The boardwalk of Hau'oli shimmered with the fading light of late afternoon. Cyrus adjusted the strap of his pack, Ditto wobbling at his side in its usual dramatic flair. Goomy squelched softly against Kina's boot as she came up beside him, arms crossed but expression softer than she let anyone see.
"Alright," Cyrus began, glancing at the harbor where the small plane awaited, "time to put the 'field research' in 'field research trip.'"
Kina frowned. "You really have to leave now?"
Cyrus smirked. "Look at me. This isn't a social call. It's… mandatory life progression. And possibly avoiding another Mega Sharpedo ambush. Priorities, you know."
She laughed despite herself. "You're impossible."
"I prefer… irreplaceable," he said with mock solemnity, eyes glinting. Then his tone softened, just a little. "Hey, I'll keep in touch. Full data logs. Any odd Pokémon, weird fluxes — you'll know before anyone else. Scout's honor."
Kina tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Scout's honor?"
"Absolutely. Digital scouts. The only scouts who actually know what's going on."
She handed him a small device. "Then here — full upload. I want your direct contact this time. No missing files, no half-updates."
Cyrus took it, eyes scanning the info streaming across the screen.
Then he froze, brow furrowing he wasn't trying to hid who he was, but we didn't realize it automatically set his last name.
Kina's eyes widened. ""Wait… King. That's your last name? Like… the King Company? Wholey… s—"
Kina dramatically paused as if deep in thought, "well. That explains a lot."
Cyrus laughed softly. "Ah. So now you know the secret identity of your friendly neighborhood Pokémon researcher. Spoiler: It's just me."
There was a brief pause, neither quite ready to leave. Then the plane's engine purred impatiently.
"Guess that's my cue," Cyrus said, hefting his pack. Ditto morphed briefly into a small Sharpedo and back again, as if giving a salute. "Stay out of trouble. And if a Carracosta shows up, call me. Or don't. Your call."
Kina rolled her eyes. "You're leaving me in charge of the city's wild Pokémon?"
"I'm leaving you in charge of your own instincts," he countered, smirking. "Much more reliable."
The plane lifted smoothly, Ditto clinging inside his bag for stability. Kina watched until it was a speck against the horizon, the sun casting a golden trail across the water. Then she finally checked his uploaded info, scanning every contact, every data entry — and her mind went immediately to the King Company.
By the time Cyrus returned home, the coastal city behind him, the familiar smell of lab solvents and ozone greeted him. His parents were already waiting, eyes bright with excitement.
"Cyrus," his mother said, clasping his shoulder, "we've got preliminary readings you need to see."
Cyrus grinned despite himself. "Do I get a warning this time?"
"Only the good kind," his father replied. "Come with us — just to the console. We'll guide remotely, of course. You'll go alone to the field."
They led him through a maze of instruments, displays, and maps. Satellite imagery flickered across multiple screens — a previously uncharted island, dense forests, and sprawling wetlands. Sensor readings suggested entire populations of Pokémon, including species officially declared extinct.
Cyrus whistled softly. "Extinct? Really? Did the Pokédex get a software update from the Island of Lost Things?"
His mother pointed to clusters of bioluminescent markings and unusual motion patterns on the sensors. "These readings… they're alive. They've evolved in isolation. And some of them — well, look here," she said, highlighting jagged footprints and aerial flight patterns. "We have signatures resembling Tyrunt and Aerodactyl."
"Whoa," Cyrus muttered, leaning closer. "So we're talking Late Cretaceous realness. The Tyrunt's stomping around somewhere out there?"
"Yes," his father said, tapping another display. "And preliminary patterns suggest small herd behaviors. This could redefine our understanding of isolated Pokémon evolution, possibly even their social structures."
Cyrus leaned back, smirking. "So basically Jurassic Park without the lawyers and panic. Sounds like my kind of Tuesday."
"Field observations will still be vital," his mother said, glancing at him pointedly. "We can analyze remotely, but someone needs boots on the ground."
"Translation: risk life, gather data, maybe get eaten. Got it." He smirked. "Perfectly normal. Definitely not terrifying. Bring it on."
Maps, scans, and environmental readings flowed across the screens. The island's secrets waited to be explored: dense jungle canopies, hidden lagoons, and movements that didn't match any known migration patterns. Cyrus could almost imagine Tyrantrum's heavy steps shaking the forest floor, Aurorus's icy glow shimmering under the moonlight, and Aerodactyl soaring through the sky nosing diving at hit the moment he hits land.
His parents continued to provide briefings, showing him environmental flux readings and Pokémon density heatmaps, all while reinforcing that they would stay at the lab. "We'll monitor remotely," his father reminded him. "Your safety protocols are essential. This isn't a guided tour."
Cyrus grinned at Ditto, now slumped beside the console, mimicking a tiny, droopy Wailord. "Remote monitoring is fine. More room for me to be dramatic, dodging ancient predators in isolation. Excellent."
His mother chuckled softly. "Just remember, these species aren't just numbers. They're living ecosystems. Respect them, or the consequences will be… interesting."
Cyrus rolled his eyes, but the excitement bubbled beneath his usual sarcasm. "Understood. Respect, observe, avoid death. Got it."
Three days remained before departure. Cyrus spent them reviewing satellite scans, preparing field gear, and simulating emergency contingencies. Ditto entertained him by mimicking past Pokémon encounters, while he scribbled notes and formulated hypotheses. Each moment sharpened his focus: isolated species, unknown behaviors, and environmental anomalies waiting to be quantified.
Somewhere, out in the deep, uncharted waters surrounding the island, creatures stirred. Tyrunt and Amaura signatures pulsed faintly under the forest canopy and ocean waves. Cyrus — sharp-tongued, brilliant, and endlessly curious — was already planning his first move. Alone, without distractions, he could think, analyze, and engage fully with the world. For the first time in a while, he felt truly alive: curiosity sharp, sarcasm ready, and excitement uncontained.