How to put it in one word...
Ah yes; heartbroken.
Ever since that little Mijumaru-and-Futachimaru-only competition, he found it immensely difficult to cope with the indirect break-up with the Hotachi Island's queen, Mijuka. With his Scallsword literally broken in half and the realization that she apparently disliked his attitude, it finally struck him that his arrogance and pride got him nowhere in becoming a romantic figure to any female Pokemon. Or so he thought.
Mijumaru sighed, staring absent-mindedly at the scrumptious - and not to mention massive - pile of Pokemon pellets. At mealtimes, he'd usually be the first to gobble everything up, and at rare occasions, even snatch a handful of food from one of his friends that sought his attention through childish roughhousing, aka Chaoboo. But now, his appetite wasn't really ready to eat even one small piece.
Boy, Mijuka gave him a bigger impact than he thought.
One who demanded high expectations and took mannerisms seriously was considered a queen, for sure, but he hardly thought she deserved the title; he was very certain that a queen would care for another's sensitive feelings, which apparently was a quality she didn't have, yet others hardly cared or even noticed about this.
Others found it mean and disrespectful of him to focus his rage on this "queen" instead of the Futachimaru whom he formerly considered a rival. Others found him loco to have the guts to make his hatred against her obvious. Others found it evil, like some royal rivalry where he wanted to illegally take her place as king. If you were him, that fact was anything but that. He doubted he gave any attention to it either. He doubted he cared about the details anyway. All he knew and wanted was for her to pay for her mistake, then the old Mijumaru would have returned and he wouldn't have disturbed their lives any further. But no; the world had to be cruel with him and make things go its way so everyone else's lives would go all so bright and peachy!
He crossed his arms, his eyes' vision on the soft grass blades that brushed his flipper-like feet. How he hated that little, annoying, disrespectful, ugly, demanding, oblivious-of-others'-feelings...there were many words to describe her personality that took a toll mostly on the negative side, but he pitifully spared her from ruining her image as queen. After all, prison as a consequence was definitely something undeserving of him. Even a humble being would know that.
He turned away abruptly from his meal, as if in a harsh argument with it (if ever such was possible). He was in no mood to feed himself with even half a piece, eyes watery from dealing with the topic. He took it as the strangest thing, as food was one of the top things that tried to cheer him up from petty break-ups like many others that he dealt with accordingly. Food otherwise played a big part in his daydreams and fantasies, so in his world, food failed him. But that was okay, because Mijuka failed his heart, a far worse condition than that. Water clouded his eyes, the frown in his jaw quivering.
"I'm not a spoiled brat, I'm not a spoiled brat, I'm not a spoiled brat," he muttered in a singsong chant as he closed his eyes in an attempt of washing the tears away from him, and as much as possible, his face. This was a break-up that was the sharpest knife in the drawer, apparently jabbing away at his heart, as harsh and sadistic that sounds.
Though that only made his belief of Mijuka being at fault for tearing at his life all the more delusional, and these facts could prove it even more: one, he had won the competition fair and square yet she still chose him. Two, she glared at him for offering a bouquet of roses at the front of the stage (I mean, he always flirted with most girls, royal or not). Three, she acted like a teenager for being entirely captivated by Caesar, one of the major things that made frustration dig in him, health on the line just for her. Four...he didn't want to think of the things that drove him to the boiling point of anger.
"Mind if I sunbathe here? This is the spot that the sun hits me most."
He squinted his water-clouded eyes, then as his vision gradually restored, he registered the two-foot-tall snake who smiled hopefully with her fragile and leaf-like hands, the mustard-yellow markings that emphasized the almond-colored eyes that conveyed shyness, the leafy tail that bristled in curiosity, and the sleeve-like appendages that hung around her shoulders that was the only part of her body that kept moving. He took too much time to contemplate her that this little snake gently pat his shoulder, paralysis overwhelming him. Mijumaru sighed, frowning at the grass as if utterly disappointed with it.
"There's a seat beside me that's vacant."
If he knew he was beautiful an actor, then he would've shut his mouth. Too late for that though.
"You know, if I ever catch sight of that 'Caesar' and that 'Mijuka', I'll make sure they get a deserving Vine Whip."
Mijumaru raised a brow conveying indifference. "It's not like they'll appear on this very spot then get their beating, as much fun that would be. Unless you're a psychic, in this case you're not."
She covered her mouth with a fragile leaf-like hand as she lightly giggled. "Of course I can't if that's the case. But in the case of healing your heart, I may."
With her arms sturdily supporting her light body, she leaned towards the slightly-confused otter, energetically savoring that thing when you meet each others' mouths...Mijumaru never knew what that was called, but who cares? He still had rage with Mijuka, but who cares? He's still suffering from heartbreak, but who cares?
At least somebody loves him for who he is. At least.