A Promise, Not a Threat

Spinda’s Cafe was always a fun place to destress from the frenetic pace of performing exploration missions. Spinda, Wynaut, and Wobbuffet along with the Bellossom dancers and Ludicolo always made it a delight to visit before and after a stressful job. There was always an energy of cheer inside, a relaxing but upbeat happiness that invigorated anyone that came in and partook in the services that Spinda’s Cafe offered. This bright, rejuvenating aura was the purpose of this place.

That did not describe the current atmosphere whatsoever.

Fewer patrons than usual were in the cafe. Just a few regulars, and one visiting team from a village on the other side of the Grass Continent. Aside from the outlander team, everyone kept a huge distance from the large ghost type sitting close to the mixing bar. This imposing fellow was none other than the formerly great Dusknoir, a disgraced explorer who fell from grace after being exposed as a vile and wicked villain that kidnapped the young explorers of Team Ouroboros all for the sake of causing the planet’s paralysis by eliminating them from history. He nursed away at a glass of an apple and pecha juice blend, trying to ignore all the eyes that fell on him. This was no easy feat. All those eyes, staring him down in contempt, judgment, and fear… It made his skin crawl.

But nothing was worse than the burning feeling in his skin from a certain pair of blue-green eyes. Those eyes bore holes through the face on his stomach. The worst part was he could not ignore these eyes. Their owner sat right in front of him.

A Charmander. A young Charmander, with a canvas treasure bag thrown over their shoulder, and a slightly torn sky blue bow wrapped on their neck like a scarf sat directly across from the ghost type Pokemon. Scars decorated their scaly, orange skin. Some looked more recent than others, having the familiar shape and patterns of claw marks. Some scales were a slightly darker color than others, decorating along the snout, along their shoulders, and somewhat under the eyes, almost as if they were freckles. They were… different from an average Charmander.

This young Charmander was none other than the leader of Team Ouroboros herself, Lyra. And yet, here she was, staring Dusknoir down in such a way that if looks could kill, Dusknoir would have already perished many times over. A drink of her own rested in a cup held in Lyra’s left hand, though Dusknoir hadn’t a clue what it was. Based on the fragrance, he assumed it was a drink blend made from oran and apple juice paired with some red gummies. It was an interesting fragrance, riddled with a gentle blend of sweetness from the fruit and the faintest hint of spice.

… It would be such a waste if it spilled. The grip Lyra held her drink cup in had it close to breaking.

But then her hand relaxes. She takes a sip from the drink, the glare still prominent and evident on her features. Dusknoir wished he could disappear. Too many eyes were fixated on him, but to be so close to one of the ones that he tried to eliminate… Someone that once admired him, respected him, saw him as someone she could trust with her life. He remembers an old memory from when she was still human. He had protected her once before, kept her safe when he could have eliminated her, knowing who she had as her guardian. It would have been a very hard blow to Grovyle, who had developed an attachment to the child as he protected her in the dark world they once inhabited. She was at such a fragile age back then… Not even five years old when Dusknoir found her separated from her guardian, if memory serves.

He didn’t want to hurt her back then. He still didn’t want to hurt her when he found her again. He didn’t want to hurt Eros, her new partner, her closest friend… The one she adopted as her younger brother. But, for the sake of his mission, it had to be done. He had no other choice. This was Master Dialga’s order, his law after all. The consequences were too dire to ignore. 

… His own cowardice deluded him. He did have a choice. But he favored his own life above the young ones’ lives.

Maybe it would have been better if he disappeared…

Living with this weight on his shoulders was too much. However, dwelling on it too much would only hurt even more. Moving forward was the best course of action. This needed to be done one step at a time. Damn this insufferable silence. Damn those watching eyes… Watching. Judging. He wanted to throw something at those nosy onlookers. But that would only rile everyone up. Further solidify that he was not to be trusted. He already lived with that. There was no need to further increase the hostilities.

“I wonder what’s keeping your brother, father, and Celebi…?” Dusknoir muses, sipping his juice. Lyra shrugs with a huff.

“Dunno. But the sooner they get here, the better. I don’t want to look at your face any longer than I have to.”

Dusknoir did not visibly react to the scathing remark. That was to be expected, but sitting in silence only made the wait drag on and on. A sigh escapes him. Lyra’s scowl deepens.

“What are you sighing about?” She hisses. Dusknoir tenses. Those blue-green eyes were scrutinizing every movement he made. There was no telling how she may react if he said anything else, though the look on her face told him she was wishing to rip his head from his body. Considering Lyra and Eros were able to actually defeat Master Dialga in battle… That image was not impossible to imagine.

He sips his drink again, trying to show the fewest signs of unease as possible. Choose these next words carefully… Dusknoir tells himself. What was he to say? Chances are, Lyra would pounce on him no matter what he said. Part of him didn’t wish to respond. But another part of him wanted to try and reason with her and maybe try to reconcile from everything. He wanted to say so many things.

“…” Nothing came. The words were hung in his throat. Lyra huffs.

“… It isn’t important.” Dusknoir finally states in a dejected tone of voice. Holding everything back was the safest course of action for now. Those events, even if they were now months after the fact, still rung fresh in everyone’s minds. Especially in the minds of the guild members… Especially in Lyra and Eros’ minds. Prattling about his justification for what he did, trying to clear everything up in a way that sounded like he was begging for forgiveness would be an insult to them. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness.

His head lowers. His single, red and gold eye stares at the liquid in his cup. All this crushing tension made him feel nauseous. Even the sweet fragrance of the juice, which he normally loved, felt sickening to him. Lyra huffs again, but he doesn’t react.

“I don’t know what they were thinking. Stupid. It’s all stupid. Why they think it was a good idea to bring along the person that sought to kill them is beyond my level of comprehension. It’s so stupid.” Dusknoir looks up at Lyra. Her glare wasn’t as intense. There was another expression on her face. It was more questioning… More inquisitive. But her blue-green eyes still had that icy hostility. He was ready to face whatever verbal onslaught she was about to hash out, as tense and anxious as he was.

“Tell me. I don’t have all my memories, and I don’t think I’ll ever completely recover from my amnesia. But tell me. How long did you chase my Papa? How long did you chase Celebi for? How many years did you spend tailing them down for trying to do the right thing?”

Dusknoir tenses again. Lyra didn’t even understand the full extent of just how long his endeavor to pursue Grovyle spanned. Though the days did not change, though the sun never rose, age was an inevitability that they all faced. If time survived in any form it was through the aging of the mind and the body. But that was the question… Just how long did he chase them for? Physically and mentally, Dusknoir could tell that Grovyle was a little younger than he was, but their exact ages were unknown. So there was no real way to measure how long the chase spanned.

How could you tell how long your chase was when you didn’t even know how old you were when the chase began?

The answer was held in his throat. Lyra’s glare was back. She was losing her patience.

“Well? Do you have an answer or not?”

“I… I don’t know, Lyra. I don’t even know how old I am, much less how long I chased your father and Celebi… Time was unable to be measured. All I know is I am much older than I was when the chase began. That’s the only answer I can give you, I’m afraid.”

The look Lyra gave him was one of avarice, of dissatisfaction. However, she did not seem to lash at him again, as if she was considering her next choice of words. Processing the information. Digesting it. Dusknoir could feel sweat pooling on his forehead. Despite the immense height difference between Lyra and him, he felt so small. So very small.

Lyra only sighs.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised. It makes sense, so I can’t say it’s a farce one way or another. You’ve always had a way of saying things that made a lot of sense, even if they were nothing but fucking lies.” Lyra’s expression held a look of contempt. She was gripping her cup tight again. Very faint puffs of smoke left her nostrils as she tried to keep her breathing level. Dusknoir’s body stiffened greatly, the grip on his own cup tightening. His breath was caught in his throat. It was like a rope was tied around his neck… head?

He could feel the eyes all on them. The room felt cramped, and the air felt intense and suffocating. His anxiety was at its highest. This wait for Grovyle, Celebi, and Eros was the longest wait he’s ever felt in his life. His eye darts about the room. He wanted to flee. He wanted to run. He wanted to escape. Escape to fresh air. Escape those eyes… Those painful, staring eyes, judging him under their gaze. But Dusknoir was frozen. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. His feelings of anxiety and dread were just that intense.

He couldn’t even speak. Lyra’s eyes weren’t even on him anymore. They were fixed on her cup. He could see her fidgeting in her seat, as if her own body wanted to run. She felt uneasy, but nothing… Nothing compared to the intense feelings of anger bubbling inside her, threatening to surface at any moment. Her teeth were clenched, and the grip on the cup was tightening evermore, the strain on the object becoming too much for it to bear.

A final crack is heard, and the drink spills all over the table as her cup gives way under Lyra’s grip. The sound of the break was not loud, but to Dusknoir, it echoed through his mind like screams echoing from the stockades. The cup was made from a hollowed out piece of hardwood that had been carefully treated to prevent rot from its frequent exposure to liquids. Dusknoir would have found the act of snapping it under the force of the Charmander’s grip impressive if he wasn’t so nervous.

The juice stained the table red. It was a dark red that reminded Dusknoir of blood. His mind drifts back to the execution attempt. He could feel bile rising from his stomach. Letting them die… Letting Lyra and Eros die… A pair of children…

He truly was the lowest of the low, to have allowed himself to go through with Mas– no– Primal Dialga’s orders.

The worst part about this was that Lyra’s expression was completely stone-faced. Expressionless. She was silent for what felt like an eternity as she stared at the remains of the cup, crushed in her fist. Dusknoir’s eye scans the room. Spinda had seen what had happened, but the poor Pokemon– bless his soul– was too terrified of what Lyra might do to even move in order to clean up where the drink had spilled. Even the outlander team, who were the only ones focused on their conversation previously, were watching in a tense silence.

“Did you even care at all about us?”

Those words struck him like cold, iron thorns. Everything about Lyra exuded a dangerous coldness. Her glare, her tone of voice, the scowl etched on her face… Everything. Dusknoir’s body remained as still as a stone statue. That constricting feeling around his neck was back in full force.

“Did you even care at all?!” Tears were starting to well in Lyra’s eyes. Her voice had cracked in a rare moment of pain. The icy expression was now one of anguish. Lyra was… Crying.

She was actually crying…

Dusknoir couldn’t even look her in the eye anymore. Her fist was balled tight, further squeezing the broken cup. Splinters from the wood were digging in her hand, but she didn’t care. To see someone so strong-willed, rivaling her father’s willpower, so brave, reduced to this… Dusknoir was unable to do anything. He wanted to cry too.

But the tears didn’t come. His expression remained dead, hollow. He was having trouble breathing from just how anxious he was. Lyra grits her teeth. She punches the table, which makes Dusknoir visibly jump where he sat.

“ARE YOU GOING TO STAY SILENT THE WHOLE TIME?!” Lyra roars. The tears were streaming down her face. “DID YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT EROS AND ME, EVEN A LITTLE BIT? ALL THOSE TIMES YOU SAVED US– FIRST AT AMP PLAINS, THEN AT AZELF’S LAKE, WERE ALL OF THOSE JUST… Just ploys? Strings to tug? Something to gain our fucking trust so you can stab us in the back afterwards?!” Lyra was also having trouble breathing. She was visibly shaking, though Dusknoir couldn’t tell if it was from her unease, anger, or a combination of both. Smoke was puffing from her nose. Her eyes were stained red with her tears.

She finally releases her grip from the broken cup. Her hand was covered in splinters and scrapes, bleeding a bit in some places. But she ignored it. She points at her arms. Both of them, especially her right arm, were covered in raking, slashing claw marks. She removes the bow around her neck to show him the scars hidden underneath it. Some of the Sableyes’ attacks landed dangerously close to some of the vital arteries in her neck. The scars left deep marks on her chest.

“Look at me. Look at me, Dusknoir. Look. At. Me!” Lyra hisses. He didn’t want to, but his eye examined every mark… Every scratch, every bit of damage she sustained during the execution attempt… The marks on her chest were especially brutal. Though they attacked the ropes, those ropes didn’t stop the Sableye’s attacks from making their marks. The bile was rising in his throat again. He chokes it back, trying to keep himself as composed as possible even in the midst of his anxiety and guilt. Dusknoir was not okay.

“They’re even worse on Eros than they are on me. He kept squirming, trying to get out, and the ones that were attacking him were much more ruthless than the ones attacking me. Do you want to know what he was saying the whole time they cut at him? ‘I don’t wanna die… I don’t wanna die…!’He put everything he had in his counterattack when we broke from the ropes. I barely had any time to dress his wounds! It’s a miracle they didn’t end up infected.” Lyra was seething. Smoke was starting to blow from out of her mouth now as well as her nostrils.

“Do you realize how much he trusted you? He saw you as someone he could look to for advice, look to for guidance, look to as a trusted adult… He wanted to be like you, Dusknoir. Do you realize how much he fucking trusted you? Even when we were in the future, even when we were fleeing for our lives, he still wanted to come back to you and ask what was going on, why you were doing this… Why did you drag Eros into this…?” The last question was asked in a softer tone of voice.

Dusknoir couldn’t say a word. A choked noise leaves his throat. Lyra doesn’t even seem to notice. She slams her fist down on the table. He could see wisps of embers in her mouth, as if she were preparing to fire a Flamethrower attack at him at any moment.

“WHY HIM?! WHY EROS?! YOU COULD HAVE LEFT HIM OUT OF ALL OF THIS AND YET YOU DIDN’T! DID YOU TAKE SOME SICK FUCKING PLEASURE FROM CRUSHING HIS SPIRITS LIKE THAT?!”

“I DO NOT, LYRA! I DO NOT!! I NEVER WANTED TO HURT YOU, I NEVER WANTED TO HURT EROS! I DID NOT WISH TO DIE EITHER, I ONLY WANTED TO SURVIVE!” Dusknoir snaps back. They both fall silent. Smoke was still puffing from Lyra’s mouth. Tears stained her face, but a dark glare was evident on her features. Both of them were shaking. A long pause remained between them. Everything was silent as the onlookers stared them down, watching, waiting for the two to hit a boiling point and have everything die down.

“That’s all… I… I did not wish to disappear. I did not wish to die… Lyra. You… Your father… You… Your plans threatened our world, our lives. That world of darkness was all I ever knew. And that world was all that many of us knew… We had to fight to survive. It wasn’t ideal, but… But we were alive… In my mind, that was all that mattered.”

“You weren’t living. You were surviving, if even that. That place was a nightmare. Pokemon were fighting each other over food and water, and I ended up seeing some trying to eat another Pokemon because they had gone that far past the point of no return because of the darkness’ influence. I had to cover Eros’ eyes when we encountered that… Do you know how horrible that is? Seeing other Pokemon eating each other? Knowing that would be the fate that we could suffer through if time were to completely stop? It’s just as traumatizing as nearly being executed, if not more so.”

“I…” Dusknoir tries to say something else, but the words remain stuck once again. Lyra’s expression was still that pained, anguished look. He wanted to say something. He truly truly felt horrible for everything that he did. He wasn’t going to beg for her forgiveness– that was more than he felt he deserved. But he wanted to comfort her. He wanted to make her feel safe…

He reaches his hand out toward Lyra, but she slaps it away with the hand that wasn’t covered in splinters. Dusknoir winces. He mentally berated himself for that. Idiot. Of course she wasn’t going to let you do that. He thinks disdainfully to himself.

“Save it. Don’t touch me.” She hisses. She places her bow inside her treasure bag. Since she wasn’t able to tie it back in with one hand, she placed it in the bag so she wouldn’t lose it. Dusknoir kept his hands close to himself. Every fiber of his being was bristling. Lyra could see him shaking, but she doesn’t react to it. Her expression was that stone-faced look again. Honestly, seeing her look so cold and stoic was even more unnerving than her angered expression.

“Something happened between you, Celebi, and my Papa in the future to have them trust you like they do. I don’t know why they’d partner with the one that’s tried to kill them for so long, but I’m not going to make their lives more difficult just because I hate your guts. So I’m going to make one thing perfectly clear. Are you listening?”

“Y-yes. I’m listening…” Dusknoir manages to say despite the choking feeling in his throat. A noise rumbles from Lyra, but Dusknoir couldn’t tell if it was a huff or a growl. She gets up out of her chair, walking next to Dusknoir. She wasn’t facing him, but he could still see that cold, stone-faced look she held. But the look she gave him when she glanced at him from the corner of her eye– she looked ready to kill.

“Well, you’d better listen well. I’m only going to say this once. If you do anything… If you even think of hurting Papa, Celebi, or Eros… If you plan to stab us in the back ever again, I will make you regret it. I will make you suffer. I will make you wish you had disappeared when the future was changed. That is a promise, not a threat.” Lyra’s voice was the coldest and darkest it had ever been. She walks away, exiting the cafe. She was gone.

But just because Lyra left didn’t mean Dusknoir was able to immediately relax. The room felt unbearably warm. His eye darted everywhere. He was unable to move. He felt his hands shaking. His whole body felt like it was vibrating. He felt dizzy. All eyes were on him. Watching… Watching… Watching…!

Bile spills out of the mouth on his stomach on the floor. His nausea from before finally caught up with him. His nerves were fraying.

Everything felt like it was closing around him. The metaphorical rope around his neck was tightening. The stabbing sensation from the watching eyes was unbearable. All he could see was darkness. All he was reminded of were the horrible things he’d done. He did not deserve their forgiveness, their mercy. It was too… It was too kind for a deplorable being like him.

He didn’t even notice he was crying.

“Do you need a moment?” Dusknoir could hear Spinda’s voice. He felt Spinda’s paw on his arm. Dusknoir shakes his head.

“I’m alright.” He lies, as if he hadn’t just been seen throwing up and crying from the stress of his talk with Lyra. Spinda didn’t press him about the events that took place. He cleans the mess on the table before moving to the mess on the floor. But Dusknoir does not react to this. He stares at the cup in his hand. He grips it, sighing softly to himself.

He wasn’t going to beg for their forgiveness. Even if they never forgive him, as long as he continues to do what Grovyle had inspired him to do– rebuild the world for the sake of the future– that was all that mattered. Time will continue to march onward.

They can make their own choices. They deserve that much. I’ll help them as much as I can if they’ll have me. This I swear.