Decided to cross post some more fics from our AO3 account!
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The first few times Goli fumbled, Guzma brushed it off. Just a fluke, or maybe his boy was having an off day! But eventually, it got to the point even Guzma couldn't sweep it under the rug anymore. Golisopod was getting old. He didn't even know how old the bug-type had been when they first became partners, but after 20 some odd years together, the goliath of a Pokémon was finally past its prime. The former boss of Team Skull had tried to ignore it – older just meant more experienced, right?
After practically a slaughter fest in his next battle, though, Plumeria had to have a long sit down with him.
"Pokémon don't live forever, G."
He couldn't accept it.
So Guzma pulled out of the Battle Tree. "Goli just needs some rest, yo! We'll be back an kickin asses soon, right?" The old bug had chirred in agreement, connecting a light claw bump to Guzma's fist like they always did.
But it wasn't to be.
Guzma woke to a blatant feeling of wrongness. The exoskeleton snuggled next to him was too still, too cold…
Golisopod was buried in the cemetery near Guzma's house. The trainer had been inconsolable for weeks after he was dragged, kicking and screaming, from his partner's dead body. All his waking moments now were spent sitting in front of the plain, unassuming grave. He'd been unable to afford anything fancier, but somehow this seemed fitting. They'd only ever had each other, and rarely a cent to their names until Team Skull. If he'd been less hysteric after…Guzma would have preferred burying Goli in Po Town, where they'd made so many good memories, but it was too late now. "What is wrong with you, Guzma…" the usually-shouted phrase came out in a tearful choke…
While the former Skull boss mourned, he stayed ignorant of his surroundings until a series of chittering clicks grabbed his attention, right as a tiny Wimpod darted past him. The small, obviously frightened bug-type hid behind Golisopod's tombstone, before peeking out from its hiding place.
Knowing Wimpod didn't frequent Melemele, Guzma barely had the time to wonder what it was doing here – or how it was here of all places – when a pair of very loud children charged into the graveyard. They were yelling about cornering the little bug, and overall making quite the commotion.
Several others who were there mourning their lost loved ones sent the young trainers dirty looks, but it did nothing to quiet them. At a frightened squeak from the Wimpod, Guzma lost his cool. These brats come here, to a place of mourning like that! Not even Team Skull fucked with mourners! A few tics had already appeared over his eye before he rounded on the obnoxious duo. "This is a graveyard, yo! Show some fuckin' respect!"
"S-sorry, sir." The boys stuttered out, before the smarter of the duo recognized who it was they were being faced with and rapidly dragged his friend away. The few other people in the graveyard spared Guzma thankful and appreciative glances before returning to their conversations with the dearly departed.
Guzma sighed before turning back to the grave. "They're gone now, yo."
The Wimpod took a few hesitant steps out of hiding, causing the bug specialist to smile. "Hey, lil guy, you're kinda far from home, ya know?" He kept his voice low, both to avoid frightening the bug further and to avoid disturbing the other mourners. "What say ya come with me, huh? I'll keep ya safe."
The Wimpod's watery eyes met his for a moment, bringing back such fond – and yet, crushingly painful – memories of Golisopod, before it chirred it's acceptance. Skittering up to him, the little bug allowed him to pick it up, nuzzling into the man's hold. Guzma didn't bother trying to choke back his tears.
This time he'd do things right. He owed it to Golisopod.
FIN