Morning came fast for two people who barely slept.
Cyrus shoved the last zipper closed on his pack, exhaling through his teeth. Kina was already done—lean, efficient, organized in a way that made Cyrus's bag look like it had lost a wrestling match with a Fearow.
Ditto draped itself across his shoulders, half-asleep, molding lazily around his collar like someone had microwaved a scarf.
Downstairs, the inn smelled like strong tea and day-old toast. Most of the guests were already crowded around the windows, watching Bloodmoon Mountain with the kind of anxiety usually reserved for tax season.
Cyrus and Kina didn't linger.
They stepped outside into chilly morning air, packs slung, pokéballs secured, and a gentle heaviness settling now that the Titan Goodra was finally at peace somewhere behind them.
"I can't believe we're actually heading home," Cyrus said, adjusting the straps on his shoulders.
Kina shrugged with one shoulder. "Your parents need data. And after… all that? Yeah. We should actually go give it to them in person."
"Plus," Cyrus added, "I desperately need a shower that isn't mountain runoff."
"That too," she said, deadpan.
They crossed the small square heading toward the ranger outpost. Harlan stood out front already, Noctowl perched on a wooden beam above him. He looked like he'd aged ten years—but maybe also like he could finally breathe.
He spotted them and raised a hand. "Heading out?"
"Yeah," Cyrus said. "We've got a flight waiting down in the valley."
Kina dipped her head in a polite bow. "Thank you. You helped us more than we expected."
Harlan chuckled tiredly. "Please. You two handled the impossible. I just handed you a few old papers and hoped for the best."
"You handed us the papers that kept the valley from becoming a crater," Cyrus pointed out.
Harlan waved that off. "Semantics."
But his voice warmed. "Really… thank you. Titan Goodra settling again will change everything here."
Noctowl hooted in agreement—soft, but relieved.
Cyrus tightened a strap on his pack. "If things get weird again, call us. Or my parents. They like emergencies."
Kina snorted. "They do."
Harlan nodded. "I will."
Then he paused, gaze flicking between them. "Travel safe. And… watch yourselves. If Hoopa is involved, you won't get normal problems."
Kina and Cyrus exchanged a glance.
"We know," she said.
And they meant it.
They said their goodbyes, then started the descent path toward the valley floor. The morning sun cast long shadows across the trail. Meltan clinked softly inside its Pokéball; Gengar floated lazily above Cyrus like an indifferent purple balloon; Kina's Growlithe trotted beside her, alert but calm; Sliggoo peeked from her hood.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while—just boots crunching gravel, wings of distant bird Pokémon beating overhead, the mountain finally quiet behind them.
That quiet felt earned.
Eventually, they emerged into the lower valley clearing where the sleek, dark-gray jet waited. King Company's emblem shimmered faintly along its side—discreet, practical, unmistakably Cyrus's family.
Cyrus whistled. "Home sweet sky-home."
Kina raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me someone else is flying it."
"Oh yeah," Cyrus said. "The pilots actually know what they're doing. I barely know which button makes the seat recline."
"Comforting."
Ditto perked up and slid down his arm, hopping onto the jet ramp like it thought it was the one who owned the aircraft.
As they approached, Cyrus glanced back one last time at Bloodmoon Mountain.
Storm clouds hovered far above the ridge, but the air felt still.
Balanced.
"Feels weird leaving," Cyrus admitted.
Kina nodded. "We did what we could. Now we find out what comes next."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. Story of our lives."
They stepped inside. The cabin lights brightened automatically, soft and warm. Plush seats. Holo-panels. A long table in the center. It wasn't lavish, but it was comfortable in that very "King Company practical luxury" way.
Cyrus dropped into a seat with a relieved groan.
Kina sat across from him, stretching her arms overhead. "Once we get home, are your parents going to dissect the shell data?"
"Oh absolutely," Cyrus said. "And then probably lecture us."
"Mostly you," she corrected.
He slid her a look. "…Yes."
Growlithe curled under the table. Gengar phased halfway into the wall just to be obnoxious. Ditto climbed onto a seat and became a blanket again for no reason.
The intercom crackled.
"Passenger clearance received," one of the pilots said. "We'll be departing within the next two minutes."
Kina exhaled, relaxing at last. "Good. I'm ready to be somewhere that isn't on fire, acid-soaked, or trying to fall on us."
Cyrus leaned back. "You get used to it."
"No," she said immediately.
The engines hummed softly, powering up.
The jet doors sealed.
And as the cabin lights dimmed for takeoff—
—a soft bell-like giggle echoed from somewhere behind them.
Not loud.
Not taunting.
Just playful.
Light as a windchime.
Cyrus froze.
Kina's head snapped toward the back of the cabin.
A small silhouette floated above one of the rear seats—gold hoops glinting, eyes bright, body swinging playfully upside-down.
A whispery little voice chimed:
"Hoopa so happy you're going home~!"
Cyrus's stomach dropped.
Kina's jaw tightened.
The little creature twirled once, giggling again, settling upright on the headrest like it lived there.
"Hoopa follow friends! Hoopa want to see more fun!"
The jet engines roared to life.
Cyrus buried his face in both hands. "Oh no. no no no…sigh."
Kina whispered, "Cyrus."
"Yeah?"
"We need to call your parents again."
Hoopa beamed at them, proud as a Meowth who found someone else's wallet.
"This gonna be soooo fun!"
The jet lifted off the ground.
And whatever "normal" they thought was waiting back home—
yeah.
That wasn't happening anymore.