verse: game (gen II for espeon)
notes: i am not really sure how i feel about this drabble. do let me know how you feel about it.
and: i own nothing.
rebirth
They awoke. They grew. They journeyed. They conquered. And their eyes were filled to the brim with love and happiness for one another. Their favorite days were spent leisurely gazing over the world from the place that split lands apart. And they would raise their claws and bare their teeth to any and all unfortunate hearts that managed to wander up their abode. At night they would materialize and gather around their so-loved master and link themselves together in a blanket of admiration and warmth. They ate. They trained. They laughed. They loved. Their journey was not finished. And their journey will never finish. And they were happy. Even when they faltered and caused their master to lose on that one special occasion. Even as the years continued stroking by. Even when the sub-zero nights threatened to halt their breath. And even still as their master woke up one morning and began leading them back down the route to thick air and gravity. They still loved. Even though the balance between work and relaxation gradually began leading toward the latter. And their master slowly ceased taking challenges. They were still together, and their journey will never end.
But then one day, their master would not wake up.
It was after the discovery that a pokémon's longevity outlived their human masters by multiple decades.
He was gone. His journey had ended. And as they rubbed against his cold arms, they reflect that they really should have known all along. How could they not notice his softening skin? His eroding bones and wrinkles? His graying hair? No, it was impossible, they did notice. They just couldn't accept it. Because as their master grew and changed, they stayed the same. And they will not change. Not for at least half a century. And no matter how much they cried and screamed and cursed and blamed, they had to eventually face the cruel fact that Time did not betray them. For Time had never promised them anything in the first place.
The iron in their heart increased in thickness as they watched the dirt slowly encompass their master's eternal resting place. The blue one looked down in misery, tears plentiful and heartbroken. The red one forced out a crying roar for the umpteenth time, its throat now raw with anguish. The green one's flower had not long wilted, and he had to hold the purple one close as they both watched the last patch of dirt ground to solidness. The black one rubbed his red swollen eyes, new to experiences known as insomnia and loss.
And the yellow one stood there. He only stood.
And hours passed. Then days. Then weeks – maybe months. They weren't sure.
The red one was the first to bring it up. What do they do now? They no longer had rivals or mothers or professors – they were all gone too. There was no one left. Only strangers and futures.
The green one wanted to go back to the forest near their master's home town. The blue one wanted to return to his lake. The red one, to the mountain. The black one wished to go back to the old cave; maybe there he will find sleep. And the purple one wanted to return to the city.
The yellow one had no place he desired. His friends wished to revert back to their homelands, where their journeys began. So that their journeys could finally end. But the yellow one never had a beginning. Only a middle. And he wished for it to remain that way.
And so, after holding each other and crying and whispering, they separated. But they had lived. And they had loved.
And to this day, rumors continue to spark around newly built cities of a rogue pikachu, searching for new adventures and cherishing old memories.
end