Games
Thump.
Thump.
Crash.
Another punch, a kick, thrown across the room, hits the wall, gets right back up again.
Smack.
Thud.
Rip.
If it was their Pokémons' game, it had to be their game too.
Smash.
Tear.
Bang.
It was utterly addictive- the rush of adrenaline, the pride of the upper hand, the primal need for dominance.
Slowing down.
Slap.
Kick.
But Zatsune was no Darkrai and Neru wasn't anywhere near her Raikou, and after a too-short period of time they found themselves unable to stand, to fight any longer.
Battle over.
Return Pokémon.
Shake hands.
But there were no Pokémon and there were no trainers, only two teenage girls beaten and bruised from fighting tooth and nail.
And they loved it.
Neru struggled to crawl over, growled, forced her teeth around Zatsune's throat.
Simple message.
I win.
You lose.
Zatsune went limp, pushed her throat further into Neru's mouth, surrendering, accepting her defeat.
You're the boss.
I lost.
You won.
The pair fell to the floor, breathing hard, blood slowly oozing from bites and cuts suffered in the heat of battle. It had looked like a fight to the death, a clash between hated enemies, from which only one would emerge, but in all reality, it was not.
A hug.
A cuddle.
A whimper.
One would tend to the other's wounds, soft licks on the blood-stained parts, a nuzzle to the bruises. In the simplest language on Earth, it was an apology. I'm sorry I hurt you. Let me help you feel better.
A sigh.
A kiss.
Arms around you.
Hold you tight.
And they'd come down in the morning looking like hell, and Luka would reprimand them again, wash their injuries with stinging disinfectant instead of the gentle, tender care they'd used earlier. But they didn't care, wouldn't listen, and the next night, maybe skip a day, they would be right back at it again.
It was their Pokémon's favorite game, and it had become their favorite game too.
-fin-