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The storm rages outside, rain pouring heavily against the roof, wind rattles the windows, and flashes of lightning followed by loud crashes of thunder pound away at our ears, shaking the very ground we sit on. The lights flicker at the power of the storm but, thankfully, remain working.

Lei has fallen asleep in his mother's arms, the noises nothing for a baby used to this weather to fear. Himiko sits in my lap, not afraid of the storm either, but still crying, saddened by her mother's absence now.

"Shh, Himi, it's alright, dear," I say soothingly to my niece, running my fingers through her fine blonde hair, the same hair as her late father's, Kai. "Your mum will be back. She just had to go work for a bit."

This does little to comfort her, though, and instead, I sit and pat her back, humming softly until finally, she cries herself to sleep. The room sits quietly, but for the noises outside as I continue to sing softly to my niece.

My home is crowded. Pokémon fill every corner. Tinsel and Hop had slunk into my bedroom to escape the surge of bodies. Burnet had grabbed the Pokémon from her house, but not their balls, too worried about getting back to my property, and therefore, back to her son. And it's a good thing she didn't stay to find them; the storm picked up quickly. If she'd remained for much longer than she had, she would have been forced to stay in her house, leaving her son with me.

My Rapidash, Sugar, was downstairs, outside of her ball, keeping company to the nervous Mudsdale of Sam's. Thankfully, it had remained calm enough not to cause us issues when we had crammed ourselves in at first. However, despite its stance on protection revealed to us by Kabir, the battle it had with the Tauros earlier that day still had Burnet and I on edge about it. My husband's Gogoat remained in the lab as well, too large to fit up the stairs or through the front door.

With all the other Pokémon running loose, I felt bad about putting my Luxray, two Ninetales, and Leafeon in their balls, so they roamed about as well. Add two Incineroar, a Lycanroc, Rowlet, Melmetal, RotomDex, Burnet's Munchlax (left out for much the same reason as mine), plus my husband's Raichu, and my house was well and truly stuffed.

I had to open up the second and third spare rooms as well as the attic to ensure there would be space for everyone to sleep, I was grateful to have already purchased and received beds for all the rooms now, as well as the bedding for them, so some would have one to sleep on. Still, with so many bodies, I still had to pull out nearly every spare blanket and pillow we had to create other pockets of comfort for Pokémon to sleep on. I'd be leaving the sleeping arrangements up to the Pokémon when they decide to retire. I knew once Burnet left, I wouldn't have the heart to put my Pokémon away while Kabir's and Sam's stayed out.

Pokémon lounged about, spread throughout the dwelling with us, listening to the storm rage outside. Tempest, the most excited about the weather, had chosen to scamper up the stairs to the attic and watched eagerly from her high place, the electric sacks on her dark orange face buzzing in anticipation. Other than her, the creatures of my household, as well as myself, weren't so used to such a fierce and fast storm, so we remained on edge, muscles tensed and ears twitching.

Burnet simply sits, eyes closed as she listens to the calamity outside, Lei as unbothered as ever.

"It'll take a bit of time for us to get used to these storms," I say with a nervous laugh, trying hard to suppress a flinch with difficulty so as not to wake my sleeping niece beside me as another earth-quaking boom of thunder crashes through the skies.

"Did you not get storms where you came from?" My neighbor asks, opening her yellow eyes and looking at me curiously.

"We did, but nothing like this. We lived by a mountain range in Johto, east of Blackthorn city in a very small town that most people don't know about. The range shielded us from thunderstorms for the most part, though we did trade it for copious amounts of snow," I answer, squinting my eyes again at another loud bout of thunder.

"That's a big climate change from here!" My neighbor says in surprise.

"Yes," I say with a nervous laugh. "It was! We had a couple meters of snow to contend with for most of the year. Spring and summer were lovely, though. It was always so amazing to watch that world of white melt away into the wonderful colors of a blooming, warm season, even as short as that respite would last."

"Wow. Maybe Kukui and I will travel there sometime." The white-haired woman says wistfully. I glance at my phone, clutched in my hands as she imagines the sights I've described.

Burnet notices and says, "Still no call from Anya?"

"No." I can feel my heart pounding, worry beyond the storm gripping into my stomach and tightening my throat. It had been a few hours since my sister had left, right before the storm hit, to answer the call of her hospital in need after a severe accident on Akala. On the back of the Pidgeot, it shouldn't have taken nearly this long to arrive. That's two loved ones whose conditions I know nothing about.

"She was headed away from the storm," Burnet eases. "Besides, Anya is smart. If the weather had become too bad, she would know to land and seek shelter. You said she's lived on the Islands for eight years now. So, she'll know what to do if it gets too rough to travel."

I sigh, trying to push my emotions out with my breath, as Kabir does, but the action brings me no respite in fear.

"So, tell me about that Pidgeot Anya uses," Burnet asks with curiosity, clearly trying to change the subject. "I thought she doesn't like Pokémon."

"No, she really doesn't like them. The Pidgeot was her husband's. He would use it to send messages to her while he was out to sea. It was the only thing that returned to her after the accident." I answer.

"Oh, gracious. I can't even imagine." Burnet comments sadly, closing her eyes in shock at the news.

We sit for a while longer in silence. The world outside finally fizzes into a storm of only strong winds and heavy rain, the lightning and thunder moving south.

Burnet's phone ringing sends the room into a tizzy, snoozing Pokémon and children alike unready for the sudden noise. I walk around with Himiko back in my arms and sing soothingly to her and the Pokémon around me as my neighbor stands and walks calmly into the kitchen to take the call, away from the noises of the crowded living room.

After some time, the home quiets back down and I place a once more sleeping Himiko, tears streaking her soft young face again, on the couch. I walk to the kitchen entrance and lean against the door frame, holding my hands together near my stomach, fidgeting with my wedding band as Burnet finishes the call and hangs up.

"That was Kukui," she says, relief sparkling in her eyes. "It seems he left his phone at home. The hospital is already busy with the flu right now, but the accident on Akala must have been pretty bad because they sent several patients over to be treated from that. Opūnui finished checking the boys a while back, but since the hospital is on lockdown, Kukui wasn't able to get a hold of a phone until just now. He finally convinced the staff to put him and Kabir in the same room for their stay tonight, and he was able to call using your husband's phone." She pauses for a split second to breathe a sigh of relief. "Kabir hasn't woken yet, but they say he's stable."

"He's just resting," I say, hoping my voice sounds more convinced than I actually feel, "it makes sense after what happened this morning." I feel the pit in my stomach drop at the thought of my husband's continued unconscious state, but I work hard to show happiness at my neighbors' good news.

"I think we should call your sister's hospital. I bet she was swept away into working and just hasn't had a chance to call yet." Burnet says, moving the conversation on. She holds her phone in both hands to dial the new number. Instead of staying on the line, though, she hands the phone to me and leans against a counter, watching with a steady gaze.

I take it after slight protestations and listen to the line ring for a long while. Then, finally, someone picks up. "Hello, Akala General Hospital," an exhausted-sounding older woman on the phone says.

"Y-Yes, hello." I stammer, "My name is Sashi Ashoka. I wanted to know if my sister Anya Māhoe had made it there." I mutter in a rush, my stomach churning and the words tumbling out in a mess in my unpreparedness to be speaking to a stranger, and over a phone, none-the-less.

"Ah, Professor Ashoka, yes, Doctor Māhoe said you'd be calling," she responds after a short pause to decipher my swift words. Eager to get back to her work, she answers quickly. "Yes, she made it. We are rather busy at the moment, so she barely had time to land before we had her in the operating room."

"Very well, right. Good. Thank you." I say, the click of the phone being hung up, cutting off my last words. "She made it," I say simply, turning to my watching guest, bits of my tensed stomach finally beginning to unknot.

"See, she's fine, our husbands are fine, and the storm has died to just wind and rain. I expect that'll continue for a while yet, but at least it isn't as noisy." Though her words sound confident and soothing, her eyes betray her own continued concern, even with the arrival of the good news. I find myself questioning what she's still worried about, not liking to see the sad look in the younger Professor's eyes.

I laugh at her last words, hoping the action eases her concerns too, but uncertain of what to say to get her to open up about her anxieties. My own fear of the latter issue of the storm starting to seem foolish. I sigh again, finally feeling the push of breath release some of my apprehensions.

We return to the living room, and I see the children are still sleeping peacefully on the couch. Sardee, my ice Ninetales, having taken up babysitting duty in our absence, curled snuggly around Himiko and Bead, my Leafeon, keeping a sleepy gaze on Lei, probably pestered by Sardee until he joined. That wasn't much of a surprise to me. Bead is a bit of a push-over for small chores. He didn't want the large amount of work that his sister, Sylveon, took on as a PokeAssist, but he did like having occasional tasks.

With a bit of help from the two Incineroar that my neighbor brought, we carry the growing crib upstairs, so Lei has a safer place to sleep while the storm slowly dies down. Burnet helps me to put the crib together and then set it up in a comfortable fashion for a sleeping child.

Before Burnet places down a set of blankets, I stop her and run back downstairs into the Playroom. I remove the top kitchen bin in the corner and reveal the labeled clear bin below. My hands shake as a reach for the plastic lid, so I pull them back, breathing deeply to fight off my misgivings.

The voice in my mind surprises me by asking a question. What are you doing, dear one?

It wouldn't be safe for Lei to sleep on the blankets we have out. He could become entrapped in them, and that would be detrimental to his health. I think. I don't want something bad to happen to him.

Your children are all dead. Why would you care for some else's? It pushes, a feeling of annoyance edging the tone.

Because that's what intelligent beings do. We care for the sick, injured, old and young. It's a natural thing. I respond silently. You must have beings you care about too. You're clearly intelligent enough.

I need no one, you useless human. It growls, the annoyance in it flaring to anger.

A pit drops in my stomach, and for once, I don't feel fear towards the entity that has plagued my thoughts for the last couple weeks, but pity. That sounds so lonely.

It responds by hissing into my very being, the noise overtaking all my senses until only that sound can be heard. It's like the roar of a great beast as it shakes my body from the inside. You would dare pity me? It bellows in rage. You are nothing but a smear on the grass. A lesser being of no significance. As pointless as the sticks that fall off a deadened tree. You should feel nothing but unimaginable fear towards me, yet you think to feel sorry for me? The laugh it lets out is hollow, but strong.

Why do you do this? Torment lesser beings? I question, finally moving my hand towards the lid and pulling it off with certainty into my actions now.

There is silence in my head, so I continue with my movements. The cellophane of the unopened bedding releases easily, allowing me to access the fresh fabric. I touch the softness of the cloth, breathe in the scent of warm plastics that linger, and stand.

Finally, the voice in my head returns, the hiss laugh foretelling the response. It's a natural thing. It growls. That's why.

I shake my head at the answer, not feeling like there was much conviction behind the words it used, and feeling even more concern for the pitiful creature that needed to torment others. "How sad your life must be, dear one." I mutter to myself before I flip the light switch off and plunge the Playroom into darkness.

~~~

"Hey, Sashi," my guest calls my attention, turning to face me after setting her child down on the blankets inside the crib. It hadn't taken me long to set the fitted sheets up and Burnet had thanked me several times for pulling out the safer bedding. "How about I stay here for the night? Would that be okay with you?" She says, finally voicing her thoughts.

I hesitate before answering, looking around at the Pokémon and thinking only of the loss of my privacy for the evening. I had been hoping to spend the night alone, maybe hole up and allow myself to ponder over the events of the day. I know that it's never wise to bottle feelings up like that, having been scolded by Kabir many times for doing so, but, as he isn't here. I thought maybe I could allow myself to slip into my old, comfortable ways once more.

"I just," Burnet says, shifting her eyes down, stumbling over her words a bit after seeing my resistance, "I-I'm not certain about spending the night alone..." she looks away anxiously. "Kukui and I have always been in the house together since we married, and I'm just not sure if I'm ready to stay there without him, because he's." Her words drop off.

I slap myself mentally, upset by my selfish ways. It makes sense that she's sad, I tell myself. She's not had to spend a night in her home without her husband because of injury or illness like me. It's such a natural thing that happens in my life, that I've forgotten it's not normal.

Because of Kabir's weakened body, he often spends nights in hospitals to recover from one illness or another.

"Of course, you can stay," I say to the worried woman, trying to look her in the eyes but failing to bring myself to it. I'm so embarrassed by my behavior. "There's plenty of spare rooms with beds you and Lei can use in tonight if you want, or the couch is open too."

"Oh no," Burnet says, looking uncomfortable, "you didn't seem to want me to stay a moment ago. I wouldn't want to be a burden. Please don't feel bad for me. This kind of thing comes with marriage, after all. Right?"

I don't like this unconfident side of Burnet. I've only known her for two weeks, but she's seemed unshakable. "Yes, it does, but that doesn't mean you can't find comfort in staying with a friend," I respond, throwing the word out for the first time, in hopes of it easing her worries, if even only a bit. "Why, I've done that a couple of times myself," I say in what I hope is an encouraging tone.

That's a lie. I've always opted to stay alone, I say to myself with a rush of embarrassment. I know that's unhealthy for my mental state, but it's always easier for me to just hide my emotions.

"Please, stay," I continue after she hesitates. "It would be good for me not to stay here alone too. Besides, if you leave, you'd have to wake Lei, and he seems pretty cozy right now." I say, gesturing to her son, snuggled up against her own Munchlax in the crib, the gray Fletchling doll still clutched in Lei's tiny mouth.

"Okay. If it won't be any trouble," she says, still unconvinced by my attempts.

"You know what, I think it's about time for dinner. The sun has finally set, and we still haven't eaten anything since lunch!" I change the subject, not wanting to see my guest remain upset. Burnet finally pulls herself from her uncommon despondency, the confident light returning to her eyes at the prospect of a distraction.

"You're right! I bet everyone is getting hungry." She looks around at the Pokémon near her as she says the words, heads popping up and ears perking at the thought of a full belly.

"It's settled then. Let's rustle something up." I walk into the kitchen before any more refusals can be made from the previous conversation. "We can purée another meal for Lei and keep it in the fridge until he's ready to eat," I call over my shoulder, loud enough to be heard but still soft enough to not wake the sleeping children.