It was something of a surprise just how many of the trainers who cleared the standard battle lines decided that, in addition to besting Donta, Leron or both, they wanted to come back to the station for another challenge.

Surprising, but far from unwelcome. It proved that there were a great number of challengers here to hone their skills and not just climb the ranks, as a loss still counted as a loss. Taking the opportunity to battle either of the twins at this point was essentially going in all or nothing.

There were some who didn’t want to risk it after beating one of the acting Subway Bosses, which was a fair choice, but it made the battles they did see that much more intense. It was yet to be seen whether or not the latest team would go on to the Super Multi Course,

Right off the bat, the pair was in a good spot. A Samurott and Beheeyem up against Chandelure and Klinklang. Chandelure would be able to counter the psychic type, but they’d have to ensure that she stayed up to make it that far.

“Protect,” Ingo called, just in time to shield her from Surf, thus answering what they might have to weather; the Beheeyem’s trainer cursed to themselves as Shadow Ball followed suit, glancing harmlessly off of the shield, but the psychic type itself escaped the deluge unharmed. Good to know; it had Telepathy then, instead of Synchronize.

The confirmation definitely hadn’t escaped Emmet’s notice, either. “Aim for Samurott! Toxic.”

It was a minuscule risk, but one that paid off, and Samurott immediately winced at the sludge sinking in through its fur. Not only would the severe poisoning increasingly chip away at their adversary’s HP, but it presented a new angle of attack; Overheat would be wasted in this scenario, but… “Chandelure, follow Klinklang-- Hex!”

Though lacking any proper type advantage, the move’s effectiveness would be greatly boosted with the poison coursing through her opponent’s veins-- it left her open to Surf, but the first round of Protect was enough to steer Beheeyem clear of a second Shadow Ball, keeping her up for the remainder of the round. That did mean that Klinklang took a second blow in rapid succession, which was far from ideal-- neither Surf nor Zen Headbutt was the worst it could have been, however, and it scraped through to fire off a Thunderbolt. The next wave of poison damage was enough to put the primary threat down.

As Samurott’s trainer released his reserve Pokemon, Ingo spared a split second to glance at Emmet, who inclined his head toward the freshly-released Toxicroak. It would likely hone in on Klinklang, which was already hanging in there by a thread. Galvantula would be able to resist a fighting type attack, but didn’t have any particularly strong counters for it. Their best bet at the moment was Chandelure’s Psychic, but she would likely only get one shot at it, and without any inherent type affinity it was unlikely to score an automatic knock-out. The damage it would do against the cross of fighting and poison simply couldn’t be understated, though.

The check-in lasted just a fraction of a second, enough to hear a dampened “-ect again.” from the other side of the field as their opponents took the same time to confer.

Ingo didn’t turn to look, but he could imagine the edge Emmet’s smile must have taken on.

Sure enough, there was the call to use Protect-- but the orders were for Klinklang, who weathered Wake-Up Slap beautifully, letting the attacking frog all but bounce off of its barrier. While it was in prime position, Chandelure took aim with Psychic, and so too did Beheeyem, albeit with a different target.

There was… one hitch in that plan. With targets in such close proximity, something strange happened to the Psychic attacks, and they diffused with a loud popping of the ears. The resultant dizzy spell sent Ingo reeling backwards, reaching for the stability of the wall behind him.

He swallowed hard and forced his eyes open, scouting out the battlefield to ensure that nobody else had been adversely effected, but when he looked to his right to assure Emmet that he was fine, he could keep going, he stopped short. This was the wrong edge of the field; the guidelines ended just a few feet to the side. Automatically, his head whipped around to the left instead, thinking that it must have turned into some kind of teleporting move instead.

Ingo was used to seeing a mirror image of himself going through the day beside him. This was not that. He was currently looking at himself, dark palette, altered uniform and all.

One hand flew to his middle and, simultaneously, he caught a glimpse of a white cuff; by the time the first landed, finding the flat of his brother’s abdomen, the pieces had clicked and he was already slapping the second hand to his (?) mouth.

The sounds of utter confusion on the other side of the room suggested something very similar had happened over there, but Ingo had matters to attend to here, first. He just had to trust that Cameron would see to their guests long enough for him and Emmet to gather a handful of wits between them.

His twin was standing frozen against the wall, precisely where Ingo had braced himself, staring at him with wide eyes. He understood-- he had to have, given the disbelieving part to his (??) lips-- but had yet to force himself into action. That was fine. If he couldn’t, Ingo would; that was just the nature of things.

His first few steps were precarious, but not in the way he’d become accustomed to; walking normally after weeks of struggling to keep up was utterly bizarre, but a relatively easy readjustment.

Borrowed hands hovered over his own shoulders uncertainly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and even that was strange, because it was undoubtedly Emmet speaking, but under the inflection Ingo tended toward, it also wasn’t. It was his voice. Had he just not noticed that they had the same voice all this time?

He was answered by an unsteady sound that he took to be a ‘no’.

“If I assist, will you be able to keep your feet under you long enough to reach the bench?” He backtracked after a second, and added a cautionary, “It will be different. You’ll need to take shorter steps to accommodate for the passengers, but I will help keep you steady.”

Emmet’s face scrunched, but only from the nose up, and he gave a curt nod, letting Ingo take over for the wall. From his own experience, Ingo opted to wrap an arm around the small of his back, hand held just above the hip in order to pull him nearer if need be. He knew to be generous with his pace-- even moreso than usual-- and, while it was slow going, they reached their destination without incident.

Sitting down heavily, Emmet turned his eyes up to him.

“This is awful.” He concluded, both hands pressed to the bulk of his stomach.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get it worked out; please remain here.” Ingo said, and it was probably weird to press a kiss to the top of his own head, but he didn’t much care right now. All that mattered was that it would help his brother, if only for a moment.

As he made up the ground between the sidelines and the main arena, Chandelure and Klinklang both floated over to meet him, the former considering him with narrowed eyes, the latter grinding slightly in the battle’s wake. Both needed the opportunity to rest, and they would get it soon enough, but Ingo still had business to attend to.

Cameron raised a hand at his approach, less flagging him down and more a polite acknowledgment that he was already on his way. Both challengers looked up from where they’d similarly been benched.

“Am I to assume our guests are currently occupying the wrong cabs?” He asked, cutting straight to the point.

Cameron nodded, and so did the pair next to him. “Then you’re…?”

“I’m Ingo.” He said.

Uneasily, Cameron laughed, “That’s uh. A first. From the boss in white.”

Maybe Ingo would find the humor in that later. He didn’t begrudge Cameron what was clearly a nervous response, but he certainly wasn’t laughing right now.

Turning to the challengers, he asked, “Which one of you does Beheeyem belong to?”

One of the two stepped forward, raising his hand timidly. “He’s-- he’s mine. I don’t-- this has never happened before.”

“I believe you.” Ingo said, voice even, trying to keep the teen from panicking any more than he already was. “You called for him to use Psychic just prior to the accident, didn’t you?”

The young man nodded miserably.

Ingo felt his expression twist in sympathy, and was slightly startled when the trainer responded to the nonverbal cue. It was unexpected, but he didn’t let it rattle him, “I requested the same of Chandelure. It stands to reason that the meeting between the two attacks is what caused this, but my knowledge of a Beheeyem’s abilities isn’t the most extensive. As its trainer, are there any other factors you think may have been involved? Its item or Telepathy?”

“...no? Telepathy’s just protection from whole field moves, and his Twisted Spoon shouldn’t do anything but power attacks up.”

Nodding along in thought, Ingo turned from the trainer to his partner. He ran a hand over her globe, and found the slow crackle of flame less than encouraging. “Chandelure, do you think you could assist Beheeyem in conducting everyone to their proper station?”

Conflicted, she dipped her body once, but followed it by shaking left and right.

“Yes and no,” Ingo said aloud, to ensure they were on the same page, “You can, but not right this moment?”

She bobbed again, a tongue of fire licking higher than the rest in the momentary excitement of being understood before dying down to its diminished state.

“You’re too tired after the battle. It wouldn’t be safe right now.”

Crooning remorsefully, she pressed the side of her face to his.

He’d been afraid of that. While it was wonderful to hear that they weren’t far from a solution at all, it seemed the only thing to be done right now was wait. There was no hurrying actual recovery from a battle; wounds could be stabilized readily enough, moves restored in an instant, but exhaustion was exhaustion the world over.

As much as he didn’t want to rush Chandelure-- couldn’t rush her, even-- the thought of leaving Emmet in a state that so keenly distressed him was unthinkable. Alas, it seemed they didn’t have much choice in the matter.

Ingo nodded and reached to recall her, but realized at the last moment that he didn’t actually have her pokeball on him. Instead, he called back Emmet’s Klinklang, who no doubt needed the rest, too.

“Neither of you has reason to leave the city before tomorrow, do you?”

The trainers both shook their heads independently of one another, and then thought to consult the other.

“And you have or can find accommodations until then?” It shouldn’t be difficult. Nimbasa was large enough to support a number of Pokemon Centers within its boundaries; even if they couldn’t find another place to stay, that would always be an option. As he’d expected, neither took issue with the idea of staying in the city overnight. “Then we’ll allow Beheeyem and Chandelure the night to regain their full strength and reconvene in the morning. Though the Battle Subway’s operating hours don’t begin until 9:00, we’ll be here well in advance; I’ll inform the agent on duty that we’re expecting you, and she will let you through. I hope to see you both in your own cabs very soon.”

And, with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, all but dismissing them; Chandelure bobbed along half a step behind him all the way to the room’s far side.

“I take it you heard all of that?” He asked, almost apologetic.

“Your volume has not miraculously lowered itself.” Emmet said, waspish, and then forced himself to play nice, “Yes. I heard. It’s good news. Thank you, Chandelure.”

She moved to bonk gently against him and returned herself to her pokeball.

“Sorry.” He added, watching the door opposite swing shut, leaving them as the room’s only occupants.

“It’s alright, I understand.”

Emmet snorted and pulled what was currently his hat down to hide his face in it. He was still audible-- if slightly muffled-- through it when he next spoke, “I know you understand. That does not make things better.”

“I’m sorry. If I could truncate the waiting period for you, I would.”

There was something between a groan and a whine dampened by the cap.

Tentatively, Ingo rested his fingertips on a shoulder, and when he wasn’t batted away, let his entire hand lay flat, “Can you tell me what specifically is bothering you? I may be able to help remedy it for a short time.”

“I don’t know where to start. Everything is wrong. There is something inside of you.”

Ingo stayed silent for several seconds, unsure how to address that point without sounding like he was sassing his brother. “Is their movement part of the problem?”

“I hate it.” Emmet said, which was a yes.

“We can try walking to the office if you’re able; the motion of it sometimes calms them.”

There was a break in the conversation as Emmet considered it. “Will you help again?”

“Of course.” Pushing away from the bench, Ingo cast a brief look around them to ensure that no pokeballs had rolled loose in all the excitement, which gave Emmet a chance to settle the hat where it belonged. When both of his twin’s hands were free, Ingo stepped forward and took them, helping him back to his feet.

Unlike before, when their positions had been inverted from the usual, he gravitated to the left and then looped his arm around Emmet’s back.

It was incredibly odd, the sensation of carrying his sons one moment, and then suddenly not-- the shift from being quite gravid to sterile was a rapid swing from one extreme to the other-- and it was probably much more dramatic in reverse. In a small way, the moment of respite was nice, though he wouldn’t have chosen this for either of them.

Saying he missed it wasn’t entirely accurate, but he’d forced himself to become… accustomed to certain sensations and adjustments, and their sudden absence was throwing him off kilter. The passengers’ movements were a sign that they were doing well, and their stillness-- because they weren’t there-- made him far more anxious than he had any reason to be.

If this was difficult on him, it had to be even worse for Emmet.

He took a breath and slowly let it out, readjusting his hold on his brother.

“Is it always this bad? Should I have been assisting all this time?” Emmet asked halfway to their destination, slightly more miserable than before.

“I suspect not; you were put in my place without warning, whereas I had the benefit of gradually adjusting to my body’s changes. It would only follow that it’s a greater shock to you, and therefore that much more unpleasant.” He briefly considered the way he’d acclimated to that exact issue, but immediately tossed that idea out. All confronting the problem would do was distress his brother further, and to no benefit if they were set right by tomorrow. “As to your second question, no, I ask for your help when I require it. Please don’t think that I’ve been downplaying my needs.”

Emmet made a throaty noise that wasn’t quite a chuckle, “I do think that. Right now especially.”

“Under different circumstances, I would assure you that it gets better with time, but ideally that won’t be the case.”

The sound turned into a dissatisfied snort, “It will continue to be a problem tomorrow. It will just be your problem again. That is not a solution.”

“No, but it will resolve itself in due time.” Ingo said, and relinquished his grip long enough to cross behind and pull their door open. He held a hand out, hovering over Emmet’s shoulder in case he needed the support, but he managed alright-- though he did stop short, leaning on his desk instead of making the full trip to their office’s couch.

“I knew it was unwieldy. I did not expect them to be so heavy.” Emmet griped, an arm curled around himself out of some conflicted mixture of protection and self soothing, “How are you making it across the station without issue?”

“Everyone has been very patient with me, and I’ve had to learn to be patient with myself. Now, would I be correct in assuming neither of us is fit to conduct any further battles today?” The answer came near immediately, and was exactly what he’d expected. “Then it’s best we clock out early. I would ask that you take some time to rest before we return home, however.”

Emmet made a face, down-turned lips pulling into an anticipatory scowl, but nodded and pushed off of the desk, carefully pivoting to do as he’d been asked. While he did that, Ingo strayed to his own desk and made a short courtesy call to confirm that they wouldn’t be available for the rest of the day-- and that a note should be left for Jackie explaining that the patrons would return the next morning.

He glanced back to Emmet, who had his head tossed back against the couch, one hand splayed over his face.

“Have they settled down at all?” Ingo asked sympathetically, settling next to his twin with a sense of dignity he hadn’t been capable of in a number of weeks. He glanced, briefly, at the clock, working out how to time this.

“A little. Maybe.”

Ah, that was unfortunate, but it could be rather hit or miss; they were somewhat capricious in there. That said, there was still hope for ensuring Emmet got a break. “They should tire themselves out within an hour; recently, I’ve noticed they have a pattern of napping in the afternoons and shortly after we arrive at home.”

There was a snort-- genuine this time, and it was utterly foreign to see his own muted show of amusement outside of a reflection-- as Emmet parted his fingers to look at him. “I’ve noticed that with you as well.”

He felt his face heat up, “It’s important to make the most of the time one has wherein they aren’t being kicked in the ribs.”

“Noted.” He said, any shred of positivity gone. One hand idled awkwardly by a shoulder as the nearer one clasped Ingo’s arm in a muted desperation. “I am not saying you’re wrong. But they aren’t cooperating right now. Can we please just go home?”

“If that’s what’s going to help, then yes.”

His brother’s forehead fell heavily against his shoulder at the tail end of a resounding nod. “Please. I just want to go home.”