Part 3
Perhaps worse than death itself was the aftermath that it left behind. That was one thing that Yveltal often tried to avoid; she was guilty enough of their sad faces, and so sick of their misdirected anger. Wasn’t she supposed to be some kind of necessary evil? It’s what she told herself, at least.
From what she recalled, Xerneas had always talked about visiting the village first and making a little spectacle of his arrival. He had to boost their morale, give them a lecture about being more careful with the gifts they are given, and to make sure they didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes twice. Yveltal imagined that was the polite way of saying, ‘You don’t want Yveltal coming again, now do you?’ Because she wouldn’t be surprised if that was what Xerneas actually told them. She wouldn’t blame him.
And so, she stood, horns radiant and body gleaming. She didn’t even have to call out to them; the villagers in their more primitive homes—simple clay and stone—emerged to marvel at her blue form. She knew Xerneas’ stance, and she mimicked it to the best of her ability, and it was enough to fool them. They were distracted by her radiance anyway.
She recited what Xerneas often told them. He’d said it to her to satiate her curiosity time and time again, and sometimes also to vent about the parts they
clearly didn’t listen to, or often forgot, or simply ignored out of convenience and thinking in the present instead of the future. But she couldn’t really tell when she told them the same things: they were all so attentive and so eager. Perhaps Xerneas was just tired.
By the time her throat was tired from talking, Yveltal reached the end of her lecture and turned around for the forest adjacent to their village. The mulch and seeds had mixed together well. Gray ash and the recent rainfall that had blessed the previous night made for the perfect atmosphere to regrow the forest. Less overgrowth this time, and perhaps with the trees more sparsely populated, too. Would give room for less close-quarters fighting, and would probably lead to less upkeep by Xerneas and herself in the future.
Radiant light flowed from her horns, into her legs, and then outward through the soil. She felt all of their presences around her, and a few of the younger Pokémon stepped away out of caution. Their parents told them, while still awestruck, that they should avoid getting too much exposure to her light. That much was fair; spikes in energy sometimes led to premature and involuntary evolution. No reversing that.
Little saplings pushed through the soil in controlled and scattered patches, rapidly maturing into small trees. The crowd murmured to one another in awe. A nearby Venusaur stepped a little closer to Xerneas, but then a Meganium held her back. Yveltal smiled regardless; it was so
surreal, having others hold one another back from approaching not out of anger, but admiration.
Xerneas, how spoiled you were.
“It’s like Yveltal was never even here,” Meganium said in awe.
“Good riddance,” Ludicolo muttered back, followed by bitter grunts and nods from the others.
Okay, that was going to be awkward.
Refocusing her efforts, she channeled more energy into the trees ahead, knowing that she would have to do several more of these rounds all throughout the wastes to complete the process. It would be all day.
“Did you know that we were only given, like, one warning for that?” another Pokémon said—this one a Leafeon. “And not even through the news, either. A verbal announcement. Talk about old-fashioned!”
“Who, from Arceus? Or Yveltal?”
“Pfft, as if Yveltal would ever show up to
not destroy something, just
warn us. They throw that beast at us and the rest doesn’t matter.”
“Well, the forest
was overgrown… And Xerneas said that if Yveltal didn’t do that, the fire could’ve spread all the way to town! Not to mention all the smoke and haze…”
At least some of them were reasonable. Yveltal stepped forward, hoping that they would be harder to hear while she worked. Unfortunately, they ended up trying to follow her—well, most of them did. Some were already losing interest and leaving for town, and, briefly, she felt as relieved as Xerneas probably would have.
But they kept talking.
“Well, just use Yveltal as a deterrent, then,” Meganium said. “If we don’t want to see that thing again, we just have to take care of what Xerneas makes for us. Simple, right? Just like he told us!”
She didn’t tell them that. She said that they might not come back to fix their mistake a second time if they didn’t learn. Nothing about Big Bad Yveltal coming in to destroy their homes…
That was just how the world
worked. Life without death was… imbalanced! Just because she had to be the part that the
living didn’t appreciate didn’t mean she was… Was she unwelcome? No, of course she was. Because that’s how the living reacted to death. Xerneas got to enjoy all of this praise, and—
How often did Xerneas hear them badmouthing her? Did he never tell her?
One of the trees suddenly exploded in height, shooting high above all the others. Its thickness, too, was doubled in size, and Yveltal cut her powers short to make sure she didn’t have it grow further.
“Wow!”
“Amazing!”
“It’s huge!”
Yveltal smiled bitterly, but said nothing more. Until—
“Let’s see Yveltal destroy
that!”
For some reason—a reason Yveltal wasn’t entirely sure herself—that earned a vocalized response. “You know that… Yveltal and I are two sides of the same coin, right?” She glanced back, doing her absolute best to keep her voice even. “You can’t really have me without her or everything will fall out of balance.”
“Well, yeah, we know that,” Meganium said casually, though it was clear a bit of their wind had been taken away from their wings. “It’s just, even if we
need her, doesn’t mean we have to like it. I mean, who in their right mind would like
death?”
“Just because she has powers over death,” Yveltal said coldly, “doesn’t mean she’s evil or unpleasant. Death is release. Death is peace after struggle. Death is something you can prepare for.”
“Yeah, but sometimes it’d probably be better without it, if you ask me,” Meganium said, frowning. “I mean… look at you guys. You don’t have to worry about getting old, or food, or dying, or any of that. No offense, sorry, um, Xerneas.”
There were so many things that Yveltal wished to say in return, but in Xerneas’ body, she could not. Instead, she turned away and continued to tend to the forest.
“Well, I suppose that’s something to consider,” Yveltal eventually said. “I have to get to working. But I don’t want to hear you badmouthing Yveltal like that, understand?”
Reluctantly, the villagers nodded, and Yveltal returned to her work. Suddenly, giving life to the forest in front of all those cheerful faces was starting to sour. Why Xerneas didn’t enjoy their unconditional love for him was beyond her.
<><><>
Xerneas had no trouble ignoring the scornful looks the other villagers gave him while disintegrating the excess vines that had overgrown in the foundation. If anything, he was far too focused on how he had clearly overdone himself the day before when he had restored the town. How… sloppy!
He brushed his left wing over a small patch of flowers in front of one of the building’s windows. Almost instantly, someone shrieked behind him.
“Nooo! My—my flower garden! You killed my flower garden!” A Scyther raised her scythes to her face in horror.
Xerneas blinked, looking under his wing to see the wilting Oran Berry bushes. He had been spending so much time culling the foliage that it was all starting to look the same.
“Hm, sorry,” Xerneas said, lifting his wing completely. The plants were a dusty pile of gray ash. “Plant some more. This soil is pretty nutrient-rich with, you know, the stuff that used to be alive.”
“I can’t believe you’d even do that… just kill things because you can…”
“It’s part of Yv—it’s part of my job. Unless you want to deal with that yourself?”
Scyther tensed, looking ready to fight. Xerneas wasn’t, and in fact was still incredibly thrown off by how hostile everybody was to him now. All because he had a different appearance? And maybe death powers?
“I’d clean this up myself if I could!” Scyther glanced left and saw a nearby vine. She sliced cleanly through it; prismatic liquid gushed from the vine as two more sprouted from the spot that had been cut open, and then the entire vine itself grew several feet in length.
Xerneas winced. He had
really overdone it yesterday…
“Well, there you go,” Xerneas said. “You need me to nullify it. So, leave me be and I’ll be out of your chitin.”
Scyther snarled, her blades scraping against one another for a threatening sharpen, but Xerneas was unmoved. He brushed his wings over a few more vines, wilting them instantly as their life energy flowed into him. He wondered if Yveltal always had that dull hunger that he was currently feeling—that satisfaction of filling that hollow void in his core with life energy.
He still felt her stare, and it just occurred to him that Yveltal was going to probably have to deal with even more rumors this way. But was there anything he could do to rectify that? At all?
“Er,” Xerneas said, looking for the next words he was supposed to say. None came.
Scyther kept staring, blades ready for a battle that Xerneas had
zero interest in pursuing.
“I’m sorry if my powers frighten you. But it’s as you said: I’m needed to take care of the mess Xerneas left behind, so I’ll—”
“It’s not a mess,” Scyther said immediately. “It’s just too much of a good thing.”
“Well, yes, but it’s still a mess,” Xerneas debated back. “Now, let me continue with my work and I’ll be gone, okay? Sorry about your berries. Just plant more.”
“Just plant more… Hmph.” Scyther didn’t say anything after that, walking away while muttering incomprehensible statements to herself.
Finally, some peace.
It lasted three seconds.
“You really have some nerve, you know that?”
Xerneas closed his eyes, took a breath, held it, and still felt his rage building. “Yes, what is it?”
He recognized that voice from before and addressed the Tyranitar with as little contempt as he could muster. Whatever he’d tried, it wasn’t enough, because his expression made Tyranitar even more hostile.
“You don’t have a single ounce of respect for mortals, do you? You know, we’ve been at this for generations, hearing words about you, and you know what happens any time we ask about it to Arceus? He says that while your work is unpleasant, it’s
necessary. Well, you know what? Maybe if we have to deal with you, having Xerneas come along isn’t worth it!”
Oh! Were they actually learning, or were they just being insufferable again? The world was unstable with the rampant powers that Pokémon were naturally capable of, not to mention the blights that occasionally disrupted the typically peaceful countryside. Their work
was needed from time to time, but in this era of peace, some of their assignments
did feel like needless busywork.
Xerneas was glad that his beak didn’t show any sort of smirk, at least not easily, compared to his typical form. Instead, he let his ire show through his tone. “I suppose I can just go and leave this overgrowth for you to deal with, then. Would you prefer that?”
Tyranitar snarled. “Don’t toy with us. You… You haven’t killed anyone yet, have you? Like last time?”
“Last time, what do you mean, last time?” Xerneas said, incredulous. “I’ve never—” Wait, Yveltal may have.
“You don’t even remember!” Tyranitar shouted, his voice a deep snap that caught the attention of Pokémon several houses away. He swung his itching arm to the right, pointing at some distant hillside. Xerneas followed it and saw that part of the mountaintop seemed practically carved out. A longer look—the distinct lack of plant life, not even little dying shrubs—and it was clear that Yveltal had blasted there.
“It was only five years ago, so that should be no time at all to someone like you unless we’re
that inconsequential. Ever since that blast, this village has been dying, like all the life here had simply refused to grow. Only when Xerneas came here did we see it bounce back at all. Five years too late, if you ask me…”
Apparently, Xerneas had been staring pensively for too long, because Tyranitar stomped his foot on the ground even harder.
“You killed my father in cold blood and then left the village to rot!”
“I did
what?” Xerneas shouted, feathers puffing out. “I don’t kill for no reason!”
Gods, why did Yveltal have to kill someone here? Was he some kind of menace to society?
Tyranitar rubbed his arm again, like some old pain was coming back. “I’m not gonna take something like that,” he said, his voice shaking. And his body, too. And his eyes… Xerneas didn’t like those eyes. There was some kind of lost, primal rage brewing inside—and while he could understand that to an extent… No. There was more to it. Crazed. Five years of dwelling on this, would that be enough to cause this?
The other villagers were gathering around, forming a curious wall on both sides of the tanned autumn streets. Leaves crunched under their many feet, and a few had to shield themselves from a dusty wind that picked up.
Tyranitar snarled and shifted his footing. His arm crackled with reddish energy, and then prismatic energy, and Xerneas suddenly recognized that last part as his own. What? Did Tyranitar somehow acquire some of his own power? No, that wasn’t possible, unless—
Pitch darkness emerged in tiny cracks on Tyranitar’s arm like ink-black blood.
Blight.
Normal Pokémon attacks had no effect on the likes of Xerneas… but not if they were blighted. And Xerneas reacted too slowly when a sharp pillar of rock jutted from beneath him, sending him flying through the air. Up felt like down, and when he tried to beat his wings to stabilize, he only hastened his fall to the overgrown soil. A few vines wrapped around him when he smashed against them, but a simple wingbeat was enough to rot them away. The residual life energy inside gave him the strength to get to his feet quickly.
A second Stone Edge smashed into his back, sending him careening forward with a wail. These weren’t normal attacks. Mortals weren’t capable of this kind of damage; it was the blight. How long had it been festering inside of him, undetected? It was too late. He didn’t have a choice.
When Xerneas landed on the ground again—hoping that he hadn’t accidentally crushed his wing at his angle—he scrambled to his feet and threw open his one good wing. Dark energy coursed through it—sending shivers through Xerneas’ spirit—and he beat once. At the same time, the ground under his feet shifted; he jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the third spire of rocks.
The dark blast struck Tyranitar, knocking him backwards several feet in a rough skid. He clutched at his chest, wheezing, snarling. While his attacks were strong, his body was frail; he fell to the ground, held up by the arm that didn’t ache and itch.
“Nngooh…” Tyranitar tried to stand, but his body didn’t respond, and the soil under Xerneas didn’t shift. It was over.
But he was still blighted, wasn’t he?
Xerneas stretched his wings and readied another Oblivion Wing. It was only halfway there, his other wing feeling sprained, but it would be enough.
The beam of darkness went for the same area as before, and Xerneas knew that his strike would hit true.
Something dark shuffled from the corner of his vision to the center, directly in the beam’s path. Xerneas couldn’t halt the attack; instead, a gout of fire tried, and failed, to intercept the beam in a head-on collision. Instead, the flames diverted in all directions, scorching the ground and the grass. Someone shrieked, and then the crowd echoed the same sound tens of times over.
Xerneas had feeling in his other wing again; the absorbed life energy was more than enough to bring him back to perfect condition. He beat them to blow out the flames like candles; when the dust settled, he saw Tyranitar, still on the ground, and the defiant statue of a Salazzle.
The crowd murmured around Xerneas, too shocked to speak any louder. Tyranitar crawled to the statue, reaching toward the arm weakly. Xerneas was a split-second away from readying another attack when the black, crackling energy in Tyranitar’s arm suddenly dissipated. When it faded, so did Tyranitar’s consciousness. He collapsed at Salazzle’s feet.
Xerneas’ first instinct was to heal them, but the shouts from the crowd to get away, and the creeping darkness that flowed through his feathers when he tried to channel his power, reminded him that such things were well beyond his ability.
Despite their fears, several Pokémon tried to get to Tyranitar to inspect him. Xerneas couldn’t hear properly anymore; they said something about Tyranitar still breathing, and another said something about his poor mate. He saw some of them give uneasy, fearful glances at Yveltal, and others carrying Tyranitar away. Some of the others stared at Salazzle, her expression frozen in a mixture of fear, anger, and hope.
He finally came to his senses and muttered, “Keep her there. I’ll be—I need to find Xerneas, I need to…” He stepped, turned around, and flew away.
<><><>
It was finally over; every tree, every bush, the whole, tiny forest was back and tidier than ever. No overgrowth; just the right amount of power. Yveltal was used to that kind of controlled output; she had to be very careful about her powers over death, after all. Being able to monitor how much life she gave to the trees, by comparison, had so much leeway that she planned to tease Xerneas about how easy he had it.
She did miss her wings, though.
The villagers had invited her to town for some sort of celebration. The request was so surreal and unexpected that she accepted without thinking, and now she was walking toward her first party with mortals since…
She didn’t remember.
The village bustled with happy faces and enthusiastic singing—something that was also a surprising change for Yveltal. Singing. She sang to herself sometimes, but only rarely, and often just to comfort the dying before claiming them. And yet, this time, it was cheerful and beautiful in its own way…
“Er, what do you need from me here?” Yveltal asked nervously. “I’ve already done my part. Just keep the forest healthy and you’ll—”
“No, no, we know!” said Meganium. “We just need to thank you after everything. That’s all!”
And that was enough. She wasn’t about to deny a little thank-you that Xerneas always got to enjoy. And, to be fair, she was a little tired after all her restoration efforts. She had a weak instinct to give it all out, like a building power and need to throw it out somewhere… The complete opposite of her usual instincts to consume. It was an interesting change, but it also felt oddly burdensome.
Their food was humble but hearty: a potato stew mixed with some of the berries and herbs that had been harvested from the very forest that she had destroyed yesterday.
A pang of guilt plagued Yveltal at that thought, so she tried to shake it away with a remark, “This is amazing, you know,” she said. “I, er, that is, the food. And the little celebration.”
She scanned the room and admired all the happy partygoers in the square. The night was no match for the torches that lit the streets and the further, artificial lights lining the streets to accompany them, the white bulbs mixing with the orange flames.
Yveltal didn’t realize that she had laughed until it escaped her, and the other villagers beamed. “Wow, Xerneas,” said Meganium. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Yveltal said. “I was just thinking about how, er—well, how lively this place is.”
“Oh, of course! All thanks to you,” Meganium said. “And, to be honest, we were doing some thinking, and, about Yveltal…”
She struggled to maintain her smile.
“We understand. It was wrong of us to badmouth your opposite so strongly. In the end, we need both of you. So… I guess, even if we don’t like when Yveltal comes around, we can at least respect what her purpose is.”
Yveltal didn’t want to be silent afterward, but she didn’t know how to respond to that while staying in character. It was, at least, an improvement. Rather than hate her, they would at least tolerate her… right? Or was that just to satisfy him? How many times did they tell Xerneas this just to win him over?
She was paranoid at this point—no use bringing down the mood for everyone else. “That’s good,” she said. “I—”
“E-excuse me.”
The tiny voice was nearly drowned out by the crowd, but something about it stood out to her. It was the little Murkrow, and the densest, coldest pit in her chest returned the moment she saw his red, tired eyes. In an instant, a thousand realizations hit her, and the fact that she could see her blue legs didn’t help.
Keeping her voice as even as possible, she said, “Yes, little one?”
“Can I talk to you?” Murkrow asked, his voice cracking near the middle. “Ab-about m-my brother?”
She obviously couldn’t say no, but what would follow—she saw the whole conversation ahead of time, and she wanted nothing more than in that moment for the Heart Swap to wear off. But it had been far less than a day; they had seen Manaphy in the dead of night. The last traces of twilight still taunted her.
“Please?” Murkrow asked again, breaking Yveltal out of her trance.
“Yes, you may,” she said quickly. “What is it that you wanted to ask me?”
Murkrow stepped back, sniffling. “Y-Yveltal killed him,” he said. “And… a-and he would have lived if Yveltal didn’t show up! Please!”
“I can’t revive someone just like that,” Xerneas said a little too quickly. “It’s already been a whole day, hasn’t it? The body must be…”
“Well, it’s buried already,” admitted Meganium, nearby. “But you’ve performed miracles like those before!”
“No, it’s… not that simple. I can’t just bring people back like that. First of all, th-they would have to
want to return, hypothetically speaking, otherwise it would all be pointless, and—”
“Of course he’d want to return!” Murkrow said.
“And—I can’t just do it by mortals’ requests, either. You know that.” Yveltal bowed his head apologetically, and this time it was genuine.
“Unless,” Meganium said with a hopeful lilt to his voice, “you’re undoing the mistake of another god. Right?”
“Exactly!” Murkrow said. “Please! Yveltal killed him wrongly, so you can bring him back! That’s part of—of your policy, right? Legend against Legend!” His voice kept cracking and tears were starting to stain his feathers. Yveltal couldn’t ignore it anymore.
“If we brought you to his grave,” Meganium said, “would you be able to tell if he was truly killed by Yveltal?”
She would. But she couldn’t say that out loud. Because it would just give them false hope. Honchkrow had been killed by natural causes, and she just happened to be there. That had to have been it, because there was no way she would have missed his energy flowing into her. She had always been very careful about that. She didn’t—no, she couldn’t have possibly done it. So, there was no point in her checking.
“I don’t know if I could still be able to tell,” Yveltal lied. “I… don’t know if…” She couldn’t look away from Murkrow’s face, those desperate eyes. How did Xerneas deal with this all the time? Did he just tune it out? It’s not often that Pokémon approach her wishing for death, but Xerneas must get this
daily. This was too much. If Arceus found out she used Xerneas’ powers improperly…
“Please,” Murkrow begged again, beak quivering, and Yveltal simply couldn’t say no.
“I’ll… check.” She bowed her head. “Show me the way.”
The walk was a lot longer than Yveltal thought was possible, every single building passing in slow motion like she was being walked to her
own death. A whole crowd gathered behind her, waiting and watching for the next and final miracle of the night to be performed. Her stomach was in knots and it was a mystery how she wasn’t losing the dinner she’d been treated to.
It was just at the edge of the village in a small field. Little stones marked the graves and their names were etched in each one, and Murkrow went to one of the latest, freshest entries in the dirt.
“R-right here,” Murkrow said. “This should be enough, right? Right?”
The body was already being reclaimed by the earth, but it had also only been a day. If she wanted, she could channel a great deal of energy into the ground and return him, should he answer the call. But only, and absolutely only, if Yveltal sensed her own touch upon his deceased person. She had a very clear signature; usually, it took at least three days for it to fade, sometimes longer.
“Move aside,” Yveltal said softly, hoping that the fact that she could barely speak would be more a testament to her compassion for the dead than her fear of what she would find.
No, why was she afraid? She wasn’t going to find anything. She still remembered it. She didn’t kill that Pokémon. She didn’t. Natural causes. Nothing more. He had no hope to begin with. Perhaps he had a bad run-in with some other Pokémon, or fell ill and wandered off—anything could have happened in an overgrown forest, he—
“Xerneas? Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” Yveltal had to get it over with. She placed a hoof on the gravesite and closed her eyes, and for a single instant that felt like an eternity, she realized that she could have killed him after all, just by chance. Unlucky chance, a life cut short. And that happened. That was how the world worked.
They all held their breath, including Yveltal. Her sense of life redoubled, and she felt all the forces around her, the whole crowd, their hearts, their minds, their very spirits. The energies flowed around her like water, and she was aware of every current. And eventually, she was able to focus on the weak, residual energy left behind in the body underground. There, she knew she would find nothing abnormal, because there was no way she had killed him.
Silence, and then more silence, as the currents flowed through her. And then, she found…
Nothing.
No trace of her deadly power plagued the bones of the Pokémon under her hoof. She had been right all along; her power didn’t kill him! And she doubted herself!
Murkrow gasped, beating his wings. “You sensed it! You can revive him!” Happy caws and a flurry of black feathers—as if the stress of loss was literally falling off of him—turned Yveltal’s immense relief into redoubled dread.
She had smiled. And now they were all smiling back.
And even though her smile was gone, now, all the others still looked at her eagerly, reverently, and expectantly.
“So Yveltal really did kill him?” Murkrow said, wiping his eyes with his wings. He sniffled a few times, then laughed, and then his wet, shiny eyes met Yveltal’s—looking down had been a big mistake for her. “St-stupid god powers… d-death… w-we didn’t need her to do any of that…”
She had to say no. She had to say no because it was against policy. She didn’t kill him; it wasn’t a divine accident. But… but would she ever,
ever be able to get the opportunity to bring life back to the departed, ever again? Ever?
…She’d ruin how the public saw Xerneas if she refused now…
“Okay,” Yveltal finally said, her thoughts suddenly feeling clouded. She brought her hoof forward and over the grave, closing her eyes. “Everyone, back away. I don’t want you getting this energy, too. It takes a lot of power to bring anybody back after this much time. And—again, I need time, and we need to make sure that he even wants to return. If he does not want to… then it is beyond my power.”
They all backed away, Murkrow showing no fear that Murkrow could refuse, because why would he?
…What if she faked it, and said he would rather remain deceased? Perhaps she could say that she sensed no will to live from his spirit, and that he was content with the peace and stillness of death that he’d been granted.
No. That wasn’t going to work.
And so, even though she knew this wasn’t going to be a good idea, she channeled her power into the grave, a bright, prismatic light flowing from her horns and into the ground. The soil stirred, white, see-through petals shining from beneath the dirt. The crowd had to avert their eyes for part of it, and even Yveltal had to shut them, not used to that brilliance herself.
Something underground forced her hoof up, and she backed away. That was more than enough power. From the soil came a bright, crystal flower several times Murkrow’s size. It twisted its way out of the ground, thick, solid petals brightening the entire graveyard as if it was daytime. And then, when the light finally settled to just a dim glow, they all saw a dark lump somewhere inside the flower’s petals. Murkrow held his breath; Yveltal did, too. It had only occurred to her just then that she could have done something wrong. After all, she hadn’t seen Xerneas perform such a miracle that often.
But then the crystal petals blossomed and evaporated at the very tips. A fine, sparkling mist drifted into the air, leaving behind a Honchkrow, curled up like he was still inside an egg. He did not stir for several eternal seconds until he blinked himself awake. He stretched, his beak chattered in the cool air, greeting it like he’d been asleep for a long, long time. And then, with a satisfied sigh, he seemed to remember where he was and jerked upwards.
“What? Where—I was… What happened?” Honchkrow groaned and wobbled, trying to regain his footing. “Did I pass out?” He scanned the crowd. “Er, I’m okay, guys. Don’t worry about it.”
Murkrow wailed and flew into Honchkrow’s chest, earning a surprised caw from the elder brother. He curled his wings around the smaller Murkrow and preened at the little one on reflex. Several Pokémon in the crowd held back their tears; others were much less modest.
“You died,” Murkrow said. “You died in the forest because Yveltal killed you, and—a-and… and I…” The rest was lost to his sobs, and Yveltal knew that this was one lie she had to allow to persist.
Honchkrow was ushered over to the village, and while they wanted to check on him to make sure he was okay, he claimed that he never felt better. Yveltal wasn’t surprised. With how much energy he had flowing through him, he’d probably need to spend a day or two burning it all off. Little murmurs echoed from the last of the crowd, all still admiring Yveltal for just being there.
She looked down at the hooves that were not her own, and then listened to what some of them were saying, if only out of morbid curiosity.
“I knew it,” said a Bulbasaur with a wide grin. “Of course Yveltal would be that careless. Killing a random Pokémon because she’s probably too lazy to wait or something, right? Hah!”
Just ignore it. Was this really something to be so bothered with? She had said it herself. The Honchkrow had been killed by Yveltal; the lie that she had to make just for the sake of seeing a smiling face for once. Not just smiling. Tearful, completely elated, beside themselves…
“Knew she was a killer. She doesn’t care about normal Pokémon at all,” Bulbasaur said, and a few of the other Pokémon around the youngster nodded. “Maybe she just got caught this time. I bet now she’ll get in huge trouble with Arceus!”
“You think he’ll smite her for it?” asked another.
“I hope so. She’s awful!”
“You know,” Yveltal said, suddenly turning and trying her best to dispel the red in her vision, “I don’t think that’s a very fair comparison to make for Yveltal, when you think about it.”
Bulbasaur looked at the others, but then smirked at Yveltal. “Aw, c’mon, you don’t like her either, do you? You guys are opposites! I bet Yveltal gets annoyed when you undo her work.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Yveltal said. “In fact, she’s relieved that there’s someone like—me to help, just as she’s there to help when I give too
much life.”
Bulbasaur didn’t look convinced, but it seemed that the other villagers were perceptive enough to drop the subject. They stepped away and shuffled back for the village, all except for Bulbasaur. And Yveltal felt her hooves plant firmly in place. She couldn’t let this go. The lie was already spiraling horribly out of control and she had to at least stop this
one, insignificant Bulbasaur from spreading the rumor through the whole village.
“That’s not at all how it is,” Yveltal finally said, stepping forward.
This is a bad idea. Just let it drop. How is this child’s opinion going to mean anything? Let it go. “Yveltal isn’t like that.”
“How do you know?” the insolent Bulbasaur said. “Like, you don’t know what’s in her head. Maybe it actually feels good to her to kill people. I heard from Mom that there are some Pokémon that are broken like that, and they like to kill others.”
“Yveltal hates killing needlessly,” Yveltal said. “She—she isn’t someone who enjoys it. She does it because it’s her duty, just as I do mine.” Just because it felt good to satiate that emptiness inside her whenever she absorbed life energy didn’t mean she liked
killing. It was—it was different.
Bulbasaur rolled his eyes. “Meh, whatever,” he said. “Nobody likes her anyway. Maybe this mistake will be enough that she’s gone for good, huh? The world would be way better without her.”
“That’s… that’s not true,” Yveltal said slowly, eyes clouding with something between pain and rage. Her breathing was uneven and her chest felt tight. Something was growing around her hooves but she didn’t care. “You don’t know a thing about Yveltal.”
Bulbasaur blinked, glancing around, and then looked at Yveltal. He seemed to realize, then, that it was just the two of them. “Yeah, so? We know what she does and what she is, so… so that’s just how it is! That’s what she told us! She thinks she’s all high and mighty because she’s
supposed to be around, but you know what? I think everyone else just tolerates her because she
thinks she’s needed, and—”
“ENOUGH!” Yveltal slammed her hoof on the ground.
“O-okay, okay, I—”
“NO.” Yveltal advanced, grass overgrowing around her. A dim glow radiated off of her horns like a beacon, and other Pokémon looked at them. The plants were glowing with the grass in outward ripples that originated from Xerneas’ body. Vines overgrew where she stood, writhing in random directions. Some of that light channeled into Bulbasaur’s body, giving him a dim, ethereal glow that made him seize up.
Yveltal went on, horns blazing with power. “Yveltal has nothing but love for mortals every time she tries to help them, and what does she get in response? Nothing but scathing hatred and anger because of the mortals’ own irresponsibility. They know
nothing about how horrible this world would be if there was no Yveltal, no death, to balance out life.”
Yveltal stepped toward the frightened Ivysaur, huffing again as the vines continued to twist and turn around them both. She didn’t care. She didn’t even care when the other villagers came running out, shouting something that she didn’t care to hear.
“Stop!” Ivysaur squealed, trying to back away, but the vines were getting caught around his body. He clumsily tried to slice through the vines with a Razor Leaf. Luminous fluid spurted out of the vines and blinded him; he screamed and flailed as more of the vines grew where they had been cut, further entangling him.
Yveltal suddenly gasped and snapped back to her senses. The vines—what was happening? She tried to channel some of her energy into it to wilt them, but that wasn’t her power anymore, and now the vines were growing even more. Out in the village, a Venusaur—strongly resembling the Venusaur child ensnared in the vines—readied another set of sharp leaves.
“No, don’t!” Yveltal shouted. “It won’t—”
She launched them, slicing through several of the vines that now covered half of the gravesite.
Crystal flowers bloomed along nearby gravestones and the vines continued to immobilize and squeeze around the new Venusaur’s body.
Yveltal broke free of the vines that grew around her own hooves, but Venusaur was too unfamiliar with his bulky body to do the same. Thick vines of his own flopped around and weakly pushed at the thorns that were starting to dig into him; panicking, he screamed and flailed, which only made them dig deeper.
“No, stop, STOP!” Yveltal begged, trying to pull the vines away delicately, but every time Venusaur struggled, more kept piling on. “No, calm down, calm down! I can’t help you if you keep—”
Venusaur’s screams etched themselves into Yveltal’s memories. She could only stare, helpless, as the vines wrapped layer upon layer around Venusaur, his muffled screams the only thing able to break through.
He was going to die there, except he wouldn’t. The energy would sustain him, and yet the vines would cut him, and then he would keep dying.
Yveltal couldn’t do anything to stop it. He would be buried in that agony. And it was all her fault.
“Yveltal!” She heard her own voice, and then she stared up just in time to see a beam of darkness wash over the vines. They broke apart just enough that, while he was still wounded, Venusaur scrambled out of the vines and toward the villagers, who all stared in horror.
Xerneas—in Yveltal’s body—descended upon them with his wings stretched wide. The vines halted in their growth, and Yveltal stepped away in an effort to not contribute to their plague.
“I—I’m sorry,” Yveltal said. “I used your powers incorrectly, I lost control, I—”
“I did, too,” Xerneas said. “I need you to help me revive someone where I messed up.”
“What?”
Someone landed on Yveltal’s back; she struggled to look, but then the source floated in front of her.
“Hey,” Jirachi said. “I, uh, er, sorry about all this. I probably shouldn’t have listened to you in the first place if you guys wound up messing up
this badly…”
Yveltal blinked, then looked at Xerneas.
“I had to call his assistant to wake him up again, but I needed to teleport to you quickly,” Xerneas explained.
“…Call?” Yveltal asked. “How did you—”
“With those badges. Everyone apparently knows his public contact information since he’s the go-through for any wishes Jirachi could grant.” Xerneas nodded and motioned to Jirachi. “Come on. Is anything else here broken?”
“No, I—well, yes, the—” Yveltal looked back at the revived Pokémon that were staring confusedly at one another at the graveyard. Xerneas counted seven of them in total—a mercifully small number compared to what
could have happened, but…
“You brought them all back from the dead, huh?” Xerneas said, grunting. “Great. Well, look, that’s a gray area, we—I’ll handle it, we’ll handle it later. I have something more important back at the village I had been at yesterday. Accidentally killed someone when trying to take out a blight.”
“A bl—”
“I don’t know, either, but the blight disappeared from the target, but I killed the wrong person. I need you to undo it.”
“You—you
what?”
“I know, I’m sorry!” Xerneas bowed his head, nearly losing his balance thanks to his bipedal form. “Ugh—no offense, Yveltal, but your body is really hard to keep balanced. How do you even work this tail?”
“Er—well, practice, I suppose,” Yveltal glanced at Jirachi. “Can you take me to—”
“Right, I’ll get to that.” Jirachi raised his hands. “One Teleport, coming right up!”
<><><>
Xerneas led the way through the dying village and motioned to some of the vines that had been left over. Yveltal shuddered, thinking back to the damage they’d left behind in the southern village. All because of some overgrowth—compared to that, what Xerneas had done here during his routine healing was nothing…
And then she saw the damage that had been done with her own, deadly power. Still in the middle of the street, the statue of a Salazzle—a corpse, as far as they were concerned—stood, still with those defiant, yet fearful eyes. And a blighted Pokémon had been there? She understood why Xerneas would feel the need to fight back against something like that, but to accidentally kill a mortal…
Yveltal thought back to Honchkrow and suppressed another shudder.
“Xerneas…
and Yveltal? Together? What?”
“I’ve never seen them together when on duty like this…”
“But why? Don’t their powers cancel out?”
“It’s not right…”
Xerneas growled. “Is something wrong?” he asked, wings glowing with dark aura.
“N-no, Xerneas, don’t do that.”
“What?” Xerneas balked. “After how they treat you? I could do a whole lot more if I had the—”
“No, no, please,” Yveltal begged. “Not with my body, not with my power, they’re a-already so afraid of me.”
“That’s—” Xerneas flinched again, but then relented with an annoyed grunt. “Fine. For you.”
They approached the statue in solemn silence, and Yveltal asked Xerneas, “How do I use your power on stone?”
“It’s the same. Easier, actually, especially since this is a recent death and the body is still completely intact. The stone will undo itself after just a little work.”
Yveltal nodded and approached, already knowing that feeling of revival. Xerneas commented on that idly, but Yveltal evasively said that she’d just seen him do it a few times as a demonstration. Which was true—just omitting the fact that she’d already done a proper and controlled revival a little while ago.
Energy flowed from her horns and into her hooves again, and then to the statue in front of her in a gentle pulse. Right before Xerneas’ eyes, the gray stone regained its color; solid rock turned to smooth scales; life returned to her eyes, and she continued her defensive stance like nothing had happened.
The disorientation hit her moments later, and she dropped her stance to rub her eyes. “What?” She looked at Yveltal, then Xerneas. She glanced at the sky, certainly surprised that it had suddenly become nighttime, and that Xerneas had also appeared out of nowhere. Seconds later, the realization arrived, and she took a few shaking steps away from Yveltal. “You… y-you killed me.”
“You defended a blighted Pokémon,” Xerneas replied coolly. “Consider yourself lucky I—”
“Xerneas, please,” Yveltal said, but then clamped her beak tight. Did she just—
“What? Xerneas?” Salazzle eyed Yveltal, in Xerneas’ body, and then at the other. “Are you sure?”
“Err, well.” Jirachi floated out from behind Yveltal. “It’s sort of a long story, but—hey, is everything else okay here? What happened to that blighted Pokémon?”
“What do you mean?” Salazzle said.
“He’s this way,” called another, this one a Fraxure. He ran to another home, where Xerneas and Yveltal both followed him inside to see Tyranitar on his back, looking relaxed. When he saw Yveltal, he quickly turned his head away, a mixture of anger and resignation on his face.
“Hang on,” Jirachi said, flying forward to hover over Tyranitar. After closing his eyes, he ran a ribbon along Tyranitar’s arm, then over his chest, and then on his forehead; all the while, Tyranitar held still, looking almost afraid.
“A-am I… am I—”
“…No, he’s not,” Jirachi said, floating back. “You fought off the blight. How about that.”
He deflated with relief, but then rubbed his arm as the phantom pain came back. “I’m… I nearly killed you with that power,” he said to Xerneas. “I’m sorry. I… I know what you did was necessary. My father was blighted beyond repair, and none of us saw it in time to help. I only hope he now has peace.”
Yveltal remembered that day, but she, as Xerneas, could not bring it up. Instead, she said, “I’m sure he does. But… take care of yourself.”
“Maybe now you understand why Yveltal—why I’m necessary,” Xerneas said. “What would you guys do if I wasn’t here to take care of these blights? What will Xerneas do, life them to death?”
The villagers didn’t look at Xerneas directly, but instead at Yveltal, like they were waiting for a retort. But after what had happened in the south, Yveltal wondered if that was possible after all. If Venusaur hadn’t been rescued by Xerneas, would her powers over life have actually killed him, or would it have kept him alive within those vines, even as they dug into his body?
She shuddered. No. She was done with this power. This was all one big mistake; everything was better off when she was just alone and nobody wanted her to do anything.
Something radiating golden light illuminated the village behind them. With cold chills running down their spines, Xerneas, Jirachi, and Yveltal all turned around to see the Creator himself.
“A-Arceus,” Xerneas greeted, stepping forward. “Listen, today wasn’t the best day for any of us, but—”
Arceus wordlessly tapped his hoof on the ground. Xerneas and Yveltal both blacked out.
