It was a very pleasant day, but one lone individual was blind to it all.

It could have been -73C, down pouring with hurricane force winds, and he wouldn't even have registered it.

The sun was beaming brightly up in the sky as fluffy, white clouds lazily drifted through the sweet smelling air. The largest clouds lingered far beyond the reaches of the island's shores, promising the day would be free from any inclement weather.

Spatterings of palm trees provided spots of cooling shade along the shore and they followed along a walkway leading to the beach. Their fronds waved gently in the tropical breeze, beckoning others to come nearer to the ocean. But for whatever reason, the pristine beach that was hidden away by Route 12 was vacant that day. Its call for company still was not to be ignored, as a quiet man began to drift away from his prior destination and to the secluded shore.

A crawbrawler was hunkered down dozing peacefully at the base of one tree along the path. It snored merrily in its slumber, not even bothering to look up as the man walked by. A man who wore an exhausted expression and vacant, bloodshot eyes. A man who looked to somehow be sleep walking in the middle of the day.

Wingulls flew merrily through the warm air currents, calling gleefully out to one another in their shrill tones. Their shadows passed lightly over the earth as the gulls lifted higher into the air. The man walked far below the bird types, his mind resting somewhere higher even than the birds, completely unaware as their shadows passed over his form.

Off in the ocean, sunlight caught on the schools of wishiwashi glimmering lightly just below the surface of the glassy tropical surf. Here and there, a larger pokémon's fin would break across the waves, but there was no panic among the smaller fish. Everything was as calm as could be.

It was another day in paradise, but it certainly wasn't so for this man.

Agent 000 ventured to the end of the path leading to the secluded beach and he hesitated just a moment before setting his first step into the sand. He was lucky not to have crossed paths with many people as he made his way to the beach. He had no way of explaining to any concerned local why he had such a grim expression stuck to his face on such a lovely day like this. He had no way to answer why he was even being drawn to the beach.

As a matter of fact, he was hoping he'd find some answer or sort of peace in heeding the call of the waves.

The man took a shallow step from the path, sand crunching lightly under the sole of his Oxford shoes. He took a few more measured steps closer to the water, but halted a meter away from the waves and he stood still, gazing out at the water.

The peace of the ocean and its lapping waves seemed to overwhelm the man. He scrambled to dig into the pocket of his pants for a carton of cigarettes. As soon as he drew the box from his pants pocket, he forced a cigarette to his lips with a shaking hand. He shoved the carton away but continued to dig through his other pocket and withdrew a box of matches.

Though he struggled for a moment to get the match to catch fire, once it was lit, he cupped his trembling hands delicately around the small blaze. He brought the match gingerly to the cigarette, now planted firmly in his mouth, and he drew in a deep breath.

Smoke broke from between his hands as he dropped his match onto the sand and he buried it into the ground with his shoe. The man took a few serious drags at cigarette as he ran his hand through his dark hair, his hand still struggling to remain still.

The man solemnly looked out into the water, still searching for an answer to a question he didn't even have.

His eyes carried shadows from days going off of no sleep and a cold sweat lingered insistently on his brow. Leaving the cigarette resting in his mouth for a moment, the man rolled up the sleeves of his white button up shirt. When he finished, he finally withdrew the cigarette from his mouth. He coughed up a black cloud of smoke and again became lost staring out at the sea.

Agent 000 couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom lingering in the back of his mind. It had started as an unsettled feeling some few weeks ago, like every now and then he felt as if he had forgotten to complete some sort of unfinished business, but as of the last 72 hours, it had finally come to a breaking point.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He was just sucking away at his tobacco sticks, praying for dear life that whatever was going to happen would just hurry up already.

Whatever this bizarre tension was, the man worried it was going to do him in.

After all, he knew he was prematurely greying, but in the last few days alone, he swore he found more salt than pepper on his chin and a spot by his temple was now almost entirely white. The day prior, he took notice of creases he didn't remember on his own face. Fatigue and restlessness leaving their strict reminders strewn about his skin, refusing to leave him be.

000 sighed deeply. He hated to admit it, but he was actually aging before his own eyes. The stress of this oppressive feeling was far too much for even this experienced INTERPOL agent to handle.

000 knew the Agency had faith in him & his hunches, but now, he wasn't sure he would be up for the challenge that was coming his way. Whatever he was going to face on this island would be his duty and his alone. 000 was usually content to be a lone wolf, but for some odd reason, he couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling like today he was in it six feet over his head.

Agent 100kr would be returning to Alola shortly, so he would have back up soon enough, but 000's internal voice told him something was coming fast and soon. He strongly doubted that 100kr would be back before this storm settled in.

There wouldn't be any time for back up.

Agent 000 was in this alone.

000 tried to push his thoughts to the back of his mind. He brought the cigarette back to his mouth and he slowly began walking towards the hypnotic, rolling waves. His eyes were half lidded in pure fatigue, his hazy maroon eyes barely could find focus or interest in anything.

His uncertainty led to him reflexively to checking his person. 000 absentmindedly felt at his belt, giving himself a small bit of reassurance that his pokéballs were all there and at the ready for when it decided to happen. That was one good relief, because as much as he trusted his own judgement, he trusted his monsters even more.

000 sighed, knowing at least his team was literally at his side, but it still did little to push this creeping feeling away. Even as he checked his shoulder holsters to verify that his handguns were loaded and ready to go, 000 could not ignore the truth.

The charged atmosphere in his mind was building up to something terrible. His inner voice was rarely wrong and the man lived by his gut decisions. It was only now that he found both systems of guidance to be totally useless.

000 wished at many times in his life to turn everything off… once even getting too close to ending everything with his hand pushing the cold barrel of his handgun against his own forehead.

Right now, he was again so close to submerging himself completely in the lapping waves and letting the final bubbles of tension leak out of his soul so he could finally be free from all this madness.

The man walked haltingly towards the water, his dark thoughts encouraging him closer to the surf. He took another deep drag from the small nub left of the cigarette and he simply let it fall loose from his mouth and fall into the sand. He wasn't even aware he had lit the cigarette, not to mention smoke the thing down to its filter, so he paid it no mind as the cigarette left his parched lips and he continued on his jarringly slow walk to the water's edge.

He did everything on auto pilot any more. He was barely living his own life. He had just been going through daily motions. He was getting so dreadfully tired of it…

And that water…

It looked so warm. So peaceful. A thought wandered aimlessly through his mind… What it would feel like to have the last but of air in your lungs squeezed out, only to be replaced with water & death? He had once heard drowning was a painful way to go, but 000 couldn't shake the thought that it was just the right ending he deserved.

A horrific death for a wretched life...

Before his foot stepped into the darkened sand, outlining where the waves would reach on the shore, 000 retreated backwards and gave himself one last try to control his faculties.

These damn dark thoughts had been coming through his mind like a line of tsunami waves over the past few weeks, slowly and mercilessly eating away any sense he had left. Even trying to break through this incessant gloom had become too much. He felt like his true self did not even exist any longer...

000 tried to uselessly clear his mind as he stood just where the water and sand met. He watched a few waves rush up, only to be a few inches short from reaching his Oxfords. He smiled grimly and stared out again to the ocean.

Somehow that feeling of submerging himself died out as a wave reached out and stroked the sole of his shoes. The water touching his person snapped him back into reality with a very gentle touch. He was grateful, after all, who would want to leave this place on such a glorious day?

000 put a hand to his chest as his lungs swallowed upon themselves. That foreboding energy put an acrid taste in his mouth as his stomach lurched. That feeling was finally rising to its sharp climax.

The agent laughed bitterly as he closed his eyes and he fell down to his knees, bright sand flinging onto his neatly creased black trousers. He folded his hands over his face as a deep chuckle rattled through his chest.

He couldn't handle it anymore.