"—somewhere on the road ahead of you." Akiyama gave him the kind of answer that was and wasn't an answer.
It hit that flat, still water inside Takeru and sent rings across the surface.
He looked down at the soft body he'd let himself become.
"You're the real master here," he said, and he meant it.
"I appreciate that, but no. Not even close." Akiyama shook his head.
A master. It meant the same thing Master Ball did—the peak of a discipline, and something no one else could copy.
"I shouldn't have given up on finding Shade. He never gave up on the chance that I'd live."
"I know what I need to do now."
Takeru stood, brought his fist to his palm, and bowed his thanks with everything in him.
"If you want to thank me," Akiyama said, standing and returning it, "then show me what a real master looks like the day after tomorrow."
Meaning Gardevoir. And Nanami.
"I'm sorry I looked down on you earlier."
"Actions are what count."
Akiyama went back down the stairs feeling quietly glad he'd made the climb. He'd pulled back a corner of the veil over twenty years ago, and he'd guaranteed that the training session wouldn't be a waste. The Takeru of that afternoon would never have taught anybody anything—at best he'd have gone through the motions as a favor to the Nanami family.
A Fighting master. Akiyama let out a slow breath. Then a slightly wicked thought arrived. Guess the Slaking cosplay's off the table now.
So long, viral goldmine.
Gardevoir was still waiting exactly where he'd left her, and she ran forward the moment he came out.
He took the wisteria back out of her arms, caught her hand, and started toward the Pokémon Center humming.
"Garde?" She looked up at him, not understanding why he'd gotten so buoyant.
"Ah—mostly because Takeru's the real thing. He can teach you a lot. Make you stronger, so you can protect me."
"Fun to think about, isn't it?"
She nodded so hard her whole body moved, and her mood lifted with his.
He didn't tell her about Shade. Loss like that would only send her spiraling, and there was no reason to ruin a good evening.
They got back to find Gengar and Kadabra waiting in the lobby, loaded down with bags, with a small crowd taking pictures of them.
The two of them made quite the sight.
Gengar was drifting around out of boredom. Now he'd slipped into the crowd and was lifting up the back of some stranger's shirt.
Good thing he was a ghost. Anyone else would've been in a holding cell.
"Sorry, something came up. That's why we're late." Akiyama came over to Kadabra.
The moment Gengar saw him, he escaped the man's grabbing hands and latched onto Akiyama's shoulder, then stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry at his victim.
The guy laughed, gave up, and walked off.
With their Trainer back, the crowd took the hint and cleared a path to the elevators.
I'm sorry, Akiyama. I spent a lot of money. Kadabra hadn't had any concept of money before. Then he'd walked around a city all afternoon with Akiyama's card, buying things, seeing things, learning things.
He knew Akiyama was wealthy.
He also knew the number he'd rung up wasn't small.
"Don't worry about it. My money exists so you guys can spend it." Akiyama waved it off.
It wasn't as if he could burn through that much. And his dad hadn't cut off the "allowance," either. The notifications had started flooding in the second they got Greenlight City reception.
Nick Ferry Lines' compensation wouldn't even have earned a text.
Mostly it was the Berries. Some rare varieties. And books. And Gengar wanted to eat a great deal, so—
Kadabra was still explaining. The guilt underneath it hadn't gone anywhere. It felt to him like he'd done nothing at all, just enjoyed everything Akiyama provided.
"Hey. Listen. The fact that you care about knowledge—I think that's incredible. I hated studying as a kid. My dad had to drag me through every subject."
"That said, I know how much it matters. Every bit of it you learn is something I get out of, too."
"And anyway, what we've got isn't an even trade. A bond is love that isn't equal. That's exactly why it's love."
Akiyama smiled at him like he'd read every word going through his head.
Kadabra stopped walking, and something turned over inside him.
Gengar, who had no such problems, pulled a face at him—as if to ask why anybody would agonize over something so simple.
They kept climbing, and Gardevoir said something to Kadabra along the way.
He still couldn't quite get there.
He was moved. Genuinely.
But he wasn't Gengar and he wasn't Gardevoir. He'd been a stray. Unwanted. Chased off with sticks. The first Energy Cube he ever tasted, he'd dug out of a trash can.
To Gardevoir, that same cube was contaminated junk food—and out of a trash can, no less.
Gengar had been taken in by a farmer. Gardevoir had been at Akiyama's side since the day she opened her eyes.
None of them were wrong. They'd just built the world out of different materials.
Akiyama let it lie and opened the door.
Kadabra needed time to think, to work through it. That was fine. They had all the time in the world, and they weren't going anywhere.
He dropped onto the couch, checked the clock, and started studying the wisteria in his lap.
Then he noticed Kadabra pulling a length of wisteria out of one of the shopping bags.
He smiled to himself.
Kadabra might have already found the answer he'd been chasing. He just didn't know it yet.
Watching him fumble through his first attempt at weaving—by hand, of all things—Akiyama put his head down and pretended not to see.
He and Gardevoir got to work on their own.
Only Gengar stayed exactly the child he was, digging through the bags, hunting for snacks.
A high IQ was genuinely convenient. Even having voluntarily given up Confusion, Kadabra wove faster than Akiyama did.
But it wasn't long before he realized the ring in his hands wasn't sturdy enough.
He pulled it apart and started over.
He didn't come back to himself until dinner, when Akiyama's voice reached him.
"Food's on." Akiyama grinned, pretending not to see the flowers.
Kadabra set the wisteria aside and nodded.
He looked over at the table, where Gengar was already going at it.
Tiny body. Bottomless capacity.
By the time Kadabra sat down, Gengar had abandoned all dignity and was licking a plate.
"Slow down. Nobody's taking it from you."
Akiyama laughed and patted his back. Very soft. Weirdly satisfying.
"Gen-gar, gengar."
Gengar covered his mouth and snickered.
These past few days had been good. He wasn't a lost spirit haunting an empty house anymore. He was part of a small, strange household.
The frosted window in the room went clear.
The intercom chimed.
"In celebration of Blossom Rest, Greenlight City will not sleep tonight!"
Nurse Joy's voice carried through the halls.
And outside the window…
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