Archive of Our Own ^beta

The name had never been there before, tattooed dark and bold on the inside of his wrist. Cyrus assumed it was nothing more than an anomaly. A side effect of being brought into this world away from his own. In a way, he was right.

The other men tied up in this foolish plot had them too, based on his observations at least.

Lysandre would eye his wrist with bitter sadness, barely contained behind a mask of uncaring. Cyrus didn't know what name found its place there. He didn't care to ask. 

Archie and Maxie complained about theirs nonstop. Of all the villains assembled, they were the only two Cyrus knew what was written on them with absolute certainty. They were both certain it was a prank they pulled on each other. How they could have done so eluded him and neither water nor ground specialist could offer a reasonable answer.

Giovanni and Ghetsis didn't seem to care about their writing, and Cyrus wasn't curious enough to ask. What did it matter to him what these strangers had imprinted on their skin? No, what kept Cyrus confused and curious despite his best attempts to ignore it, was the writing on his own skin.

The others clearly recognized the names, regardless of how they felt of the people they were tied to. But Cyrus did not. Whoever this name belonged, he had never met them, and due to the complete destruction of his world, he never would. Perhaps it was for the best he didn't know what the names meant. What if knowing would make him regret his actions further? 

For the sake of his sanity, Cyrus ignored them all. The other leaders, the strange names, everything. But the questions still bubbled up from time to time. 

Which is why when encountering the Alolan trainer sent to stop team Rainbow Rocket, and seeing a name in bold on their wrist, he had to ask.

What are they? What do they mean??

Soulmates, was not the answer he was hoping for. He smartly kept mum about the name on his wrist and bid the child farewell. He had too much to think about. The silence of his room felt crushing though and he couldn't stand to linger about with this new information to parse. He left shortly after the child, intent on going outside the castle to watch the sea. The soothing motion of the water had always had a calming effect on him. Made it easier to think through his troubles and voice his concerns. 

He didn't make it that far.

In the lobby Cyrus saw him, an incredibly tall man he could only vaguely describe as looking ‘punk’, was harassing a pair of Rocket Grunts.

Cyrus sent them away and turned to watch the man as he hollered after the retreating grunts.

Who are you?

Guzma… The word imprinted on his wrist seemed to throb as the man introduced himself.

Perhaps...he might stick around this world for a little while. Just to sait his curiosity.

"My name is Cyrus."