"What do you mean, you're staying over with them?"

  Lillie's voice retained its peculiar flow even over the phone, meandering like a river across the ranges of pitch and tone. "I was feeling a little ill, so they invited me to come with them. I know they say some odd things sometimes, but they've been kind to me here, and they want to help me. They even invited me to one of their services..."

  Sun squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the compulsion to slam his fist on the dining table. Taken her to one of their services? There was no reason for them to do such a thing other than to plant ideas in her head. Bad ideas. Ideas like auras and spiritual corruption and renewal.

  When his mother had been alive, she had instituted a hard rule around interacting with Mizuki and her family: he was not to attend any of their religious functions. No, no matter how much fun there allegedly was to be had there. They would respect the Kazakamis' personal decisions, but they were followers of the Tapu, and would remain as such.

  (And what she had received in return for her devotion was a slow and excruciating death.)

  "We're going to 'hang out' together later," Lillie gushed, the slang phrase sounding quite unnatural coming from her lips. "We're going to play card games, and Mizuki's mother is going to bake us a Nomel cake. That's my favorite flavor, actually, so I'm quite thrilled."

  "Sure," Sun said, and as much as he may have tried to restrain it, a crackle of derision crept into his voice, flat and hard. If he hadn't been borrowing Kukui's phone, he might have chucked it across the room. "I - hope - you - have - a - good - time. Bye. "

  As he hung up and sat the phone screen-side down on the table, a string of expletives rushed through his mind. A cup of water sat to his right, just out of reach. It had been ice cold when he'd poured it, but had gone lukewarm with his tarrying. He didn't know why he'd gotten it in the first place - he wasn't even thirsty. A useless act done thoughtlessly by a useless, thoughtless person.

  Across the room, the television recounted the daily trivialities of the stock exchange. Kukui had muted the sound while he went to the bathroom, but the little ticker at the bottom of the screen rolled by, summarizing today's dips and raises. These days, it always seemed to be dips.

  As inevitable as he knew it was his worries would swallow him up and spit him back out, he desperately avoiding stewing on the phone call. It had only been two days since he had made the deal with Nebby, and he had already failed at his most critical task. If something bad happened to Lillie or Nebby at the compound - if the Pokémon was discovered, or worse - would that void their agreement? As nice as it would be to free himself from the bargain, he still longed for those advantages. The promise of becoming a renowned Pokémon Trainer.

  The promise of seeing his father again.

  Sun massaged his forehead, taking a thoughtless sip of his water and settling back into his chair. He rubbed his eyes until a multitude of multicolored waveforms filled his vision. The show was wonderful, if impermanent, and he wet his lips, eager to cling to this new diversion.

  The new arrivals' bags were confiscated and loaded onto on the golf cart. Lillie was loath to give up the drum bag she cradled so tightly to her at all times, and to change into the solid gray uniform the welcome assistants provided her, but if she was to live among them, she must shed the trappings of her old life the same as all the others.

  "I feel like I'm checking in to a mental hospital," the girl mused low enough only Mizuki could hear. She ran her index finger over her breast pocket, where a phrase had been printed in bold block letters: PROPERTY OF THE CHILDREN OF STARLIGHT. The clothes, they meant.

  "I guess we are like one, in a way," Mizuki said, offering Lillie a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "The world's a sick place, and it doesn't matter how good you are. It's near impossible to live in today's society without facing some sort of spiritual corrosion. That's why people need to come here to heal themselves."

  Yet it always seemed the people who needed the most help were those most unwilling to accept it. Even if she did have her flaws, like being a terrible conversational partner, Lillie seemed mostly unscathed by the world's many tyrannies. She hadn't resisted when Ilima and Dad had suggested she come here. But the majority of society were not so acquiescent. Mizuki's older half-sister, Mizune, had once been assigned to help hand out informational pamphlets in front of Hau'oli's airport, where there was plenty of foot traffic and new arrivals ignorant of The Truth. She'd come home in tears - the people on the street had been so hateful towards her she hadn't lasted two hours.

  Poor Mizune. She'd always been too sensitive.

  Mizuki was too young yet to be allowed to do missionary work, but she'd already resolved she'd beat the crap out of anyone who mouthed off to her like that. Preferably in a Pokémon battle, but she wasn't above doing so with her own two fists.

  The only reason Mizuki and her sisters were permitted to associate with unbelievers like Sun and Hau was because her father knew they did not share that same bubbling hatred in their hearts. She'd only been an infant at the time, but she'd heard the story so many times she could recite it from memory. Her family had gone to a restaurant, and there had been some miscommunication between her parents and the waiter. Mizune had unknowingly eaten a dish containing Clauncher, which she was dangerously allergic to. Sun's mother, a nurse, had overheard the family's panic from a neighboring table and had readied an emergency dose of epinephrine for Mizune. Crisis averted. From that day on, Sun's mother, and by association her then infant son, were considered friends of the Kazakami family.

  Hau's grandfather, too, had displayed himself to be a virtuous man many times over, and he and Dad had agreed to peace between their religions. A precarious peace, yes, but peace regardless. It was a no-brainer, of course. Who wouldn't want the Children of Starlight in their community, with all the charity work they did? No one else did more for Melemele's poor. In Alola only the Aether Foundation had more overall impact, and Dad said they were on track to overtake those guys within the year.

  Lillie looked up hesitantly. "I just don't feel comfortable wearing other kinds of clothes," she said, picking at the back of her shirt collar. "There's a tag here, and I'm sensitive to those..."

  "If it's hurting you so bad, then rip it off or something," Mizuki snapped. She was annoyed enough already with Dad’s refusal to give Ilima the punishment he deserved, and the last thing she needed was Lillie whining to her as well. After all, she hadn't sewn the clothes.

  At least Lillie seemed to perk up once Dad showed her to her new room. She was lucky she was only one person - if she'd been part of a family, like most her age in the compound, she'd have to share all this space with her family members. In the middle of the room, perpendicular to one wall, was a full-size bed, ready-made with gray sheets and a maroon comforter. Nothing too fancy. A mahogany writing desk on one side, topped with a lamp and a spare copy of the Holy Testament of Starlight; a television made to play back Dad's speeches on the other.

  "This is your room," Dad informed her. "You may do as you like here, but I trust you will not make too much of a mess. There is a powder room connected to here - " he motioned off to the side at a closed door "- but you will have to share the communal shower with the others on this hall. It's already stocked with toiletries, so no need to worry about those."

  "Thank you for giving me a place to stay," Lillie said. The mattress springs creaked as she lay down on the bed, running her hand over the comforter in what Mizuki assumed was some sort of self-soothing motion.

  "But you mustn't stay here too long," Dad continued, sparing a glance at his silver wristwatch.. "Our service will begin in about ninety minutes or so, and afterwards we'll be having dinner. Would you like to join us?"

  "You can get to see backstage," Mizuki chimed in. She flopped down on the bed beside Lillie hard enough for the springs to give another violent creak, and Dad shot her a disapproving glare. "Only important people ever get to see backstage. It's our best-kept secret."

  She didn't really understand why Dad was pretending Lillie had a choice whether to come or not. Everyone knew that if you didn't come to service, you didn't get to eat. Those were the rules: after all, as Dad said, if you act like a disobedient child, it's only right you should be disciplined like one. However, since Lillie was merely only a guest here, it was only fair they be a little more lenient on her if she did decline. Even now she could sense Dad had applied an additional coat of politeness on for her, extra velvety.

  Dad nodded. "Mizuki's correct. You'll be able to glean a much more intimate perspective of our operations. I believe it will be quite illuminating for you to see."

  Lillie blinked, her eyes drifting between the two. "So, what do you do at these 'services', then?"

  "Like sing songs and stuff," Mizuki said. She didn't know how much of a frame of reference Lillie had. "Sometimes the little kids put on plays. And Dad gives his wisdom too, of course. That’s the whole point of it."

  Lillie's eyes swept over the room, lingering near its gloomy, cobweb-ridden corners, and she frowned. "There aren’t any windows in here."

  "There's no need for windows; not when there's so much going on inside the building," Dad said. His voice was taut - had anyone else tried to derail the conversation like that, they would have received a mighty scolding. "If you do wish to see the outside view, you may come visit our on-site farm and gardens, where we grow the ingredients for our meals."

  "You - you really grow your own food here?"

  "We do," he said. "If you'd like, we can give you a tour after dinner."

  "That would be lovely," Lillie said, and the sparkle in her eyes returned. "But… if I may ask, when will I be able to call Professor Kukui and tell him about our arrangement?"

  Oh. Oh, Lillie. Mizuki sucked in a breath.

  "You…" Dad held a hand to his brow, recomposing himself. "We shall discuss the matter later."

  "You shouldn't have asked that," Mizuki informed her as the three headed to the gymnasium turned auditorium. Dad marched ahead, his long robe billowing out behind him and spilling onto the linoleum tiles; the two girls kept their distance as they followed in tandem, marginally cowed.

  "Why not?"

  "It's rude," Mizuki said, gesturing to their surroundings. "Dad's taken you to this wonderful place, and you're already asking when you can go home."

  Perhaps she had chosen an inopportune moment to make this point. The monotony of the off-white walls was broken up only by the occasional artistic rendering of either a landscape or a person's aura, the latter of which could take many forms, but most often took one resembling a preschooler's scribble. These were the two acceptable modes of art.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  "I didn't ask that," Lillie pointed out. She raised an eyebrow as the trio passed a particularly curious landscape - hellish red clouds menacing over a bone-white desert, raining embers onto a settlement of infidels.

  Mizuki sniffed. "It was implied."

  They didn't pass anyone in the hall. The devotees knew to keep out of the way in the afternoons, shuttering themselves away in their rooms - if they were even in the building at all. It wasn't uncommon for the elders to pack them into buses and shuttle them off to Hau'oli for a conference or a day trip.

  "Here we are," Dad said. He stopped in front of a pair of double doors, opening one to allow the girls to enter. Lillie wrinkled her nose as she stepped through.

  "It smells in here."

  "That's just how gyms smell. You'll get used to it." Mizuki slid the soles of her sneakers on the freshly varnished basketball court, fond of the sharp squeaks they made. Lillie's annoyed expression only encouraged her to continue.

  There would be no chairs set out for the service. The older members often complained about the lack of seating on account of their sensitive posteriors, but they were rebuffed every time. It brought the community together, the council elders said. In sitting together on the floor, everyone was made equal in their discomfort. It also gave whoever was on stage a much better look at them - there was no hiding one's inattention behind rows and rows of chairs. People still whispered among one another during the service, of course, but they whispered less.

  This arrangement, the two found as Dad led them up into the wings, did not continue backstage. Before the service, the band members would gather together on bean bag chairs, preparing themselves for their performance. Their number was composed of those in the compound with adequate musical experience. Mizune had auditioned once back when she'd still lived here, but not even nepotism would allow her atrocious guitar skills to defile this stage.

  As the trio entered the main backstage lobby, an anxious attendant hurried up to Dad and whispered something in his ear. The man nodded, looked back at Mizuki, and then slipped away, leaving her and Lillie alone.

  "I guess he has to go and get ready," she explained, waving one hand in the direction he had left in. A spike of irritation pierced her: why did she have to guess?

  With little else to do, the two listened to the band recite one of the sacred chants: the Togekiss chant, for good fortune. It was in the language of her family’s country, but Mizuki could translate:

  "May we have good fortune in all our endeavors;

  Pull us through these times of strife.

  We venerate you, O Holy Togekiss;

  Make us radiant in your holy light."

  "Dad says the sacred chants came to him in a dream, and he wrote them down on a napkin when he woke up," Mizuki said. "I think they still have it down in the Cultural Enrichment Museum."

  "It certainly sounds like that," Lillie said.

  "What, dream-like?"

  Lillie bit her lip. "Um, yes. That is precisely what I meant."

  Off in one shadowed corner lurked the tech room. Only the tech crew were allowed in there - Mizuki had heard there was over a hundred million Pokedollars' worth of equipment inside. Which was a lot for a job which essentially amounted to clicking through a slideshow while Dad talked. But, she reminded herself, it was important work nonetheless. Any work which helped aid the spread of truth was the most important work that could ever be done.

  A gaggle of children dashed through the hall, weaving between Lillie and Mizuki. Among them was Minami, who would be making her debut in the pageant tonight. She wore a yellow and green felt costume becoming of the lead role: the great Gilgamesh, tamer of dragons and attempted conqueror of death. It was a Kazakami family tradition: Mizuki had played the very same role when she'd been Minami's age, as had Miki.

  "Hi~i, Mizuki!" Minami did a double take; she stopped, allowing her friends to gallop past her out of the room. "What's she doing here?"

  "She's coming to stay here," Mizuki said, putting a hand on Lillie's shoulder. "She's going to watch the service with us. Your play, too."

  "Oh? Is she gonna joooin uuuus?"

  "Maybe. Don't pressure her."

  "H…hello," Lillie said. Mizuki had come to understand this was the portion of the interaction in which she would normally fidget with her bag, but in her lack of it simply folded her hands together across her chest.

  "Huh-huh-huh-hello," Minami repeated, giggling, and Lillie tensed back.

  Mizuki, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy for the older girl, furrowed her brow. "Don't make fun of her. What kind of way is that to treat a new guest?"

  "Sorry," Minami said, and in a move blatantly lifted from Mizuki's own playbook, rolled her eyes.

  Lillie lowered her head and stared at her shoes. "It's okay," she mumbled. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

  Mizuki was about to retort she very much had meant something by it, but before she could, she caught sight of her mother and other sisters in her peripheral vision. Minami followed her stare, and her yellow cape fluttered as she whirled around and waved vivaciously. "Ohh! Hi, Mama!"

  Mom glided over to them on small and tender feet. Almost waltzing. She pushed Mirai into Mizuki's arms and removed the pink hair tie from Minami's black hair to readjust her ponytail, which had come loose over the course of the day. "Look at you, my little Gilgamesh," she cooed. "Are you ready for your big role?"

  "Ready as I'll ever be," Minami affirmed, surely borrowing another's words.

  "Hi, Mom," Mizuki said, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the baby. As Miki came up beside them, Mizuki reciprocated her sister's frosty glare. "Did Dad tell you about Lillie? She's going to stay here."

  "Yes, I've..." Mom regarded the girl with an almost pathetic look as she took back Mirai. "Your father did tell me. That's wonderful."

  "Mi... Mizuki's been helping to show me around," Lillie said, giving a slight curtsey to the woman, like a peasant before royalty. "I find this whole business very intriguing. It's not like anything I've seen before..."

  Mom rubbed the back of her head, offering a rare chuckle. "That's about par for the course around here. I know I was certainly disoriented the first time I was invited to one of our meetings. But I'm sure you'll find a way to settle in. Everyone always does."

  Mizuki narrowed her eyes - Mom had never told her that before. The way she had always recounted her first time coming to a service, she had been an instant devotee. From the moment she'd heard Dad open his mouth, she'd said, she'd known at once the two were soulmates. Their auras were like pieces in a puzzle made for each other and each other alone. It had to be true - why else would Dad leave his old wife to marry her?

  So Mom must have been telling a white lie to assuage Lillie's trepidation. A useful lie. Deception may have been a sin, but it could be a forgivable one if it did more good than harm.

  There were no strangers among the Children of Starlight... unless you made yourself one. Lillie was a stranger everywhere she went, so it stood to reason she wouldn't fit in immediately here, either. But the night was young, and the service had yet to begin.

  Attendants and interns whirled past them, scurrying in all directions. Mizuki glimpsed Dad exiting one door and entering another. She shifted on her feet, turning to see the band members had taken their instruments and had obnoxiously begun to tune. To B flat, or F sharp, or whatever. Beside her, Miki hummed a nursery rhyme.

  A nursery rhyme, or a little ditty, or an old pagan hymn - something inside Mizuki splintered and broke off.

  "I was somewhat confused by the artwork in the hall," Lillie was saying. "I don't understand - what were those scribbles for?"

  Before Mom could issue some unsatisfactory dismissal, Mizuki, having found her head again, cut in. "They're renderings of auras," she explained, recalling the way the elders had described them. "You're born with the ability to understand them, but as you grow up you trade that ability for the ability to command language. Then, if you're an aura reader, you can temporarily regain that ability by reverting to your younger self. So when toddlers draw scribbles like those, they're really drawing how they perceive aura."

  Lillie's expression went blank.

  "For the first few months of its life, a baby isn't really able to process the world around it," Mizuki continued, gesturing to Mirai. "So it just has to let everything flow over it like a wave. Aura reading is a little like that - or so I've heard. Once your brain gets ahold of language, it's constantly seeking to describe things. But auras aren't tangible. Your brain doesn't have the ability to go with the flow, because it's constantly thrashing against the current. That's why most people above the age of three won't ever be able to read aura - it's a neural processing error."

  "So what you're saying is..." Lillie paused, unbelieving her own words. "...Babies can read aura?"

  "They can swim, too," Mizuki added.

  "I think this all may be a little overwhelming for Lillie," Mom said, moving to defend the meek girl. Mizuki curled her lip - of course she'd be miffed Mizuki was disseminating Stage Four knowledge without Lillie having gone through the prerequisite stages, but if she wanted to know, she had a right to the truth. "Why don't we all go into the gym and sit down? Minami, you've got to go rejoin your cast."

  "Will do," Minami said, saluting her, and then disappearing into the far corridor. Mizuki didn't really want to go sit on the hard wood gym floor, but Misao and Miki were already moving to leave, and she trudged behind them.

  A few followers had already started to filter into the gym. All of them were clad in the same gray uniform as Lillie, and all of them knew to keep away from the Kazakami girls' special spot near the front. They might have envied the girls' plainclothes - outside clothes were a status symbol in the compound, as it indicated Tenshiro trusted one to walk in society and yet still hold to their virtues. But if they were jealous, then that simply demonstrated why they didn't deserve such a privilege. The teachers worked and worked so hard, and yet so many had so far to go. But, slowly but surely, they were learning. With each passing service the exaltations as Dad took the stage only grew louder and more absolute. Slowly but surely, the believers would only grow surer-footed in the sands of faith.

  As they sat down, Lillie bent over to whisper in her ear. "I do think I understand what you mean. About the auras."

  Really? It wasn't exactly the most intuitive concept, and Mizuki didn't believe she had explained it very well.

  "When I was young, it took a long time for me to start talking," Lillie said. She spoke faster than usual, as if despite the surreptitious nature of her comment she had desired to express this for quite some time. "I remember feeling like - like a stone in a river. Like what you described. The world was going on around me, and I felt like an outsider. But I didn't have any aura-reading abilities, or..."

  Mizuki turned away. "Well, you probably don't remember having them because your brain blocks out the memories. It happens to everyone. It even happened to me."

  She turned back to the stage, believing this to be the end of the conversation, but Lillie shifted in place, frowning. "And also," she said, "there's something else. My bag left before we did, but when we got to my room, I saw it hadn't made it there yet. Nothing bad could have happened to it, right? I found it strange they were taking it away separately - and on a golf cart, no less..."

  Mizuki cringed. "Oh - oh, uh..."

  "I'm sorry," Lillie said, shaking her head. "I don't mean to cast doubt on you. I'm sure it'll be there when I get back."

  Mizuki decided to ask a question she knew full well the answer to. "You didn't have anything important in there, did you?"

  "Almost everything I own is in there," Lillie said, picking again at the tag at the back of her neck. "My clothes, my diary... um, a plush Pokémon I've had since I was very young..."

  The two sat in silence as Mizuki weighed her options. Hypnotic lights the color of Harmony strobed across the room, contrasting with the bright orange stage background. Every time it swept past them, Misao let out an annoying little cheer. Mom had left to go put Mirai back in the nursery, where a nurse would watch over her and the other babies in the compound. Knowing her, she'd probably stopped for a bathroom break on the way - the fault of Mizuki's other new little sibling, the thought of whom Mizuki preferred to keep her mind clear of entirely.

  Of course Mizuki wasn't allowed to tell Lillie where her belongings had truly been headed: straight to the incinerator. To allow for growth, the fledgling followers needed to be separated from their earthly possessions (with the exception of a few important things, like money and personal IDs, which were stored in a special locker in a hidden location). They were products of a sinful society which had socialized its children to associate material things with their own personal identities, so when those material things were lost, the poor things felt as if a part of themselves had been lost also. They would interpret it as an act of cruelty rather than one of mercy. So, to avoid their wrath, the elders would report the loss of their items as an unfortunate accident.

  But to truly heal, they needed to be reset. People, Dad said, were like forests. Back in his home region, every twenty or thirty years or so Pokemon Rangers would practice controlled burning. The fires they started would devastate the old forest, but from the ashes new seedlings would sprout and grow into bigger and sturdier trees. It was a short-term sacrifice for a long-term benefit.

  Mizuki had held strong to all of these truths for as long as she could remember. One of her earliest memories involved her over at Sun’s for a playdate, trying to convince him to give up his toys. And yet... as much as Lillie was pretending she wasn't worried, she wasn't a very good actor. She'd returned to fiddling with the tag and kept stealing glances down at herself as if unsatisfied with her appearance. Mizuki thought, and thought, and restrained a hopeless sigh.

  As Mom settled back down beside them, she crawled up to her. "Hey, Mom? Can I go to the bathroom?"

  Her cheeks went red at asking - she was three months from turning twelve, and she still wasn't allowed to go to the toilet without parental permission. If Sun and Hau found out, she'd never hear the end of it.

  "Be quick," Mom said, aloof. "You wouldn't want your father to see you missing during the service, would you?"

  "I knoooooow, " Mizuki replied. She got up, stretching her wearied limbs, and, keeping close to the perimeter of the walls, slipped out the door.