FSE

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A golden Land

Painting might lead to strange discoveries

“Don’t you think the view is perfect? I feel so inspired. My muse is whispering in my ear-”

“Please! Déjà Vu! Keep telling everyone stupid shit about colors!”

With his hands over his mouth and whispering, the purple-furred Ambipom smiled with a Cheshire-cat grin, his chuckle shaking him while watching the opposite reaction on the yellow Ampharos.

The brows dropped, the fingers danced on the pen. And then the Electric-type huffed as he picked more blue from his color palette to add to the canvas.

“Philistine. Can’t you feel the energy from that place? It is something Arceus provided and gifted us. Such vibrancy must be honored.”

“I am sure you’ve already honored it twice or thrice before.”

“Twice? I have never painted such a beautiful landscape!” shouted the Ampharos, indignant and turning to the Ambipom.

An Ambipom, who pulled a covered canvas from the oversized bag he was forced to carry for the expedition. And as soon as the canvas appeared, it looked practically the same as the one Ampharos was currently painting on. Sure, little details were changed. But the common denominator remained: the intense blue hue that composed everything.

The Dreamy Islands were known as a land of misty beauty, an archipelago lost in cerulean mists that concealed them from the common Pokémon. A place only a few could access, and even then, it was to be welcomed by an almost pristine land untouched by Pokémons. The damp weather, even in the mist, allowed jungles to grow, with tall, towering trees. The beaches were covered with opalescent sand that stretched for kilometers, while the marine lagoons were filled with coral structures.

The weather was temperate, though. Enough for an Ampharos hating the searing weather on the way to the archipelago.

Sure enough, the constant blue hues that formed everything, from the dark blue composing the bark to the more refined teal on the leaves, caught his attention.

It fueled his inspiration to paint and capture every detail, from the colors that could easily merge and blend without an artistic hand.

Something the Ampharos was definitely not lacking. He huffed and returned to his painting, turning his back on the Ambipom.

For someone with the same name as Paprika, his constant prickly attitude could easily get on someone’s nerves.

Still, as Déjà Vu returned to his painting, he examined it. It was true there were some imperfections. The shade of blue on the grass beneath the tree was not the exact hue, and the projected shadow did not match what he had in mind.

So, with his trusty brush, he covered one part of the grass and redid it, with little drabs.

“Besides,” answered Déjà Vu, his back straightening while he passed his brush on one tree bark. “My clientele absolutely adore my dedication to drawing landscapes.”

“Sure, sure. They love seeing the same painting everywhere… They’ll have six canvases just for them.”

“I plan for it to be a series. Maybe something like… Dream. Or Mists.”

“Or ‘I drown in blues’ or ‘I only had one color left’?”

“Paprika!” shouted the Ampharos, stopping his brush but resuming a second later. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to nag me and project your negative emotions onto my art?”

“Well. I would. If there were any Pokémons around. The place is practically as dead as your talent.”

“Hmphh!”

A glance over his shoulder, and Déjà Vu could see Paprika picking his nose while relaxed on a rock. For an Ambipom, Paprika had the attitude of a Cacnea. He was a fine fighter and explorer who’d gotten Déjà Vu out of many difficult situations. But his disdain for the arts almost reminded the Ampharos of philistines who said his art was vandalism.

Not everyone could understand art like Déjà Vu. And those buildings had been clearly improved by the vision of the crimson cliffs.

Even thinking about it, Déjà Vu felt his grip stiffen and had his brush slip.

“Calm down. Be easy. No art shall be done in anger,” whispered Ampharos, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Only for something to hit him. Not physically, or not with the usual strength. No, something brushed his fur, brushed his wiggling ears, and his canvas. Even a ‘Uh-Oh’ from Ambipom told the artist it was abnormal.

There was a breeze. A wind sweeping across the land without dissipating the blue mists. Instead, it seemed to reinforce their creeping presence as Déjà Vu looked back.

“We have to go!” shouted the Ambipom, already putting the canvases back inside his bag.

“You told me it was safe!”

“No! I told you there were no Pokémons, but we took too long here!”

With that, Paprika stomped closer, almost shoved Ampharos aside, and grabbed the canvas.

“I am not done! You’re smearing the paint!”

“We are done here! If we don’t leave, we could be lost, or vanish, or anything!”

“B-But!”

“You’ve got five of them like that!” shouted Paprika, shoving the wet canvas into the bag and pointing at Déjà Vu’s color palette and the empty easel. “Help me pack it up or we’ll abandon it!”

“I- Fine!”

Giving up, his shoulders dropping, Déjà Vu abandoned the idea of keeping his last painting. Instead, he looked down at the eerie blue sand and walked to Paprika. His color palette was wiped and bagged. Then, with the easel strapped to Paprika’s bag, Déjà Vu once put on his gray-tone mask on. So they could be on the move. With his mask, it was difficult to read the utter dismay on Déjà Vu’s face, but he made an effort not to voice it as he spoke.

“Where are we going?”

“East. Follow me. There should be the stairs.”

Stairs was a strange name for the passageways that seemed to disappear up into the sky or into the ground in most dungeons. Dungeons were not large swathes of land, but intricate little pockets of space that kept on giving.

And Paprika had a sixth sense for finding them… Or so it was when they saw it, but Ambipom bit his lips. Around them, the mists were creeping closer and twisting, like a cyclone where they stood in the middle of.

“What is it? That’s our access, right?”

“Yes! But when I saw it last time, it was going down.”

“Up or down, is that a problem?”

“It… Shouldn’t,” frowned Paprika, shaking his head and taking one step. “Let’s go.”

One step. Already, Déjà Vu felt the breeze calm down. An eerie quiet wrapped around him as they ascended. The mists swirled around them, forming a sphere. The condensed blue was so intense that it was impossible to see beyond the misty walls. The only option was for them to advance, bothered as even the steps looked like they were made of mist.

“I wonder who built those stairs.”

“What?” asked Paprika, looking over his shoulder.

“The dungeons, the stairs. It looks like an artist or someone had created them. It is not natural by any means. It reeks of artificiality.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” huffed the Ampharos. “For example. When we climb, what is happening? Are we under another island? Or are we moving to another place of existence? Could it be that the stairs are portals that make us move to another place? And what of other dungeons? It is unnatural.”

“Can you keep it quiet? You’re making it weird,” huffed Paprika.

“What? It’s important to ask yourself questions!”

“Well, everyone did, and nobody has answers. It works, that’s it. When we get back home, you can ask anyone about it.”

“Huff. Perhaps I should do that.”

Déjà Vu grumbled, but as their ascension continued, the mists crept closer until the two Pokémons reached a landing. For a moment, the mists remained and… Déjà Vu feared they would close on them and devour them.

Then, they vanished.

The blue mists vanished, entirely. And instead, gold remained. Lavish and garish at the same time, since it covered everything.

They were no longer on a blue-hued tropical island. They’d been transported to a massive hall with heavy golden chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. The ground itself was immaculate gold, though adorned with engravings that made it look like they were walking on a stone path. More than that, small gold statues protruded from the ground, representing different polygonal shapes that lined at regular intervals on either side of the road.

There was no apparent light except from the chandelier, but everything was illuminated. Right to the visible walls, upon which statuesque murals had been etched.

Most represented scenes that felt familiar to Déjà Vu. Those scenes almost had a religious aspect and a fondness: much like that representation of a Teddiursa receiving an apple from a tree grown by Arceus.

That dedication to the art added to the grandeur of the room and the landing they were on.

Yet, as Déjà Vu looked over his shoulder, there were no traces of the stairs. It was as if they had been in the Dungeon all along.

“It’s…” stammered Déjà Vu.

“We’re rich!”

Paprika’s shriek yanked Déjà Vu out of his musing. The Ambipom had already taken off from where they’d been towards one wall. The mural there depicted a Rayquaza descending from the skies while bearing tablets.

However, a massive emerald had been embedded in the forehead. Emerald, the Ambipom, had latched onto it with both hands while using his prehensile tail to push against the mural.

The Ambipom huffed and groaned, pushed with his tiny feet, too… And then with a crack, the gem was dislodged.

A second later, Paprika was rolled onto the floor while clutching the gem, much to Déjà Vu’s dismay. The Ampharos ran closer, already reaching for his bag and his supplies of medicinal berries when he saw Paprika shaking.

Shaking and then chuckling while holding onto the gem.

“It’s real!”

“W-What?”

“It’s a real emerald! We’re rich! Look at it!” cried Paprika, showing off the gem that had been embedded before. Its cut was without any fault, and even the brutal handling hadn’t nicked the pristine and clean surface. The green hue was astonishing. Something the Ampharos couldn’t tire of gazing at.

Even when Paprika yanked the gem away.

“Tata!” he said, even clicking his tongue. He turned, grabbed his bag. Without much concern, the Ambipom yanked the canvases away so he could have room for the oversized gem.

“Hey! Watch it! They’re precious paintings!” cried the Ampharos, trying to hold on to Paprika’s shoulder.

“Precious? Déjà Vu? We’re surrounded by riches! That gem is pricier than one hundred, one thousand of your paintings! If we get them back to town, you can have as many paintings as you want!”

“It’s not their value that’s important.”

“Who cares?! I need to see if there’s more!” shouted Paprika, slinging the bag over his shoulder and taking off at such a speed.

The Ampharos, stunned by the current situation, could only look down at his canvases… Mainly, the latest, whose paint had been smeared, turning the dream-like landscape into a smudge of all hues.

The Ambipom was gone, and he certainly didn’t seem to be ready to show any remorse for the state of Ampharos’ artwork.

“Damnit. That’s why they warned me,” mumbled Ampharos, still grabbing his canvases in his arms. It was a tedious balance, but the sheep-like Pokémon was driven to bring his paintings back home… Even if he had already lost his guide.

“Why did he have to leave me like that?” mumbled Déjà Vu, hefting and waddling forward, leaving the landing behind.

His steps echoed through the empty corridors. There were no traces of feral Pokémons. A surprising occurrence, but a welcome one for the Pokémon, who carried careful canvases while watching the murals.

The more he looked at them, the more familiar they seemed to be. Golden murals, chandeliers hung above, and lined-up polygonal statues. He was certain he’d heard about it.

“The… Wait. Would it be the Golden Halls?”

The Ampharos blinked at the realization.

“Father… You wouldn’t believe me,” chuckled Déjà Vu, stepping closer to one wall that had another representation of Arceus. This time, the Deity was sleeping under a tree, surrounded by all types of Pokémons.

“It must be this. It cannot be any other dungeon.”

As if any dungeon had ever been described as halls of pure gold. Many stories were told about the fabled Golden Halls and the riches they hosted… But no Pokémon had ever set foot inside. Up until that moment.

Yet, they were two… And another had run off despite the first rule of any Explorer: ‘Never split from your team under any circumstances.”

A rule that was broken. Already.

“Paprika! Paprika! Where are you? We need to group up! Can you hear me?”

The answer was an eerie, tense silence across the Halls. When Déjà Vu gazed in a direction he picked, the distance was so great that everything was melting into gold.

Walls, statues, they formed a chaos that the Ampharos watched with the fear gnawing at him.

“It is… Fine. I will. I will find him,” he mumbled, passing his hand over his mask to see if it was secured. It remained so… Leaving Ampharos picking his canvases again and walking.

Slowly, steadily, in a progress that left him wandering and guessing… And afraid, while he gulped saliva down, trying to find any signs of Paprika.

No etching on the walls, no kicked-off statues. No sound except his own breathing and… A faint music. A faint tone Déjà Vu was starting to hear. Wind instruments, no… Woodwind instruments. Was it a clarinet? No. A bansuri flute. Softer, much softer.

One sonority that was growing and filling the Halls as Déjà Vu followed what seemed to be the sole break from the maze. The sole point of focus for Déjà Vu as he held his breath.

He gazed at each intersection, afraid and expecting one massive Pokémon to appear, ready to devour the frightful Sheep-like artist. But there were none. And slowly, the music filled his ears and his mind, yanking him away from the fright and the constant verification.

“He must be there,” even mumbled the Ampharos, his canvases pressed close to his chest while the song guided him. Left. Then right. Then right again. Then right again.

It should have brought him back to a point of origin, but it didn’t. The order of the statues became easier to read and easier to recognize.

The Ampharos was clearly advancing, his steps turning into a quick gait until, his breath shaky and his feet painful, he stopped.

He was at an intersection, but that one looked much different.

First, the room itself was much bigger and seemed to break the typical regularity of the Golden Halls, from the intersection’s size to the frequency of such intersections. In that grid-like maze, that room was so large it ought to break how the corridors were organized.

But a glance confirmed the corridors were the same, with the identical statues. However, what remained was the song. It had grown, become something so significant it was almost an orchestra ringing through Déjà Vu’s body. And then… As the Ampharos’ eyes peered at the center, there was a statue.

That one did not represent a polygonal shape, but Arceus itself. Arceus not as a mural but a grandiose and gold statue that loomed over Ampharos as he approached. Its mere presence cast a long shadow. Yet the emeralds embedded in the eye sockets seemed to be focused on Déjà Vu and following him as he circled the statue, still carrying the canvases.

“Who could have created this?” asked Déjà Vu, surprised. Not because the statue was of complete gold. No, his surprise came from the fact that he knew such an amount of gold would collapse under its own weight without support, but the statue bore none.

None for Arceus’ long cloven legs, for that elongated head ending in a mane that seemed to shift ever so slightly. And nothing for the cross strapped around Arceus’ body.

Then, with his inspection done, Déjà Vu stopped before the statue, right under the green gaze’s scrutiny. The song remained, swollen to an orchestra with voices singing lyrics from a language he didn’t know.

It bore no reason, no similarity to any language the Ampharos knew. And whenever the Ampharos stepped closer, he felt the song… Calling.

“What… Is this possible?” asked Déjà Vu, putting the canvases down and taking one step.

He could sense the song coming from within him, echoing and resonating throughout his body. Another step, and it was his heartbeat. Another, it was his flesh. A last one, and his hand practically touched the statue.

It did not.

Déjà Vu did not touch the statue. A shock came from the gold, hitting him, forcing him to yank his hand away in pain and to hold it.

“What was that?” he cried, feeling his fingertips throbbing… Before the pain vanished, leaving him surprised, blinking, and observing his hand. No burn wound.

“A trap?” he asked out loud, glancing around. No one, no Pokémons.

Hence, he returned to the statue, watching the green eyes now looking down on him.

“This- Hrmph!”

Déjà Vu stumbled back, feeling something stir within him.

Hastily, he reached for his belly, checking on the soft white fur and the flesh below, digging his fingers into the fluff. Beneath, he could sense… heat. And warmth from inside. A surprise as he looked around, curious.

He pressed again, feeling the stirring continuing. No. A throb. A mere throb that went through his guts, but it was not familiar.

It did not hurt, so it could not be any poison. Or if it was, it did not paralyze him. It could not be any other status. Hence, it was abnormal. And yet, it didn’t feel like it was a benign effect. Nor something made to hurt him.

So, in that case, what could it be?

That was what Déjà Vu thought as he rubbed the skin, feeling it was growing taut. At least, that’s what he guessed when the fluff wasn’t so dense anymore.

Slowly, carefully, Déjà Vu removed his bag and sat down on the floor, holding onto his belly, counting how many times it took for another throb to happen.

It took forty seconds. Then thirty-nine.

The time between the throbs was reducing, and the Ampharos’ mind was already racing. Each time the throb came, it felt like something within his guts changed and moved.

But if it happened faster, what would happen when… When would there be no break between the throbs?

Already, Déjà Vu’s belly was tighter. The skin was taut, pulled up by something within. And Ampharos could sense he was heavier. Larger. He did not wear any clothes to cover his body like some Pokémon, but he could say he had gained a few sizes from the throbbing.

He certainly wasn’t around a Wailord’s size. But it clearly wasn’t the fit shape he’d been keeping.

His belly looked more prominent, and even breathing made him feel as if he were carrying a weight inside him. He was… Something was happening.

“What is that?”

“Paprika?”

Déjà Vu’s eyes snapped toward the voice. However, his disappointment appeared when he didn’t see any… Ambipom. Instead, a Sandslash. Who wore an aging backpack and snacked on a berry. A surprising sight, especially since the Pokémon wasn’t acting like he was ragged.

Sure, his bag was old. But that Sandslash looked fine.

“Dialga. You’re not Paprika,” swore Déjà Vu, his head turning away for a second.

“Paprika? Dunno who’s that? You’re a newcomer?”

Déjà Vu huffed and laughed, trying not to hold too much on his belly as he looked to the Sandslash, who had been keeping his distance all along.

“Newcomer? I just arrived here… One hour ago? It feels like it,” said Déjà Vu, pointing at his canvases packed on the ground. “Are you an explorer?”

“Me?” asked the Sandslash, approaching the statue.

“Don’t come closer! I can attack you!”

Still, the Sandslash approached, ignoring Déjà Vu’s threat. But, the Pokémon’s eyes were not on the Ampharos. The Sandslash was eyeing the statue and grabbed his bag. He opened it and pulled out a berry, entirely yellow with ridges. It was a kind of berry Déjà Vu had never seen.

And with surprise written all over his traits, Déjà Vu observed Sandslash put the berry at the Statue’s feet, like an offering.

“Uh?”

Déjà Vu surprise remained as he reached for his belly, holding it. The skin was still throbbing. But the time between the throbs was no longer reducing, giving Déjà Vu half a minute of respite between them. A respite, he used to keep his composure while eyeing the Sandslash, praying and mumbling to himself, ignoring the Ampharos.

The prayer stopped, and the ground-type Pokémon smiled, turning to Déjà Vu.

“Sorry, stranger. But prayers are important.”

“It’s…”

“I am glad you didn’t interrupt me. Last time an explorer tried to stop me or my friends from praying, we had to beat him.”

“Beat him?”

“Yes. Until he couldn’t move.”

Déjà Vu gulped, then huffed… Feeling the weight in his belly growing. The stirring had slowed, but he certainly felt like he was carrying some additional weight. Much like he’d been eating all the berries in Lively Town or something alike.

“But you don’t look like a punk. Come with me, stranger. You can call me Timber!”

Déjà Vu eyed the Sandslash’s offered hand and shook it, only for the Pokémon to be pulling on Déjà Vu’s hand, helping him get up on his feet, even though his balance was wrong, and his legs were wobbly.

Had he been so used to his previous size? It seemed so because he felt like he was waddling.

“Thank you,” mumbled Déjà Vu, lowering his head. “Call me Déjà Vu.”

“You’re welcome, and you look like you needed help to stand up.”

“I might need some help to carry my paintings, too,” mumbled Déjà Vu, pointing his chin at the canvases that were on the ground. He tried to reach for the canvases, only to feel his balance was wrong. He could fall, he would fall, and-

No, Timber picked them and lifted the canvases as if it were nothing, eyeing them.

“What’s this?”

“My paintings,” explained Déjà Vu, picking them… As well as his offered bag. “I am an artist, and I was exploring with a friend. But we… Landed here. Have you seen an Ambipom nearby?”

“An Ambipom? Nah, stranger. You’re the first I’ve seen since… Oh. It’s been a while now. Maybe I can ask the crew.”

“The… Crew?”

The Sandslash stopped, scratched his chin, and then stepped toward a corridor.

“Yes! We’re a crew! Former explorers who landed here, like you. Don’t worry, they are good fellas and maybe they saw your Ambipom, what’s his name?”

“Paprika,” answered Déjà Vu, already feeling better as he followed. Sure, walking was painful, but once he started, his legs could keep the pace.

“Paprika. Paprika,” mumbled the Sandslash. “Ok! I’ll ask around!”

“Déjà Vu. What an odd name. Still, you are not the weirdest. Say, why were you at the altar?”

“The altar? The statue?”

“Yes, the altar. When we find outsiders, we find them wandering the halls. But you’re a first.”

“I don’t know,” answered Déjà Vu, shaking his head. “I heard music and followed it.”

“You heard… Music?”

Timber’s gaze over his shoulder and his mumble intrigued Déjà Vu. But then, the Pokémon’s eyes returned ahead, on the corridors with its many statues and murals. And he shrugged.

“Strange. And you say you were lost here?”

“I was,” groaned Déjà Vu, clutching his belly. He was certainly feeling heavier, but walking was better than dropping and doing nothing. “We were on the Dream Island for my paintings. And then, we were forced to take the stairs. And… I was there.”

With that, Déjà Vu stopped. But he could feel Timber’s gaze upon him, searing into his flesh.

“And you were alone, so you wandered to the statue.”

“No,” groaned Déjà Vu, scratching his neck. “Paprika was with me when we arrived. But as soon as he saw the gems in the walls, he went ahead.”

“The gems? He’s… been picking the gems?”

“Yes. Sorry. Paprika can be a bit Poké-driven if you get my meaning. He isn’t acting with ill intent, but he might not… Think about the consequences. I think he wants to collect enough so he can become rich. Maybe I should have followed and seen if he’d collected any… It would have been smarter. In hindsight.”

However, Timber wasn’t answering. The Sandslash had closed up.

“Timber?”

No answer, except a glance over his shoulder that made Déjà Vu shudder.

“I am very sorry about his attitude. If it’s important not to take the Gems, I can explain it.”

However, Timber’s eyes were going down. Observing… Déjà Vu’s belly, eyeballing.

“Were you always so big?”

“I… Is that important?”

Silence.

Suddenly, following Timber didn’t feel like much of a good idea for Déjà Vu. But affected by the throb and the pain, by the sensation of pressing and crushing inside his guts, the Sandslash seemed to be the best choice for survival.

Déjà Vu had limited supplies, and that maze felt like it had no clear exit. Meaning, he had to rely on a guide or a local.

“Are you living here? With your crew?”

Silence from the Sandslash. But his hand raised and pointed ahead.

Located at an intersection was what looked like a camp. A mismatch of tents, of plants, of salvaged materials. Compared to the pristine gold, the camp looked like a band of savages had settled but never cared for aesthetics.

Déjà Vu grimaced, but he followed. He could feel he was sluggish and slower, that every breath pressed on his belly. It was abnormal. And he needed a healer, quick.

“Do you have a doctor? Or anyone who knows about status?”

“One. Cajun. But he might be busy.”

“Great,” mumbled Déjà Vu, unsure whether he should be happy.

Still, they entered the camp. The smell of a stew tickled the Ampharos’ nose, making him feel ravenous all of a sudden. He had eaten maybe three hours ago, yet his stomach grumbled like he hadn’t eaten for days.

“You must have been here for more than an hour.”

“I don’t know,” answered Déjà Vu, swallowing his saliva as he watched one Garchomp, covered with scars and bearing an eye-patch, stirring a fuming pot. “But it smells good.”

“The old Champ stew? I don’t know what you’ve been eating outside, but it isn’t so great.”

Still, Timber’s glance over his shoulder remained on Déjà Vu’s belly, and then his face when he noticed he was being observed.

“By the way, are you sure you were doing nothing at the altar?”

“I followed the music, that’s all.”

“Ok.”

Still, the Sandslash continued to be insistent even when he guided Déjà Vu inside a tent. Inside, an old red-armored Samurott awaited them.

“Timber!” shouted the Samurott, smiling widely. “How was the trip to the Altar? Has Arceus graced you with a revelation?”

“Not… exactly,” said Timber, stumbling forward and leaning to whisper to the Samurott’s eyes. Instantly, the water Pokémon’s eyes widened while he eyed Déjà Vu up and down.

Déjà Vu, who took the opportunity to take his breath, closed his eyes.

His belly was weighing on him further, so much that he was having difficulty breathing unless he minded his movements, unless she contracted his abdomen slightly.

There was that pressure inside that continued to grow. Déjà Vu was sure he looked now positively pregnant, even though that idea seemed absurd. How could it be? He was no female. He was a male Pokémon, and his last breeding had been…

“Is that true?”

“W-What?” asked Déjà Vu, opening his eyes and blinking, finding the Samurott standing up from his seat while Timber remained behind, his claws clicking.

“Is that true you heard a song that guided you to the statue?”

“Yes,” answered Déjà Vu, his eyelids fluttering. “I heard a song when entering that place and… I followed it to the statue. That’s all.”

“That’s all? You’d better not lie to me or my crew, Déjà Vu. If that’s your name. Odd for a female.”

“That’s my name. And I am a male!” said Déjà Vu, watching how both exchanged a glance.

“That’s… Not what I was told. And your belly was… Ahem.”

“I-,” began Déjà Vu, passing a hand on his belly. “Can I have a seat?”

The Samurott said nothing for a moment, eyeing Déjà Vu. Then he clicked his tongue, pointing to Déjà Vu with his chin before he sat down. Meanwhile, Timber reached for a large pillow near where the Samurott was and placed it close to Déjà Vu, inviting him to sit down.

“Now, tell me. What happened? Do not omit any detail.”

“Is it linked to the song?”

The Samurott frowned.

“I am asking the questions.”

“Please. I- I want to be sure. I never knew that place existed, and now, I-”

Déjà Vu stopped. Now that he was sitting, the pressure had lessened. But it felt like his belly would split forward, delivering whatever was inside. His fur had thinned, and the red stretched skin below appeared as a hue. Portent of what was to happen.

“I am afraid of what’s happening. Just tell me you won’t hurt me if I tell you something.”

“No. We will not hurt you,” said the Samurott, nodding to Timber. “I promise. But what you may say could be… Important for us.”

Déjà Vu sighed, but he nodded and shifted his posture, sitting in the lotus position. It was hard on his back, but leaning forward helped with his belly.

“I… Am an artist. I am painting and went to the Dream Is-“

“No. Timber already told me. What happened at the statue?”

Déjà Vu gulped, looking aside.

“I was electrocuted. I think.”

“You think?”

“It hurt like an electric Pokémon had hit me,” said the Ampharos, outstretching his hand where he’d been hit. Again, there were no signs he’d been attacked. “But there was no mark. I was hit and now…”

“Now. You are pregnant.”

Déjà Vu’s brows lifted, and he looked at the Samurott, finding him smiling again.

“Am… I?”

“If you weren’t, it would be a bad omen,” said the Samurott, shaking his head while Timber approached.

“You are growing so quickly. I was always told the blessing acted quickly, but this quickly,” said the Sandslash, impressed.

“What? What blessing? What’s happening to me? Am I seriously pregnant?”

To answer, the Sandslash prostrated with his hands on the ground.

“Arceus himself has blessed you. It has yet to appear, but I can confirm you have been blessed with fertility beyond any means, Déjà Vu. You shall be our new leader.”

“Wh-at?” cried the Ampharos, suddenly tilting his head back… And rolling. He rolled, fell on his back, and his arms and legs were feeling so heavy he couldn’t lift them again. Not until he saw the Samurott above him, grabbing his arm and helping him sit up.

“Timber… I think you’re forcing way too much on him. Look at him. He confirmed what we asked of him.”

“But… The blessing.”

“Look at him, he’s barely staying awake. Come, Déjà Vu.”

Déjà Vu looked around, seeing that the Sandslash was still prostrate. However, it mattered not to the Ampharos, who was almost dragged, by the Samurott, to a corner of the tent. There, pillows formed a neat pile that looked like a bedding.

A bedding that was almost comfortable for Déjà Vu as he was helped to lie down… before he felt the exhaustion hit him.

His body was drained, exhausted. And the moment his head hit the pillow, he felt like all his worries were melting away. Worries. Fears. Everything.

It is rare to see such a reaction to my Gift, Déjà Vu. I knew you were special when you reached me. But I can see the seed of a King inside you.

-

When Déjà Vu woke up, he smelled the sweet taste of an oran berry and a stew. Both were in the Samurott’s hand. Was he checking on Déjà Vu? Had he also removed his mask?

The Ampharos stirred and moved, feeling certainly the return of that weight on his entire body. Less than before, or maybe he was accustomed. But it was there when the Ampharos rolled and tried to sit, rubbing his eyes.

“Where… It was not a dream, was it?” Déjà Vu asked, rubbing his eyes.

“It was not,” confirmed the Samurott with a nod. “I brought you a stew.”

“Thank you… Hum. What’s your name?”

“Call me Cobalt,” he answered by offering Déjà Vu a bowl of stew.

The bowl itself had been made of wood, something absurd in such a golden place. But Déjà Vu accepted the stew and ate, instantly feeling warmer and soothed by the hearty stew. It was salty but not bland. They must have used spices.

“It tastes good! Thank you, Cobalt!”

“Good?” asked the Samurott, raising an eyebrow and offering the Oran Berry after. “Cajun need to check your head. You might have hit your head after receiving Arceus’ blessing.”

“My head is fine,” grumbled the Ampharos, grabbing the berry and taking a bite out of it; the sweet taste was way different, but the fruit almost melted in Déjà Vu’s mouth.

“It better be because we must talk, now that you’re rested,” said Cobalt, again taking his serious tone. He watched over his shoulder, then returned to Déjà Vu. “Everyone here will learn you are blessed.”

“You keep saying blessed, but I don’t know what it means except… this,” said Déjà Vu, pointing to his oversized belly before he returned to gnawing his berry.

“A blessed Pokemon is our de facto leader-“

“You’re not the leader?”

“I was the leader per interim,” coughed Cobalt before continuing with a tone that was like a proclamation. “But… A blessed Pokémon is our de facto leader. Blessed by Arceus, he or she shall guide us. With his wisdom, he shall provide our people boons and gifts only Arceus might create. And it is through his presence our people shall breed.”

Déjà Vu spat out a chunk of the berry: “What?!”

Yet, Samurott wiped his face, serious: “It is. No female, not even any dittos, can bear eggs in those halls. Only the blessed can bear eggs for our every people.”

“But… But… What?” cried Déjà Vu, blinking and looking around. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“It is Arceus’ will. In a few moments, you will lay your first clutch of eggs. And then, you will become fertile and breedable for any male Pokémon.”

“How do you know that?” said Déjà Vu, his voice strangled.

“Because I am one of the former King’s sons. We have people like Timbers who entered this place through the stairs, but they are rare. Most of our people come from the King.”

Déjà Vu frowned, but saw the Samurott extending one finger, pointing at Déjà Vu’s belly.

“You might think it is absurd. But it is visible. Even a non-believer can see you bear the blessing of Arceus. You have eggs, and they will come out.”

The Ampharos didn’t say a thing, but he wiped his mouth and the fruit juice from his lips.

“What… What will happen?”

“We will worship you,” said Samurott, his shoulders dropping. “You saw how Timber reacted? Everyone will act like this. Because you are our King. They will feed you, they will care for you, bathe you. So long as you bear the eggs and the blessing.”

“What about painting?”

“Painting?”

“You know, my paintings!” said Déjà Vu, looking around and seeing his canvases stacked in a pile in a corner of the tent. He pointed at them, and Samurott was helpful enough to hand him the one at the top.

“Could I paint?”

“Uh… You might. But it might-“

“You mean I can’t?” asked Déjà Vu, his expression crumbling.

“It could be difficult.” Said Samurott, watching sadness appear on the Ampharos’ traits. “But we will do our best to help you paint, if that’s what you want!”

“Great! And how can I expose it all in Treasure Town?”

“… Treasure Town?”

“Oh! That’s right,” said the Ampharos, smacking his forehead. “You don’t know. It’s a city outside the dungeon and… … I can’t leave this place?”

“It happened before. But I have never seen it happen in my life.”

“I… No. No. Please, tell me there is a way out and I can leave,” said the Ampharos, his hands atop his head. “Or where I can send my art.”

“Even if there was a way out, it is unlikely you can take the path,” explained the Samurott, his fingertip pointed at Déjà Vu’s belly.

“What? My belly? I can move,” said Déjà Vu, huffing and getting on his feet. But as soon as he tried to stand up, he felt it… The weight on his guts.

It was worse, way worse. And he couldn’t tell if he’d gained another size. Perhaps he did. Yet, he couldn’t be sure. He felt so big and swollen and heavy. And sluggish.

Worse, when he stood up, he felt a shift going through his guts, like a kick. And he sat down, instantly, though the soreness remained, as did the sensation of something stirring and moving inside him through contractions.

“You cannot leave.”

“Then… Can you carry me?” asked Déjà Vu, shaking his head and looking at the Samurott.

Samurott, who sighed and sat, shaking his head.

“It is not a matter of the body. But of the blessing and the soul. You have been blessed. But that blessing comes from this land. Do you know the story of the halls?”

“I… I arrived a few hours ago. How could I know that?” snapped Déjà Vu, stroking his sore and painful belly. Sure enough, even his hands and arms had issues wrapping around his guts.

As for the contractions, they were getting faster… And faster. His abdominal muscles were hurting and burning from an exercise they were not used to.

“Did you not see the murals?”

“Yes, and? I don’t get it? What’s the matter with the murals?!”

Déjà Vu’s huffs ended. He had to hold on to his guts, clench his teeth, and… try to control his breath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He did so, steadily, pushing against the reflex to breathe faster. He opposed the clenching contractions by being mindful of his body. An effort that took him… Much.

But the shaking slowed. The pain receded. And the pressure. It lessened, even if only for a moment.

“This is where we were created.”

“What?” coughed Déjà Vu, turning his eyes and watching the Samurott, his legs in a lotus position, much like Déjà Vu.

“Arceus blessed created our world with the help of many other deities. But… He had to start in one place,” said the Samurott, raising one hand to the tent’s walls. “Once, those halls were teeming with the life Arceus had created. Each creation lived in this cradle that nurtured us.”

“A cradle. It looks closer to a-“

“A tomb? Yes,” said Samurott, taking a long breath.

“Yes…”

“This was the cradle of Pokékind. Those halls are infinite, but they used to be different. We had rooms where clean water would run freely. Others with orchards with trees heavy with golden apples that could revitalize any Pokémon. Berries would cure us all and yet have the sweetest taste. You did not see the murals?”

“I saw… Arceus giving a Pokémon an apple?” mumbled Déjà Vu.

“An old memory. Then, disaster struck, and the halls changed. They grew dim and cold. The orchards died, and the fountains disappeared. Our cradle had become a tomb, and our creator never stepped inside it ever again.”

Déjà Vu listened, frowning and shaking his head.

“Then the blessing…”

“The blessing happened many years after. After the disaster, all the Pokémons, carved the golden walls. Each wall bears a different story about a Pokémon encountering our creator.”

“Then…”

Déjà Vu frowned, guessing at the walls. There were so many murals. Their numbers went beyond the hundreds. And if the story was true, those halls had housed a community bigger than Treasure Town. Than any Pokécity he’d seen.

Silence.

Then, Samurott resumed his explanation, noting Déjà Vu’s shocked expression.

“They carved the walls with all their memories. With the gold they harvested, they created a statue to honor Arceus. Only then did they receive the blessing.”

“Wait… You said this is the cradle. But there are Pokémons outside. Even if that story is true, my presence means must be a way for the Pokémons to leave. Don’t you have any story about it?”

Alas, as Déjà Vu asked, the sole answer from Cobalt was to shake his head.

“No. Even before, Pokémons were looking to leave the halls. That’s why they created those murals, to plead for Arceus to save them or return.”

“So…”

“He did not. No. We received the blessing. At times, some would be blessed. And soon, we would have a new generation of Pokémons that would live in those halls.”

“So… I am stuck here?” asked Déjà Vu, his hands clutching his guts, stroking them… Almost rubbing the fur and the skin stretched beneath.

“You are. Even if you were to flee, I think we’d be the last here,” said the Samurott, exhaling. “Does it hurt?”

Déjà Vu frowned and sighed, closing his eyelids to focus on the sensation. He was certain now that the weight had changed. It was no longer akin to a mass, no… If he passed his hands at the right place, he could have a feel of the rigid surface, and he could guess it was an oblong shape.

His hands continued to wander, making sure he’d been feeling that… No, those eggs. And then he exhaled.

“It hurts. But it is fine,” mumbled Déjà Vu, his eyes low. “But… How can you be so sure those stories are true?”

After all, Déjà Vu wasn’t one to question everyone and everything. But the faith Cobalt and Timber showed was something only the most zealous Pokémons had. After all, Déjà Vu’s current condition could be a status effect or a move from another Pokémon.

“I do not come from the exterior.”

“You do not?” asked Déjà Vu, opening his eyes on Cobalt.

“I do not. I hear from the newcomers about the outside world and its colors. But I found it difficult to imagine it. Well, up until now.”

“Until now?”

Cobalt’s eyes drifted, and Déjà Vu followed, watching the pile of canvases.

“Oh.”

“A few other Pokémons saw it and confirmed it looked similar to the outside world. You painted this, did you?”

“Yes. I planned to expose that to Treasure Town, but… It is no longer an option.”

The Samurott had his hand to his mouth, hiding it for a moment.

“What do you need to create such paintings?”

“A canvas, but anyone who can weave fabric can create one. And… Pigments. Of all sorts.”

“Only that?”

“Well,” answered Déjà Vu, his hands dropping from his belly. “I might also need oil for the pigments. Oh, and if those pigments are from rocks, it’s even better. Using plant-based pigments works in the short term, but-“

Déjà Vu stopped and watched the curious expression on the Samurott. The surprise, too.

“Are you a scholar from the outside world?”

“Not officially. Truth is, I wanted but-” answered Déjà Vu, waving his hand. Only to stop and hold onto his belly when he felt another throb inside his body, and he sensed he was… Getting heavier. Again. “No… I… I am an artist. But I have experience making my paint.”

“If you could do-“

“Ah! DIALGA!” swore Déjà Vu, bending forward.

“What’s happening?!”

“I don’t know!”

No, Déjà Vu didn’t know. He could venture a guess, could say it was from the eggs inside him. But he couldn’t be entirely sure. He couldn’t affirm without a doubt that those were the eggs that rolled and were about to come out.

However, his abdomen clenched, as if it were crushing the eggs inside. The pressure inside his belly had grown, and his body, rather belly-heavy, looked almost round.

So round, it took little for the Ampharos to roll onto the pillows and end up with his back pressed against the soft surface.

It all weighed on his back, but the pressure on his skin was less and the same for his guts.

However, he could… Sense the contraction. The shocks, the movements pushing against his bowels until he could tell… It had moved. The weight inside him had moved, and he could say. No… Affirm, that egg was descending.

“It’s… AH! IT’S HAPPENING!”

“Wh-what? The eggs?!”

“YES!”

“TIMBER! CAJUN!”

Cobalt shouted, and stomps followed. Voices, too, though Déjà Vu couldn’t hear them. His mind was focused inward, to the contractions. He felt sluggish now that he was on his back, so much so that he couldn’t tell if he was able to stand up on his own.

His muscles were weak, much like his legs, as they kicked weakly into the air and… He could sense it, the egg that advanced, pushed onward by the contractions, by the inner muscles working at an irregular pace. They pushed, they moved, they ushered the egg forward. And the Ampharos couldn’t stop them. Not at all.

The sole thing he could do was… Endure. Endure and take in as that egg was descending, following a path he could sense but not map.

Around, the footsteps continued until a Skeledirge approached, rubbing Déjà Vu’s belly while commenting on it.

“Wh-what?!” shouted Déjà Vu, watching Cobalt and the Skeledirge looking back at him.

“It is your first time. We will do it as fast as possible,” said Cobalt.

“Timber will be back to help.”

“Back?! I-It’s happening now!” shouted Déjà Vu.

Indeed, it was happening now. The contractions pushed that egg down, and soon, there was a burn the young Pokémon would have never expected to feel before.

Déjà Vu wasn’t one to partake in sexual intercourse. But he could say with knowledge that most gay couplings happened… In the back. And it would be the same with that egg.

He felt his posterior, his sphincter, his ‘back entrance’ burn. Oh, it burned from the sphincter opening up and trying to widen as much as possible. A contraction that made the Ampharos heave and huff and moan. And then cry, cry as he could sense the opening going wider than before, and all due to one presence.

One crowning presence with a white, green-spotted shell. A presence that was pushed through the contractions and wouldn’t slow down or take it easy on the screaming and thrashing Ampharos.

“What takes him so long?”

“He must be praying, that must be it.”

“Yes, but I don’t have the tools.”

“I DON’T CARE!” shouted Déjà Vu, cutting through the discussions. “Give me! Give me a berry! Anything! It-It hurts!”

It hurt more than anything, with Déjà Vu not only feeling his abdominal muscles burn due to the constant push. However, that was not the only source of pain.

He could experience the burn and the stretching from his sphincter getting almost split open by the stretching… And again, it didn’t stop there.

No, above all, there was the emptiness inside his guts… And the growing pains.

His body was bulging, throbbing. And despite the egg that was about to slip out, the Ampharos could sense his body was shifting by the second. He felt heavier and larger, though his limbs did not follow.

He could move his arms, but it felt like they hit his sides constantly, even when he widened his stance. Though he did not try it much, his hands focused on rubbing and holding onto his belly.

As for his legs, he was starting to feel uncomfortable in the way they were dangling from his body. Even his posterior had widened, same as his tail, to accommodate. But such accommodation was limiting, and almost felt humiliating for the Ampharos, who wiggled, while feeling the Skeledirge, probably Cajun, continuing to stroke the skin.

“Can you give him anything?”

“I do not know. We used not to. But it wasn’t their first time.”

“Even a Chilan berry?”

“It might… Work,” nodded Cajun. “I must have some.”

Déjà Vu’s eyes went from one to another, scanning their expression, reading the worries on their faces as well as their confusion. They did not seem to understand much about the Ampharos’ situation. At least not enough to make quick calls.

However, when the Skeledirge produced a yellow ridge berry, Déjà Vu did not fight it.

He pushed against his own nausea and the pain rushing through his body so he could take a bite… And push that mouthful down. Repeating it. Steadily, while his body’s contractions had reached an impasse.

Sure enough, the egg was crowning and practically at the Ampharos’ entrance, the tip of the oblong shape through the hole. But as much as the body pushed and the inner walls contracted, the hole wouldn’t relinquish more.

It remained firmly closed, firmly holding the egg inside while the Pokémons were turning around, Déjà Vu, eyeing him, commenting.

“We should end that quick, or the egg might break.”

“How? I thought the blessing would make his hole… … wider?”

“It obviously doesn’t. We must do something.”

“I’m here! Is it done?”

“TIMBER! WHAT WERE YOU DOING?” shouted Cobalt.

Soon enough, Timber was getting the brunt of their frustration, with Cobalt admonishing the Sandslash for taking so much time. On the other side, the Sandslash was fighting and saying he'd been praying to Arceus for a good birth, evidently zealous.

They squabbled, they fought, they cried, and-

“STOP!” shouted Déjà Vu, his shout almost resonating within the tent. “STOP IT! And-… And help me! Would you?!”

The squabbles stopped, though he couldn’t see if they were glaring at one another due to his prominent belly. However, Cobalt’s face approached, smiling and passing a hand on the Ampharos’ belly.

“We will. Give us a moment to figure it out.”

A moment. It wasn’t like Djéà Vu was stalled or blocked. Sure enough, he could kick the air, but it felt like a berry sprouting legs trying to wiggle them. Not very efficient.

Not a good image for the Ampharos as he sighed and felt… yes, the pain receding. Whatever berry he’d been given, the pain lessened, and so he could almost breathe.

Well, until the contractions hit him and made him hiccup.

“Ok. Ok… Here we go,” mumbled the Skeledirge, reaching for the Ampharos’ posterior. His scaly fingers were definitely doing something, though Déjà Vu could not sense it. The berry acted as a numbing agent. It worked… Exceedingly well.

But Déjà Vu could still feel contractions shaking his entire body. The same as the throbs going through his frame. Throbs that were echoing through his limbs, making them wider but again not much longer.

Even the Ampharos’ neck seemed to be steadily absorbed by his massive body and belly. Belly that had more and more weight inside… More presences that were rolling, pushed onward by the contracting abdominal muscles.

It would not end. Not with one single egg.

A confirmation, an anxiety, that ran through the Ampharos’ mind as he sensed the Skeledirge’s fingers exploring his back entrance now. The prodding was so intense, even the numbing agent had no effect. And as soon as the fingers dug into the flesh… Déjà Vu closed his eyes and sighed, trying to accommodate that invasive sensation, that invasive presence steadily stretching his asshole and widening the entrance.

He hiccuped again, but the Ampharos focused his gaze on the canvas above, on the tent, while his sphincter was forced to open with the fingers.

“It is almost slipping out.”

“Steady… Steady. It is the first of Arceus’ blessings. That egg is beloved.”

“Focus on the egg itself. Not how you’ll be celebrating it, Timber.”

“I am very focused on the egg. It is the very essence of our God.”

“Sile… Silence,” grumbled Déjà Vu, trying to reach for his head. But only the tip of his fingers could reach his muzzle. He couldn’t cup his head, hold it, or anything. Only graze it before he gave up.

Then, his hands landed on his belly, on the taut skin… Feeling more shapes. More forms. More presences that were rolling and pressing against one another as they slowly but steadily grew within him, all at the same time.

He would be bound to lay more eggs; there was no other way… He wasn’t sure that was the fate he’d desired. The fate he’d been looking for. But, at the same time, there was something highly depraved within that awoke.

Through the pain of the contractions, through the woes of that birth, Déjà Vu felt… Excited.

He'd never been with a female long enough to get an egg. But it happened. He was pregnant. He was gravid. And that egg, those eggs, were his.

They were his, new lives he could birth. New Pokémons he was bringing about. And something within him was tickled… A desire. A lust? A joy? A satisfaction?

Through the dulled pain and the urge to move, there was that… Bliss Déjà Vu could experience. A satisfaction unlike any other, freedom of unspoken desires he was suddenly aware of as he sighed… And watched the slime-covered egg being offered to him.

Between his legs, his posterior was agape and clenching, winking back at anyone currently peering at it.

But the prodding and temptation mattered little for the Ampharos, who received the egg and felt it weighing in his arm. It was his egg… One he’d birthed. And already he could feel the shell warming against his body and the little heartbeat inside.

It was… Inebriating. Exhilarating as he chuckled, hiccupping.

“Déjà Vu?”

The Ampharos eyed the egg: hard shell, oblong shape, white and green spots. A soft, powdery smell came from it, despite the slime. And then, he pressed his mouth against it. Yes, hard shell. Just like the few he’d seen from other Pokémons. It was, by all accounts, a normal and very healthy egg. Would the others be the same?

“Déjà Vu?”

“Yes?” snapped the Ampharos, looking away from the egg to look at Cobalt, who had his arms outstretched to receive the egg. Egg Déjà Vu gave back with a pout.

“Take care of it.”

“I always do. I was raised to care for them,” said Cobalt, coughing. “We have an incubation room for them. So they will stay warm and ready.”

“Good… Good.”

Déjà Vu repeated it as he looked at his belly, stroking it, drumming against it. The contractions had stopped, as had the soreness. Remained then that fullness, that presence deeply entrenched within him. And that bliss as he looked around, then at his belly, then at Cobalt, who kept eyeing him.

“It’s... Real.”

“As real as it can be,” confirmed the Samurott. “You should take it easy. If… If what I was taught is true, tomorrow will be a rough day.”

“Rough?”

Cobalt pointed at Déjà Vu’s belly, delivering an affirmation that plastered a smile on the Ampharos’ face.

“If our estimations are correct… You will have to lay half a dozen more tomorrow. Try to sleep well. And… Hmm… … This is a strange introduction. But welcome to our crew.”

-

Déjà Vu sighed and handed out the egg. It wasn’t the first. But it was one of his oldest eggs, only a few days old. He could already feel the shaking inside, the heartbeat… The warmth that was emanating from it. It would be a fire type.

In the incubation room turned nursery, the Ampharos was almost blissful. Not that he could move much, but everything was set up so he could check on the eggs. And if he couldn’t reach for one, Timber would do the mindful.

Yet, it was a poor place to hold what looked to be a tribunal. Déjà Vu holding the seat. Timber. Cobalt. And the oddity, Paprika flanked by two Machokes. The smaller Pokémon looked like he’d been roughed up with a swollen eye, a bruised jaw, and a pathetic expression.

“I shtold you. I know… D’jà ‘u,” roughly articulated the Ambipom. He was emaciated, too.

“Why…” started Déjà Vu, rolling and waving his arms to have a better view of his guide. Luckily, Timber propped him up. “Why is he looking like crap? What did you do?”

“We found him stealing in our pantry,” answered a Machoke. “We beat him. But before we threw him-“

“I’m shorry! I wash hungry! It’sh ‘een ‘ays!” shouted Paprika, only to be smacked.

“Stop that!” shouted Déjà Vu, grunting. “Release him. Now. He’s not a thug.”

“We can’t.”

Déjà Vu frowned before turning to Cobalt, his voice stiff: “Why not?”

“We must make an example, Déjà Vu. He steal. He must die.”

“He’s not from there. You’d expect him to survive in the Halls?”

“I’m shorry, D’jà ‘u! I- I’ been fetching ‘ems and forgo’ you! But-! But ‘e ‘work ‘ell! To’ether! ‘e are friends! Right?”

Indeed, Paprika looked miserable. While Déjà Vu had been growing, so much that he was certain his next clutch of eggs would be way bigger than the last… Paprika looked like he’d been roughed up by more than the Machokes.

“He… He stole from us. Even if we act kindly, what about the next Pokémon that does that? Will you pardon them?”

“Of course not,” huffed Déjà Vu, eyeing the hopeful Paprika. “But he was my guide! He saved me! It must mean something!”

“Everyone will try to get into your good graces. We have rules. You must enforce them, you must make sure nobody abuses us.”

“D-D’jà ‘u! Help ‘e!” shouted Paprika, looking at the massive and roundish Ampharos. “I nee’ hel’! I’ll ‘o be’er! I’ll be! I’ll be be’er!’

Déjà Vu grimaced, looking at his guide. At the eggs. At Cobalt. He shook his head.

“I can’t. Cobalt. I cannot in good conscience have him killed. Ask Cajun to tend to his wounds.”

The Samurott’s expression tensed, his fist clenched, before he nodded to the Machokes.

“Do as Déjà Vu told. Then cast him away. Exile it will be.”

“Wait! NO!” shouted Déjà Vu, waving his arms. But as soon as he saw Paprika’s expression, one of the Machoke hit him behind the head. The Ambipom dropped.

“Why did you do that?” asked Déjà Vu, roaring.

“Because you certainly cannot make the hard choices for the eggs’ security,” answered Cobalt, eyeing Déjà Vu up and down. “Don’t worry. He will be fed and taken care of.”

“I can’t be trusted? Isn’t it you who said I would be your King since I am blessed?”

“Cobalt! Déjà Vu is blessed! You should defer to him!” added Timber.

“I can’t. I have been making hard choices before.”

“Yes! But he is blessed! You are not! You must trust our King!”

“Wait. I’m just saying we could be more merciful with him. He is a friend!”

“And I say mercy is dangerous here. Timber. Your praises are appreciated-”

“But I am still the leader here! My words are law, you said! And I say, take Paprika to Cajun so he can be healed!”

Déjà Vu’s fur puffed up and his eyes seemed to flare in anger while he looked at Cobalt… Who returned the same glare.

Then, he looked towards the two Machokes, raising his chin towards the gawking Pokémons.

“Have him healed and then kicked out as a mercy. With a bag of berries.”

“COBALT!” shouted both Déjà Vu and Timber.

“I am sorry,” said the Samurott, eyeing the Machokes leaving the tent, nervously. “This must be a difficult situation for you. To witness and see. But it is necessary.”

With that, Cobalt approached the exit, passing a hand over it.

“It wounds me we had to reach this conclusion. But I promise I am doing everything to help you. I am sorry, Déjà Vu.”

Cobalt left through the tent, though he did not close the flap.

That way, Déjà Vu could still admire the progress made outside.

Painted, refined, remade so it wouldn’t be much of an eyesore; Déjà Vu’s first wish had been to make the camp look like a perfect home for his kids.

But as he grabbed one egg, ready to take care of his spawn and to embrace his role, Déjà Vu could feel frustration and anger bubble.

He was impotent, immutable. His body had grown so much, he could no longer move on his own and inspect his own work. A work he started to doubt… To fear as it was easy for Cobalt to sidestep his orders in front of him.

What else could it be? What other orders had they refused without telling him?

And that justice? That was not the kind of justice Déjà Vu had pictured for his future children. Perhaps Cobalt was right about enforcing the law. But it didn’t seem to be Déjà Vu’s law… Then, what was it?

What was Déjà Vu’s purpose here… If not to lay more eggs?