Thanks to Karth55 on AO3 for the fantastic fanart!

  ___

  "One must never lose time in vainly regretting the past nor complaining against the changes which cause us discomfort, for change is the very essence of life." - Anatole France

  It's been three months since the league granted me the opportunity to take on wildland rapid-response rescue missions. The role feels tailored for me, especially considering my unique ability to transport myself to any corner of the globe with a PC connection at a moment's notice.

  Further enhanced by my ability to retreat into my Poké Ball and hitch a ride within Rotom's versatile drone vessels, allowing us to cover vast distances in record time.

  Add to this Gallade's impressive teleportation range and my heightened ability to scent-track a human from miles away, my team is basically the ultimate rapid response unit within the league.

  To date, I have successfully performed rescues for twelve groups of trainers within deep wilderness. Ranged across six different regions of the league, and in one particularly memorable incident lent my assistance to a team of rangers in Fiore as they confronted a rampaging alpha Tyranitar.

  The league was far from pleased with my involvement in that last situation. Other resources were already being deployed, and my unapproved intervention had me breaking several international travel laws. I had also, shall we say, "borrowed" a highly experimental Rotom recon drone vessel to get there in time.

  Fortunately, the league maintains an excellent rapport with Fiore, so I managed to avoid most of the fallout from the border crossing incident. The real concern, however, was the fact that I had transformed a multimillion-poke-dollar piece of technology into an improvised ballistic missile by crashing it into said rampaging Tyranitar at around Mach one.

  Had I not radioed in ahead of time, Fiore might have mistakenly perceived the drone as an act of war—understandably so, considering it was originally engineered as a military recon plane before being retrofitted for Rotom possession.

  I will admit, I feel a small bit of guilt over the destruction of that drone. Although the crash didn't bring down the Titanic monster, the cost was worth it in the end, as it ultimately saved the lives of the Fioreian rangers who had been delaying it at the time.

  The Fioreian rangers had caught my audacious entrance on camera, and I won't deny that I indulged in a touch of showmanship as I ejected my team from the aircraft, plunging into action to snatch them from the jaws of danger.

  The endless hours of rigorous training with Aaron and Cynthia bore its fruit though. The confrontation with the enraged Alpha Tyranitar was so lopsided that whispers began to circulate, especially after the recording from the incident was accidentally leaked by an anonymous source.

  What the public didn't see, however, was that my heroic efforts hadn't prevented the Fioreian rangers from unceremoniously tossing my exhausted ass into a holding cell for two long days afterward.

  The government officials huddled behind closed doors, deliberating over whether they even could prosecute me for breaching international travel laws.

  This was bemusing though because I already knew that I'd be allowed to leave with little to no consequences.

  After all, I had done my homework. According to Fioreian regulations, Pokémon without registered trainers were given freedom to traverse between regional borders at will, and I technically fell into that category.

  The astonished expressions on the faces of the Fioreian lawyers, when I confidently invoked the migratory Pokémon protection laws and declared myself merely migrating for winter, were utterly priceless.

  Once I was sent home, I was relegated to lighter duties, which felt more like a punishment than a reprieve. Still, it was an intriguing experience, even amid the monotony of typical ranger work. People started to recognize me now, even under my beloved illusion disguises were no match for certain internet sleuths, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to my life.

  I couldn't leave a ranger station now without news vans converging like moths to a flame, eagerly vying for an interview. The allure of sharing my story was strong, but given my precarious standing with the league, I carefully sidestepped them whenever I could. The ceaseless drama was exhausting, weighing on me like a heavy fog, and I longed for a moment of peace amid the chaos.

  Sometimes I find myself yearning to be a normal Scout Ranger, just like Dustin used to be. There's a profound, unspoken respect for scout and rescue rangers that my celebrity status seemed to bypass.

  Dustin had been a remarkable individual, even among the rarefied ranks of the scout rangers. In the wake of the war, when the ranger corps found itself severely understaffed, he became a nomad of sorts, traversing from one outpost to another, answering the call of duty wherever the league needed him.

  This constant migration made it difficult for him to forge lasting relationships, leaving him to navigate his career and life much like a solitary drifter, always in motion but never fully rooted.

  Yet, that nomadic life came with its own rewards; Dustin witnessed more of the world's beauty and brutality than most could ever imagine. His experiences, nailed to my soul as they were, left an indelible mark. In some poignant way, I felt as if I was carrying forward his dreams—to explore and experience as much of this vast beautiful world as possible.

  But I have to remember that I'm not him. His memories still stirred like restless shadows, but I was nothing like that solitary figure who embraced isolation and the weight of duty.

  I reveled in chaos and human interaction, delighting in the playful art of teasing others and having fun joking around. Yet, it feels as though the universe itself is determined to remind me of the steep price that was paid to shape who I am now.

  -

  Sifting through my email's overflowing inbox, a wave of anticipation washes over me when I spot a special mission request from Ranger headquarters. My tireless efforts in the field, paired with my unexpected rise to pseudo-celebrity status, have opened doors to fascinating new opportunities.

  An invitation to proctor one of the trials for the upcoming Ranger qualification exams.

  The Rangers urgently needed more recruits, as most aspiring trainers gravitate toward the allure of more glamorous, battle-focused career paths. This trend often funnels people into the glamorized ACE trainer core—a division of the league largely set apart from the Ranger branch.

  Eager to contribute, I enthusiastically accepted the proctoring position.

  Then an idea of how to utilize my celebrity status to improve recruitment numbers pops into my head. After some thought, I decided to email Professor Oak and request a spot on his Pokédex radio hour talk show. The league would have a hard time declining such a high-profile interview and I was a bit tired avoiding the public media as I had been. I receive a prompt reply with a scheduler invite, which I set for a date after the trials.

  Shockingly easy, all things considered, but the Professor always bugged me to visit the lab more. The problem was that every time I visited, I'd inevitably get sucked into some experiment or another, so I tended to limit my visits.

  With that settled, I focused on the ranger trials, which were primarily designed as a filter to weed out Pokémon trainers who lacked wilderness survival skills. That was certainly the case back in Dustin's day anyway. Can't speak to the current practices; a lot can change over that amount of time.

  When I first declared my intention to follow in Dustin's footsteps, the league didn't even bother with any trials for me. Given my, shall we say, complicated past and extensive life experience, it was understood that I could navigate just about any wildland survival situation on my own.

  Perusing the summary briefing for the position, I find it strikingly reminiscent of what I remembered—a blend of familiarity and nostalgia washing over me. The trials typically begin with a standard written exam, which thankfully, I wouldn't have to be involved with this year.

  Initially, the prospect of teaching and assessing the next generation of aspiring rangers filled me with excitement. However, just a few days later, when I received the contact information for the other proctors, I felt a sudden overwhelming urge to back out of the commitment entirely.

  Near the top of the list is a name that burns as brightly as the North Star in the tapestry of Dustin's Memories. A name that stokes the cooling embers of guilt over Dustin's death.

  Douglas Dewheart, a man who had been one of Dustin's few close friends. An older ranger who had helped guide Dustin's path toward the Scout Ranger's after the conclusion of the last great war.

  Douglas was a stubborn yet kindhearted man who should have retired from fieldwork years ago, so his name being on the proctor list was concerning. With a quick search online, I learned that he had transitioned to a teaching position the same week Dustin Smith was declared K.I.A by a wild Pokémon attack.

  For over Ten years, the man had refused to settle down from fieldwork, and now here he finally was, teaching the next generation, all because of me and what I'd done.

  I couldn't help but wonder if he felt guilt for leading Dustin onto the path of a Ranger. Was Dustin's death truly the final straw that broke the Camerupt's back? What did he think of me?

  The base facts on how I'd become sapient were known if somewhat buried in the hundreds of pages of scientific documentation surrounding my case. However, my publicly viewable case files specifically had Dustin's name redacted for privacy reasons, so it was possible Douglas hadn't seen the uncensored league reports.

  …Who am I kidding, it wouldn't take all that much digging for him to correlate the date of Dustin's death with the date I'd surrendered myself to the league.

  The thought of engaging with someone who had been so closely tied to Dustin weighed heavy on my heart, but after spending what felt like an eternity immersed in my conflicting emotions, I chose to move ahead and proctor the survival exam anyway.

  I knew Douglas wasn't the type to lash out, and if anyone deserved the chance to learn the whole truth and find some semblance of closure, it was him. I wouldn't hide from what I'd done, intentionally or not. Hopefully, if there is a confrontation, it will allow both him and myself the possibility of moving forward afterward.

  ____

  Any lingering hope that Douglas did not know evaporated the instant I materialized at the Northern Unovan Ranger PC station a few days before the survival exams.

  Towering and broad as a Tauros, the familiar figure of the grey-haired man awaited me, his gaze fixed on my Poké Ball as it flashed into existence at the PC terminal. Even before I was released, I could 'see' in his eyes that he knew.

  Anxiety coiled in my stomach as I hesitated for a full minute before summoning the mental fortitude to finally unfasten the inner mechanism of my ball and release myself into the too-small room.

  Our eyes meet, a charged silence stretching between us for several excruciating seconds before either of us musters the courage to break it.

  "Go on, I know you want to ask about him. I will answer honestly. It's the least I can offer." I say quietly.

  Douglas inhales a steadying breath and speaks, his deep, rumbling voice pleasing to experience even despite the resigned tone of someone waiting for the final nail in his friend's coffin to be nailed shut.

  "I watched a few interviews with that Lucario you found. Explaining how it shares a body and mind with Aaron. Is- is that how it is for you too?" Douglas asks, seemingly already knowing what my answer would be.

  Even having expected the question, it still hits with the force of a semi-truck, unleashing a torrent of guilt that crashes in its wake. A mixture of desperate hope filled the look in his eyes.

  The weight of that hope pressing down on me, an urge to protect it stirring within me, yet I can't bring myself to tarnish it with lies. Steeling my nerves, I take a deep breath, knowing that honesty is all I can offer.

  "No, it's not like that for me… but there are moments when I find myself lost in his memories. Maybe that counts for something—an echo of him still alive within me." I murmur almost to myself.

  "Yet, most of the time, it's just me in here, navigating my own thoughts and feelings in solitude. I'm not sure if that's reassuring to you or not, but it is what it is." I finish, averting my eyes from his searching gaze.

  After a long silence, I continue, hoping to somehow soften the blow of what I just said.

  "I want to follow in his footsteps, though. Follow the same path that you helped guide him down." I finish, looking back guiltily to find Douglas's eyes red-rimmed with tears falling silently onto the floor.

  "I wasn't sure until now, but you were the one who carved that poem into the tree near where he died, weren't you?" Douglas asks gruffly, a hint of something breaking through the pain.

  "I already guessed as much that you weren't him. Dustin wouldn't have bothered with such a sentimental cenotaph for himself. Way too pragmatic for that sorta thing." Douglas says as another tear falls unacknowledged to the floor.

  To my shock, Douglas extends a calloused hand and ruffles my hair, a genuine smile illuminating his features when he sees my shocked expression. In a heartbeat, I start leaning into the warmth of his touch. Acting as an emotional support Pokémon is the least I can do after all.

  "You know, Dustin had that same look of guilt when he failed his first solo mission. It's kind of freaky seeing his expression on your face." Douglas says jokingly, breaking through any remaining tension in the room.

  Sensing the emotional turmoil Douglas was fighting, I draw on Dustin's recollections and soon find that I know just what the sentimental giant needs. With a mix of resolve and anticipation, I wrap my arms around him in a fierce hug. In an instant, I am lifted off my feet, a startled yelp escaping my maw as he envelops me in a bear hug so powerful it feels as though my body has been thrown into a trash compactor.

  It takes Douglas several moments to gather himself, his hitched breathing slowing as he regains his composure. At last, he loosened his grip, releasing me from his overwhelming hold.

  "I don't think I told the league about that carving I left. Were you one of the rangers they sent to investigate after I turned myself in?" I couldn't help but ask, dreading the thought of Douglas having to sift through the blood-stained earth I'd left in my wake.

  "Yes. But let's not dwell on that any longer, shall we? I've held us up long enough as is." Douglas says, slapping my shoulders reassuringly before leading me out of the room.

  "This year's batch of recruits are an incredible bunch, I think you'll like them. Really drew people out of the woodwork after that press conference of yours. This has probably been one of the largest influxes of candidates since before the war!" Douglas says.

  I allow myself to be dragged from the room, but from the corner of my eye, I can see a deep pain lingering in Douglas's eyes.

  The survival exam for Ranger certification is an intense challenge that begins with a helicopter drop-off into a meticulously prepared wilderness zone. This rugged landscape, curated by a dedicated Ranger wildlife management branch, is designed to minimize dangers while providing an authentic experience. Most Pokémon inhabiting the test area are a mix of retired trainer releases, making the threat of Pokémon-related deaths considerably lower than those found in the true untamed wild.

  Over the course of several days, aspiring Rangers must capture a designated number of 'wild' Pokémon while racing against the clock to return them to the specified rally point.

  Bonus points are typically awarded based on the danger classification or environmental impact of the Pokémon captured.

  Additionally, bonus points are also given for the number of Pokémon correctly identified and reported in the area. A significant part of a Ranger's role involves tracking local Pokémon populations, often relying on footprints or territorial markings.

  I am eager to enhance the testing experience by taking a more hands-on approach to proctoring. Assisting new rangers in avoiding predation by wild Zoroark would be a valuable addition to the test.

  Traditionally, proctors have maintained a hands-off approach during this segment of the test, intervening only when alerted to potential disasters through Natu's psychic divination. However, my hands-on approach significantly changed the dynamics this year.

  For the recruits I am evaluating, Snap has been equipped with a specialized long-range camera, allowing for discreet recordings of the testing process.

  The recruits would remain blissfully unaware of my presence until the assessment meeting that would occur at the conclusion of their grueling, multi-day trial.

  The first three aspiring rangers fail to perceive my concealed presence within the shadows of the dense forest, which is quite disheartening. I had painstakingly crafted unmistakable signs of my presence—my claws meticulously sharpening against the rugged bark of ancient trees, while my footsteps pressed deeply into the soft, loamy earth, leaving a trail that should have been impossible to miss.

  Yet, still they remained oblivious.

  After four more recruits go through their trials, one individual manages to identify my footprints—but even that keen observer fails to notice the myriad illusions I have woven throughout the surroundings, camouflaging the true extent of my territorial claims.

  Almost losing hope for the next generation, one of the final recruits finally proves to be perceptive enough, catching onto my markings almost instantly. Concealed in the lush canopy above, I watch with a sense of ecstatic glee as the woman approaches an illusionary thicket of thorn bushes.

  Crouching down, she carefully examines the ground, a mix of curiosity and determination illuminating her expression as she starts to piece together the mystery of my presence. Something about the positioning or makeup of the bushes didn't quite match the surrounding foliage. I pull out my X-transceiver to check this promising recruit's profile, mentally noting the name Ryuko for later praise during the debrief.

  As she passes her hand through the illusion, it fractures into prismatic light before dissipating. Ryuko stumbles back, her eyes wide with surprise. Moments later, she releases a Sneasel, the sleek creature emerging with a flick of its claws.

  I can't help but wonder why she hadn't released it earlier, as it's standard protocol to have at least one Pokémon out and ready while in the field.

  From my concealed perch among the leafy canopy, I notice her gaze surprisingly lifting toward the treetops, instinctively searching for the presence looking down on her. Despite my careful camouflage, she seems to somehow sense the general vicinity of my hiding place. Holding my breath as her sharp eyes scan the skyline, her furrowed brow revealing her struggle to pinpoint my exact location.

  Gradually, she begins to retreat, her Sneasel stealthily echoing her movements, its dark form almost blending with the shadows.

  Moving quietly and deliberately, I follow, ensuring to remain downwind to avoid any trace of my scent that might alert the keen senses of her Sneasel.

  After a short trek through the dense underbrush, Ryuko finally halts at a rugged outcropping, her eyes scanning the area as she begins to prepare a campfire. Having skillfully gathered twigs and branches during our ascent, she moves with purpose. Curiosity piqued, I observe her as she adeptly constructs a traditional rock-pit campfire, painstakingly arranging each stone into a solid circular formation.

  The cool afternoon air is filled with a sense of impending warmth, and I wonder at her decision to start a fire in the daylight. With a fluid motion, she reaches into her well-worn bag, pulling out several sealed pouches. The soft crinkling reverberates through the tranquil woods, momentarily breaking the serene silence.

  As the fire crackles to life, a warm glow dances around us, illuminating the bags brimming with Pokémon food—each one a burst of vibrant color, reminiscent of a painter's palette. Nestled alongside the food is a delightful assortment of wild berries, their surfaces glistening like precious jewels in the flickering firelight.

  With a graceful precision, she skillfully threads the various foods onto slender wooden sticks, arranging them carefully around the flames as they begin to cook. The enchanting aroma of sweet, ripe berries intertwines with the rich, savory scent of the Pokémon food, creating a fragrant symphony that wafts through the air and envelops me in a comforting embrace.

  Just as my mouth starts to water, a spark of realization jolts through my mind, and a slow, mischievous smile spreads across my face. It dawns on me—she is fully aware that a Zoroark is nearby, and this feast is perfect bait, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

  In this scenario, a wild Zoroark would find it impossible to resist this tempting feast. It would go to great lengths to stealthily snatch a meal without attracting any attention. The delicious scent wafting through the air serves as an irresistible lure.

  A lure that I am not immune to, it seems. Well, I am trying to make the test as authentic as possible soo…

  With deliberate and cautious steps, I inch closer to the source of the delectably sweet smell, concentrating intently on perfecting my active camouflage illusions to blend seamlessly with my surroundings. Each movement executed with precision, a delicate dance of concealment. Yet, despite my efforts, my attempt at invisibility wasn't quite sufficient to go completely unnoticed.

  Just as my claws brush against a cooking sitrus berry, a sharp shard of ice slices through the air, whistling past me with a chilling swiftness that sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, narrowly missing my forearm.

  Thinking quickly, I leap back and pretend that the stray attack has shattered my illusions. A sly grin spreads across my face as the only illusion left is now an overlay of myself meant to conceal my Ranger uniform.

  Hiding my identity by showing my true form made me want to cackle in delight, but that would ruin the ruse.

  I fixed my gaze on the Ranger recruit as she shot a frustrated glance at her Sneasel before returning her focus to me with unwavering determination. Despite the weight of the moment, she maintains her composure and confirms my species by activating her Capture Styler Dex function with a deft flick of her wrist.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  In a heartbeat, a sleek Espeon emerges from its place on her belt, its fur glistening like freshly polished silver under the bright light. Exuding an air of confidence and grace, it lets out a deep, resonant 'growl' that reverberates around us, a sound that seeks to drain my strength. The atmosphere thickens with palpable tension, the kind that sends shivers down my spine as the battle lines are drawn. I steady myself, every sense heightened, bracing for the challenge that lies ahead.

  The now launched and circling capture styler has little to no impact on me, my human aura negating the attempt to influence me. Curious to gauge her reaction, I charged forward with a 'feint attack', ensuring that I wouldn't strike too hard even if the attack connected.

  To my astonishment, she does not shy away from my approach. Instead, just before our forms collide, her eyes morph into swirling pools of deep, enchanting purple, captivating and mesmerizing in their depth. In a breathtaking display of agility, she gracefully drops into her own shadow, evading the blow with a speed that momentarily leaves me utterly speechless, as if time itself had paused to allow her extraordinary escape.

  My claws swipe through the chill of empty air, and I blink in utter confusion, disoriented by the abruptness of the new situation. Just half a second later, she reappears, poised gracefully next to her elegant Espeon, its bifurcated tail twitching with anticipation, and her Sneasel, whose sharp eyes gleam under the muted fire light.

  Moments later, the vibrant purple hues in Ryuko's eyes begin to fade, dissolving like sugar in water. From the swirling mist that blankets the atmosphere, a wispy figure emerges—an ethereal ghost Pokémon, seemingly conjured from the very shadows themselves.

  As this living shadow coalesces, it gradually takes form, revealing a Misdreavus. Its wide, haunting eyes pierce through the dim light, locking onto me with an intense 'Mean Look' that sends a chill spiraling down my spine, snuffing out any flickering thoughts of escape.

  The air thickens with an uncanny energy, a palpable presence that seems to wrap around me like a heavy fog. Yet, instead of fear, this otherworldly aura only ignites a deep hunger within me.

  Well, isn't this interesting? Not only did Ryuko command a formidable team that boasted both a Dark-type and a Psychic-type, she also held a Ghost-type in her arsenal as well?

  Not bad for a supposed rookie.

  The striking change in her eye color to a deep purple hinted at her being an exceedingly rare type of trainer known as a ghost channeler—an intriguing fact considering it was not listed in her recruitment profile.

  Channelers are a rare and extraordinary phenomenon, individuals who develop an innate affinity for ghost-type energy, often triggered by a traumatic experience—perhaps witnessing a tragic death or narrowly escaping the clutches of their own mortality. The absence of her status in official documentation carried an unsettling weight, particularly given the historical persecution endured by those harboring a ghostly affinity.

  Tales from Aaron surged through my consciousness—vivid recollections of individuals like her, tragically branded as witches or warlocks, cruelly shunned and relentlessly hunted for their unique abilities.

  Despite the pervasive and lingering stigma that the Aura Guardians of the past failed to eradicate, Aaron had still managed to discreetly recruit a select number of these gifted souls during his tenure as the leader of the Aura Guardians.

  Each story echoed with the shadows of injustice, highlighting their struggle for acceptance in a world quick to fear what it does not understand.

  This astonishing revelation captivated numerous historians, for no contemporary records alluded to these enigmatic guardians, creating an unsettling void in the intricate tapestry of history. Even in today's more progressive world, individuals endowed with such extraordinary abilities frequently opt for silence—not solely due to the lingering shadow of discrimination, but also because they were brutally conscripted into covert infiltration units during the last war. The haunting echoes of their past experiences leave them reluctant to speak, further deepening the mystery surrounding their existence.

  A sudden command from Ryuko sent her Espeon into action, unleashing a swarm of wooden skewers that sliced through the air with chilling accuracy. I danced and darted, my heart racing as I fought to uphold my facade as an ordinary Zoroark. However, despite my best efforts to stay hidden, the delicate threads of my ruse frayed under the bombardment.

  In that instant of revelation, an eerie silence falls over the battleground; all attacks ceasing abruptly.

  Feigning nonchalance, I snatch up one of the perfectly grilled Sitrus berry skewers resting nearby. The sweet, juicy aroma was too tantalizing not to resist.

  As I turn to face Ryuko, a warm smile blossoms on my lips, fueled by the astonishment etched across her features. A sly grin tugs at the corners of my mouth, savoring the moment as understanding dawns upon her. In that instant, it becomes clear—I am not just any Zoroark; I am the Zoroark Ranger, a title gaining renown with each passing day, whispered in admiration and awe among those who know my story.

  She had managed to unveil my true self—a victory in its own right. However, I had my own triumph to relish. With a swift motion, I raised the stolen Sitrus skewer to my mouth and devoured the succulent berry in seconds. When I glanced back at Ryuko, I saw her hand poised as if to try to stop me, but her reaction was just a moment too slow.

  A sudden wave of vertigo swept over me, sending me reeling backward a step. My gaze fell upon the wooden stick cradled in my claw, and an unsettling realization surged through me, chilling me to the core. The grain of the wood, rough against my claws, seemed to pulse, amplifying the disquiet already swirling in my mind.

  "You put sedatives in the berries, didn't you?" I ask in disbelief, my voice laced with slurred incredulity.

  Ryuko nods, her expression one of shock, and I can't help but burst into laughter, even as the world around me begins to blur and lose its definition.

  "Clever girl," I say, my smile wide and unwavering, before flopping gracelessly onto the ground and drifting off into unconsciousness.

  -

  As the hours slip by, sleep gradually loosens its grip on me. Whatever concoction Ryuko used to render me unconscious was a potent blend, likely crafted to put any large Pokémon under with just a single bite—and I have devoured the entire delightful treat.

  Still worth it though; the flavors linger pleasantly in my memory, and I feel quite well-rested.

  With a slow and deliberate blink, I fully open my eyes to a mesmerizing dance of sunlight filtering through a vibrant, swaying tree canopy overhead. Shadows play across my vision like whispers of the forest. As I shift my gaze downward, I realize my arms and legs are secured to a makeshift stretcher crafted from thick, sturdy branches.

  The knots binding me feel deliberately loose—not designed to restrain, but rather to keep my limbs from flopping about like a ragdoll as we traveled.

  Above me, Ryuko moves with purpose, her back turned to me as she grasps the front end of the stretcher. She trudges through the undergrowth with a weary yet determined air, each step resonating with a mix of fatigue and resolve that tells me she is accustomed to long treks in the woods.

  Glancing down toward my feet, I see the Misdreavus eyeing me warily as it uses some kind of ghostly telekinesis to hold up the other end of the stretcher. For a few minutes, I just lie here, simply enjoying the slight sway of the walking motions and somewhat enjoying the fact that Ryuko hasn't noticed I am awake yet.

  Slowly loosening the knots binding my arms, careful not to draw any attention I liberate my hands. Reaching into a cargo pocket for a couple of rations, I begin to snack quietly. Settling back, I rest one arm behind my head like a makeshift pillow, fully embracing the unexpected comfort of my surroundings.

  After a few more moments of indulgence, I retrieve my Styler and activate the map function, my eyes scanning for our current location. "If you're aiming for the extraction zone, you'll want to head a little more east," I say nonchalantly, my voice casual and relaxed, which causes my chaufeur to come to an abrupt stop.

  As she turns back to face me, I return her stare with an air of innocent nonchalance, popping another berry ration into my mouth as if I were merely on a leisurely getaway, utterly unfazed by the situation.

  Suddenly, Ryuko lets go of her side of the stretcher, nearly giving me whiplash when the stretcher thumps to the ground harshly.

  "Rude, if you wanted some, I would have shared!" I whine, scratching at my bruised head.

  "How long have you been awake!?" Ryuko yells, pointing an accusing finger at me.

  Looking closer, I notice the weariness etched across her face; she appears far more disheveled than the last time I saw her before losing consciousness. A surge of concern courses through me—what transpired while I lay helpless? Surely, Rotom would have stepped in if a real crisis had unfolded.

  "It's been a few minutes give or take. Are you doing alright?" I ask, my tone steady and soothing.

  Ryuko's expression shifts. A barely contained storm of frustration and anxiety flickers behind her eyes as she glares at me, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

  "I've been losing my mind out here, you reckless talking furball! You ingested three times the dosage you were supposed to take for those sedatives, and I thought I killed you!" Her voice cracks, teetering on the edge of hysteria. "And to make matters worse, when I try to call the emergency number the league provided for this exercise, YOUR TRANSCEIVER starts ringing!"

  While it's true that the league should have probably implemented a backup emergency number for situations like this, I can understand the oversight. After all, I am nearing Elite level in terms of fighting power. Who could have anticipated that a rookie ranger would not only track me down but also succeed in incapacitating me, as she did?

  "And now I've lost too much time dragging you around to actually do my assigned mission, so now I'm definitely going to fail because I didn't catch any Pokémon like I was supposed to and-"

  Raising a claw to Ryuko's face, I silence her downward-spiraling tirade by shoveling my X-transceiver in front of her eyes, showing a segment I had just written while she was having her breakdown.

  Under the section labeled: 'Pokémon Capture capability/proficiency', instead of writing the number of points assigned, I simply added the words 'YES' to the text box.

  "I will have you know that I am quite the catch." I say, flipping my mane out like a runway model. Becoming more serious, I continue. "Do you know that none of the other applicants even managed to spot me during their exam? After all I've seen, I think It's safe to say you've exceeded the expectations of a rookie ranger for this portion of your exams. Now stop moping around and pick my stretcher up so you can get us to the extraction point on time." I say commandingly.

  "Wait, why do I have to carry you? You can walk on your own now, can't you?" She asks incredulously.

  "Because we want to ensure you get points for my capture." I shoot back instantly.

  She didn't have to know about Rotom lurking about recording all of this. Plus I rather enjoyed being carried around, but she didn't need to know either.

  Ryuko opens her mouth in refusal but then thinks about it and pulls out a cord of binding wire.

  Looking at the wire warily, I give her a questioning look.

  "What, I'm just following protocol." She says, daring me to contradict her.

  I wanted to protest, but using binding wire was standard operating procedure for unruly captures, and arguing would only prove the point. Begrudgingly, I made a mental note to add additional points to her assessment. The knotwork on the bindings is surprisingly well done.

  -

  The expressions of astonishment on the pickup crew's faces when Ryuko unceremoniously deposits me on the ground are nothing short of priceless. I can only hope that Rotom managed to capture the moment from a flattering angle, as I might just turn it into my new desktop background.

  The crew reacted as if she had just snagged a legendary Pokémon, their eyes wide with disbelief. Yet, I feel no shame in having been bested by clever trickery.

  After returning to the Academy base, the recruits faced the final stage of their exams. They had one day to recuperate and reflect, crafting field reports that captured their insights and experiences. As dusk approached, they poured their thoughts into these documents, which would serve as proof of their readiness. They would present to the proctors, marking the culmination of their training and the start of new journeys.

  Now, with all the recruits assembled in the spacious classroom, an air of anticipation filled the room as the evaluations commenced.

  Each recruit stood ready to share their observations and experiences, their eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and nervousness as they prepared to showcase their captures and the insights gleaned from their time in the field.

  I stood among the other proctors, shrouded in an illusionary guise, quietly observing as we meticulously noted any deficiencies in the students' reporting skills and assessed their performance during the rigorous capture and survival exercises.

  As the final scores are inscribed and revealed, a ripple of excitement courses through the classroom, igniting a palpable energy among the ranger initiates. Seizing this opportune moment to make the occasion even more memorable, I step forward to present the first certificates to the newly minted rangers.

  The instant my illusions fall away, the atmosphere shifts dramatically; the air thickens with a heady mix of shock and trepidation for a select few, while the majority behold me with wide-eyed wonderment.

  In their eyes, I see a reflection of my own emotions from the first time I met Cynthia—a complex blend of admiration mixed with a touch of fear. It serves as a vivid reminder of how the allure of the unknown can evoke feelings of both reverence and anxiety, stirring the heart with an intoxicating mix of exhilaration and respect.

  Having successfully attained their ranger certifications, the new recruits found themselves at a pivotal crossroads: determining which specialty to pursue. Each proctor, a seasoned expert with unique insights from various branches of the rangers, offered a wealth of knowledge for the fledgling rangers to explore.

  I engaged in several extensive discussions with them, weaving together constructive feedback and thoughtful suggestions to guide their decision-making process. My goal was not just to help them identify their strengths but to inspire them to discover their true passions.

  I also take the opportunity to share insights about the more obscure divisions within the ranger community, particularly those dedicated to expeditions into ancient ruins, where adventure and history intertwine.

  Eventually, only the other proctors and I are left in the room, which is when I raise a concern regarding Ryuko's training as a ghost channeler.

  The league is currently short-staffed in terms of personnel available to assist Ryuko in refining her abilities. The roster of current channelers was alarmingly thin; league members like Agatha, Phoebe, and Morty were either occupied with their Elite Four responsibilities or busy managing their respective Gyms.

  Letting her find her own way felt like a significant missed opportunity. Thankfully, my connections to a certain self-proclaimed Aura master might offer some guidance. Pulling up my X-transceiver I try to reach Aaron, but his number is frustratingly unreachable for some reason.

  Rushing to call Illene, the princess of Rota, who always keeps tabs on the elusive aura guardian, I am relieved when she answers right away. She informs me that Aaron is currently involved in secret experiments at Site 6.

  Feeling somewhat territorial over the Unovan Secret research facility, I say my farewells to the other proctors, giving Douglas a final hug before heading to the nearest PC and initiating a transfer to one of the secure PCs I have access to at one of Site 6's security stations.

  As I step into the familiar security office, I barely receive a glance from the staff on duty. I make my way over to an open computer terminal to check Aaron's location. While reviewing the schedule manager, I notice that Richard is in the same area where Aaron is scheduled to be.

  "No, they wouldn't betray me like this!" I mutter to myself, receiving a skeptically raised eyebrow glance from the security staff member sitting next to my terminal.

  Speed-walking through the labyrinthine corridors, I pass through several security stops before reaching one of the most secure interior sectors of Site 6. When I arrive at the designated room, I nearly slam the security door off its hinges in my haste.

  The interior resembled a high-tech shooting range, with imposing thick metal and concrete backstops looming at one end. Inside, the atmosphere was charged with purpose as four scientists in white lab coats moved with precision around the space.

  In the center, I spotted an all-too-familiar Lucario, his sleek blue and black coat gleaming under the bright overhead lights, wearing an intricate brain-scanning helmet that seemed to pulse softly with activity. Aaron stood facing away from me, focusing intently as he fired an incandescent aura beam that sliced through the air toward a distant target. As he completed his shot and turned around, I found myself face to face with Richard, my so-called best friend.

  "I turn my back for a few days, and I return to find you cavorting around with this-this blue-haired floozy." I growl, gesturing toward Aaron, who looks down at himself before muttering 'floozy?' under his breath, sounding mildly offended.

  "I thought what we had was special!" I manage to say, barely holding back laughter at Richard's baffled expression.

  Once the words fully register, Richard sighs but plays along anyway.

  "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Echo, but I've found a new test subject. What we had, it was just for science, nothing more." Richard intones, a knowing twinkle in his eye as he places a consoling hand on my shoulder.

  My grin now on full display I close in and give Richard a quick hug, getting head scritches in return.

  Pulling away, I address the rest of the room, who are watching me with exasperation at the interruption of their tests. "What are you all up to in here, anyway?"

  Richard pulls me further aside so the others can wrap up the experiment.

  "We are trying to determine if we can detect a connection between Aaron and Lucario's minds. So far, we haven't had any luck. What's fascinating, though, is that we have discovered slight differences in brain scan readings between you and Aaron." Richard says excitedly before continuing.

  "Lucario's brain seems to be slowly changing in several areas, particularly the hippocampus. There are a few theories flying around trying to explain it, but we believe Aaron's memories are being slowly translated from his aura. It's almost like information being backed up onto a physical hard drive." Richard finishes his rant, showing me a couple of diagrams with the brain scan results.

  "Huh, is that what's happening in my head too?" I ask catiously.

  "Similar, yes, but not at the same speed at all. The majority of your brain still remains fairly consistent with what we would expect from a healthy Zoroark of your age. Still, it shouldn't be anything you need to worry about," Richard says, trying to sound reassuring.

  "That sounds exactly like something I should be worrying about." I deadpan.

  "Dustin's aura is so tightly interwoven with your own that it's almost indistinguishable. We confirmed that your situation will remain stable indefinitely; even if you put yourself through a trade machine for whatever reason, it shouldn't affect your mind. Though I'd still advise you not test that, just in case." Richard states as if concerned that I'd intentionally put myself through one.

  Which…okay fair, that does sound like something I'd do, but it's Richard's fault. Spending so much of my time around mad scientists has corrupted me. I wanted to know how I functioned and how much of me was really me.

  "Hello Echo, I imagine you wanted me for something." Aaron asks in mild exasperation, having snuck up behind me in my contemplation.

  "What? Who said I was looking for you. I could have been looking to visit my good friend Richard here." I say in mock indignation.

  Both of them look at me skeptically, and I break only a few seconds later.

  "Okay ya. I wanted to ask a favor. See I have this ghost channeler scout Ranger initiate who could probably benefit from some aura guidance. I was hoping you wouldn't mind teaching her a few tips or tricks you might remember from your old guardian days?" I ask, giving my best puppy dog eyes.

  "Of course. Give me their information, and I'll make it a point to contact them." Aaron says without hesitation.

  "Wait, really? That easy?" I ask.

  I figured the Aura Guardian celebrity would have a packed schedule.

  Aaron looks at me with a bit of disappointment as if sensing my thoughts.

  "You never read any of the emails I send you, do you?" Aaron asks.

  "Hey, I get a lot of emails on my non-work account these days, okay? Besides, what does that have to do with anything?" I reply defensively.

  "Because you'd know I started a program teaching gifted individuals about two months ago. I started it as something to do in my free time while I'm working my way to gaining my master's degree in history. I'd be delighted to get another student to teach." Aaron says

  "Ha, nice! Couldn't wait to teach at a university, so you started your own classes, huh? Or are you looking to reform the Aura guardians?" I reply slyly.

  "Sure, whatever you say, Echo. Just get me that contact info, please, before you forget." Aaron huffs, walking away.

  "Rude, I was going to ask him for interviewing tips." I say to Richard.

  "Oh? What network finally got past the league's PR teams? I figured you'd stay blacklisted for life with your tendency to mouth off." Richard jokes.

  "Nothing special, just a little network in Goldenrod. You probably never heard of it." I say casually, buffing my claws on my shirt.

  Richard's eyes widen in realization before he starts laughing.

  "Your first public interview is going to be on Oak's pokedex radio hour? Arceus, have mercy on us. I'm not sure the world is ready."

  "Hey, what's the worst that can happen? I'm sure it will be fine." I reply with a grin.

  Richard gives me a look that only makes my grin grow wider.