If only

"Hey, you still coming along back there?" Atsen laughed, turning back to look over one shoulder. His eyes eventually found his sister, who was still trundling along behind him, occasionally kicking up a small rock from the steep path, huffing and puffing away. She looked quite out of place in the forested, slightly mountainous setting.

"Oh, you just wait…I'll catch up to you in a 'sec, Atsen…" Mika's voice had a slightly surly edge to it. She had not expected this to be so difficult. In fact, it should be easy for them, right? The both of them had a relatively powerful Pokemon on their side and they were both well-equipped to hike for a long time. This shouldn't be taking so long. It was supposed to be easier.

"Y'know…you look wasted," Atsen remarked, pausing for a moment, picturesque atop a boulder, the very image of some noble trainer or ranger. "I say we stop. Ladies need their rest, right? 'Sides, you were sick for a while," he added quickly as Mika gave him a completely black look. "…like…people who have been sick don't have as much energy as people who haven't, so…it would make sense that you should stop and take a rest."

Mika didn't seem much pacified, but she did stop as she reached him. Brushing her short blonde hair out of her eyes and fighting the urge to cough, she slumped down on a rock. Her hands found one of the poke-balls at her belt, and she turned it over a couple times. There was a Persian inside, relatively high-level, tough enough to counter anything on these cursedly steep mountains.

Mika wondered what it was like inside a poke-ball. That Persian existed as pure energy inside that small ball. Everything had an energy-field, Mika knew. However, these fields were usually relatively large, right? What would it feel like to have yours squashed down into the size of a poke-ball ball and trapped inside? Would you be aware, without your physical form? Pokemon would sometimes come out of their own balls, so Mika supposed that perhaps they were somewhat aware. She began to, not for the first time, think that she herself really wouldn't want to be trapped inside one of those balls. But then, Pokemon certainly weren't people – how could anyone compare the two?

Atsen was crouching on the boulder slightly above hers, scraping flecks of black mica out of the granite and inspecting them idly. His thoughts were different. His mind was on that day not so long ago. He and his sister had recently turned sixteen. Their Father had dubbed them old enough to receive their first Pokemon. Atsen remembered how proud he had felt. Their parents were world-renowned researchers, after all, and it was nothing but the best for Mika and Atsen.

However, their parents were definitely advocates of the hands-on method. Instead of simply giving Mika and Atsen a pokemon to keep, or buying one for them, they had sent their children out to these mountains. This place was a very large space of land built especially for first-time trainers to go out and catch their first Pokemon. There were areas here, some with rarer Pokemon than others, though these creatures were reportedly usually difficult to find, a true test of skill for a novice trainer. Anyone who wanted to head out and catch a Pokemon had to first pay a sum of money to enter. This sum varied according to what area the trainer had access to. Of course, Mika and Atsen's parents had given them nothing but the best. They were, terrain-wise, in the roughest area, a place that contained many of the rarer Pokemon.

Their parents had sent a high-level Pokemon with each of them; Mika had a Persian, Atsen a Nidoking. And yet, even the most common Pokemon were refraining from making an appearance. Atsen understood that this place, especially the level that contained the rarest Pokemon, wasn't supposed to be a pushover for the first-time trainers. But this was taking it overboard.

And, vaguely, he began to think that it was a little too quiet, here. It had been too quiet all morning. He was used to some sort of bustle and activity, and, despite himself and his slightly arrogant attitude, he found the sheer silence unnerving.

Trying to shake it, Atsen let the flakes of mica blow away in the wind. Tossing a poke-ball in one hand, he began speaking with his sister, longing for a break from the sound of the wind and the feel of the vast, empty spaces around them.

Tangri had never run for quite such a long time before. She had never been this frightened, either, and she had never had such a difficult time catching her breath. But she could not stop. She had to escape, and, if she just kept running, she figured she might have a chance.

Tangri was a growlithe. She was an ordinary specimen apart from the fact that she was female. Females were rare among growlithes; most born were male, which sometimes made things a bit difficult for the species. Tangri had often felt a little elevated because of it, despite the fact that her brothers could usually best her in any sort of physical competition.

Her short little legs pumped, and her fluffs of white fur, once so shiny and pristine, were full of burrs and tangles. Her paw-pads were scratched and bleeding from the endless race. Her eyes watered uncontrollably, leaving trails of moisture down the reddish fur of her face.

She wanted to stop. She wanted this all to be over. Any time now, a part of her was saying, her Father would rush out and protect her. She would be able to rest, to catch her breath. And he, with his indomitable fire and overwhelming rage, would show those men even now coursing down the mountain a thing or two. He'd blast them right out of this place.

She knew this wasn't to be. She had seen those men take her family. They had unleashed such monsters upon her parents and her siblings, powerful pokemon Tangri had never before seen. Her parents, invincible in her eyes, had fallen easily to the Blastoise and the Gyarados. The dark trainers had taken her Mother and her siblings in those odd little balls. Her Father hadn't been so lucky; the Gyarados had gone a bit too far. Even as she ran, Tangri could still picture the male arcanine, once so powerful and graceful, lying in a sodden, ravaged mass on the rocks, broken, lifeless…

But she couldn't think about that. The men were coming, the ones who reeked of power and a disregard for life. They weren't after her, perhaps, but there was no safe way around them, and they wouldn't show her any mercy if they happened upon her. They were coming down the mountain, and everything fell before them and their power and their monstrous slaves in those little red and white balls.

So thirsty. Tangri's inner fire was burning low, and, though water weakened her when used against her, she desperately needed it. Her breath was hurting her throat and her chest felt constricted. Every time she stretched out her short legs to take in another stride, she felt slightly dizzy.

Had to keep going, though…had to…

"Hoi…I could beat a Rocket with one hand tied behind my back!" Atsen was posed on an even higher rock than before, poke-ball held in one hand, arm outstretched, a cocky expression on his face. "Those Rockets can't do anything to me, because I've got the…the…the Detonator on my side!" He hurled the poke-ball. It flew into the air perfectly, catching the sunlight before bursting open just shortly before it hit the ground.

A large purple Pokemon exploded from its depths. It looked fearsome with its long spikes and fangs. The Nidoking immediately cast about for a foe, and, finding none, it turned to look curiously at Atsen, waiting for further orders. It was definitely a well-trained pokemon; it would not even disobey orders from such novice trainers. Truly a testament to the training of Atsen and Mika's parents.

Mika herself was leaning back against another boulder, laughing a little despite herself at Atsen's antics. "Oh, very good! I think you just might kill anyone who tried to hurt us…that is, they'd die of laughter!" She giggled at Atsen's look of mock-affront, lightly petting the Pokemon beside her. It was very catlike in appearance, and it nuzzled her hand a little. Even though most Persians had a reputation for a certain fickle nastiness, this one was docile as a kitten and obedient as a trained attack-granbull.

Mika eventually looked away as Atsen began to give the Nidoking orders to destroy certain large rocks. She peered off before them. They were on more level terrain than before, somewhat forested, but the mountain still rose ruggedly above them. It would be quite a hike to reach the top. And, discouragingly, neither of them had even seen a Pokemon, let alone thought about catching one.

Ordinarily, Mika wouldn't have minded too much. She had never been quite as impatient as Atsen (though she had her moments), and she enjoyed spending time outdoors in high places like this.

However, this was an exception. Mika had contracted a very bad illness several weeks ago, one that had taken forever to leave and had wreaked havoc upon her body. Atsen hadn't done much in the way of making her feel better, aside from sometimes coming in to chatter at her about this and that. Her parents, in their distant way, had sent the family physician – distant as her parents, if not moreso – to see to her. Oh, he had been good at his medicines and all, but, somehow, Mika didn't think he'd really helped her to regain her health too much. There was something about his attitude, his very vibe, that either made her slightly nervous or literally got her hackles up. She didn't much like him.

But then, she didn't much like many people. Even Atsen wasn't truly a person to be trusted, in her eyes. Her brother had always been a little strange; Mika often fancied Atsen would make a good Rocket, though she hadn't yet told him this.

And soon, she figured, that brother of hers was going to grow very impatient with sitting here, doing nothing. She wasn't feeling too well, though, and she decided she would definitely not be getting up and heading on until she considered herself a bit more stable.

Sighing, the young woman looked back the way they had come. She was a little heartened at the view. They had come far up the mountain. She could see the hiking trail as it meandered downward, and she noted with satisfaction that she couldn't even see where it ended.

"Hey, Mika…seriously, we're gonna kick some ass when we get to be trainers. It's in our blood, sis!" Atsen had come over to stand in front of her, appearing quite enthused with his current train of thought. He jokingly made a muscle, posing near the Nidoking. "We'll get so good, and we'll get a lot of Pokemon, and we'll train them up and win all these contests…" He paused to spit out some black hair that the wind had blown into his mouth, which rather ruined any sort of impressive effect he was trying for. He went on regardless. "And we'll get famous and then we'll blast all those evil teams and stuff into outer-space. Team Rocket?" He spat on the ground, and Mika winced a little. "They are so dead, man…"

Though less vocal about it, Mika did think on that a little. Saving people from danger, training up strong Pokemon, making a name for herself…she could do it, right? Right. She'd be a trainer among trainers, like her parents. And, along with Atsen and her Pokemon, she would be a light in the world, burning away the filth around them. She and Atsen would take care of any menaces to society.

Perhaps, just perhaps, she could actually make a true friend for once.

But first things first.

They really needed to capture a Pokemon.

Tangri had stopped. She hadn't been able to help it; the scent of water had lured her from her frenzied flight down the mountain. Besides, she couldn't smell any danger. So here she was, sitting by that stream, catching her breath and focusing on building up her inner fire again. It might not do her much good against those men, but it could fuel her and keep her going. It could save her from the fate of her siblings.

The only sound was the wind. All she could sense around her were the trees and the rocks and the vast feel of the mountain and the mountains that stretched out around it. It was a familiar feeling, but it had turned eerie, now. This wasn't just because of Tangri's earlier experiences, either. She could feel something wasn't right. The mountain was too lifeless. Everything had fled to the west, down the mountain. Those other pokemon were lucky – she had been trapped and had fled down the steeper side of the mountain, which was why she was all alone, right then. She couldn't waste time in crossing over, either. It was too risky.

The mere act of sitting here was dangerous. Tangri trembled with weariness as she pushed herself to her feet again, forcing herself to start off. She stopped, though, one paw raised, listening, feeling. There it was. That sense of something coming, that oppressive feeling of doom. And now the smell of people and those foreign, too-powerful Pokemon. She had lingered too long.

The instinct for flight taking over once more, Tangri went rocketing off down the mountain. Her life began flashing before her as she ran, her memories, the only thing she felt as if she could cling onto. They gave her a bit to go off and lent her some speed.

She remembered her siblings. They had been rough-and-tumble – even her sister, the only other female in the litter, had been uncharacteristically vicious at times, moreso than her rambunctious brothers. Tangri remembered how, more than once, she had helped to soothe a battered brother who had been beaten by the savage sister.

Tangri had been the only one with that gift, or perhaps simply the only one with the inclination to help put things right. She had always been able to comfort her siblings when they were in distress, even her sister. She had enjoyed the love of her siblings due to that, and the fact that they trusted her with their hurts had been important. It had helped her to mature at a rapid pace. Her caring nature, which was shared by none of her siblings, had made her feel pleasantly unique and needed.

Smell of humans from up ahead!

Tangri skidded to a stop at the unexpected scent, nearly tumbling head-over-heels. Had one of those sinister men somehow circled around in front of her? Wretched, she crouched down, a large, craggy boulder the only thing separating her from the view of the humans she had unwittingly blundered into.

"Oh, will you stop it?" The voice was younger than that of the humans Tangri had encountered earlier, and female. The growlithe could scent Pokemon, strong pokemon – but not as strong as the ones who had beaten her family and destroyed her Father. She began to realize that these were simply ordinary trainers, and, sagging in relief, she started to creep around them, keeping downwind and behind the boulders and scrub. She could get away, she could keep running…

But wait. The men behind her would show these youngsters no mercy. Already, Tangri, young and foolish herself, felt a slight bond with the humans, who were obviously not full-grown yet and full of possibilities. She knew they weren't like the humans who chased her; they were weaker and would fall prey to the hunters. She had heard the cries of several other trainers far behind her as she had run. They had been overtaken by the men who had killed her parents, and she didn't even want to think about their fate. In a way, Tangri thought, she and these trainers were in the same boat.

Another arcanine probably would have had no mind for the plight of the two young trainers, who were, after all, enemies in their own right. Tangri's parents would have run. But then, Tangri had something neither her parents nor her siblings had so much of. That was caring. The little growlithe's sense of responsibility and worry for the trainers kept her from going on and leaving them to their fate. Her conscience forced her closer to them. She had to warn them, somehow.

"Stop!" Mika was growing annoyed. Atsen, seated on the boulder above her, insisted upon continually raining down little bits of rock dust into her hair and onto the fur of the Persian beside her.

"Ah, but I'm boooored!" Atsen had long since recalled the Nidoking into its poke-ball, and he huffed out his words. "You keep wanting to just sit here, and sitting here is never going to catch us a pokemon!"

"Not with you talking too loudly and scaring them all off, at any rate!" Mike countered angrily. The truth was, she wasn't feeling too good. She was still suffering a bit from a bad illness she had been taken with last week, and her lungs felt raw. She knew Atsen would stop bothering her quite so much if he knew her condition, but Mika was too prideful to tell him. She had always been something of a stoic.

But Atsen, oddly, had fallen quiet. The absence of his voice gave Mika a little chill, and she turned her head, meaning to say something to him. It was then that she saw the growlithe.

It was a small creature, fluffy and reddish-orange in color. Its stripes were black as night, and the white fur around its head seemed matted with the wilderness it lived in. It appeared to be rather tired and beaten. Bizarrely, despite its being wild, it was creeping toward them furtively, ignoring its own instincts. It made an odd little urgent yapping noise, sometimes turning to look piercingly back up the mountain, then returning its gaze to them, as if trying to communicate something important.

On her own, Mika might have simply watched it. On her own, she may have stood a chance of understanding it. They both may have somehow escaped together. It might even have been the start of a lasting companionship.

Atsen, however, saw only the first and perhaps the only pokemon of the day. He saw what he had been waiting for, and he wasn't about to waste his chance. Brandishing a pokeball, he took a stance on top of the boulder. "This one's mine! Nidoking!" The rugged purple pokemon exploded from the ball and immediately went for the dismayed, already-exhausted growlithe, which did its best to dodge the relentless attacks.

Mika rapidly grew angry, both at Atsen's unthinking actions and at herself for not acting in kind sooner. The two types of anger clashed inside her, and she did the only thing that sprang to mind. "Persian!" She addressed the cream-colored pokemon at her side. "Get that growlithe over here…" A poke-ball seemed to have found its way into her hand, and she aimed it right at the growlithe. It would be hers – Atsen was going to have to find his own.

This wasn't supposed to be happening! Shocked dismay pumped a new sort of frenzied, last-resort energy through the growlithe's body. Anguish welled up inside her as she tried to dodge both Persian and nidoking. She had wanted to help, had wanted to do something right – if she couldn't save her parents, her young mind reasoned that she should at least be able to warn a couple of young trainers before it was too late. It appeared she wasn't even going to be able to do that, and despair filled her heart.

Again and again, she turned pleading, haunted eyes on the two trainers. The male was looking at her as one might look at a future possession, a sparkle to his eyes and an almost mocking grin on his face. The female was looking at her with some of the same expression. However, there was also a sort of confused anger in her eyes, and a sense of physical pain.

It was the pain that drew Tangri, for it seemed the growlithe had always been able to help with pain, and perhaps, if she could, these two humans would somehow listen to her. With her last energy, she dodged another attacked from the Persian, outdistanced the nidoking by a hair's breadth, and stumbled in a distressed daze toward the human girl. For a moment, both looked into each other's eyes. For just a second, it seemed as if Tangri's big heart had, at last, made a connection with the human female's.

It was not to be, though. A sense of overbearing doom settled over the growlithe's little body as the girl brandished a poke-ball at her. Very close now, the pokemon tried to reach out with a paw toward the young woman, only to see a faint trace of fear in the other's eyes. And then the red beam of the poke-ball struck out and hit the growlithe.

Tangri was too tired and beaten to resist. She knew a sense of nothingness as she was made into pure energy and sucked into the ball. Her last feeling was a belated, confused sense of caring, a naïve wish to help that had been betrayed.

"Bitch!" Atsen was truly angry. The energy and excitement drained out of him, and he glared at his sister, who glowered right back at him. "That was mine! I saw it first, give it to me!" He stormed toward Mika and her newly-filled poke-ball. Both Nidoking and Persian stood back, looked slightly confused at the actions of their temporary trainers.

"No!" Mika took a step back, eyes flashing. "I caught it! It's mine!" However, she was feeling weak, so weak. She was beginning to realize that her previous illness had left her in no shape at all for the strenuous hike. The pain Tangri had sensed in her left her in no state to resist a very angry brother.

Atsen grabbed for the ball, and Mika tried to dodge. In doing so, she fell backward onto the rocks, and a sharp, blinding pain shot up her back. Her expression turned to one that bordered on agony, but Atsen didn't seem to notice. He pried the ball from her fingers, which were rapidly losing their power, and he held it to him, an almost mad gleam in his eyes.

And then he was on fire.

Just like that. No warning.

One minute, Atsen was standing there with the poke-ball, and then next, he was literally a human-torch. His expression revealed no pain at all; only a bit of shock registered in his eyes before he was literally burnt to ashes. His hand did have time to spasm a bit, which tossed the poke-ball beyond the reaches of the flame before it could be burned along with him.

Mike was so shocked that, despite all pain, she managed to scramble to her feet. She only made it so far, though, and she found she couldn't straighten up.

The poke-ball fell to the ground near her, landing on its release-mechanism. The little growlithe tumbled out in a daze, falling against one of Mika's ankles.

The girl dropped to the ground again, terrified as she heard the sound of men and pokemon approaching, something coming, something that had killed her brother and was coming to kill her. Something she could have avoided, if only…if only…

But wait! The pokemon she and Atsen had brought would save them! A wild hope flared inside Mika. Her parents, such renowned trainers and researchers, had trained that Persian and that Nidoking. If anything could save them, those pokemon would do it.

Mika shakily pointed a hand, an order rasping in her throat. She watched as Persian and Nidoking hurried out beyond the rocks to defend her, the Nidoking study and indestructible, the Persian long and lithe. She watched, and she listened. And she heard a tortured bellow from the Nidoking, winced as a last, defiant death-cry from the Persian split the air. For a second after that, Mika was very, very still, deathly still except for the slight tremble that wracked her body. A sort of muted terror had begun to creep up her spine, beginning to pervade her entire being. She may have become consumed by it if another's creature's touch hadn't startled her out of it.

The growlithe had dragged itself over partially onto Mika's lap. Nerveless and limp, the girl's hand fell on its side, and it didn't even flinch, eyes partway closed. It was there, providing comfort, even as Mika knew she had doomed them. Despite her previous actions, despite the fact that she had robbed it of its only chance at escape, it was there with her, there for her. Looking at it, as death closed in from all sides, Mika knew a feeling she had never known in life before. And, along with that feeling, there was a crushing sense of loss.

She was aware of something pointing at her, and she knew she couldn't avoid whatever came. She was going to die wishing for something that never was, something that couldn't be because of her. This time, there would be no learning from her mistakes.

Bowing her head, Mika looked into the growlithe's glazed eyes. She felt as if she could see a million possibilities there, dreams and hopes that would never be known, now. And, as something powerful and crackling split the air and came at her with blinding power and force, she knew only one thought.

If only…

(...yea, I'm a bit rusty. XD This was a story simply written really quickly one night because I felt like writing again, and writing something short. I may end up writing more stories on these characters, though they wouldn't be in future chapters of this one, as I seem to have killed everyone off. XD So...next time, perhaps.)