“Would you be amenable to changing our day off this coming week?” Ingo asked one evening, barely even looking up from the sweet potato he was wiping from Kari’s face.

It was normal, by this point-- and much, much easier to clean than the remnants of cake from two days prior. Just that morning, Emmet had noticed a glob of dried frosting deep in Archeops’s plumage, and he was more amazed that the raptor hadn’t found and dealt with it on his own, than he was that it was there in the first place.

They hadn’t planned on the passengers’ first birthday including a shared smash cake, but Elesa had thought it would be funny; while she hadn’t been wrong, it was hard to overlook the fact that she played no part in cleanup. It had been surprisingly difficult to buff the smudges from Klinklang’s steel, and instead of patrolling, then heading to bed, Durant had spent that night pacing up and down the hall-- a direct result of the sugary mush he’d vacuumed up before anyone could stop him.

...even so, it had been a good day. It was still hard to believe a full year had passed since they’d come into the world.

Emmet paused in the middle of trying to ease his own washrag from Rael’s grip. “Yes. Why?”

From the sound of it, his brother had something in mind, but the timing was strange. Why was it coming on the heels of another day they’d specifically requested?

“There’s a blossom viewing event that will be held to the east of Village Bridge; I thought it might be a good idea to start a tradition for them, so they grow up with it.”

“The cherry blossom festival?” Emmet echoed, wracking his brain for any further information he had on the matter. That was the extent of it, he found; they’d never made a point of visiting, so he knew of the occasion, but nothing more. “It’s a nice idea. But flowering trees will not be interesting for them.”

That made Ingo glance over, shooting him an unimpressed look.

“Yes, I expected the twelve month olds to develop a burning passion for arboriculture. Obviously.” He shook his head, folding the potato-laden half of the cloth over itself, so it wouldn’t perpetuate the mess, “It’s not only the trees; it’s remarkable due to the herd of Deerling and Sawsbuck that rest along Route 12 every year. Their pelts and antlers help them blend in, but after so much time with human contact, they’re incredibly docile around crowds of people.”

Humming, Emmet finally succeeded in prying chubby fingers away from the cleaning cloth, and swiftly moved it beyond Rael’s reach. The boy whined and made grabby hands for it, only to have it replaced with a teething ring. For a second, he looked down at the toy-- as if processing what it was, and what it wasn’t-- and then proceeded to look at his father with an expression that could only mean “Are you kidding me?”

Emmet quickly stashed it over the back of his own chair, and held his hands up, proving that he didn’t have the washcloth anymore-- what even was a washcloth?

“You should fear for the day they master object permanence.” Ingo said dryly, though he did nothing to hide the amusement in his voice. Kari chose that moment to reach out with hands covered in mashed potato, insistently slapping his father’s arm to get his attention back where it belonged: on him. With a heavy sigh, Ingo took up the first messy hand, diligently wiping each pudgy finger clean.

“Where did you even find more sweet potato…?” He asked the second hand, then looked up to address its owner in mock-reproach, “Were you holding out on Archeops?”

There was a gleeful giggle, and a squawk from the floor below Kari’s highchair, but, from Emmet’s angle, no raptor to be seen. Good. That meant The Iron Ball of Shame was working. He would be divested of it after dinner was over, but if they removed it even a second earlier, his neck would be fully extended, seeking out anything edible on the chairs’ trays.

Archeops wasn’t above licking baby food directly off of a baby, and Emmet had no idea where he’d learned that behavior. Yes, Galvantula did something very similar, given the opportunity, but the difference was that she was trying to clean them off.

He spent a moment toying with the ring, trying to convince Rael to accept it in the washrag’s place, and looked up in time to see the flicker of mild exasperation as Ingo turned the matching washcloth onto his own arm.

“On the matter of the festival, with so many people congregating in the same place at the same time every year, there are more human-centric festivities-- though they’re generally kept to Village Bridge, so as not to disturb the herd.” With the second side now also soiled, he folded the washrag once more, into fourths, and set it aside to be thrown in the wash. “I’ve read that the street fair that crops up every year takes inspiration from similar traditions in the Kan-Johto provinces and Sinnoh region, weighting more toward the latter, due to our local Cherrim population.”

While he wasn’t exactly surprised, Emmet’s brows raised as he considered the new information, “You’ve put some thought into this.”

“I’m not saying that we have to act on it,” He returned, leaning forward to unlock the highchair’s tray. There was a moment where he got distracted by Kari reaching for his face, and absolutely had to take the time out to blow against the crown of his head, eliciting a screech of approval. Once the baby had been kissed on the nose-- for good measure-- he finally added, “It was just that the timing seemed to work out for our purposes.”

“We can try it.” Emmet said, relinquishing the toy into Rael’s clutches. “I will put in for change of leave tomorrow morning. Having a full week’s notice should make it feasible.”

“If not, we can save it for next year.” Ingo said, distracted; now that it was unlocked, most of his focus was directed toward removing Kari from the highchair. When he had the boy settled on his lap, he reached down to unfasten Archeop’s Iron Ball; it clunked softly to the floor-- the sound dampened by the holster it was set into-- and, immediately, the top half of a teal and red head poked up over the table.

After all the effort it had taken to get him to accept it, Rael dropped the teething ring and squealed in delight the instant he saw Archeops. That alone made Emmet reconsider the merits of the migrating Deerling and Sawsbuck-- if a glimpse of a Pokemon he’d known his entire life could make Rael light up so completely, seeing something entirely new would be worth it… even if it seemed unlikely that he he would remember it, come next year.

“We’ll try to make it happen.” Emmet decided.

-

The passengers didn’t care much for the cherry blossoms, but the Deerling in particular were a big hit. One grew so bold as to creep closer to the edge of the blanket they’d set out, and sniff around.

It was clearly looking for handouts, and, after several seconds of intense eye contact with one another, the elder twins had determined that it wouldn’t be so terrible to gift it a couple of the oran cubes they’d brought for the boys. Such berries grew in the habitat, and wouldn’t derail its diet, but the matter of encouraging contact with humans was a completely different ethical debate; while Emmet wasn’t quite as bothered-- seeing that these particular Deerling were already so accustomed to humanity-- Ingo ducked his head behind Rael, looking guilty.

They’d arrived from the station in Lacunosa Town rather than Village Bridge-- hoping to avoid the worst of the foot traffic-- which meant they didn’t even approach the street fair for quite some time. Speaking objectively, the way they experienced the festival that year, it was a glorified picnic, but that was hardly a point against it. With the gap in between this side and the street fair, the air was fresh and crisp, and the lull of voices made for a comforting backdrop.

Those Pokemon that usually inhabited the route didn’t seem terribly bothered, which could be chalked up to the fact that most were very social species. Heracross lurked at the edges of picnic blankets, like their visiting Deerling, or stalked Combee from the shade of the cherry trees, searching for a sweet snack. The local Dunsparce were bolder, inviting themselves onto blankets and towels, happy for the bedding to sunbathe on, and Sunkern floated about on the lazy breeze. The Cherrim and Cherubi were a mixed bag; some ventured out into the open, their blossoms opening under the unfiltered sunlight, while others hung back in the branches, where it was safe. Once, they even caught sight of a Rapidash’s pale flank disappearing into the trees.

The boys loved it. Granted, they loved anything that was both colorful and which moved, but it was important to provide them with new stimuli, as enrichment. It didn’t really matter if they understood exactly what was going on around them, just yet, only that they were out in the world to experience it. If it had just been their parents, they might have moved on from Route 12 sooner, but the novelty hadn’t worn off for Kari and Rael, even once their fruit was sufficiently smashed and Rael pitched a teething cracker into the air, where a passing Pidove snagged it. If anything, it was impressive-- both the throw, and the fact that the boys seemed content to stay within the bounds of the blanket. Shortly thereafter, Rael crawled onto Ingo’s lap, where he promptly fell asleep in his father’s arms, and while it would have been easy to pack up and carry him around like that, they were content to linger.

With his brother otherwise occupied, Emmet kept an arm around Kari, who was stretching one little hand out as far as he could for the Deerling. Its ears swiveled and tail twitched, but it stayed firmly in place, legs folded beneath it on the corner of their blanket; it wasn’t intimidated, but neither did it draw any nearer-- the herd was friendly, after all, but still wild.

The longer they idled there, the more Emmet understood how this would be a valuable addition to their yearly array of milestones. Inevitably, Rael and Kari would join in on the yearly visits to the regional fair, but, for all of the similarities, this was distinct. While it wasn’t overly warm yet, the sun shining through made it feel more welcoming than the chill of an encroaching fall, and not only were the crowds comparatively sparse, but everyone in attendance seemed far more relaxed.

Children liked to mirror their parents, didn’t they? It would be good for the boys to have their own version of a long-held tradition, especially one that made it feel unique to them.

It took some time to move on from Route 12, and contrasting the prolonged picnic, they didn’t patronize the street fair for too long. There were stalls selling all sorts of seasonal snacks and cherry blossom patterned trinkets. The local buskers had banded together, it seemed, and were performing down by the river, out of the way; it was a smart move. While it wasn’t perfect, in that it provided a small amount of noise, the water would help to amplify and carry the music, thus bringing in curious tourists.

By that point, their family unit had been away from home for several hours, so it was little wonder that the passengers were growing weary of the outside world. Over their heads, their parents discussed two pit stops, and then they returned to the safe haven of a subway station.

The fussing lessened as they waited for the green line, which was cute in and of itself. Though they didn’t take Rael and Kari out an excessive amount, the boys got to go on trips to their grandma or grandfather’s houses; combined with the occasional emergency trip into work with a child in tow, it seemed they were beginning to recognize this environment. That was probably a good thing. They were going to have to tolerate various subway stations for the next fifteen years, at the least.

In the lull, Emmet pulled out the box of snacks they’d purchased, and, in unison, he and Ingo ducked their heads together and laughed at the contents. The greater half of it was the same cherry blossom mochi that had been on display, arranged precisely as it had been advertised-- but a small portion, upon request, was just the red bean filling. It seemed the vendor hadn’t known how, exactly, to present it, because those, too, were wrapped in a pickled leaf.

It made perfect sense from a parents’ perspective: at this age, rice was a potential choking hazard, but the red bean paste wasn’t any different from a mashed vegetable, sugar content notwithstanding. They’d gone out to start a birthday tradition for the passengers, so it only seemed right to get them a treat.

Unlike the cake, the boys didn’t get free rein of this particular birthday confection-- each got a small piece fed directly to them, with no opportunity to fling it. It was far from the first time they’d encountered a new food, but the spectacle of it never disappointed; Rael froze in the middle of chewing, trying to understand what was in his mouth, and Kari decided that he didn’t care for the specifics straight away, throwing his hand out for more.

A small taste was alright, but anything else would have to wait until they were home. New foods had to be tested in moderation, in case they didn’t agree with one of the two, and nobody wanted to be reason a baby got sick in a public space. This amount would be safe, especially since they were heading straight home, but for now, it was all they were getting.

Ingo guided Kari’s hand back from the box and drew him higher on his lap, petting his head in consolation; an unhappy babbling was muffled against his front as his son decided to cuddle in and pout at the same time.

“I know, what a terrible day you’ve had. You rubbed oran juice all over yourself and your brother, you saw a Deerling but couldn’t pet it, and now you have to wait to get the rest of your treat. You poor thing.”

Nodding gravely, Emmet put in, “Life is verrrrry hard for a baby.”

“Oh well,” Ingo’s arm curled protectively around the infant on his lap as he leaned over, bridging the distance between their seats. At the same time that a shoulder knocked against his twin’s, he lifted his free hand to tickle beneath Rael’s chin and, finally, the little boy swallowed his snack. “What’s done is done. I suppose we’ll just have to try for a better result, next year.”