Morning at the King Estate came with the smell of coffee, the hum of incubators from Dr. King's lab wing, and the mellow creaking of old hardwood floors — the normal noises Cyrus didn't realize he missed until he heard them again.
Kina stood at the bottom of the main staircase with her pack slung over her shoulder, Toucannon perched proudly beside her like a feathery security guard. The early sunlight caught her hair and made the whole moment look way more dramatic than she'd probably intended.
"Well," she said, exhaling, "guess this is where I head out."
Cyrus leaned against the rail. "You sure you don't want to stay a day or two? My mom was already planning to feed you until you physically couldn't escape."
Kina snorted. "Tempting, but I need to swing back home. Check on my folks, and we don't want Sliggoo to slime a hole through your bourse … and I promised my Dad I'd hit the Wailuku Gym next time I was in town. Might as well get that badge before he starts bragging that he could beat me."
Cyrus smirked. "He couldn't."
"He absolutely could, and we both know it." She nudged him with an elbow. "Anyway, I'm not a battle junkie, but sometimes you gotta keep a toolkit sharp. Never know when a place you're going demands a little badge flash."
Joseph came over to give her a fatherly handshake that turned last-second into a hug.
"Travel safe. And if the Hoopa follows you instead… please redirect it back. Preferably gently."
Dr. King added, "Tell your mother I still have her field notes and I haven't forgotten my promise to digitize them."
Kina grinned. "Will do."
Outside, Mudsdale stamped impatiently beside the hired transport van. Araquanid and Growlithe were already inside, barking and clicking in their own little travel chorus.
Kina looked back at Cyrus once more.
"You better not get swallowed by anything while I'm gone."
"No promises."
She grinned wider. "Good. Wouldn't want you getting boring."
One final wave — then she climbed in, Mudsdale trotting after her, and the vehicle pulled away down the long gravel drive. Cyrus watched it until it disappeared past the line of silverwood trees.
The estate suddenly felt quieter.
Not empty… just quieter.
Settling Back Into the Kingdom
Ditto flopped onto Cyrus's shoulder like a melting backpack as he walked back inside.
"Well, buddy," Cyrus murmured, "guess it's just us again."
Ditto burbled something encouraging and vaguely squishy.
He spent the rest of the day doing the thing he hadn't realized he missed: just… existing with his team.
Ceruledge bolted the moment the sliding glass doors opened, blue flames trailing behind him as he sprinted across the estate's private training fields. Within minutes he was slicing practice dummies in half, then welding them back together with ghost-fire just to slice them again. Happy as hell.
Gengar phased in and out of walls, ceilings, furniture, and occasionally his father — who pretended not to be startled every single time despite very much being startled every single time. Eventually Gengar drifted off to "do Gengar things," which usually meant rearranging museum signage so the historical facts spelled rude words.
Tyrunt barreled through the west courtyard, roaring gleefully as Ditto shaped itself into increasingly ridiculous dinosaur forms for sparring. At one point Ditto became a tiny cardboard cutout of a T. rex and Tyrunt still tackled it like it was a rival apex predator.
Meltan wandered straight into the lab, humming metallically as it snacked on spare wire coils. Dr. King took one look, sighed, and grabbed a notebook.
"Alright, little one. Let's get your intake ratios documented before you melt my centrifuge again."
And finally…
Cyrus stepped out toward the outer fields — the biggest stretch of land on the estate, rolling green bordered by old stone markers and shady ironwood trees.
Where Bloodmoon Ursaluna waited.
The great bear lumbered slowly from the shade, moon-mark glowing faintly even in daylight. It sniffed the wind, then Cyrus, then the soil, as if cataloging everything all over again.
"Hey, big guy," Cyrus said softly, unclipping the ball and letting it hang empty at his side. "You're free to wander. This is… well, home. If you want it to be."
The Ursaluna's breath was deep, steady — no longer strained the way it was after the fight. Its eyes, once wild and fogged with pain, were clearer now. Curious.
It stepped closer, nudging Cyrus's chest gently with the hard curve of its snout.
Cyrus smiled a little. "That a yes?"
A rumbling growl, not threatening. More like a tired cat agreeing to share the couch.
The bear turned and began a slow, deliberate walk across the field. Each step sank deep into the soft earth, leaving massive tracks behind. Cyrus walked with it, side by side, saying nothing for a long moment.
"You know," he murmured, "I'm not gonna make you fight if you don't want to. Not until you're healed. Not ever, if it's not your thing."
Ursaluna glanced at him with a long, unreadable stare. Then it huffed, a warm, grounding sound, and continued walking, angling itself closer so their arms brushed lightly every few steps.
Cyrus felt something loosen inside his chest.
Acceptance.
Mutual.
Earned.
The sun dipped, casting long red shadows over the field. Somewhere deeper inside the mansion, Gengar cackled. Ceruledge's flame trails lit up like fireflies. Meltan set off an alarm Dr. King pretended not to hear.
And in the fading light, a faint shimmer flickered at the estate's far boundary — a ring, just watching.
Silent.
For now.