Yua's Point of View
"I can't wait to see you again, Mama," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly with all the emotions threatening to spill over. "And... thank you. For everything."
"I'll be counting the days," came her soft response—gentle and warm in a way only a mother could manage. "Give that little star a kiss from me, would you?"
"I will," I promised.
And with that, I hung up.
The silence that followed was... different. Not the heavy, aching kind I'd grown too familiar with over the years. This was the quiet that followed a storm finally breaking—the kind of silence that allowed you to breathe again.
I set the PokéGear down carefully, like it was a fragile egg I'd been holding for far too long, and rested my forehead against the table. For a few heartbeats, I just breathed—steady and deep. I didn't cry. Not this time. The tears had already fallen, and I had no more left to spare for regret. No... what I felt now was something lighter.
Something like hope.
Pushing myself to my feet, I padded across the small apartment barefoot, the wooden floor cool beneath my skin. The hallway was dim, but a soft nightlight shaped like a Luvdisc glowed at the end near the bedroom door. I passed the familiar walls lined with bookshelves, half-sorted toys, and old photographs. My heart swelled with every step.
When I reached his door, I paused.
Just the sight of it made me smile—there was a little handmade sign that read "Star's Room" hanging crookedly by a ribbon. He couldn't write yet, obviously, but I'd drawn it with him watching, and he'd clapped with joy when I showed him the final version. It was silly and adorable. Just like him.
I opened the door slowly and quietly stepped inside.
The room smelled faintly of warm baby lotion and lavender. The gentle hum of a lullaby track played from a corner speaker—instrumental notes that danced through the air like sleepy clouds. And there, nestled beneath soft blankets in his crib, was the center of my universe.
John.
He was curled on his side, one arm cradling his Dratini plush, the other loosely draped across his Gible. His hair—a sea of black with glimmers of soft violet—was fanned messily across his pillow. A few strands fell over his face, and one tiny foot peeked out from the covers like he'd kicked off half his blanket again. Typical.
I crept closer, breath catching in my throat.
How could someone so small hold my entire world in his hands?
I leaned down and brushed the strands from his forehead with a tenderness that was instinct, then placed the gentlest of kisses on his temple.
"Sweet dreams, my little star," I whispered, barely audible.
Almost immediately, he shifted in his sleep, his tiny brows twitching as he mumbled something incoherent. Then—without fully waking—he turned toward me and subconsciously reached out, clutching a handful of my sleeve. His little body scooted closer to the crib wall where I stood, like even in sleep, he couldn't bear to be far.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes again, but this time they didn't fall.
I knelt down beside the crib, resting my head lightly on the edge. His soft breathing was steady, rhythmic, peaceful. I could stay like this forever.
Everything had changed with one call. One conversation.
My son—our son—would finally know what it meant to have a family. A real one. Not just me. Not just his stuffed Pokémon and a mother trying her best.
A grandmother.
Uncles. Aunts. Cousins. A whole clan of people who would soon learn just how bright he truly was.
But...
Even as joy bloomed in my chest, something darker stirred at the edges.
Politics.
I knew what it meant to be a Silver. I knew the expectations. The whispers behind fans at family meetings. The deals made with League sponsors, Gym alliances, breeders, researchers. Legacy in the Silver name wasn't just power—it was pressure. And while my mother's words gave me comfort, I wasn't naïve enough to think it would all be smooth.
Some within the family wouldn't like that I'd left. That I'd returned with a child they hadn't chosen. That I hadn't followed the script.
Too bad.
I'd write my own script now.
And if anyone thought they could look down on my little star... they were in for a nasty surprise. John wasn't just bright—he was brilliant. Already sharp, already observant, already beyond his years.
I smiled to myself, reaching up to stroke his hair again as he softly purred in his sleep. Yes, purr. He always did that when I played with his hair. It was the most precious sound in the world—like a Purrloin with a heartbeat.
He was my peace. My purpose.
And he was about to be introduced to a much bigger world.
I would protect him from its sharp edges. No matter what.
I stood slowly, brushing the wrinkles from my nightshirt and taking one last glance at the sleeping boy in the crib.
The future was coming fast. Family. Power. Legacy.
But I was ready.
And this time... I wasn't alone.
Aelira Silver's Point of View
My hand lingered on the PokéGear even after the call had ended, my fingers curled lightly around its edge as if still clinging to the echo of my daughter's voice. Yua. My Yua... coming home.
And not alone.
I let the silence stretch, the stillness of my study wrapping around me like a warm silk shawl. The firelight flickered across the carved wood shelves, casting long shadows across trophies and heirlooms that bore our name—Silver. A name carved into the bones of Hoenn's history. A name that now, after all these years, would carry the laughter of a child again.
A grandson.
I smiled.
It started small—just a tug at the corner of my lips—but it grew until I had to press my hand to my mouth to stifle the sheer giddiness bubbling up from my chest. I hadn't felt this alive in years. The weight I had carried—of Yua's disappearance, the endless wondering—began to melt away, piece by piece.
I had a grandchild. And from what I'd just seen... Arceus help me, he was adorable.
But this wasn't a moment for quiet reflection. No. I was the Matriarch of the Silver bloodline, and a Matriarch moved with purpose.
Still grinning to myself, I swept to my feet, allowing the long folds of my crimson and silver robe to cascade around me like water. I turned sharply to the woman who stood quietly near the door, always present, always efficient.
"Kaelin," I said smoothly.
She straightened at once. "Yes, Lady Silver?"
"Summon the household. Full formal call," I ordered, already moving across the marble floor. "I want the staff assembled, the elders notified, and my son and daughter-in-law in the main meeting hall within the hour."
Kaelin blinked, then gave a single sharp bow. "At once, my Lady."
I didn't wait to see her leave—I knew she would obey me with precision. Instead, I strode through the corridors of the estate, the tap of my heels ringing out like a call to arms. Servants paused as I passed, dipping their heads, already sensing something significant had shifted in the air.
They weren't wrong.
This was no ordinary family gathering. This was the beginning of something monumental. A Silver heir returned. A new branch of blood reborn.
And a child.
My breath hitched again with the thought. A sweet little boy with crimson eyes and hair streaked in purple—who played with Dragon-type toys and smiled like he held stars in his palms. I would spoil him absolutely rotten.
I reached the entrance to the Meeting Hall, paused, then pushed open the double doors with both hands.
The room was vast—built for legacy. Polished stone floors stretched beneath murals painted into the walls: depictions of Hoenn's three elemental starter lines—Blaziken in blazing red, Sceptile in emerald green, and Swampert in navy blue, all painted in elegant battle poses, their lineages stretching in winding golden filigree down the walls. The ceiling arched high above in silver-painted timber beams, with lanterns of floating crystals suspended from above like starlight.
The central table was a crescent moon shape—symbol of our line—crafted from black jade with veins of silver running through it. Only high-ranking family members and trusted elders were permitted to sit at it.
And they were already arriving.
"Lady Silver," a deep voice greeted as my eldest son stepped inside.
He still walked like he did in his youth—shoulders squared, expression thoughtful but calculating. He wore a battle jacket adorned with his own insignia—a Haxorus fang embedded in gold.
"Cain," I greeted warmly, softening just slightly for him. "And Elira," I added, nodding to his wife as she followed him in.
Elira Silver-by-marriage was a graceful woman, tall and poised, with icy blue hair swept into a high ponytail. A researcher by trade, but not without fire.
Behind them, the doors opened again as servants filed in—lining the walls with practiced elegance. Shortly after came the Elders—five of them, each bearing the emblems of their station.
First was Elder Thyros, the Logistics Master, a wiry man with parchment-colored robes and a memory sharp as a Honedge's blade.
Next, Elder Virell, the Breeding Overseer, whose Dragonairs often slithered in her wake. She nodded curtly.
Elder Roan, the stoic Pokémon Research Chief, followed close behind, always half-scowling, half-lost in thought.
Trailing him was Elder Isolde, our Healer, adorned in gentle greens, with a Chansey always nearby.
And lastly, Elder Quorin, the Elemental Combat Strategist, whose military past still echoed in every sharp movement of his body.
Once the room was filled, they each took their places along the crescent moon table, murmurs passing between them like shifting wind.
Cain stepped forward. "Mother," he began, voice respectful but curious, "what's this meeting about? The last urgent call to the Hall was when the League attempted that territory merge."
I allowed the corners of my lips to tilt in satisfaction.
"This meeting," I said clearly, "is about your sister."
Cain's expression shifted instantly. I saw it—the barely masked emotion in his eyes. He had searched for her for years. Quietly. Without drawing attention. He never gave up hope, even when the trail ran cold.
"I found her," I said. "She called me."
The room stilled.
"And... she's not alone."
I could feel the tension coil like a spring.
"What do you mean?" Elder Virell asked.
"I mean..." I let my fingers brush the edge of the table as I met each of their gazes. "Yua fell in love. She married the heir of the Toise Clan during her time away."
There were gasps—mutters of disbelief and simmering fury.
"However," I added, voice tightening, "he... changed. Treated her poorly. Abandoned her the moment she needed him most."
"I'll kill him," Cain said instantly, voice low and deadly.
"You'll wait your turn," I replied coolly, though a flash of pride sparked in my chest.
"Wait... are you saying..." Elder Isolde leaned forward. "She had a child?"
I smiled.
"Yes," I said, eyes glinting. "A boy. And he's already proven himself quite the little star."
More gasps. One of the servants actually dropped a scroll.
I raised a hand.
"I will not say more for now. I want you all to see him for yourselves. This is not just Yua returning home... this is a new addition to our line."
My heart swelled.
My grandson was coming.
And the Silver family would never be the same.