Mrs. Peters, Alyssa’s housekeeper-cum-caretaker, was getting on in years. She was in her early sixties, if I remembered correctly, though I couldn’t say for sure, and I wasn’t about to ask.

  It was an unfortunate fact of life that by the time most people reached her age, they’d long since separated from their Pokémon partner. A myriad of reasons might be the culprit. Maybe the split occurred due to lifestyle differences. Perhaps the career or home aspirations of one couldn’t accommodate the other. Maybe a personal falling-out led to a non-amicable split. And sometimes, tragically, death takes one before the other.

  Wilma Peters had, at least as far as I could tell, magnificently avoided all of those pitfalls, and still lived and worked with her original partner to this day.

  Montressue the Grumpig wore her years just as well as Mrs. Peters, and she didn’t look too different from the grainy footage Alyssa and I had dug up one afternoon while looking into her housekeeper’s battling record.

  A little longer in the snout, maybe, perhaps a bit weightier around the middle, but I knew from experience that the Psychic-type could move when the right impetus was there (such as a young charge falling from a recklessly-climbed tree).

  Mrs. Peters took care of Alyssa, and watched out for her needs. Montressue’s job was to watch out for my best friend’s safety.

  And she was an expert at it. Masterful awareness, an incredible depth of skill with barriers, and importantly for my purposes, experienced telepathy made Montressue the perfect, all-in-one bodyguard.

  I knew for a fact that when Alyssa still had use as a bargaining chip to her frankly horrible family, the Grumpig had foiled no less than three separate kidnapping attempts (of various qualities sure, but still).

  Which then begged the question, how did the young Madaka scion escape her minders one fateful, rainy day, and get the opportunity to explain her predicament to an overly-nosy, overly-connected Joy?

  Really, the answer finds itself.

  So suffice to say, Alyssa and I both had an immense amount of respect for Mrs. Peters, and for her partner.

  Which is why she was my first thought when it came to needing some psychic help, instead of, say, Bakiru, the Hypno who works at Ranger Station Seven, or someone from Mom’s work.

  You could of course pay a Psychic-type to help facilitate communications between you and your partner, but funds were starting to get a little tight with three Pokémon to care for, and it was hard to guarantee you were going to find a Psychic-type who meshed well with you and your partner.

  So I was really hoping things would work out when I called the landline to Alyssa’s apartment.

  “Hello, is that you Ella?” Mrs. Peters’ warm tone was lost a little bit through the tinny speaker of the corded handset I was holding, but her voice still brought a smile to my face all the same.

  “No Mrs. Peters, it's Fe. How are you doing today?”

  “Oh, Fe! Lovely to hear from you young lady. I’m doing well, thank you for asking. What has you ringing us this morning? I’m afraid the young miss is out training.”

  “I was actually hoping to speak with you, Mrs. Peters, not Alyssa. I need to ask for a favor from you and your partner.”

  “Oh, well how can Montressue and I help?” the elderly woman asked.

  “Actually, I’ve been having some communications trouble with one of my partners, and I was wondering if Montressue would be willing to help us have a telepathic conversation so we can work things out,” I explained.

  “Oh, dear, that is quite the pickle. Let me ask Sue if she’ll give you a hand.”

  All was silent for a few moments, probably because any conversation going on the other hand was happening telepathically, but Mrs. Peters got back to me after just a few moments. “Yep, we’d be happy to get you two back on the same page. When would you like to come on over?”

  “Would today be an issue?” I asked, “I think the sooner we can get aligned, the better.”

  “Today works just fine dear. Why don’t you come over for lunch? Montressue and I have been stuck eating alone most days, what with Alyssa staying out at all hours. It’d be lovely to have some company.”

  I checked the time. Not even ten yet. Plenty of time to get to Alyssa’s apartment. “That sounds great Mrs. Peters. And don’t worry about my partners, I can bring along their food with me.”

  “Nonsense! You just relax and let me cook for the lot of you. I insist.”

  I could have objected, but I knew it’d be a pointless endeavor. “You’re too good to us Mrs. Peters.”

  “It’s no trouble at all dear, I promise. I’ll see you soon now.”

  “See you soon.”

  -

  Lunch was, as one might expect, exquisite. To the point where I was getting some looks from the pickier members of my team (one of the bigger Mausholds, Percy, and Galad) that seemed to be asking ‘why can’t you cook like this.’

  In my defense, I didn’t have Mrs. Peters decades of experience, but I suspect even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to match her culinary prowess.

  Today was a spicy bean-sausage fried to perfection, then added to al dente pasta, and mixed with a bunch of fresh peppers and onions. I got so distracted talking to the aging housekeeper about the recipe that I almost forgot why we’d come here.

  But Mana was still upset, and it felt like I could almost feel her unease, palpable even as she stuffed herself with a very small plate of the very delicious meal. I’d definitely made the right choice looking for help, if my piscine partner could still look that upset while eating something that tasty.

  My knights and Maushold were banished to the living room (don’t touch Mrs. Peters armchair), where we put on a battle for them. The rest of us stayed in the dining room, and after helping Mrs. Peters and her partner clean up, it was time to begin.

  Montressue was every bit as impressive as I remembered. Her three black pearls shined resplendently, glimmering with barely-contained light, and though her fur was flecked with bits of gray, most of it was still an impressive shade of gleaming violet. As she took her place in a chair next to Mana and I, my eyes were inexplicably drawn to the pink, curly-q tail tracing mesmerizing patterns behind her, and it took an effort of will to force my eyes away.

  Definitely a powerful Psychic-type, and my evaluation was only further validated when I felt a small tapping sensation on the edges of my perception, so light as to be almost unnoticeable.

  Impeccable control, and impeccably polite. The psychic touch perfectly aligned with my understanding of the fastidious Grumpig, nothing like the overbearing force of the Noivern matriarch’s telepathic speech.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated, trying to reach out gently to the psychic touch. It wasn’t the first time I’d spoken telepathically to Montressue, but it had been a while, and it would be my first time using her connection to bridge speech with another.

  For a few moments, I was left dangling, and then that gentle hold reached out once more. I could feel the sensation of meshing, of two things lightly tangling together, and then- Hello? Is this thing on? Can you hear me?

  A voice, smooth and suave, just as I remembered it. Yes, Montressue. You’re coming through.

  Oh good. It’s been some time Fe-girl, and you’ve really done a number in here. Wasn’t sure how clearly I was going to come through. The psychic quasi-sound was as familiar as the words were worrying.

  Done a number? What do you mean? Alarmingly, I could think of a few events recently that might have had an outsized impact on my mind. I very carefully partitioned off thoughts of possible culprits (specifically, Dragons of outsized power and other near-death experiences).

  That. That thing you just did. You’ve got all of these ‘bubbles’ floating around in here. It feels like you should barely be able to pay attention to me with all the noise clogging things up.

  I feel like you’re mixing metaphors, I accused, even as I reigned in some of my errant thoughts about potential battle strategies and budgeting concerns for the rest of the month. There. Is that better? I’m doing less multi-tasking, maybe that should help.

  A little, the elderly Grumpig replied with a huff. Pull yourself in a bit more please. If this is important to you, it really deserves more of your focus, girl.

  The lecture was unwelcome, but Montressue really was doing me a favor. It took a bit of effort, but I honed in, shutting down the parts of my mind listening to make sure my other partners behaved themselves, banishing thoughts about recent (dangerous) events, and clamping down on my concerns outside of my worry for Mana’s current malaise.

  Okay, how about now? This is as focused as I’m going to get, I informed the Psychic-type.

  Better. There’s far less noise, and you sound a lot more clear. Give me a moment to connect with your partner, and then I’ll let you two go at it.

  I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. It was finally time for Mana and I to talk to each other one to one, no communication barriers between us.

  All was silent for a minute, and then two, and then, quiet and tentative, so faint I could only barely hear it, a stuttering voice, H-h-hello?

  I knew that those probably weren’t Mana’s exact words, and any mental ‘voice’ I heard was filtered through Montressue’s interpretation, but the Grumping was an expert, and I implicitly trusted his ability to convey our intentions to one another. I can hear you, Mana. I communicated through the telepathic link. Do you understand me?

  Oh! Oh, I do! For a moment, the little Water-type was so excited, I think she forgot she was mad at me. Whatever was bothering her was not so easily banished however, and it quickly caught up with her once more. I could literally feel her mood plummet, Montressue sharing the depths of her feelings through the psychic bond.

  You’re upset, I offered, trying to give my partner a place to start.

  She took a few moments to marshall her thoughts, before responding. I am, she said simply, tone now sullen.

  I waited a few moments to see if anything else was forthcoming, but Mana remained stubbornly silent, so I continued. Is it because I didn’t let you participate in the battle with the Underleader a few days ago?

  Some mental silence, and then the words, That’s right, accompanied by a sense of acknowledgement.

  I almost sighed in relief. It was nice to have confirmation that my guess was correct. Mana, that battle was too tough for you. You just would have gotten hurt.

  You always say that! the mental reply was loud and clear, completely unlike her faint volume so far. I know I’m still w-w-weak, but you’re not giving me a chance to get stronger! Lance and his troops get all these special orders and new moves, and then they get to battle! But for me, it’s always just the same old drills. No sparring, no battles, nothing!

  I could literally feel her ire, her displeasure with me, roiling and bubbling like a stormy sea. No mere grievance, but anger in full. And something else too, underpinning it. A sense of fear.

  That fear resonated in me, and I tried to communicate it to her. I know you’re getting stronger Mana! You’re Water Gun has gotten so much more powerful, and you don’t get tired out by your hydrokinesis anymore. But battles are still another thing entirely. You could get injured, or worse! There’s no need to rush to get stronger.

  No! I could feel the full force of Mana’s ire in the syllable. No, I need to get stronger as fast as possible. Right now, even! I can’t be weak anymore.

  I felt confusion sweep through me at the sheer force of the desperation she conveyed. I’d never pegged Mana as desiring strength the same way my knights and I did. I had thought she was just happy being together with us. With being a family. Had I missed this inner desire of hers? Or had something changed?

  Why? I asked her. Why do you need to be strong?

  So I can protect you! Stupid! Coming from my playful partner, the insult was a dire indictment indeed. I opened my eyes, shocked, only to be confronted with Mana’s tearful mein, leaky eyes shining into mine. I’m supposed to protect you. I’m your guardian. But back there, in that forest, I couldn’t do anything! I couldn’t keep you safe, and you got hurt!

  Clarity struck me like a Thunderbolt. This wasn’t about the battle with the Underleader. Or rather, it wasn’t only about that.

  You did protect me! I protested. You did the best you could! I know losing stings, but I was so proud of you for standing up to that Maushold!

  To one of them, Mana replied bitterly. For maybe five seconds. And then you had to recall me, and I was too weak to get out of the ball and help. And then when you released me next, you had all of these horrible bruises, and apparently the Masuhold did it? And now they live with us? And now you’re going to be even busier because you have another partner who’s stronger than me. Better than me. And I’m just worthless! And I hate it!

  Mana’s mental tirade was interspersed with something Montressue was interpreting as sobs, which seemed appropriate judging by the heaving breaths that were wracking my piscine partner’s body. I held out a hand to the little fish, but she shied back, floating a few inches away out of reach.

  Mana… I could feel guilt and remorse welling up in me. Had I been neglecting one of my Pokémon? I’m sorry. I didn’t forget about your training, I swear! I just want us to take things slow. I just get so worried about you fighting. You saved my life when we first met, and you almost died for it. The thought of you getting hurt, or worse, scares me so much. There was that fear again. The one we both shared. A shade of that all-encompassing terror we’d experienced together, wrapped in a malevolent ghost's smothering embrace. I already can’t ever repay you for what you did for me. What am I supposed to do if the worst happens?

  I feel the same, the voice was so faint, I wasn’t sure I heard it right.

  What? I asked.

  I said I feel the same! Mana mentally shouted, dam bursting once more. That same damn fear, and with it, loneliness, despair, and worst of all, a creeping sense of acceptance. I was all alone, in that kelp forest, for so long. All of the others, they…. They- Anything further was cut off by more sobs, as my partner sunk into a deep, abyssal well of grief.

  The feeling overwhelmed us for a while, stunning both Montressue and I. How could I have missed this? This crushing, all-encompassing anguish inside one of my partners. Maybe I really had been neglecting her. It was the only explanation for how I could have been blind to this. I didn’t want to touch it, to go diving in those depths. Something in me recoiled from it like an Ice-type from an open flame.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  And yet, I had to know. I had to understand what was plaguing my partner. I reached out to Montressue, afraid that she wouldn’t be willing to help me explore this ocean of sorrow, but all I felt from her was support and reassurance. We were in it together. We joined mental hands, and we jumped in.

  -

  Once, there had been many. Hundreds, even thousands of them, all hatched from the same clutch. The kelp field was their home, their playground, and their breadbasket. They lived together in peace, frolicking through the fronds, consuming to their hearts desire, sedate, and at peace.

  There was no need for thought, for desire, for power, there was only the joy of one another, and the kelp that sustained them and protected them.

  Occasionally, their number would shrink. One, or a few would go missing, perhaps lost on the outskirts of the kelp field, or taken by some darting predator willing to dare the towering fronds, but such instances were rare, and there were just so many of them.

  A few would not be missed.

  Except, that wasn’t true. For amongst their thousands, some did miss those lost. A few, more aware, more concerned than their other brothers and sisters, noticed the disappearances. Worse, they noticed that the rate of loss was increasing. This small cohort were not content in their idyllic ignorance. They needed to know what was happening to those who vanished. And they needed to know how they could stop it.

  So they kept their eyes open, lights shining in the murky depths. They blinked to one another, devising a means to communicate from far away, and they watched their duller brothers and sisters carefully, monitoring their numbers and health.

  For a time, their warning lights seemed to staunch the bleeding. Their numbers remained mostly constant, and all was well amongst the fronds.

  And then, two of those winking lights disappeared.

  None of the stewards, as they thought of themselves, could find their lost sibling. Worried, they stayed hyper-vigilant, constantly flashing their lights at one another to ensure that the others were safe.

  And then, another pair of eyes vanished.

  They gathered together, hoping that in numbers they would be safe, but without their guidance, the others began vanishing once more, whole shoals of siblings vanished into the depths.

  And still, no evidence of what was taking them. Just winking lights, strobing a warning of danger, and then inky blackness.

  There were so few of them left when they finally figured it out. Their hunter got sloppy. Grew lazy and indolent with its feeding. The stewards saw it one day, those that remained. One of their number, abducted right before their eyes.

  It was the kelp. Wrapped around a struggling brother, desperate eyes flashing danger as the vibrant frond yanked them down, down into the depths.

  It had been the kelp the whole time. Even as they fed on it, it had been feeding on them.

  They dove. They had no choice. They had to confront this madness at its source. This sick perversion that was twisting their very home and sustenance against them.

  And what they found.

  Bodies

  Hundreds. Thousands. More?

  An impossible number, illuminated under their unblinking stares. A graveyard stretching beyond what their eyes could see.

  Fish, crabs, snails, clams, nothing under the water was safe from this cruel monstrosity. Vitality drained, flesh stripped from bone, and those white remains left to molder, to crackle and snap under the damning pressure and feed another batch of snaring, entangling kelp.

  This had never been their home. Had never been for them. They hadn’t feasted on the kelp, only been sustained on it. Been supped on the repurposed remains of those that had come before them so their very lives could feed the fell master of this place.

  At their intrusion into the heart of madness, something stirred. Iron plates and metal structures, alien and unidentifiable to the stewards, groaned and creaked, forever entangled by their spectral captor.

  They fled, ascending out of those crushing depths, eyes leaking tears of fear and regret and utter despair, as their world fell apart around them.

  Some of them didn’t make it, snagged by twitching fronds.

  Others were overwhelmed by the sheer malaise, and could not find the strength to ascend.

  And some of those that remained died purely of fear, unable to comprehend the scale of their torment.

  And then, when they returned to the surface, there were barely twenty of them. Reduced from thousands.

  A bare percentage of what had been before. There were only two choices for those desperate survivors. Leave, or stay.

  Stay in the cradle that had betrayed them, and hope to survive the monster's tender mercies just a little bit longer.

  Or strike out, flee into the open ocean. Escape the crucible and experience the fire outside of the only nominal safety they had ever known.

  They were split.

  Ten chose to stay. Ten chose to go.

  Those who dared not leave the kelp watched those who did. Twenty flashing lights, swimming away into the blue beyond.

  First, one winked out, then another. Then, the rest of them, all at once. It didn’t even take five minutes. Not enough time by far for those lights to get out of sight.

  And then there were ten.

  They no longer frolicked, no longer played. They darted instead, eyes no longer shining. They nibbled surreptitiously, every frond a potential meal, and a potential predator.

  There was no safety, no matter how they watched.

  One was taken in the night, while they slept.

  One was lost to the very meal he was eating.

  One was cruelly stripped before their very eyes.

  And so they dwindled, their numbers shrinking down, down, until ten became five, and five became four, and so one, until there was only one.

  And one was all alone. Marooned in a silent, swaying field of green.

  Not the most clever, not the most brave. Not the fastest, nor the strongest.

  Just the luckiest, apparently. Or, from another perspective, the most unlucky.

  And so alone she swam, aimlessly, desperately, until, far, far too late, her desperate wanderings found shelter.

  A spire of rock, jutting up from the ocean floor, with a few notches and rents that could serve as a hiding place, if you were small enough.

  There were some dull non-siblings in this place, but they didn’t bother her. Couldn’t, because even if she was weak, she was still special, still more than these pale reflections of her form.

  And so she carved out a pitiful existence for herself, supping on fronds and retreating desperately to the stone when one of the swaying strands moved too suspiciously.

  Days and nights passed, her hiding place close enough to the surface that she could mark the changing of days. She could even sit under the darkened sky, sometimes, on top of the rocky outcropping. She had to be watchful, for occasionally an aerial predator would descend from above, but most refused to fly over the seas at night.

  Sometimes, the ones that did would spot her, and descend. She would fling herself into the water’s embrace, and taunting voices would ring out from above, trying to tempt her from her cave.

  She’d shout back at them, telling them to leave her alone.

  Some of them stopped when they found out she wasn’t dull, was as clever as they were. They’d apologize, and maybe even talk for a while, before flying freely away into the night sky after she warned them of the danger lurking below.

  Some would not. Instead, their cruel voices would simply grow even more strident, even more monstrous.

  She felt a sick sense of satisfaction the few times an errant frond would snag one of those over-excited predators, screaming their presence into the world above the monster’s domain..

  But sometimes no one bothered her. And so she was free, up there on the craig. Free to rest beneath the twinkling lights inhabiting the sky, and imagine that the vibrant beams above might somehow be her lost brothers and sisters, forever watching over her, even if they were out of reach.

  And for a while, it seemed like that might be all there was. The end of her story, pre-written in the inky depths. She would join her sibling there someday, when she was a little too slow, or a little too dull.

  And then, one afternoon, she felt something heavy land on her little craig.

  She saw something glittering and shiny and sharp, pierced through with a tasty morsel.

  She met two things like she’d never seen before, with clear voices and fascinating words.

  And then one of them dropped into the water, into the dangerous depths. Desperately, the last survivor tried to warn them of the danger, swimming frantic circles around them and slamming face-first into their head to get them to leave.

  But the heedless creature just kept going further and further away from safety. The last survivor realized too late that their new friend was chasing them, following them away from the rock. They thought it was a game, like the ones she used to play with her siblings.

  And then, the monster awoke. And it had the creature, pulling another innocent soul into those blackened depths.

  She felt her eyes light up. Danger. Danger here! But there was no one to receive the message. She was all alone. She was the only one who could do anything.

  She could have swam away, could have retreated into her cave and just passed another day waiting for her end to come.

  Instead, she swam down, down to the damned kelp, and she raged, raged against it with all she had, biting and tearing and spewing water at it, anything to keep the monster from taking just one more thing away from her.

  And then, she felt what she’d dreaded for all of those years. The slimy, cold embrace of death wrapped around her body. Except, somehow, instead of fear she’d expected, all she felt was relief. She couldn’t help keep her siblings safe. She couldn’t get this new friend out of danger. Maybe this was what she deserved. Maybe it was time to join everyone else in the sea of bones.

  Maybe that was okay.

  And then, she felt something, or maybe someone, scream against that conclusion. Something cold and smooth bumped into her and she was free, the constricting kelp wrapped around her no longer. Instead, all she knew was white, and an embrace that was comforting, instead of terrifying. She couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like it before, except maybe once, at the very beginning of her life, looking out of an orange wall and seeing hundreds, thousands of her siblings, awakening around her.

  It felt safe. It felt like family. It felt like home.

  -

  Slowly, painfully, Montressue and I dragged ourselves free from the mires of Mana’s sorrow. From the swirling vortex of grief that she’d been concealing from me, from all of us, this whole time.

  When I opened my eyes, I found the crying Water-type nestled in my chest, leaking her bioluminescent fluid all over my shirt. My knights were around, drawn by the sounds of crying, as were Maushold, perched awkwardly on the table nearby.

  Montressue and I both had wet eyes and stuffy noses, but we couldn’t stop now. Not when we were so close.

  It’s over now Mana. That’s all over with. You don’t need to force yourself to be strong, or fast, or clever. You’re safe now. And so are we, I tried to reassure her.

  I thought so too, she blubbered. I thought everything was okay. But then there was that thing with the big scary green monster. And then the fight in the forest! You guys aren’t safe! You’re not safe at all!

  Those are exceptions, not the rule, I promised. Maybe we can’t be safe all the time, but we have people watching out for us. We have the time we need to get stronger together, without putting ourselves in danger.

  That’s what we thought too! That we had plenty of time! That there were so many of us! Right up until there weren’t! Mana screamed, her mental anguish piercing through Montressue and I. I couldn’t keep them safe! And if I can’t keep you all safe what good am I? Why am I even alive?

  The elderly Grumpig and I winced. The telepathic howl of grief coming from Mana’s tiny body seemed outsized to her existence. Like a chorus, no, a full concerto of abyssal pain was contained in her diminutive form.

  The telepathic link clogged completely with despair, and memories I rarely thought of anymore came up unbidden in my mind, even as Montressue desperately tried to contain the outswell of emotion.

  With a snap, the link between us shattered, Montressue slumping as she cleaved through the entwined feelings before they fed too much back into one another.

  I think keeping you two connected anymore would be– dangerous. The elderly Grumpig said diplomatically, as I ran a reassuring hand down Mana’s spine.

  “Yeah– yeah I can see that,” I took some heaving breaths. “Thank you Montressue, you’ve already done more than I really could have asked for.”

  She let out a huffy sigh through her snout. If I was just ten years younger, she shook her head, Age really does catch up to us all.

  “I’ve heard someone say that we’re only as old as we feel,” I offered, which only got a groan from Montressue.

  Right now, I feel pretty old, she sighed again. Will you be okay Fe-girl? That was– a lot. And the rest won’t be easy either.

  “We’ll just have to do our best,” I reassured her, “and we’ll face it together.”

  She nodded, and pushed her chair free from the table. Then I’ll leave you to it. Good luck Fe-girl. Good luck Mana-fish, she stepped away, leaving us alone in the cozy dining room.

  For a little while, we just sat there in quasi-silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle from me or sob from Mana.

  I felt more here, more present in the moment than I had in a long time. Maybe since Drake left. I was all here. We were all here. Together. Family.

  But there were things between us still. Walls blocking our understanding of one another, things holding back the bonds that could connect us fully.

  So, I took a deep breath, and started my work on chipping them down.

  “You know, I don’t have a lot of memories about when my mom passed away,” my voice shattered the quiet, drawing my partners’ attention to me. “I was only four years old at the time, and I didn’t even really understand what death was, just that I wouldn’t get to go visit her in the hospital anymore.”

  My knights looked up at me, eyes intent. I could see the Masuhold’s ears perk up, and Mana’s wracking sobs slowed down a bit. My partners’ eyes pierced me, and for a moment, I faltered under their combined stares. But I knew things needed to be said. Needed to get aired out between us.

  I took another fortifying breath, but instead of speaking immediately, I let my mind cast back. To memories of beeping machines, and of sterile white walls. Of the cloying scent of antiseptic, and of harsh, fluorescent lighting. Nearly a decade later, and somehow, I could still recall that hospital room as if it was in front of my eyes, the tableau perfectly captured in time. A woman with dark skin and dark hair, face cast in an unhealthy pallor, hooked up to all manner of machines and contraptions, breathing in slow, gasping breaths as she tried to tell me something.

  I could almost hear it, almost remember those words.

  But like always, they escaped me. The one gap in that perfect recollection.

  And then, with a start, I came back to the present, to the family I had right now. Pain, deep and aching, welled up in my chest, dredged by the memory and by the phantoms of Mana’s suffering. I let it into my voice, and my throat was thick with everything I wanted to say, but couldn’t anymore. “Still, even if I didn’t fully understand at the time, what I did know was enough to make me- sad. Sad like I hadn’t been before. Sad because some part of my world was ending,” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “I know it doesn’t compare to your experiences, Mana, but I see your pain. I can grasp some part of it. I promise.”

  I felt my own grief flow through me, my memories of lonely nights, of half-remembered scents, of a voice that I couldn’t hear anymore. And I remembered that I wasn’t alone in my suffering. “My dad was sad as well, even more than me, I think.” Red eyes, and hunched posture, face in hands at the kitchen table every night, barely able to make dinner for us. “But he kept on, even though he lost the love of his life. And he told me something, back then. He told me that the ones we love aren’t ever really gone. That while we can’t actually see them anymore, as long as we remember them, they live on through us.”

  Years later, dad told me that the words actually came from mom herself. It's what she told him when they’d first met, when he was grieving the death of his partner Pokémon.

  I took a deep breath. “So, it’s okay to be sad that you couldn’t save your brothers and sisters,” I felt tears pricking my eyes again, and I wiped them on my sleeve. “But please, don’t put yourself in danger because you don’t feel like you deserve to live. You’re the last record of their existence. You have to live on, otherwise, who else will remember that they were there?”

  I would, now. I’d never forget what Mana has told me today, but I couldn’t carry their will forward like my brave little partner. It had to be her. Could only be her.

  Mana said something that I couldn’t understand perfectly without Montressue’s help. The feeling came through clearly though. Loneliness. So deep and abiding it felt like it could swallow me.

  But we weren’t alone. I felt a familiar, comforting presence clamber up into my lap, pushing intently against Mana.

  Tristan, because of course it was him, shouting a resounding denial at her. My other knights spoke up too, supporting their brother and pushing in around us, letting us know that they were here. That we were together.

  “We can’t help you remember them Mana, but you’re not alone anymore. You have all of us with you.”

  My mind conjured up the words of another parent, what my current mom told me, before she married dad.

  “We can’t replace what you’ve lost, but we can build something new. We can be a family, as long as we’re willing to try.”

  Another blubbering reply. Worry. Concern. ‘What if something happens.’

  “There aren’t any guarantees. Something bad could always happen to us Mana. Nowhere is ever truly safe. But we’ll face the challenges ahead together.” I ran my hand down her back. “I’m sorry I’ve been protecting you too much. You’re strong Mana. Stronger than I ever could have imagined. I promise that I’ll let you battle. You’ll always be my greatest protector.”

  I took a shuddering breath. “So please, promise me something back. Promise me that you’ll stay with us, alive and well. That even as you keep us safe, you’ll keep yourself safe too. For the sake of the brothers and sisters you once had, and the family you have right now.”

  My knights chirped their own pleas, while Masuhold shyly offered apologies and affirmations..

  Mana kept her face buried in my shirt for a few moments longer, and then looked up at me. Those large, expressive spotlights were shining brightly, almost blindingly, and they glistened with tears both fallen and unshed.

  The room was silent for a moment, and then a quiet voice came from the little blue fish. The words were loaded with her feelings, with impulses of pain and acknowledgement and apology and most of all, with love.

  I hugged her to my chest as the rest of us said what we could to return some small measure of her feelings in kind.