Chapter Text
The Fabric of Reality enveloped its two weavers, stretching on to infinity, ever-expanding. It glittered in dancing greens and reds and yellows, throwing deep shadows that flickered across their bodies. The rutilated light was paler than normal, but the new glow of their bodies more than made up for it. In the vacuum of this space, only their heaving breaths could be heard.
It was an increasingly-rare moment of peace, tense as it was.
“Partner,” Palkia gritted out, breathless. “We cannot last much longer this way. I can feel our hold slipping.” A fresh gash on Its leg slowly knitted itself shut. Normally, a wound like that would barely even scratch It.
Dialga grimaced at a passing cramp. How pathetic; even that little ache was enough to send It teetering ever closer to the edge of Its control. “I know, but there is little we can do about this as we are.” It stretched its limbs out, mindful of the way Palkia warily followed the movement. “If we are to repair this, we will need aid.”
Palkia’s claws flexed at Its sides as It rounded on Dialga. “There is no salvation to be had here! None but He could ever hope to be stronger than It, and He cannot help us anymore,” It growled.
Dialga scanned the endless ribbon of Fabric that fluttered around them, searching. “You’re correct as always, partner. He cannot help,” It conceded with a sigh. “But there is another who has saved us yet. I believe they are more than capable of providing assistance once again.”
Palkia’s head snapped up, eyes wide in Its initial shock. It scowled as the weight of the statement settled over them, eyes settling on a spot in the eternal Fabric beyond the pair. “There is no way you truly believe them to be stronger than It.”
“I do not.”
Palkia didn’t react. Dialga kept its gaze level as It waited. It knew better than to disturb Its partner while It deliberated. Palkia’s claws dug into the palms of Its hands. After several uneasy moments, It nodded.
They reached through to the Fabric of Reality, combing through the brilliant threads until they found a patchwork stretch of fibers. It was thin and frayed and quilted over at several locations along its length. Palkia held it, diligently smoothing it out and mending it as best as It could. A single, ragged strand as thick as yarn ran down the entire section, connecting each square. Dialga gently untangled the mess until It could remove it altogether.
Slowly, deliberately, It plucked it from the Fabric, pulling gingerly until there was only a neat little line of dangling threads in its place. They would be fine; there were other strong twines to keep the Fabric here together, for now.
“It’s almost cruel,” Palkia mused as they made their way to a different section.
This part of the Fabric was a jumbled mess of loose strings and tatters and snags. A score ran through its surface, seams fraying where they were ripped from their place. Palkia held Its palm out to take the string, but Dialga shook Its head.
“I will take responsibility for this.” Its voice was rough, fizzling. Time was running out.
Their work always required a delicate touch, but Palkia had never seen Its partner be so gentle. Claws shaking with the effort of holding Itself back, Dialga stitched the string through the seam. Palkia placed a hand on Its back in wordless support.
The pressure shifted, and they both braced against each other. There wouldn’t be much left of either of their senses once this thread was in place; they had used up far too much energy moving it for that. The light of their bodies nearly blinded them, glowing brighter than the Fabric until it was nearly sheer.
Dialga stared down at the final loose end in Its claw, trembling, but unwavering.
“I know what I am asking of them, partner,” It whispered. “Asking their forgiveness, as well, would be too much.”
With the last vestiges of Its power, It pulled the suture closed.
Claire’s head was killing her.
“Are you alright, my dear?”
She froze. From where she lay on the ground, Claire was certain of three things:
She didn’t know this voice. She didn’t know this place. She didn’t know this body.
Claire laid still, taking a mental inventory of herself. She felt heavier than normal, much heavier. Thick fabric was draped around her form, rubbing oddly against her body. Something rigid was settled over her face, pressed uncomfortably against it by the ground. Rocks digging into her palms, she fumbled with her limbs until she could push herself upright. The weight on her face remained.
“Oh, you’re awake!” There was a scrambling next to her. Opening her eyes, Claire recoiled at the proximity of the person next to her and nearly tumbled over again. A human, her bewildered mind supplied. He was rambling, anxious and excited, but she had more pressing concerns.
Claire took a shuddering breath, counted to 3, then finally looked down at herself. Two hands, two legs, and unfamiliar clothes. A human, her bewildered mind supplied. She felt lightheaded.
Questions swirled in her mind, shouting over each other. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Had something gone wrong? What was she to do now?
The man was mercifully oblivious to her plight, continuing his rant without a care. Fighting back the rising panic, she cleared her throat instead. For as much as she dreaded it, she needed information. Anxious theorizing would only get her so far. Claire tried to speak, but there was only a rasp that stung her throat. She winced.
Whatever the man was saying, he cut himself off. “Ah, of course, you must be thirsty!” The man fought with his bag for a moment before producing a small vessel. “Here, I insist,” he said, holding it out to her.
Claire stared at it for a moment, processing. Her arm was numb and leaden as she cautiously reached for the bottle. The man handed it to her, only for Claire to underestimate its weight and let it slip from her grasp with a thud onto the grass. Slowly, she lifted it again, ignoring the way her companion now fussed over her. After scrabbling with the cap, she took a long, greedy drink.
“Now then,” the man smiled, returning the bottle to his bag. The weight of the concern in his gaze was almost patronizing. “You gave me quite a fright falling from the sky like that! Thank goodness you seem unharmed.”
Claire cleared her voice again. “Where-” it cracked. She tried again, “Where are we?”
The man frowned. “We’re on the shore of Prelude Beach.”
The moon waned overhead, casting the whole area in a dim glow. Willing her eyes to focus properly, Claire glanced around. Sure enough, the waves swelled behind her, leaving white foam on the sand. A wooden dock jutted out past the cliffside. Tethered to its posts, boats packed with nets and crates bobbed with the surf. Several feet from where she sat, grass encroached upon the beach.
Of course she woke up here, of all places. How cruel.
“Dear me,” her companion fussed. “Did the shock of your fall somehow addle your memory?”
It definitely did not , but this stranger didn’t need to know that.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I can’t seem to recall.”
“Surely you must remember your name, at least?”
She hesitated. This is dangerous, she knew it was dangerous, but what other option did she have? She needed this man to trust her if she was going to learn anything about this situation.
“Claire,” she said simply. “My name is Claire.”
“Lovely to meet you, my dear Claire!” The man grinned down at her, before recoiling like he had been struck. “Oh, but where are my manners? I haven’t introduced myself yet! My name is Laventon. I’m something of a professor of biology.”
“Biology?”
Laventon gave her another bright smile. “I’m a scholar seeking to deepen our understanding of pokemon. You are familiar with pokemon, yes?”
Was she ever . Claire nodded.
“Brilliant! Ah, but maybe this conversation should wait,” Laventon hummed. “With a fall like that, I’m concerned about a potential concussion. Now, you don’t seem injured, but I can’t truly tell like this,” Laventon said. “Would you mind removing that strange mask of yours so I may check?”
That explained the odd weight on her face. Claire had no attachment to the mask, no reason to continue wearing it. She hadn’t even seen what it looked like! Even still, it didn’t feel right to remove it. “I would like to keep it on for now.”
“No worries,” he dismissed easily. “Judging by your state of dress, I don’t believe you’re one of our own, but we really ought to get you to the infirmary. Can you walk, my dear?”
Claire weakly pushed herself up before catching her foot in the fabric of her clothes and losing her balance yet again. Gritting her teeth, she tried again, finally standing on trembling legs. In an attempt to hide her tremors, she dusted the sand from her clothes. It was stalling, they both knew that. The professor’s look grew more dubious with each passing second. Taking a steadying breath, Claire stepped towards him. She wobbled but stayed upright.
“Here, allow me,” Laventon said. He held out an arm, which Claire graciously clung to. No sense in being stubborn. “Let’s get you back to Galaxy Hall, for now. Any questions can wait until you’ve been checked properly.”
“She’s a little anemic, but I’m not seeing any signs of external trauma,” The nurse, Pesselle, appraised. Claire sat on a cot near the back of the room, as tucked away as manners allowed. While there were few passers-by on their walk to the infirmary, she knew even this late at night there was bound to be gossip. Pesselle kneeled in front of her, checking her hands for injuries. Between them and the door hovered a pacing Laventon.
Pesselle glanced over her shoulder at him. “But professor, you say this woman fell from the sky? How shocking!” She turned back to Claire, beaming. “You must have someone watching over you; there’s not a scratch to be seen!”
Claire gave a polite laugh, but it was flat even to her.
Laventon laughed too, thankfully full enough to hide Claire’s. “It’s quite curious, though,” he mused. “This is the first time I’ve ever come across a human falling from the rift. And outside of a distortion, at that! Although, I suppose it isn’t exactly unprecedented. Still,” he brought a hand up to his chin. “the effects of the rift manifesting so close to Jubilife is concerning, to say the least.”
Pesselle hummed in consideration. “Maybe we should send the Security Corps to investigate properly. Or what about that assistant of yours, Professor? I cleared him for work after that little scrap some time ago now.”
Laventon agreed. “Perhaps I should send Rei out to inspect the area. It’d be a good experience.”
“Send me where?” At this new voice, Claire snapped her head to the door and watched a boy pop his head through the hallway door. He looked younger than her by several years.
Laventon frowned. “Rei, my boy, were you eavesdropping again? You know it’s impolite,” he scolded.
Rei let himself in, face sour. “How could I not? Everyone is talking about that strange lady you brought in. Some say she’s a witch!” He came to a stop next to Laventon. From this new angle, he could see around the curtain Claire was hidden behind. His eyes widened as he regarded her, floored. “I can see why. Hey, are you a witch?”
“Rei!” Laventon choked. Claire snorted, but said nothing.
“What? I’m right! Just look at her, Professor. I’ve never seen anyone dressed like that. And that mask! What even is it?”
“I believe it’s a pokemon of some sort, is it not?” Laventon addressed her.
“It’s a Vulpix,” Claire answered. She’d never seen the mask herself, but she knows it's a fact.
Laventon hit a fist against his palm. “Vulpix, of course! No wonder it seemed so familiar.”
“How cute!” Pesselle fawned.
There was a rattling behind the group, and a second set of double doors swung open. Laventon and Rei froze, their blooming argument dying on their tongues. Pesselle jumped to her feet, smoothing her skirts. Without the cover of their bodies, Claire was fully exposed to this newcomer.
A woman strode in, intense gaze trained on Claire. She straightened up, forcing herself to sit as tall as she could. She’d stand if she didn’t think she’d stumble.
“So you are the stranger who landed on our coast,” the woman said. “I am the captain of the Galaxy Team’s Survey Corps. You may call me Cyllene.”
“My name is Claire.”
“Claire.” Cyllene acknowledged, continuing to stare down at her. “Professor Laventon has made a case for your continued shelter. However, we don’t have the resources to simply care for someone without reimbursement, nor will take in any stranger who wanders in.”
Claire looked up at Laventon in disbelief. “You requested to house me?”
“But of course, my dear! Laventon grinned. I can’t allow a young lady with such a condition to struggle alone in the wilderness. Maybe you’ll even be of use to my research.”
Cyllene nodded. “That is the plan, anyway.”
Rei whirled around to Cyllene and opened his mouth to protest, but Laventon swiftly threw a hand over it, pulling the boy into his side. His smile never dropped for a second; it was almost impressive.
Cyllene turned back to Claire. “It’s far too late to deliberate now. For tonight, you will be provided for. In the morning we shall see if you can prove yourself worthy of such care.”
“Captain!” Pesselle protested, “This woman is not in any condition to be out in the field! She’s still much too weak. Why, to send any untrained individual on a mission is-”
“This order comes straight from the commander, Pesselle, not me. I am aware of the challenges it may present,” Cyllene said. “But I admit that I am interested in what will come of it.”
She turned back to Claire, properly scrutinizing her. “You look to be in your 20s, or so. That’s plenty old enough to work for your keep. Besides,” she said. “You’ve kept yourself alive this long somehow.”
Cyllene raised her head, addressing the group. “You’re all dismissed for the night. Professor, I trust you can show Claire to her accommodation? The empty one next to the hall.”
He grinned. “Of course, Captain, it’d be my pleasure.”
She nodded, turning on her heel. “That is all.”
Laventon clapped his hands together. “Now then, I suppose we should get you settled in. You’ll need your rest if you’re to undergo whatever trial the Captain has for you.”
Beside him, Rei snickered. “She said the commander has to see her worth. I don’t think this witch is going to be staying long, Professor.”
Claire bristled, but held her tongue. Pesselle cast her a pitying, sidelong glance as she returned to her desk.
“Rei, I’ve had quite enough of your cheek for one night,” Laventon admonished. “I’ll not have you denigrate another so rudely. What's more, we have word that a warden of the Pearl Clan has fallen from the rift as well. It doesn’t make her a sorceress for it.”
Claire was officially lost. “Pearl Clan? Warden?”
Laventon made a face. “Ah, perhaps we should wait until tomorrow for this discussion. You have a long day ahead of you, after all.” Holding his hand out to her, he smiled. “Shall we?”
After bidding goodnight to the professor, Claire abandoned her boots in the genkan and stepped up onto the floor. The building was quite a bit larger than she had expected. A paper screen separated the sleeping quarters from a hearth. Interestingly, she noted, there were already several things tied to it. Garlic, peppers, even a pair of zori. Making her way to the back of the room, Claire noticed other personal effects strewn about. Rocks and plants and other odd trinkets littered the shelves. Wasn’t this house supposed to be unoccupied?
She tried not to think too hard about it.
A hanten hung on the wall next to a mirror, catching her eye. It was here, standing in front of the mirror, that Claire finally let herself fully examine her new form.
The sleeves of her cream kimono hung low, fading into a deep orange. It was trimmed with heavy furs at the collar and sleeves, not quite bright enough to be considered white. Dark hakama pants were pulled over it, tied at her waist with pink cotton. It came to a stop just above her ankles and would’ve exposed her black tabi boots, had she worn them on the tatami. Her chestnut hair was pinned tightly up against her neck and coiled around the crown of her head.
She had avoided looking at her mask, but she couldn’t escape it forever. The wooden mask fit comfortably across her face, hiding nearly all of it. Even if she tilted her head this way and that, all she could make out was her jawline. Simple as the carving was, it was uncanny how similar it looked to a real Vulpix. It had been painted to match, with small embellishments to the eyes to draw them out. Two bells were tied against each side, with a black tassel hanging past them to rest just above her shoulder. Claire shook her head with a soft jingle .
A wave of exhaustion suddenly hit her, making her yawn. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into the futon, but she would need to change for sleep, right? There was a cotton sleeping yukata in the dresser she could use. Claire stared at herself, wondering where to even start, before sighing and reaching for the hakama’s bow. It unraveled easily, fabric slipping down. She pulled at the kimono where it was folded up against her back, letting the amber skirt fall around her legs.
Bending to untie the obi, something stabbed at her chest. She brought a hand up and dug under her furs before freezing . It was something like dread, maybe. Or relief. It crept cold through her veins and made her hands tremble and her eyes sting.
Out from under her collar, Claire pulled out a simple silver chain with charms hanging from it. She hadn’t even felt it under the heavy furs! The metal was still warm to the touch. She fumbled with the clasp before holding it up for a proper look. Not that she needed it; she knew exactly what she’d find.
A steel ring set with a bright blue gem. A white claw suspended by a silver bail.
So this wasn’t simply a bad dream. Her body felt numb.
Claire took a breath and forced herself to set the necklace down on the futon and focus . She’d take this one problem at a time, the same way she’d taken every other problem in this dumb, stupid life.
Wait. Was this the same life?
One problem! Just one !
Mechanically, she slipped on the cotton yukata, limbs heavy as lead. Her hands wouldn’t cooperate as she tied the thin obi, fumbling and slipping past itself and coming undone. She gave up trying to tie it properly and settled on knotting it tight, just to be done with it. Hopefully, it wasn’t too tight to get out of in the morning.
She turned to dim the light, then paused, a brown blotch in the mirror catching her eye.
Right. She still had to take off her mask.
She brought a hand up to it, but paused, staring at herself. She should look. It’s her face, after all. Yet somehow, the idea made her stomach roil. It was impossible to reconcile this thing, moving as she does, as more than just a thing and not her own form.
Claire shook her head, banishing her paralysis. She’d take the mask off for bed and put it right back on in the morning. See, no need to overthink and make everything hard!
But the idea of catching herself in the mirror on accident…
She yanked the hanten off its hook and pitched it over the glass. There, much better. One less problem.
Extinguishing the lantern and removing her mask, Claire finally sunk into the futon and closed her eyes. Still, sleep eluded her. She was tired, so tired, but her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. It kept reminding her of all she lost, of what she is now. Why her? Why again? Hadn’t she lost enough?
Rolling over, Claire picked up the necklace and turned it over in her hands, running her thumb across the smooth metal. The sensation was entirely different. She tried to learn every chip in the metal band and every crack across the claw’s enamel with this new body.
At least she hadn’t lost her memory, this time. Or maybe it would’ve been kinder if she had. She nicked her finger on the jagged edge of the stone’s setting. Thunder rolled outside.
After everything, was this really her reward?
She clutched the necklace tight in her hand and screamed into the pillow.