Yua's point of view:
"Alright," I said, leaning back into the couch. "I guess I'll begin by explaining what I've been doing ever since running away and building my life here in Kanto."
I continued, the words coming easier now that I'd started. "When I first got to Kanto, the only thing on my mind was getting stronger. I challenged every trainer I could find. Didn't matter if they were rookies or veterans—I needed the experience, the practice, the funds to keep going."
Mother made a soft sound of approval. "That's my girl. Never turn down a battle that can teach you something."
"I moved around a lot in those early days," I admitted. "Traveling from city to city, never staying in one place too long. I wanted to see everything Kanto had to offer, meet as many Pokémon as I could, build my team the right way."
"You skipped Mt. Moon though, didn't you?" Mother's voice held a knowing edge.
I laughed. "Of course I skipped Mt. Moon. I wasn't about to walk into a death trap just to prove something. The locals warned me about that place—the constant Zubat swarms, the unstable tunnels, the trainers who go in and never come back. I'm strong, Mama, but I don't have a death wish."
"Good. Stupid risks make for short careers. I didn't raise a fool."
I smiled at the ceiling. "After a while, I made it to Cerulean City. By then, my team was coming together nicely. All of them were at Elemental Rank, and Charles—" I couldn't help the warmth that crept into my voice. "Charles was the strongest of them. My partner through everything."
Mother's chuckle rumbled through the Pokegear. "Little Charles, all grown up now, is he?"
"He's a big, strong Pyroar now, Mama." Pride swelled in my chest. "But most of my time these days is spent keeping his ego in check. I have to have my other Pokémon fight him regularly just to remind him he's not the strongest in the house."
Mother's laugh crackled through the speaker—rich and knowing. "All Pyroar are proud, Yua. It's in their nature. Sometimes the only thing that brings them back down is a good beating. Knocks the pride right out of them for a little while."
"I've noticed." I smiled, thinking of Charles's indignant huffs after Sapphire put him in his place. "Mine's not too bad, though. He knows how weak he is in the grand scheme of things. He still has his pride—don't get me wrong—but he's been around long enough to know there's always someone stronger."
Mom hummed in acknowledgment. "Experience teaches what instinct cannot. Take my Pyroar, for instance. He is a Champion-ranked Pokemon, and he has been with me for decades. He even fought against Oak's Charizard years ago.....that thing is a monster, let me tell you. My boy got taken out in one move." She chuckled, the sound carrying no bitterness, only the wisdom of time. "He lost most of his pride that day. Heck he even spent a whole week moping around the estate like a Growlithe with its tail between its legs. But he learned his lesson and now he knows exactly where he stands in the grand scheme of things."
I swallowed hard, a bead of sweat forming at my temple. Only my mother could talk about fighting the Pokémon Master's Charizard so casually, like it was just another Tuesday. The casual confidence in her voice made me sweat just listening to it.
"Anyway," she continued, her tone shifting to something warmer, almost amused, "if my Pyroar ever gets too rebellious or does something he knows I won't like, I don't bother with having my pokemon fight him. I just stop brushing his mane."
I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. "You're terrible, Mama."
"I prefer 'creative,'" she replied, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. "It keeps him humble. A Pyroar with a well-groomed mane knows its place. A Pyroar without one?" She let out a soft hum. "Well, let's just say he becomes much more cooperative when the brush comes out."
I settled deeper into the couch cushions, the tension in my shoulders easing for the first time since I'd dialed her number. This—the easy back and forth, the familiar cadence of her voice, the way she could make even the most mundane story feel like something shared—this was what I'd missed.
"We should talk more often," I admitted quietly. "I forgot what this felt like."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of pause that held space for everything unspoken between us.
"We will," my mother said finally, her voice softer now. "But first, I believe you owe me the full story about my grandson's father."
The lightness in the conversation dimmed, but the warmth didn't disappear entirely. I stared at the ceiling, tracing the familiar crack that ran from the light fixture to the corner of the room. The same crack I'd stared at during countless sleepless nights with Orion in my arms.
"Right," I breathed. "Well.....To get back to what I was saying..."
I paused, gathering the threads of the story I'd kept locked away for over a year. It felt strange to let them out now, like opening a door I'd bolted shut and pretending the hinges weren't rusted.
"When I was in Cerulean City," I continued, my voice quieter now, "I met Bastien. We... fell in love." I let out a small breath. "At least I did."
I shifted slightly on the couch, my fingers tightening around the Pokegear without me realizing it.
"I won't bore you with the details, Mama. He was strong, confident, knew exactly what to say. He made me feel like I didn't have to prove anything for once." A faint, bitter smile tugged at my lips. "Looking back at it now, I should've questioned that more."
I exhaled slowly.
"I got pregnant before we got married. And when I found out..." My voice softened despite everything. "That was the happiest moment of my entire life. I wasn't scared. I thought everything finally made sense."
I stared at the ceiling again, following that same crack like I had so many nights before.
"I got pregnant before we got married. And when I found out..." My voice softened despite everything. "That was the happiest moment of my entire life. I wasn't scared. I thought everything finally made sense."
I paused, letting the memory wash over me. The way Bastien had held me when I told him, his arms wrapped around my waist, his face buried in my hair. The way he'd whispered, "We're going to have a family," like it was the most precious thing in the world. The way I'd believed him.
"I thought he was happy too," I continued quietly. "He talked about names. About what kind of trainer our child would be. About all the places we'd go together. He made it sound like forever."
Mother said nothing, but I could hear her breathing on the other end. Steady. Waiting.
"The pregnancy was hard," I admitted. "I couldn't battle anymore. Couldn't train. Couldn't do anything except wait and hope everything was okay. Bastien was there for the first few months. He'd bring me things, sit with me, tell me about his battles. But then..." I swallowed. "Then he started being gone more. Longer trips. More excuses. Important clan business, he said. Things I wouldn't understand."
I closed my eyes.
"I told myself it was fine. That he was working hard for us. For the baby. I didn't want to be the kind of woman who nagged, who complained, who made everything about herself. So I smiled when he came home. I told him I understood. I never asked where he'd been."
The crack in the ceiling blurred slightly.
"The day I went into labor, he wasn't there. I called him. Three times. He didn't pick up. So I went to the hospital alone. I gave birth alone." My jaw tightened. "Well. Not entirely alone. My Pokémon were there. Charles stayed by my side the whole time, growling at any nurse who came too close. He's been protective of Orion since before Orion even had a name."
A small, fierce smile tugged at my lips. "When they finally placed Orion in my arms, when I looked at his face for the first time... I stopped caring about Bastien. I stopped caring about anything except this tiny, perfect thing I'd made. He had my eyes. My mother's eyes. And these streaks of purple in his hair that looked like someone had painted them there."
I let out a shaky breath.
"And then, not long after, Akari came."
The name tasted bitter now in a way it never had before. Akari, who I'd thought was my friend. Akari, who I'd trusted. Akari, who had looked me in the eyes and delivered the message like she was reading a shopping list.
"She told me Bastien wasn't ready to be a father. That he had to marry someone else. Someone from a strong clan. For the betterment of his family." My voice flattened. "She said he wanted me to raise Orion on my own. That since I'd brought him into the world, he was my responsibility."
The silence on the other end was absolute.
I laughed, and it came out hollow. "I asked her why. Why he was doing this. And she told me the truth, Mama. She said he practically used me. That the whole time we were together, he knew he was going to marry someone else. That I was just..." My voice cracked. "I was just something to pass the time until his real life started."
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, angry at myself for crying. Angry at Bastien for making me cry. Angry at the stupid crack in the ceiling that wouldn't stop blurring.
For a long moment, my mother said nothing. The silence stretched between us, heavy and expectant, and I found myself holding my breath without meaning to.
Then I heard it.
A sharp crack—glass shattering against something hard. I jerked upright on the couch, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"Ma'am!"
The voice was distant but clear, one of the household staff—maybe Takeda, the head butler who'd been with our family since before I was born. Alarm colored his usually composed tone.
"OUT. NOW."
My mother's voice cut through the speaker like a blade, and even through the Pokegear, even across whatever impossible distance separated us, I felt it. The cold. The fury. The absolute certainty that someone, somewhere, had made a very, very grave mistake.
Another crash. Something heavy hitting the floor. Then I heard a door slamming shut.
I sat frozen on the couch, my Pokegear clutched in both hands now, my pulse thundering in my ears. I'd heard my mother angry before. I'd been the target of that anger more times than I could count. But this was different. This was the kind of rage I'd only ever seen her direct outward—at enemies, at threats, at anyone foolish enough to harm what was hers.
I'd never been more grateful to be on the other end of a phone call in my life.
"Yua." Her voice came through again, and the temperature in my small living room seemed to drop ten degrees. "Tell me his full name and tell me which family he belongs to."
I opened my mouth, and the words came out flat. Empty. Because honestly? I didn't care anymore. Let her do what she wanted with the information. Let her burn his world to ash. After everything he'd done—after the lies, the abandonment, the way he'd made me feel like nothing—I couldn't bring myself to protect him.
"Bastien Toise." The name tasted like poison on my tongue. "He's from the Toise family, Mama. One of the starter families here in Kanto."
The silence that followed was worse than the shouting. It was the silence of a predator taking aim. The silence before the strike.
"The Toise."
She said the name like it was something she'd scraped off her shoe. Like it was beneath her. Like it was already dead.
"They are nothing," she said, and her voice was soft now. That softness was terrifying. "An old family, yes. Power-hungry, certainly. But they are nothing compared to what they think they are. Compared to what we are."
She let out a breath, slow and controlled, and I could picture her perfectly—standing in the wreckage of whatever room she'd just demolished, her eyes that terrible, burning red, her hair wild around her face, every inch the woman they called the Red-Eyed Demon.
"You no longer have to worry about that bastard, Yua." Her voice hardened into something absolute. "He will get what is coming to him. He decided to play games with my daughter. He decided to use you. To discard you. To abandon my first grandchild." A sound escaped her—something between a snarl and a laugh, hollow and sharp. "He made the mistake of thinking he could touch what belongs to me and walk away."
I opened my mouth to respond—
And then I heard it.
A roar.
It came through the speaker, distant but unmistakable, rattling the Pokegear in my hands. Deep and guttural and absolutely furious. The kind of sound that made my instincts sit up and pay attention. The kind of sound that said something very large and very powerful had just learned that someone had hurt its family.
My mother's Pyroar.
I knew that roar. I'd grown up with it echoing through the estate halls, a constant reminder that my mother was never truly alone, that she had a partner who would burn the world down at her command. That Pyroar had been with her since before I was born. He'd carried me on his back when I was small enough to fit between his mane. He'd let me braid ribbons into his fur when I was old enough to reach. He'd growled at any boy who came too close to the estate gates when I was young enough to find it embarrassing.
And now he knew.
He knew what had been done to me. To Orion.
Another roar, louder this time, and I heard something crash in the background—whatever unfortunate furniture had been in his path.
"Vulcan! DOWN!"
My mother's voice cracked like a whip, and I heard a heavy thud, the skitter of claws on stone, a grumbling sound that vibrated through the speaker like distant thunder. He was listening to her, but he wasn't happy about it. Not even a little.
"I know," I heard her murmur, and for a moment the ice in her voice thawed into something almost gentle. "I know. Soon. But not yet."
More grumbling. Then the sound of her footsteps, crossing whatever room she'd destroyed, the click of Vulcan's claws following close behind.
When she spoke again, the cold was back—but it was controlled now. Focused. The cold of a blade being sharpened.
"The Toise family." She tested the words again, and I could hear the calculations running behind them. "They think they have power. They think their name means something. But they are children playing at being alphas. They have no idea what they've stepped into thanks to that embecile."
I stayed quiet. This wasn't my fight anymore. I'd given her what she asked for. What happened next was between her and Bastien and his precious family.
"Yua." Her voice softened, just slightly. "I'm going to handle this. You don't need to think about him anymore. You don't need to waste another moment of your life on someone who was never worthy of standing in your shadow. Do you understand me?"
I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I understand, Mama."
A pause. Another low rumble from Vulcan. Then she spoke up again.
"What is the name of your cub, Yua?"
The question caught me off guard. Not because I hadn't expected it, but because of the way she asked it—softly, carefully, like she was handling something fragile. Something precious.
I smiled, and for the first time in this entire conversation, the smile reached my eyes without any effort at all.
"His name is Orion Silver, Mother."
The silence that followed was different from the others. It wasn't heavy or expectant. It was... warm. Like a held breath finally released.
"Silver." She repeated the name slowly, tasting it, and I heard the smile blooming in her voice. "You gave him our family name."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Of course I did."
"Good." Her voice firmed, carrying that absolute certainty I remembered from childhood. "If for whatever reason he had Toise for his last name, I would make you change it immediately. I don't care how many forms we'd have to forge or how many people we'd have to intimidate. That child is a Silver. He will always be a Silver."
I laughed, the sound surprising me with how genuine it felt. "I would not give him that family name even if my life depended on it, Mama."
"Good choice." She said it like a verdict. Like a seal of approval stamped onto something important. "Now."
I heard her shift again, the rustle of fabric, the creak of what might have been a chair settling beneath her weight. When she spoke next, her voice had transformed entirely.
"Tell me everything about my first grandbaby!!!"
I pulled the Pokegear away from my ear at the sheer volume of her excitement. My mother—the Red-Eyed Demon, the terror of Gym Leaders, the woman who could make grown men weep with a single glance—sounded like a child on her birthday morning.
I blinked at the screen, genuinely surprised. I'd expected questions. Curiosity, certainly. Maybe even some of that sharp assessment she applied to everything in our lives. But this... this giddy, eager, almost bouncing quality to her voice?
I'd never heard her sound like this. Not once in my entire life.
"Mama," I said slowly, "are you... excited?"
"A woman I have not seen in ten years just told me I have a grandson." Her voice cracked slightly on the word grandson, and I realized with a start that she was emotional. Actually emotional. "Yes, Yua. I am excited. Now stop stalling and tell me everything. What does he look like? What is his personality? Does he have any Pokémon yet? Is he healthy? Is he happy? Does he look like you? Does he—"
"Mama!" I laughed, cutting her off before she could build up enough momentum to ask fifty more questions in a single breath. "Slow down. I'll tell you everything, I promise."
I could hear her exhale, the sound of someone deliberately reining themselves in. "Fine. Fine. Start with the important things then."