It's insane to think that an admin, one of Rocket's highest-ranking members, lived in what could only be described as utter squalor.

Especially since that admin controlled the flow of more capital in a day than Navy would likely see in his lifetime. Money flowed through his hands like water, and yet he could grasp none of the wealth for himself. It explained why he lived in an apartment above a laundromat instead of in an actual domicile.

A lock clicks and the door slides open, revealing Howard in a baggy sweater with the words CASTELIA ARCHAEOLOGY EXPO - 2018 written in front.

"Oh. It's you." Howard squinted at his watch, which dances in front of him. From his gait, it's clear that he just pulled an all-nighter. "Come in."

The door widened to allow the sheriff in. He didn't seem surprised by Navy's disguise. Simple but effective. Losing a hat, cutting your hair, wearing sunglasses... It was enough.

The inside of the apartment was straight out of a museum. Vases, old maps, and skeletons fill the halls and corners. The living room is mostly buried in maps, particularly of Hoenn itself. On it is a red 'x' slightly north of Dewford.

"Take a seat." Howard sat down himself. "What's up?

---

Michael Navidson

"Yeah, I do." A shadow passed over the admin's face, as if Navy's reaction bothered him. It quickly vanished as the admin's expression became neutral again. "Got a problem with that?"

He would not be judged on this. Not by Navy. Archaeology had been his passion and had dictated every movement up until this point. It was what allowed him to put up with GIDEON GRAVES's successes and Remiel Calcifet's victories. It allowed him to deal with the mockery of his colleagues and the violence they inflicted upon the world.

It was his passion and his joy, his love and his shame, his scorn and his contempt. It was the connection between him and Navy, their shared cowboy hat in the shape of a curse.

It was something Howard would wish unto nobody.

"You ask dangerous questions. If Rocket knew I was with you, my head would roll. I don't plan to move against Cillian Quinn." The name hung in the air like a guillotine, threatening to fall down and lop off their heads. After a moment, Howard shrugged and laughed. "Why the hell not?"

Information was meant to be shared. Rocket. League. It didn't matter. He'd tell Dahlia and Walsh the same information if both asked it of him. Keeping secrets was not in the best interest of mankind.

"Yeah, Calyrex has proclaimed an imperial decree on Dynamax within Sootopolis. None can go against it. I figured the same happened at Ever Grande. It's hard to hide a tree, Navy."

---

Michael Navidson

"If you did, I have no doubt that the League would be able to kill Calyrex. To do so would force us to do the same. Eternatus wins in that case. It will do nothing as we set the stage for its return. It will thank us."

The constant escalation of stakes between the League and Rocket was an unending cycle. It was what introduced Dynamax to the region to begin with. The Power Spot that once sat within Regice's bosom now sat squarely in the custody of Ever Grande. There had been a brief moment where that Power Spot could've been stolen, but there had been no time.

It would never be recovered now.

"You'll have to give a heads up in that case. Calyrex cannot die. We've lost too many pieces in the battle against Eternatus. We have Regice and two Calyrex running around for the battle against Eternatus. Fated enemies, not whatever Rocket and League scrapes off the floor."

He was glad the Elite Four member decided to smoke out the window. That way, he didn't need to throttle Navy for ruining his exotic maps.

"I have pull, but I'm being watched."

By who, he didn't know. It could've been declan walsh hiding in his miasma, it could've been Naomi Sato with her precious hive of Unown. She was God's accomplice, and the divine did not enjoy being fooled. As Navy offered his solution, the admin let out a laugh.

"Rustboro is close enough. Dewford is risky. You've pissed off Cillian Quinn something fierce. You and your frog."

---

Michael Navidson

"The king will remember."

The words are spoken with absolute confidence in a Pokémon he had only met once. There was no bond forged in a dream between the historian and Galar's king, but the confidence is there. The respect is frayed, marred from the Calyrex's missing memories and its late appearance into this war.

No, perhaps it was early. Eternatus had not yet moved.

"You don't need memories to do what you must. Even if Calyrex doesn't feel them up here... He tapped his head with a finger. "He'll feel them here." He tapped his chest.

"Memories are eternal, whether or not they're carved into the flesh of the weak—of the mortal and dying—or the eternal. The world remembers, Navy. Galar remembers the scars of that war, even if the people have forgotten. Hoenn remembers as its golem rouse." The admin leaned back in his chair and exhaled, interlinking his fingers. A familiar nervous tap fills the room.

Upon the mention of the wolf, Howard's eye twitches.

"An acknowledgement from on high?" Howard barked a laugh. Navy was a man of action. His war in Granite Cave was proof of that, and his friendship with Kyle was something that Howard never understood. "That's good news. You gonna punch it in the jaw?"

The question is so casual, it was like Howard had just asked if Navy was thirsty.

---

Michael Navidson

"Tell me about it. I need a vacation." A vacation he'd never take, given the pile of work he'd find on his desk when he came back. The weight of responsibility did not allow for a spotter. "Here. Let me make some tea. War is thirsty work."

The clink of glasses came from the kitchen as Howard plucked choice tea leaves from Johto and Kanto. A war had burned both to the ground, but the desire for luxury goods had caused them to spring back. People loved their vices.

Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki 's gift to Howard saw constant use. Howard wondered if Tsubaki would find it amusing that her gift to him was now being used by Navy. The circle of life and the accumulation of experiences, brought forth by their secret venture into the Deep Sea without Navy knowing.

It was their secret. It was the secret that Navy would never be allowed to know.

"Fighting a war, probably." A cup slid under Navy's nose. "Drink. Tell me about Galar's dogs."

---

Michael Navidson

It was a lot to take in. Navy living in the dream of Galar, experiencing the fulfillment of living in a world without war. It must've been wonderful to inherit such a pristine arcadia. Not only that, but to hear Navy describe a Galarian folktale was something of a shock.

Yet there was one fact that stood above all as worthy of Howard's attention.

"You fucked Melody Miro?" The admin took a sip from his tea cup. He swished the liquid around as he looked at it for an abnormally long time. "Neat."

That was more unbelievable than the dream of Galar, if Howard thought about it. It was hard to imagine Navy with kids besides Tsubaki. The two were practically inseparable in Dewford, except when the Ultra Deep Sea was involved. The passion of the youth conflicted with the caution of age.

Except in the dream, everyone had grown old.

"I've heard the story of the Galarian hero. You're saying they're Pokémon?" It was possible. The idea of a human vanquishing great evil seemed impossible without great strength. Navy's explanation would fit, but it filled the admin with melancholy.

Humanity had not stood on its own. They had relied on Pokémon.


"Stories can grow blurry over time. Old history is based on stories that nobody bothered to chronicle." Howard scratched his chin. "They are the genes of our species. Do not underestimate their power."

Silence.

"I'm sorry about your kids, man." Howard looked down. "I should've been there to help."

---

Michael Navidson

Navy had forgotten about Hoenn.

If that wasn't a damning piece of evidence that the dream had been too delicious to experience, Howard did not know what was. When the dream outweighed wakefulness, it had outlived its utility. The sheriff had turned his back on Hoenn, on Dewford, in order to gallivant in a dream few remembered.

His moment of weakness was noted. In Howard's mind, it was chronicled, archived, and shelved as the one failure belonging to Michael Navidson.

"Forgetting was your sin, and remembering is your punishment. You turned your back on Hoenn, and for what? A dream? You forgot, Navy. You forgot." The admin's eye bore into the sheriff. "That's your cross to bear."

Silence as Navy attempted to convince Howard of his ploy. Navy brimmed with virtue. Howard owed him everything. He had picked him up when nobody else had, and it had caused Howard to keep marching forward towards his own personal hell. If Howard had died on that battlefield Navy had found him on, it would've dealt a great blow to Rocket.

Yet he was here upon this earth, and Navy's children were whisked away like spindles of light.

"Rocket does not trust me. Do you think Cillian Quinn holds any love for you? My colleagues will kill me, and I will die slowly. They dig into my back and peck at me. One day, I will drop dead, and they'll feast on me too."

Defeat lined his voice. It was his everything.

"I'm being watched. I don't know by who, but I am under suspicion." Howard's eye darted to the shadows, as if expecting to see Walsh standing there, smiling as his scars contorted. "Our region?"

His eye gleamed, so similar to the Aerodactyl he loved so dearly.

"You won't forget this time?"

---

Michael Navidson