The sun was a glowing red ball on a throne of multicolored clouds. Bubbles fluttered about the humid air like scattered stardust upon earth.

Click. Click.

"Damn."

Flint's smile slipped from his ruddy face. "Volkner," he huffed, grey eyes darting around the empty beach. "You need to stop using that word."

"Damn." Volkner cast his broken tool to the sand. "I used that hex key for three years, idiot. It's the best type out there. Superalloy."

"Doesn't look like a key to me, Volks."

"And that's why you're an idiot." A sigh. "Now I have to save up for a new one."

"Just ask your parents."

"They think all tools are screwdrivers." Flint opened his mouth. "They're not," Volkner quickly added. "They're all very different. For example, this. This is a cog. That is a sprocket. And this… is a gear."

Flint was scratching his red afro. Volkner threw his ass on the sand, and the yawn of the century ripped from his throat. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm breeze caressing his cheeks, the salty spray ruffling his spiky hair…

Then a cold finger tapped his spine. Volkner jolted, and Flint jumped. The boys whirled around. "What?" Flint shoved his fists into his baggy pants, stepping in front of his friend. "What do you want, you little weirdo?"

All his life, Volkner had grown up under clear, bright blue skies. But right now, there were so many clouds over his head.

"I'm sorry." Wait, he can speak? "I happened to overhear… erm…"

Flint put his hand near his ear. "Is that a Rattata I hear?" He clicked his teeth. "Look, Volkner and I are busy. Go on now. Shoo, shoo!"

The other boy stepped back. "I'm sorry," he muttered, hands wringing. "I only… I didn't mean to bother you—"

"Then what do you want?" Flint snapped. "Yeah, yeah, you were the only one to get that math problem right. We don't need a genius around here!"

Those dusty eyes widened. "Oh no, I never meant that, Fli—" His sleeves flew to his mouth. That gaze lingered on the broken contraption, halfway buried in the sand.

Then he reached into his pockets, and the sun exploded into blinding light. When Volkner deemed it safe to uncover his eyes, there's a dull piece of star in those extended hands.

A splash of sand warded the other one back. Flint grinded his sandals to the ground. Volkner blinked, and that's when the world snapped back into focus.

"Keep your germs to yourself," he hissed.

That hand yanked back like a snapped power line. Volkner stood, and the other one stumbled back, the heavy backpack slamming on the ground.

"O-Of course. I-I-I'm sorry." He gave the two of them a deep, jerky nod. The window shutters have slammed shut, an indivisible boundary established. "I understand. I-I won't get in your way again. I'm sorry."

He missed a step the first time. Then he's just lying there, staring at the glittering ground as if he was frozen in a push-up. A cold breeze sliced past Volkner's ears as a small bat and crow swooped down to hoist the other one back to his feet.

And they're gone.

Flint scratched his afro as the skies turned violet. Skritch. Skritch. "Can you believe that loser tried to talk to us?" He shuddered. "Let's get outta here, Volks. My mama's making chili tonight. I know you love it!"

Chili is chili, but Flint's Ma makes the best indeed. As his mind was enraptured by the prospect of food, he happened to turn. Something was glinting in the field of stardust.

Did a star fall down to earth?

"Volkner, get off your lazy butt and let's go!"

"Yeah, yeah…" With a deft swipe of the hand, Volkner cupped the fallen star.

Small. Fragile. The hex key is radiating warmth, just as a star would as it neared the final stages of its life.

Middle school was largely forgettable. Nothing much to learn. Nothing interesting to learn, either. People were untrustworthy. Clubs? More like cliques! Volkner hated socializing and avoided it like the plague until the bell rang and Flint was once more at his side.

One day, Volkner stole away to the library for a place to nap. He had his favorite spot: there, in the corner, surrounded by towers of untouched books. The dark side of the moon. And since it was lunchtime, there would finally be some damn peace and quiet.

Click. Click. A particular set of sounds was coming from his favorite napping spot. Frowning, Volkner trudged closer, intending to give hell to whoever's costing his thirty minutes of precious alone time.

Click. Click. Click. Hands were performing magic on metal, spinning threads of life with the precision of surgical stitches. Electrified circuits of red, yellow, blue mingling into a wonderful, colorful rainbow. On one side of blue skies sat the curious school Glameow. On the other side lay cogs, sprockets, and gears, each separated into their own respective, unique piles.

"Maybe it'll work now," the other one muttered to the Glameow, who cocked its head. He goes to my school? Volkner didn't remember the muted stardust in those eyes. Could've blended in with the dusty books altogether.

And the robot whirled to life. A few tentative steps… one, two… and it raised a hand in greeting. Volkner covered his mouth, a surge of elation crawling up his spine.

But the other one just frowned. "Not good enough…" Cold, bitter words. "It'll never be perfect…"

What are you talking about?

"VOLKNER!"

Damn it, Flint!

"Kid, this is the library! SHHHHH!"

"Oh, SORRY! I'm LOOKING for my FRIEND!"

"Well, look for him in SILENCE! You're disrupting everyone!'

Volkner craned his neck around the bookshelf. There was no one in his favorite napping spot not. Not even the Glameow.

When the adults asked Volkner what he planned to do in the future, he answered with a shrug. It's too early. He would still make up his mind. What's the point of choosing so soon?

"You have no motivation," they said. And they're not wrong. College? University? Too much work. The only one that's excited about his career goals was Flint, whose bubbly speech Volkner can recite with his ears closed.

"Man, let's both become Gym Leaders, Volks! You and me: Electric and Fire! We can be… THE PLASMA DUO!"

And Volkner would smack that idiot on his stupid afro.

That doesn't sound like a bad idea though.

While dozing off on yet another lecture about college applications, extracurricular involvement, blah blah, Volkner happened to jolt from his Jolteon-infested dreams. Cocking his head to the side presented a golden sky. Damn it, is it time yet? He rubbed the drool from his chin, patted the desk, and was about to sink back into dreams when the red light redirected his gaze to the source of such cold radiance.

Skritch. Skritch. The teacher's droning faded into the background. Long, slender fingers breathing life into paper through a dancing feather pen. Bandages, callouses much like Volkner's own, catching in the brilliance of the setting sun.

He's in my class?

They both occupied window seats at the very back of the class. Two sides separated by a chasm of desks and heads.

But windows reflected. And within that glass pane, Volkner saw the work of a genius. He saw blueprints, written in a language he can understand.

Solar… panel… walkways…?

"VOLKNER!"

Said young man almost fell out of his seat. The class was laughing. Flint looked back with a quizzical smile.

"Looking for your crush?" snorted the girl with her posse. "He's sitting right in front of you!"

"Aw, shut up!" Flint snapped.

"You two!" barked the teacher, and everyone shut up. "I know we only have two weeks left, and I'm just as excited to get out of here, but do me one last favor and sit still for five more minutes!"

Five minutes later, the teacher was the first one out. As everyone packed up, Flint waited for Volkner to collect his things.

"Wha—Volks, the door's over there."

Volkner marched past the indivisible boundary. The other one hasn't touched his backpack yet. He's just sitting there, staring out the window with a hand on his chin.

"Collateral load considered… Acrylic as surface material? Damping should be kept to a minimum—"

The notebook slammed shut. Volkner automatically stepped back, slamming into Flint's chest. But the former jabbed his fists into his pockets, inhaled, and straightened. His friend's head was whipping between two very different blue skies.

Three seconds. That's how fast the other one packed his meager stuff. A chair scraped, then he's standing—we're the same height now—but eyes refused to connect.

"Volkner," Flint muttered. "What are you doing? Let's go home…"

So what are your plans for the future? Can I see your blueprints? We should build something together. I need to talk to you. Wanna grab some Soda Pop with us? Wanna come to our tree house? I need to talk to you. We can go stargazing. What's your na—

"Leave me alone, unless you also wish to catch my disease."

The unspoken words burst into cinders. A cold wind blasted through the arbitrary distance, forcing the two friends aside like double doors. The other one never raised his head as he passed, and when the chill finally dissipated, he had vanished into an unforeseeable future.

Then they're walking. Flint by his side, adorned in a cap and gown. Flint running down the runway, accepting the principal's hand, flashing his diploma for all the world to see. Flint waving excitedly to their families, trying his best to hold it all in.

"We did it, Volks!" Flint grabbing his friend into a hug. "We got through the boring part! Now we can start training!"

Training… to be Gym Leaders. Training with Flint, my childhood friend…

Ah. The stars aren't out today.

"And next in line is the valedi…"

"Volks, what Pokemon are you getting? I'm gonna get a Lopunny!" What? "Because!" As if it's obvious, and it is, judging from the faint flush in those cheeks. "B-But! I'm still getting a Fire main. Problem is, there's not a lot of Fire-types…"

"Thank you, parents and faculty, for coming to our ceremony! Please welcome the Class of 19XX!"

Wait. Confetti rained down the ground, blotching the clear night skies. Tears were gushing down Flint's cheeks. Wait, where's… What about… Did his name get announced?

A more careful inspection of the colorful crowd brought Volkner to a faded splotch near the edge of the field. A head of blue in the extremes of the rainbow. That other one was glancing around the crowd. Then he shed his cap and gown, stuffing it into his backpack before disappearing out the gates and into darkness.

"Wait—"

A hand grabbed his arm. "Volkner!" Flint was dragging him back to civilization. Back to a bright, promising future. "My folks are just burning to talk to you! Party at my house, just for the two of us, the 'Rising Stars of Sunyshore!"

Sunyshore has indeed changed from those days. Change… neither good nor bad. One thing's for sure: It's hardy recognizable from its past.

He'd changed too. No one really expected much from a kid with zero motivation, but here he is, foolishly awaiting a Challenger in his empty Gym, bored out of his damn mind.

Three blackouts a week. It's only three blackouts. Why are they creating such a ruckus…?

Volkner checks the clock. Still broken, eh? He grabs his jacket, calls Electivire, and sets out for yet another uneventful walk of his precious city.

Except… it's not peaceful anymore. Hasn't been as of late, with the heavy police presence. A helicopter whirls overhead. An unsettling feeling bubbles in his stomach.

Volkner spots her near the bulletin board. She's tearing down handfuls of flyers and feeding them to her Garchomp's flames.

"Cynthia?" She jolts, as if he'd shocked her. For a blank second, he questions whether this person before him is indeed the Champion of Sinnoh. "What are you doing?" Has the heat finally gotten to you?

It takes a good while for her to reply. She shields her face before he can get a second look. "D-Don't you have a Gym to run?" she barks.

That's enough to warrant a raise of the eyebrow. "It's not appealing to battle in heavy police presence, apparently. And I'm bored out of my damn mind. Just happened to walk around until I saw you defacing… public… property…"

What the… Volkner yanks the wanted poster off the board. No matter how many times he blinks nor shakes his head, it's still there. Those eyes, once blue, are now vacant and black. That once nameless face… except now, it's just a shell of its former self.

After all these years, and now I finally know your name.

His pocket is burning. Volkner swipes an armful of flyers, crumpling them into a giant ball before feeding it to Electivire's lightning. "Ah, yes. Nothing like the crisp cries of trees to please the ears," he says to Cynthia and the ground. "Who recycles nowadays?"

She seems to buy it. Except Garchomp, who narrows its eyes, but thank Arceus Pokemon can't talk. Damn, Cynthia, stop looking at me like that. The salinity must've irritated your ey—Oh. What? She's asking him about an old man. Three trees? We have a lot of palm trees here… The best he can do is redirect her to the oldest man on the island. Yup, just past that lighthouse.

"Where are you going now, Volkner?"

His brain short-circuits for a second. "I'm taking out the trash." That's not a lie. "That's what Gym Leaders do, right?" He raps a white knuckle against the pile of paper. "These things have no place in my city."

"Sinnoh Police and Interpol are looking for this man, the mastermind behind the planet's paralysis, in addition to the theft of Treeshroud Forest's Time Gear. This criminal is considered armed and dangerous. Should you see or know anything, please contact authorities by—"

Volkner slams the power button and tosses the remote aside. The sofa isn't as soft as he remembered. The beams of sunlight wafting through the room feels… cold, for reasons unknown. He can't concentrate on his contraption. His hand is cramping up again.

He was too lost in thought to notice that fiery afro taking its own spot on his couch. "What are you building, Volks?" His voice had changed too. And as of late, it's gained a somber edge.

"I don't know," is the slow reply. "Just putting stuff together."

"Sure." Grey eyes sweep over the messy workplace. A soft gasp. "You… you still kept that?"

That. Volkner casts his gaze to the side, to the graduation picture, to that night of starless sky. "It works just as it should, Flint. It'll be a shame to throw it away." Definitely a good, sturdy tool. Been through a lot, but evidently well-cared for.

In fact, this little hex key was the notch that tied the famous Sunyshore solar panel walkways together.

Flint is silent. His fingers are clasped over the other. Volkner sits up, a frown on his normally impassive face.

"I walked out the League," Flint mutters. "I can't deal with Lucian right now. Hell, Aaron's being such a wimp, and Bertha's always nagging…"

"Calm down, Flint."

"How do you expect me to calm down, Volkner?! After what I've done?" He's pacing the floor now. "Holy Arceus, I almost killed him. I know I did, but they still covered for me. Damn damn, I didn't—I couldn't remember a thing when Cynthia started yelling at me.

"Who else have I hurt, Volkner? I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind. What if I black out again? What if I hurt you—"

Volkner kicks those kneecaps, and down that idiot falls like a pile of logs. Fortunately, he lands on the sofa instead of the floor.

"Volkner…" Flint has his face in his hands. "Do you think that I'm a good person?"

"I do." Stated with conviction. Flint perks up somewhat. "You're my friend. It's only natural that we make mistakes… but you're trying to correct them. That's why you're a good person."

Those arms come faster than anticipated. But it's Flint, so it's fine. Volkner even returns a pat on the back.

"So," he says. "How's your end holding up?"

"Good. I took care of the western district. When that Interpol agent asked me what the blazes I was thinking, vandalizing public property like that, I showed him my credentials, and he let me go." A shaky laugh. "I guess being the Elite Four has its perks after all…"

Flint clears his throat. "So. What about you?"

"I cleaned up the beach. Fished a few from the ocean." Volkner scowls. "But those damn things keep popping up. People are panicking, Flint… and they're demanding that something be done. Now what the hell do they expect me to do? Change the past?"

Flint is silent. And when he speaks, his voice is even softer than a Rattata's.

"I don't know if he's even alive, Volkner."

Volkner's eyes narrow. He remembers the photos from the other day. Crime scene photos that Flint had so daringly photocopied/reduplicated. Bloody trails on the floor. Bloody handprints on the walls. A blossom of red amidst soot and falling cinders.

And that makeshift lightning rod. A work of pure, mad, fascinating genius.

Volkner rises to his feet. "Any tips, Flint?"

"Huh? N-No… To be honest, I feel like we're not presented with the whole story. Cynthia keeps running off…" His brows scrunch. "And now that I think about it, Looker's a bit too distant as of late…"

Really now? "That's great."

"Huh? Did the heat fry that genius brain of yours, Volkner?"

"It certainly did fry your brain, Flint." Volkner smirks. Flint rolls his eyes. "But think about it: that means we're left to do as we please. Remember who we've become, Flint. You're one of the Elite Four. I'm the damn Gym Leader of Sunyshore City."

Flint absorbs the implications of such statements with a hesitant frown. Then as recognition seeps into his skull, his face brightens, and that frown flips to a crooked smirk that stretches from ear to ear.

"Now we're talking." Flint bumps his best friend on the shoulder. "Ooh, remember how we used to sneak out during finals season? Man, we were like little devils!"

Volkner raps his temples. "They don't call me 'The Shining, Shocking Star' for a reason, idiot." He reaches for that hex key, slipping it into his pockets, where it belongs. "Let's see now… Ah, I think Veilstone's a good place to start."

"Volkner?"

"What?"

Flint is staring at him rather intensely. "You know… This is the first time that I've ever seen you so dedicated to anything."

Volkner blinks. Flint chuckles—and doubles over from a wicked kick to the shins. "Idiot!" He knows me too well. This could be dangerous… "Let's go already. We're burning daylight."

"Sure, sure, Mister Shining, Shooting Star. Ow ow… Oof, shine the way, oh divine one."

As the two proceed out to the bright Sunyshore skies, Volkner takes a moment to admire the sheer blueness of the heavens. He takes a deep breath, staying still to let the saline scent visit each pore in his skin. The song of rustling palm trees… the gleaming of black solar panels… the heavy stomping of armed agents about the streets…

That hex key reflects beautifully in the light, pulsating in his palm like a miniature sun.

Volkner, the Shining, Shooting Star. Flint, the Fiery, Expanding Nova. Of course, stars are brightest when shining together.

And of course, red and yellow complete just two-thirds of the rainbow. Add in blue, and you can return color to the starless night sky.