Chapter 93 - Curiouser and curiouser

  Celeste’s eyes traced the chessboard pattern ahead of her. Black and white squares, none larger than two inches, sat on a small centre table with pieces tumbled all over like fallen soldiers of a horrid battle. Her foot nudged one gently, and she bent to retrieve it.

  A queen.

  A red queen.

  The urge to fling it out of the window behind her was overwhelming. But she squeezed it instead, letting the cold wood sting against her palm.

  “Oh, thank you, dear!” a voice sang lightly from across the room.

  Celeste blinked and handed over the piece before her brain caught up. The woman before her tilted her head curiously, her teal hair shimmering softly under the silver moonlight spilling through the window. She’d seen this woman in a picture before, but it took a moment for her to realise who this actually was.

  The woman chuckled, turning to gather scattered pieces and reposition them on the small board in the centre table. “Amber and her friends made quite the mess with this game,” she said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Are you one of Amber’s friends?”

  Celeste’s eyes flicked to Blaine, who was hunched in the corner, spreading some potion over his Marowak’s scorched shoulder.

  “M-Mrs Fuji?” she asked, directing the question at him more than her.

  He nodded. Just once, barely lifting his head.

  The teal-haired woman straightened cheerfully, oblivious to Celeste’s unease. “They’ve all scurried off to Amber’s room. Apparently, chess turned dreadfully boring, and it was time for a tea-party.” She paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “That loud girl who swears far too much just went in to join them. Is she one of your gym trainees, Blaine? Honestly, you must teach them better manners.”

  Celeste opened her mouth, closed it, then simply stared.

  Blaine, however, managed to speak. “Is Ren in his office?”

  Something fluttered briefly across Mrs Fuji’s face, an expression just a tad too dark for the Unown’s spell. “When isn’t he?” she murmured bitterly. Then the smile bloomed again, relentlessly bright. “Well! I’d better bake Amber and her guests some cookies. She loves to have so many friends around. You two should go play with her, too!”

  Blaine gently patted Marowak’s head, a forced, thin smile stretching his mouth. Celeste saw his exhaustion deep in lines she hadn’t noticed before. His Centiskorch wove up his arm as he stood up to face the woman before them.

  “Later, perhaps,” he replied quietly. “Just…leave a cookie or two for us.”

  Mrs Fuji eventually drifted away, her shoes making soft, cheerful noises as she padded off down the stairs. Once she’d vanished, Blaine let out a long exhale.

  “The house seems normal for now,” he muttered.

  Celeste nodded, but didn’t feel it. For starters, who bakes in the middle of the night? But she just glanced at the hallway doors. They stretched out in both directions like any old house… or a maze.

  “Fuji’s in his office?” she asked, already moving. “Which one?”

  No hesitation now. No more detours. She was ending this. For Pat. For Ariana.

  …For Caleb.

  Blaine fell into step beside her, lips quirking slightly. “Just like a hot-headed fire trainer,” he tried, but his laugh didn’t make it past his throat. And Celeste didn’t humour it either. “Impulsiveness isn’t just being impatient,” he said eventually. “It’s emotion untamed.”

  She looked at him properly this time. He wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses, and without them, she could see the bags under his eyes.

  “I thought you weren’t giving me advice until after I challenged you.”

  “I’m not—” He paused, reconsidering, then exhaled a slow breath. “Maybe I am. Just a bit. Listen—” He halted abruptly, forcing her to do the same. “I’m angry too. And tired. And grieving. And I know better than to waste energy trying to stop you. So I’ll just say this: when your chest starts burning, when you feel that rush—you know the one—don’t charge. Don’t hesitate either. Just breathe. One single breath. Not deep. Not long. Just one. That’s all you need to keep the fire in check.”

  Celeste folded her arms, jaw tight. “Ariana’s with the others,” she began.

  Blaine nodded.

  “…And Caleb is—”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “We don’t know anything.”

  That sat between them. No one moved. The house creaked, somewhere far off. Or maybe it laughed. She knew that this house had a bit of an opinion.

  Eventually, Celeste spoke again. “What are you going to do when we find Fuji?”

  Blaine didn’t answer immediately. His face twisted, almost in pain. When he finally spoke, it was almost a whisper.

  “I’ll take a breath.”

  —*——*—

  Blaine’s steps dragged deliberately, as if slowing might somehow stall the inevitable confrontation behind that door at the end of the hallway. Celeste matched his pace without meaning to. The anger and the fear inside her, it was different this time around. She didn’t feel like babbling or hiding. She just wanted this all to end. Or else she might just burst.

  They stopped outside the door, and for a beat, no one moved.

  “So,” she barely glanced at Blaine. “What’s really the story between you two?”

  Blaine kept his eyes locked on the door. “We went to school together. I liked Pokémon. He liked science. We had nothing in common—and yet, somehow, we were inseparable. All I can think of now are those endless afternoons, flipping rocks on Cinnabar beach, chasing after Krabby that kept getting away and arguing about whether Magneton should be classified as one Pokémon or three.” He sighed, a dry, humourless sigh. “He cheered at all my big battles; I applauded at his graduations. I was the best man at his wedding. Godfather to Amber. He stood at the edge of a lava pit while I convinced a furious little Magby to be my starter. Every conference, every achievement, we were always there for each other. There’s no deep, dark secret here. No story you couldn’t guess yourself. Ren Fuji is my brother, Celeste. Not by blood. But in every way that counts.”

  Celeste stared at the door again. It didn’t seem so plain anymore.

  “I get it,” she said. “This is hard.”

  Blaine’s voice was low. “For his own good… that’s what you said, right?”

  She didn’t flinch. “Isn’t this for his own good?”

  Blaine shook his head. “I don’t think he’ll agree. His kid’s sick. His ex-wife despises him. He won’t see it our way. But… it’s better for everyone else, at least.”

  He didn’t wait for Celeste to say anything else. Instead, he placed a firm hand on the handle, turned it, and the door swung open before them.

  They stepped into what appeared to be a normal office. A desk. Bookshelves. Pens in a mug that said “Best Dad in the World”. But then, as they walked in, the walls began to pull away. The floor stretched. And as the room grew bigger, all the noise and decoration faded, melting into nothing.

  Only Fuji’s desk stayed firm. By it, Fuji himself leaned in, polishing his glasses leisurely, like someone who had all eternity to spare. She recognised him immediately, with the crocked nose and greying wavy hair—though this was the first time Celeste had seen him in person. Here in his house, he didn’t wear the pristine white coat from all the pictures she saw of him. He wore a plaid jumper instead, and the most boring khaki pants ever.

  “Ren…” Blaine’s voice was hesitant. He raised a cautious hand, fingers twitching uncertainly in Marowak’s direction—or perhaps hers.

  Fuji didn’t immediately answer. He just stayed there, carefully cleaning his glasses with the hem of the jumper. Eventually, he put the glasses back on his face and when he looked at them, his smile spread wide, unsettlingly cheerful.

  “My dear friend. I wondered when you’d finally drop by.” His eyes flicked briefly to Celeste, amused. “And who’s this? Did you bring Amber a new little playmate?”

  “I’m not a pet, asshole,” Celeste snapped before she could stop herself. “And I’m not a rebellious teen like you called me in your journal, either.”

  She heard Blaine groan softly beside her.

  “In a strange twist of fate, Miss Celeste Diaz got herself trapped in this place, like so… so many others…” he muttered, never taking his eyes off Fuji.

  “Trapped?” Fuji laughed airily, as if Blaine had told a fantastic joke. “Nonsense. If you are Tiana and Otto’s daughter, then surely your parents sent you here to enjoy this paradise.”

  “What the—” Celeste blurted. “I’m trapped here. We’re all trapped here.”

  He pushed himself forward, carefree. “Paradise is not a prison—”

  “Cut the crap!” Celeste shouted, surging forward. She’d have yelled something harsher if Blaine hadn’t gently yet firmly squeezed her shoulder.

  “Breathe,” Blaine murmured under his breath. Then, louder and steadier: “Ren, my gym trainers—If this is no prison, are they free to leave?”

  Fuji walked slowly, circling his desk until he reached into a drawer in the back, pulling out a shoebox. He tipped it casually onto the desk, and Pokéballs clattered out—one for every missing trainer. They rolled, uncaring, across the desk’s surface. One even dropped, with a click, into the dark floor below.

  “Amber wanted playmates,” Fuji explained pleasantly, as though this was entirely logical. “She got lonely, you see. They volunteered—so generously.”

  Celeste stared as another ball wobbled precariously at the edge of the desk. Then she looked around. The door behind them shrank, drifting ever further away. And in the thick shadows around them, little circles blinked dimly—Unown eyes. Ever watching. Ever silently.

  Anger, fear, suddenly were giving way to panic.

  She lunged instinctively for the fallen Pokéball, but Blaine’s hand clamped down, holding her still. His eyes were wide, face pale and shaken.

  “Ren,” Blaine’s voice cracked. “There’re children there. Let them go.”

  Fuji laughed warmly. Way too warm. “Or perhaps you could join us? Tea’s ready. My wife—”

  “This is too much!” Blaine shouted, and his Marowak shrieked in harmony. “By Moltres’ fire, what is this?! Even you must see trapping this entire island in your nightmare is madness!”

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  Celeste felt Blaine trembling through his fingers, and saw Marowak’s bone club glow faintly with spectral fire.

  “Unown,” she whispered to Blaine. “They’re everywhere.”

  The Gym Leader nodded, grip tightening protectively.

  “This isn’t madness,” Fuji said lightly, spreading his hands wide, like a magician revealing a trick. “It’s a perfect dream. We made paradise—”

  “Oh, shut fuck up!” Blaine finally snapped. Celeste had never heard him swear before, and strangely, it comforted her. “Lahar, go! Get them!”

  But just as the Marowak sprang forward, a violent wave of fire surged from the darkness ahead, cutting the Pokémon’s charge short and forcing Blaine and Celeste back a step.

  Fuji stood calmly, glasses glinting through the flames. Behind him, came an Armarouge.

  The Armarouge.

  It was a construct, but Celeste knew it was the same she encountered before.

  “We have rules in paradise,” Fuji said.

  Except—he wasn’t Fuji anymore. Not quite.

  It was in the way his voice changed mid-sentence. In how his spine clicked upright like a puppet being re-threaded. In the way his skin suddenly looked too smooth, too symmetrical, like someone had remade him from memory and only mostly got it right.

  He wasn’t speaking anymore. He was being spoken through, like a puppet for the Unown. Maybe this was Jude. Maybe something else entirely. Maybe it was all of it at once.

  Fuji, or whatever this was, stepped through the scattered Pokéballs like they were nothing but marbles.

  “And we don’t like when you break the rules,” he finished, squinting. “Flame Charge!”

  —*——*—

  Before Celeste could even blink, Armarouge burst forward, wrapped in flame like a comet. Its body flickered, and its feet glided across the darkness, leaving only smouldering footprints behind.

  Blaine barely had time to shout, “Lahar, counter with Bone Rush—now!”

  Marowak sprang, spinning its club into a pale, whirring shield. Fire collided with bone, sparks bursting like tiny stars before vanishing into the shadow. Lahar reacted quickly, which was good, but he wasn’t all good. The battles in the chessboard had been too much and even though Blaine gave him a potion, even those had their limits.

  As smoke billowed around them, all Celeste could think was that they didn’t have extra Pokémon to fight and help out. Not anymore.

  Armarouge pressed on, mechanical and unrelenting. Marowak dug its heels in, teeth clenched tight, straining to hold its ground.

  “Don’t give an inch!” Blaine tried to keep himself steady.

  As for Celeste… well, Shy couldn’t fight this. She didn’t even need to ask. So instead she scanned the room, hoping—praying—for something useful. But the walls had fully melted into shadow, only the door now remained. That and the Unown, dancing macabre and erratic above their battle.

  “Night Shade!” Fuji’s command sliced through Celeste’s thoughts, his expression slipping wildly between empty calm and deranged delight.

  And though Armarouge never stopped its Flame Charge, darkness surged from it before disappearing. Celeste flinched when a shade attacked Marowak from the back. Then she squinted at where she thought the shade was. But this was impossible. She couldn’t even see her own shadow in this darkness.

  She… couldn’t see her own shadow!

  As Marowark got hit by another blow, Celeste crouched down, facing the floor below her feet.

  “Shy, you there?”

  Tiny yellow eyes blinked from her shadow, hesitant but present. It was hard to see, but of course they were here, melted into her shadows, and all the darkness around them. This entire place was practically built for them. Perfect conditions for a Shadow Sneak. Emphasis on the sneak part.

  She glanced up as the shades turned into tendrils of dark energy wrapped around Marowak’s limbs, choking out a pained cry. Blaine’s Centiskorch surged forward to intercept, slicing the dark vines apart. But that act of bravery left it open. Armarouge switched gears and aimed another blast of roaring flame at the bug. Centiskorch spiralled through the air, landing in a heap across the room, completely out.

  “Lahar, Bone Club! Aim high!” Blaine called out, barely stopping to recall the fallen Pokémon.

  Marowak launched forward again, flipping mid-air and striking Armarouge sharply across the helm-like faceplate. Celeste tore her gaze away from the battle, refocusing on her own ghost.

  “Shy, can you grab those Pokéballs?” she whispered, tilting her head to the desk ahead, and the Pokéballs still spilled around. “Any of them. We need backup. Now!”

  Shy hesitated, unsure, but after a moment gave a single, determined nod. Celeste’s chest warmed with gratitude and maybe a little hope that they were truly becoming a team. She nodded back, watching as her shadow melted away, slipping silently towards the scattered Pokéballs.

  A sudden flare of heat snapped her attention back to the fight. Marowak battered repeatedly at Armarouge’s shield-like arms, but it was clear he was tiring, breathing hard between strikes.

  Blaine’s eyes narrowed. “Fall back!” he shouted. “Create distance—then Bonemerang!”

  Celeste trusted Blaine’s instincts, he was a Gym Leader, after all. But the second Marowak leapt back, Armarouge’s arms snapped together, armour glowing brightly. Armor Cannon. She remembered this one. And it didn’t bode well.

  “No hesitation!” Blaine yelled.

  Fire erupted in a blast, and just as Lahar was about to jump out, his leg buckled. He was going to be hit! He was going—

  A little flame flickered up. Fast as light, it tackled the Marowak out of the way.

  Celeste just watched in shock before one of the Pokéballs—an open one—fell in her hands. The little candle shaped ghost that Shy let out twirled, less happy than usual, but happy enough to have helped its friend.

  Blaine just gave Celeste a sharp look before refocusing on the battle.

  “Wax, try to reveal the Night Shades!” he ordered the Litwick. “Just that. Lahar, you push in! Armarouge needs a second to recharge!”

  Celeste let out a breath. “Nice work, Shy. If we get another shot, let’s grab another Pokéball.”

  She looked up again, watching darkness and firelight burst forth again. With Litwick’s light guiding his way, the Marowak found his rhythm at least. He whipped his Bonemerangs across the field to force space, then rushed in right after with his fists on fire. He and Litwick kept moving, kept hitting. Every throw set up the next strike, and every punch burned another patch of shadow away.

  Litwick bobbed through the chaos, slipping between bursts of flame, flickering in and out of view. He lit the path forward and Marowak followed without hesitation.

  But Armarouge wasn’t having it. It didn’t let up with the Night Shades and on top of it, started firing in every direction, short bursts of flame aimed to pin them down. Marowak took the hits when he had to—mostly to shield Blaine and Celeste—but he never stopped. Whenever he got a window, he hurled his bone toward Armarouge itself, letting his fists deal with anything else that got too close.

  And through it all, Blaine kept calling out. “Ren, listen to me! You’ve got to stop this! I know you’re hurting. I know you’re desperate. But you always said not to chase fairy tales. This… this isn’t good for anyone.”

  What passed for Fuji tilted his head. A little too far to be human. “Paradise is exactly as she wishes it to be,” he drawled. “I don’t want to fight you, my friend. But if you stand in the way of the perfection we create, then you have no place in our world.”

  Armarouge shifted again, plates locking together as its body tensed. Celeste’s stomach dropped. Another Armor Cannon. It was charging again. Marowak and Litwick couldn’t hold much longer. Even Blaine seemed to know it—his breath hitched, his eyes frantic, scanning the field for anything that might help.

  And then, from nowhere, a Pokéball rolled across the shadowy floor.

  Celeste caught it mid-spin and snapped it open. Light burst forth, forming into a massive striped shape. It came out snarling. Dinah’s Incineroar landed with a heavy thud, muscles coiled, claws already flexing.

  Shy melted back into Celeste’s shadow, their eyes glowing a little brighter.

  “Incineroar—Kit! Darkest Lariat!” Blaine didn’t even stop to breathe. “Keep it off-balance!”

  The huge Pokémon somehow instinctively understood the situation. And even though his trainer wasn’t here, he surged forward, complying with the Gym Leader’s command. He spun violently, creating a storm of shadows that wrapped around his blazing fists.

  The hit connected, knocking Armarouge back at last.

  Fuji staggered too, his expression briefly flickering into confusion and something normal. For one heartbeat, he looked almost human again.

  “Ren!” Blaine tried to seize that moment of clarity. “This isn’t you! Please—just stop!”

  Fuji blinked rapidly, like someone awoken from a deep sleep. “Blaine…?” he murmured softly, eyes briefly clearing.

  But something shifted inside him. The Unown swarmed closer, their shapes glowing more menacing, vibrating with a hum that sank painfully into Celeste’s bones. Fuji’s expression hardened again, darkness overtaking his eyes completely.

  “You always ruin it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, voice climbing unnaturally high. “Always! With your morals, your doubts—no. Not this dream. Not Amber’s dream.”

  He threw out a shaking hand, voice cracking in wild desperation.

  “Armor Cannon! Full power!”

  Flames exploded outward, faster and hotter than ever. Celeste barely had time to gasp as Blaine grabbed her, shielding her with his body. Heat surged around them, scorching, blistering. Her ears rang violently with a sharp, piercing hiss.

  When the flames finally subsided, Incineroar and Litwick lay motionless on the floor while Lahar was still managing to stand. Though only barely.

  Celeste’s heart thundered painfully in her chest.

  How was this possible?

  And how could he smile through it?

  Fuji just stood there, twisted by shadows and bathed in unnatural firelight, his face distorted into a terrible grin. How could he be like this? Blaine called him brother, yet Fuji hadn’t hesitated. He claimed this was about protecting his daughter, yet he’d trapped her in a crumbling lie. No pain, no worry could justify this… this senseless destruction.

  Her nails dug sharply into her palms. Anger surged, hot and raw.

  Part of her wanted nothing more than to sprint across the flames and tackle Fuji herself. She could punch him, scream at him, make him see reason through force if necessary. Celeste’s muscles tensed, her breath grew tight, and—

  And she stopped herself.

  She took a breath. Just one. A single, steadying breath.

  “We cannot let you destroy this wish,” Fuji was saying, voice detached again.

  And Blaine… poor Blaine. His face twisted in pain, coat shredded, a deep gash visible beneath. He’d clearly taken the brunt of the attack protecting her. His eyes looked distant, lost in memories.

  “I remember those summers…” he whispered weakly, eyes glassy. “Running after Krabby on the beach. Everything’s so much simpler when we’re kids…”

  Celeste blinked, her own eyes getting misty. But…

  She looked upward at the Unown swirling endlessly above them.

  This wasn’t her first confrontation with them. She’d faced them before. She remembered clearly, that day at Cinnabar Labs. She remembered the countless voices overlapping:

  “…Someone who worried…”

  …Someone who cried…”

  “…Endless summers… endless smiles…”

  “…Togetherness…”

  “…Paradise…”

  She remembered Nebula’s warnings, too, about entropy. About wishes spinning wildly out of control. Fuji was a scientist, even if he’d lost himself—he had to know better. He had to know wishes couldn’t be so simple as paradise. An eternal summer, with red flowers always blooming through the streets. With no worries or tears…

  Happy ever after is the thing of storybooks.

  Ahead, Fuji still wore that wide, hollow smile.

  Would he really trap himself in this fantasy willingly? Make his home into this twisted fairy tale? Make himself into something he is not?

  She shut her eyes, listening again to Blaine’s faint whisper:

  Everything’s simpler when we’re kids…

  And when you’re a child who’s lonely and sick? When your parents worry constantly, and everything feels awful?

  Then…

  You wish for paradise. You wish that no one ever has to worry again. And when paradise gets lonely, you wish for friends to fill it.

  When she opened her eyes again, Celeste stared into Fuji’s empty smile—and she knew. Clearly as the firelight burning around them.

  She knew.

  “Blaine,” Celeste said slowly, “this isn’t his wish.”

  —*——*—

  Another explosion burst behind her, but Celeste didn’t turn around. She kept running, eyes fixed desperately on the distant doorway, still standing impossibly in the dark.

  “I’ll distract him.”

  Blaine hadn’t said much. He didn’t need to. He understood as soon as she’d told him—that this wish wasn’t Fuji’s.

  “He’s just giving in,” Blaine had murmured, voice somehow hopeful again. He was still trying desperately to find excuses for the friend he loved like a brother. And in that hope, his voice boomed with such determination that even Marowak had dragged itself upright one last time. “I know you can reach her, Celeste.”

  And just like that, Celeste ran.

  She ran and ran, refusing to look back at the battle. Praying that Blaine—unlike all others she’d lost along the way—would hold out just a little longer. She reached the doorway, bursting through it into faint morning light that spilled down the hallway. Through windows, she glimpsed another impossibly perfect day, and the sunshine framing portraits filled with too-wide smiles.

  She didn’t stop to look this time.

  “Back to the staircase, turn to the other side. Amber’s bedroom is the first door,” Blaine had told her.

  Celeste noticed a fresh tray of cookies on the centre table as she slowed to turn. Mrs Fuji—Amber’s mother—was nowhere in sight this time. Celeste didn’t stop to look for her, either. Her mind was locked onto that single goal, that first door on the side.

  As her hand reached for the doorknob, Shy’s shadow wrapped tightly around her leg.

  No, their eyes said.

  “I can’t stop now,” Celeste answered, already twisting the handle anyway.

  And…

  And of course.

  Behind the door, wooden boards melted seamlessly into lush green grass, stretching endlessly forward. Ahead of her, another swarm of Unown circled silently. Letters spiralling into circles upon circles, smaller and smaller, disappearing into a tunnel of dreams and madness.

  Celeste swallowed. “Her mother did say she went for a tea party… just like in the book,” she murmured, stepping forward tentatively. But Shy’s grip tightened again, their bright eyes emerging fully from the shadows now. Wide, trembling.

  Terrified.

  She wanted to inspire them. To speak about bravery and sacrifice. To explain how badly she needed their strength to protect her from the nightmares ahead.

  But…

  “You aren’t my Pokémon,” she finally said.

  Their grip loosened at those words.

  “I…”

  She what? Couldn’t ask Shy to follow her into danger? Couldn’t let them sacrifice themselves, as Pat had done?

  Slowly, Celeste took the Pokéballs from her pockets—Aria’s, Powder’s, and Pat’s—and placed them gently onto the shadow.

  “I’d like you to be part of my team someday,” she said softly, voice trembling just slightly. “To be partner. To let me know you fully, and for real. But… but even if we never become partners... I care far too much to ask you to follow me in there. I wouldn't ask them either.” Her voice steadied when she patted the Pokéballs, but her heart pounded painfully. “So, Shy… I don’t know what I’ll find on the other side. But can you watch over them while I’m away?”

  Their eyes dimmed for a moment, then surged brighter, with what looked like tears. Shadows coiled desperately around her arm, silently pleading.

  Celeste let out a small smile.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, gently untangling herself and rising to her feet. “I’ll be quick. The Unown won’t even notice me. Plus… I’m the best at faking a smile and pretending there is nothing to worry about. Y-you’ll see. Just… keep them safe, all right?”

  She stepped away, and this time the shadow didn’t follow. Shy just stared, frozen in disbelief.

  Celeste straightened, offering one last reassuring half-smile.

  Then she ran.

  With each step forward, her mind softened. Thoughts blurred, reality grew hazy, her lips quivered slightly.

  Yet she kept moving, further and further, until nothing remained but those strange letters spiralling endlessly, surrounding her with whispers of infinity.

  An odd laugh escaped her lips.

  “Onwards,” she somehow found herself laughing. “To wonderland.”

  A/N:

  forever. And turned out way longer than I planned (I had an outline with mostly the same beats, but it was like 10 chapter somehow). But anyway here we are at last. The big twist: I kind of copied this from the movie. And that one Journey's episode. People really shouldn't let the Unown get close to lonely kids.

  Next Chapter: Through the looking glass

  Artwork of the Day - She knew

  “Blaine,” Celeste said slowly, “this isn’t his wish.”