Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, or any of its characters or creations.
"Oh, my!"
It happens so frequently, that she really shouldn't be surprised. But somehow, the shock that overwhelms her still comes each time a trainer rushes through the doors to her Pokemon center, the wounded creature in their arms and their eyes wide with panic.
"Please, you have to help it!" the trainer exclaims, eyes bright with unshed tears. Nurse Joy snaps out of her shock and nods sharply, her mouth set into a frown.
"Of course. I'll do everything I can," she assures the trainer, already motioning for a stretcher to be brought out. The Pokemon is laid down gently—a Luxio, this time, trembling with pain, its eyes clamped shut. Briefly the nurse wonders what could have happened to bring this creature to such a state, but she knows already.
Battles. Always battles. Constant, harsh, pointless battles.
"Please help it!" the trainer yells again as the stretcher is wheeled out by two Chanseys, Nurse Joy following soon after. She doesn't even have to tell him to sit in the waiting room while they work on the Luxio. He already knows, and he retreats there to pace in silence or sit with his head in his hands. He has done this before, there is no doubt about that. Most trainers do at some point in their career, and many know the routine well by the time they get to this particular Center.
As Nurse Joy hurries alongside the stretcher, her worried eyes on the wounded Luxio, she can already imagine the scene that will play out later. The Luxio will be healed and Nurse Joy will walk out into the waiting room to comfort the frantic trainer. She will smile at him as he looks up, his face desperate to hear the good news so that he can tell himself he is still a good trainer, a friend to his Pokemon, and not the monster that destroyed it.
"Your Luxio will be just fine," she will tell him, her voice pleasant and cheerful. He will stand, his expression ecstatic and impatient at the same time.
"Can I see it?" he'll ask, demanding and greedy for the attention of his Luxio, and she'll nod in response.
"Right this way," she will tell him, and lead him to his recuperating Pokemon. Stable, yes, but not quite well enough to leave yet. And while she smiles as the happy pair reuniting, she will wish that she could keep the Luxio here forever, keeping it always safe from the battles it will face. She will wish that she could call the trainers on their abuse, stop battling once and for all, but she knows it will never happen. Trainers will battle and Pokemon will fall, and there is nothing she can do to stop it.
All she can do is make the poor creatures comfortable and heal their injuries, time and time again, and watch as the wounded things forgive the humans that hurt them—no, not even forgive. They seem to see nothing wrong with the unnatural battles at all, and treat their trainers as their saviors.
It has happened so many times before.
"I am so sorry," she whispers to the Luxio as the stretcher comes to a halt, and she prepares once more to send a Pokemon back out to its doom.