The god of Sinnoh stood before the god of Hoenn.
The Dragon of the Sky and the Incarnation of Antimatter faced each other for the first time in ages. Though the heavens were wide and distance meaningless to them, neither had sought the other until now. Their relationship had long been one of quiet indifference—until the Incarnation of Antimatter chose to break that silence.
A woman with hair as white as untouched snow entered Rayquaza's vision.
His gaze sharpened. The unapproachable majesty faded for an instant, replaced by faint bewilderment at the sight of such a fragile, human form.
To take human shape… what purpose does it serve?
The Sky Dragon did not understand the god before him.
Giratina met that fierce stare without flinching. The being known now as Platinum smiled faintly. Her voice was soft, even friendly.
"What do you think, Rayquaza? Will you lend me your strength?"
Rayquaza's golden eyes glimmered. Giratina did not look away; their gazes collided—wild, ancient, burning with something that was both curiosity and challenge.
Isn't your scale far too large for a human's wish?
His words echoed directly in her mind, a deep resonance only gods could hear.
"Wish?" she echoed with a hint of laughter. His assumption was wrong, but she made no move to correct it. What reason was there? Would he truly believe that a god had come all this way because of a human's plea?
With a mocking tone, she murmured,
"This is what happens when you stay in a human form too long. You start finding their little surprises… entertaining. There's no game quite like watching them stumble, is there?"
Still obsessed, I see.
She smirked. "Fine, fine. Pretend you didn't hear that."
Her lips curled in amusement, but her eyes gleamed—cold and sharp as a blade drawn in silence.
Her voice lowered, smooth and dangerous.
"Let's not waste time. Tell me, Rayquaza—will you help me, or not?"
You plan to gift a newborn human with memories?
"Life is fleeting," she said simply. "A little miracle won't break the balance."
After all, their lifespans stretched beyond the birth of the stars. They had seen worlds rise and fall, humanity bloom and fade. They had watched countless beginnings and countless ends.
If gods could not act beyond the limits of mortals, what purpose did their existence serve?
You're not asking the impossible, are you?
"No. Nothing that would trouble even you."
Then what is it you want of me?
Giratina's smile deepened, her crimson eyes glowing faintly.
"I wish to show the young trainer a celestial spectacle."
…That's all?
"That's all," she whispered.
Rayquaza closed his eyes for a moment.
A strange feeling rippled through him—something he couldn't quite name.
If this was merely about the Dragon Star students, anyone else could have done it. Why him?
As if sensing his unspoken question, Giratina spoke.
"The original plan was for you to descend swiftly from the Sky Spire and reveal yourself."
I thought as much.
"But I decided it was too dangerous. You know…" Her lips curled in a teasing smile. "Humans are far more fragile than you think."
Rayquaza fell silent, the faintest twitch in his jaw betraying irritation. He was sure she had changed her schedule mid-conversation—again. Otherwise, she would never have come looking for him.
He gave a low, rumbling sigh, the air shimmering around him.
You haven't changed, Giratina.
"Heh. Maybe. But you still get the grand finale."
The final highlight, is it? Then… who else have you dragged into this spectacle?
From her tone alone, Rayquaza could already tell there were others involved.
And Giratina, having no reason to hide it, answered easily.
"Lugia and Zapdos."
The storm guardian of the sea… and the bird that commands lightning itself. Quite the spectacle indeed.
"It'll be magnificent," Giratina said with a faint smirk.
A moment of stillness passed.
Rayquaza's golden eyes flickered over Giratina's human form, thoughtful and heavy.
Are you certain this is wise?
"Hm? What do you mean?"
To show humans both Lugia and Zapdos at once—are you prepared for what that might cause?
Giratina didn't answer immediately.
He hadn't thought that far ahead.
Rayquaza knew.
When a god unveiled their true form, humans always reacted—some with awe, some with greed. Some would pray. Others would reach too far.
Arceus had shaped countless gods.
Some brought ruin, others hope.
Humans were no different—capable of reverence, yet just as capable of corruption.
And because they had never truly witnessed the full power of the divine, they often underestimated it.
"Then I'll just… hide my identity," Giratina said lightly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Hide it?
"Mm-hmm. A mask, maybe. Something unique—nothing ordinary or dull. Something mysterious, like a shadow given form."
In her mind's eye, she imagined it—a mask that shimmered like obsidian, a cloak flowing like Ghost-type mist.
"And of course, I'll need a name."
Her tone was playful now, amused by her own little scheme.
"If I call myself Platinum, it'll draw attention. Better to take on a disguise—a man, perhaps."
Her smile deepened as the thought solidified.
"Yes… a masked man. The man in the mask."
Giratina had even prepared how to speak.
The voice would have to be low — calm, measured — so it wouldn't betray anything.
Every detail was planned. Every move rehearsed.
Then, turning toward the emerald dragon of the heavens, Giratina called out.
"Rayquaza."
What is it?
"When I give you the signal, please look after the young trainer."
This time, Rayquaza didn't answer right away.
He didn't need to.
Giratina already knew his nature — silent, steadfast, proud. The still air swirling around him said more than words ever could.
"Then, we'll meet again… in the Radiant Isles."
And with that, Giratina's form dissolved into a misty veil — vanishing from the Sky Pillar like a fading dream.
Rayquaza, left alone in the silence of the heavens, exhaled a deep breath.
For the sake of the Dragon Stars — those radiant children who embodied beauty itself — he began to awaken his dormant power.
000
At the Pokémon School, the teacher's face looked exactly like a heroine who had just realized she was in the wrong story.
At first, I thought, oh, the instructor just changed, and didn't think much of it.
But then…
…a tall figure in a white mask and a cloak darker than midnight appeared at the forest's edge as the sun began to dip below the trees.
And I thought, ah. That's… not normal.
He introduced himself simply — "the Masked Man."
He stood on the path like some mysterious character out of a fairy tale, welcoming the children who had arrived with bright eyes and heavy backpacks.
And next to him were… Eevee, Shaymin, Jolteon, and Flareon — all smiling adorably.
The kids' eyes sparkled instantly. Fear? Gone. Who could be afraid with those fluffy faces around?
The teacher, on the other hand, looked like she'd bitten into a sour berry.
Eevee alone was rare enough — but a trainer with multiple evolved forms? That was… suspicious. Especially since such evolution required rare blessings, or so the legends said.
Yep, I thought, watching him. He definitely gives off "bounty poster" energy.
Still… there must've been a reason for the mask.
Maybe he was shy. Maybe he had some tragic backstory.
Or maybe — and this seemed increasingly likely — he just liked dramatic entrances.
At least, he seemed to genuinely care for the children.
The camp soon burst with life — little trainers darting around, chasing Pokémon, laughter echoing beneath the golden trees.
Oddly enough, none of them were afraid of the masked man.
If anything, they watched him with round, curious eyes — mesmerized by the strange, gentle aura that surrounded him.
The cute Eevee evolutions helped too, wagging tails and all, softening the air like a cozy dream.
Then—
"Guardian. Moon Force."
The masked man's quiet command rippled through the air like moonlight.
He'd given an order — but to whom?
The teacher blinked, glancing around in confusion.
"Guardian…?" she murmured.
Then she found it — the Guardian, shimmering faintly between the trees, invisible moments ago, its presence vast yet serene.
And in that instant, she realized—
This masked man… wasn't just strange.
He was something else entirely.
The Guardian near the forest raised its hands toward the heavens.
A pulse of radiant power flared — Moon Force.
A brilliant sphere of moonlight soared into the sky, bursting like a celestial bloom.
The trail of silver light that followed shimmered like a sacred spring, and from it fell delicate drops of luminous rain — each one glowing as it touched the earth.
The Guardian that had fired the Moon Force was no ordinary Pokémon. Her hair shimmered an ethereal blue, her gown a flowing black that swallowed the night itself. She was breathtaking — a Mega-Evolved, Shiny form unlike any other.
Even the teacher, who moments ago had been wary of the masked stranger, found her heart caught by the sight of the radiant Guardian.
Meanwhile, the masked man gently guided the children deeper into the forest — toward the stage hidden beneath the trees.
000
The masked man walked among them in silence, his mind oddly distant.
Somewhere in the sea of small, eager faces… one looked familiar.
He couldn't place it.
He was sure he'd never met the child in person — so perhaps it was someone from the games, from another lifetime's memory. The thought made him pause for a heartbeat, his steps faltering.
His Pokémon, however, didn't hesitate. They moved ahead, cheerful and warm, greeting the children like gentle hosts.
As they wandered, the forest transformed around them.
Petals unfurled under the moonlight, glowing faintly as if whispering secrets to the stars.
The scent of blossoms — sweet and dizzying — filled the air.
Every leaf, every flower, seemed to turn toward the children in welcome.
It was like stepping into a living dream — a sea of flowers woven from moonlight and wind.
Just as the children began to gasp in wonder, another marvel unfolded.
The trees began to hum.
Tiny sparks raced across their branches, turning the leaves golden — like lightning made gentle.
A child reached out instinctively, hand trembling with curiosity.
"Sometimes," the masked man said softly, "nature is best seen with the eyes."
His voice carried no rebuke, only quiet reverence.
The children hesitated, then nodded and stepped back, their disappointment melting into awe.
It was their unspoken way of saying thank you.
And for their obedience, the masked man decided to grant them another glimpse of wonder.
Light — pure and countless — began to rise on the breeze.
Fragments of brilliance, like scattered jewels, danced through the air and across the night sky.
The forest glowed with a new kind of beauty — dreamlike, infinite.
"This…" whispered one child, eyes wide. "Is this a fairy tale?"
The masked man only smiled beneath his mask and nodded once.
Then, the river stirred.
A ripple, a shimmer — and the water suddenly rose, glowing silver beneath the moonlight.
Droplets burst into the air, raining light across the banks.
From the depths emerged a great, graceful shape.
Lugia.
The Guardian of the Seas.
Her wings spread like the horizon itself, scattering moonlight in every direction.
The forest seemed to bow under her presence, every sound fading into reverent silence.
The children stared, eyes wide with disbelief and awe.
It was as if the legends from their textbooks had come alive before them — not ink on paper, but a living god, magnificent and real.
Lugia circled once, elegant and slow, before landing upon the shimmering water. Her gaze met the masked man's.
He spoke quietly, his tone gentle — the voice of someone watching over a dream.
"Well then… what did you think? What are your thoughts on seeing a legend with your own eyes?"
For a long moment, there was only stunned silence.
And then—
"It's really, really, really great!"
"This is crazy! This is crazy!"
"Lugia! That's Lugia, right!?"
"I'm telling my mom! I saw a legend!"
Their voices rose like a joyful storm, laughter and shouts echoing through the forest — and under the mask, the god in disguise allowed himself a quiet, satisfied smile.
Adults always said that legendary Pokémon were something you might see only once in your lifetime.
But for these children — just this once — that legend had descended into their world.
Through this camp, they had witnessed the miracle of the Saints themselves.
Yet… it wasn't over.
A low hum rippled through the forest, followed by the crackle of gold lightning.
Electricity surged across the trees — not destructive, but alive, like veins of pure energy.
And from that light emerged another legend — the Thunderbird of Kanto.
"This is the Kanto region," the masked man murmured softly.
"So it's only natural that Kanto's myths would answer our call."
Thunder, the guardian of the skies, spread his gleaming wings. Sparks danced gracefully between his feathers, each flash bursting into delicate light before fading away.
He didn't scorch the trees or burn the air — he simply breathed life into the forest, feeding it with energy that hummed like a song.
The children could only stare.
Mouths open, eyes wide, hearts pounding.
The masked man smiled faintly beneath his mask and let them draw closer.
They reached out, trembling with wonder, to touch Thunder's shining feathers.
"Tell me," the masked man asked gently, "how do you see the world? Doesn't your heart race just reading about Pokémon — and then meeting them?"
His voice was quiet, but it carried far in the still night.
"True travel," he continued, "isn't about distance. It's about the places you see, the lessons you learn, and the way you grow.
The world is vast — far more than you could ever imagine. There are secrets hidden in every shadow, waiting for you to discover them."
As his words faded, the heavens answered.
Meteors began to fall — one after another — streaks of fire painting the night.
They blazed, vanished, and flared again, each one mirrored in the children's bright eyes.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
There was only the quiet hum of the forest and the rhythm of their hearts.
It was a night they would remember for the rest of their lives.
"Pokémon will help you achieve your dreams," the masked man said softly.
"So… live together. Walk together — humans and Pokémon alike."
He rose slowly, the moonlight brushing against his black cloak.
He knew it was time to leave.
The sound of distant footsteps reached him — the unmistakable tread of adults.
And adults, he knew, had a way of shattering the fragile magic of a child's world.
He looked back at the children — smiling, laughing, eyes still glowing with wonder — and whispered a silent goodbye.
Then, while their attention lingered on the last meteor, he turned and slipped into the darkness.
But before the night swallowed him completely, he paused.
He could feel it — the weight of two gazes on his back.
Could it be… those two children who had approached him so familiarly before?
The corner of his mask curved into the faintest smile.
And then, like mist, he was gone.