Work Text:
To be seen is to be killed.
We were taught this lesson young. Humans are always hostile, always angry, and always deadly. We can fight, but not forever. So instead we must hide. Hide in the wilderness, hide in plain sight, hide in the guise of something else.
They may see us but they must not see us .
To be seen is to be killed.
When I was very young, two of my littermates disappeared.
The Zoroark in our colony were worried, and sad, but not surprised. We all are too young to have properly learned how to not be seen, and sometimes we make mistakes at the wrong moments. Every one of them bore those scars as well from their own Zorua days, and they were able to help us move on.
It hurt. It left us with holes in our hearts. It was simply the way of things, and none of us could change it.
To be seen is to be killed.
The tale of our kin is not a kind one.
Once, long ago, a nest of Zorua and Zoroark traveled here in hiding, seeking a place away from humans. Seeking a home, where they could live in peace.
This place was not a home for our past kin.
The Pokémon here would not accept their intrusion, and eventually they were driven into the frozen highlands.
They all died, hungry and frozen and bitter. But their malice remained. It coalesced, clung to their souls, and brought them back. Not quite dead, but not quite alive either. Where the originals could not survive this cold, bleak place, the half-ghosts that our kin became found it comfortable enough to stay.
I have heard whispers that Zoroark from that original nest may still persist, clinging to what life we have with sheer hatred and force of will.
Those originals ensured that we would always pass down our most important lesson.
To be seen is to be killed.
Humans rarely enter our territory. The living do not take to the cold well. It is part of why we stay, even though the memory of our kin’s death clings to this land still.
Our kind does not persist for vengeance’s sake, and so we do not hunt humans should they avoid us. Most of us would keep our distance, to leave the past in the past and live in peace as our kin wished. These icy lands are the perfect place to do so.
But they still hunt us, from time to time. Some foolish individuals will take it into their heads that fewer foxes would mean a safer world for humans. They risk the killing cold and think it a noble bravery.
To those humans, the bitterest among us teach a final lesson.
To be seen is to be killed.
Most humans seem to have learned this lesson taught in blood. We are not prideful nor needful enough to take the entire region as our territory, and those few humans who come here regularly stay away from the parts of the land we have claimed.
In return, we rarely stray from our territory. Out of respect, or fear, or something else, when we scent or sight the passage of humans, we do not track them down so long as they keep their distance from our land.
When I believed myself to no longer be a pup, I was foolish, as many are.
I would sneak out and venture to the edges of our territory. I believed that so long as I remained in its boundaries, nothing could possibly harm me.
On one of these excursions, I caught sight of a human just outside of our borders. It looked towards our lands but showed no sign of crossing the boundaries, so I felt no fear. I believed that since it had not crossed, it would not or could not cross.
I let myself be visible in the snow.
The human stared at me, but made no move from its spot. Instead, it pulled something out of its pack and began scribbling.
We stayed that way for a time. I would not approach, but I did not flee, either.
Eventually, it stopped scribbling, and closed the thing it held with a snap only faintly audible to my keen ears. It looked at me one last time, and shouted to be heard over the howling wind.
“Thank you! ”
On that day, I learned that our most vital lesson could be flawed:
To be seen is not always to be killed.
Not long after that foolishness, I evolved into a Zoroark. I was taken to examine our full territory, so that I may familiarize myself with the land that I would now help take responsibility for.
We found blood on the snow near the border.
The scent was not familiar to me or the Zoroark accompanying me, but she assured me that it was not human. There was not enough blood to signify a death, and droplets left a trail–one leading away from our territory.
We did not pursue it, but we memorized the scent.
I saw no intruding humans or Pokémon during our patrol, and I felt a strange relief.
To be seen is to be killed, and I did not wish to deal death that day.
My run-in with a human sat heavy on my mind. The gratitude in its voice at merely sharing an encounter with me would not leave me.
The older Zoroark would tell me it is a lie, but they were not there. They did not hear its voice, nor watch its actions. Despite everything I have been told about humans, I do not believe that it wished me dead.
And if they were wrong about that, what else are they wrong about? Our kind have lived in relative peace, yes, but it is a peace enforced through violence and bloodshed. More and more the thought of striking to kill with no reason but proximity disgusted me.
On days I was tasked to patrol after that first, I was alone. Every time I saw another Pokémon near our borders, it fled the moment it spotted me. Terror would waft towards me on the wind.
I felt hollow.
It was how they were taught to behave around us, I suppose.
After all, to be seen is to be killed.
It was not long before I could take no more of that hollow feeling inside me. Perhaps that emptiness was natural to ghosts, but I was only half of one. The rest of me still lived.
The rest of me still yearned for something to fill that void, and I did not believe I could trust the elder Zoroark enough to allow them in. I believed in the history I was told, still. I did not believe that we should allow it to dictate our lives. But centuries of habit were hard to break, when there were some few among us who still felt that pain as keenly as the day they had died.
So I fled. On a day where I would not be missed patrolling, I left as if to explore. I neared our border. I gazed across it once more, hesitating to take the last step. I’d been this far, but no further. I didn’t know how to go.
I knew I couldn’t stay.
I cloaked myself in the semblance of a Glaceon and padded beyond the only home I had ever known.
I would not allow myself to be seen for what I was, because for all I knew that the lesson was flawed, it still held me.
To be seen is to be killed.
As the days passed, I refined my illusions. I learned how to more perfectly mimic Glaceon, as well as Gabite, Lucario, and Sneasel.
I enjoyed the challenge, but the hollowness persisted. I could not find the courage to reveal myself, and so I remained separate.
I watched other Pokémon as the pit in my heart twisted into envy. I could not join, but I could not pull away, either. I yearned so desperately for the fearless joy that I saw in the little Eevee and Riolu. I saw the gruff but kind affection that the Sneasler and Garchomp showed their young, and burned with jealousy at what I had never been given.
Their youths were something to be treasured and loved. I had been something to be shielded and trained.
I thought of the disappearances in my colony, both of Zorua and Zoroark. Had they all been slain, like I was told? I was no longer sure. Perhaps some of them felt what I felt, and understood that our kin did not know how to give them—give us—what we yearned for.
If to be seen is to be killed, then perhaps our kind even refused to truly see each other.
Humans were rare in the icelands, and on the scarce occasions I did see one, I would give it a wide berth. Old lessons lingered like bitter ghosts.
Once, I thought I recognized some detail of a human, but habitually strayed away before I could confirm anything.
This, too, lingered. The next time I thought I recognized something about a human, I moved closer before I could decide what to do.
I stayed out of sight in the guise of a Lucario, and remained near enough to observe. The more I saw, the more I realized that this was the human I had met that day. The one who had instilled enough doubt in my heart for it to become ravenous.
She was watching a Snorunt from a distance, as she had watched me then. The same object came out of the pack, and she flipped through sheets of something until she found an empty page. Then, she started scribbling the same way she had before. I approached further, unthinkingly driven by curiosity. Eventually, I got close enough to see the image of the Snorunt appear on the page.
Why did she do this?
I would not get my answer that day, because it was then that I realized she was not as unaware as I had believed.
Some kind of ball flew at my head, popping my illusion. The last thing I saw was surprise on the human’s face as she saw my true form.
I silently berated myself as I felt something close around me.
My kin were right after all, it seemed.
To be seen is to be killed.
…I soon realized that I wasn’t dead. In fact, I maintained a dim awareness of the surrounding world, despite being enclosed in…whatever this is. The human walked over and picked up the ball, staring at it for a moment before placing it in a holster at her hip.
Then she just…went about her business as before.
I continued to observe as best I could from inside this ball. I still wasn’t really sure what she was after, but the human seemed to enjoy her work in a way I had never enjoyed my patrols. The envy in my heart resurfaced dimly. What would it be like to do something because I enjoyed it? Would I ever get to find out?
I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to me. It could be any number of things. I supposed I simply had to wait to find out.
I didn’t have to wait very long. The human seemed to have been almost done with her day’s work when I was captured. She returned to a camp on the southern border of the icelands, where snowy tundra gave way to mountainous crags.
She left a few things there and spoke with the human guards about negotiating with a dangerous Pokémon. I supposed she meant me. The guards merely nodded in acknowledgement. Then she put the camp out of sight.
Another ball was removed from her belt, and from it emerged a Decidueye. I quailed at its presence, my instincts acknowledging it as a foe that could strike at my weakness.
“Alright, Holo. I need you to be at the ready, just in case,” the human began. “I…accidentally caught a Zoroark?”
The Decidueye—Holo, she’d called him—gave the human a baleful look.
“Hey, don’t give me that, I thought it was a Lucario! It’s not my fault Zoroark can pretend to be other Pokémon!”
Holo simply shook his head and sighed.
“Anyway,” the human continued, “I don’t know how it’s going to react when I let it out of the Pokéball, so I want you to be ready for anything. Okay?”
As Holo nodded, tensing minutely, the human took hold of the ball I had been captured in and…did something. Something that left me standing on the snow in front of her.
I didn’t want a fight. I hoped I could avoid one. But I prepared for one anyway.
Warily, I began to move, eyes on the Decidueye. He glared at me, not bothering to voice any complaints, but did not attack. Once both the human and the Decidueye were both in easy line of sight, I stopped.
Only then, with the maybe-hostile Pokémon solidly in my vision, did I let myself look at the human again.
“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed to me, adoration in her eyes.
Perhaps, to be seen is something precious.
Akari was this human’s name, I quickly learned. She loved Pokémon of all kinds, and she wanted nothing more than to help humans and Pokémon learn to coexist.
I thought I might like that, and so I agreed to accompany her. I had no idea what I was getting into.
Akari battled with Pokémon by her side. We would fight, and she would serve as the strategist with her full view of the battle. It took me some time to adjust to this arrangement, and more time to trust Akari so fully that I would obey without hesitation. But trust I did, because I understood that she cared for the Pokémon she traveled with so very much.
She cared so much that the emptiness at my core began to dwindle.
Once I had been with Akari for a few days, after we left the icelands, she showed me the book she always carried with her. Every Pokémon she met, she drew in that book, she told me. I connected the dots in my mind and immediately snatched it from her hands. I began leafing through it, taking care that my claws would not tear the pages.
It wasn’t long before I found the page I was searching for: the page on Zorua.
Sure enough, as my claws gently traced the lines, I recognized the little details in the pup staring up at me from the page. It was a perfect likeness.
Akari looked on, confused. Then she let out a gasp. “Wait, hold on. That was you?!”
I looked up from the page to give her a nod.
“Were you…looking for me, that day I caught you?” she asked, and I thought over what I’d done in the weeks before I’d been captured in that Poké Ball.
I… was looking for Akari, wasn’t I? I just hadn’t realized it. Softly, I closed the book. Slowly, I offered it back.
Quickly, Akari embraced me in a fierce hug, laughing as she clung to me.
I held her back, and as her joyful laughter dwindled, I heard her whisper, “I’m glad you found me, Yume.”
I was glad I had found her too.
To be seen was something I was learning to treasure, now.
I had seen the golden lightning strike the region in recent days. It was with Akari that I discovered what that lightning was—an energy that had frenzied the divine Lords of the region.
Akari was tasked with quelling Lord Avalugg’s frenzy, and I would not allow her to go without me. I was a Pokémon of the icelands. Who better to protect her there? And I did. When I was faced with the frenzied Lord, I saw it was not a battle I could win, but I put my trust in Akari.
I didn’t have to win. That wasn’t the goal in the first place. I just had to keep His fury trained on me, rather than the comparatively fragile human I was starting to love.
From the time I took the field to the time the golden energy faded from Avalugg’s body, the divinely-blessed Lord’s eyes could only see me.
To be seen, that day, was to protect.
Events only got more unbelievable—and more dangerous—from there. I learned that Akari wasn’t from Hisui. Or, I suppose, she wasn’t from this Hisui. After the sky cracked, she was driven out of Jubilife Village. She had as companions only the five Pokémon she had carried on her.
She let us all out, Holo and Reina and Kanna and Beru and me.
She told us all what she remembered of her past-future life, about the world to come where humans and Pokémon live in harmony. About how she had been tasked by a god with helping make that world possible, and about how she just wanted to go home.
I decided right then and there that I would unleash every ounce of Bitter Malice in my body upon the god who had put this burden on such a kind soul.
I saw Akari in her entirety that day, and I did what I could to ease her pain.
Time and Space were struck by the same frenzy that had taken Lord Avalugg.
To quell the frenzy of a god would require a godly tool, and so Akari visited three lesser gods. Emotion and Will and Knowledge tested her, and none found her wanting.
Space met us on the battlefield, and Akari bound It with the Red Chain so It could be calmed and captured. The chain broke, and Time attacked. We fled with the chain’s pieces.
We returned with a new tool forged from the shards of the old, and defeated Time. I held a small grudge against the two of them for displacing Akari, but it did not last. The rage, they told me before Akari released them, was not entirely theirs. Distortion was raging, and Its rage was infectious.
We gathered more divine artifacts, and when they were all assembled, we fought a mad human, mad with grief and pain and malice. I knew grief and pain and malice, deep in my bones. I had known them since I was a pup, and I knew that they had no true strength unless tempered with kindness and trust and love. He had not tempered his like Akari had helped me temper mine. I tore through three of his Pokémon before he called down Distortion.
I struck down Distortion, too.
We had made the gods see us. We met with their approval.
Things calmed, after that. I was allowed to explore Jubilife Village, some. I had rankled at the restrictions before, but I understood that humans were fearful of my kind, and held no malice towards them for it.
Old grudges linger, when they are kept alive by bitter ghosts.
I met Professor Laventon, who so thoroughly ignored his fear while examining me for his research that I nearly wondered if I was mistaken. When I felt his hands shaking as he touched my fur, I realized the depths of his bravery. I was glad that such a brave man had been one of Akari’s staunchest supporters in this place as it was turning against her.
I saw all of Hisui with Akari, as we tracked the last few Pokémon that had yet to be examined for Laventon’s Pokédex project.
Akari confided in us that in the future, Laventon’s Pokédex would be credited as the thing that made it possible for humans and Pokémon to live together.
I saw Hisui begin to change around us. I believed her.
Eventually, the Pokédex was complete. Every research entry had been filled out. Laventon was preparing to assemble his findings for wider distribution. I was a part of it. Akari’s original drawing of me was the image that everyone would know Hisuian Zorua by, and Laventon’s more recent illustration of me would do the same for Hisuian Zoroark.
Something chimed in Akari’s bag as she was helping Laventon fuss over his research.
I had seen the strange object she pulled out a few times before, most notably glowing with divine energy. Perhaps it was a gift from the god who had sent her here.
Gazing at it for a few long minutes, tears began to stream down Akari’s face.
“I…I can go home. I can go home!” she sobbed.
She’d had those who loved her dearly back in her time, I knew. Ones who cared for her as strongly as she cared for her Pokémon companions.
To be seen by her loved ones after so long away would be a relief, and I was glad she would have that chance.
Once Akari had said her goodbyes to all of her human friends, she stopped in the highlands for one final conversation with us. She didn’t know who among her Pokémon companions, if any, would be willing to go to the future with her.
We’d all seen how much losing her home had pained her, and in the end, only two of us chose to travel with her.
Holo, her first companion. The Decidueye I’d first met. He’d been with Akari ever since she arrived in Hisui, and he didn’t want to lose her.
Yume, her last. Akari had given me the love that my fellow Zoroark no longer seemed to understand, and I would not leave her.
At the top of Mount Coronet, we ascended into Creation’s domain. Creation Itself challenged us.
I fulfilled my promise from the day the sky cracked. I set upon It with Bitter Malice. Creation ceded defeat.
We bid farewell to Kanna, Beru, and Reina. They would stay with the Galaxy Team to keep building Hisui into a home for both humans and Pokémon, and I wished them well.
I didn’t know what the future would be like, but so long as I was by Akari’s side, I was willing to face anything. She had, after all, taught me the most important lesson of my life, one that I would pass on for the rest of my days.
To be seen is to be loved.