Pokémon The Quest for the Legends

[Dragonfree]

Dear readers, there has been a change of plans. I know I said I'd keep this to light edits, but the whole direction of the fic after a certain point ultimately just went a little too dark. Instead, I would like to back up a bit and present a fully rewritten version of the remainder of the fic.

Here's the better chapter 53, for your reading pleasure (art will have to come later, sorry to my dear fans):

Chapter 53: Away (NEW AND IMPROVED)​

Mark caught up with May just as she was exiting the Pokémon Center; apparently she’d finished healing her Pokémon already in the time it took for him to get out. For some reason she was also holding both of their backpacks; she must have retrieved them at the trainer lodge in the meanytime.

“Let’s just go,” she said without greeting him or looking him in the eye, her voice quiet as she handed him his own bag. “I don’t want to be here when the reporters start looking for me.”

She was obviously upset; Mark wasn’t quite sure what to say to her and just followed behind her as she walked towards the outside gate, hurriedly flipping his nametag over to show his photo before they went through. The gatekeeper woman squinted at them as they passed; a television inside the guard booth was showing Taylor happily shaking hands with the very reluctant-looking Champion of the Old-Timers’ League.

“Hey,” the woman called after May, leaning out of the booth, but she quickened her pace without answering and Mark had to sprint to catch up with her.

“You did great, you know,” Mark tried as May showed no signs of being about to stop; they seemed to be heading towards the mountains where they usually trained.

“No, I didn’t,” May responded irritably without looking at him. “I screwed up with Skarmory. Roosting was a terrible idea when it was using a Fighting move, but I wasn’t thinking. And Feraligatr can’t even learn Haze. I shouldn’t have believed it until I saw it.”

Mark didn’t know quite how to respond to that. “Well…”

“But it’s not like it mattered anyway, because even if I’d done everything perfectly, Mewtwo² would still just have thrown Tyranitar around like a bloody bouncing ball and there’s nothing I could’ve done about it, so either way I never could have won.”

“I’m sure everybody out there thinks of you as the real Champion,” Mark said. “I mean, Taylor basically cheated. Everybody knows that.”

“If they think that, they’re wrong!” May said fiercely, turning around. “There is no second place in a knockout tournament. Any one of the trainers he beat could be better than me. The fact I happened to be the last one to battle him is meaningless. God, learn some basic math.”

She turned quickly around again and marched on; Mark hurried to keep up with her and quietly decided not to try to start another conversation.

-------

May had stopped suddenly in a bit of an open area in the mountains and announced they would camp there. Mark had guessed it must be a spot she’d used sometime when they were training separately. He’d not felt like arguing.

Now, after they’d set up the tent, they were sitting around their campfire in silence. It was only the afternoon, but the approaching autumn was making the days colder, and Mark was grateful for the fire. He’d rather be at the warm trainer lodge reading or drawing or watching TV, of course, but he couldn’t just leave May out here alone, and so he stayed, wondering restlessly if it would be horribly insensitive to send out his Pokémon to talk to them. (It probably would be.)

He looked at her. She was staring fixedly into the flames, curled up with her arms wrapped around her knees to keep warm. Her expression was empty and faraway, devoid of any particular discernible emotions, but she still obviously felt like crap. He wished he could help her, somehow; in the flickering firelight, she looked scared and vulnerable, and Mark felt a strange feeling rising in his chest, a longing to hold her and protect her.

He inched shyly closer to her, feeling himself blushing; she looked at him in vague surprise, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

Mark was startled; he’d never seen her cry before. “May... are you okay?” he asked carefully, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She reached out with her hands, grabbing his arms tightly to pull him closer. She looked into his eyes, her sapphire orbs shining like stars in an evening sky, and whispered, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

“What?” Mark asked, initially confused. “Of course you are.”

But as he looked at her, something dawned on him, slowly but surely. He noticed her sky-blue locks curling down her forehead; her finely defined eyebrows; her fair skin pale and perfect in the orange light; her full, rosy lips; and most importantly of all, she was May, somebody he’d travelled with for what felt like years now, who’d helped and guided him, been through thick and thin with him, even saved his life. Something stirred in his chest, putting a lump in his throat; he brushed a lock of her hair aside and murmured, “You’re beautiful.”

“Really?” Wisps of a smile crossed her lips as she closed her eyes, her long, feminine eyelashes drying her tears away as she leaned in closer.

Their lips met, and instantly, as if by the touch of a Suicune, everything became crystal clear. It felt so indescribably right. He embraced her tightly as the kiss deepened, their tongues meeting nervously for the first time. “I love you,” he breathed as they pulled away for a moment, everything swirling before his eyes. “I’ve always loved you. You don’t need to prove yourself to me by winning a League.”

She looked at him in surprise, blushing. “S-so you knew...” she whispered shyly.

“Deep down... I always knew.”

He planted another kiss on her forehead and held her close, one hand gently stroking her hair. They didn’t know how long they spent sitting there together, basking in one another’s glow; it seemed like a dream, or maybe a more real reality; the journey, the battles, the League all felt hazy and far away. There was only the here, the now, the two of them, together. Alone. Perfect.

“So you have found one another at last,” stated a soft telepathic voice. Mark opened his eyes slowly and saw the small, pink-furred form of Mew hovering before them.

“What do you mean?” he questioned.

“Didn’t you know that the opposite of destruction is love?” Mew smiled slyly. “Your efforts would never have stopped the War of the Legends before, but now, you may have a chance.”

“Really?” May gasped.

“Of course. Or hadn’t you realized that that was what went wrong before the last War of the Legends?” Mew shook her head heavily. “I was afraid the same would happen now. But you... you had the potential for something truly beautiful, a love that could destroy the Destroyer... forever.”

“So that was why you didn’t want to help prevent the War?” asked Chaletwo incredulously.

“At that time I thought there was no hope,” murmured Mew. “But everything is different now. If you don’t mind, I will come with you and aid you on your quest.”

“But then... it wasn’t because you hated me!” sobbed Chaletwo before he burst into telepathic tears.

“Of course not,” Mew said softly. “I have always loved you... my son.”

At that, a Pokéball at Mark’s belt popped open open and Chaletwo was released in a flood of light. Tears welled up in Mew’s sapphire eyes as she flew up to him, and they hugged tightly, for the first time in a thousand years. Mark watched their reunion with a lump in his throat, squeezing May’s shoulders a little. Finally Chaletwo could have peace.

“What’s going on here?”

They all looked up to see Taylor emerging from behind a rock, a smug expression etched on his face. “Haha, a bunch of lovebirds,” he mocked, pointing at the four of them and laughing snidely. “Losers.”

“You don’t know anything about love!” May declared with calm confidence. “Your heart has shrivelled into a lump of coal, unable to feel love or compassion. I feel sorry for you.”

“Yes,” agreed Mew. “She’s right. Open your heart to the love around you, and you might find peace at last.” There was a short pause before she added, “And Chaletwo is not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, totally,” sneered Taylor and rolled his eyes.

Mark wanted to protest, but he was cut short by a curious feeling of elation as warmth seemed to spread all through his body. He looked at his hands to find they were bathed in a strange, pink glow; May was looking fearfully at her own, similarly glowing hands.

Something pure and primal within him simply knew that it was the essence of love itself.

He squeezed May’s hand tightly, and together, they both looked up at Taylor, heat building up within their bodies. The other boy gasped as a pink glow overtook his body, too; his eyes closed and his body was lifted a few inches off the ground, the glow pulsing like heartbeat. For a moment there was nothing but the steady throb of concentrated love synchronizing between the three of them; then, abruptly, the glow disappeared and Taylor tumbled to the ground, landing on his back.

“Oof,” he muttered, rubbing his head; then, as in realization, he slowly looked over at Mark and May with an expression of surprise.

“I... I can feel it,” he whispered. “I can feel... love...”

Mew smiled in satisfaction as Taylor beamed at them. “How can I thank you? You’ve brought me life and happiness at last. I will never forget it.”

“It’s okay,” stated May, smiling back at him. “As long as you’re sorry.”

“Oh, and my poor Pokémon!” Taylor gasped. “I must free them from those horrible balls.”

With that, Taylor sent out all of his clones and made Feraltwo stomp on all the Clone Balls so that they were destroyed. The clones all cried with happiness, especially Mewtwo².

“Why don’t I join you?” suggested Taylor. “I can help you take down the legendary Pokémon! It will be great!”

“Sure!” answered Mark and May in unison, and as the sun set, they were all laughing and telling stories together by the campfire, looking forward to the continuation of their adventures.

 

[Dragonfree]

Another extra, for a change! This time about Waraider. (Spoilers for chapter 70, if for some reason you are looking at the extras separately.)

I have not been drawing art for extras, but as it happens Chibi Pika drew some excellent art for this one once, so I'm including that below - thanks! <3

Chapter 70 extra: Not Alone​

Waraider is not alone. He has never been alone.

Ever since he was created, he has heard voices. They’re a constant, comforting presence. He can’t see them, but he can hear them.

One warns him of danger, of things that might happen and things that are happening, that hurt, could hurt, could go wrong. When she talks, a chill runs through him, and he shivers; she must be an Ice-type. He can imagine her, icicles in her mane and tail, powdery snow swirling around her body. She’s a she; he’s not sure how he knows, but that’s how he imagines her. Her name, he realized one day – did she tell him? He’s not sure, but he knows – is Freezaroy.

Another asks questions, wants to know everything. Why is the grass green, where does the wind come from, where do the mortal Pokémon go when they die? Freezaroy doesn’t like that last question, but he asks it anyway, his attention flitting this way and that to everything that interests him, quick as lightning, and pays her no mind. Indeed, he’s an Electric-type. Bright, leaping sparks form a mane down the back of his neck. His name is Electhrone. Waraider knows; he doesn’t know how, but he knows.

Sometimes Waraider meets other Pokémon and talks to them, but many are wary of him. One of the voices wants to tell them everything, just to share it with someone, hoping they share in return, and her name is Mysticrown. But even when they listen to him they don’t stop being wary; in fact, they often start to act strange, especially when he talks about the voices. And then he realizes they’re avoiding him, don’t want to talk to him. Another voice appears, a voice that burns, a Fire-type, Emphire; she thinks he should attack them, show them the power that they’re so afraid of. But Natruler, who is soft and calm and comforting like the breeze in the trees and the swaying grass, says he shouldn’t hurt others. So he leaves them alone and retreats to some of the places that he likes where he feels a little better, and yet another one of the voices is dark and a little scary and his name is Darkhan and he tells Waraider to never, ever try to befriend those Pokémon again, because they hurt him, and they’ll surely do it again because they’re bad, bad, bad.

He spends more and more time in his places, where the Pokémon all know of him and usually keep away. And then there’s another voice, Seasar, who says no one will ever want to talk to him or care about him, and when he talks, Waraider feels like he’s drowning.

But he is not alone. He has the voices. They’re the only friends he’ll ever need, and they’ll never leave him. He talks to them instead, and he understands them and they understand him. Mysticrown still wants to talk to other Pokémon, so he still does, sometimes. But he doesn’t need them. The voices are enough.

-------

One day he talks to a Pachirisu. “You’re a legendary Pokémon?” the little squirrel asks him, wide-eyed with awe, and Mysticrown says he should say yes, so he does.

“What’s that like?” asks the Pachirisu, eyes bright and eager.

Waraider pauses to think, unsure how to answer. “Mew told me I should try to watch over mortal Pokémon and help them. But I’m not sure I know how.”

“Mew?” the Pachirisu asks, gaping. “You’ve met Mew?”

“Mew created me,” Waraider responds.

“Oooh. That’s so cool! How old are you?”

Waraider glances away and then back. “I was made only a few months ago. I still have a lot to learn.”

“Really? But you’re a legendary! Like what?”

He takes a breath. “My power,” he says. “I have a lot of power, but I can’t control it well yet. I don’t know what I should use it for. Mew said I could choose it for myself.”

“Wow! That’s amazing!” The Pachirisu lets out little sparks of excitement. “I bet you’ll be able to do so many cool things!”

The Pachirisu seems to like him. She comes by again the next day, and the day after that, chittering excitedly about this and that, always in awe that she’s talking to a legendary Pokémon. Waraider isn’t quite sure why. He doesn’t know much, and most other Pokémon don’t want to talk to him. But Pachirisu is always happy to see him, and Mysticrown is always happy to see her, too. That’s good.

One day, after she’s breathlessly related some complicated story he doesn’t quite understand about several other Pachirisu she knows, Mysticrown tells him to tell her he has been trying out some new ways to use his powers. Electhrone is always wanting to try things, discover something new.

“Ooh! Can you show me what you can do?” she says eagerly.

Waraider hesitates, but Pachirisu is looking at him, starry-eyed, and Mysticrown wants to show her. He gathers his powers and stomps one foot, and the earth shakes underneath them. Instantly, the Pachirisu’s eyes widen as her fur poofs up to stand on end; she falls to the ground, shivering, and then lies still.

Startled, Waraider prods her with a hoof, but she doesn’t respond.

As he stares at the little Pokémon’s unmoving body, Freezaroy cries out in despair. “You killed her!” she screams. “She’s dead!”

“Oh, no, you hurt her,” murmurs Natruler. Not accusing, she’s never like that, just sad. “Can’t you help her, somehow?”

“You can’t help her when she’s dead!” Freezaroy howls.

“You idiot. Why can’t you do anything right?” Emphire snarls.

Waraider shakes his head, frozen. He can’t think. Not Pachirisu too. Not this. Seasar is making his eyes water; he feels his legs shaking as Freezaroy keeps muttering, “She’s dead she’s dead she’s dead…”

Before he can decide what to do – he never knows what to do – he’s running. It’s Freezaroy who told him to run, Seasar who tells him to keep going and never stop. He runs all the way across the plains and into a thick forest, where the undergrowth ensnares his hooves; when he falls, he scrambles back to his feet and keeps running, despite the way his body aches and his muscles strain and his legs tremble. He runs until he collapses by a lake, gasping for air, eyes squeezed shut as Seasar’s water tries to trickle out between his eyelids.

When he awakes, beams of bright, warm sunlight fall between the leaves of the trees overhead. He’s weak and exhausted and drained. When he raises his head, Seasar is standing by the side of the lake, leaning down to drink. Water flows up his mane, along his back and cascades down his tail.

Waraider blinks, his mind still hazy. He’s never seen any of them before, outside his head, but there he is, just as Waraider has always imagined him. And then, as his mind starts to clear, his heart soars. He can see him. He’s really there. Sometimes when he’s talked to other Pokémon, he’s wondered if – but no! Seasar is standing before him, plain as day. He pushes himself to his feet; Seasar turns his head, but doesn’t say anything, and why would he, because Seasar’s the one who keeps talking about how Waraider has no other Pokémon to be with, but he does now. He reaches forward to touch Seasar’s snout – he’s solid, he’s there – and then Seasar says, quietly, “You killed Pachirisu.”

Waraider flinches back as the memory resurfaces. Suddenly Freezaroy is there too; she must have been behind him. “She’s dead,” she murmurs, eyes shining. “You can never be around other Pokémon again like this. You can’t control your powers. You could kill someone else.”

“Why are mortal Pokémon so fragile?” snarls Emphire from the other side of him, her mane and tail blazing, red eyes glinting. He backs away as she rounds on him. “How were we supposed to know it’d kill her?”

“Poor Pachirisu,” Natruler says, and he turns yet again to see her standing in the shade of a tree. “Perhaps… perhaps we can help her?”

Waraider thinks no, of course not, he can never help anyone, it’s impossible – and then he realizes it’s not, because Natruler is there, she’s a Grass-type, lots of Grass Pokémon have healing abilities. She can fix it; of course she can! His heart pounding in excitement, he turns, trying to remember what direction he came from, and then bounds back out of the forest, the others following closely behind him. This is how it should be. This is how it was always meant to be. They’re with him, and they know what to do, and he will never be alone again.

-------

When they reach the place where Pachirisu was, though – he remembers it clearly, the plains, between that hill and the mossy rock, where the purple flowers grow – she’s not there anymore. He looks around in confusion. The sun is shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. A faint breeze wafts through the grass. The wind and the weather couldn’t have blown her away.

“Where is she?” Electhrone asks, looking around.

“A predator picked her up and ate her,” Freezaroy mutters. Waraider remembers the Pokémon that live here, though – he doesn’t think he’s seen predators before.

“They probably come here sometimes anyway, with all that prey around,” Electhrone suggests.

Maybe. How long was he collapsed in the forest? It couldn’t have been very long; it’s still daytime. Unless he was there for the entire night? He doesn’t know.

“Maybe she wasn’t dead,” Mysticrown says. “Maybe she stood up again, just like you stood up again in the forest.”

“Maybe she didn’t,” Freezaroy says.

“She left,” Seasar says dully. “She’ll never want to see you again. You hurt her and then you left her for dead. Why would she?”

“These Pokémon always assume the worst of you,” Emphire says, nostrils flaring.

“She didn’t deserve you anyway,” Darkhan hisses, unfurling his leathery wings. “Forget about her!”

Waraider shakes his head. He has always tried not to listen too closely to Emphire and Darkhan, but it’s harder when they’re there in front of him, his friends.

“Maybe she tried to find you when she woke, but she couldn’t,” Mysticrown says.

“She must have been very confused when you were gone,” Natruler agrees.

Yes, that’s probably it. She liked him, didn’t she? She thought he was amazing.

“And then you attacked her and left her,” Seasar points out.

“Why would you do something stupid like that?” Emphire growls. “You knew you couldn’t control your powers.”

“I’m sure she forgave you.”

“But if she’s wary now, that doesn’t make her bad.”

“She asked you to show her your power!”

“She got exactly what she wanted and she has nobody but herself to blame!”

Waraider squeezes his eyes shut as the others argue, back and forth, all at once. He doesn’t know who is right. Maybe…? But what if…?

Mysticrown wants to try to find Pachirisu and continue their conversation. Natruler thinks so too, so that he can apologize for hurting her. Electhrone just wants to know where she went, but Seasar thinks there’s no point and she won’t want to see him again anyway. Darkhan thinks he should stop talking to mortal Pokémon, just stop, and Freezaroy agrees. Emphire… he’s not sure what Emphire actually wants. She’s mad at Pachirisu for not being here anymore, mad at him for using his powers carelessly, and for running off like that for no reason when he could have seen she was fine if he’d just waited a bit longer, and for not being able to make up his mind.

They won’t agree on what to do or where to go. When they’ve all said everything they have to say, they look at him, and he backs away. He can’t betray any of them. They’re all his friends, the voices who are always with him – but now that he can see them, could they leave?

So they go to one of his favorite places. They all like his favorite places. Mysticrown wanted to find Pachirisu, but he didn’t know where to find her anyway, and maybe he’ll find another Pokémon to talk to. Or, then again, he might not, so Darkhan doesn’t object.

When they’ve been there too long, they go to another place, and then another. They’re all happy with that, and that makes him happy. If they just do this, keep doing this, exactly like this, then they’ll be fine.

-------

As they graze in the serene woods, Chaletwo appears. Darkhan doesn’t like Chaletwo, but then again, Darkhan likes no one. Where Mew was kind and patient, though, Chaletwo was always restless and angry, and Waraider is wary as the other legendary surveys his herd through closed, leathery eyelids, scrutinizing, as if he’s evaluating them for some higher judgement.

“So it’s true,” Chaletwo says at last. “There are eight of you now. Care to enlighten me?”

Waraider blinks in confusion. “They’re my friends.”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Chaletwo says; he doesn’t sound like it’s nice at all. “But where did they come from? Did you make them?”

“They’ve always been with me, but I can see them now,” Waraider explains.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Did you create them or not?”

Waraider shifts; Chaletwo is making him uncomfortable, but he’s not quite sure why. At last, he shakes his head. “I didn’t make them. They just are.”

Chaletwo sighs. “Sure. Look, I’ll be straight with you. You can’t just create seven new legendaries. Mew and I planned out very carefully who the legendaries should be after the – after the disaster, and where they should reside to keep the regions in balance. There weren’t supposed to be eight unicorns running around Ouen, all right? I gather they’ve stayed close to you so far; is that right?”

“They’re my friends,” Waraider repeats, glancing at the others; they nod, all at once, and he feels warmer. “We’ll always be together. They’d never leave me.”

“Great. Let’s keep it that way. And no more creating extra legendaries Mew and I don’t know about, all right?”

“I didn’t make them,” Waraider says.

“Well, did someone else make them?”

“No. Nobody made them.”

“Right, if you say so.” Chaletwo doesn’t sound like he means that. Waraider doesn’t like him, not at all.

“Who are you to come here asking questions?” Emphire spits.

“We were not made,” Darkhan says, beating his wings.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll leave you and your… friends to it. Good job working out your powers, at any rate. They look great; not exactly creative, but you pulled off the different types okay. And I’m sensing full legendary power from all of them, except the Dark one of course. Can barely tell it wasn’t us.”

And then he gives a casual wave of his bony hand and disappears.

Good job working out his powers? Confusion swirls in Waraider’s head. He wants that, more than anything, but if it were true, then…

Emphire tosses her head. “How dare he? Like we’re just things that you made.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Darkhan hisses. “He’s Chaletwo. He doesn’t care about you.”

“He thinks you’re a freak,” Seasar says.

“But…” Mysticrown begins to say.

“What if…?” Electhrone asks.

“No!” Freezaroy screams. “No!” And Mysticrown and Electhrone look away from him again.

“Chaletwo was mistaken,” Natruler says softly. “He only said what he thought was true.”

“But it’s not!” Freezaroy snaps.

“It’s not.”

“It’s not.”

Waraider takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It’s not.”

Mysticrown and Electhrone are silent.

“It’s not,” he repeats.

He hasn’t done anything of worth at all with his powers. Surely if he simply believed Chaletwo, that would be wishful thinking. He knows they were always there. He had nothing to do with it. Chaletwo is wrong.

-------

Waraider decides to learn to fight – well, Emphire and Darkhan want to, and while Natruler is a little reluctant, even she doesn’t disagree. He doesn’t know much, but the others teach him. It’s something they can do together, all as one, and it helps him understand and practice his powers – helps all of them. They take turns acting as opponents, always in the same order. Because it’s always the same, they never have to think about it or make a decision after the first time, and that’s good. It makes things easier.

One day, as they spar, he hears a familiar chittering voice from the ground.

“Waraider!” calls the tiny Pachirisu. “I haven’t seen you since that time you knocked me out!”

It's her, and she's all right. Natruler smiles in relief, and Waraider does too.

“I was watching you practice, and wow!” Pachirisu continues, looking eagerly between the others. “You’re so strong! Who are they? Are they legendary, too?”

“We’re his friends,” Mysticrown says.

“His only friends,” Darkhan adds.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Natruler trills softly. “We were so upset when you fainted like that. We thought you might have died.”

Pachirisu laughs, a bouncy chittering sound. “What do you mean, you were upset? You weren’t there.”

“I was,” Natruler says.

“We were all there,” Mysticrown explains. “But we were invisible.”

The Pachirisu blinks. “Invisible friends?”

“And what of it?” Darkhan snaps. “It doesn’t make us less real.”

The Pachirisu shakes her head quickly, grinning. “No, I didn’t say anything like that! I… that’s so cool!”

Mysticrown beams at her. “That’s very kind.”

“How do you turn invisible? Can you show me?”

For a split second they all look at Waraider, and then they look back.

“We’re not showing you,” Darkhan growls. “Go. We’re here for him now. We’ll never leave.”

The Pachirisu’s face falls. “But… I didn’t…”

“You want us gone?” Freezaroy says, her eyes shining.

The Pachirisu’s ears droop. “No! Nothing like that! I just… I just thought turning invisible was cool.”

She glances miserably at Waraider. He averts his eyes. He knows Darkhan only wants to protect him, to make sure he doesn’t get hurt again, but…

“We didn’t mean to lash out,” Natruler says. “I’m sorry.”

“You are welcome to be our friend, too,” Mysticrown says.

“Can’t I… can’t I just talk to Waraider?” the Pachirisu mutters, fidgeting, glancing at him only to look away again.

“You want to separate us,” Darkhan hisses. “It will never happen! Never!”

The Pachirisu shrinks away. “Why aren’t you talking, Waraider?” she asks, in a small voice. “Why is it just them?”

The others look back at him, again. He looks at each of them in turn; aren’t they going to say anything? “I… I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s better this way.”

“Leave him alone,” Darkhan snarls. “Who are you to tell him when he should talk?”

Again she flinches, shaking her head. After giving Waraider another sad glance, she backs away, turning.

“No! Don’t leave!” Mysticrown calls after her, but she has already skittered away and disappeared into the tall grass.

Waraider expects Emphire to speak to denounce her, but she doesn’t. The silence is hollow and empty.

“She was just like the others,” Darkhan says after a second. “I’m glad she’s gone.”

“She was the last one,” Seasar murmurs. “And now she’s gone. No one else will ever –”

“And that’s fine!” Darkhan interrupts, flaring his nostrils. “We’re all he needs.”

“Well, you drove her away,” Emphire growls.

“No, no, we can’t fight!” Freezaroy whinnies.

Waraider closes his eyes and shakes his head. After a minute, the others quiet down. Only Seasar still talks: “She’s gone. She’s gone forever. She thinks we’re all freaks and she left. Nobody likes us or wants us.”

“I know,” Waraider says quietly, without opening his eyes. “That’s just the way it is.” Seasar is always so sad. He wishes he could help him.

“Let’s do another battle,” Darkhan says after a moment. “We need to know how to protect ourselves if they ever try anything.”

Waraider nods. They can already do that; they’re so strong all together, so much stronger than any mortal Pokémon. But practicing fighting is good. Seasar isn’t sad while they’re fighting. And nobody argues. In battle they’re a team, complementing each other, with so many different powers. They’re unstoppable.

No matter what other Pokémon think, he still has them. They’re his friends, and they always know what to do. With them by his side, everything will be fine.

Because he is not alone, and he will never be alone.