...
Meloetta, with bless her sweet little heart, finally managed to talk Thundurus down from his electrifying hissy fit, the thunder across the island went from a full-blown rock concert to a polite little cough.
Even the gloomy bastards of clouds that had been hogging the sky buggered off, letting the glorious golden sunlight pour down and give the island a much-needed tan.
And then some proper bonkers shit started happening.
Those branches that had been crispy-fried by lightning were slurped up by the soil faster than a hungry Snorlax inhales noodles. And get this – on some of the still-smoldering twigs, new little shoots were already popping out like they were late for a bloody party!
That, my friends, was the chaotic life Thundurus brought back after his tantrum had run its course. Bit of a destructive diva, but with a green thumb, apparently.
It also explained why the island's greenery hadn't completely kicked the bucket even after Thundurus's accidental demolition derby. Nature, you crazy son of a biscuit eater!
"Melo!" chirped the little songstress, Meloetta, perched on Thundurus's fluffy cloud like a tiny, angelic hitchhiker. They were cruising over towards Natsu and his moody shadow dragon, Dragapult.
Even though the big thunder jerk was supposedly back to his senses, Dragapult still looked at him like he was a week-old Magikarp.
Just the memory of Natsu's poor shoulder getting zapped filled Dragapult with a regret so deep it could drown a Wailord.
Aside from the internal kicking herself, there was a definite "you're on my shit list, thunder-butt" vibe radiating towards Thundurus.
"Bartya-," grumbled Dragapult, her draconic side-eye game strong.
Thundurus, that big ol' cloud face, did notice Dragapult's stink-eye.
But did he give a Flying Pikachu? Nope. Didn't even twitch.
Sure, that sleek shadow dragon had put up a decent fight, but without Meloetta's intervention, Dragapult was just delaying the inevitable, like trying to hold back a flood with a teacup. Any damage she did manage would have just pissed Thundurus off even more, turning him into a proper lightning-spewing maniac.
Let's be real, a true Legendary Pokémon with actual god-like power is practically untouchable for your average Joe Pokémon.
Unless Natsu could somehow pull a tactical miracle and build a whole damn army around Dragapult, and that army was packing some serious heat, maybe – maybe – they could try and take down a legend.
But that was still further off than Bewear's chances of winning a beauty pageant.
Natsu even thought about that top dog at the Hunter's Guild, Mr. S, who usually rolled with at least four Elite-level Pokémon. And even he could only manage to play defense against Thundurus.
Of course, that might have had something to do with him not exactly being a master strategist. Just a thought.
"Meloetta!" Meloetta huffed, seeing Thundurus still acting like he owned the damn sky.
She hopped off his cloud-shoulder and gave his forehead a right good tap, like she was swatting a particularly annoying mosquito.
Now, Thundurus could totally ignore Meloetta when he was having a proper thunderous meltdown, but now, looking at her, it was like he was gazing at one of his little sisters.
The kind you don't want to upset, unless you enjoy a swift kick to the nads (figuratively speaking, of course, legendary clouds don't have those).
But apologize? Nah, no way was Thundurus going to swallow his pride for a tiny singing critter.
"Thundurus!" he grumbled, turning his big, stormy head away like a sulky teenager.
"Melooo!" Meloetta huffed again, planting her little hands on her hips. The tips of her hair started to glow that familiar orangish-red, a clear sign she was about two seconds away from unleashing some serious cuteness-aggression.
"It's alright, Meloetta, it's not that bad, honestly." Natsu waved a hand with a forced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Meloetta could pull the guilt-trip routine on a legendary god, but Natsu just didn't have that level of adorable intimidation.
But even as he tried to play it cool, the throbbing pain in his shoulder was hitting him like a runaway Bouffalant. He might have had a smile plastered on, but his face was still a touch green around the gills, and his forehead was glistening with sweat.
Meloetta, bless her empathetic soul, saw right through his brave face.
Her little eyes flickered with concern.
"Melolo~~" she sang, but this time the melody was tinged with a melancholic sweetness, a far cry from her usual cheerful ditties.
The sound wafted from Meloetta's lips and straight into Thundurus's massive, cloudy ears.
See you later, you big jerk.
Thundurus's cloudy cheeks started to flush a deeper shade of purple.
And don't get it twisted, it wasn't anger this time. It was… sadness. Pure, unadulterated legendary Pokémon sadness.
"Thundurus! Thundurus!" he stammered, sounding like a strangled Tauros.
He desperately wanted Meloetta to stop, and every now and then, a little cloud-tear would peek out of his eye, despite his best efforts to keep it together. A tiny, thunderous sob even escaped his… well, cloud-throat.
But Meloetta didn't give a damn and didn't stop her mournful little tune. She just gave him a pointed glare as she floated towards Natsu.
Thundurus's entire cloud-face scrunched up like a crumpled-up Pidgey drawing.
If the other legendaries ever found out he'd actually cried, where the hell would he show his face? Especially Tornadus and Landorus – that would be a legendary-level embarrassment for all eternity.
"Thundurus!" he blurted out, finally caving. With a surprisingly swift movement for a giant cloud dude, he zipped over to Natsu and Dragapult and bowed his big, stormy head.
His movements were lightning-fast (pun intended!), because he was terrified that if he hesitated, a full-on cloudburst of tears would erupt.
"Alright, alright, that's enough, Meloetta," Natsu chuckled, a mix of amusement and sheer bewilderment swirling within him.
Watching the legendary weather god grovel before a tiny songstress was more entertaining than a barrel full of Primeapes playing charades.
Meloetta was like a straightforward little kid; all her emotions were plastered across her adorable face, and her thoughts were about as complex as a Jigglypuff's lullaby.
She was easily spooked, but if she warmed up to someone, she'd stick to them like glue.
And that clinginess was written all over her face.
Trying to say no to that was like trying to out-cute an Eevee wearing a bow. Impossible.
"Melo," she chirped, finally satisfied that the big thunder bozo had eaten humble pie. With a pleased little pat on the air where his shoulder would be if he had one, she then did a few airy pirouettes before settling onto Natsu's uninjured shoulder, swinging her tiny legs like she was chilling on a comfy cloud swing.
Thundurus looked utterly mortified.
Natsu, ever the helpful chap, couldn't resist adding a little fuel to the fire.
"Hey, Thundurus, I once heard someone say that when you feel like crying, you should stand upside down. Stops the tears from coming out, apparently."
"Thundurusss?!" he sputtered, his cloudy complexion flickering like a faulty lightbulb.
'Who the actual hell wants to cry?!' Thundurus practically screamed in his head, his pride taking a serious beating.
He might have vehemently denied it, but his body was a goddamn snitch. The cloud beneath his feet wobbled precariously, and the next thing Natsu knew, the legendary Pokémon was doing a full-on headstand in the sky.
He looked ridiculously serious with his cloudy arms crossed, but his crimson eyes kept darting around nervously.
Wait a minute… Holy shit, it actually worked!
Natsu stared, genuinely dumbfounded.
Legendary Pokémon were definitely terrifying when their fuse was lit, but when you could actually get through to them, they weren't half bad to talk to. Bit socially awkward, maybe, like that weird uncle at family gatherings, but not malicious.
Despite their sky-high IQs, they were probably just lacking in the whole social skills department, what with their limited interaction with humans and other non-legendary critters.
Shaking his head at the bizarre sight of an upside-down thunder god, Natsu subtly gestured for Dragapult to head towards the crumpled form of Mr. S on the ground below.
The party down there was definitely winding down.
"Melo?" Meloetta tilted her head, watching the upside-down Thundurus with wide, curious eyes.
'Is it really okay to stand on your head?' she seemed to wonder.
Natsu just gave her a knowing smirk.
Meloetta nibbled on her finger, lost in her own adorable, slightly confused thoughts.
Soon enough, Natsu landed beside Mr. S.
The scene was a right bloody mess. Even fueled by whatever dodgy stuff they'd been chugging, S's Nidoking and Scolipede were looking knackered, their earlier burst of unnatural strength clearly unsustainable.
Mr. S, had clearly wanted a final showdown, a real "who's got the bigger balls" contest with Natsu. But the second that never-ending thunder show had abruptly stopped, Mr. S's heart had plummeted faster than a Geodude falling off a cliff.
Of course, he knew full well what Dragapult (bless her murderous little heart) was capable of. So, when he saw Natsu strolling over, his face went whiter than a freshly bleached Furret.
A dry, rattling sound escaped his parched throat.
"Why?" he croaked, his voice sounding like gravel gargling with sandpaper.
He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Why the hell was Natsu, seemingly just another grunt in the grand scheme of things, hiding this kind of earth-shattering power?
Even if he'd made some questionable decisions, he'd always figured this kind of blatant power imbalance was something that couldn't be hidden. Not without attracting some serious unwanted attention.
And facing down a bloody Thundurus without even trying to suck up to it? That was just plain lunacy.
Just like right now.
Mr. S couldn't reconcile Natsu's two seemingly disparate lives: a supposedly run-of-the-mill Hunter, and someone who could clearly tango with Legendary Pokémon.
Normal blokes didn't have mates like that, did they?
One minute, you're dealing with what seems like a mid-level Hunter. The next, he's rolling with what might as well be a high-ranking member of the bloody Team Rocket – or at least someone with serious connections to that sneaky bastard Giovanni.
Then you've got the other side of the coin: a rising star backed by the Sinnoh Alliance, a Gym Leader, a newly-minted hotshot researcher with a future so bright it could blind a Volbeat. How in the hell did the Alliance let someone like that get mixed up in this kind of shady business?
Natsu didn't dignify the dying man's confusion with a direct answer. Instead, he just gave a thoughtful look to the panting, utterly spent Nidoking and Scolipede.
"Those two Pokémon," Natsu said, his voice low and considering, "were they dosed up on something special?"
Mr. S's eyes widened in a flicker of surprise. "You… you know?"
Well, duh. What else could explain that berserk power surge?
"Team Rocket gear? Or… something cooked up by Tom Ritchie?" Natsu pressed, his gaze sharp.
The state of these two Pokémon, that unnatural boost followed by a brutal crash, was eerily similar to the wild Pokémon he and Lance had encountered in Stark Mountain.
The only difference was that those wild critters had probably only swallowed a little bit of the nasty stuff. These two had clearly mainlined the whole damn vial.
It all came back to that Alliance genetic dumpster fire.
Mr. S just gritted his teeth, his face a mask of stubborn defiance even in the face of imminent death.
"Doesn't matter if you clam up, I can bloody well guess," Natsu said, bending down slowly, his shadow stretching long in the fading sunlight. "Did someone hand you that crap, or were you cooking it up in your own dodgy little lab?"
BANG!
Under the relentless assault of Hydreigon (that magnificent three-headed man-devil), the already battered Nidoking finally gave up the ghost, collapsing onto the ground with a heavy thud.
The poor Scolipede wasn't far behind. It had taken even more of a beating than Mr. S's prized Nidoking, and it promptly went belly-up under the combined, buzzing onslaught of Natsu's Beedrill (that loyal male bastard) and their buzzing, stingy mates.
Mr. S fixed Natsu with a final, burning stare, like he was trying to etch his face onto his retinas for all eternity.
He was a proud, arrogant prick right to the bitter end, and clearly, there was nothing left for him to bargain with.
With a final, rattling gasp, a strange, unnatural flush spread across his already pale face.
"Whether you're aiming for the top seat or playing some long game for the Unova Region… it won't be that bloody simple," he wheezed, those final, cryptic words hanging in the air before he finally slumped lifelessly to the ground.
"Yeah, right," Natsu murmured under his breath, whether the dead man could hear him or not.
He hopped off Dragapult's back, gently cradling Meloetta (who had kept her eyes tightly shut throughout the gruesome bits, bless her innocence), and walked over to Mr. S still form.
"But the truth is, mate, what I'm after isn't half as complicated as you're making it out to be."
Time to see what goodies this dead villain was carrying.
The most obvious score would have been his bank card, but as far as Natsu was concerned, that was about as useful as a chocolate teapot.
Sometimes, he really wondered about the Alliance's whole banking system. All those unmarked accounts, all that untraceable money… who knew how many poor sods had poured their hard-earned cash into those bottomless pits, only for it to vanish into thin air? Shady as hell.
During his less-than-respectful rummage, Natsu unearthed a few sturdy wooden boxes. He popped the latches on them one by one, his curiosity piqued.
The first box held a yellowed bone, so old it looked like it had been dug up from a dinosaur's grave.
Natsu just tossed it aside with a shrug.
"A Marowak bone club? Seriously? You call this treasure?"
The second box contained a pure gold mask, with creepy black tendrils snaking around it like evil spaghetti. It definitely had a spooky, intimidating vibe.
"A Yamask mask. Also about as useful as tits on a bull," Natsu muttered, unimpressed.
The third box held an ancient-looking slate, covered in some funky script that looked older than dirt. Natsu had never seen anything like it before.
"Ancient bloke's writing tablet, eh? Might be worth something to a history nerd. Into the bag it goes."
The fourth box held another bone, but this one was different. Bigger, more intricate, and instead of that dusty yellow hue, it had a faint, ethereal shimmer.
"Bartya?" Dragapult (ever the observant one) couldn't help but comment, her head cocked to one side.
Natsu nodded slowly, closing the box. "Yeah, looks like a piece of a Dragonite bone. Not the whole shebang, mind you, just a chunk. Might fetch a few Poké-bucks, but probably nothing to write home about."
A Dragonite bone?
Dragapult stared at the box, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.
Beedrill and the crew crowded around Natsu, watching him rifle through the boxes like he was unwrapping the world's weirdest Christmas presents.
They were all buzzing with curiosity about what might be inside.
Because let's face it, once the boxes were open, most of this stuff looked like fancy garbage to them. A Marowak bone? A bit of old Dragonite? How the hell were they supposed to know what that was?
Seeing their eagerness, Natsu couldn't help but ham it up a little, slowing down his movements and offering a running commentary with a grin.
"Now, this next lot… a bit more interesting, perhaps. Looks like we've got some genuine Nacrene Museum artifacts here. Makes you wonder how our dead friend here managed to 'acquire' them, eh?"
Nacrene Museum?
They all glanced at the seven boxes laid out on the dusty ground.
This was all nicked from Nacrene? Bloody hell.
Apart from that weird slate thing and the slightly shiny Dragonite bone, what was the big deal?
It wasn't until Natsu cracked open the fifth box that things started to get a bit more… fossilized.
Inside was a fossil alright, but it looked like it had been crudely fused with bits and pieces of other, more recent organic matter. It was a right Frankenstein's monster of ancient and not-so-ancient bits.
Natsu turned the grotesque stone over in his hands with a satisfied grunt.
"Well, well, well. A fossilized Armaldo. I reckon Steven would get a right hard-on for this bad boy."
That rich bugger had a serious fetish for weird rocks.
And with Sinnoh practically having perfected the whole fossil-revival shebang, getting this ancient crustacean back on its feet wouldn't be much of a bother for someone with Steven's resources. Natsu figured that a bloke who was already obsessed with Steel and Rock-types wouldn't exactly turn his nose up at an Armaldo.
Right, box number six.
Inside a plain, square wooden container sat a round, black stone.
But it wasn't perfectly round. Three distinct cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.
Even in the dimming light, the stone pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible blue aura, like it was humming with some hidden power or purpose.
"Melo!" Meloetta, who had peeked open her eyes at some point, gasped, her tiny hands flying to her mouth in shock.
Natsu let out a low whistle.
"Dark Stone?"
The Dark Stone. Also known as one half of the Legendary Dragon Stones, intrinsically linked to the creation myths of the Unova Region.
Rumored to be a remnant of an incredibly powerful Dragon-type Pokémon that had somehow… split into three.
In less flowery terms, this Black Stone was essentially a piece of Zekrom, the embodiment of ideals!
Zekrom, the grumpy bugger, had been locked away in Dragonspiral Tower after his epic falling out with Reshiram (the embodiment of truth) and their respective heroes, leading to the downfall of the ancient Unova kingdom.
Speaking of Reshiram, his "Light Stone" was still kicking around somewhere in Dragonspiral Tower, playing a permanent game of hide-and-seek.
And Zekrom's "Dark Stone" was supposedly buried deep beneath the sandy arse-end of the Unova desert. Finding that in all that sand was about as likely as finding a sober Primeape.
Of course.
This was all ancient history to Natsu, stuff he'd gleaned from dusty old tomes and whispered rumors. For most folks in the Unova Region, this was still shrouded in mystery.
Among those who were clued in, besides the usual shady underground types like Team Plasma, the most likely candidate would be Professor Aurea Juniper's eccentric old man, Professor Cedric Juniper, the region's resident Dragon Pokémon fanatic.
"Probably just another bloody fake," Natsu scoffed, his lips curling in distaste. He gave the stone a firm squeeze in his Psychic grip, as if he could just crush the damn thing into dust.
Sure, the "Dark Stone" on display in the Nacrene Museum was also supposedly found in the desert.
But Natsu wasn't born yesterday. Finding something that powerful just lying around in the sand? Pull the other one, mate.
As far as he knew, even if the Nacrene Museum had been cleaned out like a Pidgey coop by a flock of hungry Spearow, that "Dark Stone" would still be sitting pretty in its display case.
This was definitely a cheap knock-off.
And judging by the fact that Mr. S had a whole damn box of this crap, it was probably mass-produced for gullible collectors and delusional cultists.
Natsu had been hoping to find something a bit more… concrete from Mr. S, something that would actually explain his connection to Giovanni and Team Rocket. This sparkly black pebble wasn't exactly what he had in mind.
He was really banking on whatever the hell was in that seventh and final box.
"Melo." Seeing Natsu's dismissive gesture, Meloetta's little brow furrowed, and she balled her tiny fists in determination.
"Huh?" Natsu frowned, surprised by her reaction.
What was with this little powerhouse? Why was she getting all worked up about this obviously fake rock?
"Melo!" she insisted, even more emphatically.
Meloetta suddenly zipped over to Natsu's side, her tiny hands clamping onto his wrist with surprising strength. She shook her head vigorously, her pigtails flying.
From Meloetta's unexpectedly strong reaction, coupled with a strange, almost buzzing sensation emanating from the stone itself, Natsu's eyes slowly widened. His breath caught in his throat.
"You… you reckon so?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, staring at the black stone with newfound intensity.
"Meloetta!" she nodded with an almost frantic enthusiasm.
This… this couldn't actually be the real deal, could it?
BANG!!!
A wave of raw, untamed power erupted from the "Dark Stone" clutched in Natsu's hand. It sent him stumbling backward, his feet skidding on the dusty ground. If it hadn't been for Meloetta instinctively throwing up a protective barrier of shimmering energy, he would have landed on his arse and probably swallowed half the damn island.
Bloody hell. Was this actually genuine?!
Well, bugger me sideways with a rusty spoon.
Maybe Mr. S's demise hadn't been solely down to him being a pompous, arrogant twat after all!
The cryptic, dying words he'd uttered just moments ago echoed in Natsu's stunned mind once more.
...
(End of this chapter, you magnificent bastards!)