Now that they had gathered around again, he took a second look at all assembled. He could only guess if any one of them had done such things, but…

The moment they’d all gathered around, he began looking warily at them—before his vision was swept away into visions of violence. While he had no idea who had done in the man with the knife to the neck, the trainers dying out in the wilderness alone was enough to set him on edge.

However… the Rangers, some of the others, his fellow team mates, comrades-in-arms, blown to bits and incinerated?!

Who did this?! He thought angrily, unable to look around and trying to pick out just whose dastardly hand had done them in. That was an entire unit of them, just… gone. Obliterated.

They were some of the experienced ones! What the hell! He continued to himself in the back of his mind, the rage slowly simmering inside of him as he noticed the very same man he was trailing previously—now confined to a hospital bed, being wheeled somewhere for an emergency procedure—and he can no longer look. As if by a sudden wisp, everything was back to normal.

Or is it?

The same starkness remained, although there was some semblance of color returning to his field of vision. Would the same principles remain like last time? Highly-colored individuals all marked for death…

Just how much had to go before everything was restored to normal?

---

He didn’t know what drove him to go to one of the hospitals in Slateport, but he did. Was it a hunch? Maybe. He was here, looking for people who were burning spots of color against this dreary, dim landscape. How could he do it, then? Was he willing to kill? Get his hands dirty, in a way?

The answer to that would be all too literal. Overhearing some doctors who were headed his way, he pretended to look through his phone as they swept past, conversing about the attack on Slateport.

“—yeah, what about that girl who got caught in the attack on the night market, though? Have you tried to contact her family?”

“There’s an ID on her, but I have yet to contact the emergency person listed. Although with a surname like Anderson? Kind of sounds like… one of those Head Rangers, or something? You think they’re related?”

“Could be. Shall I call him now?”

Not knowing that the person they were looking for was a few steps away, he waited for his phone to vibrate—and vibrate it did with an incoming call alert. Hands shaking, he raised the phone to his ear and tentatively answered the call.

“H—hello?” he began, unaware that his voice was shaking. Turning around so he could have some semblance of privacy, he had a conversation with the person on the other end of the line, the two doctors not realizing that the person they were looking for was already in the hospital.

A few minutes later, the conversation ended, and he wasted no time looking for the room number. Hoping against hope that the person mentioned was not who he was looking for, he finally found the room and burst in at once—

And was met with an assault of color.

Lying down on the bed was someone he thought he would never see again…

His younger sister, Leanne.

---

“What the hell—happened?! Why is she like this? Why didn’t you contact me right away?!” he exclaimed once the doctors had found their way to the room, turning to face them. Everything around him wasn’t as sucked-out of color as it was previously, but having heard the cliff-notes version over the phone had not prepared him for the full version—he had specifically told his siblings to hide, to get the hell out of Hoenn and hide elsewhere, but what the absolute hell had happened?

Had Fritz not kept his end of their bargain, all those years ago?

For the record, where was Claude?!

Wait, the fact that he’s not here means… at least one of them managed to escape… he thought bitterly, currently seated down in a chair and letting the words wash over him. His mind wasn’t properly processing things anymore, but the fact of the matter was that his younger sister had been in Slateport earlier this year—had she not escaped, like he’d asked them to all those years ago?

Much as he wanted to ask more questions, his throat had gone dry. Once the doctors were done explaining what had happened to her and how little the chances of her waking up were at that point, he sighed.

“Can I… can I have some time alone, to think?” he managed to get out, his throat all prickly.

---

He didn’t know what had overcome him.

Recovery chances are low… slim to none… lucky our parents aren’t around to see this, but… he thought, a very dark look on his features as he went out to look for the doctors to convey his decision.

“Just… let me stay with her, until… until the end. P-please?” he asked quietly, his face betraying the slightest twinge of anger, of sadness and despair as they handed him a clipboard to sign. Gulping in a sharp breath of air, he… much as he didn’t want to do it, he really didn’t want to prolong her suffering, either.

Once he had managed to get through the papers, and had signed off on everything, he sat down in the same chair that he had been in. Watching slowly, quietly, as the doctors unhooked the machines from the wrecked remains of what was his younger sister—

Watching the color drain out of her as all the machines were unplugged.

She’s as good as brain dead… he thought, looking at the monitors and watching them all flat line.

---

Once the entire thing had been done and over with, he paused preparations for her funeral to return to Mount Pyre, back to the place where he had originally ventured out.

He wondered if he could face Claude the same way again—if they ever met.

“It’s… done,” he mentioned quietly to the cocoon.