The nineteen year old Porter looked around frantically. His eyes watered from the cold, his breathing was ragged and laboured. He wiped his eyes, and began moving forward once again. He was certain he was about to collapse, but he couldn't give up now. He had to find him.
But he was nowhere in sight. The summit of Mt. Silver was flat and roughly circular. It could hide nothing. The legendary trainer wasn't here. Were the stories even true? Had there ever even been an unbeatable trainer that spent his days here, of all places? Now that he thought about it, it seemed absurd.
Porter fell to his knees, and yelled in between broken breaths.
Slaking let itself out of its Pokeball, and quickly checked its surroundings. When it realized that their reason for climbing this unforgiving mountain wasn't here, it also let out a frustrated roar.
Porter reached for Slaking's Pokeball and returned the beast back into it. He slowly tried to get up, but failed, and collapsed, landing on his elbows. Finally, he gave in and sunk into the thin layer of snow on the ground. He turned his head to the side, his cheek growing cold quickly from the snow. But he didn't care anymore.
He felt a tear run down his face. And then another. Porter was taken aback. He was crying. When was the last time he had cried? He couldn't remember. With everything that had happened in the past six years, he had always been either too naïve or too angry to cry.
And now here he was, bawling his eyes out like a child.
I'm sorry, he thought to himself, while the world spun around him.
I couldn't do it. Darkness crept into his peripheral vision.
I couldn't keep our promise. Porter felt himself slip away, a strange sensation, as if he was floating. It was cold, yes, but he had never felt so relaxed before in his life.
I'm sorry.