"Hello?" the voice on the other end said, cautious and unfamiliar. "Who is this? I don't recognize this number."
Yua exhaled quietly and turned to glance over her shoulder, half-expecting her little star to somehow catch wind of her anxiety through the baby monitor. Her thumb hovered above the end-call button for a heartbeat longer than it should've.
"It's me... Mama," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was a pause. A pause filled with the weight of four long, stubborn, prideful years.
"Yua?" her mother said, voice sharper now with realization, like the click of a Poké Ball opening. "Yua Silver?"
She winced. Her mother only used the full name when it was serious. "Yeah... it's me. I—I know it's been a while."
"A while? Four years, Yua. No call, no text, no letter. Not even a damn postcard. I thought you were dead. I nearly sent a search team from Hoenn."
"I know..." she said, voice cracking. "I know. I messed up, alright? I let my pride and need for independence get in the way. I just... I wanted to build my own adventure. I wanted something different than the name... than the politics, than the legacy."
There was silence on the other end again.
"I ran, okay?" she admitted. "I ran to Kanto. I didn't want to be the girl who lived in your shadow or anyone else's. I wanted to make my life by my own rules."
"And did you?" her mother asked bluntly.
"I did. Sort of..." Yua's hand ran through her hair. "It's been hard. Lonely sometimes. But... I have someone now."
The other end of the line went silent.
"I have a son," Yua said, a small smile breaking onto her face despite the nerves knotted in her stomach. "His name is John. He's... he's the most precious thing I've ever seen. I know every mother says this, but he's seriously cuter than a Jigglypuff after a bubble bath."
"...A son," her mother echoed, her voice unreadable.
Yua's free hand gripped the hem of her sweater tightly. "Yeah. A little boy. My little star."
There was no response for several moments. Just quiet breathing, the kind Yua had heard from her mother during battle—when she was calculating the field, weighing her options.
"You didn't even call me when he was born?" the voice was soft now. Not angry—just... hurt.
Yua's eyes welled up with tears as her back hit the kitchen wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. "I wanted to. I swear I did. But every time I picked up the phone, I thought... what if you hated me for leaving? What if you told me I told you so? What if you... what if you didn't want to hear from me?"
"I may be a Silver," her mother said slowly, "but I'm still your mother, Yua. You should've known better."
"I'm sorry, Mama," Yua whispered. "Truly. But I want you to meet him someday. I want John to have a family. Even if I screwed up, I won't screw that part up."
Her mother's voice softened just slightly. "What's he like?"
Yua laughed through the tears. "Cheeks like marshmallows. Eyes that shine like the stars. He has this long, fluffy hair with purple highlights—don't ask me where that came from, I swear he looks like a little prince. And when he smiles at me, Mama, it's like the world pauses. He's everything."
There was a breath on the other end. "I want to meet him."
"You do?"
"Of course I do. I may wring your neck for waiting this long," her mother said, voice dry but undeniably alive with fire, "but I'll be damned if I miss out on meeting my grandson."
A laugh bubbled out of Yua, watery and real as she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. "That's fair," she said, smiling through the tightness in her chest. "Just... don't kill me, okay? For his sake?"
"We'll see," came the reply—cool as ever, but now laced with a teasing undertone that Yua hadn't heard in years. "Depends how cute he is. If I faint from the adorableness, I might forgive you."
Yua snorted and shook her head. "Well, good news then. He's dangerously cute."
"Mm. I'll be the judge of that. Now tell me everything—where you're living, how you're raising him, and whether you've got decent photos, or am I supposed to fly out there with nothing but imagination?"
Yua felt the warmth begin to spread from her chest to her fingers. Her legs no longer felt heavy beneath her. Her steps, as she rose from the kitchen floor, felt lighter than they had in months.
She grinned, brushing hair from her face. "Let's just say... I'm praying my little star's cuteness is enough to keep me alive through your judgment."
There was a soft hum of amusement on the other end.
But then the moment shifted.
That warmth... that laughter... it faded—gently, like a candle being cupped from the wind. Yua closed her eyes. She inhaled through her nose, deep and slow, grounding herself. She let the air out in a controlled breath and curled her fingers tighter around the phone.
She'd made the call. She'd said the words. Now it was time to face the truth.
"All right..." she murmured, voice quieter now, steadier. "I said I'd explain everything, so I'll start at the beginning."
There was a pause.
Then her voice darkened—just a touch.
"Starting with that good-for-nothing male who dared call himself my husband."
On the other end of the line, there was no immediate reaction. No words. No judgment.
Just silence.
But Yua knew that silence well. It wasn't empty. It was razor-sharp focus—the sound of her mother listening with every inch of her soul, weighing each word like a blade before battle.
And that—more than anything—told Yua she was ready to hear it all.
"He was the heir to the Toise Clan—yeah, those Toise. The ones tied to Blastoise. Water-type supremacy, proud legacy, and all that old-school Kanto prestige. They're the strongest out of the three starter families right now, politically speaking."
Yua's lips curled into something bitter, almost a sneer.
"When I met him, he had all the charm in the world. Confident. Elegant. He talked like every word out of his mouth mattered, and... maybe I was a little naïve, but I fell for it. For him. I thought I'd found someone genuine."
She shook her head.
"Then we got married... and it was like someone flipped a switch. No more warmth. No more charm. He started treating me like an accessory—like some kind of trophy. At first, I thought it was just the pressure of clan life. I mean, I hadn't told him who I really was. He didn't know I was a Silver."
Her voice grew softer. "So I made excuses for him. Told myself it was stress. Told myself it would pass."
Another breath.
"But when I got pregnant..."
A crack appeared in her voice.
"...That's when everything fell apart. He didn't smile. He didn't even touch me after that. He just... started acting off. Detached. Cold. Like I was carrying some kind of disease."
She laughed—dry, humorless.
"Still, I held out hope. Maybe he was just overwhelmed. Maybe, once the baby came, he'd realize it was real and step up."
She sniffed once.
"But he never showed up. Not for the birth. Not after. Nothing."
A beat of silence.
"Two days after I gave birth to John... my friend, Lia—the only one who still talked to me from the clan's side—came to see me. I was tired. I was sore. But I saw her face and knew something was wrong. And then she gave me his message."
Yua closed her eyes. The words still burned in her memory.
"She said: 'He's not coming back. He said... he can't see himself raising a child. He said, since you brought it—him—into this world, you can raise him.'"
Silence.
Yua waited.
Still nothing.
"...Mama?"
Then—snap. Her mother's voice cut through the line like a blade.
"...That bastard."
The ice in those words made Yua's blood still.
Her mother's voice dropped into a level she hadn't heard since childhood—lower than a whisper, deadlier than a scream. It was the sound of a matriarch betrayed.
"That pathetic insect dares carry the name of Toise and abandon his own flesh and blood? A Silver's child?"
Yua swallowed. "Mama, wait—"
"No. I will not wait."
Her voice was so calm. Too calm.
"I don't care how powerful his clan thinks they are. They raised a coward. A child in a man's body. To abandon my grandson—to leave you alone in a hospital bed after birth like some disposable mistake—"
Her tone sharpened to a gleaming point.
Yua bit her lip.
Her mother took a breath, but when she spoke again, it was quiet. Quieter than before.
Dead cold.
"...But I will not respect a man who throws away his son like trash."
Yua flinched. That voice meant blood. That voice meant someone—somewhere—was going to answer for their choices.
And it wasn't going to be with an apology.
She opened her mouth. "Mama—"
"Don't worry," her mother interrupted, perfectly calm. "I won't do anything. Yet. But I will remember. And when the time is right..."
The line fell silent.
Yua felt her skin crawl.
She knew that tone. That tone was legendary. In the old days, Gym Leaders had backed away from it. Criminal syndicates had fled from it.
It wasn't the volume that made her mother terrifying.
It was the way she whispered like justice wasn't optional.
"...Just promise me one thing," her mother said suddenly.
Yua blinked. "What?"
"That no matter what happens next... that boy knows how loved he is. That you'll give him everything he deserves."
Yua smiled softly through the knot in her throat.
"I already do."
——————
There was a pause—long enough for the tension to settle like dust in the air. Yua let her mother's icy fury simmer and then, with expert daughterly mischief, cleared her throat and adjusted her tone.
"...Okay, okay. I think it's time we changed the subject before someone's soul gets launched into the Distortion World."
Her mother didn't laugh, but she did exhale, which was a victory in itself.
Yua smirked and added playfully, "Now, tell me, Mama—is your PokéGear as ancient as you or can it still revive images?"
"Oh-ho-ho," came her mother's dry reply. "You little gremlin. I'll have you know this 'ancient' PokéGear of mine has outlived half the gadgets in Hoenn—and probably some petty men too."
"Glad to hear it still works, then," Yua chuckled. "Because I'm about to hit you with a critical hit of adorableness."
She tapped her screen and sent the photo—the one she'd taken just this afternoon.
It was a candid moment: her little star, sitting on his padded play mat in the living room, fully absorbed in a mighty clash between his plush Dratini and Gible toys. His little Toise plush was cheering in the corner, as per his imagination. His black hair shimmered faintly with those mysterious purple highlights, messy from his latest round of "training." And his brilliant red eyes... oh, those eyes. They were wide with determination, glowing with curiosity and spark, just like always.
The line was silent.
Then—
"..."
"...Mama?"
"Oh."
Yua grinned.
"Oh, my heavens."
There it was.
"He's gorgeous." Her mother gasped. "Look at that face! Those eyes! That HAIR! What in Arceus's name are you feeding him—pixie dust?!"
Yua tried and failed to stifle a laugh. "Told you. He's my little star."
"He's my little genius!" her mother gushed, her tone flipping a full 180 degrees into adoring grandmother mode. "I can see it—he's got that clever gleam, the same one you had as a toddler. But better! Smarter! Is that a Dratini toy?! And a Gible?! He's got taste!"
Yua was beaming now, warmth blooming in her chest. This was exactly what she'd wanted. Her mother's sharp, terrifying edge had softened like butter left in the sun.
"Yeah, yeah," she said with a chuckle, "he's way too smart for his age if I'm being honest."
"You keep saying that," her mom teased. "But now I have to ask—what makes you call him a genius, dear?"
Yua sighed dramatically. "Oh, where do I even begin..."
She rolled her eyes fondly.
"I had this book—'Raising Your Future Trainer to Greatness.' It's supposedly the best-rated parenting guide in all of Kanto. Supposed to tell you what to expect at each age, what milestones to look out for, how to encourage growth at just the right pace."
"Sounds reasonable," her mother said, already sounding amused.
Yua snorted. "Yeah, well... he basically made me throw that book out the window."
Her mother laughed. "Oh? And what exactly has he done that made you toss away your precious parenting wisdom, hmm?"
Yua paused.
"Well..." Yua began, her voice bubbling with pride, "you know how kids are supposed to hit milestones like crawling, walking, and talking? My little star apparently decided those were just suggestions."
Her mother gave a soft amused hum. "Is that so?"
"Yeah!" Yua laughed. "He said his first word at one year old, not one and a half like the books say. He looked up at me, pulled my sleeve, and went, 'Mama,' like he knew exactly what he was doing."
Her mother made a thoughtful sound. "Sharp boy already."
"Oh, you have no idea." Yua's excitement was rising like a tide. "And now? At one year and seven months? He's using short sentences, Mama. Real ones. Like, 'Mama hug,' or 'Hungry now,' or 'No sleep, play!'" She giggled. "Okay, that last one's a bit of a nightly war, but you get the point."
Her mother chuckled on the line. "And what about his mind? Does he... understand things?"
"That's just it!" Yua said, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "On Terra, babies grow mentally pretty fast after their first growth spurt at two years old, right? That's when most of them start acting like proper toddlers, full of questions and energy."
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, my John? He's already there. It's like he skipped ahead. He's mentally like a two-year-old already, Mama. I think by the time he does turn two, he'll be speaking fluently."
There was a pause.
"And he meditates!" Yua added quickly before her mother could speak. "We had a movie night with a Lucario on-screen, and the next evening I caught him on the baby monitor trying to copy the meditation pose. He was so still and focused—I thought I was dreaming!"
Her mother laughed in disbelief. "A baby Lucario in the making, huh?"
"Oh, absolutely. But it's not just that," Yua said, her tone growing soft and full of affection. "He feels things. When I'm tired, he brings me a blanket. If I look stressed, he gives me one of his toys or climbs into my lap. And when I play with his hair—Mama, he purrs. Like a happy little Skitty."
Her mother was silent again—but Yua could feel the warmth through the phone, the shift in her aura from focused matriarch to something gentler. Something deeply moved.
"...Mama?"
I could still hear the soft rustle of papers on the other end of the line—her mother was likely pacing, already mentally planning a hundred things. But it was the next words that made Yua freeze, then slowly begin to smile.
"I've decided," her mother said firmly. "Once he turns two, I'll send the family's private jet to pick you both up."
Yua's eyes widened. "Wait—seriously?"
"It's time," her mother continued, tone resolute. "This family has waited long enough. We've spent years apart, but no more. It's time for this family to be together once more."
Yua sat down slowly, the weight of those words filling her like a long-forgotten warmth. But there was still a lingering worry.
"Mama... the family politics—what if they try to get involved? What if they try to use him or twist things just because of who he is?"
There was a short, sharp scoff from the other end. "They wouldn't dare. I'm still the matriarch, Yua. No one in that house will so much as breathe near your son without my say-so. Unless someone's stupid enough to challenge my authority—which, frankly, would be the last thing they ever do—I'll make sure none of that nonsense touches him."
Yua breathed out slowly. "Thank you, Mama."
"You don't have to thank me," came the reply. "But you do have to prepare yourself."
"...For what?"
"For the absolute spoiling I'm about to unleash on that boy." Her voice lit up with rare, genuine glee. "Now I need to buy more toys, decorate an entire nursery room with dragons—Dratini, Gible, and anything else he adores. My grandson is going to be spoiled rotten."
Yua laughed, full and bright and tearful at the same time. "Good luck trying to outmatch me there."
"Oh please," her mother snorted with fond pride. "I raised you, didn't I? I know exactly what level of doting I'm up against."
Yua clutched the phone to her heart, eyes damp with joy. "He's going to love you, Mama."
"And I'll love him even more," her mother whispered, softer now. "More than he'll ever know."