The heavy doors of Pokémon Home hissed shut, sealing out the ambient noise of the interdimensional hub. Orion leaned his cane against the reception desk and let his shoulders drop. The silence of the lobby felt heavy, a stark contrast to the psychic pressure he had endured in the Latverian palace.
"You look like you've gone ten rounds with a Tyranitar," Latias said.
She stood near the lounge area, her human illusion shimmering slightly in the soft light of the lobby. She held two steaming mugs, the aroma of herbal tea cutting through the sterile scent of the facility.
Orion slumped into a plush armchair.
"Doom is a lot more work than his public persona suggests," Orion replied.
Latias set the tea on the low table between them. She sat across from him, her expression calm and observant. She didn't push for details, but the way she watched him indicated she knew he was still mentally untangling the knot of Victor's intentions.
"The tea will help," Latias said.
Orion took a mug and felt the warmth seep into his palms. The liquid was soothing, grounding him back into his own body after the long trip.
"He's playing a different kind of game now," Orion said.
He stared into the swirling amber liquid. He could still feel the residual echo of that psychic tremor from the throne room, a reminder that even the most solid political structures were built on shifting sands.
Latias leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.
"Let's talk about something that doesn't involve monarchs or grand schemes," she suggested.
Orion looked up, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
"The berry harvest in the south quadrant is ahead of schedule," she continued. "The Oran berries are looking particularly bright this year. I heard the local sprites are already planning a celebration."
Orion let out a short, tired breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"I suppose a celebration sounds better than a confrontation," he said.
He took a long sip of the tea. The lightness in her voice acted like an anchor, pulling him away from the dark, complex mathematics of Doom's blueprints.
"It is much better," Latias said.
She smiled, and for a moment, the weight of the entire United Superverse felt a little less crushing. Orion nodded, deciding to let the heavy thoughts wait for tomorrow. He focused instead on the warmth of the mug and the quiet, steady presence of his friend.
Orion stared at the ceiling of the lounge, the tea long since gone cold in his mug.
"We could use that sanctuary as a second branch of the Home," Orion said.
He looked toward Latias, searching for any hint of hesitation. She remained still, her eyes reflecting the soft light of the lobby.
"It would give the local Pokémon a permanent anchor," she added.
Orion nodded, though a new weight settled in his chest.
"The location is perfect, but the management is a problem," Orion said.
Latias tilted her head.
"We cannot let Doom run it," he said.
He didn't need to specify which associate he meant. The shadow of the Latverian throne loomed too large for a partnership based on mutual suspicion.
"The sanctuary requires a leader who understands the balance," Latias said.
"We need someone who sees the Pokémon as living beings, not strategic assets," Orion said.
He leaned back, rubbing his temples.
"I don't even know who would be qualified," Orion admitted.
He looked toward the small, curled shape of Pikachu on the sofa. The mouse Pokémon let out a soft, rhythmic snore, oblivious to the logistical crisis unfolding inches away.
"Maybe we should post a job listing," Orion suggested.
"It might attract the wrong kind of attention," Latias said.
A low, vibrating resonance pulsed through the floorboards. Zygarde's presence manifested as a subtle shift in the room's energy, a quiet weight that signaled the Guardian was listening.
"Stability requires oversight," Zygarde communicated telepathically.
The thought was direct and devoid of emotion, a clinical assessment of the situation.
"A structured selection process would mitigate risk," the Guardian added.
Latias turned her attention toward the window, watching the lights of the city.
"The right person will feel the call of the land," she said.
Orion stood up and walked over to a small desk near the window. He pulled a tablet from a drawer and tapped the screen, the glow illuminating his face.
"If we do it, we do it properly," Orion said.
He began to type, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the glass serving as the only sound in the quiet room. He outlined the requirements: a deep understanding of Pokémon temperament, a commitment to non-violence, and a proven track record of fostering trust between species. He avoided any mention of specific political affiliations or corporate sponsorships.
"The position requires an intuitive connection to the environment," Orion muttered as he drafted the responsibilities.
He worked with a focused intensity, his mind moving from the broad mission of the Home to the specific, granular details of daily sanctuary management. He thought about the needs of the creatures—the privacy they required, the safety they deserved, and the autonomy they needed to truly thrive.
"Make sure you mention the training seminars," Latias said, stepping closer to look at the screen.
"I will," Orion replied.
He finished the draft and hit the save button. He felt a strange, sudden lightness in his limbs. The anxiety that had sat like a stone in his stomach all afternoon had dissolved, replaced by the simple, grounding satisfaction of a task completed.
He looked over at Pikachu, who remained fast asleep, his little chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Orion smiled and reached out to pull a blanket over the Pokémon.
"It is done," Orion said.
Orion tapped the final confirmation on his tablet and watched the loading bar complete. The job listing vanished into the digital ether of the interdimensional network.
"It is out there now," Orion said.
He set the device on the desk and leaned back. He wondered if the universe would send someone capable or just another ambitious opportunist looking for a foothold in a sacred space.
Latias remained quiet, her gaze fixed on the dark window.
"The response will tell us everything we need to know," she said.
Orion nodded. He knew she was right. The application process would act as a filter, stripping away the pretenders and leaving only those whose intent matched the needs of the sanctuary.
"I hope we find someone who understands the weight of the task," Orion said.
He thought about the vastness of the Pokémon Home and the sheer scale of the expansion he was planning. It was a monumental undertaking, and he was effectively trusting a stranger with the heart of his mission.
Latias turned back to him, her eyes reflecting the dim light of the lounge.
"You are worried about the responsibility," she observed.
Orion didn't bother to deny it.
"The responsibility is immense," he replied.
He thought about the creatures that would live there—the ones that had been displaced by cosmic shifts or lost in the chaos of the multiverse. They needed more than just a landlord; they needed a guardian who could navigate the delicate balance between human civilization and the wild instinct of the Pokémon.
"We will vet them thoroughly," Latias said.
"I know," Orion said.
He stood up and walked toward the window, looking out at the sprawling lights of Manhattan. Somewhere out there, the news was still discussing the festival, and somewhere else, Lex Luthor was already calculating his next move. The world was never truly still, and the peace he worked to cultivate was always under threat.
"We will find the right person," Latias said.
Orion watched a single star flicker in the night sky.
"I hope so," he said.
***
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