Piplup

Piplup didn't understand how cold it could be until the night winds slashed through him. He shivered as the winds began to pick up, sudden and unrelenting in their push, almost trying to send him back to the carnage that had occurred just a few short hours before. Hours. That's all it had been, and that almost made him sick. Not even a day had passed. The sun hadn't even risen since he'd seen his entire Nation crumble in just a single moment, but still it felt like eons ago. Part of him kept coming back, a reassuring voice in his mind telling him none of what just happened was real. But then he looked around at the grave faces of his friends and realized he wasn't the only one wishing it was all just some nightmare they would wake up from soon.

They walked along, nothing but the dim moonlight helping them through the forest. Piplup didn't know how long it had been since they started this trek in no direction in particular, but he knew they had to keep moving. For all they knew, Feraligatr had sent out some of his small army to pursue them, and any moment now they could be jumped. Any moment that they were stationary, that was. If they kept moving, they were apt to be safer. Piplup knew that much in his daze.

His father. That was the one person he hadn't seen in the carnage. He hadn't seen his mutilated corpse, hadn't watched as the light of life faded from his eyes, and he certainly hadn't had to carve him up as the pounced on him with the threat of death like he had done to poor Slowpoke. Poor Slowpoke. He almost laughed at that. Poor Slowpoke, the former friend that had tried to kill them.

But still, there was that one piece of hope, and that made him feel a little bit better. He couldn't say the same from Froakie, though. He was walking at a slower pace behind everyone else. Well, him and Chikorita, who was leaning against him as he silently wept. Piplup knew he was crying because of the slight, miserable little whimpers he heard every now and again that made him want to punch his friend in the face and tell him to shut up, it wasn't all about him. But he knew he wouldn't do that. He knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't afford to lose someone else.

Torchic and Charmander walked in front of him solemnly, their faces and therefore their feelings hidden from Piplup's gaze. He guessed they were shaken, and who wouldn't be? But they weren't as bad as he and Froakie were right now. They hadn't lost people yet. Well, besides their parents. But even that hadn't shaken their resolve. Piplup felt that maybe he understood why.

It was each other. It was that companionship, whether friendship or romantic it didn't matter, because it was there. Froakie cried behind him, too, but maybe that was the best for him. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. And then there was him, Piplup. Why wasn't he crying? He couldn't feel the urge. It was as though someone had torn the ability to do so away from him and cascaded it down a cliff he could never go down to retrieve. He didn't even understand why he'd made such a comparison in his mind. It was the exhaustion. It was the hurt in his feet as they kept walking. It was the hurt in his heart as he kept remembering the horrors of the night.

Suddenly, Charmander stopped. Torchic barely noticed for about three paces before turning back to him quizzically. He could see there were tears in her eyes, and he suddenly felt sorry for them. But his own grief overwhelmed him, and he remained silent and unflinching as she asked Charmander what he was doing.

Now Charmander turned and faced all of them, his face shining with wet tracks that streaked his cheeks. He looked up at the moon for a moment with what seemed to be longing, though Piplup didn't understand what for. Maybe for a way out of this nightmare. Maybe for home.

But it didn't matter, because he was facing them once again, his eyes filled with sorrow and vengeance, and in that moment Piplup felt a swell of respect for him. He was not of the Water Nation, that much was evident, but he had seen injustice and wanted to do something about it. Piplup felt as though he were seeing Charmander for the first time; the trainee who would not back down from the world's need for justice, one that answered calls of help and did what he could to right this hellish world. Dare he think it (though he did), Piplup almost saw him as a leader.

"We should rest here for the night," Charmander suggested. "We can set up a guard every hour or so if you want, just to make sure…" He trailed off and looked down at the ground, any confidence that he may have been expressing suddenly dissipating. Piplup's heart leapt when he saw Charmander's face. He didn't just look older. He looked old.

Torchic shook her head. "There's no way in hell I'm sleeping tonight," she said. "I'll guard, wake you guys up if I see or hear anything."

Charmander looked at her for a long, silent moment. Then he nodded. "Alright," he said. "Yeah. If you get tired though, just wake me up."

"I won't," Torchic said.

Charmander kept looking at her for a long time, so long that Piplup thought time itself would end before he stopped. The he did, and his eyes surveyed the rest of their little group. "Okay guys," he said. "Sleep if you can. I just…we'll figure out where to go from here in the morning."

Froakie nodded and sniffed back his tears. Instantly, he went to the ground and curled up, shaking as he did so. The howling wind was continuing to get stronger, no longer a silent force, but rather one that could be heard speaking, groaning in the tree branches above. He could feel himself shaking as well; even when he tried to steady himself the wind continued to run its chill up and down his body.

"We should gather something for a fire," Chikorita suggested. Without warning, the little bulbs around her neck shot up, creating vines. Piplup looked and watched with a mixture of awe and apprehension as she tore branches off of the trees above them, her face giving off the massive strain on her little body it was to do so. But, after only a few minutes, they had a small pile of twigs. Charmander stood before them and took in a breath.

"Wait!" Piplup said, a realization coming to him. Charmander looked over at him. "The smoke," he explained. "It might attract some of them."

Charmander sighed. "Yeah," he said. "I guess you're right. But it's either that or we freeze to death."

Now it was Piplup's turn to sigh. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, never mind. Just…start the damn fire."

Flames burst from Charmander's mouth and lit the twigs. The fire wavered the wind, but it did not go out, its spirit only weakened a bit by the rapid gusts that blasted it. Charmander curled up and few feet from it, and Chikorita led Froakie closer to it. Piplup lied down next to it as well, his back to it. He could see his shadow on the ground, nothing more than a dark lump. Beyond that he saw Torchic, staring out into the woods beyond for anything that may come in the night.

Piplup felt shocked by how easily the world began to fall away as his eyes slipped closed. One minute he was in a forest, worried about the rest of the world and what would and could happen as time continued to march on. Then he was home. In his home. Empoleon was there at the head of the table, laughing at something that the other one said. The other one? By Arceus, yes, the other one!

Prinplup sat there, laughing at his own joke. But that was okay, because it had been funny and Piplup and their father were laughing too. All three of them laughing at the table, a family once again. Prinplup glanced over at Piplup and smiled. "So," he said. "How's the training been going?"

Piplup beamed at his brother playfully. "Well, not to brag or anything, but I think I'm picking up on how things work faster than you."

Prinplup gave him a sly smile. "Oh yeah?" he said. "Well, we'll see come your first battle. If you're not shaking in your armor."

"Armor?" Piplup said. "Who need armor?"

Prinplup chuckled. "Ha! That's my baby brother! Always trying to be like me!"

Empoleon looked over at his son silently. "You know," he said. "Armor is important. It's what's saved my life on a number of occasions. You shouldn't be encouraging Piplup to go out on his first battle without it."

"Yeah, ture," Prinplup agreed. "But still, I don't need any armor. I'm too fast to get-"

Prinplup stopped and stared forward, wide-eyed. Piplup followed his gaze, then nearly fell out of his seat in shock. There, standing before them, was the blue-furred, bipedal, dog-like form of the Fighting Nation's Head Council Advisor; Senator Lucario.

Piplup swung his head over to Prinplup, then uttered a little cry as he saw blood pouring from his brother's mouth. Prinplup looked over at Piplup, his eyes pleading with him, begging him, and suddenly his voice was in his head, desperate and broken but loud and ferocious, something that could have been one voice, sure, but felt like a million; "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME!"

"It's all your fault."

Piplup looked back over at Lucario, except it wasn't Lucario anymore. Now it was Feraligatr, his eyes filled with bloodlust, his smile stretched horridly across his face. In one hand he held Piplup's father by the head. He smiled. "You couldn't save either of them."

Blood splattered as Feraligatr's hand crushed Empoleon's head in one swift clench. Pink brain and crimson blood flew across the room, splattering hot and wet all over Piplup. He wanted to scream, but his voice was stuck in his throat. Feraligatr approached him. "It's time, now," he said.

"PIPLUP!"

A voice.

"PIP-!"

His brother from beyond.

"-LUP!"

"Gah!"

He was up, looking around. It was still dark, the night still consuming the world. He looked up and saw Charmander staring at him, his face filled with panic and concern. "Piplup?" he asked. "Piplup, are you okay?"

Piplup looked around, trying to take in everything. But all he could see was the dream. All he could see was the destruction of everything he'd held dear to him.

"I'm…I'm fine," he lied. "What…happened?"

"You were screaming in your sleep," Charmander said worriedly. "We thought you'd seen something out in the woods but you were asleep and…and are you sure you're okay?"

"Never better," Piplup said. "Just a bad dream was all."

He lowered his head back to the ground, closing his eyes. When Charmander wouldn't go away, he looked up and him and glared. Charmander locked eyes with him for a few seconds more, and in those seconds Piplup felt unimaginable pain. He couldn't lose anyone else. Not even a trainee from the Fire Nation that he'd only known for a few days. Not even him.

Charmander walked off without another word. Piplup lowered his head to the ground, feeling the chill of the wind still making him shiver, wondering what the point of the fire was if he was still cold. He closed his eyes, still seeing blood. But this time it was fresh and planned, all of it real. He could still see Greninja getting his throat cut on the stage. He could almost feel Golduck's insides being churned into mush by Kabutops. He wanted to vomit.

But he didn't. A dreamless sleep took him before he could.