s fabric. The mask against her temple.

“Two smells?”

“…The fresh air. And the sweet caramel from the candy apples.” She smiled faintly.

“Last one. One thing you can taste.”

“That candy apple… I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

Kieran exhaled, relieved. “How do you feel now?”

“I think I’m better. Thank you… for helping me.”

She gently stroked Applin’s head in her lap. “And thank you too.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze for long—but something about this moment felt different. So warm. So close.

Kieran was still angry.

Not for himself—for her. Those bullies reminded him too much of his own past, mocked for admiring the ogre, for being different. But now, seeing Lilac in pain… it made his heart burn.

He didn’t know when it had happened—but Lilac had become more than a friend.

Their Pokémon appeared beside them, sensing the shift. Floragato and Furret jumped onto Lilac affectionately. The others followed, crowding around her protectively.

Even Lilac’s Ninetales looked at Kieran with a gentle gaze. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Even Applin climbed onto Lilac’s shoulder, offering comfort.

“Thanks, everyone… and thank you, Kieran.”

“I just wanted to help…”

“Don’t be modest. You knew that technique perfectly—do you use it too?”

“…Yeah. My mom taught me. I… needed it, back then.”

Lilac clutched the edge of the bench, breathing steadier now. Her pulse still thudded faintly in her ears, but the storm had passed. Her gaze drifted to the sky, where paper lanterns floated upward like little stars escaping gravity.

Kieran sat beside her, not saying much, just… being there.

He always knew when not to fill silence.

Finally, Lilac spoke.

“…Your grandmother told me. About your parents.”

Kieran tensed—barely, but she felt it in the way his hand stilled on Furret’s fur.

She glanced sideways. “I hope that’s okay. She didn’t say much, just that they were rangers. That they… helped a wild Pokémon and didn’t come back.”

Kieran looked down at his knees. “Yeah. That’s… what happened.”

There was a pause, like a string pulled taut.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Everyone says that,” he muttered. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

Lilac stayed quiet. Let the words settle.

“My sister remembers them more than I do,” he went on, voice low. “I was so little. I just remember shadows and voices, and then… not seeing them anymore.”

His hand curled into a loose fist. “After that, Carmine started being… loud. Fierce. Like she was trying to keep us safe by being too strong to lose anyone else. And I—I just stopped trying to talk.”

Lilac’s throat tightened. “That must’ve been so lonely.”

“I got used to it.” He looked up at the sky. “Sometimes I wonder if they’d even be proud of me. All I ever do is follow people around. My sister. My grandma. Even you.”

Lilac turned toward him. “You’re not just following.”

“You say that because you’re kind.”

“I say it because I mean it.”

He met her gaze, startled by the firmness in her voice.

“Helping me tonight… that wasn’t nothing,” she said. “It wasn’t small. You knew exactly what to do. You stayed when I couldn’t breathe. You made it safe again.”

She hesitated—then placed a hand gently over his fist.

“If your parents were anything like you… I think they’d be proud. So proud they’d cry.”

Kieran blinked hard and looked away.

“Sorry,” Lilac murmured. “That might’ve been too much.”

“No,” he said quietly. “No one’s ever said that before.”

A breeze passed through the trees. The mask on Lilac’s head shifted slightly. She adjusted it with one hand.

“I chose this mask because of you,” she said. “Because I believe the ogre was never the villain.”

“…I used to think the ogre was me,” Kieran admitted. “Hiding behind a mask so no one would see how scared I was.”

He looked at her, really looked at her.

“But maybe… it’s not about hiding. Maybe the ogre wears the mask to protect what matters. Even when no one understands.”

Lilac smiled. “Maybe we’re all wearing masks tonight—but that doesn’t mean we’re not being real.”

Kieran’s expression softened. His hand slowly, shyly turned beneath hers so their palms met.

“You’re… different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

“So are you.”

They stayed like that for a while. Saying nothing. Holding hands while the festival danced on in the distance.

Lilac glanced around the small, quiet corner they’d found. Paper lanterns drifted in the air like dreams.

“You said you helped with the apples… So your family really is a big part of the festival.”

Kieran nodded. “Yeah. My grandpa makes most of the masks they sell. Grandma organizes the lantern lighting. And the apples—they’ve been our thing for generations.”

He chuckled. “The first Festival of Masks? It was my great-great-great-grandfather’s great-great-great-grandfather's idea. He started it to bring people together after… something bad. I don’t even know all the details. But the ogre mask? That was his.”

“So the whole festival is kind of your family’s legacy,” Lilac said quietly.

Kieran rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Guess so. I never really thought about it like that.”

She gave him a soft smile. “You should.”

A breeze passed through the trees. The mask on Lilac’s head shifted slightly. She adjusted it with one hand as Applin nestled against her shoulder, his body rising and falling with slow, sleepy breaths.

Kieran noticed and smiled.

“Looks like someone’s all tuckered out.”

Applin gave a soft, tired chirp—then wobbled slightly, slipping lower down Lilac’s back. She caught him with one hand and held him close.

“You’ve been a real hero tonight,” she whispered, stroking the smooth curve of his apple-like shell.

Kieran held out a Poké Ball, the red light glowing faintly in the dark. “Thanks, buddy. Time for a break.”

Applin let out one last sleepy trill, then vanished into the light with a quiet hum. The Poké Ball clicked shut.

Lilac watched it for a moment, then turned to Kieran.

“He’s really special, isn’t he?”

Kieran nodded. “He’s been with me through a lot.”

“And now… me too.” She smiled gently.

Kieran didn’t say anything—just clipped the Poké Ball to his belt with care. But in that silence, something unspoken passed between them.

They weren’t alone anymore.

“HEY! You two Luvdiscs!” Carmine’s voice shattered the calm. “I see Lilac’s finally got a mask—and it’s an ogre mask! Kiki must’ve converted you!”

Lilac stood abruptly. Her expression had changed. This was not the shy girl from earlier.

“Stop calling me an outsider and bothering your brother! “What’s your problem? Are you making fun of him too—just because he’s my friend?!”

Her voice had sharpened, no longer soft or careful.

She’d spent years staying quiet. Not tonight.

Not when it sounded so much like the way they used to treat her.

Kieran blinked. Woah…

“Is that how you treat me after I welcomed you into MY land and MY home?!” Carmine snapped. “If you care so much about my brother—prove it! I challenge you to the biggest game of the festival—Ogre Oustin’!”

Tension crackled in the air

like a western showdown.

Lilac didn’t hesitate. “I accept the challenge!”

Carmine watched Lilac take the challenge without flinching.

That fire in her voice…

“Huh,” Carmine muttered, smirking despite herself. “Guess she’s not just some shy foreigner after all.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 – What the Mask Hides (Part 1)

Carmine had given it her all.

She charged through the Ogre Oustin’ challenge with razor-sharp focus—popping balloons left and right on her galloping Stantler, guarding her precious berries from the rodent Pokémon that came to steal them. If there was a high score to be claimed, she wanted it.

But more than that, she wanted to test Lilac.

And maybe—just maybe—carve out a moment alone with her brother.

Earlier, she had spotted them sitting together on that bench away from the noise of the festival. Her instincts as an older sister kicked in immediately.

Carmine had always promised herself she’d protect Kieran. She didn’t want to steal away his first serious friendship—she was the one who had introduced them, after all—but something about the way their relationship was developing alarmed her. Too fast. Too close.

Lilac would return to Paldea soon and they back to school in Unova. Who knew when—or if—she and Kieran would see each other again?

Carmine had been in a long-distance relationship. She remembered the heartbreak.

She wasn’t about to let her brother walk the same road.

“So, Kiki,” Carmine said casually, eyes following Lilac’s turn at the game, “what were you and Lilac doing earlier?”

Kieran didn’t answer at first. His gaze was locked on Lilac, who guided her Miraidon through the field with care and precision. But Carmine’s question tugged him out of it.

“She was getting overwhelmed,” he said, glancing at his sister. “So we stepped away for a bit. I just… wanted to help.”

“And?”

“And what?” His tone sharpened, the first crack in his usual quiet. “You think something happened? Carmine, come on—we’re just friends. We only met a couple days ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, relax,” Carmine said, waving a hand. “I’m just saying—you spend every moment together. I know she’s your first real friend, but don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re going to have to say goodbye soon.”

Kieran stiffened. There it was. That word again. Goodbye… 

Why did it feel like a cut every time someone said it?

He turned away, eyes shadowed. “I know,” he said quietly.

But inside, his thoughts wouldn’t stop.

I know she’s leaving. I know this isn't permanent. But that doesn't mean it doesn’t matter. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but somehow… Lilac had found her way into the quiet spaces he didn’t even know were empty. 

And now that they were filled, the thought of going back to how things were—

Of seeing her go—

It's not just about losing a friend. 

It's about losing the first person who made me feel like I shouldn't be anyone but myself.

“And Lilac takes the lead with the highest score of the night!” the game host shouted as Lilac dismounted and approached the podium to collect her prize.

Ms. Peachy stood nearby with a familiar box in hand.

“This is… the Mythical Pecha Berry?” Lilac asked, wide-eyed. “Are you sure? The night’s not over—someone else might beat my score…”

“Oh, sweetie,” Peachy smiled, “this isn’t a prize for the game. This is a gift. A thank-you—for visiting us here in Kitakami.”

Lilac hesitated, unsure whether she deserved such a rare gift. But she accepted it gently, bowing her head in gratitude.

Carmine groaned as she stormed over. “I can’t believe it! I, Carmine—Mossui’s balloon poppin’ queen—was defeated by an outsider?!” She whipped her head toward her brother. “Kiki, avenge me! Beat Lilac for me!”

“I… don’t really feel like popping ogre-shaped balloons.”

“What?! You’d rather side with the outsider than your own sister?! I’m going to faint!”

She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and dramatically spun away.

Lilac watched their antics, amused. Sibling arguments… were they always this chaotic? I wonder what it would be like to have a sister…

Then something shifted in Lilac’s periphery. A shadow. Small. Slipping along the edge of the festival like a whisper. 

She turned. A figure—a child?—stood half-hidden beneath a green cloak, a large crystalline mask covering their face. It shimmered in the lantern light, catching the same hues as Kieran’s ogre mask, but… older. Stranger. Almost regal.

“Maybe it’s just a kid,” Lilac whispered, inching closer. “Hey, that’s a beautiful mask,” she added, voice soft and careful. “I like how it sparkles.”

The masked figure froze. Then bounced once on their heels—delighted.

Far beneath the mask, Ogerpon’s heart fluttered.

Her voice… It was gentler than she remembered. Smaller. But unmistakable. The eyes. The soul. Lirio?

The creature had watched the girl from afar all evening. There was something in her step, her stillness, her sadness. Something that stirred old memories buried deep.

She hadn’t meant to be seen. Not yet. But now, standing this close to her… she felt drawn. Compelled.

She stepped forward—but then—

“Lilac! There you are!” Carmine’s voice rang across the night.

The moment shattered.

Ogerpon flinched and bolted, the startled leap sending her mask flying. She sprinted toward the mountain, heart pounding, breath sharp and quick. 

I wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready. 

But the seed had been planted. The blood remembered.

And the mask she left behind… it would be enough. For now.

The mask clattered at her feet.

Lilac knelt to pick it up, fingers brushing the cool surface. It felt strange. Ancient. Important. She looked up just in time to see the cloaked figure disappear among the trees.

“Lilac, you cannot go up there,” Carmine gasped, catching up. “Kid! You too! That mountain’s dangerous at night!”

Lilac clutched the mask to her chest, a strange tightness in her ribs. Her mind spun with possibilities.

“What if that was… the ogre?”

“Pfft, impossible,” Carmine huffed. “The ogre’s just a fairy tale for kids.”

 Then, after a pause: “…But if it was real…”

“I have to tell Kieran!” Lilac’s eyes lit up. “He’d be thrilled—”

“No!” Carmine grabbed her arm tightly. “You can’t tell him.”

“What?! Why not?!”

“Because if he finds out we saw it without him, he’ll lose it—and worse, he’ll go after it, right into the mountain. In the middle of the night! So—no. Not a word. It’ll be our little secret.”

“You want me to lie to him?! Carmine, I can’t—”

“I’m telling you this for his own good, Lilac!”

“Sis? What’s going on?” Kieran’s voice came from behind them.

Both girls froze.

He stood there, looking confused—and alarmed—at Carmine gripping Lilac’s arm.

“Kieran!” Lilac started, “you won’t believe—”

“WHAT? NO! REALLY?!” Carmine yelled over her, trying to drown her out.

“Carmine stop shouting, I can’t hear her…”

“It’s nothing important. Just sister stuff.”

“…I bet you were talking behind my back,” Kieran muttered. “Whatever. I’m going.”

Lilac wrenched her arm free from Carmine’s grip and ran after him.

“Remember what I said, Lilac!” Carmine called after her.

The walk back to Mossui Town was quiet. Too quiet.

Lilac’s fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack. The ogre’s mask inside felt heavier with every step—as if it knew she was keeping a secret it didn’t want kept.

Her mind churned.

I should tell him. Kieran had waited his whole life for a sign—any sign—that the ogre was real. And now that I've seen it, with my own eyes, I'm supposed to just… bury it?

She bit her lip, gaze fixed on his back as he walked slightly ahead. He’d understand why I chased after it. He’d be excited, maybe even proud.

But then… Carmine’s voice echoed like a warning.

“He’ll go after it. Right into the mountain. In the middle of the night.”

What if he got hurt? What if telling him made things worse?

Her grip tightened again, nails digging into the fabric.

This isn’t just about me. This is about his safety. So why do I feel like I'm betraying him?

“Kieran…” she said softly. “We weren’t talking badly about you. I promise.”

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t respond.

And that hurt more than if he’d snapped at her.

He doesn’t trust me now.

Then, just before they reached the Community Center, he stopped. “Lilac… when the study trip ends… we’ll probably never see each other again, right?”

The words hit Lilac like a stone in the chest.

She had been so focused on what to say—how to explain the mask, the mountain, the ogre—that she hadn’t even prepared for this.

“I… I don’t know,” she replied, barely able to meet his eyes.

But inside, something cracked.

How could she say nothing now? How could she let him walk away from this night doubting her—not just about the secret, but about them?

Because this wasn’t just a friendship anymore. 

She didn’t know when it had happened.

Maybe when he gave her the candy apple.

Maybe when he held her hand through a panic attack.

Maybe when he called her brave and meant it.

But she didn’t want this to fade into a “maybe” memory. She wanted it to stay real. To matter.

She reached into her backpack and pulled out the Mythical Pecha Berry box.

“This is for you.”

“…But it’s yours. You should give it to someone you feel truly grateful for.”

“I am. That someone is you. Thank you… for everything.”

He took it. Carefully. Like it might break if he breathed too hard.

And then… he stepped back.

“G-goodnight, Lilac.”

“Goodnight…”

She hesitated at the door.

This is the moment. Tell him. Tell him now.

“Kieran…”

He turned.

She opened her mouth—but the words caught in her throat like thorns.

If she told him, he’d go. And if he went, and something happened…

“...See you tomorrow,” she said instead.

I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. When I know how.

That night, back in his room, Kieran sat in silence.

One hand rested on the Mythical Pecha Berry box—the ribbon still tied. The other cradled a warm shape: Applin, nestled in his palm, gently breathing.

Lilac’s gift sat in front of them like a secret he hadn’t earned.

He traced the edge of the ribbon with his thumb.

“Thank you… for everything.”

He hadn’t known what to say then. He still didn’t.

How could someone like her be thankful for someone like me?

He’d wanted so badly to ask her to stay.

To say, Please don’t disappear when the trip ends. Please don’t leave me behind like everyone else has.

But the words never came.

Instead, she’d smiled and given him a treasure.

Applin chirped softly, sensing the weight in his chest.

“I want to give her something too,” he whispered.

From the drawer beside his bed, he pulled out a Syrupy Apple. Its smooth surface gleamed in the moonlight.

“This reminds me of the candy apple stand… Remember that, Applin? Her eyes lit up like stars.”

Applin blinked up at him, head tilting.

“I could’ve evolved you before,” Kieran admitted. “I’ve had this apple for a while. But I think… I didn’t want things to change. Not really.”

Change had always scared him.

Change was the reason he barely remembered his parents.

Change made his sister louder, harsher.

Change took people away before he could catch his breath.

“But maybe…” he said slowly, “Change isn’t always losing something.”

Applin nudged the apple gently. Then again.

Kieran stilled.

“You’re sure?”

A nod. Certain.

He smiled—small, but real. “Okay.”

Applin wrapped around the Syrupy Apple. A sudden glow enveloped him, bright and warm. Kieran shielded his eyes—but this light didn’t hurt. It was soft, alive.

When it faded, Dipplin stood where Applin had been, tail swishing, gaze steady.

“…Dipplin,” Kieran breathed. “You’re amazing.”

He reached out and placed a hand gently on his partner’s shell.

“You’re not just my Pokémon,” he murmured. “You’re my promise. That I’ll stop waiting in the background.”

He looked at the Pecha Berry box again.

“She gave me that… even without knowing how much it meant.”

He rose from his chair and moved to the window, Dipplin trailing behind. Outside, the slopes of Oni Mountain were bathed in silver moonlight.

“She’s keeping something from me,” he said softly. “I can feel it.”

His reflection in the glass blinked back at him—young, unsure, but no longer small.

“And I’m going to be brave enough to ask her. Tomorrow.”

He turned away from the window—but didn’t go back to bed.

Instead, he quietly pulled on his shoes, slung his fanny pack over his shoulder, and opened the window without a sound.

Dipplin followed, silent but eager.

The house was still. Everyone asleep.

But out there—in the moonlit woods beneath Oni Mountain—was a different kind of silence.

The kind that waited for someone to break it.

And tonight, Kieran would.

Training could wait until morning—for others.

But not for him.

Chapter 10 – What the Mask Hides (Part 2)

The day after

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Understandably so—everyone had stayed up late enjoying the festival the night before.

Lilac hadn’t slept much.

Her thoughts kept circling back to the masked figure, the creature she’d seen, and the mask she now carried in her backpack. All night, she’d tried to think of how to tell Kieran—what words to use, how much to say.

When most of the class had left the dining room with Professor Jacq, only she and Briar remained.

“I owe you an apology,” Briar began, setting down her coffee. “For yesterday. I didn’t mean to pressure you. You don’t have to become my assistant—only if you choose to.”

Lilac looked up, surprised by the shift in tone.

“I’m proud of my ancestor’s work now,” Briar continued, eyeing the Terastal brooch on Lilac’s beret. “But that wasn’t always true. There was a time when I hated being related to him. The insults… the skepticism…”

She looked away, her expression softening.

“But that same ridicule drove me to study the Violet Book. To investigate the Terastal phenomenon. I needed to prove he wasn’t a fraud. And I think… deep down, you want to know the truth, too. Don’t you?”

Lilac lowered her eyes. “I can’t deny it…”

“Don’t let pain from the past decide your future,” Briar said, rising from her seat. “It’s not worth it.”

With that, she left the room.

Lilac sat in thoughtful silence.

Maybe she’s not as vain as I thought…

When Lilac stepped outside the community center, Carmine was waiting.

“You kept me waiting,” Carmine grumbled. “Not that this was a date or anything. Anyway—you didn’t tell anyone about the thing from last night, right?”

Lilac shook her head. She had kept her word. Now it was Carmine’s turn to hold up her end of the deal.

“Good. I haven’t forgotten what we agreed on,” Carmine said, lowering her voice. “Before we tell Kieran anything, I want to ask Grandpa’s advice. Come to my house. Bring the mask.”

They had barely stepped through the front gate when Carmine spun on her heel, anxious energy rolling off her in waves.

“Grandpa!” she called toward the house. “We found something at the festival! It’s important, but we’ve gotta show you fast—before Kieran wakes—”

The front door creaked open.

Carmine’s heart dropped.

Of course.

Kieran stood in the doorway, blinking at the morning sun. “G’mornin’, Carmine! Oh—hey, Grandpa!” Then his gaze shifted to Lilac. “L-Lilac! Good morning! So, uh… ready for the last signboard of the trip?”

Lilac smiled instinctively. “Yeah—”

“No!” Carmine blurted, stepping between them, too fast, too loud. “Lilac can’t go with you today.”

Kieran stopped mid-step. “Huh?”

“She’s got—she’s got stuff to do. With me. Important stuff.” She laughed nervously, trying to sound casual, but her eyes didn’t match her voice. “You’ll be fine. You don’t need her with you every second.”

Lilac’s mouth opened in protest—but the moment froze as Kieran’s face darkened.

“Oh. I get it,” he said, voice quiet. “You don’t want her around me.”

Carmine’s stomach flipped. “What? No—Kiki, it’s not like that—”

“You’re always doing this,” he snapped. “Every time I’m happy, every time I make a friend, you act like it’s dangerous.”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need protecting! You just don’t trust me. Or Lilac.”

His voice cracked. Lilac saw his hands clench at his sides.

Yukito’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “That’s enough.”

The tension snapped like brittle glass. The three of them turned as the old man approached the gate, his eyes unreadable.

“I’m sorry you had to see this, Lilac,” Yukito said calmly, but his tone left no room for argument.

Kieran shook his head and stepped back. “Forget it. I’ll go alone. Like always.”

“Kieran—” Carmine started, but he was already walking away.

He didn’t slam the gate, didn’t shout. But somehow, the quiet way he left hurt more.

Carmine stared after him, then looked away, biting her lip.

Inside the garden, the tension lingered in the air even after Kieran had gone.

Carmine folded her arms tightly. “I didn’t mean to blow up like that…”

Lilac said nothing.

She could still feel the warmth of Kieran’s voice when he’d asked if she’d come with him. Could still see how fast the light left his eyes when Carmine stepped between them.

Now… she was lying again. And this time, it hurt even more.

“You said you had something to show me?” Yukito asked quietly, drawing her attention back.

Lilac unzipped her backpack and carefully removed the mask. “It’s this.”

The moment Yukito saw it, his expression changed. He stepped closer, gaze fixed in awe.

“That’s… the Teal Mask,” he breathed.

At the same time, the Moon Ball on Lilac’s cardigan pocket shakes. She fumbled with it—and released Opaline.

The Alolan Ninetales appeared with a graceful stride, then turned toward Yukito with grave intent.

“There’s no hiding it now,” Opaline said gently. “Please, Mr. Yukito—tell them the real story.”

Carmine blinked. “O-okay, hold up. Your Ninetales talks?!”

“She’s not just a Ninetales,” Lilac said softly, her voice distant even to her own ears.

Yukito gave a slow nod then he disappeared into the house and returned shortly with a faded photograph.

Lilac took it carefully. Her hands trembled the moment she looked at it.

Three people stood in the photo. A tall man with kind lavender eyes and dark curls—Lirio. A woman with long ash purple hair tied in a half-up bun—Rosalina. Her face mirrored Lilac’s so perfectly it sent a shiver down her spine. And beside them, a young craftsman, younger than the others, holding tools and a mask-in-progress. He looked so much like Kieran it hurt to see.

In Rosalina’s arms sat a small, snowy Alolan Vulpix. At Lirio’s side a strange, elegant creature—green and graceful, with a shy tilt to its head.

Yukito stepped forward, his voice quiet but steady.

“The Feared Ogre of Kitakami—her real name… is Ogerpon.”

He let the name linger in the air, like the first time it had been spoken with truth in generations.

“Not a monster. Not a villain. Just a peaceful Pokémon—wronged and forgotten.”

“They were my ancestors,” Lilac whispered, tracing Lirio’s silhouette with her finger.

“And he,” Yukito said, pointing to the third man, “was mine. A mask maker, born and raised in Kitakami.”

“He was the only one who welcomed them,” Yukito continued. “He became close to Lirio and Rosalina—and forged the four masks so they could attend the Festival of Masks without fear, using rare crystals Lirio had brought from distant lands.”

Opaline stepped closer, her voice soft with grief. “But that kindness was not enough. Jealous eyes watched. Four Pokémon—Okidogi, Munkidori, Fezandipiti and their leader Pecharunt—stole the masks. Lirio gave his life protecting the Teal Mask. Ogerpon, in her fury, struck them down—but the villagers only saw a monster.”

Lilac couldn’t breathe. The photo blurred in her vision.

“He died… because he wanted to dance with the people who hated him? They turned on Ogerpon?” she said. “After they took everything?”

Yukito nodded solemnly. “And they rewrote the story. Honored the thieves as the ‘Loyal Three.’ Cast Ogerpon as a demon. And in time, even your ancestors’ names were lost to whispers. Pecharunt was the only one to be punished, condemned to eternal sleep from those who knew the truth..”

Tears stung Lilac’s eyes. She clutched the photo tightly to her chest.

“They weren’t villains. They were kind. Misunderstood. Just… people who wanted to be accepted.”

Opaline placed her head gently against Lilac’s arm. “Rosalina was my partner. She would have been so proud of the girl you’ve become.”

Lilac fell to her knees in the grass.

All her life, she'd felt the weight of some unspoken legacy—of pieces missing from her family’s past. And now, here they were. Torn, rewritten, silenced.

“And now we’re supposed to stay silent?” she whispered.

Yukito knelt beside her. “It’s not what I want. But revealing the truth now could do more harm than good. This village… isn’t ready.”

“But they didn’t protect my family,” Lilac said bitterly. “Why do they get to be protected now?”

“My family tried to tell them once,” he said quietly. “They called my grandfather a fraud. A madman. We carry this truth because someone has to—but timing matters. Kieran isn’t ready.”

Lilac flinched at the mention of his name.

She hated this. The hiding. The half-truths. The silence.

“Does that mean I’m supposed to keep lying to him?” she asked, her voice trembling. “After everything we’ve shared?”

“I know it isn’t fair,” Yukito said. “But it’s the only way to keep him safe—for now.”

“Safe from what?” she snapped, standing suddenly. “From me?”

Carmine didn’t meet her gaze.

“You’re not family,” she muttered. “You don’t understand how Kiki gets.”

Lilac’s jaw clenched. “No. I guess I don’t.”

But the pain in her chest told her otherwise.

Behind the stone wall at the edge of the garden, just out of sight, Kieran stood frozen—hands clenched into fists, heart pounding. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.

But now, he couldn’t un-hear it.

His mind reeled, tangled in a storm of words: ancestor, villain, lie.

Not family.

He ran away with a heavy heart. Tears that threatened to fall.

It was all a lie…

“Now,” Carmine said, turning sharply. “We’ve got a study trip to finish. Act normal—no one can know.”

As the weight of the truth settled between them, Lilac glanced down at the Teal Mask in her hands—its surface chipped and dulled, the once-crisp patterns faded with time and weather.

Yukito noticed her hesitation.

 “I see some parts of the mask are damaged,” he said softly. “Leave it with me—I’ll repair it. It deserves to be whole again.”

Lilac nodded and passed it over with great care, as though handing off something sacred. Yukito turned, carrying it toward his workshop with a reverence that mirrored her own.

Opaline returned to her Moon Ball. Lilac lingered for a moment, then bowed to Yukito and followed Carmine.

Lilac spotted him outside Peachy’s shop.

Kieran stood with his hands in his pockets, hunched slightly, eyes shadowed—like the storm of their earlier fight hadn’t passed. Her heart twisted at the sight.

I’m not family. I’m barely even a friend. If I tell him everything now… will he hate me for keeping it from him?

But if I don’t… won’t I just become another person who left him in the dark?

She wiped her eyes, drew a steadying breath, and walked up.

“Hey, Kieran.”

He looked up quickly—too quickly—and offered a crooked, not-quite-smile. His eyes were red, voice low.

“Hi… Lilac. Before we go to the next signboard… I was wonderin'...”

 His gaze locked with hers.

 “…What did you and my sister talk about?”

Lilac froze.

His tone was calm. Too calm.

There was something guarded in his posture. Something that made her stomach twist.

In her mind, the Teal Mask shimmered.

So did Ogerpon’s eyes.

So did the weight of the truth she’d been told to bury.

She had a choice to make.

Not just between truth and lie—

 But between trust… and fear.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 – The Price of Secrets

So the story the signboards told was… false!

Kieran couldn’t believe what he had overheard. From behind the garden wall, every word had pierced him like thorns.

The tale of the ogre—the one he had admired all his life—was a lie.

And worse, his family knew.

His grandfather, the one who raised him, had known the truth and said nothing.

Carmine and Lilac had been invited into that truth.

He had to spy just to find it.

He backed away from the garden gate and took off running, his feet carrying him without thought toward Peachy’s shop.

“I get it,” he muttered, breath shallow. “My sister and Lilac get to know everything—but not me? Why? Why do they think I can’t handle it?”

His chest tightened.

“But I know Lilac will tell me... She’s not a liar. I trust her.”

As if summoned by that desperate thread of hope, her voice called out:

“Hey, Kieran!”

He quickly wiped at his eyes and turned, summoning a shaky smile.

“Hi, Lilac…”

They were supposed to go to the final signboard together.

 But not like this.

Not with betrayal burning like fire in his stomach.

Before he could stop himself, the words spilled out:

“Before we go to the next signboard… I was wonderin'... what did you and my sister talk about?”

Lilac froze.

Her shoulders stiffened. Her eyes flicked away. She fidgeted with her sleeves, scuffed her foot against the path.

She was hiding the truth.

But Kieran clung to the last thread of belief:

She wouldn’t lie to me. Not her.

Then Lilac murmured, voice barely audible:

“This and that, I guess…”

Silence.

That thread snapped.

You’re a liar…? No. That couldn’t be. Not her… You chose to lie to me? I thought we were friends.

“Got it,” he said curtly, turning away. His voice was too even, too controlled. “The next signboard’s a little further out. If we leave now, we can be back before dark.”

Lilac adjusted her backpack, trying to pretend everything was fine. “So… shall we go?”

“I really… need some time.”

“I can wait for you.”

“No!” The word came out sharper than he intended. He flinched. “Just go ahead. You have a phone, right? I’ll mark the spot. You’ll find it.”

Lilac pulled out her Rotom Phone and tapped in the location.

She didn’t say anything else.

Just nodded… and walked.

He couldn’t watch her go. Not this time.

When her footsteps faded, Kieran whispered to the empty path:

“Why… why did you lie to me?”

The soft ripple of Wisteria Pond echoed under the growing shadows of afternoon. Lilac stood alone, her cardigan wrapped tight around her shoulders.

She made her way to the Wisteria tree near the water’s edge—where Kieran had once shared art with her.

She sat down and pulled out her flute.

He looked so heartbroken... I wish I could’ve told him. But it wasn’t my place. I barely know if we’ll meet again after this trip.

She raised the flute to her lips, and a shaky note escaped. Then another. And another.

Music filled the quiet air, each note soft and searching. Not performance—confession.

I just didn’t want him to suffer like I did. To be called a liar. To be treated like a joke for speaking the truth.

One of her Poké Balls trembled gently.

Cadence, her Cutiefly, burst forth, wings fluttering with urgency.

“You felt that…?” Lilac asked, voice trembling.

Cadence trilled softly, then nestled onto her shoulder.

She played again, slower now. Cutiefly drifted from her shoulder, circling gently, catching the melody in its wings like pollen in flight.

Then—a shimmer.

Light enveloped the tiny Pokémon, bright and warm. Not explosive. Not loud. Just comforting.

Cutiefly was evolving.

The glow faded to reveal Ribombee—graceful, scarf-like fuzz trailing behind it.

“Ribombee…” Lilac breathed.

It hovered close, touching her cheek with a paw. A single tear slipped down her face—and Ribombee wiped it away.

“You wanted to help me feel better…?”

Ribombee nodded.

Lilac cradled the small Pokémon in her hands, smiling through fresh tears.

“Cadence… Thank you. For staying.”

The wind rustled through the wisteria trees. For the first time that day, she didn’t feel alone.

Kieran sat cross-legged on the grass, Dipplin curled beside him. 

He let out a long breath.

“I don’t get it… I just wanted to be part of it all. I thought I was part of it.”

One by one, his Pokémon appeared around him—Furret nuzzling into his side, Poliwhirl plopping onto the cool earth, Yanmega hovering low with wings humming quietly.

“I don’t need them to hand me the truth,” he said at last, voice low. “I’ll earn it. I’ll make them see that I’m strong enough.”

Dipplin chirped softly. Kieran looked at him with a sad smile.

“I guess I always thought… if I got strong enough, brave enough, good enough—people would stop looking past me. Stop hiding things from me.”

He picked up a stick and scratched a pattern into the dirt. Circles. Masks. A mountain.

“But I was wrong. Strength isn’t about waiting to be chosen. It’s about choosing yourself.”

Furret climbed into his lap. Yanmega landed on a branch above, keeping watch. Poliwhirl practiced a quiet Water Gun into the stream nearby, ripples catching the sunlight.

Kieran stood. His hand brushed against the Poké Balls on his belt.

“I’m going to battle her. I’ll give it everything.”

He looked toward the mountain trail—toward Paradise Barrens.

“Not to punish her. Not to scare her. But to prove that I can stand beside her. That I’m not just the kid left behind.”

He paused, hand closing into a fist.

“…If I win, she’ll have to tell me. I know she will.”

His Pokémon gathered close, drawn by the fire in his voice. They didn’t need to speak—they trusted him.

“Let’s train. Together.”

Lilac reached the final signboard, its weathered surface dappled in fading sunlight. The air was still, almost reverent, as if the land itself was waiting for her to read its last secret.

Before she could touch her Rotom Phone, footsteps approached from behind.

She turned—and there he was.

Kieran.

But not the Kieran she remembered from the festival. His eyes were duller, shadowed. His shoulders were tense, jaw set like he was holding back something sharp.

“You made it,” he said. His voice was clipped. Not angry. Not cold. Just… distant.

“Kieran…” she took a step forward. “I—”

“I guess you want to read the signboard.” He looked past her, not at her. “But first… I challenge you to a battle.”

Lilac blinked, stunned. “A battle? Now?”

“I need it,” he said, stepping forward. “You don’t understand—”

“I think I do. You’re upset. But Kieran, can we please just talk first—?”

“No,” he said sharply. Then, quieter: “I’ve spent this whole trip trying to catch up. Watching you and my sister share secrets. Watching you get closer to the truth while I get left behind. Like always.”

Lilac’s heart dropped. “That’s not what happened—”

“I trained during this trip. Every night when no one was looking. While you were resting, I was pushing myself. I thought—if I just got stronger, maybe I’d finally earn a place in the story. Like I belonged in it.”

His voice cracked just slightly, but he kept going.

“And now I know there’s a story I was never supposed to hear at all.”

Lilac’s breath caught. He does know.

Kieran’s fists clenched at his sides. “If no one thinks I can handle the truth—then I’ll prove I can. Right here. Right now. In a battle.”

Lilac hesitated. She saw it now—not just hurt, but fear. Desperation. He needed this fight not out of pride… but to keep from unraveling.

“…Alright,” she said quietly. “Then I’ll battle you. But not because I doubt you. Because I believe in you.”

His eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe—but he said nothing. Just reached for a Poké Ball.

They stepped into place. The final signboard loomed behind them, untouched. Forgotten.

Only the truth and the battle ahead mattered now.

== Trainer Battle Start ==

Lilac (3 Pokémon) vs. Kieran (3 Pokémon)

Lilac opened with Floragato, who landed softly on the battlefield, tail flicking confidently but with a trace of tension.

Kieran’s eyes narrowed. He threw his first Poké Ball with a steadiness he didn’t fully feel.

“Yanmega, fly out!”

The Bug-type Pokémon burst forth, wings slicing the air sharply.

I trained you for this... for her. For this moment.

“Yanmega, Air Cutter — hit it now!”

Floragato moved with dancer-like grace, dodging and weaving, but the sharp blades of wind cut through her momentum.

Lilac winced, feeling the sting—not just on her Pokémon, but deep inside herself.

“Primrose, Acrobatics!” she commanded, voice tight but controlled.

Floragato soared low, trying to disorient Yanmega with quick strikes, her ability Protean changed her type, but Kieran’s mind raced, timing each move like a clockwork machine.

“Ancient Power!” he barked.

Stones erupted beneath Floragato’s feet, slamming her hard to the ground.

Lilac’s heart thudded painfully. “Primrose...” she whispered, watching as Floragato struggled but couldn’t rise.

One down. Two to go.

Kieran’s victory should have felt sweet, but instead, an emptiness gnawed inside him.

Does she even care? Or am I still just the clueless little brother no one tells anything to?

Lilac’s fingers hovered over her Poké Balls. He’s more aggressive than I expected. Not just angry — desperate.

“Alright,” she breathed. “Mimi, now.”

The Ghost-Fairy appeared silently, disguise still pristine.

“Shadow Sneak!”

The shadow lashed out, fast and precise.

Kieran’s mind spun, refusing to let his feelings cloud his judgment.

She’s trying to play carefully. Trying not to hurt me. I don’t want her pity. No hiding now, Lilac. This isn’t a normal battle.

“Switch! Furret!”

A flash of light, and the attack glanced off harmlessly.

“Furret, Sucker Punch!” Kieran ordered, voice low but firm.

Mimikyu’s disguise tore, revealing the vulnerable Pokémon beneath.

“Play Rough!” Lilac countered, but Furret took the hit without flinching.

“End it. One more Sucker Punch,” Kieran said coldly.

Both Pokémon collapsed.

Lilac’s hands trembled slightly as she recalled Mimikyu.

He’s serious. Colder than ever.

Does he know? No, Yukito promised he’d tell him when the time was right. He’s just angry I wouldn’t explain. Right?

“Two down,” Kieran muttered bitterly. “One left.”

She reached for the next Poké Ball. “Let’s go, Cadence!”

The flash of light revealed her newly evolved Ribombee—wings shimmering like stained glass, scarf-like fuzz rippling in the breeze. She hovered gracefully, her eyes alert and calm.

Kieran’s expression shifted. “Wait—Cadence evolved?”

...Hmph. Figures. You always seem to grow when I’m not around.

“Yanmega, again!” Kieran ordered.

Lilac barely had time to react.

“Cadence, Fairy Wind!”

A gust of sparkling air burst from Cadence’s wings, swirling into Yanmega’s face and sending him skidding.

Yanmega screeched, hit full force, and crashed to the ground.

Lilac exhaled. One more to go.

Maybe this victory will calm him. Maybe if I win, he’ll understand.

Kieran’s next Poké Ball felt heavier than the others.

“You’re always two steps ahead,” he muttered. “And I’m just trying to catch up.”

He stared at the Poké Ball, hesitating.

“Dipplin, go!”

Lilac gasped. “That's Applin's evolution?”

Dipplin bounced out, its syrup-coated body gleaming.

“It reminded me of us,” Kieran said quietly. “Like the candy apple from the Festival of Masks.”

His voice turned colder. “Too bad that memory’s ruined now.”

For a moment, Lilac’s heart swelled.

He evolved Applin for me... not to prove strength, but to share something.

But his bitterness snapped the moment.

He knows. And he didn’t hear it from me…

“Dipplin, Syrup Bomb!”

Though the syrup missed a direct hit, the backlash splattered Ribombee’s wings, making her flutter unevenly.

“Cadence, Pollen Puff!”

The Ribombee released a shimmering ball of pollen that exploded midair in a flurry of light and spores, catching Dipplin in the blast. The Grass-Dragon type staggered back, reeling.

Kieran grit his teeth. “No more running! Dipplin—Syrup Bomb, again!”

Dipplin launched a glob of sticky sap, and this time it caught Ribombee mid-dodge, coating her wings and dragging her down. She hit the ground hard.

“Cadence!” Lilac called out, panic in her voice.

Ribombee pushed herself up, wings sticky but still beating. She gave a soft cry—defiant, if exhausted.

“She’s not giving up,” Lilac whispered. “Neither am I.”

Kieran's eyes narrowed. “Then bring it on.”

Lilac clenched her fists. “Just a little more. Cadence—Draining Kiss!”

The Ribombee zipped forward in a blur of light, her tiny body glowing with fey energy. She darted in close, touched Dipplin with a shimmer of radiant magic—and a burst of pink-white light surged between them.

Dipplin cried out, staggering backward, the life force visibly pulled from his body in swirling wisps.

Cadence flitted back with renewed strength, the glow around her soft but steady.

Kieran’s eyes widened. “No—Dipplin!”

But it was over. Dipplin squealed, fainting.

Silence fell.

The battle was over.

Lilac had won.

Cadence hovered in the air, wings still sticky but beating strong—her scarf-like fur catching the light like a banner of victory.

Kieran didn’t move.

His fists clenched, trembling.

Lilac stepped forward, cautious.

“Kieran...?”

He didn’t meet her gaze.

“Why?” he whispered. “Why did it have to end like this?”

Tears glistened in his eyes.

“Kieran—”

He stepped back. “I trained. I pushed myself. I thought if… I could just show you I was strong, you’d finally tell me the truth.”

Lilac’s heart cracked.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said, voice small.

“But you did,” Kieran said bitterly. “Now go ahead. Read the signboard.”

Lilac stepped toward the weathered wooden signboard, fingers brushing the moss that had crept up its edges. The light from her Rotom Phone illuminated the fading paint.

She read the final tale—of fear, misunderstanding, masks, and exile.

If you see a shadowy figure approaching you outside the village at twilight, be wary.

Done a mask at once, and hide your face.

Do so, and weather the shadow is man or monster, you will pass each other by as fellow mask wearers.

If you should meet the shadow when you have no mask in hand, then pray that is only a man.

If it is you will live to see another day, and you will remember to never forget your mask again.

But if it is the ogre, you will meet your end, as do all humans whose faces are seen by it.

Once it seen your face, your soul will be forfeit. And your shall never return to the village.

The words sat heavy in her chest.

Kieran stood beside her, his voice quiet but strained.

“I don’t believe what this says about the ogre,” he whispered. “But it’s true everyone wore masks back then… And my ancestor made them all… even my grandpa knows how. He taught my dad. And… me.”

Lilac glanced over. He wasn't bragging—it sounded more like a memory pulled out of a wound.

“All those generations of mask makers,” she said softly. “That’s… really amazing.”

He didn’t smile. Just looked out toward the distant trees.

“Yeah. Guess it doesn’t matter, though, if everyone just uses them to lie.”

Lilac flinched.

She reached for her Rotom Phone. “We should take a photo.”

Lilac tried to smile. Tried to pretend it was like before.

But when the flash went off, it only captured the distance between them.

“I hate it,” Kieran said suddenly. “The way they treated the ogre.”

Lilac turned.

Kieran’s hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight.

“They judged him. Feared him. Drove him out. Just because he didn’t look like them. Because he didn’t fit into their perfect little story.”

He looked at her then—really looked.

“And then they made up lies to feel better about it.”

Lilac’s throat tightened.

He knows…

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her voice caught on the words, too small for all the weight she carried.

“For what?” he asked, cold.

She didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.

They walked back to Mossui Town in silence.

The photo saved on her Rotom Phone showed two people standing side by side. But they had never felt farther apart.

Back in her room at the community center, her Rotom Phone buzzed.

Carmine: Hey, I just finished my task with the signboards!

Lilac: Yes, me too…

Carmine: Cool. Grandpa said he needs a Crystal Cluster from the Crystal Pool to repair the mask. He wants us to go tomorrow.

Lilac: No problem.

Carmine: Great. Meet me at my house in the morning. Don’t be late!

Lilac put down the phone, changed, and quietly joined her companions for dinner.

That night, as she slipped into bed, her mind raced.

Kieran knows… And tomorrow, I don't know if he’ll still want me as a friend.

She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But tonight, she mourned the friend she might’ve already lost.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 – Between Dimensions

The next morning, Lilac returned to Wisteria Pond with her flute in hand.

She hadn’t slept. Not really. Guilt twisted in her chest like a thorned vine, each breath snagging on the weight of what she hadn’t said—what she should have said.

The pond was still, but not in the peaceful way she remembered. Its surface, once dappled with warmth and light, now mirrored only grey skies and the hollowness inside her.

She lifted the flute to her lips.

A soft, sorrowful melody spilled into the air. The notes trembled—low, fragile, aching. They told of winter creeping in, not just through the land, but into her heart.

A season of endings. A silence that followed the truth.

The cold on my skin… it’s nothing compared to the chill inside me now…

Then, the sharp buzz of her Rotom Phone shattered the quiet.

She flinched.

“It’s time to go…”

In Mossui Town, she paused outside Kieran and Carmine’s house.

Her feet wouldn’t move. The path felt steep with dread, every step heavy with unspoken regret. Just standing there felt like trespassing—like stepping back into a promise she’d broken.

Carmine stood waiting in the garden, arms crossed tight. Yukito lingered nearby, quieter than usual.

“Took your time,” Carmine muttered.

Lilac couldn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t meet anyone’s.

“We’ve got to hurry. I don’t want Kieran to see us,” Carmine added, her foot tapping fast, impatient.

Lilac hesitated. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

 “How… how is he?”

Yukito glanced toward the house, thumb grazing his beard. “Didn’t come down for dinner. Didn’t leave his room all night.”

Carmine’s eyes snapped toward her. “So you told him something?!”

“No…” Lilac said quietly. “I didn’t have to. He already knew.”

A heavy silence fell. Then—

“Mornin’, Grandpa…”

They turned.

Kieran stood in the doorway. Pale light touched his face, but it didn’t soften it. He looked drained. Distant. Like someone who had just stopped believing in something.

Carmine stepped forward quickly, almost shielding Lilac with her body.

“Kiki,” she said briskly, “Lilac and I are heading out. You should… I don’t know. Go explore or something.”

“I know,” he said. His voice was flat. He didn’t look at them. Not even once.

“I’ve got stuff to do too.”

And with that, he walked past them—like they were strangers in his story now.

Carmine let out a breath through gritted teeth. “Teenagers.”

But the words felt hollow, even to her.

“Let’s go. We’ve got something more important to deal with now.”

Their journey to the Crystal Pool was silent.

Neither girl spoke.

Carmine kept glancing sideways at Lilac, who was lost in her own thoughts. She could tell Lilac hated lying to Kieran. And truthfully, Carmine hated it too.

But she’d followed Grandpa’s advice.

If Kieran found out the truth… he’d tell everyone. They’d mock him. Shame him. Just like before.

As his older sister, she had to protect him—even if it meant becoming the bad guy.

Thanks to Miraidon, they quickly reached the top of Oni Mountain and crossed the Infernal Pass.

At last, the Crystal Pool spread out before them—glimmering like a dream.

“This is it,” Carmine said, her tone softening. “Pretty mystical, huh? The crystals on the bottom shine constantly… There’s even an old legend that says you can see the dead if you stare into the light long enough…”

Her voice trailed off.

We used to hope we'd see Mom and Dad again here. But… nothing ever happened.

“We just need some crystal clusters to repair Ogerpon’s mask,” she added, shaking the memory away. “You listening?”

Lilac gave no reply. She walked straight to the water’s edge.

“I know you’re mad,” Carmine continued. “I’m the one who asked you to lie. I’d tell him the truth too if I could—but I can’t. It’s for Kiki’s own good.”

Lilac didn’t respond. Her face was blank.

Instead, she asked, “How do we collect the crystals? Miraidon can’t go in the water yet.”

Carmine shifted awkwardly. “Uh… well, I can’t swim. So it’s up to you.”

Lilac blinked. “You go to a school underwater, and you can’t swim?”

Carmine rubbed her neck. “It’s not a requirement...”

Lilac sighed, scanning the shore for loose crystals to avoid wading in fully. “What even are these crystals doing here? They’re identical to the ones used for Terastallizing.”

“You think the ones from Paldea’s Area Zero made it here?” Carmine asked.

“They pop up from the ground like mushrooms in both regions… maybe there’s a connection…”

Before she could finish, a sudden tremor rattled the earth beneath them.

The water began to churn violently—then explode upward in a shimmering geyser.

A Milotic burst forth in a whirl of scales and rage, crowned by a glowing Ghost-type Tera Jewel. Its body, normally graceful, now twisted with raw elemental power, rippling with energy like a living tempest.

“It’s Terastallized!” Carmine shouted, diving to the side just as a Dragon Pulse lanced through the air—exploding against the rocks behind them. Heat and pressure blasted over Lilac’s face. She stumbled back, ears ringing.

“That thing’s guarding the crystals!” Carmine growled, teeth bared. “We have to take it down!”

She tossed a Poké Ball. “Go, Mightyena!”

Lilac’s hand shook slightly as she grabbed her own. “Primrose—let’s go!”

Floragato landed beside her with a snarl, fur bristling, tail flicking. Her eyes never left Milotic, who arched its neck in a ghostly shimmer and screamed—not melodic, but unnatural and warped.

Milotic surged forward.

“Bite—go Dark-type!” Lilac called, her voice cracking.

Floragato shimmered briefly with Protean, shifting typing, then lunged in low—but Milotic spun with terrifying speed and slammed her aside with an Aqua Tail. Floragato tumbled across the grass, gasping for breath.

“She’s too fast,” Lilac muttered. “I can’t keep up...”

Another Dragon Pulse charged—Lilac’s body reacted before her brain.

“Dodge right! Prim—!”

Too late. The blast hit Floragato square in the side. She screamed.

“Primrose!” Lilac shouted, rushing toward her—but Carmine caught her wrist.

“Don’t get closer! That thing’s wild—it’ll attack anything!”

Mightyena lunged in with a Crunch, teeth glowing dark—but Milotic coiled around it with serpentine precision, lifted the wolf in a crushing bind, then flung it into a tree.

“Mightyena—!” Carmine called, eyes wide.

Her partner didn’t rise.

“Tch—go, Morpeko!” She tossed another Poké Ball. The electric rodent burst forth, its hunger aura already flaring.

Meanwhile, Lilac was frozen, hands clenched.

Primrose was still moving—barely. Pushing up on shaky paws.

“I’m sorry,” Lilac whispered. “I can’t focus. You’re getting hurt because of me…”

Her own thoughts choked her. The guilt. The fear. Kieran. The mask. The secrets.

Milotic began to coil again.

Primrose’s ears twitched.

Then—light.

A glow burst around her. Not from fear—but from defiance.

Floragato stood tall, surrounded by swirling green-gold energy—evolving.

The transformation flashed—limbs lengthened, colors deepened, fur smoothed—and in her place stood a sleek Meowscarada, eyes sharp and focused.

“Primrose…” Lilac whispered, stunned.

Meowscarada turned and flashed her a smile.

Lilac felt her lungs fill again.

She stood, grabbing her Tera Orb with both hands.

“Let’s end this—shine brighter than crystals!”

She threw it overhead in a spinning arc. Meowscarada caught the transforming energy midair, and her form glowed as the Grass Tera Crown settled on her head.

“Flower Trick!”

Meowscarada vanished—then reappeared behind Milotic in a flash, tossing her flower like a bomb. A critical hit burst into a dazzling spiral of green and pink. The Ghost Tera Jewel flickered, cracked—and then shattered in a storm of spectral glass.

Milotic writhed. Then slumped—exhausted, defeated.

Lilac didn’t wait.

“Dive Ball—go!”

Click. Click. Click.

Captured.

Back in Mossui Town, the soft ticking of a clock echoed through the mask workshop.

Kieran stood alone, bathed in the pale light filtering through the paper windows. His eyes were fixed on the Teal Mask—its colors muted in shadow, the jade contours curved like a frozen smile.

His hand hovered inches from it.

He didn’t want to steal it. He wanted someone to say, “It’s yours too.”

But no one had. No one ever did.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Kieran froze.

Yukito stood in the doorway, arms crossed but expression unreadable. His voice wasn’t angry—just tired.

“What are you doing, Kieran?”

“I…” Kieran’s voice cracked, but he forced it back down. “I just wanted to see it. That’s all.”

Yukito stepped forward slowly. “You know touching it without permission is off-limits.”

Kieran’s fingers curled into fists. “So is lying.”

Yukito’s brow furrowed. “You overheard the garden conversation?”

“I shouldn’t have had to?” Kieran’s voice rose. “I live here. It’s my family. My home. Why is it always me left out?”

Yukito didn’t answer right away. He reached over and gently shut the case holding the mask. Not locking it—just… closing a door.

“There are truths you can’t unhear, Kieran. And people thought they were protecting you.”

Kieran’s eyes stung. “I didn’t ask them to.”

“No. But you're still young, Kieran. And this story? It breaks people. We thought you'd have more time before it had to break you too.”

Kieran stepped back, anger seething beneath his skin. “That’s not your choice. It’s mine.”

His hand darted out before Yukito could stop him.

He grabbed the Teal Mask and bolted.

Yukito called out sharply, “Kieran, stop—!”

But Kieran was already gone.

As he disappeared into the garden path, he shouted over his shoulder:

“Tell Lilac… if she wants it back, she’ll find me at Loyalty Plaza.”

The Dive Ball clicked shut, Lilac picked it up. For a moment, everything was still.

Lilac sank to her knees.

Her breath came in shaky bursts, arms trembling from the weight of adrenaline. Her Tera Orb dimmed, spent. Beside her, Meowscarada stood tall—silent, but breathing hard.

Across the pool, Carmine knelt next to her fainted Morpeko, cradling the small Pokémon in her arms. Her jaw was clenched tight, but Lilac could see the scrape across her cheek.

“Morpeko’s okay,” Carmine muttered, standing slowly. “Just winded…”

She looked across the battlefield to Lilac and gave a half-smile, exhausted but impressed.

“You did it,” Carmine muttered, brushing dirt off her sleeve. Then, almost as an afterthought: “Guess you’re not just some tourist after all.”

Lilac didn’t answer at first. Her arms ached. Her fingers still trembled from gripping the Tera Orb. She looked down at the Dive Ball.

Inside… floated the wild Milotic. No longer glowing. No longer thrashing.

Just… resting.

She ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the ball. “You weren’t just fighting us,” she murmured. “You were protecting something.”

The memory of the crystals glowing beneath the water came back to her—the way Milotic had emerged the second she approached.

“You were guarding the pool, weren’t you? Like a shrine keeper…”

Her fingers tightened on the Dive Ball. “Then I’ll protect you now. I promise.”

She brought the ball closer to her heart.

“…Crystalis,” she whispered. “That’s your name now.”

The Dive Ball shimmered faintly in her hand, as if accepting the name.

At her side, Meowscarada padded over, still panting softly. Her paw extended—not for battle this time, but offering something.

In it: a cluster of small, sharp crystal shards—each one catching the sunlight and scattering rainbow flares across the mossy stones.

“Wait… are those from the pool?” Lilac asked, eyes wide.

Meowscarada nodded once, eyes calm. Her fur was still singed in places, but she seemed unfazed.

Lilac reached out to take the crystals—

 And the moment her fingertips brushed the shards—

The world vanished.

The shock hit like a thunderclap behind her eyes. Her breath caught.

A crystalline cry echoed—sharp, ringing, almost musical. Like Terastalization, but deeper. Ancient.

The mist rose instantly, thick as milk, swallowing everything. Her knees hit soft ground—damp, cool, unreal.

“Carmine?” she called out, heart pounding. “Primrose?”

Silence.

Her own voice echoed back strangely, bent and warped. Like she was underwater. Or inside a dream.

A shape moved in the fog.

Lilac froze.

From the pale mist, a girl stepped forward—lit faintly by the crystal that still clung to Lilac’s fingers. Her figure looked familiar, but her presence was not.

She wore the Uva Academy summer uniform. Her brown hair was tied neatly in a side braid.

Lilac's breath hitched. 

The girl stopped just a few feet away. Calm. Composed. Watching her with eyes that should have felt warm—but didn’t.

They were too quiet. Like someone watching a memory they’d already forgotten how to feel about.

The girl smiled softly.

“My name is Juliana,” she said. “I know this is sudden… but I’m you. From another dimension.”

Lilac blinked. Her skin crawled with cold. “W-What?”

Juliana stepped closer. Her movements were smooth—deliberate, like someone who knew every line of this scene before it began.

“I know how impossible it sounds,” she said gently. “But you’ve already felt it, haven’t you? The pull. The pressure. Like something’s bending around you.”

Lilac stared. “This is a dream,” she whispered. “A hallucination from the stress.”

Juliana tilted her head, almost fondly. “I used to say the same thing. Back when I believed the world made sense.”

There was a weight behind those words. Something bruised and tired.

“I’ve walked this path before,” Juliana continued. “Not exactly like you… but close. I was drawn into things I didn’t understand until it was too late.”

Lilac’s grip tightened around the crystal shards in her palm. “What… do you want from me?”

Juliana's smile faltered for the first time. “I lost someone,” she said quietly. “Someone I thought I could protect.”

A beat of silence passed.

“When I realized I couldn’t fix it… I searched for answers. I found them. Too many.” Her gaze shifted—just for a moment—and Lilac could swear something flickered in Juliana’s irises. Something that looked like Terastal light.

“I believe the Terastal energy… can cross more than types. It can cross time. Memory. Possibility. But not alone. I need your help to understand it. To follow the threads beneath both Paldea and Kitakami.”

Lilac’s chest tightened. “But I don’t even know what you’re talking about…”

“You will,” Juliana said. “You have to.”

There was no threat in her voice. But there was no softness, either. Just a quiet, desperate gravity.

She took another step forward. “Your choices matter. They ripple outward. Farther than you know. The person you are, the person you become—both of those affect what I’m trying to save.”

Lilac’s voice came out small. “Why me?”

Juliana looked at her like it was obvious.

“Because you’re me.”

The fog thickened around them. Something in the distance gave a long, low hum—like a sleeping beast exhaling in its dreams.

Juliana looked up, as if listening to it.

“I shouldn’t stay long,” she said. “This place… it resists me. But when the time comes, I’ll return.”

She stepped back, beginning to fade. Her outline blurred into the mist.

Lilac suddenly reached out, voice cracking: “Wait—! How did you find me? How do I find you?”

Juliana paused.

For the first time, something flickered across her face. A flicker of pain—or guilt.

“You won’t remember this meeting,” she said. “Not fully. But something will remain.”

Her eyes softened, just a little.

“When it does… follow it. Even if it scares you.”

The mist surged upward, like a tide.

Juliana vanished.

—

White light.

Lilac gasped and sat up. Carmine’s face hovered above her, panicked.

“Lilac! Hey—are you okay? You fainted!”

“I… I’m fine,” Lilac whispered. “Just the stress…”

Her vision was still blurry. Her fingers were cold. And her heart was racing.

“Don’t scare me like that, Syringa,” Carmine muttered, but her voice had softened.

Then another voice spoke.

“Fascinating… the Terastal reaction even caused temporary unconsciousness.”

Briar.

She stood nearby, Violet Book in one hand, Rotom Phone in the other, observing like a Braviary.

Lilac didn’t answer. Her thoughts were still in the mist. Still chasing that reflection with her face—but eyes too old, too tired, too empty.

Just remember… this meeting never happened.

“What are you doing here?” Carmine snapped. “This place is sacred!”

“The caretaker gave me permission,” Briar said. “I’m here to analyze the energy in the water. The patterns match what we found in Paldea.”

“Tch. Well, don’t break anything.” Carmine grabbed Lilac’s arm. “Come on. We’re done here.”

The ride back to Mossui Town was quiet.

Carmine sat behind Lilac on Miraidon, arms wrapped loosely around her waist, but Lilac thoughts were miles away. The Dive Ball felt heavy in her pocket. The crystal shards were tucked carefully in her backpack. But it was something else she couldn’t stop feeling—

That impossible mist.

Juliana’s voice.

You won’t remember this… but something will remain.

A fragment of that voice still echoed, not in her ears, but in her chest—like a dream half-forgotten on waking. Like a song she couldn’t name but couldn’t stop humming.

When they arrived at the siblings' house it was almost late afternoon.

Carmine jumped off first, holding the crystal clusters high. “We’re back, Grandpa! And guess what? We’ve got the Crystal Clusters!”

Yukito stepped out from behind the doorway, hands dusty from work.

But his face wasn’t smiling.

Lilac’s heart dipped.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I can’t repair the mask right now…”

Carmine blinked. “Why not?”

Yukito hesitated—just for a breath. And then:

“Kieran… he stole it.”

The words struck like a stone dropped into still water.

Carmine stiffened. “What…?”

“He came while I was in the back room,” Yukito said. “I heard the door, I tried to talk to him... but he ran away. And took the mask with him.”

Lilac’s breath caught.

Her chest tightened—an echo of that earlier dread curling back in. Something rippled through her memory, faint and half-hidden: Juliana’s eyes. Her warning.

Your choices matter. They ripple outward. Farther than you know.

She looked down at her hand.

Just for a moment, she could have sworn the edge of one crystal shard shimmered faintly. Like it remembered something, even if she didn’t.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 – Like a Puppet, Like a Protagonist

The last rays of sunset spilled through the windows of Peachy’s shop as she gently arranged jars of preserved plums and hand-shaped mochi on the lacquered counter. Everything was nearly ready for the morning market.

She reached for the silken cushion in the center of the display—and froze.

The Never-Rotting Peach was gone.

“…That can’t be right,” she whispered. Her fingers hovered over the empty spot, as if the sacred fruit might reappear if she blinked hard enough.

She stood slowly, instinct crackling to life. Her years with the Ogre Clan had sharpened her senses like a blade. No one—not even the slyest thief—could have stolen that peach without her noticing.

Unless… they weren’t just a thief.

Her eyes narrowed.

“No child could’ve taken that,” she murmured. “Not without knowing what they were doing.”

Then—slither.

A faint, sticky sound from the back room.

Peachy grabbed the broom in one hand. With her other, she pressed the button on a worn Poké Ball clipped to her apron—Arcanine’s. The old flame was still loyal, even after all these years.

“Who’s there?” she called, flicking the switch by the stairs.

The bulb buzzed—then failed to light.

She stepped into the darkness. Her voice sharpened. “I don’t know what you’re after, but you picked the wrong old woman to mess with.”

From the shadows, a figure emerged.

Shorter than Peachy. Dressed in flowing magenta, a hood drawn low over their face. Their silence was deeper than the dark around them.

But they weren’t alone.

Behind the figure… floated the Never-Rotting Peach—now glowing with a sickly sheen. It pulsed, beating like a heart. Ribbons of magenta energy slithered from its surface, twisting like chains of thought.

Peachy’s blood chilled.

“…No. You didn’t just steal it,” she said. “You unsealed it.”

The figure tilted their head slightly, like a marionette listening for strings.

Then came the voice—not from the figure, but from the peach:

“Sweetness. Harmony. Loyalty. All things begin… with a taste.”

The peach unfurled. At its core floated a small creature—round, grinning, and utterly wrong.

Pecharunt.

Its beady eyes shimmered. A mischievous smile stretched across its face.

Peachy’s fingers tensed on Arcanine’s Poké Ball. “So. You’ve awakened.”

Pecharunt’s grin widened.

It raised a hand—and conjured a perfect sphere of mochi. Magenta-glazed. Almost beautiful.

The scent drifted through the air like syrup laced with poison.

“I was your guardian,” Peachy said. “I kept you sealed. I swore an oath. If you’ve returned…”

She squared her shoulders. “Then I’ll stop you again.”

She hurled the Poké Ball.

Arcanine burst forth in a blaze of heat and flame, growling at the figure and the strange peach-born creature.

The magenta-hooded figure did not move.

But Pecharunt did.

Chains lashed out—not to strike—but to twist around the shop’s wooden floorboards. They pulsed once—and reality bent.

The back wall of the shop peeled away like paper. Beyond it stretched a space that wasn’t there a moment ago. A kind of dream-place. A curse-space.

And in that space, Peachy fought.

She was fast. Arcanine, faster.

They battled the chains. The illusions. The voices whispering false promises.

Peachy struck with all the wisdom and strength her clan had taught her—warding charms, sacred chants, flame-forged strikes.

But Pecharunt… changed.

It wasn’t fighting to win. It was fighting to consume.

At last, the chains found their mark.

They lashed around Peachy’s limbs, binding her not with force—but with memories.

Images of her younger self. Her failures. Her pride. Her loneliness. All of it braided into poisonous bonds that tugged at her soul.

“Stop,” she growled. “You think I haven’t faced guilt before?”

But her voice trembled.

Pecharunt conjured another mochi—this one shaped like a heart. It pulsed, once. Then, as if drawn by instinct, it drifted toward her lips.

“No—!” Peachy cried, but the mochi was faster.

First came the sweet, then the bitter—two flavors in perfect dissonance.

A taste that lingered. A taste that claimed.

Her eyes widened… then softened.

Arcanine launched forward, a chain hit its side and sizzled, erupting in a burst of cursed poison.

It stumbled, but stood firm.

Arcanine looked back at her once, eyes glowing.

Peachy’s fingers grazed her satchel. She had one last talisman.

She threw it with all her strength—right at Pecharunt.

The creature caught it midair and crumpled it in one chain.

The magenta-cloaked figure stepped forward at last. No expression. No sound.

Just watching.

Peachy collapsed to one knee. Chains wrapped tighter, stealing her breath.

“You…” she rasped. “You’re not controlling it. It’s… reading your thoughts.”

Pecharunt tilted its head—and grinned again.

Then it turned.

And vanished through the broken dream-wall, dragging the magenta figure with it.

The space folded closed behind them.

Peachy slumped against the counter, gasping. Her fingers brushed Arcanine’s fur.

“Still with me, old flame…?”

A weak growl. But alive.

She stared at the spot where the Never-Rotting Peach had floated.

“Pecharunt is back,” she whispered. “And this time… he is not alone.”

She reached for the talismans tucked beneath the counter. Her hands trembled. Her fingers… stuck, for a moment, to the wood.

She blinked. Frowned. Pulled harder.

The sticky resistance vanished.

She looked down. Nothing there.

And yet… her fingertips glistened faintly in the dying light.

Peachy stood slowly. Too slowly. Her back straightened—not with the caution of an injured elder, but the eerie precision of a puppet on a string.

She turned to face the shattered back wall, now seamlessly restored. As if nothing had ever happened.

“…Sweetness,” she whispered, voice like molasses. “It always starts with a taste.”

Her eyes shimmered faintly—just a blink too bright.

She smiled.

Then turned back toward the counter, humming an old lullaby no one had heard in years. As if everything were normal.

As if nothing had changed.

But something had.

Something had slipped past her defenses.

And now it waited.

Coiled. Quiet.

Inside her.

“Wowzers! This is the Teal Mask… the real mask of the ogre!”

Kieran turned it in his hands, admiring the crystal-studded surface—even the dents now gleamed.

He stared up at the statues of the Loyal Three atop their shrine.

“And you’re the Loyal Three? There’s nothing loyal about you.”

Lilac stepped into the shrine plaza, her breath catching as she saw Kieran.

He stood alone, clutching the Teal Mask. His back was to her.

“Kieran,” she called softly.

He didn’t turn. “Took you long enough.”

Footsteps behind her—Carmine caught up, panting. She stopped short, eyes flicking between the two.

“Kiki,” she warned, but he raised a hand to silence her.

“I’m not here to talk.” He turned to face Lilac, eyes dark with hurt. “I’m here to find out if I ever really mattered.”

Lilac blinked. “What…?”

He looked up at them, voice rising.

“You two—you knew and didn’t say anything! The ogre is real—and he’s not even the villain! They are!”

He jabbed a finger at the statues.

Carmine’s voice softened. “So… you found out.”

Kieran didn’t miss the shift. The fire in her tone was gone. Why was it easier for her to lie than to look him in the eye now?

Lilac stared, unsure what to say. Her heart pounded.

“I heard you talking with Grandpa,” Kieran went on. “And you, Lilac—I thought you of all people would tell me. I trusted you. But instead—you lied to me like everyone else!”

Lilac flinched like she’d been slapped. Her throat tightened.

“Kieran, no—I didn’t mean to—I just thought…” She trailed off. “It wasn’t my place. I thought telling you might hurt you more—”

“Liar. Liar. LIAR!” Kieran clutched his head, voice cracking with rage and grief.

Lilac staggered back, clutching her chest. The word hit like a curse.

No. Not again.

“I thought…” she whispered, voice shaking, “I thought maybe you really liked me. That maybe I could trust you too. But no. Everyone always says the same thing. That I’m a liar. That I can’t be trusted.”

Her vision blurred with tears. Her voice trembled, not from guilt—but from fear.

Not of Kieran. But of history repeating itself.

She had tried so hard. To be kind. Careful. Honest, when it mattered. And still…

All it took was one mistake. One secret kept to protect someone else.

And now, she was the liar again.

Like always.

Carmine stepped between them. “It’s not Lilac’s fault. She wanted to tell you. I stopped her.”

Kieran didn’t budge. “That doesn’t change how it feels. You left me out. Just like everyone left out the ogre. Like I don’t matter. I am the real outsider here!”

“What do you think this’ll solve?” Carmine snapped. “Can’t you see you’re hurting her?”

“And what about me?! She broke my heart!”

Lilac wiped her tears with the sleeve of her cardigan. Her voice was low.

“I tried to be different,” she said. “To be honest. And the one time I slip—just once—I become a liar all over again.”

Her shoulders shook.

“I get it. You have every right to be angry. But I didn’t lie because I wanted to hurt you.”

She looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

“I lied because I cared. And maybe that wasn’t enough.”

Kieran hesitated. Guilt flickered behind the rage. “Everyone says that. You, Carmine, even Grandpa. Protecting me like I’m some kid who can’t handle the truth.”

Carmine stepped forward. “We made mistakes. But Lilac never meant to betray you.”

“She didn’t have to,” Kieran spat. “Because she’s the protagonist. Isn’t she?”

Lilac’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on!” His voice cracked. “You’re the one with the flute. The one Ogerpon trusts. The one the whole story revolves around. I’m just the guy who tags along. The side character. The fool.”

Lilac stepped closer, arms out. “That’s not how I see you.”

“Well, it’s how the world does.”

He held the mask out toward her.

Then pulled it back.

“You want this? Battle me for it.”

Lilac flinched. “Kieran, no—”

“I’m not asking.”

Carmine stood frozen. Her lips parted to protest—but something stopped her.

She knew he needed this.

Lilac sighed, reaching for her Poké Ball. “Then let’s finish this.”

== Trainer Battle Start ==

 Lilac (4 Pokémon) vs. Kieran (4 Pokémon)

Lilac’s heart sank. She didn’t want this. She hated battling like this—against someone she cared about. But Kieran was beyond words now.

“Crystalis, go!”

Her newly caught Milotic emerged with an elegant spin.

“Oh, so you’re using a new Pokémon now?” Kieran sneered. “What happened to Ursaluna? Afraid to actually try?”

“I’m not holding back!” Lilac snapped. “Lunar still isn’t used to me yet.”

“Excuses. Go, Cramorant!”

The battle began.

Milotic struck hard, attacking Cramorant with a precise Ice Beam. But Cramorant’s Dive combined with his ability—Gulp Missile—avoided the attack and left her paralyzed.

Lilac said nothing, her face was emotionless.

She gave orders with robotic precision—no emotion. No fire.

Carmine watched from the sidelines, sick with guilt.

This isn’t a battle—it’s a tragedy…

Lilac wasn’t fighting with her heart anymore.

Kieran was—but it was all pain.

The match raged on. One by one, their Pokémon fell.

At last, only one remained on each side.

“Stop it!” Carmine cried. “This isn’t the way to fix anything!”

“Stay out of it,” Kieran growled. “You picked your side.”

She flinched.

Kieran barked his final command. “Dipplin—Syrup Bomb, then Dragon Pulse!”

The sticky syrup exploded across Meowscarada, slowing her down—but before Dipplin could finish the attack, Lilac gave a quiet command.

Meowscarada glanced back at her—uncertain, waiting for emotion that never came.

Protean activated. Meowscarada shifted to Fairy type. Dragon Pulse had no effect.

Play Rough landed clean.

Dipplin collapsed.

Kieran stared.

All of it had been for nothing.

The trust. The berry in the wooden box. The training.

Lilac’s voice, full of regret—but not for him.

The mask in his hand pulsed once—almost like it heard him.

“I just wanted to matter,” he whispered.

Then turned—and punched the base of the shrine.

A wisp of violet light escaped from the base of the shrine, curling like smoke from an unseen fire.

“Kieran!” Lilac ran to him, reaching out to grab his hand—but he shoved her away.

“Don’t,” he rasped.

Kieran stares in disbelief. His hand clenches around the Teal Mask.

Lilac's voice was quiet but firm.

“I never wanted to beat you.”

Kieran whispers, “Then why did you?”

She exhales. “Because I had to. To make you hear me.”

He drops to one knee, eyes wide and distant. He’s not looking at her—he’s looking through her.

Carmine starts forward—but stops as Lilac kneels down beside him.

“You always mattered to me, Kieran. But you don’t need to be the protagonist to matter.”

He laughs weakly. “Easy for you to say. Everyone roots for you.”

She meets his gaze. “Then root for me now. And I’ll root for you. That’s what real friends do.”

He hesitates—then pushes the Teal Mask into her hands.

“I made a promise,” he mutters. “And unlike you—I keep mine. Say hi to the ogre for me.”

Then he stands and walks away.

Lilac watches him go, heart heavy but eyes calm.

Carmine caught Lilac’s shoulder gently. “Let him go. He needs time.”

“His pain… it scares me,” Lilac whispered.

“You too?” Carmine sighed. “Teenagers are so difficult…”

Suddenly—the earth trembled.

The shrine glowed.

A pulse of violet light burst skyward in a deafening boom.

Lilac stumbled back as three massive silhouettes emerged from the dust—each still bearing scars from centuries past.

Okidogi’s frame was brutish and wide.

Munkidori’s eyes shimmered with unnatural psychic light.

Fezandipiti’s feathers glistened like poisoned glass.

All three turned toward Lilac—and froze.

A thick silence.

Then—

A low hiss, rising like a storm cloud from their shared breath.

“You...”

The word rang in her mind—not spoken aloud, but imposed, a thought forced into being.

“The child of Lirio…”

“He who fought us with nothing but his hands and fury…”

“She bears his scent. His will. His grief.”

Lilac stepped back, stunned. “You… remember him?”

Fezandipiti’s voice rang sharp and cold, like a bell cracked in half.

“We remember the way he struck down our pride. The way she—Ogerpon—hunted us down in her rage.”

Munkidori shimmered with psychic light.

“We remember your ancestor’s screams as we buried him.”

Lilac’s knees almost gave out.

Okidogi didn’t speak. Instead, he raised one clawed hand and slammed it into the ground, cracking the earth.

He roared—not with rage, but with intent.

Munkidori: “The ogre’s partner must fall once more.”

Fezandipiti: “And this time… no mountain will save her.”

A pulse of corruption radiated from them, warping the shrine around them. The wood splintered. The offering bowls cracked. The blossoms withered.

The figures glanced at her—then bolted.

Carmine dashed to the edge of the plaza, trying to follow.

“The Lousy Three… they’re back?!”

Lilac’s breath caught in her throat—not from fear, but from disbelief. These weren’t just Pokémon—they were scarred by death and warped by something older than rage. Beside her, Carmine swore under her breath, fists clenched. 

“No way… they’re dead. They were headed for Kitakami Hall—no time to waste!”

Lilac couldn’t speak. The air felt wrong, like it remembered a nightmare and whispered it back into her bones. The Loyal Three weren’t just alive again. They remembered.

Kitakami Hall was in chaos.

People buzzed with confusion and fear. Rumors of resurrection. Sacred artifacts gone missing.

No sign of the Pokémon.

“They stole the other masks,” Carmine growled. “They must be looking for Ogerpon. She draws strength from those masks—without them, she’s vulnerable!”

“We have to split up!” Lilac handed her the Teal Mask. “Take this home. Get Yukito to fix it!”

Carmine nodded and ran toward Mossui Town.

Lilac turned toward Oni Mountain.

“I won’t let you hurt her,” she whispered. “Not again.”

Munkidori's voice slithered into her mind. “We welcome your resistance. It makes revenge taste sweeter.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 – Stand Against the Mountain

Kieran slammed the door shut behind him and locked it with shaking hands, ignoring Grandpa’s calls.

The silence in his room pressed against his ears. It was too still. Too clean. Like nothing outside had shattered.

But he had.

He sat on the floor, fists resting against his knees, eyes blank.

He’d said awful things. He’d seen her cry.

And he’d still walked away.

He stared down at his hands—the same ones that had trained late into the night, scraped raw for strength, clenched hard around the truth when it finally slipped into his grasp.

But it hadn’t mattered.

Lilac had still beaten him.

Of course she had.

She always wins. She always knows the right thing to say. She gets to be the one people listen to.

He glanced at the small wooden box on his desk—the one Lilac had given him. Inside, the Mythical Pecha Berry sat like a memory that wouldn’t fade.

He opened it slowly.

“…Was I just some side character to you?”

The words escaped before he realized he was saying them. His voice cracked.

She’s the hero, he thought bitterly. She gets the spotlight. The power. Even Grandpa chose her.

He reached under his bed, pulling out the tattered notebook where he used to scribble dreams of meeting the ogre—of unmasking the truth. Back when he thought that would make him a hero too.

He opened it. Pages of childish handwriting stared back at him—drawings of the ogre with bold captions like I’LL FIND YOU SOMEDAY! and TRUTH MATTERS MORE THAN FAME!

But in the margins were questions. Tiny ones, written years later.

What if it’s all a lie?

 What if no one ever listens to me?

 What if I’m not enough?

He closed the notebook.

His eyes drifted to his false Teal Mask, now resting on his dresser. Its surface still shimmered faintly in the low light—like it was watching him.

“I just wanted to be part of the story,” he whispered. “But she’s the one who makes it move forward. She’s the one people root for.”

She doesn’t need me.

The words hit harder than he expected. Like they’d been waiting for permission to hurt.

His hands moved on their own—pulling the sketchbook closer, flipping past doodles of ogres and masks until he found a blank page.

He didn’t think. He just started drawing.

It began with her—Lilac. Standing at the center of the paper. Her stance was tense but steady, one foot braced as if she were mid-battle. Her cardigan whipped in imagined wind. Her eyes burned with the same fire he’d seen during their fights—the one she hadn’t wanted, but refused to lose.

She’d looked like a hero. She was one.

He kept drawing—her hands, fists clenched. Her Alolan Ninetales beside her, low to the ground, protective. And behind them…

An ogre.

Not Ogerpon as she truly was—Kieran didn’t know what she truly was. So instead, the figure loomed large and hunched, with glowing red eyes and jagged teeth, like the old drawings from childhood storybooks. But the ogre wasn’t attacking. She stood behind Lilac, not in front. Shielded by her.

He paused.

In the corner of the page, almost as an afterthought, he added one more figure: a boy, sitting on a slope. Distant. Watching them. Unfinished—no face, just a rough shape. Pencil smudged. As if he hadn’t decided whether the boy belonged in the picture or not.

Kieran stared at it, his throat tightening.

This was how he saw her now.

Someone brave enough to protect even the monsters people feared. Someone who stood between legends and the world. Someone without him.

He closed the sketchbook and held it against his chest.

A loud knock exploded against Kieran’s door.

Then another.

“KIERAN!”

He didn’t answer.

“KIERAN! Open up—right now!”

The door flew open before he could even react—Carmine stood there, panting, her eyes wide with something Kieran had never seen on her face before.

Fear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with growing concern. “Is it Lilac?”

She didn’t even wait—she grabbed his wrist. “You have to come. Now. They’re back.”

“…What?”

“The Loyal Three. They’re back. I saw them with my own eyes—Lilac is fighting them. Alone.”

Kieran’s breath hitched.

“That’s not possible,” he whispered. “They’re—dead.”

“They were. I don’t know how, but they’re alive and furious and headed straight for Ogerpon. Lilac chased them to Oni Mountain.”

Kieran stared, the blood draining from his face.

“She’s fighting them… by herself?”

“Yes!” Carmine snapped. “She told me to take the Teal Mask and get it fixed. She stayed behind—to protect Ogerpon.”

The words echoed in Kieran’s head.

 She stayed behind.

 To protect someone else.

 While you ran away.

His mouth went dry.

“I have to go,” he said hoarsely. “We have to help her.”

Carmine narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? I saw how you talked to her. You hurt her, Kiki. Badly.”

“I know!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to—! I was angry, but I didn’t want her to get hurt!”

He rubbed at his eyes, fists clenched.

“I just… I wanted to matter to her. But I pushed her away. And now she’s out there—alone—against the Loyal Three. Because I let myself lose control.”

Carmine watched him for a beat. The fire in his voice. The tears he didn’t quite let fall.

“…Then let’s go,” she said. “And this time, don’t run.”

He nodded once. Fiercely.

“Lilac’s not the only one who can stand up for what’s right.”

As they turned to leave, Kieran paused.

He glanced back at his desk—at the closed sketchbook still sitting there, its cover faintly smudged with graphite.

That drawing… he hadn’t meant to finish it. He hadn’t even planned to keep it.

But now?

He grabbed it without thinking and slipped it under his arm.

Maybe he hadn’t belonged in that picture before.

But he was going to earn his place in it now.

Oni Mountain loomed above Lilac like a sleeping giant.

The clouds had begun to swirl unnaturally overhead, violet streaks breaking through the twilight like bleeding cracks in the sky. 

Okidogi burst first, snarling like a cornered beast.

Munkidori floated above the grass, eyes glowing with psychic venom.

Fezandipiti drifted down like a cursed comet, wings dragging poison-slick wind behind him.

Mimikyu and Oricorio were exhausted and recalled to their Poké Balls.

Lilac legs trembled. But she didn’t run.

She hesitantly touched Ursaluna's Ultra Ball before firmly grabbing Milotic's Dive Ball.

“Crystalis,” she whispered, “go.”

Her Milotic spiraled out in a ribbon of shimmering light, landing with poise beside her.

They came all at once.

Okidogi struck first—a ground-shaking leap that cracked the mountain stone beneath him.

“Protect!” Lilac commanded, and Crystalis summoned a shimmering barrier just in time to absorb the impact.

The brute didn’t flinch—he was testing her defenses.

Munkidori moved next—his eyes pulsing violet. “Your thoughts taste of him.”

“Scald!”

The beam of boiling water struck Munkidori mid-air—but instead of flinching, he vanished, reappearing behind Crystalis with a flicker of psychic teleportation.

“Switch out!” Lilac shouted, withdrawing Milotic just in time as a mental shockwave shattered the air where she stood.

“Go—Cadence!”

The bug-fairy-type appeared, her little wings shining in the twilight.

“Sticky Web—slow them down!”

Sticky threads danced across the battlefield, catching Fezandipiti mid-flight. He screeched—furious, but grounded for a moment.

“You carry her scent, too,” Fezandipiti whispered into Lilac’s mind.

“Ogerpon’s. As if she trusts you. How pitiful.”

“Pollen Puff!”

The blast knocked Fezandipiti back, pollen dust bursting from his wings—but Okidogi was already charging again.

Too fast.

He slammed into Ribombee with a savage swing of his fists.

Lilac's heart leapt. “Cadence, return!”

“Primrose—go!”

Her starter leapt forward, petals swirling in defiance.

The battlefield was chaos—Lilac shouting orders, dodging attacks, switching desperately between Pokémon.

Milotic fell. Ribombee disabled. Meowscarada, barely standing.

And still—she didn’t back down.

She was bruised. Exhausted. Her school uniform was torn. Her knees scraped from a near fall.

But she looked them in the eyes.

All three.

Okidogi, who snorted and pawed the ground like a beast.

Munkidori, whose eye glowed with bitter curiosity.

Fezandipiti, who hovered silently now, as if… confused.

“Why does she not flee…?”

 “She knows she cannot win.”

 “She protects. Just like him.”

“I’m not here to fight you,” Lilac said quietly. “I’m here because she’s afraid. Because Ogerpon… remembers what you did. And she doesn’t want it to happen again.”

Fezandipiti twitched midair.

“Your words reek of peace.”

Munkidori’s gaze narrowed.

 “Your blood reeks of him.”

Okidogi snarled and charged again, rage overriding thought.

Meowscarada leapt to defend—but was struck midair and slammed into the cliffside. 

She ran to her partner’s side, dropping to her knees.

Meowscarada struggled to rise—then collapsed with a weak breath.

Time for Lilac’s final Pokémon.

Her Alolan Ninetales stepped forward, fur rippling with frost, eyes locked on the trio ahead. She didn’t wait for a command.

Lilac blinked. “Opaline…?”

The Ninetales didn’t look back.

She stepped in front of Lilac, planting herself firmly between her Trainer and the approaching enemies.

And Munkidori’s gaze finally snapped to her.

His expression twisted into one of sudden recognition.

A pulse of psychic energy rippled in the air.

"You again," Fezandipiti’s voice echoed, icy and contemptuous. "The coward fox who fled the night the fool Lirio died."

Opaline’s paws scraped the dirt.

She hadn’t forgotten.

Not the screaming.

Not the blood.

Not the way she and Rosalina had run under Lirio’s desperate cries.

Now those monsters stood before her again.

And she wouldn’t run this time.

She charged, a flurry of icy wind crackling behind her.

Munkidori moved first, psychic tendrils streaking across the battlefield.

But Opaline was faster.

A Moonblast seared forward, colliding with Fezandipiti midair. The radiant plume of energy sent him tumbling, shrieking.

Okidogi lunged.

Opaline ducked under his punch, spinning out a Blizzard—it hit him in the chest, but barely made him stagger.

Then Munkidori’s mind seized her midair.

She screamed as she was hurled into the ground.

Hard.

Lilac rushed forward. “OPALINE!”

Fezandipiti recovered, his wings spreading like a curtain of death.

"Let us erase the last witness," his voice whispered.

Okidogi snarled.

“No Pokémon left. No hope.”

The three surrounded her.

“Then die like he did.”

Lilac gritted her teeth. She looked behind her, Ogerpon was hiding behind a rock, still too weak to face the three.

“If you’re going to take her… you’ll have to go through me first.”

She stood up—trembling but unbowed.

“I’m Lirio’s descendant.”

“We know,” whispered Fezandipiti, cold and ancient.

 “That’s why we want you to suffer.”

They stepped forward as one.

Lilac’s heart hammered. She braced herself.

And then—

Another voice—Carmine’s, distant but racing closer.

The mountain trembled.

The Loyal Three paused—sensing it. Sensing them.

Reinforcements.

Their strange chains trembled.

It seemed as if something was giving them a command.

“Tch.”

 “Not yet.”

 “We’ll finish this later, daughter of the fool.”

With a burst of spectral energy, they vanished into the mist.

Lilac collapsed to one knee, breath shallow.

Footsteps—Carmine’s—skidded across stone as she reached her first.

“Lilac…!”

Lilac looked up, lips trembling.

And smiled—weakly.

“…You came.”

She’d survived.

Barely.

And now—another voice. A familiar one.

Footsteps pounding against the dirt.

“Lilac!”

She turned her head just in time to see Kieran skid to a stop, his eyes wide, face pale with shock.

“Are you—are you okay?!”

Before she could answer, Carmine was weaponless but burning with fury.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Where are they—?”

“They’re gone,” Lilac rasped. “For now.”

Carmine crouched at her side, checking her arms for injuries, then looked to her Pokémon. “You didn’t win that fight.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Lilac murmured. “Just… buying time.”

She looked up at Kieran.

“I hoped you’d come.”

Kieran opened his mouth—then closed it again, eyes flickering with guilt.

“I didn’t deserve that,” he said finally. “But I’m glad I did.”

Her eyes drifted to the sketchbook tucked under his arm.

She didn’t ask—but she smiled, just a little.

And that was enough for now.

There was a rustle from the shadows.

A figure crept out from the dense ivy nearby.

Tiny. Hooded. Trembling.

Ogerpon.

She stepped onto the path with one foot—then instantly stumbled back, hiding behind a tree.

Kieran’s breath hitched.

“…That’s her,” he whispered.

Lilac stood slowly, brushing dust from her school uniform. “Yes.”

Carmine raised an eyebrow. “She’s smaller than I expected.”

“And afraid,” Lilac said. “She saw the Loyal Three. She remembers what they did.”

Ogerpon peeked out again, clutching a broken vine. Her maskless face was revealed for a brief moment—shy, scared, watching.

When her gaze met Kieran’s, she flinched.

Kieran took a careful step back, guilt weighing down his shoulders.

“She doesn’t trust me,” he murmured.

“Can’t blame her,” Carmine said plainly. “You’ve been… let’s just say, a lot.”

Kieran swallowed hard and turned to Lilac.

“Can I talk to you?”

She nodded quietly, stepping a few feet away with him while Carmine gave them space.

“I… I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have,” Kieran began, voice tight with emotion. “I thought you were the protagonist. The chosen one. And that made me feel like just… some extra. Like I didn’t matter.”

He clenched his fists.

“But that wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I let jealousy blind me. I hurt you because I couldn’t stand being left behind again. I thought if I couldn’t be the hero… maybe I could be the villain.”

Lilac’s eyes shimmered—but not with tears.

With recognition.

“I wasn’t trying to leave you behind,” she said softly. “I just didn’t know how to bring you with me.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

Then Lilac extended her hand.

“I still want you with me. If you want to try again.”

Kieran stared at it—then took it.

“Yeah. I do.”

From the shadows, Ogerpon stepped closer. Slowly. Still wary.

She didn’t look anything like the monster he’d drawn.

Smaller. Sadder. Real.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Kieran knelt, eyes lowered, speaking softly.

“Hey. I know I messed up. But I want to fix it. Even if it takes time.”

He extended the Teal Mask toward her.

Ogerpon inched forward—just enough to sniff the air around him. Her leafy veil twitched.

Then she darted behind Lilac again.

“She’s just scared,” Lilac murmured. “Like you were. Like I was.”

Gently, she placed the mask on Ogerpon’s face.

“Pon!”

A shimmer of emerald light pulsed from Ogerpon's body, warm and grateful.

Carmine clapped once. “Alright, Mask Retrieval Squad. Let’s talk logistics.”

Lilac blinked. “Mask Retrieval Squad?”

“Well, we need a name,” Carmine said, arms crossed. “We’ve got the Teal Mask, but the other three are still missing. And unless we want Ogerpon to be target practice, we’ve gotta retrieve them.”

Kieran grinned faintly. “Sounds cool.”

“Agreed,” Lilac said.

Carmine shrugged. “Fine. But I’m team leader.”

“No way,” Kieran said. “Lilac’s the leader.”

Lilac turned pink. “I—uh—”

“Democracy!” Carmine barked. “We vote.”

Ogerpon let out a quiet “Pon.”

Lilac’s smile returned—tired, but true.

“Let’s get her somewhere safe,” she said. “Then… we hunt the Loyal Three.”

They turned down the trail, walking side-by-side this time.

Together again.

Behind them, the wind shifted.

And Ogerpon, tentative but curious, took her first full step beside Kieran.

As they walked side by side down the mountain path, Kieran glanced at the sketchbook under his arm.

Maybe one day… he’d draw this moment, too.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 – The Mask Retrieval Squad

The return to Mossui Town was quiet. The streets were bathed in twilight’s fading light, the air thick with the sounds of Kricketot and distant voices, but none of that seemed to penetrate the bubble around Lilac, Carmine, and Kieran as they made their way through the town.

Carmine and Kieran led the way, their steps swift but careful, waving to villagers with casual greetings, keeping their conversations light and full of easy excuses to shield the shadowy figures behind them. Lilac felt Ogerpon's small, trembling hand wrapped around her wrist, the ogre Pokémon's wide eyes scanning every corner, every flicker of movement in the town.

Their arrival at the house was met with a quiet greeting from Hideko. She offered a soft smile, her gaze immediately settling on Ogerpon, as if sensing the weight of the moment. “Welcome back. And… welcome, Ogerpon,” she said, her voice gentle. Ogerpon gave a soft whimper, hiding behind Lilac’s legs as though she could dissolve into the shadows.

“She's still scared,” Carmine added quickly, her voice light, but her eyes gave away a flicker of concern. "But she trusts Lilac. Only Lilac."

Hideko nodded, acknowledging the quiet bond between them. She stepped aside, letting the group into the house. "Our space is small," she said, then hesitated, looking at Lilac as though weighing her words carefully. "Perhaps we can make do with what we have."

Lilac stood still, unsure for a moment. The house was cozy, warm with the soft scent of incense lingering in the air, but her eyes drifted to the end of the hallway, where a faded wooden door stood. The door to Shira and Akuro’s room. Her chest tightened.

"I can't stay there," she said quietly, her voice careful, as if the words themselves might crack something. "It doesn’t feel right."

Carmine, who had been watching her closely, seemed to understand at once. She nodded and smiled softly, a gesture of quiet respect. “We never really used that room after they... after they went,” Carmine said.“You can stay in my room for tonight. It’s the only space that’s really available.”

Lilac shook her head gently. “I don’t want to impose, especially on you…”

“No, no,” Carmine interrupted, her tone breezy but sincere. “It’s fine. Besides, I’ve been meaning to clean up anyway.” She grinned, leaning in slightly. “Think of it like a sleepover.”

Then, with a sudden shift to mock-seriousness, she cast a long, dramatic glance at Kieran. “Unless… you want to share a room with my brother? You know, full cliché. Two teens. One bed. Tension. Denial. Slow-burn romantic buildup?”

Kieran choked on absolutely nothing. “W-What?! Carmine!”

“Hey, it’s a classic setup,” Carmine said, shrugging. “I’ve read books. People love this kind of thing.”

Lilac blinked. “Books?”

“You know the kind,” Carmine added, gesturing vaguely. “ Oh no, we’re stranded in the same room with only one futon! That whole energy. People eat it up.”

Kieran was practically glowing red now. “Can we not do this right now?”

“We’re not doing anything,” Carmine said sweetly. “Just establishing boundaries. And making sure Lilac isn’t trapped in some awkward subplot she didn’t sign up for.”

Lilac raised an eyebrow. “Do I get to vote on whether it’s awkward?”

“Absolutely not,” Carmine said. “I’m older, therefore wiser. Now come on, before Kieran combusts.”

Lilac stifled a laugh as Carmine turned and sauntered down the hallway, utterly pleased with herself. Kieran muttered something incomprehensible and covered his face with both hands.

“It’s just a sleepover,” Lilac said gently, brushing past him. “Apparently with genre commentary included.”

The air between them was still thick with unspoken words, but there was comfort in the gesture itself. The quiet hum of the town outside seemed to calm her for a moment.

“We should get dinner ready,” Kieran suggested, clearing his throat awkwardly. He was clearly trying to navigate the still-tense air between him and Lilac. He gave her a quick glance, but his eyes dropped almost immediately, still unsure how to fix things between them.

Carmine caught the look, raising an eyebrow. "Dinner’s ready in a bit. Let’s eat before it gets too late." She shot Lilac a knowing glance, and Lilac felt herself relax just a little more.

The house, modest and warm, began to fill with the comforting sounds of the evening routine. Hideko and Yukito moved around the kitchen, the rhythmic clatter of cooking utensils blending with the gentle murmur of conversation. The smell of rice steaming, miso soup simmering, and grilled Klawf Stick filled the air, a welcome comfort for all present.

At the dinner table, everyone gathered: Lilac, Carmine, Kieran, Hideko, and Yukito. There was an unspoken understanding that this evening wasn’t just about the food. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with the lingering tensions of the day, the weight of Ogerpon’s presence, and the rawness of old wounds still healing.

Carmine, ever the one to break the ice, grinned as she passed a plate of sautéed vegetables around. “So, did you all know,” she began, “that the best part of the meal is the pickled daikon? I swear, Grandpa makes it a little too good.”

Yukito chuckled, nodding, his gaze momentarily meeting Lilac’s. “Ah, yes. It’s all about balance in the meal. A little sweet, a little savory.” His eyes twinkled with a quiet wisdom, and though his voice was gentle, Lilac could tell there was more beneath it—a recognition of the significance of tonight’s meal, of the people who were missing from the table, and of those present.

Kieran took a small bite of rice, his chopsticks hovering between his plate and his mouth, his mind elsewhere. He glanced at Lilac, and for a moment, their eyes met. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, unsure.

Lilac gave him a soft, almost imperceptible nod. They’d already said what needed to be said earlier that evening. There was nothing more to add for now.

Hideko, sitting beside Yukito, offered a gentle smile as she lifted her bowl of miso soup. “I’m glad you’re here, Lilac. This is the kind of meal that brings comfort when words can’t.”

There was a moment of shared silence as everyone continued to eat. The clink of chopsticks against bowls, the soft rustling of the tatami mats as they shifted slightly in their seats—each sound felt like a quiet acknowledgment of the space between them all. It wasn’t just about food; it was about finding a way to exist in this strange, uncertain moment together.

The night air bit at Lilac’s cheeks as she stepped into the garden, the world around her quiet and still. Mossui Town, draped in winter’s embrace, felt worlds away from the earlier chaos, and for a moment, she let the cold wind sweep over her, hoping it would calm her restless thoughts.

Ogerpon followed closely, her small figure a shadow in the dim moonlight. The ogre Pokémon’s movements were hesitant, but she stayed near Lilac, the only one she trusted right now.

Shiba padded alongside them, his warm body a comfort in the chill. Lilac instinctively ran her fingers through the thick fur of her Hisuian Growlithe, and the familiar, comforting scent of fur and warmth eased some of the tension in her chest. “Shiba… today’s been long,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Growlithe looked up at her, his amber eyes hidden by his thick fur. He nuzzled her hand, as if silently saying, I’m here.

Lilac smiled softly and leaned down to bury her fingers in his fur again. The warmth of his presence steadied her, grounding her in the midst of everything. She felt Ogerpon's eyes on her—watching, waiting.

A rustle broke the silence.

The Moon Ball in Lilac's cardigan opened with a beam of light. Opaline, her sleek, ethereal figure glowing faintly in the dark. Her long fur shimmered like the winter frost on the grass, but her eyes were wide, soft with a tenderness that spoke of memories too painful to voice.

“Opaline…” Lilac whispered.

Opaline’s eyes locked onto Ogerpon, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Time stretched. Ogerpon stood stock-still, her tiny hands clenched into fists at her sides. A tremor ran through her body, a mix of recognition, pain, and longing. Slowly, she took a step forward, her gaze fixed on the Alolan Ninetales.

Opaline’s voice broke the stillness. “It’s been so long,” she said quietly, her voice full of quiet regret. “I… I should have stayed with Lirio. I should’ve stayed with you, Ogerpon, but I couldn't. I was told to protect Rosalina, and… and I failed you both.”

Ogerpon took another tentative step forward, then stopped, her gaze softening as if she were recognizing something that had been buried deep inside her for centuries. She stepped closer, the words unsaid, and knelt before Opaline. A delicate flower bloomed as she gently wove it into a tiny crown, offering it to Opaline as if she was offering a part of herself.

Opaline’s breath caught. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Rosalina… used to make crowns like this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She reached out, her paw gently brushing the crown as if afraid it might disappear if she touched it too forcefully. The bond between them was not just a shared memory—it was a bond woven through time, the quiet acknowledgment of what had been lost and the pain of survival.

Ogerpon’s hand hovered for a moment, but when she placed the crown into Opaline’s paws, it was as if the weight of centuries had been lifted, if only for a brief moment. Opaline closed her eyes, overwhelmed, before she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Ogerpon.”

There was no need for more words. The silence between them was filled with something deeper.

Before Lilac could take a breath, another Poké Ball opened. Ursaluna Bloodmoon Beast emerged from the light. His massive form loomed in the moonlight. His fur, thick and matted with time, shimmered faintly under the pale glow of the stars. His eye, that emerald, ancient eye, locked onto Ogerpon.

Ogerpon froze for a moment. Her eyes widened, and her body stiffened.

“Ursaluna…” she whispered, almost to herself. The sound of his name had the weight of history in it.

Lunar lowered his head slowly, as if to acknowledge her presence. He let out a low, rumbling growl, not of threat, but of recognition, as though seeing her for the first time in an eternity.

Ogerpon took a step forward, her hesitation melting away as she saw the familiar face of a friend. She raised her hand toward Ursaluna, and for a moment, there was nothing but the connection between them—two old companions who had fought side by side.

Lunar’s massive paw extended, and he gently placed it near Ogerpon’s, careful not to crush her tiny hand. There was no rush in their meeting, no frantic emotions.

Lilac stood back, watching in silence, the weight of the moment pressing against her chest. Shiba sat beside her, his warm body pressing against her side.

The air in Carmine’s room felt thick with unspoken tension, lingering between Lilac and Kieran. It wasn’t the weight of anger or accusation anymore, but something quieter—hesitation, vulnerability, the ache of things not yet healed.

Lilac sat on the edge of the futon, her blanket draped loosely around her shoulders. Ogerpon was curled up beside her, already dozing, her tiny chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. The light in the room was low, a soft amber glow from the hallway casting gentle shadows on the walls.

Kieran stood nearby, fidgeting with a roll of bandages in his hand. He had offered to help without meeting her eyes, and Lilac, surprised but not unwilling, had nodded.

Now, he knelt beside her, silently dipping a cloth into a small bowl of warm water Hideko had left for them. His fingers trembled slightly as he wrung it out.

“Hold still,” he murmured, finally daring a glance at her. His voice was careful, quiet. “I’ll be gentle.”

“I trust you,” Lilac said, just as quietly.

Kieran’s breath caught. He reached forward, dabbing gently at the scrapes along her arm, clearing away the dried blood and dirt. She winced once, and he immediately pulled back.

“Sorry—did I…?”

Lilac shook her head. “It’s fine. Just stings a little.” She smiled, barely. “You’re doing great.”

He resumed the task with even more care, silent except for the soft sound of the cloth meeting skin. The closeness made everything feel heavier—their words, their breaths, the things they hadn’t said yet.

“Wowzers! You really got knocked around out there,” he muttered, half to himself.

“So did you,” Lilac replied, nodding toward his hand.

Kieran blinked, then looked down at his bruised knuckles. “Oh. Right. I… didn’t really think about it at the time.”

Lilac reached for his hand. “Can I?”

He hesitated, but then slowly extended it toward her. His skin was warm, the knuckles swollen and discolored. She cradled his hand in both of hers and began to clean the scrapes with the same cloth, her touch featherlight.

“You should’ve said something,” she murmured.

“I was too angry. And embarrassed, maybe.” His voice cracked slightly. “Didn’t want anyone to see I’d lost control.”

“You didn’t lose control,” she said gently. “You cared. That’s not the same thing.”

Kieran glanced up at her then, really looked at her, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Lilac added, her voice softer, “You don’t have to hide when you’re hurt. Not from me.”

He let out a shaky breath. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to be someone you have to take care of. I already feel like I’m dragging you down.”

“You’re not a burden, Kieran,” she said, more firmly now, still holding his hand. “But you’re not the only one carrying something, either.”

She dropped her gaze. “I lied to you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but it still feels awful. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I ended up doing it anyway.”

“You didn’t do anything awful,” he said. “You were trying to protect me. Maybe I didn’t want to admit that I needed it.”

There was a silence between them again—not cold, but careful.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” Lilac said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And I don’t want to be the reason you hesitate,” Kieran replied. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to choose between me and… everything else.”

“Kieran—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, not out of anger, but truth. “It’s just… sometimes when I look at you, it feels like you’ve got it all figured out. And I’m just trying to keep up.”

Lilac’s fingers stilled on his hand. “I don’t have it figured out,” she said. “I’m just trying not to fall apart.”

He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.

Then he added, his voice breaking slightly, “I’m still scared. Scared I’m not enough. Scared I’ll just keep messing things up.”

Lilac looked up at him. “I don’t need you to be perfect,” she said. “I just need you to be… you.”

He didn’t pull his hand away. And neither did she. For a moment, they just sat there, the faint noise of the wind outside barely reaching them. There was something between them now—soft, uncertain, but very real. Like the beginning of something fragile.

And then—

A soft cough.

They both jumped, scrambling just slightly apart as the door creaked open.

Carmine leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “Well, well,” she said with a grin. “You two really know how to make first aid look like a confession.”

Kieran flushed deep red and snatched his hand back. “S-Sis—! How long were you standin’ there?!”

“Long enough to wonder if I should bring in a third bowl of water,” Carmine quipped, striding in with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I leave you alone for five minutes…”

Lilac felt her cheeks warm but smiled despite herself.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Carmine teased, though her eyes flicked between them with quiet awareness.

Kieran stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were just… patching each other up.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Carmine smirked. “Well, Romeo, you’ve got your beauty rest to think about. Big day tomorrow.”

Kieran opened his mouth to respond, then just sighed and nodded. “Night, Lilac.” His voice was soft, lingering.

“Goodnight, Kieran,” she said, watching him go.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Carmine turned to Lilac. Her teasing smile faded into something more thoughtful.

“I think he’ll be okay,” she said gently, her voice softer now. “Especially if you keep talking to him like that.”

Lilac didn’t respond right away. She was still looking at the door.

But a small, hopeful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of blankets. The faint glow from the hallway light seeped through the cracks in the door, casting long shadows across the floor where Lilac lay, her mind far from sleep.

Carmine’s gentle breathing from the futon told her that the other girl was already drifting off, but Lilac couldn’t seem to quiet the thoughts racing through her head. Kieran’s words from earlier still lingered, but so did the weight of her own feelings, feelings she wasn’t sure she could entirely trust yet.

She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts tangled in the uncertainty of it all. I don’t know if I should feel this way, she thought, her chest tight. After everything that’s happened…

There was a shift in the futon behind her, followed by a quiet huff of air. Lilac’s attention snapped to Carmine as the older girl shifted, her eyes blinking open.

Carmine’s voice broke the silence, steady but sharp. “Lilac.”

Lilac stiffened. “Yeah?”

“I need you to answer me honestly,” Carmine said, sitting up slowly in the dim light. There was a serious undertone to her words that made Lilac’s heart skip a beat. “Do you care about Kieran?”

Lilac froze. That’s not the question I was expecting.

She didn’t answer right away, the weight of the question pressing down on her. What do I feel? Is it even okay to feel something for him? She couldn’t bring herself to admit that maybe, there was something growing between them—something unspoken, warm.

Carmine’s voice cut through her hesitation, a bit of impatience creeping in. “It’s not hard to see, you know. The way you two keep looking at each other. It’s not just some friendship thing anymore, is it?”

Lilac swallowed, her throat dry. “I—I don’t know,” she whispered, still not meeting Carmine’s eyes. “It’s confusing.”

There was a long pause before Carmine spoke again, her tone gentler this time. “I get it. You’re both… sensitive. And things aren’t simple. But listen.” Carmine shifted so she was sitting up properly, her eyes locking onto Lilac’s. “Kieran’s been through a lot, Lilac. He doesn’t wear it on his sleeve, but trust me, I know him better than anyone.”

Lilac’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Carmine, feeling exposed and vulnerable under her gaze.

“I’m just asking,” Carmine continued, “because I don’t want to see him get hurt. Like me. I was let down by a person I trusted before.” She hesitated for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. “I don’t want him to think something’s real, only to be disappointed when you have to leave, when the trip ends. You won’t be staying here forever, and neither will we.”

Carmine’s words hung in the air, and Lilac realized just how much Kieran’s feelings were tangled up in all of this. And maybe… maybe her own feelings were too.

“I’m not trying to ask you to be sure of something right now,” Carmine said, her tone softer now, almost kind. “But I need to know if you’re being honest with yourself. Because Kieran needs someone he can trust.” She paused. “And I know how hard it is to let people in. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

Lilac closed her eyes for a moment, biting her lip. She’s not asking for promises, just the truth.

“I… care about him. I think I care about him more than I thought I would,” Lilac confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. It was hard to say out loud, but there it was. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.”

Carmine was quiet for a beat, her eyes studying Lilac with an intensity that made her feel exposed. Then, Carmine gave a small nod, as though processing everything Lilac had said.

“I get it,” she said softly. “But just be careful, alright? Don’t let him think it’s all going to work out perfectly when it’s still too early to say. I know how that story goes. I don’t want him to get his heart broken again.”

Lilac sat up a little, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I don’t want that either,” she murmured. 

A more thoughtful expression crossed Carmine’s face. Then, she added, almost teasingly, “But if you do end up breaking my brother’s heart, I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

Lilac gave a small laugh, the tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. “Noted,” she said quietly.

Carmine stretched and let out a dramatic yawn before slipping back under the blankets. “I’ll hold you to that. Now get some sleep, Lilac. We’ve got a lot more to do tomorrow with those Lousy Three.”

Lilac nodded, a faint smile curling on her lips. She knew that Carmine meant it in a way that was both protective and a little playful. But the underlying seriousness was still there, and it was clear that Carmine had her brother’s back, no matter what.

As Lilac lay back down on the floor, she couldn’t help but replay the conversation in her head. Carmine’s right, she thought. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Kieran… but I can’t ignore what I’m starting to feel.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16 – Not Just Heroes

The morning mist hung over Mossui Town like breath caught in hesitation.

Down near the village’s edge, Carmine stood by a stone bench, her Rotom Phone glowing with a map. Three red markers blinked slowly—like a warning.

“Munkidori’s just outside town. Wisteria Pond.” She pointed. “Okidogi’s holed up down in the Paradise Barrens—deserted, rocky terrain. And Fezandipiti’s... exactly where I didn’t want him to be.”

“The summit?” Lilac guessed.

“Chilling Waterhead,” Carmine confirmed. “Top of Oni Mountain. Real piece of work, that one.”

Lilac exhaled slowly, the names sinking into her skin like frost. These weren’t just locations. They were battlefields.

Her eyes lingered on the first marker.
Wisteria Pond.

That hurt more than she expected.

“We’ll need to fight them together,” Carmine added. “No solo heroics. They’re stronger now—too strong for one of us alone.”

“They always fought together,” Kieran muttered. He hadn’t looked up yet. His voice was quiet, but laced with something harder than before. “Guess it's only fair we do the same.”

Lilac glanced at him. Arms crossed tightly, his eyes locked on the Apple Hills path. His jaw worked like he was chewing over more than just strategy.

She stepped toward him. “Kieran…”

He didn’t move. But he did speak.

“I don’t want them to just lose. I want everyone to see what they really are.” He finally looked at her, eyes dark but steady. “Liars. Thieves. Cowards.”

Lilac didn’t flinch. She reached out and gently touched his hand.

“They will.”

He blinked, surprised—but didn’t pull away.

Ogerpon stood behind them, her Teal Mask tilted slightly. She clutched it closer.

“We’ll make it right,” Lilac said softly, more to her than anyone else.

Carmine tucked her phone away with a snap. “Alright. First up—Munkidori. He’s close. But don’t get careless. He’s clever. And fast.”

Lilac nodded. “We’ll go together.”

Kieran threw one last look toward the misty Apple Hills path. Then he stepped into motion.

The trio moved out as one, Ogerpon trailing behind them with quiet steps.

Behind them, Mossui Town still slept—peaceful, unaware of what stirred in its shadows.

And ahead, at Wisteria Pond, something vile waited in the place where Lilac once played her flute.

Wisteria Pond was still.

Lilac’s footsteps slowed as the trees parted to reveal the water’s surface, slick and glassy, reflecting the purple-tinged sky above. Even now, in the early morning hush, the place felt heavy. Haunted.

It had once been peaceful.

She had sat here, flute in hand, her music dancing across the water. Kieran had been beside her, sketchbook open, sunlight in his hair.

Now, the pond was ringed with haze—a faint, magenta mist that shimmered unnaturally above the water.

“He’s here,” Carmine said, narrowing her eyes. Her hand hovered over her Poké Ball.

From across the pond, a figure emerged. Floating just above the water.

Munkidori.

His limbs moved with eerie smoothness, as if gliding on strings. His body glowed faintly violet, the magenta chain curled around his head like a broken crown. It pulsed faintly—once, twice.

“Ahhh… the Mask Thieves,” he said, voice rippling like a thought more than sound. “Or perhaps I should say… Mask Returners.”

Carmine scowled. “You’re uglier than I remembered.”

Munkidori tittered. “And you’re louder than I hoped.”

Lilac stepped forward, Opaline at her side. The icy fox’s eyes were locked on the floating figure, tails flicking with tension.

“We’re not here for your games,” Lilac said. “Hand over the mask you stole.”

The chain shimmered. Munkidori’s eyes narrowed—but strangely, there was no immediate lunge. No burst of poison. No shriek of rage.

“I was told not to kill you,” he said lightly. “Not yet.”

Carmine froze. “Told by who?”

Munkidori only smiled. “Someone who knows how this story ends.”

He raised his hands. Psychic energy twisted around them, visible now in tendrils of pale lavender light. The wild Pokémon near the water—Yanma, Petilil, Lotad—shuddered and scattered as his aura pulsed outward.

Kieran stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “You're stalling.”

“I’m savoring,” Munkidori replied. “You came all this way to find me again. How touching.”

He twirled midair, then suddenly snapped downward.

“Let’s play, then.”

The chain flared—and the battle began.

Mightyena leapt first, fangs bared, striking out with Crunch. The attack connected—but Munkidori’s form blurred, flickering like a mirage.

Illusion.

Carmine gritted her teeth. “He’s using illusions to throw off aim!”

Opaline responded with a shimmering Aurora Veil, shielding the team as a burst of Psyshock arced through the mist. The psychic attack slammed into the ground beside them, leaving scorched grass and twisted stones in its wake.

Lilac's voice was calm, steady. “Opaline—Extrasensory. Try to lock him down.”

The Alolan Ninetales shimmered with radiant energy, eyes glowing silver. A wave of focused psychic force rippled toward Munkidori—

But the chain flared again.

A shield of magenta light surrounded him, absorbing the pulse entirely. Munkidori laughed.

“You’re trying so hard. Why?”

Kieran’s Shiftry appeared in a gust of leaves, its movements sharp and swift. “Because you’re a liar.”

It slashed forward with Leaf Blade, forcing Munkidori to retreat upward, wincing for the first time.

Blood—a trace of dark purple ichor—spilled into the pond.

Munkidori hissed.

“You act like you’re heroes,” he said. “But this land chose us.”

“No,” Lilac said quietly, voice steely. “It believed in a lie.”

She pointed. “And you were too afraid to face the truth without those masks.”

The magenta chain pulsed violently, a flicker of something like… pain flashing in Munkidori’s eyes. But he masked it quickly behind a smirk.

“I wonder if you’ll say the same… when you meet him.”

“Who?” Kieran demanded. “Who gave you orders?”

Munkidori’s body shuddered as a blast of combined Moonblast and Crunch struck from both sides—Opaline and Mightyena in perfect sync. The illusions shattered.

His body crumpled midair. The chain sparked—then dimmed.

The mask slipped free from his body and rolled gently toward the water’s edge.

The Cornerstone Mask.

Lilac rushed forward and caught it before it could sink beneath the surface.

Ogerpon approached slowly from the trees, cloak rippling with caution. Her eyes widened when she saw the mask.

Lilac turned to her, holding it out. “One down.”

Ogerpon didn’t take it yet—but she stepped closer, her hand brushing the edge, as if daring to believe.

Behind them, Munkidori’s body shrank—returning to its hunched, smaller form. The venomous glow faded from his limbs. He lay still in the grass.

But the magenta chain remained.

Still wrapped tightly around his head.

Still pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat—slower now, but steady.

Lilac stared at it, unsettled. “It didn’t break.”

Carmine narrowed her eyes. “That thing… it’s not just power.”

Kieran took a step closer, gaze sharp. “It’s how they’re being controlled.”

Opaline stepped between them and the unconscious Munkidori, her fur bristling faintly. “Or how they’re receiving orders.”

Lilac’s chest tightened.

“They’re not acting alone,” she said quietly. “Someone’s talking to them. Through that.”

Kieran nodded grimly. “Then we’d better move fast. Because whoever it is… they’re not done yet.”

Lilac turned toward the treeline, eyes fixed on the mountain’s silhouette rising in the distance.

Two masks remained.

The battle was over.
But the quiet didn’t feel like calm.

The reeds around Wisteria Pond whispered in the breeze, their rustling joined only by the soft licking of wounds and slow, steady breathing. Carmine sat cross-legged near the water, tossing stones, her Mightyena curled protectively beside her.

Lilac remained kneeling in the grass, brushing her fingers gently through Opaline’s soft fur. The Alolan Ninetales, always graceful, now rested her head in Lilac’s lap, eyes half-closed.

Ogerpon stood nearby, hands clasped, head bowed slightly. She hadn’t fought—but she hadn’t run either. That mattered.

Kieran hadn’t said much since the battle ended.

He stood apart from them, facing the pond, but not really seeing it. His Shiftry hovered near the treeline, as if waiting for a decision.

Lilac approached quietly.

“You’re thinking hard,” she said.

Kieran didn’t look at her. “Maybe too hard.”

She waited.

“I thought beating Munkidori would feel like a step forward,” he murmured. “But now I’m just… stuck.”

He finally turned to her, something fierce flickering behind his eyes.

“Everyone still thinks the Loyal Three were heroes. That Ogerpon was the monster. We know the truth now… and if we don’t speak up, who will?”

Lilac blinked. “You want to tell the town.”

He nodded. “I have to.”

“But Carmine—”

“She wouldn’t let me. Not yet.” He looked away, jaw tightening. “She’s afraid of what people might say. What Grandpa might do. But if I can show them… tell them everything, maybe they'll listen. Maybe they'll change.”

He hesitated. Then added, quietly, like it hurt to say:

“They need to hear it from someone who used to believe the lie.”

Lilac stepped closer. “So you’re leaving.”

He gave a single nod.

“I’ll catch up later. You don’t have to cover for me—just don’t stop me.”

Lilac’s eyes softened. She gently touched his arm. “I won’t.”

They stood there for a moment, the space between them quiet and full of trust.

Then Carmine’s voice called from behind. “Hey! You two done whispering secrets?”

Kieran turned, forcing a casual grin. “Actually, I’m heading off.”

“What?” Carmine stood up, brow furrowed. “Where?”

“I’m going ahead,” he said smoothly. “Paradise Barrens. I want to scout for Okidogi, keep him away from the village if I can.”

Carmine scowled. “You think going off alone is smart after what we just fought?”

“I can handle it,” he said. “And if I can’t—you’ll back me up. Right?”

She crossed her arms, unconvinced. “You’re still dramatic, y’know that?”

Kieran chuckled under his breath and gave a wave. “Be careful, okay?”

Then he turned. Yanmega came out of its Poké Ball.

As he climbed on, Lilac caught his eye one last time.

He didn’t smile this time.
Just nodded.
And flew.

Carmine huffed. “Reckless, that one. Always has to do things his way.”

Lilac said nothing.

Because this time… Kieran was doing it his way.
And for the right reasons.

The road to the Paradise Barrens twisted through cracked earth and jagged stone, every step marked by dust and silence. Even Opaline walked more slowly here, tails flicking with unease.

Carmine walked ahead, one hand shading her eyes as she scanned the horizon. Her Mightyena padded close to her heels, ears alert.

“Not a great place for a vacation,” Carmine muttered.

Lilac gave a half-laugh. “Unless you’re a Rock-type.”

Carmine smirked faintly, but her eyes stayed on the canyon cliffs that framed the barrens like broken fangs.

“He said he’d meet us here,” she muttered after a while.

Lilac glanced at her. “Kieran?”

“Yeah. ‘Going ahead to scout for Okidogi.’” Carmine’s voice took on a skeptical edge. “But the guy’s not subtle. He makes noise even when he’s trying to sneak around. There’s no sign of him. No tracks. No busted rocks. Nothing.”

Lilac kept walking, silent.

Carmine stopped. “You don’t think he…?”

Lilac hesitated. “I think he meant what he said about protecting people.”

“That’s not an answer,” Carmine snapped, not angry—just worried.

She crouched suddenly, placing her palm against the dust. “No fresh footprints. No Yanmega wingbeats in the dirt. He never came this way.”

Lilac opened her mouth—but before she could speak, a deep boom rolled across the cliffs.

The ground vibrated beneath their feet.

Mightyena growled low, ears pinned back. Opaline stiffened, ice mist coiling faintly from her fur.

Another sound followed—a yelp. Small. Pokémon.

Carmine stood up fast. “That wasn’t a rockslide.”

The third sound was unmistakable: a roar—low, heavy, and angry.

“Okidogi,” she hissed.

Lilac nodded grimly, heart racing.

From the top of the ridge, a flock of bird Pokémon scattered into the air, wings flapping in panic. Dust clouds rose in the distance, tinged with reddish light.

“Let’s go,” Carmine said sharply.

No more questions. Not yet.

They broke into a run—toward the echoes of power, toward a Pokémon who didn’t wait to be challenged.

But somewhere beneath her concern, Carmine felt it:
This wasn’t just a head start.
Kieran was hiding something.

Kieran’s boots hit the stone path in quick, nervous strides. He clutched the strap of his bag tight across his chest, as if it could hold in his thundering heartbeat.

Every step toward Kitakami Hall felt heavier than the last.

It wasn’t just nerves. It was memory.

He remembered standing in that hall as a little kid, eyes wide with wonder as the storyteller pointed to the old painted signboards. The ogre, looming in shadows. The Loyal Three, standing proud. The moral was simple: don't trust monsters.

But he had trusted her.

Even before he knew her name, before he saw her face—he had felt something. That maybe the stories weren’t right. That maybe the monster wasn’t the one with the mask.

When the other kids laughed, when even Carmine rolled her eyes and called him “soft,” he still held on to that belief. Quietly. Secretly.

And now… now he knew.

Lilac and Ogerpon had shown him the truth—and it had broken something open in him. Something that couldn’t go back to pretending.

But even truth came with its price.

He tried not to think about how easily Lilac had gained Ogerpon’s trust—how the masked Pokémon had taken her hand without hesitation. He told himself it didn’t matter. That this was about justice. That he was doing this for Ogerpon.

Not for himself.

Still… when he remembered the way Ogerpon leaned into Lilac’s arms at the pond, or how Carmine always stepped in to lead, to take charge—it left a dull, sour ache in his chest. Like he was the only one still trying to prove he belonged in this story.

Maybe he was.

He slowed as the tiled roof of Kitakami Hall came into view, its red beams glowing faintly in the dawn light. The shrine sat quiet, regal, and ancient—as if it had never lied at all.

“This is it,” he whispered to himself, breath shaky. “I’ll tell the truth—right where the lie began.”

He paused just outside the shrine steps. His grip loosened.

His thoughts flickered to Carmine. To Lilac. To Ogerpon.

“I hope they’re okay.”

The ground rumbled beneath their feet.

Carmine skidded to a stop, dust kicking up around her boots. “You hear that?” she asked sharply, scanning the jagged rocks ahead.

Lilac nodded, her grip tightening on her Poké Ball. “I think that’s him.”

A shrill cry cut through the air—a wild Luxio being hurled across the clearing like a toy, landing with a pained thud before scrambling to its feet and fleeing.

A heavy paw slammed into the ground.

Okidogi stepped into view.

He was massive. Muscle-bound. His fur bristled like steel wire, and thick black claws curled from his fists. Around his thick neck glowed a poisonous magenta chain, pulsing like a heartbeat — too tight to be decoration, too unnatural to be flesh.

“Finally,” he growled, cracking his knuckles with deliberate menace. “Was getting bored.”

Lilac felt her stomach tighten. Okidogi’s presence was suffocating—like standing before a landslide waiting to fall. His eyes swept over her and Carmine.

“Two girls?” he said with a mocking sneer. “Tsk. Guess they’re sending kids to deal with me now.”

Carmine snorted. “You’re the one hiding in the mountains bullying wild Pokémon. Real heroic.”

Okidogi ignored her. His gaze locked on Lilac. A smile crept across his face—slow, sharp.

“So, you’re the new pet. The one the ogre likes.”

Lilac’s hands clenched. “Her name is Ogerpon. And I’m not her pet.”

“Right,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “You’re the one who’s soft. The one she clings to.”

He stepped forward. The chain around his neck rattled—tightening. His lips curled into a savage grin.

“Don’t take it personal,” he said. “If it weren’t for… orders, you’d already be buried next to your ancestor.”

Lilac’s eyes widened.

Okidogi let out a low, derisive laugh. “We ended him. One swipe. One scream. You’ve got the same fragile look in your eyes.”

Carmine growled. “That’s enough.”

But Lilac stepped forward, her voice firm. “You call that strength? Picking off the weak? Destroying someone just because they were kind?”

He tilted his head, chain humming. “It’s nature. The strong take what they want. The weak break.”

“No,” Lilac said coldly. “You chose to be cruel. That doesn’t make you strong. It makes you pathetic.”

Okidogi’s eyes narrowed. “Keep talking, girl. Let’s see how brave that mouth is when you’re under my fists.”

Carmine threw out her Poké Ball. “You wanna throw down? Let’s go. Mightyena, Crunch!”

The dark wolf burst forth in a shimmer of light, baring her teeth with a fierce snarl.

Lilac followed. “Opaline—let’s do this!”

The Alolan Ninetales emerged in a gust of icy wind, fur glowing like moonlight against the scorched rocks.

Okidogi growled, raising his fists. “You’ll regret that.”

With a roar, he charged—his massive frame a blur of fury.

Opaline opens with Moonblast, the radiant energy colliding with Okidogi’s charge, knocking him back briefly—but not down. His Poison typing shrugs off some of the impact, and the chain flares with magenta energy.

Okidogi counters with Poison Jab, a toxic punch that barely misses Carmine and hit violently the ground, corroding stone.

Mightyena leaps in with Crunch, biting into Okidogi’s arm. He snarls and slams her into the ground, throwing her off.

Lilac notices something: every time Okidogi takes a hard hit, the chain tightens—like it’s restraining him, or maybe punishing him. She frowns. “That chain… it’s controlling him.”

Okidogi seems enraged by this. “I don’t need control. I fight because I want to.”

Opaline fires an Extrasensory blast that staggers Okidogi—and for a split second, his eyes flash something other than rage. Pain. Fear?

Carmine yells, “Now, while he’s reeling! Opaline, Mightyena—combo attack!”

Opaline unleashes another Moonblast, while Mightyena follows with Howl into Crunch—a piercing cry followed by a powerful leap that sinks into Okidogi’s shoulder.

He roars in fury—his mask knocked loose from the force. It clatters against the rocks.

Okidogi falls to one knee. The chain flares again, then goes dark.

The air stills.

Lilac cautiously approaches the fallen mask—the Hearthflame Mask—and picks it up. It's heavy in her hands. Warmer than stone.

Okidogi groans but doesn’t rise.

He glances up—anger dulled. “What’s the point of winning,” he growls, “if you can’t take what’s yours?”

Lilac stares down at him, breathless. “The point is that you never had the right to take it in the first place.”

He snarls weakly, but doesn’t answer.

Ogerpon finally steps into the clearing—quietly, nervously. She stares at Okidogi, who flinches and turns his face away.

Lilac holds the mask out to her gently.

Ogerpon nods slowly. Takes it. Places it against her face with shaking fingers.

A golden shimmer passes over her again.

Lilac exhales. Carmine comes to stand beside her, wiping her brow. “Two down,” she mutters. “One to go.”

The rocky winds of Paradise Barrens had stilled.

Carmine watches Ogerpon carefully fit the Hearthflame Mask to her face. The golden shimmer had faded now, replaced by a quiet, almost sacred stillness. For once, the ogre looked at peace.

Lilac stood nearby, brushing dust off her shorts, gaze soft as she watched Ogerpon adjust to the new mask.

Then came the silence—the kind that stretched just a little too long.

Carmine turned, eyes narrowing. “Okay. Where is he?”

Lilac blinked. “Huh?”

“Kiki,” Carmine said, arms folding across her chest. “This is the second fight in a row, and he’s just... not here.”

Lilac hesitated. Her hands dropped to her sides.

Carmine kept going, not angry—yet—but her tone was edged with unease. “He had all the coordinates. We marked the map together. So where is he, Lilac?”

Lilac looked down at the rocky ground. Ogerpon shifted beside her, catching the tension in the air.

Carmine took a step closer, voice low. “Did he say something to you?”

There was a pause.

Lilac met her eyes. “He didn’t say much. But... I think he needed to do something important.”

Carmine frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s not running,” Lilac said gently. “He’s just... taking a different path right now.”

Carmine's eyes narrowed further. “So there was some kind of plan? Between you two?”

Lilac hesitated—then shook her head. “No plan. Not exactly. Just a promise. One I think he’s trying to keep.”

She took a step forward, her voice calm but firm. “He wants to help. Just not with battles. Not this time.”

Carmine looked away, clearly frustrated but unsure where to direct it. “He should’ve told me.”

“He didn’t want to lie,” Lilac said quietly. “But maybe he thought you’d stop him.”

That landed. Carmine’s mouth opened like she had a retort—but nothing came out.

Finally, Carmine exhaled sharply and glanced up the slope toward Oni Mountain. “I swear, if he does something stupid—”

“He won’t,” Lilac said softly. “You just have to trust him.”

Carmine looked at her for a long beat. Then—reluctantly—she nodded. “Fine. But if we get up this mountain and there’s a third freak with a mask, I want both of you there.”

Lilac smiled faintly.

Ogerpon tilted her head, curious but quiet. Carmine sighed and turned toward the base of the mountain trail.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Kieran said, scanning the room. “But the signboard stories are wrong. Ogerpon isn’t the villain. She’s the one who was wronged.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd, but more than that—laughter. A few scoffs. Someone near the back muttered, “Another obsessed kid…”

Kieran’s throat tightened. His hand twitched against his thigh, leg bouncing involuntarily. The heat of so many eyes on him nearly made him flinch.

But he didn’t.

He thought of Ogerpon’s eyes—how hurt she looked when people ran from her.

He thought of Lilac, standing in the shadow cast by the tales surrounding the Violet Book. Of Opaline, silent and sorrowful, holding memories from two hundred years ago.

And of Rosalina and Lirio—their names just whispers in history. Until now.

“You think I’m making this up?” His voice grew firmer, more certain. “Then ask yourselves why the ogre wore four masks. Why she avoided people. Why her story was told without her voice in it.”

A few townsfolk stirred uncomfortably.

He took a breath. Then he said it.

“I know this because I’ve seen the truth. And I’m not the only one. My sister Carmine… and my friend Lilac—she’s not just some girl from Paldea. She’s a descendant of Rosalina. The artist from the Violet Book.”

That silenced the murmurs.

Kieran went on, his voice rising, clearer now. “Rosalina lived here. With her partner Lirio. And Ogerpon. They were real. They were kind. And the Loyal Three murdered one of them—just so they could steal her masks.”

He paused, scanning the faces around him. Some looked pale. Others confused. But no one was laughing anymore.

“The Pokémon we worship as heroes? They were thieves. And killers.”

“That’s enough, Suguri!” a sharp voice rang out.

Kieran turned.

His grandfather, Yukito, stood at the back of the hall, his walking stick planted firmly on the wooden floor. His face was pale with fury—and fear.

“You don’t understand what damage this could do to our family!” Yukito said. “To the village! You’re bringing up wounds we’ve spent generations trying to bury!”

Kieran’s jaw clenched. “I do understand. But I won’t lie for your reputation. Not anymore.”

The words came from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere brave.

“You think protecting the past means silencing the truth—but you’re just letting the same mistake happen again.”

The room went silent. A few people shifted uncomfortably. One older woman looked like she might cry.

Then—

“This is a sacred place. What’s happening here?”

Caretaker Futoshi stepped forward from behind the shrine curtain, his robes rustling. His expression was hard as stone.

Kieran turned to face him, heart thudding.

Futoshi eyed him. “This hall honors the traditions of Kitakami. If you have accusations, boy, you’d better be prepared to answer for them.”

“I am,” Kieran said. “But I’m not here to insult tradition. I’m here to fix what it got wrong.”

There was a pause. Futoshi studied him carefully, then looked to Yukito, who gave a silent, withering glare.

“I can prove it,” Kieran added. “Carmine and Lilac are gathering the masks. Once they bring them back… everything will make sense.”

Futoshi folded his arms, unmoved. “Then bring them. If there is truth in your words… let us all see it.”

Kieran nodded.

But his chest felt tight again. Where are they now?

He stepped down from the stage. The hall buzzed behind him, filled with uncertainty, whispers, and fear.

His heart quickened.

“Come on,” he muttered, calling for his Yanmega. “I’ve got to find them.”

He leapt onto its back and took off into the sky—searching not just for the masks, but for the people who gave him the courage to speak at all.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 – Descendants

The wind cut through Kieran’s hair as the ground below blurred, a patchwork of rocky outcrops and winding rivers. Yanmega’s wings hummed, sharp and steady, carrying him higher into the sky as his eyes scanned the landscape below. His grip tightened on the handle of his bag, knuckles white against the fabric. Every second that ticked by felt heavier than the last.

He had to find them. Find her.

The thought flitted through his mind before he could stop it—Lilac.

Her face from earlier was etched in his memory: her calm, quiet strength, her steady hand on Ogerpon’s shoulder, her confidence when she stood up to Carmine. How could he not feel the tug in his chest when she was near? The way she’d spoken to him, like she trusted him, even if he wasn’t sure if he could trust himself.

What did he even mean to her?

His thoughts swirled. There was so much at stake, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted by those feelings. He didn’t want to be the guy who always hung back, hoping for a chance to prove himself. The truth he’d revealed back in Kitakami Hall—about Ogerpon, about the masks—had cost him. But he wasn’t about to back down now. He couldn’t.

He needed her respect.

He needed Ogerpon’s trust.

But what he really wanted, more than anything, was something that lingered in the back of his mind like an unspoken truth: her attention.

Lilac.

A jolt of frustration broke through his reverie. She wasn’t the reason he was flying through the air. She wasn’t the reason he’d uncovered the truth. He was doing this because of Ogerpon, because of the lives that had been stolen from her. That much was clear.

But could it hurt to want something more? A chance to show Lilac that he wasn’t just another kid who got lost in the middle of her journey? A chance to stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder, not just as a friend—but as someone who could help her, who could fight with her, and maybe… even for her?

His stomach tightened.

“I can’t think about that now,” he muttered under his breath.

Yanmega’s wings beat louder, almost as if sensing the shift in his focus. Kieran squinted ahead, eyes darting across the terrain as his heart picked up pace.

He had to find Lilac, Carmine, and Ogerpon. He needed them, just like he needed the truth to make sense of everything that had led him here. It wasn’t about proving himself to them anymore—it was about proving that he could stand by them, that he could be part of their story. A real part.

As he soared higher, the wind whipped through his hair, and for a brief moment, he let his mind wander.

He thought about Ogerpon—about her quiet vulnerability, the way her eyes had softened when Lilac had handed her the mask. She wasn’t a monster, and she never had been. Yet the world had made her one.

But Lilac? She saw Ogerpon for who she really was. And Kieran had been part of that. Part of the journey to right the wrongs, to help Ogerpon reclaim the story that was stolen from her.

He could help, too. He could be part of something bigger than himself.

But there was that ache again—the pull to prove something to her. To Lilac. To show her that he wasn’t just another shadow in her story. To make sure that when all this was over, she’d see him the way he saw her.

“Focus,” he muttered. He reached into his bag and pulled out his map, glancing down once more. “Focus on what matters. Ogerpon. Lilac. Carmine.”

Yanmega let out a soft hum, as if understanding the weight of the moment. Kieran looked out over the horizon. No more distractions. It was time to catch up, to be where he needed to be.

And maybe, just maybe, when it was all over… Lilac would finally see him as more than just the kid from Kitakami.

She would see him as part of the story.

The air grew colder as Lilac and Carmine ascended Oni Mountain, but Lilac didn’t shiver. Not from cold, anyway. The chill was welcome. It settled her nerves.

They had nearly reached the summit now—just a little further.

“This is the place,” Carmine muttered, checking her phone. “Chilling Waterhead. The last signal came from here.”

The mouth of the cave loomed ahead, dark and quiet but glowing faintly with soft pink light that pulsed like a heartbeat. Lilac slowed. Something strange clung to the air—syrupy sweet, almost floral. Her thoughts fuzzed for a second.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

Carmine scowled. “Fairy-type pheromones. It’s Fezandipiti.”

They crept inside.

The cavern was vast, carved of smooth ice and glittering rock. Dozens of wild Pokémon dotted the area—Glalie, Frosmoth, Snorunt, even an Froslass. All unmoving, all facing the same direction, as if hypnotized.

“Lilac,” Carmine warned. “Don’t get too close.”

A breeze whispered through the space—and then he appeared.

Fezandipiti hovered just above a raised platform of stone, his rose-hued feathers glossy under the pink light. His magenta chain curled around his body like a jeweled belt, pulsing faintly. He twirled midair with the grace of a performer taking the stage.

“Oh~ visitors,” he purred, his voice not spoken, but felt—like silk slipping across the mind. “I do so adore being admired.”

Ogerpon stiffened beside Lilac, taking a small step back. Her Teal Mask was lowered slightly, revealing wide, nervous eyes.

Fezandipiti floated downward, eyes glinting as he took in their group. “Ahh… the little ogre. And her entourage. How quaint.”

His gaze slid to Lilac. “You look like her, you know. The girl from before. The one who cried when the fool died.” His lips curled. “If I hadn’t been specifically told not to harm you, I might’ve offered you the same gift.”

Lilac’s breath caught.

“You mean Lirio,” she said, voice low. “You killed him.”

Fezandipiti laughed—light, musical, cruel. “Don’t be so dramatic. He was in the way. We wore the masks better than he did.”

“Disgusting,” Carmine snapped. “You act like you’re some kind of idol, but you’re just a coward who hides behind your powers.”

Fezandipiti’s smile didn’t falter, but the chain around his waist glowed faintly. “Coward? Me? I chose elegance over violence. Grace over filth. The only thing more grotesque than your ignorance…” He turned his eyes toward Lilac. “...is your fragility.”

Lilac’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not here to admire you.”

“No?” Fezandipiti purred. “Then let’s see if you can resist me.”

He spun in a glittering arc—and the battle began.

The Pokémon surrounding him stirred, letting out eerie cries, as if still in a trance. Fezandipiti soared above them all, trailing threads of glittering toxin in his wake. With every beat of his wings, a haze of pink spores spread through the air.

“Back!” Carmine shouted. “Don’t inhale too much—he’s using Dazzling Gleam! Mightyena, Crunch! Go for the chain!”

“Opaline, Extrasensory!”

Opaline’s eyes shimmered and sent a pulse of psychic energy upward, while Mightyena lunged from the side, jaws glowing.

Fezandipiti dodged both elegantly, his body twisting midair like a dancer. “Oh, how clumsy,” he crooned. “You poor, graceless little things.”

Lilac threw out a Poké Ball. “Primrose—use Shadow Claw! Aim for his wings!”

Meowscarada landed nimbly on the ice, eyes sharp and locked on target. Her claws glowed with dark energy, and she leapt high, slashing upward.

This time, Fezandipiti didn’t evade fast enough.

The attack struck his flank, leaving a gash along his feathers.

The chain around his waist shuddered violently.

His eyes flared. “You dare mark me?!”

“Primrose, Flower Trick—now! Opaline, Blizzard!”

Mightyena howled, joining in with a final Crunch to Fezandipiti’s side.

The combination hit all at once—darkness, cold, and nature.

Fezandipiti screamed, spinning out of control and crashing hard into the cavern floor. The wild Pokémon around him scattered as the spell broke.

The chain around his waist dimmed but didn’t disappear. He twitched—then shrank down into a crumpled, unconscious form.

Beside him, a faint glow.

Lilac stepped forward and picked up the final mask—the Wellspring Mask.

It pulsed gently in her hands.

Ogerpon crept to her side, hesitant.

Lilac turned and knelt before her. “This is yours.”

Ogerpon stared at the mask, eyes wide and shimmering. Slowly, gently, she reached out and pressed the Wellspring Mask to her face.

A blue shimmer bloomed across her body.

For a moment, she simply stood there, awash in glow.

Then she looked at Lilac.

And smiled.

Kieran stood at the edge of the cave, just beyond the light spilling in Chilling Waterhead. He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Ahead, Lilac knelt beside Ogerpon, offering her the final mask. His heart thudded at the sight.

She looked radiant—relieved, proud, alive.

When Ogerpon wore the Wellspring Mask. to her face, and the light shimmered over her body like sunrise on snow, Kieran’s breath caught.

Lilac was smiling, glowing with warmth. She reached forward and took Ogerpon’s hands gently in her own, whispering something too soft for him to hear.

And Ogerpon—so long burdened by fear—smiled back.

Kieran’s fingers curled in a fist.

He wanted to be happy for them. He was.

But the twist in his chest wouldn’t go away.

Lilac had helped Ogerpon reclaim herself. Ogerpon trusted her in a way she didn’t trust him. Not fully. 

And even now, seeing them together, seeing Lilac shine...

A flicker of envy passed through him like a shadow.

She should’ve looked at me like that.

Then Lilac turned—and her eyes found him instantly.

“Kieran!” she shouted, breaking into a run.

He straightened instinctively, swallowing the lump in his throat. She reached him seconds later and stopped just short of crashing into him.

“You made it,” she said, eyes wide. “Did you do it? Did you talk to them?”

He nodded, voice hoarse. “Yeah. I told them everything.”

She exhaled in relief. Her hand brushed his arm, tentative but warm.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Kieran’s heart stuttered—but before he could say anything, Carmine’s voice rang out behind her.

“Awww, look at that. You two getting all misty-eyed without me?”

Lilac turned pink. Kieran cleared his throat and stepped back half a pace.

Carmine approached, eyeing her brother with narrowed eyes.

“Where the hell were you?” she asked. “You bailed on us before the biggest fight. And you’re acting like that’s normal?”

“I had to do something,” Kieran said simply. “Something important.”

Carmine folded her arms. “Which was…?”

He didn’t meet her eyes.

Lilac stepped in. “He kept his promise,” she said gently. “That’s what matters.”

Carmine didn’t look convinced. She studied her brother, her expression unreadable, but said nothing more.

Kieran turned to them both. “I need you to take Ogerpon back to the village.”

Carmine arched an eyebrow. “Why the drama? What are you planning now, Kiki?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “I just need a minute.”

Lilac hesitated, but then nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

He gave a small, careful smile. “Thank you.”

As Carmine and Lilac returned to Ogerpon, helping her down the icy path, Kieran stayed behind just a little longer.

Watching them.

The warmth was still in his chest—but the envy hadn't left.

He looked down at his gloved hand, then toward the trail.

“I want to be the one she trusts most,” he murmured.

The sun dipped low over Mossui Town, painting the sky in gold and rose. Shadows stretched long across the square, where nearly every villager had gathered.

The first sound came not from the townspeople—but from a child.

“There! That’s the ogre!”

All heads turned toward the slope leading down from Reveler's Road. Five figures descended the path: Lilac, Opaline, Carmine, Ogerpon, and Kieran. The masked Pokémon clung tightly to Lilac’s hand, her cloak fluttering nervously in the wind.

Ogerpon paused at the edge of the square. Her Teal Mask trembled. Even now, even after all they’d done… fear clung to her like mist.

Lilac squeezed her hand. “It’s alright. You’re not alone anymore.”

Kieran stepped up beside her, not quite smiling, but standing tall.

The silence was brittle.

Then, the crowd parted.

Caretaker Futoshi emerged, followed by Yukito. Both men stopped just a few feet away from the group.

Ogerpon lowered her head.

Then, slowly—Futoshi bowed. Deeply. His forehead nearly touched the earth.

“Venerable Ogerpon,” he said clearly, “on behalf of all of Kitakami… we are sorry.”

Yukito stepped forward too. His voice was quieter, rougher with emotion.

“We passed down lies as tradition. We feared what we didn’t understand. But thanks to my grandchildren… and you, young Lilac… the village know the truth now.”

The silence cracked—then applause began. Awkward at first. Unsure. But it spread.

A few villagers stepped closer—children, mostly. Then more. Ogerpon blinked, eyes wide, shrinking back for a moment.

Lilac knelt. “It’s alright. They’re not afraid of you.”

Opaline padded forward, her fur glistening like starlight. The Alolan Ninetales closed her eyes. Her voice echoed softly, almost distant, as if drawing from Ogerpon’s own heart.

“She says… she never thought she’d be welcome here again. That she spent so long thinking being forgotten was better than being feared.”

Lilac’s chest tightened.

“She remembers the laughter, and kindness, and home. Before the masks were stolen. Before she was hunted.”

Ogerpon’s hand clutched Lilac’s tighter.

Opaline added gently, “She says… you brought her back. Not just here—but to herself.”

Lilac wrapped her arms around the ogre Pokémon, overcome. “You deserve to be loved. Not hunted. Not hated.”

Ogerpon trembled, then leaned into the hug. She was still shaking—but it wasn’t fear anymore. It was relief.

“I think she likes you,” Carmine teased lightly from behind them.

Kieran watched quietly. Lilac caught his eye. There was a small, honest smile on his face.

“You were incredible too,” she said.

Kieran rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… wanted to do the right thing.”

“You did.” Her voice was soft, but steady. “Thanks to you… she has nothing to fear anymore.”

And then, without overthinking it—Lilac pulled him into a hug.

He stiffened—but then returned it, arms wrapping around her slowly.

“Okay, okay,” Carmine called, smirking. “If anyone’s getting a hug, it’s me.”

Lilac laughed as she pulled away. Kieran’s cheeks were red, but his eyes were bright. There was something new in them—confidence, and hope.

Yukito stepped forward to them both.

“You were brave,” he told Kieran. “Stubborn, reckless… but brave. Your father would’ve been proud.”

Carmine blinked. She turned slightly away, brushing at her eyes with her sleeve.

Lilac reached for Ogerpon again and turned to the others.

“We should take her home,” she said. “To the Dreaded Den. Where it all began.”

The sky was glowing with the last light of day. Lanterns flickered to life along the square, casting soft halos on the villagers’ faces.

As the group turned toward the mountain trail, the people of Mossui bowed and waved. Some called out thanks. Others simply smiled.

Ogerpon paused once to look back—her mask catching the light.

She looked peaceful.

But as the mountain rose ahead of them, the wind changed—sharper now. Colder.

Lilac felt it too. A small shiver ran up her spine.

Kieran glanced at the sky. His jaw tightened.

Carmine muttered, “We’re done now… are we?”

Lilac didn’t answer.

They walked on—together—toward Ogerpon's home.

Ogerpon climbed Oni Mountain once again. But this time, she wasn’t alone, nor burdened by sorrow. This time, she was surrounded by friends.

Today should have been one of the happiest days of her life.

She had reclaimed her masks, been welcomed by the people of Kitakami, and even made new friends.

She looked toward Lilac—the girl who bore the spirit of her first companions. She had Rosalina’s gentle heart and Lirio’s unwavering strength.

Then Ogerpon turned to Kieran and Carmine—the descendants of the mask maker who had crafted her masks two centuries ago. Even after all these years, that family still helped her.

They reached her den just as the sun dipped low on the horizon. Soon, it would be time to part.

She could visit them freely now, and they her. It wasn’t goodbye. Not really.

And yet… something stirred in her heart.

Do I really want to be apart from the descendant of my beloved Lirio?

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 – Nothing Worth Winning

The mountain path twisted upward, bathed in a soft orange glow as the sun dipped low. Carmine and Lilac walked side by side, voices low and hopeful.

“Maybe we really could bring Ogerpon into town,” Carmine mused, hands behind her head. “Let everyone see who she really is. No more hiding. Maybe even the Festival of Masks…”

Lilac nodded, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “She deserves that. After everything.”

But behind them, Kieran was silent. His footsteps lagged slightly, crunching in uneven rhythm against the dirt path.

Lilac felt the distance. Not in space—but in his silence, the way it clung to him like mist. She glanced back, wanting to say something, anything. But the words knotted in her throat.

She could feel it—the shift. The way the air changed around Kieran. The way he had changed.

He hadn’t spoken much since the truth came out.

When they reached the Dreaded Den, Ogerpon darted ahead, disappearing into the shadowed cave with a joyful squeal.

Carmine stepped inside behind her, running a hand along the mossy wall. “This place…” she said softly, kneeling to scratch Ogerpon’s head. “It’s lonely. But I bet it holds a lot of memories.”

She stood, brushing off her sleeve. “I’d love to stay, but it’s getting dark.”

Lilac knelt down too, brushing her fingers over Ogerpon’s wooden mask.

“Goodbye… take care, Ogerpon. I’ll come visit—promise.”

She stood and turned quickly—not wanting Ogerpon, or Kieran, to see the tears rising.

She had promised to help him. She had promised this would be his moment.

But she had failed him.

A tug on her cardigan stopped her.

“Po? Ponooo!” Ogerpon cried out.

Lilac froze.

She looked down into wide eyes—pleading, scared, clinging. Not to just anyone, but to her.

Her chest tightened. It felt like something was being placed gently into her hands—a gift she hadn’t asked for, and didn’t know if she deserved.

Then Carmine spoke, softly. “Wait… Lilac, I think—she’s choosing you.”

Lilac’s heart skipped.

“You… are?”

“Pon! Popon!” Ogerpon nodded once, hopping, still holding onto her.

And behind her—

“Wait—NO!”

Kieran’s voice split the air.

He stepped forward, fists clenched, face pale with disbelief and something worse.

Lilac turned to him, her stomach twisting. “Kieran…”

“I want Ogerpon to come with me! I was the first one who believed in her! I—I defended her when no one else did! I trained, I waited… This was supposed to be my story!”

Each word struck her like a stone.

Because once—she would’ve agreed. Once, she would’ve said he earned this.

And now… she stood here, taking it from him.

Carmine moved, cautious. “Kiki… I know this hurts—”

“No, you don’t!” he snapped. “Everyone always sees her. Lilac the kind. Lilac the brave. Lilac the chosen. And me? I’m just the extra. The guy in the background!”

Lilac’s mouth opened—but the words wouldn’t come.

Because what could she say?

He wasn’t wrong.

She never wanted to be the center of this story. But now that she was, there was no way to give it back. No way to undo the hurt in his voice. No way to fix this.

This should’ve been your moment. And I ruined it.

“Kieran, I never meant—”

“You don’t even know her like I do!” His voice cracked. “You barely got here! But everything just—falls into place for you, doesn’t it? Like it’s fate.”

Her hands trembled at her sides.

She wished she could go back. Not to change Ogerpon’s mind—but to change how this felt.

To stop this moment from happening at all.

She stepped forward—but stopped, afraid her next breath might break her. The distance between them wasn’t just hurt anymore.

It was betrayal.

Kieran’s gaze locked on hers. “Battle me. Right now. If I win—she comes with me.”

Lilac's breath caught.

“Kieran… she’s not a prize.”

“She’s a dream!” he shouted.

And then his voice broke—into something too raw to hide.

“My dream…”

The words hit harder than any attack could.

I never wanted to take that from you.

She turned away—not to ignore him, but because looking at him felt like staring into something she’d broken beyond repair.

Ogerpon whimpered, her grip tightening again.

Lilac knelt beside her, gently placing her hand on the little ogre’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to battle him?” she asked softly.

Ogerpon glanced between them, wide-eyed, torn—but gave a small, unsure nod.

Lilac stared at the ground.

A battle. Against Kieran.

It felt wrong. It felt cruel.

But what other choice did she have?

If she didn’t accept… if she walked away… maybe he’d fall deeper. Maybe he’d never forgive her. Or himself.

She didn’t want to fight.

But if she didn’t, she might lose him forever.

She looked up, eyes shimmering.

“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll battle you.”

Not to win. Not to prove anything.

But because she couldn’t let him fall alone.

== Trainer Battle Start ==
Lilac (6 Pokémon) vs. Kieran (6 Pokémon)

The cave held its breath.

Kieran stood at one side of the clearing, fists clenched, jaw set tight. Light from the setting sun spilled through the cracks in the cavern ceiling, casting long stripes of molten gold across the battlefield.

Lilac stepped into position, the stone beneath her feet cool and uneven. Her heart thudded in her chest—fast, but steady.

Off to the side, Ogerpon watched in silence, her mask tilted low. Torn between them.

This wasn’t just a battle.

It was the moment everything would change.

“You never go all out against me,” Kieran said sharply, pulling a Poké Ball from his belt. “You’re always holding back. Like you're scared of hurting my feelings.”

Lilac opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Because deep down… he wasn’t wrong.

“But not this time,” he said, voice rising. “Now it matters. Now I’m finally worth trying against.”

His eyes met hers—furious, wounded, burning with something deeper than anger.

“Let’s go, Yanmega!”

The flash of light was followed by the sharp screech of wings. Yanmega burst into the air, slicing through the shafts of golden sunlight like a blade.

Lilac’s fingers tightened around a Dive Ball.

“Crystalis—your turn.”

Milotic unfurled in a swirl of water and light, her body glistening like a silk ribbon in the wind. The fading sun caught on her scales, refracting into soft rainbows.

Kieran scoffed.

“I won’t be enchanted by your beauty again,” he snapped. “Not hers—and not yours.”

Lilac flinched. The words stung more than she expected.

“Yanmega, Air Slash—cut through her!”

The wind howled as slicing gusts tore across the battlefield. Lilac braced herself, one hand flying up to steady her beret.

Milotic winced, but held firm.

Lilac’s voice was soft—but resolute.

“I didn’t hold back because I looked down on you… I held back because I cared. Because I still do.”

She met his eyes—just for a second.

“But not today.”

Her voice sharpened like glass.

“Crystalis—Ice Beam!”

Milotic arched her body, elegant and swift. The beam struck true, catching Yanmega mid-flight—encasing its wings in frost. The giant bug screeched, spiraled, and slammed to the ground, steam rising from the frozen earth.

Kieran recalled him, jaw tight.

“This is just the beginning,” he muttered. “You won’t beat me. Not this time.”

Kieran had finally landed a win—his Shiftry, bloodied but determined, managed to bring down Milotic after a grueling exchange.

His breaths were heavy, sharp through clenched teeth. But when he saw Lilac reach into her cardigan and draw out an Ultra Ball—the black-and-gold one he knew too well—his expression twisted.

“Finally getting serious,” he muttered. “Took you long enough.”

She said nothing, just released the next Pokémon.

With a burst of crimson light, the great Bloodmoon Beast emerged. Ursaluna roared, red glow pulsing beneath the curve of its moonlit brow, its massive frame grounded like a mountain.

“There it is…” Kieran sneered. “Ursaluna.”

He stared at the Pokémon for a long moment, the shadows of memory flickering behind his eyes.

“I used to be terrified of it. Back when I was a kid.”
“Then that night… in the Timeless Wood. You got lost. It came charging out of nowhere. You were shaking, remember? And I—I actually stepped between you and it. I protected you.”

He recalled Shiftry quietly and sent out Poliwrath. The fighter flexed his arms, snorting steam as his feet hit the rocky ground.

“Funny how things change,” Kieran continued, his voice low. “Now Ursaluna stands beside you like nothing happened. Like we didn’t catch it together. Like that night didn’t mean anything.”

Lilac’s fingers trembled at her side. The Ultra Ball still felt warm in her palm.

That night had changed everything. She had cried in front of him. And he had held her—not with words, but with presence. She had trusted him. She had seen something good in him.

But that same night had become a fracture neither of them could repair.

“Lunar,” she whispered, “use Blood Moon.”

The air shimmered red. Ursaluna’s body tensed, hooves digging into the dirt as the glowing sigil on its brow flared to life. Then—

A searing crimson beam ripped across the battlefield, carving a trench in the earth as it hurtled toward Poliwrath.

Lilac flinched. It should’ve been a clean hit.

But—

“Poliwrath—Belly Drum, now! Then block it!”

Poliwrath slammed both fists into his chest with a guttural cry, eyes burning with resolve. His body surged with power—and at the last second, he met Ursaluna’s beam with a single glowing punch.

The shockwave cracked the stone floor.

The Blood Moon was deflected.

Lilac’s breath caught. Even Carmine’s eyes widened, stunned.

“What do you think now?” Kieran shouted, voice raw. “I’m not that scared little kid anymore. I don’t hesitate. I fight. Poliwrath—Liquidation!”

Poliwrath dashed forward, empowered and merciless. His fists became torrents of churning water. Blow after blow slammed into Ursaluna’s chest. The ground shook beneath them.

Ursaluna groaned—then staggered, dropping to one knee.

He turned slightly. His gaze found Ogerpon, then Lilac.

And for just a second, Lilac swore she saw something in his eyes—

Regret. Apology. Or maybe just exhaustion.

Then he collapsed.

Lilac stood frozen, the Ultra Ball heavy in her hand.

“Lunar… return.”

A red beam whisked the Bloodmoon Beast away.

She lowered her gaze, blinking hard, but the tears threatened anyway.

That defeat didn’t just sting.

It hurt.

Lilac hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the next Poké Ball.

Oricorio… Aria…

Her thoughts drifted—unexpectedly—to a moment at Wisteria Pond.
Kieran had drawn her that day. He'd shyly handed her the sketch: her silhouette, flute raised, surrounded by the dancing forms of Oricorio in all four of its styles.

She had folded that drawing carefully, pressed it between the pages of her journal.
Every night, after returning to her room at the Community Center, she’d take it out just to look at it.
It felt like being seen.

Now, holding Aria’s ball in her hand, her throat constricted.

“Aria…” she began.

But the words died there. Her voice, too fragile. Her senses already starting to fracture under the weight of the battle, of what had already been lost.

She released Oricorio.

Aria landed on the field with a flutter of crimson feathers, her Baile Style poised and fierce.

Across the battlefield, Kieran flinched—and then, slowly, turned his face away.

Lilac blinked.

There, glinting on his cheek—a single tear.

No one spoke.

From the sidelines, Carmine felt her breath catch in her throat.

She hadn’t cried in years. Hadn’t let herself. Not since the day their parents died.
She had promised, with trembling hands and a brave face, that she’d protect him. Always.

But what kind of big sister was she now—
Watching him unravel from the edge of a battlefield she couldn't step onto?

I’m supposed to protect you…

Her gaze shifted to Lilac—shaking, trying to hold herself together. She knew Lilac didn’t want to hurt him. She never had.

And when Oricorio finally took down Poliwrath, it didn’t feel like victory.

It felt like the breaking of something sacred.

Carmine didn’t cheer. She didn’t speak.

She just stood there, silent and still, as the two people she cared about most in the world tore each other apart—and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The battle raged on, relentless—victories and losses trading like breaths.

But now, only two remained.

Their last Pokémon. Their most beloved.

Lilac and Kieran stood across from one another, exhausted, trembling, but unwilling to step down.

“I don’t care if you have the advantage,” Kieran barked. “I’ll win!”

But his voice cracked at the end—just slightly. Enough to betray the doubt underneath.

Then Lilac raised her Tera Orb.

Her hand moved slowly, like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered.

She pressed the Orb to her chest, letting the energy swell within it—before casting it skyward in a brilliant arc.

The light burst overhead, raining crystals onto her Alolan Ninetales.

Opaline’s pale purple fur shimmered as a fairy-pink crown, its jewel shaped like a delicate heart, descended onto her head. She lifted her head high, radiant in her new form—graceful, luminous, untouchable.

Kieran flinched, taking a small step back.

“You finally used Terastalization on me, huh?” His voice was bitter. Strained. “Another thing you have… that I don’t.”

“Dipplin, go—Syrup Bomb!”

The little dragon hurled a glob of sticky syrup, coating Opaline’s legs. The ground beneath her shimmered slick, slowing her movement.

Lilac didn’t call a command at first.

She looked at Kieran—truly looked at him.

“I never wanted this,” she said, voice shaking. “It hurts… fighting you like this. Like we’re strangers. Like everything we’ve been through means nothing.”

She turned, briefly, toward the edge of the battlefield—where Ogerpon stood. Her leaf cloak trembled in the fading light, her gaze flitting anxiously between them.

“I never meant to take your dream from you,” Lilac murmured. “But if this is the only way…”

Her eyes closed.

“Opaline—Moonblast!”

Ninetales lowered her head. A sphere of shimmering pale light formed at the tip of her muzzle, then expanded, glowing with lunar intensity.

“You’re not the only one suffering!” Kieran shouted. His voice broke like glass. “You showed up here and in days—you had it all! I’ve lived here my whole life… and I have nothing! Dipplin—Energy Ball! Now!”

The two attacks fired at once.

Dipplin’s green sphere surged forward like a comet, trailing streaks of glowing energy.

Opaline’s Moonblast crashed against it—light against life.

The explosion hit like a thunderclap, sending a cloud of dust and energy skyward. Carmine shielded her eyes. Ogerpon gasped, stepping forward, torn.

The smoke began to clear.

Two silhouettes stood—wavering in the haze.

Then only one.

Opaline.

She stood tall, crown still gleaming. Dipplin collapsed, syrup pooling beneath him, his body too weak to continue.

Silence.

The dust settled.

Opaline stood tall, her crystal crown dimming as the Terastal glow faded from her body. Dipplin lay motionless in the dirt, syrup pooling beneath his curled form.

The battlefield was silent.

Kieran stared at the scene—eyes wide, disbelief etched into every line of his face.

Then his knees gave out.

He dropped to the ground, fists digging into the dirt with a muffled thud. No shout. No scream.

Just silence.

Lilac didn’t move.

The heat of the battle still pulsed through her limbs, but it wasn’t victory that filled her chest.

It was something colder. Thicker. Like fog settling after a fire.

“I knew I couldn’t win…” Kieran whispered, voice hoarse. “But I still wanted to try.”

His words hung in the air, fragile and splintering.

Lilac’s throat tightened.

I didn’t want to win like this, she wanted to say.
Not against you.
Not when it cost this much.

But the words never left her lips.

Her hands trembled as she knelt beside Opaline. She brushed a hand gently over the Ninetales' soft fur—not as a reward, but a thank you. And maybe an apology.

“Return,” she whispered, and the Poké Ball whisked her partner away in a beam of red light.

The Moon Ball felt heavier now.

She looked toward Kieran—still hunched over the earth, his face hidden, his shoulders shaking with something he was trying not to show.

She took a step forward.

Then stopped.

What could she say that wouldn’t make it worse?

She didn’t feel proud.
She didn’t feel strong.
She felt like a stranger in her own story.

Carmine moved slowly from the sidelines, lips tight, face unreadable. Ogerpon trailed behind her, hesitant, glancing between the two trainers with wide, worried eyes.

“It’s not over yet,” Carmine said softly.

Lilac turned.

Ogerpon stepped between them. Silent. Still.

Then—with deliberate care—she lifted the Hearthflame Mask from her leafy coat and placed it gently over her face.

The air shifted.

Power ignited around her in a flash of brilliant flame.

Lilac blinked, breath catching.

She’s challenging me…?

But no—this didn’t feel like a test. Not of strength. Not of pride.

It felt like a question.

Are you ready to walk beside me now—after everything?

Lilac hesitated.

She looked back at Kieran—still kneeling, silent, too far away to reach.

And her heart ached.

He won’t forgive me for this. Maybe not ever.

She turned back to Ogerpon. And for the first time, she didn’t smile.

She nodded. Quiet. Shaken.

Then, without a word, she reached into her bag and began to heal her team—mechanically, her fingers still trembling, motions rehearsed and fragile.

Ogerpon waited.

Lilac stared at her—the little ogre who once hid in shadows, afraid of the world. The same one who had reached out with trembling hands.

She remembered that moment.

She remembered how warm it had felt.

But now?

Now, the warmth was buried under layers of guilt she hadn’t figured out how to hold yet.

Lilac closed her eyes.

She would accept Ogerpon’s challenge.

Because it was what she had to do.

But deep down—she already knew the bond forming between them would be born not in joy…

…but in the ashes of something lost.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 – Say My Name Right

Each mask brought a new storm.

Ogerpon moved with wild grace, her form shifting with every mask she donned—the Hearthflame, the Wellspring, the Cornerstone.
Each time she Terastallized anew, glowing brighter than before, challenging not just Lilac’s Pokémon, but her resolve.

Lilac responded with quiet precision.
Crystalis summoned crashing waves with Surf.
Primrose danced through petals with Flower Trick.
Opaline cast Aurora Veil, wrapping the battlefield in a shimmering aurora.

You’re not testing my strength, are you?

Lilac watched as Ogerpon changed again—one final time.
The Teal Mask.

You’re testing my heart.

A final flash of Terastal light exploded outward—green and gold, like sunlight through leaves.
Ogerpon stood proud… but trembling.

She was slowing.

Breathing hard.

Weakened.

From the sidelines, Carmine’s voice cut through the air.

“Now, Lilac! Throw the Poké Ball!”

Lilac reached for one—but her hand froze.

She turned.

Kieran hadn’t moved.

He sat with his arms around his knees, eyes wide. Not with rage now. Not even disappointment.

But something deeper.

Despair.

What do you see when you look at me, Kieran? The girl who stole your dream… or the girl who tried to protect it too?

She didn’t reach for a standard Poké Ball. She chose a Friend Ball. 

You wanted her friendship. You can still have it.

Lilac looked into Ogerpon’s eyes—no command. No expectation. Just hope.

And then she threw it.

One shake.
Two.
Three.

Click.

The sound echoed across the clearing—soft, but final.

The Friend Ball lay quiet in the grass, glowing softly.

Lilac didn’t move.

Her hand hovered just above it, fingers trembling—not with adrenaline, but something deeper. Something raw.
She had won. But it didn’t feel like victory.

Opaline padded closer, nuzzling gently against her arm. Lilac barely noticed.

She slowly reached down and opened the Friend Ball. Ogerpon emerged—and immediately threw herself into Lilac’s arms.

Lilac knelt, arms wrapping around the small figure.

Then—behind her—she heard movement.

Carmine approached, smiling. “You really did it.”

Kieran stood now, slowly, like it took effort just to stay upright. Dust clung to his clothes, his hair a mess, his eyes glassy. Distant.

“Congratulations,” he whispered. 

“You’re strong, Lilac,” he said quietly. “But not just ‘battle strong.’ You’re…”

He broke off, his hands balling into fists again—but not in anger this time.

“I thought… if I beat you, I’d finally matter. Like I’d earn something back.”

Ogerpon turned—and rushed to him, too. Hugging him tightly.

Lilac’s heart skipped. “Kieran, she still wants to be your friend.”

He stood still for a moment. Then he pulled away.

Kieran looked down at the ground. Then up again. 

A long silence passed between them. The leaves rustled. Kieran’s next words came out fast—shaky.

“Why… why I can’t by like you, Lilac?” 

Bitter tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Then he turned and ran away.

“Kieran! Wait—!”

But he was already gone.

Lilac stood frozen. Her hand was still half-extended, the word caught on her lips. It felt like the whole mountain had gone silent again, just like it had after the Friend Ball clicked shut.

Except this time, it didn’t feel like a beginning.

It felt like a goodbye.

Her chest hurt—not like a bruise, but like something unraveling inside her.

Opaline crept closer and pressed against her leg, but even the warmth didn’t reach her.

I didn’t mean to break him.

She sank to her knees in the grass. Ogerpon hovered beside her uncertainly, reaching out—but Lilac shook her head and turned away, wiping her face with her sleeve.

“Why does it feel like I lost?” she whispered.

Kieran slammed the door shut behind him.

The frame rattled. He didn’t care.

He stood in the dark for a while, his breath catching in his throat, his back pressed against the wood. The battle was over. Lilac had won. Ogerpon had chosen. And now—

Now there was nothing left to fight for.

His room was cold and still. Shadows curled along the floor like old memories. The posters on his walls—all his favorite Trainers, past champions, strong Pokémon—looked childish now. Like the Ogre Mask he used to wear.

Kieran crossed the room and sat at his desk.

His chair creaked when he sank into it.

For a moment, he just stared at the notebook in front of him. Its spine was frayed, the edges of the pages curled. It still smelled faintly of ink.

His hand hovered over it.

He turned on the desk lamp. Its light flickered—then steadied, soft and amber.

Then, finally, he opened the notebook.

His pen felt too heavy.

But he began to write.

ぼくは、まけだっちゃ。
Boku wa, makedaccha.
I lost.

また、まけだっちゃ。
Mata, makedaccha.
I lost again.

なんで、こんげ痛ぇんだべか。
Nande, konge iteen da be ka.
Why does it hurt this much?

His grip tightened on the pen. He blinked hard.

Lilac はやさしぐて、つえー。だから… すきだっちゃ。
Lilac wa yasashigu te, tsē. Dakara… suki daccha.
Lilac is kind. Lilac is strong. That’s why I love her.

でもな、だからこそ…… きらいになりてぇんだ。
Demo na, dakara koso… kirai ni naritēn da.
But that’s exactly why I wanna hate her.

ぼくのゆめ、にぎられてまった。
Boku no yume, nigirarete matta.
She crushed my dream.

オーガポンがほしかったんだ。なかまが、ほしかったんだべ。
Ōgapon ga hoshikattan da. Nakama ga, hoshikattan da be.
I wanted Ogerpon. I wanted a friend.

Lilac みたいになりたがったんでねぇ。
Lilac mitai ni naritagattan de nē.
I wanted to be like Lilac.

…いや、なりてぇと思ったんだ。ほんとのおらが。
…Iya, naritē to omottan da. Honto no ora ga.
No—I wanted to become her. That’s what the real me wanted.

He stopped writing.
His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His eyes burned.

Lilac は、Perrin から　おらのなまえ、聞いだはずだべ？
Lilac wa, Perrin kara ora no namae, kiida hazu da be?
Lilac must’ve heard my name from Perrin, right?

「スグリ」って。
"Suguri" tte.
"Suguri."

でも、呼んでくんねがった。
Demo, yonde kunnegatta.
But she never called me that.

ずっと、「Kieran」んだ。
Zutto, "Kieran" nda.
Always just "Kieran."

His hand paused. Then, slowly, he set the pen down.
He pressed his palm against the paper.

「Kieran」は、外の世界のおらだべ。
"Kieran" wa, soto no sekai no ora da be.
"Kieran" is me in the outside world.

言いやすぐて、忘れやすい なまえ。
Iiyasugute, wasureyasui namae.
Easy to say. Easy to forget.

でも、「スグリ」は——
Demo, "Suguri" wa—
But "Suguri" is—

あの夜、オーガポンに逃げられて、泣いでたおら。
Ano yoru, Ōgapon ni nigerarete, naideta ora.
The one who cried that night when Ogerpon ran away.

ただ、えらばれだがっただけのおら。
Tada, erabaretagatta dake no ora.
The one who just wanted to be chosen.

それだけなんだべ…。
Sore dake nan da be…
That’s all it was…

 He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
The ink on the page began to smudge.

…すきだよ、ほんとは。
…Suki da yo, honto wa.
I love you. I really do.

でも、Lilac が　おらを見でくれたの、泣いでる時だけだったっちゃな。
Demo, Lilac ga ora o mite kureta no, naideru toki dake dattaccha na.
But the only time Lilac ever really looked at me… was when I was crying.

His breath hitched.
The pen slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the desk.

He tore the page halfway.
Stopped.
Folded it instead.
Then unfolded it again.

He looked down at the bottom of the page.
He wrote:

Kieran
Then scratched it out.
Underneath, with a trembling hand, he wrote:

スグリ
Suguri.

He stared at it for a long time.
Then closed the notebook.
And turned off the lamp.
The room sank back into darkness.

The next day

The warm scent of matcha clung to the air like memory.

Lilac sat cross-legged on the edge of the veranda, her fingers curled around a porcelain cup. The steam curled lazily into the sunlight. Across from her, Carmine stared into her own cup, saying nothing at first.

Sinistcha floated quietly nearby, its leafy arm adjusting the teapot. The soft sound of pouring was the only thing that filled the silence between them.

Lilac lowered her gaze.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”

Carmine didn’t look up. “Kieran hasn’t left his room. Not since yesterday.”

Lilac nodded. The quiet stung more than she expected.

“…Is he okay?”

Carmine finally raised her eyes—sharper than before. Not cruel, just tired.
“You mean is he mad at you?”

Lilac flinched slightly, but said nothing.

Carmine sighed and set her cup down.
“I don’t think he knows what he is right now.”

There was a pause.

“Last night, I brought him dinner. Just left it on his desk. He didn’t say a word.” She looked away.“But I saw something. A letter. Your name was on it.”

Lilac’s breath caught.
Something about that word—a letter—made her stomach twist.
He wrote something he couldn’t say to me.

“I didn’t take it,” Carmine said quickly. “Didn’t even mean to read it. Just caught a line or two before I turned away.”

She hesitated.

“…He wrote it in Kantonian. In the dialect we use here — Tohoku.”

Lilac tilted her head.
“Tohoku?”

“You’ve heard it,” Carmine said. “Here in Mossui, around the village elders, at the festival. It's the way folks here really talk. Not textbook Kantonian. Real Kitakami speech.”

Lilac furrowed her brow slightly. “Then… that’s what you and Kieran grew up speaking?”

Carmine nodded. “And Perrin used our real names when you first got here.”

“Suguri,” Lilac murmured, remembering. “And Seille.”

Carmine gave a small nod.

“Those are our first names. The ones we were given here, in Kitakami. The names that come with a story.”

Lilac turned the teacup gently in her hands. “Then why don’t you use them?”

Carmine gave a short, sharp laugh — not bitter, exactly. But tired. Weathered.

“You think ‘Seille’ gets any respect at Blueberry Academy?” she asked dryly. “They can’t even pronounce it right. And don’t get me started on the way they looked at us when we slipped up and used our dialect.”

Lilac looked up, confused. “They… looked at you?”

“Like we were dumb. Country hicks,” Carmine said flatly. “Every time Kieran let a little Kitakami slip out — the way he says 'べ' instead of 'よ', the way he softens his vowels — someone would laugh. Or correct him. Or just… stare.”

Her voice dropped a bit.

“They made fun of us. The way we talked, the food we ate, even how we dressed when we first got there. Guess we didn’t know how to hide it yet.”

A pause. She swirled the tea in her cup.

“Suguri started calling himself ‘Kieran’ because it sounded more like everyone else. Easier. Safer. I followed his lead.”

Lilac’s face softened.

“He must have felt so alone.”

Carmine didn’t answer right away.

“Kieran uses that name like a shield,” she said finally. “Suguri’s too raw. Too honest. That name’s just for us. For here.”

Lilac looked down.
“…And you?”

Carmine gave a faint smile — the kind that doesn’t reach the eyes.

“Seille is who I am when I’m not trying to prove something,” she said. “She’s the version of me that still thinks this place matters. That we matter — even if the rest of the world doesn’t care.”

Lilac’s grip on the teacup tightened slightly.

“I only ever called him Kieran,” she said quietly. “Even after I heard Suguri.”

She swallowed.

“He used my name in that letter… but I never used his.”

The words sat heavy in her chest.
Not because she forgot.
But because she chose not to.
And now… maybe it was too late to fix it.

The steam from Lilac’s teacup curled upward, slow and silent, like thoughts she hadn’t yet put into words.
Sinistcha had curled up in her mossy teapot again, swaying gently with the creak of the wooden table.

Carmine didn’t push her. Just waited.

Lilac finally broke the silence.

“Carmine…”
Her voice was soft. Like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing. “What’s the Kantonian word for… friendship?”

Carmine blinked.

That wasn’t the question she’d expected.

“Friendship?” Carmine echoed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Huh.”

She stood up, rummaging through a nearby drawer. After a few seconds, she pulled out a stubby pencil and a folded notepad. The pages were old and worn around the edges, filled with scribbled reminders, half-finished shopping lists, and little doodles of Pokémon.

She flipped to a blank page and wrote two careful characters:

友情

Below them, she added the pronunciation in rounded Universal letters:
Yūkō

“We write it like this,” she said, tilting the page toward Lilac. “Yū means 'connection.' Kō means 'affection.' Together, it’s… well, something more than just being nice to someone. It’s deeper than Tomodachi. You don’t say it lightly.”

Lilac leaned in. The characters looked delicate — two pieces of meaning tied together like hands.

“Yūkō…” she whispered.
The word felt strange on her tongue. But it stayed there, lingering like the scent of green tea in the air.

Carmine sat back down across from her.

“In Kitakami, we don’t throw that word around,” she said. “If you call someone a yūkō, you’re saying you’d fight for them. That you’d stand by them even when they mess up. Even if they never say it back.”

She glanced at Lilac — not unkindly. Just… searching.

“And we don’t say it in perfect Kantonian, either,” she added. “We say it in our own words. Our own way. That's what makes it real.”

Lilac looked down at the notepad again. Her fingers traced the edge of the paper.

“Then I want to learn. Not just the word. The whole language.”

That made Carmine raise an eyebrow.

“You serious?”

Lilac nodded again.

“I want to understand… because I hurt him. I saw the look in his eyes, Carmine. He hated what I reminded him of.”

A pause.

“I don’t want him to hide behind ‘Kieran’ forever…” Lilac said. “And I don’t want to be the reason Suguri stays buried.”

For a moment, Carmine said nothing.
Then she smirked — just a little.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

She slid the notepad across the table.

“Fine. You’ve got me. I’ll help you. But don’t expect to master it overnight. And don’t expect Suguri to make it easy for you.”

“I don’t mind,” Lilac said softly. “Even if it’s slow. Even if it’s hard. I want to understand.”

Carmine stood again and pulled another sheet of paper from the drawer.

She carefully tore off the part where she had written 友情 and handed it to Lilac.

“Here. Keep it. It’s yours now.”

Lilac accepted the paper like it was something sacred. A name for a feeling she hadn’t known how to say until now.

She slipped it gently into her journal — the same one where she’d kept Kieran’s Oricorio drawing.

Two memories. Two pieces of him.

Sinistcha let out a contented sigh, steam rising as if in quiet approval.

The breeze shifted slightly, Carmine glanced at the sky, then at Lilac.

“…Y’know,” she said after a moment, “Kieran and I aren’t the only ones with real names.”

Lilac blinked. “What do you mean?”

Carmine’s eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Syringa.”

Lilac froze.

Carmine tilted her head, her voice casual — like she didn’t notice how Lilac’s fingers went stiff around her teacup handle.

“It’s a nice name,” she said. “Kinda fancy, yeah, but it suits you. Sounds like… I dunno. Something soft and smart. Like the kind of person who writes in cursive.”

She smirked a little, playful.

“You ever gonna start using it? Or are you just embarrassed it sounds like it belongs in a poem?”

Lilac looked down. The tea had gone cold in her cup.

“…I’m not embarrassed,” she said quietly. “Not really.”

Carmine leaned forward slightly, frowning. “Then what is it? You always tense up when someone says it. Like it bites.”

“…Syringa was what people called me when they wanted something,” she said finally. “Teachers, officials, family friends… my father.”

Her voice didn’t shake. It wasn’t that kind of wound. It was the quieter kind — the kind that had been folded flat, pressed into silence over the years.

“They used it like a banner. ‘Syringa, daughter of Rosalina’s line.’ ‘Syringa, the liar.’ ‘Syringa, the legacy.’”

Carmine's brow furrowed.

Lilac kept her eyes on the tea.

“It was never a name,” she murmured. “Not to them. It was a mold. Something I was supposed to grow into. Like a perfect version of someone who was already dead.”

She swallowed.

“And my dad… he loved that name. Syringa. He said it was ‘noble.’ That it sounded like someone worth remembering.”
A pause.
“But he left anyway. Guess he didn’t like the real person underneath it.”

The breeze picked up again, gentler this time. Sinistcha let out a low, sleepy hum, as if sensing the shift in mood.

Carmine sat back, eyes sharp — not at Lilac, but at the invisible weight hanging over her.

“…So that’s why you hate it,” she said. Not asking. Knowing.

Lilac gave the smallest nod.

“I like being Lilac,” she said. “It’s mine. It’s simple. No one expects anything when they hear it. They just… see me.”

The silence stretched between them again, but this time, it felt heavier.

Carmine stared off toward the edge of the woods, her jaw tense.

Then:

“…We’re the opposite, huh?”

Lilac looked up.

“You wanted to run from your name,” Carmine said. “Kieran and I? We had to hide ours.”

She exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Seille’s the version of me that gets to care without getting laughed at. Suguri’s the version of him that still thinks he’s worth loving, even when no one’s watching.”

A beat.

“And you… Syringa’s the version they all wanted, but never listened to.”

The words landed like a soft strike — gentle but unflinching. Carmine didn’t do pity, but she did do understanding. In her own way.

Then she reached across the table — abruptly, as if catching herself being too soft — and poked Lilac in the forehead with two fingers.

Lilac blinked, startled.

“Just so you know,” Carmine said, “anyone tries calling you that name without permission? I’ll Sucker Punch them.”

It wasn’t a joke. Not entirely.

Lilac smiled — surprised, maybe — but the warmth behind it was real.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Carmine leaned back again, arms crossed.

“But I meant what I said. It’s a good name. Syringa. Sophisticated, yeah — but not fake. Just… sharp in the wrong hands.”

Lilac traced the edge of her journal.

“Maybe one day it won’t feel so hollow.”

Carmine shrugged. “You don’t owe it anything. If it ever feels real to you again, fine. But you’re not a statue someone carved out of Rosalina’s memory.”

She tilted her head, voice softer now.

“You’re Lilac. You got tea-stained fingers and a journal full of weird dancing birds. That’s what matters.”

Lilac let out a small laugh — the first one in hours.

Sinistcha, still swaying in its teapot, let out a quiet puff of steam. The scent of moss drifted through the air.

And in that moment — quiet and strange and unexpectedly safe — Lilac felt the tiniest piece of the name Syringa begin to shift. Not fully. Not yet. But like a stone turned over in the garden — just enough to let the roots breathe.

Carmine didn’t say anything else.

She just poured them both another cup of matcha.

And this time, Lilac didn’t flinch when the breeze whispered her name.

The soft rustle of shoji paper doors and the scent of matcha filled the room, steeped in late afternoon light. Shadows from the garden danced across the tatami floor as traditional shamisen music played faintly in the background — a slow, haunting melody that matched the quiet rhythm of the moment.

Lilac sat cross-legged on a floor cushion, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. She leaned over a notebook filled with uneven strokes and smudged ink, her tongue slightly between her teeth as she struggled to copy the kanji in front of her.

Nearby, Carmine sipped matcha from a handmade ceramic cup, watching her with guarded curiosity. Sinistcha floated lazily above the table, humming its soft, glassy tune — apparently pleased whenever Lilac managed to get a stroke right.

Lilac exhaled and attempted the character again.

“Is that supposed to be a ‘友’?” Carmine asked, raising an eyebrow, barely holding back a smirk.

Lilac groaned, letting her brush drop. “It’s supposed to be. It looks like a Trubbish fell down the stairs.”

Carmine actually laughed. Not a sarcastic snort — a real, light laugh. “You made the radical too wide again. It’s not a cave-in.”

“I swear I’m doing it like you showed me!”

“You’re really not.”

Lilac gave her a sidelong glance, but there was no real heat behind it. The tension that once bristled between them had softened into something new — friendship.

“I’m going to get it eventually,” Lilac muttered, dipping her brush again. “Even if it kills me.”

“You better,” Carmine replied, not unkindly. “You're not just writing words. You’re walking into someone’s heart. Do it wrong, and you’re stepping on it.”

Lilac’s brush slowed. Her eyes moved to the word at the top of the page.
友情 – Yūkō.
Friendship.

She traced the lines more carefully this time. Less pressure. More attention.

“…I want to keep learning,” she said softly. “Even after I go back to Paldea. I’ll ask Professor Salvatore to help. I want to… understand. I want to hear Suguri’s voice, not just Kieran’s.”

Carmine looked up from her cup. Her expression was unreadable — somewhere between surprise and quiet approval.

“That’s good,” she said after a moment. “Because he’s not going to say it in ‘Universal.’ Not the real stuff. Not the stuff that matters.”

The breeze had stilled. Not a single leaf moved on the maple outside the veranda.

Even Sinistcha’s lazy swaying had quieted.

A sharp electronic buzz broke the quiet.

Carmine’s Rotom Phone lit up between them. The name on the screen made her eyebrows pinch.

“…Weird,” she muttered. “It’s Ms Briar.”

Carmine answered with her usual bored drawl. “Yeah?”

A pause.

Then, her eyes narrowed slightly — not angry. Not surprised. Just… tired.

Briar’s voice buzzed through the speaker, too low for Lilac to hear.

But the silence that followed said more than words.

Carmine’s face didn’t change.

Except her hand had gone still — motionless on the table.

And when she ended the call, she didn’t look up.

Lilac sat forward. “Carmine?”

Carmine didn’t answer.

Her grip on the cup tightened — just slightly.

Lilac saw the moment her shoulders stiffened, like a wire pulled too tight.

Not fear. Not panic.

Just… resignation.

Like someone who already knew something was ending — but had hoped to be wrong.

Carmine didn’t speak.

She just stared at the cold tea in her cup like it was something she couldn’t finish.

And Lilac sat there in the silence, trying not to wonder how much time they had left.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 – Nothing Left to Say (part 1)

The shadows had lengthened across the tatami floor. The matcha had gone cold. But Carmine hadn’t said a word since she hung up.

Lilac sat quietly across from her, notebook still open, the page marked with imperfect kanji strokes: 友情 — Yūkō.

Carmine finally broke the silence.

“…Briar wants us back at Blueberry early.”

Lilac’s heart stilled. “What?”

“She’s made progress on the Terastal research. Needs us there to follow it up.” Carmine exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “We’re leaving tomorrow."

Lilac didn’t answer at first. She stared down at the notepad. The two kanji blurred slightly before she blinked them back into focus.

“But you just started helping me,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Carmine replied. “Believe me… I know.”

There was a long pause between them — not awkward, just heavy. The kind of quiet that came when words weren’t big enough for what someone wanted to say.

Carmine leaned back on her hands, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s weird,” she said. “When I met you, I didn’t even like you. Thought you were one of those big-city prodigies who’d just sweep in and treat Kitakami like a vacation.”

Lilac gave a soft laugh, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “You weren’t exactly subtle about that.”

“Nope.” Carmine smirked. Then it faded. “But now? I dunno. It’s like I finally started seeing you as more than some rival.”

Lilac nodded. “I feel the same. I thought you hated me. Now… I think you’re one of the only people who gets it.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem,” Carmine said quietly. “Now that we’ve started to understand each other… it’s time to go.”

Lilac’s gaze drifted out the shoji door. Somewhere deeper in the house, she could just barely make out the faint sound of a floorboard creaking — soft, like someone pacing. Her breath caught for a moment.

Had Kieran heard?

Had he been listening?

Carmine stood slowly, brushing her palms against her pants.

“We’ve still got a little time. Let’s not waste it.”

Lilac looked up at her. “Will you still help me study?”

Carmine gave a short laugh — warmer this time.

“Only if you promise to stop drawing Trubbish kanji.”

“I’m trying!”

“And don’t cry when I correct you.”

“I only cried once.”

They both smiled. Not fully, but enough.

Outside, the wind rustled the leaves. The air smelled faintly of rain, even though the sky was clear.

The front door clicked shut.

Kieran didn’t move.

From the floor of his room, back pressed to the side of his desk, he stared at the sliver of light coming in under the door. The voices had faded—Lilac’s voice. He’d only caught fragments. Soft. Careful. 

And that was worse than anything she could’ve said.

She was learning their language. His language.

“Too late.”

He let his head fall back against the wall. The ceiling blurred above him.

What did she expect—that if she learned a few words, it would undo everything? That he’d magically forget the ache of losing Ogerpon, of losing her, of never being enough?

The notebook still sat on his desk. Closed now. The letter inside was folded neatly between the pages—sealed with everything he hadn’t had the guts to say out loud.

He hadn’t torn it up. But he hadn’t given it to her either.

A knock came. Not loud.

Then the door slid open anyway.

Carmine.

Kieran didn’t lift his head as she stepped inside. She didn’t start with a joke, or a lecture. Just stood there for a beat, her arms folded loosely.

“Lilac’s gone,” she said finally. “I wanted to talk to you.”

He said nothing.

“She’s not the only reason I’m here.”

Still nothing.

Carmine sighed. The kind that meant she was choosing her words—really choosing them.

“We’re leaving,” she said. “Early.”

That made him look up, just barely. 

“Professor Briar called,” Carmine went on, her voice lower now. “She’s made some progress on the Terastal research. Wants us back at Blueberry Academy. Tomorrow afternoon.”

The words hit harder than he thought they would.

He blinked. Turned away. “…So that’s it?”

Carmine stepped further into the room. “The Community Center’s planning a little farewell thing. Not huge. Just a kind of send-off.”

He didn’t answer.

Her tone shifted—less official now. “You should come.”

Kieran exhaled slowly, almost a laugh. “Why?”

Carmine didn’t flinch.

“Because you’d regret it if you didn’t.”

“I already regret everything,” he muttered.

She took a breath. “She was here, Kieran. Learning Kantonian. From me. You heard her, didn’t you?”

He clenched his jaw. “…Yeah.”

“She wants to understand you. Not just the you from Blueberry. The one from here. From home.”

Kieran stood abruptly, the chair behind him scraping slightly.

“And what does that even mean now?” he snapped. “It’s over. Ogerpon chose her. Everyone chose her. She wins, again, and now she wants to learn Kantonian so she can say sorry in prettier words?”

Carmine’s expression didn’t harden—just softened in a way that made him angrier. That hurt more.

“That’s not why she’s doing it.”

Kieran laughed bitterly. “You don’t know that.”

He turned his back on her. Crossed his arms tight over his chest like armor.

“You still care about her,” Carmine said, quieter now. “That’s why this hurts so much.”

“…I’m not going.”

She didn’t answer at first.

Then—softly—“You can’t keep running from people just because it hurts to say what you feel.”

He bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“I’m not running,” he said. “I’m staying here. That’s different.”

Carmine moved toward the door, but paused before sliding it open again.

“She’ll be there. Tomorrow,” she said. “Even if you don’t show up. She’ll wait. She’ll hope.”

He didn’t move.

“She’ll say goodbye, even if you don’t say it back.”

She opened the door.

And then—

“You’ll regret it if you don’t show up. I know you will.”

The door closed gently behind her.

Silence settled in again.

Kieran stood alone in the center of the room, staring at nothing.

The desk lamp still cast its amber glow over the edge of the notebook. The letter was still inside. Folded. Unsent.

He didn’t move toward it.

Didn’t touch the pen again.

Didn’t even whisper her name.

He just sank slowly to the floor, curling his knees up to his chest.

And stayed there.

Lilac had spent hours turning words over in her head.

She still didn’t have the right ones. Ogerpon walked quietly beside her as they approached the bus stop. The winter breeze tugged at the hem of Lilac’s sleeves. The wind didn’t sting—but it felt cold.

Carmine stood near the benches, her duffel hanging from one shoulder like a weight.

Kieran was facing away from them, head down, fists buried deep in his jacket pockets. He didn’t move when he heard their footsteps.

The bus hadn’t arrived yet. They were just in time.

Lilac’s heart beat faster.

She broke into a jog, voice trembling. “Kieran! I—I’m glad I caught you. This morning, you didn’t come to say goodbye, so I thought—”

Ogerpon stepped forward first, eyes shining with hope. Her small hand reached out, hesitating in midair—offering something wordless.

But Kieran didn’t even flinch.

He didn’t look at her.

He walked straight past—brushed past Lilac’s shoulder with a graceless thud.

She stumbled. Ogerpon caught her, startled, heart dropping like a stone.

“I didn’t come to say goodbye,” Kieran muttered, voice low and raw. “Because there’s nothing left to say.”

He stopped just a step ahead of them. His head tilted slightly—just enough to show he knew they were still standing there.

Then he spoke again—louder, bitter and breaking:

“I wish I’d never met you.”

Lilac stopped breathing.

The words struck like claws — not slashing, but digging, slow and cruel, into something soft and already torn.

Her mouth opened — no sound came out.

Everything inside her felt too full and too empty all at once.

She wanted to scream. To cry. To reach out.

But she couldn’t move.

Not even when he walked away.

“He meant it. He really meant it.”

Ogerpon’s arms dropped. Her shoulders curled inward.
Her glowing eyes dimmed—not from tears, but something worse.

Shame.

Like she had broken something she didn’t know how to fix.

Lilac crouched instinctively beside her, one hand on her back. “He’s just hurting. He’s—” she whispered, voice shaking. 

But Ogerpon didn’t lean in.
She just took one small step behind Lilac, as if trying to disappear.

Behind her, Carmine exhaled sharply — like the wind had been knocked out of her.

“Kieran…” she said, her voice strained, cracking on the name.

But he was already climbing the steps to the bus.

She didn’t follow immediately.

She looked at Lilac — truly looked — saw the way her hands trembled, the way her knees buckled just slightly.

Her mouth opened. Closed again.

“Lilac, I—”

Her voice faltered.

“Don’t cry when I…”

She stopped herself.

There was no joke this time. Only silence.

She took one step forward. Stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she said — too quiet to be heard.

Lilac looked at Carmine.
She was already climbing onto the bus.
She didn’t turn around.

The doors hissed shut with an awful finality.

And just like that, they were gone.

Too many feelings at once, too fast. Lilac whispered something — she didn’t know what. Maybe an apology. Maybe just Ogerpon’s name.

But Ogerpon didn’t move. Didn’t look at her.

Lilac was alone. In that moment — she had never felt more alone.

She didn’t remember falling, but suddenly she was on her knees, fingers digging into gravel.

Her lungs heaved. The tears didn’t come — not yet — but the shaking did.

A sound clawed its way out of her throat — not a sob, not a scream.

Just pain.

Wordless. Raw.

She didn’t know how long she had wandered. But eventually, her feet led her to Apple Hills.

She'd called Ogerpon back to her Friend Ball to rest and reassured Jacq that she wouldn't stray too far from Mossui Town.

This time had been more tiring than the first time they'd arrived here.

Beneath the twisted trees, Lilac stood numbly, the wind whispering through the branches. 

That place brought back memories she'd hoped to treasure, but which had turned to pain.

She finally let herself shed tears. Kieran's bitter voice rings in her head.

“I wish I’d never met you.”

“Now, now… what’s gotten you so down, dear?” The voice was smooth, sweet—almost sticky.

Lilac turned.

Peachy stood there, holding a wicker basket, its contents hidden beneath a pink cloth. Her smile was warm—but her eyes… something about them was just a bit too sharp.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Lilac murmured.

“Oh, I always worry about you young ones. You’re like the apples here—so sweet, so easily bruised.”

She pulled back the cloth, revealing vibrant magenta mochi, nestled among polished red apples.

“These are new—special. Good for tired hearts.”

Lilac hesitated. The mochi shimmered unnaturally, too bright, too perfect.

“Don’t be shy,” Peachy coaxed, pressing one into her hands. “Just one bite. It’ll help.”

Lilac didn’t want to be rude.

“…Thank you.” She took a cautious nibble.

Lilac’s teeth sank into the mochi, its sweetness flooding her mouth with an almost unnatural perfection. At first, it seemed harmless—too harmless. But soon, a strange dizziness crept through her limbs, and the orchard around her wavered, like sunlight rippling on water.

Yet the sourness that followed wasn’t from the mochi itself. Beneath the buzzing haze, a faint glow shimmered at the edge of her vision—soft, crystalline, and oddly familiar. It wasn’t the mochi’s poison dragging her down. It was something else.

The air thickened, folding over her like a thick velvet curtain. The world melted into mist, and when Lilac opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the orchard.

A faint light danced ahead, pale and tremulous. There, standing just beyond the swirling fog, was Juliana.

She was exactly as Lilac remembered—brown hair styled in a side braid, eyes the same warm brown—but something was off. Juliana’s gaze didn’t meet Lilac’s; it slipped past her, as though searching for something lost deep in the distance.

“Lilac.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried through the mist with crystalline clarity. “I’ve been waiting.”

Lilac took a cautious step forward. “Juliana? How…? Why are you here?”

Juliana’s lips curved faintly, but there was no warmth in the smile. “Because paths cross in strange ways, sometimes more than once. You and I—we are bound by things neither of us fully understand.”

Lilac frowned, the weight of Juliana’s words settling like a stone in her chest. “What do you mean? What’s happening to me?”

Juliana reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Lilac’s ear, her touch cool, almost clinical. “It’s not your fault. You only followed your heart. That’s the kind of person we both were.”

“We were?” Lilac echoed, confusion flickering through her.

Juliana looked away, eyes clouding with a distant sorrow. “There are things I cannot say—not yet. But you will face a choice soon. One that won’t be about duty or guilt.”

She stepped closer, her voice lowering to something more urgent. “When that time comes, don’t think of right or wrong. Think of what only you can do.”

Lilac swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Juliana said, her gaze sharpening for the briefest moment, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “The others won’t understand either. But that doesn’t mean they’re right.”

The mist swirled, and Juliana’s figure began to fade. Before she disappeared completely, she spoke again—her voice barely more than a breath.

“Don’t be afraid to let go. Sometimes, the only way to save what matters… is to give something up.”

And then she was gone, leaving Lilac alone in the quiet glow of the Terastal dreamlight.

Lilac’s eyes fluttered open to the darkness of her Community Center’s small room. For a moment, disorientation gripped her—how had she gotten here? The memories of the previous afternoon felt hazy, tangled with a strange fog she couldn’t shake.

A faint whisper echoed in her mind, subtle and insistent, as if a shadow just beyond her awareness was urging her forward. The sweet-bitter mochi, Juliana’s veiled words, the unsettling dreamlike fog of Terastal energy—they all swirled together, leaving Lilac with a gnawing certainty she couldn’t ignore.

Her hand moved almost on its own, reaching for her Rotom Phone.

For days, she’d resisted Briar’s offer to become her assistant, to dive into the secrets of the Terastal phenomenon spreading through Paldea. Lilac hated dealing with the Violet Book. But now, something was different. That quiet push inside her wasn’t just hatred or confusion—it was a call to action.

Taking a steadying breath, Lilac dialed Briar’s number.

“Hello?” Briar’s voice was warm but laced with surprise.

“Briar, it’s me,” Lilac said, her voice low, steady. “I… I’ve been thinking about your offer. About helping you study the Terastal energy. I want to help now.”

There was a pause, then Briar’s gentle reply. “I’m glad you called. What changed your mind?”

Lilac glanced out the window, shadows playing across the room. “I met a friend. She… she told me things I don’t fully understand yet. But I know I need to learn more—about the Violet Book, about Terastal energy. If I’m going to help her—and if I’m going to find a way back to Kieran and Carmine—I can’t do it alone.”

Briar’s voice softened with understanding. “You’re ready to face the truth.”

Lilac nodded, even though Briar couldn’t see her. “I need proof that what’s written in the Violet Book is real. I need to know everything, so maybe someday I will be able to come to Blueberry Academy.”

“We’ll start with what I know,” Briar said quietly. “And we’ll figure out the rest together.”

Hope stirred inside Lilac, fragile but real. For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t alone.

The dorm lights were off.

No sunlight ever reached this deep—not really—but the screen on the far wall tried its best, simulating a dusky blue sky dotted with drifting clouds. Kieran sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers laced tightly.

He hadn’t moved in hours.

The only sound was the low, constant hum of the hallway air conditioning, faint and impersonal, like static in his head.

Carmine had stopped knocking. Briar had stopped asking questions. Even Drayton’s voice, always loud and impossible to ignore, had faded sometime after dinner. Maybe he’d finally taken the hint.

“Good.”

Kieran didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain himself. Because what could he even say?

That he hadn’t meant it?

That the words just came out, sharp and fast like a wound reopening?

He grit his teeth.

“I wish I’d never met you.”

He hated that he said it.

Hated that he felt it, even now—because part of him still wanted Lilac. Still wanted her to look at him the way she used to. Still wanted Ogerpon to take his hand again, even though he’d walked away first.

He hated it.

All of it.

Mostly… he hated himself.

Lilac had been kind.

Lilac had tried.

Even after everything—after Ogerpon, after he’d lost his mind—she still came back. Learned his language. Listened. Tried to understand.

And all he’d done was push her away. Again. Harder this time. Enough to break her completely.

His chest felt tight, like the pressure outside the dome had snuck inside somehow. Like the ocean itself was sitting on top of him.

“She’s strong,” he muttered aloud, voice hoarse and quiet. “Stronger than me.”

Not just in battle. Not just with Pokémon.

She’d always stood back up.

Even when he wanted her to disappear. Even when she should’ve hated him.

She still stood up.

Kieran squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into his scalp.

“She’d never want someone weak like me.”

The words stung more than anything Lilac had ever said. Because they were his. And they were true.

Ogerpon had chosen her.

Everyone had.

So fine.

If no one would choose him… then he’d stop needing to be chosen.

He stood slowly, legs stiff, muscles aching from sitting too long.

Crossed to the mirror above the desk. Stared at the reflection—his bangs fell messily across his eyes, like he was trying to hide.

“Pathetic.”

His hand went to the yellow headband clipped at the side of his hair.

He hesitated.

Then, with one clean motion, he pulled it free.

For a moment, he didn’t move—just stood there, staring.

Then, wordless and sure, he gathered his hair back. His fingers moved slowly, uncertainly at first. He twisted it into a short ponytail—crooked, imperfect.

He wrapped the headband around it twice. Tight. Firm.

No more hiding.

No more hoping.

Just strength.

He looked up again, meeting his own gaze in the mirror for the first time in what felt like weeks.

It didn’t make him feel better.

But it felt like a beginning.

He smile.

Something inside him settled.

And from somewhere far below the ocean, where sunlight didn’t reach—he finally stopped shaking.

“I have to become stronger, much stronger.”

“Strength is all I need.”

“Just wait, Lilac… next time, I won’t be the one left behind.”

Chapter 20 – Nothing Left to Say (part 2)

Winter had settled over Kitakami like a hush.
Inside the Community Center, the heaters hummed low, but the chill never left Lilac’s skin.

It had been days since Kieran and Carmine left with Briar.
Days since he had looked her in the eyes.

Lilac hadn’t spoken much since. She barely left her room—just long enough to eat, to exist. Jacq had knocked a few times, gently, trying to coax more than yes or no out of her. But Lilac gave him nothing.

She didn’t have anything to give.

And yet, on the festival’s final night, something stirred. Not hope. Not exactly.
A memory.

“Don’t forget to visit the lantern arch before the festival’s final night, dear,” Hideko had told her once, voice warm with affection. “That’s when everyone writes a wish and hangs it up—it’s tradition.”

Lilac sat in silence for a long time before finally standing. Her limbs felt heavy, like they belonged to someone else. She moved mechanically—pulled the teal jinbei from the drawer, smoothing the fabric where it had creased. It was short-sleeved and too light for the cold, but she didn’t care.

She tied her hair into a loose side ponytail, fingers fumbling with the strands just as Hideko had taught her. The motion hurt more than she expected. Then, from the small wooden shelf by her bed, she picked up the Wellspring Mask. The replica. Not quite right.

She stared at it for a moment.
It didn’t match Ogerpon’s real mask, not anymore.
And it didn’t match the boy who had bought it with her, either.

His words echoed in her chest, cold and dull.
Still, she slipped the mask on, letting it cover half her face.

Maybe it was to hide. Maybe it was to remember. Maybe it was both.

She waited until her classmates and teacher were asleep, their breathing soft behind paper-thin walls. Then she stepped out into the cold. The wind found her arms and stung her cheeks, but she welcomed the bite.

Ogerpon padded silently beside her, mask down for once. No disguise. Just her.
For the first time, she could walk freely through the town she had hidden from all her life.

And yet…

Lilac glanced at her. Ogerpon looked back with eyes that sparkled—not with light, but with feeling. 

“Kieran… It’s not a real festival without you,” Lilac thought.

Kitakami Hall wasn’t crowded. The final night was quieter—most of the stalls were closing, laughter distant and fading. But one stand still glowed warmly, and Ogerpon tugged gently Lilac towards it.

Candy apples.

Lilac hesitated. She remembered the first night of the festival. Kieran’s smile—shy, proud—as he offered her one. The red glaze had glinted in the lanternlight. His hand had brushed hers.

She blinked hard, lips trembling.

Still, she bought one and handed it wordlessly to Ogerpon.

The little ogre held it close, then looked up at Lilac with heavy eyes. “Popon?”

Her joy dimmed. She could feel it—like something sticky and painful beneath the sweetness.

She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. She had chosen her heart.
But that choice had hurt someone she cared about.

Ogerpon’s eyes lowered.

She had liked Kieran. And Carmine, too. They had helped her shed the name “Monster.”
But when the time came… she couldn’t help herself. She had chosen the one who felt like family. Lilac.

Lilac stood beneath the arch of lanterns, her breath misting in the cold night air. Behind her, the festival was winding down — only the soft crackle of flame and the hush of wind remained, brushing through the trees like a final exhale.

Ogerpon stood quietly at her side. No mask tonight— just her face, open and vulnerable beneath her leafy cloak, golden eyes watching gently.

Ahead, the archway swayed with paper lights strung between its beams, flickering softly in the mountain breeze. The air smelled faintly of smoke.

Hideko turned as they approached, her expression warm and calm. “There you are,” she said, her voice a soft welcome. “I was hoping you’d come before the fire goes out.”

Yukito stood nearby, crouched beside a woven basket of lanterns. He was lighting another with practiced care. When he saw Lilac, he smiled and held out a small strip of paper, a thin red string looped through the top.

Lilac accepted it gently.

“I’d like to make a wish,” she said, voice quiet, uncertain. “But I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Yukito replied. “The mountain doesn’t need words. Just truth.”

“It listens best to silence,” Hideko added, her tone almost reverent. “It carries what your heart is ready to give.”

Lilac looked down at the paper. It was feather-light. Too light, almost, for everything it needed to hold.

Still… she stepped toward the nearest lantern.

Ogerpon remained close, her presence a gentle constant. Not comforting, not asking — just with her.

Hideko offered her a pencil, then stepped back, giving her space.

Lilac took a breath.

Closed her eyes.

The words rose without force, without permission.

I love him.

Not a whisper. Not even a confession. Just truth.

And for the first time, she didn’t fight it.
Not with guilt.
Not with hope.
Not with the ache of what had been said — or left unsaid.

She loved him. Still.
Even now.
Even after everything.

That was the wish.

Not that he’d love her back. Not that things would rewind. Only that, one day, he might know. And maybe… just maybe… he would understand.

She wrote nothing more than his name — Suguri. Just enough. Enough for the wind to carry.

She tied the paper to the lantern and stepped back.

With careful hands, she released it.

The lantern floated up, its soft light lifting into the dark above. Higher and higher, until it vanished beyond the tree line, toward the peaks of Oni Mountain.

Behind her, Hideko stepped forward and placed a hand on Lilac’s shoulder. Warm, steady.

“You did well,” she said gently.

Lilac nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

Yukito’s voice followed, low and certain. “A true wish always lingers in the wind. The mountain remembers.”

Ogerpon leaned against her side, small and silent.

Lilac let her stay close.

And when she looked up again, the stars still shimmered.

But the sky didn’t feel quite as heavy.

The next day.

The kricketot had finally quieted.

Late afternoon light pooled across the tatami floor, filtering through the paper windows in golden slants. Dust floated gently in the fresh air, swirling in lazy spirals each time the breeze passed through the open shoji. Somewhere outside, a wind chime jingled — high, delicate, almost uncertain.

Lilac sat cross-legged at the low table, her notebook open in front of her. The page had already begun to curl at the edges. Carmine’s handwriting — fast, clean strokes of hiragana with the occasional bold underline — filled the top half of the sheet.

She mouthed the words again, pencil tapping rhythmically on the table.

“Aka... Ao...  Midori.”

Across from her, Ogerpon sat with both hands folded neatly in her lap. Her legs didn’t quite tuck under her properly, but she tried. Her Teal Mask — the green one, the one she always wore when she wasn’t sure what to feel — rested beside her on the floor. Her bright eyes tracked Lilac’s lips like they were studying magic.

Lilac hesitated. Looked at the word again.

Midori.

The kanji wasn’t there — just the phonetic hiragana: みどり. Carmine had written it in pencil and circled it twice, with a note in the margin:

“Green. Like the forests in Kitakami.”

Lilac stared at it for a long moment.

Then she turned the notebook toward Ogerpon.

“This one,” she said softly, tracing the word with her finger. “Midori. Do you like it?”

Ogerpon tilted her head, her eyes flicked down to the page. Then back to Lilac.

Lilac waited, heart ticking faster than it should’ve.

The quiet held.

Then—Ogerpon leaned forward and touched the word. Just once. A light tap.

Lilac smiled.

“You do like it.”

Ogerpon let out a quiet hum — pleased, almost a laugh. 

Lilac exhaled slowly, like her chest had been wound too tight for too long.

“Midori,” she said again. “It suits you.”

She circled the word herself this time, slower, pressing the pencil down just a little harder — as if the act of drawing that imperfect circle would somehow make the name more real. More permanent.

Midori. Not Ogerpon. Not “the masked Pokémon” or “the fearful ogre.” Just Midori.

A soft knock interrupted the quiet.

Hideko slid the door open without waiting for an answer, carrying a wooden tray with two steaming cups of tea and a plate of manju.

“Time for a break,” she said with a smile that curved gently at the corners. “Your head will overheat if you study too hard.”

Lilac sat up straighter. “Ah — thank you.”

Hideko set the tray between them and lowered herself to the floor with practiced ease. She looked down at the notebook, her eyes softening at the familiar characters.

“Carmine’s notes?” she asked.

Lilac nodded. “She left them for me before she left. She wanted me to keep practicing.”

Hideko poured the tea with quiet grace, the scent of roasted barley wafting up from the cups.

“She would,” Hideko said. “That girl may be impatient, but she cares deeply.”

Lilac’s fingers curled around the ceramic cup. It was warm against her palms — the kind of warmth that made you realize how cold your hands had been without it.

She looked down at the notebook again.

“I just taught her a new word,” she said. “Midori. I think she liked it.”

Hideko followed her gaze to Ogerpon — to Midori — who sat perfectly still, watching the two of them with silent, glowing eyes.

“Midori,” Hideko repeated thoughtfully. “A gentle name.”

Lilac nodded. Her voice softened.

“She’s been through so much. I just… I wanted her to have something that was hers.”

Yukito arrived a moment later with a folded cushion tucked under one arm and an old paperback tucked under the other.

“Hideko, you forgot the dictionary,” he said, placing it on the table with a quiet thud. “Figured Lilac might like the older terms too. Some of these don’t show up in schoolbooks anymore.”

“Like the ones you used to correct Kieran with?” Hideko teased.

Yukito chuckled, settling down beside her. “Exactly like those.”

Lilac smiled faintly, brushing her pencil across the page again.

Midori had moved closer, now only a breath away. She reached toward the notebook once more — then paused.

She looked at Lilac. Then down at the page.

Then, with slow, deliberate care, she picked up the pencil and began to draw.

A small green leaf.

It wasn’t perfect — a little crooked, a little uneven — but the message was clear.

Lilac watched, stunned.

“You’re drawing…?”

Midori glanced up, blinking, as if unsure whether she’d done something wrong.

But Lilac shook her head.

“No,” she said. Her throat tightened, but she kept going. “It’s beautiful.”

Midori looked down at the leaf again, then tucked the pencil beside it like a finishing touch. Her shoulders relaxed, just slightly.

Lilac couldn’t stop smiling.

Even if her heart still ached, even if the wound Kieran left hadn’t yet begun to close — this moment felt different.

It didn’t undo anything.

But it gave her something to hold.

A quiet afternoon in a house that still smelled faintly of pine and dust and old winters.

And a green light in the shadows beside her — small, gentle, still shining.

Midori.

Lilac stood once again at the Wisteria Pond  — alone, except for the quiet presence of her Pokémon gathered nearby.

The others waited at the Community Center, their luggage packed. The bus would leave soon. She had slipped out early — needing a moment, a goodbye only the mountain would hear.

She raised her flute to her lips.

The first note trembled in the cold air, thin as snow, but clear. A haunting melody — not a sad one, but soft, like a farewell whispered rather than spoken. Not the song of someone running away.

But someone who knows they have to leave… and chooses to remember.

Midori sat beside her, maskless, her eyes fixed on the clouds drifting through the peaks. Primrose the Meowscarada lounged lazily on a nearby rock, her leafy cloak flicking with the rhythm.

Mimi, her Mimikyu, sat at Lilac’s feet, swaying quietly, like she was listening through cloth. Cadence, her Ribombee, danced slow spirals in the air, wings catching the sunlight like stained glass.

Aria the Oricorio spun once in place, her flamenco wings sweeping a slow arc as if bowing. Crystalis, her Milotic, rested coiled in the pond, head raised, the cold not bothering her.

Miraidon at her side, still and noble. Shiba, her Hisuian Growlithe, lay curled up in the grass beside Midori, ears twitching at each note.

Lunar, the Ursaluna, sat like a stone sentinel, the wisteria petals clinging to his fur like dust. And finally, Opaline, her Alolan Ninetales, stood just behind her, fur shimmering, eyes soft.

“I think… this place changed you,” Opaline said gently, her voice like wind through bells.

Lilac lowered the flute, her breath forming clouds in the still air.

“Maybe,” she murmured. “It broke me too.”

“Sometimes that’s part of becoming.”

Opaline looked toward the mountains.

“He’ll come back when he’s ready. If not to this place… maybe to you.”

Her classmates were boarding the bus. Jacq waved her over, and Lilac gave one last look at the rooftops, the distant Wisteria Pond, and the winding paths that led into the forests where she had once gotten lost… and found a treasure.

Ogerpon sat in the seat beside her, curled quietly, her mask resting on her lap.

As the bus rolled forward, Lilac pressed her forehead against the window, watching as Mossui Town slowly faded from view — houses shrinking, fields blurring, the Oni Mountain turning to silhouette against the pale sky.

She didn’t cry.

Not this time.

But her hand lifted slowly to touch the glass.

“I’ll come back one day, And when I do… maybe he’ll smile at me again.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Chapter 21 – Where Paths Split 

Kieran’s dorm room smelled like dust and dry air. Not the scent of neglect, but one of controlled disarray. Textbooks were stacked haphazardly on the desk, half-open with corners bent and highlighters dried out from overuse. Poké Balls rolled idly between notebooks scrawled with battle strategies and stat calculations. A cup of coffee sat on his kitchen counter, next to which were scattered empty chocolate wrappers.

He sat at the edge of his bed, back hunched, fingers curled around a single Poké Ball. He hadn't moved for a while. The curtain was still drawn shut even though it was past noon. Thin stripes of the artificial sunlight cut across the floor like bars.

He looked different now.

His Blueberry Academy jacket hung off his shoulders, unzipped and draped like a cape, sleeves dangling uselessly at his sides. Beneath, he wore the League Club shirt like a soldier’s armor — tight and unforgiving. Dark circles clung under his eyes like bruises, and his expression was sharper, more sunken. Like something inside him had burned low, but not out.

He looked older. Meaner. But not quite stronger.

On the shelf beside his bed sat a few dusty TMs, a barely-used grooming kit, and a small wooden box he no longer opened.

Kieran tightened his grip around the Poké Ball in his hand.

"This has to work."

He pressed the release.

In a flash of red light, the fire-type Litten landed lightly on the floor with feline grace, its black and red fur barely making a sound as it touched the tile. It blinked up at him with unreadable amber eyes, tail flicking once in irritation.

Kieran stared at it in silence.

Litten sat down, licking its forepaw and immediately turning away, as if already unimpressed by the new partnership. Its movements were calm, precise, almost indifferent.

"So you're the one they gave me," Kieran muttered, voice hoarse from disuse. "Took them long enough."

The Pokémon didn’t respond, naturally. Its ears twitched, but it gave no further reaction.

Kieran stood, bones stiff, and paced toward his desk where a crumpled sheet of data profiles listed compatibility results. Litten was highlighted—ideal partner based on emotional resilience, tactical instincts, and independence.

“You’re like me, huh?” he muttered. “You don’t want anyone to pet you. You fight alone. No distractions.”

Litten turned to look at him again, this time with a low, quiet huff, the barest ember escaping from its mouth. It wasn't trust. Not yet. Just acknowledgement.

Kieran crouched down in front of it.

“I’m not here to make friends. I need a partner who’ll burn everything in the way. Can you do that?”

A longer pause. Then Litten’s eyes narrowed. Not a yes. Not a no. But maybe something like try me.

For the first time in days, Kieran smirked. It didn’t reach his eyes.

He rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket sleeves, swinging them up into place with a hard shrug. His reflection in the mirror by the desk caught his eye—he hated the boy who looked back. Weak. Emotional. Still thinking about the way Lilac looked when she handed him that stupid berry at the festival. 

Her smile. Her pity.

“Get out of my mind,” he growled under his breath.

He glanced once toward the box on the shelf. Then turned away before the anger could knot up again.

“Let’s go,” he said to Litten without looking back. “We’ve got training to do.”

The fire cat followed silently, not out of loyalty — yet — but because it had made its choice too.

As the door slammed shut behind them, the wooden box on the shelf trembled slightly. The Pecha Berry inside stayed perfectly still.

The League Club Room was quiet for once—screens along the walls projected an artificial sky rippling with soft clouds and gentle blue light casting shimmering reflections over the tables and chairs scattered around like a war room waiting for a battle plan.

Drayton lay half-sprawled across the main couch, tossing a Poké Ball into the air with one hand and sipping soda with the other.

When the door hissed open, he didn’t even look up.

“Well, well, well... look who finally crawled out of his self-imposed training arc.”

Kieran stepped inside without answering. He didn’t stop walking—headed straight for his locker where he yanked the door open and grabbed a set of Pokémon vitamins, slamming it shut again.

Drayton let out a low whistle.

“Yikes. You really are going full edgy rival mode, huh?”

Kieran barely glanced at him. “What do you want.”

“Oof, straight to the point. No small talk? No 'how's your Champion doing?' or 'wanna hear the latest campus gossip?'” He sat up, grinning. “Come on, man. I missed our dysfunctional little chats.”

Kieran turned to leave.

“Wait,” Drayton said, voice shifting just slightly—still teasing, but with a different edge now. “Before you storm off to go punch a Dragonite or something, I’ve got something for you.”

That made Kieran pause.

“No strings,” Drayton added. “Well... okay, one small string. But it’s a nice one. You like Dragon-types, right?”

Kieran didn’t answer, but his eyes flicked toward the Poké Ball in Drayton’s hand.

Drayton tossed it gently underhand, and Kieran caught it without effort.

“Dratini,” Drayton said casually. “Fast learner. Great potential. Figured you’d put it to better use than the professor who kept feeding it snacks between moves.”

Kieran stared at the Poké Ball for a beat.

“Is this another ploy to get back in with Carmine?”

Drayton raised both hands, mock-offended.

“Moi? Never. Maybe. Possibly. But mostly I just thought it’d be poetic, you know? You—dragon kid in training. Me—dragon king in lazy decline. It’s symbolic. Like a passing of the flaming baton, except more adorable and serpentine.”

Kieran didn’t smile. But he didn’t throw it back either.

“I don’t need your charity.”

“And yet you didn’t say no.”

A long pause. Kieran looked down at the Poké Ball again, fingers tightening around it.

“It’s a weapon,” he muttered. 

Drayton’s grin faded for a second—just a second.

“That’s a dangerous way to see your partners, Kieran.”

“That’s the only way I see them now.”

That silence lingered a beat too long. The soft ocean hum outside the walls pressed in.

Then Drayton gave a low whistle.

“Man. You really have changed.”

Kieran was already turning toward the door.

“Yo, one more thing,” Drayton called after him. “Your hair looks cool. All edgy and mysterious. Girls eat that up.”

Kieran didn’t respond.

“Not that I’d know. My love life’s dead.”

That made Kieran stop at the doorway. Just for a second.

“Tell Carmine,” he said quietly, “to stop looking for me.”

The door hissed open. He stepped through.

As it closed behind him, Drayton leaned back on the couch, tossing another Poké Ball into the air.

"That kid is starting to worry me," he muttered to the ceiling.

Then, without missing a beat:

“Also... I should probably hide before Carmine gets here.”

Carmine kicked open the League Club Room door like it owed her money.

“YOU BOZO!”

From his sprawl across the couch, Drayton sprang to life with exaggerated flair, arms flung open like a bad stage actor.

“My beloved Carmie!” he gasped. “What good Tailwind blows you into my humble—urk!”

She yanked him up by the collar before he could finish the bit. His soda hit the floor with a pathetic fizz.

“Where. Is. Kieran.”

Drayton didn’t flinch. He just waggled his eyebrows.

“That kind of aggression sends mixed signals. I might start thinking you still have feelings for—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll Dark Pulse your face off.”

“…Romantically indifferent. Got it.”

She gave his shirt a final jerk before shoving him back into the couch. His grin stayed intact, but there was a flicker of sincerity behind it now.

“He came through here,” Drayton said, brushing himself off. “Picked up some vitamins. Took the Dratini I gave him. Probably off brooding in the Coastal Biome.”

Carmine narrowed her eyes. “You gave him a Pokémon?”

“Bribe’s such an ugly word,” Drayton said. “Let’s call it... the Drayster Take.”

Carmine rolled her eyes and stormed out without another word.

She'd spent the whole morning tracking Kieran — checking his dorm, pestering his classmates, even peeking into the League Club Room. Two students said they saw him leave early, eyes hollow, jacket hanging off his shoulders like a cape.

Something was off. More than usual.

She pounded the elevator button for the Terarium.

“Just wait until I find you, Kiki. You’re not getting away with ghosting your own sister.”

But before the doors slid open, a voice called down the hall.

“Carmine! Hold up!”

She turned to see Briar striding toward her, clipboard in one hand, papers flapping like wings. Behind her shuffled Director Cyrano, fanning himself with his hat like he’d been dragged out of bed too early.

“Good morning, Professor,” Carmine said stiffly. “Director.”

“Glad we caught you,” Cyrano puffed. “We were just about to summon you.”

Carmine stiffened. “Did Kiki do something?”

“Not this time,” Briar said, handing over the sketches.

Carmine looked down. It was a blueprint — one she recognized from late-night meetings and even later coffee runs. Her eyes locked on the massive orb drawn in the center of the Terarium dome, labeled in bold, clean ink:

TERARIUM CORE
TERASTAL STABILIZATION UNIT – PHASE 01

“So… it’s ready?” she asked.

“Almost,” Briar said, practically vibrating with excitement. “In a few days, the Terarium will be able to generate and sustain Terastal energy without interference. A controlled ecosystem, completely reactive to battle stimuli.”

“And once we’ve tested it,” Cyrano added, “we'll begin field applications in other regions. This will change the face of Pokémon research.”

Carmine stared at the blueprint a beat longer. The Terarium Core glinted under the light of the overhead screen, sterile and brilliant and full of potential.

“So that’s why you dragged us back early.”

“Exactly,” Briar said, beaming. “Now that we’ve confirmed stability, you and the rest of the Elite Four will help run final diagnostics. Consider it your next research assignment.”

Carmine let out a slow breath and folded the paper under her arm.

“You really never take a break, huh.”

Briar laughed. “And you never stop asking questions. That’s why I picked you.”

Carmine managed a ghost of a smile.

“Well... I better get moving. If Kiki burns down the Coastal Biome, it’s on your report, not mine.”

The sky inside the Terarium had shifted to late afternoon, casting warm amber light over the waves. Artificial clouds drifted lazily overhead, blending with the glass dome above like a dream wrapped in steel. The Coastal Biome sprawled before them—white sands curving along the shore, waves lapping against stone, palm trees swaying in the programmed breeze.

Near a cliffside ledge overlooking the sea, Kieran stood still, back to the biome’s plaza. His jacket was tied around his waist now, shirt damp with sweat. He’d been training for hours.

Dratini coiled in the grass nearby, flicking its tail in time with his breathing.

Litten, perched on a sun-heated rock, watched Kieran with half-lidded eyes, as if calculating him.

He threw another punch into the air — sharp, practiced. Not for show.

“Again.”

Dratini responded with a spray of Dragon Breath aimed at a series of stone targets he'd set up using terrain markers. The blast struck dead center, cracking the pillar in half. Litten followed with Ember — clean, efficient, no wasted motion.

“Good,” Kieran muttered. “Faster next time.”

He barely noticed the elevator doors open behind him.

Carmine stepped out, boots crunching softly against the shell-speckled path. She spotted him immediately — alone at the edge of the biome like he was trying to escape the whole school.

She didn’t speak at first.

She watched.

Kieran gave another order. His voice was clipped, robotic. No praise, no excitement. Just mechanics.
Her little brother… who used to smile when his Pokémon evolved.
Now he barely looked at them.

She walked toward him, slowly, careful not to spook the moment.

“Kiki.”

He didn’t turn.

“Kieran.”

Still no response.

“Your hair looks like an onion,” she said flatly.

“It’s not for you.”

“Didn’t say it was. Just letting you know before some trainer with better taste wipes the floor with you.”

Kieran finally turned to look at her. His eyes were shadowed.

“What do you want.”

Carmine crossed her arms. “I want my brother back.”

A long pause. The ocean behind them lapped gently at the cliffs. Litten’s tail flicked.

“I’m still here,” he said. “I’m just stronger now.”

“No, you’re obsessed.”

She walked forward, letting the full weight of her glare hit him.

“You train until you collapse. You’ve stopped eating with the others. You ignore your friends. Even your Pokémon look like they’re waiting for you to feel something.”

Kieran scoffed. “Feelings didn’t get me anywhere in Kitakami.”

“Is that what this is about?” she snapped. “Because Lilac beat you?”

He flinched.

That one hit.

Carmine’s voice softened, just slightly.

“She never held it over you. You know that. She cared about you. She liked you.”

Kieran’s fists clenched at his sides.

“She pitied me.”

“You think I didn’t notice?” Carmine said. “The way you looked at her? You think I didn’t hear it in your voice every time you said her name?”

Kieran’s eyes burned. “I don’t need her.”

“You miss her.”

“I said I don’t need her!”

He turned away so fast it startled Dratini, who flinched back.

“I’m not going to be weak again. I’m not going to be left behind.”

Carmine stood her ground.

“Then what are you gonna do, Kiki? Fight your way to the top and stand there alone?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

He faced her now, voice rising with heat.

“I’m not like I was in Kitakami. I’m not the kid who waited for people to notice him. If you’re in my way — even you — I’ll beat you too.”

Carmine looked at him long and hard. Her face betrayed no surprise. Only a deep, tired kind of sadness.

“I know you will,” she said quietly. “That’s what scares me.”

The silence between them stretched. Long and cold, despite the coastal warmth.

Kieran turned away first.

“I have training to finish.”

“You already left one person behind. Don’t make it two.”

No response. His hands trembled. Just once. Then stilled.

She stood there for another minute, watching as he called out another command to Dratini, then to Litten. Both Pokémon responded without hesitation.

Still no joy. Still no spark.

Just the sound of waves and the quiet crack of another stone target breaking under Dragon Breath.

Then she turned and walked back toward the plaza, shoulders heavier than when she came.

The darkness was cold — not empty, but heavy.

Lilac stood still, her voice echoing far too long as she called out:
“Mom? …Penny? Nemona? Arven…?”

No answer came.

Only a giggle. Soft, childlike.
"How does it feel," said the voice, "to call and be ignored?"

A small shape floated toward her — round, plush-like, eerily familiar. Its white, unblinking eyes stared from a magenta shell that shimmered like velvet in the dark. Lilac recognized it immediately.

“The Never-Rotting Peach,” she whispered.

The figure tilted its head. “Oh! That’s what they call me now?” It giggled again. “That’s adorable. But I have a real name. You might’ve heard it… Pecharunt.”

Lilac’s stomach twisted. “You’re him.”

The floating creature did a slow spin. “Yes, yes. Leader of the Loyal Three, would-be mask thief, tragic plush.”
He sighed dramatically. “I screamed for two centuries inside that little shell. No one answered. I wonder if you would’ve listened to me.”

She instinctively reached for her Poké Balls — but her hands found only empty air.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing bad.” Pecharunt opened his shell slightly. Nestled inside, cradled in tiny heart-shaped hands, was a familiar magenta mochi. “Just granting a wish.”

Lilac’s breath caught. “You… That was you. You made Peachy give me that thing—”

“She offered,” he said with a shrug. “We played, became friends. She was lonely. Like you.”

From the shadows behind Pecharunt, a second figure stepped forward — human-sized, but wrapped in a sweeping magenta cloak, their face lost beneath a wide hood.

Lilac’s heart skipped. “Who—?”

“They made a wish,” Pecharunt said. “Something very big. And I’m very good at making wishes come true. But you? Yours is simple.”

He floated closer, voice syrup-sweet:
“Kieran. You want him to love you. Don’t you? If you ask me nicely, I can give you that. He’d come running, tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. That he missed you. That he needs you. That he—”

“Stop!” Lilac recoiled. “Love doesn’t work like that!”

“Oh, darling, everything works like that. You’d be surprised what people give up for a little affection. The Loyal Three did.”

“They were suffering,” she snapped. “You used them. I saw it—how broken they looked!”

Pecharunt pouted. “They were ungrateful. But I still love them. Love hurts, doesn’t it?”

His voice darkened. “Your ancestor didn’t love me either. But I saved you, didn’t I? When the Three could’ve torn you apart. A little thanks would be nice.”

“You’re a monster,” Lilac hissed. “I won’t let you turn me into one of your puppets.”

The magenta figure behind him slowly raised one hand.

“I offered kindness,” Pecharunt said, shrugging. “Too bad.”

The mochi in his hands dissolved — and from the shell spilled a glowing chain, pulsing with venom, alive with sickly magenta light. It shot forward, wrapping around Lilac’s arms and chest, dragging her to her knees.

“No—! I won’t—!”
Her voice cracked. She fought it. Tears burned her eyes.
“I… won’t be yours!”

Pecharunt smiled gently, like a parent soothing a tantrum.
“You already are.”

The chain wrapped around her head like a crown — no, a headband — searing into her mind. Lilac’s vision blurred. Her hands trembled. Somewhere far away, a memory of Kieran’s voice tried to rise to the surface.

“Don’t… touch… Kieran…”

Her eyes flickered magenta. Her body went still.

“She’ll need time,” Pecharunt said, glancing back at the cloaked figure. “But she’ll serve.”

They walked into the void, vanishing.

Lilac collapsed. Darkness swelled.

Lilac jerked awake, face pressed against her desk.

Her heart raced. Sweat clung to her skin. The soft light of her desk lamp buzzed in the silence.

She blinked, disoriented. Her open notebook still showed notes in Tohoku. A half-drunk cup of tea sat nearby, cold.

Her fingers drifted to her head. Nothing there. But it felt like there should be. A pressure. A hum.

She couldn’t remember what she dreamed. But something was wrong.

Her eyes settled on the photo frame beside her — from the Festival of Masks. She, Carmine, and Kieran smiling under lanterns.

Her gaze lingered on Kieran.

Something twisted quietly in her chest.

Across the battlefield, Nemona was practically bouncing with excitement as she recalled her fainted Pokémon.

“I knew you were strong, Lilac!” she beamed. “You’ve only just started your Treasure Hunt and you're already giving me a run for my money — and that wasn’t even my final team!”

She laughed, the way only Nemona could — pure joy, no hint of ego. She tossed her last Poké Ball into the air with a dramatic spin.
Out came her partner, Quaquaval, who landed with a twirl and a proud pose.

Lilac smiled. Something about battling Nemona always helped lift the fog from her mind. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and after everything that had happened in Kitakami, that kind of warmth was exactly what Lilac needed.

She reached for Meowscarada’s Poké Ball — ready to end this the same way they always had, with a proper starter-versus-starter finale.

But her hand didn’t go there.

⛓Her fingers brushed against a different ball.
A Friend Ball.
And her eyes flickered — just for a moment — from lavender to magenta.

⛓“Let’s go, Midori,” she said quietly. Her voice was... different. “Let’s see if you’re still worth what I remember.”

With a burst of light, Ogerpon landed gracefully on the battlefield, her mask catching the sunlight.
“Pon!” she chirped, smiling brightly at her trainer.

But Lilac wasn’t smiling back. Her gaze was sharp. Cold. Competitive in a way that didn’t feel like her usual spark — it felt... twisted.

Nemona tilted her head, confused — Lilac didn’t usually deviate from their battle ritual.
“Oh? No Meowscarada this time?”

Quaquaval gave a small squawk of disappointment.

⛓“What’s your problem?” Lilac snapped. “Can’t I change my strategy? I don’t care about that green cat right now — I’m the trainer, and I decide how we fight!”

Even her stance had changed — stiff, assertive. Her voice had the faintest venom in it.

“Why am I saying this? This isn’t me.”

Ogerpon’s smile faded. She looked up at Lilac, confused. This wasn’t how Lilac usually spoke to her. Or to anyone.

⛓“Ivy Cudgel. Now. No holding back,” Lilac barked.

Ogerpon hesitated.

Then, with a flick of her club, she lunged forward — only to be sidestepped mid-attack. Quaquaval spun gracefully, striking back with Acrobatics. The blow landed clean, and hard.

Lilac’s arms crossed, unimpressed.

⛓“Really? You missed that easily? And took a hit? Tch. What happened to the ogre from two-hundred years ago?” she said flatly.

Midori froze mid-step.

She turned her head, staring at her trainer — hurt, confused. Did Lilac really mean that?

Nemona’s smile had faded completely now. She recalled Quaquaval before the battle could go on.

⛓“Wha—? Why are you stopping?” Lilac demanded.

Nemona stepped forward, gently but firmly placing a hand on Lilac’s shoulder.
“Lilac… I think you should rest.”

Lilac blinked.
The sharpness in her eyes dulled — the magenta hue faded.

“I… what’s going on?” Her voice cracked. “Nemona…?”

Nemona softened. “You shouldn’t talk to your Pokémon like that. Midori’s your partner. She really cares about you — I think it hurt her to hear those words.”

Lilac looked at Ogerpon again. The little Pokémon was still frozen, club lowered, her expression unreadable. And then…

A pang hit Lilac’s chest. Hard.

What had she said? How had she sounded?

“I—I’m sorry,” Lilac stammered, tears welling. “I don’t know what came over me. I think I just… I’m tired. Really tired.”

She dropped to one knee, hiding her face with her hand.
“I’m sorry, Midori. I didn’t mean it. You too, Nemona. And Quaquaval…”

Midori stared for another moment — then finally, with a tiny sob of relief, ran into Lilac’s arms.

She wrapped her small arms around her trainer’s neck, pressing close. Whatever had happened, she still loved her.

Nemona knelt beside them, giving Lilac a gentle pat on the back.
“Please, take better care of yourself. I know what happened in Kitakami was a lot. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t affect you.”

Lilac said nothing, still clinging to Ogerpon.

“No more battles today, okay?” Nemona added, standing again. “Go take a nap, clear your head. And next time we battle, I want the real Lilac standing across from me.”

Lilac nodded slowly.

She couldn’t explain what had happened. Not really.
But in that moment — during the battle — it felt like something else had taken the reins. Like her own words had echoed back at her, twisted and poisoned.

Maybe rest would help.

She hoped so.

A few weeks passed.
Lilac kept herself busy — gym battles, Titan hunts, an occasional Team Star base when she felt brave. She didn’t remember much from those first days. The moments blurred together, like words on a page she'd stared at too long.

Her friends noticed. Penny sent longer messages. Arven started showing up uninvited. Nemona… tried to act like everything was okay.

And through it all, Lilac kept researching — Area Zero, the Terastal energy, the Violet Book, anything she could do to help Briar. Anything to feel like herself again.

But sometimes, she'd catch her reflection smiling when she wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22 – Harmony and Dissonance

The mountain wind carried a flurry of snow over Montenevera, but the town square blazed with light and life. Towering speakers pulsed with bass, the stage lit up in a wash of violet and gold, and the crowd roared as Ryme’s mic lit up with her name in glowing neon.

Lilac stood at the center of it all—numb fingers curled tightly around two Poké Balls.

She wasn’t cold. If anything, it was too hot. The snow was falling, but the heat of the lights, the thunder of the crowd, and the relentless pulse of music made her feel like she was drowning in it.

This was her first Double Battle. She had practiced for days in the empty Uva Academy's courtyard, whispering strategies to her Pokémon with careful coordination. Timing. Trust. Harmony.

But nothing had prepared her for this.

A sea of faces blurred before her. Cameras flashed. The speakers rattled her bones. The stage was slick with light, a sensory storm of spinning color and movement.

Lilac’s heartbeat was racing, her skin prickling under her coat. Her breathing grew shallow.

She barely registered Ryme’s entrance—a whirlwind of charisma, her long coat flaring behind her as she took the mic and addressed the audience with a voice like thunder.

“This trainer’s fresh, but don’t look down—She’s got that fire, wearin’ the crown! Let’s hear y’all scream, give her respect—But in this ring, it’s me you’ll check!”

The crowd roared back, stamping feet, chanting her name.

Lilac winced. The feedback from the mic sliced through her thoughts like claws. Her ears rang. Her vision shimmered at the edges, as if the snow had found its way into her head instead of the air.

Still, she threw her Poké Balls.

Oricorio and Ribombee emerged, poised and alert.

Ryme’s ghosts took the stage—Banette and Houndstone—moving like shadows under the spotlights.

Lilac tried to speak, to give her first command, but her voice cracked. The music was so loud—had she even been heard?

She tried again. Her tongue felt like paper.

“Shadow Claw… and—no, wait—Trick Room…? No—!”

But it was too late. Her Pokémon hesitated. Banette struck first.

The battle spun out of her control like loose ribbon in the wind. She kept issuing commands, fumbling over the rhythm she had practiced so carefully. Her moves were mistimed, her coordination off. Aria missed a cue. Cadence took a critical hit.

Her vision doubled. The lights danced too fast.

The ground seemed to sway beneath her boots. She clutched her forehead, trying to push the fog away.

A second match began. Then a third. She barely remembered recalling Pokémon, only that she was down to her last two—her trusted partners—and even they looked exhausted under the pounding music and barrage of ghostly tricks.

A final flash. A final strike.

Lilac blinked. Mimikyu collapsed. Meowscarada hissed, panting hard.

And then… darkness bled into the corners of her sight.

Her knees buckled.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Her Pokémon turned toward her with alarm, but Lilac could no longer see them clearly.

The stage tilted. The roar of the concert blurred into a single, echoing note.

The last thing she saw was Meowscarada’s paw reaching out—and then everything went dark.

The beat cut out with a sudden screech of static.

Ryme’s mic dropped to her side as she stepped forward, eyes narrowing beneath her cap. The crowd's excitement shifted into murmurs and concerned whispers.

“Yo—somebody stop the track,” she called out, voice no longer rhyming, just real.

Spotlights dimmed. A hush fell over the crowd as Ryme knelt by the fallen challenger. Lilac’s Mimikyu and Meowscarada were already at her side, visibly distressed.

Ryme gently waved a hand, signaling the stage crew.

“She’s burnin’ out,” she muttered, crouching lower. “Too much energy for one soul to hold.”

A medic rushed up with a flashlight and stretcher, but Ryme didn’t move until they were there.

She glanced at Lilac's Pokémon—eyes wide with worry, as if begging her to get up.

“Y’all fought hard, no need to stress. The girl’s got heart—you saw her finesse.”

Her voice was low now, meant for her Pokémon as much as herself.

As the medic lifted Lilac with practiced care, Ryme stood, brushing snow off her sleeve. Her expression was unreadable under the shadow of her cap.

“Clear the way,” she said to the crowd. “She ain’t just some trainer. She’s got soul.”

Then, as Lilac was carried backstage and her Pokémon padded quietly after her, Ryme turned back to the mic—voice crackling as she addressed the crowd:

“Show some love, no shame in fallin’—This battle’s done, but hear me callin’. Strength ain’t just about who wins—It’s gettin’ back up and goin’ again.”

The audience applauded, this time softer. Respectful.

The concert was long over.

The lights were off now, save for a soft glow from overhead panels. Shadows stretched across the empty Gym lobby, draped over silent speakers and silent seats. The echo of the last beat had faded hours ago.

Lilac stirred on one of the plush lobby couches—thin blanket pulled over her legs, one arm cradled protectively over her chest as if she were still bracing against the noise.

Her eyes fluttered open, dry and heavy.

Silence.

Not total—there was still the faint hum of the building’s power, and the soft breathing of her Pokémon nearby. Mimi had curled up like a worn plush at her feet. Primrose perched on the edge of the couch, watching her with steady, cautious eyes.

Lilac blinked slowly. Her throat felt tight. Her limbs, heavier than they should’ve.

And then it hit her—she remembered everything.

The crowd. The lights. The confusion. Her voice cracking. The misfires. Her Pokémon struggling to understand. The world turning sideways, and the silence that followed.

She sat up abruptly, and her Pokémon rose with her. Primrose leaned in, but Lilac shook her head and looked away.

“I ruined everything.”

The words spilled out before she could stop them. Her voice was hoarse.

She clutched her arms, trembling.

A moment later, a quiet voice answered from the edge of the shadows.

“Nah, girl. You didn’t ruin nothin’.”

Lilac looked up sharply.

Ryme walked in, coat draped over her shoulders, her cap pushed back. The lights above flickered slightly as she passed beneath them.

“I—I froze,” Lilac said, pulling her knees close. “I thought I was ready, but… everything just—slipped. I could barely breathe. My Pokémon were counting on me, and I—” Her voice trembled. “I just failed.”

Ryme didn’t interrupt.

“I practiced so much,” Lilac whispered, voice small. “I thought I was getting better. But lately, I don’t even know who I am. Sometimes I feel like I'm not... me. Like something's holding me back. Pulling me sideways.”

Her throat tightened. She tried to blink away the tears, but one slipped down her cheek anyway.

“I don’t want to keep breaking down in front of people. I’m so tired of pretending I'm okay.”

Silence fell.

Then Ryme walked over and sat beside her, not too close. Just enough to share the weight of the moment.

“Listen here,” she said, voice calm but steady, “you didn’t fail. You felt. That’s what battle’s really about. Not perfect plans. Not spotless wins. Just soul.”

Lilac glanced at her, uncertain.

Ryme continued, more softly now.

“You stood on stage, nerves in a storm, Still sent your team to take the form.
You ain’t broken—just bent in the wind. And winds? They change. That ain’t the end.”

She paused, then looked toward the shadows at the far edge of the gym.

“…But you’re right about one thing.”

Lilac followed her gaze—but saw nothing.

Ryme’s voice dropped low, thoughtful.

“Mm,” she murmured. “I thought I felt it earlier, but now I’m sure.”

Lilac blinked. “What?”

Ryme’s voice dropped lower.

“There’s a presence ‘round you,” she said carefully. “Not one of your ghosts, and not from your team. It’s quiet—but heavy.”

She looked past Lilac now, scanning the air above and behind her.

“I can’t see it clear,” she added, almost to herself. “But there’s a shimmer in the veil. Like a chain. Magenta. Just for a flash. Comes and goes.”

Lilac froze.

A chill curled at the base of her spine. Her hands clenched tighter in her sleeves.

Ryme turned back to her, serious now.

“I ain’t sayin’ this to scare you. But when someone’s spirit feels like it’s bein’ tugged—like it’s not all their own? That usually means something’s ridin’ along with ‘em.”

She paused.

“But here’s the part I don’t get,” she continued. “That chain? It ain’t locked tight. Something’s resisting it. There’s another pulse, warmer. Like someone—or something—is holdin’ on. A bond.”

The silence between them deepened, then softened.

“Sometimes the strongest battles don’t happen in front of a crowd,” Ryme said, her voice easing back into rhythm. “They’re the ones no one sees. The ones you fight just to stay yourself.”

Lilac looked down at her hands. The tremble had eased a little.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke again—slower this time, and with a strange reverence.

“I had a vision. Just before you stirred. A song so clear, it cut through the blur.
A Pokémon danced in silver snow—With steps that made the poison go.”

Lilac’s breath caught.

“She sang not words, but harmony, And light poured out like memory.
Behind her stood… a figure still, With sketchbook open, calm and chill.”

Ryme opened her eyes and looked at Lilac.

“Not you—but close. Like winter’s twin.
Someone with fire, kept deep within.”

Lilac felt something shift in her chest. She couldn’t explain it.

“…Did you recognize him?” she asked before realizing she’d made the assumption.

Ryme’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.

“Nah. Just a feeling. Someone who listens more than they speak. Someone who sees the whole picture, even when it’s cracked.”

She glanced back at Lilac now, her gaze sharp again. Not unkind—just searching.

“Whatever it means… I think that song’s meant for more than one soul. Yours ain’t the only voice in this harmony.”

Lilac didn’t answer.

She reached out slowly and rested her hand on Meowscarada’s head. Her Pokémon leaned into the touch without hesitation.

Ryme turned and started walking toward the gym door, then paused to glance back over her shoulder.

“Don’t give up just ’cause the beat got rough. You got soul, girl. You got enough.
And when the time comes to face what clings—You won’t be alone when the chorus sings.”

Terarium Dome — Polar Biome, Polar Plaza

The simulated aurora above shimmered in ribbons of green and violet, bleeding across the artificial sky like a silent promise of beauty. Snowflakes drifted steadily from the domed ceiling, gathering in light tufts around the worn battlefield of Polar Plaza. The frigid air bit at exposed skin and breath turned to mist—but neither Trainer showed signs of slowing.

In the middle of the frost-slicked field, Serperior and Mightyena stood tall, bodies low and poised for precision. Across from them, Torracat snarled through its fangs, fire pulsing at its throat, while Grimmsnarl loomed like a shadow ripped from myth, its tangled limbs twitching with pent-up aggression.

Carmine exhaled slowly. Her fingers were stiff from the cold, but her heart was clear. “Serperior, Coil. Mightyena, go with Howl!”

Serperior arched her neck elegantly, a spiral of green energy curling around her form as she tightened and focused her body. Beside it, Mightyena let out a deep-throated howl, echoing across the plaza and bolstering her power.

On the other side of the field, Kieran's voice cracked like thunder.

“Torracat—Flame Charge on Serperior! Grimmsnarl, use Spirit Break, knock down Mightyena!”

Torracat darted forward, fire trailing behind him in streaks, slamming toward Serperior. But the Grass-type serpent coiled tighter, absorbing the blow with practiced grace. Grimmsnarl followed with unnatural speed for his size, surging toward Mightyena in a flurry of black and magenta light. Mightyena yelped as the attack landed, but she didn’t back down.

The snow was stained with soot and energy bursts now. Steam hissed from contact points. Ice cracked beneath their feet.

Then came the moment Carmine had been avoiding.

“Tch... no more holding back.”

She reached into her coat and pulled out the gleaming Tera Orb—its crystal gleam catching the shimmer of the aurora. The orb pulsed with power, responding to her touch for the first time.

Kieran’s eyes narrowed, and for a second—just a second—his gaze dropped to the orb in her hand. Jealousy. Frustration. A flicker of longing.

“I haven’t used it until now,” Carmine said quietly, almost to herself. “Because it hurts. The recoil, the energy—it hits you like a weight in your chest if you're not ready.”

The Tera Orb glowed hot in her palm.

“But I am ready.”

She lifted the orb, and a cascade of prismatic light fell over Mightyena. Crystals bloomed around her frame like armor, black and jagged, as she transformed into her Dark-type Terastallized form. The transformation wasn’t graceful—it was heavy. The impact forced Carmine to step back, clutching her chest briefly as the energy feedback hit.

Kieran saw it. But he said nothing.

“Mightyena, Crunch! Serperior, Leaf Storm!”

“Torracat, Fire Fang! Grimmsnarl, finish it—Play Rough!”

They all moved at once. Teeth met strength. Leaves cut flame. Every Pokémon was a blur of motion, instincts and trust dancing between Trainer commands.

Serperior’s Leaf Storm tore through the icy air like a blizzard of green blades—striking both Torracat and Grimmsnarl. And yet, as expected, Contrary turned the typical special attack drop into a stat boost, leaving Serperior more dangerous than ever.

Kieran's jaw tightened. That was why Intimidate hadn't worked on her. It had made her stronger.

“Don’t act like that’s strength,” he spat. “You just reversed my move. That’s all you’ve got.”

“Funny,” Carmine said sharply. “That’s all you’ve been doing. Throwing yourself at everything that scares you and calling it growth.”

Mightyena lunged, cloaked in darkness, fangs bared for Grimmsnarl. The Terastallized power behind Crunch was enough to stagger it—Grimmsnarl crashed to one knee, snarling, before shoving Mightyena off with a brutal shove.

Then came the final clash.

“Torracat—crush her down. Flame Charge!”

The fire-type blurred forward, tail blazing with speed. Serperior struck with one final Leaf Storm—her strongest yet—but Torracat endured, burst through the attack, and tackled the serpent full-force into the snow.

The air went still.

Serperior collapsed, body smoking, breath shallow.

Mightyena, panting, stepped forward—only to drop to a knee moments later. The Terastal crystals shattered around her body in a flash of black light, and she collapsed beside her partner.

Kieran had won.

Carmine knelt beside her Pokémon, brushing snow from Serperior’s crest with quiet affection. The serpent blinked once, and she whispered a soft “Thank you” before returning it to its Poké Ball.

The snow continued falling.

Kieran turned his back to her.

“You didn’t even hesitate,” she said softly. “You saw me as an Elite Four before you saw me as your sister.”

Kieran didn’t look back.

“You and Lilac… you both lied. You kept the truth from me. About Ogerpon. About everything. You didn’t trust me. I was too weak for you, wasn't I?”

His voice cracked with something raw and feral.

“Do you really think we see you as weak? We don't!”

“Another lie! You two ran off and played friends. All smiles. Like I didn’t matter anymore.”

Carmine stood, pain flickering in her eyes. “You mattered. You still do.”

A pause.

She looked at him fully now, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the way his fists clenched even now, like he was still fighting invisible battles.

“Kieran… you really think Lilac would like the person you’ve become?”

For a moment, his entire body tensed.

Torracat looked up at him. Grimmsnarl growled low, sensing the conflict.

But the moment passed.

“Good,” he muttered. “Be scared.”

Without another word, he walked into the deep snow beyond the plaza—toward the mountains and cold seas of the Polar Biome, where the battle lights could no longer reach him.

The snow had swallowed his footprints hours ago.
Now, Kieran couldn’t tell if he was still walking or just drifting forward because the cold made standing still unbearable. The wind in the Polar Biome had dropped to a hush, but the silence wasn’t peace—it was hollow, echoing.

Far from the battle plaza, surrounded by frozen trees and jagged cliffs, he finally collapsed to his knees. The dry retching came before he could brace for it.

He doubled over and vomited, the half-digested taste of chocolate acid-slick against the back of his throat. It steamed in the snow, staining it brown. He coughed hard, his body trembling.

“Dummy…” he rasped, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Dummy…”

Everything ached. His fingers, raw from the cold, fumbled toward his Poké Balls—but he stopped himself. His team needed rest. He did, too. He just didn’t want to admit it.

He slumped against a half-buried boulder, letting the cold bite at his spine. A night like this, back in Kitakami, he would’ve been sketching in his room by lantern-light, or maybe by the Crystal Pool, if he could sneak out without Carmine catching him.

So now, shaking, heart unspooling in his chest like loose thread, he reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchbook.

His hands were stiff, but muscle memory took over as he flipped to a clean page and lowered pencil to paper. He didn’t think. He didn’t plan. He just drew.

Soft outlines formed in the blank space—shoulders, flowing hair, the faintest slope of a musical instrument. He wasn’t drawing a stranger.

He was drawing Lilac.

Not how she looked in battle. Not how she walked away.

She was standing at the edge of the Crystal Pool in Kitakami, flute lowered, staring into the glassy water where the Tera crystals flickered beneath the surface. Her reflection was unclear. Her face in the drawing wasn’t complete yet, but he didn’t need to finish it to see her.

“I had to look at her a lot to draw it right,” he murmured, almost too low to hear himself. “I hope that didn’t make her uncomfortable…” His voice caught. The pencil hovered mid-line.

“Still… now I can probably draw her from memory…” A bitter breath. “Wait—that sounds creepy. I meant… like… draw with her. That’s how art works, right?”

He shut his eyes for a moment. That thought used to make him flustered. Now it just hurt.

He pressed the side of the pencil against the page, shading in the ripple of the water. She was so still in the image. He didn’t know why he’d drawn her like that—quiet, flute lowered, staring into the pool like she was trying to understand something deeper than the reflection.

He frowned. Why the Crystal Pool?

Before he could finish the shading around her shoulders, the air shifted.

A sound drifted in through the trees—a soft, lilting melody.

His pencil froze. The hair on his arms stood up.

It was like Lilac’s flute. But not quite.

The notes curved wrong. Or… maybe not wrong, just different. There was a fluidity to it, a sadness woven into the rhythm that made his chest ache. The kind of sound you couldn’t invent—only remember.

“You again,” he whispered.

His voice felt too loud, like it didn’t belong here.

“Why are you following me?”

The melody didn’t answer. It just kept winding through the snow, coiling like smoke through the frozen air. It wrapped around his limbs like warmth he didn’t deserve.

He pulled the sketchbook closer to his chest.

“I’m not dreaming,” he muttered. “This is real. It has to be…”

But the truth was—he didn’t know anymore.

He thought of Lilac’s flute. Of the way she swayed slightly as she played, the Oricorio dancing around her. The way the air back in Kitakami had felt alive when she was near.

Here in the Terarium Dome, the air felt artificial. But the melody still reached him.

He curled in tighter around himself.

For once, he didn’t try to fight the feeling of sleep.

From the trees just beyond his view, a figure watched him.

She did not speak.
She did not move.
But her voice—her song—wove through the cold night, trying to ease the weight in his bones.

She had no reason.
No duty.
Only instinct.

She had seen him every night, and every night he pushed himself to breaking.
But tonight… tonight he drew.
Tonight, he remembered.

And so she sang.

Her voice would carry him to sleep, just like before.
And tomorrow, she would watch again.

Her name was Meloetta.