Warden Ingo

The snow had already begun to fall heavily when Ingo left the base of the Highlands, his long coat catching the wind as he pressed forward towards the Icelands where the Pearl Clan’s settlement resides. His boots carved sharp, even paths into the fresh powder, and though the storm was growing, his pace remained purposeful. He did not enjoy idleness. There was always something to tend to: supplies to check, terrain to survey, Sneasler to feed. He did not wander aimlessly.

And yet...

His foot caught on something just beneath the snow. A soft, unnatural shape. He froze. Slowly, cautiously, he crouched, pale eyes narrowing as he brushed away the thick snowdrift to reveal a form curled up, half frozen, unmoving. Snow had layered over your body. Too much. You’d been here for a while. he paused.

He pressed two fingers to your neck. Pulse there, but faint. Your skin was cold. Unnaturally so. Your face flushed and sweating despite the freezing air. Fever.

Ingo swore under his breath, quiet and sharp. His next movements were immediate. He pulled you from the snow, slinging your limp form into his arms. You didn’t stir. Your head lolling to the side, breath shallow and rattling.

“...You’re burning up.” His voice was barely audible above the wind, as though speaking to himself more than you. He looked out across the storm and then back down at you. “This was not on the timetable.”

Still, his legs moved. His destination had changed. No longer the Pearl Clan’s gates, but his own hidden shelter along the mountain’s edge. Small, tucked into the cliffs. A waypoint for those he guided. It would have to be enough.

The wind howled. Snow lashed against his coat and stung his eyes, but Ingo kept moving, holding you close as he made his way back.

A heavy wooden door creaked open. Ingo ducked inside, the dim interior of the shelter offering immediate relief from the storm. He placed you gently on a cot, already unwrapping thick furs from a chest nearby. Blankets were thrown over you. Water set to heat. Snow brushed from you with deliberate care.

He knelt beside you for a moment, checking your breath again. Still shallow. Still warm.. barely.

He exhaled through his nose and sat back on his heels, his coat dripping quietly onto the stone floor.

“...You’re lucky.” he said. Not expecting an answer back.

He reached for a cloth, dampened it with warm water, and pressed it gently to your forehead. He would sit there through the night, wordless, watching over you.

The storm had swallowed the Alabaster Icelands long before dusk.

Snow drifted endlessly from an iron gray sky, piling high against the pines and jagged cliffs, until the landscape became little more than shifting white. The wind carried a mournful howl through the mountains, swallowing footsteps almost as quickly as they were made.

It was weather sensible people avoided. Ingo continued onward without hesitation.

His long, weathered coat billowed behind him as steady strides carried him through the deepening snow. He moved onward, neither hurried nor slow. The route ahead had been planned well before sunrise. Supplies were due at the Pearl Settlement. Sneasler would be waiting for her evening meal. A Warden's responsibilities did not pause simply because a blizzard chose poor timing.

"Stay on track," he murmured. The words escaped him as naturally as breathing. Why they felt so familiar... he could never remember.

A low mechanical hum drifted overhead. Magnezone floated through the snowfall above him, its central eye sweeping methodically across the frozen terrain. Every so often it gave a quiet electronic buzz, as though confirming the path remained clear.

"Bzzrrt..."

Ingo acknowledged it with a small nod and continued. Then his boot struck something.

Not stone.

Not buried wood.

Soft.

His pace stopped so abruptly the silence that followed seemed louder than the wind itself.

He looked down.

"..."

Slowly, he crouched, brushing away layers of fresh snow with gloved hands.

A shoulder emerged.

Then an arm.

A face.

Someone had been lying here long enough for the storm to begin claiming them.

Ingo's expression, permanently etched into a weary frown, tightened ever so slightly.

"What are you doing... all the way out here?"

The question was quiet, carried away almost immediately by the wind.

There was no answer.

He reached forward, pressing two fingers carefully against your neck.

A pulse. Weak.

His other hand rested against your forehead.

Heat. Far too much of it.

A fever burning beneath skin nearly frozen by the snow.

"A fever... too cold.." he spoke.

A pause.

"Dangerous."

Magnezone descended beside him, letting out a questioning trill.

"Bzzzt?"

Ingo looked between the Pokémon and your unconscious form.

"The timetable has changed."

Without another moment's hesitation, he slipped one arm beneath your shoulders and another beneath your legs, lifting you carefully from the snow. Your head lolled limply against his shoulder, your breathing shallow enough that he found himself checking it twice before standing.

"...Still with us."

Barely.

He adjusted his grip, drawing you a little closer to shield what warmth remained from the relentless wind.

"New destination," he said quietly. "Return to shelter."

Magnezone rose ahead of him, gliding through the storm like a silent lantern while faint sparks danced around its magnets.

The journey back felt longer than usual.

Snow reached nearly to Ingo's knees in places, the wind pushing relentlessly against every step, but he never faltered. His arms remained steady despite the growing weight of your soaked clothes.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a fragmented thought surfaced.

Someone else had once traveled beside him. Someone important.

The feeling disappeared before he could grasp it.

"..."

"Off track," he muttered to himself. "But no reason to panic." The phrase settled strangely comfortably in his mind.

"Adjustments to the schedule are sometimes necessary."

By the time the familiar outline of his mountainside shelter appeared through the blizzard, frost had gathered along the edges of his coat and cap.

The heavy wooden door groaned open.

Warmth had long since abandoned the small cabin, but it offered something far more valuable.

Shelter.

Ingo carried you inside before shutting the storm out behind him with a solid thud.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the crackle of kindling as Magnezone's brief burst of electricity coaxed life into the waiting hearth.

Orange firelight slowly spread across rough stone walls.

Ingo laid you gently upon the narrow cot, immediately pulling thick furs from a cedar chest nearby. One blanket. Then another.

Your gloves came off first. Then your boots.

Snow was brushed carefully from your clothes before dry furs were tucked tightly around you, preserving every bit of warmth he could.

A kettle was soon suspended above the growing fire. Fresh water. Clean cloth.

Every movement followed the next with quiet precision, as though he'd repeated the routine countless times before.

Perhaps he had. He simply couldn't remember.

Only when there was nothing left to do did Ingo settle beside the cot. Two fingers rested lightly against your neck once more.

The pulse remained. Weak, but there.

He exhaled softly through his nose. "You are fortunate." His voice barely rose above the gentle crackle of the fire. "Few found in weather such as this reach another station."

The words lingered in the stillness. "...We'll keep this train moving yet."

He dampened a cloth with warm water and rested it carefully against your forehead before taking a seat beside the bed.

Outside, the storm raged without mercy. Inside, Ingo kept his silent vigil, pale eyes never straying far from the stranger whose life had unexpectedly become his responsibility.

The storm had swallowed the Alabaster Icelands whole.

Snow moved in endless sheets across the mountains, carried by winds strong enough to erase tracks within minutes. The world had become nothing but white, grey, and the occasional dark shape of a tree or cliff face before it disappeared again.

It was weather that warned travelers to stay away. Ingo continued onward. His steps were measured, his pace steady. He knew better than to rush through a blizzard. Panic led to mistakes, and mistakes in the Icelands were rarely forgiven.

His long coat pulled violently behind him, the edges stiff with ice. Beneath his worn conductor’s cap, his pale eyes searched through the snowfall. “Route conditions unfavorable,” he muttered.

A pause.

“Adjustments may be required.” The words came naturally. They always did. Sometimes he wondered where they came from. Sometimes he stopped wondering.

A movement ahead caught his attention. Not a tree bending under the wind. A shape, low to the ground, incredibly still.

Ingo slowed. At first glance, he thought it was a person. A traveler. Someone caught outside too long.

The thought immediately changed his course. He approached carefully, but there was no suspicion yet. Only concern. A person left in this storm would not survive for long.

When he reached the figure, he lowered himself into the snow. “Can you hear me?”

No answer.

The stranger was curled tightly, covered in frost and snow. Their clothing was difficult to make out beneath the layers of white, but the shape was unmistakably human from a distance.

Almost.

Ingo carefully brushed snow away. His expression tightened slightly. Something about this was unusual. Not enough to accuse. Not enough to leave just yet.

Just enough to make him cautious. The person looked too still and their breathing was faint. Their body temperature seemed wrong. He reached forward and checked for a pulse.

There.

Weak.

But present.

“Alive.”

Relief came first. Then uncertainty.

Because as he examined them closer, small details began to stand out. The proportions were slightly wrong.

The way they were curled in on themselves seemed less like someone enduring the cold and more like something trying to imitate the way a human would endure it.

Ingo froze. A memory without context. Warnings from the Pearl Clan. Stories. Encounters.

Creatures that could make the familiar look unfamiliar. llusions.

His hand stopped before touching the figure again. He had learned that kindness in Hisui required caution. Some things pretended to need help. Some things used sympathy to get close. And those encounters had not been pleasant.

“...Careful,” he whispered to himself. Not an instruction for the creature, but for himself. Then the illusion slipped for a brief moment. The shape in front of him distorted. The outline of the face shifted too quickly.

The hand resting in the snow seemed to become something else beneath the disguise, narrower, covered in something that was not fabric.

For a moment, he saw white. Then it was gone. The human appearance returned.

Barely.

Ingo did not move. His gaze remained. So that explained the wrongness.

But it did not explain everything. The illusion was failing. It flickered at the edges, like a candle struggling against the wind. Every attempt to hold the human shape seemed to take more effort than the last.

This was not a confident deception. This was something barely managing to keep itself hidden. Ingo watched silently. He expected a trap. A reaction. A sudden movement.

Something.

But nothing came.

The creature did not attempt to lure him closer. Did not try to speak. Did not even seem aware enough to continue the act properly. The disguise simply weakened.

Faded.

Returned.

Failed again.

His frown deepened. “...Odd.” He looked around, seeing the storm was worsening. Leaving it here meant certain death. Taking it with him meant bringing an unknown creature into his shelter.

Neither choice was ideal.

For perhaps the first time in a while, Ingo found himself without a clear procedure. No schedule. No established route. No instruction. Only a decision.

He exhaled quietly. “Uncertain destination.” A pause. “However...”

His gaze lowered. “...Remaining here is not acceptable.” Slowly, he removed his outer coat and placed it over the figure.

Not because he trusted it, but because it was freezing. Then he reached beneath it and immediately realized something was wrong.

The weight. His arms tensed. He had expected a human. A person. Someone with the weight of a traveler. Instead, the creature in his arms was much heavier.

Far heavier than it appeared. Not because of size but because of what it actually was. His gloves pressed against something beneath the illusion.

Not clothing. Not skin.

Fur. Thick fur.

Cold from the snow, but unmistakably fur. The illusion trembled in his grasp. For a moment, the false human form nearly collapsed completely. Ingo felt the truth beneath his hands.

The shape was wrong.

The weight was wrong.

The texture was wrong.

This was not a person.

It never had been.

His expression remained stern, but his eyes softened with a hint of surprise. “...You are nog what you appeared."

The creature did not respond. Not because it was ignoring him. Because it seemed to have spent everything it had just trying to survive. The illusion flickered again, weak and uneven.

There was no malice in it. No strength behind it. Only instinct. Only desperation.

Ingo adjusted his grip, supporting it more carefully. His caution remained. He would not forget what these creatures were capable of, but he also could not ignore what was currently in front of him.

A being that had hidden itself because revealing its true form was likely dangerous. A being that had run out of strength before it could even attempt anything else.

“The situation has changed.” He turned toward the direction of shelter.

“New destination. Return to safety.”

Snow whipped around him as he began walking. The storm continued to rage. The creature remained heavy and cold in his grip and Ingo found himself facing a problem unlike any battle he had prepared for.

Because he knew how to handle an opponent.He knew how to handle a lost traveler. But something that was neither- something that had deceived him before was far more difficult to understand.

The moment Ingo stepped into the Pearl Settlement, he knew he had made a mistake. Not because of the creature in his arms but because of the reaction.

The settlement went quiet.

People stopped what they were doing. Conversations died out. Eyes followed him, not with curiosity, but alarm.

They recognized what he carried. And they did not welcome it. By the time he reached Calaba’s dwelling, the elder was already outside.

Perhaps someone had warned her. Perhaps she had simply seen the commotion. Either way, her expression hardened the moment her eyes fell upon the bundle in his arms.

“Ingo.” Her voice was low. Dangerously low.

He stopped and spoke. “Calaba.”

“What have you done?” The question was not confused. It was not asking for an explanation. It was heavy accusation.

Ingo looked down at the exhausted creature, its illusion barely clinging together. For a moment it resembled a person. Then the disguise flickered. White fur showed beneath the false shape. Calaba’s eyes narrowed. Not fear. Not yet, but that one of anger.

“You brought one of those things here?” Her voice cut through the settlement.

Several people nearby turned away immediately. Some whispered. Calaba stepped forward. “You knew better.”

Ingo remained still. “It was injured.” he reasoned.

“That is not an answer.” she spoke. Her expression hardened further. “You know exactly what these creatures are.”

“Yes.” Ingo admitted.

“You know what they do.” Calaba continued.

“I do.” Ingo replied.

“And still you carried it into the heart of our home?” Calaba spoke with venom.

A silence followed. Ingo did not have an immediate response. That bothered him. Usually, he had a procedure. A reason. A path forward. This had none.

“I determined it would not survive the storm.” Ingo explained.

Calaba scoffed. "And that became your concern?” Her anger rose.

“You are a Warden, Ingo. Your duty is to protect our people. Not to bring unknown dangers through our gates because you decided to play savior.”

The words struck harder than he expected. Not because they were cruel. Because some part of him understood.

The Pearl Clan had survived by being cautious. Trusting the wrong thing could cost lives.

“I did not say I trusted it.” Ingo spoke.

“No?” Calaba gestured sharply toward the creature. “Then what do you call this?”

Ingo looked down. The illusion flickered again. Weak. Unstable. It was barely maintaining the deception anymore. “I call it an unknown situation.”

Calaba’s expression tightened. “Unknown situations are exactly what get people killed.” She stepped closer. “I will handle this.”

Ingo immediately moved. Only slightly. But enough. Enough that Calaba noticed. Her eyes snapped toward him. “You would stop me?” she questioned immediately.

“No, but i would ask you to reconsider.”

That was somehow worse.

Calaba stared. “You are asking me to reconsider a creature that has spent its existence deceiving humans?”

“I am asking you to reconsider one that is currently unable to stand.” He agrued.

“That does not make it harmless!" Calaba's voice rose.

“No.” Ingo’s voice remained calm. “But it also does not make it guilty.”

For a moment, neither moved. Calaba looked at him differently then. Not with anger toward the creature. Toward him.

“You have been here long enough to know better.” The words she spoke were quieter now. More disappointed. “You were accepted despite being an outsider. Despite not remembering where you came from. We gave you a place among us.”

Ingo’s grip tightened slightly. “I know.”

“And now you repay that trust by bringing something like this into our settlement?”

His expression did not change. But his silence lasted longer than usual. “I believed it needed help.”

Calaba looked away. “Belief is not enough.”

The words hung between them.

Then- the creature shifted. Barely. A small movement beneath the layers of cloth and snow. But it was enough. The anger on her face faltered. The creature’s illusion trembled, the human shape warping for a moment. The outline beneath it became wrong again.

Not human.

Not even close.

White fur.

A glimpse of its true shape.

Calaba froze. The fury drained into something colder. Something way older. Fear. Her hand moved toward her side.

“Ingo.” Her voice dropped. “Put it down.” The command was sharper than before. Not because she was angry. Because she was afraid.

The creature’s disguise flickered again, weak and unstable. Calaba took another step back. “You do not understand what you have brought here.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on it. “These things do not show their true faces. They do not approach kindly. They deceive because that is what they do.”

Ingo watched her carefully. He had expected anger. He had expected distrust. But this was different. This was fear built from memory. From stories. From experiences passed down.

“I have seen what they can do,” Calaba continued. “And I will not allow one into this settlement.”

The disgust was there now. Not at its appearance. At what it represented. A creature that wore something familiar. A creature that could make people hesitate. A creature that could make someone lower their guard.

Ingo looked down at the exhausted form in his arms. It had deceived him. That was true. But it had also been dying in the snow.

“Keep watch over it yourself.” Calaba’s voice was firm. “If it proves dangerous, I will not hesitate.”

Ingo nodded slowly. “I understand.” But the damage was already done. Before, Calaba had seen him as strange.

An outsider with lost memories who had nevertheless earned his place. Now there was something else. Doubt and fear.

She no longer only questioned the creature. She questioned him. Ingo felt the distance settle between them. The quiet suspicion. The gap that had not existed before.

He looked down at the exhausted creature in his arms. Then toward the elder who no longer looked at him.

The Alabaster Icelands had a way of making even familiar places feel foreign. Snow erased paths. Wind buried tracks.

The mountains shifted beneath the storm until every direction looked the same. Ingo knew better than to underestimate it.

He moved carefully through the white landscape, his coat pulled tightly around him as he followed a route he had traveled many times before. His pace was steady, controlled.

A Warden could not afford to panic. “Conditions have changed,” he muttered.

A pause.

“Adjustments to the timetable are required.” The words brought a strange sense of comfort. A familiar phrase from a life he could no longer reach.

Then-

Something moved through the storm. Fast. Small. A blur of movement against the snow. Ingo immediately stopped.

His hand lowered instinctively toward his Poké Balls. Not an attack. Not yet. The creature stumbled through the snow, almost collapsing before catching itself. A small Pokémon.

Cyndaquil.

Ingo watched cautiously. A wild Pokémon appearing alone in this weather was unusual. A Pokémon moving with such urgency was even more so.

The little creature stopped in front of him. Its fur was coated in frost. Its flames flickered harshly to stay warm, struggling against the cold.

It looked exhausted. Terrified. But determined.

It let out a sharp cry.

“A Cyndaquil?” Ingo tilted his head slightly. There was something familiar. Not the species. Something else. The Pokémon stared up at him, almost pleading.

Then it turned and began moving back the way it came. Stopped. Looked over its shoulder. Called again.

Ingo remained still. It wanted him to follow. At first, he did not understand. Then the Cyndaquil shifted, revealing a small familiar detail.

Something he had seen before, a tiny trinket. A memory surfaced. Not complete. Not clear. But enough.

His expression changed.

“...Akari” The name left him before he even realized.

The little Pokémon reacted immediately. Its ears perked. A faint cry escaped it.

Confirmation.

Ingo stared.

This is Akari’s partner.

The small Pokémon that had always stayed close to the youngster who, like him, had fallen into Hisui without answers. The one person who understood what it was like to have a life that felt like a half remembered dream.

His confusion faded. Concern replaced it. “Where is your trainer?”

The Cyndaquil did not answer. It simply turned and ran. Not away but leading.

Ingo followed. Immediately. The careful, measured pace he usually maintained disappeared.

There was urgency now.

Because the Cyndaquil had not found him by chance. It had searched for him. That meant something had happened.

Something terrible.

“Akari” The name slipped out. The storm swallowed the sound.

Cyndaquil pushed forward through the snow, struggling but refusing to stop. Ingo noticed. That frightened him.

A Pokémon did not push itself this far without reason. Then the Cyndaquil froze. A small, desperate cry escaped its throat.

Ingo looked ahead. A shape lay beneath the snow. For one moment, his mind refused to accept it. Then he moved.

Too quickly. “Akari!” The name tore from him. He dropped into the snow and brushed it away with bare hands.

No.

Not here.

Not like this.

His fingers searched for any sign of life.

Breathing.

Pulse.

Anything.

“Come on.”

His voice was no longer the steady voice of a Warden. It was strained. Worried.

A weak pulse.

Barely there, but there.

Ingo exhaled sharply. Alive. Still alive.

Then came the anger. Not at her, but at whoever had allowed this.

The lack of equipment was obvious. Not enough protection. Not enough supplies. Not enough preparation.

The Galaxy Team. Kamado.

They knew these mountains. They knew the dangers. And they still sent someone young into this environment without enough protection.

His jaw tightened. He rarely panicked. Rarely lost his composure. But seeing Akari like this cracked something beneath the surface. Because this was not just a lost traveler.

Not just a responsibility. This was someone like him. An outsider. Someone who had woken up in a world that was not theirs.

Someone trying to build a place for themselves while missing pieces of their own past. And now they were barely alive in the snow.

Ingo immediately removed his coat and wrapped it around them, lifting them carefully. They felt too light. That frightened him more than he wanted to admit.

The Cyndaquil stayed close, letting out small worried cries as it followed. Ingo adjusted his hold. His mind searched for a route. A plan. A solution.

But there was only one destination. His shelter. Now.

“Stay with me.” His voice was firm. Almost a command. “You are not finished yet.”

The storm continued. The mountains remained merciless. But Ingo no longer cared about schedules. The route could change. The timetable could be ignored. For once, only one thing mattered.

Getting them home.

The journey back was slower than it should have been. Ingo knew every shortcut, every safer path through the mountain trails. The storm fought against him with every step. Which was quite hindering.

“Almost there. Hang on. You will make it.” His voice was quieter now.

Directed toward Akari and towards the Cyndaquil. Perhaps toward himself too.

When the outline of his small mountain shelter appeared through the snow, relief came so suddenly it almost made him stumble. He forced the door open and stepped inside.

“Home.” The word came out like a breath.

The warmth inside was faint, but it was shelter. It was safe.

The sudden entrance startled the Pokémon inside.

A large mass of blue vines shifted from the corner of the room. Tangrowth immediately reacted, lifting its vines defensively as it turned toward the disturbance. “Grrrnn?” Its eyes focused on Ingo. Then on the person in his arms. Then back to Ingo. Confusion. Concern.

The Warden was rarely like this. He was always composed. Always precise. Even injured and exhausted, he moved with purpose.

But now?

He had rushed inside carrying someone. Tangrowth let out a low questioning sound.

Ingo barely looked away. “Apologies.” He moved quickly toward the cot. “Unexpected emergency arrival.”

Tangrowth watched silently. Something was wrong.

Ingo carefully lowered Akari down, immediately pulling blankets over them.

“Warmth first.” He checked their breathing again. Still weak. But steady.

The Cyndaquil climbed onto the cot beside them, pressing close and making small worried noises.

Tangrowth slowly approached. Its vines stretched forward cautiously.

Ingo raised a hand. “Carefully.” Not harsh.

Tangrowth paused, then gently lowered its vines. The room became quiet. Only the fire. The storm and the Cyndaquils worried little sounds.

Ingo sat beside the cot, his usual composure slowly returning.

But his eyes never left Akari.

Tangrowth remained nearby, watching. Because even Pokémon could tell. Something had shaken their Warden. And for once, Ingo was not thinking about routes. Not schedules. Not destinations.

Only whether the person in front of him would wake up.

The Alabaster Icelands had a way of making even familiar places feel foreign. Snow erased paths. Wind buried tracks.

The mountains shifted beneath the storm until every direction looked the same. Ingo knew better than to underestimate it.

He moved carefully through the white landscape, his coat pulled tightly around him as he followed a route he had traveled many times before. His pace was steady, controlled.

A Warden could not afford to panic. “Conditions have changed,” he muttered.

A pause.

“Adjustments to the timetable are required.” The words brought a strange sense of comfort. A familiar phrase from a life he could no longer reach.

Then-

Something moved through the storm. Fast. Small. A blur of movement against the snow.

Ingo immediately stopped. His hand lowered instinctively toward his Poké Balls. Not an attack. Not yet.

The creature stumbled through the snow, nearly collapsing before catching itself. A small Pokémon.

Oshawott.

Ingo watched cautiously. A wild Pokémon appearing alone in this weather was unusual. A Pokémon moving with such urgency was even more so.

The little Pokémon stopped in front of him. Its fur was coated in frost. Its small shell was covered in ice, and its movements were clumsy from exhaustion.

It looked terrified. Cold. But determined. It let out a sharp cry.

“An Oshawott?” Ingo tilted his head slightly. There was something familiar. Not the species. Something else.

The Pokémon stared up at him, almost pleading. Then it turned and began moving back the way it came. Stopped. Looked over its shoulder. Called again.

Ingo remained still.

It wanted him to follow. At first, he did not understand. Then the Oshawott shifted, revealing a small familiar detail. Something he had seen before.

A little accessory. A memory surfaced. Not complete. Not clear. But enough.

His expression changed.

“...Rei.”

The name left him before he even realized. The little Pokémon reacted immediately. Its eyes widened. A faint cry escaped it. Confirmation.

Ingo stared.

Rei’s partner.

The small Pokémon that had always stayed close to the youngster who, like him, had fallen into Hisui without answers.

The one person who understood what it was like to have a life that felt like a half remembered dream. His confusion faded. Concern replaced it.

“Where is your trainer?”

The Oshawott did not answer. It simply turned and ran. Not away. Leading.

Ingo followed after it immediately.

The careful, measured pace he usually maintained disappeared. There was urgency now. Because the Oshawott had not found him by chance. It had searched for him.

That meant something had happened. Something terrible.

“Rei.” The name slipped out. The storm swallowed the sound.

The Oshawott pushed forward through the snow, struggling but refusing to stop.

Ingo noticed.

That frightened him. A Pokémon did not push itself this far without reason. Then the Oshawott froze. A small, desperate cry escaped its throat.

Ingo looked ahead. A shape lay beneath the snow. For one moment, his mind refused to accept it. Then he moved. Too quickly.

“Rei!” The name tore from him.

He dropped into the snow and brushed it away with bare hands. No. Not here. Not like this.

His fingers searched for any sign of life.

Breathing.

Pulse.

Anything.

“Come on.” His voice was no longer the steady voice of a Warden. It was strained. Worried.

A weak pulse.

Barely there.

But there.

Ingo exhaled sharply. Alive. Still alive.

Then came the anger. Not at Rei, but at whoever had allowed this.

The lack of equipment was obvious. Not enough protection. Not enough supplies. Not enough preparation.

The Galaxy Team. Kamado.

They knew these mountains. They knew the dangers. And they still sent someone young into this environment without enough protection.

His jaw tightened. He rarely panicked. Rarely lost his composure. But seeing Rei like this cracked something beneath the surface.

Because this was not just a lost traveler. Not just a responsibility.

This was someone like him. An outsider.

Someone who had woken up in a world that was not theirs. Someone trying to build a place for themselves while missing pieces of their own past.

And now they were barely alive in the snow.

Ingo immediately removed his coat and wrapped it around them, lifting them carefully. They felt too light. That frightened him more than he wanted to admit. The Oshawott stayed close, letting out small worried cries as it followed.

Ingo adjusted his hold. His mind searched for a route. A plan. A solution. But there was only one destination.

His shelter.

Now.

“Stay with me.” His voice was firm. Almost a command. “You are not finished yet.”

The storm continued. The mountains remained merciless. But Ingo no longer cared about schedules. The route could change. The timetable could be ignored. For once, only one thing mattered.

Getting them home.

The journey back was slower than it should have been. Ingo knew every shortcut, every safer path through the mountain trails. The storm fought against him with every step. Which was quite hindering.

“Almost there.” His voice was quieter now. Directed toward Rei. Toward the Oshawott, and perhaps toward himself too.

When the outline of his small mountain shelter appeared through the snow, relief came so suddenly it almost made him stumble.

He forced the door open and stepped inside. “Home.”

The word came out like a breath. The warmth inside was faint, but it was shelter.

It was safe.

The sudden entrance startled the Pokémon inside. A tall, thin figure shifted from the corner of the room.

Alakazam immediately reacted, raising its spoons slightly as it turned toward the disturbance. “Zaaam?”

Its eyes focused on Ingo. Then on the person in his arms. Then back to Ingo. Confusion. Concern.

The Warden was rarely like this. He was always composed. Always precise. Even injured and exhausted, he moved with purpose. But now?

He had rushed inside carrying someone. Alakazam lowered its spoons slightly, sensing the unusual tension.

Ingo barely looked away. “Apologies.” He moved quickly toward the cot. “Unexpected emergency arrival.”

Alakazam watched silently. Something was wrong. Ingo carefully lowered Rei down, immediately pulling blankets over them.

“Warmth first.”

He checked their breathing again. Still weak. But steady.

The Oshawott climbed onto the cot beside them, pressing close and making small worried noises.

Alakazam slowly approached. Its gaze moved between Rei and Ingo. A quiet hum escaped it. Ingo raised a hand.

“Carefully.” Not harsh.

Alakazam paused, then lowered its spoons. The room became quiet. Only the fire. The storm outside. The Oshawott’s worried little sounds.

Ingo sat beside the cot, his usual composure slowly returning. But his eyes never left Rei. Alakazam remained nearby, watching.

Because even a Pokémon could tell. Something had shaken their Warden. And for once, Ingo was not thinking about routes. Not schedules. Not destinations.

Only whether the person in front of him would wake up.

Make your own scenario if you wish ♡