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"This is less a family tree and more a family kudzu," Bahamut deadpanned. "... classy," Nero said.

"It's hard to draw any comparisons. I never had parents," Bahamut said. "But I certainly know what it's like to lose a family: painful."

“I think it’s the others you should worry about,” Bahamut said. Not that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, he supposed. “I’ve had plenty come and go in my life. Or the life I’m reincarnated from.”

"I'm pretty sure Buffet already has the soul searching market monopolized," Bahamut deadpanned. "I see you're already working on your stand-up routine," Nero quipped. Bahamut flicked an upper wing dismissively. "Hard to do when one floats instead of stands." "... ba-dum-tsssh." "Are your...

"You do realize my head is larger than you and I can hear that, right?" Bahamut mused. "Sonar ears," Nero sang, his ears twitching.

"Well, you really think after all the mind diving there wouldn't be some demand for my services?" Bahamut retorted. After a pause, he added, "Or I could take up gardening. I have the patience. And the sunlight."

"So, then, perhaps gardening is not for you." Bahamut's smile was sickeningly sanguine, contrasting with his tone. "Maybe you ought to work in the training facility? They could start you as a custodian or something until you actually have some real weight to throw around."

"Scarekrow are literally cursed, enchanted dolls tied to posts," Bahamut explained. "I think they might be stuffed full of evil spirits to chase would-be crop raiders away."

"Sure. Let's get started." Bahamut laughed into his wing. "Mutt, grab a post and a bunch of wire. We'll tie Cal to the post and plant her in a crop field for two years."

"I believe that's called a scarekrow," Bahamut mused, vaguely tracing the shape of a honchkrow with one of his claws.

"Uh-huh." Bahamut made a mental note to tell Xerneas that Cal shouldn't go anywhere near the tree. Or whatever was left of it.

Bahamut tilted his head. "You really think you can handle gardening? The amount of sitting around and waiting that it entails? I hear you pick fights with bar patrons."

"I think your dad might have to be the force that drives that kind of change." Bahamut rubbed the back of his head. "At least he's stubborn." It took one to know one, after all.

Bahamut smirked. "Fortunately for you, hope's a big thing here."

"I'm not so sure your 'dad' has had much of a choice surrounding what company he gets to keep, considering many of his memories were apparently tampered with." Bahamut coiled around Cal, with Nero sliding across the ground to steer out of his way. "Come to think of it, all of you familiars are...

"It's the opposite, actually," Bahamut retorted. "Nothing is purposeless. Even if you don't understand why something's happened to you or why you're doing something... eventually you will find a reason. Be it a small thread or a massive ball of yarn." His expression sharpened. "Gods do not...

"It doesn't physically hurt." Bahamut glanced skyward, silent. He sensed Nero moving, then raised his tail. "There was something. A principle I taught." His head tendrils rippled. "The will of causality. The idea that everything happens for a reason. That you shouldn't belittle the things that...

"Happiness is... something I only know of through second-hand memories of a very distant past," Bahamut mused. He wasn't even going to broach the subject of which dad Cal could be referring to, though it was probably Owen. At least Owen and the mutt went together in a sickening optimism way...

Bahamut sat in silence for a few moments. "I... suppose it is."

"Well, if Diyem can remove whatever spiritual tether is in place, I don't see why I can't 'commute' as I'm needed." Bahamut waved an upper wing, conjuring a small wormhole. "Unimpeded, I believe my wormhole powers can surpass Maple's, Joule's, and the like." He sighed. "But I don't know. It's...