The wedding was planned down to every grain of sand on the beach venue. Every invitation sealed with care. The date—April 20th—marked the beginning of spring and the beginning of our new life together. The air would be crisp with ocean wind, cherry blossoms blooming behind the dunes, and the sky soft with the pink haze of a season waking up.

The guest list? Trimmed and sacred.

Professor Oak would be there, standing with a hand over his heart. Other professors—Birch, Sycamore, even Kukui—had RSVP'd with joyful affirmations. Pokémon, too, of course. Ours and those we grew up with. A few champions, a few Gym Leaders, Tutu, Aaron... and only the true friends. The ones who stayed. Brock would stand beside me as my best man—not Ritchie. Barry would be Paul's.

We kept it honest. Clean. Simple.

The night before the ceremony, we were supposed to spend it apart. Tradition dictated it. I was meant to stay at my grandmother's apartment, and Paul at Reggie's.

But it didn't happen like that.

We stayed home.

The lights stayed off. The television was a black mirror in the corner, untouched. Our dexes were left charging somewhere in the kitchen. Forgotten.

We lay there in the dark, under our shared blanket, letting silence wrap around us like another layer of safety. Neither of us slept. We didn't want to.

Paul dragged his knuckles slowly between my shoulder blades, back and forth, his fingertips featherlight. It didn't tickle. It soothed.

"You won't regret it," he whispered against my skin.

"I'd never," I whispered back. "You're the best decision I'll ever make."

He kissed where his fingers had been moments before. Soft. Reverent. My whole body sighed beneath his.

Paul wore the white gold ring he'd gotten to match mine, even though jewelry felt unnatural to him. He said he didn't care—it was ours. He swore he'd wear it forever.

I believed him.

Neither of us moved for coffee. Or juice. The kitchen might as well have been on another planet. We weren't hungry for anything but each other's presence.

The digital alarm clock glowed too loudly in the room. I hated it.

"I don't remember agreeing to this," I grumbled, turning toward it. "Did we?"

"We didn't," Paul said, reaching past me to turn it around. "Don't stare at it."

He was right. The numbers were like knives—counting down to a moment I didn't want to reach without him.

"Is it too late to tell them no?" I asked, twisting the pillowcase between my fingers.

Paul paused. Thought about it. We could cancel the morning plan. But he shook his head gently.

"One morning," he said, brushing his thumb along my jaw. "Then never again."

Two rides pulled up outside the apartment building after sunrise.

Reggie's van. Alain's car.

Paul's lips met mine for a quiet goodbye. Not long. Not enough. Never enough. He went with his brother, slowly. Reluctantly. Like he expected me to call out and tell him to come back.

I almost did.

But we let them take him.

I stayed behind in the hallway, blinking at the door like I might dream the whole thing away.

Alain gave me a few minutes before stepping forward.

He didn't say it's time. He didn't have to.

I climbed into the passenger seat of his car, dragging the weight of my disappointment like a veil over my shoulders. Alain didn't take it personally.

"You knew we'd be splitting you up this morning," he said, eyes on the road. "Hating it already?"

"Yeah..."

He nodded. "It's your wedding day. You'll see him again soon."

I didn't reply. I couldn't.

I just watched the road go by, every tree and traffic sign feeling like another obstacle between me and the person who made sense of everything.

We passed the bakery where we'd ordered the wedding cake. I blinked hard against the lump forming in my throat. We'd cut it later together—me and my husband.

My name would be different by the end of today. My life would be, too.

The city gave way to a quieter neighborhood. Trees overhead cast shadows across the windshield. Birds sang. I wasn't listening.

Then, like a castle drawn from memory, my grandmother's apartment building appeared at the end of the road.

Salvation? No. But it was the most comfort I'd get this morning.

Alain glanced at me with a knowing smile. "Ready to be Mrs. Mizuhara?"

I didn't hesitate.

"I'm ready to be his, period."

He laughed, low and approving. "Then let's get you all dolled up."

Later That Day — Just Before the Ceremony

I didn't remember every step of preparation. I couldn't tell you which person curled my hair, or how many pins it took to keep the veil in place. What I remember is this: the way the ocean sounded as it rolled in near the beach venue. The way the sand gave under my shoes. The murmur of friends and family arriving in the distance.

And how Brock held my shoulders, made me breathe, and said, "You're about to walk toward the rest of your life, Ashura. Deep breath. You're ready."

I nodded.

Because I was.

Across the ceremony arch, Paul stood like the world had stopped just to admire him. His suit was sharp, his tie a muted indigo, his hair brushed back but still very much him. He wasn't smiling widely. He never did.

But his eyes—gods, his eyes—were soft. And they only looked at me.

The sun dipped low along the horizon, casting gold and rose-tinted hues over the ocean, painting the waves in glimmers of fire and serenity. The beach was set in perfect harmony—white chairs draped in silver ribbons faced a floral arch adorned in blue orchids, pale roses, and trailing vines. The scent of salt and blossoms filled the air. Guests filled the seats—Reggie adjusted the boutonniere on his blazer while Isabel patted her eyes with a handkerchief. Even Barry and Morrison sat quietly in the back, arms loosely looped around each other, with both my Pikachu perched beside them, eyes shining.

A hush settled as soft piano keys blended with crashing waves. Paul stepped forward first, crisp in a tailored three-piece suit—silver accents trimming the black fabric, his white shirt stark against the pale beach tones. He looked confident, composed, but his eyes searched, waiting.

Then came I.

Every head turned.

I emerged from behind the linen-draped canopy, bouquet in hand. I wore a pristine white, suit-like dress tailored to perfection. A soft, iridescent veil draped over my shoulders, the fabric catching every color of the sunset. The choker around my neck bore a sapphire crystal shaped like a flame—Paul's gift from our first anniversary. I walked alone, with pride and purpose in each step. Aaron, sitting in the front row, smiled through his tears. The applause was soft but full of reverence.

As we met under the arch, Paul's voice was barely a whisper.
"You look like an Eevee."

"And you're the only story I wanted to be in," I whispered back, my lips twitching into a nervous smile.

The officiant, a close friend of Cynthia's named Arden, stepped forward and welcomed everyone before guiding us through our vows.

Paul cleared his throat first.
"I've always been blunt, sometimes too cold, always expecting perfection—from myself, from others. But then you walked into my life...not just as a rival, but as a storm. You challenged me, hated me, and somewhere in between, changed me. You taught me that strength isn't about solitude—it's about who you'd fight for. And Ashura... I would burn the world down for you. I vow to always respect your fire, your heart, and the parts of you that are still healing. You're mine. And I'm yours."

My eyes shimmered. I exhaled shakily, then began.

"I spent years pretending I was just 'Ash,' just a kid chasing badges and avoiding everything that hurt," I said, my voice trembling. "But it was through pain—through grief and love and all the things I couldn't name—that I became Ashura. And the day I accepted that name... was the same day I realized I loved you."

I took Paul's hand.

"You never once asked me to shrink. You never told me to quiet my emotions. You just... made space. And you protect me in ways I never knew I needed. I promise I'll be your anchor, your light, your match when you need to burn brighter. I vow to stand by you, to fight for us, and to never forget the boy who softened the storm inside me."

By then, even Reggie was crying.

Arden smiled. "By the power vested in me by the Indigo-Sinnoh Alliance... I now pronounce you bonded partners. You may kiss—"

Paul didn't wait. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling him in for a fierce, beautiful kiss. The waves roared, the audience cheered, and both Pikachu sparked joyfully beside Aaron's feet.

The reception that followed was a blur of joy. Beneath a canopy of lanterns and fairy lights, tables were covered in creamy linens and centerpieces of silverleaf and pearl lilies. Plates clinked, laughter echoed, and speeches poured from their closest friends.

Reggie raised a toast.
"To the most unlikely pairing that turned into the purest love I've ever seen. You two are what comes after the storm—calm, peace, and maybe a little lightning."

Aaron came next.
"My son is the strongest person I know. And Paul... you earned him, every inch of him. Thank you for loving the parts of him that the world never understood."

Isabel added with a laugh, "And I better be god-grandma to whatever Pokémon you two co-parent next."

Even Cynthia sent a video message from Kalos: "You both embody the future of what our world needs—strength born from compassion."

That night, under a sky blanketed in stars, Paul and I stood barefoot on the cool sand, the tide whispering just beyond reach. Paul held me from behind, cheek resting against his veil-free shoulder.

"I still feel like I'm dreaming," Ashura murmured.

"You're not," Paul said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "You're mine now, for real."

I turned in his arms, looking up into those violet-gray eyes. "You were never the villain they thought you were."

"And you were always the hero you needed to become," Paul whispered back.

We kissed again, deeper this time. And as our fingers intertwined, the night carried us forward—not into an ending, but into the beginning of everything they'd fought for.

In bed, I used the indigo blanket my grandmother made for me. I balled it up and held it close like a pillow. Paul took it and shook it out before throwing it over me. "Next week, you're going to have the time of your life." He lay himself down. "Just us, the beach, and the resort."

"Four other people are coming with us." I reminded him.

"I'm keeping you to myself as much as I can. It's our honeymoon." I wasn't particularly exhausted from work day to day, but having some time to just be with Paul sounded nice.

A week later...

That morning, Paul and I took a private trip to Akala Island, visiting Wela Volcano Park and relaxing at the Tide Song Hotel. That night, they sat by a lava rock fire pit, watching the stars appear.

"Are we gonna be like this forever?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Paul pulled me into his lap, arms around my shoulders. "I don't know what forever looks like. But I know I want you in it."

And under the same stars that once witnessed our battles, our tears, our rivalries, and healing, Ashura kissed her husband with a heart fully at peace.

By evening, Tutu, Reggie, Alain, and Aaron arrived for their own getaway—by coincidence, or perhaps Aaron's not-so-secret planning. The six met at a restaurant near the water, a thatched-roof café lit with dim lanterns and open to the sea breeze. Tutu and Reggie wore matching lavender aloha shirts, while Alain kept things low-key in dark island casual.

Tutu gasped as he spotted me. "Baby boy, married life looks good on you!" He pulled her into a spinning hug before kissing her cheek. "You're glowing like a legendary Pokémon, honey."

"I'll second that," Alain said with a nod. "You look like you actually slept for once."

Paul smirked over his drink. "For a few hours."

I elbowed him, flushing, while Aaron choked on his poke bowl. "Y'all nasty."

Reggie leaned in with a teasing grin. "So when do we get to see the wedding night photos?"

"There are no wedding night photos!" I exclaimed, swatting his arm. "Perverts."

Laughter echoed into the night. The table filled with good food, shared stories, and soft music from a nearby ukulele player. For the first time in a long time, no one had to pretend. No one had to heal. They could just...be. The jet lag hit us hard. It was dark out, but we were wide awake.

"Switching time zones is tricky." Paul opened his luggage to pull his things out for the night. "Downside to traveling."

"The good outweighs the bad." I stayed optimistic. "There's a lot of cool stuff to do here...or there will be when it's not like three in the morning."

Not knowing what to do with myself, I followed Paul's lead and opened my luggage. "We should try and get some sleep," I suggested. "Get used to the time zone here."

Trying was pointless. We were in bed for maybe ten minutes before Paul decided there was no way he would fall asleep.

"So much for that." He lay on his back.

"Wanna watch TV?" I asked, with few options to be had otherwise.

"Couldn't hurt."

I climbed out of bed and fetched the remote off the TV stand. Not being a huge television person, Paul let me flick through the channels for anything remotely worth watching.

"Nothing interesting." He grunted. "Figures."

You can imagine our surprise when we stumbled upon some mature content. On screen, a petite man was getting bodied pretty hard by someone notably bigger than he was.

"I take it back." Paul decided, holding back a laugh at my stunned silence. "This looks interesting."

"...porn and TV aren't the same thing."

"I don't think it matters right now."

I put the remote down. We lay together, watching the erotic programming. The men on screen were in bed. The larger of the two had the other clutching at the headboard; it rattled with his thrusts.

I shifted my hips when the man on screen gave pleasured yelps. I felt Paul's stiff cock pressed into my ass.

"That sounds a lot like you." He kissed the back of my neck. "But, I like the sounds you make, better."

Paul snaked a hand up the front of my shirt. Lightly pinching a nipple, he played with it while we watched. His open-mouth kisses made it all the more stimulating. He was paying more attention to me than he was to the screen.

"Whose ass is this?" The man on screen demanded.

He pulled the bottom's hair, forcing his head back.

"It's yours! It's yours, it's yours, it's yours!"

Paul's hand changed paths, moving south. An involuntary moan slipped my lips as he took me in hand, stroking with his warm fingers. I fidgeted under his touch, making more pleasured sounds.

On screen, the top ripped the smaller of the two off the headboard and pinned him face-first to the sheets. The steady beat of flesh hitting flesh grew louder until the man pinned gave muffled screams.

At this point, I was completely turned on. The top seemed particularly familiar. I wouldn't have minded the same treatment. I focused on the feeling of Paul's cock pressed against me as he worked me below the waist.

What started as slow, sensual strokes became increasingly aggressive. Paul touched at me faster and harder until I was on the brink of losing it. I cried out, about to have my orgasm ripped from me and all over Paul's fingers, when he abruptly let go.

"No," I whined, grabbing his hand before he could completely take it back. "Paul-"

"I want to fuck you." He growled outside my ear.

He ripped his hand back and flipped the sheet away, dragging my briefs down and off my legs in one fowl swoop. I rolled back towards him, and he shoved me back into place.

"You packed lube, right?" I asked.

"It was the first thing I packed."

Retrieving it, Paul slicked himself down liberally. He left me on my side, penetrating from behind. He pushed me slightly forward and I curled around a pillow to push my waist back for him.

The position was close and snug. Paul's thrusts were short and hard. Blind to what he was doing behind me, I didn't see him lift a hand.

He sharply let it fall along the swell of my ass in a swift swat. I was already so close from him touching me, I desperately rammed myself back in to him and met his thrusts halfway.

"Do it, again."

Paul spanked me again. My skin stung for a moment before the warm sensation just seemed to evaporate in to the thin air.

"Harder." I told him. "Hit me harder."

He hit me harder. The sting was fleeting. It wasn't enough. In the moment, I didn't know Paul had been really holding back.

"I said harder!" I pleaded.

A sound I hadn't heard Paul make before touched my ears for a moment before I found myself shoved cheek to the mattress. He struck me across the ass with an open palm. I knew he left a hand print because that cheek burned as he rammed himself in to me.

"That hard enough for you?" He demanded.

He struck my sore flesh again and a pained squeal cut the silence of the night.

"Harder?" Paul patronized. "I can still give it to you harder."

He doled out another hit, ripping that pained squeal from me a second time. My mouth hung open with Paul's fierce thrusts. He was right where I needed him and a few dirty words away from losing it

"Fuck, you're going to make me cum." I bit my lip, holding back from screaming. "Nng-"

I was going to sleep good tonight.