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When I was tiny, Mom used to tell me a story.
Moltres was out flying. The sun was bright and he was feeling happy. As he flew, he let out a huge burst of fire. But that fire caught on the trees below and spread. It burnt the nearby village's berry patch before they could put it out.
When Moltres realized what had happened, he was horrified. He wanted the people to forgive him, but when his shadow passed over them they called to their water pokemon. Moltres thought of the children crying over the lost berries and felt ashamed. So he did the only thing he could – he went to a secret island, known only to pokemon. It was always early spring there, with budding flowers and clear sweet skies. The home of Mew.
Moltres landed on the island. "Mew," he said, "I've done something terrible and I don't know what to do!"
"What have you done?" Mew said, appearing in front of him.
Moltres told her.
"Oh," she said, "that is a very terrible thing. Why have you come here?"
"I didn't mean for it to happen, Mew. But I don't know how to get the people to forgive me – they run away when I fly by."
"I can help you," Mew said, "but you must do one thing for me first"
"Anything!" said Moltres quickly. He was one of the mightiest pokemon to take wing. Whatever task Mew gave him could hardly be trouble.
"Find me the hardest word, and I'll tell you how to solve your problem" Mew said.
The hardest word? Moltres was confused.
"Go on then," Mew said. "Unless you want to stay and play a game!'
Moltres shook his head hastily. Mew's games could last centuries. "I will find you that word," he promised.
Moltres flew all around the land. He flew during the night, so that he would scare no one. He was careful not to flame. He heard all sorts of words and many of them seemed to him hard.
But every time he went to Mew with a word, she would shake her head. "That's not right," she said. "That's not the word I'm looking for."
Finally, Moltres could take it no longer. He had flown until even his great wings grew sore. The destruction that he had cause still haunted him – and now he could not even complete Mew's task. One fine day, he landed on Mew's island. She appeared, smiling, but her smile fell when she saw his expression. "What's wrong, Moltres?"
Moltres hug his head. "I can't do it Mew. I can't find the hardest word." He dipped his head down further, and said the only thing he could say to fill up the silence. "I'm sorry."
Head bowed, he waited for Mew's reaction.
She laughed. "What are you talking about, silly?" she said. "You just gave it to me."
What? Moltres looked up at Mew.
She spun a circle. "Sorry," she said. "The hardest word is sorry. And if you want the people you hurt to forgive you, you must start by giving them the hardest word."
"Sorry isn't the hardest word," I said to Mom when she told me that story the first time. "There are lots of harder words. Like regigigas. And unemployment. I say sorry all the time. Like when I spilled Sammy's drink on her yesterday. Or when I didn't set the table."
"Ah," Mom said. "But when you've done something truly wrong, I think you'll understand what Mew meant."
As I walk towards Champ, I think that Mom's right. Saying sorry was saying you were wrong – and saying you were wrong meant you might not be forgiven.
"Hey Champ."
He looks at me, but says nothing, measuring the distance between us with his eyes.
I take a deep breath, and say the hardest word.
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a/n: the story told in this chapter is adapted from the children's book "The Hardest Word" by Jacqueline Jules.