Cecil wasn't too worried about Zidane. The boy had sounded quite healthy and lively when he'd spoken to him on the Pokégear, except for the lack of his tail. But talking about their comrades brought back an important question at the front of Cecil's mind.

"How...long...?"

He mimed a sword fight as best as he could. When did the Conflict happen for him? At least a week ago, or perhaps only a week ago. Had they all been caught in this world, unable to go home? Was he the only one who had gone back to live his life? He hoped not.