aiko's otter den

small things like stars and love - Sometimes, even in the darkness and pain, you can shine for someone else. Or, Bam reminds Khun there’s so much more.

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For all intents and purposes, Miraidon shouldn’t have a tongue. But he’s been around the guy enough to know that they do, and they’ll use it to impressive effect if you let them. It’s one of the few organic parts of him left.

Not even Bam, who has their pokeball, is immune. But the bastard takes great pleasure in breaking out and messing with his friends specifically.

And since Bam had sent Miraidon with him so he didn’t avoid… whatever he was doing, Khun was stuck with the licking dragon that acted more like a mabosstiff.

“Seriously, you can stop now,” he says, patting the cool shell of its head. “You’re not the one I’m pissed at.”

“Gias!” it replies, whatever the fuck that means.

“Seriously, where are we going?”

The dragon doesn’t answer this because it’s a dick. The pokeballs on his belt tremble next to his free hand. Khun gives them a soothing hand touch and keeps walking, adjusting the brim of his hat to avoid the sunset blasting into his retinas.

Wherever they’re going, there aren’t a lot of trainers. He sees people heading the opposite way even.

Bam’s usually not fond of subterfuge outside of pokemon battles, at least not with others involved. It’s probably Wangnan and his misguided sense of adventure.

“Ag?” Miraidon turns to look at him, their digital eyes mimicking blinking and regarding him in that old way it has.

That it has had since the day they met.

He remembers that thing, his father being knee deep in booze and research and women (not necessarily in that order), his mother long gone with his sister. He remembers Miraidon’s soft, cautious touches and enthusiasm. Nothing like fidough at all, who had bounded everywhere he went.

“It’d be a lot faster if I got on, wouldn’t it?”

The rideable pokemon chirps at him, as if saying ‘no shit buddy’.

Khun grimaces. “Fine, fine.” He makes sure his bag is steady before climbing on.

He tries not to think of the last time he’d been on its back.

Miraidon lets out a soft, squeaking cry, like the spinning of tires. Then they take off at a steady bolt, cycling up and forward. Khun just holds on and absently strokes the side of their neck.

Bam was the right choice to train this guy.

He was the right choice often, even. His skills as a trainer were good, and he was gentle and understanding.

“You like Bam better than me, don’t you,” he teases. Arceus, he hopes so. “I know he makes better sandwich flavors, but you eat all of mine, anyway.”

His rotophone beeps as Miraidon snorts. It floats in front of him, a new conversation made without his consent. Khun half expects it to be Hwaryun again.

He answers the other messages, then opens this one.

“I have always liked both of you,” he reads. “All of you. You were just not ready for me. Bam was. That is the only difference.”

Khun swallows. There’s a lump in his throat. “I’m surprised you don’t resent me,” he says, to get rid of it.

“Gias,” replies the dragon, and speeds up.

“That is for humans to think of. I am a Pokemon. We do not get many opportunities for resentment.”

Khun exhales. “Thanks.”

He thinks of the mess of Area Zero. He thinks of the AI, which had shown more paternal behavior than his father ever had in life.

“Even if he’d lived, it wouldn’t have been for long, huh?”

Beep.

“I do not think so.”

“Kinda figured.”

He leans forward on the handlebars. “Where’s Bam, anyway?”

“Look up.”

He looks up.

He knows the lake. It had been holding two titans, fighting hand in hand, violent and ridiculous looking. And all Bam had done was laugh and smile, eyes sparkling. He’d dazzled like the sun over the lake water.

Khun had fallen in love then.

Bam is waving at him from the edge of the lake. He points to the island they had fought the titans on and Khun turns Miraidon to face him.

“You could have just said to meet here,” Khun points out as they approach.

Bam laughs. “Would you have noticed?”

“Obviously.” Probably not. He’s played truant for years, mostly for fun, and being smart didn’t make the quantity of work any less.

Bam smiles. “Sorry.”

Khun scoots back on Miraidon and Bam climbs in front. Without hesitation, the dragon zooms forward.

“Nepotism favoring lizard.”

“Gias!” agrees the pokemon, just to be a shit.

Bam laughs and Khun wraps his arms around Bam. It’s easy and good, and if he can hear Khun’s heart threatening to break his ribs, he mercifully doesn’t say so.

“How are you feeling?” Bam asks as they cross the water.

Khun hesitates. He knows the others won’t give him shit about it. “Like ass, mostly. He was a piece of shit, but… he said he was proud of me.”

He hadn’t loved the man, he hadn’t thought the man had given a shit about him or anyone. He’d assumed the man didn’t even know his name.

The AI pretending to be his dad, saying he was proud of him, saying he loved him, that he was sorry, was more painful than a slap in the face.

Because it was obviously a lie. He’s met loving parents by now. Bam’s mother had taken one look at him and adopted him. His own mother sent care packages and plane tickets and everything she could (but she couldn’t come home, she couldn’t come save him, did it count?)

Wangnan’s father was a goddamn idiot but the man would look at his battle maniac child and say “be free because I’ve adopted more of you”.

Hwaryun’s father fret and panicked with no change in expression, but at least he gave a damn.

“I think that made it worse,” he finally says.

“Maybe the AI has an override for a decent personality,” Bam suggests. “And he wasn’t really like your father at all.”

That’s… acceptable. He could accept that. A machine might come to a different personhood or conclusion, even with the same memories. A person could do that. Heck, his sister remembers her period of being super fucking ill way different from him. He remembers being a right fuck and howling his little head off when mom left with her.

She remembers him being scared and alone.

Well, she had to be wrong about a few things.

Water splashes under their wheels.

“What do you think?”

Bam hums in question.

“About the old man. And… the AI. It did straight up try to kill you.”

“To be fair, we overrode it.” Bam gently steers over to the landmass. There’s a crackling fire nearby. Khun can hear Wangnan whooping at the fish in the distance.

“I think,” Bam says after a while. “He wasn’t a good parent. I’m not even sure he was an outstanding scientist. He was just… driven by something, and it was more important than anyone or anything else. I think it’s okay for you not to understand.”

“What if he loved me?” Khun dares to ask, feeling flayed open. It’s something he can’t really comprehend because he hadn’t. He doesn’t. He never could have.

Bam hums. “What if we love you now?”

The thought sparks in Khun like a firework and warms him all the way to his toes. Khun is suddenly very glad Bam is driving and not looking at him. “Then I’m very embarrassed.”

“That’s fine.”

Bam drags Miraidon to a halt. “It’s okay not to know what to do with him.” He returns the dragon and straightens up. “Can I stay with you until you figure it out?”

Khun stares at him for a moment. Then he chuckles. “You can stay with me after too, you know.”

Bam smiles. “Sure. Now, come eat. I’m teaching Wangnan-ssi how to make curry.”

“… I thought you said you loved me.”

Bam laughs. In the setting sun, Bam shines.

It’s like hope.

“Hey lovebirds!” Wangnan calls. “Come help me chop!”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Khun shouts, racing over to him. He’s smiling though, and Hwaryun is filming them with her phone.

Bam laughs all the way after him.