The sunlight hit harder here — not harsh, but radiant, golden, and alive. The air carried the scent of salt and hibiscus, with a hint of roasted berries from the vendor stalls lining the walkway outside the terminal.
Cyrus squinted as the doors slid open, the world beyond bursting into view.
He had seen photos of Alola before — in research briefs, data charts, travel feeds. None of it came close to this.
The sky wasn't just blue; it was deep, like a polished gem. The ocean spread endlessly beyond the harbor, shifting between turquoise and violet where the reef caught the light. And the mountains — sleeping giants cloaked in green — rose behind it all, dotted with villages and glimmering solar panels.
"Welcome to Hau'oli City!" the terminal attendant called cheerfully behind him. "Home of the southern trade isles!"
Cyrus gave a half-wave as he adjusted his bag strap. Charcadet perched on his shoulder, its armor catching the sun in bright orange streaks. Ditto had flattened itself into a light windbreaker, flapping lazily in the ocean breeze.
The path from the port curved through a series of open-air plazas. Street musicians played soft rhythms with drums made of hollowed-out gourds, and the laughter of children mixed with the cries of Wingull circling overhead.
Everywhere he looked, there was motion — carts rolling over cobblestone, drones delivering goods, market stalls trading fruits beside mechanical repair booths. Alola wasn't just tropical paradise; it was the meeting point of nature and innovation.
"Alright," Cyrus murmured, scanning his wrist display. "First stop — The King Company."
It wasn't just any supply depot. King Company was one of the biggest research support firms in Alola — half manufacturer, half contractor, specializing in field kits and portable tech for exploration. His parents had sent word ahead that he'd be arriving to collect a few essentials.
He followed the plaza signs until the city thinned into a business district of white metal facades and tall palms swaying between glass-paneled buildings. The King Company's main facility rose like a lighthouse near the coast — sleek, polished, and humming faintly with generator energy.
The moment he stepped inside, the temperature dropped slightly, and the smell of ozone and coolant filled the air. Rows of display cases lined the lobby — scanner gloves, modular drones, water-seal boots.
A young clerk looked up from the counter and froze for a fraction of a second. Then her eyes widened in recognition. "Cyrus! Rie King, right? I—uh, we weren't expecting you so soon," she said, regaining her composure but smiling brightly. "Your parents mentioned you'd be coming, but… it's still exciting to see you here in person!"
Cyrus set his ID tablet on the desk, smiling faintly. "Yes, that's me. Thought I'd get a head start on collecting the field kits."
She tapped her console with a bit of flourish. "Ah — the Aethern project! Everything's ready for you. You don't even need to wait."
As she disappeared through the back doors, Cyrus let his gaze drift across the lobby. Every hum, every flicker of a holo-display felt like part of an intricate machine — efficient, purposeful. But beyond the open balcony doors, he could still hear the ocean.
It was strange — the contrast of it all. Back home, cities drowned in their own noise. Here, technology and nature seemed to breathe together.
The clerk returned, carrying two compact cases with a light grin. "For you, personally. Energy meters, elemental calibration tools, environmental tracker, and a data relay patch for your PokéDex. Your parents made sure you'd have the best of everything."
Cyrus crouched, checking through the equipment. Each piece was immaculate — lightweight, durable, clearly built for travel.
Charcadet leaned in curiously, tapping one of the scanners with its glove spaced hand, earning a faint blue glow.
"Easy," Cyrus chuckled. "We haven't even turned it on yet."
Ditto's sleeve rustled, mimicking his laugh in a quiet ripple.
Once everything was stowed, the clerk handed over a small, sealed envelope. "And this — a note from your parents' contact. Says you're cleared for independent access to the southern network labs once you're settled. They didn't even ask twice."
Cyrus blinked. "They really trust me with that?"
"They think highly of you," she said warmly. "Not many apprentices get solo clearance. Honestly… it's kind of impressive."
He smiled faintly. "Thanks."
Outside, the sun had dipped lower, spilling long shadows across the boardwalk. The air shimmered with heat rising from the sand.
Cyrus found a spot on a nearby bench and set the folded hoverboard beside him. For a while, he didn't move. He just listened — to the chatter of traders, the distant roll of waves, and the gentle hiss of wind through the palms.
The last week had felt like momentum — constant motion, constant planning. But now, for the first time, he let it all slow.
Charcadet hopped down, clinking softly as it wandered a few steps toward the seawall, gazing at the waves. Ditto, ever restless, shifted shape just enough to catch the sun, flickering like liquid metal.
Cyrus felt Meltan's Pokéball stir at his belt, the faintest tremor.
"It's okay," he murmured, tapping it gently. "We'll find a quieter place soon."
Crowds and noise still made Meltan uneasy, but Cyrus didn't mind. It was part of what made the team balanced — each of them filling the gaps the others left open.
He unfolded the hoverboard and set it on the path. The thrusters purred to life, reflecting the sea's colors across the polished metal.
"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get a look at your new home."
The board lifted smoothly, and they coasted along the waterfront — the city glowing in gold and coral light as the sun sank lower.
They passed open-air cafés with trainers laughing over iced malasadas, a group of surfers leaping from rocks into rolling waves, and old fishermen hauling nets beside crates of Magikarp that glimmered like coins.
Every sight pulled him deeper into the feeling that this place wasn't just new — it was alive.
The hoverboard skimmed along a bridge stretching toward the next island, the air thick with salt and music from a nearby beach.
Cyrus slowed near the midpoint and stopped, standing above the water. From here, the sea stretched out endlessly, dotted with tiny isles where lights blinked faintly — research stations, fishing outposts, maybe even the southern labs he'd soon be visiting.
He drew in a long breath. "Feels different already," he whispered.
Charcadet gave a soft spark of flame, like a nod.
Ditto rippled once, faint and content.
And for the first time since leaving Aethern, Cyrus didn't feel like he was moving away from something.
He was moving toward it.
Toward answers.
Toward discovery.
Toward whatever this vast, shimmering world was waiting to show him.
He stayed there until the stars began to emerge — small, bright points over the endless dark. Then he folded the board again, slid it into his pack, and headed inland toward the small inn where he'd be staying for the night.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin. But tonight, he let himself just exist — a single traveler beneath a thousand constellations, standing at the crossroads of science and wonder.
And Alola, radiant and breathing, whispered its quiet welcome all around him.