Tumgik
#no ideas if the evos line up with their backwards journey but shhh
agonyaster · 2 years
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nothing i love more than backstories about how trainers meet their pokemon. so i write one for the train men and theirs because i am always rotating these men in my head
also on ao3!
“Why is it frowning?” Ingo asks, peeking over his brother’s shoulder at the sculpture he’s constructing with hands that have started to turn blue from the cold.
Emmet doesn’t answer at first, lost in deep concentration as he presses an icicle they took off of Ms. Dubric’s porch railing into the snow around its eyes. He does the same on the other side before looking up and cocking his head to the side.
“Your Vanillish is frowning. Why?” Ingo points to its downturned mouth, which is made out of a twig his brother snapped in half. “Don’t they usually smile?”
“Yes,” Emmet agrees, wiping his hands on his pants before tugging his mittens back on. “But it's you. Of course it’s frowning.” He hefts the sculpture into his hands and presses it against Ingo’s cheek. “See?”
“No.”
Emmet doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, twisting the Vanillish around and pressing it against his own cheek, trying his best to mimic Ingo’s frown. It doesn’t look quite right, lips quirking down and curling in at the corners of his mouth, but Ingo gets the idea. 
“Oh! I see it now.” Content, Emmet sets the snowman back down as Ingo scratches at his chin. “I don’t think I would want to be a Vanillish though.”
“Why not?”
“It seems lonely.”
“I wouldn’t let you be a Vanillish alone.” Emmet points to the Vanillish Ingo made. “If mine is supposed to be you, then yours is me.”
“And when it gets hot we’ll stick together so when we refreeze we’ll be a Vanilluxe!” Ingo nods. “You’re very smart, brother.”
“What I do. What I say. Always the same.” Ingo laughs and reaches forward, squishing the two snow Vanillish together, which makes Emmet laugh too. 
After their laughter dies down, they start to make another snowman, playfully bickering back and forth over which pokémon to make next. Emmet smashes Ingo’s Frillish and Ingo kicks Emmet’s Lilligant enough that they call a truce and start to build a Fraxure together.
“Boys! I need you back inside!” 
The twins pull their attention away from the half-formed Fraxure limbs and look up towards the voice of their mother. She’s standing at the railing of the bridge running through the middle of town, hands stuffed into the pockets of her robe as she shivers and shouts down to them again.
“No thank you!” Ingo calls back before turning to the snow in front of him, trying to remember what the armor on Fraxure's back looks like.
“Ingo-”
“It isn’t just me! Emmet doesn’t want to go either!”
Beside him, Emmet nods vigorously, and up on the bridge their mother sighs heavily. She slumps against the railing in defeat before straightening and turning on her heel. “Alright, if that’s what you want. I guess the surprise can wait another year.”
The boys’ heads snap up and they’re on their feet in an instant, racing towards the bridge and chasing after their mother as she heads towards home.
They reach home and take a moment to stomp the snow off their boots and shake the ice crystals from their hair before being herded into the living room, where they’re pushed down to sit on the couch and blankets are draped over their shoulders.
Emmet tucks his knees into his chest and watches his mother with wide eyes. “What’s the surprise?”
“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.”
“Well it’s our birthday and we want to know! Don’t we, Ingo?”
“We do!”
Their mother laughs as her sons stare up at her expectantly, fidgeting with excitement. “Well… double digits are a big deal, so it’s a present. From your Uncle Drayden.”
Ingo gasps. “Really?”
“Uncle Drayden gives the best gifts,” Emmet hums in approval, starting to fidget even more.
“Are you saying I give bad gifts?” their mother asks, barely able to contain the humor in her voice.
“No, just that Uncle Drayden’s are better,” her son corrects and she laughs again, flitting off into the kitchen, returning with two small square boxes in hand.
“These are from both your Uncle and I, so they’re doubly good. According to your logic.” With a smile, she hands one box to each son. 
When they don’t move, she mimes an opening motion and they rip off the lids in unison. Emmet’s grin stretches even further and Ingo lets out a delighted gasp, both reaching into the boxes and gingerly pulling out a singular pokéball each.
The twins launch themselves off of the couch and towards their mother, wrapping their arms around her, mouths spewing out an incoherent stream of thanks and excited babbling. After a moment of surprise, she sinks down to her knees and hugs them back, ruffling Ingo’s hair and swiping at Emmet’s eyes with her thumb.
“So excited and you haven’t even opened them yet,” she teases as the boys pull away, their gratitude morphing into barely-contained excitement as they grip the pokeballs tightly to their chests. “Don’t you want to meet your new partners?”
With two in-unison nods their thumbs press down on the buttons in the center of the pokéballs, the sharp smell of well-polished metal and a strange clicking sound filling the air as the pokémon are released.
A pair of Klink float in front of the twins, four minigears spinning in perfect unison. Klink aren’t the easiest pokémon for a child to hug, but they manage to figure it out.
Nimbasa is verrry big, Emmet realizes. 
He doesn’t remember it being so big when he was younger, which seems a little strange. It makes more sense when he starts to think about it, though; when they did come into the city it was only because there was no train that ran from Anville all the way to Opelucid, and they never wandered the streets or the surrounding routes. He and Ingo always kept firmly inside the walls of Gear Station, watching with delight as the trains speed by and the Depot Agents direct hordes of commuters and challengers of the Battle Subway alike. 
Now that Emmet is firmly outside the walls of Gear Station, wandering the streets and surrounding routes, he realizes that it is a verrry big city indeed. There are skyscrapers so big it hurts his neck to even try to look all the way up at them and people every which where he turns. 
He’s probably seen more people in the day he’s been in Nimbasa than his whole life living in Anville. They’re all so sure in themselves, complete strangers united by proximity or something deeper that Emmet just doesn’t know about yet. He itches to know what it is.
Grandfather used to talk about stuff like that all the time before he died. He and Uncle Drayden would debate over truth and ideals so late into the night sometimes they were still talking when Emmet and Ingo got up the next morning for breakfast. Grandfather seemed to really like that he and Ingo were twins, and Emmet vaguely remembers being told stories about two brothers who fought for what was right.
Looking out at the people passing him on the street, Emmet wonders if they ever think about how they tend to fall in line and move forward as one. He almost turns to ask Ingo, but Ingo isn’t on the bench with him; he’s inside the Pokémon Center getting more supplies because they decided to take the long way up to Opelucid. 
Emmet turns his attention back to the street and watches a tired businessman hug a briefcase to his chest as he chatters away on his phone, a woman wipe at the mouth of her toddler with a wad of napkins, a girl in a yellow jacket run her fingers through the mane of her Blitzle as it mouths at her bag, trying to eat whatever’s inside through the fabric.
Out of the corner of his eye, Emmet sees something small and yellow pop out of a grate in the street and scurry across the pavement, weaving in and out of the feet of passersby before hopping up onto the Blitzle’s leg. It scurries up until it's tucked snugly into the crease of the Blitzle’s neck and shoulder and stops moving. 
The smile on Emmet’s face grows as he thinks of the Joltik infestation Uncle Drayden’s neighbor had three years ago, of how the little fuzzy creatures attached themselves to anything even resembling electricity. He’d managed to wrangle one, luring it in with static after rubbing his feet on the rug for ten minutes, but his mom didn’t let him keep it. Now, though, he’s on his journey and no one can tell him no.
Grabbing a pokéball and standing, Emmet draws back his arm and lets it fly. 
It hits the Joltik and captures it, with the Blitzle and the girl only looking a little startled as he darts forward and scoops up his prize before doubling back and making a beeline for the Pokémon Center. Ingo needs to meet his newest partner. Well, after Emmet meets them. 
He pops Joltik’s pokéball open and she squeaks, staring up at him with wide blue eyes. She nuzzles into his palm, fur sending out weak pulses of static that make his hand tingle pleasantly.
Stroking the top of her head lovingly with his thumb, Emmet looks around and realizes Ingo isn’t there anymore so he turns and leaves, in search of his brother. It doesn’t take long to find him because Ingo is just outside, looking a little more than confused as the girl in the yellow jacket glares at him, her Blitzle scraping his hoof against the pavement angrily.
“You really think you can try and steal my Blitzle and get away with it?” she yells, cheeks burning red with anger. She sort of looks like a Trapinch.
“I don’t… believe I did?”
She doesn’t seem to hear him, and if she did she doesn’t seem to care. “Well you’re wrong! Battle me!”
“R-right here?”
“Yeah! Right here, right now!”
“Good luck, Ingo!” Emmet cheers, drawing the girl’s and his brother’s attention.
Ingo brightens but the girl pales, eyes going wide as they dart back and forth between the twins. Even her Blitzle seems surprised. 
“I- there are two of you?!”
Ingo tugs down the brim of his hat in an attempt to keep the flying sand out of his eyes, but it doesn’t work very well, the wind just twisting to blast him with more. The sand is one of the many reasons he doesn’t like the Desert Resort, and he’s tempted to turn back and just continue their journey to Castelia, but he can’t. They’ve already been here so long; he won’t let the sunburn be for nothing.
“Wait up!” Elesa calls over the sounds of the storm. “My foot’s stuck!”
He turns to see her crouched down, crying out commands to her Blitzle as it does battle with a wild Darumaka while she claws at the sand enveloping her left foot. Emmet stands to the side, looking mildly amused as Elesa finally manages to pop her shoe out of the sand.
“Maybe it is a sign. We should stop here,” Emmet says and Elesa nods vigorously as she returns Blitzle to his pokéball. 
Ingo gives his own nod of agreement and the two plop down onto the sand dune as he slides down into its valley, adjusting his hat once more before starting to skim his hands over the sand.
“And just to double check, we’re sure Dwebble live here? And not in the ruins?” Elesa asks as she tugs her shoe off and flips it upside down, squeaking out an apology as the sand in it dumps out onto the back of Ingo’s neck. It stings a little, but he ignores it.
“Yes. We asked a lot of people. We are sure.”
She pulls her shoe back on. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“The Joltik thing, stupid,” Elesa points out, clearly unimpressed. “If you would have just asked like a normal person-”
“But you are an electric trainer! You would’ve taken her from me!” Emmet defends with a huff.
“You didn’t know that at the time.”
“You look like one.” At Elesa’s confused look, he makes a zig-zag motion near his ears. It only earns him a confused blink. “Your hair! It’s all… spiky.”
Ingo chuckles at the way her cheeks go pink and how she slaps at the brim of Emmet’s hat. “Oh, you of all people don’t get to talk about my hair! I’m still half convinced you’re balding under that hat.”
“We are not balding! Ingo, we are not bald, correct?”
“Not since I last checked.” 
He keeps clawing at the sand as Emmet and Elesa continue to bicker back and forth. Ingo doesn’t hear it, too focused on the shifting sands in front of him, searching for that quick flash of orange or dark brown. The grains itch and scratch at his skin, burning the palms that have been rubbed raw from all the desperate digging he’s been doing over the past two days.
Frustration starts to build in his gut and after a few more minutes Ingo admits defeat, sinking back onto his haunches and spitting out as much sand as possible. “I don’t think there’s anything here. Maybe we should move again.”
“I, uh, do you want us to help?” Elesa scratches at her cheek. “There’s still a lot of ground to cover.”
“You don’t have to.”
She and Emmet don’t take it as the ‘no’ it's supposed to be, sliding down the dune and coming to a stop in the valley before fanning out and starting to dig as well.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, but what’s up with the Klinks?” Elesa asks as she tugs off her sneakers and starts to use them as shovels, kicking up grit behind her as she drags them through the sand. “Like, they’re your starters, right? Why did you both get Klink? Did you both want a Klink?”
“It’s a tradition,” Ingo explains. “Twins are always given Klink.”
“Oh, alright. You catch them yourself?”
Emmet shakes his head. “Nope! Our uncle did.”
“The one we’re going to Opelucid for?”
“Yep! Did you catch your Blitzle?”
He thinks Elesa says something, but Ingo’s attention has zeroed in on the patch of swirling sand in front of him; two orange pincers breaking the surface before the rest of the Dwebble’s body wriggles out of the sand.
Heart hammering in his chest, Ingo reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pokéball and a stone; the Dwebble spots him and squeaks, starting to bury itself back into the sand. Before it can fully submerge itself again, Ingo sets down the stone and waits. The Dwebble stops, eyes fixated on the pebble. It scuttles forward and taps at the rock cautiously before dragging it closer and looking up at Ingo. 
With a shaking hand, Ingo lowers the pokéball to Dwebble. After a moment of contemplation, Dwebble makes a noise in the back of his throat and taps the pokéball, disappearing into it.
On either side of him, Emmet and Elesa cheer.
Watching a Joltik eat its way through a Casteliacone is by far the funniest thing Elesa’s seen since she started her journey— maybe even the funniest thing she’s seen in her life. Not that she’ll ever admit that to the twins. 
The damn thing is twice the size of Joltik, so big that she’s comfortably standing on top of the soft serve as she nibbles away at it. There’s a profound sense of determination in her eyes that spikes up into annoyance whenever Emmet picks her up and tries his best to scrub the melted ice cream out of her fur, and he gets a few good zaps for his attempts.
“She’s going to get sick if you let her eat that whole thing,” says Elesa as she watches Joltik chew at the wafer cone, crumbs falling onto the street below where Pidove start to squabble for them.
“Joltik will be fine! She is a sturdy young lady,” Emmet reassures with a smile before diving back down and biting at his own ice cream. 
Elesa rolls her eyes and looks down at the single Casteliacone in her hands, then over to the two in Emmet’s; one eaten down to the cone, the other covered in staticky fur and small footprints. “Isn’t Ingo going to get upset that you let Joltik step all over and eat his?”
“No.” Emmet bites into the cone of his own ice cream. “It was never for him. Ingo is lactose intolerant.”
“Then why are you having one?”
“I am not lactose intolerant. Ingo is.”
“But you’re twins.”
“I do not pretend to understand how it works.” He shrugs. “I simply enjoy cheese.”
Elesa stifles a laugh and licks at her ice cream, staring out into the harbor. It hurts her eyes a little, with the way the water reflects the sun, but it’s beautiful. Off in the distance, she swears she can see a school of Basculin breaking above the waves, leaping out in pairs before vanishing back down below the surface.
“We’re heading out on the ferry tomorrow, right?”
“That is the plan.”
Elesa hums. “Why don’t we just head back up to Nimbasa? There are trains that run to Opelucid. It’ll be a lot faster.”
“We will not learn anything from this journey if we use the train to get everywhere.” For the first time, Elesa sees Emmet frown. It looks… a little funny on him, if she’s being honest. “That is what my mother says. Besides, we have already been to Nimbasa.”
“Eh, not really. You didn’t go see a musical or ride the ferris wheel, or even challenge the gym leader. We’ve still got a lot to do there.”
“Then you will just have to take us on a tour when we make the trip back.” 
“I’m not doing anything for free.”
“Then it will be my reward after I win against you.” Emmet pops the last of his cone into his mouth. “But that can wait. We should head back; I don’t want to leave Ingo alone any longer.”
“He’s not gonna die because you aren’t separated. You’re not a Klink.” Despite her sass, Elesa sends one last look to the harbor and they begin their walk back to the hotel where they’re staying. The Liligant behind the front desk greets them with a cheerful spin and they take a moment to applaud, Elesa tossing her an oran berry before they head for the stairs. 
They enter the room and for a moment Elesa thinks they might have ended up in the wrong one, because there’s no way Ingo managed to stink up the place this bad in the twenty minutes they’d been gone. Her hand flies to cover her nose and next to her Emmet almost drops Joltik, who lets out a squeak of alarm and flees up her trainer’s jacket sleeve.
Ingo is perched, cross-legged, on one of the beds, spraying a potion on something sitting in his lap. The pokémon notices them first, giving a strange little bark and shrinking further into Ingo’s lap; the smell spiking and sending another wave of nausea through Elesa.
“Oh! Welcome back!” he greets as the potion empties. “Did you enjoy your ice cream?”
“Is that… a Trubbish?”
“Yes!” Ingo claps and looks down to the Trubbish in his lap. “Say hello, would you?” 
Trubbish stares at them with wary eyes but barks in greeting and gives a half-hearted wave anyways, preening at the “Bravo!” and thankful pat Ingo gives it in return. Elesa holds her breath and waves back at it, elbowing Emmet sharply in the ribs until he does the same.
Clearing her throat, Elesa side-eyes the Trubbish, trying to think of a way to put this nicely. “Are you… keeping it?”
Ingo blinks, confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Trubbish are just kinda… dirty, aren’t they? You sure it's the best fit?”
“Yes, I’m sure! Trubbish love to eat garbage! They make the world cleaner everywhere they go!” Ingo offers the empty potion bottle to Trubbish, who scarfs it down in a single bite. “It’s quite admirable.”
“They smell verrrry bad,” adds Emmet. As if on cue, the stench in the room flares up and Elesa suppresses another gag.
“Well, that’s just because she’s scared and injured!” Ingo defends, hugging Trubbish to his chest. “With proper time and care, she will-”
“Ingo. Be reasonable.”
Ingo stares up at them and ducks his head, starting to shrink in on himself. “I… If it bothers you so much, I’ll let her go. I’ll go to the pokémon center right now a-and find someone to trade her with. I’ll go now so she’s gone by the morning and we can still make the ferry and-”
He stands abruptly, Trubbish falling to the floor with a startled grunt as he picks up his bag and dumps it out on the bed. Tossing aside books and pouches filled with berries as he frantically searches for Trubbish’s pokéball; Klink and Dwebble appear with confused cries as their pokéballs tumble off of the bed and pop open.
Emmet springs into action almost immediately, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and gently leading him to the floor where they both sit. 
“Hey, hey, Ingo. Breathe with me.”
They take a few deep breaths in sync and Ingo melts, posture slumping as he wrings his hands in his lap. Emmet catches her eye for long enough to beckon Elesa over and she sits down on the other side of Ingo awkwardly.
“I am sorry,” Emmet says quietly. 
“It’s not your fault nobody likes her. Or that I am…”
Emmet shrugs. “It’s our fault we didn’t give her a chance.”
Elesa nods and beckons Trubbish over with a wave of the hand and a quick whistle. She tottles over, hopping up into Ingo’s lap but staring at the two seated beside him. 
Cautiously, she reaches out and grabs one of Trubbish’s arms; Emmet grabs the other and they shake. It’s a little slimy, but Elesa can get used to it. For Ingo.
“Have you ever been to Opelucid before, Elesa?” Ingo asks, looking out at the rolling waves through squinted eyes.
Next to him at the rail, she shakes her head. “Nope. Never really left Nimbasa.”
“Not like she needs to. It’s a verrry big city,” Emmet pipes up, voice unsteady.
“Shut up and rest, Emmy.”
“Emmy?” he squawks, standing up with an angry huff. But the blood drains from his face and he’s clamping a hand over his mouth as the boat rolls beneath his feet, so Emmet’s back down just as fast as he got up..
“Emmy?” Ingo echoes, giving Elesa a questioning look.
She nods and hums. “Emmy and Iggy. My loyal sidekicks.” Ingo snorts out a laugh and turns his attention back out to the water. “How can you two be so into trains and get motion sick?”
“It’s seasickness! It’s different!”
“Elesa’s right, Emmet. You should rest” 
Emmet grumbles out something that sounds suspiciously like “Betrayed by my own brother” but rolls over on the bench and stays silent. 
“So, what’s there to do in Opelucid anyway? Isn't it kinda old?”
“It’s traditional, I suppose. Old architecture and such. Our uncle took us to the museum once but…” He thinks back to an old urn, toppling to the floor and just barely getting caught before smashing to the ground. “It didn’t go very well, so usually when Emmet and I would visit we would spend most of our time helping him care for his pokémon.”
Elesa snorts. “You seriously got banned from a public museum?”
“I didn’t say anything like that!”
“You totally did, didn’t you?” When Ingo doesn’t say anything, her smile only grows. “Oh my dragons, that's hilarious.”
“You’re cruel, Elesa.”
Her smile grows softer. “You two, you mention your uncle a lot, in passing and stuff. What’s he like?”
“He is… rough around the edges, a little old fashioned, at times. Loud, too, but that just runs in the family.” Ingo pauses, searching for the right words. “He cares, though, and that is what matters.”
“Sounds like a real stand up guy.”
“I like to think so.”
They fall into silence for the rest of the ride; when the ferry finally pulls into port they leave the railing, heading over to where Emmet’s collapsed on the bench. Ingo hoists his brother up by the armpits and slings one of his arms around his shoulder, Elesa doing the same with the other. They manage to hobble their way off of the boat and make their way into the city when Emmet’s finally sturdy enough to stand on his own.
They wander aimlessly through the familiar streets, soaking in the musty smell of the old city and the reassuring feel of cobble beneath their feet. 
“So, you two going to go see your uncle now?” Emmet nods vigorously, turns green, and stops. “I’ll meet back up with you later then, I guess. Don’t want to go for the gym here until I’ve gotten a few more badges.”
“What are you talking about? You should come with us!”
“What?”
“He’d love to meet you!” Emmet says and Ingo finds himself nodding along in agreement. 
Elesa pauses. “If you’re sure.”
The twins don’t even bother to answer, each grabbing one of Elesa’s hands and leading her down familiar streets towards Drayden’s house. When they arrive, Ingo fishes the spare key out from the miniature Drampa statue’s mouth while Emmet knocks on the door so ferociously Ingo thinks he might break it down.
As soon as the door is unlocked, Emmet storms into the house and pulls Elesa along with him.
“Uncle Drayden! We’re here!” he calls out as Ingo slips inside as well.
Elesa freezes. “Wait, did you say Drayden?”
Ingo nods and grabs Elesa by the shoulders, pulling her away from his brother as he starts to feel the floor shake. “For our own safety, it’s best for us to take a step back.” 
Before Elesa can get another word in edgewise, Druddigon finishes his journey down the hallway and slams straight into Emmet. He somehow manages to stay upright and somehow manages to hug the dragon back without scratching himself on its scales.
“Druddigon, down,” a low voice instructs and the pokémon peels himself away from Emmet, returning to his trainer’s side. “You’d think he’d learn how to behave around you.”
Emmet shrugs. “Just proves I’m the favorite.”
Drayden huffs out a laugh and reaches over to his nephews one at a time, popping off their hats and ruffling their hair with a firm hand; then he turns his attention to Elesa. Ingo sees her posture straighten as Drayden looks down at her. 
He feels a little bad, watching her all coiled up like a spring. It’s not easy, the first time being on the receiving end of Uncle Drayden’s stare.
“You must be Elesa.”
“That’s right. You must be the Uncle I’ve heard so much about.” She sticks out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Drayden takes it and they shake hands firmly. “Likewise. Nice to know the boys made a friend.”
“Before you say anything, please know that we were some of the only children in town and the few that did live there were significantly older than us!” Ingo points out, but Elesa just rolls her eyes and laughs.
“Excuses, excuses.”
“Have you ever seen a Haxorus, Elesa? I think you should come see one.” Ingo grabs her by the hand and drags her down the hallway. “Uncle Drayden, we're going to see Haxorus.”
They pass old family photos hung on the walls as Ingo makes a beeline for a room near the back of the house, the one that was always his favorite. Emmet trots after them, mildly amused, and Drayden follows after him.
Ingo enters cautiously and leads Elesa to the back corner where Haxorus is curled up into a tight ball, her tail tucked up under her chin. Her green scales have even more chinks and scuffs on them than the last time he saw her, but she seems happy. She raises her head in greeting as they kneel down in front of her bed and Ingo rubs under her chin.
“Why don’t you touch her? She doesn’t bite.” Emmet plops down next to them, a smug expression on his face. “Not hard, anyway.”
Elesa tucks her hands under her thighs.
“Don’t mind him. That boy’s been spouting nonsense since he learned to talk,” Drayden rumbles. “She might’ve fought hard back in the day but all these years have made her soft; she won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“I’ve just never seen one before. Don’t get a lot of Haxorus wandering around in Nimbasa,” Elesa murmurs. She pulls her hand out from under her leg and tentatively reaches forward, pressing her palm to Haxorus’ snout. The old dragon rumbles and presses against Elesa’s hand affectionately as Emmet strokes down Haxorus’ back.
Her breathing is slow. A little too slow, for Ingo’s liking. 
Elesa draws her hand back and twists around to look at the door. “I, uh, where’s the bathroom?”
“Second door on the left.”
She nods and heads for the door, closing it softly as Emmet takes her place in front of Haxorus, scratching at a chink in one of her scales.
“It’s the right time of year, hasn’t she just laid her clutch?”
“Yes. It’ll probably be her last one.”
Ingo feels his stomach drop. “What?”
“Haxorus… she’s getting up there in years.” Drayden lowers himself to the floor. “She spends most of her time in here nowadays. Sleeping with the eggs. Doesn’t eat much, either.”
“Oh.”
“How much longer does she have left?” Emmet whispers.
“It’s hard to tell, but if I had to say, maybe a few months at most.” Drayden gently runs his thumb across her tusk. “She’s lived a good life, boys.”
As Ingo looks into her eyes, he can’t help but agree. She’s got old eyes, ones that have seen countless generations of hatchlings and human children aike to maturity. They gaze back at him with a gentle, tired love.
“I’m glad you two stopped by when you did. I know she is too.”
Drayden draws his hand back as Haxorus shifts, uncurling her tail and revealing the eggs that had been wrapped up in it. She sniffs around at them for a moment before gently starting to nose one away from the rest, picking it up in her jaw once it’s far enough away.
She twists back around to face the boys and sets the egg in front of them, nudging it closer. 
After a moment's hesitation, Ingo reaches out and picks the egg up. It’s slightly warm to the touch. Emmet runs a hand over it, looking a little perplexed at the leathery texture. 
“I’ll be damned.” Drayden’s voice snaps the twins to attention. 
Emmet yanks his hand back. “What? Did we do something?”
“No, no, you’re doing just fine.” He chuckles. “She hasn’t even let me touch the new eggs yet, that’s all.”
“Oh! Well then, you should-”
“No. That egg is for you two. No one else.” 
Haxorus snorts in agreement.
The trainers on Route 8 are not very open minded to double battles, Emmet learns, and he could not be more upset by this fact. His brother and Elesa are having the time of their lives while not one ace trainer has it in them to try something new, so he’s stuck battling at a Goomy’s pace.
Even then he’s still faster than them, so Emmet’s off to wander Route 8 alone while they wrap up their battles. It’s the worst route they’ve been to by far, all puddles and wet socks and Stunfisk who think it's hilarious to shock him while he’s stomping his way through said puddles. 
Oh, when they get to Icirrus he is going to sit in their hotel room and do nothing for an entire day, training be damned. 
He’s sitting in the grass trying to get his vision back to normal since that last Stunfisk attack when he sees a flash of dull gray through the trees. It’s a little strange, considering that only Palpitoad, Stunfisk and Shelmet live on this route.
Deciding to forgo proper safety measures in the name of adventure, Emmet stands and makes a beeline for the trees. Ducking under a low-hanging branch, he blinks the last of the black spots out of his eyes and searches for that metallic glint. 
Instead, there’s a sound of feet squelching in the soggy grass and something’s slamming into his knees with enough force to send him spiraling into the dirt.
Water soaks into the back of his jacket as Emmet stares up into the maw of the Durant perched on his chest; it hisses and spits and clicks its mandibles and stomps its feet right on his ribcage in warning. Saliva leaks out of its mouth and drips onto Emmet’s cheek as she screeches at him again, the sound making his ears throb.
He manages to wriggle his way out from under the bug, wiping the spit from his face and rising to his feet, sidestepping Durant as it charges at him again. Emmet can’t help but find it a little strange, though. Durant don’t live in Route 8 and they especially don’t live in forests. 
This dance goes on for a while until Durant grows tired and heads off into the trees. Emmet, of course, goes after her, following the six stomping legs until they stop to dig at a lump in the grass. She unearths a great ball, cradling it in her mandibles, and suddenly things start to make a lot more sense.
It takes more berries than he’s willing to admit but eventually Emmet has calmed Durant down and lured her out of the trees, getting back to the route proper where his brother and Elesa are shouting out for him. They’re a little more than confused when they find him but he doesn’t have the time to worry about that, tossing another sitrus berry to Durant as he races through the puddles towards Icirrus City. 
He doesn’t end up spending the day resting when they get to the city. Instead, they’re on their feet all day asking every trainer they find if they’re missing a Durant. Then they’re asking any citizen they can if they’ve heard about anyone missing a Durant. They even send word to Uncle Drayden to keep an eye out.
Emmet isn’t surprised when they don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not disappointed. 
Durant’s so determined to find her trainer that she finds a way to get the window in their hotel room open and spends the whole night wandering around the city looking for them. When she’s not eating, she’s holding onto her pokéball and when she is eating she defends it with her life; one of Elesa’s Emolga got a little too close and was hit with an Iron Head so strong that it faints in one hit. 
Watching her makes Emmet sick to his stomach. She’s strong, a little rough around the edges but sostrong and someone just threw her away. It makes the disappointment in him boil up into white-hot anger.
Before he knows it, they’ve all beaten the gym leader and don’t really have any reason to stay in Icirrus. He knows they should just go, but he can’t bring himself to. Emmet can see the worried looks Ingo and Elesa share when he pulls on his jacket and goes back out to scout.
Emmet leaves Durant at the Pokémon Center and runs for the city limits where his brother and Elesa are waiting. He doesn’t expect her to follow him. 
She tackles him to the ground, just like she did the first time they met, only it hurts a lot more this time. Durant stamps on his chest a few times before she hops off and growls until he sits up.
Emmet watches as Durant squeezes her mandibles together, shards of pokéball flying everywhere as her great ball shatters. 
He scrambles to his feet and sends out Galvantula, a smile stretching across his face as he reaches for an empty pokéball and prepares for a fight.
Climbing the Celestial Tower is exhausting, not just because there’s so many steps. That’s part of it, but it feels like there’s something heavy making a home lounging across Ingo’s shoulders, settling in further with every step.
They meander on their way up, stopping to battle a few trainers and doubling back to chat with the polite nurse a few times. Ingo even catches a Litwick. Elesa walks up with them most of the way but stays at the base of the stairs on the fourth floor, waving them up with a flick of the wrist before turning to go battle the ace trainer waiting beyond a row of graves.
The wind whips at his cheeks and Ingo feels a little lightheaded as he reaches out for his brother. Emmet grabs his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before they approach the bell together. It’s cool and smooth beneath his palm, the sound echoes in his ears, repeating over and over like the wheels of a train running over a track.
Going back down is somehow a lot harder. Elesa meets them halfway and leads them out of the tower, not even bothering to try and get them to shuffle across the narrow walkways hanging above the tall grass.
Ingo doesn’t sleep very well that night. He lays awake in bed, running his thumb over the edge of the scale Uncle Drayden gave him the night before they left. Litwick is perched on Emmet’s pillow, cooing softly as its flame burns bright. 
He sleeps all the way through the next day, only getting out of bed when Emmet drags him out so they can all have dinner together. Emmet does the same the next day and Ingo lets him rest, going out to wander with Elesa through the streets.
They spend their third proper day in Mistralton out training on Route 7, sun beating down on them, tanning the backs of their necks as they wade through grass that tickles at their chins.
“Why didn’t you stop him, Elesa?” Ingo huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 
She scratches behind Emoga’s ear. “Because he’s not my problem.”
“There is no ‘I’ in team,” he points out, which only makes her roll her eyes. 
“You two forget that I’m not responsible for that monster.”
“He is not a monster!” 
Almost to spite him, Axew starts trying to swallow a Pidove whole. 
After a few good zaps from Galvantula, the Pidove flies free and Axew goes back to hacking at the tree he’s already downed. Ingo feels a twinge of guilt as the little dragon starts to chase after a Deerling that poked its head out of the grass to get a better look at the commotion.
Emmet yawns and plunks down onto the tree, resting his chin in his hand. “I am verrry tired.”
“That’s a first.” From her place atop Emmet’s hat, Litwick’s flame flares up in anger for him. “You know, I think she likes Emmet better than you, Ingo.”
“That’s not true!”
Elesa raises a suspicious eyebrow. “You sure?”
Absolutely not. “Yes.”
Emmet yawns again and slaps his hands on his knees. “I am going back to the hotel. Goodbye.”
He scoops Litwick off of his head and hands him over to Ingo, calling Galvantula back into its pokéball and heading back across the wooden walkways. Elesa follows shortly after, but Ingo opts to stay behind.
Ingo wanders through the grass and across the suspended wooden pathways, guided by the light of the moon. He battles a few wild pokémon and a few trainers, even debates heading back up the Celestial Tower.
“Geez, are you ever going to take a break?” 
Ingo flinches and his hand is flying to Klang’s pokéball as he frantically searches for the location of the voice. “Pardon?”
There’s a rustling off to his left and a Ducklett pops out of the grass, followed by a short girl with bright hair and goggles perched on her head. 
“You were out here until dark yesterday too,” she says, bending over and picking up the Ducklett, who squawks in alarm.
“Oh! No, that wasn’t me. It was my brother.”
“Ah, alright.” She tucks Ducklett under her arm and focuses on the flickering flame on Ingo’s shoulder. “You catch that Litwick at the tower?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Best to be careful with it.”
“Why?”
“Litwick… steal. Not like Purrloin do, but they’ll sap you of your life to make theirs better.” The girl hums. “Don’t work yourself too hard, mkay? Only makes it easier for Litwick to drain you.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve seen too many trainers waste away because of them.” She puffs out her chest. “Be sensible and get a Ducklett instead.”
“I’ll pass, but thank you.” 
“Your loss.” She shrugs, disappearing back into the grass without another word. 
Ingo’s back at the hotel before he really knows what’s happening, letting Litwick out of her pokéball and watching her inch across the room towards Emmet. His posture sags further when she crawls her way up his leg and suddenly things are starting to make a lot more sense. 
He’s stomping across the room and scooping Litwick up in one hand, using the other to open and close the door as he slides down it.
“No. My answer is no.” Litwick stares up at him, its waxy body slightly warm in his grip. “You need to stop.”
Wax runs as she tilts to the side, questioning. 
“You will stop taking from him. From Emmet.” Ingo narrows his eyes. “You will not hurt my brother.”
The boys’ Klangs have been running circles around Elesa for the past half hour now and it couldn’t be more annoying. Her hair is full of static, so when they get too close her scalp is shocked with little zaps. It’s not the worst she’s ever had, of course, but it’s really goddamn distracting.
“Why are they so freaked out, again?” she asks, slamming her shoulder into one of the floating rocks.
“They’re not freaked out!” protests Ingo, coming up from behind and helping her push. “They’re excited to be back home, is all.”
“I thought you guys owned them since they only knew Thunder Shock.”
“Well, yes, but this was their first home! Some of these little guys might be their brothers and sisters,” Emmet, standing to the side and being very unhelpful, says, gesturing to a Klink floating idly nearby.
“Klink don’t have gender.”
“You know what I mean.” 
The rock finally moves and they’re free to continue through the cave, Emmet practically crawling around on his hands and knees as checks every nook and cranny twice over. Elesa’s getting a little tired of breathing in crackling electricity, and that’s saying something. 
“Don’t you think we should head for the lower floors? We’ve been up here forever.” She crosses her arms and kicks a pebble. “This is worse than the Dwebble thing.”
“No. We have to check everywhere.”
“There might be more in the lower levels…”
“See! Ingo agrees with me!” Elesa rolls her eyes. “From what I heard in Mistralton there are more of these magnetic rock things down there and Tynamo are probably attracted to them. We should at least check.”
Emmet crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine.”
Ingo whistles for their Klang and they start to make their way through the cave, looping around a few times at Emmet’s insistence before Elesa grabs both of them by the elbow and yanks them into the descending passageway. 
“There’s another level, c'mon. We go all the way down and work our way up and if we don’t find anything we’ll do it all again.”
“We can’t even do a check of this floor?” he protests, swatting her hand away.
“No. We’re finding the next stairway down and we’re going.”
Emmet grumbles but doesn’t say anything else as Ingo leads the charge through the cave, scattering Joltik as his feet pound on the stone. Elesa’s the caboose, dragging Emmet by the ear when she needs to so he doesn’t fall too far behind. 
“I need you to do me a favor,” he whispers, falling in line beside her, rubbing at his ear. 
“Aren’t I doing you a favor by being here?” she snips, but stays anyway.
“Distract Ingo for me.”
“Why? Isn’t that like, the exact opposite of what we need right now?”
“Trust me, Elesa!” 
“I don’t.”
“I just, I need time by myself to find a dust cloud— you can go find it and I can distract Ingo, if you want!”
“Tynamo never make dust clouds, Em. Only Drilbur do.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Sometimes I doubt there’s anything in your head.”
He sighs and looks around before leaning in closer. “I want a Drilbur so I can give it to Ingo. He loves Clay’s Excadrill and even if he doesn’t end up using it, it can help carve out shells for Dwebble and make slabs once she’s a Crustle.” He huffs out a breath. “I just… I want to thank him.”
Elesa pauses at that. Starts to chew on her bottom lip, something that would’ve made her dad glare disapprovingly. “Since when did you get so mushy?” She groans. “Fine. I’ll go. No promises on how long I can keep him busy, though, so hurry up.”
Emmet beams at her and immediately doubles back, but Elesa doesn’t mind, jogging up to meet Ingo and grabbing him by the hand, dragging him down the stairs into the second level.
“Before you say anything, Emmet’s being stubborn, so we’re leaving him up there while we find a Tynamo first.” She points to the line of slow-moving Joltik on the wall. “I say we follow those guys. They leech electricity off of bigger pokémon just like Tynamo do.”
“An excellent idea!” They start to tail after the little fuzz balls. “You really know your stuff, don’t know?”
“I try to.”
The sound of their footsteps echoes off of the narrowing walls as the Joltik leads them into a small cavern, one where electricity pulses in the air even more intensely. Joltik hops up onto a strand of the webbing spun all throughout and follows it to the Galvantula in the center.
There’s a whole cluster of Tynamo darting around it, crying joyfully and soaking up the electricity it sends out in pulses though its webs. 
“Bingo.”
Catching one is a lot harder than she thought— Tynamo are slippery and having so many Joltik in the room isn’t helping. Ingo’s new Litwick proves to be helpful with that, at least. They do manage to get one, though, and Elesa is forced to follow Ingo as he makes a mad dash for the upper levels.
“Emmet! We found one!” Ingo exclaims, holding the pokéball high above his head. 
“Perfect! I have something for you too!” Emmet calls back and the two manage to find each other through some sort of twin echolocation. They throw their pokéballs are one another and release their newest catches, oohing and aahing as Tynamo darts around Emmet’s head and Drilbur clacks its claws together in greeting
Elesa places her left hand on the nearest wall and starts walking. “You can trade properly or whatever later, right now I need to get out of this cave.”
“Yes ma’am!”
Emmet does not know how many more caves he can handle. He isn’t even sure if he and his so-called brother are related anymore because Ingo seems to be enjoying all of this; the smell of wet soil, the lack of sunlight, the thin layer of grimy dust that engrains itself into his clothes. It’s absolutely horrible.
And that’s not even the worst part! His pokémon have betrayed him too! Durant’s spent their entire time in Driftveil trailing after Clay, refusing to listen to him even after he gets the Quake Badge. 
He slumps against the wall and groans, the sound reverberating throughout the cave. Crustle scuttles over and clicks his claws in front of Emmet’s nose, concerned.
Clay raises a brow and casts an unsure look towards Emmet. “Yer sure he’s alright?”
“Yes. Emmet is just being dramatic,” Ingo reassures, not even bothering to look up from the pile of rubble he’s inspecting.
“I resent that statement.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
Emmet grumbles under his breath but rises to feet as Clay beckons them forward, Lampent lighting the way with Clay’s Excadrill beside her standing guard and Ingo’s Drilbur tottling along after the both of them. They walk for a few minutes until something catches Clay’s eye, he and Ingo talking amongst themselves while Emmet is left to ponder the cave. It’s still as horrible as he found it before. 
In frustration, he kicks the nearest rock formation, which only results in a bruised ego and a throbbing foot. Durant, who’s been marching through the tunnels like she owns the place, decides that this non-command is the one she’s going to listen to; stomping over and smashing it to pieces with a headbutt.
She rifles through the rubble, picking up any chunks that are offensively too big and crushing them between her mandibles.
“Leave the poor rocks alone,” he instructs, watching as a Roggenrola hightails it away from its lost home. 
When Durant doesn’t listen, Emmet’s left with no choice but to scoop her up and try his best to keep a hold on her as she wiggles in protest. She does, twisting around in his arms as Emmet tries to pry her jaws off of the rock she’s holding. 
Emmet manages to and goes to toss it back to the ground but stops, running his thumb over a peculiar ridge on the underside. He flips it over to reveal something like an arrowhead just barely raised within the rock. 
“Find somethin?” Clay’s at his shoulder, peering down and letting out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What did he do this time?” Ingo asks as Clay takes the rock and inspects it more closely. 
“Looks like we’re gonna need to get outta this cave and find Miss Elesa,” he turns it over in his hands, “because that is a genuine plume fossil if I’ve ever seen one, and I know you’re gonna wanna get it revived as soon as possible.”
Emmet drops Durant in his scramble to snatch the fossil out of Clay’s hands and spends so long staring at it that Clay has to steer him out of the cave via a hand on the back of the neck.
Finding Elesa is easy, considering how much she sticks out in a salt-of-the-earth town like Driftveil. It’s even easier to convince her to pack up and leave as soon as possible, so easy that it's not even convincing, really. 
They say goodbye to Clay, Zebstrika taking them across the drawbridge and through the streets of Nimbasa until they reach Gear Station. There’s no line straight to Nacrene, so they have to settle for Striation and book it across Route 3. If Ingo falls off the back of Zebstrika and has to chase their dust trail through the streets towards the museum, that’s nobody’s business.
Finally, they reach the museum, and Emmet just about busts down the doors.
“Hello! I am Emmet!” he says, slamming his hands down on the desk.
The attendant looks a little taken aback, but recovers and smiles politely. “I’m Lenora. What can I help you with?”
“Can you revive fossils?”
“Depends on the kind.”
He places his bag down on the desk and whips out the fossil, handing it over after a moment of hesitation. “What about this one?”
Lenora hums, her lips twisting up into a smile. “We sure can. Have a seat, it takes a little bit.”
She disappears through a door behind the desk and Emmet joins Elesa on one of the plush benches, his foot already tapping impatiently. Ingo comes in a few minutes later, red in the face and already yelling about leaving him behind. He doesn’t pay attention, eyes trained on the door Lenora disappeared behind.
Emmet springs out of his seat as soon as it opens, practically ambushing Lenora as she steps out and nearly making her drop the pokéball she’s holding. He reaches for it but she swats his hand away, a stern look on her face.
“Before you take Archen, you need these first.” She presses a stack of pamphlets into his left hand. “He’s been dead for over 100 million years; you need to teach him how to properly live in the modern world.”
“I can do that.”
“If you have any problems, call the museum. We’re happy to help.”
“I can do that too.”
“Perfect!” Lenora smiles and extends her hand. “Then he’s all yours, kid. Take good care of him.”
Emmet snatches the pokéball out of her hand and releases the pokémon without a second thought. Archen stares up at him confused eyes, the tiny claws at the ends of its wings digging into the flesh of his palms as he cradles it.
“I am Emmet,” he says, because he’s not really sure what else to say to it.
Archen screeches at him and waggles his wing in an approximation of a wave, so he thinks it was probably the right thing to do.
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