Chapter Text
There is a stick digging into her back.
All things considered, it's not an uncommon occurrence; she likely collapsed in the Obsidian Fieldlands again after working herself into a state of exhaustion pursuing a manhunt that has yielded nothing frutiful, growing wearier and more hopeless by the day.
Akari sits up slowly. Her head is fuzzy, stuffed with cotton. She rakes her hands through her hair, fingers snagging on the knots and leaves tangled within as she blinks her bleary eyes, trying to gain her bearings and take stock of her surroundings— though it's not the first time it's happened, she still knows that it's not a good thing to be caught unaware in the Hisuian wilderness. There's a bone-deep ache reverberating through each one of her limbs as a result of being on her feet for hours at a time, for days straight, for weeks that have bled into months and taken more than a year out from right beneath her feet.
The forest sharpens into focus around her as she works through a particularly stubborn mat in her hair.
Starly chirp in the trees up above, though the foliage isn't nearly as thick and overgrown as it had been just moments ago, when she was using a makeshift knife to slash her way through it. There's the quiet rush of water somewhere in the distance, accompanied by the sounds of Bidoof and Bibarel trilling happily. Kricketots sing all around her, their tune somehow making the cacophonous cries around her sound like a coordinated harmony.
Akari's world tilts on its axis when her eyes lock onto something swaying gently in the afternoon breeze: a lone black circle, dangling off a sturdy tree branch from a rope.
Tire. Swing. The word is dregged up from the recesses of her mind, along with the memory of a blonde boy standing behind it, laughing and shoving harder at the tire and the girl perched on it each time it comes flying backward at it.
The girl, so much smaller, innocent, kicks off the ground and flies out of the swing, her carefully braided her flying out behind her as she soars through the air. She screams and laughs wildly even as her already bruised legs crash into the plush terrain around her and she ends up with a few more scrapes on her knees than she left the house with.
My little light, a woman's voice— distant, yet familiar and comforting— whispers in her ear. Always getting into trouble, aren't you?
Her voice sits heavy in her throat. She chokes on it a few times as she rises to her feet, hobbling forward on shaking legs.
She's still in the Galaxy Team uniform. There are still six hand-crafted pokéball prototypes hanging from her belt, each one of her team members accounted for. Her satchel still weighs her shoulder down, packed full of all the things one could possibly need while venturing across Hisui for the umpteenth time.
She is the same, yet she feels like everything has been flipped on its head. Vaguely, she is reminded of waking up on Prelude Beach, dressed in attire completely unsuited for an environment and time so far removed from her.
Except, this time, there is some uncanny familiarity about the place she's landed— about the swing device, about the white fencing and paved pathway leading to the sound of voices in the distance, about the tranquility of the forest and the tame demeanor of the pokémon within it. It's nothing like Hisui, nothing like the Obsidian Fieldlands she'd just been trekking through, yet she knows it the same.
A branch snaps somewhere behind her. Akari's head swivels around instantly, her heart rate accelerating as she reaches for Samurott's pokéball on instinct.
The blonde boy from her memories has grown so much— since he was pushing her through her air, since she saw him last, whenever that was. His hair is longer now, falling to his shoulders but still curling at the ends in that unruly way it always has. Half of it is tied up and pulled out of his face, leaving his orange eyes shining like brilliant gemstones in the sunlight.
Her heart lurches when the woman accompanying him takes a step forward. She has aged beyond what her years should allow her; worry line crease her forehead and the corners of her eyes and mouth, weighing her lips down in a perpetual frown. A handful of grey hairs stand are stark against the backdrop of a deep blue, almost black.
Her blue eyes gleam with unshed tears.
"Hikari?" She whispers, voice so frail that if this were truly the Hisuian wilderness, it would've never survived and been lost to the wind. "Little light, is that you?"
The strings holding up her limbs snap. The tension that had sat between her shoulders— since she arrived in Hisui, since she got outcast from Jubilife Village, since the final confrontation at the Temple of Sinnoh— dissipates, and she staggers forward on unsteady limbs like a newborn Stantler.
Her mother surges forward, catching her with sturdy arms and wrapping her in a warm embrace. Akari chokes one more time before a wail leaves her, then another, and another. Her mom shushes her and pets her hair gently, despite the way her own body trembles from the force of her own sobs.
"My precious girl," the woman whispers, her voice raw with emotion. "I always knew you'd make it home."
Akari exhales shakily. She buries her face in her mom's neck, taking in the familiar scent of her perfume mixed with the earth— she'd likely been tending to the garden just before this.
She curls into the woman, allowing herself to fully let go for the first time in what feels like forever.
"Home," Hikari mumbles, and it feels like waking up from a bad dream. "I'm home."
Four years.
Hikari Berlitz, better known as the Sinnoh region's Hero Dawn, had been missing for four years. Just two years after she'd dismantled Team Galactic and saved her home from unfathomable calamity. A strange black rift had tore the sky open above her house, and when her mother had rushed to her bedroom, she was nowhere to be found.
And now, four years later to the date, the very same rift had ripped itself open again above Route 201 and spat her out onto the forest floor.
At least, that's what Looker tells her when he shows up to Jubilife City's Pokémon Center, where her injuries are currently being treated. They'd ran countless tests on her, about as many as they had when she returned from the Distortion Realm all those years ago, the first time she'd been face-to-face with Giratina and a madman.
The heart monitor beeps steadily next to her. Her hair has been combed and braided out of her face by her mother, who sits at her bedside. She grasps one of Hikari's hands firmly between her own, as if she's worried she'll vanish into thin air if she's not holding onto her.
Hikari can't say she blames her. She'd lost her seventeen year-old daughter in the dead of night, only to be returned a husk of a twenty-one year-old woman a handful of years later.
Looker and Jun occupy the two chairs pressed up against the wall. Jun's gaze flits between Hikari and the floor, still absorbing the fact that she's here, in the flesh and taking up space in the same room as him and breathing the same air. Looker nurses a cup of coffee that he's swirled around, but hasn't really taken a drink from. She's known him a long time, but she's never seen him look so frazzled.
With a sigh, he sets the cup down on the counter holding various medical supplies and meets her eyes. He gives her a soft smile.
"I don't want to hit you too hard right now. You just got back." The smile becomes a bit strained as he adds, "But we do have to talk about what's happened over the past few years— as soon as you're feeling up for it, of course."
The thought of recounting her second visit to the Temple of Sinnoh makes her feel ill, but she swallows back the rush of nausea and forces a brave face. "It'll take a while to get through it all," she says, "but to give you the gist of it, I was sent back in time."
Her mother's hold tightens, her lips pursed into a sharp line. Jun's eyes widen, and Looker sits forward, expression tight with concern but eyes alight with interest. "Back in time?"
"Sinnoh was once known as a wild land called Hisui," Hikari murmurs. "I'm sure you're familiar." The preliminary knowledge of the founding of the Sinnoh region and what came before it which was taught in all schools was the only thing that had kept her afloat those first few months.
Looker's eyes drift to leather belt dangling resting beside her on the hospital bed, and the rustic-looking pokéballs hanging off of it. "The rift took you some one-hundred fifty years in the past?"
She nods. "Yeah, I—" Something poisonous snares her voice like barbed wire, and she clears her throat. "I needed to stop, uh, a calamity from happening. Giratina's a menace in every century, it seems." She forces out a laugh. "Did you know Spear Pillar used to be a temple? At least it was, before—"
Before, before, before. In the before, when she'd been so blindlingly trusting and naive, despite the fact that the Galaxy Team had already acquainted her with the bitter taste of betrayal, before she'd been introduced to the painful bite of a knife— not in the back, but through the heart.
Looker must see something in her expression, because he leans back in his chair and says, "Some other time. For now, just focus on resting." He grins, genuine this time. "You should spend some time catching up with your mom and Jun. Plenty has happened around here since you've been gone."
"Right. Thanks, Looker." After a moment, Hikari murmurs, "I'm glad to see you, too, you know."
Looker softens a bit at that. "I am, too." He snaps his notebook shut, his eyebrows pinching slightly. "Hopefully in the future, it can be on better terms."
The man turns to open the door, only to barrel into someone on the way out.
"Sorry," a strong, familiar voice rings out. "I came as soon as I heard. Is she alright?"
Looker steps to the side, and in walks—
Akari can feel her heart seize in her chest despite the way the heart monitor starts screaming.
She feels like she's underwater. There's so much pressure on the hand her mom's holding, but she's numb to it, all her senses locked onto the person standing before her. Her arm surges forward without so much as a thought to the action, and blur of yellow rushes at her, causing her to flinch back and press up against the wall. There's a soothing voice in her ear, but she can't focus on it, not now, not when—
Cynthia stands across from her, eyes wide with concern, panic, and hurt.
The static blaring in her ears begins to fade. Her shoulders slowly relax, the tension bleeding out of her like a deflating balloon. She looks down at her right arm, which Jun has seized in an iron grip.
In her hand rests Zoroark's pokéball, torn off the belt and unlatched, but unopened.
Hikari swallows thickly as she snaps the latch back into place and sets it down on the bed. Behind her, the heart monitor hums steadily again.
She meets Cynthia's eyes with newfound clarity. The woman's posture has slackened, but she's still visibly tense, unsure if she should even still be in the room.
"It's fine," Hikari reassures, though she's not sure if it's meant for Cynthia or herself. It's fine, because at this point in time, Giratina is sealed away in the Distortion Realm with Cyrus, and its former wielder is—
Gone is the instinctual response her mind supplies her with, but the more logical part of her brain whispers dead soon after it.
After all, it's been a century and a half since Sinnoh was just the name of a deity and not the entire region.
"I seem to have forgotten myself— where I am." Hikari forces a smile. "I'm sorry for scaring you, Cynthia. I am happy to see you."
(It's not entirely true. She is happy that Cynthia is here; she is not happy to see her.)
Slowly, Cynthia's expression smooths out, and a grin finds its way to her face.
"My apologies for entering so suddenly. I should have been more considerate." The champion's gaze sweeps over her, fondness settling in her eyes as she takes her in.
(And, oh, isn't that an odd thing to see on those features?)
"Dawn—" Cynthia laughs wetly, and Hikari's guilt sits like pit in her stomach. "Hikari. Welcome back."
Hikari blinks, forcing the dissonant memories from a land lost to time to the back of her mind.
"Thank you," she says. "It's good to be back."
Looker wasn't lying when he said a lot had happened in her absence.
Jun and Cynthia spend a good four hours rehashing all the major catastrophies that have occurred all over the world since her disappearance; a villainous uprising in Unova four years ago, mere months after news of her vanishing made international headlines; a doomsday device being activated in Kalos three years ago and nearly wiping the region off the map; the same villainous team almost freezing half of Unova and an alien invasion in Alola both happening at the same time two years ago; and finally, what has come to be known as the "Darkest Day" plummeting Galar into chaos just three short months ago.
Hikari's almost reeling by the end of all the tales, but the problems of other regions are a welcome distraction from the ones plaguing her. That restless energy still bubbles in her even now, compelling her to go out and search and find him despite the fact that she's no longer in Hisui— despite the fact that there's no longer anyone for her to find.
There hasn't been for a long, long time. Longer than she's willing to admit.
(As long as she's been looking.)
Countless heroes have been crowned thanks to their feats in saving their nations: Heroes White and Obsidian from Unova, Heroes X and Y from Kalos, Hero Sun from Alola, and Hero Sword from Galar. Cynthia promises that there will be the opportunity to call for an International Hero League meeting so that she can get acquainted with her new peers— in due time, of course.
Hikari asks about her other peers, the heroes who she'd been so nervous to meet that first time, freshly fourteen and still haunted by the sight of Cyrus struggling against Giratina as it dragged him into the Distortion Realm.
Jun spends more time than necessary gosspping about how Red and Blue have been honeymooning across the world, particularly focusing on their prolonged stay in Alola.
"There was this viral video of Blue getting swarmed by Buzzwole— a type of Ultra Beast, by the way— and Red just stood there and watched until he finished his malasadas," he says as he frantically scrolls through his phone. "You gotta see it. It's hilarious."
The video has Hikari laughing until her sides hurt and she feels lighter than she has in forever.
Hero Sapphire has made it big in the entertainment space, moving beyond Hoenn's Contest scene and making waves in other regions. She's become a rising star in cinema and practically lives on the sets of Pokéstar Studios, occassionally making appearances at Nimbasa's Musical. Hero Ruby, still her partner in crime, has begun training to take on the mantle Professor Birch is ecstatic to pass off to him.
Jun, of course, saves Gold and Silver for last. With Lance and Blue's help, Gold has set up a Johto League, completely independent from Kanto's Elite Four and Champion. Silver is an "under-the-table" special agent for the International Police; his pride keeps him from officially taking on the title, and some of his underhanded, less-than-legal methods prevent the IP from formally recognizing him as part of their workforce.
When Jun tells her that Johto's heroes finally got together two years ago, she feels as though a part of her long hidden away reemerges, and she squeals like the teenage girl she hasn't been in years.
When she was fourteen and he'd been fifteen, Heroes Dawn and Gold had dated for half a year. It was puppy love, as pure as anything could be. She'd been Hikari to him, and he'd been Hibiki to her, and those few months rushed by in a flurry of sweet, quick kisses, flirtatious comments and giggles, and late nights spent adventuring and finding all the trouble the corners of Johto and Sinnoh could afford them.
It was never meant to last, but that was okay; Hibiki's heart belonged to someone else, and Hikari had not yet discovered for whom her heart would race.
It was a mutual decision to break things off and stay friends. There were no hard feelings at all, and even though it ended, both of them still cherished the time they spent together. Even if it's no longer romantic, Hikari will always think fondly of Hibiki and hold a special place in her heart for him.
She hopes Silver has been good to him. It's what he deserves.
"He's been asking about you, you know," Jun says. "Nearly every hour since Cynthia told the heroes you're back. Is she okay? Is she still there? Does she need anything?" He chuckles. "I told him to just catch a flight over here already, but he says he doesn't want to bombard you."
Hibiki's a ball of chaotic energy and affection, but he could never bombard her. "Oh, please," she says with a grin on her face. "I'd love to see him."
Jun rolls his eyes, taking out his phone again. "Well, I know that, but let me tell him that you said it."
The rest of the evening passes peacefully. Cynthia fills her in on some more personal stuff on the champion's side of things: she's been roped into an international historians' guild to represent Sinnoh and help establish museums that will introduce each region's culture and history to other regions.
It doesn't take long at all for the conversation to pivot back into gossip territory again. Steven and Wallace got engaged last year, and their highly-anticipated wedding is planned for April, roughly ten months out. (Cynthia is, obviously, Steven's Best Woman.) As for Cynthia herself—
She clears her throat, and seeing Sinnoh's unshakeable champion with something of a blush on her face is quite the treat. "I'll be leaving to visit Champion Diantha in about two weeks," she says, not quite meeting Hikari or Jun's eyes. "It's strictly business, of course."
"But of course," Hikari says.
"What else would it be?" Jun asks with a wicked grin.
It's… nice. To be able to sit and make small talk and laugh with people she cares about, people whose voices and faces and demeanors she'd struggled to keep fresh in her mind, whose memories were almost lost to her with every battle, every attack, every near-death experience she had in Hisui.
She leans her head back against the pillow and listens to Jun's voice droning on about Sapphire's latest film.
For the first time in four years, sleep comes to her as an easy, welcomed thing.
Hikari wakes to the sound of hushed voices.
Her eyes open blearily. The heart monitor still pings on in the background, steady and rhythmic.
The first thing she catches sight of is red. Red hair, falling shaggily onto shoulders. Silver sits perched on the medical supply counter, a steaming cup of coffee clutched lightly in his hands. His head is turned toward Looker, who is sitting next to Cynthia in the chairs across the room from her. The man murmurs something about an investigation in Paldea, at which point Hikari promptly starts to tune him out.
Hikari's head lolls to the side, toward the chair placed directly next to her bed.
Hibiki stares back at her. His smile is exactly as she remembers it: like daybreak, a slow crest upon his lips until it shines fully, lighting up his whole face, and the room with it.
"Hey, you," he says, voice soft. He gently takes her hand in his own, squeezing it.
She squeezes back, relishing in the contact, the warmth. She laughs, choking on a sob as she does. "Hey back, you."
"Do you have any idea how weird it is to have you of all people scared of me?"
Silver bristles at her words, his carefully blank expression quickly twisting into a scowl. "I am not scared of you."
Jun scoffs at that, but is quick to take an exaggerated sip of his coffee and stare out the window when Silver fixes his glare on him.
Hikari sighs. "Silv," she says, "I'm not gonna shovel-talk you. Calm down."
"I am calm," the redhead mutters, but she still notices the way his shoulders relax marginally.
"I'm sure you've been great to Hibiki," she presses on. "He's very happy to be with you, you know."
The tips of his ears go as red as his hair. "You don't know that," he mumbles into his coffee.
"I do," Hikari argues. "I couldn't get him to shut up about you four years ago. I'm sure he's even more obnoxious now."
Silver huffs out a laugh despite his efforts to keep up his facade. Jun cackles, "You have no idea."
Hibiki chooses to poke his head in then. He surveys the room for a moment then grins, still overjoyed at the sudden turn of events that have brought Hikari home.
"The doctors cleared you," he announces as he steps into the room. "Your mom's signing you out right now, and I've got your stuff." He raises the beaten-up satchel, then a pristine plastic bag containing a shirt, some sweatpants, and a pair of shoes she hasn't worn in ages. "You okay to get up and change?"
Hikari nods— thanks to a couple days of rest, that bone-deep ache has mellowed out into something duller. Hibiki and Jun both hold out an arm for her, and she grabs onto each to hoist herself up from the bed.
Jun releases her, but follows closely behind her, one hand hovering by her hip and the other by her lower back. Hibiki still keeps his arm outstretched for her and carefully guides her toward the restroom. Silver hops off the counter and heads toward the restroom, holding the door open for her.
Hikari sighs heavily. "I can walk just fine."
"Sure you can," Hibiki agrees, but makes no move to let her go.
It's not until she's been standing in the restroom for a good two minutes that Jun and Hibiki conclude a slight and sudden gust of wind won't knock her over and leave her be. Hibiki sets the clothes and satchel down on a small table tucked away in the corner of the room and follows Jun out. Silver spares her one last glance before shutting the door.
With the click of a lock, Hikari is left by herself in total silence.
The girl in the mirror stares back at her, and it's jarring. In the past four years, she's only ever caught her reflection in the rivers and lakes flowing through Hisui, in polished armor and jewelry, in recovered artifacts that she'd kneeled in the river to help clean as she listened to a low voice recount the tale that told the origin of the object she—
She can't think about that right now.
She swipes the tears off her cheeks, captivated by the way her hands move in the mirror.
In between the laughter and steady conversation, she'd felt like an imposter. A skinwalker of sorts, parading around in the name and face of a girl her loved ones once knew, of a girl she no longer was and would never be again.
But the mirror doesn't lie, and it's still her.
Her mother's vibrant eyes, deep blue hair, and button nose. Her late father's sharp cheekbones and slightly-too-large ears. Her grandmother's beauty marks, small moles at the corner of her bottom lip and on her nose. The small knick in her eyebrow from when she'd split part of her forehead open on the playground, a stitch that never healed properly.
A pale white line running the length of her left cheek, from when an Ursaluna had charged at Rei and she intercepted without thinking. Bruised legs and scraped knees from wandering through Hisui in a daze and without rest.
With trembling hands, she sheds the hospital gown, letting it fall to the floor.
A bedraggled scar starting at her neck and running down and spanning the length of her chest. The ghost of Giratina's claws against her, the echoing of pillars crumbling and crashing to the floor around her.
She struggles to keep her breathing steady as she methodically slips on her clothes. Underwear. Bra. Sweats. Shirt. Socks. Shoes.
Akari, Cyrene's voice echoes in her head as she slings the satchel Laventon had gifted her over her shoulder. Mysterious girl, daughter to none, fallen from the sky and landed on Prelude Beach.
She presses a trembling hand to her hands, swiping away the tears as she turns away from the mirror, trying and failing to collect herself before facing the boys again.
She freezes when she catches a glimpse of something yellow on the table.
Hidden beneath the satchel and the clothes, sitting on the tabletop, are two bright yellow, dome-like hairclips. With them, a single black hairtie.
Gingerly, she picks them up, then turns back toward the mirror. She takes two strands of her hair and leaves them framing her face, then gathers up the top half of the rest of hair and ties it back.
Slowly, she lifts the hairclips and snaps them into place on the sides of her head.
It's her— every part, every experience, every life.
"Hikari," she whispers to herself. "Hero Dawn. Daughter of Johanna Berlitz. Born and raised in Twinleaf Town."
There's a knock at the door. "Everything okay in there?" Jun calls from the other side.
Hikari pulls the door open. The boys all immediately look alarmed at the still-drying teartracks, but she just smiles at them.
"Fine," she answers, scooting around them. "Let's get out of here already."
Hikari's back hits her mattress and she lets out a long, deep sigh.
Three weeks. It's been three weeks since she was returned to her home, and she's spent the last four days cooped up in Sandgem's police department, which Looker and his team have taken over for the foreseeable future, until they've wrung the full story of the past four years out of Hikari.
Today, she wrapped up the conflict with the Galaxy Team, the strife between the Diamond and Pearl clans, and the confrontation with Kamado and what they've come to call Origin Forme Dialga at the Temple of Sinnoh, currently Spear Pillar.
Tomorrow, she will have to talk about Volo.
Looker's team have been rather impressed with how easy it's been to interview her so far, but she knows it's from this point forward that everyone's going to have trouble. Getting more than just the necessary, objective facts from her is going to be like pulling teeth, and she desperately hopes Looker will come to her rescue and know when to tell his team to back off.
Even if he doesn't, he knows the others will; Hikari has permitted for her mother, Jun, Cynthia, Hibiki, and Silver to be present for all of her interviews. Partially because it's the story they all deserve to hear, and partially because it's something she'd prefer to not have to tell twice.
She'll ask Cynthia about getting the recordings sent to the heroes preceding her.
Hikari curls up on the bed, staring blankly at the rustic pokéballs sitting on her desk, and the satchel that has gone unopened and untouched.
She gets no sleep that night.
The salt in Canalave City's air opens up her lungs, and for the first time in three days, Hikari feels like she can breathe again.
As expected, recounting her experience with Volo, Giratina, the plates, and the Temple of Sinnoh had been grueling. Some agents had pressed her for the finer details— why did you choose to trust him? how did he gain your favor? didn't you see the signs?— but when she resisted against them, simply reiterating the facts of what happened in the face of their persistence, Looker was swift to shut them down, Gold and Silver quickly following suit the few times the agents didn't listen to him.
It's been a long week, but it's over. Her statements have been recorded, and in two week's time, an adjusted version will be made public, along with the formal announcement of her return home.
The transcripts of the full, unfiltered story have already been sent to the other heroes.
Hikari exhales, her shoulders slumping forward with it. The hard part is over. From here on out, it's far more formal things, like getting her Hisuian team federally registered under her trainer ID and making sure that the Hisuian pokémon are, in fact, tame enough to be used in battle in the modern age.
It'll take a bit of training and adjusting, but Hikari has faith in them. They've faced greater adversities together, after all.
Professor Rowan has been chomping at the bit to study her Hisuian team, and now that things have calmed down, she's eager to see her original team, her closest partners again. She figures she hasn't seen the last of Sandgem Town just yet.
But for now, she's happy to take a well-needed break with her mom and her friends.
The hotel room's patio door slides shut behind her, and Hibiki slides into view in her periphery, leaning against the balcony railing with her.
"Hey, you."
"Hey back, you."
"Long day?" He asks, staring out at the vast sea before them. If they were to get on a boat now, they'd be in Olivine City by sunrise.
"Long week," Hikari answers with a slight laugh.
"Yeah," Hibiki agrees.
Silence follows, but it's not the comfortable kind. The space between them is tense, charged with words Hibiki wants to say, yet doesn't.
"Whatever you want to say, say it," she says.
Hibiki frowns. "I don't want to pry. You didn't seem too keen on telling the agents earlier today."
Hikari sighs. "You're not the agents, Bibi," she murmurs, "you're one of my best friends."
He stays quiet for a long moment, studying her out of the corner of his eye. He drums his fingers against the railing, jittery in the way that he is when he's deep in thought.
He opens his mouth once, then closes it. Then, "I don't have the exact same questions as the agents."
Her lips quirk up the corners. She figured he wouldn't. Where the agents saw a stupid young girl whose first journey against Team Galactic had taught her nothing, Hibiki had seen her. "I'll answer them anyway."
Hibiki slumps over the railing, turning his gaze back toward the sea. "He meant a lot to you."
Something wells up in her throat. "That's not a question."
He hums, then asks, "What did he mean to you?"
"I don't know." Her voice is quiet, too quiet, soft and steady in a calculated way. She's so close to the edge, and she can't afford to teter off of it right before Hibiki's eyes. "I don't know. He— he meant something to me, though. In a way no one else has."
A wave crashes onto the shore. Wingull screech all around them.
"Did you love him?"
Sunlight catches off the receding waveline as it pulls back into itself, another wave already cresting in the horizon. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she's on the Cobalt Coastlands, laughing as Volo tries (and fails) to get his petulant, stubborn Togepi to eat the berries he'd roasted to perfection and prepared just the way it had liked and eaten it the night before.
With a trembling voice, she whispers, "I did."
"Did—" Hibiki's voice catches, like he's scared to ask, like he knows Hikari is terrified of him asking. "Do you think he loved you?"
Hikari shuts her eyes. There's a flash of red, searing hot pain across her chest as Ursaluna and Samurott get between her and Giratina, both pokémon howling out in fury.
She laughs, something bitter and loathing.
"I don't know, Bibi." The salt air burns her lungs as she sucks in a breath. "I don't know."
To her surprise, she is not the only guest Professor Rowan is hosting that week.
"Hikari, darling girl," the elderly man greets as he gets up from his seat, rushing to the lab's entryway. He wraps her in a firm hug, which she happily returns.
When they part, he squeezes both of her shoulders, eyes shining as he says, "It's so good to see you again."
She smiles. "I'm happy to be back." The statement rings truer each time she says it, to each person she says it to.
Movement over Rowan's shoulder catches her eye, and Hikari shifts slightly to see another man, probably around her age, sitting at the table Rowan had just risen from. His long, flowing green hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and his gaze is politely lowered to the documents scattered before him.
"Ah, where are my manners?" Rowan shakes his head, gently taking Hikari by the elbow and steering her toward the table. It's only once they've come to a complete stop that the man finally raises his gaze to meet hers. His blue eyes are guarded, yet kind.
"N, this is Hikari, better known as Hero Dawn." He turns to her next, nodding. "Hikari, this is N, my assistant for the past few months. He's visiting from Unova."
The name, though odd, is familiar once Rowan brings up Unova. She'd heard plenty about this man from Cynthia and Jun back at the hospital, when they were catching her up to speed on everything that had happened in other regions.
He's a very intelligent, promising young man. He's able to speak directly with pokémon, an invaluable skill, Cynthia had said. He's technically still being monitored by the International Police, but they're using it more as an excuse to have him help some of their colleagues and partners out. He was misguided once, but he's doing much better now.
He's also really hot, Jun had added, which earned him A Look from Cynthia.
Hikari smothers a snort. N is easy on the eyes, she'll give Jun that.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," N says, holding a hand out. His voice is firm, yet still holds a gentle quality to it. "I've heard much about you."
"Good things, I hope," Hikari answers as she takes the offered hand and shakes it. "But I'm pleased to meet you, too."
"I'm hoping N can help us get your Hisuian team acclimated to the modern day," Rowan explains. "I'm sure the most pressing matter will be aggression as a result of confusion, and N can certainly help sort that out right away given that— well, er—"
"He can speak to pokémon," Hikari finishes for him. Her polite smile slips into something a bit more genuine. "Cynthia told me all about it already. I'm very excited to see it personally."
N flushes and looks back down at the table. "It's not all that impressive."
"Nonsense," Rowan protests. "It is the most impressive thing I have ever seen."
Hikari files out of the back door and onto the training field, if only to spare N his dignity and pretend she doesn't see him practically melting into the table at Rowan's praise.
Once Rowan and N have joined her, one standing on either side, she opens up her bag. It's not the beaten leather satchel from Laventon, the one shoved in the back of her closet, that she hasn't been able to look at for months now. No, it's the soft pink one, the one her mother had gifted her to all those years ago when she first departed from Twinleaf Town.
She reaches in and takes out the first pokéball her hand makes contact with.
It's Samurott's, and Hikari feels her heart soften.
"Back in Hisui, the modern pokéball was nothing more than a prototype," Hikari explains. "Hand-crafted and widdled from wood."
Rowan leans forward with interest. "I presume they weren't common, then?"
"Hardly," she confirms. "Trainers— or, wielders, as they were called— also weren't a common thing, so they weren't as needed as they are today."
"What was that like?" N asks. "A land with few trainers, where the pokémon roamed free?"
Hikari purses her lips, thinking over her answer.
"It was brutal, I won't lie to you." She runs a thumb over the smooth wood of the pokéball prototype. "It wasn't really living in harmony so much as it was staying out of each other's way. The wild pokémon were dangerous and aggressive most of the time, so humans, naturally, were frightened of them." Hikari huffs out a laugh. "I was actually accused of being a witch because of how many I was able to catch and tame."
"It was a concept you were already familiar with," N says.
"Yeah, but it was completely alien to the people of the time." Hikari looks up, shaking away the beginnings of a bad memory before it can completely take hold of her. "This pokémon might be familiar to you, actually. It's no longer native to Sinnoh, but it was at one point, which has some implications about mass migration at some point in the past century or so."
Aiming the ball away from them, Hikari pops the latch on the prototype and flicks the top off. After a half minute of buzzing and whirring— likely from a month of disuse— light sluggishly pours out of the ball, slowly taking shape.
The light disperses, and Samurott lets out a loud battlecry.
N stares at it, mouth slightly ajar. "Is that… a Samurott?"
"Incomprehensible," Rowan mutters. Hikari bites back a laugh as he begins scribbling in his notebook.
Holding a hand out, Hikari takes a few slow, long steps forward. "Hey, sweetheart," she calls softly, capturing Samurott's attention. It lets out a low, distressed cry, and she coos gently at it. "I know, I know. It's different." She places her outstretched hand on its snout, and it lets out a huff of air and relaxes marginally as she begins petting it. "But you're okay. You're safe. I promise, we're safe."
With her other hand, Hikari motions for N to come forward. He mirrors her previous actions, ensuring his steps are slow and long, not making any movement too sudden. He stops once Samurott swivels its head toward him, tensing again.
"He's safe," Hikari says, still petting Samurott. "Safe. He's a friend. Friend, like Rei. Irida. Adaman." She beckons N even closer, then places the hand on his shoulder once he's close enough to her. "See? Safe. Friend."
Samurott snorts and shifts its eyes between them, but she knows her pokémon well enough to tell that it's no longer agitated. Tense and confused, yes, but definitely not going to lash out anytime soon.
She turns to N. "He's much calmer now. Go ahead and hold your hand out."
N does as he's told, slowly bringing his hand up to Samurott's nose. Her pokémon sniffs curiously for a long moment, then it snorts again before licking at N's palm.
Hikari giggles. "Well, he seems to have taken to you faster than he has others."
N smiles at that. With his other hand, he starts petting Samurott in the same manner she had.
"Hello, friend," he greets softly. "You must be very confused right now, hm?"
Samurott lets out another low cry, followed by a few sharp trills.
"I know," N says. "It feels like home, but doesn't look like it."
More trills and grunts follow, before Samurott finally settles down again.
N turns to Hikari. "He says that it's too empty and too noisy," N translates, "so it's probably best to keep him away from bigger cities for the time being, at least until he gets used to Sandgem and Twinleaf."
Hikari opens her mouth to answer— then promptly gets cut off by the most bizarre sounding snort she's ever heard leave Samurott's mouth.
Samurott is shocked— no, downright baffled. It's staring at N like he's just grown a second head right before its eyes. Her boy turns its head toward her, eyes wide, demanding some kind of explanation.
Hikari bursts out laughing, placing a placating hand on its head as she does. "He can understand you, baby," she huffs out between laughs. "He can talk to you."
Samurott stares at Hikari for another long minute, then turns to N. It lets out a low trill.
N's smile widens. "Yes, really."
As it turns out, Samurott is a little chatterbox. She's always known it to be one of her more vocal team members, but now that it knows it has an active audience, it just won't shut up. It doesn't help that N is more than happy to indulge it, hanging on to every last word and entertaining conversation with it.
Hikari's heart aches, but in the good way. Her boy is relaxed and jovial in a way she's never seen, could never hope to see back in Hisui.
At some point, they manage to wrangle Samurott into the small lake Rowan has on the lab's premises, and it trills happily as various water pokémon flock to it— after N, of course, explains that these pokémon are docile and not here to hurt or hunt it.
"Thank you," Hikari murmurs as the three of them watch Samurott alternate between bathing and playfully slashing at a Floatzel. "I don't think I've ever seen him this comfortable."
N smiles. "Of course. I'm happy to help in any way I can."
The pass the next few minutes answering Rowan's questions, Hikari and N collaborating to work out the differences between the Hisuian and Unovan breeds of Samurott.
"Fascinating, indeed," Rowan says as he shuts his notepad. "I'll have to talk to Juniper about this immediately. Perhaps once Samurott is more comfortable, we can get some footage to send over to her." He mutters something about cameras under his breath, before turning toward Hikari. "While we're at it, are there any other Hisuian variants that you have on you? I can reach out to the needed professors at the same time."
At the question, Hikari turns to N, eyes sparkling. "Cynthia told me your most trusted partner is a Zoroark."
N's eyes widen, and Rowan mutters, "Don't tell me they had Zorua and Zoroark in Hisui, too."
Hikari grins. She reaches into her bag, and unlatches the ultra ball she produces from within it.
"Star!" Hikari barks out across the field. "Leave those Wurmple alone, or so Arceus help me."
Her Staraptor bows its head in shame, quickly hopping off the log it was on and perching itself in the tree. Down below, Froslass and Zoroark snicker at it.
Despite her exasperation, Hikari had missed Staraptor dearly— along with Froslass, and the rest of her original team. When Rowan had called them all out of their pokéballs, she'd fallen to her knees and started weeping. Her team had flocked to her immediately, snuggling up as close as they possibly could and fretting over her.
For nearly an hour, Hikari had done nothing but hold them and sob. Torterra, Luxray, Staraptor, Gallade, Azumarill, and Froslass all laid by her, basking in her presence and letting out soft coos and trills to try and calm her down.
Once she'd cried out all the tears her body allowed her to shed, N joined her out on the field with some tea and poffins. With his help, she told her team where she'd been the past four years, and recounted a far more personal version of the tale she'd told to the International Police.
(She still hasn't talked too much about Volo, but she figures they'll hear about him through the grapevine that is her Hisuian team.)
She spent that night sleeping under the stars, dozing off on a patch of plush grass on Torterra's back. Her team nestled up to her, clinging to the trainer they'd spent so long without.
Getting her Hisuian team acquainted and integrated with her original team has gone smoothly. Staraptor, Froslass, and Zoroark all flocked to each other quickly, forming what Hikari has mentally dubbed the "mean girls club." Gallade and Lilligant took to sparring together, while Samurott and Azumarill could typically be found racing or lounging together in the lake. Torterra, Abomasnow, and Ursaluna all lazed around each other, and surprisingly, Goodra found easy companionship in its polar opposite, her overly-excitable Luxray.
Now one functional unit registered under her trainer ID, Hikari and her team are spending their last day at Professor Rowan's lab. They've collected enough data to compare notes with other professors on regional variants, and for the time being, nothing further is needed from her or her team.
Hikari isn't sure where she'll go from here. She figures it won't be very far— her mom still hugs her a little too tight when saying goodbye in the mornings.
The sun has just started to slip out of the sky, the beginnings of orange hues streaking the vivid blue, when Professor Rowan walks up to her, a file in his hand. She briefly glances at it, recognizes it as her copy of the studies done on her team, and stuffs it into her bag.
Rowan clears his throat. "He won't ask you outright, as he's still a bit concerned about overstepping boundaries, but N might appreciate getting dinner with you before you head back home today."
Hikari smiles softly. Over the past three weeks, she's become well-acquainted with N. She's imparted on him countless tales about her journey through Sinnoh and time in Hisui, and in turn, he'd told her about his favorite spots in Unova, as well as in Kalos and Hoenn, the other regions he'd visited before Sinnoh. They've already exchanged contact information in case anything comes up, but she's convinced he thinks it's only for research, and nothing else.
Hikari would like to be friends with him, so she has to set the record straight.
"Sure thing," she says, hiking her bag further up her shoulder. "I'm heading out right now, so I'll bring it up to him. Thank you for all your help, Professor."
"Of course, my dear," Rowan says, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at her. "It's been a pleasure to have you here. Remember, it doesn't have to be on official business for you to stop by."
Hikari laughs. "I'll hold you to that. I have twelve mouths to feed now."
Rowan chuckles. "Both a blessing and a curse, for sure."
Their embrace lasts a long moment, and if Rowan has to swipe some tears away at the end of it, Hikari pretends not to notice.
She slips back inside the lab, and spots N sitting at Rowan's desktop, churning out yet another extensive section of his report comparing Unovan and Hisuian Zoroark behaviors.
She knocks against the doorjamb, waving when he looks up at her.
"Hey," she says. "I was thinking of stopping at this really good katsu place in town before heading home. Wanna come with?"
N— when comfortable and not overthinking social boundaries and where he's welcome— is a fantastic conversationalist.
She thinks she's making good ground with him, breaking the ice and delving into topics that she's certain establishes them as friends— at the very least, someone he can talk to about stuff besides regional variants and ancient Sinnoh.
She's given him more of a candid take of what she experienced in Hisui, speaking to the friendships she shared with Rei, Irida, and Adaman, and how difficult things had been for her when she was thrown out of Jublife Village. She gets a bit cagey at that point— when talking about Volo and Cogita and the Ancient Retreat— but N doesn't press her for more details, which she appreciates.
At some point, she must withdraw enough when talking about her time collecting the plates with Volo that N steps in and changes the topic to his time as Team Plasma's King. It's all rather dismal, hearing about how his father figure had purposefully secluded him from society and raised him solely around abused pokémon in order to shape him into the perfect puppet with the ideals necessary to capture Zekrom's attention.
They've found company in each other's shared misery of betrayal, it seems.
As he speaks, she notices he still holds lots of regrets, despite how much time has passed and how many people have told him how far he's come, including those he'd wronged in the past, like Alder or Professor Juniper's assistant, Bianca.
Even though others have already forgiven him, he's yet to forgive himself, even though his actions have spoken to his true character without Ghetsis's influence, and show that when one looks at him, and truly sees him, he's more than worthy of a second chance.
Hikari looks at him, and this is what she finds; when N had his outlook, his life’s work shattered, he'd kneeled down on the ground and bloodied his hands, cutting them against the broken pieces of himself as he worked to fit them back together into something whole, something new. A noble feat, she thought, for there was no guarantee that the pieces would fit together in such a way. When N lost everything, he chose to explore the world and find meaning in it again, and discover his place within it.
When Volo lost everything, he allowed the pieces of himself to be scattered into the wind, haunting every crevice of Hisui and whispering his poisonous words into the air. He’d been everywhere and nowhere at once, and she’d nearly uprooted all the region trying to collect him and put him together again herself.
Quietly, voice barely above a murmur, N says, "I've been thinking about using the new research project as an opportunity to go back to Unova." He says it like a secret, like it's a wish he shouldn't speak aloud. Like he doesn't deserve it.
Hikari rests her chin in her palm and gazes wistfully at him. “And what will you do when you return to Unova?”
“Ah,” he starts, then cuts off sharply. His brow furrows as he mulls over her question, but he remains fixated on the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup. Using what little liquid remains, he swirls them around, studying the patterns closely. “I am not entirely sure yet. I may ask Professor Juniper if she needs someone to help with the report or help care for all the pokémon caught for the pokédex.” He sets the cup down, moving his gaze down to his fingers, now restless as they tap against each other. “Perhaps I will open a care center for pokémon that have been treated unkindly by their trainers. I have a lot of options.”
There’s something else; it lingers on the tip of his tongue, it’s charged in the way he fidgets with his fingers and won’t meet her gaze. So, she encourages him. “And?”
He looks up suddenly, and there’s a mix of shock and guilt on his face, as though he’s a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He flushes suddenly, averting his gaze back down to the tea leaves.
She’s never seen N this bashful before, but it’s quite endearing.
“I’d like to see Touko again,” he whispers, and even softer, he adds, “if she’ll let me.”
She smiles, amused. “Whatever makes you think she wouldn’t want to see you?”
“It’s unreasonable,” he says, leg bouncing erratically under the table, “to think she would wait this long for me.”
Hikari hadn’t. No, she hadn’t waited, she’d searched every corner of Hisui again and again and again, until Arceus itself tore her from the land to give her some rest.
Hikari has not met Hero White, has not met Touko. But she has met N, and she thinks he’s someone worth waiting for.
She hums and shakes her head. “No,” she says, and lightly puts her hand over his. He looks up, startled, but doesn’t pull away and allows himself her comfort. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable at all.”
When he doesn't say anything, Hikari adds, "You're a good person, N. I'm sure she knows that. She'll see it."
"I wasn't good to her," he blurts out. "We were always at odds with each other. We were rivals— enemies, even."
Hikari laughs at that. "Sometimes, those are the people that know us best."
If Touko is anything like her, none of that would matter, anyway. If Touko is anything like her, she would have seen past N's walls and glimpsed the tender parts of him in the cracks, the most vulnerable, truest parts. If Touko is anything like her, she would cling onto those parts, those moments, and ignore the rest, for better or worse.
For her sake, she hopes Touko is nothing of the sort. For N's sake, she hopes she is.
Because N is remorseful. N has changed. N is worthy of a second chance from the person he has wronged the most, a chance some never give themselves the opportunity to see.
"At least consider reaching out to her," Hikari encourages. "I'm sure Alder, Juniper, and Bianca would all be willing to put in a good word for you." She winks at him. "I could even shoot her message if you want. I should introduce myself to her soon, anyways."
N huffs out a laugh. "No, that's not necessary at all." At her raised brow, N relents. "I will consider it, though."
She smirks at him from behind her glass of water. "You better."
The night ends with a brief hug goodbye, and a promise to message each other frequently— and, yes, about things other than Professor Rowan's research.
The summer breeze is mild against her skin as she makes the trek back to her house. N had offered to walk her back, but she declined; armed with as many formidable pokémon as she was, she could certainly handle herself.
She appreciates the gesture, though.
She thought she was ready for this.
There's not much of note in the satchel that returned with her through the rift, though some of it does surprise her— not because it's particularly important or alarming, but because she spent her last couple of years in Hisui in such a daze that she doesn't remember putting it in her satchel or deeming it an essential. There are some shriveled up mint leaves, loose scraps of paper with notes scribbled on them, potions, a few empty pokéball prototypes, berries, a sun stone, fish bait, and—
And a leather cord, long and held in the shape of a loop by a clasp.
A necklace.
A wave of nausea hits her, the sudden intensity of her emotions making her sick with rage, with shame, with hurt.
Hikari throws the satchel into the corner of the room, turning away from it as it smacks into the wall and falls to the floor, some of its contents spilling out of it.
She drags her feet back to the bed and faceplants down onto it.
As she falls asleep, she dreams of ruins and rumbling laughter lost to the wind.
Volo can't keep the smugness out of his voice as he asks, "Having some trouble there?"
Akari grins, all sharp edges and frustration. "Not at all," she bites out, even as she continues to visibly struggle with getting the pickaxe to pierce the rock she's been chipping away at for the past several minutes. Several sixty or so minutes.
(She doesn't want to admit that she's been at this for an hour.)
"Certainly, not at all," the blonde agrees, and Akari has half the mind to swing the pickaxe around and see if she has better luck chipping away at his skull. "But I'd be a rather awful merchant if I didn't offer my favorite customer an easier way to get the job done, now wouldn't I?"
With a sigh, she lets the pickaxe clatter to the floor next to her. Despite the wariness she's always reserved for Volo, she asks, "What is it?"
He smiles, that thinly-veiled serpent's smile he always gets when she indulges him. "I'm so glad you asked! I happen to have a very faithful companion at my side who can have that ore harvested for you in no time at all."
When she's only met with a silence, Akari presses, "But?" When his pleasant smile stretches a bit mischievously at the corners, she sighs. "What's the catch? The price?"
Volo's eyes widen with faux innocence. "Must there be a cost involved? Can I not help out a dear friend and valued customer?"
"No," she deadpans. "Now what do you want?"
"Half the harvest," Volo says mildly. His expression darkens a bit, tinged with irritation. "I need proof of the efforts of my labor to justify this expedition."
Akari chuckles heartily in his face. "Aw, Ginter talk to you again about not pulling your own weight and being a bum?" She laughs harder as his smile falls into a full scowl. She'd accidentally let her mask slip a bit a few months back and ended up having to tell him that "bum" was a colloquial term where she was from, and explaining what it meant.
He hadn't been very amused by it then, either.
She turns back to the ore, considering. In an effort to distract her from the rising tensions between her the Galaxy Team, all thanks to Kamado, Adaman had recruited her to go to the Coronet Highlands and gather materials for a gift he planned to make for Irida's upcoming birthday. He'd never said how much he'd need, and certainly he didn't need more than half it, given that the entire rock was larger than the size of her head.
"You've got a deal," Akari says, holding one hand out in offering. Volo grins— a bit smug as always— and takes her hand firmly in his shaking on it. "Now where's this companion of yours?"
To her surprise, Volo reaches into his backpack and pulls out an ultra ball. She's never seen him use one before; in battle, he's only ever used Togepi, his companion pokémon that roams around freely, or a Gible that he'd been looking after for Ginter for a while.
So when he unlatches the ultra ball and a fully-grown, strong and healthy Garchomp comes out of it— well, she's a little more than bewildered. The sight of the dragon pokémon standing beside the merchant tugs at the corners of her mind, reminding her of a different person from a distant time, but the impending headache she always gets when she thinks too hard about where she came from prompts her to dismiss such thoughts with a shake of her head.
"Well," Akari starts, eyeing the perfectly poised Garchomp, "this will certainly make things easier."
They end up spending the afternoon together. With one swipe of its clawed arm, Garchomp has the ore broken in two clean, even halves. The pokémon refuses to hand the ores over, though, huffing at any attempts Volo or Akari make at grabbing it and curling in on itself, carefully chiseling away at the outer layer of sediment covering the gleaming pink gemstone inside.
"She takes much pride in her work," Volo says as they prepare dinner. She's roasting berry skewers while he meticulously prepares the stew he usually makes when they're caught up together at dinnertime. She's hounded him countless times for the recipe, but every time she asks, he just gives her a close-eyed smile and says something about a good businessman never sharing his secrets.
Akari spares a glance at Garchomp, then grins. "Fine by me. Makes things easier for Adaman, anyway."
Volo hums noncommitally, but any feigned disinterest is lost when he asks, "The Diamond Clan have you running errands for them again?"
"Irida's birthday is coming up, and Adaman's got his hands tied with clan head business." With a shrug, she adds, "At least this way, whatever he makes for her will also be from me."
"A good deal, indeed," Volo agrees as he pours a bit of the stew in the bowl Akari had fished out of her satchel and handed off to him. She takes it eagerly, relishing in the warmth and flavor of the broth as it coats her tongue. After a few moments of enjoying their meal in silence, he asks, "Do you think he'll need all of it?"
Akari pointedly eyes the half of the ore that Garchomp has set down. Even with the sediment removed, it's still a sizable chunk.
"I doubt it, unless he's planning to finally confess his undying love for her," she mutters, to which Volo huffs out a laugh.
"Well, come find me if Adaman lets you keep the scraps," he says, expression alight with whatever thoughts he leaves unspoken. "I'll turn them into something useful for you."
Akari scoffs playfully, raising an eyebrow at him. "And how do I know you won't just run off with them?"
"You wound me with your suspicion, dear." In the dying light of the setting sun and flickering flames before them, half his face is obscured in shadow and his eyes gleam, almost golden from the way they glow. Akari clutches her bowl a little tighter in her hands as she lifts it back up to her mouth, suddenly feeling a little shy.
"After all, haven't I been nothing but honest with you?"
Two weeks later, there's light knocking at her locked bedroom door as she scurries around her room in a hurry, nearly tripping over the various articles of clothing she'd tried on then promptly discarded.
(She desperately needs a new wardrobe. Anything she hadn't physically outgrown, she'd outgrown with age.)
"I don't mean to rush ya, 'Kari," Hibiki's muffled voice sounds from the other side of her door, "but we're running just a little bit behind schedule."
They need to be in Hearthome City in an hour— today, she'll be meeting the new heroes crowned during her disappearance. Today, she'll reunite with the ones that came before her.
Hikari winces as she shoves an earring in too harshly in her haste. "Be right out! Give me like two minutes!"
After fastening the other earring in places, she steps in front of her mirror, resettling parts of her outfit. She's tucked a white sleeveless blouse with some frilling around the collar into a sleek black skirt, which she's matched with knee-length white socks and black mary janes. The outfit is tied together with her signature yellow hair clips, and a long pink coat that she'd been too happy to have back in her hands.
She purses her lips. Something's missing. She looks professional and cute at the same time, yes, but—
"Hikari!" Jun shouts from outside her room. "I'm sure you look very nice and pretty, now let's get out of here!"
She huffs out a laugh. "Coming!"
As she snatches her bag off her chair, something in the corner of her room reflects the sunlight streaming in through her window, and catches her eye.
She stops in her tracks and stares at the object, considering.
Hibiki knocks on the door again. "'Kari, come on—"
Before he or Jun can continue whining, the door swings open, and Hikari's smile seems only a bit strained at the edges.
"Sorry, sorry," she says, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. "I promise Star is a fast flyer. Let's go!"
The three of them tredge down the stairs and toward the front entrance, where Silver is nodding along to something her mom is saying. When the woman turns around, her voice breaks off breathlessly, and a hand flies up to her mouth as tears rush to her eyes.
Hikari's eyes widen. "Mom?"
Johanna shakes her head, swiping at her tears. "No, it's nothing, I just—" Her voice cracks a bit. She holds open her arms, waving Hikari over with one hand. "Come here."
As she slips into her mom's embrace, the woman cards a careful hand through her hair whispering, "Oh, my little light."
When she finally releases her, Johanna reaches up and takes Hikari's necklace between her fingers. "This is gorgeous," she says, awed. "Where did you get it?"
Hikari's voice seizes somewhere in her throat. When her mom looks up at her expectantly, she manages to choke out, "Gift. From, uh, a friend."
Hibiki's eyes burn holes into the back of her head.
Johanna scans her face, taking in her reservation, and hums as she lets the necklace go. "Well, your friend has good taste." Had. "I've kept you long enough. Be sure to text me updates, and you three!" She looks each of the guys dead in the eye. "Keep my little girl safe!"
Jun beams. "Always will, Miss Berlitz!"
Hikari is quickly swept out of the house, out into the daylight, where the four of them quickly call out a trusted team member and prepare for departure.
Up in the sky, on Staraptor's back, the wind whips Hikari's hair and jewelry back and behind her.
The teardrop morganite stone catches in the sun, refracting pink light all around her.