The walk back to the inn was quiet in that way where silence wasn't restful — it pressed on the ribs. Ashfall Crossing felt even emptier than before, the fight having scared off even the last stragglers who normally risked curfew. Doors were bolted. Lanterns snuffed. Noctowl feathers drifted in the street, abandoned in the chaos.
Cyrus kept his arm around the captured Heavy Ball clipped to his belt. Every few seconds, he felt the faint tremor from within. Slow. Weak. But alive.
Kina walked half a step ahead, her jaw tight, her shoulders stiff. Not a word out of her since the fight. Growlithe padded close at her heel, glancing back at Cyrus like it wanted to mediate.
Inside the inn, the lamplight felt too warm. Too normal. Harlan had left a pile of bandages and potion kits on their table — probably assuming they'd come back with wounds.
They did. Just not their own.
Kina finally broke the silence.
"Sit. Table," she said, pointing like she was talking to a delinquent student. "And let it out."
Cyrus blinked. "Let wh—?"
"The Bloodmoon Ursaluna," she snapped. "Let it out."
Ah. Not mad about the Ursaluna, then.
Mad about him.
He sighed and unclipped the Heavy Ball. "You're mad."
"I'm not mad," she said, already clearing a space on the floor for triage.
"Uh-huh. You're furious."
"Cyrus, you walked into gunfire."
He winced. "Light gunfire."
"There is no such thing as light gunfire."
She stepped closer, eyes burning with that mix of anger and fear people only got when they cared more than they wanted to.
"And you didn't even flinch," she said. "You just— you just walked in. Like you're bulletproof."
He didn't know what to do with that, so he defaulted to honesty. "I didn't want it to die."
"Yeah," she muttered, dropping to a crouch. "I know."
She looked away first.
Cyrus pressed the button.
The Bloodmoon Ursaluna materialized in a heavy thud against the wooden floor. It sagged sideways immediately — one leg trembling, the other folded wrong. Dark, rust-red fur clumped with blood. Its obsidian faceplate was cracked along the left side, leaking faint wisps of eerie reddish glow from the wound.
Even Kina flinched at the sight.
"…They really did a number on it," she whispered.
Cyrus knelt at its side. Gently placed a hand on its shoulder. The creature's breath was shallow but steady.
"Sliggoo," Kina said, gesturing her partner forward. "Give me a viscosity scan — see how much blood it's lost."
Sliggoo chirped softly and leaned close, antennae glowing faint blue as it read the moisture levels in the wounds.
Cyrus reached for the potion kit. "Alright. Start with coagulant spray?"
"Not yet. Clean the burn wounds first."
He froze. "Burn?"
Kina pointed to a section near the ribs. "Gunpowder flash. They shot too close."
His stomach twisted.
He worked in steady silence — cleaning, spraying, wrapping — while Kina handled the deeper cuts. Their hands kept brushing by accident. Neither commented.
Halfway through, the Ursaluna rumbled a low, shaky growl, but didn't lift its head.
Cyrus leaned close. "You're okay. You're safe. Just breathe."
The growl faded.
When the worst of the wounds were covered, Kina sat back on her heels, wiping sweat from her forehead. "It's not out of the woods. But it won't die tonight."
Cyrus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good."
"Good?" Kina echoed, standing abruptly. "Cyrus — you can't keep doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Playing hero."
He looked up at her. Really looked.
She wasn't angry anymore. Just scared.
"You think I didn't see you?" she said quietly. "You didn't call an order. You didn't strategize. You just threw yourself between them and a dying Pokémon. You can't— I can't—"
She stopped, visibly annoyed with herself.
"Just… tell me next time before you do something stupid," she muttered.
He couldn't help the soft smile. "That ruins the spontaneity."
She glared. Hard. "I swear to Arceus—"
"Okay, okay," he cut in, hands up. "I'll let you know before I do something stupid."
She huffed, but a tiny unwilling smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Good."
Growlithe nudged her leg approvingly.
Sliggoo coiled sleepily against Cyrus's chair, exhausted from aiding the triage.
The inn suddenly felt warmer. Softer. Like the tension had finally bled out with the Ursaluna's wounds.
Kina grabbed her canteen and drank half of it in one go. "So what's our theory now? Something is driving them down the mountain. Aggression is skyrocketing. And they're abandoning cubs." She paused. "Has to be environmental or sensory."
Cyrus tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. "Could be seismic. Something underground. Or a territory shift at the peak pushing them out."
"Or corruption," Kina added quietly.
Cyrus's eyes flicked to her. "…You think that's possible?"
She shrugged. "Bloodmoon variants already have unnatural behavior patterns. If the source is destabilizing…"
"Then something up there is poisoning the whole line."
They both looked toward the window — where the mountain loomed, red mist drifting like spilled embers.
Kina exhaled. "We head up at dawn."
"Agreed."
She grabbed her pack and swung it over one shoulder — then paused in the doorway to her room.
"And Cyrus?"
"Yeah?"
"…Don't scare me like that again."
He swallowed. "I'll try...I mean I'll try not to"
She nodded once. Then slipped inside her room, door clicking softly shut.
Cyrus looked at the resting Ursaluna, then the mountain, then the empty hallway where Kina had stood.
"Great," he muttered. "Now I'm in trouble."
He rubbed the back of his neck, a slow grin forming despite himself.
Then he kicked off his boots, lay back on the thin inn bed, and let the exhaustion wash over him.
Tomorrow, they climbed the Bloodmoon.
Tonight, he'd let himself relax.