The sky never stayed still when the shiny Rayquaza was near.

High above the clouds, where the air thinned and the world fell quiet, the currents shifted—subtle at first, then deliberate. A ripple through the atmosphere, a silent warning that something ancient was moving.

A massive, black serpentine form cut through the stratosphere.

Haku.

His golden-ringed body coiled effortlessly through the sky, slicing wind apart as if it were nothing. Each movement was precise, controlled—yet there was tension beneath it, something restless. His yellow eyes scanned the horizon, sharp and unyielding, as if searching for a threat that hadn’t yet revealed itself.

A distant meteor burned faintly in the void beyond.

In an instant, Haku stilled.

Then—

He surged forward.

The sky cracked with the force of his ascent, wind screaming in his wake as he tore upward, faster, higher—until the blue gave way to darkness. His body glowed faintly, energy threading along the golden markings etched into him, building, coiling.

Protect.

The instinct was absolute.

With a deafening roar, he struck.

The meteor shattered on impact, fragments scattering into nothingness under the sheer force of him. For a moment, all that remained was silence—and the fading echo of destruction.

Haku lingered there, suspended in the emptiness.

Watching.

Waiting.

Only when the last trace of danger was gone did the tension ease from his form. Slowly, he exhaled—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the vacuum, more felt than heard.

The sky was safe.

Without another glance, Haku turned, his massive body curling as he descended once more—back toward the world below.

Back to where he knew he was meant to be.