Emmet had fucked up.

He realized it immediately after the fact, already entire seconds too late. For all that he’d done his research, for all that he knew the where and the when, it had done nothing to warn him for how his plan might backfire. Celebi was reclusive, but not an unknown, and its fleeting form hadn’t given him any reason to fear reaching out for its help.

Instead, it was the wind it blew about on– the breeze that carried it to and fro in time– that chilled him down to his core. He couldn’t possibly forget the sensation of it, because it had signaled the start to the worst week of his life– up until the previous year, that was. In a way, that wind was the reason he’d reacted so harshly when Ingo had failed to check in after [whatever], and what had driven him here in the first place. It had set a precedent.

When they had been young children, playing in the wooded outskirts of Anville Town, Emmet had felt that same wind rush past him, and just like that, his brother had vanished.

If he’d known, he wouldn’t have sought Celebi out. He would have explored any and every other option before resorting to this one, but he’d already made his choice. In the immediate aftermath, he was dismayed to realize that their family’s suffering had come at his own unwitting hand as he tried to right an injustice for the second time.

A small, achingly familiar form darted away, taking shelter around the corner of the shrine. From where he knelt, Emmet could plainly see a pair of dark shoes under the elevated base; they were pointed away, the child’s back pressed to the only cover he had as he tried to figure out where he was and what had happened to him. Emmet braced a hand against the shrine’s edge, helping to lever himself up from the ground, and in the process, noticed that his offering was nowhere to be found, accepted as payment for this… favor.

He suspected the historical society wouldn’t appreciate the disrespect it showed, but he knocked lightly against the shrine’s nearest face and took a step to round the corner. There was a sharp intake of breath, then the sound of running on soft grass, and he found that he couldn’t blame the child; to be torn away from home so abruptly had to be terrifying, no matter a person’s age. He’d been trying not to let himself dwell on that exact point for some time now.

“It’s okay.” He said in the gentlest voice he could muster, and [floundered] for how to follow up. He remembered the week of the disappearance with an agonizing clarity, but it was an unrelated detail he found himself grasping for– had they started using their real names before, or after? If he called out right now, would his twin know who he was talking to?

…it was probably close enough that Ingo had already decided on what he wanted to be called. Even if they hadn’t progressed to the point where they were actively testing it out between them, he would recognize the name as his.

“I’m sorry.” Emmet said, staying put at the shrine’s edge, one hand resting on its corner, “I made a verrrry big mistake. Please forgive me, Ingo.”

The child stayed still for another couple of seconds, and then– seemingly ignorant of the fact that his every move could be and was being tracked– began to inch around the shrine in the opposite direction. Emmet was relatively sure he could catch him if he tried to run, but for now, he waited to see how this would pan out. His currently-much-younger brother paused as he reached the edge where the eastern and southern corners met, and from the [edge] of his vision, Emmet caught a hint of movement. He didn’t look right away, making a dedicated effort not to scare him– any more than he already had– but, gradually, he turned his head.

There was a single silver eye peering at him from the other side of the [shrine], fingers curled around the wood just below it. He offered a shallow, apologetic smile and half turned, repeating, “I’m verrrry sorry, Ingo. This was never my intention.”

The boy disappeared back around the corner, but didn’t actually go anywhere. He probably needed time to think, to process. After a moment, Emmet heard his old name echo down the old village, warbling and fearful.

He turned in full and lowered himself onto one knee before answering in kind; it felt wrong to call that name again after so long, but it made the building anxiety opposite him pause, at least for a few seconds.

“I’m right here.” He added, listening for any change, “I am Emmet. I look different now, but I’m still your brother. Can you trust that?”

Around the corner, he heard a [steeling] breath and, finally, Ingo emerged. He looked exactly how Emmet remembered from back then, a perfect match to the missing child posters, down to the black jumper and cardigan he’d been reported ‘last seen wearing’. It would have been sweet to see his older twin so much smaller than him, were it not for the look on his face and the stubborn fold of his arms.

“I only have one brother.” He lied, somehow leaning forward in accusation while also keeping one foot poised to dart away if need be. “You’re not Drayden. Who who are you really?”

“I am Emmet,” Emmet said again, patient, “We’ve talked about this. I know we have. I have two brothers, and so do you.”

[…]

“Ingo,” He said flatly, patience waning, but only for the circumstance, and not the child before him, “You have not corrected me on the matter of your own name. Not once. How many people know what you like to be called?”

The boy muttered under his breath, but it was audibly, “Just Emmet…”

Emmet himself hummed in agreement. “And how would you intend to proceed from here? Do you even know where you are?”

It sounded unfairly judgmental– of course he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He’d just been ripped through time and space and was helpless to do anything about it. Emmet wasn’t sure what the worst part was: that he’d been the one responsible, or that it wouldn’t be an isolated incident.

If anything, the question seemed to rile his brother up; the shallower pout pulled into a proper frown and, as unhelpful as the observation was at the moment, it was kind of adorable.

“Obviously not! What kind of a question is that?” Ingo demanded, arms folding tighter in a self-soothing gesture that he wouldn’t even process in the moment. He looked off to the side, as if to gauge his surroundings, but at this age, he’d never set foot in eastern Unova– hadn’t even seen it outside of travel documentaries– and didn’t stand any chance of figuring it out on his own. It wasn’t meant as any slight to him, he just didn’t have the body of knowledge he needed.

His expression pinched in distress as he looked down the hill– no doubt processing the fact that he was surrounded on all sides by an unfamiliar evergreen forest– and he took a couple of steps down the incline. Emmet made no move to stop him; he could tell from the body language that his brother wasn’t about to bolt, he was just overwhelmed and trying to make himself understand.

Emmet sighed and closed the gap between them, recognizing the way Ingo’s breathing started to shudder. He didn’t know what he could do to help, but he had to do something; he almost reached out to touch his shoulder, but belatedly remembered that he fell under the umbrella of ‘stranger’ at the moment, and it wouldn’t be welcomed. He ended up sitting down next to his twin, legs hanging over the small ledge, shoes grazing the slightly-dewy grass. Hopefully it would make him seem more approachable, less of a looming unknown.

What he absolutely didn’t expect was for his brother to grab his face in both petite hands and force them to look one another in the eye. He still felt minor tremors travel through the boy’s arms, but Ingo’s expression was stern and searching.

“If you’re Emmet, why do you look like that?” He asked, after a moment of serious contemplation.

Unable to stop himself, Emmet snorted. “Like what? I look like you. That should prove it by itself.”

Ingo’s nose wrinkled at the comment, but it seemed he had more important matters to focus on. “No, you told me you want to look like Drayden when you grow up.”

“Ah.” Emmet said, [?], “It’s tragic. Drayden has a propensity for facial hair that we lack. Verrrrry disappointing.”

He raised one of his hands to graze the smaller one holding onto his face, and when that didn’t net a negative reaction, he picked his brother’s hand up and held it in both of his. “I understand that it does not make up for what I’ve done, but I want to help you. Would seeing Drayden make you feel better?”

Ingo thought about it for a few seconds– maintaining intense eye contact all the while– and then pulled his hand back. At first, it seemed like a no, but then he sat down on the ledge next to Emmet; he still maintained a safe gap between them, but put them back on the same general level. Immediately after, he looked to Emmet’s far hand– his right– gaze raking over the Xtransceiver that peeked out from beneath a sleeve. It would have been awkward and uncomfortable letting someone watch him navigate his Xtransceiver, but today he didn’t try to shield his contact list, and he saw Ingo squint at it before navigating to the next screen– likely noticing his own name at the very top.

The boy leaned away again while the phone rang, abruptly reminded that he was feeling skittish, which left Emmet as the only one in the field of view when their brother answered. Drayden looked him up and down, reading his expression the very same way Emmet had read Ingo’s a minute before, and, in lieu of a formal greeting, asked:

“What did you do?”

“I am Emmet. I have erred.” He said bluntly.

“Elaborate.” Drayden demanded in kind.

He glanced to his left, at where Ingo was scrutinizing the screen and nibbling on his bottom lip; he still looked on-edge, but some of the tension was dissipating as he watched their older brother and heard him speak. As much as he wanted to convince Ingo that he was who he claimed, he understood that it would be orders more difficult when he had to contend with such a large age gap and the matter of a full transition. By comparison, Drayden had changed very little about himself, and was much more recognizable; he looked older and dressed differently, but the basics stayed the same.

Emmet decided to facilitate this track; maybe if they talked in greater depth, Ingo would warm up to the fact that they really were the family he knew.

“My research on Celebi indicated that it has been seen here in Unova. It likes Zorua and hides in forests to play with them. I decided I would try to get its favor.” He admitted, watching Drayden steel himself the longer he spoke.

“You claimed that you would keep me abreast of any developments; why didn’t you follow through?” Drayden asked, but he wasn’t really looking for an answer– not yet, at least. His eyes moved to the backdrop of trees behind Emmet, and connecting the dots was child’s play.

The only child present seemed to have picked up on that, too, and wasn’t paying attention at the moment; instead, he was half-turned to look at the shrine again, as if he expected to find a Pokemon lingering there. Emmet gave his hand a brief tap, trying to corral him for the moment, and he reluctantly turned back around.

Drayden’s gaze moved back down to his younger brother. “It rejected your appeal, then? It’s clearly not good news.”

Emmet opened his mouth to reply and left it that way for a moment, trying to figure out how to handle this.

“It… accepted my offering.” He said, eventually.

Drayden didn’t [allow] him even that inch of [?]. “But?”

“There was a miscommunication.” Emmet said. He looked back over to Ingo, who had his head tilted to see the screen better, and was only barely out of frame. Instead of talking to the eldest, he directed his next question to the youngest-by-technicality. “Can you say hi? It would help explain.”

Ingo didn’t respond verbally, but he inched closer so the forward-facing camera would be able to capture them at the same time. Emmet murmured a thank you and adjusted his Xtransceiver accordingly. Drayden’s brow furrowed, becoming a ridge worthy of one of his dragons, and, in disbelief, he quietly called an old name.

“Ingo.” Both of them said, simultaneously, correcting him without any heat. Since the boy in question didn’t have anything else to say at the moment, Emmet added, “We were testing our names out a long time before we told you.”

“Emmet.” Drayden [?], his usually [thunderous/?] voice a mere croak, and he didn’t have to say anything else to get his point across. Emmet knew. Emmet had known how royally he’d screwed up only three seconds into this mess. He nodded, eyes turned down, ashamed of his actions and making no effort to defend himself.

“Where are you right now?” Their brother asked, strength seeping back in and demanding an answer.

Clipped, Emmet [?], “Abundant Shrine.”

Drayden echoed it back at him, already moving and deep in thought. Ingo echoed it, too, but he was more focused on putting a name to the place; he turned back around to look at the eponymous shrine once again.

“Stay where you are. I can be there in 30 minutes.” Drayden said. His attention strayed to something in his immediate vicinity, but once he’d dealt with it, his eyes turned to the smaller of the two figures. “Ingo, stay with Emmet. I understand that this has to be frightening, but we’re going to make sure you’re taken care of, alright?”

At the sound of his name, Ingo had turned around. He scanned the image on the Xtransceiver’s screen again and hummed in affirmation, giving his head the tiniest forward tilt.

“Alright,” Drayden breathed out, relieved, “I’ll see you soon; 30 minutes.”

Emmet nodded back, and Ingo held up a half-curled hand to say goodbye; shortly thereafter, the video cut, leaving them staring at their reflections– and then each other’s. Neither of them said anything, and Emmet dropped his hand into his lap. Ingo drew his legs up onto their level and wrapped his arms around them, still incredibly [scared] and uncomfortable, but he stayed put, right where he was.

If their arms brushed against each other, neither of them mentioned it.

——-

Ingo had always been very active when they were children, so it felt weird that he stayed in place the entire 30 minute wait, only moving enough to straighten his legs out for a few minutes, avoiding a cramp. When he felt a little better, he pulled them back up and tucked them under his dress, scuffed flats poking out from beneath. His fingers worked into his sweater’s cuffs on either side, and he rested his chin on his folded arms, staring down into the [?] that led to Undella.

Decades prior, when he’d finally [resurfaced], he hadn’t had any memory of where he’d been, the entire week of his disappearance rendered blank. Their parents had taken him to doctors and then a therapist, trying to understand what had happened and– just maybe– help recover the [memory], but nothing had ever worked. Back then, Emmet had stuck with his brother like they’d been glued together, unwilling to take his eyes off of him for the duration of an appointment. Most of what he could remember was Ingo’s building frustration– both at the adults’ insistence and his own inability to provide answers.

Now, it seemed self evident that his memory of that week–this week– had been a casualty of time travel. Emmet tried not to delve too deep into the implications that held and, instead, used it to his advantage: he could show or tell Ingo anything he wanted without fear that it might change something in their distant past. Chandelure would be far too much too soon, but halfway through their wait, he released Galvantula to keep them company and help break the tension. It had looked between them, completely lost, until Emmet gave a very, very brief explanation, consisting entirely of “Ingo is having a verrrry hard time right now. Will you sit with him?”

So, when Drayden arrived from the north– riding in on his Salamence’s back– it was to the sight of a child being flanked by his much-older twin and an incredibly confused spider. When they both stood up straight, allowing him to look them over properly, his expression screamed that he was dismayed, but not surprised.

He drew a deep breath, eyes flicking to Emmet like he had some very pointed comments to make, but he held his tongue, ever the composed politician. Instead, he focused on Ingo, who subconsciously inched forward; his hat must have fallen off as he got up, because he held it in both hands, kneading it anxiously.

There was a [recognition/trust] in his expression that Emmet told himself not to be jealous of; the two of them were incredibly close, of course, but they had different relationships with Drayden. Emmet was the youngest, and he’d grown up with an older sibling right there to lean on, so their distant older brother didn’t seem so [significant]; Ingo, meanwhile, only had Drayden to look up to in that regard. By the time they were old enough to understand their family’s dynamic, the eldest had long since moved on to his life in Opelucid, making his presence the exception rather than the rule– and all the more valuable to Ingo in particular.

No one would deny that the two of them were each other’s comfort people– typical of twins, and utterly proven by Ingo’s reticent behavior without his same-age sibling– but Emmet knew that, to his brother, Drayden meant ‘safe’ in a very unique way.

He was glad, actually– [envious], but glad. It meant there was someone who could help put his twin’s mind at ease. Emmet was still being mindful not to touch too much or too suddenly, but he tapped the backs of his fingers on Ingo’s arm, urging him to go greet their older brother. The child stepped forward, and when that proved safe enough, repeated the process once more, then again and again until he’d crossed the distance.

For a moment, he stared up, taking in the details and then– undoubtedly much louder than he’d intended– said, “You changed your hair.”

“I have a new job, now; I’m afraid I had to adopt a new hairstyle to accommodate.” Drayden said. Unlike many, he didn’t alter his tone to talk to children– he spoke to them on exactly the same level he would talk to teenage challengers and other adults; he moderated his words and made sure he explained things more carefully, but he wouldn’t patronize someone based on their age. This straightforward approach was the correct one, and Ingo finally stopped working wrinkles into his hat from sheer nerves.

Emmet could tell that Drayden hardly even thought about it as he picked it up and settled it on their brother’s head, tugging the edges down and then tucking it so it sat properly. The same could be said for Ingo, who immediately straightened and then went still, allowing him to fix it without a word of complaint. It was actually quite sweet.

Drayden looked at him for a moment longer before cutting to the point. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“We were playing by the greenbelt,” Ingo started, watching Drayden’s expression intently, already seeing what he could read into it, “It rained last night, so there were Tympole in the puddles, and we watched them for a long time. After that, we went to find a good branch to hang Emmet’s sweater on, ‘cause someone got wet and we didn’t want mom to find out.”

Drayden snorted, which startled Ingo at first, but quickly proved helpful; his eyes lit up at having made their brother laugh, and he continued on more readily. “We were arguing about which tree was better when the wind started. I don’t know what happened, then.” The admission took a substantial amount of steam out of him. He looked at Emmet, then returned his attention to the eldest, “We talked some after that, and then you told us to wait for you.”

“Alright. Thank you, Ingo.” Drayden rumbled; it was a very deliberate tone– not a ‘kid voice’ but comforting, the way he would try to help any family member. He looked up and raised a brow, plainly asking for Emmet’s version of events– as if he was one of their parents, arbitrating a disagreement.

“I sought out Celebi’s help. You already know why.” Emmet said shortly; even if Ingo wouldn’t remember this week, there was no sense in saddling him with the knowledge that would disappear for a second time. “I thought I made my intentions clear, but I guess not. Instead of what I asked, it brought Ingo here. We talked. I apologized. We called you. Now you’re caught up.”

Drayden maintained eye contact the entire time, but after he’d finished speaking, looked away to the shrine. “Is there any way to call Celebi back?”

“Yup. It would need a new offering, though. I only had one.” Acquiring a new one would be a pain, but doable. The offering itself was a glorified dumpling, but the ingredients weren’t the most common, and he’d had to track down the gourmet who frequented Route 5 in order to have it made correctly. Emmet wasn’t looking forward to dealing with her again, but he would do it to put this right.

“Alright, then that’s the end we’re working toward.” He looked back to each of them in turn– Emmet first, then Ingo. “Would it be presumptuous to assume we’re headed to my house?”

“No.” / “The apartment would be too much right now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ingo dragging the heel of his shoe through the grass, insulted. “I’m not a baby, you’re just old.”

Though it didn’t show on his face, Drayden choked back laughter; Emmet slowly looked at his younger-older brother and let out a sharp breath. He knew for a fact that it had been retaliation, but not solely for his comment regarding their apartment; he used to say something very similar to their eldest sibling whenever he put his foot down on their childish plans. Dragons, was this what it felt like from the outside, whenever they’d wound each other up?

“Be that as it may. I think a familiar environment is best.” […]

After a few extra seconds to let him stew in it, Drayden took pity on him; he plucked a pokeball from his belt and held it out to their youngest brother, “Would you like to see Swablu again? I’m sure you could bribe him into taking you to Opelucid; you know how he is.”

The look on Ingo’s face would have been laughable– trying to work out how a creature the size and density of a wadded-up pillow could take anyone anywhere– but it was cut short as he accepted the pokeball and released Altaria.

There was a short, excited gasp, followed by a hushed, “You evolved!”

Altaria stared unabashedly for a handful of seconds, then looked to its trainer, as if asking if this was some kind of joke.

——-

[this would be a closer]

“[…] can scarcely express how much I’ve missed you, but right now, I need to tell you something of the utmost importance.” [either state that his tone clearly means he remembers now, or have Emmet realize that this is the child’s voice he’s been hearing for the past week] “You’re living on borrowed time. As soon as I set foot in Unova, you’re a dead man.”