It was… absurd how quickly time in Hisui seemed to pass.

That was an illusion, of course, created by the events that rapidly unfolded and the daily calls Emmet received, all packed into dense clusters of voicemails. Each noble quelled in turn, the sky shattered and stained red, a trek across the region to craft the tool they needed-- the wild turns would have been difficult to chart if Emmet hadn’t been prepared for half of them.

That presumption of understanding meant that one call in particular caught him off guard. Instead of reporting back that he’d earned Mesprit’s token, Ingo barely said anything, and what little he did say was tight, disturbed. He ended up calling back the next morning, relaying the information Emmet had originally expected, and never referenced the first call again. It was a harsh reminder that, for everything he heard second hand, he missed that much and more-- and it always seemed like Ingo happened to leave the worst of it out.

Take now, for instance, where the tone of his voice clearly suggested that he was in some kind of pain, but he hadn’t acknowledged it once. Emmet could concede that there were more exciting things to talk about, but it just made his apprehension that much worse. There was a reason Palkia and Dialga had been preemptively banned from the Battle Subway; removing oneself from the subway didn’t magically make them safe to be around.

But dragons, what must it have been like to stare down the avatar of time itself? Ingo had said he wished Emmet could have seen it-- from a reasonable distance-- and he couldn’t help but agree. In a perfect world, neither of them would have been put in such a dangerous position, and in a just one, both of them would have been there to support one other. Emmet wasn’t sure what that meant for the world they currently lived in. It was imperfect and unjust, certainly, but that was a list of negatives; what was it?

“I don’t know what comes next.” Ingo said, catching him off guard and causing him to rein in his racing thoughts. “While I still believe there’s a track onward, to get our hopes up over circumstantial evidence simply isn’t productive. There’s nothing for it but to keep looking for the next destination, and until it’s found, I’ll continue to ensure the safety of the people living in this world.”

Emmet let himself fall back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his Xtransceiver on his chest. The fear that Hisui might have stolen his brother’s spirit was long gone, but it was always a welcome reassurance to hear him speak like that. People remembered Emmet for his single-mindedness, and that could come across as being stubborn, but really, the both of them were just as willful as the other. It was what made them a perfect match, perfect complements, perfect rivals. Theirs was the best combination of similarities and differences, making them unique, fully realized people on their own, capable of surviving this separation and-- he could only hope-- coming out stronger than before.

Ingo breathed in slowly, deep in thought, pouring over how he wanted to phrase something.

“It’s been such a long time now, and I can’t say how much more of the commute remains. I hope you’ve been living well.” He said, and there was something… wrong with his voice. It wasn’t the monotone warning siren or terse sense of unease, but he sounded somber, and there was no immediate reason for it. It put Emmet on edge.

“If that means you’ve moved on… I understand.”

Oh.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that even though they were apart, they were still on the same wavelength. Before any of the calls came in, Emmet had wondered if Ingo hadn’t left of his own volition-- hadn’t moved on with his life and not looked back. It had taken a slew of messages to shock him back to his senses, and that sort of wake up call would never reach his brother in Hisui; it would have to wait until he could tell him directly-- until he could promise him, to his face, that no one would ever replace him. He wondered, vaguely, just how long it had taken this fear to work into his brother’s heart, and how much longer he’d lasted before giving it a voice-- had it matched up to when Emmet’s doubts started digging their claws in?

“It hurts to think, but I need be honest-- with you and with myself.”

“Okay.” He told the ceiling-- and by extension, the Xtransceiver-- even though he knew it was useless. “You’re allowed to feel that way. We’ll talk about it later.”

“It doesn’t matter; you can’t know what happens after winning without winning, and so I won’t stop moving forward.” Ingo had said, and Emmet didn’t bother to bite back a snort. Why had he even bothered to say anything if that was Ingo’s conclusion? He wouldn’t have expected it before, but he found himself smiling-- genuinely. He missed his twin horribly, in new ways each and every day, and this was a reminder why: he was the ridiculous, relentless idealist that balanced Emmet’s blunt realism.

He loved him so, so much.

Waiting for him to come home was one of the hardest things Emmet had ever done, but it was going to be worth it in the end.

Blissfully unaware of that sentiment, Ingo added, “If worst comes to worst, I can only hope that there will be room for me in your life, even if it’s not what we kept before all of this.”

“Dummy.” Emmet grumbled in response, and tilted his head up, listening to the background noise. He recognized the ambient sound of Sneasler and a brief scuffle, meaning she had opinions that needed to be shared with and impressed upon her warden.

“She’s right.” His brother sighed. Emmet decided that meant Sneasler had taken his side, and informed Ingo that he was, in fact, being dumb. “That’s the worst case scenario. Honesty only means that I have to acknowledge the possibility, not sabotage myself by expecting failure. Things won’t be exactly the same-- not even you, no matter what you say or do-- but I truly believe that we’ll be alright.”

For a second, he opened his mouth to argue against the message, but his voice faltered. That was fair. A lot of it was probably just Ingo projecting, but even though Emmet hadn’t been the one most changed by all of this, he wasn’t unaffected. It didn’t mean that either of them were new people, but they would have to be mindful of the differences and give one another time to adjust. It would be tough. There was a part of him that just wanted his brother back, and for everything to go back to normal-- and that was a desire he’d have to temper.

“Just continue to do your best, alright? I promise to do the same.”

“Of course.” He said back, voice hushed.

The recording ended. His Xtransceiver lit up, prompting him to decide what to do now that the audio had played in full; he immediately hit save, and as it idled, so did he.

Even if there was nothing else he needed to help with, there were going to be a lot of Pokemon coming home with his brother. Ingo had spoken on the topic in the past and didn’t seem so sure, himself, but Emmet knew better; regardless of whether or not his twin wanted to leave them in Hisui for their own benefit, some-- if not all-- would be too attached to accept that. They would need to ensure that their Pokemon were introduced to one another safely and accommodate those whose species no longer existed. It was was going to be an endeavor in and of itself-- but realistically, that wasn’t the only adjustment that would need to be made.

Ingo had been hurt, and lacked access to appropriate medical treatment. The alpha Rapidash had speared its horn into his chest and left him with a large burn, which was the only time he’d gotten the help and rest he needed. An alpha Scyther-- now his alpha Scyther-- had put a foot-long gash in his back and left him unable to move without pain for weeks, stuck in the Highlands where only he could help himself. That was the one Pokemon that Emmet wasn’t sure would make the trip back, and in the event that it did… he would have to find a way to make peace with its presence, knowing how badly it had hurt his twin. For now, he didn’t have enough information to predict one way or the other, and so he tentatively marked it as ‘unpleasant, but doable’.

There was the mental aspect of it all, too. Emmet was about as far from a psychologist as they came, but he was relatively sure that facing down a pillar of existence and being thrown about in time would leave their marks. Even if he looked past those grandiose examples, he knew his brother had struggled with suicidal ideation, and while it seemed that he’d overcome it, that wasn’t a matter Emmet was comfortable leaving up in the air. There was going to be a great deal of treatment and recovery in Ingo’s future, and it would be his job to help him heal. That was another difference Emmet thought he could deal with-- a burden he would gladly help shoulder.

...he could make as many educated guesses as he wanted, but, as much as he hated to admit it, that still left an entire half of the equation unaccounted for. What had changed about him? Ingo was right, it had been years of adapting without one another by their respective sides, and something had to be different, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t like that. He didn’t know what behaviors he should try to rein in. Worst of all, if he didn’t know where the differences lay, he couldn’t be sure that they wouldn’t render the two of them incompatible.

Emmet tried to remind himself that those thoughts flew in the face of what Ingo had just promised; his brother had already tracked down every Pokemon in Hisui for the chance to get home, and faced down greater dangers than he ever should have had to look at. While Emmet couldn’t force his words back through time, he could at least take them to heart: his twin would always have a place at his side.

No matter what had changed, they would get through it together.