eventually, i will become...

What Moon can do, though, is not turn her head back around to look Red in the face, like somebody not clearly trying to hide horrible embarrassment. What Moon can do is try her best— Arceus, she is really, really trying her best— to calm down, take deep breaths; to focus on the task at hand, and forget the rest.

Above all, she tries to ignore the look her raichu is giving her. The weird look. The very pointed look. Surely, Pyxis has seen Moon embarrassed before. Surely, starstruck Moon isn’t that bizarre a sight. She really hopes it isn’t, because that’d mean she’s embarrassing herself even more than originally thought.

Ahhhh no! No. Moon just has to focus.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Upon approaching the exeggutor, Moon had dropped into a half-squat, speaking to it in what she hopes is a soothing, steady murmur. The last thing she wants is to agitate the poor thing further. “We’re going to try and move you upright, if that’s okay with you?”

Moon closes her eyes. Now, the question is, how, exactly, they are to accomplish that? Pyxis’ psychic typing and powers might be a good bet, but as powerful as Pyxis is in battle, Moon isn’t unprepared to admit she’s not trained her pokémon in the art of heavy lifting...

She almost jumps a foot as Red seems to materialise behind her, his voice startling her out of her thoughts. She musn’t have noticed him approach. She only just manages to catch the tail end of his question. Ah, shit.

What do I have...?

Moon tries not to look so awfully, embarrassingly, obviously caught off guard as she rises to stand once again, sneakers toeing the dirt.

It’s a shame she’s always been bad at this sort of thing. Bad at saying what she means, in a way that doesn’t feel forced and superficial, at best. This isn’t like when Sun simply wanted to shoot for the championship; there’s no clear solution, no tangible end-goal in sight. Moon doesn’t know how to say that she’d give anything for Sun to feel less terrible. She doesn’t know how to say that she’d give anything for the both of them to feel less terrible, in general.

Moon settles for meeting Sun’s eyes, letting silence awash, wondering if she ought to say something more. She finds that she’s spending a lot of time, in a lot of situations, wondering if she ought to say something more.

What she says, instead, is:

Moon doesn’t call for Cetus to dodge; there’s no need. Already anticipating her command, Cetus swerves left and right, shifting just so. Just enough that Hibi’s thunderbolt, jagged arcs of electricity raising the hair on Moon’s arms, illuminating their half of the battlefield, misses Cetus by a hair width.

A rush of air, exhaled sharply through her nose. Moon’s shoulders fall, relieved, but only just for a moment— adrenaline rushes through her veins, once again. Moon chews her lip, taking the split-second it takes to confirm that Cetus has indeed escaped Hibi’s thunderbolt, unscathed, and both pokémon reorient themselves, to choose 

Play rough is always a risk: straying too close to Hibi will leave Cetus vulnerable; the slimmer the distance between the two pokémon, the slimmer Cetus’ odds of successfully dodging an attack would be. Cetus would have to cross the entire battle field to even attempt approach Hibi, in the first place. Cetus’ disguise has also already been triggered— play rough is always a risk, but is it one worth taking?

Powered up by swords dance, it just might be. Hau and Hibi might be able to squeeze in an attack or two in the time it takes to see if Moon’s gamble will pay off, but what Cetus lacks in speed, it makes up for in offensive power.

And Moon, more than anything right now, wants to see her investments pay off.

It’s Sun that usually gets recognised, given that he’s Alola’s real champion, but with Moon covering for him, she’s not without her fair share of attention when she’s working, too.  But here, she’s just another audience member. It feels different. It feels like before, when she always battled for fun, and she and her pokémon shared the same wish; when their hearts beat together, in tandem. When she’s tuned into the feelings of another, when she gets to feel it too.

... Maybe it feels like that, but not as intense, obviously. But... It’s still nice. Like that.

Either way, Moon’s perfectly content to hang out somewhere in the back, watching as excited audience members trickle in, filling out the rows and rows in front of her. Her leg bounces, up and down, tense with a nervous, tentative sort of excitement. She’s feeling new, she’s feeling different; so she’s determined to enjoy herself, tonight.

The flyer she’d received from the Resort staff had included a photograph of tonight’s star performer— Lisia, a famous pokémon idol and actress from Hoenn. Moon’s not really heard of her before, but... Uh.

Staring at her picture too long makes something stir in Moon’s chest, and her cheeks warm up, just a little bit.

...

Getting to meet Red is been something Moon’s wanted for the better part of a decade and a half, give or take some. But now she’s here, and it’s really, actually happening, she feels like she’s really, definitely messing this up.

In the end, she manages to squeak, “T-Thanks!” Her voice sounds too timid, too high-pitched to be her own. But there’s no running away from this; not if she doesn’t want to embarrass herself any more than she has already.

“Ah... You too.”

He doesn’t need her to tell him that! Red’s moves are always good. What in the world is coming out of her mouth? Please. Somebody stop her.

Moon’s cheeks are burning. She turns away, hopefully so as to hide the look of extreme embarrassment on her face from Red as she’s facepalming at herself, mentally.

But now, Moon can’t be surprised— because it’s Lillie. Especially because it’s Lillie, who she’d leapt through an Ultra Wormhole for. Lillie, who she’s known for years, who she hasn’t seen for years more. Lillie, who probably has a billion better, more interesting things to do than whatever dumb, utterly unplanned thing that Moon fails to stop herself from suggesting.

Really. Who invites someone out without a good plan in mind?

Moon has no right to be surprised. Clearly, Moon doesn’t tend to do much careful thinking where Lillie’s concerned.

Still, she tries. She wants to do the best that she can, and better. She wants to go above and beyond. Moon had spent weeks bent over books in Malie City’s library, looking for an idea good enough, before finally stumbling across mention of another of Alola’s ancient ruins. One that— after Moon clears her schedule for a day to personally visit and scope the place out— appears to have potential to be interesting enough to be worth Lillie’s time.

The Lake of the Moone is as mysterious to Moon as the Altar of the Sunne had once been, and still is. But it’s not the thought of stepping into the Alolan unknown that forces her stomach to turn somersaults. She and Lillie and Sun and Hau had traversed the wilds together, before— it’d been fun then, so why shouldn’t it be fun again, now? Moon wants none of this inexplicable anxiety business. Moon’s chest has no business feeling this tight.

Distantly, self-consciousness warms Moon’s cheeks. The coincident fact that she, of all people, is taking somebody to see the Lake of the Moone, isn’t lost on her. She hopes that it isn’t weird. She really hopes that it isn’t weird, because she does not, in fact, have a back up plan.

Charizard’s gradual swoops, lower and lower, and the pressure change popping in Moon’s ears, draws her out of her thoughts. They’re low enough now that she can make out individual boats approaching to dock at Malie Pier. 

When they land, Moon checks the time; she’s... not late after all. Which is a relief. She only wishes her still-thundering pulse had gotten the message. Sliding off charizard’s back, Moon pets its neck in thanks, offering it a handful of beans before it takes off again.

Then, Moon is left alone.

Turning to join the crowd gathered to welcome the ship’s passengers onto land, Moon feels like she’s swallowed bubbles for breakfast. As she peers past the crowd, squints, and spots a familiar head of blonde hair making its way off the gangplank, Moon’s stomach feels like it’s training for a professional career in acrobatics.

She swallows hard. Takes a deep breath, before gathering herself up on tiptoes.

Hat in hand, Moon waves, hoping Lillie’ll spot the shock of red and make her way over.

Besides, the train of embarrassing public displays of affection had already left the station; and who cares, really, if everyone else around them is doing the same? As Sun pulls away, Moon throws her arms around him again, squeezing gently. She’s missed him so much.

“It’s so good to have you back,” she says, somewhat into his shoulder, and though he can’t see it, earnestness shines in her eyes. Then, playfulness. “Alola’s missed its Champion. Or, I have.”

Pulling away, Moon toes the boardwalk, suddenly shy again. Boldness, she finds, is fleeting.

In the tall grass behind her, pokémon are taking to the hills— yungoos, stufful, and pikipek, mostly. Moon herself whips around, shocked. Eyes wide, her arm falls limp at her side.

It’s not every day one sees a snorlax running— or, is it jogging? She’s not quite sure what to call it, much less make of it. Moon’s watched more taped recordings of Red’s battles than she’d care to admit, quite a number of them featuring his snorlax, too; enough to know a snorlax fights, and what to expect. But she’s still not quite sure what to make of the odd pat-down dance that Red’s pokémon is doing, either. Not until she finally notices the tiny pink thing that the snorlax is trying to combat, clambering all over its massive form.

... Is that a stufful?

... ... What???

Frowning, Moon has to force herself to rip her eyes from the bizarre scene and turn away, shaking her head and slapping her cheeks a few times for good measure. Focus. Focus!

The plan is simple, uncomplicated. She’ll deal with the remaining flying types first; at least, all those still causing a ruckus. Then, she’ll handle the pokémon on the ground: yungoos, gumshoos, stufful, a few pikipek. With any luck, she’ll be able to keep the panicking, bystander pokémon distracted enough to keep them from interfering with Red’s snorlax as it does— whatever it needs to do. Helping the flailing exeggutor will be easier without pokémon flopping all over it, too.