A/N: 'cause being demoted sucks. For "The Contests for Those We've Left Behind." Edited.
Assist Trophy
Battle rages on across the Bridge of Eldin. Princess versus Princess; Hero of Time versus a red capped plumber. The stakes are high, and their stock lives are all down to one.
And Pichu can only watch. His body is frozen. Breathing doesn't matter for a thing (he wants to choke at that word) that doesn't live. An object, that's what he has become. A battler tosses him into the sky. For a short, sweet moment, he becomes free. His tiny frame zips through the stage, sending zaps to his designated enemies.
He generates heat yet coldness embraces him. It scratches. (Why doesn't it stop?)
He feels slight pain crunch in his chest, though not as much as Peach. Her yelp causes him to flinch, but carries on with bolts of electricity. He has to follow orders. This is the only time he's allowed to move—to breathe and have the earth shake with his power.
The tiny pokémon reminisces of his first battle clearly, before being molded into an assist trophy. It's easy since he's been in a grand total of five battles. The trill, as he remembers, crawled down his spine, sending sprouts of electricity throughout his yellow fur. The battle ended shortly after. Even through practice, his small body couldn't properly handle the amount of power surging through unlike his older kin, Pikachu. On a bright note, Pichu annihilated Falco. In the place of glee for the KO, the stench of scalded flesh didn't leave Pichu's nose.
Now, battles passed by (and willpower gone), his pace slows until it aches to move. Peach jumps out of his way, and he can't turn back. His usefulness is gone.
His heart no longer beats.
Transparency slivers across the pokémon. The world darkens. His body blinks in and out of existence, until he finally disappears from the battle.