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First Post

TheWinterComet

Longfic-aholic
When Cynthia and Lance are murdered, the clock starts ticking.

Their surviving daughter Kris falls succumbs to a life she could never live in the Champions' shadows, and her brother Saber seeks answers to questions his mother left behind. An inheritance. A coded message. A worldwide secret. All the while, Kris's friend Ciel travels to Sinnoh in search of fame, but must put his Gym Challenge on hold to face unrest in a land without its greatest hope.

Sinister forces have set their plans in motion, and Sinnoh is hurtling towards disaster.

The hands approach midnight.


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This story was codeveloped by Titan127, and beta read by ShonnaRose and JhinoftheOpera. Cover art by me.

Rated M
This story contains depictions of violence (including some occasional scenes that toe the line on "graphic violence"), swearing, and major character death. It also contains themes of grief, depression, and other

This story was first posed on February 5th, 2021, on AO3 and FFN. Eventually, it will be caught up with the posting on both of these sites, but this was actually initially posted as a preview so I could participate in a forum event.

This is the third story in a series (AO3/FFN). Currently, only the first story of that series, Anew, is up on TR, and only up to 11 chapters. You can read the full version of Anew, its sequel Stateless, and Minutes to Midnight's concurrent story Ten Thousand Meters on either site, but all of these stories will be ported to TR eventually with some additional edits.

 
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Letter 1

TheWinterComet

Longfic-aholic
Letter 1

𒅆𒊒 𒍪𒅆,

Life is priceless.

Even we thought so. Yet, it is so easy to put a price on the soul when the temptation of something greater whispers that sickeningly sweet siren song in your ear. It is inside us all. The moment you try to deny it, the battle is already lost.

Humans are an odd, destructive, dangerous people. But we, in all our infinite wisdom, fell to it just the same.

It is inevitable, that when the ambition for something greater takes hold, someone dies.

Always.


𒁾,
𒍪𒅆
 
[1-1] Yesterday

TheWinterComet

Longfic-aholic
Volume 1, Part 1 - Yesterday

"I wish it was yesterday," said Kris.

Yesterday was a beautiful instant. Kris escaped it as quickly as she entered, wishing it the same tepid goodbye she had offered thousands of its ancestors. Her infant self, facing her first farewell, might have struggled, but she had honed herself since then. Knowing that her memory stood defiant of the passage of time, it was useless to wish back a day that had never truly left. But this was the first time she remembered wanting the reality, not the memory, to replay.

The morning fog finally cleared over the water. Damp grains nestled themselves beneath her toes as she swirled her bare feet absentmindedly through the beach sands.

Her hand had grown numb in the grip of her brother's as they sat together by the sea. When they stepped up to the waves an indefinite time ago, they agreed in their silence not to glance behind them at the villa wrapped in yellow tape and painted with emergency lights.

Neither of them twitched. Neither of them coughed. Neither of them did anything. She wondered if he heard her speak, or if his senses had lost their grasp of reality. She felt it slipping herself.

"I don't," he said. When she looked over at him, Saber tilted his head to the sand. "I wish it was tomorrow."

Yesterday was a beautiful instant, but today was a horrible eternity. Neither of them asked for today, but they would suffer its grip. She wouldn't wish it goodbye when the time came.

"When tomorrow comes, I'm going to find who murdered them, one-hundred percent. Even if I have to walk to the ends of Kibra."

A sickness bloomed in her stomach. She didn't know if she could join him. She wanted justice. She wanted peace. But the truest feeling in her body wanted her to rest.
 
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[1-2] Then Behind Me

TheWinterComet

Longfic-aholic
Volume 1, Part 2 - Then Behind Me

March 2011 - Six Months Ago

The end of her life, between parted velvet curtains, beckoned from the auditorium's recessed stage. The headmaster of Plateau Senior High School bowed to the crowd and offered his place to a homeroom professor when he descended the platform. She grimaced in her tight kimono but diligently carried out her duties as she announced the names of her students.

The entire third-year student body sat in a sea of chairs before the stage. No two students were adjacent, as to each student's right was a matted space for their partner Pokémon. All students of Plateau were required to train, and learn, and commit themselves to Pokémon alongside their general studies. At sixteen, they were two years from the regular requirement for Pokemon Trainers, but they were all granted certified exceptions by the Pokemon League.

Upon hearing their name, the first student rose and exclaimed "Yes!" to accept their passage to the next life. At the same time, he tapped the button on his Poké Ball and released his Kingler onto the mat in a brilliant flash of red. The clamp of its pincers sounded mechanical.

Another name was called, accompanied by a stand, an affirmation, and a Pokémon—Leavanny. Then another name. And another. The students became statues on their feet, and only when their entire third-year homeroom stood did the stone crack and allow them to fall to their seats. She saw friends from Track Club, rivals from Training Hall, distant acquaintances, polite enemies, and every heart-strung sap that had looked her way and decided she was out of their league. She would leave most, if not all of them, behind.

Kris kept her eyes focused on the stage as the professors cycled and more classes were revealed. Her nails sliced her palm as her fists clenched tighter, and her muscles coiled and wound each second she sat. It was just a simple roll call, a simple acceptance of her diploma. Her objective was to be dignified and collected, like Mom and Dad.

Finally, when class 3E's call began, the students around her began to stand. They weren't sitting in alphabetical order, so pillars rose at random around her. Finally, the voice of her homeroom professor announced the end of her childhood, and the beginning of her new world.

"Christine Masuta," the professor said.

Kris shot to her feet. The instant release of tension from her muscles nearly launched her airborne. The capsule in her palm clicked open. Her eyes filled with neon, and the heat of her materializing partner burned her skin. Zara, her Charizard, turned her snout to the ceiling and roared.

Kris harmonized with her partner, and sang with all her might, "Yes!"

Multiple students, faculty, and attending family members focused on her. The only sound remaining was the subtle crackling of the flame on Zara's tail. Kris refused them the courtesy of embarrassment, and she stood unflinching for that endless moment in time until the next name was called.

The remainder of the roll call blurred in her mind, as her ordeal wasn't yet over. Kris's grades, battle performance, role as the Student Leader of Track Club, and various other accolades meant she was at the top of her class, which naturally meant one thing.

She had a speech.

And not just any speech. She had the closing speech of the ceremony.

With her head tipped, the words rolled silently off her lips as she practiced for the thousandth time. At this point, she could repeat the transcript in alphabetical order from memory if she so pleased. This was a role three years in the making—the leader of her future.

The students began to sing celebratory hymns and no one noticed as she continued to practice under her breath. She had to be perfect. No slip ups or pauses. Absolutely perfect.

She tried not to imagine the version of herself that tripped up the stairs to the audience of deafening silence. She tried not to imagine the her that sang the first sentence like a hymn, only for the second to jam in her throat while the sea of eyes drowned her. Every alter that hiccuped, stumbled, and failed on the way to the finish line stayed out of her mind, or so she told herself. She couldn't allow those visions to be seen by anyone else.

After the songs passed, the speeches began. Kris muttered to herself through the words of the Training Hall Coordinator. She whispered faster through the speeches of the homeroom teachers and the Student Council President. It was only when the penultimate guest speaker rose to the stage that she was forced to take a breath.

An energy surged through the graduating students as he ascended the platform stairs. His navy ceremonial uniform was concealed by the cloak billowing behind him. A king had appeared to greet his bowing subjects. His name was whispered through the student body. Lance Masuta, Champion of the Indigo Plateau.

Kris, of course, wasn't fazed, and mused at the star-stricken kids surrounding her. No matter the presence he exerted to everyone else, to Kris he was sometimes much smaller.

He was Dad.

"Students," he began, "it is truly my honor to be in attendance today. I will keep this short, as I understand you wish to finish this ceremony and spend this joyous day with friends and family."

His eyes scanned the room, addressing everyone and anyone. Except for her. Strangely, his gaze never once landed on his daughter as he continued to judge the rising Trainers before him.

"You have fought for three years. As a benefactor of this institution, I do stand by the assertion that it was a fight. That you stand bloodied today, having survived combat with the most selective school on the continent, is a testament to the strength of your character. And of your partners," he said. He summoned an Ultra Ball from within his cloak and held it at arm's length in front of him.

He spoke with the perfection of an object. A system. He evaded mistakes without a thought to the possibilities—failure wasn't his choice, in front of all of the people who were convinced he wasn't capable. Even the Pokémon in the room were roused by the words. Zara's flame raged with pride and smoke seeped from between her teeth.

As he continued, the reality of the circumstance beaded on her temples. His gaze tore through the crowd and imbued each student with a tiny percentage of his limitless strength. They knew she was next, and that her purpose was to exceed. Why would she exist if not so?

"Now, you must choose your path forward. Many of you passed your university entrance exams. Others look to the world of professional battling. Some have done both, and many will do far more."

A warmth enveloped Kris. She looked up and found that the Champion's—Dad's—eyes had finally met her own. For that brief instant, she wasn't in a crowded auditorium, but instead they were laughing alone in his study three days prior, when she had risked a break from her training schedule to give an unmotivated "hello". The tension in her muscles eased for the length of that memory, until she remembered that the person on stage was someone else.

Her choice.

If he was wise of it, it didn't show. But he was smart enough to know the sound of a lie.

"Your battle begins now," he said. "With courage, you fight. With honor, you fight. With dreams, you fight. Are you prepared to fight for your life?"

On that question, he stepped back from the podium. The auditorium was left petrified as he descended, hair burning, cape flowing.

How was she to follow him? She passed silently by him on a mirrored path to the stage, knowing that they expected her to match, or exceed, a Champion. For a Champion’s daughter, it was a trivial task. She would take his place one day, or so they said, and standing in his shadow for a few short moments was simply an ode to the future.

Kris looked out to the auditorium, finally able to see the greater crowd behind the students. Dad had retreated to the back wall, accompanied by black-garbed security. Next to him, Mom sat in an all-black kimono. She had fought it when Dad proposed it—no doubt feeling strange, as a Sinnohan, to tread ceremonial ground of another culture—but now sat supportive of Kris's performance. She would never miss her daughter's graduation. A phrase escaped her lips, but at this distance, and under the stage lights, Kris couldn't make it out.

She chose to believe it was "I love you".

And so, with no transcript in hand, she faced the student body. The full speech whirled in her mind and ricocheted off the inside of her skull. The only way she could match them was to be perfect. That's all she could ever be. She cleared her lips, straightened her back, took in a breath, and spoke.

Perfect. As usual.


May 2011 - Four Months Ago

It was the final round.

Kris stood on the raised platform, a cage barely protecting the thousands of shadowed spectators from her and her Pokémon. To her right, a giant screen played a live feed of her face as she stared down her opponent. Lightning spiked her hair in every direction as it danced around her. Her body was scorched by the pummeling daylight, and she was drowning in her own sweat, but she wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot!

She swiped her right hand from her chest to her side, holding open the palm towards the floor. The energy of the battle concentrated in the order gesture. "Leo, get to close range!"

Her Heliolisk chirped and bounced. He was a short creature, mostly covered in yellow scales, though orange bands decorated his legs and tail, and his head and extremities were wrapped in black. A similarly black frill, normally folded around his neck, flared to life. The bioelectric cells within respired in overdrive. His body surged with so much energy that sparks overflowed through the gaps in his scaly skin, and he darted towards his opponent.

"Zebstrika, Discharge!" her opponent shouted.

A radial wave of electricity burst from within the Zebstrika's body and raced across the arena floor. Leo narrowly cleared the wave with a short hop. After two uses of Agility earlier in the battle, he was fast enough to create sparking afterimages. They trailed him to the opposite side of the field in less than a second.

Kris's opponent shifted strategies quickly, no doubt realizing she had no way to counter the adept foe. She said, "Use Stomp!"

The equine enemy reared onto its hind legs, its own jagged stripes channeling negative ions. It descended to squash Leo on his approach. However, on his own judgment, he leapt early, corkscrewing through the air towards Zebstrika's head.

"Volt Switch!" Kris ordered.

With a last-second overdrive from its frill, Leo was engulfed by golden lightning. He smashed into the opponent's snout and transferred all his built-up power to the point of collision. The charged action snapped its neck backwards. The reaction, conversely, sent him hurtling back with nearly the same speed he crossed the battlefield.

Kris had his Poké Ball ready and fired the materialization beam to catch his body. The Electric-on-Electric matchup was fruitless for direct confrontation, but she understood its importance as she felt the skyward heat radiating across her skin. Leo had used Sunny Day mere moments ago. Kris quick switched for her partner. In a brilliant light, Zara entered the battlefield to bask in the artificial sun.

She threw out her hand again. "Flamethrower!"

Though the opposing Trainer tried to call a dodge, the confusion of the attack caught her off guard long enough. A solar-powered spire of flame swallowed the Zebstrika whole. When the wisps cleared, it was forced to its knees, burns painting its hide between its stripes.

Kris's opponent placed a hand on her hip and played with a long cable that trailed from her headphones. She was the Gym Leader of Nimbasa City. But here, at Unova's biggest annual tournament, she was no one but Elesa. She tried to look bored even while the sweat on her cheeks smeared her foundation.

"I commend you, sweetie. Perhaps I should teach my entire team Pursuit if people keep using my strategy against me," she said.

"Thanks so much! I'm always fired up for an extra challenge, but I can't say I was expecting to face a Gym Leader." It was a practiced response. A marketed one. Though her heart was exploding in her chest and her tongue was bleeding from an anxious bite, the line mic on her cheek didn’t ask her permission to cast her words over the roaring audience to the jumbotron. It wouldn't benefit her to be uncouth.

"I was interested in seeing the new talent. And I can see why you're here."

All around her, she could hear her name. Kris. Kris. Kris.

Her gaze turned to the crowd, and to the signs. Some had images of her face, others simply shouted encouragement. But the ones she couldn't look away from said "GO FOR THE WORLD TRIAL", bold and brash. Once she took this PWT Masters Division title, her third national-level competition, she'd have every requirement needed to storm the Grand Axis and claw at the title of World Champion.

She could feel their eyes. With Mom and Dad's deep footsteps laid bare, they had no reason to think she could deviate from such an obvious path.

"It's about time we finished this, don't you think?" asked the Gym Leader. "Wild Charge!"

Kris couldn't agree more—she wanted to be done. She wiped the moisture from her head, swallowed the blood in her mouth, and gave her command. "Prepare Flamethrower!"

Her opponent galloped forward, channeling the power of thunder itself. The Zebstrika grew as it closed in, looming over both Kris and her partner. No matter how close it got, and how its eyes pierced through her, she wouldn't lose her will. Her parents wouldn't. She couldn't.

She threw out her hand. "Fire!"
 
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[1-3] The Girl Trapped in the Present

TheWinterComet

Longfic-aholic
Volume 1, Part 3 - The Girl Trapped in the Present

July 2011 - Two Months Ago

Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right.

Kris felt her breath hitch from the exertion as she picked up speed. Like she was still on the track field, her calves and thighs subscribed to memory, and a blank space formed in her mind as she followed its instructions to the letter. It was almost satisfying to let herself stop thinking, and just do what every signal was telling her to do.

But she caught herself. No. Bad. She matched her exhales with the rhythm of her feet and slowed to crawl. This wasn't a track meet. There wasn't a hurry. She was just a normal seventeen-year-old girl on a normal, average, boring, regular afternoon jog.

She saw the villa coming up and let the wind carry her the remaining meters until she skidded to a stop at the doorstep. Taking a few moments, she placed her fist on the panel siding and took in a massive gulp of air that incinerated her throat on the way down. Talk about refreshing. She preferred the summers in Sinnoh to the perpetual burn of the Grand Axis—what she wouldn’t give to have a vacation house off a cool current.

After she finally recovered, she readjusted her sweat-adhered shirt and running shorts to be at the very least slightly presentable. But she stopped halfway after reminding herself, yet again, that this was home.

She pushed in the door and called. "I'm back."

"Welcome home!" It was Mom, who was standing in the parlor in front of the television. A river of platinum blonde flowed from her head, highlighted by her black sweater and slacks. A library's worth of paperwork was scattered between the coffee table, some chairs, and the hardwood flooring. Central to the pile was a thick notebook with a worn, leather cover. "How was your run?"

"Geez, you really threw things around while I was out. I was only gone about..." She glanced at the elaborate clock on the far wall. Three rings twirled in concentric motions until they eventually came to rest, the inner two emulating an analog clock's hands. "Eighteen minutes?"

"Dr. Cassius asked me to write a chapter for a book of his about the evolution of origin myth through the industrial age," she said, seeming to believe that explained something.

Kris kicked a paper beneath her foot. "Did it require turning the parlor upside-down?"

"Oh, absolutely! A project like this needs the most practiced techniques academia has to offer."

"Sure," said Kris. "Where are Dad and Saber?"

The villa trembled. Glass implements over in the kitchen—hanging up on angled hooks—tinked against each other and the assortment of papers slid across the floor. After a few seconds, the vibrations came to rest. Mom said, "I'd assume they're sparring."

"Yeah, I got that. I'll make sure they don't level the house." Kris headed down the hall, tracing a hand along the spotless white wall. It felt cool under her fingertips.

The house surrendered itself to the sun in the glass passage to the courtyards. Rebounding rays left sparkles on the glass, as if she was walking under daylight stars. Their own little paradise, for the few days they could be together. Her summer break, which was self-imposed, was her only option to see her parents since she started at SPTI—Saffron Polytechnic Trainer's Institute. No longer was she flying between Johto and Sinnoh every weekend.

She came up to the intersection of the complex. Most of the villa's living space was concentrated at the front, while the extensive open-air courtyard was split into four and outlined by the glass halls. The quadrants were microenvironments for their Pokémon to explore, but they had another purpose. Each was a functional, and reinforced, battle arena.

Kris grabbed an invisible handle and pulled open the glass panel to invade the wonderful world. It was a flower patch of infinite color and beyond infinite aromas. Each second, she discovered a newly synthesized scent among the swirling particles. Some included the sting of dragon flame, and she noticed a few of the flowers catch under a rain of violet embers.

"Command: Repeat Dragon Breath!" Her brother shouted.

His Dragonite summoned power from the earth, the flowers, the sky itself, and rained fire. It bounced off the curled wings of his target, the emerald Dragonite owned by Dad—the father of Saber's own. It dispelled the remaining fire with a shake and took off flying across the field, catching its offspring off guard.

"Command: Hyper Beam!" Saber's order was desperate, and from a quick glance Kris could tell his Pokémon was running out of steam. It was pouring all its energy into one final gambit.

The younger Dragonite's gaping maw yielded an orb of pure, radiant energy. It expanded until its light nearly engulfed the Pokémon's head. Then it fired. The weapon's wielder sank into the dirt as it tried to control the recoil. The sheer power of the fired laser tore up every flower in its path, and nearly blinded Kris despite standing at the edge of the arena.

Flying within the Hyper Beam's sights, the elder Dragonite made its own decision to dodge. It charged a Hyper Beam of its own, and without delay, unleashed its fury not at the oncoming laser but at the ground beneath itself. The near point-blank discharge launched it into the air to soar over the oncoming attack. With gravity on its side, and with one final beat of its wings, it plummeted towards its enemy with an arm poised to strike.

Dad gave his order. "Use Dragon Claw!"

The emerald Dragonite slashed its charged claw. It tore across the younger's hide, making it topple to the ground, defeated. The Pokémon gently landed beside and stood over its ward. It offered the same claw that delivered the final blow.

The younger's antenna drooped as it laid in the destroyed flowers, and though it whined in pain—and possibly disappointment—it eventually took the hand of its parent to pull itself up. The beasts regarded each other with proud stances as their Trainers met in the middle. Father and father and son and son.

"That was an exceptional fight from both parties," said Saber. Despite the heat, he was wearing black slacks and a crimson button-up, similar to an outfit Dad sometimes wore for political events. "It was genius for your Dragonite to redirect itself with Hyper Beam's recoil, and I was completely caught off guard. As expected from the Champion!"

Dad smirked through the statement. "You're blustering to distract from your sixth loss."

"Unfounded claims! It's simply best to be a good sport to my opponents and let them know they're doing well."

"You'll defeat me one day." Dad reached out a hand and ruffled his son's hair. He was one of few people who had the height to even make that gesture. "Both of you will."

Kris tried to ignore it. She toed between the flowers to hopefully save them some additional suffering. The gardening service would have their work cut out for them.

"Kris, shouldn't you be training for the World Trial as well?" asked Saber.

"I'm just trying to enjoy a break for once," she said.

Saber shook his head feverishly, to the point she was sure he'd spin his head clean off his neck like a screw. "You should always be seeking new heights with vigilance." He grew this awful, toothy smirk. "Why do you think our battle record is the way it is?"

Kris pointed a finger. "Maybe you just need to be a little less sweaty about it."

"I think his team could use the rest for now, anyway. Perhaps a few days," Dad said as he finished discussing with his partner. The Dragonite took off into the air to trace the coastline, unwilling to be contained by the bounds of the villa. "Why don't we all sit down for lunch?"

"I'm starving and parched," Kris said. "Count me in."

"Our duel will have to wait, then. Mark my words!" Saber marched through the quadrant, not waiting for either of them to catch up. His own Dragonite followed him in a weakened slump.

Dad sent her an amused look. She looked up at him and felt a warmth stronger than the summer sun. He said, "I'm glad you're home."

"I'm glad to be home. Feels like I'm seeing you and Mom more during official stuff nowadays."

His face soured, and she assumed he'd say the same old thing. Say sorry and expect something to change, because Champion stuff came first and both of them knew it. But eventually, he said, "I'll argue with the council at the next major address. No guarantee, but maybe we can claim it's 'necessary training for the World Trial'."

He raised a knowing brow. She bumped him her shoulder and laughed.

"Well, we shouldn't keep them. Do you want to find a nice place in the city?" he asked.

She imagined the stares, and the whispers. The tabloid headings with exploitative photographs as the cover story, busting through any cheap disguise they could muster.

"No," Kris said. "Let's just do something here."

Dad smiled at the suggestion and, with a hand on her shoulder, led her from the battlefield. When they returned to the parlor, it wasn't long before it was enveloped in a savory mist. Her partner's Flamethrower ignited the wood-fire oven, they pulled glasses from their hooks, and the cutting board was stacked with meats, fruits, and vegetables of countless international sources. The staff kept the villa stocked well.

"Might I put in an order for dumplings?" asked Saber. Kris eyed him over the counter, where he had joined Mom's quest for knowledge.

Neat stacks of notes towered over the disorderly piles already present. She watched him rip open the plastic wrap of a sparkling textbook, no doubt something he'd recently requested from a subject library of his graduate school. His program was linguistic research, building off his undergraduate major and capstone.

"That'll take extra time, buddy," Kris said. Steam framed her face when she dumped freshly chopped potatoes into boiling water, and she decided to add something exotic for fun. Her hand found a Chople Berry at random, and its sliced components joined the pot. Kris zipped between stations—sink, fridge, cutting board, stove, oven—while Dad took up post wherever she left off.

Between herself and her father, a banquet had been set to cook. Perhaps they overdid it. It looked more like a holiday event than an average midday meal, the sinks piling higher with dirtied metal, but she supposed it was a kind of holiday.

Her eyes drifted to the grand piano sitting at the corner of the room, momentarily distracting her while she prepared. It was long enough that Dad's guiding hand took over and nudged her aside. She asked, "What's up?"

"I know you haven't played in a while," he said, taking command of the stovetop and checking the meat roasting on the open fire. "Go."

Light on her feet, she took his advice to the leather-cushioned stool. Kris popped the knuckles in her fingers and rested them on the keys. She inhaled. She exhaled. She played.

Pages flipping and food sizzling was joined by the hammering of keys. Silvery tones bubbled from the instrument and floated about the room. Her left hand on the treble slammed four keys in an uneven rhythm, while her fingers on the right danced between notes in rapid succession. Then she repositioned and danced down the scale, before settling into a dramatic melody.

To Kris it was more soothing than its surface sounds. She thought of Mom holding her tiny hands on the keys, on blurry weekends before she remembered ever holding a Poké Ball. She had watched her mother dance across the piano and asked if it was any fun through a missing tooth.

The only people that had ever heard her play were her parents and brother, and she twirled through the melody with no intent to change that. They were together. They were playing. And they were, for once, alone.

Soon she'd have to return to Saffron, her brother and father to the Indigo Plateau, and her mother to Lily of the Valley. They would once again swim seas of prying eyes. But as the flavors of food and music intertwined, she banished her longing thoughts. She had to enjoy the time they had left, and she couldn't let the inevitable end hold her back.

She just kept on playing.



September 2011 - Present Day

A white granite monument. The stone should have reflected brightly, but it was severed from the sun by a cloud barricade in the sky.

Kris kneeled in front of it, soiling her black dress. Countless flowers, incense, coins, and empty Poké Balls were laid on the ledge near the headstone's base. None of the gifts were her own. She had forgotten to bring one. The epitaphs were carved in three languages. Sinnohan, for her Mom. Johtoan, for her Dad. Unovan, for the rest of the mourning world.

Cynthia Masuta

December 2nd, 1966 - August 30th, 2011

Lance Masuta

July 29th, 1964 - August 30th, 2011

May our peace be yours. May your peace live forever.
 
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[1-4] Hush in the Throne Room

TheWinterComet

Longfic-aholic
Volume 1, Part 4 - Hush in the Throne Room

The preceding week was foggy as the day she had found them, but she remembered spending all the tears she had between her dreams. Now she couldn't force herself to cry as she read the words on the gravestone over and over and over and over and over and over and over until a hand on her shoulder restrained her.

Kris glanced at the crowd behind her. An impossible mass of thousands, perhaps more, waited fifty meters behind at the base of a soft hill. Though many had come to honor the Champions, only a select few private individuals could approach the burial site itself. The one holding her was Steven Stone, Champion of Hoenn, stiff like an automaton. His black suit was spotless, and his otherwise pale blue hair was bleached gray by the overcast sky. He said, "You've been here a long time."

"...Yeah." Kris returned her eyes to the headstone.

"The longer you stay, the harder it will be to leave," he said.

She knew that. But she couldn't take her eyes, or her body, away. It wasn't listening to her true self. Or perhaps it was, and she wasn't.

He lowered his head to the grave, and she was thankful for the lapse of silence that allowed her to stay. The grip on her shoulder shifted to beneath her arm. She didn't protest when he walked her away from the end of the world, but she kept looking back. A man in dusty boots took their place at the headstone and their eyes met for a moment as he passed.

The crowd of black-garbed visitors parted when they reached the base of the hill. It was dotted with familiar faces. Gym Leaders, Elite Four, Champions, and other League figures from across the world passed her by. Normally, standing in front of so many would have weighed on her, but aside from her essential senses, she didn't feel much of anything at all.

They were stopped by two men. One had purple hair and a messy blazer—she knew him distantly as Leon Tarak, Champion of Galar—while the other looked much more put together behind his glasses.

"Jolly hello, Mr. Stone," said Leon. A smile formed on his face for a few seconds but vanished quickly. "Good to see you're doing well."

"Please, Dr. Stone. Or just Stone is fine," Stone said.

"Right, Mr. Stone was—" Leon zipped himself shut as Kris fell into his sight. Awkwardly, and without her consent, he wrapped his arms around her. It wasn’t warm. "I know we aren't good mates but know that I'm here for you and your brother. Your parents... inspired me, and many others, and I'd return the favor if I can."

She mumbled a thank you into his chest and he finally pulled away when he realized she wasn't comfortable in his arms.

His companion pulled him back. He said, tapping a binder he was carrying under his arm, "We're still on schedule. Let's not delay much longer."

"Yeah, yeah. The Chairman can right shove it if he wants to rush me here," said Leon, who bid them goodbye and journeyed to the resting hill.

There were a few more distractions on her way back. More people telling her sorry and expecting that something would change. Some offered her gifts, which she turned down with her reluctance to answer. Kris kept her head down and let Steven Stone take her forward, because she had no power left to do it herself.

Eventually, they cleared the blackened crowd and found stragglers near the edge of the grounds, including security and other managerial staff. What was most important was her brother, who beckoned them over. Stone pulled her along the bleached greenery.

Saber was speaking with the Sinnoh Elite Four. Three men, Dr. Lucian Furutre, Mr. Flint Oba, and Mr. Aaron Feil, and one elderly woman, Mrs. Bertha Kikuko, all assembled around him and spoke in hushed terms. Whatever they were discussing, he dropped it as soon as they approached. Kris felt small beneath them, like she was standing before a grand jury and awaiting her charges.

"I retrieved her for you." Stone tapped his hand against her back, and she stepped up.

Saber bowed deeply to the man, his torso parallel to the ground. "Thank you, Dr. Stone. I was busy speaking with the Elite Four and I couldn't possibly pull myself away."

Kris chose not to speak even though she knew it was a lie. They had been on the grounds for over an hour and he had never once strayed up the hill, instead circling the edges of the visiting crowd and speaking to every acquaintance he could find. But there was nothing compelling him to do so. There was no urgent business to anyone but him.

"What’s all this?" Kris whispered. "I just want to go home."

"But you are! You're—we're—going to be home very soon, and I thought we should update you on the League's plans," said Saber.

Lucian stepped forward and adjusted his lavender-tinted glasses. He inverted his usual attire, a crimson undershirt beneath a black suit for the occasion. "Ah, you are officially under care of the Sinnoh League. Once we return to the grounds, you may not leave without permission from the Viceroy. I apologize that it has to be this way."

"What about the Indigo Plateau?" she asked.

"The League believes you two may still be… in danger, considering the circumstances," said Stone. "Because of the Rocket Heist, the Indigo League is considered compromised until its security protocols are completely overhauled. My suggestion was to keep you at the IPL headquarters on the Grand Axis, but they insisted you be somewhere familiar."

"I also already cleared with your professors at Saffron to give you breathing room for your classes, and to permanently work away from campus," Saber said.

"And know that we are dedicated to supporting you," said Lucian. He approached her and spoke under his breath. "If you ever need my counseling, I shall make myself available."

Kris let the explanation pass through her without response, feeling overwhelmed by so many people speaking. It didn't matter anyway. She could be just about anywhere, just as she was when she was traveling between the two Leagues on the regular. Back when she was in high school. Back when she was still living with Mom and Dad.

She toppled into Saber's arms. When had he moved so close to her? He was saying something to the people around them, but she couldn't hear him. Kris brought a hand to her cheek to find that it was wet. Oh. So she did still had some tears left.

"Maybe we should leave soon," he said, holding her tight and speaking directly into her ear. "Would you like to go?"

She hesitated. Her mind cast to the hill beyond the crowd, hundreds of meters behind her, and to the granite at its peak. One more moment would be enough. Just one more.

"Yeah," she said, despite herself.

Her brother supported her weight as they moved on, leaving the Elite Four and the Hoenn Champion behind. They reached the black iron gate that marked the fenced-off grounds, swung wide open for visitors to move as they pleased. Just as they passed under it, Kris's head swung on its own, and she sent one last gaze to the hill.

The mourners were still parted, giving her a clear view. She was tethered to the monument, like and could read the epitaph while so far away. The text etched itself into her mind.

May your peace live forever.

Even if it lived forever, it would take her an eternity to find it.



Their castle. Their fortress. Their magnificent new home.

The Sinnoh League was the guardian of Lily of the Valley Island. Though its arches and curves recalled a religious sanctuary, five domed, fortified towers rose from within. A stronghold that once held against a hundred-thousand strong army was renovated into the League's watchful citadel over the Region.

Saber, for one, thought it genius! A true symbol of hope for the Sinnohan people, that the Pokémon League could defend them from whatever ills threatened their way of life. It was a perfect throne from which a Champion could lead and inspire!

Saber stood inside the Champion's chamber. The abstract cubed interior pulsed with a neon heartbeat leaking from beneath the crystal Poke Ball emblem laid into the floor. Only the brightest public symbols, those that proved they captured the hearts and minds of the Region, were even allowed entry to this sacred place. And on the rare chance that that challenger emerged victorious—certainly not something he remembered happening in his lifetime—they would ascend to the apex of the tower on the rising platform and formally receive the defeated Champion's torch.

Only now, the throne was empty.

There would be no passage through battle. Someone would have to stand in his mother's place, and even if they were as officially qualified, they would have no way to prove that Sinnoh had grown stronger than it was before.

"Mr. Masuta, the conference," said a man behind him. It was an assigned International Police guard, a stocky man with long blond hair.

Saber pulled up his black sleeve and checked his watch. Just shy of eight. He'd been waiting all afternoon and had done little but pace around the building in anticipation since they arrived. He hadn't even discarded his funeral wear.

Saber turned away from the blackened chamber and passed into the sterile connecting halls lined with bar lights. He stood on an access elevator, and once the guard stepped on behind him, he let himself fall from the heavens. As he returned to the grand hall of the Sinnoh League, a whirling of emotions stirred within, unable to calm.

The throne wasn't empty. It was emptied.

He had seen their bodies with his own eyes. Puncture wounds to each of their heart, inflicted in their sleep. Oceans of ink had been spilled on newspapers already—every journalist and investigator on the planet was no doubt scrambling to learn why this had happened. It couldn't possibly have been a crime of passion. This had happened for a reason.

His eyes shifted left and right, racing between people standing in the grand hall. Clerks, visitors, Trainers. The room was positively packed, but aside from tacit gestures and close whispers, it was quiet. No one had anything to say, not that they could speak if they did.

Any one of them could be guilty. As he walked to the main staircase, he focused on the people passing by. He tried to read their culpability and find something sinister hidden beneath their saddened faces. Whatever they saw on him in return, it made them cower.

Just days before their deaths they had assisted the League’s efforts to de-escalate an armed conflict in Orre, and they were scheduled to attend the World Trial next year. They were symbols for people the world over.

Somehow, he would find who did this. Sinnoh, and the entire planet beyond it, couldn't rest until a suspect was brought forward.

Saber ascended the spiraling stairs and ran his hand along the glass railing. He looked one last time at the hall, and the suspects within, before his view was obscured by the upper floors. When he reached the uppermost level—a suite for the Champions and their families, much like at the Indigo Plateau—he swiped his ID badge to gain entryway.

It was dark inside. Saber waved his hand over the wall's motion sensor and watched it come alive after a short delay. He didn't bother turning on anything beyond the main commons, knowing that his sister was locked away. She hadn't left her bedroom since they settled in.

He set himself down on the sofa, powered on the TV, and set the volume just above a whisper. The channel was already on the live feed from IPLTV-1, the Grand Axis's public broadcasting service. A motionless camera broadcast an empty podium somewhere within the International Pokémon League's headquarters. A timer in the corner blinked from 19:59 to 20:00.

A figure glided from offscreen. It was the honorable CEO of the International Pokémon League, Oberon Terminus. His emerald suit was topped with a mantle around his shoulders, signaling a ceremonial procession, and a scabbard hung at his waist. In his shadow was only a single person, one Saber recognized immediately. Ms. Karen Morgana of the Indigo Elite Four, in a flowing, yellow dress and wearing her ashen hair in a bun. They were barely acquaintances, but he had spoken with her frequently while living with his father at the Indigo Plateau.

Immediately, something gnawed at him. Why was he leading only one person to the podium? Beneath his stalwart face, there was an uncharacteristic fidgeting in Mr. Terminus's hands. This hesitation wasn't becoming of a CEO, and judging by the whispers of the audience, it didn't escape their notice.

"Thank you for your patience." Mr. Terminus's mature baritone silenced the crowd immediately. "I do not wish to linger on this point, so I shall be brief. Nor do I wish to ignore the gravity of what has transpired this past week, so I shall be reverent. We mourn the passing of Cynthia Masuta and Lance Masuta, Champions of Sinnoh and the Indigo Plateau."

The sound of their names drove a pain through his chest. He clutched his heart, almost believing for a moment that he received their same wound.

The man on the pedestal grew more unsettled by the moment. His hands dropped out of sight below the podium to hide his uncertainty. "It is painful for us to announce new title bearers and leave behind the world they championed. We have, and will continue, to deliberate on our decisions today, as we understand they will have lasting consequences."

He drew out a pause. Someone offscreen announced, "The Honorable Karen Morgana of the Indigo Elite Four will step forward to receive the title of Champion."

Ms. Morgana strode beside the podium and then dropped to a knee. The camera turned to focus on her as the CEO stepped from behind, reached for his waist, and pulled a blade from the scabbard.

"By decision of the Indigo Plateau, and by the authority of the International Pokémon League, I may offer you this right," said Mr. Terminus. He brought the blade up and tapped it once on her left shoulder. Rather than a second tap on her right, however, the man brought the edge to her neck. "Do you accept the responsibility of your Region and your world?"

"I accept," said the woman without hesitation.

The ceremonial sword returned to its home. That warranted a greater reaction than the adoubement itself. Ms. Morgana rose, stepped back, and allowed the CEO to resume speaking.

"We hope that this will enable us, as a united people, to forge onward. Mr. Masuta would be proud to have a successor with such strength of character as Ms. Morgana," said Mr. Terminus.

Who was it? Who would take the Championship in his mother's place? Barely apparent to him, he had risen from the couch and inched close to the television. His own hands were shaking. With anxiety. With fear.

"However, I now must bring attention to unfortunate news. Due to a lack of suitable candidates," the man said, making Saber's heart sink, "the position of Sinnoh Champion will remain vacant. We are addressing this matter with utmost priority, and we will seek a Champion that the people truly deserve."

Saber felt himself seize. Though the crowd was hushed leading to this moment, the assembly exploded with questions and microphones. Oberon Terminus had no answers to their demands.

As he stepped back from his pedestal, amidst the roar of a begging citizenry, he issued one final—hollow—statement.

"Thank you for your cooperation."
 
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AbraPunk

Cosmic Guardian
Location
The Circle
Pronouns
he/him
Partners
  1. luxio
Hi, here for catnip!

First things first, I have to say that I have absolutely zero knowledge of your fic's shared universe, so, uh, I don't know where I was going with that, but yeah.

Anyways, since all of your currently published chapters are so short, I decided to read all of them!

(My review style tends to be a bit on the meme-y side, so sorry if that's not what you're looking for in a review 😅)

𒅆𒊒 𒍪𒅆,

yooo wingdings

Humans are an odd, destructive, dangerous people.

misanthropy let's gooooooo

Yesterday was a beautiful instant. Kris escaped it as quickly as she entered, wishing it the same tepid goodbye she had offered thousands of its ancestors. It was useless to wish back a day that she couldn’t forget, but this was the first time she recalled wanting reality, not a memory, to replay.

The morning fog finally cleared over the water. Damp grains nestled themselves beneath her toes as she swirled her bare feet absentmindedly through the beach sands.

Her hand had grown numb in the grip of her brother's as they sat together by the sea. When they stepped up to the waves an indefinite time ago, they agreed in their silence not to glance behind them at the villa wrapped in yellow tape and painted with emergency lights.

Neither of them twitched. Neither of them coughed. Neither of them did anything. She wondered if he heard her speak, or if his senses had lost their grasp of reality. She felt it slipping herself.
Yesterday was a beautiful instant, but today was a horrible eternity. Neither of them asked for today, but they would suffer its grip. She wouldn't wish it goodbye when the time eventually came.

ok woah holy shit this wording style is like.... almost proverbial??? It feels like stuff you'd read off of a tiny poster in the corner of a teacher's classroom with some life lesson from like 400 years ago. that's a compliment by the way haha

March 2011 - Six Months Ago

remember when everyone was freaking out about the Mayan calendar in 2012 lol

No two students were adjacent, as to each student's right was a matted space for their partner Pokémon. All students of Plateau were required to train, and learn, and commit themselves to Pokémon alongside their general studies.

yoooo genuinely awesome idea. also you predicted scarlet/violet lol

At the same time, he tapped the button on his Poké Ball and released his Kingler onto the mat in a brilliant flash of red.

crab rave!!!!! 🦀

Multiple students, faculty, and attending family members turned to her at her outburst. The only sound remaining was the subtle crackling of the flame on Zara's tail. But Kris refused them the courtesy of embarrassment, and she stood unflinching until the assembly reached a tacit agreement to continue.

Why do people expect you to be silent anyways?

(I wouldnt know why, because I never had a real graduation lol)

Lance Masuta, Champion of the Indigo Plateau.

Kris, of course, wasn't fazed by his appearance, and merely chuckled to herself at the star-stricken kids surrounding her. No matter the presence he exerted, he was one thing above all.

Dad.

my first thought was that he's probably a really cool dad, and my second thought was he's probably actually a shitstain.

"Leo, get to close range!"

Her Heliolisk

yooooo heliolisk!!!!! :quag:

Once she took this PWT Masters Division title, her third national-level competition, she'd have every requirement needed to storm the Grand Axis and claw at the title of World Champion.

judging by, like, everything that happened in the first chapter, and what some meta text says, this will not happen lol

Most of the villa's living space was concentrated at the front, while the extensive open-air courtyard was split into four and outlined by the glass halls. The quadrants were microenvironments for their Pokémon to explore, but they had another purpose. Each was a functional, and reinforced, battle arena.

fucking coolest house ever??????

None of the gifts were her own. She had forgotten to bring one.

do I sense hidden resentment

"Jolly hello, Mr. Stone,"
"Please, Dr. Stone. Or just Stone is fine,"

mister doctor

Because of the Rocket Heist

something's always kind of funny to me when Rocket's doing everything. idk, I never played gen 1 games so I don't know if they're actually competent villains or not in terms of canon.

but this isn't canon, so--

And know that we are dedicated to supporting you," said Lucian. He approached her and spoke under his breath. "If you ever need my counseling, I shall make myself available."

the fucking goat :quag:

What happened to his parents was no accident. He had seen their bodies with his own eyes. Two identical puncture wounds to the heart, inflicted in their sleep.

:eyes:

armed conflict in Orre

:eyes: (if the big eyes emoji from the TR discord was available I would use it right here)


-----

Really good read! Definitely going to come back when it updates again!
 

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
Hey there, here for the review exchange. As agreed, I've read all that has been posted here so far (Letter 1 - Volume 1, Part 4). Here are my thoughts.

Quote Comments

The end of her life, between parted velvet curtains, beckoned from the auditorium's recessed stage. The headmaster of Plateau Senior High School bowed to the crowd and offered his place to a homeroom professor when he descended the platform. She grimaced in her tight kimono but diligently carried out her duties as she announced the names of her students.
This kept me confused for a while since I initially read the "she" as being the same as the "her" at the beginning, that being the protagonist. I suggest replacing the "she" with "the professor" to eliminate unnecessary ambiguity.

Keeping the capsule in front of him, Dad continued. His gaze continued to tear through the crowd and imbued each student with a tiny percentage of his limitless strength. Yet it still evaded her. "Now, you have accepted the title of commander, leading an army of your own making. It is you who must choose your engagements, and no two of you will stain the same battlefield. Many of you passed your university entrance exams. Others look to the world of professional battling. Some have done both."

A warmth enveloped Kris, easing her tensed muscles. She looked up and found that the Champion's—Dad's—eyes had finally met her own. And he refused to look away.

"Your war begins now," he said. "With courage, you fight. With honor, you fight. With dreams, you fight. Are you prepared to give your life?"
I feel like Lance's speech is meant to be encouraging here, but these specific metaphors have me kind of uncomfortable. Likening a trainer's team to a private army makes it sound as if the Pokemon should be treated as weapons or disposable soldiers that are unquestionably under the command of their superior rather than being friends and partners, and I just generally get bad vibes from whenever war is cast in a positive, honorable light.

Her Heliolisk chirped and bounced. He was a short creature, mostly covered in yellow scales, though orange bands decorated his legs and tail, and his head and extremities were wrapped in black. A similarly black frill, normally folded around his neck, flared to life.
I don't think this level of description of what a Heliolisk looks like is needed. If a reader didn't know what a particular Pokemon looked like, I'd expect them to google it.

The equine enemy reared onto its hind legs, its own jagged stripes channeling negative ions.
The charged action snapped its neck backwards. The reaction, conversely, sent him hurtling back with nearly the same speed he crossed the battlefield.
It's not really a problem here, but I think delving into real physics in Pokemon battles is generally kind of a risky move - there's the danger of ending up drawing more attention to the things that wouldn't make sense physically, which in turn can weaken willing suspension of disbelief.

Kris had his Poké Ball ready and fired the materialization beam to catch his body.
In the case of recalling a Pokemon, it would be a dematerialization beam, right?

She preferred the climate of Sinnoh to the perpetual burn of the Grand Axis. If the Pokémon League was so smart, why did it build its main headquarters on an equatorial hellscape?
This... seems a little insensitive towards cultures living on the equator, so it lessens my opinion of Kris.

"When tomorrow comes, I'm going to find who murdered them. Even if I have to walk to the ends of Kibra."
"That was an exceptional fight from both parties," said Saber. Despite the heat, he was wearing black slacks and a crimson button-up, copying an outfit Dad sometimes wore. "It was genius for your Dragonite to redirect itself with Hyper Beam's recoil, and I was completely caught off guard. As expected from a Champion's Pokémon!"
"Unfounded claims! It's simply best to be sportsmanlike to my opponents and let them know they're doing well."
Saber shook his head feverishly, to the point she was sure he'd spin his head clean off his neck like a screw. "You should always be seeking new heights with vigilance." He grew this awful, toothy smirk. "Why do you think our battle record is the way it is?"
"Rest assured, I'll collect my dues in due time!" Saber marched through the quadrant, not waiting for either of them to catch up. His own Dragonite followed him in a weakened slump.
I have to be honest and say that I'm just not a fan of the way Saber talks. It doesn't sound like how a modern teenager or young adult would naturally talk. It sounds more like he's trying to come off as some kind of renaissance man. It's somewhat annoying to me, so it makes me like him less as a character.

Dad sent her a bemused look.
I'm not completely sure if you did, but in case you meant "amused" here, "bemused" is not a synonym - instead, it means "confused".

"We shouldn't keep them waiting. Would you like me to call a nice establishment in the city?"
It feels like there's supposed to be a bond between Kris and Lance, but the way in which he talks to her doesn't seem fitting for that. A father that is well familiar with her daughter and loves her would ask this question very casually, like "do you want to go eat out". Here, it feels as if the two are estranged and Lance feels like he needs to appear very fancy for some reason.

Kris grabbed an invisible handle and pulled open the glass panel to invade the wonderful world. It was a flower patch of infinite color and beyond infinite aromas. Each second, she discovered a newly synthesized scent among the swirling particles. Some included the sting of draconic flames, and she noticed a few of the flowers catch under a rain of violet embers.
I have to question why they went to the trouble of planting flowers in a battlefield when they'd likely just get ruined through a battle like this.

Her partner's Flamethrower ignited the wood-fire oven, they pulled fine glasses from their hooks, and the cutting board was stacked with meats, fruits, and vegetables of all cultures.
This expression doesn't really make sense - meats or fruits or vegetables are not human inventions, so they can't belong to certain cultures. Dishes made with them can, however.

There were a few more distractions on her way back. More people telling her sorry and expecting that something would change.
I know trauma and the subsequent depression can make people's tempers worse, but this just comes off as mean on Kris's part. People don't tell you they're sorry for your loss to get something to happen, they do it out of decency.

Saber, for one, thought it genius! A true symbol of hope for the Sinnohan people, that the Pokémon League could defend them from whatever ills threatened their way of life. It was a perfect throne from which a Champion could lead and inspire!

Saber stood inside the Champion's chamber. The abstract cubed interior pulsed with a neon heartbeat leaking from beneath the crystal Poke Ball emblem laid into the floor. Only the best and brightest, those that serviced their communities and proved they could lead better than any politician, were allowed entry to this sacred place. And on the rare chance that that challenger emerged victorious—certainly not something he remembered happening in his lifetime—they would ascend to the apex of the tower on the rising platform and formally receive the defeated Champion's torch.
There would be no passage through battle. Someone would have to stand in his mother's place without proving, conclusively, that they were the strongest. That they had the raw skill and courage to give people hope.
Just days before their deaths they had de-escalated an armed conflict in Orre, and they were scheduled to attend the World Trial next year. His parents were symbols for people the world over.
So I'm not really sure how I'm meant to feel about the amount of power that Champions have and Saber considering it a good and righteous thing here. There's nothing in the story to suggest that the world (outside conflict regions like Orre) is any worse than the quite utopian setting we have in the games and anime, so the implication is that this system does work and is therefore good. However, thinking realistically (and given the story has a "politics" tag, I'm assuming I'm meant to think more critically about these things), it sounds like a very bad idea.

If Champions are decided through Pokemon battles, which seems to be the case here, then someone becoming a Champion means they're very good at Pokemon battles... but it doesn't say anything else. It doesn't say that the person would be any good at leading a nation or its people, diplomacy, making military decisions, being responsible with fame, having agreeable politics or ethics, being good under pressure in situations where real human lives are at stake, being able to make hard choices... all qualities that a leader or anyone that is allowed to try and de-escalate peace crises should have. It simply says that they're good at Pokemon battles. Sure, you're never gonna be a good Pokemon battler if you don't have some leadership skills, but leading six Pokemon in a friendly, legal battle and winning is far removed from, say, dealing with a terrorist organization.

I understand the general frustration with politicians that might possibly lead to someone thinking they're inept leaders, but the fact remains that they are still democratically elected - and there are multiple of them, meaning different groups' opinions and needs are represented and some level of agreement must be found for a decision to be made. They also operate under the government, whose purpose is to lead a nation, while the Champions operate under the League, which is apparently a corporation in this world, and corporations' sole purpose is to make profit. It's pretty worrying.

What happened to his parents was no accident. He had seen their bodies with his own eyes. Two identical puncture wounds to the heart, inflicted in their sleep. Oceans of ink had been spilled on newspapers already—every journalist and investigator on the planet was no doubt scrambling to learn why this had happened. It couldn't possibly have been a crime of passion. This had happened for a reason.
"What happened to his parents was no accident" sounds like the idea of the deaths not being an accident is something that was only determined through careful investigation, but the way the bodies are described, it would be very strange for anyone to suggest it could have been an accident in the first place. I'm also not sure if "two identical puncture wounds to the heart" means that they both had two each or the two of them each had one. If the former, I would kind of have expected there to be a working theory of it being the bite of a snake Pokemon, since that seems like the obvious first assumption to me.

General Comments

To be upfront, I think there are a couple things that could be improved in these chapters. It's hard to give any direct advice since I still know so little about the story and your intentions for it, but I hope I can still explain my issues in a constructive and helpful manner.

The main issue I had was the character of Kris. We start off seeing her in a very bad situation, which makes us automatically feel for her, and then we move on to a flashback to see what her life was like before this. This is a good idea, since Kris is likely not going to feel and act like herself for a while after the trauma of her parents' murder (and we see that this is the case when we return to the present) and it's therefore better to go to the past to see more of her before the trauma to get a better idea of her character and how she would normally live her life.

The execution, however, actually got me to feel much less engaged in her character. Bluntly put, she seems too perfect, and her life feels extremely privileged. She's confident, a prodigy at battling, respected and idolized by the people around her, even fantastic on the piano. She's also the daughter of two Champions and her family is rich enough to live in a mansion with dedicated staff and battle arenas. Practically speaking, she has no flaws or struggles. There's an inkling of something in her knowing that she has a lot of expectations to live up to, but she doesn't actually seem all that bothered by it. She mentions that she's had to train very hard to get where she is now, but we don't see any of it - all we have to go by is her own brief claim. There's also the fact that her background means that she would have had the best resources and training possible, which means the amount of work needed to reach the position she's in would have been notably less for her than any regular kid.

This all leads to me just not relating to her or connecting with her at all, and when the story is about her, I'm not engaged in the story. I'm also not someone that's excited about battles, so I wasn't engaged by the battle with Elesa and the battle between Saber and Lance, especially since I didn't really feel anything being on the line. I also want to point out that the prose seems unnecessarily purple or complex in places ("Dad turned his lips up at the suggestion" -> "Dad smiled at the suggestion"?), which makes it slower to read and consequently slows down the progression of the story. Don't be afraid to express things in simpler ways - it makes more mundane scenes flow more smoothly, and it can be quite effective in dramatic scenes as well.

I think the best parts of the story so far have been the segments in the present. They're very atmospheric and feel true to life in their portrayal of grief and depression. I just think the flashbacks are missing the same level of groundedness, and since they do take up a lot of what I read proportionally, they have a larger effect on my general feelings on the story.

That about does it for my thoughts. If you want to ask for elaboration on anything, I'm open to DMs - or just asking publicly, I don't mind. In any case, thank you for taking me up on this review exchange. It's unfortunate that my feedback ended up being this critical, but I hope they can still be of some help. See you around, and good luck with writing onward.
 

Spiteful Murkrow

Busy Writing Stories I Want to Read
Pronouns
He/Him/His
Partners
  1. nidoran-f
  2. druddigon
  3. swellow
  4. quilava-fobbie
  5. sneasel-kate
Heya, was scrolling through a list of lower-commitment candidates to check out for the Week 1 bonus, and I vaguely remembered this story back in its release from early 2022 and heard some decent word of mouth about it a little earlier, so good enough. I’m going into this story not knowing a whole lot other than that Lance and Cynthia get killed off by some sort of shadowy conspiracy that the protags try to stop. Oh, and there’s fankids.

Not normally my cuppa for preferred reading, but ‘tis the season to try new things as a reviewer, so let’s go ahead and see what you’ve got in this story of yours.

Letter 1

𒅆𒊒 𒍪𒅆

Bruh, why is there cuneiform in this letter?
:wtfuckle:


That said, it’s a nice touch for a mysterious air, even if I have to wonder how on earth readers are supposed to tease out what on earth this is supposed to mean, since there aren’t exactly a bunch of cuneiform resources floating around out there.

I mean, I kinda went down a rabbit hole looking up definitions of the cuneiform glyphs in Sumerian and I’m pretty sure this is saying something to the effect of “Your Chosen Face”, but still.

Life is priceless.

Even we thought so. Yet, it is so easy to put a price on the soul when the temptation of something greater whispers that sickeningly sweet siren song in your ear. It is inside us all. The moment you try to deny it, the battle is already lost.

Oh well that’s not ominous at all there.
:unquag:


Humans are an odd, destructive, dangerous people. But we, in all our infinite wisdom, fell to it just the same.

It is inevitable, that when the ambition for something greater takes hold, someone dies.

Always.[/I]

:copyber:


Well then. I mean, the summary already explicitly stated that “important people are going to die”, but that doesn’t exactly leave any room for confusion.

𒁾,
𒍪𒅆

I’m sorry, but we’re dealing with a ’tablet’ of some sort now? I’m guessing that that’s a codename of some sort, since I’m not sure what on earth that’s supposed to be pointing to otherwise.

Volume 1, Part 1

"I wish it was yesterday," said Kris.

Yesterday was a beautiful instant. Kris escaped it as quickly as she entered, wishing it the same tepid goodbye she had offered thousands of its ancestors. Her infant self, facing her first farewell, might have struggled, but she had honed herself since then. Knowing that her memory stood defiant of the passage of time, it was useless to wish back a day that had never truly left. But this was the first time she remembered wanting the reality, not the memory, to replay.

i-dont-believe-you-lies.gif


Bruh, I literally get that feeling after every major holiday that isn’t a total disaster. Join the club.

The morning fog finally cleared over the water. Damp grains nestled themselves beneath her toes as she swirled her bare feet absentmindedly through the beach sands.

Her hand had grown numb in the grip of her brother's as they sat together by the sea. When they stepped up to the waves an indefinite time ago, they agreed in their silence not to glance behind them at the villa wrapped in yellow tape and painted with emergency lights.

Wait, Kris has a brother in this continuity? Though I see that we’re just getting straight into the action there given that I’m pretty sure there’s a corpse in that villa right now.
:copyka2~1:


Neither of them twitched. Neither of them coughed. Neither of them did anything. She wondered if he heard her speak, or if his senses had lost their grasp of reality. She felt it slipping herself.

"I don't," he said. When she looked over at him, Saber tilted his head to the sand. "I wish it was tomorrow."

Oh, so that’s Krisbro’s name, huh? Noted for the future, even if I have to wonder how on earth his parents settled on that for a name.

Yesterday was a beautiful instant, but today was a horrible eternity. Neither of them asked for today, but they would suffer its grip. She wouldn't wish it goodbye when the time came.

Saber: “Technically there’s like 12 hours left to it, tops-”
:wellyousee:

Kris: “Oh my god, Saber can you not right now?!” >.<

"When tomorrow comes, I'm going to find who murdered them, one-hundred percent. Even if I have to walk to the ends of Kibra."

The ends of where now? Is that the name of their world in this setting?

A sickness bloomed in her stomach. She didn't know if she could join him. She wanted justice. She wanted peace. But the truest feeling in her body wanted her to rest.

Which she is almost certainly going to promptly ignore since otherwise there won’t be much of a story, now will there? :V

Volume 1, Part 2

March 2011 - Six Months Ago

Huh. So this story jumps around time-wise. Noted, then.

The end of her life, between parted velvet curtains, beckoned from the auditorium's recessed stage. The headmaster of Plateau Senior High School bowed to the crowd and offered his place to a homeroom professor when he descended the platform. She grimaced in her tight kimono but diligently carried out her duties as she announced the names of her students.

That’s her professional life, right? Since with the story’s summary what it is, you never know…
:fearfullaugh~1:


The entire third-year student body sat in a sea of chairs before the stage. No two students were adjacent, as to each student's right was a matted space for their partner Pokémon. All students of Plateau were required to train, and learn, and commit themselves to Pokémon alongside their general studies. At sixteen, they were two years from the regular requirement for Pokemon Trainers, but they were all granted certified exceptions by the Pokemon League.

Oh, so Pokémon training is SRS BSNS in this setting. Though it makes a kinda sense since a skilled Pokémon trainer is functionally wielding a living weapon, kinda handy as a skill to cultivate for military reasons.

Upon hearing their name, the first student rose and exclaimed "Yes!" to accept their passage to the next life. At the same time, he tapped the button on his Poké Ball and released his Kingler onto the mat in a brilliant flash of red. The clamp of its pincers sounded mechanical.

No, that’s just chitin and a lot of force behind it. Just don’t get anything you care about stuck in between them. ^^;

Another name was called, accompanied by a stand, an affirmation, and a Pokémon—Leavanny. Then another name. And another. The students became statues on their feet, and only when their entire third-year homeroom stood did the stone crack and allow them to fall to their seats. She saw friends from Track Club, rivals from Training Hall, distant acquaintances, polite enemies, and every heart-strung sap that had looked her way and decided she was out of their league. She would leave most, if not all of them, behind.

I was going to ask “just how accomplished is the average teenaged trainer in this setting”, then I remembered that you can technically get a Leavanny at Level 21 in-game just by maxing out Friendship right after getting a Swadloon, so I guess it’s not as impressive as I initially thought.

Kris kept her eyes focused on the stage as the professors cycled and more classes were revealed. Her nails sliced her palm as her fists clenched tighter, and her muscles coiled and wound each second she sat. It was just a simple roll call, a simple acceptance of her diploma. Her objective was to be dignified and collected, like Mom and Dad.

Narrator: “She’s not going to succeed at her objective.”

Finally, when class 3E's call began, the students around her began to stand. They weren't sitting in alphabetical order, so pillars rose at random around her. Finally, the voice of her homeroom professor announced the end of her childhood, and the beginning of her new world.

"Christine Masuta," the professor said.

Oh, so that’s Kris’ actual name. I mean, I guess it makes sense since not a lot of people name their kids ‘Kris’, but noted.

Kris shot to her feet. The instant release of tension from her muscles nearly launched her airborne. The capsule in her palm clicked open. Her eyes filled with neon, and the heat of her materializing partner burned her skin. Zara, her Charizard, turned her snout to the ceiling and roared.

Kris harmonized with her partner, and sang with all her might, "Yes!"

… Wait, is this girl already Champion of the Indigo Plateau or something, since I certainly wasn’t expecting her to have a starter fullevo in high school.

Though then again, I suppose I ought to be less surprised given that she’s technically a potential PC in-game.

Multiple students, faculty, and attending family members focused on her. The only sound remaining was the subtle crackling of the flame on Zara's tail. Kris refused them the courtesy of embarrassment, and she stood unflinching for that endless moment in time until the next name was called.

Kris:
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The remainder of the roll call blurred in her mind, as her ordeal wasn't yet over. Kris's grades, battle performance, role as the Student Leader of Track Club, and various other accolades meant she was at the top of her class, which naturally meant one thing.

She had a speech.

And not just any speech. She had the closing speech of the ceremony.

Kris:
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I can already see why this girl was dreading this moment.

With her head tipped, the words rolled silently off her lips as she practiced for the thousandth time. At this point, she could repeat the transcript in alphabetical order from memory if she so pleased. This was a role three years in the making—the leader of her future.

Yeah, something about this is going to go seriously sideways, I can already tell.

The students began to sing celebratory hymns and no one noticed as she continued to practice under her breath. She had to be perfect. No slip ups or pauses. Absolutely perfect.

Oh yeah, that’s a totally healthy and sustainable mindset there. Won’t cause any problems down the road at all! /s

She tried not to imagine the version of herself that tripped up the stairs to the audience of deafening silence. She tried not to imagine the version of her that sang the first sentence like a hymn, only for the second to jam in her throat while the sea of eyes drowned her. Every alter ego that hiccuped, stumbled, and failed on the way to the finish line stayed out of her mind, or so she told herself. She couldn't allow those visions to be seen by anyone else.

Would suggest adding a couple words here and there to smooth things out a bit.

After the songs passed, the speeches began. Kris muttered to herself through the words of the Training Hall Coordinator. She whispered faster through the speeches of the homeroom teachers and the Student Council President. It was only when the penultimate guest speaker rose to the stage that she was forced to take a breath.

Girl, you do realize that stressing yourself like this isn’t going to reduce your odds of an embarrassing faceplant in public, right?

An energy surged through the graduating students as he ascended the platform stairs. His navy ceremonial uniform was concealed by the cloak billowing behind him. A king had appeared to greet his bowing subjects. His name was whispered through the student body. Lance Masuta, Champion of the Indigo Plateau.

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Oh, so Kris and Lance are just flatly family in this continuity.

Kris, of course, wasn't fazed, and mused at the star-stricken kids surrounding her. No matter the presence he exerted to everyone else, to Kris he was sometimes much smaller.

He was Dad.

Again, see the last gif. I didn’t see that one coming, though I suppose now that you mention it, Kris and Clair’s hairdos do carry some resemblances, so I suppose I can see the argument for making a connection between Kris and Lance.

"Students," he began, "it is truly my honor to be in attendance today. I will keep this short, as I understand you wish to finish this ceremony and spend this joyous day with friends and family."

I mean, considering what I remember of Clair being an unreasonable ass, I’m not sure how strongly this applies ot Kris right now.

His eyes scanned the room, addressing everyone and anyone. Except for her. Strangely, his gaze never once landed on his daughter as he continued to judge the rising Trainers before him.

Great omen of the sort of dad Lance was! /s

"You have fought for three years. As a benefactor of this institution, I do stand by the assertion that it was a fight. That you stand bloodied today, having survived combat with the most selective school on the continent, is a testament to the strength of your character. And of your partners," he said. He summoned an Ultra Ball from within his cloak and held it at arm's length in front of him.

Oh, so this is basically an Academy in the vein of Naranja/Uva, huh? Since I was going to say that this felt really Pokémon-centric for a public school.

He spoke with the perfection of an object. A system. He evaded mistakes without a thought to the possibilities—failure wasn't his choice, in front of all of the people who were convinced he wasn't capable. Even the Pokémon in the room were roused by the words. Zara's flame raged with pride and smoke seeped from between her teeth.

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Well, this certainly isn’t the Lance from the games, since that one jobbed to at least three grade schoolers over the course of three years. Though I stand by my remarks that I am getting bad vibes of how Lance was as a father.

As he continued, the reality of the circumstance beaded on her temples. His gaze tore through the crowd and imbued each student with a tiny percentage of his limitless strength. They knew she was next, and that her purpose was to exceed. Why would she exist if not so?

Again. Bad vibes about the sort of dad Lance was.

"Now, you must choose your path forward. Many of you passed your university entrance exams. Others look to the world of professional battling. Some have done both, and many will do far more."

Which totally isn’t going to result in a ton of people stuck doing menial gig work from not being able to cut it for stardom like entertainment industries IRL, I’m sure.

A warmth enveloped Kris. She looked up and found that the Champion's—Dad's—eyes had finally met her own. For that brief instant, she wasn't in a crowded auditorium, but instead they were laughing alone in his study three days prior, when she had risked a break from her training schedule to give an unmotivated "hello". The tension in her muscles eased for the length of that memory, until she remembered that the person on stage was someone else.

Her choice.

If he was wise of it, it didn't show. But he was smart enough to know the sound of a lie.

Yeah, exactly none of this sounds remotely healthy as a father-daughter dynamic. Though I suppose having your father murdered would motivate you to go on a wild ride pursuing someone going around on an assassination spree.

"Your battle begins now," he said. "With courage, you fight. With honor, you fight. With dreams, you fight. Are you prepared to fight for your life?"

Well, you’re certainly not since you’re canonically dead before the first chapter, but let’s not dwell on that.

On that question, he stepped back from the podium. The auditorium was left petrified as he descended, hair burning, cape flowing.

How was she to follow him? She passed silently by him on a mirrored path to the stage, knowing that they expected her to match, or exceed, a Champion. For a Champion’s daughter, it was a trivial task. She would take his place one day, or so they said, and standing in his shadow for a few short moments was simply an ode to the future.

How has this girl not had an emotional meltdown in public in some point already, since this feels like an absolutely insane amount of social pressure to foist on a 16-year old.

Kris looked out to the auditorium, finally able to see the greater crowd behind the students. Dad had retreated to the back wall, accompanied by black-garbed security. Next to him, Mom sat in an all-black kimono. She had fought it when Dad proposed it—no doubt feeling strange, as a Sinnohan, to tread ceremonial ground of another culture—but now sat supportive of Kris's performance. She would never miss her daughter's graduation. A phrase escaped her lips, but at this distance, and under the stage lights, Kris couldn't make it out.

She chose to believe it was "I love you".

Narrator: “It wasn’t ‘I love you’.”

And so, with no transcript in hand, she faced the student body. The full speech whirled in her mind and ricocheted off the inside of her skull. The only way she could match them was to be perfect. That's all she could ever be. She cleared her lips, straightened her back, took in a breath, and spoke.

Perfect. As usual.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting her speech to go off without a hitch there, though it’s probably for the best, since I can’t even begin to imagine how poorly Kris would have taken publicly embarrassing herself with her mind in the place where it was.

May 2011 - Four Months Ago

Oh, jumping right ahead, I see. Let’s see where we wound up.

It was the final round.

Kris stood on the raised platform, a cage barely protecting the thousands of shadowed spectators from her and her Pokémon. To her right, a giant screen played a live feed of her face as she stared down her opponent. Lightning spiked her hair in every direction as it danced around her. Her body was scorched by the pummeling daylight, and she was drowning in her own sweat, but she wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot!

Kris was facing down her dad in the Indigo League, isn’t he?

She swiped her right hand from her chest to her side, holding open the palm towards the floor. The energy of the battle concentrated in the order gesture. "Leo, get to close range!"

Her Heliolisk chirped and bounced. He was a short creature, mostly covered in yellow scales, though orange bands decorated his legs and tail, and his head and extremities were wrapped in black. A similarly black frill, normally folded around his neck, flared to life. The bioelectric cells within respired in overdrive. His body surged with so much energy that sparks overflowed through the gaps in his scaly skin, and he darted towards his opponent.

A Heliolisk, huh? Can’t say I expected that from a Johtoan girl with a Charizard, but I’ll give it a pass since I like Heliolisk.


"Zebstrika, Discharge!" her opponent shouted.

:fearfullaugh~1:


Sure hope this guy didn’t rock a Motor Drive Zebstrika there.

A radial wave of electricity burst from within the Zebstrika's body and raced across the arena floor. Leo narrowly cleared the wave with a short hop. After two uses of Agility earlier in the battle, he was fast enough to create sparking afterimages. They trailed him to the opposite side of the field in less than a second.

Cue the theme music:

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPl_1RpBK_4


Kris's opponent shifted strategies quickly, no doubt realizing she had no way to counter the adept foe. She said, "Use Stomp!"

I see someone didn’t invest in a move tutor for Low Kick. Since… yeah, that would’ve made Leo’s life a lot harder here.

The equine enemy reared onto its hind legs, its own jagged stripes channeling negative ions. It descended to squash Leo on his approach. However, on his own judgment, he leapt early, corkscrewing through the air towards Zebstrika's head.

"Volt Switch!" Kris ordered.

… Wait, do switchout moves actually work in-game if the opponent doesn’t take damage from them? I actually don’t remember if you can do that or not.

With a last-second overdrive from its frill, Leo was engulfed by golden lightning. He smashed into the opponent's snout and transferred all his built-up power to the point of collision. The charged action snapped its neck backwards. The reaction, conversely, sent him hurtling back with nearly the same speed he crossed the battlefield.

Kris had his Poké Ball ready and fired the materialization beam to catch his body. The Electric-on-Electric matchup was fruitless for direct confrontation, but she understood its importance as she felt the skyward heat radiating across her skin. Leo had used Sunny Day mere moments ago. Kris quick switched for her partner. In a brilliant light, Zara entered the battlefield to bask in the artificial sun.

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Heliolisk learn Bulldoze as a Level 1 move, so even with Heliolisk’s anemic attack stat, it still has some value for slowing down your opponent so that way your switch-in can is more likely to take your opponent apart.

… Then again, Heliolisk are on the frailer side, so it’d likely be a wash in terms of risk and reward.

She threw out her hand again. "Flamethrower!"

Though the opposing Trainer tried to call a dodge, the confusion of the attack caught her off guard long enough. A solar-powered spire of flame swallowed the Zebstrika whole. When the wisps cleared, it was forced to its knees, burns painting its hide between its stripes.

Oh hey, it’s like all those moments in PokéAni where Ash just vanishes into a Flamethrower from Charizard.

Kris's opponent placed a hand on her hip and played with a long cable that trailed from her headphones. She was the Gym Leader of Nimbasa City. But here, at Unova's biggest annual tournament, she was no one but Elesa. She tried to look bored even while the sweat on her cheeks smeared her foundation.

I kinda wonder if this should’ve been hinted at a bit earlier on in this scene, since I at first thought that Kris’ opponent was some rando and she wasn’t competing in PWT or whatever analogue to it this is since this is significantly bigger league as a matchup than I was expecting.

"I commend you, sweetie. Perhaps I should teach my entire team Pursuit if people keep using my strategy against me," she said.

"Thanks so much! I'm always fired up for an extra challenge, but I can't say I was expecting to face a Gym Leader."

It was a practiced response. A marketed one. Though her heart was exploding in her chest and her tongue was bleeding from an anxious bite, the line mic on her cheek didn’t ask her permission to cast her words over the roaring audience to the jumbotron. It wouldn't benefit her to be uncouth.

Would suggest dividing up the description from Kris’ line there.

"I was interested in seeing the new talent. And I can see why you're here."

All around her, she could hear her name. Kris. Kris. Kris.

Somebody’s leaving an impression there. Though I wonder just how quickly things are going to go sideways in this chapter, since I can see that summary for this story.

Her gaze turned to the crowd, and to the signs. Some had images of her face, others simply shouted encouragement. But the ones she couldn't look away from said "GO FOR THE WORLD TRIAL", bold and brash. Once she took this PWT Masters Division title, her third national-level competition, she'd have every requirement needed to storm the Grand Axis and claw at the title of World Champion.

Wait, the what now? Is this something from PokéAni / Masters or something like that?

She could feel their eyes. With Mom and Dad's deep footsteps laid bare, they had no reason to think she could deviate from such an obvious path.

I mean, they see how you are in private and presumably there might be things about it that would make them question how cut out you really are for Champion life?
:gardeshrug~1:


"It's about time we finished this, don't you think?" asked the Gym Leader. "Wild Charge!"

Boy I sure hope Kris invested in Speed EVs for her ‘zard, since otherwise this is going to be a short match. ^^;

Kris couldn't agree more—she wanted to be done. She wiped the moisture from her head, swallowed the blood in her mouth, and gave her command. "Prepare Flamethrower!"

Her opponent galloped forward, channeling the power of thunder itself. The Zebstrika grew as it closed in, looming over both Kris and her partner. No matter how close it got, and how its eyes pierced through her, she wouldn't lose her will. Her parents wouldn't. She couldn't.

She threw out her hand. "Fire!"

Kris… lost this match, didn’t she? But I suppose that’ll have to wait for next time.

Well that was a different experience. I don’t normally see stories following characters that are this close to the proverbial top of their respective power brackets in their settings at the very start, but given that Kris is going to be going toe-to-toe with Champion Killers, I guess it made sense. It’s one of those recipes that feels like it could really easily go sideways, but at least thus far, you’ve managed to make it work decently well.

Alright, so the number one thing that I feel that your story has been doing well up to the point I read is that it did a good job at selling a mood and a sense of tension. Like we get to see the moment where Kris’ life gets hit by that moment where everything changes, and then we jump back in time to get a view of what things were like leading up to that point. The whole time, there’s this foreboding sense of “what’s going to go wrong here?” that lingers over things that keeps things tense and interesting, especially since Kris’ status quo even six months before the “present” was already a powderkeg, which went a long way towards keeping that tension alive in 1-2 even though the sparks don’t ultimately fly in it.

The description is generally good in most parts of the story in spite of the short wordcount. I really liked what you had going on with your battle there, since it definitely felt very fast-paced and easy to visualize in spite of it being so short on words. There’s a couple parts that bring up details that I feel could’ve been contextualized a little more, but overall, well done. I also liked the touch with the cuneiform there, though then again, I’ve always been a bit of a sucker for “things that wind up taking on extra meanings if you know what’s going on or else take the time to look it up”. I do wonder what the design process is behind it though, since even if I was able to make an educated guess at what you were doing there, I’m ultimately still shooting in the dark at the meaning. Though perhaps that was the entire point of why you did that.

As for bones that I have to pick with this story, I do wonder if some of these chapters could’ve been merged with one another, especially since Letter 1 feels like a relatively logical lead-in to the events of 1-1, so it made it a bit weird to see it get separate billing when Letter 1 is literally less than 100 words long and 1-1 is barely over 300. I also thought it would’ve been nice to see the end of 1-2 have more tie-in to the present day, even if it was something as simple as “little did Kris know she was going to have a whole different set of headaches just a couple months later”. Like I get that it’s early on and that 1-2 is primarily setting the scene for who Kris is as a character, but the way it ended did make me wonder “wait, how’s this tie in with the stated premise?” a bit.

So, things don’t quite go sideways just yet by 1-2, huh? Well noted, but even so, you’ve done a good job at building a sense of tension, and I can already tell that the moment when the fait accompli about Lance catches up with Kris is going to be… something considering how she gives off a vibe of being under immense strain and pressure as a person.

Kudos on the story @TheWinterComet . Dunno if I’ll have the opportunity to come back and finish off the rest of it during RB4, but I’ll be back for the last two that are presently up at some point in the future. Maybe more if you have more beyond what’s there up by then.
 
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