I'll see you soon, Aster.

Boy, you always made me feel as if I had a place in the world. You made me think that impossibility was impossible. You managed to convince me that I could really do some good to the world. None of those were true, but I think I'll forever be in your debt for that. It's thanks to you that life is pleasurable for a time. You're the best friend I have.

You're even the reason I'm still alive to say all this. I wouldn't have thought that Lake Vitality was so full of ruthless Carvahna, so the then six-year-old me lucked out that a still superior predator crept beneath its waters. That was you, Aster. Do you remember?

I can recall it flawlessly. I'd wandered off from my mother and elder sister during our picnic. I saw water, and I wanted to swim. So I did. I was laughing and giggling like the carefree, innocent girl I was. I recall the lake's miniscule waves tickling my sides and back while free-floating on my back, staring up at the numerous cumulus clouds and trying to discern possible shapes among them. One reminded me of an Egyptian ankh, though I was too young at the time to know what that was or what it meant. The next one I remember looked like a drop of some liquid. The subsequent shape I recall was a heart. I kept on watching like that for fifteen minutes or so.

Because that's when cerulean turned to crimson. When they say blood is thicker than water, they usually mean something figurative. However, I learned that day that it's correct figuratively and literally. I'm sure you knew that well before we even met, though, didn't you, Aster? You probably didn't need me to teach you that.

But I sure as heck needed you then. Such a big chunk came from my right leg that the ability to swim was and is forevermore gone, but more important issues were present at this time. The smell of my freshly drawn blood and flesh drew in more Carvahna like Mothim to a flame, and no reason seemed to exist to think that I wasn't damned to be no more than a school of carnivorous fish's next meal. There was a reason, though. That was you, Aster.

You swam right beneath me and gave each one of them a glare. It wasn't even the kind used in battle, but the Carvahna became paralyzed anyway. Heck, I've seen that look, and I can't say I'd be eager to go up against a Swampert of your size with that menacing expression either. "Try and touch the girl," you seemed to convey, "I dare you. I fucking dare you." One of the Carvahna was either hungry enough or stupid enough to give it a try anyway.

It bit your arm. You snapped it's spine. The rest scattered.

I didn't even notice you until you surfaced before me with the same determined look in your eye.

After that, I don't remember a thing before waking up in a hospital bed with only one leg. They told me I needed somebody else's blood to stay alive. They told me my right leg couldn't be saved. They said I'm lucky to be alive. I asked how I got from the lake to the hospital. They told me you saved me.

They told me you took me to shore after I lost consciousness. That my parents had heard my scream and were already there to collect me from you. When they took me, you followed. You followed them to the ambulance, where they said you could follow no farther. You looked crushed, they said, but you complied and went back into Vitality.

I couldn't let that go in good conscience. I was seven by the time my parents ever let me go back to Vitality, and I had a fake leg. I had to find you, to thank you. I sat on the closest dock to the site for two straight hours. "Swampert!" I refused to stop calling. For all I knew, I would summon another Swampert, but that didn't discourage me. The occasional passerby stopped to ask me if I was okay. I kept shrugging them off.

Then your large arm surfaced, grabbed me by the shirt, and dragged me into the water, absolutely soaking my clothes. I'll admit that you scared me, but I felt calmer after you embraced me. My fear was that you would not recognize me, or worse, that you were another, but this was baseless. You remembered me, and that made saying the simple words of "Thank you" and burying my head in your shoulder so significant. Ten years later, I'm still not sure whether it was truly a drop of water that fell onto my hair then.

I couldn't stay forever, though, despite severely wanting to. On the other hand, I didn't have to. When you finally let go of me, you didn't let me go. You followed me again out of Lake Vitality, through the trail, and all the way home. My parents found it tough to kick you out considering the circumstances, so they never did. They let you stay, one thing just ended up leading to another, and you pretty much became our fifth household member. You had to acquire a taste for whatever was at the dinner table, but you got real excited when fish was involved. I can't blame you; I did, too.

You were pretty much treated like the older brother I never really had up until my older sister Trish moved out. That was about five years after we met, and I was about 12 years old. You stopped being my brother then and started being my "best friend," for lack of a stronger, more accurate word or phrase.. School was kicking my ass then, and Trish had sort of been my go-to friendly ear. When that position opened up, though, you strolled into the interview room and locked the door behind you. You would sit down and stare at me intently, and you refused to stop until I told you about something bad that happened to me that day. You always ended up getting what you wanted, too.

For the next years, there was always something to confide in you. There were always unfair teachers to complain about, always a bully's cruelty to recount, and always fear of the next day. Every time I finished our little therapy session for the day, you embraced me and gave me a look that made me think everything would be alright. It never was, but you made me think it would be.

I'm kind of curious to know why you sort of chose to become my guardian and confidant. I get that I was in a vulnerable position in Vitality, but what am I to you afterwards? Do you think I was something precious that deserved defending, or am I a burden that can't survive on my own in your mind? I know which is true, but I want to hear what you think. I'll just ask you when I see you next, I suppose.

Do you remember the last time we saw each other before now? It was very recently. At that time, I was old enough to drive and had my full license even. Things actually seemed to be going not good, but decently in my life. My grades were nothing special, as opposed to my previous straight Ds. I even managed find a steady boyfriend.

Still on the full-license high and partly due to your protective nature, I was headed off on a routine grocery run with you in the shotgun seat, and the neighborhood we were passing through wasn't the friendliest in the world. But we'd been through there no shortage of times, and no reason seemed to exist to be anything but complacent. That was our mistake.

Two guys in hoodies with handguns intercepted us at a stop sign. They told us to get out of the car. We didn't. They threatened to shoot me if we didn't leave the car. You got out. You gave the closest one to you the same stare that you had given the Carvahna ten years prior. He didn't back down. Nor did you.

You pounced and sank your teeth into his neck. He was probably dead before the two of you hit the ground. Blood sprayed from his throat like a small fountain, and his skin turned very pale very fast. When you rose to your feet again, your typical white-tooth smile had been replaced by a crimson-stained snarl.

The dead guy's partner looked outraged as he lifted his pistol to point it at you. You roared and charged him. He fired off two bullets before you reached him. When you did, you snapped his neck. He fell down like a poorly built brick wall.

When you turned to face me, you were bleeding profusely from two holed in your left side. One seemingly minor flow of blood was from your left leg. The other bullet hit you in the upper chest area, and that wound looked far more severe. After that, I don't really recall what I saw, heard, and smelled. I only recall what I did.

I hastened out of my seat, grabbed the second-to-die's a gun as possible future evidence, and shoved you in the back row where you lay on your front. I then got back in my seat and took off like a NASCAR racer in a hurry. I didn't know where I could take you besides home in my panic-stricken mind, so that's where we sped.

Once in the driveway, every ounce of upper body strength I possessed and then some was required to drag you out of the vehicle, where you collapsed onto the concrete. Your fins had flopped and your previously glimmering-in-the-sun scales had lost all luster. I called to you and shouted to you and cried out for you, but I didn't hear you respond. You heard me perfectly, though, and I'm sure you wanted to yell back. Perhaps you did, too, but I couldn't hear you. Not from where you were yelling.

I died inside once I resigned myself to your physical death. You lived as you dies: being there for me. Do you remember how oversized your body was? I briefly mentioned that during the Carvahna scene. You were bigger than the average Swampeert, and your heart was proportionate. Even though it was bigger, though, the shooter still missed. You died by bleeding out. Personally, I believe that 100 bullets could have been shot at you and not one would damage your heart. You died both with an because of your big heart in more ways than one.

The gun. I remembered that I took it. Some justice it would be, I thought, if the instrument that tore us aparrt was to bring us together again. Don't you agree, Aster?

There is no need to mourn you. There's no need for me to say good-bye. I'll see you soon, my friend.