Reborn (A Journey’s Terminus)
[Crossposted on AO3]
Word Count: 3122
Characters: Akari/Rei (Player), Hisuian Zorua, Zorua, Haunter, Samurott, Kamado, Irida, Adaman, Volo (last three briefly)
Rating: Teen and Up, Gen
Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence
Tags: Based on Fanart (Will Be Linked in Replies), Character Death, AU: Volo Never Finds The Player Character, this one’s kinda fucked folks, Blood, Blood and Injury, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Dark, Sorry :(, I teared up while writing this but im proud of it, bad at titles and also summaries, its good just trust me, Not Beta Read
Summary: “...the Zorua perished, unable to survive the harsh Hisuian environment and strife with other pokemon. Their lingering souls were reborn in this Ghost-type...”
“I must ask you to leave.”
Crunch. Crunch.
“You are no longer welcome in the Galaxy Team.”
A heavy breath, two, three, clouds of steam emitting from their mouth.
“Consider yourself banished from the village until you can explain why these calamities keep befalling our good people.”
A shiver, a shudder, stiff arms moving to try and get any semblance of warmth. Their hands were ever so slightly turning from red to blue. They couldn’t take out their pokemon.
None of them remained except for one.
“No – until you’ve restored our world to its rightful state and proven your innocence beyond doubt!”
Their partner’s ball rattled, sensing something wrong. They ignored it. The cold winds made their eyes tear up, and their body was subjected to another aggressive bout of trembling. Their next breath came up short, making them let out a series of wracking coughs. The pokeball at their hip shook harder.
Our good people…
They never were one of them, were they? Never one of their people. Nothing else explained why they’d be thrown out like this, forced to survive off of scraps and try to solve… whatever this was. They didn’t know how. It didn’t matter.
Blowing into their hands did nothing. Their breath was hardly warmer than the chilled flesh. The crunching of their footsteps was loud, and they knew that the Icelands were probably one of the worst places to allow caution to slip.
It was too cold for them to care.
It was a mixture of the cold and the fatigue that got them caught unawares.
There was a mighty hiss behind them, followed by a strange, unnatural sound. Teleportation, their mind told them, but they were too slow. Their sluggish turn only got them a slash from a furious Haunter, searing across their side like it was nothing more than butter. It knocked the breath out of them, and they fell backwards into the snow.
A trembling hand came to hold their side, where the gash had opened and begun to bleed. They couldn’t feel their hand or the gash.
Adrenaline washed through their veins, and they tried to back away, to run.
The Haunter was quicker.
It shot them in the back with a weaker pulse, knocking them back into the ground they’d tried to scramble up from just seconds before. Their pokeball rattled violently, but… she couldn’t help them. Not now. It was best to leave her in her pokeball, where she was safe.
They rose again, struggling, their back and side burning and their whole body shaking. They can’t die here, they can’t. They aren’t done!
A few more staggering steps away from the Haunter rewarded them with a scratch – a Shadow Claw, their mind supplied uselessly – across the full of their back. It slid deep. Their whole body stuttered, finally collapsing as the Haunter gave another attack to their weak legs.
On the ground, they stared up at the Haunter, its red eyes appearing hazy in their delirium. Ah… they thought, mind moving slowly, this is it, isn’t it?
They felt their side shake as the lone pokeball on their waist burst open, a shadow appearing over them with a snarl that only registered seconds after the fact. They blinked, static creeping towards the edges of their vision. Samurott gave a yell towards them, but they knew that she would be better off without them.
As their pokemon leapt at the Haunter, both of their shapes turning into colors, they felt… they felt anger.
Our people. Our people. Our. Our. Our.
Not you.
Never you.
White on blue on purple began to fade to black. The red in the snow began to freeze.
As the faint breaths exhaled from their mouth slowed, they found themself feeling only the cold fury of unjust hate accompanying them.
Why? What did I do to deserve this? Why? Why? W…h…y… w…
— x — x —
Samurott leapt over her trainer’s prone form, a protective growl over their behalf hardly even phasing the Haunter. This… the Samurott felt a sudden pit in her stomach, this Haunter is strong.
Its eyes gleamed with malice, and it did not speak to her. The blood on its spectral claws dripped into the disrupted snow, and Samurott had never before been consumed with such fury. Her trainer was hurt, and it was because of this. This beast.
She launched at it with a roar, claws and horn trained on the Haunter. It was a stupid attack, she knew, fueled by emotion over logic, but… but… her trainer could not command her. Samurott could fight on her own, yes, but it wasn’t nearly the same as fighting in tandem with her partner.
It easily dodged to the side, launching a Shadow Ball at her as she passed it. It connected, sending her careening with a pained shout. She blinked, and it was close to her, and it was only by the grace of Sinnoh that she narrowly dodged, the following attack grazing her flank and sending static bolts of pain along her spine.
Samurott turned quickly, conjuring one of her Dark blades. Without letting the Haunter get too far from its position, she darted forward with a Ceaseless Edge attack. It gave an enraged cry, flinging her away from it with a weak, reflexive Thunder Punch. Still, she gave an answering cry of pain, shivering at the feeling of electricity arcing through her veins.
As they both shook off their respective super-effective aches, Samurott looked to her trainer to check on them.
The otter pokemon stopped short.
They weren’t breathing.
The world’s turn ceased for her, at that moment. This… no, no, it couldn’t be real. They’d come this far. They’d crossed the lands on foot, they’d been through the literal end of the world together, they’d, they’d…
They… they were… dead. Their partner, their trainer, at her side since she was an Oshawott… dead. Dead in the snow. Alone. Exiled. A l o n e.
For Samurott, it was like her heart had stopped beating alongside theirs.
Slowly, so slowly, she turned to the Haunter.
And she charged.
The two exchanged blow after blow, Dark blades cutting deep into spectral essence and Electric punches charring blue skin to black and red. A few Shadow Claws here, cutting deep in the way that only fiercely strong pokemon could, a few Aqua Tails in return there.
By the third Thunder Punch she received, Samurott knew that she would not be leaving this fight alive.
By the fourth, she’d resolved to take the Haunter with her. She was already dead. How could she live without her partner? The least she could do was avenge them.
It was a final Ceaseless Edge that had done the Haunter in, the look of shock in its red eyes as it faded into dust satiating the rage in her soul.
All at once, her ambition leaked out of her, and she swayed, falling to the side before catching herself with a stagger. Oh… she blinked, her vision swimming, I’m dying.
The pokemon’s legs gave out, and she fell hard onto her chest and chin. A pained keen left her, but… no. Not yet. She… she had to…
Slowly, painstakingly, Samurott dragged herself across the ground. Behind her, splotches and streaks of red blanketed the ground, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. No, what mattered most was getting to that blurry blot of red and blue she knew was closer than it felt.
Samurott only allowed herself to rest when she’d reached her trainer, her hind legs no longer moving to help drag her heavy body. Every movement increased the weight, but she forced her forelimbs to give her one last push.
As she laid her head on her trainer’s still chest, the snow around them an abstract painting of red and white, she let her eyes close. It’s okay, she told them in her head.
I’m here now.
— x — x —
“Where. Are. They?” Irida hissed, staring Volo down. She was easily much shorter than him, but he felt intimidated all the same.
“I told you, I don’t know! They weren’t in the Fieldlands, nor were they in the Coastlands or the Mirelands. They can’t have gone to the Highlands, and the Icelands have been weathering a snowstorm for over a week!” Volo snapped back, frustrated. Everything was going wrong. The kid was nowhere to be found, and the Red Chain couldn’t be completed without them. The situation hadn’t worsened, not yet, at least, but no one knew how long it would last.
“They are a child, one who is alone in the wilderness!” Irida yelled, exasperated and incredulous in equal measure. “Every second we aren’t looking for them could be a second closer to their death, Volo. We’re failing them.”
“You think I don’t know that, Lady Irida?”
“Okay, enough.” Adaman stepped between the two. “Look, if we’re going to find them, we can’t be arguing. We don’t have time for that. Kamado is already onto us as is, and we’re lucky he hasn’t intervened.” Certain he had their attention, he continued. “Volo. You said you had combed the Fieldlands, the Mirelands, and the Coastlands in their entirety, right?”
“Correct,” the merchant exhaled, “the only places we haven’t been able to search up and down have been the Highlands, due to their proximity to the anomaly, and the Icelands, due to the snowstorm.”
“Irida.” She looked up from where she’d been taking a few, deep, steadying breaths. “Would they have gone to the Icelands?”
“I…” The fellow clan leader stopped, thinking for a long moment. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility. There are hot springs there that they could have tried, and it’s possible they had thought to shelter in one of the ice caves.”
“Okay. Okay.” Adaman rubbed his eyes. “...Okay. We’ll go to the Icelands. Irida, I know we have our differences, but would you allow me into your domain to help search? I want them found just as much as you do.”
Irida blinked at him. “Of course. This takes priority, no matter whatever strife we have or have had. The storm should be letting up, so–”
“And what, exactly, are the three of you planning to do?” Irida and Adaman flinched at Kamado’s angry tone, but Volo just leveled him with a glare. “Retrieving the child, the fugitive, with some futile attempt at subtlety?”
Irida was the first to speak. “The. Child.” She enunciated each word, “the child that you sent into the fucking wilds to die. You expect any sane, rational person to stand idly by while you’re responsible for their death?”
Adaman followed shortly after. “Irida is right. You sentenced them to death. There is little time to debate, here. We need to find them.”
Kamado stared at them for a good, long moment. His hands clenched and unclenched, suppressed rage clearly indicated through the action. He looked as if he were deciding whether to punch them or to let them go.
“I admit I acted somewhat rashly.” Volo waited for the ‘but’. “However–” ah, there it was, “– I retain the opinion that they are in no way innocent in this endeavor. They’re an outsider, and…” the Commander weighed his words, before deciding that they needed to be said. “Perhaps it would be best if they perished out there. Maybe that would fix it.”
Volo had hardly blinked, but Kamado had somehow ended up on the ground holding his nose and Adaman was now standing above him, shaking his hand as if it hurt. Ah, well. Volo could hardly blame Adaman. Irida looked seconds away from doing the same herself, even.
“Do not ever–” Adaman began, his tone clipped, “insinuate that someone’s time should be cut short before it is due. I have let many things slide on your end, Commander Kamado, but I will not be so lenient this time. Are we clear?”
As Kamado stood, still holding his nose, something like begrudging respect flickered in his eyes. Arceus above, Volo thought, does this man only respond to violence?
“We are clear,” Kamado responded, and Volo had to hold back a laugh at how nasally it was compared to his normal voice. Definitely broken, then. “I will not stop you, but there is one condition to my approval of this fool’s errand.”
“State your terms,” Irida folded her arms, the sleeves of her robe swishing with the movement.
“I must accompany you on this search. If the child has not solved this on their own by now, clearly they can’t do it alone. As much as I distrust them, the longer the situation goes on the more risk we take onto ourselves. I do not want to risk my people any more than I already have.”
Both parties stared at each other for a long, long moment. Volo felt almost as if he could see electricity between Adaman, Irida, and Kamado, neither party wanting to budge.
“We’re wasting time,” Adaman finally said with a frown. “Fine. Get your nose splinted and meet us at the gate.”
Volo had to bite his tongue to not outwardly smile at Kamado’s expression, clearly miffed at being ordered around like a grunt.
— x — x —
The creation of Rei was slow.
It started with an absence of pain.
Something told them that they should feel hurt, that they should be in agony, but it was all muted. They felt only the whispers of wind gliding across their being.
They next started to develop sight.
Around them was nothing but a white landscape, although red glinted in the sun when they looked at the right angle. Below them, they thought they could see blue, but they could not move to check what it was.
Next came the sensation of hearing.
Wind roared in their ears, and the distant sound of pokemon could occasionally join their new auditory senses. For some reason, they knew they did not like one of the cries in particular.
After they could hear, they found they could move.
They could not travel far, yet, their legs far too weak, but they could move their head and their limbs around for small periods. The blue they had seen was some four legged pokemon – why did their chest hurt looking at it? – and a bipedal shape that made them nauseous to behold.
They didn’t look at either shape for long.
The culmination of the being known as Rei was the return of their rage.
All at once, they felt an all-encompassing hatred, though they knew not what for. It overwhelmed them, filling their small body and overflowing into the snow. What had caused such rage? Why did they feel so much spite? They could hardly move from the shapes they existed close to, so how could they feel this angry?
Rei did not know how long it took to calm themself down, but they managed to force the anger to the back of their mind, a simmer instead of a rolling boil.
Their relative peace did not last long.
“&@%#?!” A voice in a garbled language cried out in the distance. It was… familiar.
Two more voices, both equally familiar, joined the call. They repeated the same thing, over and over. Was it a chant? A name?
Rei next noticed that there were four sets of footsteps but only three voices.
Behind them, unrecognizable but understandable voices chirped up.
“Friend?”
“Sibling?”
“New.”
They turned, seeing three creatures behind them. They were taller than the creatures, but the three of them didn’t seem surprised. Perhaps it was common to be different sizes.
“You.” The third one, who had stepped forth, addressed them. “Zorua. We, Zorua. Still look like old self, a bit. Will fade with time.”
The other two… Zoruas, she’d said, had approached. They looked at the bodies next to Rei. “Are sorry,” the first frowned, “becoming… never happy affair.”
The second nodded, “is sad. But family, we are,” she smiled at them. “Alone once, not longer. But… people come. Danger.”
Rei looked at their… claws? Hands? They were white, tipped with black, and it almost reminded them of frostbite. Rei did not think about how they shouldn’t know what frostbite was. “Hear them.” They said, voice rough, “familiar.”
The third, which seemed the oldest, came up next to them. “Want to see?” She asked, although it did not feel entirely like a question. Rei nodded, the wisps of their body flickering slightly. “You cannot meet them. Cannot move. But we… we lead. They come. Meet you.”
Rei looked at her, long and steady. “Thank you.” All three nodded, and scampered off together.
— x — x —
The Zoruas did not take long, Rei noted. The people must not have been far.
As they flanked the new Ghost’s body, the oldest Zorua came to rest in a defensive position next to them. The other two watched, wary, but did not move to an aggressive posture yet.
The first person Rei spotted was pink.
She wore a pink and white attush robe, a flute on her hip and a red hairpin in her blonde hair. She had bracelets, they saw, but they then registered that the woman looked… devastated. Her hands covered her mouth, her eyes welled with tears, and her legs shook as if they’d give out.
Next to her, a man in blue had a bandaged arm held to his face. His eyes were wide, and he looked as if he’d be sick. Clear despair swam in his eyes, already full of tears, but the rest of his expression was blank with utter shock. He, too, looked as if he could fall over at any moment. The pink woman collapsed into his side, and he held her shoulders fiercely just as she held his side.
Something told Rei that they held no anger towards these two. All three – four? – Zoruas turned, then, to the man clad in black.
Rei felt their wisps flare, glowing red with their rage, and their claws of frostbite clenched into fists. Him.
The eldest Zorua bared her teeth at him, and the other two rose to all fours. Rei felt flashes of memory, all of them only serving to madden them more, their fury once again overflowing from their short body.
Our people…
Never should have trusted them…
Banished…
Your fault…
Could die…
Knew they were…
The two younger Zorua darted around the man – Kamado, their mind hissed – and tugged on the other humans’ robes. Even the Zoruas knew their brethren did not want innocents hurt. They did not know why they knew. They did not care to find out.
Revenge was important to their species.
Family was even more important.
Rei and the elder Zorua stared at Kamado.
“… &@%#?” He asked, faintly, in foreign syllables.
Rei lunged.