Chapter 1 - The Fall
zoru22
Junior Trainer
SPOILERS FOR: POKEMON LEGENDS: ARCEUS AND BDSP/PLATINUM.
You have been warned.
There have been some tweaks to the story to fit into my worldbuilding, see notes for more info, but if you like to puzzle shit out yourself, then skip it.
Rating: T to M, hopefully more on the T side
"Wow!" Rei had said, back then, almost two years prior. "It's almost as if they had known you were coming!"
Professor Laventon had smiled in agreement.
Akari had just smiled, holding the hisuian cyndaquil in her arms. She'd chosen to take him with her, leaving the oshawott and rowlett.
"You think it's fair?" Volo had asked. "That you're here, and not Akari? Wasn't she supposed to be the 'chosen one'?"
Rei had grit his teeth, at the top of the mountain. They'd chased after the plates, together. In the hopes of getting Arceus' help, in healing Akari. Give Arceus the moment to right some of the wrongs in the world they'd created. Palkia could not help. Rei's attempt to bring Dialga out of that massive, bejeweled pokeball were fruitless. The ball had apparently bonded to Akari.
Volo did have a point, though. The suffering? The Pain in the world? It wasn't right.
"No," Rei had said, shrugging. His conviction, his confidence. He'd never held himself the same way Volo had. And yet, there they were, on the mountain, with all of these mythical plates, tablets, supposedly parts of Arceus itself?
"But—" Rei had said, throwing out the pokeball of his pikachu—, as Volo threw out a spiritomb.
Volo smiled, as their pokemon sized one another up, waiting for command to begin the fight.
But— Rei thought—"I'm not about to give up on Akari's dream. Not yet. We can still make the world better! We're so close!" He said.
Volo frowned. "You have all of the plates, kid. You played Akari's flute. And no god responded. What kind of god would send a girl on a mission from the sky, only to have her to disappear partway through?"
Volo didn't understand, couldn't, Rei knew. No, not just that. Volo had his own motives, Cyllene had said. That damned ball. They'd needed the help of a silent god. "Thunderbolt!" Rei shouted, initiating their battle. And yet, as pikachu launched into motion, he wondered why Palkia had left. This fight would have been over before it had begun.
It wasn't fair, he said to himself, as he was forced to recall his own pikachu— why had Akari's pokemon been so much stronger than his?
He shook his head. A question he'd reserve for the lakes, once he and Volo could work their differences out.
The Distortion world is a mirror, much like ours, though it exists only as a natural consequence of both space and time. It makes a mockery of both. It is everywhere and nowhere at once. When one passes through the world, it both knows the individual, but also rejects them. It accepts definition, and yet rejects navigation. Time passes faster. Time passes slower. One step could take a second, the next step could take hours. Within this world, however, is distortion. A substance which carries within it, a will—one which both loves all life, and yet seeks to destroy it, to tear it apart molecule by molecule. Distortion, in one term, enables and yet distorts both space and time. The very sense of distraction. Navigating through distortion is impossible, robots cannot navigate it— and yet individuals often find ways to crawl into holes of distortion, and manage to return. Distortion is a poison. And yet, it leaks and passes through all reality as though it isn't there. Ghosts congregate within distortion and consume it. Distortion may turn aggressive ghost pokemon into complete pacifists, only acting when agitated.
Therefore, I posit that where ghost pokemon congregate around distortion is a naturally-beneficial act which preserves our reality, even if the pokemon themselves are incidentally-harmful to human presence, for when we remove pokemon from their congregating locations, distortion notably increases, and more ghosts will naturally congregate in those locations in search of food. Unfortunately, due to the natural danger and chance of possession or concerns for our souls, research is slow. I must attribute all our increase in understanding on Akari and her ability to brave regions with both high distortion and high ghosts.
She'd walked a path through the Distortion world. It was covered with stone, occasionally. Reminiscent of the stones in the mountain she had tread, weeks ago. She stepped along the path. She'd found him. He had blue hair. Thirty-year-old businessman Cyrus had been standing there, on a pedestal. Giratina had stood before him, Cyrus had seemed confident. Had he always been so? Her memory had turned blurry. The man had probably shook his fist at the god.
Giratina had refused the man's request? Demand? It didn't mattered. The businessman did not get what he wanted. She had seen her opportunity, and stepped forward. Cyrus pulled out a pokeball. Something about it still felt familiar. He hadn't lied. She had frowned. Giratina—the name now embedded in her mind—had already known Cyrus would try to betray it. Distortion wasn't their world, she had learned. The pokeball spun, impotent in the air at the exact spot, as if confused Giratina was gone. The god had already disappeared before his fingers had let go of the ball.
Had judged Cyrus to be unworthy of its aid.
She remembered the feeling of exhaustion, plummeting down the side of the mountain she is, grasping at what little memories were left as even they faded. Her own muscles had burned, the Pressure had borne upon them. Cyrus was panting. She hadn't been alone in it. Giratina could have killed them then, simply hovering somewhere in their presence. Gravity pulling down upon them, she had remained standing. She'd pruned her own mind, her own thoughts putting all out of the way except her own target. Her own goal. Memories, feelings, physical pain— she would have to deal with later.
She is plummeting down, rolling through the snow. It was later. For the physical pain, anyway. Dawn's memories had chosen not to return. What had her goal been, then? She thought, surfing under a stillness of snow, as pieces of ice above cracked. Would Dawn die here? No. She smiles. She is made of tougher stuff than this. She'd accomplished the goal, just moments ago. She'd made her wish. And giratina had granted it, choosing to leave its child behind. Dawn is tired. Dawn is hungry, and the god of the underworld sits on her belt.
The pieces of ice, they fall, as she crawls. Through the snow. The back of her hands are gray. Each of her fingers have little bands of red and black. Little bits of distortion leak from above. The sun is blocked by clouds, but the bright light fills Dawn with anger. Two people stared at her from above. The man with the blonde hair, who had diverted the portal—called Dawn forth, and a boy with dark blue hair from above, a mile above, are watching her as she fell. A pokemon to their left, similarly watched from their platform.
She has a goal now. Get food. She has a second goal. Climb to the top of the mountain. As the avalanche threatens to begin anew, she moves to grab her belt—her pokeball was lost in the avalanche. Dawn groans, then dives, practically floating through the three meters of snow, searching for anything she can grab.
Through the snow covering her from above, the avalanche begins again, though a pseudo-legendary, a garchomp, she can see, is climbing down, navigating the side of the mountain with ease, carrying with it, a blonde man she had glimpsed earlier, cutting through the snow with ease. A togekiss follows the pair from above.
Giratina had seen fit to preserve the man's life, despite knowing Cyrus's will? Realities had collapsed as Dawn had approached. Thousands of Cyruses had bargained, time and again with the lord of gravity, the force that counterparted space and time. In, through, and of all things. The ruler of distortion itself.
She had smiled as she stood over Cyrus, lying on the ground. Giratina had known. There were many truths, and many lies, there in the distortion world. It was a comical world they had both been in. The air itself made a mockery of those who breathed it.
"I see you have come for me, child." The man said, breathing into his mask. He was alive. He was dead, he was poisoned. He was clean, in the world of gravity and distortion, he was successful, he was a failure, he was everything all at once. And yet.
Dawn had remained silent.
The Togekiss hovering overhead, Dawn remains silent. Should she trust this man, descending down the mountain? The Garchomp, though navigating down with ease, ignoring the snow and avalanche rumbling over her head, threatening to break her hold. It is weak. She does now know how she can tell. But it would lose in comparison to… Someone else's. Someone she'd forgotten. Cynthia. The name resounded in her head, and a fire burns brighter. Dawn is pulled toward Giratina's presence, and moments later, she stands atop the snow, belt in hand, two pokeballs on it. She feels like she is missing something. But she doesn't remember the other pokeball. The one without giratina inside. What is missing, she decided, is food. Dawn is hungry.
"I suppose I am supposed to be dead soon. And yet," he said, "and yet here you are, standing above me." He coughed. "Pathetic. Betrayed by the god I thought understood me." He sat up. He put his hand to his belt. He did not expand his pokeballs as he pulled off his belt, no. He set his pokebelt on the ground. There would be no battle here. On the insane businessman's vest was a black and yellow pokeball, the iconic, emblazoned M drawing her attention.
"You win, Dawn," Cyrus said. "I don't know what you did. I don't know what price you paid—" he said, staring into her eyes. "But it was not me, the god wanted. It never was me they called for." The man frowned, the white and blue of his eyes betraying their dismay. "Was I checkmated in the games of the gods?" The man asked.
The girl smiled. "I win, Cyrus."
"I suppose you do, Dawn. I suppose you do. You always won, you know," he'd said.
"I know," she'd said.
"I've had a long wait for you to come, Dawn. A lot longer than usual, does the league even pay you?" he said, coughing.
"Sorry", she said, unapologetic. It had been shorter than normal. At least for her. "You're a lying bastard," she said, the fury in her eyes, as she sent… a pokemon, out. She pointed at Cyrus, who smirked.
"I know," Cyrus said.
The man on the garchomp stands above Dawn, eyeing her up and down. "My name's Volo," he says, his body shivering. His outfit was made for this insane cold "And I am here to rescue you. Please, grab garchomp's tail, and hold on," He requests. She obliges as she grabs onto the end of the ground-type dragon's tail.
She wobbled, even on the ground, Cyrus' masterball, even after her pokemon had killed him, floated in the air, then fell to the ground. That had been it. She'd picked up the ball, and stuffed it into her bag, just as her memories—now forgotten— had begun to rush back. The life she'd lived. It was over. The man was gone. Her own mind rippling, as all her careful and directed psychic plans had torn themselves apart at the seams, no longer able to hold together. The effort—the work—she'd put in to bond with her alakazam. The REASON why he'd allowed her to use his spoons in even the most mundane bullshit like stirring a bottle of coffeeshop boba, fell apart. Another pokeball. A masterball had been in front of her. She'd thrown her own at giratina. Who'd accepted her wish.
"So you did save her", the boy with blue hair says, sitting at the top of the mountain, on the solid temple floor. This place is familiar to Dawn, and she looks around, curious.
Dawn had forgotten. What had she forgotten? She asked. Her own hair had shifted black, her own skin turning gray as the cursed item did its work, the feather she wore glowing, as if to counteract her own death sentence. He offered her a wish. She had asked for his help. He'd accepted. She'd asked to prevent this from ever being able to happen in the first place. And he gave her the path. She screamed, a gnawing hunger, and the gnawing loneliness of an eternity and life alone ate away. The visions of a man in a tan coat, approaching her after she'd left the pokecenter, pulling her aside for the first time. And yet, the feather on her had glowed, as her skin and face and body rippled, as by all means the weight of a god killed her, and yet, the girl lived. Giratina had offered to give her a chance, the ball in her hand held not the entity's spawn. Not the prince who would ascend, but the king who had no throne.
Her skin had shifted gray, the oxygen had lost her favor, her fingers coated in black and red, Dawn pulled her mask off. She dropped it to the ground. She breathed in the distortion, greedy for it, felt the ripples. Her heart had stuttered, the feather glowed, having consumed her body in a one-time fire. She stood up. She picked up the pokeball off the ground, her face turned to a grin. She felt inside where she needed to go. She was excited, because for once, she could stop a disease before it could spread. She could rest now.
Her escort had returned, and had followed her to her destination. She stood up, she checked her body— she seemed fine. She sipped the nectar of the world for one last time, knowing it could be years before she partook of it again. A rend, a crack below glowed, the distortion world spewed forth, her limbs were strong now. She flexed, stood back, and jumped into the open chasm in the sky, the sheer pressure of the distortion of the world pushing her out, leaving giratina's child behind, the portal itself closing, Dawn fell to the ground of the old temple atop mount Coronet, the contents of her pack spilling to the ground, to the tune of a surprised shout of a pair of humans. The girl stood up. She'd missed the platform they stood. The air was thin there. Both were breathing heavy. She knew this place, but could not recall.
Her body felt strange, and she was wobbling as she took a step forward, recovering from falling onto the hard ground. The man's—Volo, she now knew—his face was wiped of all disdain as he had glanced into her eyes. A boy with blue hair and traditional sinnohan wear stood across, a ghostly typhlosion standing in front of the boy as Dawn had coughed, hacking her lungs, as if she'd been starved of oxygen. Drinking in deep the fading distortion that had spilled forward, she flexed her muscles. She felt strong. Unfortunately, she slipped and fell. And the mountain was very, very, very tall.
Rei had stood upon the top of the broken temple—betrayed by Volo, all of the plates present, ready to call forth this "arceus", as Volo had called them. But no— a battle had ensued. He was not as prepared—not as bonded—to his pokemon as he should have been. But they were there for—and on the behalf of Akari. Her team knew her will, and did not need her there. So, in her stead, he stood in front of the merchant, as he'd ranted about the unfairness of the world.
"Give it up, Volo. Akari doesn't even need to be here for you to be defeated," he'd said, huffing in the thin atmosphere of the mountain top. It hadn't felt like a final battle, no.
"Giratina! I call you forth! Defeat my enemy and we will challenge Arceus!" Volo stood, his arms held out, cracks erupted before him, Ashes—Akari's typhlosion's ethereal purple flames erupting as distortion erupted forth, rolling from the top of the mountain. A knot formed in Rei's stomach, goosebumps forming on his arms.
A figure plummeted to the ground from ten feet above, their body rippling, a necklace clanging around their neck, smoke rising from their body, a tan blur of a bag falling off. The being hit the ground behind Volo with a thud, then tried to stand up, before falling down, just outside the temple's broken floor, the woman slipping on ice that should have been blocked by the temple's now demolished roof. She slipped down the slope, her body rolling down the ice-and-snow covered mountain. She bounced off rock and ice crystals jutting out. As soon as it had arrived, the portal was gone.
"No!" Volo had cried, as the portal closed, the distortion pouring out ceasing, as Akari's Typhlosion's flames burned bright in their purple glow.
"That was Giratina?" Rei asked, the both of them having set aside their differences as they crawled to the edge of the temple in an attempt to avoid the same fate.
Ashes, Akari's typhlosion, walked up next to the pair, prone on the edge of the stone temple's floor, peeking over the edge, next to the once-dueling duo, as the side of the mountain had given way, clouds of snow and ice kicking up, the piles of ice and snow breaking after decades of collecting on the tallest mountain in the world.
"The legends never gave much of a description," Volo said, huffing. "But I've never seen a pokemon that humanoid," he finished.
"No," Rei agreed, "that was no pokemon." He had debated for a second, revealing what had happened to Akari—why he was out here on her behalf. Volo would put the dots together on his own eventually. Volo may not have seen what had happened when Akari had caught dialga in that ball, imbued with pieces of the broken pieces of the three gods of the lakes. When Akari had caught palkia, the stress on her body had been immense. The magic of the lake trio had worked magically, but also gone horribly, horribly wrong that day.
"She'd bonded with Giratina." Volo said, a smile creeping to his lips, before his face turned to one of concern.
That woman is still human, Rei thought. But why here? What had Volo done?
"Akari's flute? Sneaseler?" Volo demanded, as if he wasn't trying to take the plates Rei had gathered, just moments ago.
Rei shook his head. "Sneaseler wouldn't take Akari this high. She definitely won't come to me."
"Fine," Volo said, scooting back away from the edge. "But we can't just leave her down there!" He said, with gusto.
Rei rolled his eyes at the self-proclaimed pokemon "wielder", before pulling his pack together.
"Make no doubt about it!" Volo said, pulling his exotic supplies from his pack—healing potions and remedies, tossing out his garchomp, who was splayed across the floor, still fainted and burned from being knocked out by Ashes, covering his garchomp in as many potions as he had, the shark-like creature's wounds beginning to heal over as their potions worked their magic.
"I'm not sure I want to be up here when you get back," Rei said.
"Nonsense!" Volo said. "Here! Take these full heals! Come, meet our sky goddess and let's see if she can help," he said, tossing Rei enough healing materials to cover his team and then some.
Rei continued to eye the man, though he did not turn down the travelling merchant's gifts, as the mountain rumbled and cracked below them. Volo's garchomp was fully awake, eyeing Ashes, and Rei's team as he let them out, to give them all potions and heal them up. The fight hadn't turned bitter, at least, that much Rei was grateful for. It seemed both party's pokemon had felt no need to take that finishing bite or stab or attack.
"Volo, seriously, what do you want out of this whole thing?" Rei asked.
Volo chuckled, hopping on his garchomp's back as his Togekiss began to stand up, recovering from their fight. "Isn't it obvious? I want to be a god."
You have been warned.
There have been some tweaks to the story to fit into my worldbuilding, see notes for more info, but if you like to puzzle shit out yourself, then skip it.
You shouldn't need to read Little Leavanny in the Big City or have played Pokemon Legends: Arceus to understand what is happening, as all will be explained in time, though if you have read LLitBC/played PLA, well, you'll have a bit of extra context of what's going on.
Note that I interpret Hikari (Dawn) and Akari as separate characters.
- When I say "Dawn" I am referring to Platinum's Dawn, and Akari, as PLA's Akari, the player character of their respective games
Since this is an extension of the LLitBC AU—which you shouldn't need to read—we will follow many similar ideas as Little Leavanny, and the worldbuilding from there applies to here, and visa versa. We follow my AU version of Dawn, post-Platinum, as she falls into Pokemon: Legends Arceus, during the final battle between Rei and Volo.
For Dawn's POV:
The story begins right after she has defeated Cyrus for the final time, having captured Giratina. Past Tense in this chapter means it's a fast-fading memory. Present tense in this chapter means it is the story as she experiences it.
Note that I interpret Hikari (Dawn) and Akari as separate characters.
- When I say "Dawn" I am referring to Platinum's Dawn, and Akari, as PLA's Akari, the player character of their respective games
Since this is an extension of the LLitBC AU—which you shouldn't need to read—we will follow many similar ideas as Little Leavanny, and the worldbuilding from there applies to here, and visa versa. We follow my AU version of Dawn, post-Platinum, as she falls into Pokemon: Legends Arceus, during the final battle between Rei and Volo.
For Dawn's POV:
The story begins right after she has defeated Cyrus for the final time, having captured Giratina. Past Tense in this chapter means it's a fast-fading memory. Present tense in this chapter means it is the story as she experiences it.
Rating: T to M, hopefully more on the T side
Chapter 1 sets the tone, and things will get brighter, and I'm making a conscious effort not to let it get darker.
- Gore/Bleeding/Death may happen, of pokemon + humans though it will be used sparingly.
- Gore/Bleeding/Death may happen, of pokemon + humans though it will be used sparingly.
~~~ Chapter 1 - The Fall ~~~
"Wow!" Rei had said, back then, almost two years prior. "It's almost as if they had known you were coming!"
Professor Laventon had smiled in agreement.
Akari had just smiled, holding the hisuian cyndaquil in her arms. She'd chosen to take him with her, leaving the oshawott and rowlett.
~~~
"You think it's fair?" Volo had asked. "That you're here, and not Akari? Wasn't she supposed to be the 'chosen one'?"
Rei had grit his teeth, at the top of the mountain. They'd chased after the plates, together. In the hopes of getting Arceus' help, in healing Akari. Give Arceus the moment to right some of the wrongs in the world they'd created. Palkia could not help. Rei's attempt to bring Dialga out of that massive, bejeweled pokeball were fruitless. The ball had apparently bonded to Akari.
Volo did have a point, though. The suffering? The Pain in the world? It wasn't right.
"No," Rei had said, shrugging. His conviction, his confidence. He'd never held himself the same way Volo had. And yet, there they were, on the mountain, with all of these mythical plates, tablets, supposedly parts of Arceus itself?
"But—" Rei had said, throwing out the pokeball of his pikachu—, as Volo threw out a spiritomb.
Volo smiled, as their pokemon sized one another up, waiting for command to begin the fight.
But— Rei thought—"I'm not about to give up on Akari's dream. Not yet. We can still make the world better! We're so close!" He said.
Volo frowned. "You have all of the plates, kid. You played Akari's flute. And no god responded. What kind of god would send a girl on a mission from the sky, only to have her to disappear partway through?"
Volo didn't understand, couldn't, Rei knew. No, not just that. Volo had his own motives, Cyllene had said. That damned ball. They'd needed the help of a silent god. "Thunderbolt!" Rei shouted, initiating their battle. And yet, as pikachu launched into motion, he wondered why Palkia had left. This fight would have been over before it had begun.
It wasn't fair, he said to himself, as he was forced to recall his own pikachu— why had Akari's pokemon been so much stronger than his?
He shook his head. A question he'd reserve for the lakes, once he and Volo could work their differences out.
~~~
The Distortion world is a mirror, much like ours, though it exists only as a natural consequence of both space and time. It makes a mockery of both. It is everywhere and nowhere at once. When one passes through the world, it both knows the individual, but also rejects them. It accepts definition, and yet rejects navigation. Time passes faster. Time passes slower. One step could take a second, the next step could take hours. Within this world, however, is distortion. A substance which carries within it, a will—one which both loves all life, and yet seeks to destroy it, to tear it apart molecule by molecule. Distortion, in one term, enables and yet distorts both space and time. The very sense of distraction. Navigating through distortion is impossible, robots cannot navigate it— and yet individuals often find ways to crawl into holes of distortion, and manage to return. Distortion is a poison. And yet, it leaks and passes through all reality as though it isn't there. Ghosts congregate within distortion and consume it. Distortion may turn aggressive ghost pokemon into complete pacifists, only acting when agitated.
Therefore, I posit that where ghost pokemon congregate around distortion is a naturally-beneficial act which preserves our reality, even if the pokemon themselves are incidentally-harmful to human presence, for when we remove pokemon from their congregating locations, distortion notably increases, and more ghosts will naturally congregate in those locations in search of food. Unfortunately, due to the natural danger and chance of possession or concerns for our souls, research is slow. I must attribute all our increase in understanding on Akari and her ability to brave regions with both high distortion and high ghosts.
- Professor Laventon, Pokedex Notes on Distortion and Ghosts
~~~
She'd walked a path through the Distortion world. It was covered with stone, occasionally. Reminiscent of the stones in the mountain she had tread, weeks ago. She stepped along the path. She'd found him. He had blue hair. Thirty-year-old businessman Cyrus had been standing there, on a pedestal. Giratina had stood before him, Cyrus had seemed confident. Had he always been so? Her memory had turned blurry. The man had probably shook his fist at the god.
Giratina had refused the man's request? Demand? It didn't mattered. The businessman did not get what he wanted. She had seen her opportunity, and stepped forward. Cyrus pulled out a pokeball. Something about it still felt familiar. He hadn't lied. She had frowned. Giratina—the name now embedded in her mind—had already known Cyrus would try to betray it. Distortion wasn't their world, she had learned. The pokeball spun, impotent in the air at the exact spot, as if confused Giratina was gone. The god had already disappeared before his fingers had let go of the ball.
Had judged Cyrus to be unworthy of its aid.
She remembered the feeling of exhaustion, plummeting down the side of the mountain she is, grasping at what little memories were left as even they faded. Her own muscles had burned, the Pressure had borne upon them. Cyrus was panting. She hadn't been alone in it. Giratina could have killed them then, simply hovering somewhere in their presence. Gravity pulling down upon them, she had remained standing. She'd pruned her own mind, her own thoughts putting all out of the way except her own target. Her own goal. Memories, feelings, physical pain— she would have to deal with later.
~~~
She is plummeting down, rolling through the snow. It was later. For the physical pain, anyway. Dawn's memories had chosen not to return. What had her goal been, then? She thought, surfing under a stillness of snow, as pieces of ice above cracked. Would Dawn die here? No. She smiles. She is made of tougher stuff than this. She'd accomplished the goal, just moments ago. She'd made her wish. And giratina had granted it, choosing to leave its child behind. Dawn is tired. Dawn is hungry, and the god of the underworld sits on her belt.
The pieces of ice, they fall, as she crawls. Through the snow. The back of her hands are gray. Each of her fingers have little bands of red and black. Little bits of distortion leak from above. The sun is blocked by clouds, but the bright light fills Dawn with anger. Two people stared at her from above. The man with the blonde hair, who had diverted the portal—called Dawn forth, and a boy with dark blue hair from above, a mile above, are watching her as she fell. A pokemon to their left, similarly watched from their platform.
She has a goal now. Get food. She has a second goal. Climb to the top of the mountain. As the avalanche threatens to begin anew, she moves to grab her belt—her pokeball was lost in the avalanche. Dawn groans, then dives, practically floating through the three meters of snow, searching for anything she can grab.
Through the snow covering her from above, the avalanche begins again, though a pseudo-legendary, a garchomp, she can see, is climbing down, navigating the side of the mountain with ease, carrying with it, a blonde man she had glimpsed earlier, cutting through the snow with ease. A togekiss follows the pair from above.
~~~
Giratina had seen fit to preserve the man's life, despite knowing Cyrus's will? Realities had collapsed as Dawn had approached. Thousands of Cyruses had bargained, time and again with the lord of gravity, the force that counterparted space and time. In, through, and of all things. The ruler of distortion itself.
She had smiled as she stood over Cyrus, lying on the ground. Giratina had known. There were many truths, and many lies, there in the distortion world. It was a comical world they had both been in. The air itself made a mockery of those who breathed it.
"I see you have come for me, child." The man said, breathing into his mask. He was alive. He was dead, he was poisoned. He was clean, in the world of gravity and distortion, he was successful, he was a failure, he was everything all at once. And yet.
Dawn had remained silent.
~~~
The Togekiss hovering overhead, Dawn remains silent. Should she trust this man, descending down the mountain? The Garchomp, though navigating down with ease, ignoring the snow and avalanche rumbling over her head, threatening to break her hold. It is weak. She does now know how she can tell. But it would lose in comparison to… Someone else's. Someone she'd forgotten. Cynthia. The name resounded in her head, and a fire burns brighter. Dawn is pulled toward Giratina's presence, and moments later, she stands atop the snow, belt in hand, two pokeballs on it. She feels like she is missing something. But she doesn't remember the other pokeball. The one without giratina inside. What is missing, she decided, is food. Dawn is hungry.
~~~
"I suppose I am supposed to be dead soon. And yet," he said, "and yet here you are, standing above me." He coughed. "Pathetic. Betrayed by the god I thought understood me." He sat up. He put his hand to his belt. He did not expand his pokeballs as he pulled off his belt, no. He set his pokebelt on the ground. There would be no battle here. On the insane businessman's vest was a black and yellow pokeball, the iconic, emblazoned M drawing her attention.
"You win, Dawn," Cyrus said. "I don't know what you did. I don't know what price you paid—" he said, staring into her eyes. "But it was not me, the god wanted. It never was me they called for." The man frowned, the white and blue of his eyes betraying their dismay. "Was I checkmated in the games of the gods?" The man asked.
The girl smiled. "I win, Cyrus."
"I suppose you do, Dawn. I suppose you do. You always won, you know," he'd said.
"I know," she'd said.
"I've had a long wait for you to come, Dawn. A lot longer than usual, does the league even pay you?" he said, coughing.
"Sorry", she said, unapologetic. It had been shorter than normal. At least for her. "You're a lying bastard," she said, the fury in her eyes, as she sent… a pokemon, out. She pointed at Cyrus, who smirked.
"I know," Cyrus said.
~~~
The man on the garchomp stands above Dawn, eyeing her up and down. "My name's Volo," he says, his body shivering. His outfit was made for this insane cold "And I am here to rescue you. Please, grab garchomp's tail, and hold on," He requests. She obliges as she grabs onto the end of the ground-type dragon's tail.
~~~
She wobbled, even on the ground, Cyrus' masterball, even after her pokemon had killed him, floated in the air, then fell to the ground. That had been it. She'd picked up the ball, and stuffed it into her bag, just as her memories—now forgotten— had begun to rush back. The life she'd lived. It was over. The man was gone. Her own mind rippling, as all her careful and directed psychic plans had torn themselves apart at the seams, no longer able to hold together. The effort—the work—she'd put in to bond with her alakazam. The REASON why he'd allowed her to use his spoons in even the most mundane bullshit like stirring a bottle of coffeeshop boba, fell apart. Another pokeball. A masterball had been in front of her. She'd thrown her own at giratina. Who'd accepted her wish.
~~~
"So you did save her", the boy with blue hair says, sitting at the top of the mountain, on the solid temple floor. This place is familiar to Dawn, and she looks around, curious.
Dawn had forgotten. What had she forgotten? She asked. Her own hair had shifted black, her own skin turning gray as the cursed item did its work, the feather she wore glowing, as if to counteract her own death sentence. He offered her a wish. She had asked for his help. He'd accepted. She'd asked to prevent this from ever being able to happen in the first place. And he gave her the path. She screamed, a gnawing hunger, and the gnawing loneliness of an eternity and life alone ate away. The visions of a man in a tan coat, approaching her after she'd left the pokecenter, pulling her aside for the first time. And yet, the feather on her had glowed, as her skin and face and body rippled, as by all means the weight of a god killed her, and yet, the girl lived. Giratina had offered to give her a chance, the ball in her hand held not the entity's spawn. Not the prince who would ascend, but the king who had no throne.
Her skin had shifted gray, the oxygen had lost her favor, her fingers coated in black and red, Dawn pulled her mask off. She dropped it to the ground. She breathed in the distortion, greedy for it, felt the ripples. Her heart had stuttered, the feather glowed, having consumed her body in a one-time fire. She stood up. She picked up the pokeball off the ground, her face turned to a grin. She felt inside where she needed to go. She was excited, because for once, she could stop a disease before it could spread. She could rest now.
Her escort had returned, and had followed her to her destination. She stood up, she checked her body— she seemed fine. She sipped the nectar of the world for one last time, knowing it could be years before she partook of it again. A rend, a crack below glowed, the distortion world spewed forth, her limbs were strong now. She flexed, stood back, and jumped into the open chasm in the sky, the sheer pressure of the distortion of the world pushing her out, leaving giratina's child behind, the portal itself closing, Dawn fell to the ground of the old temple atop mount Coronet, the contents of her pack spilling to the ground, to the tune of a surprised shout of a pair of humans. The girl stood up. She'd missed the platform they stood. The air was thin there. Both were breathing heavy. She knew this place, but could not recall.
Her body felt strange, and she was wobbling as she took a step forward, recovering from falling onto the hard ground. The man's—Volo, she now knew—his face was wiped of all disdain as he had glanced into her eyes. A boy with blue hair and traditional sinnohan wear stood across, a ghostly typhlosion standing in front of the boy as Dawn had coughed, hacking her lungs, as if she'd been starved of oxygen. Drinking in deep the fading distortion that had spilled forward, she flexed her muscles. She felt strong. Unfortunately, she slipped and fell. And the mountain was very, very, very tall.
~~~
Rei had stood upon the top of the broken temple—betrayed by Volo, all of the plates present, ready to call forth this "arceus", as Volo had called them. But no— a battle had ensued. He was not as prepared—not as bonded—to his pokemon as he should have been. But they were there for—and on the behalf of Akari. Her team knew her will, and did not need her there. So, in her stead, he stood in front of the merchant, as he'd ranted about the unfairness of the world.
"Give it up, Volo. Akari doesn't even need to be here for you to be defeated," he'd said, huffing in the thin atmosphere of the mountain top. It hadn't felt like a final battle, no.
"Giratina! I call you forth! Defeat my enemy and we will challenge Arceus!" Volo stood, his arms held out, cracks erupted before him, Ashes—Akari's typhlosion's ethereal purple flames erupting as distortion erupted forth, rolling from the top of the mountain. A knot formed in Rei's stomach, goosebumps forming on his arms.
A figure plummeted to the ground from ten feet above, their body rippling, a necklace clanging around their neck, smoke rising from their body, a tan blur of a bag falling off. The being hit the ground behind Volo with a thud, then tried to stand up, before falling down, just outside the temple's broken floor, the woman slipping on ice that should have been blocked by the temple's now demolished roof. She slipped down the slope, her body rolling down the ice-and-snow covered mountain. She bounced off rock and ice crystals jutting out. As soon as it had arrived, the portal was gone.
"No!" Volo had cried, as the portal closed, the distortion pouring out ceasing, as Akari's Typhlosion's flames burned bright in their purple glow.
"That was Giratina?" Rei asked, the both of them having set aside their differences as they crawled to the edge of the temple in an attempt to avoid the same fate.
Ashes, Akari's typhlosion, walked up next to the pair, prone on the edge of the stone temple's floor, peeking over the edge, next to the once-dueling duo, as the side of the mountain had given way, clouds of snow and ice kicking up, the piles of ice and snow breaking after decades of collecting on the tallest mountain in the world.
"The legends never gave much of a description," Volo said, huffing. "But I've never seen a pokemon that humanoid," he finished.
"No," Rei agreed, "that was no pokemon." He had debated for a second, revealing what had happened to Akari—why he was out here on her behalf. Volo would put the dots together on his own eventually. Volo may not have seen what had happened when Akari had caught dialga in that ball, imbued with pieces of the broken pieces of the three gods of the lakes. When Akari had caught palkia, the stress on her body had been immense. The magic of the lake trio had worked magically, but also gone horribly, horribly wrong that day.
"She'd bonded with Giratina." Volo said, a smile creeping to his lips, before his face turned to one of concern.
That woman is still human, Rei thought. But why here? What had Volo done?
"Akari's flute? Sneaseler?" Volo demanded, as if he wasn't trying to take the plates Rei had gathered, just moments ago.
Rei shook his head. "Sneaseler wouldn't take Akari this high. She definitely won't come to me."
"Fine," Volo said, scooting back away from the edge. "But we can't just leave her down there!" He said, with gusto.
Rei rolled his eyes at the self-proclaimed pokemon "wielder", before pulling his pack together.
"Make no doubt about it!" Volo said, pulling his exotic supplies from his pack—healing potions and remedies, tossing out his garchomp, who was splayed across the floor, still fainted and burned from being knocked out by Ashes, covering his garchomp in as many potions as he had, the shark-like creature's wounds beginning to heal over as their potions worked their magic.
"I'm not sure I want to be up here when you get back," Rei said.
"Nonsense!" Volo said. "Here! Take these full heals! Come, meet our sky goddess and let's see if she can help," he said, tossing Rei enough healing materials to cover his team and then some.
Rei continued to eye the man, though he did not turn down the travelling merchant's gifts, as the mountain rumbled and cracked below them. Volo's garchomp was fully awake, eyeing Ashes, and Rei's team as he let them out, to give them all potions and heal them up. The fight hadn't turned bitter, at least, that much Rei was grateful for. It seemed both party's pokemon had felt no need to take that finishing bite or stab or attack.
"Volo, seriously, what do you want out of this whole thing?" Rei asked.
Volo chuckled, hopping on his garchomp's back as his Togekiss began to stand up, recovering from their fight. "Isn't it obvious? I want to be a god."
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