"You take them out. We're almost there."
"What? You're going back?"
"Yeah."
"I'll—"
"Don't waste time. Once you're out, you can't go back in. If you don't leave, who's going to carry them? Just hang in there."
"...I'm sorry, Ayato. Really. We dragged you down. Here—take this with you!"
"It's fine. Just go."
The image of Hiroyuki's face—twisted with guilt and unwillingness—lingered in Ayato's mind. Gripping the hammer he'd picked up near the exit, he switched on his headlamp and took a measured breath.
He knew that Aron might not necessarily lose to that Rhyhorn. He also knew that even if it did, Rhyhorn might not go so far as to kill it.
All things considered, he had no reason to go back. It was unnecessary. Foolish.
But he still came back.
He often thought of himself as selfish. All his kindness toward others was nothing more than a mask—methods for fitting in, seeking warmth, chasing benefits.
So—
He told himself that he came back to earn Aron's goodwill. To repay kindness, to uphold principle.
He repeated it in his mind like a mantra, hypnotizing himself with the logic.
Because otherwise, if he faced that blood-red-eyed Rhyhorn head-on, wouldn't he just run away?
"Kill him!"
Shibata's shriek suddenly rang out, and the Rhyhorn charged forward in sync.
Rumble rumble rumble—
The ground trembled with the stampede. Pebbles flew into the air with every violent footfall.
The Rhyhorn, eager to be rid of its task, decided to humor Shibata—just knock this kid flying and shut him up already.
In this cave, crammed with debris and falling rock, there wasn't much space to dodge. Evading a Rhyhorn's full-force charge? Nearly impossible.
But Ayato only needed to do it once.
Just once.
He backed up two steps, positioning himself behind a heap of loosely piled rocks on the far left. They wouldn't stop a Rhyhorn, but they could block its line of sight.
Even Ground-types couldn't see through stone and sand.
Come on.
He drew in a deep breath and stared directly at the crazed Shibata and the Rhyhorn barreling down with its horn lowered.
There was nothing left to say. He had to succeed—failure simply wasn't an option.
BOOM!
The stone pile exploded into rubble as the beast crashed through. At that exact moment, Ayato flicked his headlamp to full brightness, not caring if it hit the Rhyhorn's eyes, and dove to the right.
"Ugh!"
Pain shot through his left arm and ribs, like he'd taken a bullet.
But he'd dodged it. The pain was from flying debris—a testament to how terrifying that impact had been.
As he got back on his feet, fire licked across his torn elbow and shoulder.
Endure it.
Push through!
Ayato whirled around to see the Rhyhorn dazed from slamming into the far wall. Shibata, still clinging to its back, was screaming for it to turn and go again.
"Eat shit!"
Ayato hurled his hammer straight at him. It struck before Shibata could even react—sent him tumbling off the Rhyhorn with a shriek. No telling where it hit, but the guy was howling like mad.
Shouldn't have left your headlamp on, genius.
"Rrraaah!!"
With the weight off its back, the Rhyhorn staggered. As it stumbled, one of its massive hooves came down—right onto Shibata's leg.
"AAAAHHH MY LEG!!"
Another blood-curdling scream.
The Rhyhorn froze. It was heavy and not the brightest—it didn't know what to do now.
That's it!
Ayato didn't hesitate. He sprinted toward Aron.
Pokémon were still part of nature. They weren't gods. Anyone who studied them enough could figure out how to fight them.
Take down the master first.
If Rhyhorn was helping Shibata, it wouldn't abandon him.
"We're leaving!"
Ayato scooped up the half-conscious Aron. Surprisingly, it wasn't as heavy as he'd imagined.
He turned and ran, dashing past the panicked Rhyhorn trying to lift Shibata. The Pokémon noticed his escape and tensed, clearly debating whether to give chase.
"RRRHHHAAA!!"
"SHUT UP!"
Ayato reached into his pocket, pulled out another ball—and slammed it to the ground.
BOOM!
A blinding flash swallowed the tunnel in white.
"RAAA!?"
The Rhyhorn staggered, temporarily blinded, eyes filled with white. In its panic, it went berserk—thrashing wildly.
Shibata screamed.
"No—NOOOO! Don't—AHHH! HELP ME—"
"Haaah… haaaah…"
Ayato ran, lungs burning, legs screaming with every stride. In just a few seconds, he'd cleared thirty meters. He glanced back.
The Rhyhorn was still flailing, crashing into walls. Shibata's voice had gone faint.
Ayato exhaled sharply, finally relaxing.
Good thing he hadn't wasted that Flash Bomb earlier when Hiroyuki had offered it. The blast had completely disoriented them.
Maybe that's why Hiroyuki had never used it before.
Ayato shook his head, dismissed the thought, and kept running.
Honestly, this was life or death. Even if Aron didn't want it, a Poké Ball would've made escape faster and easier.
And in its current state, it likely couldn't break out.
But…
Forget it.
What if he was wrong, and this Aron had been planted by the Quicksand Team?
What if Aron would rather die than be forced into a Poké Ball?
He knew how strong-willed Pokémon could be—once they made up their minds, there was no turning back.
Enough thinking. Just run faster.
Ayato ripped off his mask, sucking in mouthfuls of fresh air to boost his speed.
The incline was brutal.
Thankfully, no chase sounds came from behind. And when a sliver of white light finally appeared up ahead—the exit—his chest swelled with hope.
A cool wind full of sandy grit rushed in to meet him.
Haaah… haaah…
Ayato stumbled into the daylight, gasping, headlamp flickering. The sun's brightness stabbed at his eyes, but he didn't collapse—just barely stayed upright.
He ignored the gasps and stares of those around him. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a jade shard, tossing it to the middle-aged proctor.
"Token."
The proctor caught it and gave it a casual glance—then frowned when his eyes landed on the battered Aron.
"You brought out a Pokémon from inside?"
"No… I think it's wild." Ayato shook his head.
"No way—"
The man stopped mid-sentence. A Galarian Yamask flew out of the cave behind Ayato and hovered in front of the proctor, shaking its head firmly.
The proctor instantly changed tone.
"—Get this kid and the Aron to the hospital! Now!"
Several grunts rushed over with a stretcher, carefully lifting Ayato and the barely conscious Aron onto it, then carried them off in haste.
Ayato gave the Yamask a sideways glance, then murmured to Aron beside him:
"We're safe now. Don't worry."
Saying it made him realize how tense he still was—and finally, he allowed himself to relax.
The mine had been a short trip, but an unbelievably dangerous one. Especially going back to save Aron—now that he thought about it, he'd really gone and risked his damn life.
"…Sigh."