The girl took one look at them and her expression cleared. There was the surprise at what she was seeing, of course– perhaps mitigated by her own circumstance– but it quickly turned into recognition. Not just recognition in the sense of ‘you have the same face as my friend’; there was something else there.
“You’re the man who likes winning more than anything else.” She said. It was, notably, not a question.
It should have been. That was an outlook Emmet himself had been forced to reconsider over the months.
When she was finished casting a critical eye over him, her attention settled on his face, “Your name is Emmet, isn’t it?”
“I am Emmet.” He [agreed], “How did you come by that name?”
Her eyes slid away, to somewhere beyond his shoulder, cheeks turning pink, “I tripped last week, and accidentally launched a Pokeball right past Ingo’s head. It only knocked his hat off, but I get why he was startled– I wouldn’t want a high-velocity apricorn that close to my face, either.” / “That was what he yelled: ‘Emmet’. He says a lot of stuff he doesn’t really understand, but…”
[…]
“Be gentle.” She said seriously, “He’s… a little like a Rampardos right now, I think– super strong, but at the cost of being a lot more fragile than you’d guess.”
—
The sounds of a battle echoed down through their tunnel and, though she hid her trepidation well, Akari’s expression tensed. Wordlessly, she sped up.
“The battle platform is at full capacity, sir. I’m afraid I have to insist that you settle for a later departure time.”
Though they’d already increased their clip, Emmet redoubled it, the steady rhythm of battle compensating for his unfamiliarity with the cave system.
He rounded the corner in sync with a firm, “Sir, if you refuse to follow the guidelines, I will, regrettably, be forced to take matters into my own hands,” and made it to the mouth of the cavern just in time to see a figure dart away, a familiar coat billowing behind them as they wove through the battlefield.
Neither of them had ever been much for triple battles—they were difficult to run properly as a two car train– but it seemed his brother had reconsidered in the past few months. In the chamber before him, six Pokemon faced off against one another, not counting the would-be freighthopper, and Emmet instinctively gauged the matchups. It took all of two seconds. He redirected his attention to where it really belonged, and choked out a silent laugh, beaming.
Because there he was. That was Ingo.
Pinning a Machoke to the ground.
To be entirely fair, his brother had given it ample warning.
Behind himself, Emmet heard rapid footfalls approaching, and Akari skidded to a halt several paces beyond where he’d stalled. She swore under her breath and a hand dropped to her belt, “Where do you need me?”
“Please remain seated, Miss Akari,” Ingo called back with a surprising amount of restraint, pausing long enough to shift the Machoke into a headlock while doling out a new round of instructions, “This battle is running in accordance with the timetables; we’ll arrive at a scheduled victory momentarily.”
“But those are–! How did you even piss off three alphas at once?!”
Ah. Well, that explained her alarm, Emmet supposed, but he wasn’t convinced it would turn the tides of this battle– and if Ingo didn’t see any reason to worry, Emmet simply would not.
To the far left, the Golem squaring up against a Tangrowth rolled back in a dead faint.
He might not have known what Pokemon were native to the area, but it was easy to tell which ones had been trained under his brother’s hand, and that all three had been selected specifically to fend off the species which would frequent a mountain. No, it wasn’t just easy to tell– it was laughably obvious.
So laugh was exactly what Emmet did.
Ingo’s head snapped up, looking directly at him, lips parted as if to say something. It was hardly the time, so Emmet headed it off with a sharp, eager smile and a single word:
“Win.”
For just a second, there was a flash of recollection before Ingo narrowed his eyes; as he said, he’d already had this in hand, but Emmet had just turned it into a challenge.
[…]
Almost as an afterthought, he released the Machoke’s limp form. It was fine– he’d ended the stranglehold some time previously– but it did flop down with an audible thud. Then he looked up, as if to ensure that nobody had gone anywhere, and made his way over, eyes never wavering from his destination.
It was absolutely no surprise that he came to a stop in front of Emmet, several polite steps away.
“I know you. You’re important.” He said, quiet, but with an intensity that matched some of his most ear shattering announcements.
Without an ounce of hesitation, Emmet crossed the distance his brother had left and seized both hands in his own. “No, I am Emmet. Whether or not I am important is negligible. At this juncture, the important thing is that you are Ingo. And you are here.”
For just a moment, Ingo’s attention lingered on their hands before shifting back to Emmet’s face. His mouth twitched in something most people wouldn’t bother to call a smile. “I suppose I am both of those things, but please do not downplay your own [importance] like that. Each car is just as vital as the next.”
[…]
Whether or not he realized what he was doing, he slotted in at Emmet’s left side– and Emmet, for his part, automatically mirrored his brother as Ingo began to point their path. Ingo faltered briefly, taking their arrangement in, then cleared his throat and began anew.
“Now I believe it’s time to return to station; please take measures against becoming uncoupled from the group,”
“Follow the rules.” Emmet added, grin threatening his cheeks, “Safe driving!”
“All aboard!” They said in unison, and started back down the tunnels.
“Holy shit.” Said Akari.
Ingo didn’t look back as he [idk], “Miss Akari.”
“Yeah. My bad.”
—
There was a Pokemon waiting for them at the mouth of the cave, one hand resting on a cocked hip and a single, long feather fluttering in the breeze coming down the river.
“My lady.” Ingo greeted her warmly, unfazed as she invited herself into what was currently his and Emmet’s shared personal space. As had been the case with every individual Emmet had encountered, she gave him a critical once-over and, once she seemed satisfied, looked to Ingo, a visible smirk playing over her features.
“I’m well aware.” He said. The warmth wasn’t gone, but tempered by [fond exasperation]. Perhaps to bury it, he turned in toward Emmet and took a step back, making way for a direct view of their procession. “We are currently hosting several first time passengers. Emmet and Miss Elesa have taken great pains to visit, so please afford them the hospitality you’ve showed me.”
The Pokemon glanced down the line, offered a singular nod, and then back to Ingo, eyes narrowed mischievously.
“I may have misspoken. There are certain hospitalities I don’t believe our guests would appreciate.”
She raised a clawed hand and snickered behind it.
“Yes. Thank you for your patience.” This time, the words rang somewhat hollow– still fond, but exasperated
—
“Wait,” Elesa cut in, a smile beginning to crack her features, “The old man from the Pearl Clan you mentioned…?”
“Perhaps your own eyesight is failing you, hm?” Melli asked, “He hasn’t managed to forget where he is and wander off yet. You should make the most of that.”
Briefly, Emmet glanced to his brother, trying to take a cue from however Ingo might be reacting, and was met with a neutral frown. Unbothered, but also wholly uninterested. This man was difficult patron, perhaps, although no worse than he’d expected to be met with.
“I’ll bite.” [Elesa] “How old are you then, Warden Melli?”
[w/e]
“Mmmhmm. Lemme tell you a little secret,” She said, leaning in and wagging a finger to point between the twins, “Those two? They’re 27 years old.”
Melli followed her gesture [adj], considering what that might imply for himself. “Well. I suppose that proves that not all of us can age gracefully.”
[…]
Elesa watched him go, one brow arched, and, as he vanished into the tunnels, turned to her friends.
“We’re working on your image when we get back to the village.” She told Ingo, not unkindly, “I’m not letting that guy have the last word on this, but you do look like you spend all your time in a cave.”
He spread his hands in a broad shrug, “If I may, the Highlands boast the finest cave systems in all of Hisui.”
“A tunnel connoisseur, I see.” She snorted, before reflecting on her own words and sobering minutely. “Ah.”
—
As they crossed the threshold into the village, Akari’s hand shot out and snatched Ingo’s, and she immediately started pulling him towards an enclosure.
“I know we just got here, but I’ve gotta show this off. Can you set up Unown’s Path of Solitude for me?”
“Of course,” He managed, once his brain caught up and kept him from being dragged in her wake. She released him as they reached the pasture, and he turned toward the southern gate, “I’ll be just a moment. Please make any preparations and meet me on the loading platform.”
Emmet immediately made to follow, but Akari snagged the edge of his coat. “Nope. It’s a surprise.” She handed the handful of fabric off to Elesa and held a brief conversation with the woman manning the enclosure, running a thumb over one of the rustic Pokeballs as she returned to them.
There was a sharp whistle to the south, loud enough to make itself known over the din of Nimbasa’s commute; here, it rang clearly across the entire village.
“Battling helped before, so maybe this will do him some good now that you guys are here.”/ “This is just the funniest way to do it.”
[…]
Lords above, Ingo had been trying so hard without even realizing what he was doing. Slinking through cave systems until he could navigate them offhand, raising Pokemon in a culture where humanity teetered on uneasy cohabitation with their neighbors, even hosting a battle facility when the number of returning challengers could be counted on one hand.
—
[after the Unown bit, they all ready/swap in for a multi battle]
“You didn’t use Earthquake.” He said, disbelieving, “You’ve been catching Eelektross in the crossfire for years. You chose now to break the streak?”
“It wouldn’t have worked. Gliscor isn’t Haxorus.” Ingo said, and immediately frowned to himself.
Emmet didn’t seem to catch what had happened, “Even now, you understand the source of the malfunction. That leaves one explanation. You have been doing it on purpose.”
“You’re going to have to find a counter strategy someday.”
“Not. If you stop using Earthquake. On the Multi Train.”
“And if someone decides to employ the combination in Doubles? What would you do then?”
“Then they would also affect their own Pokemon. It’s a double edged sword. As you have demonstrated.”
[…]
He pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back, exasperated. “Emmet.”
Emmet did his best to mimic the tone as he [idk] back, “Ingo.”
There was a terse silence. Or so Emmet assumed.
“Wh- wait. Emmet?”
Or… maybe it was confusion?
When he dropped the [not act but idk] and opened his eyes, something had changed– and not just the fact that Ingo had gone from exasperatedly [w/e] to looking directly at him.
There was a level of comprehension there that, until now, had been missing.
He had exactly two seconds to process that fact. Then Ingo crossed the gap between them at a speed that was frightening, even for a conductor, and lifted him right up off of his feet.
“You are Emmet!”
Ingo was smiling.
Not the usual crinkle of his eyes at a bad joke or [adj] slant of his brows. Not even the faint downturn of the lips that most people would take as mild disappointment. He was beaming up at his twin with a [idk] beyond what Emmet himself saw in the mirror.
Someone sobbed. After a second, Emmet realized he, himself, had been the source.
—
“Battle Subway? Like… the Battle Frontier?” / “Are you telling me your Unova’s Frontier Brains?”
Unfortunately, she’d instinctively directed the question toward the twin she was more familiar with, who gave her a dull look.
“You know perfectly well that I’m unable to give that kind of inquiry a satisfactory answer.”
—
“Ingo, honey,” She said, [idk], “You’re the sweetest man I know, but you look like you’re about to carry out a hit for the Sneasel mafia and dispose of the evidence.”
There was a long silence, during which time Ingo tried to puzzle out a response. He eventually landed on, “That’s… just my face.”
“If that was true, Emmet would look like a maniac 24/7.”
“Sometimes the truth is painted on the subway walls, I’m afraid.” He deadpanned.
Whatever Elesa had been about to say was lost to the slow release of air as she tried not to laugh.
“I am beginning to rethink this expedition.”