Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or any of its characters or concepts.
She was heartbroken.
For ten years she had been so, and had borne it in silence that whole time. From the very first instant when she saw those beautiful blue eyes her heart had been torn in two, and she knew that it would never quite be whole again. Such was the way of this kind of love. Others spoke of it with praise, saying that this love made you whole, made you happy. She knew better. This love destroyed you from the inside out. This love made every spiteful word infinitely worse and took every hateful comment as truth. This love knew that he would be gone eventually, and take half of her heart with him.
But no others would understand that, so she took it all in silence and smiles, cherishing the happy moments and remembering them when times were bad.
Right now, she could not remember any of the happy moments. He was leaving, at last. She had always known the day would come, mentally counted down every hour, but that made it no better. Rather, it made it so much worse—she had not been able to convince him to stay.
"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" she asked, and was positive that he did not hear the agony. No one knew her well enough to see beyond the mask, not even him.
"Yeah, of course!" he told her, looking at her as if she were stupid to think that he would ever turn this opportunity down. Maybe she was. "I gotta do this!"
"Well, all right, then," she answered, and now it was too difficult to hide the sadness. Her voice was resigned and full of grief, and her eyes filled with tears even as she spoke. He finally saw it, saw what this was doing to her—and much to her surprise, he dropped the bag he had been swinging over his back and reached out to wrap his arms around her. She clung to him like a lifeline.
For a long time they stood like that, and though she was still silent, at last her pain was shared. But they couldn't remain like that forever, and after a few minutes she pulled back.
"But you don't worry about me," she said, forcing the old smile back onto her face. "You go out there, and you become the greatest Pokemon trainer in the world. Just…remember to call once in a while, okay?"
"Okay, Mom," he answered, and though she could still hear hesitation in his voice, there was determination there too. At that moment, pride rushed up in her and nearly overwhelmed the sadness—but only nearly.
Then he was turning away, pulling the backpack over his shoulders and resting his hand on the brand-new Pokeball at his belt—it had a Squirtle in it, she thought. The long path was laid out in front of him, leading him further and further from home with every step. She watched him go, feeling the break in her heart throb every time his foot hit the ground, her knuckles white on the doorframe as she held herself up.
Only once did he turn back, and he was at such a distance by then that she she could no longer see his face. She lifted her hand and waved, and he waved back. Turned away. And walked on.
She stood there, time passing without meaning, until her other children began to run back to the house, having met and said goodbye to their brother near the Pokemon professor's house. They had all gone there to watch the triumphant new Trainers leaving after receiving some last words of wisdom. Even now she saw the envy and eagerness in her eight-year-old's eyes, and felt her heart begin to split again.
The countdown began once more.
730 days.