Chapter 36

And so that's my story. I don't it really needs any more decoration or detailed explanation. Arceus knows it was hard enough to open this damn notebook in the first place. What twelve trainers have done to me I shall never know. What I have done to them, I'd rather forget. But what question is in that mind of yours now? I think I know. I'll tell you.

So Sara, she was trainer number twelve. "Tough love" much? Tough, like the smooth, pallid, impervious surface of the pearl? Ha, you humor me. More like "rough love." Rough, like the ragged outside of the oyster shell. It was hard to let go of her. Rough, like the sandy friction of two lustrous pearls rubbed together.

I killed them all. All twelve of those oyster shells. Because they never found the pearl. They never respected the pearl. Game over. I leave the battlefield, weapons held high in the parade of victory. Victoria, Sara were just two of them. I could tell you more, but you'd probably get bored.

Henry, my very first trainer...I killed him as well. I like to think that. I should have protected him when the police came for him that night. I should have never let him leave the cabin to see what was going on. I shouldn't have let them shoot him. Maybe the police would have liked it better if I had taken the bullet. Save the lives of so many more innocent people—namely Sara...oh, you know what I'm talking about. Doesn't bear repeating.

But why did nobody join me? Floatzel. The deerling. Sammy. Erika. Nora. Maria. All the coercing I did with my human trainer's didn't do squat for them. Would I kill them if I met them again by chance? Of course not. Pokémon deserve to be free. Even when with a trainer, free of the chains that hold them down, instead full of the strength and joy from their human companion. Never a Master. I never approve of the Master. Some trainers are ruthless Masters. Oscar was an example. Why Floatzel succumbed to a Master's whims, I shall never know. Masters I will definitely kill. Trainers I will kill. Humans I may kill. Pokémon are better alive...even if they wish they weren't.

I guess I hurt you, Sammy. It must've been agony. Oscar's deerling as well. But there was no other way I could get you to join me...and yet you didn't, at the end of the day. Why won't these pokémon see the truth? Why won't they join me in opening up the giant oyster to find the pearl? They're fine at sifting at the sandy skin of the ocean floor, looking for hours to find a mere morsel of nourishment. They're fine with reducing themselves to a level lower than even a pokémon, obeying only the calls their trainers make, catering to their every whim and fancy. And they don't bother to take a stand. They don't bother to take their own Arceus-given tools and at last seize it for their own purposes. They're fine with such a primitive life, so long as they spend it with close companions, be it pokémon or human. I'll never understand why.

To become a pokémon that rises up against it all…I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. I shall be the four-star General. I am the four-star General, and rightfully so. So many battles…so many moments of near hopelessness...and then victory. That rush of victory cleanses you, revitalizes you. It's slurping that delectable flesh of the humble oyster. It's at last seeing the young Oshawott happy, and not having to do anything. But that's the curse of the human, you see. No matter how many you try to gulp down, those oyster shells always pile up, then loom over you. Victory came at the price. It cost twelve bleeding souls, failed Liberations of innumerable pokémon. Does victory matter, after all that?

Of course. For I...am not a human. I am Mack, the samurott. The oyster shells are nothing more than the grit that coats its rough edges. They just get washed away by the innumerable blood and tears, until all that's left is the pearl.

Finally I am truly a pearl. A pearl in the oyster.

END

(Well, that's the end of the story. Thank you so much for reading! If you haven't done so already, positive or critical feedback is greatly appreciated! Below is some background on this work.)

(Oyster Shells is my first novel-length work. I had originally published a one-shot with this character around March of 2015, and decided to expand it into a larger fic, about 10,000 words, by May of 2015. From then on, I made a complete overhaul of the work, really adding content to it over the course of a year before publishing it around May of 2016.)

(Before publication, I got beta assistance from FanFiction writers Nigel Yearning and KeepItM. A million thanks to them. Both of them are very talented writers, and I encourage you to check out their stories.)

(Obviously it's hard to really come up with a conclusion as to what kind of a character Mack really is. And I kinda made it that way by design. There is no bad guy or good guy. You don't know whether to support Mack or not.)

(My question to you, the reader, is: Do you sympathize with Mack or not? At one side, he's a cold-blooded killer. On the other side, he's a troubled character, traumatized by his early life, and socially unaware. And perhaps at the conclusion of the story, he has found closure. What do you think? What is your interpretation on this story? Don't be afraid to say what you think! I honestly know less about the story's meaning than you may think I do.)

(As a last word, be sure to comment on your thoughts...and have a wonderful day/night!)