It was a long, long time ago. The day he and his best friend were inexplicably sent out to travel through Sinnoh as Pokémon trainers, Lucas had just turned ten years old.

The world-renowned professor of the Sinnoh region, for one reason or another, had entrusted him with his very own Chimchar. It rode on his shoulder as he chased after Clint, who carried his new Piplup under his arm like luggage. Lucas couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for it— Clint never, ever slowed down. That Piplup was in for a ride.

As Twinleaf Town vanished behind them, Lucas struggled to keep running with his cramping legs and shaking breath. Lucas has known Clint all his life, but no matter how many years passed, he was never able to keep up with him.

"Clint! Wait up!"

"It's not my fault you're so slow! Come on! Quick, quick!" Clint peered back for only a moment, a restless grin stretched across his face. He kept dashing forward as if he were born just to run. "We've got a legendary Pokémon to catch! The lake legendary! The legend of Lake...whatever it's called! We're gonna make Professor Rowan shed tears of joy! Then we'll get famous!"

"Clint, we don't even have Pokéba—!"

Lucas's shout fell on deaf ears. The hyperactive blond disappeared behind the clusters of trees, following the trail that leads to the lakeside of the one and only Lake Verity. Lucas stopped and panted, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Maaa?" Chimchar poked at his cheek.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Just not used to running, little buddy." Lucas stroked Chimchar's cheek while wearing a soft smile. It cooed with happiness. "You'd think with me hanging around Clint all the time, I'd have thunder thighs by now."

"Maaaa." Chimchar nodded.

"You said it. I outta catch up to him before he falls into the lake face-first or something. He's a bit of a klutz if you could believe it."

"Ma..." Chimchar indeed believed it.

Sucking in a big breath of cold air and clinging onto his favorite red cap, Lucas sprinted down the path to Lake Verity. He expected to be greeted at the lakeside by an annoyed and antsy Clint, complaining about how long he took (despite having barely taken a minute). However, when Lucas ran past the clusters of trees and entered the lakefront, Clint's back was to him. Clint's attention was focused entirely on the two silhouettes standing at the lake's edge.

A tall man with spiked blue hair stood beside a dark-skinned boy who couldn't be much older than sixteen. The blue-haired man adjusted the trench coat's collar while he stared out into the lake's horizon.

"...The flowing time... The expanding space..." he muttered to himself. "I will make it all mine one day..."

As Lucas stepped up to Clint's side, Clint shot him a look that said one thing loud and clear: that guy sounds like a psycho.

But the teenager who stood beside him nodded his head with respectful silence, looking up to him with heartfelt admiration illuminating his eyes.

Lucas heard a distant screeching in the back of his head, but he ignored it.

"Oz," the man said, peering down at the teen. "Do you know why I brought you here?"

The teen shook his head.

"Because here rests the legend of the lake bed. It plays a crucial role in my plan. Soon, we must return for it." The man looked back to the docile, still water. "So sleep while you can, legend. And remember my name. Cyrus."

The screeching in Lucas's skull became louder, putting pressure against his eardrums. In the corner of his vision, he noticed that Clint appeared unphased. The blue-haired man and the teen kept their backs to them both. Was Lucas the only one hearing this?

The screeching became more distinct. It sounded like a distorted cry— no, two cries of two creatures interwoven. They were nothing like any Pokémon he's heard before: grand, imposing, and beastlike but also high pitched and shrill.

Lucas covered his ears, though it was futile. His head felt as if it were splitting apart. He wanted it to stop.

Clint nudged Lucas's side, and he saw Clint's lips move, but he couldn't hear his voice. Lucas couldn't hear his own voice when he began to scream.

The visions started once Lucas collapsed onto his knees. He saw the shadows of two giant beasts and the glisten of crimson chains. He saw dark ink dripping and pooling. He saw a hand reaching desperately for a black vortex. He saw a man with spiked blue hair falling into that vortex, arms spread out like a bird about to take flight.

Never to be seen again.

Time and space mixed and intertwined, making Lucas's stomach twist and churn. He felt the grass beneath him and the breeze brush by him, but he couldn't regain his grip on reality. The cries deafened him and muddled his senses. A series of sporadic foreign images played over and over before his eyes. He kept screaming and crying, wanting it all to just stop.

And after what felt like an eternity, it did stop. The screeching cries faded into whispers, then into nothingness. Lucas blinked, and then he was looking at his knees and the grass. His ears rang, but he could hear muffled shouting.

"Lucas! Lucas! What's gotten into you?! Hey! Lucas!"

"Maaaa! Maaa!"

"Pip!"

Lucas blinked again. He saw his Chimchar and Clint's Piplup tugging at the cuffs of his coat. He saw Clint's panicked face as he gripped and shook his shoulders, calling his name over and over.

He felt two sets of eyes staring down at him... "Cyrus" and "Oz." They were standing over him now, staring wordlessly. Though Oz's brow creased in concern, Cyrus glared down at the boy with dull, empty holes for eyes. Lucas lifted his head and removed his hands from his ears, grazing his damp face with his fingertips. His expression went blank.

"What was...?" Lucas's head ached and pounded. The only thing he could focus on was the uncaring, soulless glare of the stone-cold man he had never met. The tears had stopped, though they still clung to his cheeks. "I saw you fall... I saw you... Cy—"

His stomach flipped, and he quickly found himself coughing out vomit. He bent forward as Clint patted his back and held back his scarf.

Cyrus stepped over them both wordlessly, leaving the lakeside behind him.

"Sir! Sir! Wait!" Oz called. "Shouldn't we make sure the kid's okay?"

The man didn't stop nor look back in recognition. Oz hesitated, looking back and forth between the two children and the man's back. He made his call quickly, shaking his head in pity and running after Cyrus.

By the time Lucas had regained some semblance of composure, Cyrus and Oz were gone. He sat up and leaned on Clint's shoulder, becoming motionless as he stared into the lake's horizon vacantly. He wouldn't look away. Even when Clint waved his hand in front of his face, Lucas didn't flinch.

"Earth to Lucas! Earth to Lucas! Lucas! Lucas! What! Is! Going! On?!"

Clint grabbed Lucas's shoulders and once again began to shake him relentlessly. He only stopped when Lucas gagged and threw a hand over his mouth.

"Crap, don't go barfing again! Okay, okay, okay, shaking you was a bad plan. Super bad plan. Okay, okay, okay, think, Clint, think. How do I snap him out of this? Think, think...!"

Clint shrieked once Lucas fell forward and laid his head back on his shoulder.

"I don't know..." Lucas mumbled. "I don't know what that was..."

Lucas couldn't think of much else to say— it hurt too much to think. It was like someone tore his brain in half and haphazardly stitched it back together. So instead of thinking, he shut his eyes and let the ringing of his ears drown out Clint's frantic questions.

* * *

In present day, the detective dropped his files onto the metal table. The interrogation room of Ula'Ula's police station was soul-sucking by design: cramped, gray, and dimly lit. He knew he should've long gotten used to these rooms by now, but each and every time he stood in one a wave of dread ambushed him from behind. He always managed to keep himself standing straight and firm, though. He's faced much worse.

Looker couldn't help but think this was a horrible place for questioning victims, but according to Officer Nanu, this was the only space they really had for it. Looker believed it. Maybe he was just spoiled by the pristine and extensive facilities run by the international police, but Alola's police stations overall seemed inexcusably small and rundown. It took him great effort not to crinkle his nose and grimace at the sight of them.

"You're on note-taking duty," a voice spoke behind him. "I'll ask most of the questions."

He peeked over his shoulder to see his superior sipping her coffee, her violet eyes trained on the door. A playful smile stretched across his face.

"Got it. Say, you should probably sit down, Anabel. You're intimidating enough as is. I'm shaking in my boots, and I'm supposed to be on your side."

The woman pursed her lips as she glared at him, making him chuckle. She jabbed her finger into the back of his head as she walked past him, taking a chair of her own and sitting beside him.

"You're lucky I like you, Looker."

"I know. What would you do without me?"

He was still smiling when he looked down at the file on top of his stack. The word "classified" was written across it in giant, bold red letters. He expected nothing less from anything involving the unnamed island...

And aliens.

Looker has seen a lot over the years, but this was a new one.

These "Ultra Beasts" weren't completely unheard of. The Aether Foundation dabbled in researching them, but according to just about every file and report under the sun, that project was abandoned years ago. And mere minutes of questioning the higher-ups of Aether made it abundantly clear that Aether had absolutely nothing to do with this case.

So who did? Unfortunately, whoever broke into the unnamed island was good at covering their tracks. Most of the security cameras were forcibly short-circuited by a powerful electric force. The building's main database was physically destroyed. There was hardly a single lead to follow, so the international police had only one real option as a result: investigating anything and everything they could. The most logical place to start was witnesses.

Looker opened the file to see a list of guards and scientists. The first on the list was a guard, a female in her early 30s. She was stationed outside during the attack, tasked with guarding the perimeter.

The detective had his notebook handy and his pen ready.

When the door opened, the pair were greeted by the long, sullen face of Officer Nanu.

"I've got your first witness ready for you, but one thing. She wants to come in with her husband."

Anabel immediately opened her mouth to object, but Nanu continued with his apathetic tone.

"Her husband's a scientist further down that list of yours, somewhere. He was in the inner lab. Or the main lab. Some lab." He shrugged. "In my eyes, you'd be killing two Pidgeys with one stone."

Looker and Anabel looked at each other. Looker nodded his head slightly. They both turned away from each other and glanced at Nanu simultaneously.

"Send them in," Anabel said.

Nanu left without a word. Shortly after, a man and woman timidly shuffled their way into the room and shut the door behind them. They were an odd pair: the woman looked almost brutish, having a large, bulky build that would be ideal for a wrestler. She towered over the man, who was short yet lanky. He resembled a stereotypical high school geek, complete with a pocket full of pens and a pair of glasses with tape wrapped around its bridge.

"Good afternoon, you two," Looker greeted with a smile. "Please, have a seat."

The pair sat across from the detectives, clenching each other's hands. Looker opened his notebook while Anabel cleared her throat.

"I'm Agent Anabel. This gentleman beside me goes by the codename Looker." She loosely gestured towards her partner. "We're with the international police. We've been assigned to this case as the unnamed island falls under our jurisdiction. We understand you were both present during the heist."

The pair feebly nodded.

Anabel peered at the woman. "Might we start with you, ma'am? According to our files, you were a guard stationed on the perimeter. Is that correct?"

"...Yes."

"Please, tell us your account."

The woman shifted her weight side to side, looking to her feet. Her husband squeezed her hand.

"...Okay." The woman kept her head down. "It all started with this big boom!" She held up her free open hand for effect. "Then the sirens sounded and loud jazz music started playing— I don't know where the jazz was coming from but we all heard it. My coworker pointed at the sky and we all saw this giant... thing."

"Could you describe it?'" Looker interjected.

"S-sure. It was like a giant metal space shuttle-looking lady. It kinda looked like it was wearing a hat and veil. And it had these long floating arms that looked like bamboo shoots."

Looker scribbled down the description; it sounded like what Aether had dubbed "Celesteela."

"A man was riding it," the woman continued. "Commanding it. I got a closer look at him later on... he was really tall. It was dark, so I couldn't tell if his hair was brown or dirty blonde."

Anabel peeked down at Looker's notes, then returned her focus to the woman. "Thanks for the descriptions. Please, proceed with what happened."

"Of course... so, um, we all raced to the shore to defend the island. By the time we got there, there were others. Other... 'things' I mean. And other people commanding those things. There was one that looked like a bunch of black electrical cords tied together into a human shape, and another that looked like a huge stack of black Jenga blocks with eyes, and another that had this white ball with polka dots for a head. But the scariest one was this massive black thing that had the largest jaw you've ever seen. And the man who was commanding it was... just as scary."

The woman began to shiver. She brought her free hand to her mouth and bit at her nails.

"We had to surrender. We were no match for those monsters. So... the thieves called them back. They returned them into these weird-looking blue Pokéballs. Then that man... the one who was commanding the massive black thing... he made us all line up. Told us to get on our hands and knees. So we did. And then...well..."

Her husband winced as she clenched his hand with a death grip. Her eyes grew damp. Anabel's expression softened— although Anabel usually carried herself with a cold air, she had a bleeding heart that would show its face to suspects and victims alike. It's the reason why Looker took to her so fast.

The woman rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "... He walked back and forth with his hands behind his back. He lectured us, basically, about how we lost and how we were at their mercy. Then, as they were finally leaving, he told us not to report them. He said we'd regret the day we did. But here we are anyway..."

Fear shimmered in the woman's downcast eyes. In the corner of his vision, Looker could see Anabel frown.

"...We're going to catch this man, as well as everyone else responsible for what happened here. So you have nothing to be afraid of. He's the one who will regret that day." Anabel's voice was strong and firm yet gentle and soothing. "Your cooperation will be a huge help. So please, tell us everything you can. You mentioned others?"

The woman wearily shut her eyes and nodded her head. "Including the two I mentioned, I saw five men, one for each of those monsters... well, 'men' is a strong word. Two of them looked like kids."

Anabel raised a brow. "Kids?"

"Yeah, teenagers."

Looker's eyes shifted up from his notes. "These five... did you get a good look at them, ma'am?"

"Yeah. They were all watching us as that man lined us up and kept telling us how fucked we were."

"Ah..." Looker looked back to his notebook. "Please, describe them."

"I already described the man who was riding the space-shuttle-looking thing, right?" The woman waited for Anabel's nod before continuing. "Okay. The man that threatened us and forced us to line up had a large frame. He had black hair, but I think parts of it were graying. He had coal-black eyes too... can't get the memory of them out of my mind." The woman shook her head as if trying to shake the memory from her brain. "There was a stocky man, too. Really, really tan. Black hair. He didn't seem to care that the large man was threatening us. Those two boys though— a pale redhead with glasses and a tan brunette with long hair and yellow eyes— they looked nearly as horrified as we were! Like they weren't expecting that man to go off on that power trip, acting like we were enemy soldiers about to be made prisoners of war. The brunette even tried to tell him to stop, but when he put his hand on the man's shoulder, the man shoved him back and told him to shut up."

The sound of Looker's scribbling filled the silent room as Anabel paused, drumming her fingers against her knees.

It felt like an eternity until Anabel asked her next question.

"The two boys and the stocky man. Do you know which beasts they were commanding?"

"I think. I believe the redhead was commanding the one with the polka-dot head. The brunette seemed to be commanding the one that looked like a batch of electrical cords, and the stocky man was commanding the Jenga-looking thing."

"I see," Anabel said. "Is there anything else you feel that you should tell us? Any details you think you've missed?"

"...No. I'd like to stop talking about it now."

The woman nuzzled her head further into the man's shoulder. The man wrapped his arm around her as he let out a hefty sigh.

"I guess that means it's my turn now, huh?" he asked.

A nod from Anabel confirmed it. He gritted his teeth, face twisting into a grimace.

"...Honestly, I hardly remember how the whole thing began. I was so focused on my work and my headphones were on. Then my colleague sort of just grabbed my arm, told me there was an emergency and that we needed to head to the main lab to protect the goods. I asked why we wouldn't just hide or something instead of heading to the one place where the intruders will obviously be heading. I never got a proper answer, but to that lab we went."

The man groaned and grumbled something beneath his breath. The woman didn't stir. His jaw clenched tight— tighter than it already was.

"So we make it to the lab, and pretty much all the head scientists and all their right-hand men are already there. We shut and lock the door. Then we sit in that lab for a while, sirens blaring. Eventually, things go quiet and we hear footsteps. The door is suddenly sliced in half like it's nothing, and I tell you, that door was no joke. Pure, thick steel, cut through like it was nothing."

"Do you know what sliced it?" Anabel asked.

"It was this little... I don't know what it was. It was alive, that's for sure. It kinda looked like a piece of origami art... like someone folded a bunch of white and yellow papers together until they made that thing."

As the man spoke, Anabel once again peeked at Looker's note. Looker wrote the word 'Kartana' in such big and bold letters, there was no way she could've missed it.

"Continue on," she said.

"...Once the door collapsed, all these people came in. Everyone began scrambling over each other. Someone even elbowed me on accident and broke my glasses. Haven't had the time to get them fixed." The man lifted his free hand, tracing the rim on his glasses with a single finger. "A green-haired woman returned the freakish paper thing to one of those blue pokéballs my wife mentioned. A man approached us and stood in front of the other thieves; I think he was the ringleader of sorts. Large black guy, had a neatly trimmed beard and wore a beanie."

"He approached you? Did he speak to you?"

"Yes. He told us they weren't here to hurt anybody. Told us to give them what they came for. Then, for some fucking reason, my fucking dimwit for the boss refused to give up anything and told them to do their worst. I wanted to choke the man; I still want to choke that man. I couldn't afford to die over this! I have a pregnant wife to worry about! And she was stuck on the same damn island, too! I couldn't just die without making sure she was—"

The man stopped mid-breath, catching himself amidst a rant. Both Anabel and Looker glance at the woman— it wasn't obvious before, but it was clear now. She wasn't showing much yet, but there was a bump on her stomach that her palm rested on top of.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the man said, his grip on his wife growing the slightest bit tighter. "I know this is about giving information, not about my personal problems."

"No, no, I understand. Please, continue at your own pace. If you need a break—"

The man didn't even let Anabel finish her sentence. "No. I want to continue."

Anabel pressed her lips together tightly, but responded with a quick and quiet nod.

"...So, after my boss refused to give up anything, another woman stepped up. She was a pretty little thing. Long blonde hair, violet eyes. She looked absolutely harmless, but then she sent out this glittering golden parasite..." The man's whole body went stiff as his muscles went tight. "It had a translucent body with tentacles and the works. She called it symbiont, and she told us she would let it feed on us if we didn't comply. All my colleagues were panicking... hell, I was panicking. The woman seemed hesitant...like she didn't want to go through with it. But at the same time, she also seemed like she was fully prepared to go through with it. She had such pity in her eyes..."

Was he talking about Nihilego? Looker remembered going through the files provided by Aether, and out of all the beasts they've researched, somehow Nihelego was portrayed as the most dangerous. It didn't make sense to him, considering that this list of beasts also includes an 18'01" 1957.7-pound eating machine. However, the sheer fear that the man before him tried to hide behind a veil but gleamed brightly in his eyes gave the files merit.

"My boss gave in after that parasite laid its tentacle on him. The woman returned it and we handed pretty much all our research to them. We packed it up all nice for them and everything. They had another one of those creatures— this giant, buff, anthropomorphic bug— carry everything out. And then they just kind of... left. It wasn't long until the guards came in and told us it was all over."

The man let out a sigh before laying his head on top of the woman's. If Looker didn't know any better, he would've thought the pair looked at peace.

"You saw a total of three of these beasts, sir?" Anabel asked. "And a total of three intruders."

"I only saw three creatures, yes. But the intruders that barged into the lab were a group of six. Three women, two men, and a little girl—"

Looker's head shot up from his notes. He and Anabel asked in perfect sync:

"A little girl?"

"Yeah, believe it or not," the man said. "I would describe them all to you, but honestly with everything that was happening... some of the gritty details escaped me."

"I completely understand. But can you tell me if anyone was physically hurt?" Anabel's eyes drifted between the man and woman. "This is a question for the both of you."

The pair shook their heads.

"No one was hurt. I guess that's why they're already hounding us to go back to work." The man rolled his eyes. "You'd think they'd lay off a bit, but they seem really intent on getting things back to normal—"

"I don't want to go back."

The woman abruptly sat up, pulling away from her husband's grip and swatting his hand away.

The man reached out for her. "Hey, baby..."

"I don't want to go back!" The woman snapped. "Ever! I don't want to go back to that damned island ever!"

The man recoiled, withdrawing his hand. He didn't say a word, nor did Looker or Anabel. They only watched, in absolute dead silence, as the woman began to shed tears.

"I don't wanna go back there," she sobbed. "I can't! I can't..."

The man leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his wife. She fell into the embrace, sobbing into his chest.

"It's okay. You don't have to go back, sweetheart. I promise." He ran a hand through her hair. "You'll never have to go back."

Anabel and Looker shared a glance. Many words went unsaid, but they understood the look in each other's eye.

* * *

After hours of interviews, dozens of witnesses, and seemingly thousands of questions, Anabel and Looker were able to put together a rough picture.

There were eleven confirmed intruders, three of which were believed to be minors: seven male, four female. Likewise, there were nine confirmed Ultra Beasts on the scene. Judging by the given descriptions and the files "voluntarily" contributed by Aether, the present Ultra Beasts were Nihilego, Buzzwole, Pheromosa, Xurkitree, Celesteela, Kartana, Guzzlord, Stakataka, and Blacephalon.

The main supplies stolen from the island were blueprints for devices meant to generate a nearly unlimited, immensely powerful energy supply and the tools associated with them. However, even with all the supplies they've stolen from the island put into consideration, the blueprints still require an immense amount of resources that the richest of men and the richest of companies would struggle to gather in one place. That meant, whatever this mystery group was plotting, the international police had time to figure it out before it came to fruition.

But that timer was already counting down.

"God, I swear if this is some scheme to summon some other legend to screw up the natural order of things, I give up." Looker leaned back into his chair and stared up at the ceiling. It was now him and Anabel alone in the interrogation room. Hours and hours of listening and note-taking had worn him out and made his wrist scream in utter agony. "Plazma, Flare, Magma and Aqua..."

"Galactic, Cipher, Break, Go-Rock squad. The list truly could go on forever." Anabel shook her head— Looker envied her lack of fatigue. She was vigilant as ever, pacing back and forth across the room. "It makes you wonder if there is a connection between all these world-shattering events caused by men of hubris."

"...That reminds me."

Looker pushed the main case file to the side and opened the one hidden beneath it. There wasn't much in the file except for a few pages of flights to and from Alola alongside old profiles and police reports.

"There are some... interesting characters that happen to be on these islands currently." Looker spread the papers across the table as Anabel watched from over his shoulder. "They've happened to be involved in some of those 'world-shattering events.' It's a complete shot in the dark, but I say we pursue them. Question them. We're sitting here with absolutely no leads, and we can't just start taking in random people who happen to match the descriptions we were given. Perhaps this could be a place to start."

Anabel, at first, remained silent. She put a hand to her chin, fingers covering her mouth as her eyes narrowed. Sweat began to build on Looker's neck due to sheer anticipation. He couldn't read her expression, couldn't figure out what she was thinking.

But then there was a single nod.

"A complete shot in the dark is right," she said. "These people more than likely have no relation to this incident... but even if they don't know of these criminals or the Ultra Beasts, perhaps they could have some useful input. It's a place to start."

* * *

They needed more.

When OZone broke the news, he was nowhere near as hesitant as before. Why would he? They all proved that they were willing to go through with theft for him once. Why wouldn't they do it again?

No one argued against it, either. The truth is, almost every one of them saw it coming at Mach speed. So everyone just collectively nodded their heads and waited for the meeting to be dismissed, then left silently to collect their thoughts.

Everyone left but Belle. The meeting was hours ago, but she remained alone in her seat within the empty room, toying with the cuff of her sleeve as a cloud of dread hung over her.

They were all playing with fire, and it made her sick.

So for once in her entire Cosmos career, she sat and did absolutely nothing. She sat and sank deep into her thoughts, which spun round and round in circles.

When the door creaked open, she jumped. Her eyes dart to the doorway.

"Ah, crud— I mean, what's a lovely lady like yourself doing sitting all by yourself? We should fix that. Maybe I could give you an afternoon you will never—"

"I'm never in the mood for your nonsense, but right now, I'm especially not in the mood. You snuck off here to have a drink, didn't you, Tony? Just sit down and drink. I won't say anything about it."

Belle turned her head away with her arms crossed. Tony hesitated, standing in the doorway until he fully realized Belle meant what she said. He went to sit beside her, but one ice-cold glare later, he was sitting two chairs away. He opened his bag, whipped out an entire wine bottle and a small glass, and set them on the table. Belle eyed him from her peripheral vision.

"Got a second glass?" she asked.

"Wait, wait, you're finally taking up my offer on drinking with me—?"

"I shouldn't have asked."

"Oh, no need to be shy, honey doll. I—"

"If your goal is to make me angry, it's working."

One ice-cold glare later, Tony was wordlessly taking out a second glass and filling it with wine. He slid it over to Belle, who brought the glass to her lips, tilted her chin back, and downed the drink like a shot.

When she slammed the glass back down onto the table, Tony flinched. "Wow... um, want another glass?"

"Please."

Belle handed Tony the now empty glass as he quickly grabbed the neck of the wine bottle. He spoke as he poured. "I'm used to seeing you uptight all the time, but this seems to be a new level."

"Yeah, well, Cosmos itself seems to be working on a whole 'new level' now."

As soon as the glass was back in her hand, Belle downed the drink in seconds. Again, the empty glass was slammed against the table.

There was a short bout of silence. Tony poured his own glass and sipped at his wine. Belle got reabsorbed in her thoughts.

"Arceus." She kept her eyes focused on the lipstick stain on her glass. She traced the glass's rim with her finger. "You ever wonder if we're being used, Tony?"

"Used?" Tony raised a brow.

"Yes, used. It's funny, we all just accepted becoming serial burglars, essentially. And I was hoping to keep myself out of trouble—"

"You? Trouble? I couldn't imagine it."

Loosened up by alcohol, the woman laughed. "Tony, you don't know the first thing about me."

But the smile quickly fell away as her laughter ceased.

"I know a thing or two about you, though. I would think you, of all people, would want to keep out of trouble. Hitting that woman caused enough problems for you."

Tony choked on his drink mid-sip.

"You know about that mess?!" He spat out amidst a coughing fit.

"It's not exactly a secret, Mr. Worldwide. Don't worry, though. As far as I know, no one else is really aware. I only bring it up now because, as I said, I would think you'd want to stay out of trouble. And yet..."

Belle's brow creased as she rested her elbow on the table and her cheek in her palm. Tony caught his breath and cleared his throat.

"Well, you're right. I don't want to re-trash my comeback before I've even had a chance to set it up. But it's not like we got in trouble, or that we are getting in trouble—"

"But we're going to run that risk. Each theft we commit increases the odds of us all getting arrested. And we're all just going along with it, anyway. Why? Don't answer, I'll tell you. Obligation." Belle's hand wrapped around her empty glass. She spun it with her fingers, eyes still focused on its rim. "I'm here because of obligation. Because I feel like I owe OZone something. And I know a lot of the others feel the same."

She clenched the glass with nearly all her strength. A crack appeared on its surface. Despite the resulting, short crackling sound, she didn't notice.

"Every time Serenity says she owes OZone her life, I feel especially sick to my stomach. To think, she's risking her entire livelihood because OZone did what any decent person should do. And he doesn't even argue against that notion— this is what I'm saying, Tony! It's starting to feel like we're being used. I don't want to believe that but..."

Belle's grip on the glass loosened. Tony said nothing.

"...Nevermind." Belle slid the glass back to Tony. "Thanks for the drinks, but I oughta get back to work."

"Belle, wait—"

Tony's call fell on deaf ears. Belle sprouted up from her seat, stormed past him and straight to the door.

She stepped out into the hall to find Mitsuki walking alongside a man she did not recognize. A curious Jolteon followed them, nipping at the stranger's ankles.

* * *

OZone didn't expect nor want to be disturbed that afternoon. There was so much to figure out: where to get what, who to send where, when to send who, etc. But a timid knock on his office door impeded his thought process.

He restrained the urge to snap. "Who is it?"

"It's me..."

Mitsuki's voice.

"Could it wait?" OZone's pen, flying across papers detailing needed resources and heists, didn't stop moving. "I'm in the middle of something."

"Ah... sorry. A visitor."

"A visitor?"

Strange. OZone wasn't expecting anyone.

"Mhm. He's standing next to me."

Even stranger— he was going to have to scold Mitsuki for this later. Considering the current confidential, downright illegal inner workings of the Cosmos Corporation, letting any outsider inside the building was a major, unnecessary risk.

"May I open the door?" Mitsuki asked.

OZone quickly swept all of his papers into his desk's drawer and slammed it shut. "Go ahead."

The door squeaked open. Mitsuki poked her head in, her expression was already immensely apologetic. "Forgive me. He said he needed to talk to you about... Cyrus. So I thought it best to bring him here..."

It took a few seconds for Mitsuki's words to fully register.

It took a few more seconds for the shock and confusion to hit.

OZone sat motionless, staring at Mitsuki with bug eyes. His mind tried to piece thoughts together like a puzzle, but nothing was connecting into anything coherent. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a soft breath.

More than anything, OZone was confused. Why would anyone—?

"Ah, heel girl! Heel!"

Mitsuki pushed the door open as she turned away, revealing a man beside her who had a Pokémon jumping up on his legs. Something about the man was... oddly familiar. He was fairly well built, possessing long legs and broad shoulders. He had short, scruffy, dark blue hair and dark blue eyes to match. He was cleanly shaven, wore sleek glasses and clothes that looked much too heavy for tropical Alola. The white scarf he wore wrapped around his neck looked old and worn.

"Enough, girl." Mitsuki bent down and lifted the excited Jolteon up into her arms. "Don't make me tell Rōzu you're being bad."

"Jolt!"

The Pokémon seemed happy as ever, panting with a stupid smile on its face. The man chuckled, amused, and scratched the top of Jolteon's head.

"Oh, I don't mind the little cutie. It's just being friendly." The man had a large grin on his face. Then he caught a glimpse of OZone and that smile dropped like a ton of bricks. "My, you've changed a lot over the years. Then again, I guess we were both just kids back then."

The man stepped away from the woman holding the Pokémon and into OZone's office, adjusting his scarf. He turned back to face Mitsuki, offering a short bob of his head in thanks.

"I appreciate you bringing me here. It was a pleasure, Ms. Mitsuki."

The man reached forward and pulled the door shut, leaving a confused Mitsuki on the other side. He didn't turn back around to face OZone, keeping his hand on the door's handle and his eyes on his shoes.

OZone was now alone with this man, and he had no idea who he even was.

"...All these years, I've wondered about you. Where you went, how you were doing. How you were handling your grief. Then, one day, I see an environmental PSA sponsored by the Cosmos Corporation. 'We'll never reach the depths of the cosmos if we destroy our starting point,' it said. Or something like that. I thought nothing of it for the longest time."

The man's soft-spoken, just like— OZone is thinking of someone from his past, but it taunted him at the tip of his tongue.

"But then Pearl— my wife, huge environmentalist— began to look into Cosmos," the man continued. "Surprising how little information there was about it online. But she did manage to find the picture of its CEO. The second I saw that picture, I knew it was you. I could never forget your face."

The man finally turned around. He approached OZone's desk, looking down at him with soft, shimmering eyes that OZone knew for a fact he's seen before.

"Do you remember me?" The man asked.

The man's gentle features, the way he spoke so softly, the way he held his hands to his chest—

The cutting rage nearly knocked OZone from his chair. It emerged from his core, engulfing every inch of his body and soul.

"You." The word was laced with a pure, unhinged toxin. "How dare you show your face to me, Lucas."

Lucas didn't back away, didn't flinch, didn't even react. He must have anticipated the hostility.

"I know you probably hate me, but please humor me a bit and lend me an ear," he said. "I did fly all the way from Sinnoh for this. Just to talk with you. Just to apologize."

"Apologize? You think you could just apologize and all will be forgiven? After what you've done? After you—"

"I didn't push him."

There was a long, endless, strenuous spell of silence.

"I didn't push him," Lucas asserted. "I should've just said it then. But for one reason or another... I couldn't. So I'll say it now, again and again. I didn't push him."

"...Bullshit." OZone stood up from his chair, teeth clenched and bared. "Complete and utter bullshit. Do you honestly expect me to believe that Cyrus just happened to hop into the portal while you were just happening to be standing next to him?"

"...Well, when you put it that way, it does sound a little ridiculous." Lucas averted his gaze and scratched the back of his head. "But it's the truth. Cyrus leaped into the portal of his own volition. I... was trying to stop him."

"Trying to stop him...? Oh Arceus, do you think I'm an actual idiot?"

OZone broke into a burst of unhinged laughter, throwing his hand over his face.

"I saw it happen, you bastard. I saw you do it. Besides, why else would you run over to him? What, did you magically know Cyrus was going to 'leap' into the portal? What a fucking joke. You're disgusting."

Lucas stands tall and firm, even though the laughter and the insults. "...Cyrus was messing with time and space—"

"Oh! Now because I won't listen to your bullshit, make-believe story, you're trying to justify it?!"

"Let me finish, please. Cyrus was messing with time and space, which I think had some... side effects. Do you remember the day we first met? At the lakebed?"

"Oh, yes, I remember that. I remember you fucking screaming bloody murder out of nowhere. I should've known right then you were a goddamn lunatic. I feel bad for that kid who hung around you. Must've been hard dealing with someone as insane as you—"

"I was screaming because I was hearing screeching. And then I started having visions." Lucas's expression didn't change. His tone remained calm. "Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. Or since. I didn't understand it... but then those visions I saw ended up becoming my future."

"...Let me get this straight." OZone's eyes narrowed. "You're trying to tell me you're a clairvoyant now?"

"No, nothing of the sort. I think what happened then... was a consequence of Cryus messing with time and space. What came over me then... I understand it now. That screeching sound that split my head apart... those cries... belonged to Dialga. And Palkia. I was hearing their voices. And what I saw in those visions... were the events of Spear Pillar. I was seeing Cyrus's death—"

OZone slammed both his fists onto his desk, finally shaking Lucas's demeanor. Lucas stumbled back as OZone screamed at him at the top of his lungs.

"Don't you dare say those words! After I've spent years trying to fix the consequence of your actions, don't you dare say those words!"

"W-what?" Lucas shook his head. "What did I say? And... what do you mean by trying to fix the consequences? I don't understand what you're trying to—"

"Get out," OZone growled.

"Wait." Lucas stepped forward. "Hold on—"

"I told you to get out. I'm done hearing your fabricated nonsense."

"I'm really telling you the truth! Cyrus scared me, but I never wanted him dead! You knew him! You had to know he was unstable! Is it that hard to believe he would've—"

"And now you're insulting my boss, on top of everything else?! God! Quit it with the lies because the truth is sickeningly simple! You wanted him gone, you pushed him, you got away with it because police are shit at their jobs, end of fucking story! Now get out before I make it so you'll have to crawl out!"

The threat was enough to make Lucas's eyes go wide and his pupils shrink. He took several steps back, taking deep breaths in an attempt to regain a solid composure.

"...Okay, I'll leave. But there's one last thing I must tell you. After that incident... everyone tried to take away my responsibility. My parents, my friends, even Cynthia. They all told me the same thing, over and over again: it wasn't my fault. But I always clung to that responsibility, carried it like a sin. I didn't push him, but it almost felt like I had. The night of Spear Pillar was the night where my childhood ended, when I stopped being a kid—"

"Oh, what a poor thing you are," OZone scoffed. "Play me the world's tiniest violin—"

"I always blamed myself for what happened. Because I saw it happen that day by the lakebed, and I couldn't stop it from happening when it happened for real. It haunted me. It haunts me, it will always haunt me for the rest of my days. Your grief will, as well. I'll never forget the look on your face, the pain in your eyes." Lucas shook his head as he began to turn around. "I said I came here to apologize to you. I wasn't lying. You don't have to believe me or forgive me, but I'm sorry I failed to save Cyrus that night. And, from the bottom of my heart, I'm happy you've managed to build a corporation for yourself. I'm happy you're doing so well. I'm happy you were able to move forward."

With that, Lucas headed for the door. He opened it to find an eavesdropper who squeaked and leaped back.

"...Hello again, Ms. Mitsuki." Lucas smiled down at her. "Would you mind showing me to the exit? I'm afraid I might get lost if I try to find it by myself."

Mitsuki peeked over at OZone. The unfiltered rage that contorted his face almost made her shriek at the mere sight. She quickly turned back to Lucas and sheepishly nodded.

"Of course...!"

As Mitsuki led Lucas away from the office, OZone sunk back into his chair. He laid his forehead on top of his desk.

There was no way he was getting any work done now. Not after that.

* * *

Lucas remembers that night so clearly.

Lucas remembers being in pain.

He remembers opening his eyes to see something massive towering over him. A blue silhouette the size of a building, restricted and bound by red chains, crying with an ear-piercing screech.

Dialga. He could hear Palkia's cries, too.

Why does he feel like he's heard their cries before?

It all came back to him. He remembers rushing to Spear Pillar to see Cyrus's silhouette. He remembers the Galactic admins standing at his side, hands folded behind their backs with their postures pin-straight. He remembers the ground beneath his feet rumbling, the portals appearing, the captive, chained monstrosities emerging.

He heard Cyrus talking with that monotone voice. He heard him speak of the world without spirit he was about to create.

This was a nightmare. All his fears were coming to life.

So like a foolish wannabe-hero, he had raced to the god of time and grabbed the chain with his bare palms. An immense shock overwhelmed him, rattled him at his very core. He saw his life flash before his eyes. He thought he was dead.

But he opened his eyes and berated himself for thinking he, a ten-year-old, could pry away the chains that kept the gods of time and space confined.

"Lucas!" A voice, her voice cried. Lucas wanted to answer, but his body and mind felt much too heavy.

So, instead, like a useless doll, he turned his head and watched.

Cynthia stood at the edge of the platform, Garchomp at her side. She was out of breath from running, having just arrived to see chaos already well underway. Her eyes shifted from Lucas to Cyrus, from concern to rage. "Stop this nonsense at once! Release those Pokémon! Immediately!"

Cyrus kept his back to her, refusing to look her way. The admins— Mars, Jupiter, "Oz"— blocked her path with Pokéballs in hand. An all-out brawl for the fate of the Earth approached.

But in the corner of his vision, Lucas saw blots of black ink fester between the two deities and Cyrus. They appeared out of nowhere and spread, merging until a round, black pool formed. The ground rumbled once again.

Everyone stopped and froze, watching as something gigantic slowly emerged from the pool. It resembled a centipede, though it bore large, demonic wings on its back that demanded to be the center of attention. Its entire being was coated and dripping in the black ink, void of color. The only exception was the red glow of its eyes.

The beast roared. Shrill yet forceful, its cry was the embodiment of pure rage and bloodlust.

The admins were wide-eyed. Cynthia's hand covered her mouth. Cyrus's stone-cold expression did not change. He didn't even flinch. He raised his arms to direct the enslaved Dialga and Palkia.

"The Pokémon of shadows," he said softly. "So you did come to interfere."

A single head gesture forced the deities into action. Despite being constricted, they managed to charge forward. Dialga fired a beam from its mouth as Palkia tried to slash the dark figure with its claw.

The three clashed.

It was a sight to behold; three gods caught in a violent brawl at a pillar's peak. Lucas couldn't tear his eyes away.

But then he heard footsteps rushing towards him. Cynthia kneeled beside him, wrapping her arm beneath his shoulders and helping him into a sitting position.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have taken so long to come here. Are you okay?"

"I... I don't know..." Lucas muttered. "What's happening...? What is... that?"

"...Giratina," she said. "That has to be Giratina."

Giratina's mighty roars merged with the cries of both Dialga and Palkia. Every lunge, every attack seemed to shake the foundation of both the pillar and the earth itself. The admins watched. Cynthia watched. Lucas watched. There was nothing to do but watch.

But Cyrus wasn't watching. He approached the pool of black ink. It now swirled like a whirlpool, and in its center was the image of another world—

Cyrus's eyes lit up. "A portal."

The youngest of the admins, the boy Lucas knew as Oz, looked away from the battle and straight at his commander. "What?"

"The renegade's world..." The man stepped dangerously close to the swirling ink. "There's nothing there. There's nothing to there. What I've been seeking is... a world that requires no spirit. A perfect world. And the world of nothingness on the other side of this portal... is..."

Cyrus took another step forward.

Lucas remembered the beginning of his adventure. He remembered the sereness of Lake Verity, and the two foreign figures standing at the lakeside. He remembered the sudden sickness that overcame him, the inexplicable screeching cries that deafened him, the vision of a man falling into a vortex.

He knew what Cyrus was about to do.

Adrenaline rushed through Lucas's veins and reinvigorated him.

"Cyrus, don't! Stop!"

The boy steadily pushed himself onto his feet and, despite how each one of his limbs ached and screamed with each little movement, ran straight for Cyrus. By the time he reached him, his legs were ready to give out. He grabbed the man's sleeve to keep himself upright, his knees shaking and threatening to buckle beneath him.

He could see the opening of the portal in the eye of the black whirlpool... he could see the reverse world just beyond it. He could see its emptiness, its nothingness. Was that what Cyrus was trying to turn their world into?

Lucas couldn't stop shivering.

Cyrus looked down at him. His eyes were icy blue and empty. Something about them always sent a shiver down Lucas's spine, always forcing him to turn away. But he didn't look away. He forced himself to stare straight into those dark eyes, endless as a black void.

"I-it's not worth it," Lucas said. "T-this world isn't perfect, but it's ours. You have friends here, right? Y-you've gotta stay. You'll... you'll die there, Cyrus. Death isn't worth it. So... please..."

The man only stared as Lucas begged, not a hint of emotion on his face. That same empty expression, that of a living corpse, remained as Cyrus pushed Lucas from his arm while simultaneously lunging forward. A familiar scene played before Lucas's eyes: the silhouette of a man falling into a vortex, arms spread out like a bird about to take flight.

Never to be seen again.

So many, too many sounds mixed together at once. Shouting admins, snapping chains and their broken remains dropping to the ground, angered shouts of newly freed Gods. Lucas couldn't focus on any of it. He couldn't even stand properly. He tried to keep steady footing, but his body swayed as his feet kept tripping each other. The adrenaline was gone. Every muscle in his body went limp. The ground was swept from beneath his feet.

He hadn't realized he was about to fall into the portal until he heard Cynthia scream his name. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pulled him back. They both fell backward. Cynthia pulled him close, protectively throwing her arms over his head as the beast of shadows drew close.

Wind slapped against their faces as Giritina zipped past them, cutting through the air like a missile. Having freed both Dialga and Palkia from their bindings, it dove back into the swirling vortex from which it came. The black ink splashed upward in a spectacle before disintegrating into thin air. The portal vanished, leaving nothing but the stone platform of Spear Pillar.

Dialga and Palkia didn't stay much longer. They took off into the skies before their figures flickered and faded from sight. All that was left behind were scattered pieces of broken red chain, Sinnoh's Champion clutching a child, and deserted admins with tears in their eyes.

"...It's over." Cynthia's voice was unnervingly calm. "It's... just over."

Lucas couldn't move. His body refused to. But the words spilled from his mouth without thought, without consent.

"I knew it was gonna happen. I saw it. I saw him die. But I couldn't stop him. And now he's dead for real. My fault. My fault..."

"No. No, it is not." Cynthia spoke. "This is all because that man thought he was too good for this world."

"But..."

Lucas was cut off by the sound of footsteps. Soon enough, Oz stood over both him and Cynthia. His face was red and tear-stained. His lip was bleeding, but he kept biting it. The blood slid down his chin.

"...You pushed him," he said.

Lucas's eyes went wide. Words flooded his mouth but he couldn't find the breath to say them.

"You pushed him," he said again.

"What?" Cynthia looked up at the boy. "That's not what— what are you talking about?"

"I saw it! I saw everything!" Streams of tears fell from the boy's eyes. He bit his lip harder. "I saw what you did, you little bastard! You pushed him!"

The boy's hands wrapped around Lucas's scarf and pulled him from Cynthia's hands. The image of the boy's face— wet with sweat and tears and snot as blood stained his bared teeth while he heavily breathed in and out of his nose like an enraged bull— was forever etched into every corner of Lucas's mind.

And the boy's screams, too. Those screams echoed in Lucas's mind over and over again for years and years.

"You pushed him!" He screamed again. "You pushed him!"

I didn't, Lucas wanted to say. But he didn't have the breath to say it.

"Garchomp."

At the sound of Cynthia's voice, her Garchomp positioned itself into a battle stance. It crept behind the boy, growling with its sharp teeth shimmering in the light that seeped through the clouded skies.

"Let go of him," Cynthia commanded. She was standing up now. "Don't make me ask twice."

The boy shut his eyes, biting back another scream. Begrudgingly, he threw Lucas straight in Cynthia's direction. The woman caught him before he could fall.

He turned away from the pair and sobbed into his hands. Everything, for just a moment, was silent. It was as if nothing had happened— no over-the-top scheme, no clash of titans, no death sentence...

One of the admins, Mars, grabbed the young coworker's shoulders. The tears on her face were just beginning to dry. "Oz. Saturn just sent me a transmission. Police are coming. We need to leave."

"Leave?!" The boy's hands fell from his face as he jerked himself away from Mars. "How could we just leave?! Cyrus! Cyrus, he's—"

"I know, believe me, I know. But we can't do anything for him if we just stand here like idiots and get arrested." Mars forcibly grabbed the boy's hand. "Kid, I mean it. We have to go."

"Hold on!" Cynthia shouted. "Do you honestly think I'm going to just let you go?"

"Yes," the other admin, Jupiter, said. "You should get that kid there taken care of. He isn't looking too hot—"

It was just about then when Lucas lost consciousness.

* * *

The sky was blackened by dark clouds when Lucas left the Cosmos building. He found it fitting.

That encounter went roughly as horribly as he expected. He had a feeling visiting that man would serve no good for either of them, but a slight part of him held onto a sliver of hope. He hoped by saying what he had needed to say all these years, it would at least one of them heal old wounds.

That didn't seem to be the case.

He tried his best to empty his mind as he walked down Ula'Ula's streets. He said what he had to say, so he didn't want to dwell on it. He was in Alola, after all. He wanted to enjoy his time here before returning to Sinnoh.

He rushed to his hotel, knowing that a tropical storm was brewing above him. Once he did arrive at the hotel's entrance, he had to stop and catch his breath— he was still no good at running. Clint, even after all these years, still teased him for it at every opportunity

He went to reach for the door to open it and enter the lobby, but a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Lucas Kouki. May I have a word?"

He looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing behind him. Her expression was cold as she swept back a strand of her long violet hair.

Lucas had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned to face her, hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met before. Might I ask how you know my name?"

"Gladly. I'm Anabel of the international police. Records of the events surrounding Cyrus and Galatic mention your name a number of times."

So much for not dwelling on things.

"...Alright? I'm sorry, is there something you need from me?"

"I just want to have a discussion with you, Kouki. If you could spare a minute."

That sinking feeling in Lucas's stomach only grew worse. After all that's transpired today, he didn't want to deal with this... whatever this was.

"There's been a major heist that's taken place at what is called 'the unnamed island,'" Anabel explained. "It just so happened that you flew to Alola not long after, so—"

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I'm just wondering if you had any insight that could prove useful in our investigation—"

"Why would I?"

"Because of your involvement with the Galatic case. The items stolen from the unnamed island are intended to be used to generate massive amounts of energy, and—"

"I was ten."

"I am well aware of what your age was at the time, Kouki. But I—"

"Why would I know anything about some heist? What does that even have to do with Galatic? The man responsible for Galatic is dead! And I watched him die! I let him die!" Lucas's voice was rising— he didn't even know where the anger was coming from. "Do you have any idea what that does to a kid? Do you have any idea how much I've struggled because of that?"

"Kouki, I..."

As Anabel stumbled over her words, one of the glass double doors of the hotel's entrance slowly squeaked open.

"You seriously have the nerve coming to me over something like this!" Lucas shouted. "So do me a favor, and get the hellllll— uh, hello, sweetheart!"

Lucas instantly shifted gears once he noticed the eight-year-old girl standing in the entryway. She wore her father's old red cap that showed its age, but she always insisted on wearing it everywhere. She said that if she wore it, one day she'd become as amazing of a Pokémon trainer as her dad.

The girl ran over to Lucas's side and hugged his waist. She glanced at Anabel with a confused look.

"Dad, who's that?"

"Oh, well—"

The glass door opened again.

"Lucas?"

The next thing Lucas knew, Pearl was standing beside him with their three-year-old son on her hip. She looked at Anabel, then to Lucas, then back to Anabel.

"I didn't know when you'd be back from Cosmos, so I was going to take the kids out for dinner. I'd tell you'd to come with us... but I don't know if you're still caught up in something."

"No. This police officer here just wanted to ask me a question, but I think we're through with that." Lucas glared at Anabel. "Right?"

"...Right." Anabel offered a short bow. "Thank you for your time, Kouki. If you'll excuse me..."

Anabel walked away, not looking back at the couple or their children. Lucas took a sigh of relief before taking his daughter's hand in one hand and his wife's in the other.

"Well, I suppose we should find a restaurant before it starts raining," he said.

"Yes..." Pearl's brow was arched upward in concern. "How'd it go? Are you feeling alright?"

"Went pretty much how I expected it. But I'm alright. I'm in a tropical paradise with my two girls and my little man." Lucas's smile was warm and bright, offset against the gloomy skies. "I couldn't be happier."

* * *

"Looker! Your face!"

"Huh—? Oh, yeah. This."

Anabel's hand hovered over the black bruise that rested on Looker's cheek. He gently pushed her hands away, shrugging his shoulders with a chuckle.

"It's nothing. Turns out, my idea of 'questioning people of slight interest' was a bad one. No one cooperated. And... well, an ex-flare grunt punched me."

"Goodness..." Anabel pulled her hand back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Nothing ice and time can't fix. Tell me, did you have any luck?"

Anabel shook her head with a sigh. "Unfortunately not. Although I didn't get physically assaulted by anyone, no one cooperated with me either."

"Well, at least we know never to go that route again. Looks like we're back to square one. Any other ideas? They'd have to be better than mine."

"... I do have one. It's time to turn to the public."

* * *

Daichi must've fallen on his face at least four times. He must've run into a wall at least twice. Miraculously, his glasses were intact.

He was infamous for being accident-prone, so the absolute last thing he should be doing is racing through the Cosmos Corporation halls at top speed. However, unadulterated panic fueled him and kept him rushing forward. Even when he knew he scraped skin, he didn't stop despite always carrying bandaids in his pocket for this exact situation.

He needed to find somebody. Anybody. This situation was...

The boy's prayers were answered when he crashed directly into the unlucky soul who was innocently emerging from a corner. They both fell to the floor.

Daichi could hear the sound of Jolteon's barking.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I'm super sorry! I— Rōzu!" Daichi's eyes lit up with relief as he grabbed the boy's shoulders. "Did you see?! We're screwed, Roz, aren't we?! Aren't we?!"

"Woah, woah, Daichi, calm down! Slow down for a moment." Rōzu blinked, slightly dazed. He pushed himself up onto his knees. "What's going on? Did something happen?

"We're all doomed!"

"Doomed? That isn't helping me understand much. You're not making any sense—"

Before Rōzu could utter another word, Daichi was shoving his phone straight into his face. He wrapped his hands around it to be greeted by a news article. The headline was enough to make his red cheeks go sheet white: "Breaking News: International Police Requesting Assistance from the Public Regarding Unnamed Island Heist"

Rōzu held his breath as he read— it was a struggle with all the cracks on Daichi's phone's screen but he managed. The article explained it all: the international police officially announced the attack on the unnamed island. They kept the information at the bare minimum, not daring to mention the strange creatures that swept through the guards and cleared a path for the thieves. Regardless, the police asked for the public's assistance. They've opened a tip line that anyone could call, and a successful tip would lead to the tipper receiving a monetary reward of—

"That's... a lot of money," he murmured.

And then he went speechless.

A million thoughts were running through Daichi's head as they sat silent—— this was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. No matter how many times he told himself that his actions were just, that he was only trying to help his boss and friend, he felt nothing but shame. He could only imagine, if she were still alive to see this, how ashamed his grandmother would be of him. Shoot, who wouldn't be ashamed of him? If her ghost were to magically appear in front of him, he didn't think he would have the guts to face her. What excuse does he have for this?

He should've just stayed behind. If he made that call, Rōzu probably wouldn't have gone and gotten roped up in this mess either, and they'd both be better off. But Daichi couldn't imagine ever forgiving himself if things went wrong and he wasn't there. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself for being a coward. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself for standing back while people he cared about risked capture or even injury.

But then again, who was he kidding? Did his presence even make much of a difference? When it came down to it, he was still a coward. He froze up and watched when Arc made those guards line up and get down on the ground. He froze up and watched when Arc tormented those guards with threats. He froze up and watched the fear brew in their eyes. He froze up and watched when Rōzu tried to tell Arc to stop, froze up in horror and shock when Arc pushed him back and made him fall to the ground.

And as Arc continued his tirade, he froze up and continued to do nothing about it.

Daichi stood by and let Arc terrorize those people. Daichi stood by and let Arc put his hands on his friend.

He just froze. He was just useless.

The guilt was overwhelming, but the "mission" was unrelenting. They had to keep stealing. And now this. The guilt was overwhelming, but—

Jolteon butted its head against Daichi's with a whine, pulling him from his thoughts. He placed his hands on its cheeks and rustled his hands through its fur.

"Daichi..." he heard Rōzu say.

"Sorry! I must've zoned out for a second there. Just lost in thought for a second, you know!" Daichi forced a laugh, but it fell immensely flat. "Ahaha, we're totally screwed but, well, you know—"

"Daichi, you're crying."

Daichi went stiff. He laid his fingers on his cheek and— yup. He felt tears.

"Dang it." He quickly wiped them away. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Rōzu shook his head and put a hand on Daichi's back. "You've got no reason for apologizing."

I bet those guards beg to differ. Hell, you should beg to differ. Daichi might've said those words if it weren't for his refusal to speak of that night.

So instead he said, "yeah, I do. F-for just going along with this. Maybe I could've said something to change OZone's mind so that this never happened. Instead of dragging us both into this, what if I—"

"First of all, you didn't drag me into anything. I chose to go," Rōzu spoke firmly. "Second of all, what if's are useless. What's done is done. We're caught up in this now and we can't change that. Besides, I don't think a word you could've said would've made OZone even slightly consider a change of plans. You can't blame yourself for that."

"...You've got a point there. The only way that would've happened is if Cyrus came marching through the door and went 'JK! I was just doing a little trolling.' But I can't help but think that maybe if I had... if I had... I don't even know."

Daichi sighed, pressing his fingers into his temple. He really didn't even know what he could've done, but he should've done something. Right?

"...What if's are useless. We oughta focus on the present... and I'm not going to lie to you. This is bad." Rōzu held up the phone that's screen had since gone black. "But this isn't a game-ender. That tip line will be full of a bunch of people taking wild guesses that lead nowhere, so it shouldn't result in anything major. Besides, we all did this putting our trust in OZone, and he isn't the type of guy to let anybody down. He won't allow for any one of us to get caught. I won't allow it, either. So if you can't trust OZone's word alone, trust your old friend's. Orange seriously isn't my color."

Against all odds, Daichi let out a chuckle. "... It isn't my color, either. Roz... do you really think we're all gonna be okay?"

"Of course I do." Rōzu threw an arm over Daichi's shoulder with a soft grin. "So try not to worry too much, m'kay? And definitely don't start beating yourself up, either. It'll all work out fine."

Rōzu's smile wasn't an honest one, and they both knew it. When he uttered assurances to Daichi, he was not only trying to convince Daichi that everything would be okay, but himself as well... and they both knew it. But Daichi, with dry eyes and a bright disposition, smiled back at him.

To obtain a false sense of security, they both have resorted to lying to themselves. And they both knew it.

"Yeah," Daichi beamed. "It'll all work out fine."