Music in media: Bokurano Network by DAOKO x Yasutaka Nakata

Unless you live under a rock or you're locked in someone's basement, you'd probably know what happens to popular shows. So it is, famous last words. We're filming a few more special episodes even after the Christmas one has aired on the day itself. Not a complete sequel, but not a spin-off either.

Now that the bad news are out of the way, let's move on to the good news, focusing on one of the best fans we can ever have. Yes, we're talking about xosacredskyox or just Sky. Over the course of five days, he's covered nearly every location that appeared in the drama. Tonight, on the last day of the year, we gather in the basement of the Ivory Tower where the remains of the Burnt Tower lies. We don't know when he will come to the Ivory Tower (Ivory Tower is his final destination, and he skipped the basement, but we're better off waiting here than in the lobby where prying eyes lurk), but should he be too late, we will head over to the temple during the evening for the Joya-no-Kane, a sacred bell-ringing ceremony.

"And you never thought to tell us of this place?" Kaspar looks pointedly at Matsuba. "You know how much the Burnt Tower means to us."

"You would've rioted at the lobby and threaten to kill the people working here," Matsuba answers as he brushes one of the chipped pillars with his hand. "Besides, that time was one exception. It's to comfort Kyo."

Kaspar curses under his breath and kicks the pillar, a "yowch" leaving his lips. Meta laughs at him as Hayato pulls the anguished soul to complete the circle we've formed. Given that the year's end is nigh, Rae's out with her friends and can do nothing about, and has no knowledge of, Kaspar's whining, so no one can provide him maximum comfort or a change in perspective or a gentler approach to confront his emotions.

"What should we do here?" Hayato slaps his lap. "How about we reminisce the past?"

The past, huh? There's nothing much to be done here, and we're so not playing tag. Though, the idea of dipping our bodies and souls into nostalgia sounds amazing.

"How about a horror story?" Meta suggests and immediately the air thickens to the extent of freezing suffocation, leaving us to gasp for breath as tingles zap across our feet.

"Are you..." Matsuba heaves, then pauses to sweep a cobweb. "Weren't you afraid of ghosts?"

"I'm not a coward," Meta says and snaps his slimy fingers, the sound of flint against wood. "I will prove it. I will tell you a horror story!"

Darkness settles in, pouches of light and dust shifting about to evade the gradually manifesting scientific equipment while an elliptical capsule seems to absorb every shade and hue to feed the wailing pink blob held captive within. Around us, naked wires slither like Ekans and electricity crackles alive, forcing upon the basement a sinister aura not at all innate and present from the very beginning of its existence. Perhaps that's exactly how the Ivory Tower could be described.

We huddle each other as scientists and researchers alike make their rounds, holding clipboards and pens and oddly-shaped flasks. A titration procedure goes on in one corner, the slow drip like blood from an injured stalactite, a wound that fails to close but remains infected for millennia, awaiting a quietus it will never be granted.

A researcher whose hair is tied into a bun stops before the capsule, taps the glass to give the Ditto a little shock.

"This specimen will be successful, I assume?" She drums her cheeks with her fingers, her profile shiny under the soft light. "And it will become legendary?"

"We will make history," a fellow researcher assures her and hands her a thermoflask from which she sips a fizzy drink. "This is the last time. We can only succeed."

"Of course," she scoffs and tilts the flask till the beverage splashes over his coat and boots, staining them a healthy brown. "Do not speak to me as if you're superior. Now, ready the machines. We will extract this Ditto's essence with the help of my code."

Meta shakes his head. "But what happened next was the gift of despair. The code failed to extract anything from the Ditto, instead injecting a complicated script that empowered him and enhanced his abilities to a transcendental level."

The machines explode around us and the wires grow frazzled. Smoke imprint themselves over the mark of their ancestors, blackening the ceiling, walls and pillars further. Then, there is no smoke, no chaos, nothing.

The void, however, is temporary. The total darkness the degree of midnight spits up a warped reality. Colours dissolve and fade into each other. Patches of weed zigzag about the floor, sometimes interrupted by tiny maglev trains and tumbling rocks. At first glance, the basement is a playground outside doors, but it soon comes to be something far worse. A ship in the middle of capsize, sending the researchers scrambling or falling on their sides, water bursting through the suddenly open lift, threatening to drown every living person; a desert grilling every researcher into desperate creatures with parched throats fighting over the single thermoflask in their vicinity, willing to pull hairs and scratch at each other to quench their thirst, a thirst so immense that rank is thrown out the window and even the head honcho can hardly contain her minions, suffering from the frenzy of greed and despair; a power plant rigged with Voltorb and Electrode exploding at all corners, pursuing their happy victims and paralysing them...

"The Ditto broke free of his cage, and must be stopped, because no one enjoys abruptly transformative experiences, because humans are initially resistant to change, because humans think themselves superior to Pokémon, their beloved hubris the one thing they can never part from." Meta walks around and stares into our eyes, an intimate yet creepy act that scares even Matsuba who ought to be unfazed. "The one to leave first was the head honcho, Aomine Himari, jabbing at the lift doors, unflinching at the anguish of her colleagues." Meta hops onto my shoulder and whispers, "When I first saw you, deep down, I wanted to toy with you, to make you my plaything and let her understand the suffering I've been through. You made me see that not all humans are born monsters."

I gulp as our surroundings restore their normalcy. Meta explains that my mother turned off the power generator in the building to blanket me in darkness, the moment of confusion causing me to flinch and the researchers, equipped with their night vision goggles, rendered me unconscious with multiple high-voltage tasers.

"And so the Ditto was left alone to die in the basement, left to adapt and mess with the Ivory Tower," Meta says. "The end. The moral of the story? Humans named us Pocket Monsters, or Pokémon for short, because they know their own monstrosity can't be pocketed."

I blink and check everyone else's reactions. Matsuba, stunned, becomes Kaspar's body pillow to hug. Hayato engages himself in deep breathing exercises.

"That made my skin crawl," I utter after a moment of silence. To think that they would be so malicious to a Pokémon, to Meta, just irks me. It's a degree of anger that supersedes Kaspar's when his Toktik video was released four days ago as punishment for not enacting the sexual scenes in the yaoi stack.

"We should leave now," Matsuba says as he glances at his phone. "For Joya-no-Kane." He releases the lump in his throat. "But Meta, you must have hated humans for a long time."

"I did," Meta replies. "But you people are why I still have a sliver of hope in humanity."

That ends the conversation. We make our way to the temple in Enju, joining the throng of people and Pokémon outlined by the waning moon's light, the sky now a serene indigo. We don't talk for the entire walk, all deep in thought, or seeming to be, after our short experience in the basement.

Meta's story indeed blurs the line between victim and villain, for both the researchers and himself. "We're but the sum of our narratives," he had said back in Ubame Forest, and I can't help but think about how accurate his words are. He has gone through so much to attain this present solace. Perhaps the Joya-no-Kane might be of use to him after all.

The bell-ringing ceremony in Enju's resident temple has a larger bell than most other temples in Johto and other regions, hence the Machamp are out helping to ring the bell, which would have required the combined strength of seventeen monks. Well, two Machamp, to be precise, and acquainted ones, at that. If it isn't Captain McSteroids and Four-Punch Man from the Pokéathlon Dome. After years of witnessing their contributions to society, they finally made names for themselves, thanks to Show Me Your Smile. They're out serving saké and amazake, with courtesy of Aoi Yoake, as well as light food prepared by the monks to the temple-goers.

I find Otousan and Rae amongst the faces of the crowd, alongside her friends, and rush to meet them.

"Kyo." Otousan smiles at me. "Soon, the ceremony will start. It's almost an hour before New Year!"

Otousan hands the rest of the bois and Meta a glass of saké before giving me one. We receive it with thanks.

"Don't you love New Year's Eve?" He fans himself, and at this point, Rae returns to her friends. "Wasn't there someone else who should be with you?"

Hayato nodded. "Sky is, but he's running late."

"Oh, there he is!" Otousan pointed at a wave of people and Pokémon, and the unmistakable figure stands out with his dyed hair. "He's a sweet boy, alright. He bought a dozen of saké bottles."

Sky apologises for his tardiness. He appears to be a tad more lethargic than usual, which he attributes to his restless running around. He's got a video camera in hand, desiring to film the Joya-no-Kane and us.

With him around, the atmosphere seems to rise a few degrees in temperature. There's just a particular warmth that goes with Sky, even as he sips his saké and converses with us for a while before going away to poke Captain McSteroids and Four-Punch Man's biceps, then returning to our side.

"Have you visited the Ivory Tower on your way?" Matsuba asks, to which Sky pouts.

"But I will, come midnight." Sky takes a quick selfie with us in the frame and tags us on his published post. Celebi is quick to 'like' his picture, and he's gained a number of followers in minutes. Lugia comments a "hey, bro, I'm jealous."

"The Legendaries like you," I say.

Sky offers a dismissive wave. "They're just chasing clout. What better way than to follow their favourite drama's number one human fan?"

We laugh.

"The Machamp are going to the bell." Meta jumps up and down on my shoulder. "The monks are chanting."

So it begins, the Joya-no-Kane.

The gigantic bell will be rung a hundred and seven times in the span of an hour, leaving one more strike for when the clock strikes twelve, bridging the two years of present and future. According to the Buddhist teachings, this number represents the hundred and eight worldly desires a person experiences throughout life. Once the last strike is delivered, it's believed that everyone will be cleansed of all problems and worries from the year that will soon tiptoe away from the comfort zone it once lurked in. Then we'll all be transported to a new comfort zone branded by gilded discomfort.

The sonorous ring leaves the crowd in awe. In some other temples, the crowd will ring the bells as they are smaller, and may exceed the healing number to give everyone a chance. They'd have to arrive early as some temples offer tickets on first-come-first-serve basis. Each ring still soothes the nerves regardless of participation.

Did I say the ringing sound was soothing? Well, it only applies to those who do not drool over the constantly contracting and expanding muscles of the naked Machamp. Okaasan and the rest of the crew aboard the Ivory Tower would've been a part of them, and they indeed fangirl over Captain McSteroids and Four-Punch Man when they arrive, disputing some distance away from us as to which Machamp is the better of the two.

Watching the Machamp ring the bell without much sweat, I turn to Sky. "Why did you decide to travel from Hoenn to Johto just to visit all the places in our drama? It's really touching, but unusual."

Sky produces an awkward giggle. "I'm actually from Johto."

"You are?" Matsuba blinks. Well, he was the first to comment on Sky's accent back then, so his surprise doesn't come off as a surprise, for the lack of a better word.

"Yeah, I nabbed the cellist job to celebrate Mellow's wedding. We were in the same plane on both flights, actually."

Hayato gasps. "We were?"

"I'm not used to planes actually, but it was fun while it lasted." Sky shrugs and takes another glass of saké.

Meta narrows his eyes. "You're our stalker."

Sky darts his eyes across us and scratches the nape of his neck, a shy smile slipping into his lips. "I didn't think you would catch on so quickly."

The bell rings for the forty-ninth and fiftieth time.

"How did you film us without us seeing you?" Kaspar clutches his head. "Do you have special powers? Can you turn invisible?"

Sky nods and spreads his arms wide. "Pokémon power."

I scrutinise him. He has not any belongings besides his video camera. Where does he put his Poké Balls then? Does this mean his Pokémon aren't in Poké Balls? Everyone seems to hold that thought too and sweep our gazes around, but we find no Pokémon in sight. Well, they could've used Facade, Kaspar inputs, and Double Team to capture us from various angles efficiently.

"No," Sky interrupts him just as the seventieth strike resounds. "You're right about both Facade and Double Team. Facade works differently outside of battles, with the equivalent of illusions to mask my presence. Double Team is obvious enough. But you're missing something else."

The resonant bell chime sparkles in my mind. What if Sky chose to appear on New Year's Eve for a very specific reason?

"Never mind that." I cross my arms. "What is your plan?"

Sky eyes the Ivory Tower. "A restoration plan. Don't worry, I don't indulge in your adorable romance. I'm here with you because I enjoy your friendships with each other and your Pokémon, specifically Meta."

Meta narrows his eyes further, unable to cook up a retort. We stare at Sky, trying to unravel his identity, but he gives us nothing much to work with. Otousan senses the tension between us and replaces our saké. None of us drink.

The bell is struck for the hundredth time. We don't move, don't speak. The bell fills the silence in the air, time and time again.

At the one hundred and fifth ring, Sky takes off his jacket and taps his ass. I crane my neck over, spotting a white battery-powered air blower.

One hundred and six.

One hundred and seven.

Sky turns to face the Ivory Tower and we whirl around, too. Okaasan and her bunch of fujoshis and fudanshis follow our example.

Captain McSteroids and Four-Punch Man smash the bell with the wooden pole for the last time. As the resonance ripples throughout the city of Enju, a moonbow curves out of the clouds, passing by the waning moon. The end coincides with the Smeargle jacquemart who also rings its bell at midnight.

"Happy New Year, friends," Sky mumbles at midnight before a hissing sound takes over and he deflates.

A coo traverses the night sky, summoning rainbow wings that beat against the current of time, and Ho-Oh, in all zir majesty, takes flight past the Bell Tower to the Ivory Tower, enveloped in a Sacred Fire. A fireball exits zir anus.

And the Ivory Tower goes up in majestic flames.