taste my fears (and light your candle to my raging fire)

---

Maybe it’s just that everybody else’s comfort zones are bigger than yours is to begin with, that they are inherently more than you without even having to try. You’ve never seen any of them sweat, after all, never seen them hesitate the way you know you do.

—

Being second best is harder than it looks, but for Hau, it's more of a state of mind, a way of life, than an unfortunate relegation. Somehow, almost nobody else seems to have noticed. (Until, one day, someone does.)

—

Once, when you were small, your grandfather bounced you on his knee and told you, "You don’t win the silver, Tili, you lose the gold. If you come in second place, you’re the first loser. Never forget that."

You never did. When Ahi, Moon’s incineroar, takes down your decidueye, Macadamia, with a powerful darkest lariat atop Mount Lanakila, immortalising herself as Alola’s first Champion and you as the runner up, someone not strong enough to be the best, you wonder if your life would be better if you had.

---

A/N: This is part 1 of an ongoing 'series' of sorts with Hau as the centric character. The continuity draws inspiration from both SuMo and USUM, and may vary in person (or may not, I'm not entirely sure). It also takes a lot from my own personal headcanons: from USUM, Hau's character feels massively expanded to me, and the scene in Maile Garden reeks of inferiority complex. Hau's happy-go-lucky personality is one that's fun to take at face value, which I do, for the most part, but he's an interesting character to explore on a deeper level, too, which I'm aiming to do with this fic / the series as a whole.

As a note, there's a tiny, blink-and-you'll-miss-it instance of "deadnaming" in this fic. It's not super obvious, but it's there.

The "you" in this fic, if it isn't immediately clear, is Hau himself! Note that this ISN'T an interactive fic; I use 2nd POV because that's what came naturally to me when writing it.

And one final thing, for ease, since nicknames are used in this fic for pokémon:

— Hau's vaporeon is called Li Hing
— Hau's decidueye is called Macadamia
— Hau's raichu is called Custard
— Hau's noivern is called Lychee

— Moon's incineroar is called Ahi

The title comes from "Don't Judge Me", which is a song by Janelle Monáe! You should go listen to it, since her songs are amazing

---

"Why even bother with the island challenge? What's the point of it?" Guzma snarls, squaring his shoulders and looming over Moon.

"That's what I want to find out," she signs bluntly. Guzma's face twists into an ugly grin.

"So you don't even know why you're doing it," he sneers, glaring at her. "You're just blindly collectin' those stupid crystals like they mean anythin' at all, like it'll get you anywhere in life, just 'cause the professor said so, right? I dunno why I'm surprised. Lemme tell you something— outside a' Alola, the Island Challenge means jack shit. You show anyone a gym badge from any region an' they'll know you've got somethin' about ya, but if you show 'em a Z-crystal, it won't mean anythin' to 'em at all. You wanna be a trainer worth payin' attention to? You're better off proving your strength another way. Not that you look like much."

"Moon's plenty strong," Kukui counters quietly, though he refuses to look Guzma in the eye. He folds his arms over his chest and frowns at the cobbled ground beneath his feet. "She's the strongest kid I've ever seen." Not you, though, the child who could've picked the starter with a type advantage and went for the weaker one instead, who was humiliated in front of their entire village in battle by someone who knew nothing of Alolan culture at the time but was somehow more comfortable with it than you've ever been. "She'll be better than anyone—" she's already better than you— "just you wait."

You try to melt into the background, but Guzma sees you twitch, and he rounds on you with such an intensity that you balk.

"Hey, kid," he barks, some indescribable emotion in his eyes. "You're Hala's, ain't 'cha? You know you ain't gotta do this Island Challenge shit just 'cause your grandaddy's a Kahuna, right? It ain't like he'll care, anyway. 'S like the professor just said: you ain't ever gonna beat her—" he jerks his head in Moon's direction and Kukui stiffens, paling in realisation— "so you ain't ever gonna be good enough for him. He only cares about who's in front. If I were you, I'd just give it up. Shit, I did. 'S much better on this side than where you're standin'."

The professor grunts as though punched, murmuring your name in a soft, aching voice and pleading with you to ignore Guzma. The Skull Boss continues to stare at you, frustrated and open.

"Tell me I'm wrong, kid."

You think about how Hala praises Kukui for every little discovery, about how he gushes incessantly about Moon's battling prowess whenever she returns with a new trial conquered, a new Z-crystal on her belt. You can still recall the way his eyes lit up when Ilima returned from Kalos, eight gym badges in hand, and how proud he'd been when Ilima had taken up the mantle of Trial Captain after winning the totem yungoos in Verdant Cavern over. You're not sure you'll ever be able to forget the softness in his voice whenever he assures Lillie that she really doesn't have to battle to be a worthy trainer, and that she's doing a wonderful job of caring for Nebby despite her inexperience.

Instinctively, you know, Hala is a caring, vocal person. He makes it his personal duty to name people he thinks are deserving of his attention.

He's never said your name. Guardians, you wish he'd say your name— as something other than an afterthought, as something worth being proud of. You wish the people of Alola would see you as Hau, rather than as Hala's grandkid. You wish someone would tell you that you were doing good.

Maybe it's just that everybody else's comfort zones are bigger than yours is to begin with, that they are inherently more than you without even having to try. You've never seen any of them sweat, after all, never seen them hesitate the way you know you do.

"Hau," Professor Kukui repeats brokenly.

Tell me I'm wrong.

You want to tell Guzma that he's wrong, that your grandfather will be proud of you no matter what you do because that's just how your family is, just how Hala is, but your tongue refuses to move, so you stare at Guzma in silence until the strange vulnerability disappears and he's back to smirking.

"Yeah," he says, "I thought so. You know what I'm talkin' about. Jus' remember this, kid — if you ever decide you're done bein' second best, Team Skull's got a place with your name on it. An' Kukui?— I'm gonna destroy this stupid league of yours, just you wait. I'm gonna ruin everythin' you love."

He stalks away, and you try to breathe through the tightness in your throat. Professor Kukui reaches out for you, but you tell him you're fine, that it doesn't matter, and you leave Maile Garden behind.


Once, when you were small, your grandfather bounced you on his knee and told you, "You don't win the silver, Tili, you lose the gold. If you come in second place, you're the first loser. Never forget that."

You never did. When Ahi, Moon's incineroar, takes down your decidueye, Macadamia, with a powerful darkest lariat atop Mount Lanakila, immortalising herself as Alola's first Champion and you as the runner up, someone not strong enough to be the best, you wonder if your life would be better if you had.

At the behest of Professor Kukui, Iki Town hosts a festival in Moon's honour. Your grandfather stands on the great stage in the village's centre and calls on Alola's Guardians to bless her, exalting her for her many victories (including, Hala gushes, the one over my own grandchild), and you sit in the dirt with your back against an old, rough tree, obscured by shrubbery, stuffing your face with malasadas so that you don't have to force a smile.

You've heard about how some people can mould themselves in the image of that which they admire and wonder why that doesn't apply to humans— why you can't absorb the essences of the people around you and shape yourself into something deserving of praise.

Your grandfather turns to Moon with a smile as bright as the sun and tells her that he always knew she'd be their Champion, that he had known from the moment she won their humble little festival at the beginning of her journey. You decide you don't want to hear any more of that, so you cram the rest of your malasada into your mouth, stand up and sneak out of the party.


You only learn of Lillie's decision to trade Alola's sandy shores for Kanto's rolling plains when the ferry is nothing but a small, silvery speck on the pink-orange horizon. Old confessions bubble up in your chest, words you may never get to say, secrets she may never learn, and you clench your fists to stop your hands trembling in your grief.

"She didn't even say goodbye to us!" You say to Moon on the docks, choked and teary eyed, and she just cocks her head quizzically like a rockruff pup and tells you that Lillie had said goodbye to her last night on Mahalo Trail once the celebrations had died down. It doesn't take long for you to learn that everybody (your grandfather, the professor, Moon's mother, most of Iki Town) had known about her departure but you.

"Oh."

I'll write her a really long letter, you vow inside your head, but Moon's watching you with this strange expression on her face and you begin to wonder if maybe there was a reason Lillie didn't tell you that she was leaving, so you crush that decision before it can grow into an unstoppable impulse, shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and ask Moon if she wants to go and get malasadas with you.

She declines. She's got Champion duties. You don't bother asking her for a raincheck.


Moon's ascension to Champion and the decisions of Lillie and Gladion to travel to Kanto preoccupy them immensely and you, with no new goal in mind, begin to stagnate. Your grandfather suggests you spend your time training to become stronger (so that you can maybe one day be worth something), so you waste countless days in the farthest open hollow of Ten Carat Hill, battling the machop and carbink and trying to pretend that your skill level isn't vastly above theirs.

Three months into your regime, your raichu falls in love with a pikachu who seems as equally smitten with him as he is with her, but who hisses and sparks at you whenever you try to approach her. Custard, being head over heels, takes her side every time, shielding her with his psychic abilities and creating an invisible forcefield to stop you from getting too close.

"Custard," you plead, "knock it off. I'm your friend, remember? I just wanna say hi to her."

He ignores you, and it doesn't take much for you to realise that even your own pokémon can be persuaded to pick something or someone over you if the choice is more appealing, even despite everything you've been through together.

You think back to when Custard was still a scrappy little pichu and how he immediately opened up to you. Even back then, he had your determination and insatiable appetite for good food, evolving before your first trial because of how he cared about you. By the time of your first grand trial, he was your right hand 'mon, your go to in every situation, the opening act in every battle you faced. You'd worked relentlessly to save up enough money to buy a thunder stone, poured every last bit of energy into training with him to ensure he was strong enough to evolve, and he'd matched you every step of the way.

Stupidly, naively, you'd thought that loyalty would persist, but he's older now, with priorities that have become so vastly skewed in comparison to your own that it's difficult to believe that you were ever once compatible, that you were ever once partners. He's unrecognisable now, teeth bared in warning, and you don't think he's ever been more sure of anything in his life than he is of wanting to leave you.

Sometimes, you think, it's more of a kindness to let someone you love go than to force them to stay because it benefits you. Custard looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, bright blue and gleaming with earnest, and you've never been one to deny someone what they want if it's something you can give them, even if your whole world feels as though it's caving in. You crush his poké ball beneath your heel, tell him to stay safe and wave him off as he follows his new mate deep into Ten Carat Hill, ignoring the way your heart feels like it's turning to lead inside your chest.

"This is good," you tell yourself. "This is the right thing to do."

You leave.

—

That evening, you find Guzma on the Hau'oli beachfront, slouching against the rocks like a rag doll with a bottle of liquid that smells like liquorice and bleach clutched in one hand.

"D'you ever wanna jus'... run away?" he asks by way of greeting as you settle down beside him in the sand, thumbing the lip of the bottle. "Jus'... leave everythin' behind and start again, no strings attached. Make somethin' of yaself without bein' stuck in his shadow."

You don't have to ask to know who he is. Every day, you think, though you don't say it out loud. It's a selfish, ungrateful wish, after everything that's been done for you, but you can't bring yourself to say no. Your silence is answer enough.

"Fuck, I just wanted to be good enough," he croaks suddenly. You jolt at the language, the honesty. He sounds so small. "I never made 'im proud, no matter what I did. It was always— I was always jus' second place, y'know? Nothin' I ever did would be the best. I was jus'..."

"Mediocre," you supply quietly. It's not a question. He bobs his head, throat clicking when he swallows. "Yeah, I— I know. That… that makes two of us."

He doesn't say anything, so you reach out and place your hand over his, barely covering half of it. He stares at that point of contact blankly, eyes glazed. "You're good enough," you say, and he makes a low, pained sound, the sort that sounds as though it's been ripped straight from his chest. "You helped with the ultra beasts, you stood up to the Aether foundation, you… without you, we'd not have been able to deal with those creeps that said they were from other universes and wanted to destroy ours too, for some reason. You gave everyone in Team Skull a place to call home when they had no-one to turn to but you. You… you made a family."

Guzma sniffs. "An' your old man still thinks I'm a good for nothin' waste o' space—"

"Stop it," you whisper harshly, and he shuts up. "You're none of those things, okay? You're… you're good. Even if tutu doesn't think you are. Just 'cause he says something, doesn't mean it's true, you know? He can get things wrong too, just like we can."

"Try telling him that," Guzma says, but he doesn't sound quite so miserable. He twists his hand in your grip so he can squeeze your fingers. "Thanks, kid. You ain't half bad either, y'know? I thought you'd be like your gramps, but you ain't at all. That's… a good thing, by the way. You're… better than he is. Better than he's ever been." It's your turn to jolt, eyes damp. "Don't look at me like that. Back when I was still his 'student', he used t' yell at me an' argue with me 'cause I didn't get why we always had to do things his way. 'Said I'd never get anywhere in life if I didn't commit myself to the Island Challenge, or… if I didn't put my head down and try hard, jus' like Kukui did."

He laughs bitterly. "It was always Kukui this, Kukui that, y'know?" You nod, because your grandfather's the same now as he's always been. "An' I just… got tired of it. I was like, shit, if you ain't gonna acknowledge anythin' I'm doin', then what's the point in stickin' around? So I decided to leave, forge my own path. My old man didn't like that much, but he don't control me." He pokes his finger into your chest. "You shouldn't let yours control you, either."

You sit in silence while he drains his bottle, head tipped back, before saying, once he's finished (in a flat, emotionless voice), "Custard left me today. He went away to be with his pikachu girlfriend, so I released him."

Guzma blinks. "Your raichu?" he asks, and in lieu of answering, you burst into tears, because Custard wasn't just your raichu, he was your partner, your best friend, and now he's gone. Guzma makes a pained, floundering sound and winds his arm stiffly around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. "Hey, kid, it's gonna be alright," he assures, voice slurred and hesitant. You sob into his shirt. "You did the right thing, lettin' 'im go if it's what he wanted. It's a brave thing to do, givin' someone you love the freedom to live their own life. There ain't enough people in this world who have the balls to do it."

You're not sure he's talking about Custard any more, but you thank him anyway, and he sits with you until you stop crying and you feel like you can breathe again.


Blue's waiting to greet you at the entrance to the Battle Tree when you arrive. He's immaculately groomed, not a hair out of place, and you unconsciously rub your clammy hands on your shorts as you approach.

"I'm H—"

Blue cuts you off unctuously. "I know who you are," he says. You sigh, and he frowns, faltering.

"Hala's grandkid, right?"

"No— Hau. One of Alola's strongest trainers." Blue's frown smooths over, and something like realisation dawns on his face. You wonder what it is that's clicked for him. "What, you don't think you're worth knowing for you?"

You shrug. "'Course I do," you protest, and though he looks unconvinced, he doesn't press it.

"So, what brings you to the Battle Tree?"

"Um, I'm here to… battle?"

"Ah," he muses. "Of course. Well, if you're here for the Battle Tree's facilities, you're gonna have to prove your mettle to get in— 's just protocol, I didn't make the rules— so I'll go 'n' get Red, and—"

"Wait, wait, wait, I thought we had a choice," you interrupt. "That's what Moon told me, anyway. She said she got the choice between fighting Red and fighting you."

"Yeah, well." Blue shuffles awkwardly. "Nobody ever wants to fight me over Red, so I figured I'd just skip all that and cut right to the chase."

"But… I don't wanna fight Red," you say slowly. Blue's eyes widen, jaw slack, and he stares at you blankly, uncomprehending, as though you've switched to native Alolan. "I wanna fight you. I heard that your arcanine's real tough, and that your aerodactyl's the fastest anyone's ever seen, and that your machamp can punch so hard it can break through concrete like wet paper, and that your exeggutor's hypnosis is so potent that it can put pokémon to sleep for hours, and that your gyarados can stop electric type attacks with its teeth, and that your alakazam has a really cool way of dealing with dark type attacks with its psychic powers." You take a deep breath. He's still staring at you like you've grown a second head. "I wanna see all that for myself. I wanna fight you."

Slowly, Blue begins to smile. "You mean it?" he asks, high and hopeful.

You nod. "Yeah."

It's like a switch is flipped. His smile changes to something sharp, competitive and eager. "You're on," he snarks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "but don't be surprised when you lose. I ain't as soft on kids as Red is."

"I don't want you to be soft on me," you laugh, and Li Hing leaps into the ring to meet Blue's pidgeot.

—

Blue, predictably, kicks your ass. His alakzam wipes the floor with your team, ending the battle with a well-placed focus blast that knocks your noivern out in an instant.

"Man, I've not had that much fun battling in a long time," Blue sighs happily, clapping his alakazam on the shoulder. "That vaporeon of yours is a goddamn beast. He's gotta be the best trained one I've ever seen."

At your side, Li Hing trills proudly despite his exhaustion. You rub his head fins fondly.

"And your decidueye? That thing he did, with the whole 'melting into the shadows to dodge' shtick? That was awesome. For a second, I thought you had us on the ropes."

You preen at the praise, recalling Lychee to his poké ball. "Yeah, but none of that mattered once you sent out your alakazam. He's even stronger than I thought!"

"Yeah, I know. Most people never expect it, even though he's been in enough public matches for people to have learned his battling style." He's quiet for a moment. "'Say, kid, why'd you only have five pokémon? I thought you had a raichu during your league battle. An Alolan one. You know— round and squishy, floats on its tail, can move things with its mind? What happened to it?"

"Uh," you mutter sourly. "He left me. For a wild pikachu."

"Oh, Hau…" Blue reaches out, stops and withdraws, folding his arms. "You know, my pidgeot— she's not the one I beat the Indigo League with. She's the daughter of my first pidgeot, who left me for a wild pokémon, too."

He recalls his alakazam. "I miss him every day. But, y'know, your pokémon never really leave you. There's a piece of him with me all the time because of her. Maybe one day… your raichu will find his way back to you that way, too."

You hope so, but you don't say anything, so Blue puts his hands between your shoulder blades and steers you into the Battle Tree with a crooked grin.


You return home that night to a full house, and all eyes are on you as you close the door behind you. At your heels, Li Hing quivers, alert and inquisitive.

"Guys…?" you begin haltingly. "What's going on?" Everybody's here: your grandfather, the professor, Moon, Guzma, Gladion— your eyes zero in on him, disbelieving. "W- Gladion, when did you get back?"

Your grandfather pinches the bridge of his nose, as though experiencing a terrible headache. "Hau—"

"I'm sorry," the professor blurts, cutting him off. You don't understand. "I shoulda known something was wrong. I had a feeling something was up back when you were still doing your Island Challenge, when Guzma said what he said in Maile Garden and you didn't fight back. I thought you were just scared of him, but I was wrong. It wasn't that you were scared, it was that you thought he was right."

You open your mouth to protest, to lie, but Kukui keeps talking. "And I shouldn't have said what I said, either," he continues. "You were stood right there and I spoke like you didn't exist. I ignored you a lot, right through your Island Challenge, and I didn't realise it until I was too late. I figured you didn't care about all that 'cause you'd never seemed interested in battling in the same way Moon had, but that's no excuse. I should've been more careful."

"Me too," Gladion mutters. You blink at him. You still don't understand. "You aren't weak. I stopped thinking you were weak when you helped me save my sister. Before then, even. I just never told you that. I'm sorry if you still thought I hadn't changed my mind."

"And Hau— you know being the strongest isn't the most important thing, right? You're plenty brilliant in many other ways. Kinder than anyone I've ever met, yeah, and super determined." Kukui holds up his hands, inspecting you earnestly. "And even if that doesn't matter to you at all, you're still one of the strongest trainers I've ever met. You let your pokémon follow their own paths even if their own paths aren't what you want. That takes real guts."

"'S what I said," Guzma crows. You swallow, eyes burning.

"Lillie wanted to find you, by the way," Moon adds, gestures sharp, "but she couldn't find you. She asked Hala to pass on a message, but clearly—" she shoots your grandfather a glance, and you can feel the emphasis in her words— "that didn't happen."

"I forgot," Hala offers sheepishly.

"You're my best friend, Hau," Moon continues. You hold your head in your hands and flush a deep red. "And I still think my win was a fluke, by the way. You'd probably be a better Champion than me."

"I'd not," you huff, smiling despite yourself. "I'm not a natural battler the way you are."

"You'd be better in interviews," she deadpans, and this time, you laugh. When you stop, everybody's still staring at you.

"But, uh, really," you say into the silence, "what's all this about?"

Your grandfather slaps his thighs, rising from his chair and lumbering towards you. "Hau," he repeats, setting his hands on your shoulders and looking down at you. "Do you really think I don't think you're good enough?"

You freeze, jerking backwards, trying to escape. Hala's grip on you tightens imperceptibly, holding you in place.

"I've never said that."

"I didn't ask if you've ever said it," Hala says gently, "I asked if you think it."

You tuck your chin into your chest.

"Because I am so proud of you. I never thought— I never realised you thought I thought anything else, and I'm sorry for letting you think that for as long as I have."

"Ngh," you say intelligently. Your grandfather pulls you into a suffocating hug.

"Blue came to us," the professor says from behind Hala, "and then Guzma, uh— Guzma did, too. After he heard that Blue had said something, he told us about everything you'd talked about."

"Snitch," you mumble into Hala's chest. Guzma flounders wordlessly.

"Seriously, Hau," your grandfather insists, and you've only ever seen him serious a handful of times, so you know it's important. "Do you remember that time you snuck into the tauros pen without my permission? Nearly got yourself killed, you did. I've never been so scared in my life. One minute you were in front of me, playing in the sand — the next, you were gone. I thought someone had taken you, and then I heard you screaming, and I thought—"

He breaks off, taking a shaky breath. "I didn't mean to yell at you. But I didn't know where you were, and those tauros could've done anything and you wouldn't have been able to stop them. When you just a baby— when your parents gave you to me— I… I swore I'd raise you right, do you right by them. I promised them that I'd make sure you were healthy and safe, that I'd never let anything bad happen to you. On that day, I felt like I'd failed them. But more importantly, I felt like I'd failed you, as your guardian. As your grandfather. I vowed to never do it again — it's a promise I intend to keep.

"You're my family," Hala continues. "I'll always be proud of you, no matter what you do. Your happiness is my priority, always. From now on, I'll do my best to prove it to you."

He pulls back, looking you in the face. "Can you forgive me?"

Despite yourself, you roll your eyes; he's always been one for theatrics. "Mmmaybe," you say, and he barks a loud, thunderous laugh, already lifting you up to place you on his shoulders. Li Hing clings to your leg and winds up balanced precariously on Hala's arm, blunt claws digging into his shirt.

"Hah! What about if I bribe you with malasadas, eh?" Li Hing mewls hungrily, pawing at his face. "You too, then. What if I get us all malasadas?"

You laugh, and Hala laughs again, and then everyone's laughing, even Li Hing, and it's like the storm has broken, clouds parting for the white Alolan moon.

---

A/N: Reviews/comments are always appreciated! I try to take all constructive criticism into account so I can improve any future writing I do.