Pokémon The Bringer (New)

[canisaries]

Uploading more from the backlog. I did have to sit on this a bit longer in order to determine whether I really wanted to go with a certain execution for something, but I think it's got to be good enough this way.

There are two more chapters after this one. I can say this with pretty good certainty at this point, being maybe halfway through the final one. I've also been writing an extra for fun, but we'll have to see if I consider it worth posting.

Onto the chapter. Content warning for more body horror and philosophical discussions on the nature of death and faith. Enjoy.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN
Visitors, Part Two

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Another one of my scars was indeed gone when I woke up. I wondered briefly if my mortal life would last long enough for Arceus to get rid of all the scars on my torso, but that seemed like a pointless thing to look forward to.

Why? Because the symbiont had grown even larger, going from the area the size of a fist to covering my pectorals and abs almost entirely. If this kept up, which it surely would, I would not be able to see my chest and abdomen unblemished for the rest of my mortal life - and after that, I would either be able to remove all scars anyway with my newfound divine powers or be too dead to see.

Dead… I really didn't want to be dead. The idea did hurt less when one part of me still kept alive the hope that death was just nothing, but even if that were to end up being true, I'd still be, well, dead. Not alive. Unable to have any of the wonderful experiences I used to, let alone any new ones.

I spent some time dreading that, through my morning shower and my morning meal, but I think at one point my mind just got tired of the same thoughts repeating and put them on timeout. I still have to make sure I don't go back and dredge it up again, though.

Luckily, I should be able to get something new to think about quite shortly. 2 PM is fast approaching, and with it, Andre.

Then again, there are aspects to that that aren't so lucky. Andre won't be happy when I tell him what I've done. He might even try to storm out, which would force me to tell him that if he leaves, I'll expose him. And I don't want it to have to come to that.

I look back at the clock. Only a few minutes to go. Almost there. I'll soon get to see him again. His beautiful face. Which I won't see ever again if I happen to die. Fuck. Way to ruin the moment.

Two minutes before 2 PM, the guard opens the door. "Mr Akai, your visitor is here."

"Let him in," I say, and the guard moves to allow Andre to enter through the frame.

He's less disheveled than Abe was, but I can still see a tiredness in his eyes.

Despite that, though… Gods. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you, my dear Andre.

Andre fetches one of the chairs in the other corner of the room and places it next to me before taking a seat. Meanwhile, the guard closes the door behind himself, leaving himself in the room with us. We'll have to whisper.

"Hey," I say to Andre.

"Hey," he says back, not very enthused.

For a moment, I just smile, taking in his presence.

"So…" he begins. "This little girl thing. Can you explain it?"

"Yeah." I gesture at him to come closer, and he does, leaning in. I take a deep breath.

"A few months ago," I begin quietly, "when I'd just managed to get that yamask to possess me, I'd accomplished it by holding this little girl she was friends with hostage. Twelve years of age, named Michi, pink hair. So, after I thought I'd killed the yamask, I had to get rid of her. The full story is a bit longer than that, with some more nuance, but that's the gist."

Andre's staring past me, his expression unreadable, though his breathing is getting more intense.

"So," he slowly says, "you killed a little girl."

Yeah, he's pissed. "Yes."

He draws back and raises his hand in an open palm. I freeze, expecting a slap, but then see as realization flashes in his eyes and he gradually puts the hand down. Yeah, good thinking. The guard wouldn't like that.

He leans back in and speaks lowly. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you sick son of a bitch?"

"I've come to regret it since," I say.

"Well, you fucking should. You should…" He pauses, his anger morphing into surprise. "You really regret it?"

"Yeah." I sigh. "And my lord would not like that."

"Fuck your lord," Andre says. "Your lord is a piece of shit."

Part of me wants me flayed for what I'm about to say, but it feels important to express. "I know."

Andre's brows rise. "What? What do you mean?"

"You remember how I told you how my omanyte friend is dead?" Still hurts to say.

"Oh. Yeah, uh, sorry, that slipped my mind. I'm sorry for your loss," he says, grasping his hand. He pauses. "But what's that got to do with your lord?"

"Ogawa may have been the one that killed the omanyte," I say, "but my lord gave the order. I realized only after I found Him dead that He was always meant to be the sacrifice necessary for…" I trail off. This is going to be tricky to explain.

"For what?"

"The ascension."

Confusion takes over Andre's face. "So… wait, what?"

I explain the entire ordeal. I recap how He was tied to HIM spiritually, how His continued existence allowed HIM to regenerate HIS powers more quickly. I then explain how HIS ascension would work through a neural linking between HIS Bringer and HIS endosymbiotic vessel. How it required a sacrifice that HE lied to me about, saying it could just be any pokémon large enough, but turned out to require Him. How I dug the egg out of His body and swallowed it. How I'm the Bringer again, and how HE is growing inside my body.

"And I know this sounds crazy to you," I say, "but look."

I pull down the collar of my patient gown, and Andre's expression goes from disbelief to shock.

"What the fuck is that?" he asks.

"Well, I just explained it, didn't I?"

He leans back. "It's not… contagious, is it? It doesn't scatter any kind of spores or anything?"

I shake my head. "No. There can only be one Bringer, and creating more of HIMSELF now would mean splitting HIS powers across several vessels, weakening any individual one."

"...Shit," he says.

"Do you believe me now?" I ask.

"Well…" he begins. "I… I don't know what this is. I don't know what to think of it."

"I guess that's better than you just outright denying it exists," I say. "But… yeah." I gesture for Andre to get closer again, and he does. "This thing is going to try and link itself with my brain. If it's successful, I'll become a god - at least momentarily. I'm not certain if my lord will allow me to continue living past that given all my shortcomings."

"And if it's unsuccessful?"

I swallow, looking away. "I'm dead meat."

"Hmm." Andre pauses. "What are your beliefs regarding death now?"

"I don't know," I say. "I trusted HIM to be telling me the truth for so long, but now I know HE was capable of deceiving me. It's possible that death is peaceful after all. And, well…"

I sigh. Oh boy. I need to explain the Arceus thing, too.

"What is it?" Andre asks.

I suppose I just have to come out with it. "I've been speaking with Arceus, and he makes a point of refusing to confirm my lord's claims about the nature of death."

The disappointment on Andre's face is immeasurable.

"I understand that it also sounds crazy," I say, "but I have proof. Every time he's done speaking with me in my dreams, he removes one scar from my body. I can show you."

"I don't know how many scars you had on your body to begin with," Andre quickly says. "Showing me your current count wouldn't prove anything."

"I know, but if you come here again another day, you'll be able to compare. Please, help me take off… this fucking thing." I turn my back to him, pointing at the string tied behind my neck.

Andre sighs. "Fine."

He unties the string and I can peel the gown down to my waist. I turn to face him and point out my scars one by one. "One, two, three, four, five. Before that, I had six, and before that, I had seven. So I'm losing one every night."

"Alright," Andre says tiredly.

He then helps me put the gown back on properly again.

"So, let me get this straight," he says. "From your perspective, you're either going to become a god or die. In a few days, or what?"

"In a few days, yes."

"Do you know that the doctors here are incapable of removing the parasite?"

"Symbiont," I correct, "and it seems very likely. They say it's embedded itself into my organs."

"Fantastic," Andre sighs.

"Regardless…" I cross my arms. "Death's true nature is uncertain for me. But I also… I also feel like I can't put my faith in it being peaceful. Especially not when I know my omanyte friend might be suffering. I can't turn my back on that."

Andre hums. "What exactly is making you believe death is eternal suffering right now? You know your god can lie to you, and you know your god benefits greatly from lying to you. Is there some kind of logical reasoning you have for it being that way?"

"Well, I know that souls are internal experience, and I know that they keep existing after death, only go someplace unknown. This is surely a place where the souls have no vessel, and without a vessel, internal experience can't filter raw reality. It's suffering, and since the souls haven't changed their undefined location in millions of years, it's safe to assume they're there for good."

"Do you know all this? Who told you this?"

I pause. "My lord did," I admit.

"Exactly. Do you even have any proof that souls exist in the first place?"

"How else can the spark in me be explained?"

"Emergent property of your neural activity."

"But that doesn't make any sense. If all that was needed for experience to form was a set of signals, couldn't you just make all the people in the world pass notes to each other like a brain passes electric potentials and neurotransmitters and then insist that the process taking place was a living thing?"

Andre blinks. "Uh, good question," he says. "I never thought of it like that."

"So you admit souls must exist?"

"I didn't say that. You can't assume a certain thing must exist just because you don't know how to explain something otherwise."

I sigh. "We'll just disagree on that, okay?"

"Sure. It's not like you're alone in thinking that souls exist. But I think you are alone, or at least among very few people, if you think death is perpetual agony."

"I just don't see how experience without a vessel could be anything except terrifying."

"I really don't know why." Andre pauses to sigh. "Actually…" he then begins. "Have you ever thought not about what death is, but what it isn't?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're saying that a dead soul has no vessel. I think you've also mentioned that you think they have no perception or thought or memories."

"Yeah, so?"

"How can they feel pain, then?"

I frown. "It's not the traditional kind of pain. 'Pain' is just a convenient comparison for it."

"Okay, how do you know they have that strange, ethereal not-pain, then?"

"It just… makes sense to me, I guess. Trying to imagine myself without perception or thought or memories… the only images I can conjure up are terrifying."

"But there wouldn't be any images, would there?"

I pause. "I guess not, but --"

"No, you don't really get this. It would have to be something utterly new, and when something is utterly new, you can't say anything about what it's like. So you also can't say it's negative."

I rub my forehead. "But, no matter what it is, it's forever."

"Sure, but how would you know? You have no thought. You have no memory. You have no perception, which includes the perception of time. You wouldn't have any idea that what was happening to you had been happening for thousands of years or would keep happening perpetually. You could not feel any terror about this. Not even boredom. Those are feelings that come from the brain."

I stare at Andre.

I strongly feel that he's wrong, but I just… can't explain how.

Could it then be that he's right?

…No. There's another aspect to this.

"Okay," I say. "Let's say that experience without a vessel is no experience at all. But how do you know those dead souls aren't given new vessels somewhere else?"

Andre sighs heavily. "Red, you are inventing things."

"Invented things can still exist," I insist. "Sci-fi writers of old have been able to predict future inventions and even natural phenomena. Why couldn't I be right?"

"Suppose you are right," Andre says. "Do you think that would have been because you saw the only logical option to exist? Or because you just guessed something and happened to be right?"

I quiet. I guess he's right.

"You wanna know what I think you should believe?" Andre says. "I think you should believe something that doesn't make you fucking terrified of something you have no control over. Hell, I would sooner have you become an Arcean and believe you can be forgiven and brought to heaven after you die. It'd be a hell of a slap in the face of everyone you've hurt, but it would keep you from scaring yourself with self-invented boogeymen. It would result in at least one person feeling better. And everyone would still die the same, and have whatever happens to them happen to them. Might as well fucking think it'll be bearable."

"But my omanyte fr-"

"Your omanyte friend is not going to suffer any more or less depending on whether you beat yourself up over His death."

That's two entities that have now said that to me. Two very different entities. Could it be worth listening to?

I take some time to think about everything Andre's said. The clock ticks in the background, and Andre taps on his forearm, arms crossed.

"So… okay." I clear my throat. "You're saying I should just believe death is peaceful because I have no way to know what it's actually like and I can't affect it."

"Correct."

I take in a breath and let it out. That seems… very much unlike me. Far too naive. But for the purposes of this conversation…

"I'll… I'll think about it."

Andre's eyes, despite his fatigue, seem to light up. "Oh, I'm glad to hear that." He even smiles.

But then his smile slips off.

"What?" I ask.

"I just remembered who you were and what you've done."

"Oh."

He leans back and seems to contemplate something for a while before leaning back in.

"Red," he begins, "if you really were going to die within the next few days… you should confess to all your crimes."

I scowl. "What?" Just throw away all the work I've put into not getting caught?

"I mean, you have nothing to lose. Either you'll be a god and the cops can't touch you, or you'll be dead. And it's absolutely the right thing to do."

I open my mouth to argue, but then close it. He does have a point. If there are no consequences… or, wait.

"But what if…" I begin. "What if the symbiont dies out and I keep living after all? I'll be in jail for the rest of my life."

"Aren't you already going to be, with this little girl thing?"

Hmm. He's got me there.

"You owe it to the people whose lives you've taken," he says. "You owe it to their families. Please, do the decent thing for once. If not for their sake, then mine."

"You're playing that card, are you?" I mutter.

"I do know you have feelings for me," Andre says. "I don't reciprocate, but I know you'd like to see me happy. I know you'd like to make me approve of you."

I stay quiet. Looks like Andre can be pretty manipulative. Wait, I already knew that - he manipulated me into his apartment on the night we met.

"And," he adds, "you did mention that you regret killing the girl. Atone, then. Make things right -- well, you can't bring her back, but --"

"Uh, yeah, about that."

Andre raises a brow.

"She came back as a phantump," I explain. "That's how they caught me in the first place."

Andre blinks, dumbfounded. "You really have terrible luck with ghosts."

"Uh-huh," I say. "Unless, of course, Arceus had a hand in this."

"Mmm… I'll go with bad luck." Andre clears his throat. "Anyway… that makes it even more important that you admit to your crime. You owe it to her, and she's alive to actually suffer from your silence. And what of her family?"

"Orphan," I point out.

"Orphans can still have loved ones."

I sigh. He's right. There are all her ghost friends that are also pissed about what I did to her. They'd want to get the satisfaction of the accusation being confirmed. And as much as I don't like them… I do know the pain of losing someone dear to oneself, don't I.

Then again, if the apocalypse happens with me as the guy bringing it forth, those ghosts are gonna be even more pissed. And everyone else. As pissed as they can be while they're being murdered and tortured and violated.

The apocalypse, I'm starting to realize, is a really shitty time for a really large amount of people. Of course, I knew this before, but I didn't… feel anything for them. Now, though?

You still shouldn't feel anything.

Alright, buddy, shut the fuck up. I'm not having you ruin my limited time with my dear Andre. And speaking of Andre, I better give him a response.

I hum and close my eyes. "If it would make you happy, Andre, I could consider coming clean."

"I guess that's the best I can realistically ask for," mutters Andre. "But you should know that it's not just me you'd give catharsis. Or even all the people you've hurt. You'd also do yourself a favor by finally acknowledging your humanity and sticking with it."

Humanity. I rejected it for so long, but now…

Don't.

HE seriously can't be so much of a fucking princess as to deny me immortality based on a favor I did to my fellow humans with basically no cost to myself.

Even if HE still allowed you to have your immortality, HE would disapprove. You do not want HIM to disapprove, do you?

Frankly, I can't be bothered to give a fuck right now.

Heretic. In time, you will see how foolish you are being.

Whatever.

"Your aura," Andre suddenly says. "That thing inside you is trying to influence you, isn't it?"

"Well, not this thing," I say, tapping at my chest. "This thing." I tap on my temple.

"I know, but it's not like it matters. Both come from the same source. Or so you claim, anyway."

I sigh. I have one second to wonder what to say when Andre suddenly grabs my hand in his and stares directly into my eyes. I'm reminded how beautiful he is.

"Red," he says, voice still low, "listen to me. That thing inside you, that thing trying to get you to continue following your lord… you have to fight it. It's evil, pure and simple. If there's any good left buried inside you, you'll fight it. Okay?"

His stare is intense. I don't think it's ever been this intense. Or have I simply never taken his opinion this seriously before?

I feel like I'm going to remember this moment. This image of his face in front of me, youthful and fair, with his large round glasses and brown eyes. His hair, partly unkempt. The stern touch of his hand on mine, the vague warmth of his breath.

Oh Gods.

I just realized I'm going to lose him.

Andre's adamant expression softens, then frowns in worry. "What is it? You're… distressed."

I grab his hand holding my right one with the left. I squeeze him. I feel his skin, his tendons, his bones. His mortal vessel. Why must it be mortal?

I open my mouth and force some words out. "I don't… I don't want to lose you."

"Lose me?"

"There are only two paths forward for me," I say. "Either the apocalypse comes and it kills you, or I just… drop dead."

He sighs through his nose, holding that worried gaze. He doesn't seem to know what to say.

Eventually, though, he squeezes my right hand. "It's not over yet," he says. "You can still… hope there's another way."

He seems uncertain. Like he doesn't know if saying this to me is actually the wrong thing to do in this situation. Like it's possible I should rather accept my death and make peace with it. But he must know what an insurmountable task that would be for me.

We stay like that for a while. I don't mind. Really, it's great. No words to get between us. Just him and me, together. I cling to it like it'll somehow save me from my fate. Or his.

But the fact remains that one of us will be dead by the end of the month.

---​

The distant winds hum. I'm sitting on one overturned broken pillar. I'm silent. Arceus is silent.

A question comes to me. A question I don't think I've actually directly asked before. I think I just assumed Arceus would hit me with that 'revealed at a later time' bullshit again. But I should make sure.

I raise my head to meet Arceus' gaze. "What's gonna happen to me?"

"You will either die or become a god."

My eyebrows rise. He actually confirmed something about the coming days.

"Yes, indeed," Arceus says. "One of those two things will happen. I can guarantee it as much as any being can guarantee anything."

"But you don't know which one?"

"No."

I frown. "Well… couldn't you just make one of those happen if you wanted to? Couldn't you make it so that you do know?"

"I could. It is in my power."

"But you won't use it?"

Arceus shakes his head.

I realize the full implications of this. I don't know how I was so numb to it before. "You could save my life - or you could save everyone else's life - but you won't choose to do either."

"Correct."

"You're a piece of shit."

"You are hardly the person to judge."

He's right, and it's infuriating. I need to find something else to press on.

"Why are you limited to just two options, even?" I ask, trying to manage my anger. "Wouldn't it be trivial for you to remove the symbiont and leave me alive and healthy? Let everyone live, at least for the rest of their mortal lives?"

"That is something to be revealed --"

"Fuck's sake!" I shout, shooting up from my seat. "What's the fucking point of this? Are you just doing this for shits and giggles?"

Arceus seems unfazed. "I can assure you that the fate of this world is of paramount importance to me."

"Yet you won't fucking do anything? Are you stupid? Do you have some divine form of brain damage?"

"Who knows?"

"Who -- you do! You're the standing god of this world!"

"One cannot perform an objective evaluation of oneself."

"So… what?" I scream, my voice beginning to break. "Am I just supposed to accept your whims? Your absurd logic? Take all of this sitting down?"

"Some things cannot be moved."

"This can! You can move it!" Ah, fuck. Are these tears forming in my eyes?

"But you cannot move me."

"Why…" I swallow. I squeeze my eyes shut, and the excess liquid shamefully leaks out. "Why is any of this like this? What's its purpose? Is there an actual reason for us to suffer like this?"

Arceus stays quiet.

I sniff. I go back to the fallen pillar to sit down, my hands covering my face.

"Everything," I croak, "everything bad, you could make it go away. I just don't understand why you won't."

"Would you?"

I shoot a venomous glance Arceus' way, but… he's got a point. Within a few days, I will possibly become a god, and what I would go on to do with that power has nothing to do with taking away people's suffering. Sure, HE says that the ones suffering are ones that deserve it, but… is someone else's suffering really a prerequisite for my happiness? For anyone's?

"I'm…" I sniff. "I'm under HIS command. I have to serve HIM."

"I have had my own lord to serve, too."

"Is this thing you're doing now something he's asked you to do? Has he returned from his fucking intergalactic smoke break?"

"My reply may upset you."

I clench my teeth. "'Revealed at a later time,' huh?"

"That, or perhaps not revealed at all."

I sigh heavily. I fall into silence, and so does he.

"How am I supposed to deal with this?" I ask. "This… uncertainty? Uncertainty of my fate, uncertainty of death?"

"I cannot give you the answers," Arceus says. "However… you do have other people around you that you can consult. They may not have access to all the knowledge that I have, but they do all have their own ways of coping with the absurdities of the world."

I sink into thought. People around me that I can consult? Who is it that I should consult? Can I consult multiple people? How many days do I have left?

I look up at Arceus. "How many days is it before --"

"More than one."

I frown. "You're not going to be any more specific, are you?"

He shakes his head.

I sigh. "Well, if it's more than one, I can still see someone else before seeing Andre again for my maybe-final day."

"Correct."

For the first time during this vision, I feel a spark of confidence.

"I know who I should meet," I say.

"Who, then?"

I smirk. "You'll see. You're not the only one that can keep a guy in suspense, you know."

"Very well. Would you like to wake up now?"

"Yep. I'm ready. Say those numbers."

Arceus nods, and I prepare myself.

"Three," he says. "Two. One."

---​

I stare at the clock. Five minutes to go. Unless he comes early. I hope he does. I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible.

Or, I don't know. The last few times with this guy haven't been so bad. He did humor me one of those times by answering some questions and showed me that he's actually able to think outside of his personal worldview, which is why it isn't completely pointless for me to see him now. I guess he does need to have that skill to be able to do his job.

Three minutes before our agreed time, the guard opens the door and lets him in. He thanks the guard, because of course he does, and then makes his way to my bed. Even now, he's got his Arcean necklace on. He settles before me with his hands clasped in front of him, forcing a smile despite his troubled eyes.

Samson.

"Hey," he says. "How are you feeling?" He eyes the symbiont, which has spread across my entire torso and halfway through my upper arms, but seems to not want to be the one to bring it up. He's probably hoping I will. I will, but I won't tell the whole story - he wouldn't believe it anyway.

As for how I'm feeling… well, honestly, not great. I think the symbiont is making my fever flare up a bit again. I've felt somewhat weak, and a chill runs through my body every now and then. But that's not really relevant here. "I'm managing."

Samson nods, then sighs. "It seems you've been arrested, then. And the talk of the town is that it's got to do with that missing girl. Is there any truth to that?"

I sigh in turn. If I tell Samson the truth, he might storm out, no matter how much he claims to be forgiving. The worst confession he's heard at his job has probably had to do with infidelity. I should lie.

Or… well. Andre would really want me to tell the truth. I can practically feel his judgmental stare on me…

No, I'm not going to take the chance. Right now, anyway. I can always tell Samson the truth later in the conversation if the need arises.

"This might be a lot to ask," I begin, "but could we not talk about that yet? I have something else I need to talk about first."

Samson crosses his arms and pauses, but eventually relents. "Alright, sure." He glances at the chairs against the wall. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Be my guest."

He fetches a seat and sits down. "So, what's on your mind?"

I exhale through my nose. Time to address the copperajah in the room.

I pull down my collar to draw Samson's attention to the symbiont, which has crept even further since yesterday. "See this?"

"Yes, I do. May I ask what it is?"

"It's a s- parasite," I say. "How it got into my body is a long story, but the gist of things is that I… may die from it."

Samson nods solemnly.

"But before that happens - if it happens, but I mean, it's pretty likely - I'd like some help… figuring out my relationship with death."

Samson hums. "Do I assume correctly that you don't want me to approach this from an Arcean angle, but a generic one?"

Okay, good, he said the thing I wanted him to say. "You assume correctly."

Samson nods again. "Alright. What's your current view on death, then?"

I sigh. "Well, the thing is… there's this one guy. HE is a mentor of sorts. A spiritual leader, even."

"A mentor and spiritual leader of yours?"

"Yeah. So, HE has been giving me guidance for the past… three years or so. It's been pretty good. Had its ups and downs."

"Uh-huh?"

More or less, yeah. "One thing that bothers me, though, is that HE teaches…" I have to think for a bit. "HE teaches, basically, that death is eternal suffering. Unless you do… certain things."

"Like what?"

"I'd… rather not get into too much detail," I say. "But the things HE says you should do are… things that a lot of people think are bad."

Samson keeps looking at me, expecting me to elaborate. But I definitely can't tell him what HE has had me do. I'll just move forward.

"I've done these things," I say, "because I've been afraid of that bad death. But now I've talked to other people, and it seems like they don't agree with my mentor's teachings. That death would be… just nothing. No pain whatsoever. And while that might still be scary to a lot of people, to me, it would be a huge relief. But the fact remains that…" I grasp my hand. "That I can't know. I can't know if my mentor is right or those other people are right or some third school of thought is right. And that… scares me. A lot. How am I supposed to live with that, for however long I have left?"

Samson closes his eyes, draws in a breath and lets it out. He then looks at me again and smiles weakly. "Well, Red, I can tell you've spent a lot of time thinking about this," he says. "And what you feel is completely understandable. We humans crave certainty and a sense of safety, and when we can't find it, it's distressing."

Uh-huh?

"You probably know how I solved this problem for myself," Samson continues. "I have Arceus. I have his promise of forgiveness and eternal life as long as I simply accept it and denounce my sins."

Yeah, yeah. You have your comforting lie.

"A lot of people like to say that this notion is… a fairytale. Something people came up with to avoid the cold hard truth about death being nothing. While I don't believe that myself, I can see why they would believe that. You want to know why they believe that?"

"Because they think it's true?" Kind of a silly question.

"Partially, yes," Samson says, then leans in. "But it is also because it takes courage to have faith. To believe something you don't have cold hard evidence for."

"I thought it was the opposite. I thought it took courage to see things for how they really are."

Samson leans back. "Sometimes, perhaps," he says. "If something is obviously untrue, its falsehood backed by insurmountable evidence, it ought not to be believed. However, there's a lot of wiggle room when it comes to death. You can say it's nothingness if you want, but you can also say a number of other things. No one really knows. We may have some ghosts that have come from death, yes, but we can't know if their lack of memories of an afterlife is due to one not existing. Maybe they didn't reach it yet, maybe any memories recorded there aren't sent back alongside them."

"So… what's your point?"

"My point is that to have faith when it comes to a subject as uncertain as this isn't a sign of weakness or ignorance. If anything, it means you know how to have hope."

"Hope…?" That's a concept that I haven't thought of much. It seems like it's for people that aren't me. Optimists.

"Hope can be very powerful," Samson continues. "Hope can help people make it through the worst of times, whereas its absence can spell people's demise. Think about a group of people stranded on a deserted island. Whether these people try and signal for help depends on whether they believe it can work, right?"

"I guess."

"Yes, they need to have hope in order to keep going, to keep working against the odds. Only by doing so can they be spotted by a ship. Sure, it may be that no ships ever come, or they don't spot them regardless of the signal, but telling yourself that and deciding it's not even worth it to try only makes your odds worse."

I frown. "But I can't do anything to improve the odds of death not being painful. I don't believe in heaven and hell, after all."

"Ah, but there's another side to hope," Samson says, smiling. "It also comforts the soul. It eases the pain of uncertainty. It makes that infernal wait for resolution bearable. It doesn't just help with the future - it helps with the now."

I hum. "I don't know. Isn't this all just wishful thinking?"

"And what if it was?" Samson asks. "Would that be so terrible? Is it noble to have no faith in anything?"

"I just…" I sigh again. "I just wouldn't want to be a fool."

"But we are all fools. We are not gods - we are mortals only. We can't know everything. We can't have even an iota of all the knowledge of the universe. To think the opposite is, well, quite arrogant."

I want to argue. I want to say that thinking good things without good reason invites bad things, but that really makes no sense. The rules of the cosmos don't change depending on whether I'm right about them or not.

So… Andre was right, then? I might as well believe death is neutral? Have faith?

Faith is worthless.

Oh, not you again. Look, listening to and believing HIM is a kind of faith as well, you know. Especially now that I know HE can just fucking lie to me.

I replay that thought before the process gets a chance to interrupt me.

Yeah. What I said is true. Believing HIM… isn't really any better than believing Andre. The imagined odds in my mind go from 90-10 or 50-50. Not that it works like that, but…

A fifty percent chance for a peaceful death. Heads or tails. Awfully shaky for how important this is, but vastly preferable to a mere tenth.

And is it so that, with faith and hope, those mental odds would again shift? Could I be at peace if or when death comes?

You cannot hope your way out of this.

Maybe not, but… I think it could be worth a try.

"I think I understand now," I say quietly. "Thanks, Samson."

He smiles and nods.

Then again… what about Him?

Well, what about Him? I've already thought several times about how my beliefs don't make Him suffer any more or less. I feel like it's about fucking time that I resolved that.

My lord, if You are suffering, I am immeasurably sorry. And if You aren't, I still am. You should be alive. It's my fault You're not.

It's my fault that a lot of people aren't…

There's an extended silence. Only towards the end of it do I notice Samson has started to look troubled. Before I can ask about it, though, he saves me the trouble.

"So…" he begins. "If it's alright with you… I'd like to ask about the girl."

Oh. Right.

The 'later in the conversation' thing sure snuck up on me, huh.

Well, do I tell him? I guess I could tell him. I doubt Samson would dispense any wisdom more potent than he already has were I to lie, and telling him the truth would make only one more person in the world know about the real me… or is that the case? I should make sure.

"If I tell you," I begin, "do you promise not to tell anyone else?"

Samson nods. "I'm a priest. I'm used to taking confessions in confidence."

I'm inclined to believe him. Well, here goes, then.

"Alright," I sigh. I gesture at Samson to lean closer, which he does, and continue in a hushed tone. "You know how I told you about how my mentor wanted me to do bad things?"

"Yes?" I can already see him tense up.

"Yeah, well…" I'm not sure how to word this. "That," I ultimately say.

Samson appears frozen with a nervous expression. His hand, gripping the guard rail of the bed, clenches tighter.

Finally, he speaks. "Did your mentor tell you to… get rid of that girl?" he slowly asks.

I bite my lip. Fuck, if only it was so simple. "She threatened HIS mission." That's kind of true.

Samson closes his eyes, trying to keep his breathing in check. He's suppressing his anger. I didn't even know this guy had this much anger in him. I guess he's just that protective of children.

After a while, he opens his eyes again and gives me a stern look. "You spoke about guilt once before," Samson says. "Do you feel guilty over what you did?"

I sigh again. "My mentor would not like it, but… yes, I do."

"Do you feel guilty enough to confess - not just to me, but the law?"

Guilty enough. I suppose if I still haven't done it, then… "I guess not."

"You think that if you survive this infection, you don't want to spend the rest of your life in prison, huh?"

Well… no. Arceus confirmed to me that such a thing wouldn't occur.

"Frankly…" I begin. "I don't really believe I'm going to survive like that. So I'm not sure why I'm not confessing. Maybe I… maybe I just don't want my family to go through that pain."

"You would still be lying to them," Samson points out. "And something may come to light after you're gone that proves it. I'm sure they'd rather hear the truth from you."

I think about the utter shock that Abe and Fonz would be in. "But then my last memories of them before my life ends would be so negative."

Samson sighs. "You're pretty used to seeing things just through how they affect you, huh."

When he puts it like that, I can see how selfish the thing I just said was. "I guess so. Sorry, I've been this way my whole life."

"Well, what's important is that you're seeing the light now. At least a twinkle of it."

I pause. "You… seem to think that I can still turn things around."

He gives a half-smile. "Well, you remember what I told you before, right? 'No one is a lost cause.' Right before you laughed in my face."

I chuckle awkwardly. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that. But you must see why I thought that was so ridiculous now, right? Now that you know what I've done?"

Just a ninth of what I've done. Tenth if I count Ogawa. I don't.

"There's scripture that says Arceus would forgive even Giratina were she to come to him with a regretful heart. I think anyone can purify their soul. They just have to want it."

Regretful heart… purification of soul…

This is distinct from just a confession. This would actually be admitting my deeds were wrong. Not just in the eyes of the people around me, but in my own opinion as well. That the guilt I feel is not weakness or a parasitic emotion but rather a voice of truth.

In summary, a rejection of all HIS teachings.

This, unlike the confession, would have HIM deny me the right to rule alongside HIM. And would probably make HIM kill me. Though not before torturing me publicly to make an example of me, I'm sure.

I can't do that, then. I can't risk an agonizing death over just a purified soul. It's not like redeeming myself would stop the apocalypse or make it any less terrible for the mareep. I have to stick with HIM, even after the abuse of trust I've suffered.

Gods.

I feel so powerless.

Still… Samson has been waiting for a response for a while. I should give him one. And since he wouldn't like my actual answer, I'll just say something to pacify him.

"Tell you what," I say, still hushed, "I'll take some time to think about that confession thing, and the whole… soul-purifying business."

"Well, that's better than not giving it any thought at all," Samson says with a smile, clearly trying to look on the bright side of things. "You're free to call me anytime if you need my help with it."

"Thanks. That means a lot." Though I don't know if I have enough days to spare. I definitely want to see Andre again first. "This was everything I wanted to talk about, by the way," I add, "so you're free to go. I'm sure you must have other duties to attend to, and I'd like to be alone now in general."

Samson nods, and it looks like he's about to pull back, but then he freezes. "Um, one more thing," he says.

"What is it?"

"You'd best tell everyone about your mentor in that confession, too. What HE's doing seems criminal."

Uh…

"Oh, that guy's dead," I lie. "Don't worry about HIM. I was also HIS only follower."

Samson looks kind of incredulous, and now I'm wondering if he thinks I just made HIM up for this conversation to sound less culpable.

"I guess that means HE's under Arceus' judgment now," he says, shrugging, though I can tell it still bothers him. He pulls back, gets up and straightens his clothes. "Well, goodbye," he says.

"Goodbye," I respond. And because I feel sentimental, I add something. "And thank you."

Samson smiles and nods, and the guard escorts him out. I'm left alone in my room again.

Well.

I suppose I should get to that thinking.

---​

Night snuck up on me after a day of furious pondering, and with it, slumber. I may have had a dream or two, who knows, but right now I'm having another vision, sitting on that same overturned pillar as before.

"I see you chose to have Samson visit you today," Arceus says. "Was your conversation giving?"

"Mm," I say. "I still fear death, but now less so. I feel like I've got this new tool to help deal with it. Faith." I huff, amused. "Red Akai trying to have faith. That's a new one."

"It does seem out of character for you."

"Well, what can I say - I was desperate. Still am, but… managing."

"And have you decided what to do regarding the 'purification' of your 'soul'?"

There goes my smile. "That, huh?" I say, then sigh. "You know I can't betray my lord. That wouldn't do anything except make HIM take away my godhood right after I'd gained it and kill me in some horrible way. It wouldn't even save anyone from the apocalypse, since that would happen with or without my input. So, yeah. I won't be denouncing my actions. Might confess, but won't denounce. If I knew for sure I was going to die before the ascension, I'd consider it, but as things stand now… no."

Arceus hums.

"What?" I say. "Are you gonna tell me that was the wrong answer?"

"No." He stands up straighter. "What I am going to tell you is something else."

"Well, what is it?"

"The situation is not quite as you think it is, Red," he says. "That is what my next revelation will show you."

I frown. "Spit it out already," I growl, though I can't deny I'm getting nervous. What kind of 'revelation' does he have in store?

"In three days," he says, "you will either become a god or die."

Three days? Fuck. That's better than the one I was afraid of, but still only three. But… "How does that change things, though? I already knew I was going to become a god or die."

Arceus locks eyes with me.

"Because, Red, you are going to choose."

---​

 

[canisaries]

Hey, everyone, I'm back with another chapter - the penultimate one. The final chapter is not yet done, but I am about 5k words into it right now. Hard to gauge how many more there will be, but at least a few thousand remain. And I'll probably sit on it for a while before giving it a second look and edit, anyway. It is the finale to a saga eight years in the making, after all.

This chapter has content warning for more body horror yet again and more rumination on the subject of death. Also a warning for a verbally and emotionally abusive parent. Enjoy.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY
Visitors, Part Three

---​

Choose.

At first, it sounds meaningless.

Then it hits me.

I have a choice.

How… awful.

"I can see that this troubles you."

My eyes focus on the god before me again. His expression hasn't changed - not that his face really tends to have any.

"Well," I start, my throat already feeling dry, "of course it fucking troubles me. Before, I was helpless. I wasn't responsible for anything except whether or not I'd give the families of my victims closure. But now…" I scowl. "How dare you fucking do this to me?"

"If it helps, there is nothing personal about it."

"It doesn't."

I throw my legs over the pillar and face the other way. It's childish, but it's not like I have any actually effective ways of protesting right now.

Gods. A choice. A choice between living but killing everyone close to me or dying and saving them. And I still don't even know what death is actually like. How am I supposed to make this choice? In just three days at that?

Well… could be worse. Could be two days. Or one. Or zero.

Well, it could also be a whole lot better! It could be four or five or even ten days! Enough time for me to fucking weigh all the pros and cons carefully and make an informed decision instead of this just being fucking sprung on me like this!

Fuck. I guess there's nothing to do but get to thinking, then…

"Have you decided who you will see today?"

I'm about to snap at the goat and tell him I'm trying to think, but he's asked a pretty good question. If I only have three days, that means I only have three visits from other people, and I have to decide who those people are going to be.

Who are the people I absolutely still need to see again before I die? Who are the people who can help me? Should I call Samson again? No, that guy's obviously going to tell me to sacrifice myself. Or, well, Andre is going to do that too. And Fonz and Abe would also do that if they were mature enough to make hard decisions. No one wants the apocalypse to come but me. And it's questionable if even I want it anymore.

Should I not see anyone in order to be sure that I'll make the decision on my own and with no external influence?

I'm not fucking doing that. It'd be excruciating to be left alone with this.

Then, who is it that can bring me the most comfort?

Andre, obviously.

Yeah. I think I'm just going to see Andre three times. That sounds like a plan. He's the person I'm going to mourn losing the most. Not allowing Fonz and Abe to see me again before I die seems like… quite a rotten thing to do, but that's just who I am. Rotten. Please, allow this rotten man to have his last mortal comforts. I might even make it up to everyone by choosing death.

"Are you still thinking?"

I sigh. The Creator can certainly be annoying. Despite this, I flip back around and give my answer.

"Andre. I'll see Andre today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow."

"Not a very diverse selection of visitors."

"What do you fucking care?"

"I suppose I do not 'fucking' care."

Can't believe Arceus just said the F-word. Won't he think of the children?

No, now's not the time for jokes. I need to… I need to wake up. I need to be in the real world while I still have mortal life left. This place is neat, sure, but I'd rather feel real things.

"Wake me up," I tell Arceus.

"Already?"

"Yes. It's not like I want to spend any more time with you than I have to right now."

"Fair enough. Shall I count down from three again?"

"Sure."

"Alright," Arceus says. "Here goes. Three, two, one…"

---​

In the time between waking up and checking my scars, I'd already begun to have hope that I'd find the same number of scars that I fell asleep with. Nope, no such luck. One less. Which means Arceus really did visit me and give me the worst kind of agency imaginable.

The number of scars I have right now is three. So, with three days and nights left, I won't be able to see the last one leave, at least not while I'm still mortal. But, well, I already decided before that it's nothing I should really care about since my body looks so different now, anyway. The symbiont has spread halfway through my arms and probably started crawling up my neck by now, which I can't be certain of until I see myself in a mirror, but then again, it's not like that's important either. I know exactly when my mortal life will end - well, maybe not the exact time, but I assume I can ask about that later.

Speaking of the symbiont… I feel cold again. Maybe I can ask for a thicker blanket? Would they humor me that much when they think I'm a psychopath? And are correct?

I look at the clock. Nearing 8 AM. Going to have breakfast brought to me soon. Guess I'll ask then.

Some time passes, and I'm indeed given my breakfast. A sandwich. Ham, cheese, cucumbers and… ugh, lettuce again. Just not a fan of that. The way it's floppy, the way it tastes like stale water, the way eating it makes me feel like a nidoran. If I'm going to die, this is one of the things I won't miss.

I guess that's one way of thinking about my situation. Whatever death is, it seems quite likely that the familiar discomforts of life won't follow me there. But, then again, the tradeoff doesn't seem worth it if what I'm gonna get is eternal soul-suffering…

No, don't think like that. Death can be peaceful. Death is peaceful. Have faith.

I shake my head to bring myself back to the now and force myself to eat the sandwich despite the leaf inside it. It's probably better if I get whatever nutrients it has. After I'm done, I ask for that blanket. They give me one, though it's just another copy of the thin one I already had. Whatever, it'll do.

I take a shower next, savoring the warm water. This is another thing I won't have if I'm dead. And if I get sicker than this, I might not even have it before the time for my decision comes. I stay in the shower until the water turns cold, and then I dry myself off and get dressed and head to my bed again.

I'd really like to walk around, see something new, but I can't. I'm confined to this room. This stupid room. Must this place really be the last thing I see in my mortal life?

Oh, right. I have to call Andre before he can come here. Almost forgot. How could I forget that?

I call over the guard and tell him I want to have my call. He nods and brings me the phone. I call Andre's number, which I've memorized by now, and he picks up after not too long.

"Andre Duval," he says. It's lovely to hear his voice, to know I'm sharing another moment with him.

"Hey. It's Red again," I say. "I'd like you to come visit me again."

"Sure. Is 2 PM good again?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I'll be here then. B-"

No, he can't hang up now. "Wait," I say.

"What is it?"

"I get to have a call that's thirty minutes," I tell him. "If… we talk for those thirty minutes, I'll get to spend more time with you in total before… you know."

He sighs. "I'd rather see you face to face."

"You'll get to do that, too."

"Alright, well --"

A doorbell can be heard.

"Hold on," he says, I have to check this.

Part of me wants to say that he shouldn't take a single break when talking to me when this time is so valuable, but I bite my tongue. I should at least be normal about this. Andre has a life of his own.

"...Shit," Andre says after a while.

"What?"

"It's… the woman," he says, voice low. "She can't know I'm talking to you. I have to hang up."

My heart flinches. "Wait, Andre --"

"I'll see you at 2 PM. I promise. For now, though, it's goodbye. I'm sorry."

And he hangs up.

God damn it.

I sigh. Well, that's twenty-nine minutes less I can spend with Andre before I die or the apocalypse comes.

I guess I'll just wait for 2 PM.

---​

As Andre emerges through the door and sees me, his first reaction is a wince. I'm confused for a split second before I remember the symbiont is now much more visible than before.

"...Hey," he says, coming up to me as the guard closes the door and moves in front of it. "Are you okay?"

Just then, another shiver passes through my body. "Okay enough," I say. "Please, take a seat."

As instructed, Andre grabs a chair from the opposite wall and places it next to me before sitting down. I wonder what I should tell him first… oh, right.

"Can you help me take off my gown again?" I ask. "I need to show you my scars."

Andre lets out a subdued sigh, but humors me. We get my top off and I can show Andre the missing scars. He seems moderately surprised, but moderately skeptical still.

"It… could still be some kind of mon doing that," Andre says, leaning in and keeping his voice low. "Many mon have healing abilities. I have no reason to believe it's freaking Arceus himself."

I sigh. "If the apocalypse comes, you'll know I was telling the truth."

If the apocalypse comes… which is now in my control. I should tell him that, even if I already know how he'll react.

First, though, I have him help me put the gown back on and wait for him to sit down.

"Andre…" I begin, still too quiet for the guard to hear. "Arceus told me something last night."

"Did he, now?" Andre asks, deadpan.

I wish he wouldn't be so condescending about this. Hell, from his perspective, I'm mentally ill or at least being manipulated big time. Shouldn't I deserve a little more compassion?

…Oh, right. I didn't show any compassion to my victims, did I.

Anyway… "He told me that whether or not I'll die or become a god isn't actually down to chance," I say. "He's allowing me to choose."

Andre holds a stare, then glances away. He must not be sure how to handle the situation.

Eventually, he speaks up, eyes on me again. "Red… what would you like me to say here? You know I don't believe this. Do you want me to humor you and answer as if this was a real choice, or do you want me to say what I actually think?"

It's starting to feel very lonely, not being believed by the person most dear to me… the person most dear to me who's still alive, that is. I guess the only one who made the real me not feel so alone as for the past three years was HIM. And I can't talk to HIM until the ascension. If it'll ever come.

Why am I even thinking like this? Hasn't my life entirely revolved around avoiding death for the past few years? How can I even consider bringing it upon myself? Have I gone insane?

Or have I finally stopped being insane?

"You there?" Andre asks. Right. He's here. And I should pay attention to him while we're both still alive.

I sigh. "Now that I think about it, I don't think you need to say anything about this. I just want to be with you while I still can. That's what's most important."

"Mm," he hums. "Alright."

A beat of silence passes. What should we talk about? Should we talk about anything, or just enjoy each other's presence? Well, I'd enjoy it. He probably wouldn't.

I guess I could just ask about what's been going on in his life. That'll both make him feel a bit more at ease and allow me to at least vicariously experience something outside these four walls.

Oh, but first --

"The woman," I say quietly. "Did she… find out you talked to me?"

Andre shakes his head. "No. Had no idea."

"She must not know you're visiting me, either."

"She doesn't." Andre sighs. "I have a feeling she'd go as far as tying me down if she found out I was coming here. She thinks I have Timmerholm syndrome."

At that, a smirk creeps on my lips. "So you do care about me."

Andre frowns at me. "I have to. My moral compass demands it. It doesn't mean that I like it."

"Well, I know what it's like to care about people and not like it."

"Your circumstances are notably different," Andre mutters. "I was never groomed into rejecting my conscience." He sighs again. "Gods. In your place, I could have become something terrible. Even now, I'm…" He trails off.

"You're what?" I ask. "A killer? Weren't you already fine with that?"

"I haven't ever been properly 'fine' with it," he says. "I've just… convinced myself over and over again that what I do is justice."

"Are you, what, reconsidering that now?"

He stays silent, eyes downcast.

I don't like seeing him like this. I want him to be proud of what he's done. Of what he is. Of what we are.

But then again… being a murderer isn't something glorious, is it?

If it was, I'd have to extend that glory to Ogawa. And what he did was so… evil that I can't possibly commend it.

And yet I've done the exact same thing he did multiple times over. I've robbed families of their daughters. They'll never get them back. If I thought it was justified to kill Ogawa over what he did to Him, it would surely be justified for someone like Tomio to stab my face into unrecognizable pulp, too.

Pretty unsettling once you actually have to worry about being on the receiving end of that.

"Well…" I then get out. "I do still care about you, Andre. A lot. I think you could be a terrible person and I'd still care about you." Love him, even, but I don't want to say that and make things awkward. Even if he already knows.

Andre gives a half-lidded stare. "That's not really a good thing. I'd want the people around me to keep me in check."

"You'd need to talk to your other friends, then," I say. "Though I imagine they'd…"

I think about what Arceus said about how Abe and Fonz would react to my confession. Andre's friends would probably be the same. He'd be alone, too. I don't want him to be alone. I want him to be happy.

Gods, but he won't be happy if the apocalypse comes. Fucking fuck. Is sacrificing myself really the only way to make him happy?

"They'd be appalled, yes," Andre says. "But maybe they have a right to be. Maybe I've been in the wrong all this time. Maybe I deserve to get locked up."

"You don't deserve that," I say. "You deserve… I don't know, rehabilitation. It's clearly possible for you. You've been doing things you do because you think they're morally correct, whereas I've been doing things I do just because they benefit me."

"There's nothing morally correct about enjoying other people's pain," Andre argues. "And I've been doing that. I'm a sadist. That's what the seal of truth taught me." He laughs hollowly. "I'm not some kind of hero of the people. I'm just sick, and the collateral damage I caused maybe made my community a bit safer by removing the abusers. But what about the other damage I've done? What if rumors spread about the people going missing, and I've made innocent people feel unsafe? They can't go ahead and assume that the madman picking off people has a morality system they can trust."

Now I'm the one not knowing how to react. I'm the last guy anyone should come to for advice on ethics.

Andre sighs. "Sorry. I'm making this about myself. You're the one who's…" He doesn't finish his sentence.

"Maybe dying," I say. "You can say it."

"I just thought that you wouldn't like a reminder," he says.

"It's fine."

There's a silence between us.

"On that subject, though…" Andre begins and clears his throat. "I'm sorry to spring this on you again in the condition you're in, but have you decided anything about confessing?"

Mm. Confession. I did tell Arceus before that it was on the table - just that denouncement wasn't. I should probably just take the plunge. Yet…

"I… feel like I should confess, yeah," I say. "But I'm worried. Worried about how my family will take it."

"I'm sure they'd rather hear the truth from you than live the rest of their lives fearing the allegation was accurate," Andre says, echoing what Samson said before.

"Is that really true?" I ask him, staring into his eyes. "Is the crushing shame of it better to bear than just a nagging feeling?"

"It's not really about just them, either, you know," Andre points out. "There are the families of the victims. They need to know their daughters are never coming home. They need to know that their fates, while terrible, weren't even worse. They need to know who did it so that they have someone to blame other than themselves."

"So… my legacy on this earth, were I to die, would then be of a giant piece of shit," I say. "That doesn't feel nice."

"It's not something you can help anymore," Andre says. "It was already decided when you committed the murders."

"I could have gotten away with them," I mutter. "I still might. In a way."

"Don't be a fucking coward, Red," Andre says, surprising me with his aggression. "Own up to your mistakes. Take responsibility."

"Gods, alright," I say. "I'll confess."

"You've gotta let the cops know so they can record it," he says. "And then you have to do it face to face with your family, too."

I wince. "Fine. I'll just have to deal with them hating me for the rest of my mortal life, then."

"Exactly."

Another silence arises.

"So…" Andre begins. "How much did you know about your victims before you killed them?"

"Just the basics," I answer. "Name, place of residence, how often they met with other people, hobbies. Things you find out when stalking."

"So you did spend considerable time with them," Andre says. "Or, well, you probably never revealed yourself, but you did find out what kind of people they were, more or less. Did this never deter you from what you were doing?"

"Not really," I say. "They were always… them, and I was me. They were targets. They were mareep. People whose lives didn't matter."

"And now?" he asks.

"I've begun to realize that this whole houndoom-mareep thing is kind of… arbitrary. Possibly just a manufactured categorization meant to convince me that other human beings aren't as valuable as me."

I still believe that to an extent, don't I? I'm considering allowing myself to live despite it killing millions when that math would never add up if everyone was equal.

Andre nods. "You're getting it."

I quirk a brow as I look at him. "But you don't agree that everyone is equally valuable, do you? You think their deeds can make them lesser."

Andre freezes. He sighs. "I suppose that's true," he says. "I do think there are people that deserve to live more than others. But as you said, that's because of their deeds and not because of what they are."

"Mm." I stare at my lap. "You think I'm deplorable, don't you?"

"You already knew that," he points out.

"I know. It's just lately started to hurt."

"Good," he mutters. It makes my heart physically ache. I didn't know it could do that. I thought it was just a saying.

A pause. A pause long enough for me to get a thought.

Arceus knows a lot of things. He must have known a lot of things about my victims, too. I could ask him about them. Get to know them better, know what I've taken away. It feels like the right thing to do. Or, well, it feels like a thing that would make Andre proud of me if he actually believed I was able to talk to Arceus, but maybe that's the same thing. I may have to outsource my moral compass a bit while it's still spinning so wildly.

"Well…" Andre starts again. "I am also here to see you to make you feel better," he says. "Is there something you would like to talk about?"

Right. Yeah. Our time together is precious. Now that we've got our differences settled - more or less - I should try to make some nice memories while I still can.

"Tell me about your life," I say. "Like, just what's recently happened to you. Nice things. Like movies you've seen. I want to know about things outside of this room."

"Oh, that's doable," Andre replies. "Let's see…"

As he gears up to talk about nice things, I remind myself how incredibly important it is for me to listen. If I am to lose Andre one way or another, the picture I have of him should be as complete as possible before that.

---​

Ruri did not like eating lettuce because it made her feel like a nidoran.

Out of all the things that Arceus told me about my victims, that surprised me the most.

Sure, it did make sense. Ruri was the only one from her family that had the stomach to visit a hunter like Tomio. She enjoyed listening to his stories, many of which ended in the deaths of Pokémon. She did, in many ways, act like a carnivore.

HIS insistence on her having been a mareep and nothing more seems even more like a lie now. Not that I'm sure I believe in houndoom and mareep to begin with anymore.

You will regret this.

Oh, the process is back. Haven't seen too much of you lately.

Convincing you not to walk the path of the heretic seemed like a lost cause for a while. Now, though, you know you have a guaranteed path to immortality if you simply embrace HIM. It's my mission to make sure you choose correctly.

Well, we'll see. You should shut up now, though. I'll have breakfast soon, then I have a confession to give, and then I have to make a call.

Are you really going to expose your real self to the world just because your puppy crush told you to?

Andre's nearly the person dearest to me in the world, only second to Him. He's not a 'puppy crush'.

He doesn't even love you back.

I know how to handle being unloved. I did grow up with my mother. Now fuck off.

The process seems to indeed fuck off after that, and I'm left alone until breakfast. Another sandwich with lettuce inside it.

I sigh.

Ruri, I'm sorry. I know that'll never be enough, but I am.

---​

"...Is that everything?"

The detective looked at me. "That's everything for now," he said. "But we may have to ask more questions later once we look into these… victims of yours. Show you some pictures, ask you if they were the ones."

"Sure. I don't know if I'll be alive or functional enough then, but I'll do whatever I need to."

After that, they stopped recording, took their equipment and left. It was all pretty unceremonious. I guess part of me was expecting some kind of big dramatic reaction rather than the moderate surprise they had when I said I didn't just kill that girl but also nine other people.

Yeah. Counting Ogawa. I figured that while I was spilling the beans I should do it for every can. Well, except for the part about HIM being the symbiont in me. That needs to stay a secret so that no one gets the bright idea to try and kill me to prevent the apocalypse, robbing me of my choice. Though maybe that would just make things easier.

Anyway… something I did reveal, though, was how He died. I had to strain myself a bit not to start crying when I described finding Him on that altar. And I tried to tell myself that I no longer believed that He was suffering in oblivion, but the creeping shadows of doubt wouldn't let me entirely discount that possibility.

All in all, the whole thing actually took a pretty long time. Understandable, as I did have to explain things about HIM as well. I figured HE wouldn't mind if the apocalypse, whether or not I'll bring it, would already make everyone know HIS name and fear it. And, well, the cops clearly didn't believe me. They just thought I was delusional, like Andre. Which does mean they'll doubt this confession to some extent, but once the names I gave are matched to missing persons' cases, they should realize I was at least telling the truth about having killed them.

Anyway, now that that's over with and I've had some lunch, it's time to make that call.

Just like before, I ask the guard for the phone, tap the number in and wait for the other side to pick up. It's about one in the afternoon now, so Abe is probably still in school, but I know he knows how important it is to meet me while I'm still here, so he'll likely come running.

My train of thought is halted as the line connects. "Abe here," the boy says quickly.

"Yeah, hi, it's Red," I say, though Abe interrupts before I can continue.

"Why didn't you call for so long? Did something happen?"

Right. Makes sense that he'd be upset about that. "I, uh… had other people I had to meet."

"Wh-who could be more important than us? Are you involved in something --" He cuts himself off. "No, sorry, it's fine. The most important thing is that we're talking again. A-and we can meet again, too, right?"

"Yeah," I say. Gods, he's not gonna be as happy about that visit as he sounds right now. "Can you make it today? It's important. I can't see you tomorrow." And after that, no more visits are possible.

"Yeah, of course," he says. "I'll call Fonz. And…" He sighs.

"...What?" I ask.

"I… had a talk with Mom, and she wanted to come the next time you were available."

Oh.

Mother dearest.

"Listen, she promises not to make it a problem," Abe adds. "You're her son, and she just wants to see you before… I mean… just in case something… you know."

"I get it," I say. Well, not necessarily. I thought she would have been jumping for joy upon hearing about my maybe-fatal illness. It's not like she has to pay a lot with the way Kantoan healthcare is. But, well, maybe the reason she wants to see me is to make sure I really am going and she isn't just dreaming.

No, that seems cruel even for her. Normal people, which is a group she seems to belong to, don't hope for the deaths of their children. She really could just want to come out of the vestigial love she's been unable to kill. Aw, how precious.

"...So, is that okay?" Abe asks. "Her coming, I mean."

Great question, Abe. When I think about just what I want, it would not include my bitch mother coming and ruining the penultimate day of my mortal life. But I'm certain Andre would want me to see her. He's taken my side when I've talked about her previously, but I doubt he thinks it's right for me to shut her out of my life right at the end and die without giving her any closure.

Though the reveal that her son was a serial killer might open up a brand new complex.

Well, it's her own fault for coming, then. She's the one choosing to visit her utter abomination of a son despite every reason not to.

"Yeah, it's fine," I finally say. "She… she should be there, I think."

"Okay, good," Abe says. "I don't know exactly when we'll come there, but I can pretty confidently say it'll be within two hours. That's okay, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "That works just fine."

"Right. Good. We'll be there, then."

"Yep."

"And, Red…"

"Yeah?" What now?

"...I hope you know we love you."

I blink. "...Where's this coming from?"

"Just, um, wanted you to know," Abe said. "But I should call the others, coordinate things."

"Yeah, you do that."

"Okay, yep, good. Bye."

"Bye."

He hangs up. I realize that this means I threw away the entire rest of the call time, but I don't mind it much. The alternative would have been continuing to pretend that I wasn't a monster who'd deceived everyone for the past three years - or my entire life - and that just… doesn't feel fitting anymore.

I hand the phone to the guard, and he exits the room, leaving me alone.

So… yeah. I guess there's not much to do other than mentally prepare myself.

As much as I really can prepare for mentally scarring my family forever.

---​

Eventually, they arrive. Abe, Fonz and… her.

A wince passes on all of their faces as they enter and see me lying on the bed. Yeah, I know. The symbiont has already made it down to my wrists and up to my jaw. I checked in the mirror.

"Hey," Abe greets, and Fonz raises a clawed hand as well. "How're you doing?"

"Managing," I say, which I suppose is true. I've felt number today than other days. I'm sure the full terror of my situation will hit me tomorrow, but for now, I'm glad I'm still functional. Well, I'm not glad. I'm numb.

"Okay," Abe says, and says nothing else. Doesn't seem like he knows the words.

My mother, though, does speak up. "That's the parasite?"

I glance at my dark-veined hand. I'm not sure what else would be the parasite, Mom. I don't voice that, though. The last thing I need right now is an argument that spirals out of control and has her leave before I've even managed to drop the bomb they're here for.

"Yeah," I say instead.

"...Does it hurt?" she asks.

First time she's expressed an interest in my wellbeing in years. "No," I say. "I feel a little cold, but I can't feel it under my skin."

"They still don't know what it is?"

"No." I pause. "But it's not infectious. That they're pretty sure of."

"'Pretty' sure?"

"Sure enough," I say in an exchange-ending tone. She looks indignant, but doesn't turn it into an issue.

Fonz and Abe glance at us, then each other. It seems like we're back to a wordless silence where no one knows what to say. Well, I know what to say. I just didn't think it would happen so soon.

I take in a deep breath.

"Listen…" I begin. "There's something I need to tell you all. Something very important."

"Oh?" Fonz says.

"What is it?" Abe asks.

Mom says nothing.

I think back to the words I picked minutes ago after thinking about them for much longer. This is it. This is the gate that won't close once opened. This is what will break them. This is what will stain my legacy if the apocalypse doesn't stain it worse.

"I haven't been honest with you all for the past three years," I say, though Abe hasn't known me that long. "Maybe even longer."

"What do you mean?" the boy asks. Apprehension is starting to show on his face, but he can't possibly be expecting the magnitude of what I'm going to reveal.

I sigh. I consider lowering my gaze, avoiding theirs, but that seems cowardly. I should force myself to see their reactions. It should remind me of the weight of what I've done.

Once I've made myself as ready as I'll get, I speak the words.

"I'm a serial killer."

…

No reaction?

They're just staring at me like… like I didn't even say anything.

It takes a full ten seconds before someone speaks up.

"Why did you say that?" Abe asks, sounding the same kind of confused as if I'd suddenly said any random phrase.

"...Because it's true," I say. Oh. This might be more difficult than I thought for a completely different reason than expected.

"No, it's not," Abe says matter-of-factly. "You're not a serial killer. Why are you saying that? Are you… trying to make a joke? Or is someone forcing you to say that?" His eyes then widen. "Oh, of course - the police want your confession, so they're making you say that. Red, you don't have to. They don't have that right."

It's blowing my mind how deep in denial he is. I look to Fonz - and he seems like he's the same. I look to Mom…

Oh.

She believes it.

"Abe," she begins slowly, "Mr Nidoking, I'd like to talk to Red alone. Could you leave for a moment?"

Abe and Fonz exchange glances. Fonz then turns to the guard at the door. "Uh, Mr Guard," he begins, "if two of us went outside for a while, could we still come back in? It would be within the thirty minutes…"

The guard nods. "That's fine. Will just have to pat you down again when you come back in."

"Alright." Fonz nudges Abe gently with his claws, and the two exit. We're left alone, except for the guard. But I have a feeling that won't be a problem for Mom.

And speaking of her, she's staring at me with the disapproval only she knows how to produce.

"What exactly did you do?" she asks.

I meet her stare. For some reason, as I'm face to face with her, I don't feel as guilty. But I suppose it's always been like that.

"I killed ten people," I say. "Eight women, one girl, one man, in that order."

A pause. "Have you told the police?"

"Yes. I told them earlier today. They have my confession on tape."

She straightens her back, drawing in a breath. I blink slowly. What's she going to ask me next?

"Why did you kill them?" she says.

Fair question, I guess. At least I've already gone through this once today. "It's complicated," I say, "but those eight women were human sacrifices."

"For?"

"My lord. A primordial god. He lives in the fossil that the omanyte was resurrected." I think it's worth lying about HIS whereabouts again. If anyone would kill me to save everyone else, it'd be her.

"Is that it?" she asks.

What the fuck do you mean, 'is that it'? Is this not dramatic enough for you?

"My lord promised me immortality in exchange for it," I say. "And it did bring me personal pleasure." She's not gonna like that - no one does - but it is an indelible part of the truth.

She continues to stare. That fucking stare. It's telling me that she's too angry to even shout. I've only rarely seen it, and I can't remember when exactly it was, but I'm pretty sure it was for my biggest fuckups.

"I knew it," she then says.

What?

"No you fucking didn't," I say, unable to stop myself. "No one knew."

"No," she says, "not the 'serial killer' shit. Not specifically. I mean the fact that you're empty."

Empty…?

"Of course you don't feel pity for anyone," she says. "Of course you enjoy hurting them. There was really never any other way you could work. You are a void."

She's saying… I was doomed since birth. Since conception. In other words…

'It's not my fault you're this way.'

I find my hands curling into fists.

"You are a void, yes," Mom says, her voice calming in such a venomous way. "You only know how to consume. You can never give. You can never feel anything except anger when things don't go your way."

"You don't think I feel things?" I say. "You don't think I've ever felt hurt? Afraid? You don't think I've ever grieved?"

Mom chuckles hollowly. The display of her teeth, despite her smile, is like a snarl.

"No, I don't," she says. "I think you're just a very good actor. Good enough to fool everyone." Her smile fades. "Everyone but me."

She's doing it again. She's telling me I'm not even a person. That I must be insane if I think I am. If there's anything behind my eyes to begin with.

"So," she continues - is she never going to shut up? "I won't play your game. I'm not going to stand here and get upset and give you your kicks. I'm going to leave and never see you again. Why? Because you'll be dead, and it'll be exactly what you deserve."

The mention of death stings me like an arbok out of the bushes, but I'm too angry to let it affect me. After all, if I die, it'll be a hero's death. I'll have paid my debt. I'll have cast away the evil inside and sacrificed my legacy to do the right fucking thing. Shouldn't she be fucking grateful?

She's not.

She wouldn't be, even if she knew.

Does the same go for everyone else?

It does, doesn't it?

I would never be a martyr. In their eyes, I would have done the bare fucking minimum.

Well…

I don't think that's good enough.

"That's all I have to say," she says. "Goodbye. Forever."

She turns to leave. I realize that she can't go. Not before I tell her exactly what she's been denying herself all this time. I've surely said it before, but…

"This is all your fault," I get out.

Mom smiles. "No, sweetie. It's all you."

And she leaves before I can think of anything else.

So.

That was the last time I'll ever see her, huh.

Well, unless I ascend and seek her out. I could do many painful things to her that way. Break every bone in her body, one by one. Cut out her intestines and make her eat them, contents and all. Keep her alive with my newfound powers until I've inflicted every execution method on her man can conceive of.

Those images remind me of something important - that being how much I enjoy hurting other people. How it's part of who I am, second nature. The beast inside is inextricable from me.

"Red?"

Huh?

I look up from my trance and notice that Abe has returned. And Fonz. Mom isn't with them. She really did leave.

Abe looks uncomfortable. Sorrowful, even. "Is it really true what you said?" he asks. "About the… s-serial…"

"Yes," I say. I really don't feel like dealing with this bullshit right now. I don't care if this is the last time I'll see these two. I already said all the feel-good things the other day.

"So you really… killed people?" Abe asks, voice breaking.

Oh, Gods, he's like a child. Well, I suppose he technically is a child, but he should be more mature than this. So your stepbrother's a serial killer. Who gives a shit. We hadn't even known each other for three full years. And it's not like I killed anyone close to you.

"Yes," I say, not hiding my bad temper, "and I did it for occult purposes. Immortality and shit. Whatever. Doesn't matter. It's done now. There's nothing I can do to make it up to them or their families. There's nothing I can say that'll be a good enough excuse for you. There's nothing that'll make it hurt less. So," I say, looking Abe straight in his startled eyes, "go. Go and cry about it."

He seems hurt.

Fonz seems upset.

"Abe," he says calmly, "I think we should leave."

Abe looks to Fonz with eyes that I think might have tears in them and nods. They leave without another word.

I guess I'll never see them again.

I can't really bring myself to care right now. I've seen them every day for the past couple of years. They had their chance. I had my chance.

I close my eyes and just breathe.

Hm.

I guess I should thank you, Mom.

You've made my choice very easy.

---​