(I... I don't know where the hell this came from. The pokedex data says Xatu can see into the past, and the future. Well, I'd probably be batshit nuts if I did that, so... well, here you are. I don't own.)
My name is Xatu.
I know when I am to die.
I see all.
I know all.
I can see it. It's all in my head, this crashing, shaking, endless symphony of sounds.
Listen.
The present. Can you hear it? The man, the man with a gun in his hands. The man shoots the baby. The mother, she's already dead. I can see it. But I cannot do a thing. It's happening right now, and I am too far away to stop it.
Listen.
The past. Can you see it? The girl, turning away the one she loved, because she knew she was to die in three days? Can you see him load the gun? Can you hear the crack of the gun? Can you see them bury the bodies, side by side, so they may forever rot as one in the earth. But it's already happened, and I am too late to stop it.
Listen.
The future. Can you hear it? The river's rushing... the river of blood. Dear me, I believe it's the end of the world. I can see it. It's the future, the one only I can see. I cannot warn the humans; for I cannot speak. And who could find words for a thing like this?
I am all-knowing, omnipotent, a being of the past, present, and future. I can see it all.
But I have no control over what I see. I think I might go mad. The urge to do something, to take control of the situation infront of me, overwhelms on occasion. The urge to warn them, to tell them to get away. But the creator messed up.
I cannot warn; I can only watch. I may be a Keeper of Time, but I hold no keys. I rise. I am a bird, a roosting child of Ho-oh. Blessed seer of all. More like cursed. I have seen my brothers be caught, forced to work for the pokemon trainers. They sit quietly, and refuse to fight. They will travel with this trainer, grow to love them, perhaps, but not fight.
Until the day they die, whence they will fight with all their vigor. And they will die in a blaze of glory, and the trainers will not know why. But when you know the day you shall die, it's simple enough. I can't do much, here, alone in this dark cave. I don't want to. I remain motionless, and let the visions flow through my head.
This man has killed his son's pokemon. This girl has been raped. That boy, that woman, that pokemon, it's all a jumble of names and faces in my head, and sometimes—
...Sometimes...
I cry. They deserved better. But I cannot bring it. I want to. It's a neverending procession of the mental, the broken, the abused, the humans. The humans, with their sins and follies, their vanities, their sadness. I see all. But I'm starting to think I don't know all. Maybe I don't want to.
But I don't have a choice as to seeing it. I sometimes think it would've been better if I had been born a normal pokemon. I could've died quietly, maybe had a trainer, a family, all the things I am denied. Because I cannot enjoy them, if, in my heart, I know I'm going to die. And I know exactly when. You cannot escape death when it stares you in the face like that.
So what now? It hits me. Fly. Why not? I hop to the edge of the cave I reside in.
And I spread my wings...
...I'm flying...
It's so quiet. The images are there, but they're... farther away. I have peace. For a time. The clock is ticking. The pendulum is going to come down on my heart... someday?
No.
Not someday.
Today.
I know this, just as I know all the others will die, as well. I accept it, just as the rest of the world shall, in time. I numb myself. It's better than feeling whatever the pokegods have in store for me.
I see...
I see...
A black helicopter. It's got a red R on the side of it. The man sees me. He throws a pokeball, and I see a flash. I'm dying under a scapel. I lied. I'm scared now. He's gonna kill me. I don't want to die. But it doesn't change a thing.
I am released.
Free. I am not free. I am chained, and I will die in these chains.
Oh, unfairness! I don't want to die in chains. May I not die free?
Alas, it is not to be. The men, the men, with their awful beady eyes, and mouths of cotton, masks of glee. Help me. The men waste no time. They pin my wings to the table, like a butterfly project. Two swift flicks of the scapel.
They're gone. I have lost my wings. The men observe my twitching body, as the blood spews over the whole table, turning their white coats red. One sees the last look of horror on my face, and remarks, "Pity. It's too bad he couldn't have known he was to die. Maybe he could've saved himself."
Lies.
Lies, pitiful human.
I knew.
But there is nothing anyone can do to stop death.
You will fall, all of you. You will crumble to rot in the earth.
I know this because I have seen it all. I can see the past, the present, the future; was, is, and will be. Always, in a repeating cycle neverending. But remember...
I am Xatu.