Archive of Our Own ^beta

A Lugia's song is beautiful, enchanting, calming, and most of all, fucking infuriating once it finally wears off.

Which tends to take anywhere from two weeks to one month.

Moltres - the rightful master of Fire Island, the flying Titan of Flame, and a generally stubborn and argumentative bastard - doesn't even consciously realize that they’ve been bamboozled yet again until they wake up with the sun in their eyes and feel like bitching rather than simply shifting to hide their head under their wing.

THAT'S when they start screeching.

A few starfish-shaped Fire Blasts and one intense Heat Wave later, Moltres is panting with pissed off breathlessness in the middle of what had formerly been a very nice nest hidden inside their mountain. Now everything's just super-heated rock where it's not slag and ashes. The fact that Moltres will have to go to the trouble of gathering materials and arranging them all over again makes their feathers shimmer in an irate desire to go track down that damn, irritating piece of sea poultry and shove a few more blasts down its fat, singing mouth!

Moltres had told that bottom-feeding scum-sucker to stop doing that! All three of them had told the Lugia (in varying levels of politeness) to stop singing that damn song! It was demeaning, disturbing, and Arceus-damned demoralizing to get serenaded into complacency!

They are not hatchlings! They can work out their bitchiness and attitude problems on their own!

...Eventually.

Admittedly, there's generally only two of them squabbling with each other at any one time instead of all three of them at once, but usually there aren't arrogant, greedy, insultingly offensive pieces of human WASTE flying around in ugly metal ships, covering perfectly beautiful islands in fucking ice, and using torturous metal rings to cross boundaries that should never be touched!

Those had been extenuating and stressful circumstances! Moltres had deserved a little time to blow off steam! Especially since the other two decided that 'Lookie here! Someone's missing! I'm gonna be a shit and mess up your hooome!' was an appropriate way of expressing concern for a vanished flockmate! Moltres has half a mind to go sit on the yellow menace who started that until they remember which of them is oldest and thus deserving of some damn respect!

(The flame pokemon firmly ignores the mild regret that they didn't get to set Ice Island on fire during the squabble. That's been a long-standing goal that keeps going unfulfilled since Mysticism-Hidden-in-Icy-Swiftness is a sneaky little bastard of an Articuno.)

But there's no use bitching to an empty cave and like hell is Moltres going to try diving into the sea to get that bossy limpet up here so they can fry them. That damn Lugia is probably sleeping around the bottom currents again like they usually do after shit like this. And a lake of water wouldn't be worth going into just to get that fat songbird up here, nevermind several miles of ocean!

In addition, there's a vague impression seeping past the memory of pain, territorial haze, and rampant irritation - maybe the three of them had gotten a bit out of hand this time? Moltres vaguely recalls something about a frozen ocean, which sounds in-character if a bit overkill for the normally controlled Articuno.

Also, did they and Instinct-Zings-Up-Numbing-Arcs really get hit by that songbird's Aeroblast after the ice Pidgey went down? That's never happened before.

Now Moltres really wishes that annoying music didn't mess with their head. It's going to take at least a week to remember all the details clearly.

Moltres huffs, shaking their head to get all the pale gold feathers around their neck settled again from where they'd puffed up in aggravation. The firebird steps over hot ground to stand in one of the secondary tunnels, raising their tail to keep red and white flames from brushing ashes into the air as they walk.

A flick of fiery wings to shift the air currents into a weakly spinning Sandstorm and then, keeping their dark eyes narrowed against the airborne debris, Moltres flings a Tailwind towards the outside exit, using the directed gust of wind to neatly sweep away all evidence of their earlier outburst in a cloud of black.

Now all that's left is to start picking up new nesting material and whatever comforts they want.

... And if that ice really did ruin Fire Island even after these weeks of recovery, they’re going to track down that damn human and flash fry him, even if it means flying all across fucking Kanto!

.

.

Luckily for the Orange Islands and every person and pokemon on them, Fire Island had returned to normal long before Moltres 'woke up'. It still wouldn't be advisable for people to visit for the next few decades considering Moltres' unresolved grudge, but at least there wouldn't be a cranky firebird traveling around and giving men heart attacks as the legendary divebombed them in search of one particular collector.

In fact, Moltres considers later that night while perched on a rock just offshore, this might have had the slightly beneficial side-effect of making the humans more respectful.

Moltres holds their left wing out, roughly a foot above the ocean, and alternates the intensity of its flames so that light shimmers mesmerizingly off the darkened water. There's a boat slowly circling Fire Island at a careful distance while Moltres watches, a vaguely familiar green-haired human at the controls. Not the light-green hair Moltres would like to set fire to, but a darker color that they had seen before on ships coming and going from Shamouti Island. A female probably. Or at least Moltres is ninety percent sure the human is a female: hair and clothing styles change too often to be reliable, but only the females have fat deposits on their upper torso, right?

At least that's what Instinct-Zings-Up-Numbing-Arcs claims, and the Zapdos has a bizarrely accurate talent for using sight to identify gender in humans. It's baffling: pheromones are so much easier for Moltres to use for identification when they bother to care at all.

A particularly stupid male Goldeen cuts off that pointless line of thought by swimming towards the flickering light, and Moltres shoots a concentrated Ember at him through the water. The goldfish pokemon is stunned by the compact balls of fire long enough to float upwards, and Moltres snatches him up by his white and red tail before he can come to his senses, thus negating any risk of getting wet.

Goldeens aren't actually unintelligent though which means that's as much food as Moltres will find in this part of the water for at least an hour.

Oh well. It's not like they haven't gone longer without eating before.

.

.

But pokemon aren't the only ones who act suicidally moronic as Moltres finds out the next morning.

The nest is just beginning to lighten from the dawn sunlight seeping in from the outside tunnel when the sound of scraping pebbles and footfalls become noticeable. Moltres peaks open one black eye, not budging from their comfortable sleeping position with their head tucked on top of their back, and analyses the faint echoing sounds.

Whatever is coming down the walking path is bipedal: two feet, no claws, no sound of feathers or scales or flickering flames, and that rules out quite a few pokemon. The noises are soft and light, too, which rules out a few more species. If it wasn't for the way sound is magnified by the stone corridor leading up from the shrine path, Moltres wouldn't have heard anything at all.

There's no sound of shoes though: no rustle of clothing or beep of technology, so it's probably not a human.

Any legendaries with confirmed locations - which is mostly just the three of them, even if they do travel - tend to get visitors, especially trainers. People come for a chance to see them or for a friendly challenge or for an attempt at catching them. Usually they follow the Shamouti Elder’s recommendation to wait at the sphere shrine for the resident bird to appear, but there are always those people who are more excitable or curious or adventurous...

Or disrespectful. There are a lot of humans who are disrespectful. There are people who think they can take or that they have a right so long as they can get a pokeball to lock down. They don't acknowledge that there are pokemon who don't want to be caught, who can't be convinced of a human's worthiness, or who just aren't interested in going on a human traveling adventure.

So that's what the long, straight end of the walking path is for: if necessary, very few threats can outrun a funneled Flamethrower.

Except against all of Moltres' expectations, the intruder is a human and yet obviously not a threat at all! How can he be when he lacks any companions or pokeballs or weapons? The man doesn't even have proper clothes or shoes on! Just a ragged beach towel, wrapped around his hips and secured on the left with some sort of glimmering, fist-sized piece of blue-tinged crystal.

Moltres gives the human one more bewildered look over, from his fluffy white hair and red facial stripes to his bare feet smudged with ashes, and then shrugs internally before closing their eye again. There's hardly any reason to bother getting up yet since the man doesn't even have that extra edge to his presence that psychics do. Moltres can put off paying attention to him until they’ve had more sleep.

And it's hardly any feathers off Moltres' back if some human weirdo wants to go traipsing around Fire Island shirtless and shoeless so long as he's not being irritating.

But that clearly doesn't agree with whatever the human's plan is because the man huffs in irritation and starts picking his way across the stone floor with careful footsteps.

"Don't lie there and ignore me; I know you're awake," the man snaps as Moltres does just that, only bothering to move enough to sweep their tail flames against a loose part of their nest, knocking branches into the man's path. "Get up you stubborn spark, I want to speak with you. Moltres... Moltres," the man says darkly and under that word—

//Valor-Found-on-Fiery-Wings//

The flame legendary shoots their head up at their personal name, locking narrowed eyes on the man who crosses his arms and glares right back.

Except... is he a man? He's not an illusion, but humans can't speak like a pokemon. Especially not when it came to pronouncing a pokemon name properly. They speak with their mouths and hear with their ears, and while some psychics can speak mind-to-mind, they don't know how to talk with their hearts. At times the best of them can almost intuitively understand the meaning attached to their pokemon's sounds, but that's far different from grasping all the subtleties and then conveying them back.

Moltres has yet to hear of a human who can say a pokemon's species and attach the individual's name to the word. The closest they seem to come is a few humans who say things like 'Pikachu' for //my best friend// or 'Psyduck' for //the frustrating one with the headache//. Which is quite different from normal names like //Quick-as-a-Bolt// or //Born-in-Morning// or //Heart-on-Sleeve-Eyes-on-Sky//.

So... the logical explanation would be...

//That's quite an impressive transformation,// Moltres says, cocking their head at an angle as they adjust their wings a bit, //I'm surprised to meet a Ditto who's managed to imitate a human so thoroughly. Especially on Fire Island. Doesn't your kind normally like to stay near human areas?//

"A Ditto," the man says flatly, raising one eyebrow as he stares Moltres down without fear, blatantly unimpressed. "A Ditto is your assumption? Shouldn't you recognize me, you hot-headed fool?"

Moltres bristles, irritated as they raise a wing above the sides of their nest to shed more light on the strange white-haired intruder. There is a faint familiarity now that Moltres is checking for it: something about how the firelight gleams on pale skin tickles at a old memory. A very old memory: far older than the human standing in front of them, shifting on his feet like he's uncomfortable with the ground. And that's familiar too, but...

No wrinkles, so I don't think he's middle-aged for a human even with the white hair. Muscled and unscarred, red markings on his face, red ey— Moltres stops on the eyes, craning their neck forward to look at the suspiciously familiar shade of red.

The air is slightly cooler around the male and it clicks.

Reluctantly, but it clicks.

Unfortunately.

//No.// Moltres says flatly. //No, no, no, no, NO! That doesn't make any sense at— You can't—// A smirk starts curving up the man's face and Moltres drops their head on the side of the nest in frustrated resignation. //Mysticism-Hidden-in-Icy-Swiftness.//

"I was wondering how long you'd miss the obvious," the Articuno says, amused as they (well, 'he' at the moment, Moltres supposes) breathes out a blue-white mist towards the ground at his feet.

//There is nothing OBVIOUS about this, you lunatic!// Moltres snaps. //And stop cooling down my nest!//

"It's uncomfortable," the overgrown Swablu says unrepentantly, "and it's not like we haven't done this before. It's hardly my fault if your memory is deficient."

//WE haven't done it together since we learned how to shift and avoid humans if needed, and those of us with functioning brains, whose good sense hasn't drained out of their head like a cracked Exeggcute, only shift into other pokemon and don't bother trying to imitate humans for—// Moltres stops, finally registering that unique feeling of suspicion people get when they know exactly what's going on and really, really hope they're wrong. // WHY are you imitating a human, and it better not involve me!//

"It's a useful form and—"

//Useful for getting arrested,// Moltres scoffs with a derisive caw.

"Hardly," the Articuno grits out, tapping a finger against his bicep, "and don't interrupt me. Unlike you, I've practiced this form and I'm perfectly capable of blending in—"

Moltres snorts as much as anything with a beak can, before replying with a mocking croon to their trill, //Like hell you'll blend in. You'll blend into a winter landscape and that's about it, given you don't even know to wear clothes. Humans only wear that little on beaches from what I've seen. And why the hell did you pick that coloring? Your blue would have been better for hair.//

"Strangely enough, you flaming fluffball, humans don't tend to leave a full set of clothing on uninhabited islands such as Ice or Fire. And many humans have white hair: it's much less noticeable than blue."

//Not at the age you're pretending to be it's not. Do you even have a name you'll go by?//

"Mito picked out Tobirama for me," he answers, frowning at Moltres' blank stare. "Do you not remember her name? Mito?" //Majesty-Swirls-in-Ocean-Depths?//

//Ah,// Moltres replies flatly, feathers ruffling at the mention of the damn Lugia they’re still pissed at. //I forgot they used to use that name occasionally. Is the bossy sea witch using female pronouns when needed then?//

"Yes. The human language...," Tobirama bites out, nodding with an irritated frown as Moltres huffs in agreement. If there's one thing most legendaries agree on, it's that the human obsession with biological sex is occasionally baffling and downright annoying when you're trying to speak on any topic involving gender neutrality. The entire species is obsessed with which sex they are, so the only singular pronoun that's neutral is 'it'. And if you live long enough, you start noticing that 'it' is controversial to use with living beings because the word's supposed to be used for objects.

Their entire, unnecessarily convoluted language doesn't function well concerning genderless pokemon. It's vaguely insulting.

"Speaking of Mito," Tobirama says, turning his attention back to Moltres with a cool expression and a familiar glint in his eye that, changed body or not, Moltres' paranoia recognizes as preceding the other Legendary’s most stubborn moments. "She's very irritated at the moment."

//Good,// Moltres retorts. //She deserves it!//

"And," the Articuno adds, air chilling further as his temper spikes, "there was a heavy implication of 'or else' when she said we needed to learn to get along better."

//SHE is not Arceus and that Aeroblast didn't hurt nearly enough to make either of us take orders from her,// Moltres dismisses, spitting an Ember against the wall behind him to raise the temperature back up a little from where the Ice pokemon's very presence had lowered it.

"You two got hit with an Aeroblast?" Tobirama asks, a small smirk sneaking onto his face. "That would have been worth seeing."

Moltres' head snaps back around angrily before they stretch their neck out to deliberately ignore Tobirama as they preens their back. //Such a pity you couldn't join us for it then, considering you were taking that beauty rest near your shrine. Although it probably would have been too much for your delicate constitution since a Thunder and Flamethrower were all that was needed to throw you out of the game.//

Moltres watches from the corner of their eye as the Articuno tries to glare a wintery death at them. Just in case, Moltres starts mentally calculating how much time they'll need to get down one of the paths if the other bird fully loses his temper and starts casting Ice Beams. The transformation puts Tobirama at half-power at best, but there's a reason the icy shit manages to keep up with both of them despite having less attack power, and it's only partly from being a relentlessly stubborn bastard.

Taunting the smaller bird is fun. But having a full-out fight in an enclosed space is just stupid.

"As I was trying to say," Tobirama continues, seemingly dropping the insult even as he continues to glare." Mito made excellent points about how something needs to change immediately. And after thinking it over critically, I think we'll have more success if we start a little differently."

//I don't see why we should bother.// Moltres replies with a yawn.

"You do recall that the spheres got used this time, don't you?" Tobirama asks, unimpressed as he reaches down and refreezes the ice pinning his towel in place.

Moltres... hadn't actually recalled that. But now that it's been brought up, there's a clear memory of the three of them working together between squabbling to keep some humans away from their islands, along with the image of a blond boy and an orange-tinged Ninetails riding on Lugia's back.

So Slowking actually resorted to using the spheres that went along with that ridiculous doomsday prophecy.

...That's mildly embarrassing.

Moltres shakes their feathers, shifts their weight, and generally refuses to look towards the Articuno who's staring a hole in the side of their head.

It takes the firebird about thirty seconds to crack.

//FINE!// Moltres squawks, flaring golden wings out as flames shimmer red. //What's this lunatic plan you've concocted?//

"We need to get off our islands," Tobirama says, a faintly pleased air around him that makes Moltres' eye twitch. "We always fight much worse around any of our islands, so we relocate. But we do so as humans, leaving most of our power behind us for now."

//And why is the second part necessary?// the flame pokemon demands, slowly clawing grooves into the bottom of their nest as they consider the uncomfortable suggestion.

"Because it helps," Tobirama replies simply, gesturing towards his human body at Moltres' skepticism. "You're irate, but are you actually angry the same way you'd be if I was here as my real self?"

And... that is a good point, Moltres considers. Mysticism-Hidden-in-Icy-Swiftness is here, in the middle of Fire Island, in the middle of Moltres's nest area, cooling the ground and pissing them off, and they haven't come close to exchanging blows. Not even when they were insulting each other.

Usually they barely manage that unless they stay at the very edges of their islands.

Moltres sighs, makes a series of viciously irritated cawing sounds, and then shoves their head under their wing.

.

.

Finally, Tobirama thinks with satisfaction as he backs up into the tunnel behind him and away from the building heat.

In their nest, Valor-Found-on-Fiery-Wings slowly starts to glow. The change starts with the living flames of their crest, tail, and wings: shifting their light from its normal glow to a shimmering red and then to an irridescent white, as bright as the sun gleaming off an expanse of arctic snow. Then the light spreads, flowing through golden feathers and illuminating them bit-by-bit until the legendary is fully enveloped, looking like nothing less than the pinnacle of evolution.

Light gleams off the walls, glinting and glowing under the white radiance, flinging back bits of color - sparkling ebony and ruby red and gleaming russet - as Moltres' power builds and shifts, and it's moments like these that remind the Articuno of why humans call them legendary. Not just for their rarity or power, but for how they can change the world around them.

For the way that wonder blooms in hearts and eyes when they appear.

But Moltres is obviously having some trouble with the shift, taking far longer than Articuno had when he had became Tobirama. Unsurprising, since the firebird basically admitted to not having done so for centuries. Articuno knows the other bird has changed into fire pokemon on occasion - an Flareon here, a Talonflame there - but it's never been in Moltres' nature to be subtle, to blend in and pretend to be anything but the blazing flame they represent.

Moltres is bright and bold and, yes, beautiful in all their burning glory, and it has never been the habit of fire to hide its nature or to apologize for the fact that it burns.

Of course, glaciers don't move at the wishes of others either.

Articuno, Titan of Ice whether he's on wings or on foot, breathes in, chilling the air in his lungs before breathing out a white plume of Mist. The air steams in front of him, heat melting the icy haze into water as fast as Tobirama can refreeze it. The air clouds from the moisture, and Tobirama spares an irritated second to slap his hand over his hip again to reform the ice there before he loses the damn towel.

It takes some effort over the next few minutes to keep the air temperature below steaming on his side of the technique, but he can tell when Moltres has finished as the heat finally starts dipping again. Tobirama steps through his own move, wincing slightly as his human feet, always more sensitive than he expects, sting at the stone's absorbed heat. He stamps the floor, foot glowing blue-white as he hits it with a low powered Freeze Dry to cool it enough to walk on, and sighs inaudibly as thermal shock causes part of the stone to crack and fracture under his feet.

Perhaps he should just stay right here and hope Moltres doesn't notice that.

Speaking of which...

"Ow, fuck, ow!" comes a prickly and grumpy voice as Tobirama glances up to see a nude human male with fiery hair standing several feet in front of Moltres’ nest, which now contains a large sphere of red-orange light. "Goddamn tender footed bipeds! This was a perfectly fine floor before!"

Tobirama laughs lightly, smirking at the irritated man. "You are a biped, Moltres. Or did you forget that definition just because the hot floor hurts?"

"I jump into lava to feel better, you overgrown bluebird! Why the hell would heat ever be a problem, ow!" Moltres hisses, jerking his foot up off a sharp rock and nearly overbalancing onto his ass. "I still don't know how the hell this species spread across the entire planet when they're so tender footed! And the balance! How the hell do they balance on two feet without wings and a tail! This is one of the reasons I don't bother with this shitty form!"

"That's why they wear shoes, you fool. And it takes time to develop calluses if you want to go without them. I don't see how you can get slammed out of the air, but complain about this. And fix your hair," Tobirama orders, watching the color in the wild strands flare up as Moltres starts to slowly toddle over like a particularly challenged infant. "After that, fix the rest of you as well," he adds, briefly flicking his gaze down the man before going back to enjoying Moltres' flailing.

"The hair is fine! I've seen them with flame colored hair!"

"On fledglings and cocky young adults, and theirs doesn't glow when they lose their temper."

Moltres hisses, grabbing a chunk of the long messy hair flowing down his back and bringing it around so he can glare at it. Tobirama has to quirk his lips as he watches the other pokemon literally glare his hair into submission as the flames gradually darken into a black color reminiscent of the basalt rocks that litter Fire island.

"There! Satisfied?" Moltres demands, shuffling forward another few steps. "And there's nothing wrong with the rest of me!"

"You have the anatomy off."

"I do not!" he yells, indignant as a soaked Meowth. "Just because the only times you see people up close are when they're buried under several layers of clothing and trying not to freeze to death, doesn't mean the rest of us don't know what human anatomy looks like! They certainly go naked on beaches often enough despite bitching about sand getting everywhere! Why don't you fix your damn skin tone so you don't look like a healthier relative of a frostbit coooooorpse!"

Moltres loses his balance, windmilling his arms desperately as he stumbles over the crack that Freeze Dry had made in the ground. Tobirama has just enough time for red eyes to widen before the other man crashes into him and takes them both to the ground.

The Articuno curses his own instincts as his elbow hits a rock hard, intensely regretting that he'd automatically flared his arms to try and balance with wings that he didn't have right then, instead of just stepping back and at least keeping himself on his feet.

"Fuck. This. All," Moltres seethes, face squished against Tobirama's abdomen. "This is undignified and you're a terrible pillow."

"And you're an awful blanket," Tobirama snaps, shoving the man off him. "Get up and let's go: you'll get the hang of balance the more we walk."

After Tobirama gets his own feet under him, he has to basically haul the firebird up himself. Moltres certainly knows how humans are supposed to work and how the body is meant to move, but he's utterly lacking in practice and coordination. And while Tobirama would love to mock him for being such a clumsy oaf on the ground despite being so skilled in the sky, that would open up the question of how long it took him to get used to walking.

That is a topic the Articuno is determined to keep off the table.

"This does not have the makings of a successful trip," Moltres curses, letting Tobirama manipulate his arm so that the white-haired man is helping to support him as they walk. "And how exactly do you plan to get more clothing anyway?"

"Improvisation."

Moltres gives him an irritated look with quirked lips. "I take back some of the things I've thought of you: you're not ruthlessly organized; you're just very skilled at making your moments of bullshit seem thought-out as you grab onto openings, aren't you?"

Tobirama doesn't dignify that with a response as he concentrates on getting them both through the tunnel that's gradually dimming the farther they are from the nest, but he feels Moltres' chest shake as the man laughs soundlessly before falling silent to concentrate on walking.

"So... Lightning Island next?" the firebird confirms half an hour later as they exit the main body of the mountain and merge onto the shrine path, heading for the beach.

"That is the plan," Tobirama says, moving them sideways around another trip hazard. "You'll need a name to use with the humans too."

"Madara," Moltres says immediately, with a tone that not only refuses the very idea of another option but has actively set up a minefield of Voltorbs to keep said options out.

Tobirama raises one eyebrow, a smirk creeping across his face as they take another turn, ocean spreading out before them in the distance under the dawn's morning light. "Alright. If you want to be a Snubbull so much, I can call you Spots."

Behind clenched teeth, the newly named Madara makes a muffled sound of rage, the sound caught somewhere between a scream and a kettle boiling over as he fumes.

"It's. Not. Spots!" he snaps, inches away from Tobirama's face, a faint glow blooming in the back of his throat as Tobirama mocks him. "And you're one to talk! I know I've heard what 'Tobirama' means somewhere before: a space between two pillars, wasn't it? Or maybe it was a space between two tiles? Or how about the space between two stupid remarks since THAT definitely fits!"

Tobirama huffs and the next time Madara stumbles he lets the idiot bird fall flat on his face.

.

.

Needless to say, between the infighting and the clumsiness, it takes them quite a while to get down to the water's edge.

Tobirama sighs in quiet relief as they clear the last of the steps, trying to stretch his shoulders and back a little. He ignores Madara's steady bitching as the other man examines the various scratches and forming bruises he's acquired on their (sometimes literal) trip down. He looks over the mostly flat bleach full of rocky ground and nods to himself as he finds a good location where the high tides will make this easy.

The ice pokemon walks off, absently dragging Madara with him instead of shrugging off his arm, and weaves through a clear path until they get to the top of a rocky protrusion slightly higher than the water right next to it. With a small frown of concentration, Tobirama takes a deep breath, consciously regulating the amount of energy building in his chest since it feels different in this form, and then releases a thin, moderated Ice Beam.

The searing bright beam of white and blue light hits the ocean with a clear hum and in a crackle of forming ice, Tobirama creates a small boat. It might be awkwardly chunky and lack an ideal hydrodynamic shape, but it will be perfectly seaworthy since he can propel them with his own power.

It worked to get over here, after all. And it's at least faster than a Blastoise or Lapras now that he has the capsizing issue figured out.

Except when Tobirama goes to step forward closer to the edge so they can get in the boat, Madara doesn't so much as twitch a muscle. He turns to snap at the man and—

...Oh, the Articuno thinks, slightly chagrined as he sees the brunet staring blankly at the boat, not breathing and utterly immobile and at least four shades whiter than he had been while standing on the steps.

He had forgotten that Moltres is a flame pokemon. Or, to be specific, he'd failed to properly consider the ramifications of Moltres being not just a fire pokemon but one with external physical flames.

The legendary might live surrounded by ocean at all times, but Flying pokemon have a ready escape available in their wings. Being without flight is always at least mildly stressful for a Flying type, even for Articuno who is experienced at it and thus prepared to ignore it. But for Moltres, it means an abrupt lack of any ready escape from the ocean he’s accustomed to flying over, not sailing on.

Which... must make an enormous difference for a pokemon with an inborn hatred, verging on fear, of being submerged.

Madara takes an abrupt rasping breath in, spots of color forming on his cheeks as his eyes go wide and wild, and then he opens his mouth.

Tobirama winces in advance.

.

.

"I AM NOT GETTING ON THAT THING, YOU MASSIVE, RAGING, FROST-TINGED LUNATIC!" Madara bellows, voice barely human as his hair blazes into color.

"Calm down."

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN, YOU CRAZY SNOW CONE! I WOULDN'T TOUCH THAT THING WITH A TEN-FOOT FARFETCH'D LEEK!"

"Moltres."

"ONLY YOU WOULD THINK THIS IS A VALID OPTION!"

"Moltres!" Tobirama snaps, snatching at the pokemon's arm as the man lunges back inland and further away from the sea. "Exactly how did you think we were getting off an island without going over water!" he asks, fruitlessly trying to dig clawless heels into stone as the two of them reenact a tug-of-war contest using Madara's arm as the rope.

(He supposes this must look ridiculous from a human perspective: two grown men, fighting on a beach, with a single towel between them.)

"I THOUGHT WE'D USE SOMETHING YOU DIDN'T JUST SPIT OUT IN LESS THAN TWENTY SECONDS!" Madara screeches, hitting a pitch high enough to make a Golbat jealous.

"There's no need to be scared-"

"I AM NOT SCARED!"

"Get in the goddamn boat!" Tobirama finally snaps, losing control of his temper as Madara nearly jerks him off his feet.

"MAKE ME, SNOWFLAKE!" Madara challenges, aggression pulsing off him as he bares his teeth, shoulders raised and head dipped in a pose that reads as defensive if you don't know he isn't human.

Tobirama bristles, raising his own shoulders in response, mouth dropping open automatically as cold builds behind his lips, and as soon as Madara breathes in - a red glow building in his throat - Tobirama lets go of his arm.

Madara chokes on the Flamethrower as he tries to yelp, falling tail over teakettle backwards with the force of his own pull, and barely avoiding falling in a tide pool.

Tobirama lunges before the moron hits the ground.

.

.

"I loathe you," Madara seethes through a fat lip, left eye already beginning to swell shut as his white-knuckled hands lock onto the icy rims of the boat in a death grip.

"Mmhm," Tobirama hums distractedly, carefully flexing the hand he has submerged in the water so that the Hurricane he's using will direct them a little further south towards Lightning Island instead of back home to Ice. He frowns when he accidentally overcorrects and then tries again.

Perhaps he should switch to using Water Pulse instead. It would make the trip rather jerky to manifest a sphere of liquid energy every few minutes, but it would probably be easier than summoning swirling winds under the ocean for a steady propulsion.

"You're a bastard. An absolute bastard!” Madara snaps. “This is why I hate Ice pokemon! You're all cracked, utterly cracked all the way through, just like your damn element, but in sneaky ways so that you seem sane right up until someone falls through a lake!"

Tobirama rolls his eyes. "Don't exaggerate. You only find me half as irritating as you regularly find Zapdos."

"At least they don’t send glowing silver rocks at my head from point-blank range!" Madara snarls.

"You're acting as if you wouldn't have sent Ancient Power right back at me given the chance. And really, we could have forgone the entire nonsense if you had just shut up and got in the boat to begin with."

"You could have had the damn decency to at least steal a proper ship before proposing this bullshit! Or at least found some other option besides this freezing cold ice cube!" Madara retorts, blanching grey and slamming his eyes closed as the boat rocks abruptly with another ocean surge, red and white hair tumbling into his face and over his shoulders as he curls inward.

Tobirama tightens his lips, watching the way meltwater trickles out from underneath Madara's hands and body as he covers up increasing amounts of stress with blustering and anger. "And what exactly do you propose?" Tobirama asks. "Neither of us can drive a human boat. Should I have refrozen the sea so that you could walk to Lightning Island, however long that would take? You'd just end up in the ocean sooner depending on how long it took you to stop imitating a drunken Hitmonlee."

"Loathe," Madara repeats with an angry hiss. "I hate you so— what the hell do you want!" Madara demands, looking past him.

Tobirama glances over his right shoulder to find a curious male Dewgong swimming alongside them, looking first at Tobirama and then down to where his arm is submerged and back again. He nods his head politely, recognizing the young male as one of the more curious adults among the small tropical pod that lives between Ice Island and Shamouti, and takes his arm out of the water to rotate his sore wrist.

Madara curses viciously as the boat's momentum changes, startling the Dewgong into backflipping into the ocean and—

Tobirama closes his eyes against the splashing wave made by the Dewgong's tail, hearing Madara yelp in shock and discomfort. Heat flares up as the fire pokemon reflexively burns off the water and—

"No!" Tobirama snaps, just as Madara melts right through his side of the boat, crashing directly into the ocean.

There's approximately half a second of nothing before an avian scream of agony and blindingly pissed off hatred reverberates through the water. The sea under Tobirama lights up in a whirling inferno of power, churning as bubbles boil up around the boat before Moltres - in a glowing state half-shifted between human and bird - shoots into the sky like a comet, arrowing back towards Fire Island as if...

Well, as if the ocean was trying to drown him.

"Arceus damn it!" Tobirama snarls, slamming a fist down on the boat's side and fuming as he watches his plan fly off and unravel, leaving him roughly a hundred steps backwards and worse off from where he started at.

"That," he says scathingly towards the Dewgong lurking wide-eyed fifteen feet away, "was excessively poor timing."

And then the boiling water he'd forgotten about dumps him in the ocean, too.

.

.

It's an irritated, slightly scalded, and towel-less Tobirama who drags himself out of the sea and up onto a newly created ice floe.

He debates with himself, sitting in the middle of the ocean and resolutely ignoring the apologetic Dewgong, trying to decide whether he should change tactics and get Instinct-Zings-Up-Numbing-Arcs first before going back for Madara. However, the longer he waits the more stubborn the firebird will get about never doing this ever again.

And if he gives Madara time to fly off for somewhere else as Moltres, Tobirama will have to actively chase him down. That doesn't really bode well for global weather patterns if they end up fighting away from the absorbing qualities of the Fire and Ice Islands. It's also not the wisest thing to start fights in other legendaries' territories, which could be what happens since this is the sort of incident that Valor-Found-on-Fiery-Wings will absolutely hold a grudge over.

Even if it was technically Moltres’ own fault for being an idiot.

(It also doesn't bode well for Mito's temper and thus their own physical well being if they get into another weather-changing fight so soon after the last one. Especially without her nearby.)

There's also the minor fact that Zapdos really is as stubborn as both of them and a sly brat to boot. There's a reason Moltres sometimes wants to pluck his own feathers out over the younger bird. Add that up to how they currently have the crashed remains of that damn airship on top of Lightning Island, and they’re probably entirely too irate to be reasoned with unless both he and Madara suggest the idea at the same time.

Right. Madara it is then.

Tobirama glares at the Dewgong, silently pointing in front of his legs and waiting until the sea lion slinks over sheepishly so Tobirama can grab onto his thick white fur. If the Dewgong wants to apologize, then the other pokemon can act as his transport back to Fire.

.

.

(The first attempt to talk doesn't go well.

To be strictly honest, it doesn't really go at all.)

Tobirama arrives at the beach about twenty minutes after Moltres. He follows a trail of footprints scorched into the rock (broken up by an occasional large black splotch which he assumes was Madara tripping over something, falling messily, and getting even more pissed off), climbs up a few steps, and tracks the fire pokemon to an unknown tunnel entrance hidden in a forest clearing at the base of the mountain.

It only takes about twenty minutes of walking down the tunnel to encounter a noticeable increase in temperature, accompanied by a strong and pungent odor.

Gritting his teeth, the Articuno turns around and walks back out. He doesn't even have a chance of getting close to Moltres if the bird went to sulk and seethe in a lava pool.

He'll wait on the beach and practice manipulating Ice Beam to achieve more delicate results.

.

.

(The second attempt ends before it starts.)

Tobirama frowns down at his latest creation, trying to figure out what it is he needs to achieve a better curve for a ship's hull, when there's a sudden bellowing of //YOU FROSTBIT PIDOVE!// under an angry scream and he's hit with a long-range, messily executed Fire Blast from the treeline.

At which point he lands in the ocean.

Again.

Except this time, it's a shallow bay.

Tobirama rolls with the impact when he crashes: not on purpose, but because that's how hard it threw him. He gets up, temper bubbling over, and makes a mental note to figure out how to better fight as a human as he storms towards that offensive piece of flaming poultry.

A constant barrage of shimmering Ice Shards keeps the bastard too busy to successfully run off, at which point Tobirama reaches him and proceeds to demonstrate how irritated he is by starting their second undignified brawl of the day.

This one's on a more even level than the one about getting in the boat because Madara's infuriated, rather than afraid and hatefully denying it, and even before Tobirama tackles him to the ground, he's hot to the touch from the lava in ways that make even the strongest ice pokemon flinch. Then Tobirama loses his grip long enough for the firebird to crane his head back and spit out the bright white beam of Sunny Day, and the goddamn ambient temperature rises even more than it already is in this miserable tropical summer!

(There's a reason Articuno makes a habit of flying north during most summers. If it wasn't for Ice Island's soothing atmosphere, he would never roost there at all.)

But Tobirama gets Madara back for that in a number of ways. For starters, while Articuno’s weakness to Moltres’ Fire type is a painful inconvenience, Madara, unlike Tobirama, is pretty much a flailing uncoordinated fledgling in his human body. It puts Tobirama at a massive advantage in close contact fights and grappling. Moltres also hasn't had a chance to figure out how and when he needs to change certain attacks to make them work in his human form yet. Which is perfect because Tobirama cannot emphasize enough how much he would hate to be in physical contact with Madara if he was able to use Flame Charge to set himself alight.

So it's not a perfectly balanced fight given that Madara is only half as bothered by ice as Tobirama is by fire, but he does get the satisfying opportunity to elbow the man in the kidney before using Avalanche to summon a storm cloud full of falling icicles to do double damage. And fighting with Freeze Dry building under his skin in a purple-white glow makes Madara start cursing as they both rapidly cool down.

Although, never let it be said that the feathery ball of soot isn't a fast learner when fighting because Madara’s reaction to Tobirama using Frost Breath to exhale snow in his face is to headbutt him immediately before the critical hit fully lands.

Of course, that breaks both their noses because Madara, the idiot, had forgotten he didn't have a beak and had actually been trying to peck him.

(Needless to say, the results of the second attempt end up being fairly counterproductive to Tobirama's actual goal.)

.

.

(The third attempt is dismissed outright.)

"You son of a mite-ridden Fearow!" Madara curses, voice distorted as he leans forward and pinches the bridge of his broken nose.

Tobirama, holding a chunk of melting snow against his own nose, glares. "I'm sorry. Please repeat yourself: I couldn't hear you over the sound of your hypocritical obstinacy."

"Go swallow a molten Slugma!"

"I wasn't aware you were so concerned with my diet," Tobirama remarks, resisting the urge to scrunch up his broken nose at the mention of the lava pokemon. "Do you have any energy root for those of us that don't bathe in melted dirt to heal?"

"There are some Mago trees on the east side that'll make you feel better," Madara offers with a nasty smirk.

Right after they finishes confusing and disorienting me, Tobirama thinks, recalling the disgustingly sweet fruit with distaste. "I know you can't actually help being petty because of inborn deficiencies, but try and prevent it where you can."

The firebird tosses a handful of flames towards Tobirama’s feet and stands up. "If you want that godawful bitter shit, you can go root around for it yourself like a dirt-nosed Swinub. On your own island."

"And where are you going?" Tobirama asks, frowning as he watches Madara's form gleam, smoothly dissolving into twisting ribbons of gleaming red light, interspersed with sparks of white and orange and pale gold. "We had a plan!"

A rude snort echoes through the air, more felt than heard. //I’m abandoning this moronic idea to go get lunch. Now get off my damn beach!//

"This isn't over!" Tobirama calls out, getting to his feet and fisting his hands as he watches Moltres surge back towards the mountain where his main body rests. "You implied agreement, and I'm holding you to it!"

Mocking laughter drifts back to brush against his mind and Tobirama narrows his eyes.

He will get this stubborn fool off the island.

.

.

(The fourth attempt hits some rocky problems.)

Tobirama departs from Ice Island the next morning on an improved, somewhat sled-shaped transport that's happily drawn along by the same Dewgong instead of relying on his Hurricane to propel it. The much younger pokemon had apparently decided that this is both the sort of drama he just can’t miss out on, and that it'll provide a impressive story for the pod's ladies if he gets involved.

Tobirama think it says a lot about the overgrown pup (and none of it complimentary) that the male thinks it's a fun idea to be near two arguing legendaries. Especially after being ten feet away from Moltres boiling the sea.

But there's only so much energy Tobirama can devote at any one point in time to redirecting idiots, and since he's already committed to wrangling their king today, he'll just have to hope that Spring-Dawns-Early has more good fortune than his controversial name implies.

They reach Fire with a slightly messy offboarding since there's no easy way to stop an ice sled without whatever human boats use as brakes. It's something the Articuno is going to need to contemplate on his walk up the mountain because Madara's tolerance for getting wet is evidently really damn low. At least while he's on the ocean. Presumably he'll have fewer issues when he feels more secure because Tobirama's seen Moltres creatively fishing in the sea.

Spring-Dawns-Early waves him off with a flipper, staying behind to guard the floating sled and his small bag of supplies. It's nothing irreplaceable: just a worn-out backpack that Tobirama still had from previous human explorations. It contains a variety of berries that grow on Ice Island, some energy root (because Tobirama isn't foolish enough to expect he'll drag Madara away without taking a few hits), and some Seaking fillets wrapped in banana leaves that he can steam later for lunch provided the Dewgong keeps his word and stays out of the food while he's gone.

He starts trekking his way up the mountain, glad that he's still more resistant to damage than an average human given his inconvenient lack of shoes. It doesn't take long to realize that something's off though because even if the path is mostly a rocky expanse heading up the mountain, it's still close enough to the forest that he should be able to hear the sound of Pidgeys and Natu at the very least.

Instead it's very, very quiet. The only pokemon he does see on his way to Moltres is an unexpected gang of Sneasal, who must have a strong Dark side if they're living in the warmer environment of Fire Island instead of Ice. Each and every one of the vicious little scrappers looks terribly, intensely amused to see him which is... not a typical reaction for the clawed pokemon to have towards anything.

But the only replies he gets when he speaks with them are //Hello, Lord Articuno// and //It's nice to see you again, Lord Articuno// and //Have fun, Lord Articuno//, promptly followed by snickering and giggles.

It's suspicious. Especially since, as Moltres demonstrated yesterday, pokemon shouldn't immediately recognize him as another pokemon and they certainly shouldn't know exactly which one he is.

Of course, he and Madara did have a very public fight on the open and visible beach yesterday. And their skillsets are fairly recognizable even if other pokemon did somehow miss seeing Madara start transforming back.

His edginess only grows stronger as he climbs uphill. Yesterday, both on his way up and on their trip down, there had been any number of pokemon along the mountain paths: Crustle looking for better stones, Machops and Machokes training and sparring with each other, Geodudes resting among the rocks, and a small Donphan herd whose males had been holding rolling competitions.

The pokemon had been completely unbothered by his human appearance then. After all, those who live on Fire Island know that, despite the hazards of living in an apex pokemon's territory (especially one that squabbles with his neighbors), humans aren't a problem when their legendary is in residence. The Natu and other psychics always send notice if they foresee or feel cruel trainers or Rocket grunts. So while it's based more on principle than territoriality, the only humans who ever get through unmolested are decent individuals. It's much the same on Ice and Lightning.

And yet now there's nothing. No sound at all. It's eerie.

Tobirama's nearly three-quarters of the way to the nest, walking through a long straight pass enclosed on either side by sheer stone walls, when he finally sees a pokemon. It's Moltres, surprisingly: out in the open, back in their feathers, and smugly preening at the top of the cliffside to Tobirama's right, rather than fuming in their nest or aggressively hunting down some unsuspecting prey for a snack or stress-relief.

Tobirama has a brief moment to be pleased at this development before a rare Magmortar steps into sight at Moltres' side and glares down at him.

Followed by three Magmars.

And a Hariyama.

Several Makuhita.

Three Golems, eight Gravelers, a mass of Geodude.

Machamps, Machokes, Machops.

Cubones and Marowaks.

The missing Crustle.

And as the pièce de résistance for the entire mess, that missing herd of Donphan: standing side by side and lined up wall-to-wall at the uphill end of the path Tobirama's on.

Tobirama looks at the pokemon: dozens lined up on either side of the cliffs above his head, boxing him in on three sides in one of the neatest ambushes he's ever seen and the only ambush he's ever been caught in that didn't involve humans. Fire pokemon, Fighting pokemon, Rock and Ground... Each individual has either a type advantage against an Articuno or a weakness to Ice, and those that do have a weakness look especially infuriated rather than angry or serious.

Tobirama slowly cranes his head back, meets Moltres' dark eyes, and gives the bird a sharp smile of irritated appreciation.

"Titan of Flame and Master of Fire Island, indeed," Tobirama mutters, too far away for the smugly fluffed up legendary to hear.

This will teach him to forget that, overreacting fool or not, Moltres is a cunningly talented bastard.

//So,// Moltres starts, darkly amused as they snuggle down against the rock, wings comfortably folded against their sides like the golden firebird doesn't have a single place they'd rather be, //I'm absolutely positive I told you to get your tailfeathers off my territory yesterday. And yet, here you are. Coming in under a false form. And why exactly would the Titan of Ice need to hide like a dirty egg-thief?//

Tobirama hisses furiously at the insult, rock splintering under under his feet as ice slams into and over the ground. Some of the surrounding pokemon send him wary looks, a few even stepping back despite how they all get angrier at the suggested possibility.

It’s a grave accusation Moltres is dancing around: to suggest another pokemon, especially a legendary, might steal an egg—!

There are pokemon that eat eggs of course - it's the nature of life that all things must eat something. Even Moltres will eat eggs if they're available, although they never do so on any of the three elemental islands.

But there's a harsh difference between eating an egg and stealing one.

You know what happened if you find a broken egg. You know what happened and you know the babe was too young to feel anything. You don't have the same comfort if an egg is just gone. The babe could be dead, it could be fine, it could be alive and emphatically not fine, it could be hatched and raised to become the worst pokemon it ever had the potential to be.

Not knowing with children is worse than dead.

"Don't pretend you don't know why I'm here, Moltres. What lies did you tell them?" Tobirama demands darkly, power surging in glowing waves over his clenched fists.

//And I told YOU there was a fireball's chance in a cold, watery hell that I'd do it again!// Moltres snarls out in a vicious hiss. //So it can't be that. So what else might an Ice pokemon need subterfuge for? How about for sneaking into a good position to freeze the island over. AGAIN!//

"You know damn well I had nothing to do with your island being frozen, you lying chicken!" Tobirama snaps, glaring at Moltres and carefully observing how several of the pokemon are preparing stones in his peripheral vision. "That was the human airship!"

A few of the older and more experienced individuals like the Golems and Magmortar look to Moltres in question, but they just nod to them as they shrugs fiery wings. //It's possible. Humans are relentlessly clever. But I've never heard of one making something that so closely mimics your Ice Beam. And EVERYONE'S heard of how you froze Lightning Island over even before the three of us started fighting. Along with starting a tropical winter which no pokemon here appreciated!//

"You overgrown Torchic!" the Articuno spits out, utterly incensed because that's technically true. Moltres certainly hasn't heard of that Ice technology: they’ve only seen it while outflying it. And Articuno doesn't exactly have a defense for Lightning Island except that it had been deeply satisfying to mess with Instinct-Zings-Up-Numbing-Arcs.

(Mito's insistence that all three of them are as bad as each other might have been a bit truer than he had admitted.)

"I'm not here to freeze Fire Island," he grits out, red eyes narrowed dangerously.

If Moltres had been human, the firestarter would have been smiling with malice aforethought. //But you need to use ice to effectively fight. And name a single time you've set wing on this island without us fighting.//

There's a damning second of silence.

"I'm going to make myself a feather boa out of you," the Ice Titan promises darkly as the first barrage of flaming boulders fly towards his head.

.

.

(There is no fifth attempt.)

"Oh wow!" Maren breathes, holding her navy hat in place against the wind as she shoves green hair out of her face, watching the strange lights soar overhead towards Ice Island. "Hey Melody, do you see that!" she asks, turning to get a better view.

"Yeah, of course!"

The two of them watch the trailing end of the illumination: gleaming blue ribbons mixed with white lights and sheens of what almost looks like snow. It's moving fast, a lot faster than her boat can manage at full speed even if the wind and currents were in their favor. Maren squints towards Ice Island where the light touches down, but...

"It's a little too far off from us," she says, looking down towards the younger girl. "Were you able to see what it was?"

Melody shakes her head, red brown pigtails flowing with the movements. "It just looked like light to me. Although I think I saw it swerve right before it hit the mountain. Or maybe it went in the mountain?"

"Ice Island does have a tunnel system according to the archives that the Elder unearthed after the weather calmed down," Maren considers, slowly starting the boat back up to full speed as she redirects them back to Lightning Island again, taking a quick look around to make sure the supplies earmarked for the disaster volunteers are still secure. "Still... I haven't heard of anything like that before."

"Its colors reminded me a little bit of— oh no," Melody says, eyes widening as the recognizable form of Articuno bursts out of the mountainside in an explosion of ice. Even from this distance there's something distinctly furious in the sharply abrupt way the legendary banks in mid-air, rolling in a flash of blue feathers as it takes a curve at high speed before bolting towards Fire Island, leaving a visible trail of frozen air and pelting hail in its wake as it gains altitude rapidly.

"That's Articuno!" the older woman exclaims, trying to hold the ship steady as the backwash of wind and water slams into them. "But it's been three weeks since Lugia helped calm them all down! Why would it be angry now?"

"Something must have gone wrong," Melody answers, fingers tightening around the boat's railing as the ship jolts. "Neither Officer Jenny nor any of the trainers associated with the Pokemon League have managed to find Lawrence III, right? What if he's on Fire Island? He's the one who caught Moltres and Zapdos in the first place! If he's reappeared, that could be enough to upset the legendary birds again."

"But that doesn't make sense," Maren grits out. "No matter how he managed to get off Lightning, he can't possibly catch Moltres without any equipment. You told us he was a collector: if he's not a trainer there's no way he can have pokemon strong enough to wear down a legendary, even if he did have an expensive item like an Ultra ball to use! If he was going to try again, he should have made it off the islands to regroup first!"

"Yeah, but people are crazy and— hold up! I've got an idea! Turn around: we need to head for Fire!"

"What!" Maren exclaims, shooting a look towards the Articuno shrinking into the distance. "You had an even more up close look at those three last time than I did! Why would you want to get closer when they're angry!"

"Because it's our responsibility and we have to," Melody says firmly. "A human shoved things out of balance last time and nearly ruined the world! We only managed to fix things because the legend came true and Naruto was able to get the treasures. Without those amplifying Lugia's song, there would have been nothing anyone could do! But Naruto's not here anymore, and we don't know if those treasures will even work without him nearby. So we have to do something ourselves, and we need to do it before it gets too big to fix."

Melody gives Maren a determined look, shoving down her faint apprehension at the thought of being close to the warring titans again. The entire experience had been scary the first time but there had been an odd sense of disconnect, too. They had been living a legend: an actual, prophesied legend! It had felt like they could do it, like there was no way they couldn't do it at the time, even in the moments it had looked impossible. It had been too much like a story to not have the heroes win. So even when her nerves were rattling, it had been easy to stay calm because it was like staying calm in an ocean storm: you know it might kill you, but if you let that phase you, you're already dead.

You have to move with the waves to make it through storms: you can't let them hit you broadside at full power.

And if she can steer a boat to the top of a mountain using the wind, she can do this too.

"Lugia couldn't handle all three legendaries at once," Melody says, taking a steady breath. "We've only seen Articuno, but if it involves Fire Island, it'll probably involve Moltres. We have to do what we can before it attracts Zapdos' attention. The volunteers are already working as fast as they can to remove the airship, but they don't have time to clear out if Zapdos gets aggravated. And I have my ocarina with me. I don't know if it'll work, but if we can call up Lugia while there's only two of them involved, we might not need the treasures."

Melody looks up at Maren, giving her a sober smile as she waves towards Fire Island.

"We're here and we're closest: it's our responsibility as citizens of the Orange Islands, as people, to do anything we can to help."

Maren gives her a long look, before an open smile crosses her face and she nods firmly. "Your sister's going to be really proud of the woman you're becoming. Alright! Let's do it! You take the helm and get us as close as you think you need to," she offers, passing Melody the controls before sliding down the ladder to the lower deck.

"I'm going to try and get a clear signal through Lightning's atmosphere to give them a head's up in case they can't see it from their angle!" she calls up. "We need to make sure people are prepared. If it's just that one collector then... well, then the pokemon will probably handle it themselves, but if it's something else we might need more help to fix it in the long run. After all, if it angers legendaries like this when people barely even see them normally, it's probably really serious!"

"Right!" Melody agrees, steering them onto the fastest course as Maren heads inside for the radio. "Let's just hope it's not something severe like global warming they're angry about or this might not be fixable at all."

.

.

Today is a fantastic day, Moltres thinks, smug and happy and utterly satisfied with how well their plan had gone.

It doesn't quite make up for yesterday's wretched experience of having the sea swallow them alive, but it was still beautiful. Watching Tobirama's expression shift as he registered the trap was possibly the greatest highlight of the last century! And the other pokemon had been proud and satisfied to have been able to contribute to shattering Articuno’s false form. It definitely raised their morale to help defend their home from such a strong outsider, which can only be good for when Moltres next leaves. The Natu can make themselves damn annoying whenever they start getting twitchy and it's a pain in the beak to deal with them.

Though admittedly, Moltres is hardly expecting this to be the end of it. Mysticism-Hidden-in-Icy-Swiftness is a stubborn bastard, after all, and he's bound to be back soon. The ice bird never gives up on anything he considers important. It makes it irritating as hell when they disagree, despite how admirable the trait is otherwise.

And there’s also the fact that Moltres… might have gone too far by even bringing up the hinted possibility of egg-stealing in reference to the other bird. It worked incredibly well to piss Articuno off and get everyone mad enough to push past their nervousness in the face of an aggressive legendary, but… It isn’t really something one should ever offer as a false accusation.

Even if it’s obviously a lie to anyone with a working brain.

Still... outsmarting the Articuno so decisively deserves a personal treat.

Which would be easier if this damn Octillery would cooperate already!

'Come on, come on!' Moltres thinks impatiently, careful not to actually vocalize anything or make sound as they shifts their claws on the rock, staring down at the cracks and crevices below them. They know there's an Octillery in one of those holes, maybe more than one. They saw red tentacles dart inside as they flew over the bay, and the octopus pokemon loves hiding in damp crags of rock, so this stone in the middle of the sea is perfect. And the tide is out right now, so they can grab one without getting wet if the stupid thing will just his damn body out a bit!

'Damn it, I know you're fairly clever, but is it too much to ask for you to be stupid for just ten seconds!' Moltres complains internally, refolding their wings and keeping their flames as dim and matte as they can so that the light and color don't glimmer off the water. They crane their neck down, trying to arch it to get a better view of the openings and wistfully think about how much easier it is to catch mundane octopus. It's such a pity that they aren't native to the Orange Islands.

A tiny red tentacle with yellow suckers attached sneaks out of the stone and Moltres goes still, laser focusing on the sight. They slowly move, wings spreading, and edge their head down and forward so they'll be in perfect range to strike before they need to go airborne after their balance shifts.

'Almost... almost...'

Another inch of tentacle. Another careful shift.

Moltres’ heart jumps as they see a bit of the mantle: always the best place to grab onto so they can kill it quickly. Taking too long means the tentacles try to strangle them which means burning them off which means very little food.

One more inch...

Moltres darts down, twists their head, feels their beak scrap the mantle itself and—

The Octillery's ink hits them dead in the eyes.

The Titan of Fire squawks, sounding horrifyingly like a common Spearow, dignity completely forgotten as they fall off the rock, scrambling blindly to right themselves and keep out of the water as they shake their head furiously like a wet Poochyena. The ink burns and itches, and they can hear the damn piece of aquatic rubber laughing at them!

Moltres triggers Flame Charge, trying to burn the ink off their face as their feathers catch fire. Unfortunately, they can't rub it away on their wing when they’re flying, can't hold their wings completely still without a thermal, can't land without being able to see where the water is, and the only thing more irritating than their own mounting embarrassment is that sharp, high pitched whine in the backgro—

SHIT!

.

.

The bastard dodged! Articuno thinks, infuriated as they see Moltres go into free fall just in time to miss being hit full force by an Ice Beam.

Articuno fires off a round of Ice Shards, sending the fast projectiles after the fire pokemon and growing frustrated when Moltres manages to use the speed boost from the fading Flame Charge to get their wings under them in time to both avoid the water and then barrel roll out of the Ice Shards' path. The golden bird dances out of the way of several blue-white Ice Beams as they desperately gain altitude, and the thirty percent of Articuno's brain that's still calm and composed (rather then ruthlessly and overwhelmingly determined to knock Moltres' head clean off their body) admires the sheer skill it takes to turn that imbecilic flailing from a minute ago into a successful ascension.

Moltres levels out, glaring at them through wincing black-rimmed eyes, and Articuno uses Tailwind to boost their own speed to match Moltres’ before melding a Gust onto the end of the dying winds. Moltres takes the weak Flying attack to the chest, falling backwards in exchange for shooting off a white Sunny Day beam into sky above them.

Articuno screeches, flapping their wings to send ambient cold Moltres' way as a distraction. The Ice pokemon breathes Mist into the sky above them multiple times, dodging several Flamethrowers as they try to use the status-protecting fog as a makeshift shield between the intense summoned sunlight and their battlefield.

Moltres hits the other legendary’s long streaming tail feathers with a blue, opalescent Will-O-Wisp when Articuno doesn't move fast enough, but it's worth the burn when Articuno casts Rain Dance right into the Mist bank and manages to get the technique to take root despite the harsh sunlight of Sunny Day.

The firebird screeches, sounding genuinely pissed to Articuno's vindictive delight as clouds gather and pounding rain falls on them, sizzling when it comes into contact with Moltres' red-glowing flames. Articuno relaxes for a moment, going boneless to trigger Agility, and watches as an Incinerate blazes their way. They feel Agility lighten them in the brief moment before black-threaded flames hit.

They dodge the fire poorly even with the additional speed modifier, feeling a number of feathers on their left wing blacken from the partial hit. It's not enough to affect their ability to fly despite how much the second burn hurts, so Articuno dismisses it and triggers Double Team, hearing Moltres start cursing like crazy as illusionary copies of his opponent surge into existence.

The fire legendary shoots backwards to gain distance, unable to tell which of the identical Articunos is the real one, and uses Air Slash as they retreat. Moltres cuts through several of the doubles with the razor sharp ball of blue-white air, all of which fail to vanish, and ends up missing the real Ice Titan completely.

Articuno starts summoning Hail, causing Moltres to jerk towards them immediately as the clouds thicken further and it begins to lightly snow. The other bird takes a deep, expanding breath, long neck curving back as intense light builds in their beak, and just as Articuno completes Hail, Moltres fires off Overheat. Crimson spirals around the white eye-watering flames, drawing forth the last bit of amplifying power from Sunny Day even as Hail clears all other weather changes in favor of pelting ice.

Articuno grimaces and takes the hit, utilizing every ounce of their talent in special defense to endure the fire. For one brief moment, clear of anger, the Ice pokemon is intensely grateful that Moltres isn't capable of using Victini's signature V-create if this is what the weaker Overheat feels like when only partly boosted.

Moltres flags minutely in the aftermath, breathing heavily from the drain of Overheat’s recoil on top of the exertion of their evasion and the discomfort of the rain, hail, and chilling atmosphere. Articuno hits Moltres with Mind Reader, aware that their red eyes are now glowing an eerie mix of unnatural blues as their awareness expands and locks onto the firebird.

Articuno knows where Moltres is now: knows every beat of their gold wings, every flick of their flames, every edge on their feathers, and every curve of their muscles. They know where the firebird is and where they will be. They know exactly how Moltres will move or dodge or glide, not from exposure or familiarity, but from sheer unnatural knowing.

There isn't an attack Articuno could make that would miss now.

The Ice Titan starts glowing with the light-blue radiance of Sheer Cold.

Moltres jerks in disbelief at the building one-hit knockout, gaze darting down to the sea underneath them both with growing horror before they whirl away, using their own Agility to vanish and reappear repeatedly as the firebird tries to get above solid land.

Articuno lets them run, satisfied with the knowledge that Moltres can’t possibly gain enough distance to dodge a locked-on attack like this. There's the vague awareness of other pokemon below them, on land and under the sea, moving farther away from the two of them, along with a human ship meeting a worried Dewgong as an instrument starts playing in the background.

But it's all faintly unimportant. They are going to freeze that wretched fool solid.

Articuno fires.

Sheer Cold shoots away from their beak: every bit as searingly bright as Overheat but even whiter in color, edged in light-blue with sharp white patterns overlaying it, sparks of power flying off as it freezes the very air it passes through. It slams into Moltres, not in a solid hit against all possible expectations, but as a glancing blow due to a partial dodge the Fire Titan shouldn't have been able to make.

But gold still goes limp in midair, falling at an angle from the force of the attack.

It's only then that a calming Articuno realizes, red eyes widening as their stomach drops, that Moltres' trajectory is going to leave the other bird unconscious in deep water.

Articuno shrieks, pulling their wings in and diving straight down to try and get below the falling legendary. If they can just get further down... if they can just freeze the water before Moltres hits... they can't dive deep enough to haul Moltres out if the firebird starts sinking!

But a massive waterspout shoots up, violently throwing Articuno away as it swirls into the air. They tumble out of control before banking into an air current and twisting, hurrying to get a glimpse of where Moltres is and—

And there they are. Hanging limp in mid-air, cradled in the light-blue glow of Lugia's psychic abilities, above the water and out of danger now that Mito has them secure in her grasp.

They’re safe.

Which... is more than Articuno can say for themselves given how furious the Lugia's body language is.

//Majesty-Swirls-in-Ocean-Depths,// they greet cautiously.

The water spout that had dispersed with Mito's appearance starts twisting up again on her left, on the opposite side from Moltres, made not with the strength of her wings but with the power of her mind. It looms enormous and wide and moderately intimidating due to the sheer volume and force of the water contained within.

Articuno darts wary eyes between the waterspout and the angry legendary who is glowing brighter and thicker with the vivid power that she normally keeps hidden within herself at the bottom of the sea.

Mito smiles, implacable as a whirlpool.

.

.

//WHEN I TOLD YOU TO MAKE A PLAN, THAT DID NOT MEAN HARASS AND BEAT MOLTRES INTO COMPLIANCE.//

.

.

Sunrise dawns over Ice Island, slowly brightening the green of the leaves and the rich colors of the mountain stone. Light sneaks inside the mountain inch-by-inch, reflecting off the thick, white-blue ice coating the interior and bouncing down the corridors as it gradually fills the mountain with soft, glittering illumination. The Zubats grumble quietly as they settle into their hiding places for the day, never happy with the sunlight that fills the mountain but reluctantly content that it's dark enough to be comfortable.

Articuno breathes out, shifting in the cold pleasant comfort of their nest, eyes fluttering open as the last notes of Lugia's song slowly fade from their mind.

That had not gone well at all.

Technically the ice pokemon supposes they did achieve their secondary goal of making Moltres regret that entirely unnecessary ambush. Or rather, they evened the score. The three of them generally aren't inclined to regret fighting of any kind, so it would be foolish to expect Moltres to not be pleased with a legitimately clever tactic that capitalized on human limitations. Getting the upper hand is a matter of pride rather than chagrin over any tactics used.

It's typically why the worst of their spats end with Lugia's song rather than backing down: they enjoy fighting, they're good at fighting, and they've all got tempers and pride, territories to protect and an eye for gaining an advantage.

And they can match each other. That matters when you can't find an equal challenge among most other pokemon.

But... A fight is a fight. That was... well. There are some things that shouldn't be done unless you intend the consequences. Some lines that shouldn't be crossed, even with the most infuriating of flockmates. Articuno is old enough, experienced enough, that they never should have forgotten the battlefield's geography despite being furious. That their last aerial fight had had enough ice around to landlock all the islands is no excuse for forgetting that things were different this time.

Articuno had started out with the goal of improving the issues between them all, not creating a new, more serious reason for why things need to change.

... And now they owe Moltres an apology.

Articuno grimaces, shifting vivid blue feathers to lie more comfortably as they climb out of their nest. They sweeps their long tail back and forth over the floor, looking around at the gleaming walls of ice, riddled underneath with the darker violet of Water Stones and the vibrant amethyst of Ice Rocks, not really focusing on any of it as they think.

Most likely they’ve been down for a week or two under Lugia's song. It's not really something that can be helped, but it does mean that Moltres' temper has either calmed down or shifted into the seething mess that usually has one of them flying off and ignoring each others for a years at a time. If so, the firebird will have already flown off to roost on Mt. Molteau or Mt. Silver or even Victory Road if they felt like fighting skilled trainers.

It will be frustrating to be forced to wait if Moltres has left, especially since Articuno prefers to enact plans quickly rather than delaying, but their methodology has glaring flaws in hindsight. They should have exercised patience from the start rather than losing their temper and trying to force Moltres. It's nearly impossible to force someone as stubborn as Moltres into a decision they don't want or off of a path they’ve chosen without it backfiring at some later point. And just because swimming in the ocean can be pleasing to Articuno, doesn't mean Moltres' loathing and fear are any less valid. There had been no genuine reason to rush aside from their own impatience.

Mito's right, as she normally is: you make things work with compromise, not resentful compliance.

Apologizing isn't really something either of them do, but if actions speak louder than words...

Articuno still can't steer a human boat to resolve that part of Moltres' complaint. They’re certain they could learn quickly, but there's the tiny matter of how ships are not good targets for unnoticed theft. And ships have all manner of paperwork that would prevent them from just buying one outright even if they acquire funds in that quantity.

But maybe a workaround would be sufficient? A boat might be too much, but Articuno can acquire other supplies to make it more palatable.

And as for funds...

Articuno eyes the walls speculatively, holding out a wing and thrumming energy through it in the only Steel move they’ve managed to successfully learn. A few skillful cuts from feathers made rigid with Steel Wing, and several Water Stones fall to the floor in a clattering of ice and rock.

That Vaporeon a few years back had said that her human needed to save up for a while to buy a Water Stone. And when humans want something, they have two methods to obtain it: taking it by force ...or buying it with money.

Now to find Spring-Dawns-Early and see if the Dewgong knows what happened to their old backpack.

.

.

"Do you think maybe our lives became a movie at one point and we just didn't notice?" Melody asks Carol, both of them blindly backing up with the rest of the crowd and trying not to get separated. "Because I'm sure real life isn't supposed to work like this."

Her sister doesn't answer her. Or if she did, it ends up lost in the sheer noise of the awed crowd.

Not that Melody can really blame everyone.

Articuno oversees the market place from the top of the streetlight it had just landed on out of nowhere, head slowly turning as it observes the stalls and people. Its feathers are gleaming shades of cerulean blue, and it looks elegantly beautiful. It's gorgeous up close, deceptively peaceful looking, and even though the news had reported (world-wide!) how it was the three legendary birds at the root of those dangerous weather shifts, Articuno seems too... well, too pretty to inspire the same panic that a Tentacruel or Fearow arriving would have.

Which is stupid because Melody had an up-close view of the kind of damage the three Titans can do when they fought the first time! And if she ever was under the impression that Articuno was the least harmful, she was definitely disabused of that idea a week ago!

There's nothing quite like an upclose view of a pokemon glowing above you, charred and injured and still looming in deadly victory while another legendary falls, to make you reconsider how harmless it isn't.

And yet the Articuno still looks paradoxically cute from the right angle. It's a little bit of a head trip.

It's also not going anywhere. It's just sitting at the top of the pole, examining people, its tail waving gently in the breeze and—

Melody blinks. "Is that a backpack?" she says, a bit incredulous.

Because it definitely seems to be one now that she's looking at it. Articuno, Titan of Ice, one of the strongest pokemon she's ever heard of anywhere, with a prophecy devoted to how it and two others can endanger the world... is clutching a ratty, ragged backpack in its claws, so old and worn out that Melody can't even tell what color it was originally. Whatever it was, it's a faded grey-brown now.

Well, Melody thinks, in for a Pokedollar, in for two.

She takes a deep breath, reaches into her jacket pocket to grab her ocarina for comfort (she really hopes this isn't a sign of a developing pattern: legendaries are supposed to be rarely seen), and then she slips out from under her sister's hand and strides forward in determination. She breaks through the crowd, emerging into the huge circle of empty space surrounding Articuno's claimed streetlight, and immediately feels lots of eyes focus on her as she stops to look up at the Ice pokemon.

"Hello!" she calls up, feeling Carol bump into her as her sister rushes up and grabs the back of her shirt. "My name's Melody. Er, welcome to Shamouti Island! Do you... need some help with that bag?"

"Melody," Carol whispers under her breath, as bright crimson eyes focus on them both, "I really hope you know what you're doing."

Articuno tilts its head, giving Melody a sharp, analysing look with a spark of recognition.

'The red eyes are really appropriate', she thinks holding onto a smile, bluffing confidence as her fingers dug into the hard body of the ocarina. 'They're the only part of Articuno that actively hints at how dangerous it is... I wonder if it remembers me? Would that be ok or really bad?'

Articuno nods after a moment, lifting up a foot and rotating its leg to help gravity unwind the backpack straps before carefully dropping it.

Melody grabs it out of the air before it can hit the ground, momentarily losing grip at the surprising weight, and scrambling to haul it into her arms as cloth tears with a loud, uneven sound. The zipper, she can see, is still fine, but one of the seams is torn right through now and inside—

"Are these a bunch of rocks?" she murmurs, rearranging the bag so she can lift one of the cold and damp stones out. It's a gorgeous multi-shaded violet color, but despite the rough cut making it look like it came right from a mine, it doesn't seem all that valuable. It even has what looks like bubbles of air inside it.

"Melody, those are evolution stones," Carol whispers fiercely, laying an arm around her shoulders as she gently raises up the ripped fabric to look inside. There's at least a dozen stones from what’s visible. "Raw Water Stones are worth a lot of money!"

"But they're only 5,000 in the shops."

"Those are synthetic ones made by the Silph Company. But they need genuine stones to fracture for the base materials before they can artificially grow more. That's why they only work once while real ones recharge themselves eventually. Just one of these is easily worth more money than I make in a week!"

Melody pauses, trying to do mental math to figure out exactly how much money she's looking at while Carol plucks the stone from her still hand and slides it back into the bag, smiling nervously up at the watching Ice Titan who definitely understands every implication of what they're saying.

"Right!" Melody says, channeling chill (Which, ha, pun! Oh hell, she's turning into a dork.) as she fists a hand around the rip so that nothing can spill out, really wishing she had her sunglasses on for the confidence boost. "That's... very cool to see. Very neat. Talk about a way to a girl's heart here! But I'm afraid I don't really know what you want me to do with this?" she asks, voice lilting in question.

Articuno tilts his head, somehow differently this time, and Melody takes a brief moment to curse both the fact that she never wanted to be a pokemon trainer and thus didn't study, and also that she didn't grow up around anyone with bird pokemon: that experience would have been really helpful right now. Then blue wings spread out, sending the crowd back a little farther as Articuno descends to land in front of her.

'That is a big bird,' she thinks, head tilting back to look up. Articuno is about a head and a half taller than she is which makes it taller than Carol, too. 'Yup, big bird alright.'

Melody swears the legendary gives her a raised eyebrow despite not having any, and then it just... it walks off.

She blinks, head turning to follow the bird along with everyone else in the crowd as it walks through the stalls. It pauses, head turning back to look at her and, yup, that's definitely the bird equivalent of a raised eyebrow. She's made that expression too many times while sassing Carol to mistake it for anything else.

She starts following.

A few close calls where she nearly steps on Articuno's long tail feathers and they've arrived at a nearby stall which sells fabrics. She blinks, shifting the bag in her arm as she watches Articuno deftly grab one of the blankets on display and drape it over its right wing. The blue head tilts, red eyes narrowing as it looks the blanket over before turning back to the stall. Articuno grabs a second, fluffier blanket and hangs it over its left wing this time before looking between the two.

Melody's mouth drops open.

"Oh my god...," she breathes, eyes drawn back to the bag full of Water Stones in her arms. She can feel her eyes widening in shock as she rapidly looks between the Stones and the legendary and the blankets. "Oh my god, we're SHOPPING!"

There's a brief moment where her brain stops because pokemon don't do this. Melody is fairly sure most pokemon don’t even fully understand the concept of money outside of ‘it’s valuable to humans for some reason’. There are stories about pokemon trading things with each other or people getting frustrated when pokemon snatch food and stuff from inattentive people, but paying for things? There are pokemon species who are scarily intelligent - like Metagross or Alakazam - but even they just seem to view money as oddly valuable paper.

Which… Melody supposes makes sense? Pokemon don’t really tend to own things, but what they do want, they’re more likely to fight for rather than buy.

But then Articuno turns its head and, bird or not, there is definitely a poignant sense of 'Exactly what did you think I was doing here with a fortune worth of stones in a market place?'

Melody grins.

"Alright!" she exclaims, feeling her mental feet hit solid ground as she shoves the stones at her sister, ignoring Carol's yelp of shock. "Now THIS is my type of pokemon adventure! You have come to the right place, my friend!" She stretches her neck side to side, dramatically stretching her arms in front of her as she pops her knuckles. "If shopping's what you want then I've got this in the bag! Speaking of which: Carol, give me your wallet."

"Wha— Melody, I'm not giving you my wallet!" Carol says, snapping out of the weird half daze she's been in.

"Oh don't be stingy!" Melody says, rolling her eyes at her sister. "It's not like we have time to exchange those. Actually give me those back." She takes the bag back, fishing out two of the stones and dropping them in her sister's palm, cheekily swiping Carol's purse at the same time to her exasperated irritation. "We'll keep track of these since I'm sure Articuno wants the ones we don't need back. You go exchange those real quick and buy some sort of bag - you need a bag, right?"

The blue legendary nods, and Melody shoves the purse over her shoulder.

"Awesome. So you go buy a big backpack after you sell those and then come back so we can put stuff in it. Something from one of the trainer shops: sturdy, light, maybe a blue color." Melody gives the legendary her own narrow-eyed look of consideration, eyeing blue feathers and running through fashion trends. "Not a light blue though. Definitely a dark one, but not shiny, more a matte color. You know what? You suck at color matching. Just get a black one. Make sure it has a strong strap on the top too, so Articuno can carry it easier."

"Melody, you cannot be serious," Carol says, a familiar look of irritated resignation slipping onto her face.

"Geez, Carol. How is it that I'm the one looking after Shamouti's reputation here when you're the one involved in all the dorky community center stuff?" she asks, dumping the bag on top of one of the stall displays so she can put her hands on her hips. "This is a thousand times more interesting than that ridiculous legend festival you're so enthusiastic about—"

"The one based on the legend you actually took part in?" Carol refutes.

"—and it'll give you guys something worthwhile to add on for the tourists," Melody continues blithely. "Adding a shopping trip onto the whole thing will definitely make it less boring."

"... I can’t believe this is happening," Carol says to herself, turning away and heading down one of the main streets, probably for the island's major jewelry shop given the direction.

"Right, sooo..." Melody drawls, looking back up at Articuno. "This is a little difficult without feedback. You need blankets, right?" A nod. "Color matter?" A negative headshake. "Do you like one of those better than the other?" Articuno hesitates before holding up the thicker one. Melody purses her lips, rubbing the soft fluffiness between her fingers before comparing it to the rejected blanket. "Is it the texture or the thickness?"

Articuno pauses, cooing something before narrowing its eyes. It slips the preferred blanket off onto the table nearby and Melody idly grabs it to fold the blanket back up as the bird holds up its wing, two primary feathers raised slightly higher than the others.

"The thickness?" Another head nod.

Melody frowns, staring at the blanket and trying to figure out why an Ice pokemon would want a thick blanket. Wouldn't they dislike being warm? Maybe it's for the padding? Or maybe it's for someone else?

"Do you want comfort or insulation more?" she asks on a hunch. Articuno holds up two feathers and emphatically nods.

"Alright then!" she says cheerfully, taking the second blanket and tossing it back into the stall before grabbing the backpack. "If insulation's what's important then we'll head to one of the trainer stalls instead of this one. This one's for home use. You'll get blankets with better insulation among camping supplies and they'll fold up smaller in a backpack, too. Nod at any stalls you see with stuff you want and we'll grab those too, although maybe we should wait for Carol to get back with your bag first before buying any small items that are easy to drop. Oh hey!" Melody says, calling out to some of her neighbors. "Let my sister know where to find me once she gets back, will you?"

"I really don't think that'll be a problem, Melody," Tina says dryly, holding up her phone to take a picture.

Melody pauses to smile cockily at the camera before frowning at some of the other people in the crowd who rapidly start to get out their phones. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than take pictures of a teenage girl like a bunch of creeps. Don't be rude! Also, send me that pic, will you Tina?"

"Sure Melody," Tina says, smiling faintly as half the crowd gives Melody incredulous looks.

The Articuno is definitely amused, Melody thinks as she strides off. The pokemon follows along at her side, effortlessly ignoring the gaping humans and keeping pace with surprising grace for something that normally flies, although she supposes she shouldn't really be surprised given how quickly a Pidgey can move when grounded.

She pauses. Mental note, Melody: do not compare the Ice Titan to a Pidgey out loud.

"Sorry about the lot of them. Shamouti's a pretty small island and nothing interesting ever happened here before this last month, so no one has any chill when it comes to not acting like back-island nobodies. It's embarrassing. I mean, you guys are only a little famous, you know? It's not like a bunch of award-winning actors visited or anything. Trust me: I would be all over it if that was what was happening."

Articuno makes a soft trilling coo that Melody suspects is its way of chuckling given the amused glint in its eye and she smiles herself, resisting the urge to smirk at her own antics.

A thought occurs as they approach the wide-eyed matron running the closest camping stall, "Do you mind if I stop to buy some stylish shades, too? If I'm gonna be in pics, I wanna look my best. You never know what might kick off an acting career, you know?"

.

.

Six generic outfits for men, five pounds each of imported nuts and fruit, four insulating blankets, three sets of sandals, two lunches served by a severely shocked wait staff, and one new backpack tucked into a larger wicker basket later, Articuno has everything they need but the Shellder. And those are easy enough to fish for, if rather undignified, so long as you take a page from Slowpoke's book.

They fly back to Ice Island, wicker basket held firmly in their beak, waved off by the cheeky human girl and the far more enthusiastic islanders.

Articuno makes a mental note to stop by as Tobirama in a year or two and see what sort of effect this visit has. That Melody girl has an amusing propensity for messing with people along with a resolved decisiveness which is probably what got her involved with Slowking's prophecy weeks ago.

It will be interesting to see where she goes with her life.

.

.

You give the damn things an inch and they literally walk all over you, Moltres thinks, irritated as they wake up for the eighth day in a row to a small flock of Natu babies either intently staring at their face or hopping all over their back.

They’re beginning to regret that unspoken taboo against harming the damn Psychics.

//Good things! Good news! Patience! Have patience!// the tiny birds happily chirp, bouncing and rolling over the legendary as Moltres glares at them all in frustration.

//Bad news!// they snap, plucking the Natu off their back and out of their nest one by one as they lightly tosses the green puffballs so they roll across the floor. //There is no patience! Stop doing this when you don't have any warnings and nothing's happening! Do I look like a playground jungle gym to you hatchlings?//

//Wheeeeeee!// one of the little smartasses gleefully cries as she rolls head-over-tail across the floor, setting off all her brethren who abruptly jump right back onto Moltres' back for the brand new game, clinging to golden feathers as the firebird gives an aggravated caw and shakes them all right back off.

//Look, if it's good news then I DON'T need an advanced warning so get out already! Go practice tree walking like you should be instead of bouncing all the way up my mountain every morning!// they complain, thoroughly exasperated as they snatch up one of the babies in their beak, throwing the hatchling forward into the mountain tunnel to a joyful shriek. Moltres starts herding the rest of them out, sweeping their wings and tail forward, careful to keep the flames from burning as they roll the little nuisances out, frequently plucking yet another one of them off their back to the hatchlings’ delight.

Then all of the Natu pause, looking towards the outside tunnel with interest.

Moltres blinks, tilting their head towards that exit. They close their eyes to concentrate, crest abruptly flaring red in anger as they hear a faint greeting call from that icy peacock in the distance before squawking indignantly as the Natu all rush over or under or around the larger bird! They spin around to find a line of smug little green faces staring back at them from the edge of their nest.

//You're pushing it, you little brats,// Moltres warns, folding their wings and giving the brats a flat look.

One of the girls blinks back at them innocently.

Moltres sighs harshly, head turning at the sound of something landing on their outer ledge with an oddly heavy thump. They give the hatchlings another grumpy look before shifting to stand directly in front of, but back, from the outside tunnel, feathers puffing up around their neck in aggravation.

//Good neeeeews!// the Natu chirp together knowingly. //Good news IF patience!//

Moltres freezes, before staring at the ceiling, abruptly pained. //Have you little brats been harassing me about that pain in the wing Ice Titan for eight days?//

They coo.

//If I liked you one iota less, you'd all be on fire!// Moltres snarls.

The hatchlings don't even have the decency to pretend to believe them.

It's at this point that Articuno walks in, carrying a large basket in their beak and flicking red eyes between the irate flame pokemon and the line of tiny birds they’re glaring at.

//Am I interrupting something?// Articuno asks with cautious amusement after carefully setting the basket down.

//Yes,// Moltres says aggressively. //So feel free to go fu—//

//Good neeeeews!// the Natu sing, loudly drowning out Moltres' attempted insult before scurrying over the nest’s edge. They all hop over to the two legendaries, taking particular glee to climb up and all over Moltres as a detour on their way out the mountain tunnel.

The cheekiest of the girls pauses right on the top of Moltres' beak, pecking the larger bird affectionately between the eyes before trilling a goodbye to Articuno and fluttering off to follow her siblings.

There's a moment of silence.

//What do you want this time?// Moltres demands in a strangled voice, trying not to fidget in embarrassment in front of the amused Articuno.

The humor slowly drains out of the Ice pokemon. They look up at the firebird before silently lowering their head to push the basket forward halfway. They back up a little, watching Moltres flick cautiously curious eyes between the blue bird and the container.

//I stepped out of line earlier,// Articuno admits, holding Moltres’ gaze as dark eyes search their own. //It was... unnecessary and ill-considered and... mostly uncalled for.//

//Are you—// Moltres cuts themselves off, narrowed eyes abruptly widening in astonishment. //You are! You're apologizing!//

Articuno doesn't respond.

Moltres shifts from foot to foot, utterly thrown, darting bewildered looks between the open expression in Articuno's red eyes and the... the reconciliation gift on the floor.

Since when did they do this?

Moltres hesitates, unsure if they’re more curious about what's in the basket or more suspicious of Articuno's motives. This is... strange. Very strange. Normally after the (surprisingly) rare times their arguments turn nasty, they just avoid each other for a few years until they both calm down enough to stick to petty squabbling once again. (Provided that flying sea-monkey didn’t just drug the anger right out of them both, at any rate.) Moltres wasn't actually expecting to see Articuno for... hell, maybe a decade given that shitty move with Sheer Cold and the ocean.

//What else happened after I passed out?// Moltres asks in confusion, surprised all over again when they see Articuno subtly wince. //Given you tried to kill me, I thought you'd still be furious enough you'd roost in the Arctic or something.//

//Ah,// the ice bird shifts, pausing for a long moment before huffing, apparently irritated with their own hesitation, //Majesty-Swirls-in-Ocean-Depths was... remarkably displeased about your condition. And my behavior. And in general. And... I remembered that my original goal had been to promote cooperation. I shouldn't have taken umbrage at a perfectly understandable reaction from a fire pokemon and then contributed to the following escalation of events. I can't expect any compromise from you if I'm not willing to do so myself.//

Moltres considers that, watching Articuno for a moment before wordlessly dragging the basket forward with one foot. They deftly lift out a cloth bag sitting on top, neatly tied in a knot and smelling pleasantly of fruit, and set it to the side. It's followed by a second bag smelling deliciously of nuts - a rare treat that Moltres normally doesn't have the patience to forage for given how little food nuts provide.

And at the bottom are Shellder. Chilled, partly deshelled Shellder which Moltres almost never gets to eat given that they don't leave the water. It's a rare occasion where either the tide recedes too quickly or a storm comes in and they end up on the beach where Moltres can nab them. The last time they got to eat one of these was years ago from an unfairly clever group of Magmar who had wanted transport to Cinnabar Island since the volcano there was becoming more active. They still don't know how the other fire pokemon managed to catch the bivalves!

It's possible that Moltres makes a really undignified sound right then.

//So you do like them,// Articuno says, sounding a little self-satisfied.

//Don't be a smug bastard,// Moltres replies automatically, barely paying attention as they stare at the Shellder, trying to decide if they want them raw or if they want to heat them up. Didn't they accidentally overcook them last time or was that something else? Was that the mussels that a trainer had tried to lure them in with when they had been shifted as Flareon? //How did you even find out about the Shellder?//

//Instinct-Zings-Up-Numbing-Arcs,// Articuno says, watching Moltres rapidly repack the treats. //Apparently the sight of you failing to wrangle baby Magby was just too precious to not be shared with the world.//

//Goddamn unhelpful spark plug has the biggest mouth for anything even slightly embarrassing, I swear,// Moltres complains to themselves, slipping their long neck through the basket's handle and carrying it over to their nest. It takes a moment to adjust things to be comfortable while still having a flat enough area to unpack the contents without spilling them everywhere.

Then they turn to stare expectantly at Articuno.

And stare some more.

And then Moltres' expression turns pained because the damn ice bird is apparently content to just idly examine the walls and wait while Moltres eats and really, OK, that's... that's an improvement they suppose and very polite and...

Damn it, they’re going to actually have to say it for this to work, aren’t they?

//Well?// Moltres asks impatiently, fidgeting in place.

Articuno just gives them a blank inquiring look, watching the fire pokemon fidget and glare before sighing explosively.

//Look, I don't care if it would be polite: you can't have any of the Shellder, now are you coming or not?// Moltres demands, head dipping in defensive aggression as they refuse to look at the Articuno.

Articuno tilts their head, red eyes failing to catch the evasive firebird's own before slowly walking over. They pause again right before Moltres’ nest, but Moltres still refuses to look at them.

With a faint feeling of bewilderment and something a bit short of cautious optimism, Articuno steps into Moltres' nest for the first time ever and curls up on the other side of the basket.

It's small enough that parts of them are pressed lightly against one another. Moltres' flaming tail lies surprisingly cool against Articuno's side, throwing glints of red, white, and gold light onto blue feathers. Articuno's tail feathers - always mildly inconvenient at several times their body length - curl around the circumference of the nest: flowing first around Moltres' body, then around their own, and ending in a smooth taper of blue at the center of the firebird's back.

Moltres pauses while taking the fruit package back out to give the cerulean feathers an uncertain look, eyes darting from the cool sheen of blue on gold to Articuno's sharp red eyes and back again before resolutely deciding to ignore it. They dump the fruit and nuts to the left and then precede to stare for a few moments at the Shellder again.

Articuno is almost certain they hear a soft, pleased coo from the prickly bird before Moltres dips into the basket and neatly snatches up the first Shellder.

The Ice Titan trills softly in amusement, ignoring a grumpy glare (which is a little too pleased to be successfully annoyed) and unwraps both the fruit and nuts with careful tugs on the cloth package's knot. They nudge aside the inner saran wrap and pick a few slices of mango before staring with interest at Moltres' tail.

The distracted fire pokemon pauses to give them a baffled look when Articuno shifts their leg to nudge against the bright plumage. //What are you doing?//

//I always thought your tail would be hot,// Articuno explains, snatching up an orange segment before nudging the flames again. It was interesting: like touching a faintly warm scarf made of breezy Spinarak silk or warm powdered snow, for all that was an impossible paradox. It was clearly there and it had substance, but it was almost not there at the same time.

Moltres narrows their eyes again, neck feathers fluffing up a bit as they slowly sneak their tail closer to their own body, not actually managing to get it out of contact with the now openly curious Ice pokemon. //It's similar to a Ponyta's mane. Surely you've seen those?// they divert, grabbing another Shellder and moving the leftover shells out of the nest to rest on the floor.

//Seeing's hardly the same. And just because they can avoid burning humans doesn’t mean that it couldn’t be hot,// Articuno argues, resisting the urge to nudge the glowing tail again, eyes shifting thoughtfully to Moltres' wings and crest. //Is it difficult to make your flames cool? I haven't seen a Charmander whose flame didn't burn.//

Moltres stares at them, savoring the morsel of Shellder before snorting. //Was the food intended to double as a bribe for your curiosity as well or is that just an incidental benefit? What do you want me to say? No? I don't know, is it hard to not make snow every time you flap your wings? If I want it to burn, it burns. If I want it not to, it doesn't. If I'm stressed it tends to burn anyway, but it would be damn inconvenient to set my nest on fire every time I fell asleep. And have you seen baby Ponyta?// Moltres starts laughing lightly in genuine amusement. //They're hilarious: they fall over all the time. It's like they're walking on stilts instead of legs. They'd all starve to death if the foals kept setting the grass on fire every time they tripped.//

//So not burning is the default then?// Articuno asks, curious at the unexpected answer. //Even a Charmander's tail flame?//

//Hell if I know. I never asked. Was a Charmander once: never again! Having that tail flame is unnerving: it was like willingly flying through a thundersnow. Ask one yourself if you're so damn curious.//

Articuno gives them an irritated look. //I've yet to meet one of that evolution line that will talk about their tail much.//

//I wonder why,// Moltres says, an edge of something nasty to the statement before they stop themselves, breath out forcibly, and grab a mouthful of hazelnuts to chomp down on violently.

//... what?// Moltres grits out a minute later when all Articuno's done is consider them closely.

//You're much less angry than I expected you to be,// Articuno says bluntly, watching Moltres aggressively pick up another Shellder.

Dark eyes shift over to the ice pokemon as Moltres savors their treat, tension seeping out of their shoulders slowly. They swallow, puffing out a bit of smoke just to watch Articuno jerk back in reflex and glare at them. //I suppose there's a few reasons. One: even out cold, the sea-witch's damn melody works a bit. Two: a Xatu actually made the trek down to the beach when I woke up, and the detailed rendition she gave of you getting curbstomped all over the sky was deeply satisfying, even second hand. It's a tragedy that I missed it.//

Moltres picks up some of the papaya, ignoring how the temperature drops several degrees as Articuno starts glaring. //Three: your attempt to kill me is actually less irritating than dealing with eight days of Natu babies bouncing around, getting underfoot, pulling out feathers, climbing all over, interfering in hunting, and generally being exhausting nuisances... All of which is a hell of a lot more suspect right now than it was an hour ago. Damn Psychics and their meddling.//

//...Are you implying you were intentionally distracted from holding a grudge?// the Ice Titan asks skeptically, not sure they actually believe what they’re hearing.

Moltres glares at them. //How about we interpret it as a dozen babies being more of a challenge than you are?// they say, scooping up some more hazelnuts and a few walnuts.

//You do realize,// Articuno says, refusing to take the bait, //that you just said that infants are enough to outmatch you in a war of attrition.//

Moltres freezes, lifts their head to glare at Articuno, and then crunches the nuts pointedly.

//Your intimidation tactics could use work,// Articuno responds indifferently.

//That offer to fuck off is still open,// Moltres grumbles, grabbing the last Shellder and drooping a bit at the empty basket before turning back to the rest of the food.

Articuno rolls their eyes, //We still have business to discuss.//

//If it involves me and oceans the 'discussion' is NO.//

//Leaving while there's stable weather and calm seas would be wisest.//

//It's the leaving part I object to in the first place!//

//You can catch Shellder as a human,// Articuno points out, a sneaky edge to their voice, watching Moltres choke on papaya as the firebird starts laughing at the transparent bride. //It's faster as a bird, but you can do it as a human if you find a proper fishing rod.//

//It's impossible as a bird,// Moltres refutes, unwillingly amused as they gulp down the last few pieces of fruit, nudging the handful of leftover nuts over to Articuno before shoving the leftover trash back in the basket and starting to preen. //You just don't understand how intolerable the ocean actually is.//

//...No. No, I suppose I don't,// Articuno says thoughtfully, red eyes tracing over flickering flames. //Wasn't it any better as a human though?//

Moltres shifts, holding feathers tight at the uncomfortable memory.

Articuno sighs, shoving aside any impatience. //We'll wait then. There's hardly any point to dragging you unwillingly. And I can barely imagine what nonsense you'll spread if you get drenched again.//

Moltres grimaces at the memory as Articuno stands, slipping out of the nest and grabbing the basket.

The Fire Titan hesitates but— //The egg-stealer comment,// they start, watching from the corner of their eye as Articuno looks back, muscles tensing under blue feathers, //it was ridiculous. Only an ignorant fool would ever believe it.//

//You have a lot of fools on Fire Island then,// Articuno says icily, red eyes narrowing in displeasure.

//Probably. But your timing really was shit if you didn't want to be used as a scapegoat. Firing ice attacks on a island that was violently frozen recently? Not your smartest move: it made the ambush easy to arrange. Your floating ice cube better show a lot higher level of forethought. If I fall in again, I’ll move to fucking Cinnabar!//

Articuno drops the basket abruptly, spinning around to pin Moltres with an head-on stare. //You're trying again. Now?//

The fire legendary shifts their weight, stubbornly silent as their golden neck lowers in mulish aggression, dark eyes avoiding red.

Articuno cocks their head to the side. //... Is this your apology then?// they ask rhetorically, unsurprised when all they get is Moltres further hunching their neck. //Well. Give me two hours, and I'll meet you on the beach.//

Moltres watches the other legendary depart in a swirl of gleaming blue and shudders once they’re gone, ripples of disgust raising all their feathers at the thought of that hated water closing over their head again.

I should have stuck with being a bastard, Moltres thinks wistfully as they gather power for the transformation. Acting like a bastard is so much easier than this.

.

.

Tobirama's barely within the two hour limit he set when he and Spring-Dawns-Early return to Fire Island with his new backpack.

"Easy, easy," Tobirama whispers as they approach familiar rocks, holding steady as the Dewgong carefully slows down. "This will be a lot easier on his nerves if everything's under control, and panicky fire pokemon bode well for no one."

The Dewgong snorts, barking in agreement as they float to a stop near the shore.

Tobirama gets out, ignoring the calf-deep water that splashes up to dampen the edges of his shorts, and helps haul the ice boat up onto the rocky sand. He grabs the backpack and gives Spring-Dawns-Early a thankful nudge as he walks over to the waiting Madara.

"You do know," Tobirama asks, looking upward with a faint smirk at the fire pokemon sitting on a five foot tall outcrop, "that the ocean can't actually jump up and get you, right? Climbing this rock was a little unnecessary."

Madara spares him a glare before turning a viciously unhappy look back on the water ten feet away. "You say that like Kyogre can't drown us all with ease just by having a tantrum around Groudon."

"Do I need to check you for head damage if you're starting to think that's plausible? It's far more probable that the three of us will nearly destroy the world again before those two do it." He kneels down to open up his pack, ignoring the curious shadow that falls over him as he shuffles Water Stones and a bag of pokedollars to the side. He fishes out the crimson tee-shirt, black shorts, and red-gold sports sandals he'd picked out for Madara yesterday. "Here, put these on."

"Where did you get these?" Madara asks, frowning as he takes the clothes, comparing them to the blue and white version Tobirama was wearing.

"From Shamouti Island."

"Did you steal them off a clothesline or something?"

"Don't be absurd. I bought them with funds from a Water Stone."

"Well, I'll give you this," Madara says, a few minutes later after swinging one leg back down over the rock edge as he finishes putting on his other sandal, "it must have been a pretty well played series of events for you to buy them nude without the humans making a fuss."

"I didn't buy them as Tobirama," he corrects, looking over the clothes. They're a bit bigger on Madara than he normally sees humans wear, but better that than too small. "Are you coming down now?”

The brunet sends an uneasy look towards the ocean before abruptly frowning, looking back to Tobirama as he jumps off the stone, neatly landing on his feet. "Wait... did you— did you buy them as Articuno?" Madara asks incredulously.

"Of course. How else?" Tobirama says, narrowing his eyes at the brunet slightly. That had been remarkably graceful for a pokemon who'd been tripping on flat stone a week ago. "Did you practice as Madara since our fight?"

"No!" Madara snaps, clearly lying as he flushes. "And what do you mean how else? In what world would that be the assumption? And why do you not have sandals on if I do?"

"I don't want them getting wet when I push the boat off the sand. Are you ready?" Tobirama asks, moving a bit to the side.

Madara grimaces, baring his teeth and taking a deep breath. He takes a few steps forward and—

"You!" the firebird hisses, red flickering back into his hair as he glares at the Dewgong.

The sea lion pokemon laughs nervously and sinks down a bit farther into the water.

Tobirama snags Madara by the back of his shirt before he can angrily stomp forward. "Madara, this is Spring-Dawns-Early. He's extremely repentant about contributing to your misfortune and has volunteered to assist in a calm, slow, and gentle ride for our next trips to make it up to you in a way which specifically doesn't end up with him turned into charcoal. Unless, of course, you'd like me to propel us with Hurricane again?" he asks, raising a white eyebrow and giving the man a pointed look.

"...you and logic," Madara mutters resentfully, following behind Tobirama with an irritated aura, still glaring at the younger pokemon lounging near the boat. Madara slows as Tobirama steps into the bare edge of the tide to brace the boat's side, carefully placing his sandaled feet to avoid the water and staying near the oval boat's prow.

"Why are there blankets?" Madara asks, confused as he looks at the layers resting on the bottom of the boat.

"They're insulation blankets," Tobirama answers. "They're meant to impede the transmission of heat so warmth isn't lost in cold environments. For our purposes, it means that even if you startle or get very uncomfortable, they'll prevent you from melting through the boat again provided you don't actually set them on fire."

Madara bites the inside of his cheek, gives Tobirama a look that's probably far more unsure than he means it to seem, and then reluctantly climbs inside.

"Just stay on the blankets themselves instead of gripping the boat," the Ice pokemon advises, letting Madara get settled in a tense cross-legged position before shoving them off and swinging himself and the backpack in as Spring-Dawns-Early slowly starts swimming.

Madara's hands snap out to close on the boat before flinching back from the ice. He clenches his hands in the cloth of his shorts as Tobirama sits down in front of him, shooting compulsive looks at the water all around them, posture as rigid as a Roggenrola.

They are not, Tobirama thinks, watching strands of Madara's hair light up like a shrinking fuse, going to make it to Lightning at this rate.

"Turn around," Tobirama says calmly, planting his feet on either side of the boat, momentarily regretting that human vocal cords can’t croon properly even if that wouldn't just set the firebird off in a proudly indignant huff.

"Why?" Madara demands sharply, winding tighter the farther they travel from Fire's shores.

The Ice legendary just raises a white eyebrow and rotates his wrist in a silent command.

Dark eyes glare at him before the man carefully shuffles around inch by inch until he's facing the prow, back to Tobirama in what's a comforting show of trust now that the Articuno thinks of it.

Tobirama slips careful hands around to the front of Madara's throat, feeling the man twitch in surprise. He lightly drags fingertips along either side of the brunet's neck, gathering up the wildly thick hair and gently pulling it out from Madara's shirt so that it falls down his back. He murmurs quiet encouragement to the stressed pokemon, tugging lightly at Madara's shoulders to get him to scoot further back, and the next time the boat sways, Tobirama presses his calves into Madara's sides.

Hands latch around his ankles like vices as Madara braces himself, and Tobirama starts carding his fingers through the long hair in front of him. It's very different from the sensation of preening, and human fingers aren't really designed to work with hair as well as beaks work with feathers, but it seems to help. Madara's breathing starts to steady, and some of the strands of white and red hair tangled between Tobirama's fingers slowly darken to ebony once more.

Of course, Tobirama's not sure he'll be able to walk by the time they get there if Madara's fingers don't stop imitating a Kingler's grip, but that's a problem for later.

"We'll get you a few hair bands or some ribbons if you really want to keep your hair this long," Tobirama starts after finally getting the worst of the knots out.

"Why bother?" Madara asks, a bit tense but at least not twitching any longer.

"Human hair is much more difficult to keep in order than long tail feathers. Wind constantly blows it all about." Then Tobirama snorts lightly, a wry smirk edging onto his face as he divides the long hair into three, slowly repeating the braiding process he had seen done a few times before. "Although I suppose you wouldn't have experience with either of those problems since your longest plumage isn't properly physical."

"Fine. Fine. Wha-whatever," Madara snaps, shuddering minutely as Spring-Dawns-Early shifts their course to better work with the currents.

"Here," Tobirama offers, pulling braided black hair forward over Madara's shoulder. "I need you to hold this so it doesn't come undone."

Madara pauses before reaching up his left hand to grasp the braid's end, leaving Tobirama to wince unseen behind him as the other man’s right hand tightens reflexively, doing its best to grind the Articuno's ankle bones together.

"Alright," Tobirama says, tone ruthlessly controlled as he grasps Madara's shoulders firmly. "Now let go of my other ankle for just a moment."

"Why?" the legendary asks suspiciously, clutching his braid against his chest with the same white knuckled grip that a child would use on a favored Teddiursa doll.

"Are you scared?" Tobirama asks, a mockingly amused tone to his voice.

Madara snarls in irritation, letting go with his right hand to gesture jerkily. "You don't have to be scared to think that an overgrown, discolored Delibird like you is up to somethING!"

Tobirama yanks Madara back by his shoulders, ignoring his yelp and sending the other man sprawling against him before swiftly cupping careful hands over startled eyes.

"What are you doing!" Madara squeaks, both hands latching onto Tobirama's wrists as he jerks against Tobirama's bracketing knees before abruptly freezing as the boat rocks.

"Trying to reduce stress," Tobirama says dryly, amused at the way Madara had kept the braid in hand long enough to catch the end between his hand and Tobirama's pulse. He presses Madara's head back against his stomach as the other tries to get up, ignoring how Madara tries to headbutt him. "It should feel a lot more stable when you lay down, doesn't it?"

"I am not stressed!"

"Of course you're not," Tobirama snorts, looking at the quarter of Madara's hair still stubbornly flame colored. He uncups his hand from Madara's right eye and smirks down into the one-eyed glare as he runs his fingers through long black bangs in a slow, repetitive motion. "Well, if you're that unbothered, why don't you exercise that rarely used intelligence of yours and try to poke holes in my plans. The attempt should be entertaining."

"What plans?" Madara scoffs. "So far you look like you're just bullshitting your way through problems using sass, sneakiness, and spontaneous moments of mediocrity. Do you even have a single idea what to say if people ask questions? Humans are terribly nosy about other humans and those blue-haired women with the Growlithe obsession are even more so."

Tobirama smirks. "Don't be obtuse on the easy questions. Isn't it obvious? We'll be pokemon trainers."

The boat jerks slightly as their Dewgong helper turns his head back for a moment, but Madara doesn't even notice. He's too busy staring up at Tobirama's smug expression with an incredulous look, mouth open slightly and hands finally loosening their grip around the white-haired man's wrists.

"You want," Madara confirms slowly, "us to be pokemon, pretending to be human... pretending to be pokemon trainers."

"Can you think of a better idea?" Tobirama asks, raising an eyebrow. "There are a limited number of humans who can match the knowledge we've gained over the centuries. And pokemon are everywhere which means there are ready excuses for a trainer to be anywhere they want to be."

An amused grin sneaks its way onto Madara's face against his will. "I think I've underestimated your sense of humor. And how exactly do you plan to explain the fact we have no pokeballs, no pokemon, and none of those red pokedexes that seem so popular with the more skilled trainers?"

Red eyes glint as a darker humor surfaces under Tobirama's smirk. "Team Rocket."

Madara laughs.

Articuno watches the Fire Titan break down laughing, and laughing, and laughing, completely forgetting about the moving boat as he chokes on his delight, wheezing at the twisted joke until he can't even make sound, just shake against the Ice Titan. Articuno keeps running fingers through Madara’s hair - a solid black now to his smug satisfaction - and admits that he's particularly fond of this part of their cover story himself.

The international group of kidnappers and slavers have been a devoted menace since their very inception. They have caused harm to pokemon and humans alike, and they are the face of some of humanity's worst traits. There are some better members, like those fools that helped Mito, but even they contribute to the overall problem.

There are also some worse ones. Members far worse than that collector who wanted them imprisoned on his ship like priceless unharmed trophies to display. The worse members of Team Rocket want to know how pokemon tick. Even legendaries. Maybe especially legendaries. They're the most obsessed, the most determined, and the most likely to pose a threat to all of them. Mito said she'd even heard rumors they'd recently given Mew trouble.

Of course, those types of humans only tend to do so once.

After all, legendaries don't stay free for centuries by being nice with humans who'd treat them like playthings.

So there's a certain satisfaction to be found in getting more use out of Team Rocket than just additional bones to bury under their beaches.

"You," Madara says, voice slightly hoarse as he cranes his head back a bit and viciously smiles up at him, "are brilliant. I have a suggestion."

"Oh?"

Madara's smile gains teeth. "You can't kill an Arbok unless you cut it off at the head. If we're playing human anyway, let's find this particular Arbok's head. That sounds like an excellent activity for promoting cooperation."

Tobirama trails his fingers down Madara's cheek, frost edging black hair only to steam away immediately. He covers Madara's eye again without objection this time, tracing that predatory smile with an edge of anticipation rising in his chest.

"Why not?" he agrees, feeling Madara squeeze his wrists lightly. "Challenging hunts have a rare appeal."