Inside a performance venue, a Haxorus waits backstage. He knows he has the story that will blow everyone else away. He's been practicing, rewriting, and getting to the emotional area he needed to be. "Thank you, thank you, the Gardevoir on stage replied to the crowd, cheering on his story about acceptance of your situation and whatnot. A good story for sure, but nothing like the tale the Dragon waited to spin.

"Our next guest is a truly great storyteller; last time he performed, there wasn't a Pokémon here who left dry-eyed," the announcer began. "Today, he digs even closer to home, with a tale that happened in the Sinnoh Region itself. A round of applause for Coda, everybody!" The Haxorus walked out onto the stage, as the crowd clapped and whooped. The Dragon nodded to the band, which began to play.

"My daughter loved bedtime stories. Tucking her in, I'd read her 3 stories a night before she fell asleep. But there was one I'd always skip. When she asked me why I couldn't read her "Little Red Riding Eevee," I said that 'I can't... it gives me nightmares. Maybe one day when you're older. I'd kiss her goodnight, lock the windows, check the doors, and sit alone outside at night, knowing that there's worse in this world than a grandma-impersonating Mightyena.

Route 208, 28 years ago. I'm 21, my girlfriend's 23, and we move with our newborn daughter into the only place we can afford. It's cheap, but a pretty bad neighborhood. Every night, you swear you hear screaming, you see Pokémon passed out on the cliff path, your daughter is woken up at 3 in the morning by some idiot punching the walls. I just want to shut it all out, be at peace for one night... but I can't ignore the boy outside.

"I see him every day, the Ralts with the pink horns and the blood-matter hair that he says is 'how it always is.' Every day, he asks me,'What's your baby's name?' And I remind him 'it's Xiana, remember?' He wants to come inside, but I don't know who he belongs to, don't want to worry his parents, so I say 'Maybe another time, Buddy. Why don't you go run along now? Go play.' Every day I see him, and he eventually just becomes another part of the route, like the Gallade who trains by Mt. Coroner and smells to the Hall of Origin after his workout. Every morning – 'What's your baby's name?' I answer and he never remembers. So it just becomes another noise, like the sounds of battle a mile away, or the Zubat calls that compose my daughter's first lullabies.

"Then one day, I hear him crying. He tells me he's hungry, and I invite him in for a snack. He gets a spicy Pokéblock and some milk. He wants to stay but, 'it's our daughter's bedtime. You got to go home now, okay? I'll see you tomorrow. He waved goodbye to my daughter, then I locked the door and left him there, on the mountain path.

"The next day, he disappears. It was September 10th, 28 years ago.

"By morning, the cops are knocking on my door. Two days later, the Sinnoh Investigation Network is getting involved. The missing Ralts is an official case. When I see his face in the papers, it's the first time I see his name. Symon Ronoh, 5 years old.

"Rumors spread around, that his mom worked as an escort, that he had been left alone to the neighborhood kids, who were vicious in their mockery. The rest of us did nothing, locking out doors to a Ralts we saw every day. Now, hundreds of thousands are marching up and down the region, looking for the an answer no one wants to find.

"His parents weren't cut out for the kind of attention they were getting, and went into hiding. The Dad was named Arthur; he was the Gallade that trained by My. Coronet. They even gave up the newborn they had made. He hatched the day after Symon went missing.

"Then, the charges were dropped. Nothing was ever found, save for a few red hairs outside Mt. Coronet that couldn't be identified. The family retrieved their things, and their new son, and never returned. Leaving me with a fear of blood and it's red color.

"Symon was across all the headlines, but now he's yellow in newsprint, empty volunteer centers, a testament to locked doors. He was a story I could never tell my daughter, why the story I never read her gave me nightmares. Some never make it out of the forest. Some stories no children should have to hear.

"It's been 28 years, and I wish I had someone to apologize to. I don't think I could have saved you, but I could have done something! I could have invited you in, rather than shutting you out! ...I didn't know your story when you were alive. But I can tell it now, and ask the world to remember your name; Symon Ronoh: The Ralts I left on the mountain."

The band shifted patterns, as Coda wiped a tear, and faced the audience with renewed vigor. "I don't wanna ask for a moment of silence, I wanna ask for a moment of noise!" The crowd erupted into cheers. "Don't stay quiet, get loud! Make noise so he can hear you, please!" The band struck its final notes, as the announcer came back over the loudspeaker. "Please, once more, a round of applause for the fantastic Coda Metrius."

As the crowd clapped, some wiping their eyes, a lone Raichu in a gold dress snickered to herself. "Oh, I wonder how he'd react to this. 'Blood-matted hair, some never escape the forest.' A good story, for sure, but missing his own input. But, it was a nice performance. It'd be inappropriate to deny the crowd that."

///

A Gallade held the hand of a Kirlia, his head and arms the same 'blood-matted red' that Coda had described in the previous few hours. "And they actually did," he asked, seemingly to no one. "Oh yeah, huge round of applause and cheers for you on that front," the Raichu said, she herself holding the wing of a Xatu. "Well, thanks for telling me. But now I'll have to explain it to Daisy. She's been hearing the entire thing." "Hey Daisy, story time after this," the Raichu joked. "Later, Nikol," The Gallade said. "You too, Gawain." They both removed themselves from their Psychic Pokémon, as the Kirlia grinned at Gawain. Her own appearance was different from her father's, her hair a darker red, with orange horns and eyes, and a grayish complexion.

"Story time," she asked. "Get Lance, then you can have story time," Gawain smiled. Daisy nodded, dashing upstairs.

Nikol left the Xatu to go back to her own family. As she opened the door to her room, a Pikachu ran up and hugged her leg, blue eyes shining with happiness. "Mommy, you're back!" "Yes, Voltaire, I'm back," Nikol smiled, sitting on her bed, with the Tiny Mouse Pokémon following. "Is it story time now?" "If you want it to be." "Yay, what story?"

The female Kirlia ran back down with an identical male Kirlia. The two clambered up to their father's lap, looking up eagerly.

"Alright, you two, this is a story of... Thunder."

"Voltaire, this is a story of... Blood.

The two parents faced their children, and though they were regions apart, began the same way.

"A story of Blood... and Thunder."