#volodawn

There he was once more, an unwavering, expecting stillness. The hum of his quiet, steady concentration from curtains of shadow, from between the tall reeds of grass, from the branched webbed cracks that climbed Akari’s windowpane, the shape occupying the yawning spaces of empty door frames. Life—the monotonous, the mundane—all of it shrill static that was nothing more than audio-visual noise, spiraled around his observations, irrelevant, siphoned down the drain, worthy of nothing more than the temporary tension of a rehearsed smile.

The wolf lived among his flock of sheep, making himself comfortable, likable, and familiar. He played their games, pretended to care about their trivialities and petty obsessions. He performed a song and dance to make himself predictable, to turn himself into a marketable ghost of himself. His true form waited, behind his hazel eyes, meticulous in devotion to the presence that only he could truly understand—listening for the voice of his angel in the language of patterns and symbols that only he, the chosen disciple, could discern.

Volo’s unclean hands would tremble with desire, the form of desire that would send him into an inferno of unforgivable hatred. His breath would quicken, as if all forms of himself were shocked at the surge of pure energy she provoked—was a higher-dimensional being hiding, judging, staring back at him, the part of himself that was vulnerable, when he foolishly caught the eyes of her child form? Had he ever been this afraid, even as a young boy? She acted so painfully gentle, ignorant, as though she appeared as a stupid sheep like the rest of them. Had he ever been so revolted by anything? Every part of her newly constructed body was perfect, unblemished, untouched, glossy and dewy and as fresh as a newly blossomed flower. Did he ever want anything so badly?

It had taken more time than he would have liked for Akari to notice the crazed look he gave her when she wasn’t looking. She had trusted him with open arms and the naïveté that she offered the whole world. She had fallen for his games and purchased the lies he sold. Maybe Volo was getting sloppy; maybe he wanted to witness for himself how she might react to his true feelings, or how she might think of him if she became aware of his true disposition.

They were alone together, inside her home, having spent the evening talking to each other and their friends after a long day of field work. Without truly understanding his actions, like a child, he lashed out intentionally to startle her, daring Akari to reveal once and for all if she were composed of meat and blood—or if she were nothing more than a wisp of aether or a dream.

Akari didn’t speak for a moment, frightened by the way his widened eyes traced her movements. She had never taken into account their differences, even in terms of scale, but suddenly Volo seemed as tall as a mountain and she felt lost in its shade. The flames at the pit of the Iori reflected off him, flickered in his eyes as he held position even though he had clearly been discovered, even as Akari reached instinctively to cover her chest with her arms.

“Are you okay?” Akari’s gentle voice wobbled as she asked. She made herself smaller, just as a wounded animal might.

Volo didn’t answer. He drew himself upon his haunches, stalking forwards slowly, towards her from the opposite side of the flames. The tatami mat creaked under the pressure of his feet.

“Volo?”

Akari froze as she watched something else possess him. She was confused; she’d felt so comfortable, and she enjoyed spending time with Volo so much that she treasured the time they had alone. While Akari was still embarrassed to admit it, she knew deep down that she had something of a crush on Volo. She believed it to be one-sided, as he was many years older than her and more of a mentor than a friend, but she still thoughtlessly made efforts to impress him and draw him closer.

Volo stood swiftly. Akari could hear his breath now, a strange bestial rhythm. She darted backwards, still on her knees, supporting herself on her hands which trembled. She climbed the threshold to her bedroom, too nervous to turn her back to Volo for one moment. She squeaked in genuine fear and that was enough.

Volo lunged for her, crashing down so he straddled her, long strands of hair pouring out from under his cap. He smiled, satisfied with the answer he had received, the blessing—Akari was made of flesh the same as him, a human-angel designed for him, to compliment and suit him. She cried out in a state of shock, but the sound was dampened as soon as Volo pressed his hand down against her lips, silencing her. He appreciated the intimate sensation of vibration against his palm when she howled into it.

He watched her as she struggled, watched as she started to sweat, and admired the way she flushed pink, visible even in this late hour of night.

“You’re just a girl.” His voice was heavy with disgust, his eyebrows furrowed. “A little girl.”

Akari thrust her hips upwards, trying to buck Volo off of her, but it was useless to her escape. In fact, it only aided Volo, giving some friction to what he hadn’t yet accepted that he wanted. Volo rolled his head upwards, restraining himself from releasing any demonstration that she’d had that kind of effect on him—after all, it was a weakness. He bit his lip.

“You really had me there.”

She tried to suck in air from around his fingertips as he spoke to her. He ran a free hand through the long locks of her raven hair, watching as it fell, orbiting around her frame neatly like a halo.

The exchange felt like it was in slow motion for both parties, but it had only been seconds. Volo’s severe expression lightened, he released Akari’s mouth and held up both hands palms out towards her in feigned surrender. His usual lighthearted smile reappeared on his face, smoothly and innocently as though he wasn’t pinning Akari to the floor.

“You should have seen your face!” He laughed, pretending his outburst was merely a joke. Despite smiling, his eyes didn’t crinkle with joy, and no tenderness lurked behind them. “You know you should be more careful who you let stay home alone with you so late at night!” He wagged her finger at her playfully.

Akari didn’t laugh, her chest rising and falling rapidly while she caught her breath. She couldn’t process what had just happened. Volo was acting normal. It made more sense that it was just a joke, but the fear had been so real. She tried to smile back at him, still wanting to trust him.

“You really scared me!” Akari pouted, no longer struggling to be free under his grip. “Don’t joke like that!”

“Just because you’re part of the Survey Corps doesn’t mean you’re invincible, Akari.” Volo brushed one of the long pieces of hair away from her face for her, taking a moment to let himself feel the heat radiating from her cheeks—the way they were slick from the fear he’d unleashed upon her moments before.

“Your Pokémon couldn’t have helped you just now. You have to rely on your senses.” Volo helped himself to stand. Despite his body pleading otherwise, he was done here. He’d found out what he’d needed to know. The rest… he would decide later, when he could consider the consequences rationally. He picked up his bags near the door, readjusted his hair and brought the cup he’d been drinking tea out of earlier to the makeshift sink, all with a perfectly rehearsed calmness, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“I know I’m not that strong…” Akari was on her knees now, watching him from the floor as he gathered his things to leave for the evening. “But… You’re my friend, Volo. And someone important to me. I like spending time with you.”

Volo watched her as he pushed his mug into the basin of water, pretending her words didn’t make something disgusting convulse inside him. He was glad for the shade his cap offered to mask his expression.

“I can trust you, right?” She asked, watching as Volo turned, making his way for the door.

He paused, listening to her for a moment and considering how to answer. He knew that it didn’t matter what he said. By her actions, she was naïve enough to trust him after he’d demonstrated exactly why she shouldn’t. There would be no convincing her. She had fallen into his lap.

The door swung open with a chime, rattling the wooden rain charms that hung along the eaves of her house.

He guided the door to a gentle close behind him. “Of course.”

————— ୨୧ —————

Akari held her handcrafted Feather Ball firmly in her hand, casting short motions with her wrist to test how it might fall when she let it soar. She had some Rhyhorn she was hunting, milling about a good way away—but close enough that the Ball would have an easy time reaching them. The Rhyhorn were covered in mud, same as Akari; the Mirelands were difficult to comb through without getting a little dirty, especially considering Akari had to spend most of the time on her hands and knees, snaking through the tall grass. She was glad that the Professor had devised a way to clean laundry easily so she wouldn’t have to worry about it when she went home.

But this hunter was being hunted—Akari was oblivious; just as the Rhyhorn paid no attention to Akari’s lurking presence, she in turn didn’t notice the pair of eyes that watched her from the patch of grass across the horizon. Volo knew she would be here today. He chose to follow her, making it a game to see how long it would take her to notice. He crept behind her through the bogs, across the fields, dangerously close, drawing closer, nearly drooling from the thrill of the hunt.

He decided in the rules of this game he’d newly invented, that if she couldn’t detect his presence by the time he could put his hands on her, he could rip her apart in whichever way he most felt like in the moment. If, at any point, she caught him in the act, he would surrender once more, a temporary measure, just for today. Maybe he would try again another day, under different conditions, to better test the outcome of this game.

While Akari needed smoke bombs and sprays to cover the sounds of her footsteps, Volo knew from the severity of his childhood exactly how to press himself into the earth to make the least amount of sound. He knew from experience how to walk across a bed of leaves and twigs without alerting even the most sensitive of creatures. He knew the land better than anyone else, his ancient blood singing with memory, memories that he often prayed to forget.

Volo laid on his stomach, parting blades of thick wheat with his fingers, peering through the curtain of gold. He critiqued Akari’s form as she practiced her throws. He lectured her as she rose too high in her crouched position, nearly alerting one of the Rhyhorn. He slithered closer, giddy with amusement.

Akari opened her bag, examining her wares. Her pouch was near its limit, stuffed full with a long adventure's worth of materials and goods to sell back to the market when she returned. She even had a strange stone, one she was particularly excited about, that she planned on giving to Volo as a gift once she made it back to the village. She hoped that he wouldn’t be busy with the Ginkgo Guild. She felt proud of herself and her accomplishments. After she caught Rhyhorn, she would report back to the Professor and have a much needed rest.

Volo cleared the gap between them while she had her head down. He laughed to himself, out loud, testing his luck. He was now in the same thick patch of cover with her, downwind from her, mirroring her as she was downwind from the Rhyhorn.

One of the Rhyhorn yawned, circling as though it was about to sleep. Akari leapt up. Her chance! She threw the ball, watched it rocket straight into the Pokémon’s back. It hit, wobbling while she waited expectantly, totally fixated.

Volo was so close he could smell her. He could see firsthand how the mud made her tight clothes cling to her delicate form. The tears in her uniform revealed panels of pale skin, prickly with goosebumps from the cold weather. He was only two feet away from winning his game. His stomach was tight from pleasure.

The Feather Ball crackled, the sound of fireworks shooting forth indicating it had been a successful capture. Akari chirped happily to herself, springing up from the cover of the tall grass as the other Rhyhorn ran away, charging into safer territory. Volo cursed to himself, clenching his hands into fists, balling them into the mud in angry defeat.

Akari bent to retrieve the ball, setting it into her rucksack. She took one last look at her hiding place. Strangely, she could feel something boring holes into her back, but she wasn’t sure what it could be.

The wind swept the grass gently. Akari saw a glimpse of Volo. She stared, unsure of if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She was in disbelief. There was no way… was there?

It certainly looked like him. It stayed still, watching her with that frightening gaze, unwavering…

Akari hoisted her backpack across her shoulders, wiping the mud from her hands into her pants. Her heart pounded in her chest. The wind carried the grass once more and Volo was nowhere to be found. Akari shook her head and wrote it off as purely her imagination.

————— ୨୧ —————

After what had been an exhausting day, Akari was happy to be home. The joy of having privacy and freedom within the four walls of her humble home was enough to have her dancing, throwing her gear on the porch and discarding her filthy shoes. She let her jacket fall from her waist to the floor in a heap. She’d get to scrubbing out the mud later, tomorrow morning, after she’d had a bath and rested her tired hands and knees.

Akari padded across the jade tatami mats, taking a moment to get a fire started in the Iori so she could heat the kettle for her bath. She leaned against the wooden plank that made up the working space of her kitchen, quickly scrubbing her feet in the leftover water from the sink so she wouldn’t have to clean the floors. She set the kettle to fill, then brought out the large basin that she could fit in, pushing it towards the center of the room where the fire could offer some warmth to whatever parts of her body wouldn’t fit inside.

Akari’s shadow played along the walls, warping around the long pole of the Iori, reflecting across the thick beams of her ceiling. She sighed, satisfied with her work, taking a moment to pour the boiling water into the bottom of the basin before refilling the kettle once more. Two loads of hot water would make the perfect lukewarm temperature her muscles craved once she added the stored water she kept by her kitchen.

Finally, as the kettle was near ready and after she’d added the other water and a handful of herbal bath powder, Akari released her hair from its tight ponytail. Her long glossy hair framed her form neatly, the ends curving around the small of her back and across her hips. It had gotten so much longer in the time since she had first arrived in Hisui. She combed it gently with her fingertips, careful to not agitate the strands that were frozen in mud.

Her gentle hands came to her chest, reaching to undo the band of her belt, letting both the rope and belt itself fall to the ground with a ceremonial hiss. She loosened the scarf across her neck, adding it to the pile, exposing the delicate, smooth skin of her neck and the point of her collarbones where the start of her black, semi-sheer bodysuit began. Without the support of her belt, her robe buckled, offering a glimpse of her ample breasts underneath, shining with sweat from a hard day's work. Akari shrugged her shoulders, her body all smooth lines of relaxation as she undressed, thinking she was all alone. Her robe fell off her shoulders like water, pooling down her tender flesh, rushing down her legs until it could finally meet flat ground. Her sheer bodysuit revealed all of her secrets, the pink of her skin visible across her chest, her cheeks, her tummy, her nipples—which stood completely at attention in the chill.

From behind her single window, the one that overlooked her bedroom, a familiar set of eyes enjoyed this private performance. Volo grew increasingly less cautious, no longer caring if the steam of his breath hit the glass pane—it was clear Akari wouldn’t notice. She never noticed. He wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner.

Akari peeled off her suit slowly, gently. She didn’t want to accidentally tear the gentle fabric more than it already was. She stretched her body with the elegance and patience of a gymnast. Volo was transfixed. Each new reveal of her naked skin, as unblemished and pure as her heart, sent him deeper into his frenzy. Pleasure and anger, even jealousy crashed into him, pressurized, emptying his mind until he was fully a beast, driven only by desire. He dug his fingernails into the wooden siding, desperate to feel something cave and bend to his touch.

Akari was fully nude. She reached for the kettle with more poise than Volo had seen from any tea ceremony. She stirred the water together, the thick curls of steam rushing against her skin. One foot after another, she helped herself in, holding both sides of the basin so she wouldn’t throw herself off balance. She hummed happily to herself, singing songs she could remember from home. Volo was grateful that the walls were thin enough that he could hear it.

Akari dipped a small glass into the water, pouring its contents across her arms, across her chest, down her head. The water sank into her hair. The light of the fire glittered against her damp skin. Volo hissed, using the last of his mind to offer up prayers for self control.

Volo watched the gifts God had offered him, watched as Akari ran soaps through her hair, detangling every inch, cleansing all of her body until it was brand new. Towards the end, Akari stood, working on her thighs. It was then that she noticed.

Akari was startled when she saw a strange shape in the window frame. She thought it was her eyes playing tricks, but, after seeing what appeared to be Volo lying like a snake in the grass earlier, left her anxious. Akari jumped, covering herself, leaning to one side and then the other to see if the shape would move—or maybe reveal itself as a tree, a bush.

However, even at such a late hour, she recognized the colors for what they were. They were the telltale yellow of Volo’s uniform; the unmistakable peach of human flesh, the glow of a human face.

Akari’s heart pounded. Volo was giddy from her reactions but kept himself still, unable to help himself to a grin as bright as a crescent moon. His heart throbbed in symphony with Akari’s, but it was purely from pleasure. It was exciting getting caught, but it was even more exciting and erotic to be constantly forgiven, trusted despite his dark desires and overall degeneracy.

Akari shook her head, coaxing her body out of the bath, reaching for the discarded robe to draw over her shoulders. She crept to the side of her room, away from the line of sight of the window. She caught her breath.

Volo knew she couldn’t see him from where she was now crouched. He laughed to himself, quietly, all breath that shook in his throat from a pleasant adrenaline. He ducked, crashing to the ground, creeping along the side of the house until he was clear to make his way back into the dense brush. He’d stand further back and wait. She’d make herself known. He could no longer hear her inside her home, and it was difficult to make anything out from such a far distance, but he’d wait to see what she would do. If she rushed outside for answers, he’d take it as an invitation. If she stayed inside he’d leave her alone. For now.

Akari gathered her strength and armed herself with her trusted Garchomp’s Poké Ball. She crept on tiptoe to the window, now a hauntingly unfamiliar fixture. With shaky hands she reached out, sliding it open. The cool air rushed in, shocking her. The man she saw in the window was nowhere to be seen. She squinted, straining to scan all of the trees as they swayed in the wind.

“Volo?” She called out in a tiny voice. The rustling of leaves were the only reply.

He didn’t answer. He clenched his fists, shoulders quaking from laughter. This was too fun. This was so easy. Akari kept staring out into the maw of midnight, anxiety alerting her of every strange shadow and shape that made up the landscape around her. Her eyes landed on Volo’s shape standing between the trees.

Her subconscious mind knew. It could see the form of the threat perfectly. But consciously she couldn’t see, couldn’t make out his body even though his eyes stared back into hers.

“I’m really scared.” Akari shivered, deciding enough was enough. Even though she felt that fear, there was nothing she could see in the night. There was no trace of Volo. Already, she was making excuses for him—she’d had too long of a day. Her crush with Volo left her making up imaginary visions of him—it had happened more than once. It seemed impossible that he could really be there, but not impossible for her to imagine it. Maybe she was still scared after the time he’d played that prank on her? It was easy to dismiss things when she wanted to.

Akari firmly shut the window, drawing a wooden cutting board across it so she wouldn’t have to stress herself out anymore. She tucked herself into her sleepwear and laid down in bed, ready to be rested enough so she could stop being at the whims of her imagination.

Volo sank into the folds of the woods. Still laughing, giddy from success. Each time he’d leapt for her, assuming he would be caught and punished, he was rewarded. There was rest for the wicked.

Tall branches and dense leaves consumed him, crowning him in the pitch black of night.