At the time, you had no idea that Adrian would defect to Rocket.

You also had no idea that Thomas was going to do what he did and eventually disappear from the public’s eye.

Despite the fact that the world you now live in is bathed in shades of black, white, and gray—you try to make the most of it. Since the line between life and death had been out of balance for some time now, you suspected that the partnership with Yveltal would only be for a short time.

…oh, how wrong you were, Laurence. How fucking wrong you were.

The destined ‘point’ where Articuno would become the one that you represent, at least in this world, was given to someone else—and that someone else is the person you were least expecting.

(But also, it frightened you. Because it was someone you deeply cared for. Someone ţ̵̳̦̊̆̋͆̀h̷̦̯̘̥͇̓̃a̶̟͖̻͎̙̔̍t̶̼͂̓̑̐͝ ̶̛͚͕̆ŷ̷̳̜̲̦̔ó̴̱̙͙̠̈͆̒̀ṳ̷̿ͅ ̸̘̯̱̬́l̴̝̍̇̃̐͠o̸͔͓͗̿͒̔̇v̷̺̈̓͂̈́͋e̴̺̫̞͔̓̇͗͝d̸͙̿̓̍͑̚.

A̵̡̰͙̲̤̽̋ṋ̷̢̳͚͎̜͚̤̝̿̿̊̆̉͝d̸̙̠͕̞͔̲͖̯̽̕ ̷̳̠͇̳͂̔́̑̋͘s̷̢̨̳̬̘͚̹̺͊̌̏͒̆͑͝͠t̶̨̛̫̻̻̙̲̩̐̂̐͜ị̷̗̯͓̮̇̑̈́̓̍̑̒͘l̸̨̧͚͓̺̣̟̞͛̊̆́͆̾͂̈́̌l̶̢̛͕̳̟͈̪̬ ̷̢̰̼̼̳̳̍͜d̵̡̯̹̪͇̐̅͗͌̐͛̽͗̚o̷̱̪͕̓̌̏͑̀̈́͋̿̊.)

Instead of meeting with Ḙ̶̛̞̜̗̭̗̂̉̋͑̈́v̶̱̙͈̹͠ā̶̬̋̍̓n̴͙̝̮̼̐̑̊ the moment you were chosen to be A̴͍̩̋̀͋̄̎ŗ̵̼̭̼̋͒͜t̵̰͍̹͍͍̾͗̑͠ḭ̸̩͚͈͐c̵̬̋̍͆͒͆̕u̵̧͈̲̻̓ͅn̵̡͆ö̸̲̱̰́͝’̴͖̩̿͝ś̷̫̦̲̲̒͛̾̎ human champion, the meeting between you two happened much earlier than it did; it was still a hot, blustery summer evening, you remember.

Crashing through the back door of The Stray, looking for him despite lacking most color perception—you were relieved when you saw him—that ȟ̷̳̜̳̙̜͙e̴̖̦̩̅̑́̃̍͝ was just as drab and colorless as the rest of the world around him.

However, when ȟ̷̳̜̳̙̜͙e̴̖̦̩̅̑́̃̍͝ told you about what happened in S̵̢̼̺̳͕̈h̷̟̩̦͙̓ͅõ̴̡̢̹̊̀͠a̶̢͉͈͈̥̅͝͝l̸̡̧͇̼͓͋̑̈́͌̽̿͜ ̴̧͙̈́͂C̸̬̊̍ͅä̶̺̩̖̠͎v̷̝́̏̂͝ȩ̶̼͎͓́͂̍͌͂̓ and what went down, you had to ask Thomas if you could borrow his ‘eyes’ for some time, just to confirm that ȟ̷̳̜̳̙̜͙e̴̖̦̩̅̑́̃̍͝ was indeed blessed by the one that had previously been with Senri…

You wonder what happened to him.

For a few moments, you can see h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀ in color, a wispy, icy blue surrounding the warm sunset hues that encompass him, before the colors fade out and your world returns to the lack of color existing around it.

For now, you breathe out, you’re both a̸̞͇͌͌͘ͅl̷̡͖̮̱̪̟͚̬̋̇ͅi̶͎͉̙̙̠̥̩̗͑͒̈́́̀̌͠ͅv̷̡̢̨̪͈̓͂͂̒͆̐e̵̞̰̟̖̬̫͉̜̎͛̿͠.

It doesn’t take long before word of the Three-Day War reaches you, and you’re summoned to Evergrande for the meeting.

This is where you get your first shock—that the region’s champion at the time, one ALEXANDER STONE was literally a blinding neon-flashing blur amidst the haze of the grays that your field of vision could pick up.

Nobody would understand why you would always look over at the Champion out of concern, borderline alarm—and you feared that nobody else in the room would understand the extent of your shared blessing, and so you kept quiet about it; for the moment.

Then the actual day of battle arrives, and you’re thrown towards Meteor Falls; watching as the rest of the League-affiliated people disperse… some of them starting to ‘regain’ their color as they depart.

(You hope that it’s not the last of them, though they pale in comparison to what ALEXANDER STONE was, a literal screaming beacon of color. There was also someone else, among either the Mauville or those at the Falls, whose color was starting to bleed in rather heavily, yet you couldn’t remember who it was…)

And for all the time you were fighting for the survival of the Hoennian race against the Megalopolans, you hoped that no harm would befall h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀, especially considering that you both owned a Type:Null at the time, before all the Nulls in existence back then went berserk and forcibly evolved.

For a few, painful moments, you wondered if ȟ̷̳̜̳̙̜͙e̴̖̦̩̅̑́̃̍͝ was alright, because you’d almost gotten mauled by Amir, your then-recently-evolved Silvally…

When you traversed through ‘time’ and ‘space’, watching multiple events from the gathered history unfurl—and reliving those memories all over again—you couldn’t help but look over at h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀ surreptitiously.

Were you seeing things, or was there color slowly trickling back around h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀ when you were together?

This was also the time you first met skyler dross, landlubber and pirate wench, a victorious captain heroine from the Lilycove war front—and you all made the strange traverse through ‘space’ together; though the two of them riding on the back of the Yveltal you had with you back then was… an entire trip in and on itself.

For some time after this happened, though, you would not leave ȟ̴̤͕̪i̵̜̣̩͔͖̍̑͘s̷̨͖̰̪̪͑̉̔͛͆͜ side, because more and more color was coming back… and you knew that you had to stop h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀ from going on that journey he was planning.

However, it would all be in vain…

When you make the trip into the Desert Ruins with skyler dross, angelo vestri and Razz Kingsman, there’s something. Something bothering you about how one of the three was half a blur of color when you started the journey.

However, the moment the party’s broken apart—and the lovebirds are off doing their own thing while you’re traveling with Razz, the blur of color accompanying you solidified into something almost too solid…

Something was going to happen down here, and unlike how the original scenario played out in the Ruins of Regirock, you end up losing Alpha the Lucario of all Pokémon, instead of Razz losing his own Pokémon companion to the falling debris.

Somehow, you had a feeling that Yveltal—not the one that was accompanying you, the actual one was displeased at the fact that you had prevented a death from happening, and instead ended up sacrificing one of your own companions instead.

…shit, that was going to hurt. Alpha was the very first Pokémon you managed to catch on your own. That would.

That would make two Pokémon that died by your hand.

Everything else goes by in a blur; and despite meeting Katherine Fairburne and Adrian Malcolm down in the ruins, the way that the other had obviously hid his Rocket affiliation had fucking cheesed you.

Some things never changed, despite being in an entirely different universe.

The first meeting—it resolves, as much as you remember it happening. However, there are a few differences that you notice, which alerts you that you’re definitely not in the world that you come from.

The most telling one being, that instead of seeing Senri dead once all the non-signatories had been sent out—

It’s h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀.

Him.

Ë̸̛̘̻͐͛͆̈̄͐͝͝͠v̴̱͎͔̰̲̜̱̰͇́̔͂̅̒͘͜a̶͓͉̯̍̊͂ṉ̵̡͎̦̼̜̣͔̻͙̎̉̀͂͊͂̒͌̓̑ ̶̧̫͛͐̅̐̕f̷͖̮͈͓̰̤͚̥̹͎̊͌̓́̽͝ư̶̢̰͇̞̜̒̔͛̇̍̊͠c̶̖̝̗̻̬̭̞̞̞͊̽͌̽͒͌̚̕ķ̴͚̬̣͙̣̗̞̩̳̫̿̌͒̃͗͝ỉ̸̡͔͉͇͓̪̯̭͚͕̑ͅn̴̢̟̩̱̺͈̮͓͎͔͊̋ͅǧ̴̡̙̗ ̶̧͖͎̼͙̫̺̺͍̺̾͆̔͂̓̂̉̊̓̆͝F̵̡̢̳͇̞͈͍͍̗̀͛̑à̴ͅd̶̛̛̗̳̤̞̖̤̙͋̅̊̚͝͠ȩ̸̡̖̯̭͒̈̈͌̀͆́̈́r̵̡̛͓͈̀͆̿̈́͠.

The one person you would destroy the world for, if but to keep h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀ happy at whatever cost.

You struggle to keep yourself quiet, the way that the footage is played on screen—the grisly remains of… you can’t even bear to watch, to listen as the manner of h̶̦͍͐i̸͇͉̺̙̍͑ș̶͙̝͒ death is discussed in a clinical, scientific matter…

The grief overwhelms you, but you can’t lash out. You have to keep silent and watch as what’s left of t̸̲͉͍̙̏h̷̲̪̗́̃̽e̶͇͂͑ ̷͉͌̕o̴͍̜̽́͝n̵͉̣̿̓͝e̶͕̳̬͘͜ ̷̨̥̰́͆̈́ͅy̴̻͆̅̚͘ǫ̶̨̘͔͝ụ̵̰̖͓̊̈̉ ̶̗̈ḥ̶̪̯̉̄͌̌ê̴̟͓̩ľ̴̡͇̼d̵̝̺͉͛̇ ̵̹͋̌d̶̨͍̝̕ē̷̺̻̇͑ä̷̬̹͇̜́̓̎͝r̵̳̂̃ is reduced to nothing but a cold, frozen c̸͓̗̊́̋͝o̴̦̳̽r̴̙͐̆̾̏p̵͍̈͛̃́s̴̜͚̠̋͗͑͆̚ĕ̷̡̺̣̘ that would be hauled away for further study by the League’s scientists.

It’s too cruel to think about.

…but what else can you do?

Absolutely ṉ̷͖̄̄͝ǫ̶̬̞͓̠͋̂̿̈t̴̼̾h̴͚̥̲͖͋̽͝ḯ̵̞n̴̢̲͓͓̪̳̕͜ģ̵̡̪̳̻̦̪̳̈͛̓͌́̿́̅̽ͅ.

It doesn’t take long before you’re back—back in the same plane of existence.

Back to where things are as they mostly should be.

After seeing h̵̥̠̭͓͓̅͑͂͂̀͠ī̴̯͈͈̇͘ṁ̵̢͖͊̆̾̀ dead, at the hands of the cause you were least expecting—you couldn’t go any further.

A timeline where you were both Avatars was alright at first, sure, but…

Sometimes, things just had to stay the way they were.

And so you would make your return.

B̵̧̰̖͚̒͒̏͝a̴̡̅ċ̸ͅk̸̭͍͔̯̊̉ ̶̪̝͌͆́t̷͙̥̲̆͑̚͝ò̷͍̺͎̬̐̒ ̵̥̯̹͛͊̊w̴͍̺̻͓̐h̶̼͐̅ě̴̩̲̬͎́͌ř̸̦̿e̵͔̖̭̾͂̃ ̸͉̤́̚͝͝t̷͚̫̗̿̋̊̚ĥ̸̼̤̙̕͝é̸͈̖̯̐ ̵̻̰̈́̽̈̋͜ẁ̴̯̜̐̀ą̴̛̦̭̓̊̎y̶̢͈̮͂̊͝ ̷̬͎̪̈́̈́ẗ̴͓̻͕͍́̌̀͠h̵̛̺͎̽i̸̧̘̊n̵̡̦͓͑͝͝g̴̡͍̥̑̉s̵͕̻̭̎̉̂͘͜ ̶͔̞̙̖̾ẁ̶̥̲͓̟̐̅͝e̸̛̘͇̼͈͐̅͘r̵͈͐ĕ̶͈͙ ̸̺̰̓́͛a̶̹͝s̴͖̆ ̴̨̘̹̋t̶̡̥̞͈̾ḧ̷̤̳́̓ê̶͚̰̒ỷ̴̦͚̐ ̷̪̩̦̾̃ṡ̸̗̝͇̈́̑h̷̨̙̽̉o̷̯̜̣̞̾̈ŭ̷̫̝̣̆̈́̓ľ̷̝̫̟͐͆͠d̶͔̠̉͝,̸͎͜͝ ̷͕̯̜̚ẻ̶̢̝̘v̷̥̱̫̺̀͂͊e̶̹͊̑n̶̡͋̂ ̵̗̻͕̤̃ḯ̸̛̌̉͜f̷̧̖̩̿͗́ ̵̤̙̔͠y̴̨̪̒́̂͠o̴͙͋ú̸͓̯͠ ̵̜̭̅͊̚d̵̲̳͈͊́̀̂i̵̠̦̞͌d̷̔͊̇ͅn̵̙͕̪̆’̸̡̻̉̓̄t̵͔̰͍̑͒ ̵̛͓͓͖̭̈̑͊w̷̮̲̲̙̐ä̸͍̜́̐ñ̶͍̱͠t̸̜̄͝ ̸̺̳̬͌̈́̂ͅt̷͔̖̽o̵̦̼̹̖͊.̷̮̱̊́̿͠