Volo x Reader - You're Alive!?
Reader struggles to get their life together after returning from Hisui. Then they run into someone who definitely shouldn't still be alive. Word Count: 3158
You missed your friends in Hisui. You missed Akarai and Rei and Laventon. You missed Adaman and Irida. You missed Cylene. You even missed Kamado. It had been about a year since you had returned from the past, tumbling out of the last space-time distortion. Dialga and Palkia had ensured you would make it safely home the moment you left. It was like you were never gone at all.
It had been nearly impossible to piece your life back together the first few months. Everyone around you was exactly the same as when you had left. And you? You felt like an entirely different person. And you were mourning. Everyone you had come to care about in Hisui had died nearly a century ago.
You tracked down a few of their descendants. It had taken a while, researching census data and stalking social media pages. Laventon’s family had returned to Galar, and one of his great great great grandkids was even studying to be a professor. Adaman and Irida’s family lines mixed sometime after you left, but you hadn’t been able to figure out if they had gotten together or if it was their kids. You followed their granddaughter’s social media. She took some really nice pictures. Kamado’s grandson was a professor in Sinnoh, it seemed.
Over the course of your research, you had also come across the very shocking revelation that either Cogita or Volo had descendants in Sinnoh, as well. What’s more, that descendant was the champion. Well, ex-champion, but still. The videos of her battles sent chills down your spine. She used nearly the same team as…him.
You reached out, hardly expecting a response, but she didn’t even question your ‘I fell through a space-time distortion and maybe met your great great great grandpa who was super evil’ story. She just answered any questions you had and asked a few of her own. (Apparently, someone else had summoned Giratina not too long ago, and it didn’t go well for them.) She also pointed you in the direction of the Lumiose Museum, which apparently had an entire exhibit dedicated to Hisui.
You took the next flight there, your suitcase stuffed haphazardly with a random assortment of clothes you had grabbed from the pile on your floor.
The flight to Kalos was long, but you couldn’t fall asleep. The train ride from the airport to Lumiose City felt like an eternity. But eventually, you made it. You ditched your bag at the first (affordable) hotel you found. There had been some ad for it online with maybe three views, but the place looked nice enough.
It took a while to find the Lumiose Museum, but you found it. The person behind the desk tried to greet you, but you bee-lined for the main exhibit without so much as a hello. You had practically memorized the museum map from their website, which you had looked at while you were on the train.
Your breath caught as soon as the exhibit came into view. It was all here. Kamado’s armor was sitting inside of a glass case. Professor Laventon’s sketches were hanging on the wall. A uniform, much like the one hanging in your closet back home, was displayed.
You walk slowly around the exhibit, taking it all in.
You stop to stare up at one mannequin in particular. White tunic. Green pants. You would recognize those weird clothes anywhere. You read the small plaque: ‘This outfit is said to have been worn by the ancient Sinnoh people during their rituals. This group worshiped the Pokémon Arceus as an almighty deity. It is thought that they showed their respect by mimicking Arceus's appearance—even reflected in the way they styled their hair.’
You stare at it for a long time, the world disappearing around you. You remember his smile as he introduced himself for the first time. You remember how he comforted you during your exile. You remember him screaming for your demise. Tears fall before you can stop them.
“Appreciating the exhibit?” the question jolts you out of your daydream, and you quickly wipe your eyes. You hadn’t even noticed the man standing next to you until he spoke. “Are you a historian? I can’t say I’ve seen anyone moved to tears by a few old rags before.”
“I guess you could say that,” you blush. You don’t feel like explaining your entire life’s story to a stranger. Especially not here. But something about him is familiar. It’s hard to see his face past the brim of his baseball cap and the hood of his sweatshirt, but the way he speaks, the way he holds himself, you swear you’ve met before. Was he a descendant of someone? Or had you seen him before your adventure in Hisui and forgotten him? That before seemed like forever ago.
“Ah! Always happy to meet someone interested in the past,” the stranger smiles. Something about the way he does it puts you on edge. “Have you read much on these relics? Such an interesting time.”
“Uh, not much,” you hadn’t bothered to read many history books recently. Especially considering how much they got wrong. “Are you a historian?”
“Me? Oh, no. I am a mere admirer of ruins,” he smiles, and it clicks. You take a step back, hand flying to one of the Pokeballs hanging from your belt.
“V-Volo!?” you take another step back, ready for him to attack.
“Ah! So it is you! I was curious if you had made it back, or if the resemblance was merely imagined,” Volo says it in the same chipper voice he used during most of your adventure. Before he had revealed his true intentions. Before he had revealed he had been using you the whole time. He tips his hat back, and you can see his face. He looks exactly the same. He hasn’t aged a day.
“How? How are you here?” you try to keep your voice level, not wanting to draw too much attention, but you still grip the Pokeball tighter. Who knows what Volo had up his sleeve this time around? “Y-you should be dead by now.”
“Ah, alas, Arceus has decided I will not know death for a while. Divine punishment. Or perhaps it is simply an unfortunate side effect of the meddling I’ve done with great powers,” Volo’s smile tightens, and you detect the faintest hint of anger in his voice.
“So you’re, what? Immortal?” The thought of Volo of all people living forever is horrifying.
“I suppose,” he hums. “Quite the curse, eh?”
“Curse?” you ask. Why would he call living forever a curse? “I thought you vowed to conquer Arceus, no matter how many centuries it took. Destroy the world and all that jazz?”
“Yes, yes. I did say that,” he nods thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is why I am able to be here now. Arceus certainly has a sense of humor. But you needn’t worry. I abandoned that crusade.”
“Why would I ever believe anything you say ever again?” You spit the words out like venom.
“Yeah, that’s probably deserved,” he laughs. “But! Perhaps a bit of evidence would do you well, seeing as you can’t take me at my word?”
You shouldn’t trust him. You shouldn’t. What if he was planning this? What if he had prepared for your return in advance? Any evidence he had would be worthless. Still, you find yourself hesitantly nodding.
“See this?” he points to the outfit behind the glass. “I donated it to the museum, myself. I certainly don’t plan on using it again.”
“Maybe you just realized how stupid you looked wearing it and decided to wear something else next time you try to control a deity,” you frown. This didn’t prove anything. He didn’t get to waltz back into your life again. He didn’t get to lie to you again. He didn’t get to pretend to care about you again.
“Perhaps,” he winces. “Although, I must say I’m not the one who designed it.”
You don’t say anything, still stanced as if a battle would break out at any moment.
“In any case,” he continues, “I suppose I best be off. Wouldn’t want to spoil your reminiscing.” He turns to leave, and you reach forward.
“Oh no you don’t,” you grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He raises one eyebrow, glancing at your hand. “I’m not going to let you run off and almost destroy the whole world again.”
“I promise I won’t?” he shrugs. “Nearly two centuries is plenty of time for character development.”
“Yeah? How do I know you’ve changed? You tore holes in space and time, for crying out loud,” you think back to the frenzied nobles, the darkened sky, all of it. Now that you think about it, it was odd that wild Pokemon in Lumiose were apparently mega evolving on their own, with no trainer bond to speak of. Maybe that was Volo’s fault. If he was here, it couldn’t be good for Kalos.
“Would anything I do or say ever convince you?” The question is rhetorical. You both know the answer is a resounding no. Nothing would ever make up for what he had done. At least not fully. Even if he had changed and you became best of friends, there would always be the voice in the back of your head wondering if this, too, was a lie. Your grip loosens on his arm, and Volo releases himself from your hold. He rubs his wrist. How hard had you grabbed him?
“Sorry,” you mutter, glancing away from him. He sighs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was a little weird seeing him in modern clothes, now that you thought about it.
“Your reaction is understandable. Warranted, even,” he looks away, and you follow his gaze to a few of Laventon’s sketches on the wall. He looks… sad? Nostalgic, maybe. “Perhaps we should chat somewhere where the past isn’t looming over us.”
“Probably a good idea,” you glance one last time at the outfit behind the glass. Your reflection stares back.
“There’s a nice coffee shop not too far away,” Volo suggests, his chipper voice and smile back in place. “Drinks on me.”
“Okay,” you agree hesitantly, following him as he begins walking out of the museum and down the street.
“Now, I had thought, given how prevalent phones are nowadays, that I was getting closer to around when you lived, but I didn’t expect you to remember me,” Volo chatters as you walk beside him. Whether he actually wanted to talk or just needed to avoid the deafening silence between you two you couldn’t say. “I can’t say I ever expected you to return from Hisui. You seemed like you had established yourself quite well.”
“I stayed long enough to help, but… we all knew I wouldn’t be able to stay,” you shrug. You don’t bother to tell him the details. You don’t want to give him more than the bare minimum. What if he used that information somehow? You decide to change the subject. “What about you? You’ve just been… living this whole time? You didn’t jump through a space-time distortion to get here?” You try not to sound too accusatory, but it’s clear you still doubt his story.
“No, no fancy distortion traveling for me, I’m afraid. After our little showdown I wandered around for quite a while. If Giratina would not assist me in overthrowing Arceus, I thought another with more power might,” Volo grimaced as he recounted it. Did he actually… regret his actions? Or was he still sore about losing? “I wandered the various regions for a while, searching for something that could subjugate great power.”
“Did you find one?” you ask.
“I found a great many treasures and tools,” he says. “Humankind has tried many times to harness the power of the gods. One even exists here, in Kalos.”
He laughs when he sees your look of terror.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t used it, though others have tried,” he turns into one of the shops along the street, and the two of you stand at the back of the line. The coffee shop is pretty busy, it seems.
“So… what did you do with them? I can’t imagine a guy like you ever just… giving up,” you glance at the menu, but can’t seem to focus on any of the words. All your attention is on Volo, trying to see if the mask will slip. If you can see through the lies. If he even is lying.
“I was met with failure after failure. And I watched others meet with the same,” he explains. “Did you know someone else tried to summon Giratina recently?”
“Yeah, Cynthia told me about that,” you say it without thinking, and immediately regret it. Volo turns to look at you faster than you think you’ve seen anyone move before.
“Cynthia?” His smile is completely gone, replaced instead by utter confusion.
“Your great, great, great whatever granddaughter, I assume,” you can’t tell if he truly doesn’t know her or if he just didn’t expect you to know her. “She’s the one that told me about the exhibit. Booked the first flight to Kalos I could find.”
“I… didn’t realize you were in contact with my descendants,” he shifts uncomfortably. The line moves forward, and before either of you can ask another question, the woman behind the counter is asking for your order. You hadn’t had a chance to read the menu, and now you don’t have your order ready. Curses! You were going to be one of those annoying people who held up the line.
After embarrassedly fumbling through your order, you sit down at one of the many tables outside. The small coffee is hot enough to burn your hands through the mug.
“So…” you trail off, wondering what you even should say. ‘Thanks for the coffee, it totally makes up for you trying to destroy the whole world that one time’? What were you even doing here? You wanted to see Hisuian artifacts, not the guy that had nearly killed everyone in Hisui (and everywhere else, for that matter). You couldn’t leave him to his devices, but what exactly was the plan? Stalk him forever?
“I believe you were saying something about my descendant,” he sips his coffee, trying to appear nonchalant. He doesn’t succeed. “I must say, I haven't checked in on the family for quite a while. I’ve only been to Sinnoh once since I realized my… unfortunate condition.”
“You sound like a sucky father,” you sip your own coffee, burning your tongue in the process.
“What did you expect?” he shrugs, but there’s a hint of regret in his voice. “I had been too blind. Too… focused on delusions of gradure. Perhaps I should pay her a visit.”
“What changed? What could possibly make you give up on your dream to stand before Arceus and harness his power?” you blow on your coffee, then take another sip. It’s still really hot. Love, obviously, hadn’t been successful. Immortality, or at least a greatly extended life, hadn’t changed him. What was it?
“It was a long series of things, I suppose. You, of course, played a large part in my… let’s call it a change of heart,” he stares into his cup, one hundred years of memories flashing through his mind. You know that look. It’s the one you make when remembering Hisui. The far-off look, staring at something that isn’t there, that hasn’t been there for nearly a century. “I won’t bore you with the details, right now. Perhaps some other time I can regale you with tales of my travels.”
“Mmhmm,” you glare at him.
“So what have you… been up to recently?” he seems awkward as he asks it, like he’s not used to doing it. You think back to all the times he popped up during your time in Hisui, asking about how you had been and where you had gone. It feels different this time. You’re not on a holy quest. He… doesn’t seem to be plotting anything. What was the motive? Did he actually care?
You didn’t want to talk to him of all people, but he was the first person who had even bothered to ask in… a pretty long time. You had to talk to someone about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you chatted about it a little.
“I, uh, came back almost a year ago. Pretty much no time had passed while I was gone,” you swirl your drink in your hands, staring at the spiral in the dark liquid. “I spent a while tracking down as many families as I could, trying to find ways to… I don’t know, say goodbye to people one last time?”
“Oh? That must’ve been an interesting project,” he smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Yeah, I guess,” you take another sip of your coffee. “I couldn’t find everyone, but most people have at least a few grandkids scattered around the world. I’ve been thinking of taking a trip across Sinnoh, but I don’t know if I should. It’d be weird seeing everything, now.”
“Yes, seeing what you knew be reduced to nothing more than ruins can be quite… upsetting,” Volo nods. He understands. He’s maybe one of the only people around who does.
“Other than that, I haven’t really… done a lot,” you admit. “I couldn’t really go back to how things were before. Dropped out of school, quit my job. I started hand-making Pokeballs. Turns out some people will pay a lot of money for the novelty of them.”
“I’m… sorry,” he says slowly. Quietly. You blink.
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry,” he says again, a bit louder this time. “I am the reason you were transported to the past in the first place. If it weren’t for my meddling, you wouldn’t be so…”
“Depressed?” you snort, the last dregs of tension washing away. Volo of all people apologizing was the last nail in the coffin. If he was lying and hadn’t reformed, he was a good actor. You’ll trust him, for now. “Yeah, man, you were kind of, like, the worst?”
He doesn’t say anything.
You take a swig of your coffee before continuing.
“Well, if you have changed, I’m glad. Not sure about the immortal curse thing, but I wouldn’t mind you… how did you say it? Regaling me with tales of your travels.” You say the last part in a somewhat mocking accent. Volo laughs. “I’m staying at this really cheap hotel in the city. You should book a room.”
“Keeping me close so you can watch me for signs of turning to evil?” he teases.
“More like I’m just glad to have someone to talk to again,” you laugh. “But yeah! No evil summoning rituals on my watch!”
“I would never,” he smiles.
Bonus:
Volo, checking in to Hotel Z:
AZ, recognizing him from a few decades back:



















