(This is mostly new POV's, since I am NEVER, ever, EVER allowed to write poetry again, like, ever. Okay, that shit was like, the frickin' epitome of angsty-goth poetry. God damn you, my yearlong love of Evanescence. Oh, well. I don't own.
Yaay, Ari isn't suicidal anymore. Let's see how long that lasts! ...Ahem.
Anyways, a happier ending, grounded much more in reality. And stuff. I don't own.)
/Mikhail's POV/
I'm still pissed you named me SCOOBY. No, I do not care it was only for a year. Damn it, that wasn't funny. Even if you were serious. Don't interrupt me, I'm thinking.
Ah, you didn't know what I was, did you? I saw the look in your eyes, and almost ran away, for I saw it as greed; until you spoke.
"Hooray, a Poochyena! I get to have a Dark-type as soon as I start my journey!"
And then I stopped.
Because that was really all you saw me as. A Poochyena. Not a shining Pokemon, but as a Dark-Type.
So I waited to see what you would do.
"Go, Kippy! Use Tackle!"
We fought for only a minute or so. You came up to me, and held up a Pokeball. I didn't run, merely observed you for a moment. "Hey, Scooby. Wanna come with me?" She said.
I didn't understand the name at the time, but I was eager to please a Trainer that fought so well, so I said yes.
We continued on our journey, and it was quite some time before we all found out that Scooby was from a children's cartoon show. Great. Thanks. Everyone laughed at me for about a week.
You saw I was sad, though, so you suggested a different name. You were reading a book on a human war, and found a name you liked. You suggested Mikhail, and I immediately agreed. It sounded tough, regal; perfect for a strong Mightyena like me.
I had those three glorious years by your side, all the while being treated just like any other Pokemon, which, in my old pack, I had not had the glory or luxury of being treated that way.
Until one day, about a day before your thirteenth birthday, you came up to me. "Mikhail, why didn't you tell me you were shiny?" You looked confused. You really hadn't known what it meant, at least, not to other people and Pokemon.
In an instant, I saw my life shatter into pieces. Now you'd just trade me off for a rare Legendary to some other Trainer that would just keep me in a box.
I bowed my head. "I was afraid you'd...think less of me. Trade me, think of me as a trophy rather than a Pokemon." She shook her head.
"Never. I'm not going to trade you, not for anything, Mikhail, not ever. Don't you worry about that. You're one in a million to me."
Those words lifted me up higher than anything else had ever.
A few days after, many of us made the journey to Sinnoh, myself included.
Since a glitch had caused your game to crash, you had to trade us all onto your extra Diamond game before you could start over again.
Since you were back to the beginning in Sinnoh, you couldn't use any of us.
So we waited around in the box. You told me that we'd fight the Elite Four as soon as you got out of the eight badges trap again. Your eyes were full of promise, and happiness, as you came back again and again to tell me that.
The last time I saw you, you merely said what you always did, "Goodbye, Mikhail. Remember you're always my one in a million."
I know you'll think you never said goodbye, but don't worry—you did. Those words were always enough. I know how much I meant to you, even if we never did fight the Sinnoh Elite.
Take care, Ari.
Remember, you were always my one in a million, too.
/Kitao's POV/
You wanted Torchic.
Apparently, in the first two regions, you'd chosen from a set of three in a lab. But this time, the Professor needed saving, and you needed to choose a Pokemon, quick. So you shoved your hand in there, and chucked a Pokeball out.
I stood in front of a young Poochyena, confused. Who was commanding me to fight? It wasn't the Professor...
"Blue thing! I can't remember what you're called, but use Tackle!" I looked back at the girl, a tall, stocky child with a pair of ripped-up jeans and a baggy shirt over a tight hooded thing completing the picture of homeless vagabond child. I shrugged, and tackled the Poochyena, sending him back into the bushes.
Five minutes later, with me trailing after you, the strange child with a mass of tangled mahogany hair, Professor Birch sat in his lab, my friends Torchic and Treecko playing in the pen next to him.
"Ari, with all that you've just done for me, I'd like you to have that MUDKIP you battled with earlier." Ari, your name was. You frowned.
"But sir, I wanted the Torchic. I always pick the Fire starter." You said, sounding disappointed.
...In that moment, I knew I had to be with you. Homelessly dressed or not, I liked what I saw in your eyes, your bearing.
"Mud! Kip! Mudkip Mudkip!" I cried. Birch looked confused, but you understood. You sighed, and picked me up.
"All right, screw it. I'll take him. C'mon, Kippy, we're going on a journey!" Despite you pretending not to care, you sounded excited.
I knew I'd picked a fine Trainer then.
In our travels, we faced off against Kyogre, Team Aqua, Rayquaza, Latias, the Elite Four, the Champion, and a pack of angry Corsola, once.
It was NOT my fault we bumped into them. You were just terrible with directions.
But I'm getting off subject.
I remember everything we've done. I was your Contest Pokemon. I don't think you understood that I might've been better at it than almost any Pokemon in Hoenn, what with my fifteen Ribbons and all, but you knew I loved it, and you loved it as well, so we were happy.
I know you wanted to do Contests with me in Sinnoh. I know that, if you had just been allowed a little more time, we would've.
I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer. I know I meant the world to you; and you, lady, mean the world to me. Remember that when you're crying, because I know you will.
Remember that we will always love you, and that we'll always remember.
And do remember patience. We can wait, and so can you. I don't want you here earlier than necessary.
/Ocerus' POV/
You walked through a blizzard while I was hatching. Yes, I remember that. Even in my Egg, I could feel you, wrapping your parka around me to keep me warm. I didn't want to hatch out there, but I could feel the world and it's aura calling to me already.
"It's glowing! It's glowing!" A female voice said. I think it was your Luxray's. I felt you shift, and sit down. You didn't let me out of your coat.
"You do know that stupid move's gonna get all that afterbirth and crap on your clothes, right?" A more masculine voice. There was a pause, and then you shrugged—I felt your shoulders shift.
"Meh. I always hated this shirt, anyways." Your voice. I knew it was safe to come out, then. I pushed myself out of the Egg, and I was immediately confronted with the warm interior of your jacket.
You unzipped it enough so I could finally look at your face. I'd seen you in aura, but never seen your face. Your eyes were wild, untamed. I liked what I saw in them. There was much of the beast in them.
"Ocerus." You said, laying your head on mine, still shivering in the blizzard.
"Master." I replied.
There was silence for a second. Then the Luxray said, "Oh god, eew, it's dripping into the snow."
We didn't have much more than about a year. But it was a wonderful year.
I evolved quickly; mostly from myself rushing out into any fight you were in, irregardless of who or what it was up against. For about five seconds, even, before you rushed out in the middle of the fight and snatched me back, I faced Palkia.
I fought the Elite four, actually taking out Cynthia's Roserade and Flint's Lopunny and Steelix. I knew you were proud.
Master, we didn't have much time together, but know that even still, I'm loyal, always and forever. I will wait.
Your aura cannot fade. The ones that came after us, they need you, more than we do, right now.
But always remember we'll love you, and remember we're all loyal. Always and forever.
/Szeren's POV/
My daughter is alive.
Oh, I'm dead, yes.
But I've kept her alive for thirteen years—sometimes for better, sometimes for worse, but at least she was—is—alive to fight another day.
Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry.
You were such a stubborn little child; you always wanted things your way, and whenever you pouted at me, you knew I'd just laugh, but you did it anyway...because you liked the sound of my laughter.
I protected you. I kept you safe. I taught you honor, I taught you pride in your accomplishments, even if no one understood them but you. I taught you love, and to believe in hope.
I took you flying. You loved it when we flew—and you loved to jump off, just because you knew I'd catch you.
"My mommy," you'd say proudly, showing those doctors your drawings; primitive childish dragons that looked more like worms with wings...but I didn't care, since I knew that's what you'd worked on so hard for me.
They didn't understand. How could they? I was a pixelated picture on a screen, incapable of spawning a human child.
But even then, you and I both knew that a mother was different than that.
Any woman can give birth to a child; that doesn't make you a mother.
Few women can save a child from suicide.
You were too goddamned young for that, but you just hurt. You didn't even know what you were doing—you just wanted the hurt to stop.
I roared for you—I called out to you, and told you that we needed you, that you could not die, because we needed you.
She laughed when she found you, but I cried, because I knew we'd saved you...but oh god, what were we really doing? What had we saved you for? This?
More and more often, even more when you were a precocious 'difficult child' instead of a 'rambunctious toddler', you came to me, begging for me to chase the nightmares away. And so we stayed up, and made happy endings for those nightmares.
I'm sorry I can't be there to help, but that's what you'll have to do now, kiddo. You can make a happy ending to this nightmare. I know you. You've got an imagination, and you're still so stubborn. You'll do it, because you live to anger people, provoke them.
...Sometimes, Ari, I wonder how much good we did...
I know you can do it.
Because I know you.
I raised you.
You're my daughter, and I'm proud of you. Always, always and forever.
I love you more than life, Ari.
I'm proud to have lived it out by your side.
The teenager runs her hand through her tricolored hair, grinning down at her DS, knowing that he's gone now, and they can't be hurt again.
She sighed, and looked at what she's written.
It had been a very long year, filled with nervous breakdowns, Neo-Nazi training camps masquerading as Catholic schools, new Pokemon, and healing.
Not too much of the last one, but enough.
Time didn't heal the wounds, but the legacy she was still building, with a new team of Pokemon at her side, another group she proudly called her family—they were always there. And they helped heal.
She swings her legs up on the bed, and pops her gum. Switching her DS off, she goes outside to visit the small monument she has kept up the entire year.
"Don't worry," She calls to it softly, "I can wait, too."
And they do. But it's not a lonely wait.
Not anymore.
